#i miss rat aunt

[vampyre-rat]

sam and dean winchester

[superconductivebean]

#280

haven't been on YT for a while. can't say it did me horrible job of missing out on things although just now it suggested, i wasn't there for disturban history's new vids.

or for the wicked case studies.

or for the history of deceases.

or for netstalkings aka In Today's Trending On Internet

eeeeeh i dont really want to delve back unless 4hr long documentary about whatever else victorians did horrifyingly unsafe and dangerous in utmost fascinatingly wicked ways.

[helaintoloki]

The Unbearable Truth

pairing: Five Hargreeves x reader

warnings: angst with no happy ending, spoilers

notes: so i actually hated this storyline in the show but i also recognize angst potential when i see it so here’s this

summary: after getting lost in the subway system, Five comes to a grave realization

Five Hargreeves doesn’t love you anymore, and you’re completely oblivious to the fact.

You’re in the kitchen of Lila’s home baking holiday treats with your niece while awaiting the arrival of the rest of your family to begin the festivities. You smell of cinnamon and pinecones, and for the first time in years you actually feel content and happy with where your life is now. Sure, there’s technically a looming apocalypse hanging over you right now, but it’s nothing you haven’t handled before. You’re actually part of a family now with a man who adores you, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Alright, Grace, would you like to do the honors of putting the gumdrop buttons on the gingerbread men while I check on the sugar cookies?”

“Yes, aunt y/n!” The girl exclaims cheerfully before immediately diving into the candy bowl. You laugh at her eagerness and turn towards the oven only to be met with the sight of Five in the kitchen doorway. He looks disheveled and unnerved, but you’re too engrossed in your own joy filled bubble to pick up on it right away and instead mistake him for being tired and overwhelmed with the situation surrounding Ben and Jennifer.

“Hey, you made it!” You say with a smile as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning your attention to the sugar cookies. Five can only stand there stiffly as he clings onto the ghost of your lips against his skin. He had hoped that by seeing you again, by being in your presence and showered in your love for him, the feelings he once held for you would return.

But as he stands there in the middle of the kitchen watching you run about, he realizes that he feels absolutely nothing.

Initially, he had wanted nothing more than to return home to you and his siblings. Five had fought tooth and nail trying to figure out a way to get out of that damned subway system so he could have you in his arms again and tell you how much he missed you even if for you he had only been gone a couple hours. But a man could only take eating so many subway rats and being shot at so many times. He had grown tired, weary, and depressed. For a moment it seemed they’d be stuck there forever, and so he decided that maybe it was time to make the most of it.

What he didn’t expect was to fall in love with his brother’s wife.

A woman he had once hated with his entire being now was his sole companion, and whether it was due to some sick twist of fate or a moment of weakness, he had begun to look at her the way he once looked at you. With complete adoration and care as well as a fierce need to protect her and keep her safe. He knew the chances of ever seeing you again were highly unlikely, and the next logical step would be to move on. So he did.

But now here he is, back in his original timeline left to deal with the aftermath of his decisions.

In what was seven years for Five and three hours for you, the boy has fallen out of love with you. Your smile still may be as beautiful as ever and your scent of red berry plum and jasmine may be intoxicating to any other man, but he feels absolutely nothing when he looks at you. The spark is gone, and unbeknownst to you your relationship is about to fall apart.

“Where did you run off to?” You ask him after setting the freshly baked sugar cookies onto the cooling rack nearby.

“I had an… errand to run,” he utters carefully, growing stiff when you wrap your arms around his torso and rest your head upon his shoulder. Calculatingly, Five hesitantly rests a hand on your back while the other comes to comb his fingers through your hair. It’s a familiar motion that he is easily able to replicate in order to portray himself as the same doting partner you know and love. Lila had sworn him to secrecy, but he wasn’t sure just how to break it off with you without telling the truth. So for now he would go through the motions and hope to god you didn’t pick up on the fact that something was completely wrong.

“I’m happy you’re here,” you profess earnestly, peering up at him with fluttering lashes and a devoted smile. “I love you, Five.”

His chest tightens in agony at your words, his hold on you tightening in an attempt to ground himself as he harshly swallows down his discomfort. He meets your adoring gaze and smiles, carefully tilting your chin upwards to meet his lips in a tender kiss. It’s believable enough to keep you feeling secure and oblivious to his detachment, and he hopes that maybe if he keeps this up he can forget all about Lila and go back to normal.

Even if it means he’s just playing a part.

Pulling away, he meets your loving stare and offers you a small smile. Hesitating, as if he has to force the words out of him, Five murmurs out a quiet, “I love you, too.”

And you believe him.

[mae-gi-writes]

rile you up | lee Minho (xo kitty)

You’re Minho’s latest form of entertainment and he cannot just get enough of riling you up.

Genre: romcom, slice of life, school!au, minho is a little dick

———

“Fuck you, Minho.”

“What a ray of sunshine you are on this fine day.”

You grit your teeth together, almost grind them to nothing, and repeat the words with even more conviction, “I said fuck you.”

”Watch that tongue sunshine, might fall out if you’re not careful,” Minho’s grin just widens at the way your eyes have narrowed into slights. If looks could kill, he would’ve been shot int he head twice, revived, and shot once again. But thankfully for him, your narrow-eyed stare is nothing scarier than a cute kitten ready to take her claws out.

It’s a boring, rainy and muddy Wednesday afternoon and you really don’t want to be here, in English Lit, listening to professor Lau drone on and on about love and friendship in the verses of Lord Byron’s poems and how, if you read in-between the lines and analyze the intonations, the words, the onomatopieas, you’ll find a much deeper definition of Lord Byron’s feelings.

And Minho sitting right beside you is not making it much easier.

“You’ve got a pimple growing on your left cheek,” Minho squints at your face as you turn away, cupping your face with your hands as your eyes find the lock tick, tick, ticking at the far end of the classroom. Thirty more minutes of this torture.

“Can you just stop hyper-analyzing me like I’m some kind of lab rat?I’m really not in the mood for this right now.” You snap back.

“Woah,” Minho sighs before he shakes his head, “you really did wake up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“And you, my friend, need to mind your own business.”

“Minho and Y/N.”

Professor Lau’s voice causes both of them to wince, physically, before looking up to see the said old man with bespectacled glasses, the book of poems in his hand and his eyebrows raised as though he expected better.

If you’re being honest, you really do enjoy Professor Lau’s classes, normally. Normally.

But not today. Today, you’re having a completely off day. You woke up late, you couldn’t sleep at all last night, and all the coffee had run out by the time you’d made it to campus. Your grades are suffering and you’re currently trying to ploughing through all the assignments without drowning.

And the worst of it all, you miss home.

You miss your mom. You miss your family, your brother with whom you would fight with at every occasion and play Mario kart with. You missed your grandma, your aunts, the food they cooked, the shared laughter, the smiles…

You’re in so deep in your thought process that you haven’t even registered that Professor Lau is telling you off until he calls for your name that brings you back to attention.

“—yes?” Your eyes flit up to Professor Lau’s and a wave of emotion suddenly takes its toll on you. You try hard to blink back the sudden burn of tears at the corner of your eyes, crawling up your throat.

“I was expecting better of your behaviour, miss Y/N,” he says, pointedly looking between you and Minho with pursed lips, “in my office after class. You’re up for cleaning duty.”

Great. That’s exactly what you need. After everything.

Fucking. Great.

———

“These pretty hands cannot clean,” these are Minho’s first words as the rest of the class files out to leave you two alone on cleaning duty and as you had predicted, there are papers all over the place, test papers and pens and pencils, “I’ve taken care of my hands all these years. I am not ruining it just to clean a classroom.”

“You are so freaking dramatic,” you roll your eyes, standing up to find the cleaning supplies that are stacked at the back of the class, in the storage closet, “let’s just get this over with and we can both move on with our lives and I won’t have to see you again for the rest of this week.”

“What’s up your arse, dude?” Minho follows you, one hand leaning on the doorframe as you start pulling out the duster, the cleaning rags and the shiny new broom that Professor Lau is currently obsessed with, “you’ve been acting really weird.”

“What?” You scoff, proceeding to hand him the broom because you know he’s never going to be the one on his hands and knees cleaning the floors, “I’m not. I’m just tired.”

“No, you’ve been acting off all week. You’re all snappy, your dark circles are so prominent you look like a walking zombie and you keep asking me to go fuck myself,” Minho rolls his eyes, “also, how do you use this?”

“Jesus chri—“ you make a move towards him, grabbing the hand holding the broom while struggling to circle his back and grabbing the other, “you keep that thing steady, then you brush the dirt from this one—“ you grip his hand and shuffle it over the floor in a sweeping motion, “until it goes into the pan. Got it?”

It's only then you realize the warmth emanating from Minho's back. If you move a little closer, you could press your cheek against him. He smells like something citrus and fresh mint and man.

Somehow, it makes goosebumps explode all over your skin. You step back abruptly, noting the heat searing through your palms where you had touched him just as he turns to face you, "you seem to be a natural at this. Why don't you do it?"

"I'm gonna take care of the floors," you're glad for the distraction that comes in the form of the rag, for there's a knot of heat in the middle of your chest and you're not quite sure how to deal with it, "let's just get this over with."

There's a long moment of silence as both of you focus on your tasks, which helps to calm down your nerves. Somehow, the sound of Minho's brush is conforting to hear.

Until he speaks up, "so you're gonna tell me what's wrong?"

"Why should I tell you, of all people?"

"Because there's nobody else around and seeing you all mopey makes me actually feel bad for you."

You wipe off the dusty corner by the teacher's desk, "Do you have any ounce of decency in you somewhere?"

"Not when you're involved," Minho snickers.

You whip around, throw the balled-up rag at him and smirk in satiafaction when it hits him square in the head, "ow--what the fuck, Y/N?!"

Glad that you managed to piss him off, you turn and continue, "oops sorry. My hand slipped."

It's not ultimately Minho's fault that you're more anxious, more easily irritated than usual. So you can't really take it out on him. But he doesn't make it any easier either.

Thankfully, the rest of the cleanup goes smoothly as butter and he parts ways with the excuse that he needs to go find his aupposed lunch date, to which you merely rolles your eyes and headed for the dining hall alone.

It doesn't normally bother you to be alone. On the contrary, you relish in those silent moments of freedom without having to hear an earful from Kitty and Q, or having Yuri complain about yet another one of her life's family miseries.

But as you find a vacant seat by the door, you can't help but suddenly feel a little small in a room full of people who seem to be right where they should be. And something in your heart constricts and clenches so hard it causes a soft sob to die at the back of your throat.

You grip your spoon a little tighter and bite down so hard on your lip that you feel the tangy taste of blood.

It feels lonely.

------

You're kind of sick.

Not physically sick.

Just sick of hearing christmas carols ringing all over campus. Sick of smelling hot chocolate in the air, sick of seeing luggages being dragged on vacation.

Sick of being here.

For an international student, returning home for Christmas was never an option. The airplane ticket is too expensive for your familt to afford, and you wouldn't ever impose that on them. But if you had to admit to that selfish part of you; you wished you were privileged enough to get to fly out at every chance you got.

Alas, that is not the kind of life that you live.

So when the doorbell rings at seven-thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve, you're more than surprised to find none other than Minho standing by your door with his hands in his pockets.

"Wh--Yeah? What do you want?" You frown upon noticing the lack of luggage behind him. Knowing Minho, he packed like a diva.

He hums and peeks inside your flat, causing you to shuffle into his peripheral vision, "what do you want Minho?"

"You're not packed."

"Wise observation, smartass."

He brushes past you and strides inside, taking his shoes off casually by the door, "why not?"

"None of your business."

He throws you an exasperated look, "you gonna keep being like this?"

"I don't know, are you gonna keep annoying the hell out of me?"

He can't help the grin that spreads over his face at that, "you're fun to mess around with."

"Well for your information, it's not fun. Not for me," you don't hesitate to walk over before grabbing onto his arm and tugging over to the door, "really. I'm fine. Now leave."

"I'm surprised you're not going home for Christmas," he continues as you're pushing him out of the door.

It stings, "why?"

"International kids usually do," he folds his arms, proceeds to lean into the open doorway and you got another whiff of his scent, "what? Daddy didn't want to pay for you this time?"

"My dad died. Two years ago."

There's surprise first, that flashes through his eyes. Then realization slowly dawns.

There’s some kind of weight in your chest. Like your heart has just broke.

"What?" You laugh but it's dry and twisted, "cat got your tongue? Too shocked to speak? Poor little Y/N, who doesn't have a father to pay off her credit card bills, right?"

"I didn't know--"

"Of course you didn't. You never asked."

"I'm--" he swallows, looks away, "—sorry."

You scoff, "don't. It's okay. I've been over it for the past two years."

It's not what he says but rather the way he looks at you that makes your insides shrivel up with dread and fear and the idea that he'll never look at you the same way ever again.

Because the thing is, no matter how much Mjnjo teases you, bullies you into oblivion, you do enjoy the attention, the banter. It's almost as if it's better than just being ignored altogether.

And amidst all his teasing and his annoying personaity, there are bite and smidges of Minho's kindness smattered in-between, flecks of tenderness that makes your heart soar, your brrath

To have such a man look down at you, pity you, makes you want to be sick.

"Y/N--" you cut him off before he can even try to make it up to you, "it's fine, Minho. Just drop it--"

"Wha--I said I was sorry, don't give me that look--"

"I said drop it!" You swerve around on him, anger bubbling from deep within your chest as blood pulses through, rushes through you, "for one goddamn second, can you just leave me alone?! I don’t need this—this constant bullying of your part! It’s tiring and it’s just so goddamn frustrating and humiliating so will you just stop?!”

The shocked silence that follows your sudden outburst is heavy. If the tension had been thick before, it’s now so hard you can barely cut it with a knife. You try to regulate your staccato breaths, try not to let your body take over your mind as you focus on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in. Breathing out. Just like that.

Calm. Like water. Like you’re a river that never stops.

“Just go, Minho,” your words are bitter. You can barely look his way, an overwhelming surge of irritation, guilt and hurt swimming through you.

Thankfully, the young man seems just as surprised as you are and leaves without even a backward glance. That’s when you finally cave in and allow your legs to crumble to your floor. Pressing your head against the door, your body instantly gives into the sadness that crumbles through you like used up tissue, soaking in all the tears that are suddenly cascading down your cheeks without restraint.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

———

“Minho, I’m really sorry about my behaviour.”

You stare.

Your reflection stares back.

Shit. This doesn’t feel right. You close your eyes, exhale a soft breath, and open them once more only to find a set of familiar brown eyes gazing back at you.

It’s just the day after Christmas and though the majority of your friends were still off campus, you’re well aware that a certain Korean young man has decidedly stayed back because of his mother’s offshoot shooting commercial.

However, you still hadn’t gotten the guts to go back and ask him for a formal apology yet. Did you even need one when he’d been the one prodding you with a stick like he would with a nest of aggressive bees?

Oh well. You decided you’d be the bigger person and make the first move. As always.

So you look back to your reflection with renewed determination, take a deep breath before forcing the words out, “I am really sorry for my shitty behaviour, Minho, I should’ve—no,” you shake your head, start again and clasp your hands together for good measure, “I’m really sorry if I offended you in any way, I was hurt—no. God. I sound so pathetic.” You can’t help but curse at the mirror.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breath. And you try once more, this time adding a small smile.

“I’m really sorry for everything that I said. I was being a bit insensitive and wasn’t in the right headspace—“ you break off with a frustrated snarl, “god! Why is it so hard to apologize to the dude?!”

“The dude’s standing right here.”

Shocked, you swivel around only to find none other than the said question in person leaning against your doorway, eyebrows raised and a semblance of a smirk lining his lips.

“M—Minho,” you feel like slapping yourself for sounding like a stuttering goldfish. Quickly, your hands smooth down your sweater, hiding them in the big bell sleeves as your eyes find everything — anything, to get off his face, “what—what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

You’re still not looking, deciding that the faint crack in your dorm room is much more interesting.

Minho’s footsteps approach as he strides close, close enough that you get a whiff of his expensive cologne and restrain yourself from sighing out loud.

The bastard smells too good, you feel like crying.

“Why?” He scoffs, “isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Fine,” you’re still not looking at him, which is why you almost jump out of your skin the moment you feel the gentlest graze of his fingertips at your jaw.

“Wha—“ you stutter, eyes flashing up to his on instinct.

Dark brown meets swirls of maroon. You almost lose your breath.

In the mid-morning light with sunshine falling over half of his face, Minho looks like he’d just walked out of some fashion magazine.

“What are you…doing?” You manage to murmur out. Barely.

It’s hard to concentrate when he’s right there, in your personal space, looking a little too dashing for his own good.

“You’re right. I was being a selfish dick to you two days ago,” his grip on your chin is firm, his dark eyes even firmer, “so I’m sorry if you took it the wrong way.”

You laugh, “wait—is Minho actually apologizing? To me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“But this is a legendary moment,” you fake a mocking gasp at him, “I should record this right now.”

“Don’t make me regret it, Y/N.”

Chuckling, your eyes crinkle up as you allow yourself to roam over his features, “okay okay, I’ll stop.”

Minho fidgets and doesn’t say anything back. Weird, considering that he has a comeback for everything. You feel his hand drop from your chin as he takes a step back, lips pressed together and face looking like he’s uncomfortable being here.

Do you make him uncomfortable? It’s not a sight you’re used to seeing. Something tugs at your heartstrings but you try and ignore it.

“What is it?” You ask instead.

“There is…” his eyes dart away, “something I need to tell you.”

“About?”

His hand drops. Instantly, cold swoops in.

“About me. And you.”

