#i was so scared shed hate me somehow but apparently she likes me enough to make the department late penalty a little less harsh on me

[lowestechelonabomination]

was freaking out about how I was going to fail this one stupid seminar class that's for SOME REASON a graduation requirement and thinking there's no way I'm getting above a 60 in it because there are only 10 assignments for the whole semester and all of them are weighted equally and all of them SUCK and are exactly the stuff I hate doing and I've been super behind in the class for the past 3 months so basically I'm screwed and then uh. my four missing assignments got put in as zeroes and my grade only dropped to a 58. WHICH IS BAD. but if I turn them in and get 50s on all of them and then get a 90 on the culminating paper (WHICH IS WEIGHTED THE SAME AS THE OTHER ASSIGNMENTS FOR SOME REASON BUT WHATEVERRRRR) I'll have a solid 76. WHICH IS NOT GREAT. BUT IT'S NOT FAILING. GUYS I'M NOT GOING TO FAIL

[padawanlost]

So I was on Quora the other day, and someone speculated that insecurity was at the root of Anakin's arrogance and apparent cockiness. I thought this through and it makes so much sense. He felt insecure in his place as a Jedi and had this constant need to prove himself. What's your take?

Personally, I’ve never seen Anakin as arrogant. I think he was *perceived* as arrogant by the people around him but, internally, Anakin was also driven by insecurity (not egotism).

Because he was so insecure in a place where he knew he wasn’t accepted as he was, he overcompensated. It’s a very common behavior: I’ll try harder to prove myself. And because he was so powerful, his attempt to prove himself worthy was viewed as an attempt to show off.

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. And they stopped him training the Chosen One. Qui-Gon hadn’t cared what the Jedi Council said. He’d trained him anyway, a Padawan in all but name. Why am I thinking of all this now? Haven’t I put it behind me? Haven’t I had enough bad memories since then to take their place? Haven’t I vindicated Master Qui-Gon? [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

Anakin enjoyed praise from Obi-Wan, but often became sullen when he was reprimanded. Obi-Wan assured him that he himself had been frequently reminded by Qui-Gon to be more mindful of the Force, but somehow even the slightest criticism managed to leave Anakin feeling stung. First they tell me to do my best, then they tell me I’ve gone too far! ANAKIN SKYWALKER IN THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

Because Anakin had not been trained since infancy at the Temple like nearly all other Padawans, various Jedi Masters accepted the fact that he lacked the discipline of his fellow students. They were less accepting, however, of his arrogant behavior when he demonstrated his abilities. I’m more powerful with the Force than some of my instructors, Anakin thought, and they know it! ANAKIN SKYWALKER IN THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

Despite Anakin’s desire to distance himself from the slave he had once been, he was unable, or unwilling, to shed the other aspects that had defined him on Tatooine. He still dreamed of glory, still craved adventure, and never lost his appetite for high-speed thrills and the desire to prove himself in competition. THE RISE AND FALL OF DARTH VADER BY RYDER WINDHAM

What evidence to we truly have that Anakin was arrogance beyond people calling him that? And considering most of his peers and superiors didn’t take much time to get to truly know him, I’d say their option can be considered biased:

Anakin was liked by the other students, but he had no close friends. He was not loved. Obi-Wan told himself that Anakin’s gifts naturally set him apart. But in his heart, he grieved for Anakin’s loneliness. JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE WAY OF THE APPRENTICE]

Just when Anakin thought he’d passed that elusive finishing line that said adult, experienced, seen it all, he realized he was still twenty, Jedi or not, and the wounded boy in him still rose to the surface—provoked into angry violence, scared of abandonment, and still in need of approval. KAREN TRAVISS [STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS NOVELIZATION]

[Obi-Wan] knew, glancing at his Padawan’s eager face, that Anakin meant well from the bottom of his heart. If Obi-Wan saw a shadow on that heart, he knew it would pain his Padawan to know it. In many ways, Anakin was still a boy. A wounded, loving, anxious boy with great gifts he did not fully understand. Yet he was also a young man, close to maturity, who could do great harm. To others, yes. To himself, most of all JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE SCHOOL OF FEAR]

“I just…” Anakin stopped. He took a ragged breath. “I thought you would be proud of me.” I am proud of you. Obi-Wan wanted to say the words. They were true. He was proud of so much in Anakin. But now was not the time to tell him that. Or was it? JUDE WATSON [JEDI QUEST: THE SCHOOL OF FEAR]

Fixing broken machines was like a meditation. Fixing broken machines was an antidote to every pain, every loss, every fear, every defeat. Fixing broken machines kept him from going mad. CLONE WARS GAMBIT: STEALTH

This doesn’t sound like some who thinks that highly of himself.

 “Master…,” he said hesitantly, “I know I’ve… disappointed you in these past few days. I have been arrogant. I have… not been very appreciative of your training, and what’s worse, of your friendship. I offer no excuse, Master. My frustration with the Council… I know that none of it is your fault, and I apologize. For all of it. Your friendship means everything to me.”

Interestingly enough, Obi-wan says it best:

You are very observant, Ferus, but you must accept that I know him better than you,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “Anakin can be arrogant. I know that. But he is also learning and growing. He is respectful of his great power. He does not abuse it. He is younger than you, but he has seen much injustice, many terrible things. I do not think it so wrong that he wants to change things. You must understand that it isn’t ambition that drives him. It is compassion. OBI-WAN KENOBI IN STAR WARS – JEDI QUEST: THE CHANGING OF THE GUARD BY JUDE WATSON

Yes. Anakin can act arrogantly. We all can. It’s part of being human and flawed. but that doesn’t mean that was ALL Anakin was. More often than not, Anakin was motivated by fear, love, kindess and, yes, even hate.

Taking them, she looked up at him and shook her head, even though it still ached. “It’s odd. You’re nothing like I expected.” “Why?” he said, perching on the edge of the nearby chair. “What did you expect?” “I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” That made him smile. “As opposed to what?” She swallowed the pain-tabs, washing them down with a mouthful of water. “Oh. You know. The HoloNet news—it portrays as you as this—this—heroic warrior. Larger than life. Charging into battle, lightsaber flashing. Scourge of the Separatists. That kind of thing.” She shrugged. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Because of Hayden’s Anakin being do disliked and, of course, because of the TCW wonky characterization everyday we are seeing more and more people embracing the idea of arrogant idiot Anakin. even if such characterization is not supported by the movies, the lore and basic common sense.

People use Obi-wan’s words in AOTC against Anakin but the truth is, as shown above, Obi-wan himself later recognizes that Anakin is not arrogant (even if he sometimes act that away). Besides, using AOTC to show Anakin’s arrogance doesn’t make much sense because of Hayden’s acting. Anakin doesn’t act like some arrogant prick for most of the movie. if anything, AOTC is a great of example of Anakin’s submissive and insecure behavior.

At last, let’s not forget that the same people calling Anakin arrogant were also facing the same criticism:

“But he still has much to learn, Master,” Obi-Wan explained. “His skills have made him … well, arrogant.” “Yes, yes,” Yoda agreed. “It’s a flaw more and more common among Jedi. Too sure of themselves, they are. Even the older, more experienced Jedi.” [R.A. Salvatore. Attack of the Clones]

People seem to forget that Anakin was in his early 20s when he ‘died’. Show me a teenager or a young adult who’ve never acted arrogantly and i’ll show you a liar. So why is Anakin the only one getting shit for that?

So, yeah, i agree. Anakin wasn’t motivated by arrogance. He was motivated by fear and insecurity, byproducts of his childhood trauma and years of grooming and emotional neglect.

[princessofprocrastination]

Not Suitable (Quackity)

MASTERLIST

pairing : quackity x female reader

summary : quackity has always had a specific vision of what he wants his partner to look like and certain qualities he wants in them. unfortunately for you, you are the opposite of what he wants. (ANGST) 

-

as a kid, you loved the whole girly look. you wore dresses, short heels that came in a princess toy set, and wore pink lipstick all the time. 

but as time passed, as you grew older, your look changed completely. you like to say that you simply matured, that it wasn’t at all serious. slowly but surely as you were in your teenage years, your favourite colour became black. 

that didn’t mean you didn’t like pink or these other “girly” colours. sometimes, you’d even incorporate some of those bright colours in your outfits to make a statement. you just seemed to like black, it matches with everything. 

although you kept wearing black outfits or have black or dark nail polish on, your hair never stayed black or a dark colour. you just hated the look of the natural colour on yourself. it sure did fit other people, though. 

you liked to describe your style as trendy. you always follow the trends of recent times and wore what you thought looked good on you. 

-

you sat down next to sapnap, dream in the next room. you and sapnap had been friends since highschool. you skipped a grade, making yourself one of the youngest in that class which meant that you were lonely and no one really wanted to make friends with you. 

but that quickly changed when nick came up to you and offered to eat lunch with you. since then, he had been your soulmate. platonic soulmate. 

of course, being friends with nick meant that you were bound to meet the other two boys that he considered his best friends, too. it just so happens that you, george and clay ended up building an amazing friendship really quickly.

three guy bestfriends. that technically equals to having three big, protective big brothers. they really cared about you and you can see that, even if they often make fun of you. 

nick started his stream, facecam on as you sat on an extra gaming chair that clay had next to nick. you typed away on your phone as he started rambling about random things while waiting for more people to come on. 

apparently today you and nick were meant to play some scary game, you controlling the keyboard, him on the mouse. nick often forgot that it takes you a lot to get scared. 

“we’re making this video inspired by quackity and karl’s stream from a while ago.” nick told his stream, you nodding your head to agree. 

you smiled softly at the name he mentioned. quackity. it was apparent to everyone that you had some sort of crush on him. the small smiles, the little blush that rose to your cheeks if someone were to mention your ship name or tease you about it. 

it was all too obvious. of course the three boys you call your best friends knew, you’d never keep such a secret from them. but no matter how annoying the boys can be, they never once told anyone else about your not-so-little crush. 

but that didn’t mean they didn’t tease you. they enjoyed it whenever your face would turn red, whether it being you’re embarrassed or you’re mad. 

the only weird part is that nowadays, they don’t even bother to tease you anymore, not like they used to. you knew they were hiding something from you, you just didn’t know what they were hiding. 

for example, you seated next to sapnap, grinning as he mentions quackity’s name. he would never let you live down that moment. he’d tease you senseless. but this time, he only glanced at you and looked back to the stream.

and what was that? seemed like a pity glance. almost looked like he felt bad. 

you two continued the stream as the ‘scared counter’ keeps going up as sapnap keeps getting scared, you constantly laughing at him. 

“HOW ARE YOU NOT EVEN FLINCHING?” nick screams in your ear. 

“cause i’m not a pussy.” you answered him simply. 

“oh shut up, will you.” he rolled his eyes, you laughed at him being a scaredy-cat. 

you two played for a while more as the counter on the bottom left of the stream screen gets higher and higher. soon enough it reached it’s limit which meant that sapnap needed to end his stream. 

-

it was weird how time works. one second, things were mellow and slow, just like how your everyday is, and the next second, your name was trending everywhere. 

you didn’t even want to check why at first, since you knew how weird and surprising your followers are.

“dude, you need to check twitter.” nick told you in a hurry while he runs from the second floor, to the kitchen in the first floor where you were sitting, editing a video for your channel. 

so you did exactly that. you scrolled through the trending page and clicked on your name. then, you saw hundreds, if not thousands edits and videos of quackity and your video. 

the video of yours that was posted was the part when you smiled at the mention on quackity’s name but as you scrolled more, it seemed that everyone had dug through and collected snippets of you blushing or smiling when quackity was mentioned or when you were on call with him. 

you and quackity were no stranger to each other. the two of you knew each other, sapnap and him being friends and all. you just couldn’t help but fall for him. he’s just extremely charming. 

although your exterior showed otherwise, you really swooned just by looking at his pictures. 

and that’s why all the stans are going crazy. they didn’t think you’d fall for someone, especially not a man who act like a child on the internet. but you can’t predict people, especially not who they like, or more, love. 

you slowly panicked. this was embarrassing to you. more so that it’s all over the internet. there was no way you could erase all of the posts. 

on the outside, you looked composed, like it didn’t effect you at all. but nick knew you well, he knew you had a million thoughts in your head at that point. 

you were just a second close to getting into a panic attack. “hey, hey. calm down, everything’s good.” nick coos in your ear as he pulls you close to him. he knew that you hated to be left alone when you panic. 

you hated this feeling. it felt so unnecessary and it felt like you were making matters bigger than it actually is. 

but the boys would tell you otherwise, they’d make sure that thought leaves your head as soon as it reached.

your body being rocked back and forth helped you calm down as you slowly start to forget the reason of your panic in the first place. 

-

when you do come back to stream regularly, you tried to play off like nothing had happened, like it was all a dream. 

that is one bad habit you couldn’t get rid of for some reason. you liked to just run away from your problems, big or small. you would often play it off like it didn’t matter to you, eventhough it is very much the opposite. 

you’re just scared of getting hurt. you didn’t want to hear the rejection, you could never brace yourself for that kind of pain. 

but somehow this was different. you braced yourself. you didn’t know what drove you to it, but you did. maybe it was the small signs your friends showed you that you never noticed. it was like you knew that rejection was bound to happen, and that this one would hurt the most. 

you told yourself that you would never let yourself get hurt over someone, especially males. it just never made sense. they were never really worth your time, anyways. 

although personally you’ve never ended a relationship of yours badly, just maturely, you’ve read and heard how painful relationships can be. and you never understood why people kept going back into relationships when they hurt so much. 

but you get it. he’s simply addicting. you felt like you couldn’t distance yourself from him. but you needed to. and you knew that. all your friends told you that. 

you weren’t going to let some man put you down because of what you look like. 

granted, it hurt at first, but you learnt to heal, you learnt that although he probably isn’t going to be the only man who hurts you, you needed to suck it up and not show him the pain you felt. you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

to summarise it all. quackity finally beat around the bush and came out with a statement on his own on his stream. 

content creators or public figures often learn that they need to leave things for private, that they can’t spill everything out for people to hear. that causes drama. 

but he didn’t stand back at all. everything he thought about you was shared on stream for all his viewers to know. maybe you liked him for his persona after all, not the real him. 

-

“talk about it?” quackity read his donation. 

“sure, i will.” he started. here it comes. 

nick told you that in order to heal and move past the pain quickly, you can’t run away from your problems, to face the current issue. so he made you watch quackity’s stream. 

you didn’t feel like shedding a single tear today because of how exhausted you are from crying for hours on end, but still agreed to your bestfriend’s wishes to sit through a long stream. 

to be honest, you weren’t expecting him to speak on it, given the amount of time he’s waited. it’s been a couple months since it happened so you could only imagine the shock of his viewers when he finally did say something. 

maybe the constant spam finally got to him.

“she’s not my type, chat.” he said. oh, that wasn’t so bad. no pain just yet. 

“she’s far from it.” okay that pinched you a little. were you really that bad. you waited for his explanation. 

“she looks so emo all the time, it’s scares me. does she ever not wear black?” ouch. and yes, yes you do.

“she’s just not what i like in women. i like soft girls who are respectful and know when to keep their mouth shut and definitely a little more conservative.” whoa. okay, maybe that hurt extra than the rest. 

you turned to nick, he had the same shocked look on his face, clearly not expecting to hear that come out of his good friend’s mouth, especially on stream. 

quackity doesn’t end there. he pulls out his phone, typing away. soon he pulled up a picture of you from your instagram account, showing his stream. 

“she looks like she barely graduated highschool. she’s not one with a future, chat. just stop shipping us. i don’t like that.” he finally finishes, locking his phone and putting it down, continuing playing his game from earlier. 

you closed your eyes for a while, trying to process it all. 

“are you going to cry?” your bestfriend says from next to you. you shook your head. 

“i’m furious.” you told him, voice soft but slightly menacing. 

“holy shit. i’ve been waiting for this.” nick says, jumping in his seat. you knew exactly what he meant. 

you aren’t the type to get mad. you only got mad jokingly. and as much as you look emo and depressed all the time, you’re practically a walking sunshine, you just don’t show it due to your resting bitch face. 

and although nick and you have been friends for god knows how long, it wasn’t often he saw you mad. and it excites him to see you enraged, to say the least. to him, you always ‘pop off’ when you’re mad. 

you made sure you cooled off slightly before you go off on the man. you didn’t want to do things you would regret, after all. but to you, you didn’t think you’d regret anything at this point. 

you waited a couple days before you tweeted something. 

it was simple, your tweet. just two photos. first, it was a photo of your acceptance letter to harvard law school from a year ago, followed by a photo of you carrying thick and heavy textbooks for school that was taken by nick when he visited you in campus. 

it was captioned, “not one with a future.” simple, but it was obvious that this was going to blow up. you looked up from your phone to nick before you tweeted it. 

you two shared a smile. a grin, if you will. it was like the two of you knew what that tweet would do. 

you knew this was going to be surprising to your followers, too. you’ve never spoken about going to school after highschool. sure, if they scrolled far enough on your channel and listened through everything, they might know you skipped grades, which was the reason you met nick but most of them didn’t know. and you didn’t blame them. 

what you would blame them for is that they sat and listened to everything quackity said in that stream. they all thought you were just one dumb, depressed girl who had no future. one that relied on a social media career. 

only if they knew how wrong they are. well, that didn’t matter now. they all knew. 

that was the only tweet you sent out regarding the matter. you didn’t want to prolong it, it isn’t worth your time.

when you did stream a couple days after you sent out that tweet, your twitch viewers sky-rocketed. it was weird, almost. but they weren’t there to patronise you. the opposite, really. they said sweet words, donated generous amounts and gifted plenty of subs. 

you would answer questions as donations slowly came in. and one in particular caught you eye.

“why aren’t you in school.” the monotoned woman asked. 

“i’m not currently in school because it is closed due to the pandemic. but i’m currently attending it online.” you answered swiftly, not really focused on the question but more to the parkour you were doing. 

from time to time, your eyes glanced at your chat to see if they said anything that caught your eye, apart from the ones that bashed you for liking their favourite content creator. 

it cracked you up to see how far stans would go to protect their favourite creators. granted, it made you feel a little envious seeing how many people unfollowed you when the drama happened. you wanted to know just who would stand with you, besides your actual friends. 

“what would you describe your style?” the monotonous woman spoke once again as a donation came in. 

“thank you for the 10.” you started, and then pausing to actually think about it before you answered. 

“i think my style is a little more dark but not emo, as most people call it. i also don’t dress conservative.” you finished, feeling good about your answer. 

you were not brought up in a conservative family, so that was shown in the way you dressed. no, you never really left the house in your bra and jeans, not saying that style isn’t cute, but you never stopped yourself from showing a little bit of skin. 

you also were not the type to get insecure, so reading through comments on your posts have never really affected you. but there was something about the comment quackity said that made you rethink about a lot of things. 

you hated that feeling, though. you hated that you let a man say things about you and made you feel apologetic about it. you knew it should never be like that. why did you let a man step all over you? it irked you that you stooped so low. 

things also never got easy after the little drama. sure, you gained a little more publicity, but you felt nauseous knowing what attracted them. you’re just now constantly reminded how you got a higher number of following. 

nonetheless, you’re grateful for the platform given to you, although this wasn’t the path you chose to take. 

it didn’t take you long to recover from the tiny insecurity you found yourself having. you started not caring even more, posting even more photos of you. some might say you grew to be a narcissist. 

but you enjoyed it. it showed people just how much you grew and learnt from what happened. 

you’re glad you moved forward from it and never dwelled on the things he said about you. 

also, did you mention that quackity apologised? 

guess not. 

Part 2

[sparring-hyena]

again and again.

i think this kinda counts as a groundhog day-esque AU with some quirky time travel mixed in for fun. is that even a thing? idk.

OR, time is complicated, and so is love. here’s a story about both.

-

“i will destroy you,” Poppy says, her tone razor-edged and precise. she feels a pulsing thing beneath her skin. something that warns her to tread carefully in a manner that’s much too pleased for the situation at hand.

“good luck with that,” AJ answers, her tone somehow daring to be amused.

and then a beat. a moment that exists only between the two of them. it rings loud in Poppy’s mind. thrums along in time with that pulsing thing beneath her skin. it’s warning her about something. telling her to make the right choice, as though it’ll be forced to do something if she doesn’t do this right.

pshhh. ridiculous.

“i hate you.”

and that’s the last thing she says before the pulsing thing expands and consumes her whole. it drags her away from the fountain and AJ and that clear night in May, and drops her in bed just as her alarm to wake up goes off.

Poppy sits up in bed, her hair a tussled mess, and watches as her phone buzzes and plays that horrible alarm tune on the nightstand.

strange, she thinks, reaching out to silence the damn thing. she checks the date, which is right, but the time is, decidedly, wrong. it was well after ten at night the last she checked, only now her phone is telling her it’s nine o’clock in the morning. she pads to the windows and peers outside, and sure enough, the sun is in the sky. it’s morning.

a dream then, right? it must’ve been. her loss and meltdown and run-in with AJ at the fountain, it was a dream and now she’s awake. good, she didn’t really lose to AJ-fucking-Hughes.

-

she showers and dresses and heads downstairs in search of something quick to eat. Veronica is in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone as she waits for her coffee to brew. she looks up and nods in greeting, and Poppy’s suddenly hit with a very strange sense of déjà vu.

“you ready for tonight?” Veronica asks, head still buried in her phone.

Poppy hums and then, unsure of why, she says, “i had the strangest dream.” the pulsing thing returns. a warning. a caution. a very much not-exclusive-to-dreams thing.

be careful, it sing-songs.

“oh yeah.” Veronica looks up, suddenly curious.

“yeah, it was…” she’s actually not quite sure of what to make of it. of what hidden insecurity it sheds light onto. maybe she shouldn’t say anything then. best to keep her cards close to her chest—they are competing against each other after all. “nothing. it’s nothing. never mind.”

