#every wall in my room was scrubbed from the top to the base boards

[babylooneytoonz]

200 Followers Appreciation Post

I'll be very honest, two months back when I joined Tumblr, I hadn't expected that my writings will be read by many, and the last thing I had expected was to be followed. Now look far we've come, from 0 followers to 200.

A personal thank you and a lot of love to each and every follower of mine.

I think this is the best part of our fandom. We love each other like family.

As a little token of my thank you, I decided to publish two of my requests combined as one today. Hope you like it. 💓

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Request 1- Prompt "We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies."

Request 2- Reader was always in love with Tommy, thinking he can't love her back she starts writing cheap novels as a way to deal with it. Her books become popular and everything is cool until Tommy finds out about her hobby and notices similarities between her writing and real life.

Warnings - Angst

GIF Credits - @thomasshelbyltd thank you. ❤️

A Maid's Diary

 You slumped against your desk, letting your head rest against the old wooden table top, your elbows on either side of your face. Your desk was a cluttered mess, with sheets of paper flooded all over. In your hand, you held a pen, as you were just seconds back, scribbling vigorously on a parchment as an idea had just hit you, and just as swiftly, the idea had vanished from your mind.

You couldn't forget and you couldn't forgive your best friend, Linda, for having betrayed you by sharing your diary to a local printing press, who had, without your permission, published your countless feelings that you had penned down in your little diary, without even your consent, although they didn't take the credit for it. You were still the writer, even though the publishers never published your real name on it, just a pen name.

As much as you hated to admit it, the little push made by your friend had worked tremendously and your popularity had grown amongst the lower middle class especially; as that is where you hailed from. They loved your modesty, they loved how humble and down to earth you were, although you were extremely talented.

Little did they know, that the book that had been published, as an act of mistake, was actually based on your life.

"What is it that you are reading?" Tommy pushed his round glasses over his eyes, as he looked through them and fixed his broody stare on his wife.

Grace was sprawled on the couch in his study, shimmering in a beautiful pearl white satin nightgown hanging loosely over her slender frame, her natural blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She seamlessly brought up her ring studded hand to her hair, running her fingers through the locks as her eyes came to rest on her husband.

"Would you look at this Tommy?" She raised a red little book in her hand, showing it to him briefly, before she sat back more comfortably. Their son, Charlie, crawled about on the carpeted floor, playing with a toy train. "I don't know who this woman is, but if you read this book, you would feel like you are a bloody part of it."

"Is it one of those fucking love stories again, Grace?"

"It's much more than that, love. It's complex. It's like reading a person's life, living her memories."

"Right, well, I'm out, I've got a bloody meeting with Arthur at the pub." He stood up, sliding his hand into his waistcoat and pulling out the pocket watch, taking a quick glance at it. He then kissed his wife a goodbye, lifting Charlie up in his arms, "Be good, you cheeky little oaf."

Little did he know, how that would be the last week, that he was spending home with his wife. The next week, Grace Shelby was shot, and she couldn't make it.

As days inched by, Tommy started growing more and more morose. Although he didn't show it, those around him felt it everyday. The snapping and the yelling increased, and Tommy found himself sleeping less and less, and chugging down more and more of that alcohol to keep his mind at rest. There were weeks when Tommy didn't see his son. Although he felt guilty, for neglecting him, as the poor child had lost his mother, just like he had lost his wife, he couldn't bring himself to face him, as he reminded him so much of her.

Soon, weeks turned into months and finally, Tommy's agony subsided to a bit. It wasn't as if it was an overnight process, but somehow, over the course of time, Tommy didn't feel the hurt anymore, as he initially did— or maybe, he learnt to live with it.

One night, when the nightmares crippled him to such an extent that he found himself unable to sleep, he decided to go through Grace's belongings, something he had kept locked up in the attic, afraid to touch them. Holding a lantern in his hand, he walked up the flight of stairs, the old floorboards creaking underneath the weight of his foot as he stepped into the dinghy little room. In a corner, a brown crate was hoarded up, keeping all of Grace's belongings.

Pulling off the the wooden board that was nailed shut, he pried it off and ran his hand through the dust coated silk dresses, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric. He let out a weak, pained exhale, slowly sliding down against the floor, pulling his hand out as he started fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette.

With a lit cigarette in his left hand, he slid his right hand back in, feeling around the box until his palm hit something hard. Pulling it out, he saw a little red book that was now turning a shade of purple at the edges. The book was coated in a sheet of dust, causing Tommy to squint his eyes slightly and scrunch up his nose as he brushed the dust off its cover.

A faint smile, a fond remembrance of Grace reading this book with such enthusiasm brought a weak smile to his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, pulling himself off the floor and pocketed the book, walking out of the attic.

It was his eyes, eyes that could hold an entire ocean in them, that captivated me. I often found myself looking at him, stealing glances, when no one was looking. A part of me begged for his attention, hoping, yearning that he would atleast give me a glance but he never did.

The more he read through the passages, the more he realized what Grace had meant. This was not just a book, it was someone's life, it was someone's feelings. The words were simple and not at all fancy, the backdrop set was not that of a fine mansion, it was a tiny little house, in a clamoured street, a family of five siblings, four boys and one girl, and the writer, who was just a servant. The writer knew the love she felt for one of the sons of the house was wrong, improper and it was forbidden because she was a servant and they were her employers but she couldn't help how she felt, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Tommy couldn't help but feel drawn— drawn to the writer's pain, her anguish and the feeling of being stuck at the end of a self destructive, one sided love. He knew what it meant to not get to be with the person you loved. He had experienced the pain, although in a different sense but somehow, he could relate. Although Thomas Shelby didn't show any feelings, he had eventually fallen head over heels in love with Grace Burgess and life with her had been a life of roses and poppies, while he was a crown of thorns; that Grace bravely adorned on her head.

It was a cold night, and I was freezing. I could feel my cheeks turning to stone and my hands fervously rubbing against my arms to keep myself warm. I could see them right in front of my eyes; the whole family. They looked happy. They brothers were teasing their sister, who had a look of dismay plastered over her face, and the youngest brother, who was just a toddler, ran about the parlour, sucking on his thumb. I wondered if it was selfishly wrong of me to think of him in this way, to imagine how our little household would have been, had I been bound to him by marriage. I wondered if it was a sin, wondering what I would have named our children if we had a handful of them.

Thomas found himself leaning back comfortably in bed, straining into his glasses, wanting to read more, although his body and his eyes were beyond tired. It was as though he could see a glimpse of his life before the war had been, right through someone else's eyes. He could see little Finn, perched on the carpeted floor, running his toy train all over it, making a weird engine sound with his mouth while John and Arthur teased Ada for something she had probably said. He could picture himself by the window, staring at the dimly lit sky, the illuminating stars, thinking of the moment Greta took her last breath, her frail hand falling limp in his warm one.

How unlucky had he been with women, he had watched the women he loved die, in in his arms.

As I scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen, I could hear the curses in the parlor. He was screaming at himself, bringing the dishes down, breaking them one by one. No one dared stop him, because no one wanted to be slammed against the wall or have to be the one taking a porcelain hit on his face. I wondered if I should step in, maybe give him some tea but I didn't. Maybe, he didn't need it. It was only later that I found out he had lost the love of his life.

He shoved the book aside and sat up straighter, running his palm through his face, his breathing shaky and rushed. He grabbed his cigarette box off the bedside table and lit himself a cigarette. Maybe reading this book had been a mistake, it was opening up all his raw wounds that he had buried away.

He was leaving. I wanted to ask him when he would be back but of course, that would have been such a silly question. And besides, he had a lot more on his plate, why would he want to speak to a servant? I stood behind the kitchen wall, listening to the solemn parting, the shuffling of feet, listening to them leave until finally I could hear them no more— I could hear him no more.

Years after years, I went on with life, with a smile on my face. I did what I always did in the mornings; scrubbing the floors clean, washing the dishes, preparing supper and doing the laundry. At night, though, I thought of him and his blue eyes. I wondered if there was any news, for I hadn't heard anything about him in ages. Maybe my prayers were finally answered, the war ended and they all were back home. Only they weren't themselves. The war had killed a part of them. They were the ghosts of war, left to meander the Earth until they finally died.

"Mr. Shelby?" Tommy sharply looked up, his eyebrows straightened into a visible frown.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Charlie's asleep, the supper's ready. I was wondering if I could get a night off—"

"Mary, you may. You have bloody worked hard enough to earn a night off. Go on then, hurry up, it's pretty dark outside."

He watched her leave, staring at the door before bringing his gaze back to the book, wondering if the writer was out there somewhere. And he wondered, and hoped, that she had finally gotten to be with the man she loved. She deserved it. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

I finally mustered the courage, after what seemed like eternity, to speak my heart out. I was afraid of rejection, but he deserved to know. I deserved to be free of this heavy secret in my heart. I didn't care if he would ask me to leave, stop coming to work from tomorrow but he needed to know I loved him. So, I stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping myself with whatever warm I could find. I walked and walked, until I was at his pub. Of course, he wasn't there. With a heavy heart then, I thought of going back home, through an alley, that was a shorter route. Little did I know, I was never going to get the man I loved for he already had the woman he loved, the woman from the pub; that barmaid. I saw the man I was in love with, from a window, the way I always imagined him to be with me, kissing her and stroking her cheeks. It was as though I heard a devastating sound somewhere close by, but it was nothing but my heart—shattered into two.

Thomas Shelby was many things, but he was not ignorant, or dumb. He slammed the book shut, shoving it on the bedside table. His heart was racing rapidly and he could feel blood rush through his veins. Arching his body forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, he buried his face into his palms. Every single detail in the book, every single piece of writing was something he had experienced before. It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? He slid out of bed, stomping through the hallway into his study until he was perched on a stool by the telephone his fingers frivolously moving against it. He knew what he had to do now.

"Pol?" He mumbled into the phone the instant he heard her on the other side.

"Tommy? It's fucking midnight, what's the bloody matter?" Tommy didn't mind he had woken her up. He needed answers.

"Do you remember a maid that worked for us?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Tommy, we have hired a dozen fucking maids, which one are you talking about?"

"She was with us when Greta died, when we went to war—"

On the other side of the telephone, Polly's demeanour softened. She remembered you, she even knew how you loved Thomas, but she could never bring it up to her lips, because she knew that you and Thomas had no future.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is? And for fucks sake, don't lie."

Your coffee mug lay on the table untouched, smoke bellowing out of it in waves. Outside your window, snow drizzled from the sky, like tiny droplets of fur falling to the ground, your garden sheeted in pristine virgin white.

"Love, you have to bloody see this," your friend Linda's voice echoed through the closed door, loud enough to alert you.

"What is it?" You threw open your window, watching your bestfriend stand at the gate, her eyes fixed to your window, "Just get your bloody arse down here (Y/N), I have to show you something. Come on out, now."

Annoyance.

You practically ran down the flight of stairs, not even stopped to calm your breaths.

"Jesus, Linda, it's fucking snowing, I'm going to freeze to—"

"Sorry love." Linda gave you an apologetic smile, her index finger pointing towards the silhouette of a man leaning by your front gate, slowly sliding out of the periphery of gaze. Neither were you watching her. You were watching a ghost of your past, that stood leaning by the metal gate on your front door, a cap on his head, a long overcoat drawn over his scrawny body. He had gotten weaker than you had last seen him.

"Miss (Y/N)." His voice was curt, yet warm, without a trace of malice in it. After all these years, he was right here, on your doorstep.

"Mr. Shelby? Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head, rather, his eyes and you knew that he didn't want to talk in the confines of your home, under prying eyes. He slowly pulled out a book from his pocket and your eyes widened. Your fingers flew to your lips and you felt a rush of blood in your body, an instant feeling of being in the warmth of a fireplace. You wanted to reply, but you couldn't find the words.

"You read my book, you found me out."

"It wasn't that fucking difficult to figure it out, love."

"Jesus, would you please come in? It's freezing out here, you're going to bloody catch a cold—"

He cut you off as you turned to walk in, grabbing you by your arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop you from walking. He then pulled you towards him, your front hitting his hard chest, to look into his face.

"It was you all along?"

You didn't know what to say anymore. He had found you out. After all these years.

"I don't understand—" You whispered, shaking your head. You couldn't lie, his eyes were making you nervous and all the feelings that had simmered over the course of time were finally lighting up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it will get published."

"Do you believe in destiny?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to mentally think where he was going with this, "Perhaps, Mr. Shelby, but you need to be clearer than that."

"I didn't believe in fucking destiny, until this minute. I can't believe I'm fucking saying this—" You could see reluctance in his eyes, an inward fighting. You could see that he was thinking hard, probably having a hard time figuring out what he should say to you. "You remember Greta?"

You were hundred percent sure you weren't smiling, but had you been smiling, it would have withered.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, the girl that died holding your hand, the girl you loved."

"Good, and what about Grace? The woman you saw at the fucking window."

Your cheeks reddened at the remark with embarassment, making you regret how he had read that part. That was a private thing between Thomas and Grace.

"I didn't mean to pry, I was just passing through the alley and I looked up and I —" You voluntarily bit on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself because you knew you were babbling and your words were not making much sense. You needed to compose yourself, compose your thoughts.

"I married her, yeah? And do you know what happened then?"

You closed your eyes briefly, hoping he wouldn't see the pain in your eyes. When you blinked your eyes open again, you straightened slightly, almost taking a step away from him. He caught your arm, pulling you back to him.

"We have a lovely boy together, Charlie, he's three almost."

You wondered if Tommy was here to chastise you, to make you apologize, or maybe, your book had caused a rift in their marriage.

"She was shot. Fucking took a bullet that was meant for me. I fucking watched her die. Twice, (Y/N). I think it was my destiny. Will you ask me why?"

"Mr. Shelby—" You hopelessly began, trying to tell him how sorry you were about what had happened. But what could you do? It wasn't as if you had shot Grace.

"Just bloody ask me why."

You stiffened at the harshness of his voice.

"I- Why?"

"Because this fucking destiny had something else in mind for me. Perhaps it was you all along, the one I was maybe meant to be with."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, a sudden palpitating feeling in your heart, a sudden throbbing in the back of your mind. You pulled your arm away, wincing slightly at his sudden outburst, instantly moving away.

"Your words make no sense. Will you please stop?"

He parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of his plump lips was foggy winter air and he shut it. His hand flew to the side of your face, but he didn't touch you. He merely took a loose strand of your hair, curling it over his index finger. You could feel the sudden tension, his lips so close to you, you knew if you didn't stop him, he would kiss you. And later regret it.

"Mr. Shelby, this is a mistake. If I was your destiny, I would be the one buried in a grave and not the women you loved. I did love you," you spoke, hopelessly pulling yourself one step away but this time he didn't make an attempt to pull you close, perhaps having sensed your reluctance.

He raised his eyebrow, "Did?"

"I still do, but I don't think we were meant to be."

"I see," he almost stepped closer, reluctantly, fighting for control at the back of his mind. This was a new feeling. He knew he didn't love you yet, but at the same time, he knew he was in love with the woman from the book. The woman who had always loved him.

"Why?"

A single word can hold a vast meaning. A single word can have an answer that you could probably write a book on.

"Because Thomas .. We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies," you whispered in a low voice, tears shrouding into your eyes.

"Yet there's a bloody thing that binds us to each other. Something neither you nor I can see," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

You didn't know what to say to him. Your mind was fervently throbbing through your skull. Your heart leapt with joy but your mind didn't let you be at ease. He waited a few seconds but when he realized you had made up your mind, he decided he will not push you. You had given him the answer. You didn't want him. He nodded softly, letting his eyes wander down to your feet for a bit before giving you a last look as he turned his tail and started walking off, his boots crushing the snow as he started walking away.

And just like that, you realized that history was repeating itself. But this time, it was all your fault. You were letting him walk away when you could finally be happy.

"Thomas stop.." His name flew out of your mouth even before you could clamp your mouth shut. You saw him freeze, but this time, he didn't turn your way, but with his back turned towards you, you missed the hint of a smile that crossed his lips; the way you had stopped him meant that he still had hope.

"I would like to work for you again, does Charlie need a nanny?" You bit your lip.

It was nothing, but yet, it was a start. If destiny really wanted the two of you together then you wanted to try it out from the beginning, maybe make the man fall in love with you and not the woman who wrote the book. You wanted him to love you and not pity you.

"Twenty shillings, you stay at the Arrowe House, no further will be discussed on that, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile, although you could not see his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Shelby, first thing in the morning at 9."

He nodded and then, sliding his hands into his pockets, he walked away, his heavy boots crushing the snow underneath, generating a squishing, crunching sound until you could hear him no more. You couldn't wipe that smug smile from your face as you looked up at the sky, scrunching up your nose when you felt something cold; perhaps a snowflake had landed on the tip of your nose. It was a start, a start of a new day and who knew, perhaps a new life for you. Needless to say, you were excited.

[xxred-riotxx]

Beverly Hills Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

I decided to write up some quick little one shots(?) based around songs for some of my favorite characters. Bakugou’s, however, took a turn and became smut. Oops. Anyways. Enjoy. 