You squint, “Minho I swear, if this is one of your stupid jokes again—“

“I like you.”

You blink.

He gazes back. His eyes. They’re gazing straight at you. Focused. Intense. Hot.

So hot it causes a flame to burst in your chest.

Wait…your mind backtracks, what?

“You—“ your mouth opens. Closes. Opens once more, "I'm sorry--what?"

His eyes answer in his stead. Dark orbs swirling with a depth that makes your skin explode in goosebumps. You realize, all too soon, how close you are, how -- if you want -- you can diminish the space between just with one single step forward.

"I like you," he says it honestly. Somehow, you relish in the way he says it. Clear and transparent. No inside games, no beating around the bush, "maybe more than a little."

You sense a but. "And?"

He rolls his eyes, "and maybe I just don't know how to show it."

"You mean, acting like a five year old boy who bullies his crush for fun because he likes her?"

"Something like that."

"Okay," you drag out the word in hopes that it will hide the way your heart suddenly skips a beat, the way your legs feel weaker at the knees, "so what--what now?"

"Well, that's the part where you tell me you like me back--" Minho catches himself upon seeing you raise a brow at him, "--or not. Your choice, your rules, doll."

Doll? You can feel the flame bursting through your chest and squeezing your heart. It aches so much it hurts, though it seems that your smile can't help tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him and despite his seeming nonchalance about the whole matter, there's the slightest sheen of pink that gives him away.

Cute. Your brain chants.

"Well," you tilt your chin up in what you hope is a confident manner, "you normally take a girl out to dinner first."

"Is that a yes?" Minho smirks.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, yes I heard alright. Fine," he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, "tomorrow night. Dinner. Be ready by six. I'll pick you up."

"Tomorrow? But wait I--"

"You better be there, doll."

And with that, he swivels on his feet and walk away while whistling a soft tune, leaving your heart flooded with a tide of mixed emotions that erupt through your chest and butterflies running along your skin.

---

Minho: I'll come pick you up by six. Be ready then. Wear something cute but casual. Nothing fancy.

Y/N: i like how you're telling me how to dress up when you're the one who's supposes to be wooing me.

Minho: oh you don't have to worry about that.

The way he replies so smoothly has goosebumps running along the back of your neck and you squeeze your hands into fists. You're still sitting on your bed, trying to digest all this new information as another flurry of messages burst through your phone, probably fron Kitty's latest reaction your news.

Kitty: what?! Minho?! And you?! He asked you out?!!! Omg how did I not see this coming!!!

Y/N: i thought you were a matchmaker.

Kitty: well YEAH before he went and ruined it!!! Anyway, what are you WEARING?!

Y/N: i have absolutely no idea. He said something cute but casual, so I'm guessing there's not gonna be any fancy dinners or anything.

Kitty: omg!! Minho and casual doesn't sound right. Maybe he really is trying to woo you!!

Y/N: should I wear shorts? Pants? A skirt?

Kitty: definitely no pants. Maybe that cute skater skirt you wore to Yuri's party last semester?

So you do. The skirt's baby blue colour contrasts well with the simple white tshirt you decided to wear with it, and throwing on a beige cardigan and some white sneakers complete the look. You add a small blue bow into your hair to match, and take one last look at yourself in hopes that you're looking exactly how Minho wants you to--

No. That's the wrong way to go about it. Minho likes you. Yes. You. Not the girls he's always so uses to seeing. You don't have to impress him.

That’s how you meet him right outside your door, with your newly-found resolve as you catch the simple white tee and ripped jeans, hair styled just the way he likes it, just enough to make every woman’s heart swoon.

His eyes do a once-over, “not bad, Y/N. You clean up nice.”

“Not bad?” You scoff, “I’m sure there are much better adjectives to use.”

He grins, “we’ll see.”

Minho brings you over to the Han river by electric scooter, with you standing in front and holding on to the handlebars as he guides you across the street even though it’s technically illegal for people to do such a thing. But with the wind in your hair and Minho’s warmth at your back, you don’t find yourself complaining.

“Han river?” You raise a brow at him as he parks and pays for his e-scooter ride, “really? So cliche.”

“The Han River is a classic,” he looks at you pointedly, “and I’ll have you know, I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

“Ooh, does that mean anything?” You wriggle your brows and he scoffs, looks away, “shut up.”

You weren’t expecting him, of all people, to be a fan of romantic gestures such as this. But when he parks his scooter in favor of walking alongside you by the trail — even with his multiple complaints about the dirt being too dirty and people needing to revisit their wardrobe fashion — you can’t help but wonder how much effort he’s putting into just being with you. Because knowing Minho, walking on crushed grass and having his shoes in dirt is quite a big deal.

“Look, do you want to be swooned or not?” He replies when you ask him the question, even looks offended that you’d dared ask such a thing, “I thought girls loved it when boys brought them here.”

“Yes I know that,” your grin is so wide that you’re surprised it hasn’t broken your face in two yet, “and don’t get me wrong. I love it, but I never thought you—of all people — would bring me here, of all places. It’s just not…”

“Not what?” He scowls.

“Just not you,” you confess, and then, seeing that his frown seems to take a permanent fixture on his face, you quickly add, “so the fact that you’re doing it…thanks. It means…something. You know?”

Heat springs through your cheeks at the sudden confession and you quickly look away, anywhere, but not before glancing at Minho to see that he has a faint smile dancing across his lips.

As the evening wears on, you get to talk about everything and anything; from worries about your future and the rigorous routine of adult life, about which game box is better and which restaurant serves the best korean noodles, which Minho argues does not exist, considering that every single noodle joint in Seoul is a pro in making them.

"We're the city of noodles and gimbap, obviously there's more than one good noodle stop."

"You speak like someone who hasn't tasted Uncle Cha's food yet. You know, the snack from across the road to campus."

Minho's nose wrinkles, "nah I'm good--"

"Oh no you don't," you grab onto his arm before he has a chance to run away, "nu-uh. Let's go get them right now, actually."

Surprisingly awed by Cha's cuisine, Minho has no other choice than to grumble out a faint agreement. It's no secret that it makes your day.

"But the environment--" Minho shudders, "I think I saw a cockcroach scuttling about in there."

“Oh yeah,” you let your eyes follow the wall and trail back up to him, pointing at his face, “there’s one.”

Shoving you playfully, he pulls out his tongue in such a childish manner you can’t help but burst out laughing.

You decide to take the walk back along the Han River even if it makes a detour, stopping by a coffee shop to grab some hot chocolate. The city lights now illuminate the city like stars scraping the earth’s surface and you can’t help but feel amazed by how beautiful the scenery is, with the wind trickling through your hair and soft music from busking sessions in the background.

“I’ve never actually walked along the Han River before,” you confess to him as you gaze down at the black waters sloshing against the river edge, “thanks, Minho.”

He has the look of a satisfied five year old child who got a gold star for his best behaviour, “you’re welcome.”

“Who knew you’d be the one to bring me here?” You jostle his shoulder playfully before taking a sip of your hot chocolate.

“What’s that you’re implying?” He frowns.

“That you’ve surprised me and my expectations.”

“And that’s supposed to be a compliment?” He looks horrified and dramatic, “you’re harsh, Y/N. I’ll have you know, I haven’t—“ he stops himself just in time for you to swoop in and push, “yeah? You haven’t what?”

“Nevermind,” he sips his own drink and you notice the way his ears have turned red.

You giggle, “tell me, have you gone on dates before?”

“Wha—of course I have! What kind of question is that?!” You keep on laughing and laughing at his face, shaking your head as you try and muffle your chuckles the best you can, “oh god—oh my god, you never have. It’s written all over your face—“

“You talk too much,” he mutters into his drink and turns away from you, ears as red as a fire engine.

You nudge him, smiling, loving that side of him that he’s never really shown anyone before. Because you all know the cool, confident Minho. But this, this side of Minho is uncharted territory.

And you’re all here for it.

“Why not, though?”

His eyes narrow as he looks back at you, “what?”

“Why haven’t you brought anyone out before?’ You fidget with your cup, glad that it’s warming your hands so you can busy yourself with something, “because I’ve seen you, with different types of girls. All the time—“

“Yeah that didn’t mean anything.”

“But you still went out with them.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?”

“What?” Heat flushes through you, “no, I just—“

That’s when you feel it. His hand, fluttering up to yours. He pries your hold from your cup gently before bringing it down between you, fingers entangling with yours like they’re meant to be there in the first place.

And when your eyes flutter to lock onto his, there’s liquid warmth in those pools of brown, a tenderness you’ve seldom seen before.

“This is new too,” he murmurs then, “all of this.”

Your heart skips a beat. There are no words to be said.

You swallow thickly, look away, and don’t miss the soft chuckle that falls from his lips as he keeps swinging your hands back and forth between you, his smile a permanent fixture on his face. One that your lips mirror faintly as you keep walking back towards your dorms in comforting silence.

———

“Was that romantic enough for you?”

Minho’s question is met with a chuckle from your part as you finally reach your dormitory. A few stray students are still studying deep into the night, some already asleep on the deep blue couches in the common room as you make your way through, hands still entertained from earlier.

Your heart has been skipping and rollerblading into ecstasy ever since.

“Hmm,” you hum, even tilting your head in thought, “guess so. Though if I had any complaints—“

“You wouldn’t tell me, because there aren’t any,” Minho finishes for you, “right?”

“Oh i have plenty, but I’ll keep it for another time,” you flash him a mischievous smile. You’ve reached your corridor by that time, your words causing Minho to shoot you a suggestive look.

“another time?” He repeats with a cock of his brow.

You bite your lip and look away to avoid the fact that there’s a faint, yet growing smile on your face, “yeah. Maybe.”

The said young man’s lips pulls into a small smile, “I can work with that.” He murmurs, and something warm pools in the middle of your chest.

It’s hard to control yourself around Minho especially when he’s not being a little shit. Because the fact is; he’s very enticingly charming and likable.

“Well, that’s me,” you’ve reached your door then, glad that for once your dorm room is free of activity since both your roommates have gone home for the Christmas season, and turn towards Minho.

“Thanks you, for tonight,” your cheeks are warm with heat but you can’t resist grinning up at him, “I had more fun than expected.”

Minho sucks in a dramatic breath, “wow. I think i finally got a compliment out of your mouth.”

“Trust me, that’s me being nice.”

“I know,” he flashes a grin at you and before you know it, his arm has gone up to press against the doorway, caging you in and suddenly making you feel smaller than you are already. His body heat rolls into you in waves, the scent of his boyish cologne making you dizzy as your body leans into him unconsciously.

“So,” he breathes. He’s so close, so close that if you move just a little, your noses would brush, “since I’ve taken you out on a date, do I get to kiss you now?”

Air stills in your lungs. Your teeth find your lower lip.

“It depends,” your whisper is so soft he barely catches it, too enthralled by the way your mouth curves and moves with the words, “will you take me out again?”

“If her highness wishes,” Minho chuckles, tilting his head so that your noses brush. Electricity zaps through your body, goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, “I’ll take you wherever you want.”

Your eyes lock. There’s warmth, want. Desire swimming through his own pools of brown.

“Sounds like a promise,” you breathe, “so when will that—“

“Y/N.”

The way he says your name has a knot tightening in your stomach. Your body tenses in anticipation.

He’s gazing at you as if he’s only just seeing you. His lips are so close, you can feel his breaths on your lips. Hot against cold. He smells divine.

You’re so lost in your own daydream that you respond a few seconds late, “y-yeah?”

“Do me a favor?”

One hand cradles your cheek. You freeze.

“Hm?”

“Stop talking.”

And before you can do anything else, his mouth presses against yours.

Fireworks explode. Behind your eyelids. Through your body. Blood races and your brain goes fuzzy with want and desire as Minho’s other hand wraps around your waist to tug you in, his other hand clasping your jaw firmly as he kisses you. Once. Twice. He’s a good kisser, yet so gentle and tentative.

You’re taken by surprise for a few seconds, before you finally melt into him and kiss him back. A sigh escapes you as your hands go up to wrap around his neck, and the groan of satisfaction he lets out makes your entire nerves buzz with delight.

Tilting his head to the side to kiss you deeper, longer, you let out a gasp against his mouth as he pulls you even closer still, as if he can’t get enough of you. You haven’t realized you’re pressed to the door until your back meets the hard wood underneath and you yelp softly at the way his tongue swipes over your bottom lip to ask for entrance.

He kisses you softly, yet so firmly as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, satiated. His hand at your hip moves up, tracing the back of your spine, the side of your rib cage before brushing against the corner of your bra and making you squirm while your hands curl into his hair. You tug, causing a grumble to echo out of Minho’s chest. His tongue darts in and you part for him like melted butter so that he can kiss you and ravage you without restraint.

Everything falls away, with only Minho being your anchor. You smell him, feel him against you, and want nothing else other than the dizzying rush that makes your stomach erupt with fireflies.

Your mouths part with a pop and he takes this chance to nip at your jaw, littering kisses down your neck before suckling on a soft patch of skin. Your body reacts instantly, curving into him as your lips part in a soft, minuscule moan. That’s enough to snap him back to attention.

He gazes up at you, chest heaving and all heavy breaths. His lips are swollen and red and just so beautiful. Hair tousled like he’s just tumbled out of bed and you quickly decide that’s the look you love best on him.

The curfew bell sounds and he curses.

“Minho,” you murmur when he leans in, noses brushing to capture your lips into his once more. You sigh, eyes falling shut as he takes your next set of words away.

It’s almost as if he’s drunk on you, as if he just can’t get enough.

The thought makes you shiver. Your heart swells with emotion.

“Minho,” you murmur once more against his lips. He groans, pulls away onto to bury his face into your neck and humming, “yeah?”

“Curfew’s in two minutes.”

“I know,” he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and you can’t help but whimper and cradling his head closer to you despite trying to make sense of your thoughts.

“Y—You should go,” you stutter out but it’s almost like you’re talking to yourself. He’s clearly in his own world, suckling onto your skin and leaving purple marks to claim you as his. He pulls away, groaning appreciatively at the sight you make.

“Do I really have to go?” His dark eyes — darker than you’ve ever seen them — flickers over your features. There’s a kind of hunger to them that makes you shiver.

“Yes,” you stammer out, heart almost bursting out of your chest when the boy merely tugs you close before he rests his head atop yours. He holds you, breaths you in, and your eyes close on their own accord, taking in the moment like it’s the last.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” his whisper grazes the shell of your ear and you shiver. He pulls back and there’s the kind of crooked smile that makes your heart tighten, “goodnight, Y/N.”

“Good night, Minho,” you murmur and dropping a last kiss atop your temple, you watch him walk away, raising a salute with his hand as he does so.

———

A/N: GAHHH IDK WHAT I WROTE AND I GAVE UP AT THE END I HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT BUT ANYWAY I’VE BEEN OBSSESSED WITH MINHO THESE DAYS.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

how to explain your relationship's gay dumpster origin story to the child you ended up with as a result GO

Hypothetical chaggie child: “Mom, how did you meet mommy?”

Charlie: *remembers flirtatiously fixing her hair after bandaging a strange woman’s gouged out eye socket as said women sat in an alleyway half dead and smiling up at her*

Charlie: “….Uhhhhh…your mommy was kinda…”

Vaggie: “Mom found me in the trash and took me home, baby.”

Charlie: “You weren’t really IN the trash! Just, trash dumpster adjacent?”

HCC: “Oh.”

HCC: “So I have a wife too, then.”

Charlie: “You have a what.”

HCC: “I found Miss Whisker Sins getting into the trash again yesterday… um, doesn’t that mean I’m married to a rat? Like you and mommy?”

Charlie: “OH THE RAT OH FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT- HOLY SH- Oof!”

Vaggie: “No baby you’re not married to the rat. You can marry anyone you want, or no one. Whatever makes you happy, ‘kay?”

Charlie: “Yes! That.”

HCC: “Okay.”

HCC: “…”

HCC: “What if I wanna marry the rat.”

Vaggie: “I’ll get the dress-up box.”

Charlie: “I’ll round up the uncles and aunts!!!”

HCC: "That might be bad."

Charlie: "Why would it ever be bad? They all love spending time with you!"

HCC: "But uncle Husky's part cat." (sadly) "If he's mean to my new rat wife, I'll have to kill him."

Vaggie: "I'll help."

Charlie: "Vaggie."

Vaggie: "Him. I'll help him not be mean to the r- to your new beautiful rat wife."

HCC: “And mom has to promise not to cry. It’s embarrassing.”

Charlie: “I won’t I won’t~!”

HCC: “Promise?”

Charlie: “Aww angel wings, I PROMISE I won’t cry. Be right back!”

HCC: “…Mommy, make sure she doesn’t cry TOO loudly, okay?”

Vaggie: “No promises, sweetheart.”

[xoxoskai]

REMIARI (AND EVERY COULD'VE BEEN)

RemiAri's book would 100% be called Goddess of Chaos.

Unedited cuz your girl is lazy doesn't have time.

For Nyxie.

Ariella Nash first notices Remi Astor when he's bawling his eyes out.

Silver decided to swing by the Astor mansion with her girls to check on the youngest Astor after he dislocated his knee during a game.

With her mother preoccupied and her sister following the oldest King around, Ariella sits by the window, bored out of her mind.

"Baby Nash, pass me that"

Ariella slants a look at the only heir to the Astor Empire and suddenly pities her Aunt Teal a lot.

Her gaze finally catches the basketball lying near her feet that Remington is making grabby fingers (she thought he was too old to do something like that) towards.

"You're bedridden and have been advised to take intensive care. Two hairline fractures mean you shouldn't exert yourself anymore"

Of course, she doesn't say any of it to him as she picks the ball up and throws it without a care.