Veronica shrugs and returns to her phone.

her day carries on as it usually would and before she knows it, she’s stepping onto the red carpet for the awards show. cameras flash and she smiles as she presses through, as though feeding off the attention.

and then the end of the night comes and— AJ wins. AJ wins. AJ-fucking-Hughes. Poppy’s shouting and cursing before she can stop herself. she’s peripherally aware of her parents calling out to her, begging her to stop, but that pulsing thing beneath her skin hums with energy. it tells her this is right. that this is how it needs to be. so she doesn’t stop.

she doesn’t stop until she’s out of breath and finally realises what she’s done. and then she slips outside and tries to disappear for a moment at the fountain.

she takes deep breaths, paces back-and-forth, and tries to figure out where it all went so wrong. and how— she’s back at the fountain. the same fountain she was at in her dream. how the fuck?

second time’s the charm, right?

and— what? second time?

yes, do try and keep up.

“fuck you,” she thinks, she says, speaking aloud into the world.

“you say the sweetest things to me,” a voice, it’s AJ’s voice.

Poppy spins around, absolutely fuming, and with déjà vu sitting heavy in her mind. this is just like her dream. how the fuck can this be just like her dream?

the pulsing amps up, thrumming along her veins. this is it, it says, excited and breath held in quiet anticipation.

it? what the fuck does that mean?

there’s a moment where it looks like AJ is about to extend an olive branch. where she offers one of those small and hesitant smiles that asks for a do-over. but Poppy’s learnt her lesson. she knows that branches almost always have thorns. so instead of accepting AJ’s hand, she slaps it away and says something cruel. something prickly and sharp that slices at skin and won’t ever really heal.

“i hate you,” she spits, just like in her goddamn dream.

the pulsing thing doesn’t like that. it tells her no, you’ve done it wrong again, and then rips her away and throws her back into bed as her alarm to wake up goes off.

-

she sits up in bed and is more pissed than anything else. her alarm is still ringing and vibrating like everything’s okay—everything is not okay. because she’s in her bed again and her alarm is vibrating and it’s somehow morning again.

she gets out of bed and marches downstairs, more determined than ever to finally get some answers.

she finds Veronica in the kitchen, just like in her dreams that didn’t at all feel like dreams.

“you ready for—”

“what the fuck is happening right now?”

Veronica blinks. takes a second to properly wake up. “uh, what?”

“this.” she gestures widely to everything and that little pulsing thing warns her again. “what the fuck is this? what is happening?”

“are you high?”

“what? no, i’m not high. i just want an answer. why have i already lived through this morning twice?”

and she never does get an answer because the pulsing thing yanks her back and drops her bed just as her alarm is going off. again.

-

Poppy screams into her pillow and the pulsing thing says sorry, but you broke a rule, i had to pull you back.

and suddenly Poppy’s demanding answers from this stupid pulsing thing, but it remains silent.

so she pulls herself out of bed and tries again.

-

attempt number four goes wrong around noon, and attempts five through nine are all spectacular disasters because Poppy decides that she just does not give a fuck.

if some cruel force of the universe wants to lock her in this never ending purgatory, then so be it. she’s done enough shitty things in life and probably deserves it.

-

attempt number ten goes better. it still goes wrong because she got into a fight with AJ and apparently that’s not how it’s supposed to go, but she overhears a conversation between Chloe and Veronica and realises just how horrible she’s been to them.

-

she stays in bed for the entirety of attempt number eleven.

the pulsing thing begs her to get up, says please, i only want to help. but Poppy doesn’t buy it. who would want to help her?

the pulsing thing goes quiet and gently pulls her back until it’s 9 o’clock in the morning and her alarm is going off again.

-

c’mon, one more time. please? the pulsing thing asks as soon as attempt number twelve starts.

Poppy sighs but gets out of bed anyway. she can do this one more time. she finds Veronica in the kitchen just like the last eleven times and feels strangely compelled to say something new.

“i wasn’t a very good friend, was i?”

Veronica looks up from her phone, wary but curious.

the pulsing thing says no, not yet. but Poppy ignores it and pushes on. and as soon as she gets to the end of her apology, the pulsing thing pulls her away and drops her back in bed just as the alarm is going off.

not yet, it says.

“then when?” Poppy shouts at the top of her lungs. “when do you want me to start being better?”

she gets no response from the pulsing thing, but Chloe does knock on her door and ask if everything’s okay. she snaps at Chloe, tells her to go away, even though she knows she shouldn’t and wishes she didn’t.

she decides then that she’s done playing this stupid game.

-

she shaves her head during one version of the day and streaks across campus in another version because fuck it, no one will remember.

-

it’s during attempt twenty-one that she accidentally bumps into AJ on some quiet part of campus. they sit together and talk and the pulsing thing tells her to be careful.

“can i ask you a question?” AJ says.

“sure.”

“did i ever mean anything to you?”

“yes—”

the pulsing thing tells her to stop.

“—i think i was scared because i knew i could lo—”

the pulsing thing rips her away.

-

Poppy can feel it in her bones that this is it. attempt twenty-two will be the one to break this cycle.

she plays through the day as she usually would, making only small changes that she knows are the right thing to do. then comes time for the award show and it’s just before the winner is announced that the pulsing asks if she knows what has to be done.

yes, she does know.

AJ wins and Poppy’s strangely okay with that, but the pulsing thing tells her now, go, you have to do it. so she does. she shouts and she curses and is vaguely aware of her parents begging for her to stop.

she runs off outside and finds herself at the fountain again.

she doesn’t have to wait long until AJ sits down beside her and Poppy looks up at her and smiles, waiting for AJ to accept the olive branch she’s extending.

“i’m glad you won,” Poppy breathes, almost like a sigh of relief.

and she feels something in the air shift then. it’s small, barely noticeable. but she knows that something is different in the way that sometimes you just know something even if knowing it has no rhyme or reason.

“really?”

Poppy hums. “you deserve it.”

the pulsing thing says i’m proud of you.

and Poppy wonders if she’ll be okay without the constant nagging, because this is the furthest she’s ever made it before and she has no idea what comes next.

that’s the point.

what if i screw up.

then you fix it.

what if i can’t.

you can.

“you alright?” AJ asks, breaking Poppy’s trance. “you just kinda zoned out for a sec.”

Poppy smiles and finds AJ’s hand with her own. “i’ve never been better.”

-

time is linear, Poppy firmly believes. like dominoes in a line, stacked neatly in formation, and all tumbling one right after another when nudged.

time does not repeat. it does not offer do-overs. except maybe when it does. which might be complete bullshit, Poppy thinks. but years—decades even—after that day she lived through twenty-two times, she’ll listen as AJ recites some corny pickup line in their kitchen.

“i can’t believe i married you,” Poppy will say with a smile.

“tragic, isn’t it?”

“couldn’t agree more.”

“good.”

and then AJ will swoop in and plant a kiss on Poppy’s lips. and it will be in moments like those that the pulsing thing will hum and ask aren’t you glad you finally listened to me?

and yeah, maybe she is.

[ithebookhoarder]

can i request a peaky one-shot with tommy and he's with a reader who's kind of similar to him (can be closed off/mean when they're mad lol) and tells tommy off when he's rude to her and he ends up trying to make it up to her. just because sometimes i feel like he should get a taste of his own medicine 🤨 sorry if this made no sense :(

Fire Meet Gasoline: (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

A/N: Sorry this took me a couple of days! Life got a bit hectic, but I finally got the inspiration I needed to get this out. Thanks for sending this in, and it made perfect sense! I hope you like it x Also, side note - I just love how all my recent requests for Tommy have been about making him jealous or putting him in his place XD Clearly, we all love a power-Tommy moment, but we LOVE making this poor man suffer. 

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing, smoking, references to violence, references to drugs, references to death (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist:

——

“Where were you?”

You froze at the sound of your husband’s voice, echoing around the all too empty hallway. Whereas once it would have filled you with excitement and comfort to hear it, tonight, it made you feel exhausted. As if sensing the confrontation awaiting the pair of you. 

Part of you had hoped he may have gone to bed and allowed this to wait until morning. But no. Apparently Tommy wanted to do this here and now, and who were you to deny him?

“Out,” you replied, beginning to shed your coat and hurling it on to the stand. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.” 

“Out where?”

You sighed, turning to stare at the man loitering in the doorway next to you, a glass of whiskey in hand as he clearly waited for you to return to your home. The clock on the landing chimed, cementing the fact it was late. Very late. 

“I went to see Polly, if you must know. After what you said earlier it was pretty clear you didn’t want me here so I did what you asked,” you explained calmly, despite knowing the impact your words would have on him. “I wanted her advice on a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Tommy’s tone was dangerous, but nervous. You could sense it in the way he was watching you, as if afraid you’d march back out of the door again and leave him there. After all, he wouldn’t have been able to stop you. Not in his state. 

It had only been a month since he’d been discharged from the hospital, having survived the attack that had caused him to collapse in Ada’s house. The damage had been extensive, and the drugs he’d been prescribed to handle the pain had only made everything else worse. 

Tommy Shelby was dangerous. An idle Tommy? Well, that was positively lethal, as you’d found out. 

Today had been just another in a long list of spats you’d been having recently. Nothing you did anymore ever seemed to make Tommy happy, always irritating him somehow. 

Sure, deep down, you knew his frustration lay with himself and the fact he was essentially bed bound but it didn’t make his temper or harsh words hurt any less. 

“Like what to do when the man you love doesn’t want you around him anymore,” you stated coldly. “Like, what does it mean when he’d rather re-injure himself than accept your help because he can’t stand to think of letting anyone in. Letting anyone care for him.” 

“Y/N,” Tommy began, reaching for your hand as you took a hasty step away from him. Even now, he seemed unsteady on his feet as he tried to make you look at him but you couldn’t give in. Not when you knew that was what he wanted - for you to act as if this had never happened. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, eh? I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Not when you were trying to help.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

“Because… I…” 

“There’s only so much of this I can take, Tommy. You’ve always shut me out before, but you almost died,” you snapped, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You didn’t care if the entire staff heard you as you stared down your husband. It wasn’t like they weren’t used to this kind of scenario by now. Frances, in particular, often ended up in the middle of your rows. “You did die, Tommy, for a minute in that operating theatre and I… I had to sit there and watch, looking like a fucking idiot because I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what you’d got us into or the threat we have hanging over us until it almost cost you your life.” 

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at the hurt in your tone. 

“And now you do, you know why you can’t just take off like this,” he continued. “You left without telling anyone where you’d gone. You didn’t have anyone watching out for you.”

“I was at Polly’s! I didn’t know I needed a fucking armed escort. How could I when you don’t share things? After all, as you said earlier, I just get in the way. It would be easier without me here.”

“Y/N-“

“No. No, don’t you dare take that tone with me,” you seethed, hating how he stepped towards you, looking at you like you were simply a worked up toddler, having a tantrum. The arrogance was breath taking, especially considering it was him who had exploded at you for trying to help him down the stairs earlier. That was what had started this whole mess; his pride would be the death of him. “I am your wife, Tommy. Your wife. So start treating me like it and fucking listen to me.” 

The depth of Tommy’s rage and pain was evident in his eyes. It was a look you had hardly ever seen in your life; Tommy was scared. He’d been worried for you. 

Good. 

He’d felt a slither of the pain and agony of being kept uninformed, just as you had been. You were relieved a little to realise that, even if deep down, you felt guilt at being the cause of it. 

He was your husband after all. You may have hated him at times, but you loved him too. 

So, you took a breath and turned to make your way up to bed. You were too tired to fight and clearly neither of you could be trusted not to say something you’d regret in the morning. 

“It’s late, Tommy. I’m going to bed in the guest room. Frances can help you to bed and we can talk tomorrow.”

“Y/N, don’t be ridiculous,” Tommy pleaded, startled by your resolve. He’d rarely seen you like this before and he knew it was never a good thing when you sealed yourself away, as if trying to play him at his own game. To his horror, you were even better at it than he was. “Come to bed, eh? You don’t need to sleep in the guest room-”

“But I do, Tommy. I have forgiven a lot of sins on your behalf,” you hissed accusingly. “Over and over again you fuck up and leave the rest of us to put the pieces back together again. Well, guess what? Some of us are fucking sick and tired of it! So I am going to sleep. Alone. So I can fucking think about whether or not I can deal with this - with you - any more.”

Like that, you turned and marched away, leaving your husband staring after you with pain and disbelief in his eyes. 

———

Three days. 

It had been three days since that night in the hallway. Three nights since you’d spoken to your husband, or even looked at him. 

Yes, you were a grown woman, but you could be every bit as petty as your husband when you wanted to be so giving him the cold shoulder seemed a fitting punishment. As your mother had always said, if you didn’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything at all. 

It was this mantra you’d taken to heart as you carefully avoided Tommy for the following days, allowing Frances and the rest of the staff to watch over him and see to his needs. 

As you’d expected, however, that had gone down with Tommy about as well as a lead balloon, to hear you refused to see or speak with him. 

Even when he’d managed to convince Frances to help him downstairs into the sitting room, you’d simply moved yourself out onto the lawn instead. It was rather childish, but you couldn’t help it as you chose to sit in the afternoon sunshine to read, leaving your husband to watch from the window. 

Now, though, your temper had simmered down. Three days had been just about long enough to make your point to Tommy, but it had also been long enough to make you miss him… not that you would admit that, not until he’d apologised for his recent treatment of you anyway. Which was why you’d indulged Frances when she’d suggested you both had breakfast together in the dining room this morning.

“The sunlight would be good for him, Mrs Shelby,” she’d suggested softly, the twinkle in her eye enough to tell you she knew exactly what she was trying to do. Perhaps she’d had enough of him, and his Shelby temper, too. “He’s been in his room for the last few days. Perhaps a change of scenery would offer him a new perspective on things?” 

You scoffed. “Why not? Perhaps it will, Frances.” 

“Very well, Ma’am. I’ll see to it at once.” 

And she had. 

So, here you were, at opposite one another at the mahogany table, silently scraping your cutlery against the china plates breakfast had been served on. 

Not even Frances’s eggs, sunny-side-up, could brighten the dark cloud that hung over the pair of you. You didn’t think you could ever remember a more tense meal in your entire life - and considering the amount of Shelby family dinners you’d been to, that was saying something. 

Why had you chosen breakfast as the meal to do this confrontation? It wasn’t exactly acceptable to break out the whiskey before noon, even if that was precisely what you wanted. 

Instead, you had to make do with smoking instead, letting the process of inhaling the smoke soothe you. 

“I thought you quit smoking?”

Of course that would be the first thing Tommy said to you. It was almost comical given everything that had been happening. 

“I did, but it’s been a difficult morning.” 

“I see.” He cleared his throat, hearing the accusation loud and clear. “And what are your plans for the rest of the day? I thought I heard Frances saying something about you planning on going to see Esme?” 

You didn’t respond, simply blowing a thin stream of smoke out of the corner of your lips in reply. 

It was comforting to see the way Tommy squirmed under the weight of the silence that hung between you both, as if scared you were going to erupt any second. 

Maybe it was the blood red tone of your lipstick, but he could sense the danger lingering beneath your fixed smile.

You really were his equal in every way; no one else could meet his temper with a fury as strong as his own. 

“I… need to apologise.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Tommy stated firmly, throwing down his cutlery and turning his gaze to you. “I… I have been a fucking bastard, the last months, and a terrible husband. I work too much and I take you for granted.” 

You paused, your small encouraging nod a sign that you were listening. That he should continue with the direction this conversation was taking. “You do.”

“And my frustration at being injured has nothing to do with you and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Tommy continued breathlessly. “I also know I shouldn’t have said the horrific things I did the other morning. Not when you were just trying to help, just trying to take care of me. It was cruel and I’m sorry, eh? I really am. I can’t stand it when you’re angry at me.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” you whispered, daring to look at him properly. “I love you, Thomas Shelby and I’d do anything for you, just as I know you would for me, if our situation was reversed. That’s why I allow you to lash out at me, but there’s only so much I can take.”

“I know-”

“No, no you really fucking don’t, Thomas,” you snapped, stubbing out the cigarette against your plate and sitting up straight. “You don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to have your partner not trust you, to keep things from you. You don’t know what it’s like to have Ada call you in the middle of the night, screaming and panicking that you might be dying because of those secrets you’ve been keeping. I can’t… I can’t do that again, Tom. I can’t… Thinking I’d lost you…”

The tears that had been brewing in the corners of your eyes finally broke free as you bit back a sob. You immediately hated how embarrassed it made you feel, to crack in front of him when you’d been trying to be strong for so long.

You’d hidden your tears with impeccable skill whenever he’d been awake or talking. You’d also lost yourself in seeing to his recovery since that night in the hospital, knowing being busy was the best way to distract yourself from your terror.  

“Y/N,” Tommy whispered, reaching across the table. His hand caught yours, grounding you to him as he watched your tears fall. The sight was enough to hurt him more than his lingering injuries. This was why he’d hidden as much from you as he had. He’d only wished to save you from what he deemed as pointless worry, but clearly he’d been wrong about that too. “I’m here, eh? I’m here and I’m alive…. thanks to you, most likely, given your nursing. It won’t happen again though. I’m handling it. This matter is going to be resolved and we’re going to be able to move on. Be happy. Be safe.” 

“Then why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re too wise for your own good,” he teased. “Because I’ve been so terrible a husband that you have no reason to trust me - I get it. I’m going to do better, though. I promise.” 

You sniffed, allowing yourself a watery smile as you watched him rise from his seat and hurry to your side. Having him hold you was all you’d ever needed to feel safe, to feel loved. 

So, you wrapped yourself around him in return, sighing as he kissed you softly. 

“I’m holding you to your promise, Thomas Shelby,” you whispered. “Don’t betray me or my trust. This is your last chance - I won’t always be so forgiving.”

You knew he’d heard you loud and clear. He’d learned his lesson, for now. You were his entire world and he was in no rush to risk losing you again. 

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: VII

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: VIOLENCE, gore, smut, language, sadistic reader

MASTERLIST

She was silent for three days. Plotting and planning while the prison cart jostled her around like a sack of vengeful flour. Geralt tried to talk to her. He asked her if she was alright. She only ignored him, offering him the most persistent cold shoulder he had ever encountered.

The man dressed in the fancy suit also tried to talk to her. He apologized, he dragged her from the cart, and he threatened to cut off her fingers, but she never uttered a word. Even as the knife was held over statuesque fingers, she didn’t utter a word, the cogs in her mind only spin faster.

He didn’t actually cut off her fingers; it was more difficult to sell a slave when she didn’t have fingers. However, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers around her throat until her lips turned blue and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Even then she didn’t speak, so, in a fit of rage, he threw her back into the cart and ordered them onwards.

On the fourth day they pulled into a town and she was sitting up straight, the mask of an exhausted, weak prisoner covering that of a bloodthirsty mastermind.

“It’s a wonderful morning, don’t you think?” she asked through trails of crocodile tears, Geralt was so surprised she was finally speaking that he was unable to answer before the cart came to a bumpy halt in the center of town.

He was surprised about the number of people milling around a slave trade but at the sight of their streets and the gnarl to their smiles, he realized this wasn’t just the black market, this was a black city. Slashed across every home was a stripe of red paint, marking their payment to those above them. And as they were unloaded from the cart, shackled, and bound he found the payment.

Children and women were shackled just the same as they were, heads hung low as a man in a hood brandished his whip through the sky. They all seemed to flinch in unison, waiting for the thin wire to meet its mark. He and Y/N were added to the line, but she didn’t seem at all worried. It hadn’t seemed to sink in that it was too late. Any plan she had was nothing more than a suicide mission.

“Don’t,” he whispered, hoping she would listen, begging whatever god was listening that she would heed his word. She didn’t react, but the smug pep in her step never faltered. She was practically skipping as they led them towards city hall.

She definitely hadn’t listened.

At the steps of the building, a man who he presumed was the auctioneer, was collecting weapons from the wealthy. It seemed this auction had problems with unhappy customers. He eyed the iron as he was pushed past, wishing that at least one had fallen into his hands.

Once inside the building there were at least a hundred more wealthy individuals, watching with apt fascination as the prizes of the day were led around the room. Each slave was positioned against the wall. A time for the buyers to shop around, see what was worth spending their money on. And it seemed Y/N was the most interesting thing they had seen in a while. A crowd quickly gathered around her. Geralt strained to hear what they were saying, even seeing her reaction would have been enough, but the crowd was too large and a man who apparently hated Witchers was standing in front of him.

“I’d only buy him to kill him,” he informed whoever was willing to listen. Geralt eyed the scrawny man and had to refrain from rolling his eyes. The only thing that man looked capable of doing was pouring himself a drink at the local tavern. “You hear me Witcher, I’m gonna kill you.”

Geralt rolled his eyes that time.

It wasn’t until half an hour later when the crack of the whip sounded, and the slaves were moved to the stage. Somehow Y/N had ended up at the end, the prize of the evening. She looked solemn and a soft crocodile tear was rolling down her cheek. She even sniffed to add to the whole charade. Frankly, it was more ridiculous than the man who had spent the last half hour threatening him.

He stared out into the crowd as the few dozen slaves before them were sold off. Children sold for more than adults, and women sold for more than men. Every time the gavel slammed against the oak podium the slave winced before being dragged off the stage and handed to their purchaser. Some children sobbed for their mothers and the men fought, but the women were always quiet, resigned to their fate.

And then it was his turn.

Geralt was shoved to the front of the stage and caught the eye of the man who had been speaking to him throughout the viewing. He was clearly itching to rid the world of a Witcher. The moment it was open his hand was in the air and Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, Butcher of Blavikan was sold for three gold pieces. It seemed witchers were not a popular purchase among the wealthy.

Truly, an insult to his life.

He was roughly dragged out of the room, but he wasn’t going to leave her behind, no matter how much she annoyed him. He struggled against the hold of the man leading him towards his buyer but something blunt caught him in the back of his head and he was on the ground, blood leaking from his scalp. The world grew dark and then there was nothing.

When Geralt awoke he was sure he was dead, and while that was inconvenient, he couldn’t help but chuckle about how mad the man who had bought him would be that he hadn’t been able to deed himself.

