#whether it’s because it’s too painful or because she’s giving him grace and respecting his privacy who knows

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

(She really loved Joe for a long time and really tried her best to get through to him and help him out of whatever it was until it nearly destroyed her.)

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.14

Summary: Spring break is over, and so are the careless days. School is back and you're avoiding Wednesday. Everyone knows it and she just wants to know why. Why won't you tell her?

Word Count: 6.6k Warnings: hints at child abuse, violence, injuries, blood, swearing, Birb has no filter Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets

“Thank you again for bringing me here,” you said as you grabbed your duffel bag from Lurch.

The hospital was, thankfully, not too busy thanks to everyone heading home after the holidays. Not that you would ever openly explain it, but it was the exact reason you preferred going on Sundays. Whether by luck or the grace of god, the Addamses didn’t question when you had asked them to make a short detour to DHMC, and they still weren’t asking questions.

“Will you be able to get back to Nevermore?” Morticia asked. Her hand felt warm on your shoulder; it was nice.

“I’ll just fly,” you said simply. “My bag isn’t too heavy.”

“Very well, dear,” Morticia said with a smile before giving your shoulder a squeeze and stepping back.

“A hug for the road, then.” You didn’t have any time to think before Gomez enveloped you in his arms.

It’s prefacing pain, your mind told you as he continued to hold you tight. It’s a hug, your heart argued, just a hug. And you wanted to lift your arms and hug him back because he had been so kind the entire week. He had taught you, respected you, enjoyed having you around. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t fight all those years of staying away, and you couldn’t hug him back and the sting of tears made its home behind your eyes.

He pulled away with a smile and was quickly replaced by Pugsley. This one, you thought, I can handle this one. It was just like a hug from Alex, at least that’s what you told yourself. Your arms felt like lead until finally they wrapped around Pugsley’s shoulders to hug him back.

“Thanks for making my sister happy,” he whispered loud enough for only you to hear.

You didn’t even have time to think about the depth of his words before he pulled away with a closed-mouth smile. He was sweet. Every part of him reminded you more and more of Alex, or even a younger Nicky. You wanted to protect him with every part of your being.

Stop being so sappy.

“Let me know if those guys try anything again,” you said just as quietly so Wednesday couldn’t hear. He smiled.

“Tell your brother I said hi,” was all he said in reply.

Wednesday stepped forward next; you didn’t get a hug, but that was alright. You weren’t expecting one. She gave you a look that trailed over your face almost as if she was looking for something. As unusual as it was to admit to yourself, it felt almost as if she cared. As if she liked you.

She kissed you! Your mind screamed at you. She must like you a little bit! But a kiss didn’t necessarily mean anything, right? It hadn’t meant anything with your ex, why would it mean something with Wednesday? You wanted it to mean something, by god you did, but what if you were wrong?

“Don’t be late,” Wednesday at last. “I’m not checking on you in the morning.”

“I won’t be late,” you reiterated.

Everyone told you their goodbyes one final time before getting in the car and finishing the drive to Nevermore. You stood on the sidewalk and watched until the car was out of sight. Their absence settled in your chest almost instantly, but you pushed it down, grabbed your bag, and started your way into the hospital.

“Welcome back, doll,” Nurse Jackie said when you passed the desk. “Were you on a trip?”

“Spring break at Wednesday’s place,” you answered. “Has he behaved?”

“A good spring break, I see.” You tilted your head at her words, but when she touched a spot on her neck and raised her brow, you felt your entire face heat up. Nurse Jackie just laughed and gestured her head to Nicky’s door. “He’s been good.”

“Sup, dickwad,” you called out as you tossed your duffel into the corner of the room and plopped down in the chair beside Nicky’s bed. “Nurse Jackie said you’ve been a pain in the ass.”

“I did not,” Nurse Jackie said quickly from her desk across the hall, causing you to laugh to yourself.

“Wanna hear about the crime I committed over spring break?” You asked, finally reclining back and putting your feet up on the bed. The heart monitor spiked twice. “Too bad, I’m telling you anyway.”

From across the hall, Jackie listens as you recount your spring break to Nicky. It was always nice to hear you laughing and joking around. Not once did you ever get a response, but it brought a lighter atmosphere to the ICU. Of course there were the days you would succumb to the situation and there would be nothing but silence coming from the room, but days like today? Those were the days that made things a little easier.

Every now and then one of the nurses would go in to check on you and make sure neither you nor Nicky needed anything, and you would have them talking and laughing for hours on end if they didn’t excuse themselves. They had learned after the first few months that it was your coping mechanism. You simply distracted yourself and others from the situation at hand.

“Time to shave,” Jackie said as she finally walked into the room. You were still sitting with your feet up on the bed, flipping through the channels on the TV to no avail. “Wanna help?”

“Absolutely,” you said, tossing the remote onto the chair as you stood up. “I’m gonna make you look so goofy,” Jackie heard you mumble to Nicky.

She kept her own smile to herself as she got everything all set up. Honestly, it wasn’t the most professional of her to allow you to help, but she couldn’t help it. You had been present for most everything over the past three years, she (and all the other nurses, admittedly) could be forgiven for allowing you to help. There was something Jackie had remembered you telling her one night near the beginning of Nicky’s eternal stay in the ICU.

“It feels like I’m helping,” you had said after she had shown you how to turn and reposition him. “Like it’s not my fault.”

After that, you became an integral part of Nicky’s care whenever you visited. The initial guilt (at least outwardly) was gone, but you were still eager to help. Without prompting, you lathered the shaving cream and started putting it on Nicky’s face.

“Behave,” Jackie said sternly when she turned around and saw the… lewd image you were making with the shaving cream.

“Oh come on,” you huffed, “it’s not like he cares.” But nonetheless, you wiped the image away and went back to work.

Jackie handed you the razor once you were done and let you get to work. You always talked while you worked; she assumed it was a nervous habit of yours. Not once did you ever actually talk about your home life, but you would talk about school, or the friends you had, or even just whatever popped into your head. Jokes were common, disregard for your own feelings even more so.

After you had been released from DHMC, she had tried to get you to go to therapy. No, you weren’t her responsibility once you were discharged, but the hurt she could see on your face was too much for her to bear. She had helped take care of you for two months, she could be forgiven for being a tad protective. But after you had very quickly shut her down about the idea, she accepted that maybe that was just how you needed to go about things for now.

“Don’t shave shapes,” Jackie scolded you again. You froze and looked up at her with the same expression one would make if they had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“He told me this is what he wanted,” you attempted to argue.

“Oh?” Jackie inquired, and you nodded quickly. Too quickly. “He woke up for the first time in four years just to tell you he wanted a dog shaved in his beard?”

“... yes he did-”

“-shave it normally,” Jackie warned you again, “or I’m revoking helping privileges for a month.”

“You’re no fun anymore,” you groaned but did as you were asked. Albeit with a frown on your face, but that was an acceptable reaction.

“And you’re more trouble,” Jackie said, holding the cup out for you to clean the razor. “I think this Wednesday girl is a bad influence on you.”

“She is not,” you said softly with a smile. “If anything, I think I’m the bad influence.”

“I bet you are,” Jackie said, her voice barely covering the sound of the phone ringing at the desk.

