#shock and surprise innit

[we-r-loonies]

an actual guide to british slang for foreign marauders writers.

because i am sick of seeing

a) people using american english eg. mom, sneakers

b) people overusing "mate" and "innit"

alright? = a greeting, like hello.

everyday words

ain't = haven't

scran = food, or to describe eating

swear down = promise

"swear down, I didn't do nothing,"

bloody = can be used in any sentence at any time

"bloody hell" "its bloody pissing it down out there" "i was bloody wankered"

bloke = a man

innit = isn't it?

mate = equivalent of calling someone bro

bruv, lad, my son = bro, dude, etc

fags, rollies, ciggies, (NOT A SPLIFF) = cigarettes

trust = trust me

"trust, ill tell you later"

chatting (what you chatting about?) = what are you on about?

quid = pound

proper buzzing = really excited

good

sound = good

bangin' = really good

lush = good

"that scran was lush"

jokes = a laugh, funny

bare = a lot of

fit = physically attractive

"he's well fit, isn't he?"

pissed = drunk

dodgy/dodge = questionable

bad

are you taking the piss? = are you having a laugh?

thats peak = thats bad

not being funny, but... = no offense but...

gordon bennett! = surprise, shock, disbelief

slag off = talk badly about someone

"she was slagging her off to anyone who'd listen"

minging, rank = disgusting

bloody nora = expression of surprise, irritation

bollocks = nonsense, something bad

"stop talking bollocks, mate"

skint = broke

prat, git = an idiot

insults

a melt = a pathetic person

clapped = ugly

"he's fucking clapped..."

sket = a promiscuous woman

slag = ^^

minger = an unattractive person

plonker = calling someone silly, not offensive

"don't be a plonker..."

cunt = VERY OFFENSIVE!

wanker, tosser = a general insult

bender, poof = a gay man, used insultingly

[hanasnx]

fell in love without you

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: everyone’s nineteen. WARNINGS: f!reader | you have a favorite twin | sexual content with said fave twin | dubcon kiss

FRED WEASLEY stands before you alongside his brother George. A seemingly world famous smug air about them, having charmed themselves by their own wit. Arms crossed, towering tall above the random passersby as they absentmindedly drone to their next class. Your hesitation spurs the twins on, exchanging a knowing and triumphant glance that says all as you tilt your head at them.

“Are you serious?”

One twin feigns offense. “Deadly serious.”

The other mimics him. “Gravely.”

“S’only fair, innit?”

“Game of guess the twin, guess wrong and you’ve got to give a kiss.” he repeats the game rules.

“For hurtin’ our feelin’s.” the other agrees.

You narrow your eyes with a huff through your nose. “You haven’t got any feelings. Now let me pass.” you demand, and attempt to cut through them but they’re connected at the shoulders to block your way from your corridor.

“Now that’s what you win if you guess right!” they say together. Did they rehearse this? You frown at them as you recoil, throwing your arm out to your side until your book pats the outside of your thigh.

“What? You scared? We both know you’ve got a little thing for me.” One shrugs.

“And me.” the other adds.

“We’re only helping you along.” they speak at the same time, in annoying twin-synchrony.

You give in. “Do you really think I can’t tell you apart?” Lazily, you point to the boy on the left. “Fred.” It transfers over to the boy on the right. “George.” They exchange another look amongst themselves, and adopt a crestfallen expression as their heads bow, stepping apart so you can enter. “See?” you taunt, passing them by. “Was that so hard? I’ll see you boys later—“

“Not so fast there, birdie.” You halt in your tracks at the sound of him speak. “I’m George.” You sigh hard and hang your head.

“I’m Fred. C’mon then, give us a kiss.” They’d faked you out, or they’re lying. Either way, you concede in order to satiate their egos, drawing back to the place where they wait for you. It’s only a kiss on the cheek anyway, and besides it wouldn’t reveal your true feelings towards your favored twin. You’re just friends, and that’s how it should stay. “Tha’s a good girl. Look at her comin’ back, George. She wants this just as much as we do.”

“A foolproof plan there, Fred, well done.”

“It’s practically your only pick-up line, boys. You could do far better.” you tease, and drop your satchel to the ground where it flops flat hopelessly, and toss your book to land onto the leather. “C’mon then, lean down.” They’re both much taller than you, sort of imposing if they weren’t so approachable when they wanted to be. George goes first, stooping to offer his cheek to you. Sweetly, you hook your arm around his neck for stability when you raise yourself to your toes, planting a chaste peck onto his cheek. His skin warms your nose, and he recedes as you do. When you meet Fred’s gaze, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and you feel yourself heat up in anticipation. He does as George did, stooping but it’s a little gentler, dragging it out. There’s a mischievous curl to his lips and you sense he plots something. So you idle while you figure him out, until he interrupts you.

“Oi, wha’s wrong with you? Go on, pay up.” and you snap out of it, doing as you did with George. Your arm hooks loose around his neck, hand splayed on the cuff of his shoulder. While you raise yourself to meet his cheek, the tips of your toes bearing your weight, and things seem to move in slow motion. An arm straps around your waist, arching you into him as he turns at the last second, drawing you into a kiss. A real one. You emit a noise of surprise as he deepens it, seizing the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips during your squeak. Out of shock, you take a fair bit of time to register, eyes flying open as you pat hard against his chest. You can’t push him off, but he pulls back after he’s made his point.

Hastily, you adjust your uniform with a gaping mouth. “Fred!” you scold while they snicker, you took notice of how George averted his eyes beforehand, so he’d known of Fred’s trick. Perhaps Fred put him up to it. Some innocent game that allows Fred an in to make a proper move on you. Or some sort of malicious advantage over your feelings. Out of embarrassment or fury, your hands pat hard on each of them, banging your fists against whatever is within reach as their laughs feather out when they flinch and try to catch your hands. When they escape, and you realize you’re desperately tardy, you have to let them go, calling out your vow of revenge after them.

“Where’s that vow of revenge now, ey?” breathless words spoken into your ear as Fred ruts into you. Hidden under the hot covers of your bed, he keeps you close with strong arms encasing you, pressing you to him as you lay on your sides. You claw the sheets for purchase, clutching onto the fabric to keep yourself grounded as he moves inside you. Careful, gentle, deliberate. Everyone’s sleeping. If anyone found out a boy snuck into your girls’ dormitory you’d be toast. His breath sends tingles up your spine, squeezing your eyes shut in the dark as you focus on where your bodies conjoin. Sticky and wet, Fred sheathes fully with a buck of his hips, and involuntarily you whimper. A large hand cups your mouth to silence you. “Keep quiet,” he whispers and you nod against him. “Didn’t take you for a bad girl, birdie, you’re a proper troublemaker.” he tells you, barely audible, his lips moving against your ear as his hips circle, welcomed by your sex, he can’t help but soak a second. “You wanna get caught, don’t you?”

You can’t answer, shaking your head against his hand and you feel his teeth nip at your earlobe. “Is that right?” he goads, unconvinced. He shifts, gradually picking up a steady pace. “Should we give ‘em a real show then?”

[scribblesofagoonerr]

whoa, were going to ibiza! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble - pt. 2

well you guys have spoken and here is the second part as promised.

thanks to @alotofpockets and @lvnleah for helping me out along the way!

The day after the confrontation in the restaurant that led to you leaving and going back to the villa, the girls had all decided to go out and hire a boat for the day to enjoy the sun in Ibiza.

Despite the fact that you didn’t want to initially come on holiday, you can’t deny that you aren’t enjoying yourself while splashing around in the water with Grace.

“Aye, Monkey?” Grace calls over to get your attention.

“Yo, what’s up, Clinton Cards?” You turn to look at the older girl.

Grace frowns in confusion, "Wha... Anyways, do you wanna try and tip Lessi off her board with me? Are you up for it?" She questions.

You scoff in agreement, "Please, its' like you don't know me at all! Lets' do it!"

Mischievously, the pair of you approach the paddle board where Alesssia is minding her own business while lounging around and enjoying the Ibiza sun.

"Ready?" Grace checks with you.

You nod in agreement, "Ready."

Alessia catches the two of you and eyes you suspiciously, "What're you two up to?" She wonders.

Grace shrugs her shoulders nonchalant, resting her arms on the side of the paddleboard, "Nothing... Ya know, just chilling! Right, Monkey?"

Your grin is mischievous, but mirrors Graces' innocent tone, "Yus, totally just enjoyin' the water, innit." You state.

"Really? I'm not buying that," Alessia narrows her eyebrow and continues to look at the two of you, "You two definitely look like you're planning something."

Grace starts to give you a subtle look, with the silent understanding between you both as you start to move closer towards the blonde, trying to uphold the innocent act.

"Who, us?" Grace asks, fauxing a gasp with her Scouse accent evident, "We wouldn't dream of it."

"You two are up to no good, I can tell," Alessia rolls her eyes, but can't help to suppress a smile.

With a swift and coordinated movement, you and Grace move to both reach to hold onto one side of the paddleboard each.

"Hi Butterfingers!" You grin wickedly at the blonde, "Bye butterfingers!"

Alessia's eyes widen in realisation, "Monkey, no--" Before she can even finish her protests, she's completely thrown off the board.

"Hey!" Alessia yells in a panic, plunging her into the water as she comes up spluttering for water, "You pair, you little-- I knew you were up to no good!"

Both yourself and Grace can't help burst into laughter while Alessia retaliates back by splashing the two of them, before long the three of you start to get involved in a water fight, not long until Ella and Anna decide to join in as well.

"I'm going to get you both back for that!" Alessia states, lunging towards you, while you duck under the water to escape.

"Heeeeeelp me! Heeeeelp! Lessi's gonna kill me!" You squeal, jumping up onto the decking and trying to bolt from the blonde, whos' hot on your tail, "Save me from Butter fingers!"

Overhearing the commotion, Jordan is curious to find out what is going on as she's taken by surprise by you bolting right towards her soaking wet from the water, "What's goin' on?"

"Shes' trying to kill meeeeee!" You screech aloud, doing no more than jumping right onto Jordan who's left in shock at the sudden change of emotions towards her.

The older woman chuckles in amusement, "Enjoyin' yourself, little one?" She questions, glad to see a smile on your face and that you are somewhat happy now.

Freezing at these words, it’s like the simple old familiar nickname made you snap in the sudden realisation that Jordan isn't the person you're supposed to run to at the minute, in fact the older woman is the one that you hold a sense of resentment for.

So with that being said, you scramble up from her lap and walk slowly backwards towards the edge of the deck, "Oh... Uh yeah, uh buh-bye!" 

"Monkey... You okay, little one?" Jordan wonders, concerned at your abrupt change of mood.

Grace comes up from behind you and can sense the tension in the air between the two of you, slightly pushing you so you fall back into the water, “Whoops. Didn’t mean to make you slip.” She grins and dives back into the water after you.

"Did we... Did we just have a moment? Was that a breakthrough?" Jordan thinks to herself, trying not to spiral in her own thoughts and get too hopeful about things.

"She'll come round Jord, just give her time," Beth reassures her friend, patting her on the shoulder as she knows she must be finding this difficult.

"You alright, Jords?" Katie approaches, seeing the way that her best mate looks so upset about things.

Jordan exhales a deep sigh and nods slightly, "I... I guess so mate.”

"It's still gettin' to you, huh?" Katie questions, knowingly as she moves to sit beside her friend.

"Yeah... I mean, I thought we had a breakthrough there," Jordan admits, slumping her shoulders.

Katie hums in agreement, "Oh, I see..." 

What neither Jordan or Katie realise is that you have gotten out the water again needing a drink and you end up overhearing the conversation between the two of them and you can’t help but want to listen in.

"I know Beth says to give her time to come around but this resentment hurts,” Jordan admits, hanging her head low as she exhales another sigh, “Especially when it's my own kid that is rejecting me in the way that she is.” She adds.

"She will come around though, Jord,” Katie reassures her friend in a gentle tone, “You just have to keep showing up for her like you are.”

You can’t help but think about the truth behind the words, you really have been so awful to Jordan this whole time, but for what reason?

Thinking about it more, there isn’t a reason.

The woman has been there for you throughout, regardless of the fact that you had been so horrible and tried to push her away. Jordan has always shown up even after she moved– She was still always trying to be there for you.

You were just too stubborn to realise it.

“Jordy,” You approach the two of them as you give them a shy look, “I… I’m sorry. I have been horrible for no reason.”

“That’s my queue to leave you pair to talk,” Katie smiles at her friend, patting Jordan on her shoulder before she stands up, ruffling your hair and walking away to give you both the space to talk.

“You okay, kid?” Jordan begins the conversation noting your apprehension to say anything at the minute, “Do you want to come sit down?” She offers.

You're hesitant to agree but regardless you still move to perch beside her, “Um, I… I wanted to say sorry, uh again.” 

“It’s okay kid,” Jordan tells you smiling at you sympathetically, “You don’t need to apologise. I can understand that it has been tough to be here.” She adds.

Shaking your head in disagreement, you need to try and get the words out, “No, no, I do need too… I do need to say sorry cos’ I’ve been completely horrible to you for no reason at all.” You tell her, feeling guilty about the way you’ve been behaving towards her.

The older woman smiles sympathetically, “You had your reasons though, kid.”

“I didn’t have a reason to be so horrible though, I was angry and lashing out… And I miss Le,” You tell her honestly, “All I’ve ever known is you both… and you… you left to go to Aston Villa and I was so upset about that, so I hung onto the idea of resenting you and trying to push you away, but despite me being the way I was, you always came back... " You pause as you peer up to stop the tears escaping your eyes, "You've still always been there, you've shown up when you didn't need too cos' you're my Mama and that's what you do."

You’ve never actually openly called either Jordan or Leah your mums’ apart from when you have been upset or tired, but they are the closest people to that right now, so it feels right to call her that.