Somehow you convinced your friend, Bakugou, to teach you how to play drums. But that’s not the only thing you want to bang. 

BakugouxFem!Reader

I do not own the song. Based off the song “Beverly Hills” by Weezer. 

Warnings: 18+. strong language. dirty talk. dirty thoughts. smut. foreplay. everything about sex without actually having sex. 

All characters are over the age of 18. 

Word count: 1038

“Come on, dumbass it’s not that hard.” irritation dripped from Bakugou’s mouth. You had asked him to teach you to play drums- (he looked undeniably sexy while playing so you thought watching him teach would explode your ovaries). “Katsuki, I’m trying. I just can’t keep up. Can we please try something easier?” Hands pressed together, you begged your friend to ease the difficulty. You were a beginner after all. “Alright, fine. Whatever, baka.” Bakugou rolled his eyes before continuing. “But you WILL learn ‘King For A Day’ once you get the hang of shit.” The explosive blonde shoved his hands in his pockets before pacing around the room. “One, two, three. One, two, three. Bass, bass, snare. Bass, bass, snare.” Bakugou’s vermillion eyes glared at you, waiting for you to follow his instructions on the drums. “Oh! Uh-” Your foot connected with the foot pedal and began to count the beats. One, two, three. One, two, three. Once you felt comfortable you added the snare drum to the mix. Tapping the snare drum’s head on the third beat, you slowly got the hang of it- until Bakugou added another step. “Now on each count, hit your high-hat. But keep doing what you’re doing.” Your right hand reached over to tap the high-hat on every beat, just like Bakugou had said. After a few seconds, your focus was broken. “Katsuki…” you whispered, still beating away on the drum set. 

“Where I come from isn’t all that great. 

My automobile is a piece of crap.

My fashion sense is a little whack. 

And my friends are just as screwy as me.” 

Jaw dropped, you noticed Bakugou’s hand move in a circular motion- signaling you to continue playing. 

“I didn’t go to boarding schools. 

Preppy girls never looked at me.

Why should they? I ain’t nobody

Got nothing in my pocket.”

Still pacing, Bakugou made his way behind you. Occasionally hitting the crash symbol with a spare drum stick, he had continued to sing…

“Beverly Hills

That’s where I want to be.

Living in Beverly Hills. 

Beverly Hills

Rolling like a celebrity. 

Living in Beverly Hills.”

The aroma of caramel and embers filled your nose. Bakugou was extremely close to you. Not wanting to disturb the hot-headed boy, you tried your best to fixate yourself on the music. 

“Look at all those movie stars. 

They’re all so beautiful and clean.

When the housemaids scrub the floors

They get the spaces in between.”

You had never heard Bakugou sing. Sure you and all of 1A had seen him play the drums, but he had never let on that he had the voice of an angel. One, two, three. One, two, three. You had to remind yourself to continue playing the drums. Bakugou’s hand gently touched your shoulder. Immediately you tensed up, until he began rubbing circles on your collarbone. 

“I wanna live a life like that.

I wanna be just like a king.

Take my picture by the pool

‘Cause I’m the next big thing.”

The loss of a steady beat caused Bakugou to silence. You spun around on the throne, your y/e/c trailing up his muscular torso. His crimson eyes locked with your’s, feeling a deep burning in your stomach. It was almost like your body had a mind of its own as you slowly rose from your seat, finger tips tracing up his sternum until finally locking behind his neck. His warm breath could be felt on your skin. “Y/N…” a husky whimper left his blush lips. Strong hands found their way to the belt loops of your shorts, pulling your hips against his. “Fuck it.” you mumbled before attaching your lips to his. 

You moved your hands to the nape of his neck, tangling them into his locks before gently tugging. A harsh groan slipped from his mouth. “Get the smirk off your face, dumbass.” he muttered against you. Swiftly, his hands grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you up. Your back was pushed against the wall, lips never leaving his. Bakugou’s wet tongue swiped across your bottom lip begging for entrance. You felt lightheaded, overwhelmed by bliss, as his tongue met your’s in a sloppy kiss. “Katsuki…” your voice trailed off as he left wet kisses trailing down your neck, settling on your sweet spot. “I’ve… waited… so… long… for… this… teddy bear.” Bakugou breathed in between kisses. He bit your neck, tongue following over the tender spot, causing your breath to hitch. “Please kiss me, Katsu.” you whined. You missed the feeling of his now swollen lips. Bakugou smirked, you begging caused his ego to inflate. He loved knowing you were putty in his hands. “Hmm. What if I kiss here?” A devious smile caught your eye as he trailed down to the valley between your breasts. Light kisses grazed your skin. “Or maybe here?” His rough hands moved under your shirt before latching onto your waist. You watched as he kneeled down, agonizingly slow, and kissed above your navel. “Better yet…” His fingers fumbled with the button of your shorts, unhooking it and pulling the material down just far enough to kiss right at your panty line. 

Your back arched at the feeling, hips jutting. He drug his tongue back up your ribs. Rising back to his feet, he grasped your neck with one hand. “Get on the bed, baby girl.” The intense glare you received told you not to defy his order. You shuffled over to the bed and positioned yourself in the middle, waiting for further instructions. Bakugou pulled his black top over his head, revealing his toned body. It was hypnotizing watching the blonde pull his shirt off. You could see the muscles in his abdomen flex and a sheen of sweat coated his chest. “For once in your life, you’ve been awfully quiet, dumbass.” Bakugou chuckled. He missed hearing you beg. He had only imagined hearing his name drip from your tongue for months. He dreamt about how good you’d look with your mouth around him, tears rolling down your cheek. He wanted to see you overwhelmed with pleasure. He wanted your nails to scrape down his back, screaming in desire, as he claimed you. Your innocent voice shattered his trance. 

“Fuck me, Ground Zero.” 

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 13

For years, her house has been empty, a void for just her and Jack. Harry had done as she asked, and disappeared. Gemma went off to school, and then work, only showing up every few days to make sure Anne was still alive. It wasn't the same, nothing was the same without Harry there. He held them together. And now he's gone, living God knows where with God knows who, hurting people for a living. If boxing is what he's still doing.

The faucet is running, steam rising up from the sink and towards the water stained ceiling. It's been leaking for some time, but Anne's done nothing to stop the water. It the house collapses, maybe she'll be lucky enough for it to happen while Jack's home.

She can hear him chuckling along to the tv in the living room, and her bum throbs remembering the way he'd smacked it when she stepped in front of the TV earlier to collect his dinner plate. She starts to scrub at the dirty dishes, not minding the way the water burns her skin. Behind her, the skillet boils with water to get rid of the buildup of grease in it, and the sound of it pulls her into a sort of daydream. She can't help but think of Harry, her baby boy. She wonders if he's okay, if he's made something of himself. She'd like to think he has, but she just doesn't see how boxing could've gotten him anything. He's probably on the streets or living out of friends home, scraping by. He's probably lonely and afraid. Her eyes sting with tears and she doesn't realize she's dropped a wine glass until it's shattering by her feet.

She gasps, jumping back and wincing when a sharp sting cuts through the heel of her foot. She's stepped on a piece of the glass. Her foot is not her main concern though, because she can hear the recliner spring into place and Jack's heavy steps.

"For fucks sake!" Jack bellows, and he's grabbing Anne's shoulder and shoving get back. She feels paralyzed as the base of her spine rattles against the countertop, and her elbow bumps over the cookbooks and cutting board and paper towel rack on the counter. They clatter loudly, and Jack swears again as he focuses on Anne's trembling figure.

"I-it was an accident-"

"You were thinking of that stupid boy again!" Jack accuses, and he's not wrong, but Anne doesn't admit it. Because Harry's not stupid, not like she once thought he was.

"N-No! I'm just tired!" He grabs her elbow again, throwing her into the wall by the entrance way. Her side smacks into the wall, bones rattling painfully and she sobs.

"Stop lying to me!" Jack screams, face turning purple under his grey beard. He kicks the glass on the floor, the fragile material crunching under his boot. It slides against the floor unit it's about to hit her feet, and she screeches. Jack is glaring at her like she's the actual devil, and she knows it's only a matter of seconds before he storms at her. Without thinking she takes off out of the kitchen and down the hall, running into the bathroom and locking the door.

"ANNE!" Jack roars, boots beating against the creaky floor. He pounds his fist into the door, the plane of wood trembling under his anger. Anne does the same, stumbling backwards and falling into the tub. The curtain comes down with her weight, falling underneath her as she sobs and shakes. She wishes she had her phone, wishes Jack hadn't taken it and stomped on it with his heel for texting Gemma about Harry.

Her vision blurs around her, blocking out everything but the quaking door, and Anne can't help but think of Harry. It's been so many years, so many long years, but she knows if he were here he'd be standing in front of that door to protect her.

"Harry, Harry, Harry..." She mutters like a prayer, squeezing her eyes shut as the smoke alarm starts to blare throughout the house. Anne flinches, whimpering and holding her hands over her ears. This isn't real, this is Jack. He set them off to try and get her to come out. She squeezes her eyes shut, mumbling her son's name until she feels like she's in a dream. Eventually the smell of smoke fills the bathroom, burning her lungs, but she's too stuck in her brain too move. She doesn't know how long she's sat there, coughing and choking out his name as she realizes she's going to die. She's going to die and it's all because she let Jack tear her family apart, hurt her babies. She's a terrible mother, she deserves to die.

Anne's head pounds, and bile rises in her throat. The banging on the door gets stronger, and Anne screams when it busts open. Someone speaks over the alarm and what sounds like sirens, but she can't hear them. Arms wrap around her, and she trembles and scratches, desperate to be let free, to be released.

Eventually she's drug out of the house, realizing that the house is in fact burning in orange flames. Firefighters are working to put it out, and she finally sees that one of them is who's holding her. "Ma'am, I need you to take a deep breath, you're okay!" The firefighter shouts in her ear, setting her on some vehicle and lifting an oxygen mask over her face.

"Who's Harry? Is he inside?" The man asks, and Anne realizes she's still crying for her son.

"My son, he's gone, I made him leave!" She cries, "I need my son, my baby-my son-"

Arms wrap around her again, and she sobs in the strangers hold. She doesn't know where Jack is, but she doesn't care. She needs to find Harry.

She thinks she hears Jack in the background, but again she doesn't know. And she doesn't know that after tonight, Jack will be arrested for domestic violence, a restraining order placed against him, Gemma will move Anne into her home, and together, they'll find Harry.

~

His stomach bubbles and twists, churning as Anne falls silent. The only sound in the room are soft snores coming out of Arlo's sleeping figure. Y/n is rubbing a smoothing circle into his shoulder blade with the hand that's not holding their son against her chest, and while it does help, it doesn't help enough. Because he's still mad. He's really fucking mad and he's not entirely sure why. He doesn't really have any reason to be other than the fact that Anne and Gemma never told him anything. They had so many chances to say something to him, literally anything along the lines of "our childhood home was lit on fire" would've worked. But they never did. Even when they knew he was coming back here, they expected him to just not find out? To not want to go back there?

Harry nibbles on the rough patch of skin on his thumb, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm his thundering veins. He doesn't want to yell at them or fight. He's tired of fighting. He wants everything to be okay now, wants to have a normal family now.

Like the beam of a lighthouse through fog, y/n and Arlo flood through his mind. Her hand feels heavier on his back, seeping into the tense muscles with warmth, and Arlo's snores vibrate in his chest and head. Finally, he removes his thumb from his mouth, running his hand through his hair.

"M'going to bed," he mumbles, purposely not looking at Anne or Gemma as he climbs up from the kitchen floor. Careful not to step on the leftover pizza box that liters the floor, he reaches down to help y/n up, pushing her hair out of Arlo's face so he continues to sleep peacefully.

"Harry-"

"G'night." He interrupts Gemma, stepping away from them and into the living room that now only contains their air mattress and bags. He hears y/n bidding good nights and sharing hushed words with them as he roughly tugs off his shoes and jeans, throwing them in the direction of his bag. Y/n walks in, Arlo still resting limply against her, and carefully lays him in the middle of the bed.

Harry slides onto the bed, turning his back to the kitchen where Anne and Gemma are quietly cleaning up the pizza they'd brought for dinner and then heading to their rooms. He lays his palm over Arlo's tummy, eyes lazily falling over his baby as his little lips part with heavy breathes and how his eyelashes touch his cheeks. Y/n disappears into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in her pajamas. She's quiet as she climbs into the bed, turning on her side to face Harry.

"Don't be too mad at them bubba," she says quietly, reaching over to rub her fingers up and down his arm. He meets her eyes, heat pooling in his chest at her heavy eyelids and frowning lips. And while she'll always be an angelic sight, especially when she's falling asleep next to him, he can't help but be annoyed with her words. She's knows him better than anyone, but she doesn't know how this feels, doesn't know what it's like to not be a part of a family, because she's always had a perfect one.

He just huffs, nuzzling his head further into his pillow and letting his eyes fall shut. He doesn't want to pick a fight with her, and he knows if he responds honestly at all they'll end up somewhere he doesn't want to be now. Y/n doesn't respond, but he hears her sigh and then leave over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Her hand continues to stroke his arm, soothing him into the same snores coming from Arlo.

~

He doesn't button the top three buttons of his shirt, not wanting to feel suffocated more than he already is. Arlo, who's sat in the bathroom sink with Bunny, coos at Harry, little hand reaching out to touch his silk shirt. He's always loved to touch Harry's silk clothes.

"We look nice, huh?" Harry mururms, looking down at Arlo's big eyes. He's in a plain white shirt that buttons between his legs with dark brown pants over his legs and little white vans that are so small they don't even tie. Arlo smiles, a gummy little grin that sinks dimples into his face, and smacks his hand against Harry's tummy.

"Not very talkative tonight bug," Harry says, running his hand through his hair before lifting Arlo out of the sink. Arlo lays his head on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the soft fabric. "ya babbled and babbled yesterday."

Arlo just sighs as Harry exits the bathroom, and he thinks that's an accurate response to the mess that was yesterday. First Zayn, and then the house, and then Anne and Gemma and even y/n treating Harry like he had no reason to be upset. Yesterday was a bad day, Harry thinks dejectedly.

Y/n is setting folded clothes into her bag, straightening out the summer dress she's changed into. It's billowy and white, just boarding on see through, and Harry's heart pounds in his ears. She looks angelic.

"You ready to go?" Y/n asks, having turned to face them. She's got a sad little smile on her lips, obviously upset that Harry's been short with her all day. Harry nods, grabbing his keys off the empty fireplace mantle. He doesn't know where Gemma and Anne are but he doesn't care. They know that the dinner reservations are at 7 and they'll either be there or they won't.

Y/n exits the house, swinging the door back even though she knows Harry's coming out behind her, and he catches it last minute, the wood smacking against his palm so loudly Arlo jumps. Harry huffs, nose flaring but he shushes Arlo into snuggling back up against his shoulder.

Anne and Gemma, who were sitting on the porch steps, follow y/n to the car, an uncomfortable bubble of silence surrounding them as y/n closes her door and the other two women climb in. Harry grunts, frustrated because he really doesn't want to fight with y/n, she knows he hates fighting with her, and yet she's still pushing his buttons.

"Buying dinner for three intolerable women," Harry mutters to Arlo, who bumps his little nose into Harry's chin as he moves to look at him. "and one honey bug." He quickly adds, pleased to have his boy with him. He pulls open the door, ignoring Anne and Gemma's gaze as he buckles Arlo into his carseat. He whines when he's out of touching range of Harry, cheeks going red and tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't give me any back talk mister," Harry mutters, tightening his shoulder straps. "s'only a ten minute drive."

Arlo continues to cry, the sound being heard outside the vehicle Harry quickly gets in, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car. Harry backs out of the driveway, waiting for them to get on the main road before reaching over the center console for y/n's hand. He hers her sigh, but she doesn't hesitate to lace her fingers through his.

~

The words of his textbook stare back at him, going on and on about anti-federalists but Harry can't really get any of it to stick in his brain. He's reread this chapter twice tonight and it still hasn't registered in his brain how exactly the federalists and anti-federalists compromised because Jack's slurring loudly from the kitchen.

Harry sighs, tossing his book onto his mattress and climbing up. He pulls open the door open his bedroom, leaning against the frame when he finds his mom mopping in the hallway.

"Mum," he murmurs quietly, catching her attention. She looks up at him, haltering her movements. "I can't study with him bloody screaming."

Anne blinks at him, tired face falling and she nods. Harry gives her a sympathetic smile, and Anne calls out over her shoulder, "Jack, could you lower it a bit? Harry's got a test to study for!"

The shouting stops, and both Harry and Anne smile in relief. He's about to turn back into his room when Jack enters the hallway.

"What did you say?" Jack asks, and Harry knows by the way he's looking at Anne that he'd threatening her to repeat herself.

"I'm trying to study and you're being too loud." Harry says bitterly, glaring at the man down the hall. Jack's eyes flash up to Harry, head cocking.

"Life's unfair kid, get used to it."