You continued to shave Nicky’s face with expert precision, never leaving even the smallest hint of hair. When you weren’t so busy being the typical little sister that you so enjoyed being, it was clear how much you cared for him. The gentleness in your touch and the concentration and effort you put into taking care of him was more than enough proof.

In fact, Jackie was so focused on your focus that she hadn’t heard Angela step into the room. She only noticed when Angela cleared her throat and held up a sheet of paper. A sheet of paper with your last name on it.

“They called again,” Angela said.

“Who called again?” You asked, finishing up the last touches before looking up at both women.

Jackie didn’t want to tell you. She didn’t want to bring that name up when you were in such a good mood. But they had been calling for the past few weeks, and she knew you wouldn’t call them back unless necessary. They hadn’t told her what they wanted, but if they were calling this often then she could assume it was now considered necessary.

“Marcus and Kristi want you to call them back,” Angela said when it was clear Jackie wouldn’t. “Today.”

The fear on your face was enough for both women to figure out what was going on, at least at the moment. Neither of them knew much, just that your parents paid the bills and Nicky’s life support stayed on. You had never explained, and they had never asked. Your reactions were enough of an answer.

“Oh,” you finally said, and you set the razor down before picking your phone up with slow, methodical movements. It was as if you had been replaced by a robot. “Okay.”

“Do you want some privacy?” Jackie asked. She gestured with her head for Angela to leave; she did.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice sounding detached from your body while you fell down in the chair, “you can stay.”

You put the shaking phone up to your ear and stared into the distance as it rang. Jackie did her best not to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help it. When you said “hi” in the smallest voice she had ever heard, she couldn’t stop herself. Your eyes were glazed over and your breathing was coming in short pants.

She didn’t have to be a nurse to see you were hurting.

The voices on the other end of the phone continued as your head turned to face Nicky. A single tear fell when you closed your eyes, squeezing them shut and biting your bottom lip so hard Jackie could see the single bead of blood that sprung from the skin.

“Yes sir,” you said. Was that how you sounded as a child? Had you always been so afraid? “Goodbye.”

You sat there in silence, only the occasional sniffle cutting through. With what Jackie assumed to be a great effort, you opened your eyes and looked at Nicky. She knew that look. And she certainly knew the look that came after, with your jaw set and a determination in your eyes.

“They’re not cutting it off,” you said through clenched teeth.

But Jackie could still hear the fear underneath the rage.

—---

Wednesday was mad at you. She was mad at you for giving her emotional whiplash when she didn’t even like emotions to begin with. It was inevitable that you would return to a routine when back at Nevermore, but this? This was almost painful, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

Maybe it was her fault for assuming you would still wish to hold her hand under the table, or come to her room at night to bother her with more of your rambling. To have you sit by her in class and in the quad, to offer to paint Thing’s nails while she was writing.

But no. No, you were only ever with Yoko or on your own. During class you would sit by Yoko without even a glance in Wednesday’s direction, and it was impossible for her to not see you two talking nonstop. You walked with Yoko to classes, around campus, during meals.

Wednesday wouldn’t deny, she had questioned Enid and Divina about it. After all, Yoko was their girlfriend too, did they not find it suspicious? Not even a little? But Divina promised it wasn’t like that, you two had just been friends for longer than any of them had even been at Nevermore. You were both like two peas in a pod.

In a surprising twist, Wednesday believed it.

“Wednesday, just relax,” Enid huffed as she sat down across the table. Yoko and Divina were quick to follow suit. “Unless you don’t trust Eugene now.”

She gave Enid a quick glare before turning back to see you sitting beside Eugene. It was impossible to tell what you were both talking about and she wanted nothing more than to go over and hear for herself. From the look on your face it wasn’t a pleasant conversation, but Eugene was insisting.

At least that’s what it looked like.

With a sigh, you said something to Eugene that made him smile before he got up and ran off. You shook your head and stood up next. Wednesday half-expected you to leave the quad as you had been doing for the past week. Her heart raced when you walked in her direction, sitting down directly beside her with a grunt.

“The matching hickeys are cute,” Yoko said once you were settled.

“Ha ha ha,” you mocked with a quick kick; judging by Yoko’s reaction, you hit your mark. “Fuck off.”

“You ready for the full moon tonight?” Enid asked. “Because I’m not.”

“Why not?” You asked indignantly. “It’s not like you’re going to wolf out- ouch.” You instantly leaned down to rub your knee. “Sorry,” you said when Yoko gave you a, quite admittedly, vicious look. “That was rude.”

“It’s okay,” Enid said even though her smile had fallen slightly, “you didn’t mean it.”

“Isn’t it your date night?” You asked, eyes darting between Enid and Wednesday.

“Yes,” Wednesday answered. Why wouldn’t you actually look at her?

“Any exciting plans?” Divina chimed in.

“Probably just a movie,” Enid said. “She agreed to watch one of mine if I watch one of hers.”

“Well isn’t that cute,” you teased. And finally, for probably the first time since she had left you at the hospital, you smiled. “Don’t eat too much popcorn, that shit gets expensive.”

“Oh don’t worry, we have it all planned out,” Enid said, immediately going into a long-winded explanation of the night.

But Wednesday wasn’t listening to Enid; she was focused on how your leg was suddenly close to hers again and, for the first time in a week, she could feel your warmth again. She had missed it, embarrassingly so. It made her dead heart beat and she wanted more of it.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into her ear while Enid continued to talk.

“Why?” Wednesday asked back, turning just enough to look at you. She wished she hadn’t when she noticed how close you were.

“For avoiding you,” you said simply. “Can I make it up over coffee on Saturday?”

Say no, her head told her. You had just openly admitted to avoiding her for the week, after everything that had happened during spring break. All the progress you had both made (at least she felt she had made progress) and then you could still avoid her so easily? No, she wasn’t sure she wanted you to make it up to her.

But she wanted you. Of that she was sure.

The corner of your mouth twitched with the barest hint of a smile that you could muster without the other three noticing. It almost made her want to smile in return. She’s making you weak, her mind told her. But she wasn’t entirely convinced she cared when you finally reached over and grabbed her hand-

-that electric jolt went up her arm once again, lodging itself like a bullet in the back of her skull.

“Eugene run!” You yelled.

Blood.

Screaming. 

The full moon shining down through the trees.

A vicious growl.

“Enid?”

“Hey.” Your voice cut through the vision loud and clear, pulling Wednesday out with a gasp. “I gotchu.”

Your hands felt warm even through her uniform. The grip you had on her thigh was grounding, and for a moment it was as if the vision hadn’t even happened. It was just your hands on her and your eyes looking so very hypnotizing.

Okay. Her visions definitely impaired her ability to look at you neutrally.

“You good?” You asked.

“Yes,” Wednesday managed to get out past that lump in her throat. “Coffee sounds good.”

She hoped you would move along with the conversation as she was trying to. The sound of that scream - had it been yours? - was echoing in her head and she wanted it gone. Wanted you to get rid of it for her. You interlocked your fingers with hers and nodded with a small smile.

It didn’t get rid of the screams completely. But it helped.

—---

“I’ll kick your ass for this next time, Ottinger,” you said as you lagged further behind Eugene’s steady pace.

“It shouldn’t take long,” he told you, “I know exactly where they hide.”

