#not sure if i want friday to come sooner or prolong this as much as possible

[midnightrings]

Okay, I decided to write down my predictions for the last episode. They might change throughout the week – especially as I’m planning to rewatch all the other episodes before the finale. But this is what I feel might happen as of now.

(under the cut due to spoilers, obviously – also: TW for mention of suicide)

First things first, the synopsis states that Tim will make a wrenching decision and combined with the title of the episode, I immediately got the feeling that the decision might be (assisted) suicide. From what I’ve seen in the tags, I’m definitely not the only one thinking that. Of course, this could also be a red herring – a synopsis is not supposed to spoil anything but meant to make you want to watch that episode. So this decision could be anything. However, Tim had 2 seizures by now, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to end his suffering by himself.

Another possibility is that Tim will decide to refuse medical help of some sort. My guess is that he might decide to leave the hospital against the doctors’ recommendations, which might lead to his death. We’ve seen how passionate he was within his work and activism, so maybe he’ll decide to fight instead of resting, knowing that it’ll barely make a difference either way.

This is also where Hawk’s storyline comes in. I think that Hawk will decide to stand by Tim’s side for once, possibly even come out – to some extent, at least – in the process. Lucy will probably set him another ultimatum, but he might refuse to choose this time. He won’t abandon his family, because he does love them, but neither do I see him abandoning Tim either. So he might try and find a way for himself to combine his two lives.

Speaking of Lucy’s possible ultimatum, I can definitely see her try and convince Tim to send Hawk away. However, she’s been shown to be quite compassionate, so I’m not sure whether she’ll be able to confront Tim face-to-face while he is dying. Perhaps, her words will still convince him in one way or another to tell Hawk to let him go, but I can’t imagine it to be malicious in any way. And I believe that her ultimatum will probably be that she decides to leave Hawk. She, too, deserves to be free from him. I can see their marriage coming to an end here – be it through divorce or just deciding to live separate lives.

What I’m most curious about is what will happen in ’57. I feel like the final episode will mostly focus on the 80s – there’s still a lot left to unpack here. And with each episode, I’m less convinced that they kept Hawk’s betrayal from the book. Maybe I’m wrong, but at this point, Hawk has done more than enough to explain their relationship in the 80s. If I didn’t know that their 50s storyline isn’t finished yet, I wouldn’t expect anything more to happen. Maybe the ’57 scenes are only there because this is when their relationship ended in the book, and instead of focusing solely on the 80s and Tim’s inevitable death, they decided to add some happy moments too. Of course, it didn’t work out between them back then, so something must have happened, but it might not be that dramatic. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself that the final episode won’t wreck me completely and that there’s something to look forward to lmao

Overall, I have the feeling that maybe Hawk and Tim will make the mutual decision to say goodbye before Tim dies. So instead of Hawk running away or Tim pushing him away, they will part ways on their own terms this time. What I hope most for is that Hawk will tell Tim that he loves him. I’m prepared for everything else but I need Hawk to finally be open and honest with Tim before the whole thing is over.

[moral-turpitudes]

House Calls: Part 2

A/N: This was hella long and I’m stubborn so I apologize if the spacing is a bit wonky. Nevertheless, I hope this reads well, as I’ve added some line breaks in the story to help.

Trigger Warnings: Awkward af, Angst, Fluff, Maybe Swearing? 

Word Count: 4,139 

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader 

Requested by: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ and I think some other people so enjoy! :)

Summary: After taking care of Charlie one early morning, Y/N remembers the date she made with Thomas as a deal regarding her payment for her efforts. But it didn’t take long for it to be more than they bargained for.

Part 1 | Part 2

It was Friday evening and you’d just finished up a hectic day at the children’s hospital. You’d had 2 house calls and 4 appointments at your office almost back to back.

With a sigh of relief you sat lazily in your chair at your desk, finishing up patient reports and going over the requests from the previous couple of days. You smiled slightly when your finger traced over the name typed on the rigid paper.

“House Call Request: Mr. Thomas Shelby.”

It had been 5 days since the early house call, and your job being so busy often left you with little down time, but you quickly shuffled the papers away and took in a deep breath before picking up the phone.

“Hello, this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N, can you connect me to Mr. Thomas Shelby please?” You asked the phone operator. You heard the clicking and frazzled line as you waited, your heart racing as the seconds passed.

“Thomas Shelby.” He said tersely.

“Uh-hello...Thomas, it’s Dr. Y/L/N from a few nights ago...I was just wanting to let you know I was free.” You said, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward. Any composure you usually had when working over the phone completely slipped your mind.

“Y/N...nice to hear from you. How about you meet me here at 7?” He asked, his voice sending your heart over the edge.

“Sounds great, I’ll see you then. Goodbye.” You said quickly as you shakily put down the phone. Your stomach was doing flips as you frantically looked at your small closet that housed extra clothes for messy house visits or appointments.

“God I hope I have something in here....” You thought to yourself as you pulled out a knee-length black dress. Your heels were in the bottom compartment and so you rummaged around until you found a pair that were dark red.

“This should do...” You whispered as you took off your white lab coat and shimmied out of your tattered blue dress. You glanced at the clock as you got ready, taking the pins out of your hair and going through your spare makeup to find a dark red lipstick and black mascara. You finished your makeup hastily, knowing it wasn’t the amount you preferred especially for meeting someone such as Thomas Shelby.

The tension inside you went away slightly as you packed up various things in your office, temporarily taking your mind off the coming plans.

With a loud dinging sound, the clock struck half past 6, signaling it was time to leave. Reluctantly, you gathered your things and put on your old black coat, taking one last look in your mirror before locking the door behind you.

The drive was a bit rocky as it was sprinkling outside, the rain drops coming down like glitter on the dark dirt roads. As you parked and got out, your heels slightly sunk into the dirt as you walked towards the steps of the shop.

When you walked in you were greeted by a woman at one of the front desks, her hair was dark and her eyes tired but alert all the same.

“Hello dear. You must be-“ She started to say, but a deep familiar voice said your name before she could.

“Y/N, welcome. This is my aunt Polly Gray, Polly this is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” He said, quickly putting on his coat and his flat cap, the razor blade glinting in the dim light of the shop.

“Nice to meet you Ms. Gray.” You said, smiling and holding out your hand for her to shake.

She shook back with a firm grip, her eyes seemingly boring into yours as she spoke.

“Y/N, Thomas has said so many nice things about you. Would you care for a tour?” She asked.

“I think we better get going.” Thomas said, impatiently lighting a cigarette.

“Tommy it’s the first time we’ve had a guest since sprucing up the place, let me have this one moment.” She said looking annoyed at her nephew.

“Ten minutes.” He said, glancing at you with tired eyes.

You looked around at all the desks and various piles of papers that the assistants were working on, typing what seemed to be the last of their work for the day, and you heard loud chatter in the meeting room, with men drinking and writing numbers on a board and yelling every now and then.

“This is Tommy’s office, and here’s the washrooms. No ones allowed in without knocking, but since he’s not in there we’ll sneak around.” She said smirking.

“I like what you all have done to the place, I imagine it was a bit hectic before?” You asked.

“Yes. Papers strewn everywhere, faulty lights, cracking walls, luckily we came into some money.” She said, sparing any grim details.

“I see...” you said, walking over to his desk and smiling at the picture of Charlie.

“He’s talked so much about how great you were with him. Thank you for helping him the other night.” She said walking near you.

“It was no problem, really. He’s a sweet boy.” You said, as you looked at another picture of Thomas from what must’ve been a few years ago during the war.

“I’m surprised he still has that picture, considering he threw his medals in the cut...he got sent off to France with his brothers, but I’m sure he’ll tell you about that eventually.” She said, her eyes looking a bit sad. You looked at the clock on his wall, causing you to head to the door.

“Probably not a good idea to keep him waiting eh?” You asked smiling a bit to try to lighten her mood.

“Right! Sorry, those times distract me dear. It was nice meeting you Y/N, we’ll have to introduce you to the rest of the family sometime.” She said rushing you out the door and towards the lobby.

“How was the grand tour?” He asked, eyeing Polly’s sullen face.

“It was great...so where are we going Tommy?” You asked, getting him to look at you.

“The Garrison.” He said, stomping his cigarette into the floor and nodding his cap at Polly before helping you out the door.

“So is this where you grew up?” You asked, gripping your coat tighter as the cool night air crept across your skin. The rain was coming down a bit harder now, as you all hastily walked to the bar.

“Yes, like what you see?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you and smirking as you looked only at him and not at the town he grew up in.

Your face heated up as you realized you’d been staring, quickly looking away and towards the entrance to the bar.

Once inside, you shook the droplets off your coat as the smell of smoke and various alcohols filled your lungs.

Your heart skipped a beat as he took your hand in his which was warm compared to yours and led you through the crowds and to the bar.

“What’ll it be Mr. Shelby?” The bartender asked.

“Whiskey, Irish as usual.” Tommy said.

“And for the lady?” The man asked eyeing you.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic please.” You said.

You looked around at all the people, some were drunk already, some were dancing to the barely audible music being played, and others were having quiet conversations at the small tables in the middle of the place.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” He said.

Tommy took the bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses as you took your gin, but before he could walk away you spoke.

“Wait don’t we have to pay?” You asked, looking back at the already occupied bartender.

“You’re with a Shelby...it’s on the house.” He said as he led you to a table towards the back of the bar.

He sat down and lit a cigarette before taking a swig of his whiskey, watching you as you sipped your gin.

“So...Polly mentioned you’ve been talking about me...I hope it’s not anything too terrible...” You said a small smirk playing at your lips, looking at him as he gulped down the last of his shot.

“I assure you it’s nothing bad, I’ve told them about how good you were with Charlie. You saved me from one hell of a week.” He said grinning a bit.

“How is he by the way? He looks so much like you ya know...couldn’t deny he’s yours.” You said, hoping the gin would kick in sooner rather than later so you’d be able to talk as if a an anxious hand wasn’t gripping your throat.

You could see his tired eyes light up slightly as he spoke.

“He’s doing better, his cough is going away and the fever’s gone.” He said.

“I’m happy to hear that, he’s a sweet boy.” You said.

Tommy nodded as he looked at you, making you a bit self-conscious all of a sudden. If there was one thing he truly mastered over the years it was definitely making prolonged eye contact with people.

“So, how was work today?” You asked, taking a larger sip of your gin.

“Well I was supposed to be off. I had Polly clear my schedule, but something came up. Work is never really done is it?” He asked taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Not until we’re dead.” You said.

He chuckled at that, easing your nerves a bit.

“So what did Polly show you?” He asked, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and offering you one. The night was still young so you accepted it, the brown liquid burning your throat as it went down, making your face turn up slightly.

“Not a fan of whiskey aye?” He asked, a smile forming on his face.

“Only when I’m drunk enough.” You said, the rest of your gin hitting your system a bit.

“Polly showed me around the shop as you saw, and...your office.” You said, seeing him tense up slightly.

“I loved the pictures of Charlie and you on your desk. I didn’t touch anything though, I swear it.” You said, finishing your gin.

“What’d Polly tell you?” He asked, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“She thanked me for taking care of Charlie...and she mentioned you were in France...during the war...” You said looking down at the empty glass.

When you lifted your eyes up you were met with his face turned away from you, staring out the window, lost in thought.

“I-I’m sorry Tommy. I didn’t mean to upset you.” You said, reaching for his hand. The contact broke him out of whatever thoughts he’d had, his eyes searching yours.

“It’s alright. Just a difficult time that’s all. It changes you.” He said, looking at your hand in his.

“You don’t have to talk about it unless you want to.” You said, looking at his tired eyes, knowing he probably had trouble sleeping ever since.

He took a deep breath before downing another shot, you downing yours a bit later, trying to come up with a way to make the night better.

“I was a clay-kicker. We dug tunnels and planted bombs...One night we’d heard them digging right at us, so we waited knowing death was coming for us. We were prepared to die there....I can still hear the bombs exploding...the shovels scraping...” He said breaking the silence.

“Well, you’re here. That’s all that matters now Tommy.” You said, realizing he’d been holding onto your hand the whole time.

As the couple of shots you’d drank ran through your bloodstream, you saw him let his guard down slightly as the night drug on. Ordering you another gin so you wouldn’t have to deal with the whiskey as much.

“So you like gin aye?” He asked.

“Yeah, why?” You asked grinning as you took a sip of the cold, clear liquid.

“I make gin.” He said, lighting a cigarette once again.

“Oh really? I’ll have to try it sometime.” You said, your vision going slightly fuzzy as you grew more tipsy.

“How about tonight?” He asked. You pursed your lips in thought before answering.

“Alright, I’m never one to shy away from new things. Is it here?” You asked, glancing at the bar.

“No. Stored away at the warehouse, we ship some of it out but I’ve got over a hundred and thirty bottles stashed away.” He said.

“Who are you saving all of it for?” You asked.

Tommy thought for a moment, the images of Grace slipping away for once as he stared at the woman in front of him.

“For the right person I suppose.” He said.

Your cheeks heated up at the thought, causing you to look away.

Tommy continued to stare, taking in every part of you, knowing all the women he’d loved in the past usually came with a time limit. It had only been a matter of days, but he knew in his bones he felt some way towards you, no one had felt this special to him since Grace. And as much as it excited him, it also terrified him.

“Would you like to go?” He asked.

“I’d love to.” You said, clinking your glass with his as you both finished off your drinks before heading off.

The sky was as dark as ever, the moonlight guiding your path as Tommy drove towards the warehouse. The air was chilled and you could see your breath when talking.

As he parked, he ran round to help you out, holding you steady as your heels sunk more into the dirt. The rain subsided luckily, making the trek over to the heavy wooden doors somewhat bearable.

“It’s back here.” He said, prying open a crate of clear bottles, the Shelby Co. Ltd. label catching your eye, along with the description.

“Distilled for the eradication of seemingly incurable sadness.” You said, reading it aloud.

“When my wife died...I started this partly for business...and partly for myself to take my mind off everything.” He said.

You nodded and sat on an old crate and watched him open the bottle and pour you both a glass.

“To the eradication of sadness, aye?” He asked raising his glass to yours.

“To the eradication of sadness.” You said smiling before taking a drink. It was slightly sweeter than the one at the Garrison, but it went down smoothly to your surprise.

Tommy looked down into his glass, getting lost in thought as the rain started up again. The heavy drops pounding on the roof of the warehouse as you sat there in drunken silence.

You had both nearly finished the bottle when the thunder grew louder over the wooden structure, your eyes lazily looking through one of the windows as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Do you want to do something fun?” You asked, lifting your head off his shoulder and looking up into his eyes. They drew you in no matter how many times you tried looking away.

“What do you have in mind?” He said, raising his brow with a slight grin.

“Do you like to dance?” You asked, knowing you were fully drunk at this point.

He looked at you as if he was searching for himself in your eyes, searching for some portion of him that he could still grasp onto amidst all the noise.

“I suppose.” Was all he said, not wanting to deal with absolutes. A yes would mean he’d have to be amazing at remembering the moves and dig past all the muck to find his old self, who’d smile and dance and ride horses all the time. A no would make the beautiful woman before him frown from disappointment. So he reluctantly got up and took her hand as she led the way, giggling slightly as she staggered slightly through the dirt covered floors.

“We’re dancing in the rain.” You said, grinning mischievously and leading him out the door.

“Fuck these shoes.” You said, taking them off so you wouldn’t sink your heels into the mud. You sat them by the door and Tommy watched as you took a large step onto the dark muddy ground looking up at the huge raindrops coming down. 

“Are you mad?” He asked walking to you and putting his arms around your waist.

“I’m just living in the moment Tommy. Try it.” You said, swaying a bit as you put one of your hands in his.

He smiled and shook his head, the moonlight illuminating his features as he spoke.

“We’re going to get sick you know.” He said looking down at you, admiring how the rain made your hair shine and your skin glisten as the drops fell around you.

“Well...it’s a good thing I’m a doctor then huh?” You said smirking as you locked eyes with him. Yours trailing to his lips and his doing the same to yours.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as you kissed, all the worries either of you had vanishing for a moment as the rain danced around you.

“Have you thought about expanding your practice?” He asked, breaking the kiss.

“Yes......why?” You asked, bringing your arms up around his shoulders as his rested on your waist.

“I figured it could be good for you, you could get out of Birmingham for a while. Have a new range of patients.” He said.

“Tommy....I can’t just up and leave, I have a life there you know.” You said, looking up at him. His eyes were set on yours, almost pleading.

“I’ll think about it, alright? But if I do decide to move out here...where will I go? Who will I help?” You asked, knowing there were only a couple of doctors in Small Heath, all old and withering away with age. And the apartments around here weren’t exactly aging any better.

“I have plan for that...if you’d let me help you. I have a couple of people in the family that you could help, only when needed of course.” He said.

“Are you wanting to hire me as the Shelby family doctor then?” You asked, smirking as he looked up at the rain.

“It would be nice not having to go to the hospitals all the time. Raises too much suspicion.” He said.

“Will I get to see that sweet boy of yours? I can’t drop my children’s practice entirely you know.” You said, the nerves bundling up in your stomach as you thought about a possible future here.

“Of course. Like I said, I have a plan.” He said smiling down at you.

You raised your hand up cupping his cheek lightly, the rain just missing his face thanks to his peaked cap.

“You and your plans Tommy...At least tell me what it is, for business purposes...” You said before he pressed his lips to yours again.

“I’ll tell you, but only after a few more dates.” He said giving you a half smile that melted your heart.

“Deal.” You said, taking his hand in yours as you walked back toward the warehouse.

The sudden movements made your skin crawl as the cold wind blew through.

“You cold?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said, drawing your damp coat tightly around you.

Unlike you, he was used to the cold, having slept in muddy tunnels and trenches for nights on end, so he swiftly took his coat off and draped it around your shoulders, the scent of cologne and cigarette smoke radiating from the fabric.

“Now how about we go home aye?” He asked.

“Home?” You asked, sobering up as the night drug on.

“I’m not letting a lady drive herself through town this late, you can stay at mine.” He said, walking to his car and helping you in.

“Alright, but listen. I’m tired and I’d just like to sleep. No funny business.” You said holding up a finger at him.

“Why not?” He asked jokingly.

“I don’t fuck on first dates.” You said bluntly, cringing internally at the one time you did.