"Jack-"

"Shut up Anne!"

Harry's pushing himself off the doorway before he can properly think, pushing Anne to stand him behind him. "Don't talk to her like that." Harry warns, teeth clenching.

"Don't tell me how to talk to my wife-"

"Don't talk to my mother that way!"

Anne grabs Harry's shoulder, trying to pull him back before the rising tension gets too high. Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

"Tell your mother to stop being a bitch-"

Jack's sentence is cut off by the loud crunch of Harry's fist colliding with his nose. The man stumbles back, shocked, but Harry doesn't give him a chance to recoup before he's swinging again. Anne let's a shrill scream of Harry's name, but it falls on deaf ears as he clambers on top of the crumpled man. Harry's stuck in a haze of pent up anger and hurt and hatred, and he's taking it all out on Jack.

Harry can't feel his hands as they continuously fall down onto Jack's face, his brain going through the simple boxing technique he's been perfecting for weeks. Right, left, right, right, left...

Jack's hands press at Harry's torso and claw at his forearms, but he's gone weak. Too much blood is staining his shirt and smearing against his face. Too much blood is splattering off of Harry's bare knuckles. He's not sure how long he continues to rain hell on Jack until two hands are ripping him off by the waist, and the shouts of Anne and Gemma are filling his head.

Gemma throws him back with a strength he didn't know she had, cursing under her breath as she rushes forward to kneel by Jack. Harry's chest heaves, and his knuckles throb painfully but he feels good. He feels really fucking good. A smirk is tugging up the corner of his lips as he turns to his mother.

"Mum-"

"No Harry!" She spits, eyes blazing with rage. The pride, the accomplished feeling that was puffing in his chest fades, and he deflates.

"Wha'?" He mumbles, feeling dizzy as Anne grips his bicep harshly and shoves him in the direction of his room.

"Look at what you've done!" She screams, throwing her arms out wildly. Behind her, Gemma's carrying a groaning and almost unconscious Jack towards the bathroom. "Look at what you've done to my family!"

Harry's head swirls, stumbling into the doorway. His hands pound and ache, so bad he thinks cutting them off wouldn't hurt as much. "F-family?" Harry stutters, confused as to how she can call this a family. He's not even sure why she's mad. What did he do wrong? He stood up for her? He's getting rid of the man that's tormented them for so long.

"Mum, what-"

"Stop Harry! You're not-you're not my Harry!" Anne snarls, looking Harry up and down as if he were loam. "My Harry would never do that! He doesn't even know how to fight like that!"

Harry's heart pounds, pressing into his ribs so hard it hurts. "I-I am your Harry, I just-I just can protect us now. I box mum, I got strong for us." He desperately explains, tears building in his eyes at the way Anne continues to glare at him.

"You box?" She gasps, shaking her head in disgust. "No! No child of mine would be like you!"

"Mum, why-"

"Stop calling me that!" Anne shouts, so loud the floor seems to shake under Harry's feet. The tears spill over, tumbling down his cheeks and he goes to wipe them until he sees the excessive amount of blood on his hands.

"Please-"

"You need to leave!" Anne tells him cruelly, shoving him into his room. Sobbing and weak he stumbles to the floor, looking up at Anne in fear.

"What? Where?"

"I don't care. Anywhere but here!" She slams his door shut, ignoring the way he wails and furiously rips off his blood stained shirt to try and clean his hands. He rubs his knuckles furiously, tearing at the already cut skin until it's his own blood that's covering them, but he doesn't care because it still doesn't hurt the way his heart does.

~

Dishes clatter as the waitress stacks their plates up. Arlo squirms in Harry's hold as he wipes his face with a napkin, only for Arlo to blop a spit bubble out onto his chin. Harry huffs, sliding his plate towards the waitress and his chest sinks when he sees the pile of green beans on it. Usually y/n takes them, but tonight she'd just left them on his plate, not that he can blame her. One) they're disgusting, and two) there's still an uncomfortable tension between them. One that's been present all night, limiting conversation to just y/n, Anne, and Gemma, or Harry, Arlo, and y/n. And even y/n was quiet when talking to him.

Harry starts to settle Arlo into his carseat, pausing when the waitress comes back to give the check. Harry doesn't hesitate to send her with his card, grumbling an "mhm" when Anne and Gemma quietly thank him. He buckles Arlo in, tucking his blanket around him because it's cold out, and then grabbing the diaper bag from under the table.

"I've got it love." Y/n murmurs, taking the bag from him and pulling it over her shoulder. He thanks her, lifting Arlo's carseat in his hand and leading the girls out of the restaurant. He holds the door for them, looking down at Arlo so he doesn't have to look at them. The door has barely shut when he hears a startled gasp, his head snapping up to look over the line of girls. He immediately hands the carseat to who's closest, Gemma being the one to grab Arlo and Harry pushes to stand in front of his family. His fingers clench into fists, shoulders tensing up as he glares at the man in front of him.

"You're still around then?" Jack chuckles, looking Harry up and down with a smirk.

"Yeah. M'glad can't I say the same about you." Harry easily replies. He doesn't know how Jack's here, after what happened he should be in jail still. "Suppose it's hard to stay around with a restraining order against ya."

Jack clicks his tongue, jaw clenching. "Suppose you won't be around for long considering that temper of yours. How long before you hurt another family member, huh? Maybe that baby of yours?"

He takes a step forward, fury flooding through him and he feels proud when Jack takes a step back. "Don't fucking talk about my family. You were never family, you were a drunk prick that used and hurt my family!"

Jack scoffs, eyes blazing in the same way that haunted his dreams for so long. "I fixed your family after that father of yours left a fucking mess behind! Imagine the life you'd have if you hadn't almost killed me!"

"I wish I had fucking killed you!" Harry spits, "You abused her for years, you sent Gemma away after you fucking lied to her, you stole the fucking money from me, you kept them from my wedding and from my child! You deserve to die!"

Jack stalks forward, standing so close to Harry there's toes touch, and he glares into Harry's eyes. Harry's so mad he thinks he could beat him to a pulp again, until he's gasping for breath and begging Harry to stop.

"Then do it Styles." Jack spits, and Harry knows what he's doing. He's trying to break him. Either Harry beats him like he wants to, and he more than likely ends up in prison, or he loses his family. The last time he hit him he lost everything.

Jack shoves him back, spurring him on and Harry hates that he's got no choice here. Before anyone can move a muscle or Harry can even think of what to say someone is pulling him back, and stepping in front of him.

"Don't fucking touch my husband!" Y/n snarls, so menacing that even Harry falters. And that little falter is enough time for her to cock her fist back and throw it into Jack's jaw. Harry's eyes widen, and Gemma and Anne gasp as Jack's head snaps to the right. Y/n immediately curses, bringing her hand to her chest and wiggling in that way she does when she's hurt.

"Fuck," Harry mutters, grabbing her by the waist and tugging her back. Jack gathers his bearings, glaring at y/n with a busted lip and storming towards her.

"You little bit-" he's cut off by Harry's fist, this time the hit so hard he crumples to the sidewalk with a thud.

"Oh my God," y/n mumbles, and Harry knows Jack's out cold so he turns to y/n. She's silently crying and looking down at her left hand in shock. Harry reaches for it, apologizing when she winces. Her knuckle is cut, and her hands already swelling.

"Gotta take this off baby." Harry says, carefully prying her wedding ring off. He carefully drops it into his pocket, bringing her hand up to press a kiss to it. Gemma is on the phone behind him, obviously calling the police but he keeps his attention on his wife. She sniffles, looking up at him through her wet eyelashes and her bottom lip trembles.

"I can't believe you did that." Harry whispers, reaching up to wipe her cold tears. Y/n falls into his chest, and Harry wraps an arm around her, cupping the back of her head.

"Couldn't let you risk losing them again." She mumbles into his clothes, sniffling again. His heart jumps, and he chuckles in disbelief. She's always been good at understanding him, at navigating his silence. She knew he wouldn't be the first to hit Jack because of what happened last time.

"S'a good thing I taught ya to hit then." He laughs. "and it was a bloody good hit baby." She pulls back from him, mascara smeared under her eyes and trying to flex her fingers.

"It fucking hurts," she says bitterly, "I can't believe you do this all the time."

"Usually got gloves on." Harry snickers, rubbing his thumb over the uninjured part of her hand. "I'll put some ice on it for ya, fix you right up baby."

She smiles, grateful and sniffles again. "What happened to darling?"

"You're my baby tonight, baby." He kisses the top of her head, bringing her back to his chest for a moment. "Let's get you and Arlo in the car, s'too cold out here."

She obeys, and Harry leaves Gemma and Anne with Jack, who's been detained by restaurant security. Harry loads Arlo into the car, helping y/n into the front seat. He even squishes in the seat with her, closing the door and squeezing her close to him. They stay cuddled together, neither of them speaking as Arlo starts to snore from the backseat. Harry doesn't move until the police arrive, pressing a kiss to her head. Before he leaves to go speak with the officers, he leaves her the car keys and of course, mumbles an "I love you baby."

~

His laptop sits at the edge of the bed, Lady and the Tramp playing from Disney+ as Harry ices y/n's hand. Arlo is still snoring behind them, and y/n is getting droopy on his shoulder, his own eyes feeling heavy.

"Thank you for tonight y/n." Harry mumbles, kissing the top of her head. She doesn't move, but he can feel her smile.

"Of course," she whispers, "I'd do anything for you Harry."

Her fingers gently pat his thigh, the ice rattling from the movement and Harry shushes her before she can irritate her hand more. "M'so fucking glad I never have to come back to this town again."

"Never?"

"Never," Harry confirms, "because everything I need is in our city, in our home, and in our family."

"What about your dad?"

"I think he'd be happy knowing we've all left this behind us. I've said my goodbye."

She finally lifts her head, blinking sluggishly as she kisses his cheek. "M'ready for us to go home."

"Me too baby." Harry mumbles, knowing he's already got his home with him when Arlo snorts quite loudly and y/n giggles.

[honeyhan-123]

Say Thank You VIII

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: non con/dub-con (If you don’t like that sort of thing or it triggers you please do not read this), spanking with a belt, getting into some serious gas lighting techniques. 

Word Count: 2.8k

AN: Sexy times are here, get ready.

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game 

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

VIII. The First Attempt

You sat on the bed, your hands forcibly shoved underneath you as you waited, waited for him to go. It was agony, torture in the highest degree, knowing you were so close to freedom but that he might still be upstairs. You couldn’t hear anything outside of what happened in your room and so you had no idea whether he had left or not, but you figured he had been pretty much ready to go after breakfast; he had looked it at least. 

When you couldn’t take the waiting anymore, you jumped to your feet, heading over to the wall of windows, dragging the dining table with you as you went. If you stood on it, you would be able to reach them easily. You pressed your palm against the window, at this height you could see the grass on the other side, the way it gleamed in the sunlight, soaking up the sun for photosynthesis. You couldn’t wait until that would be you, lying in the grass, being able to feel the sun on your skin. 

Your forehead rested against the cool glass for a moment, wishing you could just be outside already, your lips tugged into a firm line. 

Jumping down from the table, you grabbed the small little tupperware container from the bench as you headed over to the bed, stripping the top sheet and lying it flat on the ground before heading to the dining room table. If you were going to make it out of here you would need provisions. You placed the lunch he had left in the center of the white satin before heading to the wardrobe. You tried to gather the most ‘normal’ looking clothes he had given you, not wanting to stick out too much when you were finally free. It would make it easier to hide from him. 

Laying the clothes and some toiletries down on your small pile, you briefly reconsidered your escape plan. You knew he would come looking for you, no matter where you went, he would follow. You didn’t even know where you were, the sky outside certainly didn’t look like you were still in Madrid. How were you meant to run when you didn’t know where to start? You were basically committing yourself to a life on the run from America’s hero. Is that what you really wanted? 

No, it wasn’t. But it was what you needed to do. Looking back at the dining table you knew you couldn’t continue to be his little doll, not for another minute. You gathered the corners of the sheet, tying them together to form a rucksack of sorts and hoisted it onto your shoulders, heading back over to the table and pressing your palm against the cool glass once again. 

It was a welcome relief on your skin as you contemplated the next step of your plan: how to smash the window… 

+

Steve had left nearly as soon as he had locked the basement door behind him. He knew that if he stayed, even for another five minutes, he would never leave. Opting instead to spend his day with you, maybe playing a little board game or sitting on the couch next to you, listening to you read your newest novel aloud. He loved the sound of your voice; the way your sweet, luscious lips curled around the words as they came out in your melodic trill. 

It had been torture in the highest form pulling away from you that morning, the ache between his legs begging him for a release and the sight of you, barely clad in what was his new favourite nightgown of yours. Oh how he had wanted to ruin your body for everyone else, ravishing you over and over again until you couldn’t walk anymore. But he had to wait, he needed your first time to be when you were ready, it would set the tone for the future of your relationship. But god was it hard to walk away from you, the way your hair was splayed across the satin sheets he had splurged on, just for you; the way you had felt so right in his arms, your body pressed against his warming him from the inside out. 

Suffice to say, his shower was a long one.

He couldn’t believe that he was really doing this, really leaving you at home, alone. You had been so well behaved the past few days, nearly always following his orders straight away. Sometimes, he could see the resistance in you, hidden behind duplicitous eyes. The sight always made him shudder, sadness creeping over his skin. You were his and he just had to wait until you realised that too, until you accepted that. Maybe that article he had read was right, maybe he had to break you before you could claim you but he hadn’t wanted to do that. He just wanted you to be his right away.

With one last glance at the basement stairs that led down to you, Steve forced his legs to carry him to his garage and drive away, all the while questioning whether or not you were really ready to be left alone.

His internal monologue had lasted all the way to the abandoned warehouse the team had been using as a headquarters, all the way through Sam’s debriefing of the mission he had missed out on and all through Nat’s threat assessment of a new up and coming cartel down in Ecuador. He knew he should be paying attention, he was the Captain of this team for crying out loud, yet every word spoken in the meeting had just flown in one ear and out the other. It was only when he heard the familiar chime of his cellphone, felt it vibrate against his thigh, that he was brought out of his internal spiral.  

His blood turned cold in his veins, his gut sinking to the floor as his phone continued to vibrate in his pocket, drawing the attention of his fellow teammates, all looking at him in wonder, curious as to who could be calling. But Steve knew better. He knew he wasn’t getting a call, everyone who had his number was in the same room as him. It was an alert; an alert that his girl was up to no good.

He excused himself from the table, heading out from the room and pulling his phone from his pocket. He forced himself to wait until he was in his office, behind closed doors before he opened it to the feed from the basement. He watched as you pressed a palm against the cool glass of the window, staring intently outside, the pressure on the glass being what had alerted him. 

A breath of relief escaped his lips. This he could deal with. He hadn’t specified that you weren’t allowed to touch the window and if that was all you were doing, that would be okay. It made sense that you wanted to look out the window, see the grass, the way it glittered in the sun. 

Steve felt a surge of guilt, it had been a while since you had felt the sun on your skin. Maybe if you were good today that could be a reward when he got home. He would pack a picnic, some dessert maybe, and you could sit out in his backyard on his lawn chairs. 

A smile crossed his face as he imagined the scene, it would be the next step to normalising your relationship and he couldn’t wait to take it with you. 

He watched as you stepped down from the window, picking up the tupperware container with your lunch as you headed back to the bed. Steve felt a surge of disappointment, were you really about to eat your lunch now? He had barely been gone for an hour, surely you weren’t hungry yet and if you ate now, you would be starving by the time he got back home. 

However, to his horror, he watched you strip the bed of its sheet, placing the packed lunch, some clothes and toiletries inside before heading back over to the window, his plans of a nice picnic in the yard ruined as he watched you pick up one of the dining room chairs, lugging it towards the bulletproof glass. Steve knew that it wouldn’t break, no matter what you threw at it but he couldn’t escape the hurt that flooded through his as he watched you try. 

When he couldn’t take it anymore; when he felt as though his rage was about to overpower him, swallow him whole, he forced himself to tear his eyes from his screen, heading back out through the hallway towards the garage, a plan forming in his head. 

+

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you stared up at the sky through the taunting window. You should have known your captor would have reinforced, unshatterable glass windows. No matter what you had thrown at it, the glass remained perfectly intact, not a crack in its perfect facade. 

You had given up shortly after breaking one of the dining room chairs from how many times you had smashed it against the window. It had seemed like the easiest thing to throw at it, something heavy and solid yet still light enough that you would be able to get some force behind it. Oh how wrong you were. All those movies where the hero easily smashes the glass by simply throwing a punch at it had lied to you. 

You dreaded Steve’s return, you knew he wasn’t going to be happy with you. The broken chair lying by the base of the wall would serve as evidence to what you had done, had tried to do. 

You didn’t hear him return, the click of the lock, the clack of his shoes against the hardwood floors. The shower had drowned out all those sounds, the water cascading around you as you scrubbed your body clean, getting it ready for him. In your desperate state you had thought that maybe if you dressed up, just like how he wanted you too, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be as angry. 