Jordan is your Mama, regardless of blood or not.

"Of course I'm always gonna show up for you... little one," Jordan lets' the word slip out of her mouth like an old familiar pattern as you lunge into her arms and wraps your arms around her, "I know things have been hard to handle, but regardless of wherever I am, I will always still love you so much, okay? Nothing about that will ever change!"

"You... You promise?" You start to sob into Jordan's shoulder.

Jordan smiles and holds you tighter in her arms, "I promise, little one. I'm only ever one phone call away, alright? You and Buddy are 2 of the most important people in my life!"

"Love you Jordy," You murmur, resting her head on the older woman's shoulder, “I need at least one fun parent in my life cos’ Le is stricter than ever sometimes. You get high one time and suddenly it’s this huge deal, I totally didn’t deserve to even be grounded!”

Jordan chuckles in amusement and shakes her head, “I can be the fun one as long as you don’t completely push it, eh?” She jokes, ruffling her hair.

“Deal,” You grin satisfied with that answer.

“Oi, you pair!” Beth calls out to break up the conversation from where she is standing, “I hate to interrupt the moment, but we’re heading to the club soon. Better get ready!”

“Yeah we’re comin’ now,” Jordan replies to the blonde, shaking her head, “Way to ruin the moment Beth.” She speaks, loud enough for you both to hear.

You can’t help but giggle in response, “That’s what Beefy does,” You tell her, using the nickname you’d come up with for the blonde woman.

Jordan chuckles in amusement as she shifts you off her lap so she can stand up, “Ready to go, little one?” She asks, looking at you.

“I’m ready to danceeeeee!” You exclaim, jumping up from where you sat so you can go off and get ready to head to the club.

“Yo this is so sick!” You scream, bouncing around to the live DJ set currently going on, the lights are vibrant and the atmosphere is great.

“Ain’t it just!” Grace shouts back in response.

“Ay kid, you got some moves!” Ella notes, beaming a wide smile as she watches you have a wail of a time with the rest of them.

You’re feeling in a better mood now you’ve made up with Jordan and talked about things, but there was still one person you were still not so keen to be near right now.

Katie,

You’ve been avoiding going near her with the words still sticking in your head.

“Hey, kid,” Speak of the devil, the Irish girl approaches you cautiously, “You and me cool again, now? I didn’t mean to upset you,” She wonders.

You bite your bottom lip anxiously and try to back up, “Yeah well you did.”

“Kid, I’m sorry. Come on…” Katie states, trying to not groan in annoyance at your stubbornness, “You’re not one to hold a grudge, are you?”

Scoffing in disagreement, you look at the brunette, “Really? You clearly don’t know me that well then, Leprechaun.” 

“Leprechaun, really?” Katie looks slightly offended with the nickname you had given her.

“Suits yer’ doesn’t it?” You smirk at the older girl.

“Ay, Monkey!” You spin around to look at Alessia who’s shouted over to get your attention, “Come and dance with us!” You're somewhat grateful she’s called you over, at least it’s an attempt to get away from this conversation.

“Sure thing, comin’ now!” Just like that, you head over to the blonde, who’s dancing with Ella and Anna, “Partyyyyy!” You shout, grinning to yourself.

“You’re gonna have to work harder than that, Katie, to get her to forgive you for what she said,” Viv states, watching the engagement between the two of you, “You should know that Monkey’s stubborn when she wants to be.”

“Kids’ stubborn as hell,” Katie grumbles in response.

“Yep,” Beth chuckles in agreement.

Katie watches you dance with some of the girls and she can’t help but feel further guilt about the words that she said as Jordan approaches her and pats her on the back reassuringly, “Just give her some time and she’ll come around,” She repeats the words she had been told earlier on to her best friend.

Despite the remaining tension between you and the Irish woman, you try to forget that by letting yourself enjoy the music and dance with your friends, feeling the weight of the last few days lift off your shoulders as Alessia twirls you around.

“See? Told you that dancing would make you feel better!” The blonde grins as you both dance.

“Yeah, you’re right, Lessi. This is awesome!” Your enjoying yourself and having fun when you feel your phone start to vibrate in your pocket which pulls your attention away when you see who it is, “Oh, hold on. Malfoy’s calling me. I’ll be back!” Trying to find a more quiet area is a bit of a challenge in such a busy place, but you’re keen to be able to talk to her.

“You alright, little one?” Jordan wonders, noting you walk away from the group.

You nod in response, “Yeah, Le’s callin’ me so I’m just gonna go and take it.”

“Alright, don’t wander off too far,” Jordan tells you, ruffling your hair much to your annoyance.

“Jord,” You grumble and attempt to dip under her arm as you swipe to answer, “Ello? New phone, who dis’?” You can’t help but playfully joke with the woman on the other end of the phone.

There's a short gasp on the other side of the phone, “Oh, you’ve been on holiday for a few days and you’ve already forgotten about me?” She jokes, pretending to act hurt, “I see where I stand, Menace.”

“Ha, fooled ya!” You exclaim just as playful, “Ello’ Malfoy! I’m missin’ youuuuu!” You tell her.

“Well you sound like you’re in a good mood,” Leah picks up on your playful mood to be a good sign on the other end of the phone, “I guess that you and Jord are speaking now?” She asks.

“Oh yeah, we’re good! We spoke and stuff, things are like chill now,” You tell the blonde, honestly.

“Really? I’m glad to hear that,” Leah replies on the other end of the phone, “So, you’re enjoying your time away now then?”

“Yep, yep, well I had an argument with Katie, so uh… Things are a bit distant now,” You admit to her, scratching the back of your neck slightly.

“You argued with Katie?” Leah questions, confused, “About what?”

You are a bit apprehensive to tell her what had happened because she can be a bit protective at times, “Oh, well uh, she brought things up from the past.”

“Like what?” Leah asks, curiously.

“Well, she said something along the lines of my mum and dad abandoning me–” You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before she’s cut you off.

“She did what?!” The blonde shouts aloud in anger.

You wince slightly and pull the phone away to spare your own ears from going deaf, “Le, man. Calm down.”

“She has no right to say those things, no right at all. That is completely out of order for her to say that!” Leah’s off ranting in anger and you can’t get a word in edgeways, “No right at all!”

“Le, it’s fine… Calm down, honestly, it’s fine,” You tell her, trying to get the blonde to cool her temper down ever so slightly, even though you’re definitely not okay still, “You’re more upset about this than I am.” You try and joke to make the situation light.

“Yes, I am mad. I… I  can’t believe she would– How could she say… Why would she say that?” Leah continues to rant down your ear, feeling angry about the whole ordeal, “I hope that Jordan said something to her!” She turns her attention to mention her ex girlfriend.

“Um, I think so?” You tell her, narrowing her eyebrows, “I’m just trying to keep my distance right now.” You admit to the blonde, trying to diffuse the situation.

You can tell Leah is mad right now, probably so mad that she would get in a cab to come and speak with the Irish brunette herself, but that wouldn’t be good for anyone.

You don’t want a fight.

Leah on the other end of the phone probably does, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Monkey. I can’t believe she said those things to you!” You can tell that she’s trying to control her emotions, “I swear when I see her– I have a good mind to get in a cab and…”

“I know, but I’m okay, Le. Honestly,” You try and keep the blonde from getting in a cab right there and then, “You don’t need to come here, it’s fine!” You tell her.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, “You’re sure?” She asks.

“Mhm, I’m doin’ alright, I just… I miss you,” You admit to her, honestly.

“I miss you too, my cheeky Monkey,” Leah is quick to reply back in agreement, “It won’t be long until you’re home next week.” She adds.

“And then we can go and buy more Lego?” You wonder, cheekily.

“I don’t know about that now,” The blonde laughs on the other end of the phone, “I’m glad you’re back on good terms with Jord again.”

You hum in agreement, “Yeah, me too.”

“She loves you just as much as she loves Buddy,” Leah tells you, honestly and it makes you smile automatically, “As far as we’re both concerned, you’re our kid, okay?”

“I… Uh, okay,” You’re lost for words, you never know how to respond to words like that.

“Monkey! Are you coming to dance?” You hear Ella shout out to get your attention from where you stand chatting to Leah on the phone.

Whipping your head around, you look over to where the brunette is standing with Alessia, “Be there in a minute, hold on!” You tell before you turn your attention back to the phone call, “Le, I gotta go. I wanna dance!”

“Oh sounds like fun, don’t let me stop you,” Leah let out a laugh on the other side of the phone, “Don’t get falling asleep now.” She teases.

“Seriously? I can’t help it when I’m tired. I gotta go anyway.” You whine in disagreement as you huff as you realise one thing.

You had called Jordan your Mama, but you’re yet to actually call Leah your Mum.

They have both been there for you more than anyone, it doesn’t feel right to call one without the other.

“You know I’m only messing with you,” Leah laughs at her own expense, “Go off and have fun!”

“I will, I will! I’m gonna go now anyways, so buh-bye Mum, love you!” You say without even thinking twice about it.

Leah quietly gasps on the other end of the phone, "I… I love you too, my girl. Have fun!" You hang the phone up on your end none the wiser that on the other end of the phone, the blonde starts sobbing as all her friends rally round to find out what the matter is.

"Le, what's wrong?" Keira questions, concerned.

"Has something happened with Monkey?" Holly chimes in, concerned.

"What's going on?" Alex is concerned with the blonde's tears.

"Monkey just called me mum," Leah states, tearfully smiling as she tells her friends, "My girl just called me mum!"

The rest of your holiday in Ibiza has been fun and before you knew it, it's soon coming to an end and you're due to fly back to London along with the girls, other than Katie, who is taking another flight to Paris to support Caitlin in the Olympics.

You wish you could go out there and support Kyra, but you have to get back to training.

"Flights' boarding soon, kid,” Jordan pulls you out of your thoughts, standing up in front of you.

You nod briefly and keep your attention to your phone in your hand,  "Okay.”

In your defence, you would be more enthusiastic about it if it wasn’t for the early time that you’re at the airport.

Why is it that every time you fly, all the flights are super early in the morning? It completely sucks waking up early enough to be dragged to an airport.

"Have you thought about who you want to sit beside on the plane?" Jordan questions.

"Nope," You tell her, trying to fight to keep your eyes awake even though you’re incredibly tired.

That’s what sleep deprivation does to you, such fun.

"Well there's still time to decide I guess,” Jordan frowns as she ruffles your hair, which just annoys you but of course you’re too tired to care, “Do you want to go and have a look in the shop and see if there's anything you like in there?"

"Sure,” You agree, shrugging your shoulders and standing up from your seat, “Can I get an energy drink?” You try your luck here, you might be able to get away with it a lot better with Jordan at least.

“Nice try, I know you’re banned from drinking those,” Jordan shakes her head in disagreement, resting her hand on your back as you start to walk towards the shop.

As you walk towards the duty free section in the airport, you overhear the announcement for Katie's flight to Paris.

"Wait, wait," With that, you turn back to bolt over to Katie, who's just about to head to her gate, "Leprechaun, wait!" You shout aloud to stop her from walking any further.

"Wha... Do you have to insist on calling me that, Monkey?" Katie's words are thrown aside as you throw your arms around her in a tight hug, "Uh, what's all this about?"

"I... I don't want you to leave when you think I'm mad at you cos' I'm not anymore...  I forgive you!" You exclaim, peering up to look at her with your arms still wrapped around her.

Katie starts to smile at your words, “You do? Listen kid, I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't think about it properly," She tells you honestly, “I am sorry.” She repeats.

"It's alright," You shrug your shoulders.

Jordan catches up to you both and glances between the two of you, "Everythin' alright here?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're good," You tell her, nodding in agreement.

"Right, I gotta catch my flight or I'm gonna miss it," Katie realises as she hears her flight number get called out again, “You gotta let go, shorty.” She jokes, ruffling your hair.

You're too tired to even care about her messing it up right now, but you had to make sure you spoke to her before she flew to Paris.

"Have a safe flight, mate. Tell Caitlin that we said hi and good luck as well!" Jordan states, enveloping her best friend in a warm hug.

Katie returns the hug and smiles at Jordan, "I will do, thanks mate. I hope you guys have a safe flight back to London as well!" She tells you both, “Stay out of trouble, Monkey.” She jokes.

"Bye, Leprechaun!" You hug the woman tightly again before she heads off to her gate, "Okay, now can we go and check out the lego before we catch our flight?" You wonder.

Jordan chuckles and wraps her arm around your shoulder, "Course we can, that was mature of you to do. I'm proud of you, little one."  She tells you, honestly.

You all but drag Jordan into the shop as soon as you set your eyes on a new lego set, it's one you've been wanting for a while and you're ecstatic to see it there in sight, "Ohhhhhh my gawd!"

If you weren’t awake before then you definitely are now.

Lego is love, lego is life!

Jordan however doesn’t understand your urgency or excitement as you’re rushing towards it, "Wha... Aye, kid. Slow down-- Where are you off?"

"Looky, looky! They have it, they have it. I neeeeeed to get it!" You bounce up and down on your toes and point with your index finger to the lego set in front of you.

"The lego car?" Jordan looks at you gone out.

"Pleaseeeeee, it's not just any lego car. It's the Lego Technic 42160 Audi RS Q e-tron Remote Control Car Toy," You don't care if you sound like a complete nerd, you absolutely do need it, "I need it, I do! I do!"

"You don't say," Jordan chuckles, amused by your knowledge.

You stare at it in complete awe, "I've been wantin' to get this for ages, but mean Malfoy said no last time because I spent all my monthly allowance-- I need to get it so much!" You all but tell her, wanting that right now more than anything.

“Alright then,” Jordan nods as she looks over it, “Well go ahead, pick it up then and we’ll get it.”