“Alright then.” He said, looking at you as he lit a cigarette. He smirked a bit before turning the engine on, respecting your decision but also intrigued that you were more hard to get than some other women he’s encountered in the past.

The drive was a bit long, making you want to fall asleep right there in the car, but the sounds of the gate to his grand driveway opening and closing kept you up. You lazily put your heels on before walking in the large house, the clicking of them echoing throughout the long halls.

“I assume you remember where the rooms are. My room is to the left of Charlie’s, I’m going to check on him but you can make yourself at home. There’s extra clothes in the dresser.” He said going up the stairs as you looked around. Your heart raced at the thought of sleeping beside him, the portrait of his late wife seemingly judging you as you walked up the stairs and into the bedroom.

While there, you hurriedly washed your already smudged makeup off and put one of his shirts on, letting it skim across your thighs as you walked back into the room.

Pulling the covers back on the huge queen bed, you heard Tommy talking sweetly to Charlie before hearing him shut the door. You had just made yourself comfortable when he’d walked in, a small smile plastered across his face that you’d seen so many times with parents.

“Was he asleep when you walked in?” You asked breaking the silence as he quickly changed clothes, causing you to sneak a glance at him before he climbed into the bed with you. It was a foreign feeling, sharing a bed with someone other than yourself, but you took in the moment, not knowing just how many you’d spend like this.

“He was until I walked in...had to tell him stories and play with his horse toy until he fell back to sleep.” He said, pulling you closer to him.

“Awe...I’m sure he was happy to see you though.” You said yawning lightly.

“Lets get to bed, don’t want you passing out on me tomorrow.” He said smirking down at you.

“Goodnight Tommy.” You said quietly.

“Goodnight.” He said, staring at the ceiling like he did so many nights, hoping that this time he’d be able to sleep somewhat peacefully.

The next morning, the birds chirped wildly outside as you and Tommy got up. The light from the windows blinding you both as hangovers clouded both your heads.

Tommy let out a cough and you managed a sneeze, as both of you felt like it was more than just hangover as the minutes passed, both of your heads feeling stuffed and your skin feeling a bit warmer than usual.

Tommy gave you a annoyed look as he sat up in bed, regretting his life decisions in that moment.

“What? Don’t look at me like that...” You said, getting up from the bed.

“I told you we’d get sick, you just had to live in the moment...” He said, mocking your words and watching you as you made your way to the bathroom. He watched as his shirt rode up your exposed legs as you leaned over the sink, splashing your face with cool water to help with your fever a bit.

“You could’ve stopped me you know...” You said dryer your face and then sitting next to him, checking his temperature with the back of your hand.

“Will this be going in your patient records?” He asked as you handed him a cold rag to put over his neck.

You smiled weakly as you spoke, clearly more sick from your actions than he was.

“No...we’re going to keep this one off the record...alright?” You said.

“Alright.” He said, getting up and slowly walking to his study downstairs. You got dressed in your now-dry dress and walked down the stairs to see the nanny with Charlie in the other room. You waved to him as he smiled, his appearance looking better than the last time you’d seen him.

“Hello Arthur. I won’t be in today, I’m a bit under the weather...yeah...it’s a long story. Aye don’t let the power get to your head alright brother? I’ll be back tomorrow.” You heard him say, causing you to chuckle as he walked out of his office.

You looked at his tired eyes and red nose, knowing you weren’t going to your home just yet.

Sighing and running a hand along your cold arms, you turned to him and checked is temperature again just in case.

“What?” He asked as you smirked to yourself.

“I guess today will just have to be like another house call...” You said, kissing his cheek before heading towards the bedroom again, knowing you’ll both be spending more time in there than originally planned.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed just send me an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee, @thomashelbyswhore

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Epilogue

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there the two step into a dangerous dance together.

Epilogue: What Alfie wrote

          Dear Teddy,

           Your mother named you just a few moments after you were born. We gave you a Hebrew name as well to please everyone in Camden Town. Tovi means my good. You are my good. Sometimes I cannot believe that you are actually my son. You have been blessed with your mother’s patience and intelligence.

           You have great potential and I hope that you fulfill everything you desire. When I was your age, I was running the streets of Camden. I did not think I would ever have a family.

           When I met your mother, I realized I could. She gave me everything including you. I doubted I would ever be enough for you. I thought I would fail as a father, especially since I knew I would not see you grow into the adult you are now.

           Truth be told, I never anticipate seeing you to your first birthday. I expected you to never have a memory of me. I thought that would be best. I did not want to disappoint you. I figured your mother could tell you everything you wanted to know. She could always paint me in a better light.

           Then you said your first word. It was dad. I was your first word. Then you learned how to say ‘I love you’. You kept saying it to your mother. Repeating ‘I love you’ all day. Then when I tucked you into bed, you said it to me. Teddy, I cannot tell you the joy it is to hear your child say such words. I can only hope one day you experience the same joy.

           I am sorry I cannot be there for you the way a father should be. There will be many things I miss. I can only dream of the things you will accomplish. But being there in your first years of life was truly a gift. A fitting send-off. I can go peacefully knowing I have experienced true happiness and love.

           Know that I will always be there with you in spirit; no matter what path you choose to walk. I trust you will take good care of your mother. I love you both more than I could possibly put into words. I hope this letter is enough, I hope I was enough. Because you both were my entire world.

           I promise I will not make this letter into a novel. But I wanted to tell you a few of my favorite memories, tell you a few things you might never have heard.

           I met your mother in Camden Town. She was applying for the position as my secretary. Clever as a whip, negotiated an extra pound for her salary. Knocked the wind right out of me. Could never take my eyes off of her…

~~~~~~~~~~

           Teddy’s eighteenth birthday was as festive of an occasion as Louise could make it. She threw him an extravagant party at Inglewood, letting him invite whoever he wanted. He and his best mates spent the day fox hunting. Teddy proudly showing off, Henry, one of his birthday presents. A strong thoroughbred draft cross gelding. Afterward, there was a party for Louise’s beloved son. Inviting everyone she considered both friends and family from Surrey all the way to Camden Town.

           When the party eventually died down, Louise found her son looking at pictures of Alfie in the study.

           “One more gift.” She said gently and touched his shoulder.

           The young man smiled and took the envelope and small box from her. “Think you’ve spoiled me enough, mum.” He chuckled and opened the box.

           “That was your father’s.” She explained, her lower lip already trembling.

           Teddy set the envelope aside to hold up the pocket watch. His father’s initials were carved into the back of the gold surface. With a bit of polishing and a tune-up, it was in fairly good shape considering how old it was. “I uh…” He wasn’t sure what to saw as he caught his reflection in the watch’s face. His mother always said how much he looked like his father. Teddy could see the resemblance, even if he didn’t sport the same beard Alfie did.

           He imagined his father’s reflection and wished he could be there.

           Louise picked up the envelope off the desk and handed it to him. “Take your time.” She said softly, her hazel eyes welling up with tears. “If you want to wait, you can. Read it when you’re ready.”

           Teddy read the front of the envelope even though he already knew what it said.

           To Theodore Tovi Solomons. To be read on his eighteenth birthday, September 16th, 1944.

           He had sat there, watched his father write the words he had been waiting for. Back then; he didn’t know Alfie was even sick.

           Teddy swallowed and nodded. “Thanks, mum.” He whispered and wandered out of the study, slipping the pocket watch into his coat. He walked out to the patio, still illuminated with lanterns from the party. Finding a seat, he flipped the envelope over. His hand shook while he slowly tore at the flap, slipping out the pages Alfie had written just for him.

           With a deep breath, Teddy unfolded the pages and began to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Girls!” Louise whistled out to the field. “C’mon, then!”

           Tommy chuckled as he walked over to the fence. “Look at that, three generations.”

           Paris’s daughter, Lille had recently become a grandmother. The Friesian mare had passed a few years earlier from old age. But her line with Burr continued creating British racing legends all named after French cities. Lille had come in second at Epsom, her filly, Marseille, won it. Now Marseille had produced a long-legged colt that looked like a winner even at just a few days old.

           Toulouse, black as night, walked on shaky legs. Snorting out little bursts of high pitched sounds, unsure of the brand new world around him. His mother nudged him assuredly, following Lille to the fence.

           “He’s healthy as can be.” Louise smiled warmly at the foal. “The delivery went so smoothly, Mar was such a trooper through it. Should’ve seen him, energetic the second he was born. Got up on his feet much sooner than I expected.

           “Can’t imagine how fast he’ll be, looks like he’ll be able to outrun his mum in just a few weeks.” Tommy agreed and rested his forearms on the fence. “Won’t be too big by the looks of it, but he’ll be a stunner, aye?”

           Lille nosed at the Brummie’s arm, recognizing his scent from her days at Charlie’s yard and on the track.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Louise had invested herself in the horses. She was extremely close to May Carleton and the two worked together many times before. Both widows were eager to give their horses the best while producing a few racehorses who were hard to beat. They often had horses going head to head at derbies, but there was no malice. Whoever’s horse one would simply buy drinks when they celebrated afterward.

           It had been nearly sixteen years since Louise lost Alfie. He hung on much longer than any doctor expected and saw Teddy to his sixth birthday. It was a difficult road and in the end, it was painful to watch Alfie suffer so badly. And sometimes Louise felt guilty. He had finally confided in her about his plan to die via Tommy Shelby a few years after the fact. She was horrified but came to understand his process of thinking. She was just glad Tommy had refused. Still, she wondered if she should’ve let Alfie go much earlier. He wouldn’t have suffered as much as he did. Maybe she was being selfish for continuing to encourage him to keep fighting.

           One night a few months after Teddy’s sixth birthday, he was incoherent. He’d been in rough shape the entire week and requested to go to Margate, aware of his declining health and wanting to be where he planned to die. It was winter and the wind on the beach was brutal. By Friday, he could hardly stand on his own, had no appetite, and was sleeping often.

           Teddy kissed his father goodnight, oblivious to anything going wrong. Alfie smiled and said he loved him more than the world itself. Louise put Teddy to bed and returned to find her husband staring up at the ceiling. He was slowly fading away right in front of her.

           “Not going make it tonight, Lou.” He wheezed quietly.

           Tears filled her eyes and she curled up beside him. “I know.” She whispered and held him close.

           He smiled and shakily wrapped an arm around her. “Really thought Tommy would end me. He had so many fucking chances, didn’t he?”

           Louise wanted to laugh with him but she was so terrified to lose her best friend. There was no way to prepare herself for living without him. “Wait for me, Alfie.”

           He chuckled with a wince. It was too painful to even breathe. “Love, we ain’t going to the same place.” It didn’t matter what he believed in, heaven or hell or nothing. If there were such places then he was certain his wife would be up on high while he’d be paying for his sins down below.

           “Yes, we are.” She insisted. “And you wait there for me. Wait for me.”

           He heard the tears in her voice so he nodded and kissed her hair. “Sure, love. I’ll wait.”

           She stayed up with him as he slipped away. He became delirious, just mumbling incoherent words while she listened to every agonizing breath he took, prolonging the time he had left with her.

           Around midnight, he closed his eyes but continued to keep breathing. He wouldn’t go without her permission.

           Louise pressed her tear-stained face to his shoulder. “It’s okay.” She said. “You can let go, love. You’ve fought so long. You can rest now. We’ll be okay and we’ll always love you. Let go, Alfie.”

           Seconds later, his chest stilled after one final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

           “I’ve got another foal as well.” Louise pointed out a mare sniffed a foal that was lying in the grass. “Only born yesterday. Sired by one of May’s, that big chestnut with the blaze? Strong stallion with a smooth gait.

           “Ah, yes.” Tommy nodded when he spotted the foal. He stroked Lille’s cheek, absent-mindedly smoothing his palm over her black coat. “Handsome, what’s his name?”

           “Haven’t named him yet.” She admitted, leaning against the fence. “Usually leave it to Teddy but he’s been busy lately.”

           “How ‘bout Solomons’s Secret?” He smiled slightly with a shrug. “Call me uncreative.”

           Louise laughed softly and nodded. “I do like that. I think Teddy will love it.”

           “Teddy’ll love what?” At twenty, Teddy Solomons was tall, just like his grandfather whom he’d never met but was familiar with his portrait that still hung in the foyer. He was a few inches taller than Alfie was but greatly resembled his father. His striking blue-green eyes and wavy brown hair were uncannily Alfie.

           “There he is.” Tommy turned to see Alfie’s only child. It spooked him sometimes to see how much the teenager looked like the late gangster. But he’d taken on his mother’s manner. He was clever as a whip just like his father but tended to be on the quieter side.

           “Mr. Shelby.” Teddy smiled and shook hands with the older man. “Pleasure to see you again.”

           “Must’ve grown a foot since I’ve seen you last.” Tommy chuckled. “My daughter’s come along if you’d like to meet her.” He glanced over to the Bentley parked in the gravel drive. “She’ll probably be reading in the car, always got her nose in a book. Let me fetch her.”

           Louise smiled at her son. “What do you think of Solomons’ Secret as a name for the new colt?” She asked in Tommy’s absence.

           Teddy’s blue eyes looked over the pasture to find the reddish-colored foal. “Yeah, I like that.” He agreed and shoved a hand in his pocket. He’d been born into the luxury that Alfie left behind to his family. Educated and kept safely away from the way his father had been raised. It was everything Alfie wanted for him.

           But when he was thirteen, Europe erupted into chaos. A second world war took hold and Louise was terrified of losing her son. She held her breath when he turned eighteen and the war was still raging on. He was drafted, despite her attempts to forge medical paperwork and get him exempt. Anything to keep her son away from the front lines.

           Teddy insisted he served, just as his father had. Only six months in the British armed forces and he suffered an accident that had him discharged. A grenade had nearly torn off his leg, but he was returned to his mother with all four limbs, a massive scar that traveled from his thigh to his knee, and a chronic limp that he tried to conceal.

           Louise knew it was Alfie’s spirit keeping his son alive.

           The young man suffered through PTSD, much like many men who served, but he found his footing and was off to university in the fall. It was much easier sending him off to London than it was letting him leave for war. But Louise was still having a hard time with it.

           His mother sighed and touched his cheek. “What’ll I do with Henry when you’re off to university?” She pouted.

           The young man chuckled and shrugged. He’d be off to London soon. “I suppose you could ride him instead. Besides, I’ll be back, mum, not leaving for good. I’ve got a car as well.”

           She smiled sadly. “I know, but I’ll miss you. So you better visit often or I’ll ring you every day until you do.”

           “I know…” Teddy glanced past Louise and his voice faded off. His face began to redden and he cleared his throat.

           His mother looked confused until she heard Tommy approaching with his daughter.

           Ruby Shelby was a sight to behold and everyone around her knew it. She’d inherited Tommy’s stunning blue eyes and dark brown hair. She emulated Lizzie in her slim, tall frame and sharp features. But she had a soft look to her behind the fierce reputation of being a Shelby girl.

           “This is my daughter, Ruby. Ruby, you must remember Mrs. Solomons. This is her son, Teddy.” Tommy introduced.

           “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Solomons,” Ruby spoke in the same Birmingham accent of her parents but had been raised held in higher regard than either of them was. Daughter of a former prostitute and a notorious gangster, but she was well educated and respected in the community. Mostly because of Tommy’s political status in London. “How'd you do, Teddy?” She smiled shyly. It was hard to hide her blush with her fair complexion. Apparently, she’d been taken by the handsome features of a long passed gangster mixed with the gentle upbringing of the heir to Inglewood.

           “Well…good, yeah.” Teddy rattled off, stumbling over his words and practically sweating in front of her. Attending an all-boys school for years, he had little experience with the opposite sex. Even though he tended to attract the attention of shop girls in Surrey and London, he was minorly paralyzed when met with a beautiful face.

           “You two’ll be ‘bout the same age, aye?” Tommy noted. He and Louise shared an amused glance because of their teenagers’ antics. “Ruby turned twenty in December.”

           “Yes, sir.” Teddy nodded and tried to casually wipe his sweaty palms on the front of his slacks. It was tough trying to remain polite and cordial in front of Tommy Shelby while internally fawning after his daughter. “I’ll be twenty-one in September.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the Shelby girl no matter how many times he tried.

           “Teddy, why don’t you show Ruby the horses?” Louise offered and reached into her pocket to pull out a few sugar cubes to hand to him. “Mind the foals, I’m not sure their mothers are ready to let us too close. The dogs are loose as well, just so you know.”

           The young man nodded and took the treats in his hand. “We’ve got foxhounds that just had pups.” He explained and started to walk towards the stables with Ruby, trying his best to hide his prominent limp. "Mastiffs too."

           "Those massive dogs?" Ruby gasped softly. "I love big dogs, they're so gentle."

           And that was it, Teddy was completely smitten. Just as his father had been when Louise complimented Cyril in front of the bakery, all those years before.

           Tommy smiled and leaned against the fence, reaching for a cigarette. He offered one to Louise who obliged.

           “I miss him, Tommy.” She said quietly. “He’s missed so much of Teddy’s life.”

           The man nodded. “I miss him too.” He admitted.

           Louise raised an eyebrow and smiled in surprise. “Really? If only he knew. He’d never let you hear the end of that.”

           He laughed and shook his head. “I know he took care of you and Teddy. He wasn't a bad man. Misunderstood, but aren’t we all?”

           She nodded and contemplated his philosophy. “He was a good man. I always knew he was.”

           The two widows stood in silence for a moment, watching the horses grazing across the field. Solomons’ Secret tried standing up, his mother guiding him along with a helpful nudge of her nose.

           “It doesn’t get easier does it?” Louise asked. Of course, she knew it didn’t. Over a decade later and it still hurt. It still hurt to go to bed and wake up alone. Sometimes she still expected Alfie to be occupying the space next to her.

           Tommy shook his head slowly. “No, it doesn’t.” He’d been two decades without Grace and he still always felt like he was missing something. It was worse when his kids were old enough to have lives of their own. Charlie hardly remembering his mother. Sometimes asking about her.

           “I figured as much.” She sighed and brushed a loose piece of hair out of her face. She exhaled a breath of smoke and bit her lip. “I suppose we were lucky to have them for the time we did.”

           “It’s better to focus on the good.” He agreed.

           The foal took a few wobbling steps, his lanky legs wide apart to keep from falling over. His mother nickered softly and ran her muzzle over his short mane as if congratulating him.

           “Just can’t wait to see him again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Louise went another fifty-four years without Alfie. She passed at the age of ninety in 1986. She never remarried, devoting her life to her horses, her son, and eventually her grandchildren. She’d lived through two world wars and a Depression. But God blessed her with a beautiful daughter-in-law who just happened to be a Shelby as well and five grandchildren. The eldest was named after the grandfather he never knew. Alfie Solomons’ name lived on just as he always wanted.

           When she woke, she found herself in the hallway of Inglewood. She didn’t remember traveling there but her memory had been going for a couple of years. Sometimes she mistook Teddy for Alfie, and frequently called her mastiffs, Cyril.

           But Teddy and Ruby owned the manor now, had for some time. Louise had permanently taken residence at Margate, it always made her feel closer to Alfie where he and Cyril were buried. Inglewood was too big for just Louise anyway, it was much more suited for Teddy and Ruby's children. 

           So it was strange that she had woken up there without any recollection of traveling to Surery. Frowning in puzzlement, she looked down and saw the wrinkles in her hands had smoothed away. Her hair was bobbed again instead of the long gray braid she usually wore.

           Her body felt so much lighter. No longer did she feel the painful arthritis in her hands or the chronic ache in her hip. Startled, Louise carefully walked forward. It had been years since she had been able to walk unaided. But now she felt like she could walk for miles or run or dance even.

           She began walking towards the master bedroom, opening the door cautiously. Such a strangely real dream. Every surface felt so real and just as she remembered it. The room was warm and a few lamps laminated the space. Sitting beside the bed was the husband her heart had ached over for decades.

           “Alfie.” She gasped softly.

           He looked up and smiled warmly. The features of his face the same as they had always been before the cancer took him. “Sh, sh, he’s sleeping, love.” He murmured and looked down at the bundle in his arms.

           Louise walked over with tears in her eyes. She saw her son just a few hours old, resting in his father’s arms. She slowly sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. It was pristinely kept as it had been in 1926. Not a thing looked moved or dusty. Even Cyril was contently sleeping in the corner, the large dog snoring peacefully.

           “Alfie…is this…” Her eyes searched his face.

           He nodded serenely. “Yeah, Lou, I told you I’d wait. Waited a fucking long time, didn’t I?”

The End

~~~~~~

Honestly I had such a hard time letting go of Alfie and Louise. I made myself cry writing this so just know I suffered too. 