“Well hurry up,” you grumbled, “it’s cold and something doesn’t feel right.”

Eugene knew you only really said those things when you meant them, at least to him. If you felt something was off, then it probably was. He certainly wouldn’t argue with you, that was for sure. So instead of looking for the extra bugs on his list, he made a beeline to the grouping of trees that he knew were infested.

The sound of your wings flapping lightly was almost the only thing he could hear, aside from the crunching of the twigs on the ground. He had told you that you could leave the harness off if you wanted, but he hadn’t actually expected you to. It was nice, really, he didn’t think he had ever truly seen them before now. Almost made him feel like you trusted him.

“Quit staring,” you said with a raised brow, “or you can bug hunt on your own.”

“Sorry,” Eugene said, but the small smile on your face eased his slight anxiety. “It’s just right over here.”

He didn’t wait for you to keep up before jogging over to the small copse of trees that he had painstakingly scouted out over the past few weeks. Without hesitation he got to work; he needed to be careful so he didn’t scare them away. The flashlight flickered once but steadied out, and he could finally get to looking.

“How was your spring break-”

“-Don’t start small talk,” you interrupted. “Just get your bugs, I’m getting goosebumps.”

Eugene turned his head to look at you and he would admit, your stance was giving him the creeps. When he was kneeling down you looked like a giant; a giant being with giant wings and an angry face. It was scary against the moonlight, and if he hadn’t known it was you, he probably would have panicked.

“Right,” he finally said, turning around to get back to his hunt.

You were making him nervous. He wouldn’t admit it to you because then you would think he wasn’t cool, but you were. Just towering over him and looking out into the woods. Almost like some kind of guardian angel, although he was pretty sure you would get mean if you needed to.

“Eugene, hurry up,” you said, your voice suddenly dropping to barely more than a whisper.

“I’ve almost got him, want to see?” Eugene asked.

“Absolutely not- wait, that’s kinda cool,” you said after turning around and leaning closer, squinting your eyes to try and see it better. “Ew,” you mumbled with a scrunch of your nose when the bug in question wiggled around until finally dropping into the collection cup with a little *splat*.

“Just one more and then we can go,” Eugene said, already looking for his other target.

The flashlight trailed over every inch of those trees, but he still couldn’t find the beetle. It should have been here, it was always here. Surely it wouldn’t have vanished, right? Bugs didn’t just do that, especially not in these woods. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, followed quickly by a chill running down his spine.

“The birds stopped singing,” you whispered.

With a turn of his head, he was met with your hand extended toward him. What did you want him to do with it? He reached out to take it - please don’t think I’m lame - and you instantly squeezed his hand in return. You pulled him to his feet and backed up, pushing him into the crowded copse of trees.

“Stay here,” you whispered as you turned around. “I’m gonna-”

-a growl echoed right by his head and your hand was ripped from his grip. He didn’t scream when he saw you hit the ground a few feet away. No, he didn’t make any sound at all, he just forced himself between the trees. Twigs dug into his back but he pushed deeper.

A clawed hand swiped through the trees and slashed the strap of his backpack. It fell to the ground with a thud, and the claws were gone. He hadn’t gotten a good look, but it had been furry and big and-

-and it was a full moon.

The claw shoved through the trees again, this time getting closer and he could almost feel them touching his skin. This time he did scream, and the clawed hand pulled back before a furry eye peered through the small gap in the trees.

A piercing whistle echoed through the air.

“Over here, asshole!” You shouted.

The wolf turned and charged off with a snarl. Don’t do it, all of his instincts told him, but Eugene ignored them and leaned out of the trees right as you were slammed into the bark beside him. You slumped lifelessly to the ground.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you head fell back against the tree. Eugene could see the blood pouring from your nose.

“Aren’t you a boxer?” Eugene asked, quickly pulling you to your feet and trying his hardest not to notice the blood you dripped onto his shirt.

“I don’t think he’s gonna play by the rules,” you said. It sounded like your words were drowning before you could get them out.

From his spot behind you, Eugene could finally see the wolf. It was big. It was very big. A bit of blood coated his claws - was it yours? - and he looked mean. He could feel your arm pressing against his shoulder as you guided him further away from the danger.

“Eugene,” you said quietly, your eyes never leaving the wolf in front of you.

“Yeah?” He asked; his eyes were locked on the same thing.

“Run.”

“What?” He asked, finally tearing his eyes away to look up at you. You looked angry.

“Now.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Not when the wolf was looking at you like you were his next meal, and you were looking at him like you wanted a total smackdown. But when your bloody hand pushed him back one more time, soft yet forceful, he listened. He turned and ran and didn’t look back.

Not even when he heard the snarl mix with your own shouting.

—---

“Wednesday, you’re not paying attention.”

No. No she wasn’t. She couldn’t pay attention to the annoyingly happy movie Enid had picked out because something felt wrong. What it was, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly, but it was something. It was something in the air, or in her soul, or even just in her gut.

She didn’t know and it was infuriating.

“I know you had a vision during lunch,” Enid said. She paused the movie and turned until her legs were in Wednesday’s lap. “Was it about Y/N?”

Wednesday’s hand rested on Enid’s shin subconsciously - she hated that it was a subconscious reaction - and leaned back. She didn’t know if it was about you. The scream wasn’t clear enough to judge if it was yours or not. Oh god, she hoped it wasn’t yours.

“Would you feel better if we went to check it out?” Enid asked.

“Yes,” Wednesday said without hesitation.

“Then let’s go,” Enid said with her wolfy grin.

She stood up and grabbed Wednesday’s hand to pull her along, and off they went. It was past curfew so they had to be quiet, but it was easy enough to get out. The light from the full moon illuminated the woods in a way that was beautifully spooky. On any other night she would have loved to take you for a walk like this.

But not tonight.

Tonight her mind was running through every possibility of her vision. Screaming, blood, howling. Surely the howling wouldn’t be Enid, she hadn’t even wolfed out yet and it would be quite the coincidence if it happened at that moment. She didn’t believe in coincidences. Surely there had to be some hint in her vision that would tell her something-

“-Look out!”

Was that Eugene?

“Move it!”

No.

“That’s Y/N,” Enid said. A howl echoed through the trees.

I know! Wednesday thought as she started running toward the sound. I know it is! Why had you gone into the woods so late at night on a full moon? Why were you with Eugene? You were both so stupid, you were both supposed to be back at Nevermore-

“-Wednesday?”

What else? Pulling herself to a stop, Wednesday turned around to look at Enid. Or, what was Enid, but was now the beginning of a werewolf. With outstretched hands, Wednesday stepped closer - for comfort or support, she supposed - but quickly stopped herself as Enid finished her transformation.

Her first one.

What else could possibly happen?

Another scream echoed through the woods; much further than only moments ago. Enid’s wolf looked in that direction before sprinting off, leaving Wednesday behind. She stood there in resignation as she realised, no, she couldn’t keep up with a werewolf. So instead she grabbed Enid’s coat and started chasing after her.

She was going to quit questioning what else could go wrong.

“Enid?”

Wednesday would know your voice anywhere. If it was the last thing she ever heard, she would know it was yours. And if you were this far in the woods then it meant you had seen the wolf and-

-she stopped in her tracks the moment she noticed the unusual angle of your wing.