You spin your head around to look at her in shock, “Wait, what?” You’re not sure if you heard it right.

“I’ll buy it for you,” Jordan tells you, laughing in amusement at your shocked face.

“You will?!” You stare at her with wide eyes, “No way!” You exclaim in excitement, your inner childlike happiness coming out when it comes to Lego.

“Yeah, it’s my treat,” The older woman agrees with you, glad to see you look so happy once again.

You grin and eagerly pick one up, “"Yeeees, thanks Jordy. I love youuuuuu!"

"I love you too, little one. C'mon let's go and pay for it then," Jordan chuckles, heading over to purchase your new toy which you can't wait to set up the minute that you get home, before you head to meet the rest of the girls.

"Whatcha got there, Monkey?" Ella wonders, spotting you practically running back to them.

"New LEGO! Looky, check it out!" You are excited enough to show it off to anyone who cares.

"Wow, that looks cool!" Vic admires it.

You grin in agreement, "Don't it just?"

"You've gone and spoiled her already? That didn't take long, Jord," Beth jokes with her friend.

"It's just one thing, it's not a big deal," Jordan rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "The kid deserves it, don't she?"

"You're too soft, you know she has an obsession with Lego, right? Leahs' house has more lego house in it than she knows what to do with it,"

"Then I'm sure she'll be thrilled for something else," Jordan remarks, smirking as she takes in the joy on your face with your new remote control car, "Look how happy she looks!" She adds.

"Mhm, I do have to admit that she does seem happy," Beth replies in agreement, "I'm glad you have both made up, Monkey does need you despite how stubborn she is."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm glad we've made up too," Jordan tells her, looking over at you and smiles, "I love that kid so much ever since she came into our lives, it broke my heart for her to be so cold and distant towards me."

Soon enough, your flight is called and of course you board the flight with your new remote control in hand, because you're not in any type of rush to lose it.

And much to Jordan's own surprise, it's her that you sit beside on the plane back to London.

Although she does start to dread it ever so slightly when you yap in her ear the whole time, but despite that, she's just glad you're both on good terms again.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! I saw your most recent headcanon list thing with the Earthrealm guys being caught Slonking it Silly Style™ and uh. I was just wondering if you'd be willing to do something similar with the Outworld guys as well? Obviously you don't have to if you don't want to, but I think it would be neat! Thank you so much in advance! I love your work :)

deep, dramatic sigh. (kidding anon tysm i gush over comments like this ily smoochhhh) also the terminology made me laugh out loud ty for that

Shang Tsung

kinda sorta didn't gaf. who's to say he didn't want you to hear him. the world may never know

you were to report to him about some findings for his experiments and there he was, leaning over the table and straight up cranking it over a bucket (he's odd like that) honestly when you acknowledge your own presence he's like... can i help you?? you see i'm busy???

but at the same time he's like hold up i have a fine specimen here to help me out here...he's leaving here with SOMETHING (studio laughter)

Rain

i don't think he'd care either if you walked in on him. in fact, he might welcome it. he's used to having his own space, but he doesn't mind sharing it with people he's ok with being around. yes that includes you (is it only you? not even he knows yet)

day 8163 of using Rain's arrogance to push my narrative that he's not only in love with himself but how he looks in the mirror. you definitely walked in on him wanking it in the mirror and he'd freeze but recover so quick

ain't no way you're leaving here after you just caught him though. how else will his problems get solved? you went and made him hard all over again!

Reptile

syzoth has two, let's get that out the way. AND he uses both hands for them LMAOO

president of syzoth is a lil subby bitch society. so when you catch him tugging on both and reduced to a pathetic mess from his own hands??? he's frozen and quite literally has no clue what to do. he's sweaty, there's tears in his eyes, and his fangs are much more pronounced than usual

once you give him the green light that you're into whatever tf he was just doing watch him crawl over to you on all fours and hug your legs, practically begging you to touch him

Havik

expect this smug fuck to claim he wanted this to happen. dude was hunched over and going at it behind his own desk, grunting like a cave man who discovered self pleasure for the first time

1000% expect him to demand you help him, but instead it's after he froze for like 5 seconds and then tried to play it off

he would also be internally shocked when agree to finish the job, but on the outside it's like "that's what i thought...now get over here" whole time he's jumping up and down and twirling in his brain

Reiko

it's already rare that he has time to himself and definitely RARELY has time to be with you for an extended period of time, so you catching him when you wanted to surprise him with your presence it triggered his fight or fight LMAO

legit laughed at the thought of him jumping up from his chair hands ready to be thrown...but his dick is swinging PLSSSSSS

he's like well shit now he deserves your help after you almost got two pieced by your own boyfriend...but who's complaining?!

General Shao

this man weirdly reminds me of bowser sometimes. with that being said i think he'd do a BUAHA as a shocked sound when you catch him thwoping the schlong

as much as i can't fucking stand him he does look a lil better in this game i will admit. i'm not gonna sit up here and lie, he def has a HUGE wanker innit. so you didn't miss shit when you walked into his chambers

he would also demand your help. but if you have a lil push back just for fun, he'd eventually say please and be all soft and shit. why? cause it's you god damn it!

Baraka

let's be fr. truly i do not think mk1 baraka would masterbate simply bc he's like depressed all the time😭but for the sake of shits and gigs, ill humor y'all

let's say he hasn't seen you in a while and misses you dearly. he knew you were on a quest for a while, and he was very pent up... so what better way to release stress other than sparring! oh. not enough? time for another type spar 😈

if this were old baraka i'd say he has two 👁️ but since this version of tarkat is a disease let's say it made the skin around his wee like ribbed or something ya SO when you caught him he was in a straight up panic and apologizing profusely but once you calm him down and tell him you're glad he missed you so much, he's like oh shit...well help me out then...only if you want to!

a/n: i did it y'all FUCK. my bad for taking so long to release this i'm a perfectionist to a fault💀

[bonesandthebees]

Has Tommy(innit) said anything about whats all happening?

About Wilbur?

also could you explain whats going on, please?

I kind of know but not too well, I just woke up, got news Wilbur abused someone, and everyone saying 'fuck wilbur'.

I will not support anyone who supports abuse in any way, but please understand that this is quite a shock to wake up too.

oh man I am feeling so bad for people who haven't been aware of anything that's been going on the past week

alright, a week ago Shubble (aka Shelby), a popular mcyt streamer/youtuber who has been in the scene for a very long time, did a stream talking about her last relationship. she didn't name her ex-boyfriend, but discussed all the ways in which he physically and emotionally abused her throughout their relationship and how she didn't realize it until later. their stream was largely meant to spread awareness of domestic abuse and the warning signs of it. and although they didn't name him, the details they mentioned about their ex made it pretty clear wilbur soot was their ex. twitter blew up talking about it, some people tried to claim shelby wouldn't want them to speculate so she made a tweet saying it's not that she didn't want to name her abuser, it's that she couldn't. since everyone had already been theorizing it was wilbur it was pretty well understood at this point that if their abuser wasn't wilbur, they would've said so. alongside this, a trumpeter who used to tour with lovejoy and a photographer for the band both heavily implied shelby's ex was wilbur.

after trending for five days straight on twitter with everyone talking about the allegations, wilbur posted a statement yesterday confirming that yes, he is the ex shelby was referring to, and 'apologized' for his behavior. except his apology brushed aside all of the emotional abuse he put her through, and in the same statement he claimed he thought the physical abuse (where he would bite her all the time to the point of her being covered in bruises) was consensual and a 'playful' thing despite the fact that shelby explained it was anything but. basically, his apology was dogshit and was him trying to avoid taking any kind of accountability for what he put her through. many many cc's in the twitch sphere, including wilbur's former circle of friends, replied pointing out how terrible his apology was.

tommy has not said anything yet, but also I don't expect him to say anything so soon. he just had surgery, like, what, 2 weeks ago? pretty sure he's still hopped up on pain meds. not to mention, he and wilbur have been incredibly close friends since tommy was 16. it's not easy to come to terms with the fact that someone you've known since you were 16 and looked up to as an older brother is not the person you thought they were.

alongside that, ranboo streamed yesterday and discussed the situation. they've been vocal in their support of shelby on twitter, and also told their viewers to give other cc's time for a response. they pointed out a lot of their friends are only just now learning what kind of person wilbur really is. they also said that some other cc's might not make statements at all and might just silently distance themselves from wilbur.

also, shelby herself liked this tweet yesterday

so yeah, I wouldn't expect to hear from tommy directly on this for a while, if ever. I also wouldn't be surprised if he just silently distances himself from wilbur instead of saying anything outright.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Miss Fairytale Keeper, Come Have Fun With Us: Jude Jazza EPILOGUE

Translations will not include screenshots or CGs as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

[At the portside.]

Kate: Now, please listen to what I have to say.

While I couldn’t take my eyes off his swinging jacket, he asked me without turning around.

Jude: So, whaddya want princess?

Kate: Huh?

Jude: I promised to listen to anythin’ ya said?

(I hadn’t even thought about it……)

The slight excitement I’d felt vanished, and his troubling words stole my thoughts,

(….I know!)

Kate: I, want to gamble with you, Jude!

Jude: ….Hah?

[Transitions to Crown’s Lounge Room]

Kate: Um, is this alright?

Jude: Ya said so yerself.

As I massaged his shoulders while he sat on the sofa on the lounge room, I was shocked at my own weakness.

Jude: Who’da thought you’d lose fives times in a row?

Jude: Thanks for the laugh, though I set it all up myself.

Kate: I can’t say anything more….

A few days after the mission, my wish to gamble came true, and we played a card game with Ellis…..

(I shouldn’t have said that if I lost I’d give the winner a massage.)

Instead of betting money or rights, the terms were that my time increased because I lost five times in a row, and here we are. [1]

However, the biggest problem is -

(Jude’s shoulders are so STIFF!)

There was no point in massaging stiff muscles, and since Ellis couldn’t bear to watch, he suggested using something warm to soften them up, so he left to get a hot water bottle, leaving us two alone.

(His shoulders must be stiff because he works so hard everyday.)

Kate: It would be good to stretch everyday.

Jude: I punch ‘n kick.

Kate: That’s not stretching….

It was so hard that I was at a complete loss, so I came up with something else.

Kate: I’ll give you a foot massage!

Jude: Hah?

I walked around and knelt in front of him as he looked at me suspiciously.

Kate: I recently learned a massage that relieves foot fatigue.

Kate: The maids also really like it.

Jude: Don’t need it.

Kate: If you’re going to do something then you have to do it with everything you’ve got!

He looked annoyed as I took off his shoes and rolled up the cuff of his pants.

Jude: ….Do whatever you want.

He gave up and leaned back against the sofa.

Kate: Well, let’s get to it!

I massaged his calves,

(His legs are so tone……)

It feels a bit awkward when I touch his legs so casually.

(I need to massage them properly to relieve the fatigue.)

I press my thumb firmly into the muscle,

Jude: !

His body reacts with a twitch.

(This must feel good….)

Even though I was kneeling, I felt better, like I had the upper hand somehow, so I increased the strength of my massage, when his ankle suddenly moved to my collarbone.

Kate: !

I looked up in surprise, but he looked totally nonchalant.

(Coincidence?)

When I started the massage again, his tiptoes began to trace along the back of my arm from below.

Kate: Hmm.

My body shook from the tickling, but then my side was poked causing me to jump, and when I looked up again, I was met with a crooked smile.

Kate: Now, that was on purpose….

Jude: Wanna keep massagin’?

Kate: Well,

Jude: I’ll watch, so do yer best.

Kate: Ahh.

As his toes brushed against my side, I let out a lusty moan.

He laughed at me as I looked away in embarrassment……

Jude: Kneeled ‘cause ya wanted this, innit?

Kate: Th-that’s NOT true!

Jude: Why’re ya raisin’ yer voice like that?

Kate: That’s because it tickles.

Heat rises on my face because of embarrassment.

When I looked up to glare at him as I clung to his leg, he was smiling sadistically.

Jude: Ha!

My entire body felt chills through it.

Jude: Ya don’t even realize the look yer makin’ right now.

Kate: What kind of look -

Jude: A look thatcha enjoy bein’ bullied by me.

My chin was grabbed so I couldn’t look away, and I saw myself reflected in amethyst eyes.

The look on my face was filled with anticipation.

Jude: -This pervert.

Instantly, my body trembled with delight.

(There was never any competition.)

Because of him, I’ve learned things about myself that I didn’t even know.

[1] I believe for each round Kate lost, Jude increased her time spent to massage him, however, this is not explicitly stated.

[Master List] Kate frfr said, let me at those feet bae.

Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka

[hikarry]

As immortal beings, by definition, Crowley and Aziraphale don't have to worry much with mortality.

Sure, they are surrounded by it constantly. After all, they live amongst humans, and they watch the few friends or acquaintance they make through the ages come and go systematically. They are aware of mortality, of death, they just don't think much about it in regards to themselves

To them mortality is not scary. It's just another step in the humans' lives when their eternal house is decided. It's something natural and unavoidable. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Aziraphale has helped some humans cross to the other side more peacefully.

My point is: As immortals, they are aware of mortality. But they don't think much about their own unless they are thinking about being caught by Heaven and Hell, but that's just a what if. An hypothetical. A real one at that, yes, but not reality yet.

Now, the bookshop fire.

In this moment, Crowley is punched in the face by the mortality of immortals.

Something he doesn't think that much about just falls into his lap by the hand of no other but Aziraphale.

Suddenly he is faced with utter loneliness. The ending of a life that, technically, should be eternal. A life he took for granted for more or less 6000 years.

In theory, he has always known both him Aziraphale could die. By their bosses' hands. By the end of the world itself. But it's very different to think about it in theory and living it.

Crowley wasn't prepared. This happened suddenly.