Thank you to everyone who read through and left me lovely messages along the way. And a special thank you to my tags! 

@papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @deaflikehawkeye​

@vehement-care​ @kimmietea​ @eleventhdoctorsangel​ @fire-treasure-iii​

Just so you’re all aware I’m currently writing/posting works of mine that are also on wattpad and AO3. They’re listed in my Peaky masterlist linked below. Two of which are Alfiexoc. I also have another Tommyxoc that I’ve been posting on AO3 for quite some time but might bring it over to tumblr if there’s some interest. 

ALSO I have a couple one-shots I wrote for Burned because I refused to let go of it right away. I’ll be posting those soon so if you’d like to be tagged in them, let me know. 

Masterpost

PB Masterlist 

[drkcnry67]

break the news... (day 14)

A/N: @obxmermaid​ this is the 14th entry in the lives of Draco and YN as we get closer to christmas they have now been stuck in the school as their classmates have gone elsewhere for the holidays. but a fire message from YN’s parents inviting them to a gathering makes this a whole less boring. 

pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Prompt: “come on down for the weekend, the family is gathering and we would be honored to have you both here.”

mentioning: @sweetness47​

25 days of hogwarts

the message, ah yes the fire message a way for wizards and witches to communicate  without the use of modern technology. also very good way to be somewhat discreet.

this is how you got a fire message that changed your weekend of a lifetime. 

“dearest daughter, you and Draco are invited to come home for the weekend to enjoy our family gathering. this is the one day a year as you know that the entire family gets together under one roof, grudges and petty judgements go out the window. minus your father who is doing well, but the doctors are getting his magic up to full strength again. please reply and say you both will be in attendance for it would mean the world to us. love mom.”

you turned to draco as you both took one look at the fire message and smiled. 

Draco: i guess we need to pack a weekend bag. we can share a bag right?

YN: yep. but a fair warning this weekend my family will be doing all sorts of magic. its like this every single damn year. its basically one big game of catch up that lasts the entire weekend. 

just as draco was about to speak your fire place went crazy. then a figure resembling your mother appeared.

YN: mom?

Laura: ah daughter thank goodness i found the right one. so did you get the fire message...

YN: yes we were just discussing it. 

Laura: oh come on down for the weekend, the family is gathering and we would be honored to have you both here. please say you will come... you know the family will want to know how you are doing and meet draco...

YN: yes thats what im afraid of, all the grilling and questions and and... oh fine.. but do us all a favor and hide the bourbon from uncle ned, you know how lushy he gets. wait which place is it at this year?

Laura: ive already done that... oh dont worry ive spoken to dumbledore by fire message he will have a port key ready. 

YN: oh so you knew i would say yes. 

laura: i hoped you would. now we will see you both on friday at 3pm or sooner. by the way your father is fine. i know you probably got my update note but to reaffirm he is fine. he woke up. the doctors were able to heal him all up. he wont be at the feast they are keeping him a few more days to make sure he is fully functional with his magic. 

YN: we will have to find time to visit him then... 

Laura: yes. now we will see you both in a few days. remember YN be nice to these people they are family but they are gonna be ruthless to anything they dont understand yet. 

YN: what do you mean?

Laura: i mean some of the family is old school like they dont think open relationship policy is a good idea. 

YN: well this will be a shock for them then. see you on friday mom. 

the fire went back to normal as you flopped back onto the couch your head spinning, you know how your family reacts to the abnormal.

You bringing home a boy, who is not from your own house is like people who don't listen to the law.

The law is hard but it is the law. This was one thing you were desperately prepared to fight for, this was your life you werent gonna let your family determine how you get to live it. 

anyway back to the story, you and draco decided to pack and you both went to dumbledore’s office on friday at noon and went through the port key landing just outside of paris at one of your family country mansions. 

Draco: love, this place is incredible so why would we not come here more often. 

YN: cause i want to be independent so i take only what i need and every month they transfer 10,000 into my bank account and another 10,000 into my gringotts. both of these accounts were of my parents doing, not mine. but its mostly their way of support before we go further we need to figure out how to approach this to my family. 

Draco cups your cheeks and kisses you when he pulled back he spoke calmly. 

Draco: we will handle this with smiles, and friendliness and happy thoughts, we are the only people who matter in this relationship, the people who support us matter as long as they support our union. at the end of it, we are the ones that matter and have final say in this relationship. that and the ministry when we tell fudge. 

YN: yes that, we need to do that soon... maybe sooner than we think if this dinner doesnt go well. 

Draco: well lets go inside, im sure your mom knows we are here... dear we are just prolonging the inevitable. 

YN: your right. lets go... but im surprised that someone isnt here to greet me... 

you let out a sharp whistle, letting your purse sit now on the ground. just as you did that, you heard a screech. 

Draco: what was that love?

YN: that is my griffin... 

Draco: im sorry what... 

just then a griffin with golden feathers with tints of black and brown through it lands in front of you. approaching you as you bow, the griffin nuzzles your face with its own. 

YN: i missed you too girl. Draco, this is Opal. Opal this is Draco my boyfriend. 

Opal turns to draco, Draco bows to Opal who approaches Draco and sniffs him and waits a few seconds and then nuzzles Draco’s head. draco then began petting Opal. 

YN: she likes you, its always polite etiquette to bow to a griffin or a hippogriff before approaching it.  this gesture will show the griffin that you are not a threat. this is a show of good faith. of good will. 

Draco: opal, I think we need a guard to get to the door.

Opal growls lightly before leading the way to the door. You both get to the door and opal nudges you before she bows letting you and Draco go inside. your mother comes round the corner from the kitchen and rushes to hug you. 

Laura: im so glad you both are here... now YN your room is fully prepared for you and Draco. not to worry i pre warned most of the family that someone has a big announcement. no one questioned or said anything. not to worry though, people will begin to arrive in a few hours. go on up and un pack. 

YN: its good to see you too mom. this way love. 

you take draco by the hand as you both walk upstairs down the hall and too the right. into your master suite or as you call it “the tower”. this room complete with your own walk in closet, a king size canopy bed, your own bathroom. decorated in a teal color to combine yours and dracos magic essence. 

YN: this is our room for the weekend. 

Draco: its perfect. i love this bed and the color and you. 

You turned to face him, to meet his eyes with your own. 

YN: careful love thats seduction in your tones. we have 2 years to wait before we can be married. or even consider that possibility. 

Draco: doesnt mean we can lay here for as long as possible and just play wizards chess or something. 

you snap your fingers and you both were laying with a wizards chess board on the bed.

YN: we are gonna play this till we are called several thousand times. by everyone who wants to see me and grill me and... ugh... this is stupid.... my family is so passed screwed that its a long long time between gatherings for the reason of they dont know what they want, against every fibre of better judgement that they have, they dont know how much the world has changed.

Draco: love don't worry too much. Let's just play and not worry about anything else right now. Nothing is gonna ruin our weekend. Nothing at all. i believe white goes first love. 

you have been planning your entire strategy for this game you were 6 moves ahead of draco and you planned to keep it that way. 

YN: pawn to g4

draco: knight to f6

YN: pawn to g5

draco: knight to d5

YN: knight to a3

draco: pawn to e5

to this point you had counted for every angle every move that draco could possibly counter. 

YN: knight to c4

Draco: queen to g5

you now had an opportunity to get rid of his queen if you did it correctly. 

YN: pawn to d3

draco: queen to f6

YN: knight to a5

draco: pawn to b5

YN: knight to f3

draco: your good love, but im slightly better... bishop to b7

YN: only as a slight... but not better enough. Knight to b7

Draco: knight to c6

YN: pawn to e3

Draco: love that wasnt very smart of you... knight to e3

YN: love that also wasnt smart of you. Pawn to e3

draco: clever love, pawn to d5

YN: bishop to d2

draco: pawn to e4

You smile as you begin to make Draco think you are preparing to checkmate his king. 

YN: bishop to B4

Draco: oh my dear you are not gonna win right now... bishop to b4, by the way love, check... 

you were so unsure of what to do, now looking at the board you knew now that you were screwed, you were about to loose. 

you had to attempt to get your king out of check. 

YN: im not gonna go down without a final attempt... king to e2

draco: sorry love, queen to f3... i believe its checkmate!

Yn: how I had this all planned out, I had this all planned out... Omg congrats love you win.

You kissed Draco, his hands pushing the chess board off the bed. That started the make out session of the next 10 min. Before someone came up the stairs and knocked on your door...

You turned toward the door and snapped your fingers...

Yn: come on in

You and Draco sat on the bed in each other's embrace watching as the door opened to reveal Hermione Harry and Ron.

You both got up and embraced them. They were here but how did they know.

Hermione: didn't think I would miss family gathering weekend did you... plus i figured we could use the backup, plus these 3 are the first outsiders at this family weekend. you my dear cousin could use a little bit of extra happiness before the rest of our family arrive. besides did you show Draco the extension of the grounds. all the griffins that you have trained. 

YN: he did meet opal who took to him right away. he did surprisingly well for his first encounter with a griffin. But tomorrow we will go to the griffin sanctuary. Tonight we meet the family. I've been avoiding going down, how many are here yet?

Hermione: too many, more than usually show up first. no one has fought yet so its good and pleasant so far. cuz we should put on the family crest!

though you didnt want to Hermione pulled out a bag from your closet and led you into the washroom. you both put on the knee length black dresses and did a hair check before exiting back to the guys. 

Draco took one look at you, came over and kissed you...

Draco: that dress is absolutely gorgeous on you!

YN: thank you love, this is the family crest, its style takes after our hogwarts crests. but it is our family crest. i however look forward to the day when we can be married where we have the freedom to disappear under new names so we can live our lives in hiding, in peace. 

no one except draco heard you say those words as your ears heard the sound of fencing swords... you and hermione took off down the stairs and watched as your uncles all have fencing swords and are fencing throughout the house/property.

YN: well the fun begins. hermione tell the guys to stay upstairs im gonna stay here and watch this wait for my chance to intervene. 

hermione: i should be by your side for this...

YN: no you should wait with the guys, make sure you give them their anti tracking bracelets. make sure that they understand the rules, make sure that they know what they are and are not allowed to do while here. make the rules abundantly clear.

Hermione gives you a swift nod, realizing that you were right, she went back upstairs to the boys. You let out a ear pi3rcing whistle forcing your family present to stop in their tracks.

Yn: family, family should we not be calm, should we be merry and sheath our swords for it is supposed to be the one weekend out of the year where we gather together as one whole magical family, but today you me, you pessimistic grown ass men are acting like children on this the weekend of peace. So every man in here and on this property shall hence forth not herald another sword as long as we all exist within this property border, for today i tell you all that im the one with the announcement.

You turn to see hermione coming down the stairs, draco following behind her, harry and ron behind him. Draco comes up at your side, proudly sporting his house crest as he places his hand to your own. 

YN: this man beside me is my announcement, this young man is my boyfriend of 2 and a half years, this is Draco Malfoy. yes his parents are followers of you-know-who but Draco is different, i saved him from his parents, i saved him from whatever they wanted for him, more importantly we saved each other. without draco i would not be standing before you all to declare that my parents have blessed this union and we are the start of the open house relationship policy in the wizarding world, which now states “any witch or wizard that so sees fit to love someone not of their own house shall be free to be with whoever their heart desires within or without their house crest. for eternity shall this be!” Draco and i will be the first of a long line of students to follow our hearts. if i earn not even one of your approvals this weekend just know this, my parents support us and these 3 behind us support us, the school and its professors and students support us. we are supported and loved in every single direction. but a week ago Draco gave me this necklace with our couples initials and our anniversary date which pairs perfectly with this ring i gave him, neither of us are leaving this relationship and no one can make us. 

for the room was silent all eyes were on you, and neither you nor draco said anything else, you both just walked over to the kitchen to help mom with some baking and rolling of spring rolls, and mixing of drinks yet still no one said anything, they just all stared at you both. 

by the end of the first day you guys had been among the people, no one said a word to either of you. the night was peaceful, you both stood out on the balcony as opal slept beside where you both stood (yes the balcony is big enough for a griffin to sleep on... odd how story telling can be warped to our standards as authors) you both went inside after an hour and a bit later and went to sleep.

the next morning when you both woke it was to the sound of drills and hammers, something was going down and from the sound of it something was happening. 

you both went to the balcony and discovered that the family was building something in the yard. opal was freaking out but she was also tied to a post in the yard. 

YN: either my family has decided to work together or we are in lots of trouble. 

thats when you received a fire message.

YN: its from my cousin she says that the family locked her ron harry and my mother in the barn with the griffins, tied up opal and insist on crucifying us all insisting we are all under the dark lords influence unless you and draco renounce your relationship and never see each other again.

Draco: what are we going to do... i cant live without you, and im never going to renounce our love. 

YN: i have an idea but im gonna need you to do a fire message as well, send one to hermione in the barn tell her that she needs to comfort my mother, help is on the way... i have 1 message to send myself, to hogwarts. 

you prepared your message as draco did his, you both sent them off, you knew hermione couldnt reply but she could receive, the one going to hogwarts however arrived in the hands of who you addressed it. 

dumbledore received the message, he summoned minerva and snape to his office... 

Dumbledore: im afraid this is not a social call, this is quite urgent in fact, a literal matter of life or death. YN and Draco had left yesterday to YN’s parents place, but i just received an urgent fire message... this reads, “Headmaster, this message is Urgent! we need help my family didnt take the news of me and Draco being together very well, they plan to crucify us, to crucify mine, hermiones, dracos, harrys, rons and my moms magical and physical forms. we need assistance, they have me and draco locked in the tower, and the others in the barn. please bring help, we need to get out of here. but they boarded the room we have a balcony but we wouldnt survive the jump. help us, get us out of here, by any means necessary and headmaster thank you for letting me and Draco live our lives together. help us asap!”

minerva: what do we have to do albus, how do we save the children and YN’s mother...

Dumbledore: quite easily, we 3 are going to YN’s family property where i will tqalk to the courtyard, one of you goes to the barn, the other goes to the tower,  we meet back in the courtyard hopefully with everyone safe and sound. hopefully in that time frame i will have calmed down the courtyard and come up with a plan. now lets go... 

the 3 professors by port key traveled and arrived outside the gate to your family estate. with 3 wands this would surely work better than expected. 

snape, minerva & dumbledore: bombarda maxima

with that the gate, and half the wall on either side of the gate blew up, shattered into a thousand pieces. the explosion was loud enough to shake the entire estate. you and draco stood up slightly knowing that help had arrived. 

your family on the other hand saw snape, minerva and dumbledore walk through the debris and they parted like the red sea, going completely silent, dropping whatever they were holding. for they all knew that this was not gonna be an easy task. 

snape went toward the barn in which he found Harry, Ron, Hermione & of course your mom in the corner tied up like animals. he used his wand to untie them all and then waited for the signal to start emerging from the barn. 

minerva went inside the house and up the stairs, where she found and broke down your tower door. 

Minerva: time to go grab what you need lets go. 

YN: thank you so much professor for coming. 

Minerva: i am just glad im not too late... now lets see what dumbledore is saying to your family. 

Dumbledore was now on a platform speaking to your family. or at least those that were in the courtyard. 

Dumbledore: these children have done no harm, these people have made nothing wrong, why do you all believe they should be crucified, they have done nothing wrong except learn to love. 

one person exclaimed: they are working for the dark lord

another person exclaimed: their relationship is toxic and needs to be purified by crucifixion

another person screamed: cause its not right, this is not how the rules dictate... 

dumbledore was fed up with all the same types of answers...

Dumbledore: i albus dumbledore have seen the love that these 2 children share, ive seen it projected through their school work and through their vocals, its as pure and good as any in house relationships that have happened. ive decreed this to the school and am waiting for my meeting with the ministry to tell them about this. it will be a few weeks for that but i state this to you all: whoever goes from here to another soul and speaks ill of what has happened here shall henceforth no more have the ability to speak anything bad, and further more i decree that as long as there are good people running hogwarts, the houses can be free to love whosoever they desire! this began with Draco and YN, this decree is sealed by the signing of this parchment by me, professor mcgonigal, professor snape, YN and Draco. these 2 and the rest of their friends and family are not to come to any harm... now commence with the signing... YN and Draco first, then minerva and severus, i will sign last. 

you and draco walked up to the parchment, you signed it first then handed the pen to draco who followed in signing the parchment. then minerva and severus signed next, then dumbledore before he spoke again. 