So, maybe she should have cared a bit. If the crunch sound was any indication.

He groans in frustration, hands slapping over the hurt and Ariella will feel guilty about it later when she finds out she slightly disfigured his nose but for now, she thinks it's not that bad until she hears him sniffle.

"Oh my God! Are you crying?"

Remington Astor hates that he's crying. In front of a 14 y/o no less.

"It's a natural reaction to getting hit in the face, kid"

He peeks through his hands and realizes she's moved a lot closer than he thought. Infact, she's standing right above him.

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"Of course it does! This is the nose of an aristocrat, and you might have broken it"

"My condolences"

The deadpan way in which she delivers her sarcasm has Remi speechless.

Eyebrows scrunched, bed hair and teary eyed, Ariella blinks at him before she leans closer.

"You're kinda pretty when you cry"

He frowns.

She smiles.

It cannot be a good sign.

And so, it begins. Ariella Nash's biggest obsession.

At first, she's just messing with him to see what kind of reactions she can get from him. A whole lot, she finds out.

Initially, Cole finds the prospect funny and helps his daughter in messing with the Astor. It's only until Silver has to spell it out for him that Ariella has a crush on him that even she hasn't recognized yet and suddenly the idea isn't as hilarious as it was.

"It'll go away" Silver tries to reassure him.

Checking the magazine in his gun, Cole shrugs "Or I can make him go away."

Remington is tired of having his friend's little sister show up everywhere and sabotaging his chances with other girls whenever he's home.

So, he stops announcing his visits home. He tries to visit his parents as discreetly as possible.

Only for Ariella to be at the dinner table, eyes twinkling, the image of complete innocence as she acts surprised.

"I was just visiting Uncle Ronan and Aunt Teal!" She tries telling him, following him up the stairs to his room after dinner.

Remi doesn't believe her. He's making plans to screw Ava over who probably rat him out for when he refused to spy on his cousin for her.

"Sure, you were"

"Either way, boy I'm glad I chose today cuz imagine I missed running into you"

She's waggling her eyebrows at him, and Remi stops in his tracks, turning to face the girl who was an entire foot shorter than him.

"Ariella. Out of respect for your parents, especially your dad who loves cleaning his guns whenever I come over, I'm going to tell you this for the last time" Pausing for effect, Remi continues when Ariella's playful smile drops "Whatever notion you have in your head about us, kill it. Find someone more appropriate for your age"

Chewing the inside of her cheek, her lips pulled into a sulky pout, Ariella asks "You don't want to hang out with me because I'm 14?"

"I knew they crossed over Ava, but you have smart genes after all" Lightly patting her head as a mockery, Remi moves to open the door to his room.

Leaving a frowning Ariella behind.

Remi doesn't see much of her after that.

Ariella never stops looking at him.

It's virtually impossible when he's so close. When their families are so close. When she sees him even if she does not want to.

Remi is relieved. Minus a follow from her on Instagram and a heart emoji on his pictures sometimes, Ariella keeps to herself. For the most part.

She would not harm any of his flings or dates. Not directly at least. And not for the lack of trying. Being underage meant she couldn't enter any of the clubs, but it didn't stop her from paying people to get stuff done.

Toying with belongings, keying their cars or spray painting them, nothing truly malicious or irreversible, just petty.

Remi figured she wouldn't directly harm him, so he made it a point to pick up all his dates in his car, hold their stuff for them and drop them home. Infact, he would've thanked Ariella for all the extra points it won him to do that.

Ariella retaliated by drawing a :p on the side mirror of his car with a sharpie after that.

But then, Remi misses her 18th birthday party.

Ariella leaves her own party to go sabotage whatever fun Remi was having.

She's undeterred at the chaos ensuing at his place, stomping around the place looking for him. When she can't find him, she goes up to the DJ, unplugs the music till Remi comes looking for the disturbance himself.

"Baby Nash, what the fuck?"

He's shirtless, his hair is disheveled and he's wearing shades indoors. He's never looked more perfect.

"I've waited four years for you, Remington Astor" Ariella tells him, the crowd silent as the words float over them to him "I refuse to wait any longer"

Cole and Ronan are both bothered. Ronan is worried for his son. Cole is worried what he might end up doing to Ronan's son.

Remi is truly thankful he's graduating. Unfortunately for him, Ariella chooses to go to university in the city.

Ariella might as well get an internship at King Enterprises for all the time she spends over there.

Remi might like his job, enjoy it even (he's great at delegating his own work) if a certain hellion didn't show up routinely just to "spend time with him".

Soon, her own workload takes over and Ariella's visits are shorter and briefer. So much so that if Remi times it well, he can skip bumping into her at all.

"She's in the States" Ava provides without him even asking "Some fancy mentorship program at NASA"

"She's a STEM student?"

"Yep. She's smarter than everyone sitting here on this table"

Landon says something in retaliation, but Remi has already tuned him out realizing he didn't really know the youngest Nash like he thought he did.

Ariella cannot believe her father signed her up for this and even though she loves the opportunity and being a scientist is her dream goal (apart from marrying Remi), she thinks she's facing withdrawals from not having seen Remi in so long.

"Oh relax" Her mentor rolls his eyes, flicking the test tube in her hand to gain her attention "Nothing is going to happen to him in six months"

"You don't know that"

"It's true. I don't" He shrugs "But what I do know is that your burner should've been turned off 30 seconds ago"

"Shoot!" Frantically taking the beaker off the stove, Ariella is running it under the water as she makes faces at her mentor.

Working with Jayden Adler is a chore Ariella reluctantly commits herself to because his brilliance was unmatched and even she was aware.

If him guessing she was lovesick ten minutes into meeting her was any indication.

"Miss me?" She asks Remi one fateful Tuesday afternoon that she flew in to surprise him when she couldn't take it anymore.

Remi shuts the door in her face.

"Oh c'mon!" She bangs at the door till he opens it "Really? You're not even going to ask me how I've been?"

Remi holds back what he really wants to say and leans against the door "Baby Nash, to ask I'd have to care"

"You do care" Remi holds his breath because for one second, he believes she read his mind "In that big heart of yours, you care about everyone"

"It would seem you don't know me as well as you thought"

"Wanna bet?"

Remi is actually terrified of losing that bet.

And so, divine intervention helps him.

When the girl he was entertaining before Ariella conveniently cockblocked them calls for him, it's like a switch flips and she immediately shuts down.

"Well then" She's taking a step back and instead of feeling relieved, he's slightly annoyed and then alarmed at his own reaction "I should go see my parents. I'll see you around"

Remi watches her go before shutting the door.

Ariella coming to see him before she went home...does things to him.

Things he does not want to delve into.

Next time he sees Ariella, she's flown in for Ava's wedding.

"Look. I love you, Ava. I really do. But you have to tell me if something's going on, okay? Dad's probably not even coming to the wedding, and this is all too rushed. If something's up, you said you'd always tell me"

"Ari, nothing's up. I love him and I'm marrying him"

"You look like it's your funeral, Ava. I don't know who you're trying to fool"

"Bitch. Did you just say the bride isn't looking radiant?"

Remi is about to announce himself after conveniently eavesdropping the entire time, but Ariella laughs and he stands arrested, listening for a moment longer before he snaps out of it.

"You look positively hideous" Remi provides and it's like a kick to the gut to see Ariella light up like the sun after a cloudy day.

"You, on the other hand-" She moves closer to him, and whispers "-look positively ravishing"

"That is positively inappropriate"

"So, you liked it then?"

Remi has to stop himself from smiling so he turns his attention to Ava, shouldering past Ariella to hug his friend.

Of course, Ava put him on groomsmen duties to walk her sister of all people down the aisle.

"Practice" Ariella mouths to him with a wink.

Remi is scared of turning his back to Cole but thankfully, Cole is more preoccupied with Ava at the moment to notice.

When he offers his arm to Ariella, she cannot stop smiling.

"Ours should be bigger" she tells him when he starts leading her down the aisle.

Remi, who knows in general that his wedding would be the biggest wedding of the century, hums along in agreement.

"I'm not sure my wife would want you to be her bridesmaid, Ari"

"Well, I'd expect not. Unless she wants a "Fiancé runs away with bridesmaid night before wedding" headline on her wedding day"

"You're awfully confident I'll run away with you"

"No" They reach the dais and she's letting his arm go so she can take her place "I'm just confident you'll be mine. Come hell or highwater"

Remi has to be pulled aside by Brandon from where he stood arrested in the middle of the dais after that.

Ariella is basically attached to him by the hip for the reception. So much so that he can smell her lemon and citrus shampoo hours later.

During a mandatory luncheon with all their parents at the Astors mansion, Ariella finds Remi shooting hoops in the backyard where his parents had a basketball court built for him.

"Five free-throws. If I win, you go on a date with me"

Remi, poised for a three-pointer almost missteps when he hears that before laughing.

"You're crazy"

"For you. But we've established that"

Remi makes the shot, misses and turns to see Ariella taking off her heels. Something about her knowing not to ruin the wooden flooring scrapes on the inside of his ribs. Remi doesn't want to find out what it is.

"C'mon" She makes grabby fingers at the ball he's holding, and he should find it ridiculous.

Standing in a blue halter dress that complimented her eyes, barefoot in his basketball court, hair flowing and an entire head shorter than him, he should've found the notion ridiculous. He doesn't.

"I'm not going on a date with you, Ariella"

"You were almost drafted into the NBA. And you're scared of losing to little ol' moi?"

The chances were looking really good for him. But he didn't put Ariella above dark forces and black magic.

"So?"

"What do I get if I win?" He's dribbling the ball around, Ariella turning in his direction as he moved about like he was the sun, and she was the earth revolving around him.

"What do you want?"

Remi opens his mouth, answer on the ready like he'd been waiting his entire life, but Ariella interrupts him "You can't make me leave you alone so asking for that is fruitless"

"There's nothing I gain from this, then" Remi gets into position to shoot a half-court shot.

"I would do anything for you"

Remi makes the shot.

"Have at it then" he tells her, trying to do anything to dissipate the charged tension they were pulled into because of her words.

How could she say things like that so casually to him?

It didn't matter. He would win and he'd ask her to comply with a restraining order or something if that's what it would take to keep her away.

And he needed her away. Desperately.

When Ariella takes position and on instinct Remi notices her perfect stance, he's scared he's made a mistake he cannot recover from.

It ends in a tie. 5-5.

"Couldn't you have made a mistake?" She's pouting as she puts on her heels.

"You could've told me you were preparing for the NBA yourself"

"I'm not on your level, yet. Jayden plays and we would go out and shoot sometimes during breaks"

"Who's Jayden?"

Ariella pauses buckling and looks up, grinning "Are you jealous? You don't have to be. He's my mentor"

"I'm not jealous. If you want to marry him, I'll even catch the bouquet at your wedding. You have my full blessings"

"He's cute but I'll pass" Remi almost dents the basketball from how hard his fingers are pressing into it "Blondes aren't my type" She rises to her full height, still only reaching his chin "Brunettes are"

"I, on the other hand, love blondes"

"I'll make an appointment at the salon before our date"

"Good God, Ariella. We're not going on a date"

"But I won."

"I won too."

"What do you want?"

Remi thinks it's crazy how fast the answer comes to him. An answer that couldn't be beaten out of him.

So, he does what he's best at. Deviation.

He hates that she pulls it off. When she enters the cafe, looking for him, Remi thinks he's an idiot that he didn't just make her go bald instead. Maybe that would stop him from finding her cute. Maybe he shouldn't have shown up. He blamed his own curiosity.

"So? Aren't I pulling it off? I nearly gave Mom a heart attack and Ava laughed for a solid hour, but you asked for it so here we are"

Remi fails to answer as Ariella puts her purse down, her bowl cut swaying a little as she sits down and faces him.

It's insanity. The little hellion stalker actually manages to pull it off.

And he thought she couldn't get cuter.

"It's perfectly disastrous" He can tell he hurt her with that as she quickly turns to call for the waiter. And because his parents raised him better than that, he's doing instant damage control "But you pull it off, yes"

Her face snaps back to him and when she notices he's being sincere, she smiles "My treat. What do you wanna eat?"

When they've placed their orders, Ariella reaches into her bag and procures a small box "I got something made for you, but I never got a chance to give it to you before"

She pushes it toward him, and Remi is almost scared to open the black velvet box.

"Relax, it's not an engagement ring"

"With you. I'd expect nothing less"

"You want to get engaged?" When Remi shoots her a glare, she smiles cheekily "I'll wait till you propose. Besides, I want the sapphire Great Aunt Charlotte wears"

"That's a family heirloom so chances of you getting that is...none"

"When I asked her for it, she said it's mine if I marry her grandson"

"So, you want to marry me for my heirlooms?"

"Yessir"

Remi tries to hold it in, he really does but he ends up laughing at her response and Ariella lights up like fireworks. He thinks she looks cute with her doe eyes twinkling.

He sobers up at the thought completely, Ariella's expression falling with his.

"Why won't you smile at me?" She asks.

And despite what his father taught him, Remi cannot let his heart break for her.

He opens the box. Inside lie two cufflinks, in the shape of a basketball but blue in color.

Remi shuts the box.

"Thanks" he says.

He doesn't take it.

He feels the walls closing in on him.

"This is stupid" He gets up suddenly, pulling his wallet out and slapping enough bills on the table to cover the cheque.

"Wait-" Ariella grabs the box that Remi left behind before following him out to his car in the parking lot.

"What happened? What did I do?" She's asking as she follows him, but Remi just walks faster, resisting the urge to run.

"Ariella. I don't want to do this with you. You're just forcing my hand. I don't see you that way" He whirls at her and she bumps into his chest.

"But why?" She recovers in record time, rubbing her nose, eyes troubled and brows drawn together.

"Because!" Remi can't say anything else because he's too busy noticing how big and blue Ariella Nash's eyes are. They aren't light-almost transparent. They are a deep, translucent blue. Like the sea being viewed from under water.

"You said you didn't want to spend time with me before because I was 14. Now, I'm not!"

"You're still a child"

"I'm almost 21!"

"And I'm 27, Ariella. There are other things more worthwhile you can do with your time instead of following a guy around. Especially one that's not interested in you. It's unbecoming"

She looks like he slapped her. With what he said, he might as well have.

Her entire demeanor shuts down. She slams the box she's still holding atop his car roof.

"I'm a Nash" She tells him "And I won't beg"

She leaves him standing in the parking lot as she gets into her car and leaves.

She also leaves him alone after that.

So much so that Remi starts getting jittery.

If there was something Ronan always taught him, it's to never treat a lady with disrespect.

Remi tries justifying it as Ariella forcing his hand. It doesn't work.

He reminds himself ten thousand times that she's too young for him.

He reminds himself that Cole nearly drowned Eli when Ava asked to marry him.

He reminds himself he can have anyone he wants.

It. Does. Not. Work.

"thisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupidthisisstupid" He's muttering to himself as he waits for Ariella outside her university gates.

At first, he almost misses Ariella because she's cut her hair even shorter and into a bob that reaches her chin with forehead bangs.

But he almost misses her because she's talking to a guy who could be her professor but they're laughing together, and Remi has to cross his arms to avoid doing something crazy like throwing something at the guy.

She's wildly gesturing with her arms, her face animated and Remi feels his ribs tighten uncomfortably in his chest. Looking at her hurts.

Rejecting her hurts.

He's watching as they both throw their heads back and laugh and Remi is tapping the roof of his car, walking to and fro wondering what could be that funny.

Ariella pauses what she's saying suddenly and reaches into her bag and procures a pen that she looks like she's returning to him. The guy takes it, and Remi thinks they're done talking.

Until he flicks Ariella's nose.

"Ariella!"

Ariella turns to him, her expression blanking before she says something else to the guy and they part ways.

She makes her way toward him looking like she would rather be anywhere but near him. The change is not lost on him.

"I thought you said blondes weren't your type"

"Why are you here, Remi?"

"I'm sorry about what I said the other day"

Remi never thought himself above apologizing. He had always been an advocate for clearing every kind of misunderstanding and hurt caused.

"Cool"

Remi is left standing there as Ariella leaves. Once again.

"That's it?" He calls after her and she pauses, taking her sweet time before turning around.

And Remi notices what a lucky bastard he'd been in the past to never have been subjected to Ariella Nash's blank stare that looked straight through him.

"Was there more?"

He doesn't see her after that.

Not at parties where she'd always be lurking around. Not at their regular family luncheons. Or when he specifically went to visit his Aunt Silver.

"She was just upstairs" Silver frowns "She must've gone out"

Or she was avoiding him.

It irked Remi.

And he couldn't, for the life of him, determine why.

This was exactly what he'd wanted since Ariella had first started following him around but now that she'd stopped, he actually missed her?

He found the notion laughable.

Remi decides to celebrate by going out on a cruise with people he knew, to celebrate.

He takes a flight home in three days. She's upended his life and he cannot believe he misses his stalker.

So, he texts her. He would apologize properly so she did not leave him feeling so shitty in the aftermath.

We need to talk.

The infuriating hellion leaves him on read.

Remi shows up at her university to catch her off-guard, but she changes directions and leaves at record speed when she sees him.

So, Remi takes drastic measures. He is a firm believer of -when they go low, you go lower.

Ariella bursts into his office in record time and he is so relieved to see her that it almost- almost supersedes his annoyance.

"You said what to Professor Adler?"

"Hi" He crosses his arms on his desk "Long time no see"

"Don't fuck with me, Remi. I cannot believe you'd say that to Jayden!"

Remi finally stands up, buttoning his suit jacket and moving around his desk to reach a fuming Ariella, trying to suppress his irritation that it would take saying something to her professor now to get her to acknowledge him.