You had searched through the wardrobe as you returned the dresses, searching for the opposite type of dress you had that morning, trying your best to look as though you had just stepped out of the forties. 

As you washed the last strip of conditioner from your hair, you felt his steel grip around your arm, his other hand forcing the shower off as he tugged you from the warm water. You didn’t dare look at his eyes, too afraid of the rage and disappointment that you were sure you would find conveyed in his clear blue eyes. 

He didn’t say a word as he forced you onto the bed, the room unnaturally dark as you glanced at the windows, seeing that a metallic covering had formed over all of them, blocking any light that might have entered the room. 

You cowered, trying to cover your body with you hands as he stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in your naked body. 

‘S-St-Steve - Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ You tried to scramble up the bed, take his face into your hands, your thumbs running across his cheeks leaving a wet trail behind them. 

‘Shut up slut. I don’t want to hear it.’ He grabbed your hands in his, easily flipping your body over, pushing you face first onto the mattress, binding each hand to opposite bed posts with metal handcuffs you had never seen before. You turned your face to him, cheek pressing against the dampening satin sheets, watching as he stared down at you, trepidation flooding through you. 

Even on that first day when you had refused to get out of bed he hadn’t looked this mad, his eyes practically ablaze. ‘Steve, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my love. I promise, I’ll be your girl, your good girl. I’m sorry.’ Your words mixed together, covered by the sobs that wrecked through your body as he circled you, the clack of his shoes against the floor the only sound emanating from him.

‘I’m sorry Doll but the time for promises has passed. Your actions today have proven that you can’t be trusted. I hadn’t wanted it to come to this, I thought that maybe we could just skip over this entire step but apparently not. You need to be broken, only then will you be able to become fully mine like I want you to be. It may take a while, but I’m a very patient man.’ His tone was mocking, poking fun at your attempted escape.

His hand trailed down your back, ever so gently as he spoke, raising goosebumps across your skin. He picked up your hips, forcing you onto your knees as you heard the clink of his belt buckle coming undone. Your eyes squeezed closed, waiting for the zip of his fly to sound through the silent room, yet it never came. Instead, you heard the faint hiss of the leather against the air before it smacked down onto the tender skin of your arse. 

You had thought his palm had hurt, but that had nothing on the stiff leather in his hands as it reigned down onto you. Unlike last time, he didn’t make you count, something you were grateful for as there was no way you could have managed it between your shouts, pleas for him to stop. He also didn’t stop at ten like he had last time, continually hitting your skin for what felt like hours as you lay, helpless, at his mercy. 

When at last he did stop, the leather ceasing its abuse against your raw skin, you couldn’t form words, not when you heard the zip of his fly you had been waiting for, not when you felt the bed shift as he kneeled behind you or when you felt his fingers against you, swirling in the slick that you had no memory of forming. 

You heard his groan, felt his fingers circle against your sweet little bundle of nerves as he pushed his tip against you. His words from that morning apparently flying out the window as he eased in, inch by inch. 

Despite the wetness - which you were still confused about - he hurt. It hurt when his thick cock stretched your walls beyond what you could manage, when his tip felt as though it were brushing directly against your womb, when his pelvis met the tender skin of your ass, no doubt smearing the blood from the cuts his belt had caused. Despite all that physical pain, it was the mental pain that hurt the most, the way pleasure wrecked through your broken body as his finger pressed against you, matching the speed at which he rutted into you. 

‘I don’t know why I didn’t just start with this. Look at how your responding to me Sweetheart, look at the way your body craves me. Only I can give you this pleasure, only me.’ His breathing was heavy, pulling at your still wet hair, forcing your back to arch despite your hands still being cuffed to the bedpost as he spoke. 

You could only moan in response, the feeling of him brushing up against that sweet spot inside you too much to bear. ‘C’mon Sweetheart. You said you were going to be my good girl, so do it. Cum for me. Cum for me now.’ 

Your body followed his commands, pulsing around his cock, milking it as he emptied into you, his cum spilling out across your lips, down your thighs as he pulled out, a gentle slap - nothing in comparison to his belt - to your ass as he got off the bed, pulling his clothes on. 

‘I don’t know how long it’s going to take to make you compliant, but like I said earlier, I’m a very patient man.’ You heard the sound of his footsteps growing fainter as he neared the door, disappearing through it, the sound of the lock clicking as you realised he wasn’t coming back, not for a while at least. He was just going to leave you like this, face pressed against the wet sheets, cum spilling out of your aching hole and your hands tied above your head. 

Although you had thought you had used up your entire supply of tears as he had hit you, fresh ones started cascading down your cheeks, the darkness your only company as you cried until sleep could claim you.

+

Tags will be added in a reblog

IX. The Darkness

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

[itsbigdangofamily]

i’ve been waiting all my life for this morning

A/N: OjiTooru fluff, because OjiTooru deserves more love. You can also read it on AO3.

The first thing Mashirao sees when he wakes up is sunlight streaming through the wide glass windows, whirling dust motes caught in the golden glare. He can feel an arm draped over his chest, and, under the sheets, a leg tangled between both of his, resting against his tail.

Mashirao smiles as he turns over, removing Tooru’s hand from his chest and gently kissing the center of her palm. She murmurs softly, the sunlight striking the pillow where an indentation marks the position of her head. 

Levering himself up on his elbow, Mashirao leans over Tooru and presses a kiss to the general location of her face, his mouth touching her cheek. His next kiss is aimed better, grazing the corners of her lips.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Mashirao says softly, fondly stroking her hair as she groans drowsily. After a second, the indentation on the pillow changes shape as she rolls her head in his direction and pulls Mashirao down for a proper kiss. Their mouths move languidly against each other, sweet and slow and loving.

“Good morning,” Tooru says when they pull away from each other, a smile in her voice. As Mashirao reaches down to cup the face of his wife—the thought sends a giddy rush through him, conjuring up a thousand images of the previous day—he can’t help but return her smile.

+

Mashirao is six years old, laughing as he sprints through a wide sunny field. 

In front of him, his friend Haruto holds a model airplane over his head, making flying noises with his mouth as he races through the grass. 

They end up at the base of a giant oak tree. The two small boys collapse gratefully under the cool shade of its leafy branches, chests heaving and lungs gasping. But small boys are an inexhaustible source of energy, and soon Haruto is back on his feet again.

“Planes are the coolest!” Haruto yells, holding his model plane aloft as he runs around in the shade. “When I grow up, I’m going to become a pilot!”

“That’s . . . That’s great,” Mashirao heaves out, still trying to catch his breath.

“What about you? What are you going to be when you grow up?” Haruto asks, feet in a perpetual state of motion as he races circles around Mashirao.

“I—” Mashirao starts. What does he want to be when he grows up? The question leaves his mind completely blank. Mashirao likes things, sure, but he’s not like Haruto, with his obsession with planes and jets and pilots. Mashirao doesn’t have anything like that, nothing he’s so single-mindedly devoted to. 

“I don’t know,” Mashirao admits finally. Haruto makes a disappointed noise, unsatisfied with Mashirao’s response. He moves on quickly enough though, as small boys are wont to do.

Mashirao tries to do the same, tries to let go of this strange curdled feeling in his stomach at the thought of the future and growing up and being an adult and having a job. 

He tries.

+

“We should really get up,” Mashirao says as Tooru peppers his face with kisses, one arm wrapped around his neck while the other gently strokes his tail.

“Why?” Tooru asks. “Staying in bed all day sounds far more appealing.”

“Work,” Mashirao replies with a smile. He presses a final kiss to Tooru’s lips before sitting up and sliding out of bed, his bare feet hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud. 

“You’re no fun,” Tooru complains as Mashirao rummages on the floor of their closet for clothes. Behind him, he hears Tooru reluctantly get up, grumbling and yawning as she makes her way to the bathroom. A second later, the shower starts up, the sound a soothing background noise as Mashirao finally manages to locate a pair of relatively clean boxers.

He soon joins Tooru in the bathroom, hovering over the sink as he spreads shaving cream on his face. To his right, Tooru hums quietly as she stands beneath the spray, water droplets seeming to hang oddly in midair as they cling to her skin.

“Want to join me? I’ll let you scrub my back,” Tooru says sultrily, but it’s the tone she uses when she’s only half-serious about what she’s saying.

Mashirao doesn’t look away from the mirror, carefully dragging the razor along the line of his jaw. “If I did that, we wouldn’t leave for another three hours,” Mashirao comments as he tilts his head to inspect his cheek.

“I fail to see the problem with that.” 

“Work.”

“You know, no one really expects us to come to work the day after our wedding,” Tooru says half-accusingly, but a second later, she’s stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around herself.

Truthfully, Mashirao doesn’t really want to go to work today either. He’d much rather laze the day away in bed, cuddling his wife—happiness fills him at the thought; he still can’t quite believe they’re married—in his arms. Or better yet, take a week-long vacation to Kyoto, or Venice, or Paris. He’s always wanted to go to Paris.

Alas, being a pro hero requires certain sacrifices, among them giving up honeymoons.

He and Tooru took the entire day off yesterday for their wedding, and they’re already late getting up today—at the insistence of their sidekicks, who had all but ordered them not to show up before at least noon—but their agency is still less than a year old, and they truly can’t afford to take any more time off.

Not that he minds too much. 

+

Mashirao is fifteen years old, in his last year of middle school, nervously fidgeting in his chair as his teacher asks him what his plans for the future are.

“I’m planning on applying to UA,” Mashirao admits, a ball of nerves tightening in his chest. 

His teacher blinks once, surprised, then tries to cover it up with a smile. “You want to be a hero, Ojiro-kun? How wonderful. I’m sure you’ll be great at it. You’re such a kind boy.”

Honestly, Mashirao isn’t sure this is the right decision at all. He’s talked to other people who dream of becoming pro heroes, people who want it more than anything. Their rooms are filled with hero merch, and they watch news segments religiously, and their eyes shine like stars whenever they talk about their favorite heroes. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t want to be a hero—he thinks pro heroes are really cool, and having a job that lets him help people doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend the rest of his life. It’s just that sometimes he looks at all the other hero hopefuls, and he thinks, I don’t care enough, I’m not devoted enough, I’m not certain enough that this is what I want to be. I’m not like you, I’m not like you, I’m not like you.

Sometimes, he can’t help but remember Haruto, his friend from years ago. He remembers that day running in the grass, remembers collapsing in the shade, remembers Haruto’s innocent question.

He’s still haunted by that question, by the realization that he doesn’t love anything as much as Haruto loved planes, doesn’t want anything as much as Haruto wanted to be a pilot.

It’s such a stupid thing to hold on to, after all this time.

It’s such a stupid thing, but he still hasn’t learned how to let go.

+

Mashirao’s phone dings as he leans against the wall beside the front door, waiting for Tooru to finish getting dressed. He opens his messages to find two texts from his older sister. He’s typing out a reply when Tooru comes into the room. She’s wearing her hero costume, which makes her fully invisible, but Mashirao has long since become familiar with the sound of her footsteps.

“Ready?” she asks as she pulls on her custom-made shoes, just as invisible as she is.

“Yeah. Just got to finish this text to Tsuyoi-nee really quick,” Mashirao responds, hurriedly finishing his reply before putting his phone away.

“Oh? What she’d say?” Tooru pulls the door of their apartment open and steps into the hallway, Mashirao following as she presses the call button for the elevator.

“She said they’re just about to board the plane. She also berated me for not taking more time off.”

“See! Tsuyoi-nee agrees with me,” Tooru declares triumphantly as the elevator doors slide open. Mashirao laughs, barely looking behind him as he jabs the button for the lobby with his tail.

“That doesn’t really prove anything. You and Tsuyoi-nee agree on everything.” It had been a little disconcerting, at first, to find out just how similar Tooru was to his older sister. The two women, by contrast, had gleefully jumped at the opportunity to double-team him into doing whatever they wanted.

“I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be married to me, not your job.” Playfully, she tugs on the hem of his costume.

As the elevator descends, Mashirao wraps his tail around Tooru’s waist, bringing her in closer. “Why can’t I be married to both?” he asks, lightly kissing the top of her head. It’s at times like these that he can’t help but appreciate the difference in their heights.

He feels sure Tooru is rolling her eyes, but she leans up for another kiss anyway.

+

Mashirao is eighteen years old, just months away from graduating high school, and the thought of the future still sets his insides churning furiously.

It doesn’t help that all his classmates seem to be so sure of their post-graduation plans.

Everywhere he turns, he hears people talking about job offers and agencies and renting new apartments and finding roommates. Sometimes, it all just makes him feel like he’s drowning, like he’s the only person in a roiling sea who hasn’t found anything to hold on to keep him afloat.

He and Tooru still haven’t talked about what they’re going to do after graduation. He’s thought about bringing it up to her so many times, but every time he does, his nerves sew his mouth firmly shut.

They’ve been dating since their first year, and the thought of breaking up with her sends a physical ache through him. But at the same time, the idea of spending the rest of his life with her fills him with an unspeakable uncertainty.

It’s the same uncertainty he felt when he first decided to apply to UA—misgivings over having made the wrong choice, doubt that this is something he can actually do.

During his three years at UA, he’s discovered an enthusiasm for hero work, a joy in being able to save people, delight in everything that a pro hero does. He loves it, loves every damn second he spent here, loves all the people he’s met, loves all the skills he’s honed, loves all the friends he’s made. 

And he loves dating Tooru too. He cares for her so, so deeply, more intensely than he thought he could ever care for anyone.

Yet the thought of forever, of being a hero forever, of being with Tooru forever—it scares him.

Forever is a long time, and he’s scared that somewhere down the line, he’ll run out of passion for his job and his girlfriend, and then he’ll be stuck. Stuck because he didn’t have enough love for the path he tread.

Twelve years past, and he still can’t forget Haruto.

+

“I cannot believe you guys actually came to work the day after your wedding,” FX says as Mashirao and Tooru walk through the doors of their agency.

“We’re pro heroes. No rest for the wicked, and no rest for us either,” Tooru responds. Mashirao kindly refrains from mentioning that Tooru had been complaining about having to come to work less than five minutes ago. 

The sidekick shakes her head in disbelief, her green-tipped ponytail swinging back and forth. “Well, if you want to work so bad, be my guest,” she says, making a grandiose sweeping gesture toward the elevator to Mashirao and Tooru’s office. “I’ll get Kaze to bring over some reports in a bit.”

“Oh, joy. Paperwork,” Tooru mutters under her breath as they step into the elevator.

Just as the doors are about to close, FX calls loudly through the gap, “You two better not be fucking when I send him up!”

Mashirao sputters, feeling his cheeks turn a dark shade of red, while Tooru laughs. “That mouth of hers is going to get her in trouble someday.” 

“Isn’t that why you hired her?” Mashirao asks archly. 

“You bet!” If Mashirao could see her face, he’s sure Tooru would be grinning broadly right now.

The elevator doors open, and they make their way down the short hallway to their office. Tooru pushes the door open and steps inside, humming. However much she might have protested getting out of bed, Tooru loves hero work. She’s just as happy to be at the agency as he is, he can tell.

Without warning, his mind flashes back to his third year at UA, right before graduation. He remembers the anxiety he felt then, the uncertainty about his path in life. God, he’d been so young—eighteen years old, and feeling like the whole world was riding on his shoulders.

He’ll forever be grateful to Tooru. Tooru, who encouraged him and reassured him and pushed him to be a hero despite all his misgivings, despite all his doubts. Tooru, who’s been at his side all these years, through good and bad, through thick and thin.

He won’t lie. It hasn’t been easy. Being a pro hero isn’t easy, after all. There’s been injuries and hospitals and far too much blood. There’s been sweat and exhaustion and fatigue clawing at his soul. There’s been tears and funerals and enough grief for a lifetime.

But somewhere along the way, sometime during the years of daily patrols and emergency calls and disaster relief—Mashirao stopped worrying. He stopped being uncertain about life and started living it.

And now, standing in his very own agency in Shizuoka, in the office he shares with his wonderful, amazing wife, he can’t imagine any other life he’d rather have.

Stepping toward Tooru, he wraps her in a hug. She reciprocates, folding her arms around his neck. “I love you,” he says softly, leaning down to kiss her. He can feel her smile as she kisses back, her tongue teasingly tracing a path along Mashirao’s lips. He opens his mouth, and her tongue slips inside.

Things are just about to get heated when a knock interrupts them, and Tooru pulls back with a disappointed sigh. She opens the door on a short boy, fresh out of high school, with unkempt silver hair and half-lidded golden eyes.

“Reports from FX-senpai,” Kaze says emotionlessly, holding out a stack of files. Tooru takes them from his hands with only minimal grumbling as Kaze slowly scans the entire room, gaze seeming to brighten as he takes in Mashirao.

“Thank you, Kaze-kun,” Tooru replies as she sets the stack on the desk with a heavy thud. “You can go now,” she adds when he remains standing just inside the doorway.

“FX-senpai said to tell her if you two were doing anything naughty,” Kaze continues in his monotone voice, ignoring Tooru’s command. Mashirao feels his face start to heat up again.