Hell was certainly not what he had expected, though he wasn’t sure he had really expected anything other than darkness. There was no fire and no brimstone; in fact, it was rather chilly. He was covered in blood, and he wasn’t entirely sure who it had once belonged to, it certainly wasn’t his, there was far too much of it. Hell seemed to be the same room he had been killed in, an annoying reminder that he had been bested by a clobber to the back of the head. The room stunk of death, and he wondered if it was his own corpse. He sniffed his arm, just to check.  

And then he heard what truly made it hell.

“Planning on getting up anytime soon?”

His head shot up, making the room spin, but the fact that his hell contained the Witcher he had made the mistake of latching to his belt made him question if mercy had ever existed.

She was covered in blood too, far more than he was. She was absolutely soaked, and he wondered if the blood in his hair was hers. The hell version of her had no similarity to the whimpering act she had been displaying moments before his life was cut short. She looked unnervingly smug, like she had won some wonderful prize. Maybe tormenting him was her prize.

And then he noticed the bodies.

One hundred bodies were spread across the floor, completely drained of blood, their wealthy white clothes no longer worth a cent. He swept his eyes across the carnage and then back to Y/N, and then to the auctioneer who he hadn’t noticed until now.

This wasn’t his hell; this was her heaven.

“I saved you one,” she announced, her voice snapping the silence in half. He only shook his head. It felt unnatural to speak hear, like he would be haunted if he dared to say anything in the presence of the once lively room. “Suit yourself,” she shrugged before turning towards the auctioneer who screamed beneath the gag she had once worn. She tossed the sword she had been holding to the ground and slunk forward, “More fun for me.”

Geralt looked away just as she dug her fingers into the auctioneer’s eyes. The screams were agonizing, echoing off the puddles of blood as he begged for mercy. That was all Geralt could make out through the terror, the word ‘please’. Had the sound not been so awful he would have laughed at the irony. After listening to the pleas of those he had sold, ignoring them with a grin, the last words the man would ever say were in perfect symmetry. And then with a gurgle he hit the floor, silent once more.

He allowed his eyes return to the Witcher as she stood in all her glory. She hopped down from the stage and wandered towards him, swinging the keys about her pinky finger. She unlocked his shackles and watched as he slipped around in the blood.

“Come on, you need a bath,” she informed him as she headed towards a door with minimal carnage.

“We need to leave.” She spun around, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“And why is that?”

“Someone will have alerted the authorities?”

“Who? The slaves I freed or one of the corpses? Or maybe you’re going to tell them?”

“You could have missed one,” he said ignoring her accusation.

“I didn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Would you like to count the bodies? Because I did, before the auction as they groped me and gawked at my face while I stood on their pedestal, and then I counted them again as I removed their organs from their pompous chests. Now have you counted someone I might have missed, or are you going to join me for a bath? Even if you do leave now, you’re a walking target. Who are they going to suspect, the man covered in blood or the one who recently had a bath?” He didn’t respond, simply followed her up the stairs and into the small apartment above the auction house.

She stepped into the bathroom and smiled at had once been a wealthy man’s bath. The water had heated the water, tendrils of steam beckoning him forward. He watched as she shed her clothes. Even the skin beneath her clothes was stained crimson. Her dips and curves sunk into the water, instantly muddling it with her sins. She turned around, moaning at the feeling of warmth.

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of what?”

“Me.” It was a taunt, a ploy to get him in the water, and he knew it. It got him in the water, nonetheless. He quickly shed his clothes and joined her, sinking beneath the steaming surface. Beneath the water he opened his eyes and was met with equally golden eyes. Blood was drifting off the pair like the steam above them, swirling around like liquid rubies to match her treasure chest eyes. He quickly surfaced, the water burning his eyes, and watched as she scrubbed away what remained of her fun.

“How did you do it?” He didn’t want to know.

“When one of the men grabbed me, I stole the knife he had snuck in. The rest was as easy as gutting a pig. I let them buy me and the moment they removed the shackles, he was dead. No one noticed until the doors were locked, and then they were all mine. Each one of them begged for mercy and I only laughed, mercy for those who rape and pillage, certainly not if I’m the executioner.”

She seemed so pleased with herself, like she had eaten the best feast in her life, not killed a hundred men and women. He didn’t feel sorry for them, quite the opposite, but that didn’t change the fact she had killed them with a smile. He knew she had killed before but seeing her in action made it so much more real, so much more sinister.

“What happened to you?” he asked her softly and she quirked an eyebrow.

“Did you not hear me? I killed them, Geralt, they couldn’t have touched me if they tried.”

“No, not today. Before you could kill with a smile.” The smugness faltered.

“Some of us are just born this way.”

“Liar.”

“It’s none of your business.” She had the dangerous glint again, but this time it was directed at him. When he didn’t continue to pester it faded and she approached him slowly, still stained hands pulling her forward until she climbed into his lap. Something deep within him said he shouldn’t, but it died the moment she kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her fingers tanged themselves in his hair and a spare hand lined his length up with her entrance. She sank onto him without warning, the pair groaning in unison. She snapped her hips forward, lips still pressed to him as she fucked herself on his hard on. He bit her shoulder and she howled with delight, nails digging into his scalp.

The act was almost like a murder of its own. The pain and the release felt just as damaging as a knife wound. She was a banshee as his hands found her hips and slammed her against him. Water spilled across the floor as they rocked their own hurricane through the bath. He wasn’t sure when her orgasm ended and when the second began, but he did his best to match each peak of pleasure. It wasn’t until after the third that she slowed her angry pace. She nuzzled her face into his neck, hips still pushing forward with the help of his hands.

“You’d kill me with a smile,” she whispered, and he stuttered, but she kept the rhythm going. “If you could bring yourself to do it, you’d kill me and grin all the while.”

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first.” The questions flooded his mind, but he remained silent as a soft moan filled his ears. She was close again and he joined her as her muscles tightened and then released with uncharacteristic softness. She pulled away, clearly not in the mood to say anything more. “We should head out soon.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored.” She’d had her brains fucked out and she was already bored. Typical. He climbed out of the bath after her and waited for her to return after the promise of clean clothes. They quietly dressed and then she led him down to the stables where Roach was waiting patiently. He climbed on and hauled her on after him.

And then they left it all behind.

Taglist: @stuckupstucky @aurora-sweet @holyhumorliteraturelight @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire @auds24

[wannabetwins]

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much... before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. "Maybe it's a lint mutation!" Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin.... The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

Despite the sting of the heat, his fingertips pressed into the ceramic mug in a last attempt to keep his composure. But it was too late. He had reached the end of his tether, and his brain was beginning to tatter.

“Hey, clean freak,” Yooha’s usually unwelcomed voice slashed through the muddled swirl of Taehee’s angry thoughts. The latter looked up, finding the fox waving his open palm in front of him. “What’s with that face?”

“What?” Taehee rasped, brows furrowing in annoyance. He could already sense the stupid comment on his upturned lips.

“Usually, when you drink your coffee, you turn all pensive—like an old man,” Yooha shrugged. He took a casual sip of his wine. What lunatic even drank this early? “But you looked really pissed just now.”

Taehee blew out a sharp huff. If this fox knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. Anger was coursing through his veins and Taehee had been wound up too tight; he was this close to snapping.

“Oi. Kim Taehee. You okay? Why aren’t you—”

“I can’t...” Taehee mumbled through his gritted teeth.

“—drinking your coffee?”

“I CAN’T!”

Taehee’s shout echoed in the empty living room, and for the first time Yooha actually looked a little scared of him. The fox’s speechlessness made an awkward silence settle between the two as Taehee mentally berated himself for losing control over his temper like that. He had to stay calm. Be calm. Calm...

“Woah… yeah you’re definitely not okay. Wanna talk about it?”

The sound of Yooha’s voice ignited yet another spark of rage within him, and before he could do something else he would regret, Taehee grabbed his cup and emptied its tainted contents into the sink.

Yooha gaped at him expectantly, though a trace of awe and fear were still visible between his furrowed brows. He probably thought Taehee was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Oh, God...Taehee hoped he didn’t go into one of his rambles praising his own wisdom guised as shoddy advice. Not now.

However, the goblin was saved from such torture by the soft pad of footsteps down the stairs.

“What’s going on? I heard yelling.”

MC’s voice drifted from the stairs, and soon she came into view, bed head still fresh and her eyes smaller than usual, groggy with sleep. Taehee’s heart gave a small leap in response. As usual.

And apparently, it wasn’t alone.

The fox perked up, sitting straighter in his seat and his previously lazy demeanor turning almost puppy-like.

“Ah, MC,” he said, a grin now stretching across his lips. Taehee barely held back his own smile at her presence which now whittled away at his annoyance. “Good morning! Did you dream of me?”

Taehee rolled his eyes at Yooha’s unnecessary wink. MC was equally unamused, tired as she was, though she did spare him a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure did,” she replied with a brief smile, before her attention turned to Taehee. It was strange how easily she could calm him down. Just one look from her and he felt his breathing start to slow down, and the angry, scrambled thoughts in his mind began to scatter. All that was left was a pounding in his chest as he met her concerned stare.

“Is… everything okay?”

With practised ease, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile, erasing any and all traces of irritation from his face. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” Yooha snorted. “This guy nearly had an aneurysm.”

“What?” MC said, her gaze once again snapping towards the goblin. His cheeks heated under the sudden scrutiny.

Feeling slightly embarrassed now at the reason behind his outburst, he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no,” he stammered. “I’m really fine. I’m just… feeling off this morning.”

The girl seemed unconvinced. Her eyes drifted to the dumped coffee in the sink, and Taehee could practically see the calculations behind her forehead.

Abruptly, MC turned to the fox. “Yooha,” she began, startling when he suddenly transported behind her back.

Taehee’s skin tingled when the man slid his arms around her waist.

“Yes, MC?” Yooha hummed.

She promptly swatted his hands away. Taehee smirked in amusement...or maybe triumph.

“Did you make him mad again?” she went on.

Yooha stumbled back in offense, hand over his chest. Dramatic…

“What? No!”

MC crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she flayed him with a hard, interrogative stare.

Yooha let out a sharp sigh. “I didn’t! Really!”

He glanced at Taehee, no doubt to clear his name. The latter pursed his lips. Should he clear the air? Technically, Yooha did add to his frustration. His presence alone could sour Taehee’s mood considerably any day, and especially today.

In the span of silence he took to think, MC seemed to interpret it as a confirmation of Yooha’s guilt, and his sentence was passed immediately.

“Go on, apologise to Taehee. You two should make up and at least try to get along.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Yooha argued, genuinely looking quite upset now. Even MC seemed to be surprised by his reaction.

“Master, you don’t believe me? That’s hurtful…”

And then it happened.

Like a snake, his nine tails unfurled behind him one after another, practically glowing with the blindingly white sheen of his fur.

White. Fur.

The answer had been right in front of him the whole time, the source of his nightmares for the past week right under his nose and Taehee hadn’t so much as noticed.

He should’ve known. Ever since that stupid fox materialized from that scroll, nothing and no one else in this house rattled him as much as he could.

And at this very moment, he was downright pissed.

He hadn’t even realized his outstretched hand. His tense fingers were bent into a claw, ready to strangle one of the nine hydras sweeping through the air, further tainting the cleanliness of the house with those loose strands of white.

Rage coursed through his veins, and somehow, his magic followed suit with blue fire flaring into the center of his palm. Taehee hadn’t meant to move his hand any closer to the infuriating white fur. But his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, and little by little, those flames licked perilously close to the thin strands until…

“OW!!”

Taehee recoiled as the sharp sound pierced his ears, his anger subsiding enough for him to return to the present moment. He saw MC’s reaction first. Her eyes were wide in shock, and her mouth was frozen in a perfect “o.”

When his gaze fell on the fox again, the tails had vanished. Yooha was storming over to him, anger etched on his usually laidback face. He looked feral.

“Did you seriously just try to burn my tails? Kim Taehee!”

Taehee knew he should apologise. Clearly he was in the wrong here. But his mouth began flapping, retorts bubbling in his throat, unable to restrain himself in front of the fox. Especially when he was the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

“Would you prefer for me to shave them clean instead? Since you’re shedding anyway.”

“You-” Yooha’s voice cut off, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Me? Shedding? What do you think I am? A common dog?”

“No,” Taehee returned with more composure than he felt. “Dogs are more likeable.”

“Why, you—” Yooha began, though he stopped himself again. His fist was balled tightly at his side, but he seemed to have enough restraint to keep it there. A tense breath wisped from his lips. “Look, you’re having a bad morning. I get it. But just because MC likes my tails more than you doesn’t mean you can abuse your magic fire trick.”

Several unintelligible syllables spluttered from Taehee’s mouth.

Words...he needed to use words.

“MC doesn’t— Fire trick? You don’t—”

No, no… sentences. He needed sentences. But his brain was too muddled with his emotions, and that stupid simper on the fox’s face was only making it worse.

“Or maybe… If you wanted to touch my tail so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Taehee was about to open his mouth again when MC’s face appeared in his line of sight, blocking the fox from his view.

“Enough, both of you. It’s too early in the morning for this, let’s just stop here, okay?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who resorted to violence,” Yooha added stubbornly, shooting a glare in Taehee’s direction.

“It wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you would’ve cleaned after yourself,” he spat. To emphasize his point, he swiped his hand over his sleeve, sending a few tufts of white fluttering into the air.

Yooha squinted at the hair, his features once again contorting in offense. “You think that hair is mine? Is that what this is all about?”

“Think?” Taehee scoffed. “I think we all saw how much hair fell off that fur trap of yours.”

MC groaned and flopped back onto an empty chair. “Guys, can we not—”

“This,” Yooha interrupted, holding up his pinched fingers where Taehee assumed he had caught one of his hairs, “is not mine. Look how coarse and short this is! My fur is softer and longer than this—and whiter!”

“You can’t compare anything when you can barely see that hair between your fingers.”

“Maybe you can’t, since it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your eyes.”

“Oh? Let’s pluck out some of your hair and check then.”

“What? You think this is some kind of game? My tails aren’t for you to screw around with!”

“You always take them out when MC is here anyway. Like a dog wagging its tail for its master.”

“You- Did you just call me a dog again?”

“So on top of excessive shedding you can’t hear right either? Maybe it’s time to take you to a vet.”

“I told you that fur isn’t mine! I’m not shedding!”

Taehee slammed his palm onto the counter. His adrenaline was waning, and he hadn’t even had a sip of coffee. He was getting more exasperated by the second...

“Then what?” he sighed. “Do we suddenly have a cat in the house or something?”

A soft meow interrupted the growing tension between them, and both men turned to MC who was still innocently sitting at the table.

Yooha clicked his tongue, a smile unbefitting of the situation rapidly overtaking his previous scowl. “That was cute, MC, but this is serious,” he said. His palm rested against her mussed hair. “My honor is at stake here.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Yeah MC, I know you’re trying to help us but we need to work this out,” Taehee added, slapping Yooha’s hand away from her head.

She huffed and pushed both of their hands away from her face. “Guys, I said it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah.” A tuft of red hair appeared from the corner of Taehee’s eye. Biho shuffled meekly into the kitchen, and three pairs of eyes followed him curiously. “It was me.”

Yooha’s gaze shifted from Biho to Taehee, then back to the younger goblin. “You...meowed?”

The redhead’s chest heaved in a deep, forlorn sigh. He pressed a hand over his heart and shook his head. “I am deeply sorry for my actions. I didn’t intend for it to go this far.”

“What are you talking about Biho…” Taehee’s voice trailed off when they heard another meow. The younger goblin’s mouth was closed however, and the sound seemed to be coming from his head.

Was this a new power? Taehee had never seen anything like it. Hansol never mentioned anything about Biho’s new ability either.

However, the explanation for the strange occurrence soon made itself known… with its tiny, white ears peeking over Biho’s bright red hair.

Another one of his doleful sighs filled the stunned silence in the room. “I woke up and heard you guys arguing about Yooha shedding.”

“Like I said, I’m not—” Taehee slapped his hand over Yooha’s mouth to shut him up, wanting to listen to Biho instead of that annoying fox’s voice.

“I think it was actually this kitten’s fur… Sorry Taehee, I know it’s been bothering you this whole week.”

Taehee deflated half in relief and half in exhaustion. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier?”

“I was going to, but then you looked very angry about the hair, and I thought you would ask me to get rid of it.” Biho picked up the kitten from his hair and carefully placed it in his arms, cradling it like it was a baby. In return, the kitten nuzzled its face against his hoodie.

“Where did you even get it from? Did you buy it?” Yooha asked, defensively raising a hand up in case Taehee tried to physically shut him up again.

“I found it by the road on the way home,” he replied. “It was in a box all alone and it was raining. It looked like it had been abandoned, and I couldn’t leave it there like that.” His eyes drooped, his gaze turning sad as he gently stroked the kitten in his arms.

MC cooed at the explanation, joining the coddling of the little animal.

Taehee admitted it was touching...and understandable knowing Biho’s story. Still, the fur sticking to the younger goblin’s sleeve was giving him a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Biho,” he began, making sure his voice was gentle lest he upset him with what he had to say. “What you did was good. You probably saved its life, but…”

“We can’t keep it,” Yooha interrupted bluntly, earning him a slap upside the head. And it wasn’t even from Taehee this time.

“Hey,” MC hissed, casting a worried glance towards Biho.

Thankfully, the redhead seemed to expect this. Slowly, he nodded, though he cradled the kitten a little closer to his chest. “I know,” he said. “But can we keep him until we find him a home?”

Taehee opened his mouth to protest but MC held her hand up, no doubt guessing his answer.

“Of course we can,” she said. “We can post it online. I’m sure we can find someone.”

Biho shot her a grateful smile. “Could you help me with that?”

“Sure!” MC jumped up with a grin, before pausing. “Give me ten minutes. I should brush my teeth and wash my face first.”

“Okay, I’ll be in my room.”

Then the both of them left, although MC made sure to elbow Taehee in the side. He didn’t have to look at her to know what she wanted him to do next.

An awkward silence settled once more, now that it was just him and Yooha left in the kitchen. Briefly, he made eye contact with the fox, and Taehee fought the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted they would be able to make up even after this.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?” Yooha asked with his chin up. Taehee wanted to wipe off that arrogant smirk from his face. But a wrong was a wrong, and he knew what he should do as the more mature one between them.

“Fine. The hair wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you shed. A lot.”

Silence. Presumably, Yooha was attempting to choose his words carefully, lest another argument broke out. He sighed heavily before speaking again. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

“I did apologise. But I also stated a fact. I clean your closet, you know. Your hairballs are disgusting.”

“I’ll have you know that my tails are amongst the most beautiful—”

“Just make sure you clean up after yourself from now on,” Taehee said, turning to leave. “Or I will personally shave you myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Yooha narrowed his eyes. “A mere goblin like you? Hah.”

“Hm. But a fox like you can’t disobey its master, right? All I need is to get MC to agree to it.”

Taehee felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw Yooha’s confident smile falter. Having said his piece, he turned and left for his room, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he heard his name echo angrily behind him.

[thebeautifullydamnedone]

Mess Is Mine

It was early. Too early. My head was pounding and all I wanted to do was to lie down and shut my eyes for a few hours. The likelihood of that happening now though was impossible. I could already hear the birds chirping outside; the coffee maker down the hall was whirring noisily doing its only job. I rubbed my temples as I glanced up, my tear soaked cheeks flushed from the crying. He was staring across the room at something, or maybe nothing.

His hair was disheveled and he looked just as upset as you. This had been building up for a while now. He was away all the time, and every time he left and came back he seemed more and more preoccupied, more and more changed by his job. You could understand, his entire job meant seeing horrible things and trying to stop them. Sometimes he was able to succeed, but the times a victim couldn’t be saved were the worst.

Lately, he’d been taking the losses so personally, and nothing could change his mind. He was the single-handed most stubborn person you’d ever come across. You shook your head and glanced away from him right as his beautiful eyes landed on you. You desperately tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

This was it right? This was where it ended…

More tears welled up and spilled over and you angrily wiped them away. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I’d cried all night. Honestly, I couldn’t even remember what had started the fight. Only that it had brought up so much shit it was hard to tell what we were even fighting about anymore.

“What can I do?”

His voice from across the bed jarred you from your memory of screaming in each other’s faces. The first emotion you’d seen from him in a week or so. The first emotion that wasn’t a depressed sigh or prolonged staring. The first real attention he’d given you besides quick pecks on the cheek or an ‘I love you’ before bed as he stared at the pages of a book. “What?”

You shifted slightly on the bed, enough to turn and see him. He was staring right at you, and it caught you completely off guard. He hadn’t been big on making eye contact lately. Right now, with tears still in them his usually hazel eyes looked almost a beautiful brownish green. You swallowed harshly again. He looked so helpless, so utterly confused, but even more he looked scared. And you knew why he was scared, because God you were scared too.

“What can I do…...to fix this?”

The question struck a chord, and not a good one. You gritted your teeth. “What can you do?” You repeated the question back to him and instantly he registered the angry undertone in your voice. You shook your head and looked away. He was by all normal definitions a genius, yet when it came to relationships he was as dumb as any other guy. “You know…. I really thought I was pretty clear about what I needed you to do, what you could do.”

I looked back over at him and watched as his mouth opened and then closed quickly. Good, he was choosing his words carefully. “Spencer,” I licked my lips and racked my brain for how to word it. “I don’t know what I can do anymore. I’ve been trying so hard, but it’s like you’re not.” You looked down at the balled-up fists in your lap and sighed.

“Is it my job? Do you want me to leave the BAU?”

Standing up angrily you began pacing the room. “No, Jesus, Spencer! I want you to be here. I want you to be able to come home and be with me!” He looked up at you and the confusion was ever apparent on his face. He had no idea, truly, what you were talking about. And that somehow made it that much worse.

“You walk around this house like a God damn ghost lately! You come home, but you don’t really, because your mind is still there. I try talking to you, try talking about what’s bothering you but you don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave your job, you love your job. I just want you to be able to come home to this beautiful house we have, home to me, and actually enjoy your life.”