You turned around to face her, and she wished you hadn’t. Truly she wished you would have stayed facing Enid because this… this wasn’t something she was comfortable with. She felt nauseated at the sight of you, battered and broken and babying your left leg while your right arm hung limply at your side.

“Where’s Eugene?” You asked. How was she supposed to know? “Have you seen him?” No, why would you be asking about him when you were clearly standing at death’s door.

You huffed.

“Go help Enid,” you said; it sounded much more like a demand.

And Wednesday stood there as you limped away behind her, your voice echoing through the woods as you screamed for Eugene. She should have been worried about Eugene too; she should have cared. But it was hard to do when she couldn’t stop seeing your broken body.

“Eugene!” You shouted - no, screamed - again, and Wednesday’s eyes squeezed shut because no, it was all too much. She could hear Enid’s whimpering and your screaming and she couldn’t quit picturing your blood and it was too much.

“Willa, did you see that?!” Enid shouted, and even though Wednesday couldn’t see it she felt Enid shaking her shoulders. “I did it! I finally did it!”

“Eugene!” You needed to quit screaming. You needed to quit or Wednesday swore she was going to collapse. She couldn’t hear your voice crack like that.

“You look faint,” Enid said, her hands squeezing Wednesday’s shoulders just a bit more. “Are you okay?” She sounded worried now. Could everyone please keep their emotions in check, this was too much.

Wednesday finally looked and, oh. Oh, Enid was still completely nude. Oh, Wednesday still had her jacket. Her eyes widened just enough to see clearly before pulling the coat tight around Enid’s shoulders. She whispered a “thanks” before grabbing it with her own hands to secure it in place.

“You dick,” you shouted, and Wednesday turned around just in time to see you skip-running to where Eugene had suddenly appeared. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” Eugene said, but his words were muffled as your hands checked every inch of him.

Your bloody hands.

“You’re bleeding,” Eugene said as he grabbed your hands to stop them from moving.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, pulling away until you could lean back against a nearby tree. “Did you at least get the bugs?”

“They’re in my backpack,” Eugene answered as he held the torn backpack up.

“Good,” you sighed, “because we are never doing this again.”

It was a slow walk back to Nevermore. While Enid wasn’t injured, she was certainly exhausted and leaning on Wednesday for support. Beside her, you were practically falling over Eugene as you limped forward. The occasional grunts and groans from you went straight to Wednesday’s chest and she grew more concerned with each step.

Weems, of course, was waiting for all four of you when you finally made it back.

After everyone got checked out in the infirmary and the nurse had finally finished bandaging you up - “No flying, no boxing, no exceptions” - you had all been led to Weems’ office. The three of them were sitting outside while you were, admittedly, getting what Wednesday would consider to be the scolding of the century.

And she was absolutely eavesdropping.

"Who's decision was it?" Weems asked. "Which one of you decided it would be a wonderful night for a midnight stroll?"

"I did," you said. "I told Eugene he could hunt for his creepy crawlies if he came with me."

"And Misses Sinclair and Addams?" She pushed.

"I said they should spend date night with us," you said, "and I'd pay for their next date."

Wednesday heard Weems sigh.

"Do you understand how reckless that was?" Weems asked, her voice rising in volume. "How much danger you put everyone in?"

"It was just a walk-"

“On a full moon, no less!” Weems yelled. “You could have gotten all four of you injured. Or killed, for that matter.”

“Everyone is fine,” you argued back.

“What were you thinking?” Weems asked you, her voice taking on a completely different tone. Less angry.

“Clearly I wasn’t.” Wednesday could practically hear the eyeroll in your voice.

A sigh barely reached her ears before being followed by heels on the floor and the door opening. Weems stood there and looked at the three of them for a moment. Only a moment.

“Inside,” Weems ordered as she ushered them into the office where you were already sitting with your head in your remaining functional hand.

“It was my fault-”

“-I don’t care whose fault it was,” Weems interrupted Eugene, who shrunk into his oversized coat. “You all broke the rules and put yourselves in danger.”

“We’re sorry,” Enid said quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

“No it won’t,” Weems agreed. “Your three weeks of detention will ensure that.”

Enid and Eugene groaned and threw their heads back. Wednesday truthfully didn’t care, detention was the least of her worries, but you. You didn’t even seem phased by the punishment. No, you just shifted in the chair and scrunched your nose up as you tried to settle. Did you hurt terribly?

“Every day at 4pm sharp,” Weems continued. “My office.”

Everyone mumbled out acknowledgement of the punishment, but no one seemed over eager about such a thing.

“To your dorms,” Weems sighed. “Now.” You moved to push yourself up when Weems’ hand pushed you back down. “Except you.”

Wednesday followed Eugene and Enid out of the office, looking back only once to see you staring off into the distance with glazed eyes. The red tint of blood was still staining the skin around your lips and eye and you looked… broken. You looked broken and Wednesday didn’t know what to do about it.

All she knew was it made her feel… sad. You made her feel sad.

—---

“Go check on her,” Enid said for what must have been the seventh time since Wednesday had started writing. “You know you want to.”

“I want to finish my writing time,” Wednesday retorted as she started typing aimlessly on the typewriter. Again. It was turning more into a waste of time if nothing else.

“She’s practically been grounded,” Enid continued. “I’m sure she would love the company.”

Wednesday sighed and leaned back in her chair. Enid was right. She knew she was right. It had been a few days and no one had seen you except for class and detention. No extracurriculars, no outings, you hadn’t even been coming down for dinner. And she hated it because, though she wouldn’t admit it, she missed you.

“Fine,” Wednesday said with a sigh.

She didn’t bother even looking at Enid (who was still painting Thing’s nails) because she knew there would be a smirk being sent in her direction. No, she didn’t need that kind of ridicule. It was past curfew, but what was going to happen? Weems was going to give her more detention?

It was a quick walk to your dorm, but she stood in front of your door with her fist raised. Now that she was near you, almost alone with you, her heart was racing in her chest. It didn’t make sense, she had been alone with you plenty of times before, why was this any different?

But when you opened the door and jumped slightly, looking down at her with a black eye and that bandage on your cheek, she remembered why she was nervous. She wasn’t just alone with you, she was alone with an injured you. Could she touch you without hurting you? Would you be okay?

“What are you doing here?” You asked. Did you not want her there?

I’m here to see you, she thought, to make sure you’re okay. She wanted to make sure you were okay, and you were safe, and yes your heart was still beating. Yes you were still alive and not just some ghost everyone saw around campus.

“Move,” she said instead.

She caught the little smile on your face as you stepped aside and let her in. The door clicked closed behind her while her eyes roamed over your room. It looked different. Your usual nest was shifted further to the wall and pillows were shoved in the corner.

“You rearranged,” Wednesday said.

“Everything hurts,” you said with a half-shrug, “gotta sleep sitting up.”

Oh.

“You need rest.”

“Yes, mother,” you said with a roll of your eyes. But Wednesday saw the flush to your neck.

She followed you to your nest and waited for you to get settled before following suit. But once she was close, she didn’t know what to do. Did she get closer to you? Or maybe you would like some space; you were damaged after all. That was obvious by the way your right arm and wing were practically strapped in place so you couldn’t move.