He was on his way to find Aziraphale, possibly to apologize again over the stupid shit he said and talk about the whereabouts of the Anti Christ, and suddenly a day that was actually not going that bad anymore (aka escaping Ligur and Hastur with little to no collateral damage) turns into his worst nightmare.

For 6000 years he has had the theory, and suddenly he his gifted with reality.

And the last thing he had said to Aziraphale's face was that he wouldn't even think about him when he left. You bet those last words started playing in his head as soon as he saw the fire.

And there's a whole hidden layer there: it wasn't just his best friend that went up in flames, which in on itself is already painful as fuck. No. The man he has loved for 6000 years also was destroyed.

Coming to terms with your own mortality as a supernatural being and the destruction of your companion since Eden would drive anyone into shock. Would be ingrained in their brains like a new trauma. The new notion of how actually fragile life is gifting you a whole new perspective.

No surprise Crowley probably has PTSD with fires. Or that he has nightmares about that day often. Or that he forbade Aziraphale from having anything fire related in the bookshop and convinced him to buy electric candles and a shit tone of fire extinguishers. Or that his mind went into "Fuck this, let the Apocalypse come. I'm too tired to deal with this anymore". OR that his first instinct was hidding in a random bar and getting sloshed out of his own mind to try and put the pieces all together. (Like, cmon, my man was about to open his third bottle)

The actual relief he must have felt when he found out Aziraphale was only discorporated must have been fucking abysmal! Like taking a cold shower after a fever! But you bet his encounter with mortality has changed him. You can't go through something like that and remain the same. And he didn't.

Imagine how he must have felt when Beelzebub told him about the Book of Life. The fucking flashbacks he must have had. No surprise the first thing he did was drive to Aziraphale, apologize and agree to his dumb plan of helping Gabriel. Anything to keep him under his eyes. At least if they go down then, they will go down together.

Or so he thought, innit? We know how this story ended.

[violent-darkness]

Monsters

Billy Butcher x OFC/Second person POV

“Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

Chapter I: A Stranger Comes to Town

Warnings: 18+ mdni. Throughout this series, there will be a significant amount of explicit, dark, and triggering content, such as: killing, violence, smut, kinks, trauma, PTSD, loss of loved ones, child abuse (including sexual, no explicit descriptions), and other potentially disturbing themes.

Summary: You are the newest member of Billy Butcher's team the Boys.

*At its core, this is a story about how people deal with their inner demons. Are monsters truly capable of love, or do they only seek to destroy? Can broken parts be mended?*

Notes: This will be quite a long series with a bit of everything—slow burn, fluff, angst, smut. Many things differ from the show: some characters don’t exist, and others behave differently from canon, reflecting how I envision them. I really hope you enjoy it. Reblogs, comments, and feedback are always welcome. :)

Chapter II

“No fuckin way,” Butcher retorded. “The Boys is mine. I get to choose who joins the team and who can fuck off and mind his own damn business.”

“Butcher, please. Listen to me for once and give her a chance. She is a perfect fit. Her skills could be extremely useful, considering she is the finest shot I’ve ever seen and so much more. Have you at least read through her file?” Mallory desperately tried to plead with what little common sense Butcher had left. She knew it was a wasted effort, but she was a stubborn woman.

Butcher skipped through the brown file placed on the desk in front of him. Two names, a passport photo, standart bio. He saw that you joined the army when you were just 18, did a couple of tours in Afghanistan and were recruited by the CIA there. Most of the stuff was redacted.

"Bloody hell, what exactly do you want me to see there, since all them juicy parts are redacted anyway, innit?"

"Why don't you invite her here and ask her about them yourself, particularly about why she is facing a disciplinary discharge?"

Butcher's brow arched. His curiosity was sparked. He fell perfectly into Mallory’s trap. "Fuckin hell, fine. Tell ‘er to come in."

Mallory left the room with a smug smile and invited you in. Butcher was definitely surprised at the sight of you. He was expecting some tight-ass, suit wearing overachiever and there you were: hair in a ponytail, regular black t-shirt and jeans, boots and a couple of tattoos here and there. It definitely piqued his interest.

"Well, well, well, so t'is you who wanna join me team?" he sized you up from head to toe.

You were caught off guard too. You have heard here and there about the so-called Boys - the super off the books team that deals with supe's affairs, but you certainly didn't expect that its leader would look like this. What's with the ridiculous unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and that thick British accent. For a moment you wondered whether someone was doing a prank on you. You did your best to conceal these thoughts and grabbed the nearest chair to sit in. 

"Want" is a bit of a strong term. Let's just say I wouldn't mind it.” 

A note of irritation flickered across Butcher's face. "It's not an obligatory thing, luv. If you don't wanna join me team, you can leave."

"It's either that or disciplinary discharge for me, so..." 

"What did you do exactly?" Butcher was still very much curious to know.

"I beat up my station chief with his prosthetic leg," you dropped it off as if it was the most casual thing ever.

"You fuckin what?!?!" Butcher was rarely surprised and extremely rarely shocked.

“The fucker tried to grope me. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and watch? I took his leg and gave him a good lesson. And of course now it’s me who is in trouble,” irritation simmered beneath your calm demeanor.

Butcher flashed a grin at you, really amused by your explanation. “Does this happen often, men coming at you?”

“Of course it does. I am used to it by now. But that doesn’t mean I am gonna let them get away with it,” you scoffed.

Butcher heard enough. He was intrigued enough to give you a chance. “Okay, luv, that about seals it for me. Welcome to the Boys!” he proclaimed, giving you a firm handshake. 

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

“What are you thinking about?'' Hughie interrupted your train of thought. The boat was shaking slightly and the ocean breeze was gently playing with your hair. The velvet sea and the sunset hitting the water at just the right angle created an ethereal feeling. You really liked all the members of the team, apart from Butcher, who was continuously proving himself to be a lying, selfish and manipulative asshole. MM was always the sensible one, ready to offer advice in any situation. You could spend hours texting with Kimiko about girl stuff. And Frenchie was an amazing pot-smoking buddie. You had a particularly soft spot for Hughie. He was such a cutie pie and so out of his depth. You naturally felt the urge to protect and look after him, while he was always there for you with his friendly smile.

“Nothing much. Just how it all began for me. And how quickly it turned into the current shitshow. I mean, look at us. We are wanted fugitives, we had to live in a basement for months and now we hide on a boat in the middle of the ocean. This is fucking nuts,” admitting your feelings to Hughie immediately made you feel better.

“Yeah, and I can’t help but feel that it’s entirely Butcher’s fault. This mess is all because of him,” Hughie clenched his fist. You noticed how tense and angry he was, which was very atypical of him.

“His problem is, he only thinks of himself,” you sighed. “Guys like him, they have their own internal demons that they never seem able to conquer.” That’s when you noticed it. There was visible bruising on Hughie’s left cheek and upper lip. “That wasn’t there yesterday,” you frowned and patted his cheek with your thumb. “Hughie, who did this?”

"It doesn’t matter,” he was averting your gaze.

“Did Butcher do this?” you already knew the answer and your anger started building up. Just as he was about to reply Butcher himself stormed in and interrupted you.

“Oi, Hughie, mate, come 'ere. I wanna speak to ya,” he declared cheerfully as though he wasn't affected at all by the fucked up situation you were all currently in. He positioned himself on the right side of Hughie, next to you two on the deck. 

“Listen, mate. Last night I went a wee bit over the top, ya know. It was wrong of me to punch ya like this. All the bloody whiskey's fault. So let 'em bygones be bygones, alright?” Butcher announced and offered his hand to Hughie. From that point on, everything happened very fast. You saw the blinding rage in Hughie’s eyes, as his whole body tensed and his hand curled into a fist. You immediately placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him away. Then with a swift move you kicked Butcher in the face with enough force to knock him to the floor. He was caught completely off guard, but oddly enough seemed to enjoy the situation in his own twisted way. His lips curled into a devilish smirk, teeth stained with blood as you stood over him.

“Touch Hughie again and I will end you, asshole,” you snarled at him and then turned to Hughie, who was shocked by what happened, but clearly found it enjoyable. “Come on, Hughie. It’s not worth it. Let’s go somewhere else.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. 

Two days later you were still slowly losing your minds on the damn boat. You and Butcher generally avoided each other. Until the second night, when he called you all for a team meeting on the upper deck. You were all reluctant to attend, feeling a bit jumpy from the boredom that had settled over the boat. MM stayed near the stairs, arms crossed. Frenchie and Kimiko seemed more engrossed in their silent conversation than in what Butcher had to say. You and Hughie leaned against the railing, looking skeptical as hell.

"All right, you lot, don't look so grim, will ya? I found us a golden ticket out of this mess as I promised ya," Butcher appeared and proclaimed triumphally.

"What is it this time, Butcher? What is the latest mess you’ve gotten us into?" MM scoffed.

"Nah, it's not like that, mate. Listen, I spoke with Mallory. They'll give us full immunity, budget, office, the full package. We just have to do one tiny job for them in exchange."

"Mon Dieu, here we go," Frenchie cast a wary look. Butcher gave him a stare, but remained silent.

"There's this supe Mindstorm. Cheeky little bugger. Apparently the guy has gone a bit bonkers and hides in a cabin deep in the woods, shitting his pants from paranoia. CIA wants him captured or killed. Easy peasy, nothing that we can't handle."

You couldn't help but snort. It always started like this with him before quickly going sideways. Butcher's gaze shifted to you instantly, his piercing hazel eyes fixing on you. “Unless the Queen of fuckin England here has something to say. Let’s hear it, love.”

You held his gaze. "Let's just do it and hopefully, we’ll be able to put an end to this nightmare and return home."

The others agreed with you. A plan was formulated and the next couple of hours were spent discussing the details. Just as everyone was leaving and you were about to follow them, Butcher approached you and blocked your way with his large hand. "Hold up for a second, will ya?"

"What do you want?" your defenses went up immediately.

"Do we have a problem ‘ere?" he gestured between you and him. "Cause if there is some unfinished business we better sort it out right now and don't let it affect the mission." He noticeably shortened the distance between you two. His intense gaze, full of spite and menace, was fixed directly on you. For a brief moment you thought you picked up something else in it, something more...unexpected. But you quickly dismissed this notion and maintained your defenses.

"We are even, so long as you keep your hands off Hughie."

Butcher chuckled, "I get it, you love the kid. But he is a grown ass man and just maybe you should let him stand up for himself occasionally, don't ya think?"

You opted not to reply and instead gave him a look filled with contempt before leaving the deck. Butcher remained staring in your direction. The truth was that he was impressed by you. He would never admit it out loud, but Mallory was right: you were an excellent addition to the team. Your skills were impressive, especially with guns; you were independent, confident, a quick thinker and had a very calm demeanor under pressure. On top of that, you were wickedly funny. And hot. If only you weren’t such a massive cunt. Sometimes your mere presence was irritating to him. Butcher sighed.

[mchlgayser]

heeey could u write about mason’s family finding out he has a girlfriend because she shows up at his door (when he answers she kisses him and everyone is shocked) thank u

OH MY GOD: : mason mount x female!reader

author's note: this is, by far one of my cutest fiction I think?! but lemme know what you think anon!! luv xx

contents warning: none // not proofread

'You got me a dress? ...In my closet room? ...Mason when did you even get here?!' He chuckles through the phone 'I'll tell you about that later alright? Just get dolled up for me angel!' He hung up the phone and you sigh, exasperatedly.

Mason told you today he wanted to bring you to a dinner date at his house, and you as a person who could't said no, you agreed to. What could possibly go wrong anyway?

Everything

You jog upstairs to your room and the linked closet room to see a black box with gold ribbon laid before you on the accessories drawer. You carefully pull open the box to see a long and elegant pink maxi dress neatly tucked

You present the dress in front of you feeling giddy and bubbly to wear it for today's special occasion.

You did your make up not too long after, putting on the dress and get your 'M' initial necklace and a pair of eggshell white pearl dangling earrings. After that you put your hair on a neat low bun and strands of hair at the front curling it a bit.

Satisfied with the look, you grab a purse along with a few of your necessities and then left the house.

Mason on the other hand started to grow more anxious, his polo-collared shirt is beads with sweats, his hands is shaking, too scared for your reaction and his family but he knows none of it won't be too negative but he'll get nagged from both parties.

His family are still preparing the dishes while his father and his brother in law on the hall talking business, him on the other hand has been quite nonstop looking out the window to see if your car had parked outside his residence.

'Guys, dinner's ready!' His sister, Chloe announced 'Mason come on--'

'I invited--'

The front door bell chiming, the whole family turns up to Mason 'Friends coming over?' He gulps, his mom head shake at the weird behavior of his son and gets up 'Let me get the door!'

'I'll do it, mom,' He rush to the door, his whole family is still eyeing him, he could see it from the corner of his views

He opens the door welcoming you, you squealed giving him a long chaste kiss on the lip and his cheeks. A series of 'What?' and a shrieking 'Oh' comes after that, you peep from his shoulder seeing his whole family looking at you both, well partially you...

You gapped in surprise, eyes going back and forth between Mason and his family. The mother came up to you first 'Gosh dear, you must be Mason's girlfriend,' She laugh immediately easing the tension, you gulp eyes burning holes into Mason as she drags you over the table and strike an immediate convos. His father joined in and soon his sister

'So how long you to've known each other?' She questioned you, you awkwardly chuckle 'It was't long, eight months I think? We met during an award show, I was the host and we had short interview together..' You blurted out, Mason beside you smile along and confirming it.

It was like that for the next past hours, his family opening up to you, especially his mom, she's very supportive, very reliable and caring too, easy for a timid person like you to even talk to her.