You had stopped pacing somewhere in that entire one-breath rant and just stared at him. He swallowed and glanced away from you. “Listen, Spencer,” You walked over and grabbed his hands tightly. “I love you. I love you so much. But I can’t do this anymore.” You shook your head as his eyes met yours again. “It’s like you don’t want to be here anymore. Like your mind is just somewhere else all the time and no matter how hard I try to get you back you’re just gone. You’re struggling and you constantly refuse my help. And I just don’t know if I can do it anymore.”

The alarm clock on the bedside table started blaring its loud alarm but neither of you made a move to turn it off. You were both locked in this moment, locked in each other, realizing this could be it. You could be over. You’d built this beautiful life together. You had been with each other since two years after he finished high school. You’d met so young this was all either of you had ever known. You shared a house together and half the time you just carpooled because you loved spending time together. Lately, it hadn’t been like that, but before you couldn’t get enough of each other.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence I released his hands and stood up. “I have to get ready for work.” I walked over to the night stand and shut off the alarm before sulking to the bathroom and shutting the door. I quickly shed my nightgown and turned on the hot water. During the shower. I let it all go, the tears that I’d held back as I told Spence I couldn’t keep this up. Everything. And it felt good, but only fleetingly.

When I stepped out of the shower it was like my whole body ached. All I wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep the day away. But work wouldn’t allow me to call in so late. Wrapping a towel around my body I walked to the bathroom door and hesitated before opening it. We were both tired, and maybe I’d overreacted last night. I loved Spencer with every single fiber of my being, could I really walk away from him? Shuddering at the thought I opened the bathroom door and walked back into the bedroom “Spence?”

You glanced around but he wasn’t in the bedroom anymore. Sighing I walked down the hallway to the kitchen. “Spencer?” Something my mom had said popped into my head.

Never go to bed angry, but never go to work angry either, it just ruins your whole day for nothing.

When you got to the kitchen nothing had been moved. There were still two coffee mugs next to the coffee maker just waiting. But he wasn’t here. My eyes shifted around the room and came across a piece of paper by my keys that hadn’t been there before. I walked over quickly and yanked it up.

Left for work. I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.

I love you forever,

Spence

My eyes welled up with tears again. My heart was now physically aching. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How could something so absolutely perfect turn out this way. How could the best thing to ever happen to you end up like this? I held the towel tightly to my body and leaned against the counter.

The sobs racked my entire body. This was really it. This perfect love of ours was really over if things couldn’t change. I don’t know how long I sat there, leaning on the counter for support. But the sound of my cell ringing from the next room pulled me out of it. I walked quickly down the hallway, wiping at my tears once more. I yanked my cell off the charger and realized it was my boss calling me. I cleared my throat a few times and then answered. “Hello?”

“Hey Kate! You okay, you sound off?” I swallowed the growing lump in my throat again and sighed.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just feel a little off today.”

“Oh…well, that makes my news even better then! Listen, we’re a bit over-staffed today, I was wondering if you’d want to just take the day off?”

It was the best thing I could have heard, especially after finding Spencer’s note. “Um, yeah! That actually works out! Thanks Sherri.” She told me to have a good day and hung up. I placed my phone back on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. I shook my head and rubbed my temples once more.

After a few moments, I stood up and walked to the dresser. I grabbed out a t-shirt of Spencer’s and a pair of sweats and tugged them on. I walked back over to the bed and laid down. The tears came again and I let them as I laid there tightly wrapped in the blankets that smelled like a combination of myself and Spencer.

At some point, I drifted off but I woke up to my cell ringing once more. I groaned and rolled over, groping the night stand for it until my hand found it. I pulled it closer to my face, my eyes aching from all the crying. Garcia. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk to her right now. I ignored the call with a promise to myself I’d call her later. Knowing her she’d gotten it out of Spence and wanted to talk to me too.

Rolling back over I closed my eyes but they flung open wildly when the house phone rang. The house phone was used for one thing and one thing only, for the BAU to get into contact with Spencer, and it was usually only for emergencies. “Shit.”

I flung the covers off of me and ran down the hallway to the kitchen. I half skidded across the floor and yanked the phone off the receiver. “Hello?”

“Kate….” My eyes instantly welled up with tears when she spoke. It was Garcia, except it wasn’t because her usually bubbly demeanor was hesitant and it was obvious she was distressed.

“He’s okay. Tell me that he’s okay.”

She took a deep breath and I held my hand over my mouth. “He’s going to be okay. He was shot.” I cried out, unable to hold it in any longer. It couldn’t end like this. Not like that. “Listen to me, okay? He’s on his way to Saint Ann’s Medical Center. He’s in pretty bad shape, the bullet very narrowly missed his heart. They’re working on him now.”

I hated to do it but I hung up. I couldn’t hear any more. I flung myself back down the hallway. Throwing on a bra and some shoes I grabbed my phone, purse, and keys and was out the door. The drive there was a blur. I was sobbing and speeding but I finally made it there. I barely had the car in park before I was out. I didn’t bother to lock it because absolutely nothing mattered more than getting to him.

Running in I glanced around wildly, reading the signs to get to the emergency room. I found Morgan and Emily pacing back and forth. “Morgan!” I ran over so quickly I could have flown and he grabbed me up and hugged me as I sobbed. “W-What happened?!”

He held on tightly as he explained that they’d been talking an unsub down from a hostage situation when he’d turned his gun on Reid. Morgan tried to talk the gun out of his hand but the unsub had lost his temper and shot Spencer. “The doctors are working really hard to get him back, okay? Just don’t worry too much until we have to, alright?” I nodded and let him release me from the hug. We all sat down and waited.

It was a few hours with very few updates, at one point he was very touch and go and I realized I could honestly lose him. Forever. Suddenly, none of it made sense. The fight. Even the thought of breaking up with the man I loved more than anything in this world seemed so ridiculous. Finally, a doctor came through the doors and glanced around before finding my eyes. He walked over and I quickly stood up. “How is he?”

“He’s stable. We were able to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out. It very narrowly missed his heart...” His eyes turned to the rest of the team. “He’ll be out for a while, this was an extremely close call.” He turned back to me and gave me a small smile. “He was coming out of anesthesia when I left, he said your name. I’m assuming you want to see him?”

I nodded quickly and he glanced back at the rest of the team. “I’ll let the rest of you back when he’s a little stronger.” They all nodded and gave me quick hugs before the doctor pulled me back through the doors and down a series of complex hallways. Finally, we ended up outside of a room with a bunch of beeping, whirring machines. “He’ll be very weak, so try not to push him. He might need to rest soon.”

Nodding I gripped the door handle tightly and pushed opened the door. When I saw him, the tears rushed down my cheeks again. He was so damn pale it was scary. The bandages over his chest were a reminder that I almost lost him today. I walked over slowly and pulled up a chair. I sat down and quickly grabbed his hand so tightly in mine. “Spence…. oh my God…” His eyes were closed and I wasn’t sure he could even hear me.

Staring at his face I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe he’d ended up here. I couldn’t believe I let him walk out of the house thinking we were breaking up. Almost died thinking that I didn’t love him and want him with everything. “You can’t ever do this again, okay? Never. Spencer, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much baby, I am so sorry for last night and this morning. I didn’t mean any of it. I cannot imagine my life without you.”

His eyelids fluttered a little but his eyes remained closed. “Spencer,” I waited for a second, willing his eyes to open for me. I wasn’t sure if he could hear me but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Spence, I’m pregnant….” I squeezed his hand as I said the news I’d been holding in all week. I’d been waiting for the perfect time to tell him but then we just kept fighting and I’d push it off. “S-So, you can’t leave, okay? You can’t ever leave because I can’t do this by myself. I need you.”

I began crying and buried my face in the covers right next to his hand. He had to be okay, because I would be utterly lost without him. I felt his hand squeeze mine before I heard his raspy voice speak to me. “You’re pregnant?” My head lifted so fast when I heard his voice. The crying started right back up as his eyes met mine, and they were filled with tears. I was so overjoyed to see him awake I lost the ability to speak momentarily so I merely nodded. He gave me the absolute biggest smile and released my hand for a moment. “That’s so amazing, come here.”

He opened his arms and I scurried to climb into the bed with him. I was so careful to lay beside him and I squeezed him just a little bit. “I’m so sorry, Spence. I didn’t mean it, okay? I love you so much and I will never ever leave. And I don’t ever want you to leave either.” I looked up at him and he gently wiped the tears from my eyes.

He nodded and smiled. “I know. It’s okay. All is forgiven.” I nodded and grasped his hand tightly in mind. He cleared his throat and nodded behind me. “Well, you’ve shared some news with me so it’s my turn. Will you grab my jacket?” My eyebrows furrowed together as I swung my legs over the bed and stood up. He saw my confusion and smiled. “I promise, it’ll be worth it. Just hand me my jacket, woman.”

Smiling slightly, I turned around and found the plastic bag with his belongings in it. I reached in and grabbed his jacket. I turned around and handed it to him. He smiled and then patted the bed beside him as he struggled to sit up. “Be careful!” I scolded him as I watched him wince in pain. I walked over dutifully and sat down on the edge of the bed. I watched curiously as he reached into his jacket pocket but instantly my eyes widened when he pulled out a beautiful little box. “Spence…”

My hand flew over my mouth as he opened the box and the most beautiful diamond ring sat waiting for me. “Katherine Elizabeth Johnson, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?” As if I hadn’t had enough I began crying again as I nodded so quickly my neck hurt.

“Of course, I will, Spencer!” He reached over and grabbed my left hand and put the diamond on my finger. I admired it for minutes as I hugged him and cried and realized that I was the absolute luckiest girl in the entire world.

I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more.

We were a mess. Me. Him.

But together we were a beautiful mess.

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Sweet smoochi mochi prompts #9 possible that Yang sees Blake in a hoodie that's been missing for a WHILE idk, just have fun with it 😁

... so you get a bit of gremlin Yang here...

And a reference to something that I think y’all will pick up on 😅

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Yang blinked in confusion at Blake when she entered the room. Granted, seeing Blake sitting on her bunk with a book wasn't unusual in the slightest. What was unusual was the slightly too big, bright yellow hoodie that Blake wore. Yang bit her lip as she silently watched Blake, her amber eyes moving across the pages of her book, her ears twitching every so often and a small smile on her face.

“You care to explain why you’re just standing there and watching me?”

“Sure.” Yang said with a quirked brow as she strolled over to Blake and sat at her feet. “If you wanna explain why you’re wearing the hoodie that has been missing since Beacon.” She added with a small grin, delighting in the flush that crept across Blake;s cheeks. When Blake made an attempt to keep reading and ignore her, Yang placed a finger on the top of her book and lowered it in a manner that was almost coy as she smiled sweetly at Blake. “Come on, Belladonna. Don’t get all shy on me now.”

“...How do you even know it's yours?” Blake challenged, her amber eyes narrowing at Yang as she placed her book off to the side with huff. “Maybe Sun lent it to me. Maybe I bought it because it was warm. Maybe my mother bought it for me because she was sick of me wearing dark colours all of the time. You don’t know.”

“Blake.” Yang said dryly, giving her friend a deadpan look. “It has my symbol on the left shoulder.”

“...”

“It’s mine, isn’t it?”

“I-you-” Blake sputtered, her cheeks becoming a violent shade of pink. Her ears pressed back against her skull in a display of embarrassment and she blatantly refused to look at Yang. “I really don’t like you.”

“You say while wearing my hoodie.” Yang grinned teasing, playfully poking Blake’s nose and giggling when she momentarily went cross eyed. “Somebody’s in denial.”

“You’re such an ass.” Blake muttered, crossing her arms and grumbling indignantly. She fidgeted uncomfortably, an insecure look entering her eyes as she spoke.

“Hey.” Yang said softly, angling herself to look Blake in the eyes and giving her a small smile. When Blake didn’t immediately return it, Yang became worried. “You know that I’m just teasing, right? I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything.”

“If you wanted it back, you could have just said so.”

“No, like… I can’t believe that you’re actually wearing my clothes.” Yang murmured with a small huff of disbelieving laughter. She placed a gentle hand on top of Blake’s, frowning when she flinched slightly.”I’m just curious, is all.”

“... I wasn’t in a good headspace after Beacon. Not that any of us were but…” Blake shrugged, taking Yang’s hand in both of her own and absentmindedly toying with her fingers, tracing the metal of her prosthetic as a distant, pained look entered her eyes. “I was in a really bad place for a long time. Bad enough that- that it scared my mum.” Blake swallowed thickly and took a deep breath as Yang watched, her heart aching for the woman in front of her. “I, um. I left because I thought that everyone would be better off without me. That- that you all deserved better.”

“Blake…” Yang breathed, her heart breaking as Blake’s voice cracked.

I had to collect some things from our room and… God. I was such a mess. Most of the days following the Fall are a blur. I was on autopilot for so long.” Blake said quietly, still tracing Yang’s hand. “I think that… I saw your hoodie where you had left it that morning and… you’ve always been a comforting, grounding person to be around, you know?” Blake gave Yang a sad smile as she shook her head. “I guess that a part of me that… didn’t want to let go of that. Your hoodie reminded me of you. So I took it.”

“You- you stole it because it reminded you of me?” Yang asked softly, hating the way Blake almost seemed to curl in on herself, “And you never got rid of it?”

“It was comforting.” Blake sighed. Dropping her head shamefully. “I tried to let go. To sever my connection to you.. But this hoodie is the one thing i couldn't let go of.”

“What do you mean sever?”

“I- God. This is embarrassing…” Blake mumbled, sniffing lightly as she kept her gaze dropped. “Do you remember when you took me to that saloon?”

“Uh… yeah?” Yang said questioningly. She felt her brow crease in confusion and she tilted her head at Blakee. “We got Sunflower Pop.” She could feel the pressure of the bottle cap that she had found at the beach of Patch’s harbour and had to fight the urge to pull it out and fiddle with it, as she had come to do when she was feeling anxious. “Why?”

“I… kept one of the bottle caps you had punched off.” Blake said quietly, wincing slightly..Yang felt her heart stall before it began to race. Somehow, before Blake even said her next words, Yang knew what she was going to say. “I didn’t think that I deserved to have something to remember some of the happiest moments of my life. I didn’t deserve any of it so why should I be allowed to keep something from those times, right?” Blake chuckled mirthlessly, a shadow crossing her eyes before she spoke, her words slamming into Yang’s chest and leaving her breathless. “So I threw it into the ocean.”

“Oh.” Yang swallowed thickly and gently pulled away from Blake, smiling reassuringly at her when she glanced at Yang, her amber eyes wide with panic. Yang reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle cap, weather beaten and slightly faded thanks to the ocean. But it was obvious what it was. And now, they both knew where it came from. “What’s that saying about letting something go to see if it will come back to you?”

“...impossible.” Blake whispered, as she gently took it from Yang, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “I can’t tell you how many times that I looked at that bottle cap. I’d recognise it anywhere.” Blake looked up at Yang, confusion mirroring Yang’s own. “How did-”

“I don’t know” Yang said softly, exhaling shakily as she leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “All I know is that… apparently, some things are just meant to come back home.” Yang paused for a moment before trying to push the cap back towards Blake. “It’s yours. You should keep it, Blake.”

“No. You found it. You keep it.” Blake murmured, her eyes shining with unshed tears as she pushed the cap back to Yang. “I don’t need it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Simple.”Blake smiled sweetly, moving to nuzzle Yang’s nose and sighing softly. “I’ve got you.”

Yang stared at Blake for a moment before she launched herself at Blake in a fierce hug, causing both women to fall to Blake’s bed. Yang burrowed her face into the crook of Blake’s neck as Blake hid her own in Yang’s shoulder and clutched her tightly, As the two finally shed their tears, it became increasingly clear to both of them that they had both found their way home.

[cynthiaandsamus]

Custom Toonami Block Week 78 Rundown

Code Geass: Lelouch finally confronts Charles in the Human Instrumentality Elevator but before his laser Geass bullshit can kill him, he steals C.C.’s Code and becomes immortal. Now that Charles is at the highest Geass level, C.C. like “Oh yes Imperialist Daddy kill me cause Lelouch is too chicken to” because she wanted an out for her immortality all along. But she’s been saving Lelouch this whole time and didn’t force the Code on him like was done to her so she clearly has a soft spot for him. Also Viletta and Sayoko are having a ninja fight over Ohgi and Nia’s developing nukes or some shit. Ironically now that we finally know who C.C. is, she’s lost her own memories so her character is always incomplete. But Lelouch has busted up the Thought Elevator and Charles is stuck there so showdown postponed I guess.

Inuyasha: Naraku continues his plan to cover Sesshomaru in his goo and take him inside himself… not gonna bother rephrasing that. But he gets jumped by Inuyasha’s barrier breaking powers and absolutely wrecked by both of them once Inuyasha inadvertently saves Sesshomaru. Ironically Inuyasha’s able to stop himself being absorbed while Sesshomaru isn’t, implying he’s stronger at this point but who knows. Anyway Naraku just kinda rockets away on a poison cloud and Sesshomaru’s about to turn full doggo and chase him but the writers remember we’re never allowed to see full demon Sesshomaru again until he regains his arm and Naraku tells him “Hey yo Rin’s about to get murdered, better go take care of that instead of finishing the series now” and Sesshomaru’s out of bluffs pretending he doesn’t care. Everyone realizes if Sesshomaru catches Kohaku killing Rin or about to kill Rin he’ll straight up murder Kohaku which is exactly the level of head-fuckery Naraku wants. They stop Kohaku from killing Rin but he keeps attacking Sesshomaru and Sesshomaru’s like “Oh, you WANT to die, well tough shit buddy, I’m not in an accommodating mood today so you live mother fucker” because even he realizes Naraku wants him to murder Kohaku for some reason. It’s interesting to see him spare a human out of spite but also kind of take pity on Kohaku, his tolerance for humans is slowly but surely growing.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Well we’re on the boat to the Dark Tournament, aka the first episode of Hunter x Hunter, and the totally not Genkai Masked Man uses the move Genkai taught Yusuke to wipe out all the competition, wonder who they could be. Like even Kuwabara’s guessing it’s Genkai at this point, we have no excuse. Anyway the other demons get pissed at the loss and everyone has to murder them all to be let through, including one dude Yusuke kills while still sleeping off his training hangover. We meet two of the first team they’ll be facing and it’s standard “Grr rawr, we’ll crush you” shit from a little boy and an Buttrock Band singer. Also Keiko and Shizuru are on the way to the tournament courtesy of Botan and Yusuke’s mom is left at home for no reason despite being in the arc in the manga, we just couldn’t handle more Milf Urameshi action.

Fate Zero: This is basically a summary episode, we have Kirei/Gilgamesh and Kiritsugu summing up where we’re at right now with the war and who’s involved. Kirei doesn’t have any more ninjas so he’s out but the Grail’s like “Nuh-uh, get back in here loser” and gives him Command Seals back even though he doesn’t have a Servant to use them on. Gilgamesh is all “What if we teamed up? Haha, just kidding… unless?” And weirdly enough Kirei is kinda into the soap opera bullshit going on with Kariya trying to save Sakura and being turned into a mummy for it. He’s like “what kind of fucked up person would like seeing a man being eaten from the inside out to save a child in vain?” Gilgamesh is all “Joke’s on you, we’re into that shit”. Also Iris is dying or something so they move into Shirou’s home and Saber ironically makes the transmutation circle in the shed that Shirou will bleed on later and summon her in UBW, guess it makes more sense why Shirou lives in a bullshit dojo house now that we know it was a originally a mage base fortress to harbor his girlfriend and Stepmom’s forbidden lesbian affair.

Konosuba: We kick of Season 2 with everyone throwing Kazuma under the bus for him to go to jail and then Aqua showing her whole damn ass during her pathetic breakout attempts. Then we shift Ace Attorney/Chrono Trigger mode and get a recap of all the shit Kazuma’s done over the past season. It’s kinda funny people don’t really know how to feel about him because he is a scumbag but he’s a net positive for the community. He eventually uses his lie detector skills to clear himself but because this is a kangaroo court he get found guilty anyway. But SINCE it’s a kangaroo court Darkness is able to use her own even higher levels of royal bullshittery to void the verdict and delay the case until Kazuma can prove he’s a harmless scumbag instead of a traitor. And they lose Darkness and get all their shit taken. Like I get that’s the nature of the show and the main joke but I kinda wish we’d get more story stuff or have them thrown a bone every once in a while, not a huge fan of shows like Marrier with Children or Everybody Hates Chris where you know shit’s just gonna fall apart in the end somehow, it makes it hard to care. Like this isn’t THAT bad about it but I just wish we’d get a few more serious/wholesome moments thrown in because everything else is just a fakeout.

Sailor Moon Crystal: So we’re getting close to the end of the season here and Beryl’s here and Mamoru just kinda… watches as she fights the Sailor Guardians in an alternate dimension because apparently Ami can just do that, like aside from their signature attacks I feel like the limits on what the Sailor Guardians can and can’t do are very vague, seems to be a problem with a lot of shojo action at the time since powers are more focused on emotion and it just ends up being “I can do whatever I feel like”. Anyway they summon the Meteor Sword from Avatar and cut off Beryl’s power necklace and she just kind of… dies for some reason? Like she was a reincarnated human just like everyone else but she just kinda melts after her necklace is chopped off like she’s been alive a thousand years. But yeah, possessed Tuxedo mask has the crystal and the sword and apparently the sword is the key even though we only started hearing about it like three episodes ago. Usagi follows him to Antarctica or whatever and the Sailor Guardians just… fly there, see this is what I mean apparently they could fly the whole time and just never did? They fight the Four Kings and reawaken their memories but Metalia blasts them away in seconds which if she could do that to the people that were kicking the Sailor Guardians’ asses five seconds ago couldn’t she just do it to them too? Anyway the girls’ former boyfriends are dead and that’s sad I guess even though I don’t think we ever really established which one was dating who so idk if it matters unless they’re all one big polycule. Usagi tries her bullshit fixer beam power and it doesn’t work so her next solution is just stab everyone and sort it out later, not a bad plan honestly, she cuts down Mamoru and then herself and is like ah fuck it, the end.