“Just come here,” you said, and Wednesday didn’t have time to brace herself before you grabbed her arm and gently pulled her into your side.

On instinct she held her arm out to brace herself, but when you let out a short groan she tried to back away. Your arm just pulled her closer, and she froze. She froze because now you were leaning against the wall and holding her as if your life depended on it. Her fingers could feel the bandage underneath your shirt and she hated it.

“Chill, Addams,” you said when, supposedly, you realised she was still tense. “We slept together at your house, it’s not a marriage proposal.”

Yes you had both slept together, but it was at her house and it hadn’t been after you had been mauled by a werewolf. There hadn’t been the same tension because it was different. In the time since then you had ignored her, avoided her, apologised, and tried to get yourself killed. Wednesday wasn’t one to allow herself to feel many emotions, but you were starting to make it difficult.

“I guess we need a rain check for Saturday’s coffee,” you said, bringing Wednesday out of her thoughts. Oh yes. You had wanted to make up for avoiding her.

“There will be more Saturdays,” Wednesday said and finally, she let herself lean her weight into your side.

She could hear your heartbeat in your chest. It was fast, but Wednesday had learned it was fairly usual for you. All that really mattered was that it was beating and it was strong and steady. There wasn’t much for her to worry about if your heart would just keep beating.

“Let’s get some sleep,” you muttered, and Wednesday looked up at your face. You did look exhausted. She supposed she should agree and let you sleep, although…

Do it.

With gentle fingers, Wednesday cupped your jaw and turned you to face her. Her eyes darted to your lips just once before pulling you down. It was effortless really, you instantly got the hint and leaned down to kiss her. She let you take the lead so she wouldn’t hurt you, but that didn’t stop the heat building in her chest.

You deepened the kiss, leaning down until Wednesday could wrap her hand around the back of your neck. There was a hunger behind your kiss; something Wednesday couldn’t quite place. But she could feel your pulse under your skin and just knew hers was racing along with it. You shifted and-

“-ouch,” you hissed, pulling back until your forehead was resting against hers.

“Are you okay?” Wednesday asked in a shameful display of concern. She blamed you and the kiss.

“Guess I can’t lift my right arm,” you said with a light chuckle. “Cockblocked by my own hubris.”

“What?” Wednesday asked, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. You were blushing.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, very quickly leaning back and pulling Wednesday down with you. “Guess I’m just tired.”

“Sleep,” Wednesday said. She had meant to sound demanding, but her voice was far too soft. Too caring.

“Sleep with me,” you said even though you were already fading.

Wednesday didn’t have time to give you an answer before your eyes closed and your breathing evened out. She just watched you, felt the rise and fall of your chest beneath her fingers, the occasional brush of your good wing against her arm. And as you slept, her lips brushed against the itchy fabric of the bandage as she leaned up to leave a lingering kiss on your cheek.

She settled into your side once again and closed her eyes. It was too intimate, too close. But your warmth enveloped her and you subconsciously pulled her closer with your good arm. And just like that, Wednesday fell asleep and, for the first night since the full moon, her dreams were void of nightmares.

[triviareads]

Note: I've linked StoryGraph summaries of every book to each title.

The Duke Gets Even by Joanna Shupe

There was a lot of reasons The Duke Gets Even worked as well as it did and I can split it between the relatability factor and the hotness factor.

Because it's set in Gilded Age America, the language is definitely more accessible for first-time HR readers. Even content-wise, the heroine, Nellie, becomes a birth control advocate which comes at a... very fitting time for us here in the United States. She also harbors fears of losing herself to a man if she were to get married, all while being in that position where she's the only single in her friend group. Super relatable.

What is less relatable is just how off-the-charts the chemistry between Nellie and the Duke of Lockwood is. We know it's slowly building in the last 3 books but watching it implode is glorious. I don't know if this is a trend but Lockwood seems to written in the mold of the "new" HR hero, similar to MacLean's Duke of Clayborn, where they give and take in equal measure: sexually (in this case, a bit of pain), and perhaps they even give a little more emotionally in the beginning. They respect their heroines in that they have a deep understanding of what makes them tick, but obviously "respect" doesn't mean they aren't willing to get down and dirty. And when they do, it's GREAT.

Also, because of all the water imagery in this book, I'd recommend listening to the Moonlight soundtrack by Nicholas Britel while you read (try The Middle of the World).

Her Husband's Harlot by Grace Callaway

January has been my Grace Callaway month and I was endlessly delighted as I read every HR she's ever published. This was the first book I read by Grace (who is an Asian Canadian author btw), and it's exactly the sort of deranged nonsense I live for: a bit o' rough self-made hero elevated to the aristocracy, a genteel heroine he falls for immediately and marries, but he panics on their wedding night that the d was too big and he was an animal with her, so he goes to slake his lusts at a brothel with a harlot except, well, guess who the "harlot" is. It's great. 10/10 would recommend.

Fiona and the Enigmatic Earl by Grace Callaway

I was reaching the tail-end of my Callaway marathon when I hit this book and wow... I did not expect to be shook further by Grace. Not only did I enjoy the "investigative services for women" plot, but the couple, Fiona and Hawk, had excellent chemistry even as they ostensibly start off as having married out of "convenience".

There's too much to list but here are a few highlights: "oh no I'm too sore so mutual masturbation it is", One of the best carriage blowjob scenes, in part because he's *standing*, he performs a Clayborn (iykyk), there's a Victorian sex toy store, and there is a dungeon(s) in the toy store with an alter on which our heroine is "sacrificed".

What I Did for a Duke by Julie Anne Long

You can read the summary above⬆️ but let me take this opportunity to wax a rhapsodic on what worked for me in this book:

First, it features a hero hellbent on *revenge* for being cucked. Which is great. The *revenge* involves seducing the sister of the man who cucked him. Also great.

Listen... Alexander says some hot shit. And the reason it's hot isn't even because it's the dirtiest stuff; it's because Genevieve takes in his words and internally goes haywire, and any suggestiveness in Alex's words is not lost on her. She's a Knowing virgin, if you will. They're also usually the two smartest people in the room which makes for great dialogue suffused with barely-restrained sexual tension. Alex is also a very real hero, if that makes sense. He makes dumb jokes after having sex. He can't resist trolling his future brother-in-law. His grief is not over-the-top, but a quiet thing, and all the more moving for it.

Side note: @viscountessevie (Sahara), @jeanvanjer (Z), and I did, in fact, debate whether or not Alexander was daddy (the answer is no).

The Legend of Lyon Redmond by Julie Anne Long

The "Love at first sight" trope can easily be written in a trite, boring way, but Julie wrote it brilliantly here. The book alternated between flashbacks and present-day so we got the full picture of Lyon and Olivia's early relationship (in all its, ah, young adult glory. See: below). We also see them as older and fairly jaded and world-weary, which makes their reunion all the more moving and romantic (and hot. very hot).

It was an emotional book overall, and Z and I found ourselves crying for unexpected characters, to say the least.

The Counterfeit Scoundrel by Lorraine Heath (Releases on Feb 21st)

For the full (funny) story on how I got an early copy, see here.