The day went by fast, and soon they left, you rolled your eyes at Mason and went back inside the house 'Wait babe--'

'What?! You got me meeting your family while I'm like this..' You pouted at him and he laugh, clasping one hand over your waist 'Like what..? You look decent.'

'Am not, I would've put more effort if I know it would be a dinner date with your family... I know I said that I'm ready to meet them whenever but not surprising me like Mase!' You complained, hand crossing over your chest getting sulky

He crooks a small smile and kiss your hand 'Well it went well innit?'

You suck your teeth and dismissed the topic 'Whatever but next time you gotta tell me first so I can prepare gifts or something...' He hums and followed after you inside the house

'You could say that all my family are fond of you, especially mom..' He admitted with a toothy grin, you mirror his expression and nods 'I think so, not too bad am I? Do you think they'll approve me to be part of the Mount family?' You joked sending a giggle his way, he froze for a second before he wraps both arms around you 'Yeah, they won't mind that, I think mom will definitely say this "the sooner the better" don't you think?' You flush down to your neck as Mason laughs at your unexpected reaction 'So cute!' He cooed scooping you up and bringing you to his bedroom

'Stay for the night, yeah love?'

[random-thot-generator]

Better Not to Know + Pt. 2

KYLE GAZ GARRICK x FEM READER

-

Summary: It's been months, but you've not been able to forget the stranger you hooked up with in a night club bathroom. Then again, it hard to forget someone who left such a lasting impression.

Warnings/Tags: no serious warnings, mild profanity, no smut this round, no use of Y/N

(Notes: This one wouldn't leave me alone either, so here's a second installment. Bit of a cliffhanger at the end. Yeah, I'm a literary sadist.)

banners & dividers by: @saradika-graphics

-

March comes in a like a lion, the wind and rain making it a misery to step foot out-of-doors. Small wonder that your boss decides to send you to pick up his dry cleaning for him instead of doing it himself. Why risk ruining his tailored suits and Italian shoes, when he could just send you, who bought your clothes off the clearance rack?

Umbrella clutched in your fist, you hurry along the sidewalk, dodging puddles and people as you make your way to the dry cleaners. You're relieved to see there's not a line, counting your blessings as you step through the door. An automated chime announces your arrival— bing-bong.

"Hullo. Can I help you?" A young woman with colorful tats sleeving her arms and teal hair gives you a customer service smile from behind the counter.

You pull the ticket from the pocket of your raincoat and slide it over with a tight smile. "Just a pick-up."

The young woman picks up the slip of paper, heavily lined eyes scanning the ticket before flickering over your damp, bedraggled form. "Be just a tick, luv," she murmurs, disappearing through a curtained doorway.

With nothing better to do, you drift over to a display of travel-size stain remover sticks, not bothering to turn around when the door opens, a gust of wind fluttering the hem of your coat. The automated chime sounds, drawing Tattoo Girl out of the back with what you assume is your boss' dry cleaning held aloft in one hand.

"Well, hullo, handsome!" she greets her new customer with a wide, toothy smile. "Got your uniform ready. Just need to take care of this lady first."

You don't look back to see who she's addressing, all your attention focused on fishing your boss' credit card out of your pocket. You do absently notice that the new customer smells nice. You catch notes of sandalwood and pine, a hint of musk, definitely masculine and strangely familiar. You also don't fail to notice how Tattoo Girl keeps glancing over your shoulder as she rings you up, the remnants of her wide smile still lingering.

"Here you go," she says, handing over the dry-cleaning bag and receipt, her eyes already focused on her more desirable customer.

"Thanks," you mutter, drawing the bag over the counter and draping it over your arm. Pulling the sides of your coat together, you turn, curious eyes flicking up to catch a glimpse of the man who has so distracted the pretty cashier, then almost trip over your own feet as you stumble to a halt.

"No bloody way," you breathe in a shocked whisper, staring up at the face that's been haunting you for the last five months.

His eyes widen at the same time yours do, recognition clear in his expression. "Christ, I don't believe it," he mutters, a mystified smile curving his sensuous lips. "It's really you."

You feel the same way. You can't believe it's really him, the gorgeous bloke from the club, Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous himself. "Um— wow. H-Hi."

His soft brown eyes register surprise but also pleasure as they lock with yours and his mega-watt smile appears. "Long time, no see, pet. How ya been?"

You gaze up at him dumbfounded, shaken all the way down to your sensible shoes. It's really him. Holy shit! "I, uh... I'm g-good. And you?" Christ! When did you develop a stammer?

He steps closer, his smile turning into something softer and intimate. "Been doin' alright." His eyes dart over your face, taking you in as if he still can't believe you're real. "This is bloody mad, innit? You wouldn't believe how many times I've..." He lets his words trail off, shaking away his dazed expression. "Ah, never mind. 'M just beyond chuffed to see ya again, pet. You look— lovely."

At least he's pleased to see me again, you think. That's a good sign, isn't it? You adjust the dry-cleaning bag in front of you, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Tattoo Girl clears her throat, drawing your attention back to the counter. You glance over to see a perturbed little frown on her face, her eyes bouncing back and forth between you and the gorgeous man standing by your side.

"Oh! Sorry," you apologize, stepping away from the counter. You glance back up at him, feeling flustered and more than a little overwhelmed. Gripping the dry-cleaning bag closer to your body, you ignore the fact that you're probably wrinkling your boss' clothes.

"Ha. Making a right nuisance of myself, aren't I?" you murmur with a nervous titter. "It was, um, nice seeing you again, uh..." You give him a sheepish little grin, feeling terribly awkward and thoroughly embarrassed. "I-I'm so sorry. I don't think I ever got your, uh... name." God, how embarrassing...

He shuffles his feet and grins, looking a bit sheepish himself. "It's, uh, it's Kyle," he answers in a soft voice, holding out his hand. "Kyle Garrick." He dips his chin down to meet your eyes, giving you a teasing little smirk. "I don't think I got your name, either."

Taking his hand, you utter your name with a dazed expression as his touch sends warm tingles of awareness shooting up your arm. Neither one of you let go until the Tattoo Girl clears her throat again and sniffs in irritation.

Kyle's brows tick together in mild irritation as he shoots a quick look in her direction, then flicks his gaze back to you. "Would ya mind waiting while I take care of this? It'll just take a moment," he says, sounding anxious. "I'd really like to catch up with ya, maybe buy ya lunch or a coffee?"

Your head bobs in eager agreement. "Yeah, sure. I've got time."

Honestly, you didn't, but to hell with your boss. This is far more important to you.

Stepping out of the way, you wait by the door for him, your mind racing. As you stare at his broad back, your teeth worry at your bottom lip, wondering what he will have to say, then fret over what you're going to say to him. Is he just hoping to hook up again or does his interest go deeper than that? The way he's acting, it seems like it's more than that, but who knows? It's not like you really know him that well. Or at all, really. Jesus, this is nerve-wracking...

By the time Kyle has paid for his dry cleaning and is turning around, you have worked yourself up into a jittery mess. His smile dims as he takes in your nervous expression, concern plain on his face.

"Ya alright, pet?" he asks, stepping close to grasp your elbow. "You look like you're about to be sick."

Shaking your head, you offer him a weak smile. "No, no, I'm fine. I just feel a bit peckish," you lie, not wanting to make a scene. You can see Tattoo Girl staring daggers at the two of you, a petulant frown on her face. "Could we go ahead and get that coffee now? I think I need to sit down."

"Yeah, of course, love," Kyle murmurs, caressing your arm with a worried look. "C'mon, let's go."

He takes your umbrella from your numb fingers and opens the door, holding it for you as he snaps the brolly open over his head. Lifting his arm, he lays it across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he shifts the umbrella to shield you both from the rain. Casting another worried glance down at you, he leads you to a nearby sandwich shop and quickly ushers you inside.

"Here we go," he murmurs, guiding you over to a table. He takes the dry-cleaning bag from you and drapes it over the back of a chair with his own. "Here, love. Let me take your coat," he offers as he steps behind you, and you're so flustered that you let him slip the coat from your shoulders before realizing your mistake. Quaking in your shoes, you turn to face him.

Kyle stands frozen, his mouth open to say something, his eyes now riveted on your waistline. You glance down as well then stare up into his shocked face, your hands going to your stomach to splay over the gentle swell of your baby bump.

A pained grimace twists your features as you whisper in a shaky voice, "I suppose I should explain."

-

part 1 part 3

[thetarttfuldickhead]

If When Jamie is named England’s captain a few years from now and he’s asked about inspirational figures and captain role models, he will not stop singing Isaac’s praises. Just, the way Isaac runs a tight ship and won’t tolerate any nonsense but always has their backs and makes sure there’s a lot of fun, too, silly stuff that keeps the team close and happy and mutually supportive; keeps them feeling like family, almost. It’s Ted’s heritage, the seeds Ted planted, but Isaac’s nurtured and sustained them, tended to the garden and kept it in bloom, and added some vibrant saplings of his own.

Jamie probably names a couple of other people too, whoever was in charge when he played for Man City, someone from his academy days or England’s under-21s, people like that.

He doesn’t mention Roy. And no one asks about it, and no one thinks anything of it—

—except for Roy, who watches the interview with Keeley curled up against his side on their couch and who notices the omission with a wild jumble of hurt and wounded pride and shame and jealousy (all mixed up with the shocking, burning pride he feels for Jamie, England’s captain, fucking hell).

Because Roy knows he wasn’t a great captain for Richmond, yeah, and was a horrible captain for Jamie (though to be fair, Jamie was a horrible person to captain, and Isaac isn’t likely to have been able to handle him at full-on prick either, only Roy’s not fantastic at being fair to himself, so), but he’s still Roy fucking Kent, the best on any team he’s ever been on and Jamie’s fucking childhood idol and his fucking everything now, so to have the little prick not even mention him…

He sulks. He tries not to, because he knows it’s silly and it’s Jamie’s big day, isn’t it, and Roy’s not going to ruin it by having A Feeling, but the feeling(s) persist and he walks through the afternoon with his scowl several shades darker than normally.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Keeley asks, and Roy’s long since given up trying to bullshit her so he spills. Keeley nods and listens and gives him a hug and a kiss and tells him that yeah, you’re gonna need to let that go or actually talk to Jamie about it, because she has long since taken a stand on not sorting their shit out for them.

And she has a thing with Rebecca that afternoon (only it’s the first Roy’s ever heard of it, so he can’t help but wonder if she had a thing with Rebecca prior to Roy’s confession), so when Jamie gets home, bouncing through the door like a puppy on speed, it’s just Roy there to greet him and tell him how amazing he is and yes, of course Roy watched the announcement, your hair looked fucking fine, yes, Keeley saw it too, no, don’t worry, she’s just out for coffee, she’ll be back for dinner and let you know how very impressed she is, and it’d be easy to just let it lie, put the lingering regret away and bask in Jamie’s joy, but they’d said they’d try not do that anymore, not cover stuff up when there’s the chance they might fester, so when Jamie furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side and asks if he’s okay, Roy takes a deep breath:

“It fucking hurt my feeling when you didn’t mention me, when they asked about captains that have inspired you,” he says, and then adds before Jamie can reply, “I know why you didn’t and that’s… that’s fucking fair, innit, but. It also made me wish that I’d been. Better. A better captain. For you.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says after a long, silent moment. He’s wearing that slightly blank look he adopts whenever someone’s caught him by surprise and he’s trying to figure out how to react. “Um. Sometimes I wish I’d been less of a prick, too, you know.”

Roy nods. He knows. And it’s not absolution, and it neither erases or rewrites any of their past mistakes, but it eases the ache in Roy’s chest all the same.

“We’re better now,” he offers, to Jamie, to himself.

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees with a small sigh. He grabs hold of Roy’s hand, tugging him along as he sits down on the couch, and then he curls up against Roy’s side, same as Keeley did just hours ago. “You’re a great fucking coach, though” he tells Roy seriously. “Me favourite, swear down.”

Roy snorts a laugh as he puts an arm around Jamie. “Better fucking be, considering how many blowjobs I’ve given you this week alone.”

“Mm, fucking mint, those,” Jamie agrees thoughtfully, then jabs a finger in Roy’s side. “Oi, this is the part where you tell me I’m your favourite player.”

And oh. That’s perfect, innit. “You’re not my favourite player,” Roy says, carefully not looking at Jamie.

The noise Jamie makes are equal parts disbelieving and outraged. “Um, excuse me, mate?”

“You’re not,” Roy insists, feeling a smile tug at his lips as he innocently adds, “It’s probably Isaac.”

And Jamie huffs a laugh against his neck. And Jamie says you’re an arsehole. And Jamie says you’re me favourite arsehole, though.

You’re me favourite everything, man.

And Roy holds him tight and breathes him in and, for the moment, believes him.

[fantasticalleigh]

was having a reylo creative block for a bit and then churned this out in a few hours funny how this shit works innit

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wrote a teeny thing in accompaniment for this below under the cut!

There were whispers of confusion among the troopers after they had lifted off from Takodana. Lord Ren had boarded the ship with a prisoner, the scavenger who supposedly held the map of Skywalker’s whereabouts. They had watched in silent surprise as he’d strode in with the unconscious young woman in his arms, bearing her weight with no trouble. He hadn’t even cuffed her yet!

As soon as the ship door closed behind them and the prison keepers came forward to take the burden of the captive away and to her new cell, Lord Ren pinned them with a dead stare that made them pause and then turn tail swiftly.

Since then he’d stayed in the cargo hold. Everyone else was too nervous to approach, watching with ill-concealed curiosity. If General Hux had been there he surely would’ve had no qualms about going to Lord Ren and snapping him back to his normal state but he could not be summoned, as he was occupied.