Dumbledore: now all of you clean this yard up, none of you will be able to speak of this day, none of you will remember the horrors that were unleashed today. now go back to cleaning this yard and repairing this wall, YN didnt come back for family weekend and you guys do not remember anything. 

the spoken words echo on the property as your mom gave you, hermione, draco, harry and ron a longing look that seemed to say ill see you soon. like that you all ended up back at hogwarts in dumbledores office. 

Dumbledore: i wonder if i could speak with YN and Draco alone a moment. 

Minerva: of course Albus, i will make sure these children make it back to the dorms. come along children. 

the 5 people left the room leaving you and Draco alone in the office. 

dumbledore: now children lets speak a bit about what happened... 

YN: its my fault headmaster, i was so looking forward to telling my family, i didnt know it would go that wrong... i thought the old laws were no longer in effect, that crucifixions were illegal in the muggle and wizarding worlds. 

Dumbledore: unfortunately the old laws are the laws that were drilled deeply into lots of witches and wizards and mostly in pureblood families such as both of yours. but unfortunatly we can not change their minds or their ways for that matter, the only thing we can do about this is move forward starting with my meeting with the ministry. now i expect you both to take the day, relax, take a load off and just relax its best not to speak of what happened to anyone its better that not very many people know yet. now be off, spend as much time as needed to push this days events from your minds. 

you and draco walk out of the room, down the hall, through the changing stair cases to the shared dorm, where your room was.

He walked through the door with you, you both fell back on the bed. Just exhausted mentally.

Draco: are you OK love?

Yn: no I'm not... My family rejected me, rejected our relationship. for that they will have to learn the hard way with the decree, hopefully they will listen to that and hopefully when and or if fudge decides to make the announcement in the daily prophet. i know every single member of my family makes the effort to read the daily prophet... So we are gonna make sure it's front page worthy...

You turned over to face him and watched his eyes search your own. He was concerned about you, about your feelings, about your well being.

Draco brushed his hand gently against your cheek and smiled.

Draco: just lean into me and close your eyes. Don't dwell on what happened, dwell on our future think about that.. I love you YN, I love you so much! Just relax my love, just relax.

You leaned into the arms of your love, and happily lulled off to a state of peace and relaxation. You were not sure what tomorrow would hold but as long as nothing else bad happened you would be fine.

~to be continued~

[oddcoupler222]

do you have any pov swapped chapters of those who wait that you never posted? i love it so much i want to read the whole story from both of their points of view lol. if you don't that's okay. i just want everything about them :)

well. i do have chapter 1 written from margaery’s point of view, if you are interested in that…

Not getting home from the office until almost ten at nightwasn’t even common for her renowned workaholic self. Not on a Friday night, atthe very least.

Though, she should probably gear up for more of those, shethought, pausing for a moment, as she slowly closed the door to her apartmentand shook her head. Because campaigning for the small council, on top of herjob that already kept her late several days during the week, wasn’t going to bea small feat.

It was happening,though, and that much was for certain. She was going to run for the newly openseat on the small council.

She almost couldn’t believe it – mostly because it didn’t goin accordance with the plan. The plan she’d outlined and had in place foralmost ten years now. The Plan, really, of her entire life. First, to intern atthe Keep throughout college as she got her political science degree –completed, rather masterfully if she thought so, herself, considering she’ddone so with honors and holding a record number of jobs and internships in theKeep.

Then to jump head-first into whatever department had anopening; truly, it hadn’t much mattered to her which department it would be,because she knew she could find the passion for any of them somewhere inside ofher. Also rather masterfully done, as she’d been there for just shy of fiveyears and was already the assistant director.

But the plan after that had been – well, calling it simplewould be the world’s biggest understatement and, honestly, utterly foolish.Margaery was no fool. So, the plan was by no means simple, but it was well-crafted and thought out. To be on the smallcouncil by the time she was twenty-eight. To be inducted to the World PoliticalLeader’s summit by thirty, and work on a liaison team from King’s Landing withthe cabinet of one of the other regions. Most likely The Reach, as that madethe most sense, but once again, she would make it work wherever she could.

Then to be on the high council by the time she was thirty-five,so that by the time she was in her forties, she could fastidiously andundoubtedly have gotten every possible kind of governmental experience shewould need to run for Prime Minister by the time she was fifty.

It was ambitious, she knew. It was crazy, if she asked herbrothers. It would take a nearly single-minded focus and determination thatwould be almost impossible – her grandmother’s words. Words that she’d utteredwith that proud slight smile that told Margaery what Margaery already knew.That she could do it.

And even though the Plan didn’t entail her actually runningfor the small council for another two years, when the next traditional electionwould be held, Jon Arryn’s unprecedentedly vacant seat… well, it presented herwith the only deviation to her plan that she’d ever truly considered.

If she could attain her goals even sooner than planned, itwould only make things simpler for her in the long run. She’d thought about it,whether or not she should campaign for it, unable to think of almost anythingelse for a few days.

The email she’d gotten from her grandmother this evening,sending an attachment for the official forms to file for the small councilelection with the simple note – No timelike the present – only confirmed it.

And in the three hours since officially deciding to run, Margaeryhad already started to come up with a plan for the coming months.

Of course, she’d need to officially file the documents and announceit. Especially to Renly, even though, she grimaced slightly as she took off herheels, she didn’t quite know exactly how he’d take the news. It wasn’t asthough she wanted to leave theDepartment For the People. Yes, she would have taken a job at any department inthe Keep fresh out of college, but she was lucky to land in one she genuinelyloved. And she knew her boss and best friend may not have anticipated herpossible departure so early.

Releasing her hair from the twist she’d had it in for work,she reached for a wine glass and the bottle of Dornish red she’d planned tobreak open this weekend with Loras and Renly. But getting a head start tocelebrate by herself – she deserved that.

Tilting her head to the side as she cradled the wine glassin her head, she hmm’d in thought. Organizinga small staff to help keep her campaign in order would have to be a priority, too,but that would take a bit of time and research to determine who she was runningagainst and viable candidates.

“And that’s only the start,” she murmured to herself,thinking of the to-do list she’d been working on for the past few hours. Andrather than feel overwhelmed at the prospect, she felt buzzing with life.

This was the time to start climbing the ladder. And for thesake of the Seven, she was so ready for the rest of her life.

Drumming her fingers on her countertop, she felt that buzzdrop just a bit as she looked down at her phone where it now lady next to herwine glass.

Because there was the small but significant matter –relatively high on her new to-do list – of getting rid of the only somewhatpublic evidence of her sexuality. And if she was being entirely honest withherself, and she was, this was probably the biggest hold out Margaery had hadagainst running for small council now.

Being discreet about being a lesbian had never bothered her.Going to fundraisers and promotions and galas and every event in between witheither Renly, a family member, or by herself rather then with a “romantic”partner had always been a benefit to her, really. Not that she’d ever had awoman interest her in a romantic fashion beyond the physical, anyway.

No, Margaery hadn’t made her profile on the aptly named WomenLovingWomenofWesteros app severalyears ago to find a love connection by any means. She smartly steered fairlyclear of anyone who’d messaged her seeming to look for anything deeper than ahookup, and found that the app’s promise to maintain privacy of it’s users tobe entirely accurate.

What she had madeit for, though, had worked out so truly well for her.

After a stressful week at work, there was never a shortageof attractive available women who wanted exactly what she wanted – mainly, tofuck. Once or twice, and then part ways.

It was satisfying and quick and easy. And Margaery wasalways smart about it – chatting for a couple of days and getting a read on whoshe was getting involved with before offering to meet at one of the places thatshe and the majority of the women on the app understood to signify that thiswas going to be nothing more than casual.

Not once in the last five years and too many women to count,not that she would, had her read on people even via the short, impersonalmessages let her down.

Did she want to give up having sex while her name and facestarted to become more recognizable? Of course not; the idea of committing toanything other than her job made her grimace, but the idea of giving up all ofthe orgasms…

She sighed again, heartily. It wasn’t like she would becelibate forever. Eventually, when she had a more secure foundation, she knewshe could very carefully indulge in some flings.

And besides, she could give herself orgasms. In comparisonto this small council opportunity, giving up WLWoW was a no brainer.

With that in mind, she opened the app. Instead of her semi-regularFriday night hookup perusal, she’d delete. She had to do it before shesubmitted her campaign paperwork at the beginning of the week, anyway.

After taking another sip of wine, though, she decided toprolong her last foray and check out her inbox that was beckoning her with threenew messages since the last time she’d opened it.

Genna, 2:11PMFunny thing, coming across yourprofileagain so soon. But messaging you last timeseemed to work out fantastically for both ofus, so I figured why not? Want to start withdrinks?

With a laugh that wasn’t quite a snort but very close, shedeleted that message in a second. Genna, she remembered the name and the prettybrunette in the picture accompanying it, wasn’t wrong in her assertion. They had a good time getting drinks aboutthree weeks ago, and the sex after was pretty good too.

But Margaery could count on one hand the amount of timesshe’d slept with a woman on multiple occasions, and on a couple of thoseoccasions, there always seemed to be a graying moment on the other woman’s end.It was a moment she could sense here and there of – could there be more?

And she sure as the seven hells wasn’t going to even pretendthat would be happening at this stage. Not even a polite message back. Besides,her profile would be gone soon anyway.

Addison, 5:56 PMIt looks like we both like dancing and dornishwine and gorgeous women… I’m thinking there could be a few other similarities as well. HMU

On a normal day, Margaery would go to this Addison woman’sprofile and check out what she had to say for herself, get a closer look at thefew pictures she had up – that read like an average first message for someonewho might be interested in the same thing she was interested in.

But today wasn’t a normal day, “Goodbye, Addison, niceknowing you,” she murmured with an eyeroll, and deleted that one, too.

“Lucky number three…”

Sansa, 7:43PMHey, there. I saw your profile and you look really interesting – and hot. Do you want tohook up meet up sometime?

Her thumb, that had been settling over the delete button asit had for the last two messages paused. Before she read the message overagain. And then again, once more, for good measure. There was just – anaudacity, she guessed was the best way to say it, in those words that gave herpause.

She straightened her spine as she leaned farther over hercounter, and instead of delete, she tapped the icon to get a better look at thetiny thumbnail size picture.

Oh.

The tumble of wavy red hair that had stood out in the tinychat icon screamed for attention when she pulled the picture up to full-size. Itwas blowing in the wind, the moment clearly a snapshot where she wasn’t tryingto pose or be anything. She was half-turned, as she genuinely grinned into thecamera, as if whoever had taken the picture had just said something that shecouldn’t help but giggle it. That was no manufactured-to-look-alluring smile.

It was warm, she decided, tilting her head as she felt herown lips quirk up in response to it. It was almost like she was the person onthe receiving end of that warmth, the person on the other side of the camera.

She was almost hesitant to leave the profile picture toclick through the few others. One where she was grinning again, this timealmost incredulous, Margaery thought, but with a sparkle in her eyes that wasso… open.

And then a third, that had Margaery pausing again. Thistime, though, it was the eyes that stopped her. The clear, light blue of themand winged with more makeup than she’d worn in the previous photos, it couldhave easily looked like seduction, she was sure. With a bit more pouting onsoft looking pink lips, or even a change in angle or… anything. But instead, shehad the barest of what seemed like a sincerely innocent small smile, the bit ofmakeup accentuating her eyes looking flawless, the bit of rosiness in hercheeks giving Margaery the oddest sensation to want to stroke her thumb overher cheekbone and see if it was as soft as it looked.

The entire look of her, of these guileless looks, made herseem somewhat exposed even though none of her pictures were indecent by anymeans of the word. The warm feeling of wantthat had settled in her stomach wasn’t really unexpected – this was a verybeautiful woman, after all – but it was surprising in how much she felt it inresponse to pictures that were so very innocent in nature.

In the years she’d been using this app, it was herexperience that there was typically at least one picture that women – women whosent provocative messages at the veryleast – posted to look purposefully alluring. With smoky makeup, smolderingeyes, revealing clothing… a whole number of things.

And who was Margaery to judge, when she admitted to all ofher pictures being selfies with the eye smolder in at the very least one ofthem? It was a tool of the trade, so-to-speak, and she’d hooked up satisfyinglywith many women who played that specific game.

She took just another interested perusal at the pictures,before tapping back to her profile.

Likes: literature, dogs, snow, knitting, running, and lemon cakes.

Her eyebrow quirked up at that, unable to stop herself. Just becauseseveral of the likes weren’t even typical to find on here – knitting, hello? –and Margaery was often skeptical of the truth in “literature” being alegitimate interest, but something about this woman had Sansa truly believingthat all of these were very true to her.

“Sansa,” she murmured. Not the most common name, definitelynot beyond the North, but pretty. It rolled off the tongue easily.

She could imagine the way it would sound from her own voice,panted or shouted, depending on what the girl with the fiery hair and the oceaneyes could make her feel.

Going back to the original message, she shook her head asshe reread it. The you look really interesting – and hot and the clearly crossed out rather thandeleted hook up invitation. Both very flirty remarks, no subtlety in theapproach. Not a hint of shyness, even coyness.

Not that she minded – she could even prefer such astraightforward attitude, really – but something about the message feltstrangely at odds with the unassuming, almost gently disarming look of thewoman in the pictures.

Granted, Margaery supposed that she didn’t actuallytruly know this Sansa; she could look like an angel while underneath being someonewho was going to completely knock Margaery off her axis.

All she really knew at this moment was that if she wasgoing to delete her profile and go into sexual exile for the foreseeablefuture, she could do with one more potentially great fuck.

Feeling herself smirk, she finished her wine and tookanother look at Sansa’s picture – make that three or four great orgasms; if shewas getting all of this from just a read on these pictures, she was more thanwilling to bet that Sansa’s effect would be even better in person.

She ignored thedelete option again, and instead hit Reply.

Margaery, 10:02PM  My, that is one of the less subtle approaches  I’ve received on here, I must say. 

A shiver of anticipation worked through her already. Afterall, she might as well make the most of this last weekend before she officiallyfiled her campaign forms.

She was meeting her grandmother in the morning to iron outsome details and ask some questions she had about some campaign particulars,and had potential plans with Loras and Renly. But those were for dinner;nothing too late. And if it conflicted with Sansa’s schedule tomorrow, well,dinner with her brother was easily rescheduled.

Yeah, a sex Saturday with Sexy Sansa seemed to be just whatMargaery needed as her final big bang.

She was pouring herself another glass of wine, this timepreemptively toasting to herself and the hopefully illustrious night in storefor her.

The reply she got in less than five minutes made her smirk –until she read it.

Sansa, 10:05PMGods, I’m so sorry! I’ve been wanting to sendthis for hours, but couldn’t message you againuntil you answered. That’s not – I’m not theperson who sent that first message! My friendcreated this account and sent that to you. I’msorry, again. And dreadfully embarrassed.

Well. Margaery blew out a breath,pursing her lips as she read the message over. And a part of her that couldn’thelp but question and analyze first wondered if perhaps she was embarrassed ofthe original message and was trying to backpaddle.

Then again, she supposed, she didhave the distinct impression that the message with the hooking up implicationdidn’t seem to fit the persona she’d somewhat expertly put together. Shesupposed she could at the very least take away that her people reading skillswere still proven to be spot on.

But just to be sure Sansa knew there was nothing to beembarrassed about if that was whatwas holding her back…

Margaery, 10:07PM   I never said lack of subtly was a bad thing. Perhaps in other matters, but not when it comes to this.

She paused, tapping her fingersagainst the counter for a moment before she figured she may as well just askfor her own sake of figuring out how likely it was that there could be anythinghere.

So, your friend arranged this? Are you not a lady loving lady of Westeros, then? 

She’d barely had a second torinse her glass out in the sink before her phone buzzed in response.

Sansa, 10:08PM Oh, I am. Yes. Well, kind of.

Her eyes narrowed even as she felt her smirk returning. Nowthat was an answer that was a little too fast for true disinterest.

Margaery,10:10PM Kind of? 

Sansa, 10:12PM I meant to say, that I like both men and women.

She waited a few minutes, weighingthe words as she brushed her teeth. It was because of the pictures, she wassure, that she almost felt like she could see the earnest expression on thiswoman’s face as she said the words. And the way she could imagine it, sheimagined a lot of discomfort in those words. As if she perchance hadn’t reallydisclosed the “woman” factor of her sexuality much.

After all, quite literallyeveryone she’d ever spoken to on here had thrown their sexuality into thisconversation fairly quickly, easily, when prompted.

So she took a guess.

Margaery,10:16PM You haven’t done this very much, have you?

Sansa, 10:18PM No. Never, actually. Is it very obvious?

“Extremely,” she murmured througha chuckle, amused and unsure if she should be alarmed or endeared at her starkhonesty, as she made her way into the bathroom to start getting ready for bed.

Margaery, 10:19PM   Only a little ;) 

As she slipped into her bedroom, she debated leaving theconversation there. After all, there wasn’t going to be anything coming fromthis, clearly. And it was getting a bit late.

But on the other hand, Margaery found her curiosityunusually piqued.

This Sansa seemed to be… different from what Margaery wasused to encountering on here, to say the least. Intriguing, really, and sincewhen had Margaery ever been able to pull herself away from something who’dtugged at her curiosity? It just was a matter of being that it was very rarethat someone made her curious.

Margaery, 10:22PM   Tell me, why did your friend deem it necessary to create this account and send messages from you that seem to be more suggestive than you would like? 

For a few minutes – the longestit seemed to take Sansa to answer – she wondered if she’d overstepped – itwasn’t as though she was ever willing to answer questions beyond fairly lightones to establish a flirty rapport, personally.

Sansa, 10:27PM She thinks I need to get out more, I guess. Andshe thinks that I should, um, go out and hookup with someone.

She had no idea why she thoughtthat the somewhat rambling of words seemed endearing. And the thought made hernarrow her eyes at her phone, “Your friend certainly knows how to tease me witha good time, then, doesn’t she?”