This was very much a *thinking* book. Ever since I started writing as certain dark things are to be loved almost two years ago, I've always been on the look out for books that basically show that fight for women's rights neither began nor ended with suffrage. I appreciate this book because it delves into how much more difficult it was for women to be granted a divorce historically, and gives a fictionalized take on the lengths women might be willing to go to in order to get a divorce. Make no mistake, Blackwood and Daisy's relationship is very very romantic, but I think by the time I finished, I felt like the history was the main draw for me.

A Daring Pursuit by Kate Bateman

The classic familial enemies-to-lovers book. Also, it's very rare to see HR set in Wales, which I did appreciate. Anyway, "enemies" Carys (a proper Welsh name, according to Rhys Winterborne) and Tristan decide to have an affair so Carys can see what she's missing out on in the marriage bed. As it turns out, A Lot despite her thinking otherwise because of a bad first time. Obviously this gives our hero a chance to be all "he didn't do this for you??" It's all very fire-and-ice until they find themselves in over their heads with all their Feelings, especially Carys.

There is a very primal sex scene post bear-chase, and if that doesn't compel you to read this book, I don't know what will.

[breathenbounce]

THE GRATITUDE CHRONICLES: THE DOOR CRACKED OPEN

Hello there. This morning as I was scrolling through facebook, I found a post that hit me. It was from Megadeth frontman, founder, and legend Dave Mustaine. I read it and it hit me hard. Here it is....

I read this so many times. It made me think of my own trials and tribulations of my own life. Being cut off from my family growing up so many times. Feeling like I didn't belong. When I was younger, I was a very difficult kid, and I started to grow up and mature, and then I lost my mom at age 23. The dominoes fell back down. I was fortunate enough to see her one last time before I got that ill fated call that she collapsed and was in the hospital. She would fight on for about 10 days when she finally died. After that, my family for the most part stopped talking to me. They didn't like that my views were opposite of them. They didn't like that a person who was special to me was helping me to see a different side of the world and felt she was brain washing me. So they would cut me off. Over and over and over again.

I have never gotten over this as it has affected my current situation. I have been impossible to be around because of wounds I have suffered as a child and young adult. I let the wounds of that consume and I caused tremendous pain on someone I love very dearly. Those wounds bled into my current situation and I believe that along with some trauma caused my BPD.

I really felt the pain of Dave and his sister as I read this message. When families fall apart for things like this, its sad. Religion tore the Mustaines apart. Beliefs and thoughts tore my family apart. I think we all need to accept we are different. Different thoughts, different ideas, different ways to live life to the best we possibly can. The things that people forget are one, we don't get another shot at this. Once its over, its over. Two, we should find ways to respect beliefs and not hold judgment. Judgment is an absolute killer.

Sometimes families and spouses hurt each other. Maybe a little bit, maybe very badly. However if we can find ways to open our minds, find some forgiveness, and have fulfilling and honest conversations about things, we could all get closer and feel loved. However, everyone needs to come together. People have to learn how to empathize with their partners, parents, loved ones; they may have been dealing with some internal stuff. The key is no judgment.

It's better to find a way to fix things while alive and not on a death bed. Sure the ultimate gift you can give someone is while you are taking your last breath and freeing them from the pain that has caused, why not try to find a way to heal while alive? Find a way to have those tough conversations to find common ground.

I understand sometimes a situation is so toxic you have to walk away. However, if someone is wanting a chance to do the right thing, don't turn them away. They could be on the cusp of something beautiful and be a source of light and kindness in your life. I think about Dave's joy when his sister finally contacted him after 20 years. I also think about the devastation as the reconciliation would be the final time he saw her.

I know sometimes we have to take care of ourselves, but I also feel we can't rule anything out. We can open the door a little bit at a time. We must also remember sometimes people struggle. Whether it's addiction, mental illness, or just bullshit in general, we have to allow a little space and grace for growth. I'm not saying dive all the way in the pool, but keep the door open a little bit with a light on. Eventually that person will straighten things out and find that crack of light in the hallway.

But let's hope that both sides find each other before it's too late.

Namaste

M

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi :) I was wondering if you’d be open to writing something about Tommy and baby Shelby going to see Alfie. With season 5 Alfie trying to hide his scars because he thinks she’d be scared but she just cuddles into him. I get if this is weird or too specific😅

Protected

“Remember what we talked about eh?” Tommy says to his youngest sibling as he tugs open the door on her side of the car. (y/n) Shelby takes her brothers outstretched hand to help her jump down out of the car that was a little too high up for her to manage to climb out by herself. “Yes Tommy.” She responds, skipping off in front of him to the big heavy front door of the building they were going into. The little girl leans against the door to very little avail as it barely even budges until Tommy reaches the door too and pushes it open with one strong arm.

He steps very firmly in front of (y/n) in the lobby of the building to prevent her running off again, and crouches down to her height with both hands placed firmly on her small upper arms to hold her still. “You stay right next to me okay?” He repeats, “And stay quiet yeah? I’ll try and be as quick as i can.” (y/n) smiles in response, “And then we can go to the sweet shop?”

Tommy nods and gives his little sister a soft smile before he stands up straight and takes her hand tightly in his. His littlest sister is so fearless and unaware of the dangers of the life she was dropped into that it always gives Tommy a sense of relief in some ways. It was almost like a form of escapism. Bouncing between Polly, John, Arthur, Charlie, and Tommy had made her life very different from most, even from Tommy’s young son. It would be incredibly safe to say that it was a shock when Polly Gray had entered into the betting shop in Watery Lane holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. They were all incredibly confused and very soon learned that Arthur Shelby Senior had shown up on the doorstep with another child he wasn’t interested in raising. She was an accidental one who’s mother died in childbirth and the deadbeat father had been gifted with yet another little life to let down.

Of course it became very important for Tommy that the baby girl did not experience the same kind of sheer let down that their father had given to all of them. He named sweet little (y/n) on that evening 6 and a half years ago. He felt like he was completely aimless and useless at that time. He had decided not to go after Grace and that lost love was weird for him after finally having it. Then that beautiful, quiet, warm and sweet little girl was placed into his arms and held tightly onto his finger and suddenly, his world and his love seemed to hold new meaning.

She was his muse, his greatest love and his favourite little sidekick.

“Tommy fuckin’ Shelby.” Alfie rumbles out, his back to the door as he faces out his balcony. “That’s a bad word, Tommy.” (y/n) chides in a whisper as she looks up cautiously at her elder brother. Tommy offers her small hand a gentle squeeze and nods his head, but promptly turns his head back to the man holding a gun at the window. “And you’ve brought your mini protégé, i see.”

Alfie turns half of his face, only his good half, to see the sweet little wave from the youngest Shelby sibling. “Alfie, this is my sister; (y/n).” Tommy introduces, hoping his willingness to divulge his sisters name would move Alfie away from the subject as quickly as possible so that they could talk about what he was really there to talk about and then he could take his sister and go quickly. He didn’t like her having to be involved in these things, he always feared it would bring her into the line of fire. “Mhm,” Alfie grumbles, “Last time i saw you, you was only about this big-” He gestures with his hand only a few feet off the floor, “Couldn’t speak much, either.” The Londoner adds, eyes slightly narrowed. The 6 year old tilts her head to the side.