Durarara!!: The Saika arc concludes and we get Anri fucking up Haruna while Shizuo pounds the whole town in the park with his new demon gloves. But basically because Anri is a little ball of dissociation and trauma more than a person she’s a perfect host for a sword that’s yandere for the whole human race, the void contains the explosion and all that shit. However now that there’s been a Saika riot but Mikado and Masaomi are scared and mobilizing the Dollars and Yellow Scarves (also oh yeah Masaomi is the leader of the Yellow Scarves but you should know that already) to fight Saika to protect Anri except Saika IS Anri and Izaya’s just having fun stirring the pot and Anri’s the only one who knows he’s behind it because turns out when you have a hundred peoples’ memories swimming in your head it kinda helps you piece shit together.

[lu-undy]

Chapter 83 - SBT

Here it is!

"The tea's the same…" 

Mundy's fingers were still shaking on the tea cup. Caroline gave a short chuckle. 

"Of course it is. Your father likes it as much as he hates to change his habits, eh, Mike?" 

"Guess so." Mike answered. 

"So tell me…" Mundy frowned. "Were you just… here, all these years?"

"Yeah, we were." Mike answered. 

"How did you survive?" Mundy put the tea cup back on the coffee table. "Why didn't you say anythin'? How did you find me?"

Mike sighed. 

"Tell him, Mike." Caroline pushed him. 

"Right…" Mike scratched his almost bald head. "All the answers to your questions are the same, it's thanks to Maurice. Remember Maurice, the beggar?"

"Yeah…?" Mundy raised a surprised eyebrow. 

"Well, he got us out of trouble, your mum and I, before it was too late and just in time." 

"How? And hold on, I've been working with him last year, he didn't say anything!" Mundy burst out. 

"Calm down, Micky, listen to your dad." 

Mundy calmed his voice but didn't manage to calm his racing heart and breath. So Maurice knew in all that time and he said nothing?!

"Well, here's what happened. That day, when those thugs set everything on fire, your mum and I quickly realised there wasn't much we could do or save. We tried to make it out and we did but not without a fight. I grabbed the rifle that we had and shot in the air, trying to scare whoever was burning everythin' up. It did the trick for a few seconds that were barely enough for us to run and hide reasonably out of sight, in the bush." 

Mundy drank his father's words like gospel while his mother held his hand to calm his trembling fingers.

"We watched everything we had just burn and fall. Your mother here cried every tear in her body. We felt terrible for the chickens and geese, and we hoped they managed to run away even though we knew there wasn't much room for an escape for them." Mike paused to catch his breath. "Your mum and I stayed low in the bush, waiting for it to pass and to finally come out of hiding but before we did, a young man found us. God forgive me, I almost shot him. He was one of Maurice's."

"How did he end up there?" Mundy asked.

"Turns out Maurice was watchin' over us."

"Why?" 

"Cause we were good people to him. He was just keepin' an eye on us and we never knew but God, did it save our lives. The young guy stayed with us and dragged us away to safety, in an old 4x4. He apparently had a shed in the bush. He drove us to town and hid us away for a while, in an old, abandoned house. Your mum and I stayed there for a while, bein’ fed with other poor souls. Your mum helped the kids, I repaired the odd broken thing. We only survived thanks to Maurice.”

“How did you end up in this house?” Mundy asked.

“The problem was the money. See, cause we were officially declared… dead, I stopped receivin’ my pension. Couldn’t get access to any money and whatever little amount of savings we had. But again, somehow Maurice sorted it out and put us again to safety in this house. We changed names and hid here.”

"Hold on," Mundy frowned. "You knew I was alive, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, you were off for a contract and not with us. Unless the thugs had somethin' against us personally, they wouldn't go after you." Mike answered. 

"And we asked Maurice, he said you were fine." Caroline added. 

"Why didn't you or him tell me?!" Mundy exclaimed. "D'you know what it's been like after you died? D'you have any idea what I've gone through without you?!" He roared.

"Micky, sweetie…" Caroline put his cup of tea away and lowered her head. 

"After a few days with Maurice, he discovered that the reason why the house and farm were burnt was because the blokes sending us letters relentlessly to get us out and drill for oil had gone impatient. I wanted to report everything but Maurice said that if that bloke was able to burn property and decent folks for it without fear, chances are regular police couldn't do anything against him. Apparently, he'd heard of the guy, he'd robbed a chain of banks in France a few months before and no one managed to catch him!" 

Mundy remembered Lucien telling him that Marie and Jeremy got killed because some robbers were being chased by the police. Yeah, Duchemin was in France, robbed a few banks and flew to Oz where he started digging for oil. 

"But why not tell me?!" 

"Because that would give us away!" Mike answered. "If we're alive, chances are, we'd try and claim our property back and they'd never stop chasing us!"

"But… But… I'd have hidden with you! I'd have helped you out! I'd have…!"

"Micky, we feared too much for our lives." Caroline added. "We dressed and lived like beggars to be able to survive, and it worked, while Maurice tried to sort out our money. God only knows how he did it but bless his soul."

"Enough about Maurice! I could have done that if you had just told me!" Mundy stood off of the sofa and started pacing the room to calm the rage boiling in him. "I could have helped! I'm your bloody son, a grown up and able man, aren't I?!" 

Caroline shook her head while still lowered. 

"Son," Mike stood up. "Your mum and I wanted to protect ourselves and protect you! We didn't want any shady criminal to run after us or after you! Cause he could, eh! He could just track us down, your mum, you and I until he puts us in the ground himself! Is that what you'd have preferred?!" 

"No!" Mundy shouted back. "But just tell me! What would it have cost to send me a word, a letter, anything?!" 

"Mundy, your mother couldn't eat and sleep for days! We were close to getting her to a hospital, her nerves were so thin! But we couldn't afford it! Not as long as our names hadn't been changed! We went through hell and back, son! Don't you dare think that we did what we did because it was easy!" 

"Yeah well in the end, it bloody was, wasn't it?! Hiding here for more than ten years!" 

"And how hard would it have been for you to leave your bloody rifles home and do honest work, hm? Earn decent money and watch after your old folks?! But no! Mister Mundy wanted to save the animals more than he wanted to actually live a normal life!" 

Caroline put a hand in front of her mouth and another one on her cheek. Not even an hour spent together and Mike and Mundy were already arguing… 

"That was my job, Dad, a job that no one else could do or did do!" 

"Well, wasn't there a reason for that?! You were sticking your neck out and asking to be shot down like those beasts you were protectin' better than your own parents!"

"No! I was doin' the only thing I could do! Back then, I didn't know anythin' else but shoot a rifle!" 

"O'course you did! What about the saxophone? What about the farm? You knew how to deal with them and you were good at it! Besides, you sayin' that in the past? You don't hunt anymore? Finally came around to learnin' some proper job and droppin' the guns?"

Mundy's jaw clenched harder. 

"Course I ditched the bloody things! What did you think? That I'd go on huntin'? Ya said it yourself, I was miles away when you needed me, felt awful!" 

"Shame it didn't feel awful sooner." Mike concluded coldly, his voice down to its normal volume. 

Mundy stared at him for a while, overwhelmed by what just happened and starting to process it against his own will. Gosh, his father still couldn't understand, could he? 

The Aussie's eyes went to his mother and it broke him. She was giving him the same eyes that she always had, the same eyes that pleaded for them both to stop arguing for the billionth time. Mundy sighed and exited the house. He walked in the street, fuming. 

He didn't want to go back home and face Lucien and his million questions. He didn't want to have to tell the story and feel all of it again. No. So Mundy put his hands in his pockets and walked back in the direction of the city. 

Gosh… What a day… 

If someone had told him his parents were alive and he would see them again, Mundy would certainly expect tears and hugs, not an argument. Well, both happened in the end. He should have left before asking any questions, he shouldn't have gone that way. Yeah, alright, that's plain stupid! Of course he had to ask! People don't go and die only to come back to life! 

Oh. 

Yes, yes, they did. 

Lucien first, and now his parents. Yes, they did. What the hell…? 

Mundy's feet soon led him into the city. He walked with his head low, not seeing the passer-bys, the shops, the cars and traffic. For him, there were only his brown boots and the grey pavement. 

Hold on. His father had said that his mother was nearly taken to the hospital after the events…? Gosh. Mundy screwed his eyes shut as he imagined the pain and distress his mother had to endure. Fuck! It was always the same, wasn't it? Mundy and his father argue while Caroline sits on the side with enough sadness in her eyes to fill the ocean twice!

Mundy felt it in him. If he could, he would at least pretend to get along well with his father, just for his mother's sake. But Mike always found the words, he always found the way to rub salt into the wound. It was ridiculous… More than ten years apart and they still couldn't have a decent conversation. And what ten years, eh? Mundy didn't even have the chance to tell them that he too had died for ten years, that it had taken him that amount of time to heal and manage to turn the page. That, and Lucien. 

Mundy stopped walking sharp and blinked a few times to finally look around him and make his brain accept external stimuli, wake up his ears and all his senses. 

Lucien. 

When Mundy's parents died, the Aussie's heart was left empty until he saw that stunning Frenchman sing at the Queen Victoria. And Mundy had gone there because of a blue and golden cufflink, where Johnson's alligators had been stolen. Gosh it seemed all so far now, almost as if it was a dream, and it hadn't really happened. 

Mundy sighed. Lucien had taken all the space in his heart and his mind now. Mundy was far from unhappy with it, he loved him with all his heart, so to speak. Hm. He wondered what he was up to, without dwelling on it too much. The Aussie didn't want to go back home yet, so he went on walking in the streets. 

Unbeknownst to him, Lucien had driven back to Mundy's parents. He waited there but Mundy wasn't exiting the place. Hm. He decided to have a look inside. Carefully, the ex-spy approached the house and made sure that no one would see even just his shadow passing by, through the windows. He got closer to one of the living-room ones and discreetly took a peek. 

"Oh…" 

Caroline was on the sofa and Mike was facing the fireplace. Both held their heads lowered. Lucien could see they were talking but it was low enough for the window to muffle the content of their conversation almost completely. The Frenchman squinted to read on their lips. 

"I know, Caroline. But it's the truth." 

"Mike… Come on." 

Lucien had seen enough. The disappointment on Mundy's parents’ faces was clear enough, the reunion hadn't been a success. He needed to find Mundy.

He hopped on his motorcycle and headed back home and unlocked the door. 

"Mundy?" 

"Meow…" Perle and Soot came trotting to Lucien and brushed themselves on his legs. 

"Mundy?" Lucien looked in the living-room, the kitchen, the bedroom and even the bathroom.

"Mundy n'est pas rentré?" 

[Hasn't Mundy come back home yet?]

"Meow." Perle answered and he sighed. 

"Où est-il alors?"

[Where is he then?]

Lucien looked through a window and saw the orange sky of the setting sun, turning the street in warm colours, while in his heart he wondered about his lover. 

Much further away from their home, Mundy was wandering in the streets. He let his feet decide where he needed to go while his head ground on his conversation with his parents and played it on loop, like a broken disc. 

He didn't notice the streets turning orange under the setting sun and his shadow flowing longer on the pavement. His eyes were glued to the ground and he carefully avoided a beggar sitting there - oh!

He turned back and looked down at the man in rags. 

"You with Maurice?" 

The beggar ignored him. 

"Look up, mate. I'm M, work with Maurice. I probably served you soup over the past few months." 

The beggar looked up. 

"Oh, sorry mate…" He stood up and pulled his trousers up, adjusting them. "Wanted to see Maurice?" 

"Yeah." 

"Last I knew he was home, go ahead." 

"Thanks." 

Mundy headed for the dirty neighbourhood and walked straight to a house. A beggar let him through underground and by the time he arrived at the door behind which Maurice was, his mind was set. 

"Maurice's is busy, mate." 

The well-built man at the door said. 

"Listen, you either let me in now or I swear you won't wake up to see the light of the day tomorrow."

"I'm sorry but-"

"Did I bloody stutter?" Mundy asked with his jaw clenched and every vein in his body pumping blood fast. 

The muscular bodyguard remembered that the last time someone had insisted on entering the room like that, the man was even smaller than the one he was facing, and maybe even slimmer. But he somehow ended up unable to use his voice for days and a bad throat for equally longer. 

"Right…" He took a step aside and Mundy stormed in the room. 

"Maurice!" 

"Mundy, I am already meeting someone, pray take a seat and - argh?!"

Mundy had walked straight to the tall beggar who was indeed meeting someone else. He shoved whoever that was aside and took Maurice by his collar, he pushed him on the wall and went to the tip of his toes, his canines shining fiercely under the low light of the room with the oval table. 

"What…? What's wrong with you…?" Maurice tried to speak while his throat was crushed by Mundy's knuckles.

"Me?! What's wrong with me?! That's rich comin' the one bloke who's been lying to me for more than ten years!"

"Gnh-! Y-you saw them - argh?!"

"Yeah! Lu' took me to them! You knew for ten years and I saw my parents, yeah! Give me one good reason to not pop your teeth out right here and now, just one!"

"Have you… Ever asked L… when… he knew…?"

Mundy released his grip on Maurice and the tall beggar fell to the floor, a hand to his throat. 

"No." Mundy answered. "But I don't need to!" He pulled Maurice back up to his feet from his collar and pushed him hard against the wall again. His back hit the wall with a muffled thud. "Why didn't you tell me? Why?!" 

"Because you would have blown their cover! I was trying to keep them safe, Mundy!" 

"You could have told me! What harm would it have done to them! None!" Mundy roared back. 

"You are wrong, mon loup." 

[My wolf.]

Hearing the voice with the French accent made Mundy spin on his heels. Lucien was at the door. He crossed the room and undid the button of his jacket with one hand, fluidly. 

"What would have happened if Maurice had told you that your parents were still alive?"

"I…" Mundy's whole attention was on Lucien, and his hands let go of Maurice again, who flopped to the floor. "I'd have tried to get who did this…"

"And what if you had found him, how would you have dealt with him? By reporting him to the authorities?" Lucien went on as he now stood only a metre away from Mundy. 

"Guess so, yeah." 

"I would have told you to not do it." Maurice's voice was thin and he could barely speak. He gathered what little strength Mundy had spared in him and pushed himself to stand on his two feet. "I'd have told you… No police could deal with him… And if you had found him, we would have before you. From there, we can assume that L would have dealt with him before you could." 

"But both of us were mourning." Lucien looked up at his lover and put a hand on his cheek, brushing it gently with his thumb. "Mourning and healing. So what would have happened to the young and wild Mundy, hm? At best, he would have gone on a wild duck chase and ended up empty-handed because someone else would have dealt with Duchemin. At worst, you would have ended up killed before you could even catch a glimpse of him. After that, your parents' days would have been numbered. Duchemin would have enquired about you and found that you are the son of those poor farmers he thought he had killed." Lucien paused to catch his breath. "By lying to you, Maurice saved you and your parents." 

"But… Hold on…" Mundy turned to Maurice who had sat on his wooden throne. "Why did you help me get Duchemin if that could have killed me and my family?"

"Because he knew that I would get him before you do." Lucien answered and Mundy's head swooshed back to his lover. "I would get him before you do, and the difference is that this was my mission, I signed for it and was paid for it. If I died because of it, so be it, that was a risk that I gladly took. But you? You were asking for nothing but justice for your parents." 

The Frenchman adjusted the collar of Mundy's polo shirt and splayed his hand on his chest. He raised his doe eyes to him and Mundy's mind imploded. He didn't know what to think anymore. 

"Follow me." 

The next thing he knew, Mundy was back home, lying on the sofa with his head on Lucien's lap. The Frenchman played with his lover's soft, brown locks of hair between his slim fingers. 

"Tell me, mon amour." 

[My love]

"I… I don't know what to think… I just wanna sleep and forget it all." 

"Why?" 

Mundy frowned. 

"Because… It was horrible…" Mundy turned and laced his arms around Lucien's waist, burying his head in Lucien's lower abdomen. He held him dearly and curled his long legs on himself as he closed his eyes. 

"What happened?" 

"Don't wanna talk about it…" 

"As you wish." Lucien kept brushing his lover's hair and put his other hand on his back. Perle and Soot jumped on Mundy and laid on him, to warm him up. They brushed themselves against him and purred. "Je suis là pour toi, mon amour. Tu peux tout me dire…"

[I am here for you, my love. You can tell me anything…]

"I know…" Mundy mumbled. "Thanks, luv'..." 

And Lucien heard the sound of a kiss that he felt on his shirt, on his abdomen. He smiled.

[modernagesomniari]

“When I Waked, I Cried to Dream Again”

Solavellan, 2149 words

R (sexual imagery, brief use of strong language)

An unexpected guest at an Evanuris salon catches the Dread Wolf off-guard. 

Title from William Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’, Caliban.

@pikapeppa you did say you were intrigued *hides*

**************************

Solas wondered how many people here wanted him dead.

Probably fewer than he’d like - the upper echelons of society still thought him a joke, an idle amusement that was fun as long as it was happening to someone else.  It was an old annoyance and he brushed it aside - when he returned Tarasyl’an and saw the hope and determination reflected in the faces of those who now lived there, he knew that what he did mattered.  What these flitting butterflies thought of him did not.

That said, the fact that the black and gold of his clothes marked him more of a scandal than a threat here?  Well, he would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t satisfy him.  A wry smile to one lady, a low-lidded sideways glance to a young ward and he could admit the warmth of their appreciative gazes on his back made him preen, just a little.

He took a crystalline goblet from the tray of one of the slaves around him, made sure to smile and voice his thanks.  As was frequent at such places, the woman pretended to take no notice.  It wasn’t worth her hide to show any kind of interest in him.

He took up his place leaning back against the cold stone of the wall, the moonlight pooling on the marble at his feet from outside the window beside him.  Beautiful and pure, he always found it melancholy to see it struggling to find its way into this glittering hall, where jewels sparkled with no light to set them, stars twinkled in the festooned darkness of the ceiling and everywhere was the glow of the wisps, bobbing gently around the perimeter.  What possible chance did the mundane moonlight have against such a throng?  Why could his people not see its beauty as it was meant?

The sweet wine burst ice cold against his tongue and he let his eyelids flutter closed at the pleasure of the sensation.  It wasn’t often he allowed himself these luxuries any more, not if those he served couldn’t have them as well.

As he drank, a starlight owl swooped low to clip the top of his thick hair as it passed.  He did not flinch from it, but conceded to glare at it as it glided around the top of the room, passing others in various colours and constellations.  Falon’Din had not yet deigned to show himself into this particular room and Solas was not about to weep over it.  The man was a boorish, unsubtle, cruel master to his slaves and he didn’t treat anyone else much better.  That he sent his owls out to boast of his power and bully any guest he disapproved of said much about his pettiness.  Solas could not abide pettiness.

“Well, look who decided to grace this hall with his presence?”

He inclined his head slightly at the arrival of his visitor, not feeling the need to speak particularly.  He couldn’t quite bring to mind the man’s name.  He knew he was a scholar of some kind, a powerful one, but couldn’t place his face.  In this light he could barely tell the colour of his eyes.  Strange, because from the distaste pooling like a bad smell in his mouth clearly he didn’t like him very much.  “Too proud to speak to me, eh Wolf?  Such a fucking self-righteous prick you are.”

Well, rare enough that anyone would be so open with him, rarer still that they’d shed their shallow mask this quickly.

“Ever eloquent, good sir.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You could just tell me to fuck off in plain words, Mongrel.  Your tone says as much.”

Cruel hands tugged at the twisted hair hanging to Solas’ waist and he jerked his head away, letting his lip curl.  Fade but he hated a bully and this man was flouting protocol in a way that set warning bells off in every fingertip of Solas’ hands.  Why was no one pointing and whispering yet?  They generally enjoyed that.  However, regardless the strange apathy of the crowd, Solas was not about to make a spectacle of himself.

“I find it curious that you’ve sought me out, I’ll admit.”

The man laughed, harsh and drunk in his ear, letting his weight fall over Solas’ shoulders, hand catching at the back of his neck.

“Because I know you’ll let me put hands all over you and call it strength that you don’t strike me for it.  Save we both know it’s cowardice.  I’d spread your teeth over the damn marble.”

This, Solas knew, was highly unlikely given his own recent development of his talents.  It was only the fact that he himself knew this and whoever this jumped-up Lord was didn’t that kept him from proving it.  He clenched his jaw instead and knocked back the rest of the wine, setting the glass delicately down on the windowsill as he heard a low whistle and appreciative cuss from beside him.

Idly wondering what manner of attraction his acquaintance had just spotted Solas turned, nimbly stepping away from the man at the same time now he was apparently distracted.

But oh, what he had been distracted by.

She was small and wearing a black, figure-hugging gown that pooled at her feet like water.  The fashion this season was for whites, but her bare shoulders glowed in the Fade-light above the deep, heavy material like the sun out of a sky heavy with storm.  Bright green eyes the colour of spring leaves after rain were large in her face and looking directly at him.  

He looked back.  Let the moment hang, content to wait for her next move and trying to pretend his heart wasn’t hammering in his chest.  The man was speaking to him, he was vaguely aware of that, but given that it sounded like he was listening through water he couldn’t bring himself to care.  As he watched, the curve of her mouth twitched upwards and she began to glide towards him, utterly silent as the hem of her gown let only the tiniest glimpses of her bare feet peek from under it as she walked.

When she was in front of him, all he could smell was grass and sunshine.  He couldn’t even bring himself to sneer at how silly that sounded.

“Well, I’m glad he’s gone.”

Her voice was deeper than he thought it would be and she was suddenly closer, a small strong hand slipping into his own like it belonged there, that twitch of a smile on her face again.  “Come, dance with me.”

So he did.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She was glorious, this Ellana.  Lithe and strong under his hands as they danced, she made his belly curl in culture-learned scandal as she pressed her body up against his in front of the whole hall, threw her head back and laughed as he spun her, her hair glittering in the lights so it mesmerised him despite himself.  When they were certain they had shocked the entire gathered assembly he took her hand again, glasses of cold sweet wine in the hands that weren’t tight together.  He led her outside the open windows to where the light grew colder and more solemn, watched in helpless wonder as her voice trailed off, face open and smiling as she took in the beauty of the moon.  Just as he had.