Margaery, 10:30PM   And that’s not what you want? 

Alarm for the morning set, andshe climbed under the blanket just as she got her answer.

Sansa, 10:34PM I – well, no. Not that I don’t want to ever meetsomeone, it’s just… I’m not wanting to go outand find a hook up just for the sake of hookingup. You know?

It was probably a good thing, shethought, that hooking up didn’t seem to be what Sansa wanted. Mostly because,truly, a beautiful woman like Sansa with this apparent penchant for telling thetruth and revealing more than necessary information even to strangers on adating app would get truly eaten alive on here.

Which… oddly, she didn’t want toenvision for her.

Even, she sighed, if it meanttheir paths definitely weren’t going to line up. Because Margaery certainly wasone of those who would very much like to eat her alive.

Margaery, 10:39PM   Unfortunately, that is where you and I differ. Which is a shame, I might add. 

She couldn’t resist adding it.Especially when she could imagine the reaction it might have on a woman likeSansa who seemed so very shy.

Sansa, 10:45PM Do you? Do this very often, that is.

… okay, not the response she’dbeen expecting.

Eyes narrowed, even though shewas not really feeling insulted, because she truly wasn’t ashamed of hersexcapades via WLWoW, and she didn’t generally give a damn what the few peoplein her life who knew this side of her thought about it, either. But she foundthat with a small kernel of something, that she didn’t quite likethinking that this woman might be judging her for it.

Margaery, 10:48PM   Are you insinuating something? 

Sansa, 10:50PM No! No, no. I was asking because I was just,well, curious about how this usually happens?

Sansa, 10:51PM I mean, you seem… like you know what to do,in situations like this. Unlike me, clearly.

Hmm. So she was going to go withmore endeared tonight than alarmed, apparently, picking up her phone to typewhen it vibrated yet again for a third time.

Sansa, 10:52PM Gods, that was probably a very silly thing toask. You can just ignore me.

“Ignore you… not quite yet,” shehmm’d to herself, still grinning slightly as she shook her head.

Margaery, 10:56PM  Oh, dear girl. I don’t typically make it a point  to reveal the inner-workings of my interactions on here, you know. A true lady shouldn’t reveal her secrets. 

This, she firmly did believe wastrue. There was no need for her to share her inner-workings and dealings onhere with anyone, and frankly the thought of telling almost anyone else she’dmet on here about her somewhat formula for picking up women made her feel a bitdistasteful.

Granted, those were all differentscenarios. Because she would be using those moves on those other women.

Margaery, 10:57PM   However, I could make an exception for a pretty woman in need. I only need to know one thing… 

Sansa, 10:58PM Which is?

Briefly, she wondered if this wassomewhat too much – after all, she had made it abundantly clear that if Sansawanted to hook up, it would be something Margaery would also very much enjoy.

But then she landed on Sansa’spicture again, and figured it couldn’t hurt to ask…

 Margaery, 11:02PM  Just to be completely clear, there is no chance of you being interested in – as your first message said – a hook up? Because I absolutely cannot abide showing my hand in that case. 

Especially because Margaery couldmake a few tweaks to some of her rules of thumb in this case. She got the verydistinct impression that everything in this conversation with Sansa was thepainful truth. If Sansa, this seemingly sweet-and-sexy, albeit charmingly naïvewoman wanted to forgo meeting at a club or a bar, in a place that she feltuncomfortable, Margaery would make an exception for that.  

Sansa, 11:05PMI can confirm that I don’t think I will be preparedto hook up with anyone any time soon.

Regretful. Truly regretful. Shetook a moment to say goodbye to her imagined fantastic final sex for theforeseeable future, before she got herself more into a work mindset. Aproblem-solving, question answering mindset. She could field questions for asweet girl like Sansa for a night.

Margaery, 11:09PM   Well, then, disappointed as I may be, I am now willing to answer what you’d like to know. Do you have specific questions in mind? 

Sansa, 11:11PM Do you only use this website for hooking up?

Huh. Well that question seemedrather her-specific rather than about the app community populace in general.

Margaery, 11:13PM Yes. Though in the name of honesty, I am  always upfront about my not-serious intentions. 

Sansa, 11:16PM Okay. But what happens then?

It took her a moment, as she re-settledunder the covers, to decipher what she meant by that. Because as soon asshe read it, all of the images that Margaery conjured to mind were so veryX-rated.

But… Sansa, this innocent Sansa,certainly wasn’t asking her to essentially sext with her, right?

No, she reasoned. Probably not.

Margaery, 11:18PM   I do hope you aren’t asking me to explain the proverbial birds and the bees, sweet girl. I was under the impression you wanted this to be PG ;) 

No harm in testing the waters,though. It wasn’t as though she would be opposed in the least to indulging in abit of dirty talk with Sansa. It wasn’t something she really did on here,admittedly. Some light sexts as a prelude to meeting up on occasion, maybe.

Sansa, 11:19PMNo! No, I know how… that… works. I meant, like, how do you go about doing all of this? Whena woman messages you, what happens then?

She found herself shaking herhead, grinning minutely down at her phone as she blew out a breath. Of courseall signs pointed to Sansa being a bit flustered by her – the unexpected partwas how much Margaery was into it.

She’d never really considered herselfhaving a thing for naivety before. It never really crossed her mind that shewould find a bit of excitement in this somewhat shy, almost innocent approach.It wasn’t really like she was going to often find her hookups in genuinely shyand/or naïve women.

Another regretful sigh, this onea bit lofty, left her, before she nodded to herself. They may not be havingsex, and she didn’t really want to reveal that she had somewhat of a pattern onhere with women, but Sansa seemed to genuinely want to know, so.

Margaery, 11:22PM Well, it’s all fairly straightforward, no pun intended. We chat a bit here and make plans to meet up. Typically at a bar or perhaps a club – always somewhere public. We spend a bit of time out to make sure we’re… compatible. And from there, I see if they’d like to go back to my place for the night. 

Really, ideally, she typicallymanaged to finagle the situation so that they went back to the other woman’splace. She didn’t necessarily enjoy having the women she was sleeping withoccupying her personal space – not that she was entirely against fucking womenin her own bed, but the few times where they’d gotten the mistaken impressionthat they were going to stay for the night were never a fun aftermath foreither party involved.

It entailed Margaery being ascourteous and magnanimous as possible, as she essentially showed them the door.

She hesitated for a moment,before figuring – what the hells? If she was being entirely honest:

Margaery,11:22PM Not to boast, but they usuallydo. 

Sansa, 11:23PM Oh, I can imagine.

The reply took her by surprise –in all honesty, Sansa had probably taken her more by surprise in the last hourthan anyone had in the past on this site.

But that instantly smoothdelivery…

Margaery, 11:25PM   That was smoother than I expected. Offense entirely unintended. 

Sansa, 11:27PMNone taken, as it was actually inadvertentlydone.

So very charming, she thoughtwith a tired laugh. Yeah, she was fairly certain that if Sansa got a tighterhold on her confidence in messaging women on here she would kill it. Seeminglyintelligent, a knockout, and the utter lack of falsities – a dream for manywomen.

Margaery’s ideal hookup dream,apparently, too.

But it was truly best to cut thisoff now, before Sansa drew her into more conversation that enticed her despitethe lack of chance of anything going on between them. Really, it would just beteasing herself, plus the fact that she had to be up in less than seven hours.

 Margaery, 11:30PM  You’re an interesting woman. Unfortunately, however, it is getting late, and I must be getting to bed. I’ve an early morning tomorrow. 

Sansa, 11:33PM I don’t think I’m quite as interesting as youare. But I should be going, too. Thank you, forthis. You know, not mocking me like youundoubtedly could have.

That damn sincerity she couldjust feel coming through in that message. She briefly wondered why Sansa wouldbelieve Margaery would actively mock her, before she decided Sansa wasentirely, completely unaware of her entire appeal.

Margaery, 11:35PM   That’s not really my style. But it was more entertaining for me than I might have anticipated. Goodnight, Sansa. 

And good luck, if you stick itout on here, she silently added. But she couldn’t quite envision Sansa continuingon here for a long time. In a way, she didn’t quite want her to. She had asneaking feeling that if she burned herself out for too long on here, thatquite engaging thing about her wouldn’t shine quite so bright.

For that sake, she hoped Sansafound what she was looking for relatively soon.

Sansa, 11:36PMGoodnight, Margaery

She plugged in her phone, rollingonto her side as she cuddled into her blanket. She still had to delete herprofile and wipe the app itself from her phone – the entire goal of the nighthad been sidetracked, and she rolled sleepy eyes at herself.

The chat with Sansa was still up,though, when she looked down again. The bright laughing smile and red hair gleamingoff the screen at her. Instead of deleting, she hesitated for a moment andlocked the phone. She still had a few more days before it was a necessity.

[this-lioness]

Another Meandering Update

Like I do.

The new Animal Crossing came out Friday and I’ve been playing it in seemingly constant cycles of running out the Switch battery, then letting it recharge while I do other things.  Well, okay, maybe I’m not quite that bad but... close.

Today I finally decided to wear Actual Clothes instead of just pajama sets or comfy sweats.  Even pulled my hair up and put some makeup.  Don’t ask me who I’m trying to impress.

My Mother has shut the fuck up about Maggie for the time being, thank God, so hopefully she’s resigned herself to the fact that there’s just nowhere to put her right now. Like, logically I hope she understands that. I can’t just ditch these fosters at a shelter, I can’t open the door and let them run free.  They need a place.

Fortunately they have an appointment Monday for their spay and bloodwork.  Once that’s done they’re essentially ready to be adopted out, so it’s not a question of just dumping them off on another rescuer with work still to be done.  Assuming their bloodwork comes back clean, that also means we can slowly try to introduce them to our crew and, assuming that goes well, they can join the pride temporarily and we can -- if we need to -- move Maggie back into the cat room.

Don’t ask me what the fuck my life is going to be like with five fucking cats (plus one) running around, because I don’t want to think about it.

I’m still... concerned... about their prospects.  We spend as much time with them as we reasonably can, but they’re not particularly cuddly or affectionate.  They do a drive-by for a few pets, but Baby (surprisingly) is the only one who’s shown any interest in sitting on you and being petted.  Blue, who was initially the more outgoing, is aloof and largely disinterested in prolonged human interaction.

I’m hoping that after their spay they’ll be more mellow and inclined towards affection (as well as putting on some weight).  Adopting out a (fully indoor) cat that doesn’t want much to do with people is not going to be easy.  Unfortunately, I’m not 100% sure how much of their current affection level is hormonal, meaning Blue could become even more aloof after she’s spayed.

I regret taking them in, but here we are, and this is what we do. :/

The broccoli seeds I planted started to sprout the very next day, and I’ve had to take the lid off the container as they continue to stretch taller.  They don’t much like the grow light, preferring to grow toward the sun, but I’ve got it on anyway.  It’s still far too cold to plant anything outside, unfortunately.  Once we’ve had a few 60-degree-or-better days I’ll hose out the icing buckets I bought last month and hopefully get my hands on some potting soil to start planting things properly.

I’ve been saving all my little yogurt cups from lunch to start more seeds, maybe a bit later this week.  We’ve got some nice ripe bananas for more banana bread, as well.  I think I’ll throw some mini chocolate chips in this time.

I put in another grocery order, mostly for my Mom but a handful of things for us, as well.  We’re honestly good on most things, it’s just “topping up” things that have dwindled, and if we can’t get our hands on them it’s not a huge deal.

There’s a Walmart down the street and two grocery stores nearby, but neither of them were offering pickup delivery anytime soon.  Walmart has eliminated the ability to schedule pickup or delivery more than 24 hours out (you basically have to keep checking and checking their website until something opens up) and the Giant was absolutely booked up for both until next Wednesday the 1st at something like 8 at night.  I jumped on that and started loading our cart, but it’s all contingent upon what’s available at the time, and they’re not making any substitutions.

Like I said, I’m more concerned about my Mom than us.  We ordered her a chest freezer to help her keep food longer, but unfortunately Best Buy closed before they could get the order in stock and they pushed it off to the end of April.  We just cancelled it.  Wish we’d had the idea sooner, you can’t seem to order them from anywhere now for anything less than a fortune.

I ordered a pullman pan off Wayfair to arrive Thursday, so I’ll be able to make sandwich bread at least.

But other than that, life goes on in its way.  Apart from puttering around our own yard on Sunday we haven’t been out of the house since Friday.  We get up, shower and dress, have breakfast and coffee, then sit down to work.  We break for lunch, go back to work until dinner time.

I try to distract myself at night, but it’s when I seem to be the most anxious and tense.  During the day I’m actually okay? Like... I don’t pace around the house wringing my hands or anything, I just go about my day doing what I can.  I guess when my mind is allowed to wander that it starts to tangle itself in knots.  I’m like a pair of earbuds -- I’m fine when you use me, but the minute I’m not in use I get completely tangled up.

It isn’t the routine that bothers me, really, it isn’t the inability to go out and do things (we’re probably going to take a walk around the neighborhood after lunch), it’s the fact that none of the Big Picture things are in our control, and are instead in the hands of people who have no value for human life.  No sense of reality or decency.

The joke about Krypton being allowed to explode because nobody in charge wanted to listen to the scientists is so sickeningly true, and it’s unnerving to see it play out in real life.

Anyway.  We are doing our thing, we are doing our part as much as we can, and just waiting patiently for... normalcy, I suppose.

[daisy-chain-gardens]

Exchange Romance - Chapter 18

A/N: Hey guys, me again with an update finally. You may have noticed that I've added another chapter because, well, I felt like it and you'll soon find out why. I'm not sure when I'll be updating next because I'll be travelling for the next two weeks (I'm finally going home) but I hope (for your sake) that it'll be soon.Huge enormous thanks to Jenna (@allskynostars) for reading over this and helping me plot and to Simren (@wonderrful) for letting me tease her mercilessly.

Read it on AO3

“God it’s good to see you,” Betty breathed out as soon as the grainy image of his face filled her laptop screen.

“Betts, it’s been two days,” Jughead said through a soft laugh, that lazy smile she loved so much resting on his lips.

“I know but … well, I missed you.” Her voice was quiet as she looked down at the keyboard and brushed away some imaginary fluff.

“What’s up babe?” He would give anything to be able to reach out and touch her, brush that lone strand of hair out of her face and tilt her chin up, let himself get lost in the depths of her green eyes. But he couldn’t, something he had to remind himself of every day when he reached for his phone to see if she wanted to walk to school together or ask if she was free that weekend.

“I … I had another attack.” Jughead reached over and turned up the sound on his computer, her voice so quiet it was getting distorted as it poured out of his crappy speakers.

“Mum was yelling at me again. I can’t even remember what it was about but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I tried to call Polly afterwards but she wasn’t picking up and then I went to call you but time zones are a bitch so of course you were asleep and I know that you’ve had trouble sleeping so I didn’t want to wake you up or end up waking up Archie and Kevin was busy and I felt so … alone. I felt like there was no one around me that I could talk to and then on top of all the assignments I have to hand in next week and all of this stuff with my mum I just sort of freaked I guess. I don’t know, it sounds stupid now that I try and explain it.”

“Betty, there’s nothing about that that’s anywhere near stupid, okay? You have a lot going on at the moment and it’s normal to be feeling stressed about school, especially with the pressure you put on yourself to excel at everything you do. Throw a crazy mum in the mix and I’m surprised you haven’t snapped sooner. Don’t ever feel bad about having a panic attack,” Jughead reassured her, catching her eyes through the screen and refusing to break his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know Jug,” Betty choked out, brushing the tears out of her eyes. “Everything is so hard and I miss you so much and just … these last three months have been hell without you Juggie. I need you,” she said softly, letting her tears flood her face as they refused to be stopped by her attempts to control them.

“I miss you too Betts.” Against his better judgement, Jughead reached out and ran his fingers over his screen, his fingers tracing her pixelated outline. “You do know that you can call me anytime. The fact that I have trouble sleeping means that you should call me when you’re feeling overwhelmed or stressed or even if you just want to talk. Don’t worry about waking me up. I will gladly lose an hour or so of uneventful sleep if it means I get to talk to you.” Betty took a deep breath and nodded slowly as Jughead sent her that damn smile that he knew made her weak in the knees and agree with anything he said.

“Besides, you know that Archie is impossible to wake up once his head hits the pillow so you can’t use that as an excuse,” Jughead joked feebly as he cocked an eyebrow in jest. Betty let out a weak laugh and sighed once more, revelling in the warmth that spread through her chest at the sight of him. Whenever she was with him she felt like everything was okay but then as soon as the screen went dark she was plunged back into reality, reminded that everything around her was slowly unravelling.

“What are you looking at Betts? Do I have something on my face?” Jughead asked as his fingers flew up to play with that rebellious curl that always fell over his forehead.

“No, I’m just … looking,” Betty said cheekily, a smile playing on her lips. Jughead let out a content sigh, happy that he was able to make Betty feel even the slightest bit better.

“Jug! We’re gonna be late for school if you don’t stop flirting with your girlfriend. Hurry up!” Archie called out from the bottom of the stairs, his voice barrelling through the open door.

“I guess that’s my cue. Please please call me whenever you need to, even if it’s three in the morning.” Jughead pleaded as he started moving around the room, throwing books into his satchel haphazardly.

“I promise Jug. I love you.”

“Love you Betts, talk to you later.”

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

“Would you mind if I killed Veronica accidentally on purpose?” Jughead asked casually as he accepted Betty’s video chat request.

“That depends. I’m gonna say yes because she’s basically my sister but I’m sure I could be persuaded otherwise,” Betty teased, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Things had been slowly getting better over the last few weeks. Betty had kept her promise, waking Jughead up a few times so he could help calm her down and avoid another panic attack. It was getting better, but they were getting worse.

Some days it felt like it was suffocating her; the homesickness she felt despite technically being back home. She missed him so much it seemed like a weight she had to carry around, a constant elephant in the already crowded room that housed her thoughts. She never realised just how much she missed him until she saw him on her screen, taunting her, making her feel like they were close enough to touch despite the thousands of kilometres between his lips and hers. It was always so easy between the two of them but she could tell that the distance was beginning to take its toll on him, on them.