“I can speak a lot now, Mister Solomons.” She says, somewhat proudly. The burly man laughs, not his usual sinister or mocking way. “I can see that.” He hums in response, eyes moving from the little girl to Tommy when he clears his throat heavily to draw attention back to him. “If we could, Alfie, I’d like to talk business.” Alfie nods his head in response, gesturing with his hand to the couch across the room. Tommy let’s go of his sisters hand to sit down on the couch, the little girl doing her best to climb up beside him with only a little help from her brother. Alfie sits on the chair across from them. Tommy knows there had to be significant damage to the side of the man’s face after the injury he sustained from the bullet fired out of Thomas’s gun. There was almost no way he escaped that unscathed.

“I’m going to kill a facist, Alfie. And i need some men.”

The words from Tommy prompt Alfie to rather abruptly turn his head, somewhat shocked by the words, but more shocked by the fact the 6 year old little girl was completely unbothered by the words her brother had spoken. The pre-school aged girl simply continues fiddling with the pocket watch Tommy gave to her. She looks to be dismantling it with a very distinctive focus that reminds Alfie she is a Shelby, and she might fully be aware of how to kill him already.

“A facist ey?” Alfie repeats, his eyebrows raised. “Politics got to you, Thomas?” Tommy rolls his eyes and lights a cigarette. “I need some men.” Tommy adds, making Alfie scoff. “Oh you do, do you? And you want mine?”

Tommy merely nods his head.

In his discussion with the head of the Peaky Blinders, Alfie had not forgotten the presence of the 6 year old on the couch, but it had fallen away from the forefront focus of his mind as he debated the thought of lending men to a Shelby’s cause. In doing so, he turned his head in thought and a little noise of awe left the youngest Shelby. Tommy and Alfie both direct their attention straight to her.

The little girl scoots herself off the couch and Tommy reaches for her arm, but just misses. She trods right up to the huge London gangster and tilts her head. “What happened?” She asks softly. Alfie shifts uncomfortably on the couch he sits on, running his finger absentmindedly over the scarring of his face. “Got shot.” Alfie responds, Tommy clears his throat heavily and almost awkwardly in knowing he was the one who had given Alfie Solomons his facial scarring. (y/n) tilts her little head in awe as she clambers up onto the couch next to him.

“Looks cool.” She mutters in awe.

Most look at him in some kind of shock or horror even. Some with sympathy thinking it had come from the war and some with fear knowing where it had really come from. But few with the kindness and curiosity of the 6 year old standing on his good couch.

“Does it hurt?” She asks quietly. Alfie shrugs.

“Depends.”

That’s when her little hand reaches forward to trace over the scarring with an almost feather light child’s touch as she stands there on the couch, her hands are cold and gentle over the markings that no one has touched since his last hospital appointment.

“Her mother’s daughter.”

Alfie flicks his eyes back over to a now standing Thomas as he reaches forward to lift his sister up into his arms where she sits on his hip with little furrowed eyebrows and a purse on her lips. Alfie’s residual aching cheekbone pain has faded to nearly non-existent for the first time he can soberly remember. He knows that Tommy knows this by the look in his eyes and the way in which he notes his prior statement before he gathered his sister.

“She’s sweet.” Alfie nods, standing to his feet. As softened as both men may be by the child in the room, Alfie does not like sitting as Tommy Shelby towers over him whether the man is an ally or not. “Polly says i get it from Tommy.” (y/n) chimes. Alfie raises his eyebrows with a grin that makes Tommy roll his eyes at the retired gangster. “Oh do you now?” Alfie hums, opening his mouth to speak again when Tommy cuts him off. “You go ahead to the car (y/n), eh? I’ll meet you down there in just a minute okay?”

The six year old nods and runs off the moment her feet hit the ground. Tommy turns to Alfie immediately.

“If you ever-“

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Mom.” Alfie rumbles, crossing his arms over his chest with a beaming grin. “Little miss Shelby has you whipped, mate. Tell me, what’s your favourite apron you wear at home eh Thomas?” He chuckles heartily, making Tommy glower in rage at his teasing. “I’m fucking serious, Alfie.” He growls. Alfie straightens up and stops laughing immediately.

His eyes narrow for a split second and he tilts his head, his eyes searching the depth of Tommy’s cerulean blues and immediately noticing the sheer panic and worry that lies deep within them, attempting to hide under brotherly protective instinct and rage at the prospect of harm falling on his little sister. Alfie inhales deeply. He would truly never dream of harming a child. It’s not in his nature, nor does it sit well with him. And though he had been quick to give the head of the Peaky Blinders a reality check in the past regarding the safety of his son, in the end he had no idea Charlie Shelby had been taken and he never would have arranged for that to happen.

Alfie nods his head and leans forward. “She’s special to you, yeah?” Tommy doesn’t know why Alfie asks. He’s sure it’s clearer than he wants it to be, but alas the Londoner asks anyway and Tommy doesn’t know exactly how to answer, so he simply makes a motion something akin to a nod though looks more like a twitch of his chin. “Mhm, I can tell. You can have the men. I’m sure you know the price.” Alfie turns away. Tommy doesn’t know what it was in Alfie’s eyes that reassured him more than words ever could that he wouldn’t lay harm on the 6 year old little girl who treated him with more respect and kindness in the ten minutes she spoke to him that anyone had in years. There was an element of brotherly protectiveness that Alfie felt only after knowing her a short time.

“And Tommy?”

“Yes, Alfie?” The Birmingham MP turns back as he leaves the doorway of Alfie’s sitting room.

“Anything ever happens to the kid, you fuckin’ let me know yeah?”

Tommy nods his head, the ghost of a smile somewhat on his face. His little sister is just about as protected as they come, and there was a distinct feeling of certainty that Alfie Solomons was there, lurking in the shadows of existence with a familial fondness of the little Shelby girl who carries the glow of an angel above her head that would ensure no men, from Birmingham or further afield would have to go through every Solomons and Shelby loyal man up and down the country before a hair on (y/n) Shelby’s head was messed. Tommy holds hope somewhere deep in his heart that his little sister will never have to see violence aimed at her, and that for as long as she lives she knows that she is instantaneously loved, dearly held in every heart and ferociously protected by some of Britain’s most dangerous men.

[nat111love]

Hii, what is your analysis of Tommy and Lizzie's relationship in S6? Many Lizzie fans say that he forgot about Grace and fell in love with Lizzie, I saw the opposite.

Hey nonnnie!!!

Season 6 tells you everything you need to know about tommy’s love life, and by everything , l mean EVERYTHIIIIIIIING!!!!

Ok, here’s my opinion below:

1. I want to start by pointed out the fact that, that season 6 has once and for all finally put to the rest the debate on whether or not tommy was in love with lizzie. The fandom has been saying for years that tommy was never in love with grace, but the idea of grace. And that the woman he loved, the one he’s been in love with  since the beginning of peaky blinders was lizzie_The fandom claims that he only treated her the way he did, because he loved her and was afraid of his feelings for her ,and that’s also the reason he wouldn’t let her in( And by treated her the way he did, l mean disrespecting her on a regular basis, repeatedly cheating on her as if he was deprived sexually, always putting her last, treating her like a disposable partner or an object he owns )....

News-fucking-flash

this was never a debate ( nor  facts, just wishful thinking ) and tommy was never and is not in love with lizzie. Grace was tommy’ love and his chance for happiness, and when she died that chance died with her .