"What did I say to him?"

Ariella was gritting her teeth and Remi found he quite enjoyed this look on her. She was a fierce little thing; he would be insane to not be attracted.

"An allegation that he fraternizes with his students. Really?"

"That's such a shameful thing to do"

"It's not true!"

"How do you know?"

"Because I know him! If you threaten him ever again, Remington, I will make your life hell"

Lowering himself to her face-level, Remi smiles menacingly at her "Been there, going through it. Try me, Ariella"

Ariella wants to hurl something at his face and really make it hurt this time. She resists "You don't get to act like a jilted lover after you rejected me. Threaten him again and I'll kill you" Moving away, she turns to leave.

"I thought blondes weren't your type?" He asks, blocking her path.

And because Ariella was raised by Cole and pettiness ran in their blood, she says "Brunettes aren't doing it for me anymore"

"Is that so?"

"Remi, let me go"

Even he doesn't realize when exactly he's trapped her between him and the desk but a meteor hitting the earth couldn't make him move away.

"It takes me threatening your professor to get you to acknowledge my existence again?"

"Didn't you want me to stay away from you? If I recall correctly, you said it's 'unbecoming'"

"I didn't mean it"

"Really? I apologize, Your Lordship, this peasant failed to understand that "Following a guy around that's not interested in you is unbecoming" didn't mean "get lost"" She's rolling her eyes and Remi steps closer, if that was even possible, the fronts of their bodies flushed together.

"Did you also fail to comprehend what "You'll be mine, come hell or highwater" means?"

Ariella's breath hitches.

"It means I'm yours. And that, Ariella Nash, makes you mine."

He closes the distance between them.

xxx

It wasn't supposed to be this long! Part two (soonish) cuz ...duh.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Not A Coincidence

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 3k words

summary: It’s not a coincidence that you turn up at the Hard Deck for a beach day. It’s not a coincidence either that you end up inside the bar all alone with Rooster. And after what happened on Tuesday, well...  

fair warning: allusions to smut. no smut in itself. 

a/n: this is my first bradley oneshot and i am so fucking scared imma fuck up but yknow. we’re vibing. also the jake slander in this is all fun and games. i love him. 

main piece to “Tuesday Night”, “ Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night" and “Take Me On A Joyride”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

You were early. Too early. Much too early, considering it was currently 10am and your shift began at 5pm. But here you were, sunglasses high on your nose, bikini on under a loose shirt, straw hat on your head, towel and sunscreen in your bag on the passenger seat. 

It wasn’t a concidence that you’d decided on coming early for a beach day. It was far from that, actually. And you hoped, prayed, begged that Penny wouldn’t let it slip, that she wouldn’t rat you out. Because if she did that, you were not sure you’d be able to handle the teasing that would follow. Of course she wouldn’t want anything bad for you - just a little push in the right direction, she’d call it, and smile that smile of hers that had you and Amelia giving each other the side-eye every time.

But you’d have to take that risk. 

Because you sure as hell weren’t missing out on this shit. 

And it was all Penny’s fault in the end anyway. Penny’s fault because she was here on a Thursday morning, Penny’s fault because she was sitting outside, Penny’s fault because she just had to send you a picture, didn’t she? God damn her. God damn her for being your aunt. God damn her for not sending you that picture earlier. 

You grabbed your keys a little too tightly as you turned off the ignition and pushed the door open and close again with a bit too much force. One deep breath. Then another. You needed to calm down. 

You didn’t bother with the front door - if you could save the time it’d take to find the keys in your bag, you absolutely would - instead walked around to the tables at the back. This side of the Hard Deck was hardly ten metres away from the beach, so the second you rounded the corner, you stood, frozen in spot, and watched the picture Penny had sent half an hour ago become reality. 

And reality was much better than the crappy photo in any and all ways imaginable. 

The squad was all shirtless, all greased up, running after two balls, tackling each other, sand sticking to every inch of exposed skin, sunglasses on and drenched in golden light. It was like a scene straight out of some summer rom-com - actually, no, it was pretty much like a scene coming straight out of some soft porn. Unfurling right in front of you. 

Oh, you were in trouble. 

Especially the moment anyone spotted you. And they would. They fucking would if you didn’t move it right about now. 

As quietly as you could - and as invisible as possible, which was harder - you walked up to Penny, keeping your eyes firmly planted on the aviators rolling around in the sand. You were pretty fucking sure nothing would ever top this moment right now. Thirteen of what had to be the most attractive people on the planet tan, sweaty and half-naked? Yeah, there was no way in hell it would ever be any better than this right here.

You only glanced away for a second to sit down next to Penny, to take a look at the blank Sudoku in front of her. You snorted. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who dropped everything to get here”, you said, eyebrows raised, put your bag down next to you and looked back at the beach where Phoenix was just throwing her arms into the air to celebrate something you guessed was a good thing for her team. Hangman looked livid. 

“What can I say?”, she chuckled. “Even an old woman can enjoy some eye-candy sometimes.” 

“You’re saying ‘old’ like you actually are.” 

“Well-” 

She was going to argue, like she always did (you’d had this conversation a ton of times already), but before she could, Maverick came jogging up from the beach to a little chair he must’ve brought for himself. He waved in your general direction. You knew better than to think it was actually meant for the both of you - you were aware enough of the history of his ‘relationship’ with Penny to not be that arrogant. It always went the same: the two of them stumbling across each other every few years, with the exception of the half decade when she’d been married, they hooked up, they had a great time for some weeks, maybe even some months, then Maverick got himself into some kind of trouble and had to move across the country, leaving behind Penny and her broken heart. 

As he sat down to keep watching the game, you realised that you’d been spotted. Someone had noticed Mav’s wave, had seen not only Penny, but you too, and well, you were fucked now. You were fucked because it was Rooster who’d spotted you. Rooster who had a shit-eating grin on his face as he peeled his sunglasses off and made eye contact with you. Rooster who you knew was smart enough to connect the dots, to figure out that you being here wasn’t some coincidence. Rooster who probably realised you were checking his team out - checking him out - even all the way down the beach and through your sunglasses. 

But who could blame you? 

Hell, he looked gorgeous in his dumb Hawaiian shirts and jeans already, you weren’t particularly shocked that he looked even better without them. 

He waved at you. Waved at you to come over. To come join them. 

Within a few seconds, the rest of the aviators were catching onto his idea, were looking at you sitting there watching them, were following his example and waving at you to come down. You bit the inside of your cheek. 

You’d thought that if you were sneaky, careful enough, that you’d be able to just sit here and stare at them, watch them play, admire them for a while. Maybe pretend to read a book if they were to spot you after all. But, no, of course not. Of course Rooster had to demolish your little plan, crumble it up into nothing. Curse him. 

You sighed, but you knew the squad well enough by now to understand that you had lost. You had no choice but to do what they wanted you to do - they’d find a way to force you anyway if you didn’t do it willingly. 

Penny’s laughter in your ears, you got up and made your way down to the beach, arriving to a chorus of cheers that had you grinning and bowing. You could very well just play this off as some funny coincidence as long as Rooster kept his mouth shut. But with the way he was grinning at you, you were doubting he would for long. 

“I gotta admit I feel a little insulted that I wasn’t invited to your private beach-party”, you said, letting your eyes rake over Rooster with no concern whatsoever for being caught. You had sunglasses on. Nobody could prove you were doing a damn thing. And he was just too attractive for his own good, too attractive to ignore, too attractive not to look.  

“In our defense”, Phoenix said, still a little breathless from the game, and held both her hands up. “We didn’t know we were even having a beach-party.” 

“You didn’t even know?”, you asked. 

“Mav took us by surprise. Only told us this morning.” 

You snorted, interrupted before you could reply by a ball landing at your feet. 

“You playing, Junior?”, Jake shouted, making sure to flex his arms just short of ridiculously. If he weren’t Jake and you weren’t you, you’d probably be super into him, more turned on and less annoyed, but this way you just rolled your eyes and flipped him off. 

“First of all, Texas boy”, you yelled. “Quit calling me that or I’ll cut your fucking dick off. With some elementary school scissors as well because that’s all I’d need. And also, you know I hate sports, the mere fact that you’re suggesting I move any more than necessary is laughable.” 

You heard Phoenix and Rooster snicker as Jake laughed and threw you a sloppy salute. 

“Whatever ya say, Junior.” 

Junior. How you despised that goddamn nickname. Mainly because it didn’t make sense anyway - you weren’t even Penny’s daughter, you were her niece. They’d make more sense calling Amelia Junior. But no, it had caught on, and now you were just short of slapping people every time you heard it.

You turned back to Rooster, swallowing hard as you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his face this time. 

“I’ll get you guys some drinks”, you said, smile tugging at your lips. “If, that is, you’re allowed to drink.” 

“A drink won’t kill us”, Phoenix winked, and then hauled the ball from where it still lay at your feet and charged at Jake. 

You chuckled. There was a heavy silence hanging over you and Rooster even after half a second, your sunglasses protecting you from too much eye contact and him holding it effortlessly anyways.

“You look good”, he muttered, his voice low enough that you knew none of the others heard it. A shiver ran down your spine. Your throat went dry. God, why had you got yourself into this? You should’ve saved the pic, thanked Penny and stayed home. None of this complicated shit. But well, seemed as though you liked it complicated. 

“Do I?”, you asked quietly, barely suppressing a grin. He made an acknowledging sound that almost had you throwing caution into the fucking wind and pulling him in for a kiss just like that. 

“I think I could use a helping hand”, you said instead, voice sounding more breathless than it probably should. “You know, with the drinks.” 

His lip quirked up at that, the indication of a smile that you were much too familiar with already. You swallowed. This man should not have this effect on you. But he did, and well, who were you to argue with god’s gifts? 

“I’ve always got a free hand for you, sweetheart”, he chuckled, his fingertips dancing across your upper arm. You sucked in a breath. 

He’d flirted with you before, yes. But ever since Tuesday, he’d taken it up a notch. You’d have expected something like this from Hangman, surely, but not from Rooster. Sweet Rooster. 

Not so sweet after all. 

“You’re unbelievable”, you muttered, shaking your head and looking down (a mistake, in hindsight, because that meant you were staring right down at his abs) to escape his eyes on yours.

“What, you don’t like these hands?”, he asked with a grin, his finger snaking just below the hem of your sleeve before he pulled back, holding his hands up in front of you and turning them around - palm facing you, back facing you, palm facing you. You could’ve slapped him. 

The thing was that he had really fucking nice hands. And you didn’t usually notice that. But his were big, his fingers long, so goddamn perfect on your waist, your jaw - useful too, you could imagine. 

“I like those hands carrying the drinks out”, you quipped. “Think the guys can make do without you for a few minutes?” 

He didn’t even take a look at the squad before raising his eyebrows. 

“Sure they can.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your lips as you turned and walked up to the Hard Deck, passing by Penny (with that annoying smile that told you She knew, she knew, she knew), only leaning down to tell her you were getting the squad some drinks before you were pushing open the door, stepping behind the bar and getting out a tray. You set it down on the wooden bar top, put a bunch of shot glasses onto it and got out a bottle of vodka, only looking up when you heard Rooster laugh.

“And here I thought I was getting my hands dirty after all.” 

You snorted, resting your palms against the edge of the bar and leaning closer over to him. It was dark, light barely flooding in through the windows with the shades down, especially with your sunglasses on, and you really should have taken them off, but the sweet advantage of Rooster not knowing where you were looking was a bit too sweet to give up just yet. 

He looked good even in this dim light. One arm on the bar top, his face turned to you, his sunglasses still up high in his hair. Usually he’d hook them into his shirt, but - well, he wasn’t wearing one. A layer of sweat was covering his entire torso, droplets dripping down his neck. 

“You” - you pointed a finger at him - “are a cruel, cruel man.” 

He leaned just a bit closer, grin playing on his lips, and your breath caught in your throat as he raised a hand, prying your own sunglasses off of your face. Carefully, slowly, paying close attention to not hurting you. 

“Now is that good or bad?” 

He folded the glasses, put them down next to the tray and caught your gaze. For the first time today, you were actually looking at him. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip all on their own. If he knew about even half of the power he had over you, you were fucked. 

“Well for me”, you grinned, not daring to do anything but stare right back at him. “For me, that could be very good. Depending on what you define as good, Bradshaw.” 

“Would be beneficial if our definitions matched.” 

You let out a laugh and shook your head, finally breaking eye contact to turn around and get out another tray, another few glasses (bigger ones, this time) and a bottle of water. Drinks were well and all but the squad needed actual fluids in their systems that weren’t alcohol and as far as you knew them, they had not brought enough to even last them much more than a few hours.

“You’re a menace, Bradshaw, is what you are. And now help me get these drinks out.” 

You grabbed one tray, grabbed the bottle of vodka and maneuvered everything out from behind the bar, towards the door. Your pulse was a bit too quick, your breathing a bit too shallow, but you were fine considering what had just gone down. Considering you’d been in here alone with Bradley goddamn Bradshaw, the literal finest man on the whole planet, and had managed not to throw yourself at him. Even after what had happened Tuesday. Even after knowing just how heavenly he felt close to you. Even with how horribly obviously he’d been flirting today. 

You had hardly taken two steps away from the bar top when you were tugged back - an arm around your waist, the tray wobbling dangerously. You put the bottle of vodka down on the bar, hard, much too forcefully, to keep everything from clattering to the ground. You were good at your job, yes, but not even you could keep a tray of close to fifteen shot glasses safely on your arm when someone was purposefully tripping you up.

“Shit, you can’t just do that!”, you cursed, carefully steadying the tray and putting it down as well before you looked up at Rooster. He’d let go of you, but he didn’t seem guilty or regretful in the slightest, that grin still on his lips. 

“You really want to leave me here without making use of these hands?”, he muttered, so close to you now that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You wanted to be mad at him. You so, so badly wanted to be. But he was making it way too hard. 

“With what those hands did already”, you hissed, poking a finger into his chest. “I don’t know if I want to find out whether the rest of what they can do is just as destructive.” 

He laughed, his hands back on your waist again suddenly, fingers splayed across your skin (the shirt was really, really thin after all and you felt like you were on fire wherever he touched you), pulling you flush against his front. Your palms came up to his chest to steady yourself and you sucked in a breath - sweaty skin beneath your fingertips, well-defined abs against your stomach. Most definitely god’s gift. Shit. 

“Changed your mind that quickly?”, he hummed, thumb tracing the hem of your bikini bottoms over your shirt. “Think I can recall you being very eager to find out two days ago.” 

“You kept track?”, you asked breathlessly, the question sarcastic but your tone - sadly - outing just how affected you were by all this. By his closeness, his touch, his words. Oh, you were down bad. He chuckled. 

“For such a pretty girl like you? Always.” 

He held you just a little tighter, pulled you just a little closer. You hadn’t thought it was possible. 

“Bradley”, you whispered, and something in his expression changed like a switch had been flicked in his mind. His fingertips dug into your hips. 

“Say that again.” 

You didn’t think your mind had ever been this absolutely blank as you looked at him, rolled his words around in your head, your lips parted and your eyes wide. 

“Bradley”, you repeated - had you ever said his name before? On Tuesday you’d kissed him, sure, but you’d both been tipsy and it had been 1am and you were pretty sure you’d called him ‘Roos’, even with his hands pinning you to his Bronco and your arms crossed behind his neck. “Kiss me again.” 

[multifandomwriter56]

As It Was

A/N: Hello! I know I've been MIA for a long time. Life has been crazy and going back to college while having a full time job has taken a lot of my time. But I'm hoping to get back to writing on this blog. I've missed it and I have missed everyone so much. I make no promises but I'm going to try.

Summary: Arthur and Y/n have always been super close; but when the boys get back from the war, things have change.

Characters: Arthur Shelby, Tommy Shelby, Sister!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions Arthur's attempt at suicide

Word Count: 2,698

*gif is not mine*

The rumor about the men who came back from the war are not the same men that left; It’s true. No one came back the same after the war. Not a single soul.

But it wasn’t just the soldiers who changed. Those who were stuck at home, waiting for their loved ones to return. They changed too.

Y/n couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she changed. She just remembers one day realizing she’s not the little girl who loved to draw rainbows, horses, and flowers anymore. Or the little girl who taught Finn how to aim at a moving rat, even though their Aunt Polly despised them touching guns. Not even the little girl who would take walks with her favorite brother, Arthur.

Y/n would never say she has a favorite brother aloud, but she knows her family sees how close the oldest brother and youngest sister are. There may be eighteen years difference between them, but they would sometimes act like twins.

Y/n enjoys John’s company and loves his jokes. Finn, she will always protect and care for. Ada, well they clash on fashion and boys, but they would kill for one another. And Tommy, well, the two siblings have never been able to get along. Tommy had big dreams that didn’t include his baby sister. Greta wanted to change the world and wanted Tommy to help her. Y/n wanted Tommy to help take care of the family instead of spending all his time at the docks waiting for the young woman to show up.

Even at a young age, Y/n knew it would always be Tommy who would provide for the family; be their leader. She loves Arthur, but he’s more of a follower than a leader. Tommy has always had ideas and Y/n knew those ideas would help them rise in Small Heath.

So with the boys off fighting in the war, Y/n made sure to follow her brother’s orders on how to run the shop.

Polly was the only one Y/n would let stray from Tommy’s list.

“You’re ten years old, Y/n. You are not the boss and know nothing about bets.” Her aunt admonishes.

“I know enough, Polly. I have Tommy’s list and Arthur’s notes.”

“So now you’re an expert at running betting shops?”

“I wasn’t saying that.” The ten year mumbles.

“Then you’ll do your best to remember who is in charge of the business.”