She could hear it in the words he had started choosing carefully, feel it in unfamiliar expressions he sometimes wore when she would look at him for just that moment longer. It was starting to fall apart, they were starting to fall apart, the physical distance finally beginning to show in the prolonged silences and the awkward pauses.

But then they would have conversations like this one, the conversations that flowed so easily that she felt like they were sitting on the banks of Sweetwater River, or curled up in an armchair in the Lodge’s library, or tangled in each other as they fell asleep in her bed.

“She stole my laptop Betts! I mean, I know that I may have sort of purposely spilt part of my milkshake on her but stealing my laptop is just too far,” Jughead exclaimed, throwing his hands about expressively. Betty let out a small giggle as she watched his outburst, thinking that he looked adorable with his hat slipping down his forehead as he paced back and forth within the view of the screen.

“Do I want to know why you spilt your milkshake?” Betty asked teasingly, unable to hide how ridiculous she found the situation.

“Her and Archie were making out in Pop’s again and I swear I was aiming for Archie but then I just happened to tip my glass over exactly as Ron climbed onto Archie’s lap so technically she should be blaming Archie because it’s all his fault.” Jughead finished with a flop, falling onto his bed and shifting slightly so she could still see him.

“I think you need to go full ‘Home Alone’; set up booby traps all over the house, steal Archie’s phone and send her a text to come over, and then sit back and enjoy the show,” Betty suggested, trying so hard to be serious but not quite succeeding.

“Babe, it’s not even November, why are you already watching Christmas movies?”

“Who said I watched it recently?” Betty asked as her eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“Because last year you told me that movie is your guilty pleasure and the one Christmas movie you’d watch all year around and that you watch it whenever you’re in a crappy mood,” Jughead pointed out. Betty opened her mouth to deny it but Jughead cut her off. “And I can see the DVD case open on your desk.” If anyone ever needed the perfect example of a smug expression, all that they would have to do is take a photo of Jughead in that exact moment.

“Fine, you win. Yes, I did watch it last night but I still think that would be a great way to get back at V.”

“I think Archie would kill me before letting me use his phone. Also, you said you watched that movie last night, is everything okay Betts?” Jughead tone changed from joking to serious in a second and it caught Betty off guard.

“Same old, same old. I don’t know really. There isn’t anything specific I was just in a crappy mood last night and needed something to take my mind off … well, off everything really,” Betty said casually, knowing exactly what Jughead was going to say but not wanting him to make a big deal out of it.

“Babe, why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you’re not here!” Betty practically yelled and was suddenly grateful that her parents were out of the house. “Because, Jug, you can’t do everything for me. I can’t ask you to fix all my problems or indulge my every need as soon as I feel less than one hundred percent. You’re not here and I have to learn how to do some things for myself.” The line went silent and Betty would have thought he’d hung up if she couldn’t see Jughead’s broken heart etched across his face.

“Sorry Jughead. I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. I’m just … tired,” Betty muttered as she ran her hands over her face. They both knew that she wasn’t talking about sleep.

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

Betty was in her room on a Friday night, the blinking numbers on her alarm clock were tauntingly reminding her of every second that passed, every second he was late.

How could he forget?

Those words kept spinning around and around in her head, tripping over each other and breaking through every other blossoming thought.

How could he forget? How could he forget? How could he for-

Her intrusive thoughts were cut off by the sound of her phone buzzing on her desk. She leapt off her bed and hurried over to it, simultaneously tapping in her passcode and tripping over the sneakers she’d abandoned on the floor.

“Say hi to Betty for me,” Archie voice trickled out of her phone as the image waited to load.

“Say hi to her yourself.” The first glimpse she got of Jughead was the back of his head as he yelled at Archie over his shoulder. He turned around to face her with a goofy grin as Archie’s heavy footstep became louder and louder.

“Hey Betty!” Archie said enthusiastically as he leaned over Jughead, almost squishing him. “How’s it going?”

“It’s … it’s going good thanks Arch.” She pulled her lips into her best Cooper smile and her hands automatically flew up to her hair, smoothing it out and tightening her ponytail. She knew that Jughead had noticed the motion but she was hoping he wouldn’t call her out on it in front of Archie. He must have read her expression and said nothing but continued to look at her as if she was some strange animal he’d heard about but never actually seen in real life.

Archie must have noticed the heavy silence that was settling over the two of them and slowly backed away from the screen, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

“What’s going on Betts?” Jughead said tiredly, his hands reaching up and tugging his hat off his head before throwing it somewhere off camera. His hands started running through his hair, the habit he only ever feel back into when he was dreading something or feeling uncomfortable. How ironic.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about,” she muttered bitterly as the plastic persona she’d slipped into moments ago fell away, leaving only the shell of her behind.

“Betty, don’t do this,” he sighed, collapsing onto his elbows and looking straight at her.

“Don’t do what Jug? What is it that you don’t want me to do?” She knew that she was overreacting but she couldn’t stop herself. Everything had started making her feel so numb lately but this, this was breaking through the bubble she hid herself inside. It was making her feel something and she couldn’t help but let herself indulge in just this one thing.

“Don’t cut me out Betty! We’ve talked about this. If this is going to work then we can’t keep secrets. We can’t lie to each other.” He sounded defeated and Betty almost felt bad that her words had caused that broken tone but at least she was feeling something.

“We both know I’m not the only one breaking promises around here.” She thought he wouldn’t hear. She thought she’d mumbled it quietly enough that her tiny microphone and his tiny speakers wouldn’t pick it up.

“Come on, what’s that supposed to mean?” His hand were in the air and his back was straight, almost as if he was trying to get away from her.

“You were three hours late Jug! You left me sitting here for three whole hours just waiting for you to call without so much as a single message to say you were running late or doing whatever the hell you we're doing.” Jughead’s face fell. Now he was looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost. Maybe that’s what she was to him; a lonely ghost, a whisper of a memory he could barely remember despite them only being apart for six months. She could feel the tears pricking at her eyes. She wasn’t going to turn into the girl that starts crying because her boyfriend forgets to call. She wasn’t. She wasn’t. She wa-

“You were waiting that whole time?” She could hear the pain in his voice, but it was a mere whisper over the sound of her tears as they came rushing down her cheeks. She nodded quickly and cast her eyes downwards, focusing on the ruined nail polish that coated her nails instead of the breaking boy on her screen. All that she wanted was to be in his arms, to feel him wrapped around her as she watched the world melt away while he made everything better.

But he couldn’t make it better this time because he was the one causing her pain, a pain that felt ten times worse than it should have after those long weeks of feeling nothing. She curled into herself and let her phone fall onto the bed in front of her, her knee covering the camera.

“Betts, I’m so so sorry. I was at Pop’s with Arch and Ron and we lost track of time. I didn’t realise until about an hour ago and by then I figured you’d be doing something else so I waited a bit until I saw you were online. I’m so so sorry Betts.” She could tell he meant it. Logically, her brain knew that every single word that came out of his mouth was completely and utterly sincere.

Her anxiety begged to differ.

What’s stopping him from doing that again? How do you know he didn't just forget? He could so easily be lying to you. What if he had something better to do and he just … didn’t call? What if -

“Betty? Babe, are you alright?” The voices in her head kept getting louder and louder, blocking out everything and everyone else as a familiar tightening sensation started spreading through her chest.

“Betty, I need you to take a nice deep breath. Can you do that for me?” His voice was soft and tempting, the only sound to break through the storm clouding her mind. She managed to take a shallow breath, feeling it shake as it made its way into her lungs.

“Well done Betts. Can you take another breath?” She closed her eyes and focused on his voice, letting it pulling her out of the darkness as she took another breath, letting it go slightly deeper. She managed to find a rhythm and kept going, breathing in and out and in and out until the toxic words began to numb and melt back in with everything else.

“Can you move the camera so I can see you Betts?” His voice was still gentle, almost as if he was careful not to break her. It dawned on her that maybe he already had. Betty reached for her phone and repositioned it so she appeared on the screen, trying to keep her hands from shaking but failing miserably. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw her, grateful that she’d managed to avoid another panic attack and trying not to focus on the fact that he was the cause of it.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry that I bought that on. I really didn’t mean to be so late calling you and if I had’ve known that you were waiting I would’ve left Pop’s sooner a-”

“Jughead, stop.” Betty’s words cut through his like ice, her tone frigid despite the shaky quality it possessed. “Just … just stop.” The tears came back for another round, obviously not getting their fair share the first time. “I can’t keep doing this anymore. It’s dragging us both down and I … I don’t want to say goodbye Juggie, I really don’t, but I think that’s what we need at the moment.” She couldn’t tear her gaze from her nails, couldn’t look up into his eyes because she knew the storm she would find there and the darkness her words would bring.

“Betts, Betts what are you talking about?” Jughead sounded frantic, the soothing quality his voice had just possessed disappearing without a trace.

“You can’t seriously think that this is healthy!” She screamed before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to calm down a fraction. “You forgot we had a call and that’s not even the first time,” Betty said with a slight chuckle, forcing herself to find some humor in this situation because she knew it would end in another panic attack if she didn’t.

“And then I almost had a panic attack over it which means that this is one of the many things in my life that is becoming more of a burden than a pleasure.” She knew that would sting, knew that would help convince Jughead to admit what they’d both known for longer than they cared to admit.

“If this is what you really want then I’ll support you Betty, you know I will.” His words were barely audible as they filtered out of Betty’s phone.

“I guess that’s it then,” she mumbled, finally forcing her eyes up to the screen. They both let out a sigh as they soaked each other in. She couldn’t believe she was doing this, couldn’t believe she was letting go of one of the only lights in her otherwise dull existence.

“I still love you Jug.” Her voice was still shaking as the words fell from her lips before her mind could process them. “And I think I always will. But I can’t … this is becoming a chore and I don’t want for you to become a chore for me. I want you to be someone I can come to for anything an-”

“I still am that person, Betty. I’m still here for you, even if I have a crappy way of showing it.” His fingers we're running through his hair again as his eyes locked on hers through the screen, pulling her in and refusing to let her go.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she whispered as she let herself get lost in the digital recreation of him which filled her screen.

“Trust me when I say I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled with a smirk, bringing his trademark humor into an otherwise heartbreaking conversation.

“I’ll talk to you soon Jughead,” she said as she reached across to end the call.

“I love you Betts.”

The screen went black. And so did everything else.

[hollywoodx4]

Sticking With the Schuylers (41)

The answer to your question is yes, we’ll get back to the fluff. Eventually. For now, let’s catch up with Alex.

(I’m waking up in like 5 hours to go to the gym why do I do this to myself)

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Tagging: @linsnavi 

The steps from his-Eliza’s-apartment to the one he had shared with his friends are familiar. It doesn’t take too long to get from one to the other, as long as one’s timing with the subway is right. Alex doesn’t even bother with the subway; he has too many bags, anyway. And then he’d walked so far with his head in a fog that he’d missed the station completely, and hadn’t noticed until a few blocks had passed. Now, he’s stranded. Alexander stands ankle-deep in snow that bites with cold, in grey and frayed sweatpants torn from well-wear and only meant for home. His street-worn Converse are shoes he threw on in his hurry, and regret seeps into his skin just as the moisture of snow melts into his socks. Dampness consumes him as he stares at the streets ahead.

               His breath comes out in quickly dispersing streams of fog, the night becoming much too bitter to be hanging around with work-weakened arms. They hold the belongings he’d toted the other way not so long before. Six weeks hadn’t seemed like a long time, in the grand scheme of things. They say that it takes even longer to create a habit of something, but Alexander had made his home in only 42 days. In those days he’d gotten used to a lot of things. He’d gotten used to Eliza’s company.

               Coming home to her had become something of a treasure; the one thing he longed for from the moment she left the warmth of their bed. Working longer hours was both arduous and easy-he loved his work but he loved the feeling of her weight on his lap and her legs dangled over his more. She’d always make sure he wasn’t working past capacity. Then, there was their routine; carefully crafted upon unspoken words and that habit that had built in much shorter a time than normal.

               Eliza was always the first out of bed-stretched out to meet and sometimes even beat the rising sun. She always showered in the morning, and she always sang. Even when she thought he was still sleeping (he rarely slept past the time he felt her leave the bed), she hummed quietly, moving around in a sort of unintentional dance of contagious optimism. It always took him a little longer to leave the warmth of the bed and the dream-like light of gold seeping through soft curtains, but the humming and dancing always drew him out much sooner than he’d been accustomed to. Then he’d brew the coffee while Eliza made breakfast and they’d sit together at the island, happy in each other’s company. When it was their apartment, an almost whimsical feeling of warmth hung in the air. The walls were dusted with hues of gold and shining with a sun that existed only in Eliza’s gentle smile.

               When her apartment was theirs, Alexander lived in a constant state not of bliss, but of peace. His feelings lingered on a limb between settled and secure and relaxed, something he had not felt in years to come. Happiness snuck up on him slowly and wrapped its copper-dusted vines around him, climbing and enveloping and taking him over until he had been consumed with nothing but his own smile and warmth and light. And that vine reached so far, past his gut and his heart and his head, that often it transported Alexander. When he slept, that happiness extended to a place of consistent sunlight and ocean waves and small village shacks and marbles played on sand-dusted grounds. That copper vine took that sunlight and transferred its warmth to his heart, where often he felt his mother’s soft gaze or her hand through his hair or her voice, echoed in gentle song with his name over and over again. With Eliza-with this happiness-the good memories came easily.

               He’s not sure what he’s going to do without her.

               Maybe it’s dramatic, the way leaving her had feels like the end of a chapter. Somewhere within his mind is a voice which sounds its harrowing echo, teasing and taunting and creeping its way back in. And the further he gets away from his sun, with his snow-soaked shoes and the cold biting at his exposed skin, the worse the voices get.

               When he finally makes it to the old apartment his feet refuse to carry him any farther. Alex stands on the sidewalk, looking up at the place that had once felt like home. Before, this slightly run-down building had been a beacon. He’d known each crack in the sidewalk, each piece of dried-up gum stuck there. There was the old woman, still sat on the bench feeding birds that come dutifully to her side even though the January air chills their tiny feet. There’s the florist, who is treasured despite the fact that his flowers are almost always on the brink of death. And then there’s the door, that front door to the apartment building, with its little call box secured on the brick wall beside it.

               This is where Alex deposits his bags on the only dry patch of concrete he can find, in a haphazard pile. His shoulders ache. He stretches his arms to the sky. This exercise becomes a piece of the process that he prolongs quite generously, as his mind is still foggy and unable to fit together exactly what is happening. His finger hovers over the button for 403, and drops back to his side. The only other time he had had to call to be let in, he’d left his keys in the library at Columbia during finals his sophomore year. He’d been young, exhausted, and eager to find success at every turn back then. Not much has changed. He’d come all the way back to the apartment practically dragging his feet before remembering his mistake, and by then it had been too late to go back and retrieve his keys from the stack of books he’d thrown in the return. He’d gotten teased mercilessly that night, especially after waking everyone up so early in the morning. Then, Alex had been welcomed back with open arms and midnight snacks. But now…

               Now, he’s unsure of what to do. Now he has no key, no real tie to this place after he’d shoved it in John’s hands six weeks ago. He’s not even sure if his room is still in-tact. He’d been too ashamed to ask. He’d still come over for game nights every Friday, but so had Eliza and Angelica and even Peggy. Their dynamic hadn’t seemed to change other than the fact that when the consoles were shut off and the drinks gone, Alex would walk out the door instead of crawling to his bedroom. He still spent his allotted half hour between classes with John at Starbucks, joking and laughing as if things were still normal. Hercules still joined him in the library, sitting across from Alex and Eliza as she tutored them in language-which often meant teaching them how to say phrases meant more for the bedroom than every day conversation. He’d even made them a host of new pillow covers when she’d mentioned how their decorations weren’t quite coming together yet.

               Lafayette has been a different story.

               Alex hasn’t seen him since the night he’d moved. For six Fridays, he’s been too busy to come to game night, claiming study sessions or work or Skype calls to his family overseas. Bullshit, he hates them. He thinks-he knows-that there isn’t a stitch of truth within these excuses. He’d been too polite to say anything with Eliza present but more than anything he’d wanted to call his friend out, ask him why he was choosing to ostracize Alex instead of confronting whatever made him hate Eliza with such an unjustified passion.

               He supposes, as he raises his finger to the call button, that there’s no such time as the present.

                “Hey, it’s Alex. Can you let me up?” No answer. He waits a moment for the familiar click of the stairwell unlocking, but it does not come. So he presses the button again, repeating his message louder and with more certainty. It takes a minute for the lock to click open. He treads the familiar path with his feet weighing heavily on old wooden stairs, each creak familiar. They stab at his feet as the memories-good memories-come flying back. It’s not the end. It feels like the end.

               When he reaches the door it’s already open, with John on the other side. He takes one look at Alex, snow-soaked and miserable, and pulls half of the bags from his hands before leading him inside. He says nothing; John has a gift for knowing his best friend’s expressions, and this one is dark and consuming. This expression reads nothing more than ‘don’t ask.’ So he doesn’t. Instead, he moves the bags into Alex’s old bedroom, which to his relief has gone generally untouched in the past six weeks. It’s almost as if they’d expected him to fail. He can’t say he’s surprised that he did.

               Hercules comes out a while later, seeking a snack but finding Alex’s sunken frame on the couch instead. He moves to the fridge, rooting around before pulling out two beers. John is sat at the counter, nursing a glass of water with downturned lips and a shaking head.

               “He’s been like this for an hour.” John won’t turn his gaze from Alex, even though neither of the two have moved an inch since he’s walked in. Herc turns the two glass bottles in his hands, considering the situation at hand.

               “What happened?”

               “I haven’t asked.” When Herc’s eyebrows raise, and his mouth drops slightly, John sits up in his chair. “He came with bags, all of his stuff just dropped in his room. He walked here. I don’t think he wants to talk about why he suddenly has to be back here so fuck off, Herc.”

               “John, chill. I wasn’t saying you’re not a good friend. We all know how Alex gets. I’ll try and get something out of him.”

               Hercules Mulligan has a way about himself that is often completely unexpected, and yet Alex knows when he feels the shift of weight on the couch just what is about to happen. His mind has shut off. He refuses to acknowledge the cold condensation of the beer bottle on his arm, pricking against his fingers in an attempt to breathe life into him. Life will not come. Herc sighs, staring over at John who simply shrugs his shoulders in response. I told you so. But the larger, overly gentle figure of a friend is not done yet. He places both beers on the coffee table and puts his hands in his lap, looking over at Alexander without a break in contact between his eyes and Alex’s turned face.