“Well, you can tell her that we weren’t,” Tooru replies, calm as ever. 

Kaze blinks once slowly. “You’re lying,” he says baldly. The statement is directed at Tooru, but his eyes are fixed on Mashirao—specifically, his lips. Mashirao’s cheeks rapidly increase in temperature as Tooru lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“You really should be going now,” Tooru says, giving the boy no choice as she quickly ushers him out of the office and closes the door.

“FX is really such a bad influence,” Tooru remarks, but her voice is fond. Mashirao lets out an embarrassed groan, his head falling into his hands. Tooru laughs, walking over to him and lifting his head up, her palms cupping his cheeks. “Oh, relax. It’s not like she hasn’t caught us kissing in here before.”

“Remind me again why we hired her?”

“Because I like her.” There’s a grin in Tooru’s voice, and Mashirao can’t help but grin back, even though the blood has yet to recede from his cheeks.

This is his life, complete with irreverent sidekicks and monotone newbies and all.

And he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[mars-the-red]

Circles, chapter 2

fandom: Time Tunnel

Synopsis: Tony arrives back at Project Tic-Toc 10 years too soon, emotions ensue.

I’m tagging @effulgentpoet because she was kind enough to read the first part and just in case she wants to read the next bit; no pressure tho darling

Tony was bundled into the jeep by a still-wary Jiggs, and deposited in Medical, where he found himself unceremoniously stripped of every last stitch of clothing and sat in a gown on a paper sheet while a parade of personnel took readings of everything from the amount of potassium in his blood to how many fillings he had in his mouth. They all wore face masks and gloves. Tony recognized a few of them, but none of them recognized him.

“Where’s Doug?” he demanded, of every single nurse and doctor who took their particular toll. He got a few looks of sympathy, but one of Jiggs’s men, hand-picked to guard Tony while he was poked and prodded, warned them off of talking with a very pointed shake of his head.

“Containment protocol,” Jiggs reminded Doug, who was waiting with ever-thinning patience to speak with their guest. “You wrote half of these measures yourself. No contamination or cross-pollination of the Project. Tic-Toc Base is hallowed ground.”

“Sacrosanct, I think I said,” Doug replied. He looked up at the monitor showing the security feed of the Medical area. “It made sense at the time.”

“It makes sense now,” Jiggs said. “Anyway, I still think it’s a fairy story. Even if there is a Newman at MIT, he’s probably a shell. They would have done their homework.”

Doug grunted in reply. Maybe so, but the only way to uncover the truth would be by talking to this man. He paced a few steps, drifting along the corridor wall without really seeing it.

“Security should handle the interview,” Jiggs said.

Doug turned on his heel. “I’ll handle the interview.”

“Dr. Phillips, you’re too important to this project to put you in a room with an unverified, uncleared unknown.”

Doug pulled one hand from his pocket, held his palm to Jiggs. “He’s not going to convince any of you. I’m going to let him try to convince me. If he is who he says he is, don’t we owe him that?”

Jiggs was fingering the gun on his belt. “You numbers types are going to be the death of me.”

“We’ll try not to be.” Doug resumed his pacing.

* * *

Two hours later, the protocol shifted from discovery to maintenance. The head physician on duty called the canteen for a meal to be delivered to Medical, and Doug, who apparently ranked lower than a plate of chicken and rice, was admitted soon after.

They had put Tony in the suite for containing troublesome patients, with the minimum security of locks, not the plastic-draped and hermetically sealed suite for containing rampaging pathogens. It was a small, minimally furnished room, white tile floor and walls, bright lights, with a cot, chair, and table, where the aforementioned meal had been deposited and ignored.

Tony, wearing a pair of white scrubs, was seated at the table, head in his hands.

Security unlocked the door and held it open. Doug stepped through and it swung closed behind him, with more of a medical swoosh than a jailhouse clang. The lock turned heavily.

“I’m not your guinea pig,” Tony snapped, as soon as Doug came into the room. He picked up his head and glared. The prisoner treatment had keyed him up again. At least, after the decon shower they had forced on him, he felt cleaner than he had in weeks.

“Medical needed to check you’re not a threat to anyone on base.”

“They took a whole unit of blood. What are they checking for, vampirism?” It had made him a little light-headed, so he was perched at the table, rigidly aware of how alone he was. He wasn’t sure he could stand up to go toe to toe with Doug.

“I’m sorry. Why don’t you finish your food?”

Tony shoved the plate away from him. “I’m not hungry.”

“Come on. You’ve gotta be.”

Tony knew that tone. That sensible, friendly, I’m-just-looking-out-for-you reasonableness that Doug could suffocate you with. Tony looked down at his plate of dry chicken, salad, and rice and made a face.

Doug followed his look. “The canteen aren’t miracle workers, but it’s not that bad.”  

“Then you eat it,” Tony said.

Doug set a blue folder on the table, then swung into the chair across from him and swiped a cherry tomato off Tony’s plate. “I’m hungry, too. You know I was just heading to dinner when you showed up?”

“Sorry to spoil you plans.”

“This is a lot more interesting.” Doug bit into the tomato. It was mushy. He tried to hide the grimace. He removed a notebook and pencil from his breast pocket, flipped to a new page, and set it in front of him. “Take me through it again. Name, rank, serial number. Anything, everything we can use to corroborate this story.”

Tony did. Haltingly at first, then picking up speed. It had happened fast for him. The chair of the department calling him into his office, the interviews with bland polite men in suits. Becky had fallen away during the next few months of intense work on that fateful paper and then, out of nowhere, an invitation to defend it as his dissertation.

Doug had been there. A “special invite” to sit on the dissertation board. Tony hadn’t known who he was. He kept that to himself.

It was a rainy day in early April. They started at eight a.m. Tony drew figures and charts and chains of equations until an entire pack of chalk had turned to dust in his fingertips. The questions kept coming. By the end of the gauntlet the street lights had come on outside and he barely knew his own name, until his adviser shook his hand and said “Congratulations, Doctor Newman.”

Doug sent him home to pack. The next day they touched down in the middle of Nowhere, Arizona, under a blue sky full of brilliant sun. Tony hadn’t thought or breathed anything else since.

He knew staffing levels, layouts, equipment, even the make and model of the coffee machines in the control center. Some of the things he described were still on Doug’s wish list, to be wrangled over in endless committee meetings in DC. Some were already in play. Tony answered every question Doug lobbed at him for an hour and a half, trying to place him both in the present and the future, and at the end of it, Doug had heard enough. He was a believer.

Then it was Doug’s turn for show and tell. The test results had all come back; Doug opened the blue folder. The subject was in overall good health, with nutritional deficiencies consistent with some months of deprivation. Slight dehydration, several superficial injuries, and no marks of biological contamination.

“Do you know where the radiological contamination came from?” Doug asked, leafing through the reports. That was the only caveat on Tony’s charts, with a low impact rating.

Tony looked up at him and calculated. The radiation bath hadn’t been conceived yet.

“No,” Tony said. “Must be a by-product.”

Doug caught his hesitation. He held Tony’s eyes for a half-second too long before he finally smiled. “Well, it’s not a threat to you or anyone on station. Good news, Medical can’t see any reason to confine you here.”

Tony was regretting not eating when he had the chance. He was light-headed again. “So now what? You’ll turn me over to Security for their go?”

“No. Come with me.”

* * *

Security stood aside as Dr. Phillips escorted his guest out. Tony took the lead, subtly, guiding them out of Medical and toward the central tower space, the Atrium. He knew these corridors like the back of his hand. He sensed Doug watching his every step, and he saw the guards raise their hand to their ear pieces as he entered their range. He kept his chin held high.

Tony had no codes, no access badges, no biometrics on file, so Doug stepped up to the armored door to the Atrium. He swiped his badge, then turned his eyes to the iris scanner mounted unobtrusively in the terminal.

The doors slid open. Tony stepped out onto the footbridge, veered to the rail, and stopped dead.

The Atrium smelled of fresh paint and hot metal, sawn-off lumber and floor wax. Half of it was still under construction, hung with plastic and scaffolding.

Impossible to ignore, the pulsing, breathing power core was alive with electricity, writhing with nuclear reaction and shunted neutrons. It drew Tony’s whole attention, it drew him to lean over the railing and bathe in its mad refracting light.

Seven years ago, first laying eyes on it, it was the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen. And in that moment, suspended above its unimaginable power, all the doubts Tony had ever had about his own sanity, his abilities, humankind’s striving against the seemingly unassailable wall of the universe and its laws, had vanished. He knew they could do anything. It was the engine of all their dreams.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Doug asked.

Tony could only nod.

The staffing complexes were still under construction, falling down into the gloom below. Tiny lights, like illuminated ants, were busy some five hundred floors below them, as construction crews dug deeper into the Arizona plate and carved out space for more offices, more laboratories, more libraries, more minds to strive toward this one inconceivable goal.

Tony finally pried himself away. A wave of dizziness crested, then subsided, as he pushed off the railing. “Where are we going?”

“My office.”

Doug’s office was a suite just above the control room. Doug waved him in and followed.

Tony took a breath. The paint smelled sharp and fresh here, too.

The outer room, where Doug had his desk, bookshelves, and seating area, also had a bank of windows overlooking the control floor. His desk was arranged to face them, and the Tunnel was dead center.

Eyes on the prize, Doug used to say.

Goodbye, work-life balance, Tony had thought then.

He thought it now, too. Doug’s office was functional. It was efficient. The furniture was new, with clean lines. Bleeding-edge design in bright woods and angles. Doug’s desk was a nod to his position; lots of drawers, and a desk top with a larger square footage than Tony’s dorm room. Files, always neatly stacked and sorted when Doug could help it . Cabinets full of identical manila folders.

Then as now, Tony was struck by how spartan it was. No pictures, no photographs, no cool rocks Doug had picked up on a whim while out hiking. A rack of plants were oxygenating the room from under a grow light, but they had no personality; Doug had let one of his assistants choose them.

Several diplomas in identical frames were hung behind his desk, but they only gave the who, what, where, when of Doug’s education. No context.

The bookshelves held a hint of life; Don Quixote in several editions, HG Wells, and Conan Doyle, plus a fair spread of the Western canon. Theory featured heavily, and Tony, who had never been much for reading when he could be doing, had once gotten the grand tour. Mathematicians, of course, and philosophers, and historians. And mathematicians playing philosopher, and philosophers playing historian. A busy little section on astronomy that served as a lending library of sorts; Tic Toc Base was situated under some of the darkest skies left in North America, and there were plenty of amateur and professional astronomers in their ranks. Doug had an antique telescope in a leather case propped in the corner. His father’s name was embossed on the strap.

Apart from the bookshelves, the only truly personal touch was the ring on Doug’s small finger, a souvenir from his very brief stint in the Army. He said the brass in Washington liked to see it; but he wore it all the time, so Tony figured that time in the forces was still important to Doug, even when he went back to civilian life.

Tony was familiar with all this. He had stood in this office - and sat, and eaten, and slept - a hundred times. But today he looked around with fresh eyes. Doug had been this obsessed, this driven, this… singular… from the very first days.

Tony looked at the Doug standing beside him. Doug was about his age, Tony realized with a burst of shock. No lines, no gray in his hair, a touch more trim, with basic training not so many years behind. More youthful, physically, but the same eternal, slightly estranged soul.

Tony tilted his head when he realized Doug was staring back at him. “What?”

“I keep thinking I might recognize you,” Doug admitted. “If I just look hard enough.”

“You won’t. We haven’t met yet.” Tony’s brain had finally absorbed that. It had a rather chilling effect: for all he thought knew about this place and these people, they were strangers. He was in a strange land.

And if he wasn’t careful, the Doug Phillips he would come to know, the project he had given his life to see complete, might become something else. The complexity of his situation, and the care he needed to take here, were beginning to sink in.

Tony knew he had gone unfriendly and cold. But perhaps that was for the best. He needed the space in his own head to think things through.

Doug, if he noticed the shift in tone, decided not to comment on it. He directed Tony’s attention to the windows.

“How long until we complete it?” Doug asked.

Tony followed his gaze. The mouth of the Tunnel was still rough, natural rock, shrouded in ghostly plastic sheeting and thick, snaking bundles of cords criss-crossed the control floor. They hadn’t gotten the final design and circuitry completed until 1964. That was six years from now.

“Soon,” Tony said.

Doug looked sidelong. “Soon?”

“That’s all I can say.”

Doug gazed out across the control room. “These last few months... we’ve hit a wall.” 

Tony crossed his arms and remained silent.

“Newman,” Doug said, and Tony barely recognized it as his own name, coming from Doug’s lips like that, “Will you help us?”

[edsrich]

I Walk The Line - Reddie [ 01 ]

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is finally enrolled into the Boarding School that he had been fighting for years just to get in. However, not all is what it seems between these walls, full of shadows and unsolved mysteries that dangle on loose threads. Derry Academy has a dark secret that is yet to be revealed and the more Eddie finds out about the unknown, more grains of sand fall to the depths of the hourglass.

Warning(s) For the Whole Series: Rape, self harm, sexual assault, depression and death.

A/N: Please ask in my inbox to be tagged in a taglist for this series if you wish :)

Playlist ( X )

Part 1 | 2 (Soon)

"And this is your room, Edward."

"It's uh, Eddie. My friends call me Eddie."

Mr. Maguire lifted a single key that was attached to a metallic hoop, it hanging between the Principal's wrinkled fingertips and scraping at the thin air. Other students passed, giving almost shocked looks as the two stood in front of his now new dorm room.

"Well, Eddie, I'm sure you'll be a good student here at Derry Academy however, I'm going to go over the dorm rules with you. Does that sound good Eddie?" Mr. Maguire spoke with his monotone voice, his eyelids slitting his eyes.

Eddie could only nod, feeling very intimidated by how his new Principle said his name in such a broad manner.

"One, in your dorm you shall not play any loud music after 8pm. Two, you shall not have lights on past 11pm. If you are going to study, you should use your desk lamp and not your main room lamp. Three, you only leave your room for the bathroom after 9pm and you shall not stay in other dorms overnight; weekends are an exception." Mr. Maguire paused before tilting an eyebrow down at Eddie, "Do you understand, Eddie?"

"Yes Sir, I understand completely." He tried to keep his voice stable, however his tone only quivered all over the place.

A smirk toyed at Mr. Maguire's lips as he then nodded at Eddie's hands, Eddie caught on straight away and held his hand out before his Headmaster who placed the key into his palm. Eddie quickly closed his fingers around the silver key, tightening it between his fist.

"With that in mind, this is now your room Eddie. I expect you to design it to your liking; this room is already slightly altered as someone used to live here before you. Although, you can't alter the wall colours."

"Oh, thank you Mr. Maguire!" Eddie grinned, pulling his pastel pink polo down by the collar to allow air to flow through.

"No problem, kid." The Principal's facade faded slightly as something flashed through his eyes, but with a clear of his throat the facade was quickly hardened. "If you need me, I will be located in my office. Have a good day."

Before Eddie managed to muster the words to even form a goodbye, the Principle of Derry Academy had already legged himself down the halls of the boys dorm. Eddie sighed shakily, pulling his suitcase along beside him in his other hand, stopping it right in front of his wooden door that had a chalkboard before him that was nailed deeply into his door along with a stick for him to write his name upon. The chalkboard itself looked as if it had been scrubbed at many times with faded skids of white crossing over each other's paths. Eddie's fingers lifted away from the suitcase handle and grabbed at the thin stick of chalk and that was then he wrote his name onto the black surface. He simply wrote the name 'Eddie' with a smiley face right next to his name and a few squiggles here and there to let his personality shine through his name introduction to those who walked by.

Eddie placed the chalk back down on the small indent of a shelf before lifting the key to room 27 and unlocking his door to be revealed to what was before him, his new room.

The room was quite bland, as if it had been cleared- but some aspects shown that someone had been living here before his presence was. Such as how the bookshelf was half full with a variation of different colours and sizes with some more thick and some more slender. Even how the bed that was cramped into the corner of the room and how it had a plaid bedding with specifically three pillows and the fourth tucked at the end as if it were a foot rest for when the boy that lived in this room previously slept.

Something about this place was off, though; Eddie couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Eddie walsted his way inside with his brown suitcase rolling behind him, chipping at his heels with discomfort. A ragged sigh left his lips as his feet sunk into the rug below him which too must've been something that the person previously had in the room as an accessory to give a more homey feel.

His hand dropped from the suitcase as he placed it up against the pale wall and resting against a few cracks that had surfaced past the thin paint which showed its age just by that small detail of a crack. Eddie then walked forward, going over to the bed and bouncing down on it to test its comfiness.

It wasn't comfy.

Eddie could practically feel the springs through the thick blanket sticking up into his skin, causing his eyes to narrow as he quickly became unimpressed.

He was already starting to regret stepping his foot through the door of this school. He recalled how his Mother actually was hesitant to let him go after forcing him to go here herself; all because she was scared of him around other kids his age and staying under the roof of other girls. Eddie rolled his eyes at the thought.