Y/n knows when to stop when it comes to her aunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

Y/n will admit, she learnt a lot from her aunt; not just business, but women’s business.

But now that the war is over, Y/n’s noticed how more involved Tommy is; how he keeps adding to the business.

Arthur is less present when it comes to his baby sister. They don’t go on walks anymore.

The fourteen year old moved into Arthur’s home when they came back. She wanted away from her very controlling brother and closer to the brother she knows best.

Except now, it seems that she understands Tommy more than she does Arthur.

The war may have changed all of her brothers, but something broke in Arthur. His nightmares keep her up at night and the one time she tried to wake him up, he almost choked her to death.

After that, she would either lay in her bed, listening to his screams or she would get John if the screams lasted longer than ten minutes.

“You shouldn’t be at Arthur’s alone.” Tommy tells his sister as he lit a cigarette.

“I’m not alone. Arthur is there.”

“You know what I mean, Y/n. Arthur is struggling and you being around isn’t helping.”

Y/n scoffs. “Actually, I think I help Arthur more than you can ever imagine trying to help him. You just hate that I’m not under your roof and you can’t boss me around.”

Tommy points his lit cigarette at her, his eyebrows raised in warning. “You will do as you're told or I will turn you over my knee.”

Y/n once again scoffs. Tommy has never disciplined her, he wasn’t ever around to take her in hand. That dirty task was left to their aunt. “Not only am I fourteen years old, but you have never raised a hand to me. Why start now?”

“Don’t push me, Y/n.”

Yeah, he’s bluffing, Y/n thinks. She stands to her feet. “Yes sir, Sergeant Major. If that’s all, Sergeant, I would like to finish my studies. Wouldn’t want to show up to school without my work now would we?”

Tommy pinches the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to keep arguing with his sister. He, instead, waves his hand in a dismissive gesture without even glancing up.

The day Y/n dreaded came. Arthur had tried to commit suicide by hanging himself after he fell for their father’s con. She had found him at their home, raging and destroying the room. She skillfully dodged his swings and shouted at him.

“Arthur! It’s me! It’s Y/n!” She ducks when he throws an ashtray at her head. “It’s Y/n, brother!”

“Y/n?”

The broken voice has Y/n on the verge of tears. “Yes.” She nods her head. “It’s Y/n. I’m here.” She makes her way to her brother as his knees buckle and he lands on the floor. She holds him close, his chin digging into her shoulder as he sobs.

Y/n doesn’t know how long they stay in this position but she loses feeling in her left shoulder and feet.

When Arthur finally is able to compose himself, he stands to his feet, rubbing a shaking hand through his hair.

“Arthur, what happened to your neck?”

The older man covers the deep bruise around his neck. “Nothing.”

Y/n starts to shake her head, the pieces falling together. “No, no. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave me here.” She stops talking but her head is still moving side to side; not wanting to accept that her brother, her hero, tried to kill himself.

“Y/n, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” She sharply cuts him off. “Don’t apologize. I just need a moment to process.” She sits in a chair that he hadn’t flipped yet. “I need to figure out what to do. I need- no you need some of Polly’s ointment, and a drink… yeah, yeah.” She stands to her feet, ignoring the concerned look coming from her brother. “Sit down, Arthur. I’ll pour you some whiskey and get some ointment to help with the bruising.

“Y/n, I don’t- fuck.” Arthur curses when she completely ignores him and heads for the kitchen.

Only a few minutes pass until Y/n comes back. She hands the glass of whiskey to him and starts applying the ointment.

Y/n stayed with her brother until he decided to go to bed. She heads up to her room. In the morning, she’ll tell Polly. Fuck knows what Tommy will say if he hears about this. She never knows if he will help Arthur or make it worse.

In the morning. Y/n told her aunt and she should have known her aunt would tell their fearless leader. So she wasn’t surprised to see him walk in as she hands Arthur a cup of tea.

The look Tommy sends her is clear.

She smiles softly at her eldest brother. “I will be up in my room if you need me.” She tells him, her invitation not extending to the other brother.

She heads upstairs but does not go into her room. She sits on the top step, listening as Tommy belittles their brother. She rolls her eyes. She should’ve known Tommy would never express real feelings.

“Just use a fucking gun, man.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Y/n shouts as she storms down the stairs. “That’s all you have? Next time, use a gun?”

“Leave it be, Y/n.”

Y/n glares at Arthur. “No, Arthur, I can’t just leave it be.” She turns her glare back at the brother she is upset with. “I know it’s hard for you to express feelings now, but I would rather you not say anything at all than talk to our brother that way. He deserves better.”

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

“Fuck off, Thomas!” She shouts as she steps in his space. “You only care about having Arthur around so he can beat and kill people who piss you off. That’s all that matters to the all powerful Tommy Shelby.”

The slap echoes throughout the whole house, each sibling frozen in their place.

Y/n holds a hand over her now stinging cheek, staring at the man who has never raised a hand to her. Her and Tommy may not get along but she never thought he would physically harm her. Never.

She turns to Arthur, wondering how he will react. To her surprise he’s staring at her in disappointment.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to Tommy like that, Y/n. You were out of line.”

“I was out of line?” She snaps. “What am I supposed to do, Arthur, eh? Am I supposed to stand at attention and wait for the sergeant to bark orders? Huh?”

“Enough.” He doesn’t shout, but his voice still booms, causing his baby sister to flinch, preparing for another blow.

The guilt had already come, but seeing her flinch made Tommy feel sick to his stomach. “Y/n, I-” He reaches out to comfort her but stops when she steps back.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. I hate you.” She looks at Arthur. “I hate you both.”

“Let her go, Arthur.” Tommy orders when the eldest Shelby stands to follow Y/n who ran out of the house.

***

For a month, Y/n stays with John and his kids; but as much as she loves her nieces and nephews, she refuses to stay there another night.

Lizzie Stark, who’s been helping her brother with the kids, tells her to go back home, to work it out with Arthur.

“And Tommy?” The fourteen year old asks the older woman.

Lizzie smirks. “Tell him to fuck off.”

Y/n smiles at that. She hopes her brother doesn’t wait too long to give Lizzie the ring he’s been hiding.

Knowing exactly where her brother will be, Y/n heads to the Garrison. Taking a deep breath, she knocks on the locked door.

“We’re closed.” Is the muffled response from the barmaid.

“It’s Y/n Shelby.” She knows that’s all she has to say for the doors to open. Grace has been kind to her since she’s started working at the pub, and Y/n appreciates that, but she doesn’t trust the barmaid. She’s not sure why, but she has a hard time believing this Irish woman just decided to move to Birmingham without a real reason.

When the door opens, she smiles politely at Grace before squeezing past her. She heads straight to the back room, knowing her eldest brother will be attempting to balance the books.

She comes to halt mere centimeters from the entrance, her heart racing. What if he really is on Tommy’s side? What if he thinks she really did deserve to be slapped? What if she’s completely lost the only person to ever love her for her?

“Gracie, is that you? You ready to help me with these numbers yet?”

Y/n laughs quietly through the breath she was holding. Who is she kidding? Arthur is one of the kindest, loving people she knows. How could he hate her… right?

“It’s me, Arthur.” She barely gets that short sentence out above a whisper.

“Y/n?”

She steps fully into the room, her arms behind her back. “Hi.”

Arthur just stares at his baby sister, the anger, the pain of not seeing her for days, and the guilt… the guilt that has literally eaten him alive, rises to the surface. His loyalty to his brother clouded his love for his sister and he will hate himself for the rest of his life.

Being a Shelby makes it hard for them to express their emotions through words. No matter the emotion, the words usually fail to spit out, but actions, they’ve never been a problem for a Shelby.

So instead of saying the words, “I’m sorry” Arthur jumps to his feet and pulls the young girl into his arms, holding as tight as he can.

And since Y/n is not only a Shelby but also able to read her brother like a book, Y/n returns the hug and her anger disappears.

“You’re coming back home, ain’t ya?”

Y/n smiles, glad she was right. “My bag is already back in my room.”

Arthur squeezes her one more time, dropping a wet kiss on top of her head before releasing her. “Good.”

Y/n goes to ask him about how he’s been but a familiar voice stops her.

“Arthur, Tommy told me to get you. Family meeting in ten.” Finn turns to his sister, hope in his eyes. “Are you back?”

Y/n had kept in touch with Finn, having him fill her in on everything that was happening while she was gone. Finn didn’t know much, but she was able to fill in the gaps on most of what he told her.

“Yes, I’m back.”

Finn smiles. “Good. Arthur’s been too emotional and Tommy’s about to shoot him if he hears him complain one more time about you not being at the family meetings.”

Y/n laughs at Finn’s blunt statement; laughing harder when Arthur spouts profanities as he takes off after the youngest Shelby. She follows the duo, figuring it’s time for her to show her faceto the rest of the family.

Her smile stays in place as they make their way to Watery Lane, listening to her brother banter back and forth about what to tell and what to keep to yourself. So far, Finn’s winning the argument.

She can feel her smile start to get smaller the closer they get to her old home; and the smile completely disappears when Arthur opens the door for her. She comes to a halt at the threshold of the betting shop, her eyes immediately on the Peaky Blinders leader.

She’s thankful he hasn’t noticed her yet, but that little comfort quickly disappears when her aunt tells him to shut up as she makes her way to her niece.

Y/n easily accepts the hug from her aunt, the woman who practically raised her, but winces when she gets a clip to her ear.

“A month is too damn long, girl.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers as Polly releases her; a small smile appears when her aunt gently caresses her cheek.

Knowing she needs to face the elephant in the room, or more commonly known as Thomas Shelby, Y/n peels her eyes off her aunt and stares straight into her brother’s eyes, hoping he can’t see the fear in them.

Compared to the other family members, Tommy is a mute when it comes to emotions. The only time words and emotions are mixed together is when he’s angry. He doesn’t say “I love you”, “I need you”, or anything that is remotely tied to emotions.

That said, the man is a master at showing his emotions through actions. One look can tell you so much about the gang leader. You just have to know how to read them; and Y/n is a master at this skill. She’s almost as good as their aunt.

So when she sees the barely noticeable nod of approval, and watches as Tommy pulls out a chair; she knows she has been welcomed back by their fearless leader.

And after she sits, he gently kisses her cheek, the same cheek he hurt a month ago, and she knows he’s asking for forgiveness.

She grasps his hand before he can pull away, giving it one good squeeze, so he knows he’s been forgiven.

They will never have a relationship like her and Arthur, or like him and Ada; but they can coexist together in their family; and that’s enough for them both.

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee

[topguncortez]

A Letter to My Grandchild - Rooster & Dragon

over the rainbow series | rooster & dragon masterlist | main masterlist

synopsis: Maverick isn't known for keeping a lot of things from his past, but he did hang on to a beat up old shoe box for the day his best friend's boy would grow up and settle down

word count: 2.3k

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of past pregnancies, mentions of character death, cursing

note: nope y'all didn't miss any parts. it's just me, writing out of order. and I wanted to give y'all something cute and sweet before whumptober starts:)

Maverick wasn’t sure how long he had held on to the letter, let alone remembered where he had put it. Penny thought he had finally lost his mind when she came home to boxes of Mav’s stuff strewn all over the living room. Maverick had never ever been labeled a “pack-rat” choosing to live very modestly, but there was some stuff he had kept over the years. One of those things had been a couple of envelopes that Carole had given to him the last time he saw her alive. Carole could hardly keep her eyes open from the pain medication but she had managed to direct Maverick towards her closet and grab an old shoe box that had been tucked away in the corner. 

“You give that to him. . . when he becomes a father,” She had whispered to Maverick. He had promised his best friend’s widow that he would keep the box safe and protect it with his life. He swore that if his house was on fire, that old shoe box from Yonkers would be the one thing he ran back in and saved. 

Maverick didn’t even bother to wrap the shoe box or remove its contents into some nicer box. Instead, he slapped a bright pink bow on it and set it on the gifts table with the others, sticking out like a sore thumb. He stood in the back of the crowded bar with Jake and the rest of the guys, watching as Dragon and Rooster took their time opening up the gifts and holding them up so everyone could see. Phoenix sat to the right of her sister, already taking on the doting aunt duty by writing down what the gift was and who it was from. 

Maverick still couldn’t believe that he was standing in the same room as Bradley Bradshaw, celebrating the soon to be birth of his child. If you would’ve told him ten years ago that he would be “grandpa mav”, he probably would’ve laughed in your face. There was no way on earth that anyone, let alone a child of Bradley’s would be calling him “grandpa”. Those years of hatred and no communication seemed to be a distant memory now as Maverick watched the kid who was basically his son try to hold back tears while holding newborn onesies and baby blankets. 

The baby shower was shark theme, which had to have been 100% Dragon’s idea, and Rooster went along with it. Dragon was at the point in her pregnancy where all Rooster could do was nod along and agree with her. So if was sharks that she wanted ontop of carrot cake cupcakes, than it was sharks on top of carrot cake cupcakes she got. It was moments like these, where Maverick could see the resemblance between Rooster and Goose. Two Bradshaw men who would’ve gone to the ends of the earth to make their partners happy. 

“Last one!” Phoenix smiled, and handed Dragon a beat up old shoe box, “It’s from Mav.”  

“You couldn’t have wrapped it!?” Penny scolded, lightly smacking her husband’s arm.

Pete just shrugged, “Adds character.” Penny rolled her eyes. Dragon chuckled, carefully removing the top. Her eyes widened for a moment, then she looked up to look at her husband. 

“Rooster,” Dragon whispered, her eyes starting to fill with tears as she looked down at the contents of the box. Bradley leaned over her shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed, “Look.” Dragon handed him the shoebox, and he felt his breath get caught in his throat. 

“Are these all from-” 

“Your mom and Dad from various deployments. There’s some written after his death too,” Maverick said, “She promised me to keep that box for you.” 

Rooster nodded, his eyes feeling the sting of tears, “Th-” He cleared his throat, “Thanks. I’ll have to read them.” Dragon grabbed his hand and squeezed it, “Thanks everyone for the gifts. It’s clear that Baby Bradshaw is gonna be one spoiled duck.” 

“Hell yeah!” Jake cheered, raising his glass, only to be swatted by his wife for his language. 

— — — 

Later that night, after Bradley had joined Dragon for a bath, and rubbed her feet until she fell asleep, he grabbed that old, worn shoebox and sat down at the kitchen table. He poured himself a glass of scotch and grabbed his glasses, sitting in the orange glow from the light above the stove. There were probably a hundred letters in the shoebox, some of them bound together with a rubber band with notes on them. Carole had grouped together letters that were sent from when Goose was either at the academy, in flight school, or deployed. Bradley carefully ran his fingers over his parent’s handwriting as he shifted through the box, landing on one letter in particular. 

‘Open when: you become a father 

It was his mother’s handwriting, Bradley could tell by the curly tails of some of the letters. He gently opened the worn envelope that had a coffee stain on it, which always seemed to be a signature of Carole Bradshaw letter. Bradley could remember the various birthday and Easter cards that somehow had a coffee stain on the envelope. He unfolded the sheets of paper, and sucked in a breath as he began to read. 

‘Dear Bradley, 

If you are reading this it means two things, I am no longer with you. Though it is sad, you must remember that my earthly body is no longer there, but my soul remains with you always. The other thing that this means, is means you are about to be a father. 

Your dad once told me the greatest thing to ever happen to him was becoming a father. Now, I thought he was lying to make me feel better about getting pregnant so young and when his career was just getting started, but he assured me that it was the truth. And for those three years, I got to watch him live up to that truth. 

You might not remember a whole lot about your father, but he was a damn good one. Bradley, he loved you more than anything in the world. More than flying with Maverick, more than the Phillies, and more than apple pie on Sunday afternoons. He once told me that he could walk away from flying forever and be just fine because he would have you to fill his time. 

I bet you are scared, and that’s okay. Goose was too, but do you know what he used to say about being scared?  “What is life without a little fear? A life that is not one at all.” But I assure you, that parenthood is the best time of your life. There is nothing better than watching your child grow and become their own person. My favorite thing was watching you become an adult and spread your wings on your own. There comes a time in your life when you will sit back and say to yourself: “Yep. I did that.” as your child gets ready to leave the home and start a life of their own. 

There are three simple rules to live by when it comes to being a parent: 

Celebrate everything - no matter how big or small 

Write down a note or two about the day, it’ll help you remember when you get old like me 

Love can conquer all - remember to tell them that.

Oh, how I wish I could meet the person you fell for. Bradley, your heart is so big, I just know that whoever it is you met has a big heart just like you. You need someone to challenge you, someone who has the same spitfire and determination as you. Whomever it is, I hope you treat each other respectfully and always say I Love You before you leave for the day and every night. And remember no house is complete without an ironing board. 

Bradley, I hate to leave this earth before you really get a chance to be on your own. It hurts me that you are about to walk into adulthood on your own and start a family without your own, but remember, I am always there. If you need me, turn to the sky, and I will guide you. We will both guide you. 

We love you, Bradley. 

Always have & Always will, 

-love, 

Mom. 

P.s. I also found a letter that your dad wrote when we found out we were pregnant with you. 

P.p.s I hope you can forgive Maverick one day. He only did what he thought was best.’ 

Bradley didn’t even know Dragon had walked into the kitchen until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and looked up at her, a small smile on her face. He pushed his chair back from the table and pulled her to sit down on his lap, his hand instantly resting on her protruding bump. Dragon gently cupped his cheek in her hand, wiping away a tear he didn’t know rolled down his cheek. 

“You weren’t in bed,” Dragon mumbled, running a hand through his curls, “The baby wouldn’t settle down without you.” 