               “Alex.” He calls his name softly, at first, an attempt to break the exterior his friend has put up. Alexander keeps his eyes trained on the droplets of water that have begun to slink their way slowly down the neck of the glass bottles, gathering in a puddle on the wood of the coffee table. Eliza would have used a coaster. “Alex, what happened? Why are all your things back here?”

               He figures it’s the nicest way anybody could have asked the question without actually asking it, and Alex appreciates the effort although it still stings. Did she break up with you? The words linger unspoken in the air between the three friends, especially from John’s quiet hideout at the kitchen island. He almost wishes they would ask outright-that the situation would be solved with one answer and the ability to hide in his room. He lets them sit and wonder for a while, exhausted and unwilling to speak. Herc takes a long pull of his beer before clearing his throat, drumming his fingertips on his leg.

               “There’ll be other girls,”

               “Alex.” Three heads turn to face the hallway, where a slightly disheveled Lafayette stands staring at the scene in front of him. He runs a hand over his poufy, full head of hair, which has been slightly disrupted by sleep. His dark eyes are covered by squinting eyelids, the light in the living room an immediate offense. John rises from his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Alex remains silent; his name drips from Lafayette’s lips, deadpan.

               “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t move, not to walk away from Alex nor to get closer. He leans against the wall of the hallway, looking simultaneously disinterested and frustrated.

“He lives here.”

               “No, he doesn’t.”

               “Cool it.” Herc stands too, positioning himself in the middle of his roommates although nobody has moved to make a physical threat. He takes in a deep breath of air in hopes that they will do the same, but the only person responsive to this tactic is John. Alex has not done so much as blink, letting the beginnings of the argument crash around him. He has had enough today.

               “He’s moving back in with us.”

               “When did we decide this?”

               “Alex has lived here just as long as any of us. If he wants his room back he can have it.”

               “Who was the one that left us in the first place? And for what, a girl who wanted him for half a second then left him out to dry?”

               “Laff,”

               “-I’m not the one who chose upper society over my friends! I’m not the one who left them hanging with his portion of the rent!”

               “You know Alex is still paying his share, you’re full of shit.” John’s usually pacified, lopsided grin has turned into a crooked sort of smirk painted with tensed muscles and narrowed eyes. A bubbling of anger boils inside of him, like the slow cooking of a lobster screaming from the tension of the rolling heat. Alex’s sadness-his foggy, muted state-pains John more than he’d thought it would. He won’t even let his eyes near his friend again for fear of feeling too much at one time. In his mind, he’s gathering an extensive list of curses aimed toward both Lafayette and Eliza. And Alex just sits.

               “All I know is that for almost three years Alex was here, and one day he was just gone. How do we know he’s not going to leave again in a week when Eliza decides she wants her toy back?”

               “If you were able to see anything past your own mind then you’d know to shut the fuck up right now.” It’s the first time Alex has spoken since he entered the apartment-since he left Eliza’s. Lafayette’s pompous voice, dripping with arrogance and a nasally sort of pride, has been digging into him since he decided to join the conversation. He hadn’t expected this piece of the conversation to go well, truthfully, but he’d thought his friend would have the decency to sit and listen to him before deciding his fate. Alexander had tried sitting idly by when he was a child. It hadn’t worked. Now, he feels the immediate urgency to protect and to defend more than ever. His tone is dark and grumbling and his syllables laced with biting diction, so much so that he’s practically spitting out his words. Lafayette staggers backward in defense.

               “You want me to see past my own mind? What about you? What about you never even considering us when you went ahead and decided your life would be all about Eliza? What about the fact that that decision was pointless because all those girls want is a quick fuck before they get bored anyway?”

               “-You leave her out of this.” John is the first to notice the changes in Alex, the way his body increasingly tenses and his posture leans forward. At the mention of Eliza’s name he’s seen enough to launch himself forward the millisecond it happens. He catches Alex just as his hand, accompanied by a tightly closed fist, is just inches away from the Frenchman’s face. The two stagger forward, toppling to the carpet while their friends watch. Hercules holds a hand poised and ready to stop his twiggish friend, but Lafayette does not make any moves to continue the instigated fight.  Alex, still held back by John, stand and brushes himself off. His physical gusto has retired, but the verbal fire still burns bright and crackling with a new intensity set off by the embarrassment of missing his punch.

               “You have no idea what’s going on, you never could. You’re always going on and on about how wrong Manhattan and high society and people like them are but you’re worse than them. You’re a fucking hypocrite. I’m sorry that your own family sucked but here’s a newsflash-you’re not the only one suffering here. You’re not the only one who’s been through deep shit. And you’re not allowed to walk around here like you own the place just because some high society French girl decided that you weren’t good enough for her, or because your family is full of piece-of-shit people who don’t know how to use their money.”

               “-Don’t you dare,”

               “-I’m not done. I’m so sick and tired of you deciding you know everything about someone before giving them half a second to explain. You know what? This separation sucks. And no, I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been essentially kicked out. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but in an adult relationship, when you’re done screwing anything with its legs open, you have to make sacrifices you don’t really want to make sometimes. And it’s hard, and it’s painful, but you do it. And you can be upset with me for it but I’m doing this for Eliza, not for you. I could give two shits what you have to say to me right now because I’m trying to keep someone I love safe and happy and if that means moving out I’d move a fucking ocean away from her. That’s how love works. We’re not going to be stupid college kids forever.”

               “Va te faire mettre! You’ve always been a dramatic piece of shit and you know it.  You say I’m going after you because of my own life? I know my life was shit. But I never threw it away for some girl and that’s why I’m here right now. What about you? What happens when she doesn’t love you anymore? What happens then, when you’re used and thrown out and she’s got some other guy doing her dirty work for her?”

               “Shut up.”

               “-And we’re not going to be in college forever, you’re right. But at least I have the decency to treat the friends I’ve had since I moved here with respect. John was your first friend-when was the last time you thanked him for being there?”

               “You’re not throwing him into this too.” At this point, Alexander has closed the distance between himself and Lafayette. Although the French man is much taller than he is, he makes up for his lack of height with the biting acidity of his voice. The more Lafayette pushes, the louder Alex gets. “I’ve had enough of you-your attitude, your ego...”

               “Casse toi, va te faire cuire le cui!”

               “Fuck you too, Laff. And you know what, I still pay rent so if you need me I’ll be in my room. My room. In our apartment. If you have a problem with that, maybe you can find the door.”  

               The door slams violently behind Alexander, who has used so much force that the sound knocks at his head and lingers there. The sight he is met with turns his stomach to knots, his heartbeat continuing its rapid pace while sinking to his stomach. Piles of bags are cast haphazardly on the floor. His bed is still made. His calendar is still turned to December, dashes of important events written in his chicken-scratch with black pen coating its once clear surface.

               It is quiet here, but not in the way he had remembered.  As he moves to unzip the first bag he can hear murmured voices-John and Herc, cleaning up a dinner mess he hadn’t even known was there. He can hear the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut, the shower running at full blast. The clattering of dishes joins it, and then the TV starting up on the other side of his wall, in the living room. These are the sounds of home, of living and of being, but they are silent compared to what he had gotten used to. He longs for the sound of her bell-toned voice, laughing and singing and talking to her sisters on the phone. The commotion that had once lulled him to sleep now keeps him awake. Herc’s deep-toned voice echoes even when he is whispering. John’s bed, on the other side of the opposite wall, creaks with each movement he makes. His own bed is hard, and cold without her in it.

               And in this silence, he is consumed with a sudden and overwhelming pressure in his gut. It twists itself to his throat, where a lump forms and refuses to leave. In the silence, he is privy to his own thoughts. In his thoughts, there is nothing but guilt.

               He had yelled at Lafayette-at one of his oldest friends. One mention of Eliza’s name had driven him to the verbal destruction of someone who had welcomed him so openly to Columbia, and to America as a whole. Hell, they’d both went through the ringer and back together, two immigrants with imperfect families who’d just had to get away. America had been their fresh start, their second chance to get things right. Here, he was meant to make a name for himself. He’d never intended that name to be sewn between strings of French curses that felt truthful in the silence.

               It had always been John and Alexander, Herc and Lafayette. Even from the beginning, when they’d decided to move out of campus housing together, they’d been split into two pairs of friends looking to split rent and drink together. Alex and Laff were their common bond, sharing a class in mathematics neither really paid attention in. They’d bonded over their status as immigrants, shared stories through their notes as they pretended to pay attention. And then, when freshman year was over, they’d found this apartment. It was cheap enough, and in good distance to the subway, and they liked each other well enough to share a kitchen and a living room. They hadn’t known this apartment and this agreement would be the catalyst that they’d built their friendship upon. They hadn’t known how close they’d grow.

               They were the glue that brought this group together. This apartment was the common ground they’d grown in, and Alexander had just spoken about it as if it were nothing. The conversation plays over in his mind, unwillingly as his own behavior makes him wince. This time around, he is not focused on the insults thrown Eliza’s way. Instead, he listens to his own terse, flaming voice shooting fire at Lafayette. His stomach turns again, a reminder of what he has done. Eliza hadn’t deserved the words his friend had said about her, but he’d been just as bad. He’d lowered to a version of himself he hadn’t seen in a long time. He’d done it for Eliza, but at what cost?

               The realization of his actions send him across the hall, to the door with the French flag hung crooked-It’s not crooked, your eyes are-across its width. He knocks fervently, not caring who he’ll disrupt. He’d already stirred up the night, one more disturbance would just be commonplace. Necessary-this is necessary.

               Alexander watches Lafayette’s eyes darken the second he opens the door. He speaks in a voice much more gruff than his own, arms crossed over his chest in a preemptive act of defense.

               “What do you want now?”

               “I’m sorry.” The words come out in a slightly cracked tenor; admitting his fault has never been his strong suit, but although his attempt is feeble and the weakness almost laughable, Lafayette keeps his door open. He pokes his head out a bit further. He listens. “I just-there’s so much going on right now. So much. With myself, and with Eliza,”

               The name makes the French man roll his eyes again, which sets a spark to the defense in Alexander’s heart. But this isn’t about her honor-he repeats this mantra as he bites back the insults fresh on his tongue. This is about his friendship.

               “I know that I’ve been spending a lot of time with her. Most of my time, actually. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t aware of that. But there’s something going on there, with her, that’s bigger than anything I’ve ever faced before. And I know I need to be spending more time with you guys, and I know moving out was shitty on my part. This apartment does mean a lot to me, our friendship means a lot to me. But Eliza….Eliza’s it. I know she is. And what’s going on with her isn’t a joke. It’s sucked so much from our relationship, and from herself, and from me. I know I’m acting different. I know I need to come back to you guys. But this is getting serious and I just don’t know what to do.”

               It takes a moment for Lafayette to let the words sink in; one last plea from the guy from Nevis, the fellow immigrant with flyaway hair and bag-adorned eyes. His friend is wrapped in good intentions, always good. But the shift in focus from himself to Eliza hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it hurt to hear the softness of his words and the love he poured from his heart and his shining eyes into each syllable he spoke about her. Alexander is a mirror of a time remembered well by Lafayette, one he’d almost rather forget. It hits him with such force that he sighs, holding his hand behind his neck.

               “You know, it’s been five years since I left France-since Marie.”

               “Five years?”

               “Sometimes, it feels like less. Sometimes it feels like I’ve been here forever. But there are days I see a girl with blonde hair, or a jean jacket like she always used to wear, and I,” He pauses for a moment, his once stormy eyes lightening with a distant memory Alexander wishes he could see. He can feel it, the way Lafayette draws in a long and shaky breath. He clasps his hands together, fingers bumping against each other as he stays in his far-off world. “I miss her. And then, I wish that things had been different. Seeing you with Eliza…I don’t want you to live what I’m living. We’re un dans le meme, cursed with our hearts and our stubbornness and our love for things that shouldn’t belong to us. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

               “Okay.”

               “I shouldn’t have judged her so harshly, even based on my own account. I’m sorry, Alex.”

               “Just-just don’t treat her like shit, alright? She’s a good person, better than anybody I’ve ever known.”

               “I won’t, you have my word. And if you need help with any of this, any time…”

               “I know.” Alexander smiles then, light and airy as exhaustion finally consumes him. He nods once, slowly, before turning on his heel. When he gets to his door across the hall he turns, one last thought seeping from his lips as his hand connects with the doorknob. “If you need to talk-about her,”

               Lafayette shakes his head, a solemn smile playing at the corners of his lips. There is a hopelessness within his eyes that is sent across the hallway, in the air around them, as a remnant of what could have been. Just when Alexander thinks he’s about to share his thoughts Lafayette waves, a foot back in his own doorway.

               “Goodnight, Alex.”

               “Goodnight, Laff.”

[obi-wan-kenobied]

Brock Rumlow, Bartender AU, female pairing of your choice, or make up an OC. :)

A/N: Apologies for it being late ever since I reblogged the post with the prompts. But, here it is, and I hope it’s okay :D I’m literally terrible with OC’s, so I’m glad I asked if I could pair Brock with Nat. And yes there is some nsfw content, which is probably garbage I haven’t written anything remotely smutty in awhile. Put a keep reading link because it’s about 2k in length. With bonus appearances from Sam, Bucky and Jack. 

                                               Foxey Lady

Brock wanted to go home already.

It’s late on a Friday night at the STRIKE bar, but there’s a birthday party just kicking into gear, and most, if not all of the bar staff are working. Brock’s watching everybody with eagle eyes, coworkers and guests to make sure everything’s in order. He’s been working behind the bar for most of the night, and was due a break at any given moment. Whenever Sam swung by, that’d be his cue to go out back for a cigarette. Though, the sooner he got home, the better, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a phone sex operator were calling his name.

“You look like you’re about to jump over the bar and get the hell out of here.”

Bucky sided up to Brock, balancing plates on his hands and up his forearm as he lightly bumped his hip against Brock’s. He also looked exhausted, but Brock knew that Bucky was like an Energizer bunny and would keep going until the early hours of the morning.

“I love parties, kid, but this is goin’ on too long.”

“It’s only nine thirty,” Bucky replied.

“I gotta’ bottle of JD and a hot woman, or man on the end of my phone waitin’ for me at home.”

He smirked at the face Bucky pulled at him.

“Too much information, pal. I thought you called the same woman every night?” the brunette asked.

“She ain’t workin’ on a Friday, or Saturday…Sunday too,” Brock muttered.

Bucky patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“You make it sound like you’re attracted to her. C’mon, you might get a sultry guy on the line tonight.”

“Maybe. I don’t really care, as long as I get off, I’m good,” he said.

“You got no filter on ya’ Brock. I better get back out there, I think I’ll be swappin’ jobs with ya’ soon. It means you can go have that cigarette before you start tearin’ your hair out from bein’ stuck here,” Bucky mused.

Brock nodded slowly while wiping down the bar.

“Yeah, thanks kiddo.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Brock spotted a customer approaching the bar and moved away from where he was standing to serve them. She walked with grace in her stride, dressed in a fitting, wine coloured cocktail dress and black stilettos. Brock had a tendency to stare a lot, but it wasn’t until she sat down on one of the barstools that he got a closer look at her features. Long, red, flouncy curls fell over her slender shoulders to shape her face, her mossy green eyes contrasting with the deep red of her lipstick. The smile she gave him was genuine, and sweet, no flashing of any pearly white teeth, but her cheekbones rose up when she did, which was something Brock was quite weak towards.

“Hi.”

Then her voice, honeyed, but very appealing to Brock. 

“Hey, what can I get ya’?”

“Dirty Martini, two olives,” she answered, unclipping the clasp on her purse.

“First one is on the house,” Brock stated, reaching up to bring a martini glass down from the rack.

“Is it? Or are you just picking favourites?”

Brock let out a chuckle.

“Maybe I am pickin’ favourites. That okay with you?”

He felt fingers brush against his hand, then to his wrist, before it was lifted as the redhead took the olive from between his fingers, with her teeth. The look in her eyes sent blood rushing to areas Brock shouldn’t have it sent to, his hips nonchalantly pressing against the cold edge of the bar.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Brock. What ‘bout you, gorgeous?” Brock hummed, pouring vodka into the glass.

“Natasha. But you can call me Nat.”

“You pickin’ favourites now?” he teased.

Now it was Natasha’s turn to chuckle, as she swung some strands of her hair over her shoulder. Brock’s eyes fell on the tattoo under the strap of her dress, tilting his head slightly to try and admire it better.

“Nice tattoo.”

“Oh, yeah. Just a little something I got last year,” Nat chimed.

“What is it?”

Natasha pushed the strap to the side, revealing a black spider with a red hourglass shape on the underside.

“It’s a black widow.”

Suddenly, Brock choked on the olive he’d put in his mouth, hitting his chest as he coughed it down, despite the discomfort of it all. He’d heard the name before, and it seemed all too coincidental that the woman sitting in front of him happened to have a black widow tattooed on her.

“Are you okay?”

Shit, why didn’t I recognise her voice he thought.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Depends how personal it is,” she mused.

“Are you a phone sex operator?”

Natasha blinked rapidly, as if digesting what Brock had inquired about, her eyes averting from his for a moment. Brock’s eyes were staring back at her too intensely, though she did find him attractive, and it felt like she was meant to meet him.

“Why do you ask?”

Brock swallowed thickly.

“‘Cause I’m the guy that calls you every night when you’re workin’.”

The redhead’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“You’re Rumlow? You said your name was Brock.”

“Rumlow is my last name,” Brock stated.

He slid her drink across the bar to throw an extra olive inside it, placing it in front of Natasha with a small grin. Nothing felt awkward after asking her, though, she hadn’t exactly confirmed that she was the Black Widow that he’d been dirty talking with for the past month or so.

“I guess you caught me out. You sound different in person.”

Brock laughed.

“Probably ‘cause I’m not lyin’ on my bed…y’know.”

“Good point,” Natasha replied, taking a long sip of her drink. “This is the best martini I’ve had,” she added.

“Then have your second drink on the house too. I won’t tell my boss.”

“Well your boss is listenin’ right now Rumlow.”