By then the force sleep the scavenger was under was beginning to wear thin. She was coming in and out of it, a desert rat used to blazing heat now shivering in the frosty air of the ship. Her eyes were opening slightly, befuddled and uncomprehending, but she didn’t speak, looking as though she believed she were in the thick of a dream. Incredibly, Lord Ren didn’t seem to mind, to everyone’s shock--nor did he seem angry. In fact, he looked quite the opposite as he held her. No one had ever seen him so at peace, nor so protective of a stranger, much less a prisoner.

She looked up at his face and appeared frightened for just a moment, and then her face relaxed as if she recognized him just before the force sleep took hold of her again and she fell unconscious again.

The spectacle only lasted ten minutes. News came from the command center that Hux was on his way with questions about the situation on Takodana. He was expecting to have the map in hand immediately. The threat of his arrival and empty hands finally pushed the prison keepers to approach Ren again, and he relinquished the sleeping scavenger at last, not sparing her an extra glance as she was taken away to her cell.

He was frowning now, back to his usual self. Once, he shook his head--in disbelief, perhaps, as if he too couldn’t understand what had just happened to prompt his strange behavior.

[hopefulromances]

#19 with Jamie x f!reader!!

Thank you!!

19. “I could pick you out from a room full of thousands of people.”

Jamie Tartt. What could you say about Jamie Tartt? Everything the papers said about him was true, to an extent. He was cheeky, and cocky in all the right ways, but he was also incredibly caring and needy as well.

Needy for you it seemed. Especially right in this exact moment. Right now, Jamie had his arms wrapped around you tightly as he swayed his hips to the music and kissed up and down your neck and jaw. You had your hands wrapped around his neck and up into his hair.

You wished for, like, two seconds, you could turn your brain off. Stop thinking about the infinite possibilities of what it could mean. In this moment, Jamie was choosing you and that's all that mattered. But instead, you couldn't focus on anything except the other faces in the crowd, watching you. Judging you. Comparing you to them.

What did you have that they didn't And, more importantly, what did they have that you didn't that could win Jamie over. You weren't exclusive or anything. You'd barely been on two date, he could easily leave you behind for someone more beautiful, more confident, more sexy. Suddenly, it was hard to breath.

You pushed Jamie off of you, muttering something about needing to use the bathroom before turning and starting to push through the crowd of people. You turned over your shoulder in time to see Jamie, watching you leave with a confused smile on his face, and another woman appraoching him in your absence.

You made it to the bathroom line which was long, and didn't feel like waiting, so instead you made your way outside. When you broke through the door, it felt like you were coming up for air after a deep dive.

Maybe you should just leave. Would he even notice? You'd basically disappeared into a crowd of hundreds. But, to your surprise, you were quickly proven wrong when Jamie emerged from the door behind you.

"There you are," he spouted, walking over to you. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Oh! Sorry!" You waved him off. "Just getting some air."

Jamie nodded, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, it was getting stuffy in there." If he noticed anything off about you he didn't say anything, he just hooked his hand around your waist and pulled you towards him. "It's pretty cold out here, innit, though?"

You blushed under his gaze, your hands resting on his chest. "Yeah... I guess it is."

He smirked at you, his hands roaming up your back, pushing to into him. "Don't worrry, I'll keep you warm.

He started to tilt his head to kiss to again when a surge of panic ran through you. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why couldn't your brain just shut up. Unfortunately, you couldn't find the mute button and found yourself pushing him away, much against your will.

Jamie's eyes were wide with shock, and a hint of guilt as he stood up straight. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head furiously. "No, no, I'm sorry I'm just..." You shoved your face in your hands. "I'm just stuck in my head."

Jamie placed his hands over yours and dragged them off of your face. He looked at you expectantly. "What's your head saying."

You bit your lip, chewing on your thoughts. Should you tell him? Would it be too much too soon? Would you come off as clingy? Instead of turning your brain off you decided to just ignore it.

"It's telling me that... that you deserve better than me," you admitted, feeling your hands get clammy in his. "That I'm nothing special, nothing to look at."

Jamie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Is that what you think? that your 'nothing special.'" You nodded, unable to tear your gaze from his. "Honey, I could pick you out from a room full of thousands of people." You were shocked by his statement. You weren't sure if he knew the effect it had on you, but the smirk on his face told you he did.

"But I-I'm just... me and you're... Jamie Tartt!" You emphasized, gesturing to him. "As in Jamie Tartt doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo."

"I'm familiar with the chant, love."

"Well, then..." You let out an exhasperated gasp. "Why me?"

"Cause you cute, babe," he said, simply, shrugging. "And sweet. And funny. And that's all I want." He cocked his head at you. "Do I need to have another reason?"

You supposed not. He was just like you, wanting someone who wanted you for you. You let yourself move you hands up his chest.

"So... you don't want one of those girls in the club?"

"Nope?"

"And you really do just want me?"

"There's no just about it," he beamed, his arms making their way around my waist again. "It's everything. You're everything." You blushed again, feeling very warm in his embrace. "Now, can I kiss you again??"

You nodded, this time tilting your head to meet his lips. This time, you ignored your brain. Instead, you focused on the glorius feeling of kissing Jamie Tartt doo, doo ,doo, doo, doo ,doo.

[neteyamyawne]

250 Followers Special

How they react when they catch you wearing their things : (male version)

Jake :

Jake was surprised to see you wearing his old clothes, he thought you despised the humans and their things but to see you wearing his old tshirt looking at yourself in the mirror, twirling around taking a good look at yourself, he smiled gently, staying hidden until you spotted him.

You blushed when he caught you, trying to take it of but he stopped you, pulling you closer by your waist, nuzzling his face in your neck, as he spoke "keep it on, babygirl, you look good innit" he was glad you liked them, he thought you looked really great in them so from then on you were seen in his old t-shirts more often than to be considered coincidence.

Neteyam :

He was surprised when he didn't find his stomach wrap in its place, searching all over your shared tent for it, finally giving up after an hour he makes his way towards you but was stopped in his tracks when he saw you trying it on, he suppressed his chuckle at your attempts to put it on right, he watched you try and fail miserably before he decided to step in.

You jump in surprise when you feel his hands take the wrap and bind it correctly, it accentuated your waist perfectly, making his hands itch to caress it, your cheeks turning a shade darker at his loving stare, his eyes drowning you in love while he snakes his arms around your waist pulling you flush against him, his mind making a mental note to make one for you too.

Lo'ak :

You wore his things almost everyday so it wasn't a surprise to him but to see you wearing his arm band as a necklace with extended vines and extra beads making it even more beautiful, highlighting your eyes with the color of the beads contrasting to them, the feathers settling right on the base of your throat.

you walked around like you didn't have your mates eyes stuck on you, Lo'ak almost face planted himself on the ground if he didn't caught the beam because he stumbled on a root he didn't see.

When you got home though, he couldn't keep his hands off you, let's just say he admired the hell out of your creativity.

Tsu'tey :

He adores it, when you secretly wear his arms wraps or his hunting feathers, even if you think you're wearing them in secret but he knows everything, he isn't the best warrior in the clan for nothing.

He keeps them lying around for you to see and try them on, and just as he plans, you do it, though the pieces are big on you make it work, he loves the smile you have on your face wearing them, this is a secret he'll hold in his heart till his dying breath.

Tonowari :

Once tonowari forget his akula teeth necklace at your shared mauri, seeing the opportunity you took it, it was heavy on your collar but still adorned it proudly, touching and twirling the big seashells between your fingers, the beautiful shades of teal mixing with gray on them, the tooth a striking shade of ash gray.

When tonowari noticed he forgot his necklace so he came back to retrieve it but the sight of you wearing it made him stop in his track, he didn't step in your line of sight, watching you admire it from afar, he slowly made his way towards you, hugging you from back as you jumped slightly in surprise, he just smiled at your adorableness, kissing your neck just above the necklace, forgetting all about the work for the day as he made the plan to spend it with you.

Ao'nung :

He didn't knew that you wore his things until he saw some of his favorite pieces were missing, puzzled until he saw you talking to kiri while wearing his favorite armband, rolling his eyes at his obliviousness for not knowing it earlier that it was you, he liked the way it looked on you, he'd let you wearing it more often, admiring it and giving you compliments every time he could.

Kiri and lo'ak were surprised at how sweet he was to you, even letting you wear his things, which was a huge shock being their sister, but ao'nung turned a blind eye to them, as his eyes only ever loved the sight of yours and nothing could ever compare in front of your beauty for him.

A/n : y'all are really spoiling me lmao, 250? Like last month i was at 0! 😭🤭 I can't thanks y'all enough, may you be blessed, i love you all so so so much 🥹💚 the requests are open now so I'm more than happy to write them, again thank you so much 😄

© Neteyamyawne 2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[terresdebrume]

Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency pt 12

Because I decided to go out for breakfast + writing and I'm not at a point in my life where I feel confident working on smut in public xD

"Young Crystal was expressing her shock at my lack of knowledge regarding combat magic," Mr. Payne says in that prim tone of his while Crystal rolls her eyes.

To her surprise, instead of agreeing with her or saying something to his partner, Charles blinks.

"Why would he bother with that?" He asks, apparently completely genuine. "That's what I'm for, innit?"

Mr. Payne's expression takes a painfully smug turn, and Crystal would sigh at him for it except at that point Charles puts a pair of reins in her hand, and she's faced with and admittedly beautiful horse head way too close to her own for comfort. Right. The Horseriding bit. Time to put Charles and Mr. Payne's theory to the test, then. Reluctantly, Crystal steps to the left flank of the horse, and takes a look at the saddle and stirrups. They're way too high for her as they are, and she doesn't want to risk jumping for fear of hurting the poor animal, so she lowers the stirrup as far as it'll go, hoist herself up with her arms, and then struggles until she's settled in the saddle, feeling weirdly slippery.

"You'll have to ride astride," Mr. Payne says with a rise of his eyebrow. "Suits of armor are not suited to riding sidesaddle."

"Neither is that saddle, for that matter," Charles adds. "And sidesaddle is a stupid way to ride, anyway."

With heated cheeks, Crystal takes her right leg out of its bend position and settles her foot in the stirrup, then leans aside when Mr. Paybe steps up to the horse and adjusts the other stirrup back to the correct height for her.

"Well," he says while Charles mounts his own horse, "we'll have to figure out how to get you up in the saddle faster, but I do believe our theory was correct. Give it a press of your heels."

Crystal does, and the horse starts off at a slow pace that she's glad to find manageable. Behind her, she hears Charles and Mr. Payne get their own horses in motion, then Mr. Payne overtakes her, and they're finally on their way to Crystal's first attempt at adventuring. It's funny, because she has no memory of her life before Charles and Mr. Payne found her, yet there's something in her that sings at the prospect, like it's been stiffled before and is finally being let free. She's not sure if it's the magic she apparently has or a result of some other circumstance she won't know until she finds her memories again, but she does know the prospect of even a short mission is... exilarating. She barely manages to contain herself until they're out of the city gates before she urges her horse into a gallop.

"Young Crystal!" she hears Mr. Payne protest, but she's going too fast to catch the rest of it, and even if she could she doesn't want to.

The the wind in her hair makes her feel like she could take flight, the movement of the horse's back under her teeming with power and as natural as breathing and, oh, Mr. Payne was more correct than he thought: Crystal doesn't just know what to do, she is good at it! With a shout, she urges her horse faster on the wide road, nothing but fields and then grass about as far as the eye can see, and she laughs when hoofbeats catch up with her, keep pace with her, then overtakes her, Mr. Payne's gray robes floating in the wind behind him. Crystal whoops again and presses her legs around the horse's flank, delighted when it speeds up again. She leans against its neck as low as her amor allows her to, setting her sights on a tree further down the way that will serve as a finish line as well as anything.

"Race you to the tree!" She calls out to Mr. Payne, and watches him make himself smaller in the saddle, evidently taking her up on the challenge.

They race along the road in a thunder, wind whipping at Crystal's cheeks and stinging in her eyes, her blood racing with the thrill of the chase, the clangs of her armor like drums in her ears. She manages to catch up to Mr. Payne's horse, keeping abreast of him and grinning triumphantly when he turns around to shoot her a surprised look, then swearing when he urges his horse faster. Crystal hisses between her teeth, then leans further onto her horse's neck and yells:

"Win me that race and I'll get you more carrots than you can eat!"

"You got it boss!" the horse says, and Crystal is so surprised the burst of speed the horse puts on throws her clean off the saddle.

She manages to cover her head with her arms by sheer miracle, but the fall drives the air out of her lungs and scrambles her mind with pain, leaves her winded and gasping on the trembling ground even as someone yells and comes to a stop next to her. She's pushing herself up on her arms when someone catches her shoulders and Charles' worried voice is in her ear:

"Crystal," he says with the tone of someone who's called her name before, "Crystal, can you hear me?"

"I'm fine," she says reflexively, vaguely aware of Mr. Payne coming back to them with both of their horses in hand. Charles is trying to catch her eyes, but she turns to her horse instead and points at it: "You speak!"

"Obviously," Mr. Payne says, "honestly, taking a tumble shouldn't-"

"Not you!" Crystal snaps at him, "You! You speak!"

"Yeah?" The horse says. "We all do, you know."

"You all--" Crystal turns to Charles, feeling more than a little crazed: "Did you know this?"

"I don't understand when you whiny at me," Charles says, something like relief in his eyes. "Are you speaking to the horse?"

"Yes!" Crystal says, finger still pointing at the horse. "It said--it said--"

"Hey, boss, do I still get the carrots? I won the race--"

"You fucking bit me, you fucker," says Mr. Payne's horse in a much deeper voice.

"Well yeah but she didn't say not to, and it's not my fault she fell down."

"You speak," Crystal repeats, hearing the faintness of her voice without being able to stop it.

"Oh great," says a light, younger sounding voice from behind her, "Good job Goncho, you brained her."

"I'm not--" Crystal protests, breathless, "horses don't speak!"