“‘M sorry,” Bradley said, placing a kiss on her cheek, “Wanted to look through these.” 

“Yeah?” Dragon asked and he nodded, “Do you care if I-?” 

“Oh go ahead,” Bradley said, “I was just about to read this one from my dad. . . C-can you read it, actually? I don’t think I can.” 

“Of course, baby,” Dragon said and picked up the letter. She smiled looking at the messy, yet familiar handwriting, “You two have the same handwriting,” She looked at his baby cow brown eyes, “Dear Baby Bradshaw,” Dragon read, “Wow, you two really have a lot in common.” 

“Hush,” Bradley chuckled, “It’s not my fault my child is ‘camera shy’ and won’t tell us what they are.” 

“‘Camera shy’ my ass,” Dragon rolled her eyes, mumbling the words that their midwife had told them about 10 weeks ago, “I ain’t ever heard of a Bradshaw being ‘camera shy’.” 

“Must get it from their mama,” Bradley smiled. 

“As long as they don’t come out with my attitude, I’ll be okay with that,” Dragon sighed, and continued reading, “‘Dear Baby Bradshaw, I would call you by your name if you had one, so Baby Bradshaw it is. 

I’m writing this letter because I can’t sleep, my mind is too awake. I know I should be cashing in on the sleep before you get here, but there’s just too much going on. 

We got to see you today and hear your heartbeat. It was nice and strong and had a sound that was even better than Great Balls of Fire. I could never tire of hearing your heartbeat. Next appointment I’m gonna have to record it so I can listen to you whenever I can. The doc said you were growing nicely, which is good. Your mom and I want you to grow big and strong. 

We have been waiting for you for a long time. Your mom is probably a bit more than me. I’m not going to beat around the bush, when she told me she was pregnant, I got scared. Am I really ready to be a dad? Am I dad material? Can I be a good dad? I had a good dad growing up, he didn’t do more than what was expected of him. So I don’t really know what I have to do. I guess that’s something I will learn as we go. 

I know your mom is just going to be the best. I’ve seen her with the young kids running around base, and it is one of those things that makes my heart flutter. She’s just a natural and the kids seemed to be drawn to her. She cares for them and makes them smile and giggle. She is already getting things set up for you and you aren’t even here! The poor woman is making my wallet hurt! 

You are going to be so spoiled, not just by us but by your Uncle Maverick too. He’s already shown up with teddy bears and onesies and some child aviators, which I have no idea where he even got! I’m guessing it's got something to do with a certain Admiral’s daughter he’s been seeing. You didn’t hear this from me. . . but I think Penny might be the one for your ol’ uncle Mav. That is if he can ever settle down. 

Hell, you might settle down and get married before your Uncle Mav ever does. 

I gotta be honest with you for a second kid, I’m scared to be your father. I don’t have the most ideal job in the world. Flying planes with my best friend has been my everything (don’t tell your mother). It’s been one of the best parts of my life. I love being in the sky, watching the world from up above. I love knowing that I am protecting people. People who don’t have the means to fight for themselves. But being able to protect people comes with a risk. A risk that one day, those enemies might turn the page and come after me. 

There might be a day when I am no longer on this earth with you, baby Bradshaw. It hurts to think about, leaving behind you and your mother, but it’s the harsh reality of doing something I love. But I promise you, if something were to happen to me, Baby Bradshaw, you will be taken care of. You will have all the means to get by. You and your mom will never have to worry, I can swear to you that. But Baby Bradshaw remember one thing:”

Bradley had hardly felt like he could cry for his father. He barely knew him and didn’t feel right to cry for a man he hardly knew. Plus, he had watched his mother cry for years and Bradley felt like he had to be strong for her. But now, sitting in the arms of the woman he loved, Bradley let years of pent-up grief out. Dragon held him tightly in her arms, as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. Bradley’s large hand rested on her belly, fingers splayed out as if he could protect the growing life inside her from the outside world. She gently ran her hand up and down his back, a trick she remembered her mother doing to her when she cried, to try and soothe him. 

Dragon sniffled, and picked up the letter, reading the last line: 

“I love you and I will always be with you, no matter where on this earth or in the sky I am.

-love your dad, 

Goose’”

taglist: @damrlova @shanimallina87 @phoenix1388 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @yanna-banana @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @happypopcornprincess @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @lovelywiseprincess @diorrfairy @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @pono-pura-vida @dakotakazansky @starberryhorse @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @badasspizzalover @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - IV

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: Long, multi-parted, slow burn, fem!reader, fluff, not proof read, angst

Stepping into the apartment made it instantly clear, that this wasn't a birthday dinner, it was a birthday party. Music played from the living room and you could hear laughter and conversation from every corner of the dwelling. In almost every crevice, there was at least a pair, usually more, cutting up and reminiscing on old times. There were cousins here you hadn't seen since early childhood. What was this all for?

Shortly after entering, your mother abandoned you to tend to whatever was in the kitchen, leaving you and the tallest person in the house to fend for yourselves. "Let's go in the dining room," you said, grabbing hold of Shoji's hand and pulling him along.

He silently nodded, feeling eyes on him from everywhere. He did truly stand out amongst your family, who mostly had emitter-type quirks if he had to guess. He could always count how many mutations he saw in any given space- something he'd learned from an early age. It was a tactic of knowing who to risk interacting with and who to avoid. He found that mutated people would find him...less unnerving.

Currently, he'd counted two people with mutations, but they looked nothing like you or your mother, so he had to guess that were were related by marriage. One was a young woman with a round head and abnormally large ears. The other was a small boy with a slender, rat-like vestigial tail- both cases of small, some might even say charming changes to a regular person's anatomy. This made Shoji feel even more freakish as he ducked into he dining room, seeing a large percentage of your family staring back at him.

The feeling, however, was lessened by the cheering that came with you entering with him; long-forgotten aunts, uncles, and cousins excited to see your face after such a long time of low contact.

"Well if it isn't our very own hero in training!" one man chirped, raising a glass. "Glad you were able to make it out to see us, don't go forgetting about us little folks when you hit the big leagues!"

"(Y/N)!" A little girl came running up to you, tugging on your pants. "Do you get to fight bad guys?!" You laughed sheepishly, explaining in the best way you could to fit a toddler's understanding what your training actually entailed.

Shoji couldn't help but feel warm watching you interact with your family. It was clear that they were all so proud of you and overjoyed to see you. To his dismay, however, the distraction of your presence from his didn't last long.

"So, kiddo, whose this uh..." the man spoke up again, raising his glass and tipping it towards your guest. "guy you brought with you?"

Your cheeks flushed as you quickly clung to Shoji's arm with a nervous smile. "Oh, how could I forget? Everyone, this is Shoji, my boyfriend!" It wasn't lost on said 'boyfriend' how your tone had changed this time around. It almost felt genuine. Almost.

"Boyfriend?" The man, one of your uncles sneered. "You're too little to be having a boyfriend, besides, you don't want anybody distracting you from going pro!"

You laughed in response, failing to sense Shoji's discomfort. "Uncle, it's not like that! Besides, Shoji's training to be a hero too! We want each other to succeed first and foremost."

"That's enough, son." An elderly voice called from the end of the table. Glancing over, your heart swelled with joy.

"Grandma!" you cheered, dashing over to sit beside her, engulfing her in a tight hug. "I miss you so much!"

"I missed you too, dear," she replied with a kind smile, patting your back. When you pulled away,. she reached forward, placing her hand on top of Shoji's.

"Now don't you pay my son any mind, young man." She reassured, eyes darting over to the said man. "He's had a few too many." It was at this point your 'beaux' realized the empty glass your uncle had been holding had tan foam collected at the bottom. It was beer. "You know, son, you outta be a lot nicer to this boy, he saved little (Y/N)'s life you know?"

Shoji wasn't sure what he'd expected your grandmother to say, but that sure wasn't it. He saved your life? When? "G-Grandma-!" you stammered, cheeks burning. "You don't have to bore them with the details!"

"Oh, no, dear, I do!" She insisted. "Don't you all remember when (Y/N) got her license to become a hero? That test she had to take?" There as collection of hums and variations of 'yes' from the crowd. "Well, that day, she called me up and she said 'Grandma! You'll never guess! During the exam, I was stuck in this trap and that handsome guy I told you about rescued me!'"

You definitely didn't tell the story like that, you cringed. She made it sound so mushy, it was like that at all!

"I don't remember that," Shoji, glanced down at you with a curious smile.

"I don't either," you grumbled. "I didn't say it like that."

"No need to be so grumpy, dear." your grandmother said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's alright, I think it's a romantic story."

You couldn't take this suffocation much more, feeling more humiliated by the second. Suddenly, you stood up, needing an out. "I-I think I hear Mom calling me from the kitchen, better go see what she needs!"

Before Shoji could stand to follow you, you'd disappeared. He blinked at your grandmother, confused, who beckoned him closer and he stole the seat you'd sat in and leaned closer to her. "That girl is just head over heels for you, know it?" She smiled kindly. Part of him wanted to ask if she was sure, not feeling like it was possible, but the other part of him knew that was the wrong choice. "I haven't told her yet, but my sickness has gotten worse," she confessed, looking past him, following the path you'd taken. "I won't have another birthday party, this is my last one. We wanted to make it special."

"W-With all due respect, ma'am," Shoji swallowed hard, shifting nervously in his seat. "Why are you telling me this instead of her?"

"I just wanted you to know you have my blessing." The old woman smiled, brighter than she had before, cradling one of his hands in her withered ones. "I'm content knowing my little girl is in good hands." She laughed. "And she can be a handful, but from the looks of it, I'd say youve got enough hands for the job."

Suddenly, this all felt heinous. How could he lie to this woman after she confessed to being on her last bit of time on Earth? He had to come clean. "M-Ma'am, there's something you don't know..."

"You aren't actually together, I know." she finished his thought for him.

"How did you...?"

"Some call it telepathy, I call it an old woman's intuition." She chuckled heartily. "But I'm not worried, I can see you care very deeply for my granddaughter, don't you, Mezo?"

He froze hearing his first name while knowing for a fact you hadn't introduced his full name when you came in. Obviously, the old woman had a mind-reading quirk. He chose to ignore it in favor of the bigger picture. "I-I..." he stammered, unsure of what the answer truly was.

"Only someone who cares would put themselves in the predicament you're in, am I right?" she rationed with a knowing smile as she sipped a cup of tea.

"I guess that makes sense..." Shoji finally admitted. "I guess I've always liked her a little bit, but I never really thought I had a shot."

"You've got more than a shot, son." She finally said. "You've got a guaranteed bullseye. Now just promise me one thing and I'll let you go."

"What's that?"

A tear slipped down the woman's wrinkled face. "Take care of my baby."

"I will," he lunged forward, enveloping her in a hug. "I promise."

Part I

Part II

Part III

[asmutwriter]

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 3)

DESCRIPTION: The Shelby's have started to welcome you slowly into the family and start to show you how the business works but things take a dark turn.

A/N: I am hoping to write a lot more over the upcoming weeks of the various stories I'm writing. However I am not sure when I will be able to write them or post them. I will try and do it as often as possible.

WORD COUNT: 2418

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List  

WARNINGS: swearing, threatening of violence, mildy toxic relationship

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story will not follow the timeline of the show. But I hope you enjoy.

You sit in the gambling shop. Waiting for the rest of the family to show up. Arthur and John walk in, their cheery mood cut short as they see you. "What are you doing here?" Arthur says.

"I was asked to join this meeting by Mr Shelby"

"You aren't part of this family. And this is a family meeting. So get the fuck out"

"She won't do that" Tommy says as he walks into the room. "She is my wife and therefore a member of the family. So she should get a say in how we run our business. Understood?" he looks at his brothers who stay silent. The lack of an answer being enough for him apparently "good. Now we just wait for Pol". As if on cue she walks through. The soft smile on her face dropping as she walks into the room, seeing you.

"Why is she here?"

"Because she's family" Thomas says. She looks at him. A silent look being exchanged between the two of them before he keeps talking "I had a discussion with her last night and she says she wants to be a part of this business. So Florence will be joining us for future meetings. If you have a problem with that then you can talk to me about it afterwards" he looks at everyone in the room before he talks again.

"Our first matter is about Harry Thompson. He has been bribing our men. He has a lot of money and power so has been able to take some of our good men. Making them fight for him and not for us. Arthur, John, and myself are meeting with him later today. We are going to negotiate with him to leave Birmingham"

He takes out a cigarette, lighting it and quickly puffing on it before speaking again. "The second matter is regards to our money. I've had to relocate it due to someone deciding to take a large sum of it. I'm working on finding out who and I will deal with them when the time comes. But I trust everyone in this room to know that I have moved it to a safe in the Garrison". He takes another puff of his smoke "would anyone like to add anything else?". Soft no's being heard around the room.

"If that's everything then we should be going. Arthur. John" he heads out the room. His brothers following him. As the door shuts you go to head out as well. Polly walks in front of you, facing you as you stop in your tracks. The fun and friendly atmosphere (the small amount of it anyway) changing in a heartbeat as she keeps her eyes on yours.

"What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?" you hear the front door shut. Knowing its just you and your aunt-in-law remaining in the house.

"We both know that I told Thomas about you eavesdropping on him. Yet now you've worked your way into the family meeting. I want to know what you did to him" you stay silent. Eyes on hers as she gives you a glare very similar to that of your husbands.

"We did have a discussion. We talked about the situation that you brought up to him. It's sorted now. I simply told him the truth"

"About the rats?" she scoffs before you can answer "Only an idiot would take that story of rats in walls and all that crap. I'm not an idiot Florence. I know you're up to something"

"I'm not up to anything Miss Gray. He asked me for the truth and I gave it to him. He is my husband, I have no intentions to lie to him. If he asks me for the truth I'll give him the truth. It doesn't give me any benefits to lie to him" she comes close to you, pulling a long needle from her hair as she holds it close to your throat. Feeling the end of it nipping at your neck. You tense every muscle in your body as to not flinch away. Clenching your fists in an effort to stop them shaking.

"I don't know what kind of spell you've put Tommy under but I will break it. He will see the manipulation you've put onto him. Then I'll sit back and watch with pleasure as he breaks you". Although you felt a fear in your body you maintained eye contact with her as you manage to keep your composure. A few beats of silence before she moves the needle away. Placing it back into her hair as she straightens out her jacket before walking out of the room. Letting out a breath you weren't aware that you were holding.

You go back to your house. Going inside you shut your eyes. Back pressed against the door as you let the full fear finally catch up to you. Taking a few deep breaths before opening your eyes again. Feeling tears pricking at them as you straighten out your dress. Hands shaking over the soft material. One day you'll be able to be in this family and not have your life threatened by one of them. Pushing your hair behind your ears.

You look at the small table in your hallway. A letter adressed to you written onto it. You pick it up, recognising the handwriting you open it quickly.

'Dear Florence,

I am celebrating my 40th birthday party this weekend at my house up in London. I would love if you could join. Feel free to bring any plus one that you have. Come on the Saturday morning and stay the night. I hope to see you then.

Your friend,

Vanessa Smith'

You smile at the kind words. Folding the letter and placing it back into the envelope. Not realising how much you needed a friendly note. You went upstairs and placed it onto your bedside table.

You spent the day doing your house hold chores. Cleaning, cooking, so on and so on. So when you'd put the girls to bed you retired yourself. Grabbing a cup of tea and a book as you do some light reading in the comfort of your bed after a busy day of house work. The door opens to your bedroom, an obvious attempt to be quiet as its slowly opened. You look at the doorway, seeing Thomas walking in. You go slightly tense as you see him. You hadn't seen him since this morning so you were still slightly tense from the interaction you had with him and his family. But you try and hide it quickly by smiling sweetly at him. He shuts the door behind him, turning to look at you.

"Did I wake you?" you shake your head

"No I was reading"

"At this late hour?" you tilt your head slightly, a soft frown on your brow as he looks at his pocket watch "its nearly two in the morning"

"Fuck" you let out a soft laugh as you look away from him. "I wondered why I was tired". He starts to disrobe as you continue speaking "how did the meeting with Mr Thompson go?".

"It went well" you nod slightly. Moving a few items from your bedside table to make room for your book. He starts to unbutton his shirt "who's the letter from?"

"Oh" you look at the envelop in your hand then back at him "its just from my friend up in London. She's having a party but I probably wont go". He undoes the last button of his shirt, keeping the fabric over his shoulders as he reaches a hand forward

"May I read it?". Although he asks it as a question, and although you know you have every right to say no, you obediently hand him over the envelope. Wanting to show him that you have nothing to hide and that you will be truthful with him. He takes it out, reading the letter quickly. A flash of emotion going through his eyes as he reads the paper. "Why weren't you going?"

"Its' a full weekend and I wouldn't like to leave my sisters for that long. Plus its a long way to go by myself" he nods. Placing the paper back into the envelope before handing it back to you.

"I think we should go"

"We?"

"Yes. We are married and it says that you can bring a plus one. It makes the most sense to take your husband. How about it, eh?"

"I can't leave Elizabeth and Mary for that long. I-"

"John and Arthur will be here to look after them. Make sure they stay out of trouble" you scoff slightly, causing him to give you a look of confusion

"All do respect to your brothers but they're the likeliest to get them into trouble". A smile ghosts his lips as he nods

"I agree with you on that one" he thinks for a moment "I'll ask Ada to come over. She can help run my businesses whilst I'm away, plus she can keep an eye on yor sisters for you. Would that be better for you?". You bite at your bottom lip

"I wouldn't want to be any trouble to her. If its an inconvenience for her then I'd rather just not go" he nods slightly as he takes his shirt off fully, placing it over the chair in the room. He has his back to you as he undoes his trousers

"I'll ask her tomorrow. See what she says"

It was Saturday morning. Thomas had asked his sister a few days ago to which she had said yes. To be honest, you were hoping she'd say no. But here she was, Thomas telling her everything that she needed to know the day you were meant to be going. You did feel a lot happier leaving your sisters and house with Ada in charge, but that doesn't mean you were overly excited about leaving as a whole. Your sister in law seeming to see this, coming over to you and taking your hands in hers after you've placed your belongings into the back of the car.