“Jesus, Wilson,” Brock groused, straightening himself up while stepping away from the bar where he’d been leaning to talk to Natasha.

“Hi Nat, how you doin’?” Sam questioned.

Natasha smirked and glanced at Brock.

“Fine Sam, enjoying the party, and company.”

Brock cleared his throat as he pretended to throw some eaten lime wedges into the trash, earning a knowing grin from Sam.

“I can see that. But anyway, Brock you’re due a break, Bucky’s gonna’ step in here and I’ll get Jack to take over his job.”

“Finally. I mean, no offence but this shift is really kickin’ it out of me,” Brock sighed.

“Can you believe this guy?”

“I’m not sure, he’s been pretty accommodating,” Natasha rebuked, biting down on another olive in a way that sent a tingle down Brock’s spine.

Sam let out a prolonged ‘mhm’ while pulling a face at the pair, turning away to go in search of Bucky and Jack. Brock only rolled his eyes and fished his cigarette packet out of his front pocket, waving it in Natasha’s view.

“I’ll be back.”

Exiting through an archway at the side of the bar, Brock ventured down a short hallway before opening a door to take him outside. He jogged down the stairs to his left and walked around a corner to his favourite spot in the alleyway. Brock leant against the wall, lighter in hand and the cigarette in his mouth as he tried to light it. His head fell back when he took a long drag from it, exhaling the smoke with a content sigh, feeling his body start to relax for the first time through the entire night. He was too caught up in it to even hear the sound of heels clicking on the concrete, eyes closed to block him from seeing anybody either.

“Got room for one more?”

Brock’s head turned to the side, slowly, his gaze giving Natasha a once over, with her hand on one hip and the other pressed to the wall. He tried his hardest to look away, but Natasha’s eyes followed his, he knew he’d been sprung, yet she didn’t show any sign of wanting to knee him in the dick for it. Instead she sauntered up to him, tossing her purse on the chair beside Brock, to then halt in front of him. Her hand came to rest on his waist, running down to his pocket where she hooked two fingers inside to grab a cigarette of her own.

She smiled coyly when Brock’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in closer until they were chest to chest. He pointed his head down so that the end of the cigarette met the other, lighting it quickly for Natasha who glanced at Brock under hooded eyes. Brock didn’t drop his arm from his waist or push her back, it felt too good having her there. They stood in silence, save for Brock’s breathing, which sounded somewhat husky and laboured in the tight squeeze of an alleyway.

“Must feel awkward for you, meeting the person you talk dirty with on the phone four times a week,” she spoke, wisps of cigarette smoke flowing past her parted lips.

“If it was, I wouldn’t let you be here,” Brock uttered, dropping his hand to Natasha’s lower back.

Natasha’s arm coiled around Brock’s neck, fingers raking through his hair, from the base of his neck and upward. Brock elicited a soft groan, grasping the fabric of Natasha’s dress, lips parting a little. She fit nicely to him, like a puzzle piece made specifically for himself. It was becoming impossible to hold back any sort of urge he’d felt ever since Natasha had walked up to the bar, every little move she made was driving him crazy.

So once Brock felt Natasha’s soft lips brush across the corner of his mouth, he caved. His cigarette, carelessly thrown to the ground, stubbed out by the heel of his shoe as he cupped the back of the redhead’s neck, hearing the hitch in her breath. A sly grin twitched at the corner of his mouth, before he moved in, testing the waters with a simple peck on the mouth. Natasha’s fingers seized the hem of Brock’s shirt at the touch, until she leant in to return the favour.

Their lips met in a chaste kiss, however, intensifying to a fierce manner, tongue and teeth coming into play, hands roaming in places they’d never dare try moments ago. Brock lightly bit down on Natasha’s bottom lip, then worked his way down to her jaw, neck and along her shoulder. The sound of his belt being unbuckled deterring him for a minute as he gazed at her with his cooper brown eyes, masked with the black of his dilated pupils.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice hoarse and low.

Natasha’s hand went inside his jeans, palming his half hard cock through his underwear, the moan falling from Brock’s mouth, filthy and strained. She bit her lip and slid her hand in past the waistband, tilting her head up to capture Brock’s mouth in another kiss. Brock’s grip tightened on her hip, his own hips canting up when Natasha’s hand wrapped around his cock, her thumb running over the slit. His thighs trembled slightly from the sensation, while swallowing down the lump in his throat as he tried to catch a breath.

“Feeling okay?” she purred.

“Yes-ah…better than you bein’ on the phone and havin’ to do it to myself.”

There wasn’t really much time to waste, someone would be coming out to join Brock for a break. And he didn’t need them getting scarred for life by their coworker getting jerked off in an alleyway. If anything, he was surprised nobody had heard the moans or grunts he’d been letting out. Brock had no shame in being noisy and sharing his enjoyment with any passersby.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, drawing out the last expletive to emphasise how he was feeling.

“C’mon baby, you’ve got it in you,” Natasha encouraged.

Brock threw his head back when Natasha quickened the pace, adding some pressure to each stroke, thumb grazing the slit to push pre-cum down Brock’s dick, offering lubrication. His chest heaved unevenly with the sensation of reaching the edge he’d been seeking, one of his hands slipping under Natasha’s dress. He rubbed her thigh which brought out a hushed moan from her, a noise that he wanted to hear more of.

“You can do anything you want, later. Let me do this for you.”

Without any protest, Brock’s hand stayed on her thigh, his thumb occasionally teasing with the hem of her lacy underwear, watching the way Natasha squirmed from time to time. His head fell forward on Natasha’s shoulder, fingers tracing the outline of the tattoo on her chest, gently biting down on the junction between her neck and shoulder. Their noses bumped upon meeting each other’s mouths again, Brock being greedy and tasting the faint tang of vodka on Natasha’s tongue. He drew back with a shuddering grunt, thighs tensing, eyes screwed shut as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. Brock couldn’t find it in him to say anything, too busy panting with a deep growl in his throat. Cum painted his stomach where Natasha had shoved his shirt up, muscles contracting with every sharp intake of breath Brock took. Natasha smiled to herself, before tucking Brock’s now soft dick back into his jeans, buckling the belt up and tugging his shirt back down.

“I hope you have a spare shirt,” Natasha said.

Brock opened his eyes, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin at the sight of Natasha’s flushed cheeks. Her lipstick was barely smeared from the passionate kisses they’d been sharing, Brock was sure it’s the best break he’s ever had at work. He wiped some red away from the corner of her mouth, his hand finding its way back to her waist, body lax and sated.

“Got another one in my bag,” Brock answered.

“So, when do you get off?” she queried.

“I just did,” he teased.

It earned him a slap on the chest and a laugh from Natasha as she picked up her purse from the chair.

“I need to get inside, I’m due up onstage to sing for the birthday boy. But maybe we could catch up afterwards, your place or mine, it’s up to you.”

Brock moved in to give Natasha a chaste kiss, before letting his arm fall to his side.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

“I’ll see you inside then,” she murmured.

“Lookin’ forward to the show.”

Natasha stroked her fingers over Brock’s cheekbone, then turned away, walking back in the direction of the bar. Brock followed her until she disappeared around the corner, grabbing another cigarette out, since his first one had to be thrown away before he’d finished it. He heard someone clearing their throat, making him jump as he looked over to see Jack wandering over to him.

“Do I even wanna’ know what went on here?”

“No, Jackie. You don’t,” Brock drawled, bluntly.

Brock lifted his hand and ran his fingers over his mouth, holding it back to see the familiar shade of red, a disgruntled sigh

“Nice lips by the way.”

Jack burst out laughing, followed with a groan after Brock elbowed him in the ribs, giving his friend a cigarette once he’d sat down on the chair.

“Are you gonna’ see her again?” he asked, flicking his eyes up to Brock.

“Maybe buddy, maybe.”

Though, maybe certainly wasn’t the option Brock was going to take.

[ecotone99]

[SF] The first chapter of a potential book that I submitted as an assignment for Science Fiction at school. It involves the Trump Monument, Nuclear War, and a human thought experiment to preserve humanity. Let me know what you think!

-1-

It was a cold November morning in Washington, D.C. The sun had yet to peek over the Trump Monument, the tallest point in the capitol since 2020. In fact, the sun hardly covered more than half the city at a time because it was usually blocked by what some might call a ‘pinnacle of engineering aptitude.’ The monument appeared nearly identical to that of the Washington Monument, but after the demolition of the latter, for what congress called “something much better”, the Trump Monument now towered at 2,500 feet from the ground, and covered a span of nearly 5 blocks. According to the history books, the monument was originally erected as a “tribute to the greatness of this country”, proclaimed by then president Donald Trump, although to the wise it may stand as a symbol of oppression; keeping those deemed lesser in the shadow of those deemed greater, only for the lesser to be inevitably crushed by (possibly quite literally) their tribute to greatness in the end. Each year, this fate became seemingly more certain to those who know it, but as money filled the pockets of the capitalists in their endeavors, accepting ignorance in exchange for giving up morality and aptitude, the care for the matter seemed less and less urgent. Those outside of the government were too concerned for their wallets to be concerned about the world outside of business. The year is now 2051, and the government that has worked so hard to plug the holes in their sinking ship of debt has reached the brink of global nuclear war. The air carried a cloud of doubt, that these men and women that were soon to arrive at the downtown hover-rail station might change the fate of all those around them.

As the train neared the city, the only lights that could be seen through the thicket of bramble and fog were that of the capitol, since, as of early last year, all federal employees have begun working rotating shifts 24-hours a day to maximize profit, including weekends, typing furiously at computer screens to the point of callous, trying to prolong the inevitable for just a couple more days, a couple more days—And each day, they typed a little faster, a little faster, sending and receiving international transactions until you could barely see their fingers yet but a blur of flesh and skin and bone across each key in each fell swoop, until they would return home each night, armpits damp from anxiety, twiddling their fingers endlessly as they typed away into their dreams, never sleeping but never awake, but always working, for there was always more work to be done.

The magnetic brakes kicked on automatically as the train hovered down the rails to the final station, quickly but gently slowing down the behemoth. An unsecured brown leather backpack fell from a faulty overhead compartment onto the head of a younger woman.

“Ouch! Whose stinking bag is this?”

“Sorry about that, looks like I didn’t pack in my luggage good enough. Are you okay?” John picked his bag up off the pristine floor of the luxury train cab and carefully secured each arm through the shoulder straps. his cheeks swelled and reddened from embarrassment. Elevator music played in the background.

“Whatever, you’re lucky I don’t have that money yet or I would have sued your ass.” The woman looked at him, annoyed, before turning her back to him and departing from the awkward conversation. People are too sensitive these days, John thought. He wasn’t going to let one sour encounter ruin his day, however, for as she reaffirmed, there was a lot of money to be earned from this little week-long endeavor, whether they wanted to be there or not.

These 100 men and women, all of which were from diverse backgrounds, cultures, educations, and wealth, were all there for the same job inquiry—they had all received hand-delivered letters to their front doors by men in black suits and sunglasses, bearing official U.S. badges representing their affiliation with the US Department of Future Security, a military agency that focuses on protecting the United States from any and all future terrorist and domestic threats. Each delivered envelope contained the same message, which reads as follows:

IMPORTANT NOTICE

Dear (insert name),

You are hereby ordered to report for induction into a 7-day testing program at your nearest UNITED STATES FUTURE DEFENSE facility. Transportation will be provided to and from the facility. Be prepared for pickup by FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 11 @ 5:00 AM at your residence.

$50,000 USD will be electronically transferred to your E-Wallet upon completion of the program as reimbursement for lost time.

Willful failure to report at the place and hour of the day named in this Order subjects the violator to fine and imprisonment. Bring this Order with you when you report.

Your country thanks you for your service.

David Koehl, Overseer of U.S. Future Defense

The doors of the train cab slid open with a long, hydraulic breath. The men and women aboard the train, all clenching their envelopes and anxious to finally stretch their legs, slowly and clumsily made their way out of the only couple doors available, and per instruction of a nearby official from the Future Defense Department, lined up: men on the left, women on the right, until they were left with two perfect rows of 50 men and 50 women. The official checked each person’s papers before a Greyhound arrived shortly for each line to provide the remaining transportation to the facility, although the personal space proved to be inconsistent with the luxury accommodations provided by the hover-train, and people were finally forced to small-talk with each other, something that has become outdated in modern society, and is generally avoided.

“What do you think they’ll be testing us over?” whispered someone in the back.

“I don’t know,” replied another, “but the sooner this is over and I get my money, the better.” There was a long silence before someone spoke again.

“…Do you think it’s gonna hurt?”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“So then why won’t they tell us what we’re—"

“Just shut up and be glad you’re getting paid!”

The Greyhound was silent the remainder of the way to the facility. The Future Defense Building was located on the very edge of the city, down a mile and a half of gravel back roads and through three electric barbed-wire fences with security checkpoints, each more thorough than the previous, until finally arriving at the underwhelming front driveway of the two-story Future Defense Building in what seemed like the middle of the swamp. It looked like a crumb on the crust of the earth compared to the mighty Trump Monument, and this was most people’s immediate observation. How ugly, this building! Only two stories? Pfft! My vacation home is probably worth more than this whole facility…

The two groups of fifty were escorted by men in their full military uniforms from the Greyhound up to the main entrance of the Future Defense Building. John was near the back of the line, pondering this operation that was about to unfold in the coming days. The group of women were immediately separated from the men and led around the back of the building, while the men were led through the front doors. Coming from the outdoors where it was much darker outside, most men in the group grunted and groaned as they were temporarily blinded by the white fluorescent lamps that composed the majority of the ceiling in the facility. The air was warmer than outside, but smelled of sterility and latex gloves.

An older looking doctor in all-white scrubs with only a single wisp of grey hair covering his shiny head popped out of a side door in the lobby to greet his subjects.

“Good morning everybody. We are thankful for your safe arrival!” began the doctor, “I am Doctor Mayflower, head of the E.D.E.N, project, Short for the Extended Deep Equilibrium Network. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, so let me try and explain some things.” Doctor Mayflower reached into his lab coat pocket, withdrawing a tiny micro-chip, and held it for everybody to see. “At E.D.E.N, we’ve been perfecting the science of recording data. Not computer data, but rather, biological data. That is, the data that each and every one of you carry up here.” Mayflower tapped his index finger on the side of his head. “As many of you may know, our country has been on the brink of war for quite some time.” They did not know. The quiet hush of the crowd was replaced with panicked whispers and faces. “Oh, you aren’t aware? Well.” He cleared his throat. “See, nature is a cat-and-mouse game of survival of the fittest; Humans are bred to survive, and adapted over generations to catch each and every mouse, and prove time and time again his dominance over nature until there was nothing left to dominate. But as arrogant as humans are and always have been, we will time and time again neglect to realize that the greatest enemy to man is himself. The apex predator. The only difference this time is that we jingle the very keys to the atomic ending of life as we know it, and do so as if attempting to entertain a child.”

“We aren’t at war, we paid our debts!” blurted out someone from the crowd, believing what the doctor said to be borderline hysterical.

“Allow me to continue, please,” proclaimed Mayflower. “The government has exhausted its options for peace negotiations. If money is truly god, then god will not save us now. E.D.E.N. is our only escape.” The crowd became silent. Mayflower took a long pause, allowing his subjects to absorb everything he just said. After a moment, he began again. “Clear your mind and stay with me for a second. I would like to demonstrate a mental exercise.” He did not begin until the entire group was at his attention. “When I say the word ‘tree’, I want you to close your eyes and imagine the first image that comes to mind. Study that image in your head closely, but don’t overthink it.” John closed his eyes, and imagined a gnarled and ancient oak tree in a corn field. It was the very one that he used to swing from as a child. “Now,” said the Doctor, “I want you to imagine the first thing that comes to mind when I say the word ‘home.’” John did not picture his home where he currently lived, but envisioned the home where he grew up—a small farm house with a tin roof and vines creeping up the ancient oak siding. This image brought a smile to his face, if only long enough to have his fantasy interrupted by the doctor once more. “Okay. Lastly, I want you to think about the tree again.” The crowd stirred restlessly, not really seeing the point in this exercise. John followed the instructions and thought about the tree again, however, and pictured the same old oak tree in the field. “Now, I’ll bet money that the image of the tree you saw the first and second time are the same tree, yes? And if you think of ‘home’ once more, you will see the same image of home that you first imagined?” The men all looked at each other as if the doctor had read their minds without even needing to hook them to equipment. “This is because the human mind accesses memories using what we like to call ‘triggers.’ When I say a certain keyword, your first image that comes to mind of that word will always be the same. Because of this phenomenon, we have coined these as static memories, and have made possibly the most important discovery in human history, the ability to read and download thoughts. Since these memories don’t change, they have no risk of a deviation of outcome, and can be safely stored on these chips. Have you ever tried to store abstract thought on a computer chip? Well, it’s quite an impossibility. We have to have real, tangible data or the entire system is buggered.”

“Why do you want to read our thoughts?” someone cried out.

“What, do you have something to hide?” joked another.

Mayflower ignored these comments. “For the past 5 years, we have been working on a super-computer of sorts. Imagine a perfect reality, composed off all of the puzzle pieces of society, government, weather, and economy. Every man, woman, and child are as real and tangible as in this room right now, but there are no longer any possible threats to our existence as a species. No more wars, no more violence, no more aging. Perfect harmony. Equilibrium.” The crowd became suddenly more interested in what the Doctor had to say. “When the bombs fall, there won’t be anything left if we don’t prepare for it. So, we’ve created what we like to call the Extended Deep Equilibrium Network. A virtual reality held on a central computer here at the facility that houses the very thoughts and memories of the human race in order to construct the most perfect and accurate simulation of our reality possible. That is, after we take out all of the harmful or bad memories beforehand. That’s why we need each of you—You all have been selected as the basis for simulated human life. We have set up a state-of-the-art augmented reality chamber where the participants will re-experience static memories the exact way they remember them. Touch, smell, sound, sight, and even taste will remain intact. This is the only safe and efficient way which we’ve learned to collect these memories onto our chips. All of you standing here before me today might very well be pioneering the very fate of the human race as we know it. If and when the bombs drop, we will be prepared to house up to 500,000 Americans in state-of-the-art stasis chambers miles under this very spot. Finally, After the earth’s crust is blown to bits, we will be safe and sound, living indefinitely in the paradise known as E.D.E.N.”

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