"All beasts speak, you ninny," says Charles' horse with a clear snort, "you bipeds just don't take the time to listen."

"Hey don't insult her!" Goncho says, "She promised me carrots!"

"For fuck's sake Goncho, not everything is about carrots. She's hurt!"

"She's fine," says Charles horse in an exasperated tone. "Look, she's not even bleeding. Come on, get up!"

"Hey, woah!" Charles says when his horse steps in front of him to bump at Crystal's torso.

"Up!" The horse continues, ignoring the way Charles tries to hold it back, "Up, I said! The more time you keep us here, the longer before I get back to my stable."

Goncho and the other horse let out long exclamations of protest and start heckling Charles' horse, their words turning back to annoyed whinnies and huffs in the time it takes Crystal to get back to her feet. She sways a bit, but Charles' hand steadies her quickly. When Crystal turns to him, he looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"They were speaking!" Crystal says, "You heard them, right? The horses?"

"Of course not," Mr. Payne says with clear impatience. Crystal turns around, ready to tell him where he can shove his dismissal, when he adds: "The magic was only on you. All we heard were horse sounds." He pauses, glancing at Charles, and then his lips curve into something that looks like it wants to be a smile. "I must admit the sight of you whinnying was quite entertaining."

"I didn't whinny!" Crystal protests, which is apparently exactly what Charles was waiting for to start laughing.

"You did," he says, voice trembling with the effort of pushing through his chuckles. "You make very funny faces when you're speaking horse."

"I didn't--"

"Oh, be grateful," Mr. Payne cuts off, not as harshly as he could, "now we know one thing your magic does, even if it isn't quite helpful in combat. Now, if you're quite alright, get back in the saddle, will you? Going full speed the whole time is not a good idea, but we do not want to keep young Rebecca waiting too long."

Crystal gets back in the saddle.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Siúil a Rún (Alfie Solomons x Irish Fem!Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Irish Fem!Reader

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings: Allusions to past violence & trauma, talk of the IRA, mild swearing

Summary: On a day you're not feeling your best, fighting yet another hard battle with your greatest enemy, your mind, Alfie has a little surprise prepared for you. After all, all he wants is to see you smile.

And make a lasting promise to his Irish queen.

Author's Note: Gods above, it's finally here! At long last I had the energy and time to finish this piece, which is partially inspired by my recent moods. Ah dinnae ken what it is, but don't you worry about my head or how I'll fix it. Instead, enjoy this piece.

TH Masterlist

Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @liliac-dreamer @dreamlandcreations @mollybegger-blog @babaohhhriley @hoodeddreams13 @rose-like-the-phoenix

Alfie's POV

I’m no fan of the Irish, who can’t even remember what they had for fucking breakfast. However, right, they can perfectly recall their great-great-however many times- grandfather’s best friend’s cousin’s name and the unjust treatment he got from Oliver Cromwell if not the Black and Tan if they have a particularly clear check in with reality.

Yet here I am.

Engaged to my Irish queen, come all the way from Belfast. Raised in a family that supports the IRA, a bunch of hooligans that’ll do well to be tossed in the lock and left to drown.

But not her.

No.

She cut ties to home the moment she set foot ashore in Liverpool and boarded the train to London. She ain’t English, doesn’t particularly like them. So fancy the shock me ticker got when it turned out she liked me.

Or I her, as she likes to remind me, bringing up the time I asked her to taste the Irish sourdough I made her. She’d just arrived in town, wandered into my bakery looking like a parched twig on a stormy day, and sat by the window with an awfully glum face. Curious about this darling little dove who flew in, I lumbered over to see what had her caught up in her phone and laptop. One look at the screens told the whole story behind the erratic fingers flying over the keyboard or tapping away.

A place to stay, to call home.

In a land that had oppressed hers for centuries, still sees her as an outsider.

In the very capital of the cyclops, king of northern giants.

Now I, yeah, saw an opportunity to earn a little extra cash on the side. Sure, Margate is about two hours outside London by train so I couldn’t charge the full price for the room I had left over.

I didn’t.

For when those dove eyes turned to me, haunted and scared to death, whether it be due to her circumstances or me as a man I still do not know nor want to, I hadn’t the guts to ask her for a single penny.

Only a sliver of trust.

Though my rings, my kingdom, are covered in blood, I fortunately pleased Yahweh enough to have her put her trust in me. It’s a fragile thing, built over various meals, starting with silent breakfasts which gradually have filled with drowsy small talk. Normally I loathe small talk because if someone wants to say something and wants me to understand, they should talk. Nonetheless, Y/N doesn’t have to. Her voice is like an angel’s song, pleasant to wake up with.

And to fall asleep to on the nights the insomnia hits hard again. You get that, living a life of violence. Yet, even gods can’t simply forget.

I can only hide my crimes, spin a pretty yarn for an excuse, and pretend.

Pretend I’m a good man.

For her. 

If only because my midnight baking episodes have reduced since we met. Because I don’t, no, can’t do without those small hands leading me out of the kitchen and back up the stairs to what is now our bedroom. Pathetic, innit, how I also can’t live without those pretty fingers running through my beard until I can breathe normally. Close my eyes without ghosts creeping from the darkest shadows of my mind. To not feel the rage simmering beneath my skin.

For the first time in years, I can sleep again.

And if neither of us can find peace in slumber, we’ll slip into the old habit of having coffee or tea in the living room until the sun rises. No matter if we have an outing planned the next day or not.

It was on an outing like that, to Oxford, after a brief visit to that shithole called Birmingham, she first held my finger.

Two weeks later, when we popped by Hastings, she held my hand.

A month passed before she hugged me, in Cecil Court, during our first book and antiques shop hopping trip. I had bought her a vintage bound copy of one of her favourite books, Gods and Fighting Men by Lady Gregory.

However, it was in Camden, right outside me own bakery, on a bloody rotten autumn day, we first kissed. Cinnamon sugar and pumpkin spice, that’s what she tasted like.

My Irish queen.

Y/N will always claim it’s me who first confessed. Regardless of whether that’s true or not, in my opinion, right, and through genuine testimony, it was her wistful smile and timid ‘thank you’ as I served her a ham sandwich made with the sourdough I learned during one of my visits from a lovely old lady in Donegal and O’Neills ham which makes her the first to confess. Little did I know the brooding sadness around her could get much worse.

Since there are days she gets like this, reluctant to interact with the world. She’ll go out with Cyril, a barely mustered smile on her gentle face. 

It does her good. Our big bugger takes me on walks that are manageable even when my leg’s bad and her on those long enough to let her mind wander and forget about the desire to stay home. Like yesterday, they are again sitting side by side on the shore.

Y/N wrapped in my coat and scarf.

Cyril at her side.

Watching the waves.

Funny, innit, how a man of many words absolutely can’t stand the silence of his own house. Tragic, too, because it means he can’t live with himself. Perhaps that’s why I always bury myself in work, the bakery.

Our bakery.

Look, Y/N was the one who insisted on helping out. I was ready to give her board and room for free, though I was also desperate for help since business had taken a hit. Too cold, manly, rough. In need of a woman’s touch.

It was only when she told me it ain’t right to accept the offer without repaying the debt she never had and called me mister Solomons I took her on.

Mostly because she’d call me Alfie right from the start, wouldn’t see me as her boss or landlord. I never was nor am a fan of formalities, polite behaviour or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. You only get to know a person and their intentions once you place them in an informal environment, lull them into a sense of safety. Or, in her case, a sense of friendship too.

After a few more moments of watching them from the balcony, I head back inside to busy myself in the kitchen. Now, normally, yeah, on my rare day off, I love to bake. Gets the mind off things since you only have to focus on what your hands are doing and you get the ingredients right. Alleviates some of the stress the bakery saddles me up with, but those involved with the business need discipline so I can’t take a break. Would leave it to the dogs. Regardless, Ollie, the bloody bastard I hired as an assistant branch manager, forbade me to come into work. It’s my fucking bakery! Yet, though I’m loath to admit it, I am thankful he did this particular day. Must’ve felt Y/N had been different these past days, always has been good at dealing with people and emotions despite his panicky disposition. Better than me.

At least leaves her with one person to understand her entirely whereas I still grasp at straws at times.

Godhood comes with its complications, but I’ll do my best for Y/N.

For Mrs Solomons.

It’s worth the tightening in my chest, the battle for air while the same concerns keep milling in my noggin like some damned ever-turning grinding stone. I ain’t afraid of anything.

Anything except this mood.

It’s like Yahweh has established the terrifying truth of what she might be like when me health finally wins the battle, granting me a vision of a future in which we’re separated. Or perhaps it is an alternate reality in which I don’t exist or we’ve even never met. This morning, as Y/N stood by the door, her vacant gaze saw right through me as I draped my scarf around her neck. I kept rambling, not nagging, no, rambling on about how she’d catch a cold if she didn’t dress warmly despite knowing she wasn’t paying attention. As I placed a kiss on her forehead she likely didn’t feel, the comforting sense of normalcy shattered, turned into dust along with the little bit of sanity I had established by acting like everything was fine. Thankfully she felt warm in my arms because we might as well have been spectres moving past each other. Then she sauntered out the door, slow and ghostly.

My beautiful Irish queen.

When this mood strikes her, it takes away her voice. She won’t talk, reluctant to participate in any sort of conversation. Although, I think she hopes her quietness proves enough of a hint to not want to be surrounded by any voices at all. Not even mine. Now, any other man, right, any other sod who’s too self-obsessed to understand his girl, would go mad. I, on the other hand, the very image of an understanding and wise man who cares about his girl, his wife, speak less if at all to accommodate her. Instead, in the fleeting moments she’s here, Y/N communicates via small gestures.

A tug on my sleeve when she wants attention.

A brush over my fingers, a silent request for guidance.

We don’t go out in London on days like this. We tried once and while everything went fine, all things considered, the thought something happens in the split second I don’t pay attention breaks my already damaged nerves. Trafalgar Square is tricky enough as is to navigate with the fucking awful traffic, but when she’s barely here and we don’t cross the street in time or our hands let go of each other…

Eyes squeezed shut, I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly to remedy the tightening in my chest. To burn the claws crushing my ribs to ashes and let them take the nauseating vision in my banged up nogging with them. Blown away on the briny wind outside, past the lonely beach.

Left to drown in the sea across the road.

Right in front of her, vanishing beneath the waves. Cyril will make sure she won’t notice, keeps an eye on her when I can’t.

Especially when I’m too caught up in my own head, engulfed by something very, very grim. 

Eyes closed, I breathe in and exhale deeply as I repeat the thought like the verses in the Torah, embedding it further and further into my entire tainted being with each repetition. Only when my breathing has evened out and me ticker beats at regular intervals do I carry on.

I quit drinking after we met. Y/N needed a safe home and with an old drunk brute you ain’t going to find that. So I poured the rum, beer, and wine down the drain the very same evening and a drop hasn’t entered my house since. The day she first put her suitcase across the threshold, I’d been sober for a week.

We’re now a year further.

For all the bloody good he does me by banning me from my own business, Ollie makes for a fine lifestyle coach. I’ll admit that if it hadn’t been for him, his incessant texts and the brave efforts to pluck a glass from my hands, I might have lost her. Fuck, she might have hated me.

Or we might never have even met.

The house now finally knows silence.

No violent words. 

No drunk ravings going nowhere and anywhere.

True, genuine, silence.

I put the kettle on and pull the sourdough from the bread box. Bought it on our last trip abroad, to Amsterdam. It’s one of the things in this house which makes it ours because I used to plonk bread in a zipper bag and toss it on the counter. Not anymore. It goes in the box.

The mixed fruit blend I used for the dough we recently bought at Borough Market. Y/N was staring at it with a tender look on her face.

“Those special, love?” I hugged her from behind, my head on her shoulder. That morning, she had washed her hair and granted me the intense honour of brushing it. A smile grew on her lips in tandem with mine as I worked the brush through her strands. Nonetheless, while I was flattered and delighted beyond imagination, for being thus allowed in her space is a rare gift every man should know how to appreciate properly, she was amused with my attitude. But it’s alright. I don’t mind her laughing at me. 

Eyes closed, I drank in her presence. The sounds of the food stalls and crowd faded into a background hum, each sense overtaken by her frame in my arms and the scent of Argan oil and Shea butter in my nose. In that single moment, I didn’t have to think, to scheme. Just be.

With her, I can just be.

And I like that, makes me love her all the more.

Y/N regularly gives me an earful, but there are times when I truly listen and not only enjoy the sound of her voice. So when she gave me a piece of her story, I immediately snapped out of my reverie. “Nan used a blend of these when making brack.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a type of bread with sultanas and raisins. Officially, that is. But she added currants and other dried fruits when we had it and it wasn’t Samhain.”

“Tell me about the tradition. What does bread ‘ave to do with it?”

“We’d put items in the brack. A pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, a ring, and a bean. Each of these items had a special meaning, applicable to the person who got them.”

“Which were?”

Occasionally, right, I enjoy teasing her because I adore the way her frown naturally flows into a bright smile as her distrust melts away. However, the calculating coldness in her stare even gave me the chills. Terrible, it was, and I don’t say that lightly. “Alfie, where’s this coming from? I thought you hated the Irish.”

I thought you hated me.

She didn’t say it, but the words were there, precariously dancing on the tip of her tongue. The shopkeeper gave me a warning look, ready to beat me with her cane if I didn’t watch my mouth.

“It’s your culture, innit, love?’’ I said, quick to placate both women lest we had more than a simple situation on our hands. Moreover, dangerous as it normally is, curiosity genuinely got the better of me. There’s little I know of her previous life so I am overjoyed when my Irish queen, obviously unintentionally, indulges me like this. ‘‘I know the past hurts you, but this clearly means a lot to you. Your Nan’s obviously important to you too.”