He watched that moonlight play off the contours of her cheeks, her nose, her lips.  Led her to the balustrade around the balcony and sat beside her, letting their fingers fall idle and tangled between them.  They spoke of the party and the people there, although he forgot completely to ask where she was from or who she had come with.  Then they were speaking of magical theory, of spirits and wisps and their mutual frustration with narrow-minded academia.  She was fearsome in her knowledge, her ideas embryonic but unfettered by the usual restraints of scholastic tradition.  He adored her.  Immediately and without reservation.  This should frighten him, terrify him.  Solas and romance had not been friends for a very, very long time.  And yet it didn’t scare him, couldn’t in the face of her presence.

He looked up to see her smiling at him gently, a hint of mischief in the corner of her mouth as she raised her glass, once again full, to chink against his own.  The sound seemed to echo, merging into her smooth giggle.

“You are staring into space, my Wolf.  I think perhaps you are a little drunk.”

He let himself smile back, unreserved and bafflingly happy.

“Perhaps, but it is you who has sweet wine upon your lips.”

He raised his hand to her mouth, the droplet of wine at the corner still shockingly cold against his skin.  She was looking at him differently now, quiet and waiting.  Not like some prey, helpless and passive, but as a wolf of her own, content to hold on to herself until he unleashed her.  And, Fade help him, but he had suddenly never wanted anything so badly in his life.

When he kissed her, the taste of the sweet wine mingled with the taste of her mouth.  He wanted so much and so quickly.  In his mind they were alone in his bed in Tarasyl’an, taking hours and days over giving and taking pleasure from each other until they were laughing and spent.  Or they were here, grasping at each other, ripping and pushing fabric aside to take each other on the marble in front of the faceless throng.  He took her to the woods and laid her down on the moss, tender and worshipful, or let her push his bare back into the rough bark of the trees to take him like she’d owned him his whole life.  His mouth was on her lips, her breasts, the skin on the inside of her wrists, her cunt, the arch of her foot and he was drowning in her.  Surely, he must be drowning.  Some low, dull ache of alarm was echoing uselessly in his stomach at how little he cared about this sudden obsession - somehow it all made sense.

When she laughed against his lips it went straight to his cock by way of his heart.  He was lost, somehow.  Utterly lost.

“Solas.”

When had he told her his name?  Had he told her his name?  He didn’t want to think, so he kissed her again.

“Solas.”

He grew desperate now, the sounds of the palace and his people deafening in his ears like they’d take her from him.  His fingers gripped at her waist, was he hurting her?  He must be hurting her!

“Solas!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His eyes flew open from being clenched shut and, for a moment, he was profoundly confused.  Her face was in front of him but she wasn’t laughing.  And it wasn’t night, he could see sunlight dappling through the trees of the forest they’d camped in.

His stomach dropped and he knew he’d made a sound by the distress he saw flashing across her face before he buried his own in his hands.  Fool.  What an utter fool he was.  He could still feel the wine on his tongue, only of course now it had the ashen, shadowy taste of a mouth kept closed through sleep.  He felt cool fingers touching his own and gripped his forehead to stop her from taking his hands away from his face.  He could not look at her now, not now.  He couldn’t hide the grief from his expression.  Fool, to forget how convincing dreams could be.

He should have known this wasn’t going to stop her.  The hands left his fingers only to slide down his arms and around his shoulders, her body pressed so close he could let his face fall into her chest.  Her arms were small and strong, he could smell the leather of the belt around her robe, the slight tang of sweat from silk worn for a day too long, sweet freshness of her hair.  The Fade was never good at mimicking smell, it was only ever like a shadow.  He could hear the mumblings of their companions somewhere else, but in the dark, warm place within her arms and his own grief-stricken hands he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“It’s all right, Solas.  Whatever it is, it’s all right.”

It wasn’t.  It wasn’t.  Her hand came to smooth along the back of his scalp, dragging one last breath of grief from him before he relaxed into her embrace, content that he could contain himself for just a little longer.  It wasn’t all right, but just for now he selfishly, selfishly decided to pretend it was enough.  She hummed low in a smile when he snuck his arms around her waist and he hated himself for it.

[bronskiibeat]

Secrets Scared

Hello, this is a prompt fill, long time coming! Got a bit long, and I got a bit thinky. Requested by @catharrington Words: 2816 “Oh? Really? You thought we had a future? What gave you that idea.” (might have taken a little liberty with the phrasing though!) Thanks to the advice given by folks on this before I posted it, I’ve learned a lot. x

TW for: fighting, violence, abusive/toxic relationship.

Read on AO3 here!

-x-

Steve wasn’t really sure why Billy insisted on the act. He knew the kind of trouble they’d both be in if it got out Steve Harrington was going with Billy Hargrove. But when it came to these people, the ones who had scooped Steve out of a Russian secret base, the one’s who had fought tooth and nail to keep Billy from being destroyed by the mind flayer, Steve didn’t know why they needed to keep up the act. He was pretty sure the kids knew, maybe even Joyce, who was sometimes painfully perceptive over dinner that Steve felt she might have some mind reading powers of her own. Other than a few comments about how Steve preferred hanging out with Billy now rather than them, or Joyce asking both Steve and Max if Billy wanted to join them for dinner, nobody said anything.

Until Dustin opened his huge ungodly mouth. “Steve!” Came the scream from the other side of the road, “Your boyfriend is here!”

Billy had heard, Steve could tell that from where he was smoking with Hopper on the porch, listening to the kids engage in some convoluted game across the road in the woods, as far as Hopper would let El go alone. He could tell Billy had heard Dustin because instead of his boyfriend calling his sister home, a cloud of rage with Billy’s face was wafting towards him across the drive, ire burning the front wisps of his hair.

Steve wanted to do something to alleviate the sudden increase in air pressure, so decided on shouting back to Dustin. “He’s not my boyfriend dickweed!”

Hopper cleared his throat, like an awkward uncle at a Christmas Party, stubbing out his cig to step inside. “Just need to ask Joyce about next week.” He said as he excused himself. So much for none of them knowing Steve thought to himself helplessly.

Before Steve could have another sensible thought, he was being lifted out of his chair, to land against the wall of the house, his head knocking back with a thud. Billy’s hands on his collar pushing him up higher than he could comfortably manage without having to push himself up onto his toes. “Billy?” He asked, eyes going wide as he took in the man before him. A face completely unfamiliar to Steve was staring back, the Billy he’d got so used to spending his days with was gone, replaced with the boy who had nearly killed him here last year.

Fear took over his confusion as this all registered like a feather sinking through lead, the thought that maybe he was back, it was open, quickly erased by Billy’s tight growl. “What the fuck have you told them?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Nothing, fuck Billy. Nothing!” Steve replied, grabbing at Billy’s wrists, as if that would make him let go in itself.

“Then why does Henderson think you’re my boyfriend?” He asked, pulling Steve’s collar higher for effect. He’d been through too many emotions to pick one that made sense, so Steve fell into what he knew the best: clowning. He smirked, eyebrows raised in challenge, “Well maybe because you are sweetcheeks.” He replied.

Humour didn’t carry him far and Steve had to choose another emotion quickly, red nose being knocked off by Billy pulling him closer only to shove him back into the house. “Billy, what the fuck?” He hissed, eyes glancing past him to see if the kids were around. “What. Did. You. Tell. Them.” Billy ground out, face millimetres from Steve’s own, the rage radiating from him catching, something equally hot now rising in Steve’s chest.

“Nothing. Maybe if we’d both said something to them they wouldn’t be speculating like they are now!” Steve snapped, having enough of being manhandled, pulling Billy’s arms off his shirt and pushing him forward to step around him to get some space.

“I can’t!” Billy shouted, making to grab Steve again, who dodged it and shoved him away roughly, putting a good couple of feet between them.

“Yes you can!” Steve replied as they stood watching each other, like two dogs circling, scoping out what was going to happen next. Steve stepped away again so his words would have space to come out, “Those kids keep bigger secrets already, you having a boyfriend is not gonna be a stitch on the fact one of them has magic powers.” He straightened his roughed-up shirt and ran fingers through his hair, “You’re just too scared.” He finished.

Steve was aiming for some sort of reassurance, but saw it land as mocking as Billy lunged towards him. It was as if they’d not spent a year together at all, Steve’s truths falling on deaf ears.

Having known Billy for a good few years now, and intimately so for the last one of those, Steve knew how Billy fought, all fists and big swings. So as Billy threw his whole weight behind his fist he grabbed hold of his arms, grappling to keep him from landing a hit. Steve always fought defensively, instead pushing and blocking rather than going in on Billy the way Billy seemingly wanted to on him, elbows and knees digging in where they could manage, hands still held mostly immobile by Steve. “Just fucking calm down!” Steve snapped as he held his boyfriend as still as he could manage. One of Billy’s knees pressing in his thigh made him let do and thump the other boy in the chest to be able to push him back and take a breath, hoping the other boy was done with his outburst. Steve and Billy were both used to a bit of roughhousing, they were a pair of 19 year olds after all, it would be weird if there wasn’t a bit of scrapping now and then. It always ended civilly, a grown-up conversation following the initial release of any pent-up emotions. They grappled, and pushed and pulled and tugged and grabbed, then talked and hugged and went about their lives. But this wasn’t happening on their own time, in their own house, and the fact they were here, at Joyce’s, with the kids just over the road, it was pushing anxiety round and round Steve’s chest.

“I’m scared?!” Billy shouted, voice cracking with something Steve didn’t have chance to work out, “Look at you! Fight back!” A fist met Steve’s nose then, sending the taste of blood to Steve’s mouth, and surprise up to his brain. He hadn’t expected that, other than that one time where Max saved his ass, Billy had never thrown a punch to land like that and it hurt, and not just his nose. Steve heard Billy still shouting, the words their own blows as he stumbled back to hit the side of the deck, worried for a moment he might fall off and smash his head. He felt like was walking on jello, his brain sloshing from side to side in his head like his skull was filled with water, he wasn’t sure his face hurt enough to warrant that response, the shock of actually being hit apparently having a lot to answer for.

Another voice brought him back to reality, it was Hopper. “Johnathan!” Came the shout. Steve thought that was weird, Johnathan had been inside making bread, he’d not just punched him in the face. As if Hopper’s voice had summoned the image of Byers, his field of vision was suddenly filled with Johnathan, snapping him back to his sense, fighting to get free from where Byers was holding him, suddenly finding the fight to get at Billy so he could give as good as he’d just gotten. “I hate you!” He shouted irrationally, pointing an accusing finger at Billy over Johnathan’s shoulder. The Billy who was seemingly doing the same from behind Hopper.

---

Things had simmered, by simmered Steve meant since Hopper had thrown Billy into the shed and given him a piece of his mind and Joyce had forced Steve to sit on the sofa so she could clean his face and press some frozen peas on his nose. The kids had all gone home with Johnathan, El and Will were quietly drawing in his room at the back of the house.

Joyce was looking at him with those eyes, the ones she somehow only reserved for when Steve had his face kicked in. He knew she knew about him and Billy, and of anyone in his entire world, even more than Robin, he trusted her with it. He had the sudden need to say something, to acknowledge it. “Joyce?” His voice sounded so unfamiliar.

“Yeah honey?” “I love Billy.” He whispered, unexpected tears prickling at his eyes.

She smiled sadly, dropping herself to sit in the chair opposite, leaning her arms forward onto her knees. “I know you do Steve. But is this good?” She asked, eyebrows pointing to Steve’s nose that had just stopped bleeding. Joyce admitting she knew Steve loved Billy touched something raw in his chest and the tears in his eyes freed themselves, heading down his cheeks as he considered her question.

“This has only ever happened here.” He finally answered, a short wet laugh coming with the words, “And never since we’ve been going together, really since… it happened.” Now he’d spoken he felt the need to keep going. “He’s so scared of his dad finding out. He won’t… he won’t even tell Max because he so afraid.” He said, gaze reserved for his wringing hands.

Joyce nodded, recognising Steve’s need to just talk it out. “I can help you with that, both of you, whatever you need, you can come to me.” She said seriously, an expression Steve saw directed his way so infrequently but knowing each word was meant hard.

His attention was drawn to the back door opening, Billy stepping through ahead of Hopper. He looked as much of a state as Steve did. His nose wasn’t bloodied the way Steve was, but his eyes were red with tears, his cheeks stained with the tracks they’d taken down his cheeks. Hopper’s hand was at the back of his neck guiding him into the room.

Hopper cleared his throat, looking to Joyce for a quick eye contact conversation before pushing Billy gently towards Steve. “Mr Hargrove has something he’d like to say to you Steve.” He said before letting go and stepping outside. Joyce stood too, Steve’s eyes following her. Her eyebrows asked ‘You okay with me going?’, to which Steve replied with a nod, turning his attention to his socked feet, unable to bring his gaze round to Billy. Billy waited until they were alone before crossing the room, pointing at the sofa beside Steve. “Can I?” “No.” Steve said quietly, shaking his head and feeling pathetic for it, but hoping Billy would understand. He pointed at the chair Joyce had vacated, indicating Billy could sit there. Especially since the incident with the Russians, but really if he thought about it even before that, Steve would keep his personal space his own, not used to people wanting to invade it or touch him. Much less when he was already feeling vulnerable, he’d spoken to Billy about it before, when they were just starting to be friends, each with their respective Starcourt trauma to negotiate before they could even consider each other. But he knew Billy got it, he couldn’t stand to be touched then either, memories of it making it impossible for them to even lean up against each other on the sofa. But things had got better since then, they’d gotten used to the touch of one another, hands holding, feet meeting on the sofa, they were comfortable with each other now.

Steve remembered all this as he forced Billy to sit away from him, so they weren’t touching, so there was a couple of feet between them. Billy dropped his head down to his shoulder to wipe his eyes, slouching into the chair and pushing a foot along the carpet to be as close to Steve as he could manage without upsetting him. “I fucked up there really didn’t I?” He asked, not really expecting an answer, so not being disappointed when he didn’t get one. Steve’s gaze was still reserved for his own feet but Billy’s had entered the frame and he pushed his own to sit next to it, not touching but as close as.

Steve blew his cheeks out, his wet diverted eyes betraying any hope he had that he might be putting up a cold icy front to put Billy off. “Oh you think?”

“Stevie look at me.” That name, it was always that name, Steve swiped at his eyes angrily, but meet Billy’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry. I freaked out.” Billy started in apology.

Steve shrugged his shoulders, eyes dropping again. “You punched me. In the face.” He murmured, voice carrying not only the hurt but the anger that he’d put that trust between them and Billy had shit on it.

“I know, I feel shit. Hop said… Hop said I shouldn’t let…” He stopped to growl deep in his throat, the fear he was struggling to articulate paralysing him from being able to. Steve’s foot gently poked Billy’s, pushing him to say it. “He said I shouldn’t channel my fear towards you.” He finished quietly.

Steve nodded, pulling his knees up onto the sofa, wrapping his arms around them to sit comfortably, as small as he could make himself.  

“Then why did you? In what world was that dramatic overreaction going to make anything better?” He asked, the fire in his eyes directed now to Billy’s, demanding explanation. “You could have just asked me, like a normal person.”

“I was so…” Scared, they both thought, Steve knew Billy well enough to know what he wanted to say. “If those kids found out, and it got back to my dad. Fuck Steve I’d be dead. We would both be dead.” He finished quietly, his gaze locked with Steve’s.

“Those kids keep more secrets than even you know about Billy. Big secrets.” Steve replied. “I get that you were worried about your dad, but you could have gone about it so differently.”

“I know, in the future I need to think before just freaking out.” He said, and Steve could hear Hopper’s words in there, knowing this was knowledge Billy had had drilled into him in the half hour since the Chief had dragged him off kicking and screaming.

Steve frowned, Joyces’s words from earlier in his head, is this good? “You think we have a future? After that stunt? What gave you that idea?” Fuck, just saying that hurt. He couldn’t imagine how it felt to hear those words, he watched Billy carefully, his own tears again sliding their ways surreptitiously out of his eyes.

Billy’s gaze that had been focussed on anything but Steve, but he was suddenly completely focussed on watching Steve, who was crying silently. “What, Steve what do you mean?” Steve shrugged his shoulders, in all honesty he didn’t know what he meant. He was hurt, his pride was bruised, and on reflection his words sounded like a break up. But he wasn’t sure that was what he wanted either. “I don’t know, okay. You’ve really fucked up, I can’t… you can’t expect an apology to just fix this.” He pressed his toes into the inside of Billy’s foot again, thinking about what he wanted to say.

“When we fight, it’s never…” He pushed out a frustrated breath. “It’s never this” he gestured to his nose, “it’s just banter, bit of stress relief, nobody gets hurt, but smacking my nose so hard it bleeds, not cool. I’m…” He squeezed his eyes shut, what was he. “I’m fucking angry. You’ve shit on the trust we’d built.” He finished sadly, pressing his face into his knees.

Billy swallowed, he wanted nothing more than to cross the space between them and wrap his arms around Steve and tell him it would be okay, but instead he quietly offered the words that so infrequently crossed his lips. “I’m so sorry Stevie.”

Steve didn’t move, not counting his shoulders that were pulling in shaking breaths to try and steady himself, to try and get some coherent thoughts into his brain to work out how they could make this better.

“Do you want me to go?” Billy asked, standing up where he was.

“No, no. I… I wanna go home.” He said gently, pulling his red rimmed eyes up to meet Billy’s, to show that he was trying.

Billy stood awkwardly, “Do you want to drive? I can drive you? Hopper would take you?” He stumbled on his words, something so rare with Hawkins’ Man with the Attitude that Steve was a little surprised. “Would you?” Steve asked hopefully, brown eyes meeting blue, igniting hope in those eyes too.  

[dontcare77ghj]

Heaven & Hell

Natasha x reader x Steve

Demon Steve x human reader x Angel Natasha

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What originally was one of America’s most well-kept secrets, became public knowledge with the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. You were in a polyamorous relationship with Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers, or the Black Widow and Captain America. But it wasn’t the polyamorous aspect that took people aback it was the fact Steve Rogers was a genuine demon and Natasha Romanoff was an actual angel.

Natasha was the daughter of an archangel and a human. She’d grown up with her mother, with the knowledge of who her real father was, until she’d passed away and Natasha joined the red room.  In an oddly similar situation, Steve was the son of a demon and his mortal mother. Steve knew from a young age what his father was and what he was and didn’t use his abilities until he met Howard Stark.

You yourself were just an ordinary mortal, well not really and certainly not to Steve or Natasha. You were born as a normal mortal but had gained your ability at the same time as your siblings Wanda and Pietro. While your siblings gained their powers, you’d gained a manipulation of the elements in all their forms.

Natasha and Steve had been together for six months by the time they met you and it was only a few months later when you’d happily joined the relationship. The three of you valued your privacy and for years it was only the team and Fury who knew you were all together, but even when it was revealed to the world none of you cared too much.

You were happy together, despite all being very different compared to each other.

Due to Natasha’s heavenly background it shocked many people at how she lived. She was the former best assassin in the world, she ran on secrets, sex and hard liquor and even though she was trying to clear the red out of her ledger, she did what she had to do when no-one else would. Even if that meant taking someone out.

Natasha hated the angel jokes Tony seemed to have a never-ending supply of and the stereotypes people assumed she would follow. While she may have a large amount of angel abilities, she was still human.

While her abilities were useful, there were a few downsides to having them.

The large, dark navy, wings that you and Steve loved caused a lot of issues in Natasha’s daily life. Though she kept them folded into her back most of the time, they were very trigger sensitive. The lightest of touches to the middle of her back caused them to shoot out at full attention. It wasn’t uncommon for a lamp to be broken from this or for you or Steve to be hit by them.

It never hurt you or Steve because her wings were incredibly soft. About three times a month Natasha took time to wash, brush and keep her wings looking neat and clean. Before she met you Steve, she did it all on her own even though the task could take a couple hours, now that she had the two of you, she always asked for your help.

Not because she needed it, but because the two of you enjoyed helping her and it was bonding time between the three of you.

“Tash, what are you doing?” You asked, watching as Natasha uncomfortably shifted again on the bed.

“Trying to get comfortable.” She grunted, rolling her shoulders and rearranging the pillows behind you. “When did this bed get so god damn uncomfortable?” She questioned, glaring down at the mattress.

“Tash, when was the last time your feathers molted?” You asked, sitting on the bed next to the red head.

Natasha paused in her attempts to get comfortable and tried to remember. “I’m not sure.” She said, pursing her lips and furrowing her eyebrows.

“You did it almost two weeks ago.” Steve reminded her, coming into the bedroom with a tray of coffees. “It says on the calendar.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I guess it was about time for me to shed again.” She sighed, shifting so she was no longer laying on her back.

“Come on, shirt off.” You said, tapping her thigh and moving over to the kit you and Steve had set up for this.

“Are you trying to start something, Y/N?” Natasha asked, giving you a suggestive smirk as Steve helped her with her shirt. “Oh shit.” Natasha groaned as Steve pressed the middle of her back, wings bursting from her back almost hitting him.

“With noises like that you’d think so.” Steve smirked, taking a brush from you and kissing you gently in thanks.

You and Steve both sat behind Natasha and took one wing each. You gently brushed her wings, old feathers falling out for the new plumage. Natasha let out a content sigh as the two of you fixed her ruffled feathers and made room for the new ones.

“That feel good?” You asked, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder. Natasha let out a hum and flashed you a quick smile.

“The best.” She replied. “Thank you.” She said, leaning back to kiss you and then Steve. After a few more minutes you and Steve had managed to straighten her wings and pluck out all the dead feathers. When you finished Natasha turned around and kissed you both again this time more passionately.

“How does this always turn into sex?” Steve asked as Natasha straddled you and he alternated with kissing you both.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked, pulling away from his neck.

“Never.” He said attacking Natasha’s neck as she kissed you again. Hours later, you and Steve had to fix Natasha’s ruffled wings again.