"I promise that I will look after your sisters. I did last time you went away" she smiles softly at you as you nod. Gripping her hands tightly before letting go.

"Thank you Miss Thorne" she keeps her smile soft as you let go of her hands, tucking your hair behind your ears as you then bite at your thumb.

"Have you got everything you need?" she asks. You nod in response, motioning at a trunk in the back of the car

"Got a nice outfit for both me and Mr Shelby for when we get there, then a normal yet fancy outfit for Sunday when we drive back" she nods as you straighten out your dress "I should go and say goodbye to Lizzie and Mary. Excuse me" you go inside, poking your head into the living room. "Girls?" They both turn to face you, the older not looking at you as she folds her arms over her torso. Mary speaks up

"Do you have to go?" you nod, going over and kneeling in front of them

"I'm sorry girls. But you'll have a great time with Miss Thorne. Do as she asks ok? Please?" Mary nods. You look at Lizzie, who feels your eyes on her. Giving a very, very slight nod. You smile, a sadness in your eyes as you hug them both. "I love you two. So very much. I'll see you on Sunday, ok?" more nodding as they hug you back. Well, the younger does. The older keeps her arms folded as you force the affection onto her. You move away from them, smiling as you stand up. Going back out to the car you say goodbye to Ada who is still waiting. Getting into the car next to Tommy as he starts driving.

You arrive at your destination. A man comes over to your car after you park "any luggage?" you nod, motioning behind you and into the car. He nods, grabbing your bags "please follow me". You get out the car, following behind the man as Thomas stands next to you. Taking in the ornate building in front of you. You get to the entry way of the house. "If you'd like to follow me down this way, your rooms are on the first floor" you go to follow just as you hear a voice speaking.

"I don't believe it. Florence?" you turn, seeing your friend walking down the staircase. She nearly runs as she comes over and hugs you. You hug her back "You actually came". She moves away from the hug, holding your face between her palms as she looks at you, causing you to smile. She drops your face as she sees Thomas, her smile not faltering as she looks at him "and who is this?". He holds his hand out for her to shake

"Thomas Shelby. Florence's husband". Her smiles wavers marginally at the name. But she takes his hand, shaking it.

"Vanessa Smith". She looks at you as she drops his hand "You didn't tell me you got married?" she looks at you

"Its a recent thing, only happened a few months ago" she nods slightly, looking at the man as he keeps his eyes on her. "When are your other guests arriving?" you ask

"Some are already here. They are in the living room" she holds her hand out for you to take "I must show you your room for the weekend though". You take both her hands as she leads you to your room. Thomas following behind. Going into the bedroom you beam as you look around

"Its beautiful" you whisper. Going over to the wooden furniture, running your hand over the delicate features.

"I will leave you two alone. Guests are arriving at 2 so you have a couple of hours before then" she smiles "please come join me once you've settled" she turns, walking out the door and shutting it behind her. You hear the tapping of her heels on the floor outside. You go over to your bags, opening it and rummaging through. Finding your perfume you spray some of it onto your wrists and neck. Placing it back into your bag before turning to Thomas

"We should go and see them Mr Shelby" he nods, holding his arm out for you to take. Which you do.

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin

Previous / Next

[t3a-tan]

How would human Oliver react to finding a borrower James?

I'm happy with this one ^^

---

Oliver lived a fairly quiet life. He worked as a child psychologist throughout the week. On Thursdays he ordered a takeaway and would finish his leftovers on Friday, on Saturdays he went to the library to check out and return books, he tended to his garden every couple of days, and on Sundays he mowed some of his elderly neighbors' lawns.

Most mornings he had toast or cereal. Every other Sunday he had a full English. On Fridays he went out for a cream tea— scones with jam and clotted cream were his favorite after all. On Tuesdays he gave some jars of handmade jam around the neighbourhood, and sometimes a few extra treats if he made them.

He went to a local sandwich shop for lunch every day other than on weekends, where he always ordered the same egg salad sandwich. He always got cheese and onion crisps, always had a medium coffee, always sat in the same seat by the window.

He had a routine and he stuck to it.

To his coworkers he was known as a good worker; polite, well-received, compassionate. He wasn't friends with anyone though.

This didn't upset him in the slightest. He liked his quiet life, and whenever he got close to others they ultimately ended up discovering his past, rumours would spread, and then everyone would treat him differently again.

He had gotten used to the usual pitying looks when he was younger after he became an orphan— then the disturbed looks when he wasn't fazed by the loss at all. That passed. Now people presumed he had grieved already so it wasn't so difficult.

But then his cousins went missing.

Just a few months before he received his doctorate he got a call— an awful horrible and truly terrible call. It informed him that his uncle and aunt, his guardians, had been shot dead, and his two younger cousins had gone missing.

He graduated the year after instead.

But now he lived a quiet life. A quiet life, waiting, hoping to receive another call telling him his cousins were found alive. Rumours had initially spread saying he was responsible and even though he had been cleared by the police every time, people still talked about it.

So things were fine like this. Quiet. Sometimes a bit lonely, but nothing Oliver couldn't handle. He stuck to his routine and that was that.

Well… That was that until as he began pouring cereal into his bowl of milk, a tiny man fell out along with it. Oliver froze, staring down at the man in a mixture of shock, disbelief, and pure confusion. The man in turn, after right himself, stared straight back at him.

"...uhm… Hello there..?" Oliver wasn't sure why exactly there was a tiny man sitting in his bowl of shreddies soaked in milk, but he was sure that there was a tiny man there. As baffling as it was, it was better than a rat falling out.

Was this some form of mutated rodent? No. They looked entirely human all aside from their incredibly diminutive size. Oliver began cycling through every myth and fairytale he had read that might give him something else to go off of… though perhaps this was just a shrunken man..?

He received no response to his greeting— aside from a frightened look. That's fair, Oliver thought, I imagine it must be rather disorienting to fall out of a cereal box at half past six in the morning.

"Hmm…"

To remedy that fact, Oliver first considered picking the tiny man up with his fingers to get him out of the bowl…but on second thought, he wanted to avoid getting his fingers covered in milk. Instead he picked up his spoon, very carefully bringing it towards the man in order to scoop him out onto a dishcloth or something— though he stopped the moment he heard the tiny man cry out.

"Don't eat me..! Jesus—" The man exclaimed, splashing about in the bowl to get away from his spoon. Oliver shut his eyes for a moment as a few drops of milk splashed onto the lenses of his glasses. Opening his eyes again, Oliver's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Eat you? Why on Earth would I do such an awful thing..?" Oliver took off his glasses, wiping them off on his shirt and reminding himself to clean them properly later. Placing them back on his face, Oliver found himself looking down at the clearly shaken little man once more, taking note of the fear that was apparent in their expression and body language.

He waved the spoon slightly to bring the man's attention onto it again.

"I only intended to get you out of the bowl and onto a dry surface, as I'm sure it's not particularly comfortable steeping in milk and soggy cereal." He placed the spoon back down. "I suppose I should have asked permission beforehand though… My apologies. Do you require assistance?"

The tiny man went from looking horrified to seeming completely lost— Oliver wasn't sure why… he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary had he? He was working on not overcomplicating everything he said but it was hard when he was simply talking in the same way he thought.

"I-I…no?" It was spoken more as a question, but Oliver respected it nonetheless, putting his spoon down and moving away from the bowl. He opened his dishes cupboard, taking out a new bowl and pouring milk into it once again. He looked into the cereal box first this time before pouring shreddies into the bowl of milk just to make sure this wasn't a repeat incident.

He looked towards his previous bowl, seeing that the man had yet to move. Somewhat confused, Oliver walked back over, setting his new breakfast down onto the countertop just beside it before pulling up a stool, not yet sitting.

"Although you may do as you wish, I would prefer to clean that bowl and put it away sooner rather than later. Are you sure you don't need any help at all?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. That seemed to snap the tiny man out of his frozen state as they quickly scrambled into action and pulled themself out of the bowl, dripping milk all over the counter.

Satisfied, Oliver picked up the bowl, draining the milk into the sink before dumping the soggy shreddies into the bin. As much as he didn't like waste he didn't plan on eating a breakfast someone had been sitting in. He grabbed a paper towel before walking back over, offering it to the man.

They stumbled back away from his hand, but Oliver didn't falter— he even offered a reassuring smile.

"I'll clean the counter after so don't worry about making a mess. You may leave— though I suggest drying off first. Feel free, also, to wash off in the sink." He waited patiently, observing how hesitant the tiny man was to accept the towel. After thirty seconds had passed and the man had made no progress, Oliver tilted his head, pulling away slightly.

"Are you afraid of me..?" He asked, not offended in the slightest. Hardly even surprised either— considering the size difference it would just be instinctual to fear him, but he thought he was at least being calm and gentle enough to dissipate that slightly. The man met his eyes— his were brown. A nice deep shade of it, Oliver noted.

Although he sensed that they had a response hanging on the edge of their tongue, Oliver didn't get to hear it as they suddenly ran off. Although startled, Oliver didn't make any attempts to stop them, watching with some interest as they opened up a hidden entrance into the walls and quickly hid away inside.

Oliver stayed silent for a few moments after, processing the events that had just happened.

"..my name is Oliver, by the way."

[imagionationstation]

OKAY— so like, we had scenarios of which the B-Team were raised by the Shredder, but what if it was the A-Team??

Shredder telling both Leonardo and Raphael (who now goes by Takeō and Akihitō respectively) lies about their younger littermates (Donatello and Michelangelo, whom he named as Junkō and Kōta)— telling them that their younger siblings have been ruthlessly killed by Hamato Yoshi, who had deemed them as an abomination.

In fact, Shredder wasn't even aware of the existence of the younger two; at least, not until both Takeō and Akihitō brought it up a few months after they were officially able to carry out missions and daily patrol. However, he couldn't deny that it's truly a blessing— there's a chance that they might know of Hamato Yoshi's location, and even then, Shredder can expand his army of powerful mutants.

Donatello and Michelangelo, on the other hand, aren't so thrilled about having to 2v2 their older brothers at just about everytime. There's also that the two have the tendency to play dirty. Stalking their friends and whatnot, it's driving them up the wall.

I don't know if Karai should be with the Shredder, because her rivalry with the A-Team over the younger onces is delicious.

What do you think?

I love this. No, no, wait, see my vision, look-

Takeō and Akihitō are everything that Shredder needs them to be. They took up training from the moment that their little legs could walk and they excelled past anything that he’d ever seen before, and one of Shredder’s greatest fighters happens to be blind, mind you, so he knows what greatness looks like.

He knows it has to relate to the fact that they’re mutants, but he couldn’t care less. With one student who bears a determination to please and the other with the violent fury to be molded like his own, they’re better than an entire legion of Foot soldiers. Takeō makes sure every command is followed and Akihitō leaves no enemy unpunched- what could be better?

They’re perfect. No, they’re better than perfect. They’re a miracle.

One that he never hesitates to take advantage of. If Yoshi had done one thing right in his lifetime, it was leading him to them.

And then- AND THEN-

Enter Mikey and Donnie.

The universe throws out two turtles with on obvious ignorance of surface life and an instinct to defend those that dwell on it. Leo and Raph’s world is thrown out of whack the first time that they spot them- considering Mikey is a younger-shaped replica of them with freckles. They keep an curious eye on them from a distance, but uncertain what to make of them, don’t interact.

They inquire about it to their father and (considering Saki likely stole them from Yoshi) he fabricates a story that horrifies them. They already know about Yoshi and how he killed Karai’s mother- but he tore apart their family too?

Afterward, it takes about five seconds to connect the dots on who these mutant turtles are. They go out to track down and reconnect with their brothers. *insert canon plot stuff*

When Donnie and Mikey try to save a kidnapped April, they fail pretty badly. The Saki brothers step in, stop the Kraang from taking the girl before Donnie and Mikey’s brains get blown out, but don’t really do much about them taking the dad. They don’t really care about the humans. They’re far more interested in prodding the turtles.

And, after taking April to her aunt’s, prodding absolutely happens from both sides.

The childish giddy air of the Junkō and Kōta upon finding their siblings obviously cements them as the younger siblings in the Saki brother’s minds. They don’t doubt for a moment that they are who they say they are because Splinter told them that they had two missing brothers as little kids.

Mind made up, Leo insists that they come home. Mikey insists that they have a home and Donnie admits they shouldn’t really wander off with strangers. They both vocalize that their rat dad needs to meet them first since he’s the one who lost them and he’s misses them and they don’t have to abandon their dad or anything, they just really want them to meet Splinter! (The Foot symbols on their gear mean nothing to the Hamatos and the name Splinter means nothing to the Sakis. Oopsy.)

And so they wait around for Mikey and Donnie to collect Splinter and then Splinter comes across his sons and Leo and Raph are tolerant until he introduces himself as Hamato Yoshi and then it all clicks that the man who Shredder thought killed their brothers and he had stolen them away instead and he’s the reason that they haven’t see them for fifteen years-

They don’t even give Yoshi time to explain before they’re attempting to eliminate the threat. Donnie and Mikey are insanely confused until one of the brothers lets it slip that their dad is Saki and- oh wait are they evil?!- so now there’s fighting, attempted forced reasoning and kidnapping of little brothers, but the Hamatos manage to get away.

So now Leo and Raph’s are simply DISTRAUGHT because the madman had stolen and brainwashed their little brothers so how were supposed to focus on anything else when they’re out there but actively on the wrong side of this war??

It trashes their game and suddenly his miracle team is no longer a shinning example of perfection. Once again, Yoshi has ruined something great and, instead of seething, Saki gets creative.

He fakes an understanding with what his sons are going through and expresses a wish that he knew where Yoshi was so that he could put an end to the threat. If only, they could find the lair where he was keeping their brothers prisoner, maybe then they rid the world of the rat and bring them home. Once they’re free from Yoshi’s dark influence, they could all be one happy family.

And Leo, like the helpful little leader he is, realizes that they could find the lair. Him and Raph could totally find a way to convince the brothers to take them home, or even find a way to get in without their knowledge. They were ninjas, masters of deception and lies. They could do it, Master, if only he would give them a chance?

So he does because an end to Yoshi and two new powerful warriors is more than he could hope for. Exactly what he deserves.

And the rest of the series is just Raph and Leo doing everything in their power to inch their way into their brother’s trust. They stalk them in a desperate itch to make sure they’re okay, which leads to them intercepting and assisting on a bunch of Kraang mission.

They run into each other when Donnie and Mikey try to stop the Foot from being evil, and Leo and Raph are more concerned with making sure nothing happens to their brothers that the Hamato brothers end up completing their mission more often than not.

Leo and Raph are still dedicated to the Foot but their priorities are skewed every time their brother come into play. Nine times out of ten, baby brothers take first priority. And Saki lets these mishaps happen because his sons are insistent upon gaining the Hamatos trust.

It doesn’t take Donnie and Mikey long to realize what Leo and Raph are doing, protecting-them wise. They don’t quite understand it, but they assume that even though they have been misguided and brainwashed by Shredder, they still are good people deep down. It’s incredibly annoying that they are always in the way and can’t seem to realize how what they’re doing is obviously evil, though.

Like plotting younger siblings do, they adapt to use the brother’s new apparent weakness against them, putting themselves in situations where the Saki brothers have no choice but to interviene- even if that means slicing their own bots or preventing their own missions from succeeding. And the best part is that the Saki brothers have no idea that they’re being played- they really just believe that their baby brothers are kinda bad at their jobs.

Which really doesn’t help with the whole PROTECT alarms constantly ringing in their brains.

As for Karai, I think she would still be with the Foot, but instead of a doting older sister, there would be jealousy vibes. She’d been overshadowed her entire life by these ‘perfect’ brothers and she jumps at the opportunity to impress her father when they start slipping. She could even play an antagonist role- actively trying to dissuade her father’s approval of Leo&Raph’s activities in order to get a better standing. She doesn’t want them murdered at the stake or anything, simply taken out of the favoritism role so that his actual human daughter (or so she thinks) can have a scrap of his attention.

I WAS GOING TO STOP HERE BUT YOU HAVE ME THINKING ABOUT PLOT AND SUCH NOW-

Like, Donnie would now be the eldest with the responsibilities of genius and leader, which means that he probably feels like his baby brother’s one line of defense against an entire universe. Splinter didn’t train his boys for war- but Saki did. Imagine the pressure on his shoulders to keep his family safe while actively on deadly missions with brothers who could turn on them at any second, stuck under the weight of wanting to get April reunited with her missing family.

Leo’s side of the spectrum is spent worrying that two of his brothers are under the abusive care of their kidnapper. He desperately hones the “but I can totally bring them to our side and make them see things our way!” attitude that he has for Karai during the canon series. He does everything in his power to keep the blame from falling on them when missions go wrong, fabricating stories for their father, like he’s always done to keep Raph out of trouble. He doesn’t care for the Hamato’s missions, but he cares greatly for their safety, so he makes sure they tag along at every opportunity, whether they are wanted or not. Stalking is never out of the question, even if it doesn’t take long for the Hamatos to adapt to their presence.