“She practically raised me. Didn’t want me involved in politics, give me a normal life. Well, for as far as that’s possible when…” she froze in my embrace, paler than a ghost at midnight in Highgate. Bit by bit, I could feel her fade in the chaos she had kept firmly under lock and key. We’re rather alike in that, keeping the mess in our fucked up noggins hidden until we choose to open up.

Or come across a trigger. 

I scanned the surroundings for hers. Men conversing as they’re hauling boxes. Tourists and locals squeezing together as they navigate the narrow spaces between the stalls, leaving no room to breathe without doing so down someone’s neck. The sizzling of oil on a hot surface.

Like a lit fuse.

“When…” She flinched when one of the other shopkeepers dropped a couple of crates.

I remember how my heart dropped into my stomach as her knees gave way. Her nails dug into my skin as I gently coaxed her to the ground, though she relaxed her grip a bit as a vague inkling of recognition made her realise it was me holding her. “Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me? It’s Alfie, your boyfriend. You’re in London. Safe. There ain’t no guns ‘ere. Just a couple crates. Just crates. That’s all.” 

I glared at the bastard who reduced my queen to a shivering husk of herself, breathing way too fast as the current of grim things swooped her along. Once he noticed I was looking at him, he quickly scurried to the back. After cursing him under my breath, I held her tight against my chest, cradled her lovely head and the funny mind in it as I gently rocked back and forth like me mum used to do when I was a child. “No guns. No bullets. No fighting. Just us, dove.”

For a few moments we sat like that on the cold paving stones. The shopkeeper fetched Y/N a glass of water which she managed to make her drink. Perhaps it’s only because the subconscious ego of my Irish queen saw her Nan in the woman. Do not misunderstand, right, I was grateful for her kindness. Nonetheless, what Y/N needed was space, fresh air. So I picked her up and carried her bridal-style to the central seating area. One day, I hope to carry her the same way across the threshold of our home.

Colour began to return to her face the longer we sat on a bench removed from everyone in a quieter area of the market. With each passing minute, I saw the demons causing those awful vacant eyes and suffocating her with every breath leave her body. The best I could do was wait and do my damn best to not let my own fear and impatience get the better of me. After all, I was not a god at that moment.

Only a man praying for the better. 

A man overjoyed when an angel gave her back her voice.

“My brothers were killed in shootings.” Slowly, Y/N sought my gaze. She blinked a few times like she woke up a second ago and did not really know whether she was still dreaming or awake. “Cillian was shot in March. Seàn the month after. They rather died than be tried by law.”

It was easier to phrase it as such than tell the truth.

They killed themselves.

Died for the ideal that had left her with a broken family. Although, perhaps it’s better to say she never had a family to begin with.

“And the man who I was meant to marry to get our family higher up the ranks, Patrick McHugh, a man I loathed, was ready to shoot me when the Gardaí had us cornered during a car bomb attack. We were meant to go on a date, so he told me, but… we stopped in the street. Alfie, he- he-’’ I put my arm around her shoulders, pulled her against me, and rested my head on hers. She didn’t owe me an explanation for her behaviour, but before I could tell her it was alright to stop, she continued. “He took me hostage. Was ready to burn me alive with him.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to-”

“Rory turned on him. His second in command, the only person he trusted. I pulled Patrick’s gun in the same moment I freed myself from his grip. Shot him in the head. In cold blood.” She bit her lip to fight the ugly sob which made her shoulders heave. “I have blood on my hands, don’t you see? Rory didn’t make it either. Stayed behind after he negotiated safe passage for me. Later I heard he saved me because he loved me. Had been crushing on me for years. Never said a word, Alfie. Never.” The fight with self-control lost, Y/N’s voice cracked with the tears yet unshed. “And now he’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

‘‘No, not everyone. I’m ‘ere and I ain’t going anywhere. You and I, yeah, we’re gonna build something fucking biblical. A ‘ome, right, in Margate. You and I. And it’s gonna be safe. No violence. I’ll even get rid of me gun if that makes you feel better.”

“No, keep it. Still, thank you.”

I pulled a tissue from my pocket to clean up her mascara, which had stained her cheeks with little black rivulets. “If there’s anything I can do to make you feel safer, you tell me, yeah? If need be, I’ll build a fucking wall that’ll put Daedalus to shame. With me own ‘ands. Anything.”

“Thank you. I think I should repay that kindness with a clean shirt.’’ She sighed as she surveyed the damage done to my clothes. ‘‘Sorry for the stains. I know you got it fresh out of the closet.”

“Nah, it’s just a shirt. No worries. But, knowing you and your bloody adorable stubbornness, you won’t let this go. So, instead of beating yourself up over nothing because you got nothing to be sorry for, yeah, can you tell me more about the bar- barm- the… thing. Bread.”

“Barmbrack. Brack, for short.”

“Barmbrack,” I repeated. “Brack. Gonna try and remember. The items in it. You said they have special meaning.”

“Right. The… pea, a stick, a piece of cloth, a small coin, a ring, and… something else.”

“A bean.”

“Yes, a bean. A future without money. Anyway, so, now, the pea meant the person would not marry that year. The stick meant they would have an unhappy marriage or continually be in disputes. Now, the cloth or rag no one wanted to find because it meant bad luck, though it was also regarded as an omen of poverty. In contrast, and perhaps very bloody obvious, the coin meant good fortune or riches were coming for the person. If you got the ring, you’d be wed within the year.”

Say what you will of the Irish, but they are bloody creative.

We went back to the stall, got a full bag of dried fruit and went on our merry way. Y/N fortunately hasn’t noticed I’ve used some of the contents for a little surprise. For once her adorable drowsy noggin in the morning comes in handy, when she’s too sleepy to notice nor doesn’t check the bag’s contents before she puts a little in her yoghurt.

The kettle goes off. The steam creates a thin layer of condensation on the tiles and warms my face when I pour the water in a mug. There’s nothing like a cup of char regardless of the time of day.

I wager they’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Until they are, I sit on the chaise longue in the living room. It’s a gorgeous thing, a real beauty we found while antique shopping in London. I had my doubts about the red velvet, but Y/N convinced me to get it regardless because “it fits the house’s aesthetic” whatever the fuck that means. It’s a sturdy piece of furniture, definitely worth every penny.

We tested it thoroughly.

Multiple times.

Nipping the gingerbread tea we bought yesterday at M&S, when I barely managed to prevent Y/N from buying three boxes on top of the three boxes of Christmas spice tea already in our basket, I watch my family. A low chuckle tickles in my throat, proud and amused. Who’d ever thought I, Alfie Solomons, the Divine King of Camden, would stop wandering, settle down, become a family man? Tommy, the self-proclaimed head of the Shelby family though they’re all bad people, would have a bubble if he heard that. 

I ain’t like him. I’d marry my wife, the lovely and downright bloody gorgeous goddess currently down on the beach, the one and only true Mrs Solomons, out of love. A love based on loyalty, right, and not out of convenience or business. No whoring when she ain’t about, no secrets, no dirty business.

No more blood on my rings.

We’d raise our children together, perhaps spoil them rotten. Y/N would chastise me for it, I already know, but I want the best for my girls. Maybe two or three, though I’m not opposed to having a son, yeah, but he’d have to be born before my princesses so he can protect them when their good old man can’t. Hopefully, one of them would like to take over the bakery, keep the business in the family. 

I might have to be on my best behaviour, be more of a father rather than a boss if I don’t want to have her tell me over dinner one night “Papa, I’m not taking over. None of us wants to, least of all Seraphina. She’s more one for painting.”

Yes, they’d be artisans in their own right. But if one of my girls wants to paint, no way she’d learn it from Arthur Shelby, who’s head is like a broken vase what is glued together badly. Nah, I wager she’d be clever enough to teach herself. All of them would be talented like their mother.

The sound of the front door opening resonates in the hallway, followed by Cyril’s happy padding, merrily trodding past me on his way to his bed in front of the hearth. We never should’ve gotten him that pillow, has made him lazy.

But how could I tell her no?

Not that she’d have listened anyway. Y/N would’ve used her own card at the till. However, being a proper gentleman, right, and maybe because I wanted to gain extra what they call ‘brownie points’, which is a stupid phrase in and of itself, a show of being too incapable to use one’s speech properly, I paid.

Y/N follows the happy bugger, head hung low and eyes cast towards the ground. Headphones in her ears.

It’s one of those days.

I step in front of her when she makes for the living room. For a moment, she stays still, like a ghost puzzled by why it can’t move forward. Nevertheless, our eyes meet for a second when my hands touch her shoulders.

“No need to wear a coat inside, is there, darling?” I doubt she hears me, my voice drowned out with the rest of the world.

Perhaps, no, no perhaps.

I am sometimes too loud for her as well.

Although she always tries to play it off afterwards, me intestines tie themselves into a pretty tight and suffocating bow tie when it happens. When the world gets to her.

When I, the real me, The Mad Baker of Camden, get to her.

From the corner of my eye, I’ve seen her flinch when disciplining my staff or stiffen when removing rude customers. I especially hate those who bother her, how they make her freeze in their presence and how she’ll avoid my touch afterwards. Breathing is an art in and of it-bloody-self when I watch her from a distance, headphones blasting music as she sits bowed over a cup of coffee which will grow cold.

Yet, when she’s ready for contact again, those earbuds leave her ears. I don’t fucking care what my men say at this point, but I rush over as fast as I can what with my me fucking leg. I can bear that pain, incomparable to what I unwillingly inflict on her or its effect on me.

Her fingers only take my palm, mapped out from a distance, if she sees no violent lines in it. Some days it trembles, those days when her breath is shivery and I feel tears roll down the good, to her trustworthy, lines as she presses them to her cheek.

Although she doesn’t know it, then again my clever little dove likely does, I’m proud of her for trying to go without headphones nowadays. Recently, it’s only one she’ll keep in, in the ear opposite of the side I’m on. Left if I’m on her right, right if I'm on her left. On really good days, those splendid days which make you wonder whether Yahweh wants to give back to humanity, she’ll go without completely. Fortunately, most of the time this doesn’t result in situations like Borough Market.

Nevertheless, today is a day she needs them.

While Y/N moves to the living room, I head to the kitchen to finish setting up the little surprise I prepared for her. By the looks of things, she needs it. It’s hypocritical, innit, that I’m doing this despite hating when it’s done to me? Still, a good man, a proper man, yeah, a proper fucking gentleman, a bloody king, will try his damned best to surprise the woman he loves whenever and however he can.

Because she deserves it.

These acts of love.

If only because words have a tendency to fail.

As mine do.

A lot.

Tray in hand, I make for the living room. Exactly as I envisioned, Y/N has curled up on the sofa, headphones in while she’s doing that funny yarn thing her Nan taught her. She’s good at it, has made me a very nice scarf and beanie for Hanukkah last year. 

Recently, after our little getaway to the Scottish Highlands, where they speak some form of English she fortunately seemed to understand, worse than the Irish except for her, she made a blanket with a deer’s head. Got inspired by our surroundings, she said. I think it’s the show she watched on her phone every night or in the car.

I put the tray on the coffee table and sit down next to her, a little distance between us. “Hard day, dove?”

“Yeah.” She glances from the slices of sweet soda bread to the glass of whiskey and then to me, her fingers expertly holding up the yarn wrapped around them. “That for me?”

I nod, trying to contain the excitement ignited by hearing her voice. One decibel too loud and I’ll lose her again. Gotta play me cards right, so I speak as evenly as I can without showing her the precarious edge I’m balancing on. “‘Cause you look awful homesick.”

“Thank you, mhuirnin.”

For a few moments I watch her nibble on a slice, vacant gaze cast towards the cold hearth. “We can go on a trip to-’’

“No.”

“Y/N, we don’t have to go to the place your people live. We can go to, fuck, I don’t know, the Republic. It’s safe there, innit? Cork? Enjoy the sea. Waterford? Dublin for an urban-’’

“Alfie, I said no.”

“It’ll do you good.”

“I left Ireland for a reason.” Finally she meets my gaze and me ticker almost sinks through the floor once those pretty eyes shimmering with tears meet mine. “The whole fucking island. Don’t make me return.”

“Alright. We’ll go somewhere else.” I open my arms in invitation. Fortunately, it seems she’s in the mood for contact with me. Face buried in my sweater, her small fist clutching some of the fabric, I wrap her up on my arms. “Or nowhere. We can stay ‘ere.”

As an answer I’m given muffled mumbling, worse than me own.

“What was that?”

“Hotel night.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know. London?”

“We already know the town well. What about the Lake District, hm? Nice and quiet. Lots of green. We can rent a cottage or a nice B&B. Cyril would like it too, right, lots of places to explore. Makes for nice walks, yeah.”

As in agreement, Cyril lets out an excited though low bark, sensitive to what she gets like when her mood’s as it is now.

“See?” I say, pulling her a bit closer. “‘E likes the idea.”

In acknowledgement of our shared sentiments, she hums.

“We’ll figure it out later. For now, ‘ave another slice, drink some whiskey, crochet. But lean on me, eh? Lean on Papa Solomons.”

She grabs another piece of bread and starts nibbling on it, occasionally nipping on her glass.

For a while we sit in silence as she crochets and I simply watch her eat, occasionally shutting my eyes to drink in the moment.

Until my plan comes to fruition.

Feigning innocence, I lift an eyebrow when Y/N pulls a difficult face and spits something into her hand.

She once told me that according to Celtic philosophy, all things come in three.

Third slice of bread.

A ring, of course not the one I mean to present to her properly.

Her head snaps up at me, so fast I’m both glad and impressed she hasn’t broken a vertebrae.

“Yeah, this ain’t a joke.” I kiss her forehead. “Within the year.”

On a better day.