Steve Rogers, America personified himself, being a demon was not something anyone would have guessed. He was a righteous man, a man who believed in the safety of others over his own, a man who tried to save everyone he could. The fact he was a demon with black eyes just was not something people would’ve believed had it not been true.

He’d told the team relatively early in his days of joining apparently. And apparently it had gone over well once he proved he wasn’t joking.

To this day none of the team had an issue with Steve’s other side, though they did find it funny to attempt to see where the lore became reality.

Since Steve did need to eat and drink, Tony would always add too much salt to his meals and switch Steve’s water with holy water. While the salt did nothing, the holy water did cause Steve to start coughing uncontrollably.

Tony, with Clint’s help, found what he believed to be anti-possession charms and images of what he called a demon trap. The charm’s made pretty jewelry but since Steve’s body was his and he didn’t need to posses anyone, they remained nothing more than pretty charms. The demon trap on the other hand, well, unfortunately was real and did leave Steve trapped inside for an hour until you rubbed part of it away.

Though the team did enjoy playing small pranks and leaving demon traps randomly around the tower, or sometimes switching out Steve’s water for holy water, everyone mostly forgot about Steve’s demon heritage until it came to a mission or when he would walk around the tower with black eyes.

You and Natasha were sat in the common kitchen while Steve was stood at the stove. No matter the skills you possessed you could not cook for the life of you and no number of heavenly gifts could help Natasha in the kitchen.

“Morning Tony.” Steve said without looking away from the stove. A second later Tony trudged into the room, yawning slightly.

“Morning Hell Spawn, Castiel, Avatar.” Tony greeted, giving you and Natasha a nod. “Also, that was still creepy, Rogers.” He commented, sitting next to you.

“You know I don’t mean it.” Steve said, shaking his head. “I just sensed you before you came in.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Demon powers and all.” Tony shrugged, pouring himself another coffee. Steve turned to the three of you with a plate of bacon and Tony jumped.

“Shit Tony.” You cursed as he spilled his coffee on your leg. Natasha leaned over placed two fingers on the wound instantly healing it. “Thank you darling.”

“No problem angel.” She said, giving you a peck and taking a plate.

“Sorry, Y/N.” Tony apologized, giving you an embarrassed face. “Steve just gave me a heart attack.”

“How?” Natasha asked, giving Tony an incredulous look. You turned to Steve and looked him over head to toe. He looked normal to you. Blonde, tall, friendly smile, just normal Stevie.

“He has black eyes.” Tony exclaimed, giving the two of you a look. You and Natasha looked at Steve again and this time did realize his eyes were in fact jet black. “How the hell did you two not notice that?”

“It’s a normal sight for us.” Natasha shrugged, taking an offered cup of coffee out of Steve’s hands. Steve than passed another to you and you leaned over the table to kiss him in thanks.

“Sorry Tony I didn’t even realize they were black.” Steve said, flicking them back to his normal baby blue. “I get they can look a bit creepy.”

“Steve don’t say things like that.” Natasha scolded, narrowing her eyes at the man.

“I like your eyes. Both of them.” You said, giving him a smile. “It’s nice to know your comfortable enough you forget which set you’re showing.”

“Thank you, doll.” Steve said, giving you a kiss and then one to Natasha.

“You three are sickeningly sweet, you know that right?” Tony asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“We know Tony, we know.” Steve assured, eyes flicking back to black.

You had one issue with dating Natasha and Steve. To the rest of the team, they found this incredibly entertaining to watch and enjoyed teasing you when it happened.

The one thing that really irked you about being with Steve and Natasha, was their penchant for sneaky up on you and scaring you. And when you say they snuck up on you, you didn’t mean they would just walk behind you quietly and scare you.

No, they both enjoyed using their powers to teleport from one room to another and purposely appear behind you.

For the most part, Steve didn’t mean to. He had terrible navigation and somehow always ended up behind you. Natasha though, well she enjoyed watching you jump, she thought it was adorable.

Sometimes you could tell they were behind you and you would be able to turn around calmly and smirk in victory as you caught them. Other times they were either too quiet or you would be lost in your own world and not notice their presence until it was too late.

Sometimes you would get your revenge on the pair. Sometimes they would startle you so badly you would accidently let out a blast of your powers. Generally it was just the air element and you would end up pinning the two to the wall, but there has been one occasion when you let out a burst of flames.

Now luckily Natasha has the best reflexes in the world and you were able to quickly get rid of the fire, but it still happened.

 You thought after this close call, the two would back off and stop scaring the shit out of you, you shouldn’t have expected so much. 

Natasha and Steve had gone out with Bucky a couple hours ago and you were sitting in the common living room with Wanda and Clint.

“I love it.” Wanda commented, running her fingers over the skin of your shoulder. “It suits you very well, surioara.”

“I wonder who you got it for?” Clint asked sarcastically, giving you a cheeky grin as he looked over the ink on your shoulder. It was actually Tony who encouraged you to get your first tattoo and you didn’t regret the decision at all.

You chosen to get an angels wing and a devils wing next to it, though you knew better than most that demons don’t have wings, with a halo and a devils tail. You loved it.

“Don’t be an ass.” You said, shaking your head at the man and pulling your shirt back to it’s normal position. “But you can’t tell Nat or Steve, I want it to be a surprise.”

“You mean they don’t know?” Clint asked staring at you incredulously. “You got it done three days ago.”

“I know that. I’ve just very good at hiding things when I need to.” You commented, feeling very good about yourself.

“Like what?” Natasha suddenly asked in your ear. You jumped in fright and snapped your head behind you to see Natasha and Steve standing behind you.

“Nothing. Like nothing.” You said, giving Natasha an innocent smile as Wanda and Clint laughed at you.

“Did you get that impression, Stevie?” Natasha asked, turning to face the blonde with a smirk.

“No I did not.” Steve said, moving to stand next to Natasha. 

“See you two later.” Natasha said, looking at Wanda and Clint as she grabbed your hand and suddenly you were in your bedroom.

“I hate when you do that.” You groaned, feeling slightly disoriented. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Natasha told you, waving her hand. “Now what were you saying about secrets?”

Looking at Natasha and Steve you saw they weren’t going to let this go and let out a sigh. Turning around you raised your shirt and allowed them to see the new mark to your skin.

“Oh doll.” Steve murmured and was suddenly right behind you, running his fingers over your skin. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Did you do this for us?” Natasha asked, now standing in front of you. You smiled and gave her a nod. Natasha surged forward and smashed her lips to yours.

“I take it this means you like it?” You said, letting out a breathless laugh as your shirt was pulled off your head.

“Let us show you how much we like it.” Steve said and the three of you were suddenly on the bed.

Maybe the appearing and disappearing didn’t make you jump all the time.

Show your support. Give it a like. Leave a comment. Share with your friends and reblog. Inbox/Message me any comments, ideas, pairings or if you would like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist

@piper-koko-barnes-rogers  @skeletoresinthebasement  @hopingforbarnes

Coming soon;

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Natasha x reader x Clint x Bucky

Steve x reader x Bucky

Bucky x reader x Sam

Natasha x reader x Sam

Steve x reader x Sam x Bucky

Steve x reader x Sam

[littlemissfundip]

Close is Good Enough

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Uraraka Ochako/ Bakugo Kitsuki

Summery: Ochako thought that manning Class 1-A's kissing booth was going to be little more than an unfortunate way to spend an hour. When Bakugo shows up with a hand full of yen and a challenge though Ochako finds herself facing a whole series of uncomfortable truths. School festivals are as good a place for self-discovery as any right?

Note: I'm trying to get back into writing fanfiction after being out of the game for a while so please be gentle. I found this super cute list of alphabetical fluff cliche prompts by @memorizingthedigitsofpi​ and now I want to try writing for them all. We'll see how that goes.

Ochako was totally, utterly, and completely bored.

The kind of bored that made every minute feel like an hour. The kind of bored that made watching paint dry feel like a three-ring circus. The kind of bored that made her long for the piles of unfinished homework sitting in her dorm.

It really was too bad, because it was a beautiful day. The sun shone cheerfully over the annual U.A. High School festival. Laughter and music floated through the air as crowds of people wandered from stall to stall enjoying the food and entertainment. All in all, it was a gorgeous day filled with sounds of merriment ringing out from every corner.

After the class performance last year, a kissing booth did seem a bit lame in comparison. Still, the class had voted, and the kissing booth had won so there really wasn’t much of a choice in the matter.

Personally, Ochako was pretty sure that Mineta, Sero, and Kaminari had rigged the voting somehow but she had no proof so she couldn’t really complain too much. In retaliation, the rest of the girls had unanimously decided to tape the little creep to the roof for the duration of the festival or none of them would have gotten behind the counter.

At first, the whole idea had seemed really embarrassing and time consuming. Fortunately, the class had agreed to split manning the booth up over the two days and each shift lasted only an hour giving everyone time to experience the festival. None of them had gotten to enjoy it the year before so this year they really wanted to take advantage.

Ochako hadn’t had the highest hopes for manning a kissing booth. At best it was going to be embarrassing and at worst downright disgusting. During the weeks leading up she had prepared for the worst.

What she had not prepared for however was for it to be so boring.

Almost forty minutes had passed since she’d taken over for Momo and so far, she had only had two customers. Near the start of her shift Iida and Deku had dropped by and each bought a kiss on the cheek.

It had been more silly than anything, though Deku looked like he was about to pass out from blushing so hard and even Iida looked embarrassed. If nothing else, Ochako was grateful she had shed her girlish crush on Deku over the summer or the whole thing would have been mortifying.

Apparently, that was the only action she was going to see though, because after her friends had left there had been a complete and utter absence of customers. To be fair, the stall was a little out of the way and the Miss UA competition had just started. That was probably why business was so slow, Ochako told herself as she checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

Her reasoning became a little more difficult to rationalize, when any boy who passed the booth would immediately avoid eye contact like she was Aizawa looking to erase their quirk. At first it seemed like a coincidence. Maybe they were just shy. After the 6th or 7th person Ochako was starting to see a trend.

Maybe she just wasn’t trying hard enough. She hadn’t been particularly enthusiastic and maybe it was showing on her face and putting off customers. It wasn’t like she wanted to do this, but she had agreed to do the job and it was her responsibility to see it through properly.

Putting on her best hero face, Ochako caught the eye of a passing student, smiling at him in a way she hoped was inviting. For a moment it seemed to work as the boy took a step in her direction with an unsure smile of his own.

Unfortunately for Ochako, just as she was sure she was about to make a sale with a decently cute boy the sound of a car backfiring in the distance cut through the noise of the festival. Apparently, the sound was enough to scare the boy as his spine went ramrod straight and he took off running like a startled deer.

With a disappointed sigh, Ochako slumped against the cool wood countertop of the booth.

This was getting a little embarrassing.

“Oi Round-face, what’s your problem?”

Ochako wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, but it must have been long enough because the sound of a nearby voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Bolting upright Ochako found herself face-to-face with a scowling Bakugo. Not that the scowling part was surprising. Ochako could count on one hand the amount of times she had seen her classmate with an expression that wasn’t some level of displeased.

Despite all that, Ochako wasn’t entirely sure what she had done lately to irritate him. She thought back for a moment but nothing specific came to mind.

“Oh, um, hi Bakugo-kun,” said Ochako slowly. “Can I help you?”

“I asked what your problem was,” Bakugo repeated, ignoring Ochako’s question. “You look like someone ran over your dog or something.”

Sighing Ochako rested her elbow on the countertop and cradled her chin in her hand. Of all the people to catch her sulking it had to be Bakugo.

“It’s nothing.” Ochako said. Hopefully Bakugo would have the social grace to know she didn’t want to talk about it and just leave her in peace.

“Bullshit,” Bakugo grunted, folding his arms across his chest. “Tell me that again when your face isn’t all messed up.”

Nice, Ochako thought dully.

For a moment they stared at each other, silence stretching awkwardly between them as neither wanted to make the first move.

It was Ochako who gave up first, as Bakugo’s silent intense glare proved more effective then his explosive temper ever was.

Straightening up Ochako raised her arms above her head to work out some of the stray kinks. Training had been taking a lot out of her lately and to be honest she would rather be back at the dorms having a nice long soak rather than wasting her time here at this stupid booth, explaining herself to Bakugo of all people.

“It really is nothing.” Said Ochako, shrugging apathetically. “I…just haven’t had many customers is all.”

That clearly was not the answer Bakugo was looking for because his face twisted like he’d just eaten something sour. Though with the way his face looked normally it was hard to tell.

“What? You want to kiss a bunch of extras or something?”

“No!”

Ochako was aware that her voice was louder than it needed to be. Thankfully the general noise of the festival kept her little outburst from drawing any unwanted attention. This was not a conversation she wanted anyone else hearing. Heck this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to be having.

“It’s not that I want to kiss a bunch of strangers…” Ochako trailed off trying to figure out how best to phrase it. “I just feel like I’m not pulling my weight. You should have seen how much money Momo-chan made. They had to get a second jar.”

It wasn’t the most accurate explanation, but it was the closest approximation she could muster at the moment and, to be fair, it was mostly true. As much as she did not want to be the one kissing a bunch of sweaty high school boys on the cheek it was something, they all agreed to do. No one else wanted to do it either, except maybe Mina who seemed to thrive on the attention. Compared to Momo’s overflowing jar of earnings Ochako’s piddly pile of yen seemed embarrassing in comparison.

“I mean I know I’m not the prettiest girl in the class, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

Immediately Ochako’s hands went to her mouth like she could force the words back in if she moved fast enough. But it was far too late and her words were already hanging heavily in the air.

Maybe if she activated her quirk on herself and floated into space Bakugo would forget it ever happened.

Sure, it was a thought Ochako had had more than once during the last hour but she sure as heck hadn’t meant to say it aloud especially to Bakugo of all people.

It also wasn’t untrue.

The rest of the girls in the class had all out earned her by a significant margin. Momo, Tsuyu, Mina, and Hagakure had all earned more than five times what she had. Even Jiro with her prickly temper had managed to surpass Ochako by an embarrassing amount.

Most of the time Ochako hated comparing herself to her classmates. Something she considered the worst part about Hero Rankings was how it pitted them against each other. Usually about pointless stuff like how thin or fashionable they were.

Still, looking at her classmates with their pretty hair and their lithe bodies, the way their hands weren’t covered in scars and their shins weren’t covered in bruises. It made her feel ugly and clumsy. Like a big old fake who never belonged at U.A. in the first place.

Now was not the time for melancholy however, Ochako realized, remembering suddenly that she was not wallowing in self-pity alone.

Glancing up at Bakugo, Ochako felt herself balk. The look on his face reminded her of a statue of Asura she had seen at a temple as a little girl. Face twisted into a furious scowl, she could practically see the smoke leaking out of his ears. Or maybe it was just his palms. That was always an option too.

Of all the people she could have said that to, it had to be Bakugo. Class 1-A’s own King of Explodo-murder and Crown Prince of Arrogance.

“Never mind. I was just kidding,” said Ochako.

It was a lame attempt even to her own ears, but it was all she could think of at the moment.

Clearly even that was too little too late, as Bakugo leaned across the counter.

Even with his hands in his pockets and his slouched posture he seemed to tower over her. Maybe it was his larger than life attitude. Whatever it was, it took every inch of Ochako’s stubborn lack of self-preservation to keep from shrinking back.

“Look here Cheeks,” Bakugo snarled. His stare was intense as ever, daring Ochako to look away first. “I’m going to say this once so you better fucking clean out your ears and pay attention. Got it?”

Well what do you even say to that? Ochako wondered, nodding dumbly.

“You’re not ugly.”

Ochako stood silent for a moment, waiting for the rest. Apparently, Bakugo felt he’d said all there was to say because he leaned back on his heels looking somehow both grumpy and smug at the same time.

That…that was it?

For a second, Ochako was struck dumb.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but clearly, she had been expecting something. Because whatever the heck Bakugo had just said to her was not it.

Slowly, taking in Bakugo’s smug/grumpy posture, it dawned on her. Maybe in some strange, blunt, Bakugo way this was his way of making her feel better? Maybe?

All things considered it was pretty terrible, but he was obviously trying his best. Maybe it wasn’t the most eloquent extolling of her virtues but in spite of herself Ochako couldn’t help but cheer up a little. If nothing else Bakugo was known for being brutally honest so if anyone’s opinions on her ugliness or lack thereof could be trusted, it was probably his.

The whole thing was so surreal that Ochako could barely hold back a confused giggle. Now was not the time for that though. Later, when she was alone in her dorm and there was time for hysterics to set in would be a different story but right now, she needed to keep some semblance of composure.

“Thank you Bakugo-kun.” Ochako smiled sincerely because honestly it was the thought that counts. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

“Don’t mention it.” Bakugo grunted, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact now that he’d said his piece. Unfortunately for him, it left Ochako with a perfect view of the tips of his ears turning a rather telling red. “Seriously though don’t mention it to anyone or I’ll fucking kill you.”

It was such an obvious smokescreen to hide the fact he was being nice for once but Ochako chose not to call him on it.

“I will take it to my grave.” She promised with faux solemnity.

Normally even the slightest hint of mockery would have been enough to set Bakugo off on a tirade but Ochako must have caught him on a good day because all she got in return was a snort and a muttered idiot.

Sadly, like all good things, the moment had to come to an unfortunate end.

“Well, if it isn’t a pair of losers from class 1-A.”

Ochako wasn’t in the habit of making enemies. That was more the area of expertise of a certain classmate of hers. With that being said, Ochako had never been a fan of Monoma. While he had never really bothered her personally, she found his loud voice and contemptuous smirk to be more than a little obnoxious. To be fair, Bakugo was just as arrogant at times, but he at least had the skill to back up his bluster. Monoma on the other hand was full of hot air.

Speaking of air, the air surrounding Bakugo seemed to crackle dangerously with every step Monoma took towards them.

“What the fuck do you want shit stain?” Bakugo snarled, proverbial hackles raised.

Hands raised in mock surrender, Monoma sauntered over to the pair, unaware or uncaring of Bakugo’s characteristic ire.

“I was just coming over to see how much money your class had raised.” Monoma said, the picture of fake innocence.

Ochako glanced at the nearby jar, sitting nearly empty and winced. Part of her wanted to shout that they had raised plenty of money. It was just Ochako that hadn’t earned any, but it felt a little too pathetic to even say the words aloud.

“That is pretty pitiful,” said Monoma, shaking his head in mock despair.

Ochako had to bite back another wince at his words. He wasn’t wrong but he didn’t have to say it.

“Though I’m not really surprised. It is Class A after all,” continued Monoma. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a single 500-yen coin. “Well, I suppose I should do my part. At this point it’s practically charity.”

There was a lot Ochako would do for money. Embarrassing things like living off nothing but cheap ramen and day-old bread so she could afford to go to U.A. if the first place.

As it turned out, one of the things Ochako would not do for money was kiss Monoma. Not for all the money in the world. To be honest she would rather kiss Mineta and that was saying something.

Regrettably, it wasn’t like she had the luxury of turning anyone away at this point. Even if she weren’t desperate for a sale, Ochako knew Monoma well enough to know how this all would end. If she turned him away, he’d just make a fuss and that was more of a hassle than she wanted to deal with at this point. As unpleasant as the thought was, it seemed like the only way out would be for Ochako to swallow her pride and kiss the jerk.

Ew.

Suddenly a hand slammed down on the counter startling both Ochako and Monoma.

“Are your eyes broken or are you too stupid to understand how lines work?” demanded Bakugo. Glaring at Monoma like he’d enjoy nothing better than just punching him straight in the face.

Frankly he had shown an uncharacteristic amount of self-control thus far and Ochako was a little impressed.

“What?” replied Monoma, too confused to be insulted.

“Line ass-wipe.” Bakugo gestured to himself then Monoma. “I’m next in line.”

It took Ochako a full minute to realize that when Bakugo had slammed his hand on the countertop he had left behind a rather astonishing pile of 1000 yen notes. After that it should have been pretty simple to connect the dots but Ochako had to admit it took her another minute to understand what Bakugo was saying.

Thankfully, it looked like Monoma was having a similar problem as he stood there gaping. Scrambling to regain his composure, Monoma crossed his arms with a smirk.

“Are you going to get on with it then?” he said, waving his hand disdainfully at Ochako. It was a little too tempting for Ochako who wanted nothing more than to reach out and snap his skinny wrist like a twig. “I bet you don’t have the guts.”

Up till now Bakugo had shown significant restraint. Well, significant restraint for Bakugo. Ochako wasn’t sure if it was a sign of growth or if he had been dosed with something but whatever it was Bakugo had reached his limit.

Stance wide and palms up, Bakugo let loose a string of moderately sized explosions.

“Who the fuck do you think you are ordering me around?” Bakugo roared, towers of smoke rising from his hands. It truly spoke to the kind of school they went to that everyone of a five-meter radius simply took one look at the source of the commotion and kept on going.

Bakugo, as per usual, was oblivious to the attention he was drawing, too consumed with his rage.

“You think your gonna just stand there and watch, fucking pervert? Get the fuck out of here.”

If there was one thing to be said about Monoma he could rile people up like nobody else. Along with that however, he also seemed to know just how far to push to get a reaction before pulling back to keep himself from facing the consequences of his actions. It was practically a skill in and of itself really.

Shaking his head in dramatic dismay, Monoma turned on his heel and wandered off in search of someone else to bother. Though Ochako was able to take a little pleasure in the fact that his stride was just a little faster than necessary.

Eyes still a feral, Bakugo watched Monoma walk away until he finally disappeared from sight. It was a bit of a toss up for Ochako as to what was more of a relief. The fact that there hadn’t been a brawl in the middle of the festival that got them all expelled or the fact she could continue her life without the knowledge her lips had touched Monoma in any way.

Whatever the reason there was definitely some appreciation in order.

“Thanks, Bakugo-kun,” said Ochako.

It was possible Bakugo had forgotten she was even there because his head snapped around aggressively at her words. His expression was a confusing mixture of emotions as he tried to go from 0 to 100 back to 0 again. Or as close to zero as Bakugo ever got.

“I did not want to kiss him,” Ochako continued, sticking out her tongue theatrically.