I CAN’T SHUT UP ABOUT THIS SUDDENLY:

So there’s this song “Our Word” from 36 questions that absolutely has the vibes from this au that has taken root in my brain and when I think of Leo being a sneaky little guy and keeping Raph out of trouble- IT FITS. Well, these specific verses anyway:

When I was a little [boy] Like really little, like eight or so I was playing in my father's study A place in the house I wasn't supposed to go

My father fancied himself a sailor His study was filled with nautical decor He kept a boat in a bottle on the top of a shelf And it shattered on the ground when I slammed the door

I told my [brother] everything I told [him] I was so, so sorry [He] told me, "Don't cry, When he comes home tonight We can make everything okay This is all we have to say"

"We don't remember a boat in a bottle It must've fallen off its shelf alone We know you loved it, we're so sad it's broken But neither one of us was even home"

And it's our word Yes, our word Against his

HOLY MOTHER OF MUTATIONS I AM DEVOURING THIS AU AND NOW I HAVE RETURNED WITH CONCEPT:

“You shouldn’t be out alone.”

Donnie lands as irritation crawls up his spine and becomes fuzzy little ambers in his brain. He has a few irrational thoughts, such as giving the nuisance a taste of throwing stars, but they’re dismissed as he pretends to check his t-phone. He can sense one entity behind him, but his partner doesn’t seem to be hovering nearby.

He turns, t-phone at his side, the cheese phone on speed-dial. He doubts the Foot ninja wants to kill him, but if this is another kidnapping attempt…

Well. Better safe than sorry.

“Apperently, I’m not. Need something?”

“You almost got caught tonight.” Takeō cocks his head, face passive. “You shouldn’t be breaking into military junkyards. There have to be safer options. There’s a place in Chinatown. Less guns.”

“Well, as soon as civilians throw out this kind of equipment,” Donnie pats the bag on his hip. “I’ll consider it.”

He frowns. “You’re taking risks.”

“Weren’t your men trying to slit my throat last week?”

“That was not my doing.”

“Oh, sure, Shredder doesn’t want to lure Splinter out of hiding and you would never kidnap me or Mikey, right?”

“I didn’t know about Bradford’s scheme until it was to late.” Takeō scans his face and Donnie denies the sincerity any thought. “You have to believe us- why else would we help you escape?”

“To earn our trust? For future blackmail? As some part of some evil Foot plot to hurt Sensei?” Donnie sneers. “I don’t care what your excuse is when you made my brother bleed.”

“I told Bradford to back off, but I can only do so much.” The tone is defensive, but his frown softens guiltily. “I can’t stop the bots from doing their programing. Maybe if my clan did not see you as a threat- if you would rethink your position-”

His grip tightens over the t-phone. “This is not a conversation that I am entertaining. Goodbye, Takeō.”

“Wait-”

He does not.

And then Takeō is across the rooftop and roughly taking hold of his arm before he can take more than two steps. The t-phone clatters, adrenaline surging as he stops dead in his tracks. His attention shoots from the weapon on the warrior’s hip and then to the blue gaze that is drilling holes into his skull.

He swallows, proud that his voice doesn’t shake. “Let go.”

Takeō tightens his hold. He steps forward, their gazes locked, face unreadable. Donnie thinks it might be an intimation tactic, but he’s not scared, per say. His gut squirms in discomfort and he feels weirdly small despite being inches taller. He expects a low warning, or some kind of dark threat to cut the air between them.

Instead, he gets a soft promise laced so heavily in passion that it might as well have been shouted across the rooftops.

“I would never hurt my brothers.”

Donnie is silent for several seconds.

“You’re hurting me right now.”

Takeō tears his hand away as though he just found out that Donnie was radioactive. Donnie rubs the area, mostly for show, in the hopes of dissuading him from trying that again.

“…I-I meant…” Donnie looks up. No hesitation crosses his face, but his words come with uncertainty. “Not like that. Never like that.”

Donnie humphs.

“Is- Is Kōta-”

“Mikey.”

Takeō stares and Donnie glares back.

The warrior relents. “How is he?”

“It was a flesh wound.” Donnie picks up the t-phone, unsure why he’s telling him anything. “He’s already back to being a hassle.”

A beat of quiet. “I suppose that means we’ll be reunited soon.”

“To kick your shells in? Yeah. Probably.” Donnie puts away his device, looking somewhere over Takeō’s shoulder to the bulky shadow who has been inching closer through the extent of their conversation.

“You know, family means more to me than biology. Shocking to hear from a scientist, I know.” He pauses for effect, considering. “A family with differences is still a family. You might be serious about this whole hurting thing when it comes to Mikey and me…” He narrows his eyes and trains the hostility on the piercing gaze. “But if I find out that you even thought about touching my father again, you can forget any chance of brotherhood. I might seem like a weak joke to you, but I promise that I can make your life a living hell.”

Donnie stares him down, grip tight over the strap of the bag filled with weaponry that he’ll use to make Metalhead truly surface worthy so nothing can harm Mikey again, and dares Takeō to challenge him.

“There’s no stronger warrior than one whose greatest virtue is their loyalty.” Takeō decides simply. “And there is nothing more that I’d expect from a brother.”

Donnie is pretty sure that’s a compliment. He’s not sure what that he to do with backing off his father, but he accepts it.

He releases the bag. “Glad we understand each other.”

He turns his back to the ninja, looking over his shoulder. “And don’t have Akihitō follow me home.”

Takeō stiffens, eyes widening. He smirks. “See you later, bro.”

With a burst of speed, he takes off.

To their credit, they don’t follow.

Donnie knows better to assume that this’ll be the last time he has eyes on his shell. But, for the first time, he thinks he won’t mind.

[madebysimblr]

Rowan: Alright, I'm ready to open. Where's Sorella?

Brittani: Uhh, cleaning the bathrooms I think.

Rowan: [sighs] Drag her out of there, we've got a pub to run.

-

Brittani: [knock knock] Els? It's time to open, no more hiding in the bathroom.

Sorella: [inhaling and exhaling deliberately] Yeah, be right out.

Brittani: You alright?

Sorella: Fine. Just been feeling a little sick.

Brittani: Like actually sick? Because girl, no puking in patrons food. We can manage without you.

Sorella: No I'm fine. [phone vibrates, Sorella sighs]

Text Message from: Alex 😘😎 Alex 😘😎: Hey, now a good time to call you? Sorella: No. At work.

Brittani: You haven't blocked his number yet? Really?

Sorella: I can't bring myself to.

Brittani: Hand me the phone, I'll do it for you!

Kai: Do what?

Brittani: She still hasn't blocked that asshole's number!

Kai: [tsk] Cortes, you happy to remain the other woman?

Sorella: Of course not! [phone vibrates]

Kai: Lemme see this.

Sorella: Hey give that back!

Kai: Well at least you're just giving him minimal answers back. You should at least change his contact name. He doesn't deserve any kissy emojis from you.

Name Change: Alex 😘😎 → Rat Bastard

Sorella sighs

Kai: There. A more appropriate name. I also threw in my number. Send me all the kissy emojis you'd like. Now come on, we've got tips to earn.

Sorella: You know, I think you'd really get along with my roommate.

Kai: The hot singer? Oh feel FREE to set me up.

Sorella laughs, a small but genuine one.

-

Envy: Damn, Sorella! Why didn't you tell me about Kai sooner?? Look at the size of his- Oh shit. Sorry kid, forgot you were here.

Charlotte: [laughs] It's ok. I've heard it all.

Sorella: She really has. Opal's parents can be so explicit. Hell so can Opal.

Charlotte: It's true!

Envy: What did I interrupt out here? Looks like a sleepover or something.

Sorella: Or something. Just talking about nothing really.

Envy: What kind of nothing?

Charlotte: [shrugs] Just future plans. I'm thinking I will go to SMPA. It'd be fun to get out of the Valley for a little while. Although, I don't think my mom will like it.

Sorella: Probably not. Aunt Grace would be on your side though.

Charlotte: She would be! I'll ask her about it when I see her tomorrow. She asked if you were coming with, by the way. I think she knows.

Sorella: [sighs heavily] I'm sure she does. Unfortunately I'm busy tomorrow. [phone vibrates, ringing]

Envy: Someone called Rat Bastard is calling?

Sorella: Let it go to voicemail. It's him.

Envy: Oh good you changed his name?

Sorella: Kai changed it.

Envy: Kai is such a catch. I'm hitting him up tomorrow, unless you want first dibs?

Sorella: [laughs] He's all yours.

Envy: You're a gem!

-

Voicemail from Rat Bastard: Hey Els, uh. Surprised to get your voicemail honestly! Usually this is a good time to call you… Anyway. I just have missed your voice. I got pretty used to waking up to you every morning. Can't wait to get back to that. I'll try to call again later. I miss you. I love you.

Sorella looking sad, but not crying. Deletes the voicemail.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

20, 22, or 41 (I can’t decide) from the kiss prompts with George Russell 💚

this is an approximation of my face upon receiving this ask:

Prompt: Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference; a chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company; Kisses shared under an umbrella

Warnings: George and Reader are Married™; smooches; truly this is just tooth-rotting fluff; my abiding fascination with Jay Gould and his place in George Russell's character creation

“You’re late,” You tutted softly, glancing from your guests as George pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I couldn’t get away, I’m sorry.”

You’d expected him to say that he got caught up in paperwork, but if he couldn’t get away from that meeting—Your stomach flipped, eyes wide as you turned fully to get a better look at George. He gently waved away your concern.

“Mr. Gould and I simply become distracted before discussing business," He insisted.

“Distracted by what?”

“We were discussing our families. It was quite a genial conversation.”

“Alright,” You nodded, glancing back toward the party attendees. “As long as you’re sure.”

George chuckled, pressing a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Quite sure, darling," He reassured, "I was in the room, after all.”

You pursed your lips to fight back a laugh, instead reaching out and gently pinching his cheek in reprimand.

“Mrs. Russell?”

You turned to the question, smiling when you spotted Marian and Peggy.

“I’m afraid we must return to my aunt’s,” Marian smiled regretfully. “But thank you for the lovely afternoon.”

“Of course! Oh, do let me see you out. Excuse me,” You patted George’s arm before hurrying toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?” George frowned, following you and stopping by the banister as you stilled on the third step.

“To get my coat.”

“Send your ladies maid.”

“I don’t mind,” You insisted. He shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

“My stubborn girl.”

You grinned, leaning down and pressing another gentle kiss to his lips before turning to Peggy and Marian.

“I won’t be a moment!”

--

“My goodness, it’s a wonder you made it over without drowning!” Ada tutted, eyes wandering the three of you. You, Marian, and Peggy were still giggling, your hair and clothes soaked by the sudden downpour that you’d gotten caught up in on your way across the street.

“Isn’t it,” Agnes agreed dryly. “Another moment and you would’ve been swimming across the avenue.”

“We are so sorry we couldn’t make it to tea,” Ada insisted, “Aren’t we, Agnes? We simply weren’t feeling well.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” You shook your head. “I’ve been meaning to look in for some time.”

“How kind.”

You knew from Agnes’ tone that she didn’t mean it as she said it, but you knew better than to quarrel with the woman when you were dropping water all over her front hall. You opened your mouth to ask after them, but you were drowned out by the sound of the bell.

“Who could that be!” Ada asked brightly, peering around you as their footman hurried around you to get the door. Your brows raised at the sight of George on the doorstep, and large umbrella in hand.

“Mrs. Van Rhijn, ladies,” He nodded to each of them. “I’ve come to collect my wife.”

“Your timing is impeccable,” Agnes muttered.

“Won’t you stay for some cake?” Ada offered.

“Thank you, no,” You shook your head. “We really should get back. It was wonderful to see you Miss Brook, Mrs. Van Rhijn. Marian, Peggy, lovely as always.”

You stepped out onto the stoop, away from their goodbyes, taking George’s arm with one hand and lifting your skirt slightly with the other as you took care walking down the slick steps.

“Did you really leave our guests without a host just because it started to rain?” You chuckled, picking up your pace as he led you across the street.

“I didn’t want you looking like a drowned rat when you returned.”

“Very thoughtful, but you could’ve sent a footman.”

George came to a stop on the sidewalk, turning to face you as he held the umbrella over your heads. You searched his face, stomach a flurry of butterflies as he fixed you with a warm smile.

“I don’t mind,” He insisted softly. You grinned, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to his lips. He lifted his other hand, cupping your cheek as his lips tenderly slipped against yours.

“Come on,” You murmured, drawing away. “We ought to get back inside before we catch our death.”

“Mm. And before the guests grow suspicious.”

"Thank you for coming to get me."

"You're very welcome, my love."

Tagging all the fellow George Russell girliiiiiiies: @massivecolorspygiant ; @nominalnebula ; @foxilayde

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

The Red Pencil

A not-quite-microfic written for @thethreebroomsticksficfest A Very Harry Birthday mini event! Happy birthday Harry!

Harry steps into his Year 5 classroom, tucking his too-large, dingy white shirt into his equally oversized grey trousers. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and he pushes them back, looking up at the colorful calendar next to the blackboard. 

“Move!” Harry is knocked to the floor by Piers Polkiss, Dudley’s rat-faced friend. Harry deflates; he expected a Dudley-free classroom, as Aunt Petunia demanded her Ickle Diddykins be placed with Mrs Croft, the sought-after Cedar class teacher. Harry is in the Holly class with Miss Turner, a new teacher, who doesn’t notice one of her pupils is rubbing his scraped elbow. 

Harry stands, only to be pushed against the wall by another one of Dudley’s friends, Gordon, who laughs and finds a seat next to Piers. 

“Is everything all right?” asks a wispy voice. Miss Turner fiddles with her big, beaded necklace and blinks down at Harry. He peers around her, where Piers and Gordon are eyeing him threateningly. 

He won’t say a word.

“Yes, Miss Turner,” Harry replies dully. “I slipped when I was looking at the . . .”

“Calendar?”

Harry nods and turns to face the grid, noticing his name printed in one of the squares.

“Why is my name here?” he asks, pointing to the square. His Year 4 teacher always put his name on the blackboard if he misbehaved; Aunt Petunia would lock him in the cupboard all night.

Miss Turner frowns. “Your birthday isn’t on the 31st?”

Harry glances at the calendar once more. He finds Piers’s name in the square reserved for 28 July. An American film about dinosaurs was released that day; Dudley and Piers went to the cinema for it. They returned to taunt Harry, saying that an animated orphan was far better than a real one.

Swallowing the memory, he counts the squares. If Miss Turner’s calendar is correct, his ninth birthday was only three days later. 

“I didn’t know I had a birthday.” 

“Everyone has a birthday,” Miss Turner says, confused. “Did you forget?”

Other boys and girls are watching them, falling silent. Harry feels his cheeks grow hot. He knew he had to have a birthday, but Aunt Petunia told him she didn’t know when it was, which is why he couldn’t have a birthday party or presents. 

“I forgot,” he lies, as Piers and Gordon snicker at each other. Miss Turner shrugs and nudges him toward an open seat near the front. 

The school bell rings only a few moments later, sparing Harry from further embarrassment. He keeps his gaze on the date shown in the grid, memorizing it so he won’t forget. 31 July 1980 is my birthday, he thinks repeatedly, wondering what that day was like for his parents. He knows they died when he was already over a year old.

Had his birthday been celebrated once, when they were alive? 

“Harry Potter!”

Harry blinks up at Miss Turner. She holds out a red pencil, topped with a star-shaped eraser, wrapped with a golden ribbon. It has a card attached to it, with “Happy Birthday!” printed in big, bold letters.

“Here you are,” Miss Turner says, handing him the pencil. “We’re celebrating everyone who had birthdays in July and August.” She moves onto the next student, Gemma Rollins, whose birthday was two weeks before the start of term. Harry holds the pencil gingerly, the only birthday gift he’s received (that he knows of). He chooses not to write with it. It’s special, just for him, something Dudley can’t take away. 

But Piers can take it away, and by lunch, it’s no longer in Harry’s possession. By the end of the day, Gordon snaps it in half and tears the star-shaped eraser in two. The card is in shreds, carried off by the wind. 

Harry knows better than to complain. Now that he knows his birthday, he can tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He won’t get much for his birthday, if Christmas is anything to go by, but something is better than nothing.

It’s much later that day, after Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have heard about Dudley’s marvelous first day of school, that Harry brings up his discovery. He’s done washing the dishes and finds Aunt Petunia in the garden, trimming the hydrangeas. 

“Aunt Petunia?”

“Have you broken something?” she says, snipping a stem with a scowl. 

“I found out when my birthday is.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, wishing they fit his face better. “The 31st of July. My teacher, Miss Turner, has a calendar with our birthdays on it.”

Aunt Petunia flinches. “It must be correct.”

“If I know my birthday now, can I get pre—”

“Only good, well-behaved boys get presents,” she snaps, twisting the head of a hydrangea clean off its stem. “Father Christmas doesn’t bring presents to naughty children. Why would naughty boys and girls get presents for their birthdays?” 

Harry almost tells her he did get a birthday gift, a pencil, but Piers took it away. “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” he says miserably.

“Go to your cupboard. You’re going to get filthy if you stay out here.” 

He shuffles away, avoiding Dudley’s chocolatey smirk and Uncle Vernon’s glare, and throws himself on the thin mattress in the cupboard. He feels something jabbing his side and hopes it’s not a mouse. Turning over, Harry sees the golden ribbon. The red pencil is on his bed, whole and untouched, with its star-shaped eraser and attached card.

With a grin, Harry stores the gift in an empty shoebox at the foot of his bed. He falls asleep, dreaming of flying, a gentle, tinkling laugh, and warm, hazel eyes crinkled with joy. 

...

*The Land Before Time (1988) really was released on 28 July 1989 in the UK.