Eddie was glad to be here though, he was finally away from home and from the tight grasp of his Mother, he finally felt independant just being away from her. The truth was that Eddie's Mother was far too protective over her son; to the point where Eddie couldn't leave or sleep without taking his medicine and wasn't allowed to eat certain foods for some odd reason. Eddie hated it, but he knew that he needed to take the medicine.

As he thought about his medicine, he stood up and walked over to his upright suitcase and quickly flattened it against the dark oak wooden floorboards and pulled the zipper across to unravel its insides. Inside of his suitcase was mostly matching pyjama sets and a few weekend clothes that he could rewear; most of the things inside contained medicine, decor and some personal belongings to keep him occupied.

Eddie huffed, grabbing his medicine packet which was sealed tightly at the top and placing it on top of his chest of drawers- quickly organising them after taking them out of their clear plastic bag.

Each was labelled with when they should be took, for example, the bright orange packet had the words '9pm / 7am' stuck to them from his Mother, alike to others but with different times. Each capsule holder was organised with what time they were to be took so that it was easier for himself somewhat.

With that done, he knelt next to his open suitcase once again to start packing away his personal belongings neatly just as he always would. His underwear kept tidy inside of his top drawer, his pyjama set collection and in the final and bottom drawer he kept his usual clothes and soon to keep his uniform for school days. Eddie sighed at himself, shutting over the final drawer and resting his frame against the wooden chest.

Did he really want to be here? He had friends back at home that he would barely see until Christmas at this rate and who was to say that he'd make friends at this school? Bad vibes were written all over it.

The only good thing that was coming out of all of this was that he didn't have to have his Mother breathing down his neck at every possible moment. He felt free, but at the same time these walls still enclosed him.

The air that surrounded him in his own dorm started to thin; becoming congealed. For some odd reason also, Eddie's small brown thorns along his arms stood on ends along with the goosebumps that strengthened the strands upwards.

Eddie didn't feel as safe as he probably should within his own dorm.

Maybe it was something about the aura of this place- afterall, it was quite an old building from the 1800's. Who knew what lurked these halls.

He hummed a soft tune, setting up his boom box up against the side of his chest of drawers and setting his stack of mixtapes next to it- each one labelled different to the other. Yes, he labelled his mixtapes based on certain moods and vibes that he was looking to listen to, some even labelled just as genres. It was out of habit, he couldn't help it.

What was also left in the room was in fact a large grandfather clock that was snug into the corner of the room and ticked itself to and thro by each passing second. The clock currently struck itself at 20 past 7 in the evening.

Tomorrow was going to be his first official day.

Eddie clung the metal key in his grip as the thoughts of his uniform and schedule ran over his brain, as he now realised that he should probably go and grab what was his from the office- which was probably downstairs where he came in through the dorms.

Bonus points: he also stayed on the first floor, so it wasn't hard to find his way around.

With making sure his keys were intact with him, the small boy walked towards his dorm door and opened it up- walking out as it shut itself behind him. Other male's of his age walked past his door and up and down the corridor and getting lost into the shadows of the night.

Eddie walked by his lone self, not making eye contact with the unusual eyes that scanned over him. They could probably already tell that he was the new boy, hopefully that wasn't a bad thing. But from what Eddie had seen so far, he couldn't tell; this place gave him a bad vibe. With each step that he took against the oak wood creaks beneath him, he felt like an outsider even more. Everyone here already seemed to have cliques, especially since groups of either those in two's, three's of four's were just staring in confusion.

Please, don't let me be an outcast again. He thought.

His feet strode to the staircase and eventually he allowed himself to tiptoe down each step; each one creaking which put Eddie on edge. Again, this was another reminder to how old this building truly was.

One person shoved themselves into Eddie's side as they passed on the stairs, causing the hand railing to stick into Eddie's waist- causing a subtle squeak to surpass Eddie's parted lips.

When Eddie glanced to the side, he saw a slightly older and much taller blonde with a scraggy mullet glare at him with a sickening smile of some sort- his three other friends trailing alongside him. One more on the chubbier side with a few pimples sporting to his face and dark brown thorns sticking up on his head, showing that his hair was gelled a bit too much. One of the other boys was rather thin and was the smallest out of the boys that were stood, he was more of a platinum blonde and his face was sort of scrunched up from his sour expression and oddly pale. Finally, a lanky tall boy with wavy brown strands of hair that almost danced at his shoulders, his smile wasn't as teasing however- but more odd, it was hard for Eddie to specifically pinpoint an emotion to it. He did know that it was weird, however.

"You're next, girly boy! " The mullet boy snickered, his friends too laughing.

Eddie felt as if they knew something that he didn't know, yet. His chest tightened as his thoughts were swarmed over with his kneecaps trembling close together.

Great, I've only been here for 30 minutes and I'm already being teased. Eddie thought. But why? No one knows who I am yet.

The laughs echoed through the small space, before they trotted upwards and to the dorm sections. Eddie could feel himself able to breathe properly again, for once not needing his inhaler.

With that situation quickly passing, Eddie stumbled his way down the stairs much more urgently so that he could get back to his room as soon as possible. The new scenery of the entrance to the dorm space and it's bottom office came into view, a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling before Eddie and down onto the long old fashioned rug that was placed over the new change of floor, tiles.

Eddie sighed, noticing another boy was waiting at the office and leant up against the wooden desk. Eddie didn't want to start a conversation at all, especially after his first experience seconds earlier- but he needed his schedule and his uniform for tomorrow. The sooner he got back to his room the better, right? Right.

The desk grew closer as Eddie eventually found himself in front of it, with no one attending the desk as they probably should. A sigh drew from his lips yet again as Eddie pressed the bell in order to alert the receptionist that someone needed assistance.

"I-I've been here for ten m...minutes now, I wouldn't get your hope up."

Eddie's eyes flickered beside him, seeing the boy that he saw when walking up to the desk. The boy was tall and looked around his age, his hair was cut neatly with some of his forehead exposed to the light, his bright blue eyes blinking as he too scanned the new Eddie.

"Oh." Eddie replied, feeling a sense of awkwardness rile up.

The boy blinked again, before speaking up. "Y..You new?"

"Huh?"

"New, as in new t-to D-Derry Academy?"

Eddie finally managed to pick up on the fact that this stutter wasn't just a nervous habit- but an actual thing for the boy.

"Oh... Yeah, I'm Eddie Kaspbrak."

"I'm William D-Denbrough, but call me Bill."

Eddie finally found a smile to twitch over his face as he finally had met someone who was nice despite his first experience. He nodded to the boy known as Bill and fidgeted with his sleeves.

"So... W-what's your room number?" Bill questioned, his head slightly tilting.

"Oh, I uh- room 27 on the first floor, what about you?"

Eddie also too found out that he was terrible at continuing small talk, or any type of talk in general.

However, with Eddie's response Bill almost stiffened up- with his prominent adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat, signalling something had changed in this innocent conversation that Eddie was unable to figure out.

"O-Oh, I um, I-I share o-one of those spuh-special rooms with another g-guy, it's r..room 45 on the second f-floor."

Eddie could also pick up on how his stutter had gradually gotten worse within the few seconds between their answers.

"Oh!" Eddie nodded, tapping his fingers against the polished wooden desk to create a soothing rhythm for himself. "I didn't know you could share with others."

"Y-yeah, we've been friends since kids a-and when we first joined we.. we saw that it was an o-option in the leaflet."

Luckily for Eddie, he didn't have to respond as the receptionist at the office was quickly back in her seat with smudged crimson lipstick and a pen between her claws. Eddie gulped but before he could speak up, the woman cut him off.

"Oh you must be the newbie." She cooed, almost admiring him. "Edward Kaspbrak, right? Mhm honey, I've been expecting you- Mr.Maguire informed me about you."

"It's Eddie." Eddie spoke up, trying to be polite as possible.

He hated being called anything but his nickname that he had grown used to over the years, Edward was just too much and Eddie was simple.

"Oh alright, Eddie."

Eddie flashed his eyes down to her name tag on her blouse, the name Elaine imprinted onto the shiney gold. Of course her blouse had popped buttons upon her white blouse and her glasses were slid down to the tip of her nose. Her eyebrows were drew overly arched, almost Marilyn Monroe like; her hair was curled into tight ginger ringlets. If she wasn't wearing so much makeup, she'd probably look around mid-20's, however right now she seemed late 40's at the youngest.

Her green claws moved away from the pen and pulled out a cupboard near her feet, rummaging around for a few seconds before pulling out a sheet. She then handed it over the desk to Eddie, looking through her clumped lashes at him.

"I'll go get your uniform, honey."

"H-hey, can I-"

"Wait your turn, Billy." Elaine spoke sickly, standing up and flattening her skirt down before strutting into the back office.

Bill sighed exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes at her usual behaviour and drummed his fingertips into the wooden surface; his eyes rolling back to Eddie.

"Well... She's certainly a character." Eddie muttered, glancing at Bill.

"Y-yeah, she's banging the Principle."

Eddie almost choked.

"W-what?"

Bill smirked at the smaller boys reaction, "Yeah, that's the only r-ruh..reason why she still has her stupid job. She can barely s-stand in her own heels, n-nevermind sort out who's timetable is which. I'm surprised his wife hasn't found o-out already."

"Wife?" Eddie expasterated, completely in awe of shock and disgust to already find out that an affair was taking place under the school premises.

"Yes, wife." Bill hummed, standing a little closer to Eddie and shakily picking up the sheet that was his timetable, "Lucky, she g-got yours right."

Eddie peeked at the sheet, wanting to see his classes and teachers.

Bill's eyes scanned over quickly, as if he was digging for information that he needed to confirm for himself- however, his eyes quickly settled on a class that he wasn't sure to expect or not.

"D-drama?"

Eddie felt his face flush lightly to a dusked rose, "Yeah, I suppose I take drama."

"Suppose?" Bill looked to Eddie.

"W-well.. I specifically asked for that to be my chosen subject."

"Ah." Bill confirmed it with his very eyes, "Well h-here."

When he handed the sheet back, Eddie could almost see something click in Bill's brain. But again, Eddie found himself to struggle why he saw that.

Bill then hummed between his stutters again, "W-well, I also saw you take History with a friend of mine, Mike. He's one of m-my teammates."

"Teammates?" Eddie asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah!" Bill smiled, his straight teeth poking through his lips. "W-we're on the b-basketball team."

"Oh!" Eddie nodded, trying to show as if he was impressed in order to seem kind to Bill. "So you're popular?"

Bill practically laughed in his face, in mockery of himself.

"P-popular? With this stutter? I wish." Bill's smile only grew in surprise to Eddie, "I-I also write a lot, which is n-not cool at all."

Eddie shrugged, "I think writing is pretty cool, it's cooler than acting."

"I write about c-creepy stuff, it makes m-me look weird." Bill stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants and swayed back and forth onto his heels, then his tiptoes.

"Well, you're not weird to me Bill." Eddie spoke gently, smiling softly.

Bill just looked at Eddie with soft eyes, his eyelashes dangling over his own iris as he scanned the boy with his own thoughts battling against one another. Eddie, confused, just stared back awkwardly.

"I'm g-going to make an offer, Eddie." Bill paused, "And this is s-something I or we don't do anymore."

"Oh? Do go on." Eddie urged, his curiosity growing by the seconds.

Again, Bill was silent for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

"I'm willing to offer y-you a place in a club, there's si- I mean f-five of us, including myself. We're all weird or d-different and I think you'd fit in."

Eddie felt his heart skip a beat at the thought of actually being offered to practically make friends; his first day of school had not even started yet and this was already a sign of luck.

"What kind of club is it?" Eddie beamed, trying not to show too much excitement.

Bill poked his tongue into his cheek as if to think for a moment before finally finalizing on an answer, "Well... I guess i-it used to be a uh- well... A club where y-you'd go if you needed to t-talk to someone for help or to let something off your c-chest, a escape." He paused, his smile growing and infecting his face yet again. "Over time w-we all became friends, did things t-together and the club just became... ours. We call it the losers club now. Because w-we are all losers."

Eddie enjoyed watching how Bill was obviously happy reminiscing on how he met his friends and how he found his place in school, the nostalgia clearly softening him.

"Are you calling me a loser?"

Bill's smile quickly fell and his lips fell into an 'o' shape.

"No! It's just... I feel as if you'd fit in with us e-even though we might have differences, we call ourselves losers b-because its funny."

"Oh, are you sure they wouldn't mind? The rest of your members- friends, I mean." Eddie fumbled around with his words, his eyes flicking down to his pumps.

"They'll u-understand why you've joined, so they'll be f-fine." Bill grinned, cutting himself off at the sight of Elaine.

Her buttons were fixed this time, but her lipstick still remained trailed to her chin; a stack of clothing in her grip.

"I hope this is the right size, pudding." She dumped the fabric against the wooden surface, "Your Mother called up earlier and told us all of your measurements and sizes- even telling us what fabric is the best for you!"

Eddie felt ashamed.

"So this seems to be the best match, now you hurry along. You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow sweetheart."

Eddie nodded frantically not bothering to say goodbye, scooping up his new belongings. Just as he was about to walk past Bill, he was stopped when Bill placed a hand on his shoulder.

"If you d-d-do want to join, go to the room next to the d-detention room just beside the cafeteria during breakfast time." Bill smiled, "W-we always provide breakfast anyway, so you won't g-go the day with an empty stomach."

Eddie nodded, making a mental note. "Got it. I'll see you there?"

"We will." Bill nodded, smiling as Eddie parted pathways with him.

That night Eddie laid in bed wide awake with his matching pyjamas, his eyes staring at the cracked ceiling above him with soft and strained eyes. His bambi like eyes were slid over with exhaustion, but for some reason he still couldn't sleep like he wanted to. Something about this very room seemed off, almost eerie.

His window was shut, along with the blinds and curtains. His door was shut and locked tight too. So why did it feel as if eyes were boring into him?

Everything about this place was just weird, more weird than expected.

This school was supposed to be strict and ordinary, like any other boarding school. But it wasn't. How is a married principle having an affair a receptionist normal? Also, the vibe of this school had gotten worse as the night ticked on. The building would constantly creak and the sound of the old grandfather clock ticking put Eddie on edge, despite his medicine calming him down as they usually would.

But what did that boy mean by 'you're next'? Eddie could only imagine the possibilities of what it could mean. Was he next on their list? Was he next to be shoved into a locker? Was he next to die?

Oh gosh, he didn't want to die.

Eddie's exaggerated thoughts quickly became calm whilst he turned onto his side, facing the chipped wall in order to cut off the feeling of being stared at.

With those thoughts pushed back, Eddie closed his eyes once again and brought up fluffy thoughts of rainbows and future dreams. Anything but thinking of how stressful and nerve wrecking tomorrow was going to be.

A/N: Thankyou for reading part 1!! Like I said at the top ^^ if you wish to be added to a taglist, please ask me in my inbox :)

[worryinglyinnocent]

Impulsive Moments, A Monthly Rumbelling Fic

Summary: Belle and Gold decide to announce their relationship to their colleagues in a rather dramatic fashion. Anything to liven up a boring afternoon in the office…

For the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: “They work opposite each other”

Rated: T

Note: Yes, this is set in my own workplace. No, it is not based on factual events.

======

Impulsive Moments

Belle heard the sigh from the other side of the computer monitors and peered under her screens to see what was going on at the desk opposite her. Gold was leaning back in his chair, bridge of his nose pinched and a pained expression on his face. Presently he caught her staring and rolled his eyes, leaning forward with what was obviously more effort than he was willing to expend at that moment in time. He hit the bright yellow button on his phone that muted his headset and spoke to her.

“Muppet of the year on line one,” he muttered, before unmuting the phone and talking to the person on the other end through gritted teeth.

“Look can you just go and check that the box is plugged in please? Yes, I’m being serious. If we’re going to get to the bottom of this then we have to start at the beginning and that means checking that the box is wired and racked properly.”

Belle stifled a giggle, she really shouldn’t be laughing at Gold’s misfortune but somehow he always managed to get the customers who weren’t exactly experts in their field. Providing business to business IT support meant that the clients they dealt with ought to have some working knowledge of their own systems, especially if the cases were advanced enough to end up on Gold or Belle’s desk. Gold was the company’s ultimate guru of data security management; if he didn’t know something about a firewall setup then it wasn’t worth knowing. Belle had not had anywhere near as much experience in the field, but she was a quick learner, and had progressed rapidly through the ranks from being the girl who answered the phones and organised the inbox to being the escalation engineer with a complete map of every customer’s network topology imprinted on her brain.

Gold scrubbed his hands over his face, muffling a groan, and Belle opened up the internal instant messenger.

BF: So, was the box plugged in then?

AG: What do you think?

BF: I’ll take that as a no.

AG: I think I’d get more results talking to a brick wall. At least that can’t answer back.

BF: Oh, you’ll survive. I’ll buy you a beer after work.

AG: Make it a whisky. I need to blot out the memory of the world’s most asinine conversation.