Sure, it was a little over the top but since Bakugo had just come to her rescue the least she could do was give him an excuse to get himself back under control. Ochako’s gambit seemed to work as Bakugo’s shoulders came down and the tension left his body.

“I would fucking hope not,” said Bakugo with a sneer, though it was directed less at Ochako than at the situation as a whole.

The look was so full of disdain that Ochako couldn’t help but giggle. Not one to be laughed at, Ochako half expected him to snap at her but instead, a silence stretched between them that was more than a little confusing.

“So…?” prompted Ochako, hoping the hanging question would elicit some type of explanation as to what Bakugo wanted of her.

“So what?” Bakugo said, shoving his still smoldering palms into his pockets. “You’ve still got a job to do.”

Well that was both mystifying and a little cryptic, Ochako thought to herself as she stared at him blankly. It was only when Bakugo’s eyes darted down to the pile of money still sitting on the counter that realization dawned.

“You were serious?”

It was a stupid question, but the words left Ochako’s mouth before she could stop them.

“Of course, I was,” Bakugo snapped. “Do I look like a fucking clown to you? Walking around making stupid ass jokes or something?”

While Ochako had only been classmates with Bakugo for a little over a year, she liked to think she understood him about as well as anyone else in their class. Maybe not Deku or Kirishima, of course, but they were pretty exceptional exceptions. That being said, if Ochako didn’t know better she would almost swear that Bakugo was…embarrassed.

As soon as the thought entered her head, Ochako gave herself a mental shake. That was a weird line of thought and she was not going to pursue it any further. Today had been weird enough and she was not chasing that particular rabbit hole no matter how tempting.

Unfortunately, that still left Ochako with one temperamental classmate whose already short fuse was diminishing by the second.

“I just…I mean I thought you were just trying to scare Monoma-san off.” Ochako trailed off a little lamely.

Staring at her blankly Bakugo raised a single pale eyebrow. “If I wanted to do that, I would have just punched him in his fuckoff face.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Bakugo's shoulders seemed to hunch even further into a posture that would have looked defensive on anyone else but he somehow managed to make menacing.

“Look, if you’re that much of a wimp then I’ll just take my money and go.” Scowling, Bakugo reached out to grab his money off the counter. “Never figured you for a coward though Cheeks.”

Distantly Ochako was aware that her jaw had dropped open at Bakugo’s challenge but more presently she was fighting the overwhelming urge to grab Bakugo by his stupid spiky hair and chuck him into space. It’s a lot harder to be a jerk from orbit.

“Who said I wouldn’t do it?” Ochako sputtered, slamming her hand down on top of the money before Bakugo could take it. Like hell she was backing down from such an obvious challenge. “I never said that so just give me a minute.”

Face so blank it bordered on boredom, Bakugo leaned against the booth.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He grunted, pinning Ochako with an expectant stare.

This left Ochako in a bit of a predicament. Bakugo was intense at the best of times and with a five-foot radius. Having him this close, looking him in the eye, it was just too much for poor Ochako to handle.

Waving a hand in his general direction Ochako tried to hide her growing blush. No good making him think it was because of him or something.

“Your eyes are freaking me out okay? Can you just close them or something?”

This time it was Bakugo’s turn to give a long-suffering sigh but, surprisingly, he did what she asked.

Staring at Bakugo’s still too close face Ochako felt like she was having a mini-heart attack.

This was entirely different from when she had kissed Iida and Deku. With them it had been fun. Silly even. This felt way more serious. Like Bakugo was going to give her a report card at the end with a letter grade ranking her performance.

Now that she thought about it Ochako wouldn’t put it past him.

Alongside the looming possibility that Bakugo was secretly judging her kissing skills, Ochako was forced to come to another uncomfortable realization.

Studying his face up close Ochako had no choice but to confront the fact that while Bakugo had the personality of a wet cat, he wasn’t horrible to look at. It was hard to tell most of the time since his face was twisted up in a perpetual scowl but seeing him all calm and not screaming in anyone’s face Ochako was shocked to find he was kind of a pretty boy. Not that she would ever say that to him.

She liked her eyebrows where they were thank you very much.

This uncomfortable epiphany must have done some damage to Ochako’s brain because staring at Bakugo’s vulnerable face gave Ochako a renegade thought. For the festival Ochako was only obligated to give patrons a kiss on the cheek. That had been a condition the girls in the class had insisted upon and most of the boys had agreed though there had been a few vocal dissenters. They were of course dealt with quickly and without mercy.

That being said, staring into Bakugo’s stupid grumpy face Ochako couldn’t help but wonder what he would do in she kissed him right on his stupid lips.

Oh, that would serve him right wouldn’t it?

Sure, it might mean losing her first kiss to Bakugo of all people, but it would be worth it just to see the shocked look on his face.

That would teach him for calling her a coward.

Mind fully made up, Ochako leaned in to do the deed. As she got closer though an unexpected wave of butterflies exploded inside her stomach like Bakugo had set off a Butterfly Howitzer.

For someone so strict about personal boundaries as Bakugo, Ochako couldn’t remember ever being this close to his face before. So close, in fact, she could count his nearly invisible blonde eyelashes and much to her surprise she could see a handful of tiny scars littering his cheek bones. Collateral damage from his quirk she realized.

Just as she was about to press her lips to his though a tiny alarm went off in Ochako’s head.

Abort! Abort!

It was as though her brain had finally caught up with what she was doing and was trying desperately to stop her before she made a truly embarrassing mistake. What was she even thinking? She couldn’t kiss Bakugo. Not after he’d just saved her from Monoma.

They might not be friends per say but acquaintances didn’t kiss acquaintances on the lips without their permission. That was something villains did. All Might would be ashamed of her if she did that.

Swerving sharply at the last minute, Ochako pressed a quick kiss to Bakugo’s cheek. Okay maybe it caught the very corner of his lips but that didn’t count because…reasons.

It didn’t count. It didn’t count. It totally didn’t count. Ochako chanted to herself mentally as she pulled away.

Another distant part of her brain was busy wondering how Bakugo’s skin was so soft and whether the nice boy smell he had was specific to him or did all boys smell like that? Ochako quickly shoved whatever fried thought process that was to the very back of her brain because she was not dealing with that now.

Right now she had a metaphorical and sometimes literal time-bomb to deal with and there was simply no time to contemplate boy-smell.

Thankfully it seemed that Bakugo didn’t notice her mental breakdown as he pulled back, an complicated expression on his face.

“I told you I wasn’t a coward,” said Ochako trying to cover up the wild pounding of her heart and the fact that her face probably looked like a sunburned tomato.

For a second it looked like Bakugo was going to say something. His mouth hung open before stretching into what could charitably be called a smile. It was definitely more on the side of a smirk but Ochako counted it as a win nonetheless.

“I guess not.”

Internally Ochako heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed that Bakugo hadn’t noticed her near slip. Oh man, how had she almost made such an awful mistake? How would she ever be able to look Bakugo in the eye again if she had actually kissed him?

The thought alone was so embarrassing that Ochako had to find something to do with her hands lest she start pulling at her own hair. Trying to find something to do that didn’t involve looking at Bakugo, she quickly began to tidy up the stall.

It wasn’t like there was much to take care of but the pile of money was still sitting ever so innocently on the counter. Making a grab for it Ochako began to tidy the bills before moving to place them in the jar.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Ochako jumped, nearly knocking over the jar. To be honest she’d expected Bakugo to make a break for it at the first opportunity. She hadn’t really been expecting him to hang around. Yet he continued to surprise her.

“I’m getting ready to switch off,” replied Ochako casually. Trying to play it off like she hadn’t just jumped a foot in the air but fooling no one. “My shift is almost done.”

Bakugo scoffed, gesturing to the fist full of bills in Ochako’s hand. “You think that little peck is worth all that? That doesn’t seem like a fair trade to me”

Glancing down at his phone for a second, Bakugo met Ochako’s baffled stare.

“You’ve got 10 minutes left before the next girl takes over?”

Ochako could do little but nod. Where the heck he was going with this was a question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to.

“Better make it count then.” Bakugo’s gaze shifted slightly, taking on a considerable amount of challenge with a hint of smug satisfaction. “If you can.”

Okay first of all, how dare he? Ochako thought furiously as she stared in open mouthed shock at the audacity of the boy in front of her. Her second thought, although practically unconscious since she was already on the move, was how much she wanted to make this boy regret his entire damn life up to this point.

Hand braced on the counter-top Ochako leaned forward and grabbed Bakugo by the collar of the shirt. His smug, smirking face chasing any rational thoughts from her head and overriding any alarm bells that might have been going off.

Oh, she’d make it count all right. One of them was going to regret this and it sure wasn’t going to be her.

Probably.

[ithebookhoarder]

Hey! I love your story the gangsters daughter SO much and I was wondering if I could request something based on it?

Where it’s the night before Evie’s wedding and she goes to Tommy’s office to talk as she’s nervous and they have a fluffy moment where he doesn’t think he’s ready for her to get married! ☺️

Cold Feet (Parent!Tommy Shelby x Evie)

A/N: Ok ok ok. First of all anon, how dare you be so fluffing cute?! And second, OF COURSE YOU CAN! I love Evie and I’m always looking for excuses to write for my baby. Also, I’m totally not crying at the thought of Tommy having to let his little girl go and get married and just wanting her to be happy... I just have something in my eye. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Masterlist:

Tommy had always known this day would come. 

It was as inevitable as death was for every single living thing on this planet. 

No matter how hard he’d prayed that he’d have just a little more time left, his luck had finally run out. There was no delaying it any longer now that the day was almost upon him when his life would change in a way that would alter his world forever. 

It was tomorrow, in fact, that Tommy would see Evie shed the Shelby name for another. 

True, he could not have chosen a more worthy candidate, and knew Toby would love Evie as she deserved to be loved. That didn't lessen the sting it caused though, to know his days as the only male in her life were now over. Soon, she would no longer be his, no longer living in the same house as him. She would be a married woman, and that filled Tommy with incredible joy, and incredible sorrow at the same time.

This was the curse of fathers. 

It seemed only yesterday that she was small enough to not even care about boys, let alone marriage. He remembered a particular conversation with fondness, when Evie had only been with them a few months or so. 

It had been in the wake of a row over Ada’s most recent conquest at the time. An annoying boy, Liam had only lasted three dates before being scared off by Arthur, John, and Tommy.  Despite being nothing particularly special, Ada had been incredibly enraged, yelling about how she wanted to marry him and that she’d never find love again. 

Of course, Evie had found the whole thing hilarious, if not a little confusing. Hence, when she’d sat up in bed that night, as Tommy passed by her room one final time, he couldn’t help but smile at her quizzical expression. 

“But, Dad. If she loves him what’s wrong with that? Besides, Mum had a baby on her own… if Ada did end up pregnant would it really be so horrible? She’d have a child, like me, and you all warmed up to me pretty quickly.”

“Well,” Tommy had begun, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of this discussion with his only recently recovered twelve-year old daughter. Polly was always far better at talking about this kind of stuff. “It’s… you see… people tend to only have children when they’re married.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how things are done.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Tommy smirked. “Most people would agree with you, but a lot don’t. They can be horrible and cruel, even to women who were in love but weren’t married when they had a kid. So, we’re trying to spare Ada from that. It’s fucking complicated, but at the end of the day, she deserves to be happy, doesn’t she?” 

“Yes,” Evie sighed, suddenly staring down at her bedsheets nervously. “But… does that mean Auntie Martha was right? That I have to get married when I grow up? But Dad, the only boys I like are you… and my uncles… I don’t suppose I could marry one of them?”

Tommy immediately bit back his laughter as he shook his head and held her close. “I’m afraid Martha would object to you marrying our John. Besides, you don’t want one of us old men when you can find someone young and handsome who you love very much.”

“But how will I know who that is? Or if they’re good or not?” she asked innocently. 

“I’ll help you,” Tommy offered, not without a little hesitation. To even think such a time would exist, when he would have to part with his daughter, when he’d only just found her again… “You can depend on it. Any unworthy bastards will be driven away by me, and the hounds.”

At that Evie spluttered into laughter, before pressing a kiss to her father’s cheek. “Now that, I would pay to see.”

Well, that day had come and gone and Tommy hadn’t released any hounds. No. The only hound in sight was Cyril, and he’d warmed incredibly quickly to the new member of the family. 

He hadn’t been the only one either. In fact, Tommy had rolled out the red fucking carpet, welcoming the man into the family. Sure, it hadn’t been without its challenges along the way, but as much as Tommy hated to admit it, Toby was a good man. More than that, he’d proved his loyalty to the family, and to Evie, over and over again. 

If he had to part with Evie to anyone, then at least it was to someone as decent as Toby. It made the whole ordeal hurt just a little less as he sipped his whiskey and stared out of the study window. 

Despite the late hour, there were still faint laughs and shrieks of delight echoing from upstairs. Ada, Lara, Polly and Lizzie were most likely to blame, having taken charge of Evie’s so called ‘last night of freedom’. Tommy didn’t know what that entailed exactly and he didn’t even want to try and guess. Not given how much champagne they’d lugged upstairs with them earlier, having returned from a busy evening dancing at a local club. 

If they weren’t all hungover as hell in the morning it would be a minor miracle. 

Still, as long as they got their asses to church on time and didn’t throw up on the minister, then everything would be fine. No. It would be perfect. Tommy had promised Evie that much and he’d be damned before he failed to deliver a promise as solemn as this one. 

She’d done the same for him, twice in fact, even if his union to Lizzie had been a far simpler affair than his first marriage to Grace. 

At least Evie hadn’t insisted on there being a ‘father of the bride’ toast - even if Ada had… Somehow, Tommy knew his would never be anywhere as good as the ones his daughter had given. 

She always had had a way with words.  

“Dad?”

Tommy froze. 

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. 

He was startled by the sound of her voice, echoing from the open doorway, as if summoned by his worry. He’d almost thought he’d imagined it until he turned and saw her standing there, looking a little worse for wear in her finery. 

Apparently he’d been right; she’d had a very fun evening.  

“Evie?” he blinked, clearing his throat as he tried to compose himself. “What are you doing down here? It’s late and I thought you’d be upstairs celebrating a bit longer. Big day tomorrow.”

Evie smiled, shrugging as she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. She knew she never needed an invitation, having given up knocking long ago. 

“I was but… I don’t know. I just wanted to come and see you, if that’s alright?”

It would always be alright. Tommy hoped she knew that, even if the anxiety in her eyes said otherwise. Then again, he suspected the nervous energy wasn’t directly aimed at him.  

Over a decade later, he knew his daughter better than he knew himself. It was why he nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him in a clear invitation. “Of course it is, but won’t the others miss you?” 

“Oh, they’re all too busy finishing the last of the wine to miss me right away and… I don’t know why but I needed a minute away from everything. It was all a bit… much.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my world. This family has always been a bit much,” Tommy teased. That was why they both loved them though. The Shelby spirit was strong and made them who they were. They wouldn’t change it for the world, even if it did drive them nuts on occasion. 

And Toby was willingly entering this family, why? 

“I’m almost scared to ask what’s being going on up there.”

“Probably wise, Dad. No one should see thing things I have tonight.” 

“I thought so.”

A laugh escaped Evie’s lips as she sat beside him, accepting the glass of whiskey he handed her without a second thought. It was simply routine by this point, the two of them caught in a silent routine on nights like this when they needed to simply clear their heads and think. 

It was an unwritten agreement between the pair of them. As was the somewhat confessional nature this room had taken on in its time under the Shelby household. So much had happened since they’d first moved in to Arrow House, from Charles and Ruby being born, to losing Grace, to Evie falling in love, Tommy’s ascension to Parliament, losing John and Esme, Lizzie and Tommy’s wedding… 

Only a decade or so, and yet Evie felt like a whole novel would never be enough to capture her family’s history or the almost surreal events that had taken place.

“Besides, it’s been a while since we had a talk like this, Dad,” Evie continued, shrugging as she sipped her drink and stared at the room. “Everything’s been happening so fast since Toby proposed. It feels like we haven’t had a moment to breathe, really. You’ve been so helpful, agreeing to everything and allowing us to turn this place upside down. I can’t thank you enough for that, by the way. I half expected you to be like Arthur yelling at the florist earlier.”

“It’s the least I can do, Evie. It’s not every day my daughter gets married - and he yelled so I didn’t have to. Fucking trying to sneak carnations in when the order clearly said Clematis with the centrepieces.”

Evie snorted, failing to hide the fact hearing Tommy Shelby raging about flowers was possibly the funniest thing to have ever happened. Ever. Good thing he hadn’t been there when someone had accidentally delivered the wrong amount of chairs for the tent erected out on the lawn. She could only imagine the carnage that would have occurred.  

“My knight in shining armour.” 

“Always. No ring changes that, Evie. I’ll always be there for you, whether it be to fend off blind florists or worse.” 

Despite the fact he acted as if he was merely joking, Evie knew her father meant each and every word. He always had. Even with their ups and downs, he had never abandoned her, always trying to do what was best for her, even if he went about it the wrong way from time to time. 

When she thought back now, to the day she’d first met him in that graveyard, on what had been one of the darkest days of her life, she wished she could tell her younger self not to be afraid. To not be angry or scared of the future before her and the wondrous people that would be in it, thanks to the wonderful man she got to call her father. 

“Dad, can… can I ask you a question? About tomorrow?” 

Tommy hummed softly. “I don’t know what I can tell you about weddings, but fine. Of course.”

“It’s not about the wedding per say, more the bit after. I just… I’m scared, Dad. I don’t know why but I am.”

The words made Tommy’s heart plummet before he’d even realised what she’d said. It took everything in him not to panic or try and express the pain he felt at the idea his daughter was scared about what was supposed to be a happy day - a happy and expensive one, even if Tobias had money enough to cover a lot of the costs. 

“Of what?” 

“I don’t know,” Evie whispered, almost as if ashamed to confess it. “I’m so happy and excited to start the life together Toby and I have talked about for years but, now that it’s here? I don’t know. I just … I feel like I’m going to throw up or pass out and I don’t know why. Is something wrong with me? Who gets terrified of their own wedding?”

“Every fucking sane person on the planet,” Tommy countered swiftly, a hand reaching out to take hers. “As someone with experience here, you can trust me when I say everyone gets scared, Evie. Everyone. No matter how certain you are that you love the person or that this is the right next step.”  

“But why?” 

“Because it’s a big commitment,” Tommy continued, “and it’s a new chapter in your life. That’s exciting but also terrifying. To know you have a chance to start a family of your own? To choose your own path? That’s nothing to take lightly, and if I didn’t think you wanted this, or that you weren’t ready, I would have said something before now. You can count on that.” 

He had a point.  

“And I know you, Evelyn Shelby. You have never let anything or anyone stop you from going after what you want, even if it’s scary or someone says no. If being with Tobias is what you want, then so be it. You’re a grown woman, as much as I fucking hate to admit it. I think you’ve proven over and over again that you’re the bravest one out of the lot of us, and I’m so proud of you. Your Mother would be too. She’d want you to be happy and to enjoy tomorrow for what it is: the start of another chapter in your incredible life.” 

The thought of her absence was enough to make Evie’s eyes sting with tears, as was the conviction with which her father spoke about her. The pride was clear, even if he looked a little scared himself at what tomorrow would bring for them all. 

“Thank you.”

Tommy nodded, knowing better than to argue as she threw herself at him, coiling herself around him as she often did. Ever since the first time she’d done it, he’d been unable to resist it. So what? His daughter’s embrace was one of the few in the world that made him feel loved. It was as if her presence alone was enough to restore him, to banish whatever was troubling him. 

The thought he wouldn’t just be able to have such hugs so frequently made his heart ache even more. 

He didn’t want her to go. 

In his eyes, she was still the twelve-year-old girl he’d first met. She always would be, no matter how much she insisted on growing up and being a so called ‘adult’. It was why he planned on keeping her room upstairs exactly as it was now, just in the case she ever needed or even wanted it. 

That, and because he physically couldn’t bear to erase any remaining traces of her from his home. Of course, Lizzie had teased him rotten about it, even if she understood. Still young, Lizzie hated the thought of Ruby ever growing up and leaving her for anyone - let alone a husband. 

At least they had some time left before that would be happening. Tommy didn’t know if he could survive anymore heartache so soon.

“I love you, so much, Evie,” Tommy whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and holding her close. “You’ll always be my little girl, and you’ll always be welcome here. Anytime, day or night. This will still be your home, and we’ll still be your family. If anything, we’re simply gaining more members, not losing any. Understand?”

“Yes,” Evie nodded, wiping her eyes as she shot him a watery smile. “I love you too, Dad, even if I swear I’m supposed to be the one telling you all this. Isn’t it normally the father of the bride who’s supposed to get all teary eyed and jittery the night before?”

“We’ve never been conventional, Evie. In case you forgot, we have politicians, the Lee branch of the family, and Alfie fucking Solomons all coming tomorrow, for fucks sake. Why should we start worrying about tradition now?” 

Evie’s laughter was infectious at the picture of the eclectic scene awaiting them, especially considering how excited Alfie had been at the prospect of attending a Shelby wedding. Oh, Arthur was going to explode at the sight of the Jewish gangster sat in all his finery. That, and when he saw the huge gift he had been promising her for weeks now.  

She couldn’t wait.  

“True. Well, traditional or not, I’m so grateful for the life we have, Dad. I’ll never be able to tell you how grateful I am that you were the person who showed up at that graveyard,” she confessed. “There’s no one else in the whole world I want to be my side tomorrow. You’ll still walk me down the aisle, right?”

Tommy beamed. “How can you ask that, Evelyn Shelby? I’ve always been right beside you and tomorrow is no different. Wild horses couldn’t stop me.” 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tommy whispered, “simply enjoy yourself and let me and the others take care of the rest. That’s all the thanks we need… and maybe call once in a while, just so I know you’re alright.”

Evie laughed, knowing she would probably still end up here most of the time anyway after she was married. But she agreed, pleased to put his mind at rest as well as he’d put her own. “I really do love you, Dad.” 

“And I love you too, Evie. Always.”