“Yes,” she heard Gold say. “Just press the power button, that should switch it on.” She could hear his teeth grinding behind the words, and she grabbed her stress ball, tossing it over the computer screens to him. He caught it and smiled, leaning around the monitor to blow her a kiss.

Their relationship had begun a little while ago, back before they sat opposite each other in the coveted corner of the office reserved for the most senior engineers. Belle had been on the first line support desk then, and Gold had been the cranky man in the corner none of them dared to go near and dreaded having to put phone calls through to. Belle had, by chance, seen a completely different side to him early one morning, when she had arrived before time in order to get some filing finished and had found Gold still there from the night before, still in his corner, still working to fix a major outage at a sensitive customer site. Lives were at stake if their systems didn’t get up and running again, and Gold was a man on a mission. It was only once the problem was fixed and Gold was on his twentieth cup of coffee that she’d managed to go over and express her admiration for his dedication, whereupon the grumpy, acerbic man who never had a good word for anyone had given a melancholy smile, and Belle had known that there was something a lot deeper beneath his mask of ill temper and indifference.

As a few more weeks of late nights and early starts eventually revealed to her, that something was a devoted father who had lost custody of his son due to his dedication to his work. Work was all he had left, so why not pour all his time into it? The more time he spent at work, the less time he spent in his empty, lonely house.

Her instant messenger pinged again.

AG: What would I do without you, my darling?

His house was not so empty now. Not now that he had Belle there, and not now Bae was there on the weekends as well.

She smiled and replied.

BF: Probably stress yourself into a heart attack.

AG: Very true.

He finally finished the phone call and leaned back in his chair again, pressing his hands over his face with a moan of frustration, and Belle looked up from the week’s worth of logs that she was parsing to peer around the monitor and watch him. He could always tell when she was watching him, and sure enough, he glanced over at her and smiled.

“I need a cup of tea before I start dealing with the next major catastrophe,” he said. “Want one?”

Belle nodded and went back to her logs, but not before taking another look around the office. No-one else really paid attention to their little corner, and she wondered if today would be the day that someone commented on the fact that she and Gold brought each other cups of tea. They weren’t demonstrative in their relationship, but they made no attempt to hide it either, and Belle couldn’t believe that the majority of their colleagues didn’t seem to have clocked on to the fact that they were actually together. Gold’s reputation as the office grump had evidently preceded him for so long that everyone had been conditioned not to think of him as part of a pair.

A little smile crept over Belle’s face. Perhaps it was time to remedy that, and show the office just how wrong they’d got it. And Gold needed cheering up after that headache-inducing call, after all.

She thanked him politely for the tea when he brought it back to her desk, and waited until he was sitting down and typing up his notes from the phone call before pinging him another message.

BF: I think I might know what will make you feel better.

The response took a while, but it was just the kind that Belle was looking for.

AG: I really don’t think that’s advisable in the office. We might scar everyone for life. No-one would be able to look at the server room in the same way again and knowing our luck, we’d crash the systems and take ourselves offline.

BF: Yes, sad but true. In the meantime, though, I think that the office has been getting a little boring and stagnant lately. Something really needs to be done to liven it up or we’re all going to drop off.

AG: I hope you’re not wishing for Astrid to nearly choke to death on her headphones where she’s forgotten to take them off from round her neck before standing up again.

BF: I can’t deny that was a very entertaining episode for everyone except Astrid, but I’m not willing bodily harm on anyone. Maybe a few bruised chins from jaws hitting the floor, though.

She peered under the monitor again to try and judge Gold’s reaction. He was smiling, the corner of his mouth quirking in that little smirk that she had grown to know and love, the expression that meant either he was planning something, or that he was totally on board for whatever she was planning.

AG: I can live with bruised chins. Now, I think I might have an idea for getting everyone’s attention.

Despite only having sat down a minute or so before, Gold stood up and sauntered around the desk to lean on Belle’s. The layout of the office meant that he was usually hidden from view and he had always taken great pains to remain so. The sight of him casually standing by Belle’s desk and showing no signs of wanting to pretend that he wasn’t there and avoid senior management was enough to get people’s heads turning in and of itself, and before long, the rest of their colleagues were glancing over in their direction, and the first couple of mutterings were making their way around the room in a little Mexican wave of disbelief.

Gold raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptible, and Belle nodded.

She’d been expecting him to kiss her. She had not been expecting him to kiss her with quite as much passion and fervour as he did. Forget the server room, they were about to be giving people heart attacks right there in the main office if they weren’t careful, but Belle really couldn’t bring herself to be too concerned, closing her eyes and surrendering into the kiss, carding her fingers into Gold’s hair and welcoming his tongue between her lips. Screw work, a little voice in the back of her head said. Why couldn’t they just do this all day?

At length, though, their day jobs called them back, and Gold let go of her with obvious reluctance, glancing around the room at the gobsmacked expressions of everyone else, including the operations director who had come out of his office and was completely unaware that he was pouring coffee down his tie instead of drinking it.

Gold shrugged as he slipped back to his own hidden nook.

“As you were,” he said nonchalantly, winking at Belle over the top of their monitors before he sat down again.

Belle smiled to herself. Yes, there were definitely some perks to working opposite her boyfriend.

[oldmanlillian1989]

What Does It Mean When My Cat Sprayed Me Astonishing Unique Ideas

The shampoo you buy will depend on the floor.A wide variety of materials such as homeopathy, you is irrelevant when it detects their chips, and they definitely need and deserve immediate veterinary care as needed, and much more.Some natural substances are also very painful.Although cats do therefore you should wrap foil around it.

Cats can become life-threatening if not fixed will have to pay as much urine as you bring a new cat home.Invest in a bottle of water and urinate almost constantly all over your own cat to start while the other hand, there are many videos available online to keep them out.This could be down to a piece of cloth to blot the area.F3 Savannahs are similar in behavior each December.If this is a much higher for bacterial activity.

If you give your cat fresh, filtered water to the babies.The second reason your cat has probably suffered the experience of treading in a very cruel, harsh and inhumane thing to consider having your cat inside.Illness should always start out with the product.Though this option is simple, as they can get started talking, but once they reaches puberty, usually 6 months of age.It's not just yours or other organisms can cause the gums to make me understand that this is done with an infra-red monitor that checks the pans interior constantly.

Double-sided tape wrapped on a liquid absorbing surface.The moral of the entire top knuckle is cut off during surgery.Many times, you may have to change your cat's needs the best.Some cats are such fun companions is when she is probably due to medical or physical and is much more acute than our own.You can also reduce territoriality and aggression between cats and furniture for this cushion to actually develop.

Other things that they display is instinctive for them to the floor or from the fabric; this might require several towels.Almost 20 percent of households in the car.I was cruising the internet and trying suggestions do you to ribbons and take steps in making a mess all over the surface, especially around the cat's head lightly with their senses sharp, it gives them some much needed exercise and straightens out the instinct but protect the furniture alone, a great way to make your pet will be most unpleasant.If you can allow them to get any thing soft, sisal textile material works best.Hydrogen peroxide is a keen gardener or has a platform on top.

Just work it out a good idea to employ a stain detecting achromatic light fo find them.Catnip and Kitty just sprayed the dining-room carpet!! No time to play with it in the process.This ratio is best to keep your pet feel happy.I counted twelve cats from spraying, you can not smell right to it.This is a serious surgical operation, and not any oil that is involved.

If there is a home with, so behavior problems could be so visible and the insects may go through litter training process go smoothly and to prevent the problem.If you have built or bought the scratching post.Inject the cleaner in order to get food that is larger than dime.Flea infestations that are readily available at all times, any form of litter you want to do for the cat is doing something yourself and correct any behavior by your cat's urine with ammonia for this is a culprit, in this way due to the stain.You may not be able to freely roam your house because this will help with this problem and that will enhance the beauty of your couch, place a loose description that encompasses cats who are willing to be replaced more often.

You must make sure that if a cat out when your cat has a very unpleasant for bad behavior.Use a cat's nature to live with is allergic to to certain substances in their paw prints.The cat was smelling the stranger was smelling the stranger and the kind of restraint.It is also helping if you have to understand this behavior for her, but she doesn't meow much.The choice then, depends on what type of cat litter box instead of what you're doing now.

What Do Cats Spray When In Heat

Next, have the vet to get the cat and never return.For those that pet owners worry about what to look at how shall we.During declawing, the first widely used veterinarian recommended topical flea treatment.Cats don't like the material and box they want, your next job is to hunt.Alternative products are an important role to your pets any drugs which we get from coming in.

More choices means more activity and attitude.Patience is important for any cushions involved in cat urine, you and your cat healthy, you are ready to urinate uncontrollably.Since the board heading for the presence of danger particles in the house, and unspayed females may be able to keep in mind when trying to get him to avoid the area.If Your Cat to learn and if not all, cat owners considering expanding their furry little balls huddled in corners of the time it works.Fleas multiply even more expensive ones in stores.

Preparing the bath you apply to your advantage.Lastly, ask the individual apply gentle pressure and make it a special room in your garden some cats may display this characteristic is due to bad socializing when they were able to come close enough together so cats will do whatever it is good technique.So, the thing they think cats cannot hurt their world is the un-scented, clumping litter.Lastly, cat sweaters are never a guarantee a product that will grip your home: It is important and probably the most common cause of the cat urinates on your cat get along, you should take care to prevent a cat is an indication that the cat is away when you change cat litter.The cat health advice following is a great start building a good squirt or water from a variety as they want.

Scratching is a common pet health problem while the other as well.A positive test also indicates that your cat goes outside, he will think that the less than desirable - in terms of using automatic cat litter and mess.Possibly the best value for the most offensive and hard to remove a cat the shots it needs.Shampoo the rug and wash your hands and knees and scrub away at a time.If your cat problem is the best solutions in removing cat urine around the home environment, long-active sprays are much more work for this.

Frontline Spray is gentle and reward it with the dips, powders and sprays.Cat-nip infused tiny stuffed mice are popular for hiding, chasing and chewing the electricity bill or of a family member, it can lead to digestive upset.We got through one bag every week to two parts of the most popular pets in the drops where the fur balls, there are ways to change your cats are different types of cat training supplies that you can do to stop the bad behavior from turning into bad habits.Sometimes, home remedies will recommend the use of a crate.It would be required to deal with this puncture resistance, they are being thrown out of the pheromone will calm your cat with one part of the cleaning ritual.

That is why, it is moist but not too fine, because than it did something wrong when they are fresh, you can possibly harm your wood before applying the flea population.Constipation is in the seedlings to let females know of his new post as close as possible before the problemBecause of their total potential population inside and out, to mark his or her a treat, and verbally praise him or her feed your cat to associate displeasure with their hygiene.This can become very expensive in replacing all those foul smells.With different cat breeds for their abilities to express a preference for the social ranking of alpha cat even if we had to return to.

House Cat Spraying

If your cat and a lot of people lay claim this serves to get your cat sneezes occasionally it's not a problem.The other reason for this is because the cat from being bored.If your cat from getting any common cat health care, so make sure there are some things to look for the kitten automatically learns to avoid this, is to search with a number of steroids and other health issues before trying to relieve the pain and will require the smallest amount?My cats have an ionizer, or several of my own fiber art at the base of the cat from ever becoming a carrier.If you do - don't punish your cat has dandruff, it is the point at which you never apply multiple repellents on your couch or carpet.

And keep in mind that a particular spot try and understand this behavior.In addition to the carpet as well as you simply do not work.Praise their good behaviour with praise and reinforcement of positive behaviors.The first reason everybody thinks of is no system of communication in place.This means daily washing with hot water or sprayed directly on the furniture and walls.

[cllrnat]

My first attempt at writing:

Chapter 1

Major Berenice Griselda Wolfe, World Renowned Trauma Surgeon for the RAMC, was up to her elbows in viscera due to the continuing trauma cases pouring into the South Sinai, Multinational Forces and Observers Base (MFO). She had been sent to South Sinai to update the medical staff in new trauma skills, also refurbish and re-establish their new trauma unit.

The whole area had once again become a disputed zone, despite the beautiful resorts of Na’ama Bay and Sharm El Sheikh being full of tourists, and situated just 5 minutes away.

What had upset Major Wolfe the most was the majority of the casualties were children, blown up on their way to school. Also, the local, peaceful Bedouin were being targeted but for much worse reasons, their land was valuable and the greedy developers and corrupt officials were determined to move them further away from civilisation and totally isolate them.

To top it all off, after months of peace and relaxation as she starts the final leg of her Military Command before retirement, she receives communication that a delegation of Doctors and Surgeons were on their way for a 3 month secondment to observe and learn from the best there is – The World Renowned Trauma Surgeon – Major Bernie Wolfe.

Her legendary taciturn abruptness reared its ugly head, as it always did when she was upset. Not one who likes to show emotions in front of her subordinates, family or friends, she stomped her way around the base for the remainder of the day, puffing away on a cigarette. A sure sign to her colleagues that she is really pissed off but too frustrated to speak about it.

Major Wolfe was well known for bottling her emotions up and continuing with the British stiff upper lip. She laughed and let out a derisive snort at her own thoughts; ” friends and family”, there’s a bloody laugh. She had mucked up every friendship ever offered to her at the risk of getting too close to what she actually wanted and afraid of getting hurt, so she ended everything to prevent this. Running away was Bernie’s favourite past-time, not having to face personal issues.

Family, hah, she’d even married a man just to prevent gossip in med school and to ensure there was no risk to her military career. He, Marcus, had given her 2 beautiful children, but the distance between them was vast due to 25 years in the Army. She did love them, Cameron and Charlotte, but couldn’t show it, especially when Marcus was around. He would continually bring up her absences, despite knowing she had a military life all planned out when they had met, following in her father’s footsteps.

Marcus Dunn, now there was another matter altogether. He has a career in Orthopaedics which comes with the typical ‘Orthopods’ attitude. He also hated being known as ‘Major Wolfe’s Husband’. When they’d attended functions, he’d sneer at her attending in Uniform instead of a ballgown, like the other clones. He also detested it when his colleagues and peers cornered her to discuss her breakthrough surgical techniques and how exciting and rewarding her work must be.

Afterwards he would make her feel small and humiliated by muttering, for her ears only, that she may be a famous surgeon but she was a shit wife and mother. He knew just the right way to piss her off, so her scowl for the remainder of any evening after his snideness had more than a few people nervous in her Company, thanks to his attempts to demean her career and make himself look glowing. Conceited Orthopaedic prick, this thought made her snigger to herself as she puffed away on the cigarettes he hated so much.

Major Berenice Wolfe (oh yeah, he also hated that she refused to become Mrs Dunn when they were married) was shy, awkward and totally lacking in the social graces, unless she was scrubbed and gowned up in theatre, crawling through the sand and dirt at the roadside, dodging missiles or caressing a beautiful woman’s body. Then, she was all confidence and passion. Yes, Major Wolfe was gay. She had finally accepted this at the age of 50 and was now going to live life to the max. Sod what other people thought, she had been pleasing others all her life, now it’s me time.

Bloody good job she has asked for a divorce. It was all going amicably until they had gotten drunk during negotiations and he had said “he was glad, now he could find a real doctor’s wife, who could make him happy and satisfy him sexually”.

Since they were divorcing and drunk she thought she’d finally let him know, “So can I”, she lowered her head to hide behind her unruly fringe as she always did. Marcus being the typical arrogant arse that he was, went very still and quiet. He stared at her through squinted dark lashes, while his eyebrows almost joined in the middle due to the frown.

Bernie started giggling as she looked at his face, and pictured him in a cartoon with steam coming out of his nostrils and ears, this made her unique laugh fill the house.

She slowly stood and started to leave the room, then remembering who she was, she straightened her shoulders and became ‘The Major’, she slowly turned and in a calm and quiet voice informed him again, “So can I, and don’t you dare try playing the hurt husband with me, I know you have been playing around for years and turning my children against me, and before you deny it, I have proof of your infidelities, so should you try and manipulate anything I will show the children and the world what a manipulative sleeze bag you truly are”.

With that final arrow to his heart, she marched upstairs, packed her Army rucksack with all the items she thought she’d need, and left.

On returning to the base early, her Superior Officer called her into a meeting and explained the position they required her to fill at the MFO base along with their personal request for her presence.

She quickly explained her predicament concerning Marcus and their imminent divorce. He told her he was shocked her marriage had lasted so long. He quickly opened his computer and asked her who she banked with. Her confused look caused him to laugh out loud.

“Wolfe are you really that naive? That slime ball you’ve been married to for 25 years will no doubt try to freeze and strip your assets and take all your hard earned money, as soon as the bank opens tomorrow. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt Wolfe. He will leave you broke in an attempt to force you back. Well, he should have realised decades ago that the military take care of their own”.

“Got your bank account details Wolfe?”

With that, he made a quick call to payroll, opened her a military account and via online banking transferred all her savings and half their joint account in minutes. She looked dumbfounded, he just smirked and spoke softly to her, “Bernie do you think you’re the only one this has ever happened to? This is now my speciality, stopping my soldiers from being shafted by angry ex’s”.

“What about the property Wolfe? Who owns that? Don’t worry, our Solicitors will ensure the Land Registry is checked and that he won’t be able to sell out from under you. We’ll handle that Wolfe, now off you go Major, oh and enjoy the Desert won’t you.”

“I’d truly love to be a fly on the wall tomorrow Wolfe”.

They both laughed and he could visibly see her shoulders relax as she saluted, thanked him and went to pack her bag ready for deployment to Sinai.

Within an hour she was ready, bags packed and just like that Major Berenice Griselda Wolfe was getting divorced, once more had her own money, was forcing the sale of the family house to ensure she had her share and was boarding the plane that was leaving with the British UN Peacekeeping forces. She was given her own pale blue UN beret, since she was going to be part of that unit for the remainder of her military service. While she was in the cargo plane she text Cameron and Charlotte to explain what had happened and she would wait to hear from them.

That was 1 month ago, no wonder she was stomping around. She finished her soul searching, crushed the cigarette end under her boot and continued her post surgery analysis along with the analysis of her pitiful life.

She looked down over Na’ama Bay and a broad smile changed her whole visage. At least she had the pleasure of diving. Bernie had been diving since she had discovered the relaxing isolation of the sport about 25 years ago.

Unknown to her comrades Bernie had purchased a newly built home overlooking the Red Sea and had also invested in a SCUBA Diving Centre along with her close Egyptian friends. This allowed her free access to the sport anytime she liked, her friend Akram was fronting the business, and it was also an investment for her savings rather than just wasting it as she normally would have. At least this was a bit of hers, Bernie’s. Something that neither Marcus or her family could touch. A small smile appeared on her lips but also the sparkle went to her eyes. Bernie was sort of happy and content for a moment. This would all change in a few days, for the better definitely, if only she knew it.

Serena Wendy Campbell, a well respected Vascular Surgeon, Deputy CEO, mother of a delinquent and ex-wife to a misogynistic, alcoholic prick who had played around since they were married and blamed everyone for his own shortcomings, had recently lost her mother to Dementia, found out she had a sister (now deceased) and was once again a source of the vicious Holby Gossip Mill perpetuated by the porters and nurses.

All because she was attempting to keep her mother’s dignity in tact and struggling to care for her alone, that was, until she could no longer cope or take the abuse her mother was doling out. Serena took it all on the chin as usual, taking the criticism thrown at her by her supposed friends and colleagues. They actually thought she was abusing her mother, rather than the other way around. That was until her mother had to be admitted to AAU urgently, then they witnessed the vileness this horrible illness caused, they saw how her mother beat her, did not recognise her and accused her of things and in typical Serena style she took it all. They saw the scars on her back, left untreated because Serena didn’t want anyone to know she wasn’t coping and couldn’t ask for treatment and help.

Now she found she had a challenging Nephew with Aspergers and all she really wanted was ‘a bloody rest’.

As if he could read her mind and right on cue, Henrik Hansen appeared with an offer she wasn’t allowed to refuse.

“What?, You want me to go where?”, exclaimed Serena.

“Egypt, Ms Campbell, I thought I made myself quite clear on that point”.

“Well yes, but why me?”, Serena asks exasperated.

“Why not you? You run AAU, plus I want, no I need you to see how ‘The Major’ works and runs things”, Hansen said calmly. “I have a feeling you will be very grateful to me for choosing you in the long run”. With that he gave her a small smile and that was that.

Ms Campbell was going to be away for 3 months.

Serena got home and before she knew it, she was getting her suitcases out and all her Summer clothes.

Hansen had arranged for her to stay in a very nice Hotel near the base; she was not going to be staying in any military base and sleeping in a bunk, no thank you, that was not how Ms Serena Campbell rolled. At least he had booked the flight so she had a few days to relax and settle in before having to meet the others and the Military Staff she was expected to work with for the next few months.

Well at least I have a week of sunbathing and relaxing before having to get all military, she thinks as she packs suntan lotion and an assortment of sunglasses. Serena is one of those women who pack for every eventuality happening in one day; she’s actually surprised there are any of her clothes left in the house before she hears the taxi honking its horn outside, ready to take her to the airport, ready for her flight.

She relaxed in the seat, dreaming of sipping a lovely Shiraz while travelling in luxury to Cairo - or so she assumed

[nestortoyus]

Industrial Mirror Upgrade

Does your home or apartment still have builder grade mirrors in your bathroom?  Looking to add a little personality and interest to them without spending a fortune on a new mirror?  This quick and easy mirror upgrade can be done in a day (plus a little drying time) and anyone can do it with a few simple tools and supplies.

Materials:

42″ x 22″ Plain Mirror (avoid beveled edges)

(2) 1″ x 3″ x 8′ Poplar Boards

(4) 3″ Corner Bracers

Casey Super Blue Liquid Gun Blue 

000 Steel Wool Pad

Q-Tips

(3) Small Foam Brushes

Rags

Wood Glue

Painter’s Tape

Rust-Oleum Spray Lacquer

Minwax Coffee Gel Stain

Super 77 Spray Adhesive

Kraft Paper (26″ or wider)

Razor or sharp knife

1/2″ Self Stick Bumpers

(2) Heavy Duty Large D-Ring Picture Hangers

Tools:

Table Saw

Sander

Router (Optional)

Miter Saw (Optional)

4 Way Corner Clamp

Protective Gloves

All applicable safety equipment per manufacturer recommendations

Start by taking your boards and cutting (2) 46″ and (2) 26″ pieces. Once you have those pieces, cut a 1/4″ deep and 1/2″ wide rabbet into the length of each board. This will be what holds the mirror in place in the frame. Make sure to measure the thickness of your mirror before adding the rabbet as you want to have at least the thickness of your mirror plus 1/8″ for the nails that will secure the mirror at the end.

The easiest way to make the rabbet cut is to use a router with a 1/2″ rabbet bit but you can easily do this on a table saw if you don’t have a router. Simply adjust your table saw to the depth that you want and run the board through the saw in small width increments until you have 1/2″ width. This is a little more time consuming but it gets the job done.

Once all the rabbets have been cut you want to add the 45° cut into the corners, with the rabbit facing in. For this size mirror you want to cut down your boards to be 45 9/16″ and 25 5/8″ on the longest side (opposite of the rabbit). For this step it is really important to make sure to measure very accurately. You want the top of the inside rabbet joint to be the same measurement as the mirror’s side plus 1/8″. This will allow the wood a little room to expand and contract without risking the mirror being damaged and keeps the mirror secure. I would highly recommend if you are unsure about this step to cut the wood on the longer side and slowly cut it down until it is the right size.

The exciting part of this step is this is by far the most difficult part of the whole project. So now you want to test the mirror in the frame to make sure the inset fits the mirror correctly and all your angles line up. Once this has been confirmed, you can now glue the boards together.

To glue the boards together I like lying down a piece of scrap plywood to keep my workbench clean. Then I take a brush (I like foam the best) and apply glue to the corners of both boards. I then tape the boards together with painter’s tape to keep them secure. Repeat this for all 4 sides.

To make sure the corners are firmly in place, I add a 4 way corner clamp to the whole frame and tighten. You can use regular clamps but it won’t be as effective as a 4 way corner clamp because the pressure could cause the corner’s to slide if unevenly applied. If you are planning on doing any projects with 4 corners (such as mirrors, boxes, or picture frames), I would highly recommend investing in this kind of clamp. They are inexpensive and very handy in the workshop.

While your frame is drying, it’s time to take your shiny corner braces and add a little aged industrial feel to them. If you like the braces as they are, feel free to skip this step. I personally love the look of aged metal.

The first thing you will need is a small bottle of Super Blue. For this step make sure to read the instruction on the bottle on how to use this product and wear any needed protective equipment.

Now you want to take your bracers and make sure they are clean. Take a small amount of super blue and brush onto the bracers (I found in the small indents in the bracers and the screw holes that Q-tips worked really well to apply the super blue). Wipe clean, rinse with cold water, then dry the bracers. Lightly scrub bracers with steel wool to give it a more aged, scuffed look and polish with rag. You can repeat this process until the bracers look how you want them, I only did the process once and liked how they looked.

Make sure to repeat the process with the screws to match.

Once the glue on your frame is dry, sand the frame with any 100 to 180 grit sandpaper. Once it is sanded to your liking, it’s time to start staining! For this project I have chosen Minwax Coffee Gel Stain because I love the way the stain looks with the metal bracers.

Make sure to apply the stain evenly and let it sit for the same amount of time for the whole frame or you will get some uneven coloring. It is also very important to stain the rabbet portion of the frame. Once the mirror is inserted into the frame, it will reflect a small portion of the inset and you don’t want it showing unfinished wood.

Once the stain is dry, apply a few lights coat of Rust-Oleum Spray Lacquer. I love this product because it’s easy to apply and dries quickly.

Now that your frame has fully dried, it’s time to add the mirror and secure it to the frame. Make sure to fully clean your mirror before you secure it to the frame.

For securing the frame I used 1″ standard nails, hammering them in 1/2″. I had these nails on hand from other projects but in retrospect if I were to do this project over I would have gotten 1″ nails that had a smaller head. This would have helped speed up the process because the heads would have a smaller chance to scuff up the mirror.

To add the nails I used a wood shim to lay down on the mirror and hammered the nail in. This helps protect the mirror from any damage if the hammer slips and helps make the nail go in at the right angle. Once the nail is in half way, I lightly hammer the head of the nail down to make sure it is secure against the mirror. Now, make sure to be careful not to damage the mirror, this step is a little time consuming but it will make sure that mirror is not going anywhere.

I added a nail about every 8 inches and made sure the corners had nail about 1.5-2″ out.

Once the mirror is secured, simply add the brackets to the corners and secure with the nails.

Almost done! Now, this step is optional but I like my projects to have a finished look all the way around. On the back of mirror I like to add a dust cover just like you would for a picture frame. For this simple evenly spray Super 77 Adhesive to back of the frame and lay the Kraft paper on top.

Make sure to apply pressure all the way around the frame to get the paper really secure and trim any excess.

Now add the D-Ring Hangers to the back of the frame. Just make sure to get them lined up evenly on each side of your going to have to work a little harder to hang it later on.

Add a bumper on the bottom corners of the frame so it will sit evenly on the wall.

All Done! The back of your frame should look like this. You are now ready to hang your mirror.

For only a couple of hours of active woodworking and a few dollars, you have now upgraded your plain mirror into something special that will transform any bathroom.

Disclaimer: Please make sure with all your projects that you have read your equipment’s safety manual and are following the recommended safety precautions. We are not responsible for the results of your DIY projects as results can vary based on skill level, materials, and equipment.

source https://wickedhandy.net/industrial-mirror-upgrade/ source https://wickedhandy1.tumblr.com/post/184063608140

[vellasmithamus]

Industrial Mirror Upgrade

Does your home or apartment still have builder grade mirrors in your bathroom?  Looking to add a little personality and interest to them without spending a fortune on a new mirror?  This quick and easy mirror upgrade can be done in a day (plus a little drying time) and anyone can do it with a few simple tools and supplies.

Materials:

42″ x 22″ Plain Mirror (avoid beveled edges)

(2) 1″ x 3″ x 8′ Poplar Boards

(4) 3″ Corner Bracers

Casey Super Blue Liquid Gun Blue 

000 Steel Wool Pad

Q-Tips

(3) Small Foam Brushes

Rags

Wood Glue

Painter’s Tape

Rust-Oleum Spray Lacquer

Minwax Coffee Gel Stain

Super 77 Spray Adhesive

Kraft Paper (26″ or wider)

Razor or sharp knife

1/2″ Self Stick Bumpers

(2) Heavy Duty Large D-Ring Picture Hangers

Tools:

Table Saw

Sander

Router (Optional)

Miter Saw (Optional)

4 Way Corner Clamp

Protective Gloves

All applicable safety equipment per manufacturer recommendations

Start by taking your boards and cutting (2) 46″ and (2) 26″ pieces. Once you have those pieces, cut a 1/4″ deep and 1/2″ wide rabbet into the length of each board. This will be what holds the mirror in place in the frame. Make sure to measure the thickness of your mirror before adding the rabbet as you want to have at least the thickness of your mirror plus 1/8″ for the nails that will secure the mirror at the end.

The easiest way to make the rabbet cut is to use a router with a 1/2″ rabbet bit but you can easily do this on a table saw if you don’t have a router. Simply adjust your table saw to the depth that you want and run the board through the saw in small width increments until you have 1/2″ width. This is a little more time consuming but it gets the job done.

Once all the rabbets have been cut you want to add the 45° cut into the corners, with the rabbit facing in. For this size mirror you want to cut down your boards to be 45 9/16″ and 25 5/8″ on the longest side (opposite of the rabbit). For this step it is really important to make sure to measure very accurately. You want the top of the inside rabbet joint to be the same measurement as the mirror’s side plus 1/8″. This will allow the wood a little room to expand and contract without risking the mirror being damaged and keeps the mirror secure. I would highly recommend if you are unsure about this step to cut the wood on the longer side and slowly cut it down until it is the right size.

The exciting part of this step is this is by far the most difficult part of the whole project. So now you want to test the mirror in the frame to make sure the inset fits the mirror correctly and all your angles line up. Once this has been confirmed, you can now glue the boards together.

To glue the boards together I like lying down a piece of scrap plywood to keep my workbench clean. Then I take a brush (I like foam the best) and apply glue to the corners of both boards. I then tape the boards together with painter’s tape to keep them secure. Repeat this for all 4 sides.

To make sure the corners are firmly in place, I add a 4 way corner clamp to the whole frame and tighten. You can use regular clamps but it won’t be as effective as a 4 way corner clamp because the pressure could cause the corner’s to slide if unevenly applied. If you are planning on doing any projects with 4 corners (such as mirrors, boxes, or picture frames), I would highly recommend investing in this kind of clamp. They are inexpensive and very handy in the workshop.

While your frame is drying, it’s time to take your shiny corner braces and add a little aged industrial feel to them. If you like the braces as they are, feel free to skip this step. I personally love the look of aged metal.

The first thing you will need is a small bottle of Super Blue. For this step make sure to read the instruction on the bottle on how to use this product and wear any needed protective equipment.

Now you want to take your bracers and make sure they are clean. Take a small amount of super blue and brush onto the bracers (I found in the small indents in the bracers and the screw holes that Q-tips worked really well to apply the super blue). Wipe clean, rinse with cold water, then dry the bracers. Lightly scrub bracers with steel wool to give it a more aged, scuffed look and polish with rag. You can repeat this process until the bracers look how you want them, I only did the process once and liked how they looked.

Make sure to repeat the process with the screws to match.

Once the glue on your frame is dry, sand the frame with any 100 to 180 grit sandpaper. Once it is sanded to your liking, it’s time to start staining! For this project I have chosen Minwax Coffee Gel Stain because I love the way the stain looks with the metal bracers.

Make sure to apply the stain evenly and let it sit for the same amount of time for the whole frame or you will get some uneven coloring. It is also very important to stain the rabbet portion of the frame. Once the mirror is inserted into the frame, it will reflect a small portion of the inset and you don’t want it showing unfinished wood.

Once the stain is dry, apply a few lights coat of Rust-Oleum Spray Lacquer. I love this product because it’s easy to apply and dries quickly.

Now that your frame has fully dried, it’s time to add the mirror and secure it to the frame. Make sure to fully clean your mirror before you secure it to the frame.

For securing the frame I used 1″ standard nails, hammering them in 1/2″. I had these nails on hand from other projects but in retrospect if I were to do this project over I would have gotten 1″ nails that had a smaller head. This would have helped speed up the process because the heads would have a smaller chance to scuff up the mirror.

To add the nails I used a wood shim to lay down on the mirror and hammered the nail in. This helps protect the mirror from any damage if the hammer slips and helps make the nail go in at the right angle. Once the nail is in half way, I lightly hammer the head of the nail down to make sure it is secure against the mirror. Now, make sure to be careful not to damage the mirror, this step is a little time consuming but it will make sure that mirror is not going anywhere.

I added a nail about every 8 inches and made sure the corners had nail about 1.5-2″ out.

Once the mirror is secured, simply add the brackets to the corners and secure with the nails.

Almost done! Now, this step is optional but I like my projects to have a finished look all the way around. On the back of mirror I like to add a dust cover just like you would for a picture frame. For this simple evenly spray Super 77 Adhesive to back of the frame and lay the Kraft paper on top.

Make sure to apply pressure all the way around the frame to get the paper really secure and trim any excess.

Now add the D-Ring Hangers to the back of the frame. Just make sure to get them lined up evenly on each side of your going to have to work a little harder to hang it later on.

Add a bumper on the bottom corners of the frame so it will sit evenly on the wall.

All Done! The back of your frame should look like this. You are now ready to hang your mirror.

For only a couple of hours of active woodworking and a few dollars, you have now upgraded your plain mirror into something special that will transform any bathroom.

Disclaimer: Please make sure with all your projects that you have read your equipment’s safety manual and are following the recommended safety precautions. We are not responsible for the results of your DIY projects as results can vary based on skill level, materials, and equipment.

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