2. This whole season was a reminder, a confirmation and a sum up of everything we already knew about tommy’ and lizzie’ dynamic. A reminder of Lizzie’ unrealistic expectations in her marriage, a further confirmation of tommy’ inability to be a faithful husband to lizzie and give her the love, attention and respect she desperately wanted from him...basically it was a season 5  sum up with different or subtle nuances and contexts.

3. This season to me is a clear affirmation that tommy was never in love with lizzie, and that he can never give her what she’s always wanted and expected from him which is his love and undivided attention. He was never home, never there for her when she needed him, he didn’t support her emotionally when she needed him most( after ruby’s death), and was constantly cheating on her. He cheated on her several times in season 5, we saw him cheating on her this season with a brunette when he was in Boston, and we also saw him cheating on her with mosley’ fiancé,  diana... That man cheated on her throughout their marriage. And why’s that ?!  

Because that’s not the woman he really wanted to be with... his heart  didn’t choose her!!!

Because he settled for lizzie, he sought replacements for the emotional connection he didn’t have with her. Mistresses (cheating on her), work, and  his favorite thing was spending his time away( trips) ,since he stopped drinking and doing opium...He became addicted to anything that filled the gap within him. And that’s why he couldn’t stop cheating on lizzie, working...Lizzie understandably felt lonely and unhappy in her 7/8 years marriage with tommy, and how could she not ? When she was the only one emotionally invested in their relationship .

4. Tommy realized that lizzie didn’t deserve the pain he put her through and learned to respect her. That’s why he was nicer and more respectful of her this season than he was in the previous seasons, and why he tried to honor his marriage to some extent. Because she’s familly and he cares about her, he tried to give her more attention ( but still kept it superficial ), e.g. when lizzie wrapped both of her hands around tommy’s to remind him that she was there and needed his attention too. Lizzie “Do you feel that, do you feel anything? You know you talk, as if you’re watching everything on a screen.” tommy “When we go home...when we go home, we’ll give the kids to frances , and then you and me will go to bed”  lizzie   “and I”ll be the next item, everything is on the list”. In that scene lizzie was again, trying to connect with a physically present but mentally absent tommy.

There are some things tommy did and said to lizzie because he believed that’s what he was supposed to do and say as her husband, and not because he wanted to do or say those things, that’s why lizzie called him out on ticking boxes, and why I believe he said the line “in this moment, in this room, I love you” line. And also , why lizzie herself didn’t believe that “love confession”.  

5. How can you fall in love with someone you’re unwilling to let in? Tommy’s subconcious and whole being categorically refused and still refuse to let lizzie in, several years after he said he’ll let her in sometimes. Lizzie in season 5  “and you let me in sometimes” tommy  “ I’ll let you in sometimes”,  season 6, four years later “you never let me in”. In 6X04 , we have tommy once again avoiding emotional connection and keeping lizzie at safe distance when he removed lizzie’s hand from his shoulder,  “not yet, not yet..”

( and this is a woman he’s known for 16 years...16 years during which they had an off and on “relationship”...16 years and he still wouldn’t let her in...not yet, not yet!!!) .

All she wanted was to feel close to him and all he wanted was to be left alone...and this was after their daughter’ death. That man is unwilling to emotionally bond with her, and you can’t be in love with a person you can’t emotionally connect with. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE!!!!

As I already said, tommy cared about lizzie, He loved her but wasn’t in love with her. He loved her the way he loved his family members. 

To put it in a nutshell ,

it was a family love and not a romantic love.

I’m not sure that there has been any point in the show where we’re meant to believe that tommy  was falling for lizzie…Ok, let me rephrase it ...

there hasn’t been any point in the show where we’re meant to believe that tommy was falling or fell for lizzie. 

We lived long enough( and by long enough I mean 6 seasons, 14 years) in tommy' and lizzie's dynamic to know that he was never in love with her and that, the supposed "love confession" was a lie, because it didn’t match tommy’s actions and behavior. And lizzie knew it too .  She’s known that man for 16 years, So she knows when he’s lying . That’s why she called him out on it "you sound like you’re ticking a fucking  box, and I don’t konw what’s inside the box . Never have you let me in. Even though I know the combination to the safe”. 

 SHE KNEW HE DIDN'T MEAN IT.

NONNIE THE SHOW IS OoooOOOVER!!

And it ended with 1.lizzie finally realizing that tommy wasn’t in love with her and that he will never love her like she loves him, 2. her walking away and recognizing that she deserved more than what he could offer.

IT IS CANON THAT TOMMY COULDN'T BE THE HUSBAND SHE DREAMED OF BECAUSE OF HIS EMOTIONAL UNAVAILABILITY.( everything that will happen in the movie is a bonus ). 

[angry-geese]

Fluorescent Adolescent

Itadori x Reader x Sukuna

Warnings: sfw. platonic/romantic (interpretable). some minor swearing. mostly fluff. mention of violence. poly (sort of). Gn!Reader

Notes: Yuji and the reader have a movie night together. Sukuna decides to tag along

Nights at home were rare.

There’s not a lot of downtime when studying to become a sorcerer. Gojo was always sending you off on jobs that his students were very much not ready to handle. The line of work doesn't really follow a set schedule. Curses rarely exorcise themselves.

You haven't even graduated and you already wanted to retire.

You wanted to do something to celebrate your time off. Yuji suggested a movie night. You had nothing else in mind, and it sounded nice. The two of you thought about inviting Nobara. Movies weren't really her thing; she had other plans anyway. It wasn't often you got to hang out with just Yuji.

Gojo side-eyed you when you asked to borrow a movie. Your first mistake was asking him. The last time you borrowed one from him, the disc had been switched out with a porno. It took Yuji quite a while to figure out what was wrong. Nobara couldn’t pause the thing fast enough. Whether he forgot, or he did it on purpose, you’ll never know. You have the sneaking suspicion he meant to do it. When you gave it back the next day, Gojo never questioned why Yuji couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe that’s why Nobara passed on this one.

Eventually you settled on a horror movie. You're not quite sure what it was about. It looked gruesome. The cover had fake looking blood all over it. Despite being a jujutsu sorcerer, you were a wimp when it came to things like this. In the heat of the moment you could deal with it, but when it came to movies you were squeamish. It didn't matter how many times you told yourself that it wasn't real.

In the other room, the microwave beeps. The smell of burned popcorn fills the room. He likes his burnt; you can't stand the stuff. Two bowls had to be made. Both with a healthy dousing of salt and butter. Not the powdered stuff either; the real kind.

"You're going to miss it!" You call out.

"No I'm not!" Only a moment later followed by: "maybe I am!"

Yuji flings himself over the couch, just in time for the movie to start. Popcorn spills over the sides of the bowl, onto the couch and floor. He shouts "five second rule" before popping one into his mouth. Immediately you tackle him. He’s a bit stronger than you, and easily struggles free. It takes you nearly sitting on him to stop him. You have to pry the rest of the floor popcorn out of his hands like someone fighting their dog for an item it shouldn't be eating.

"Are you going to stop?” You ask. “Or are you going back for more the second I let you go?"

Weakly he nods.

The moment you let go of his wrists he’s lunging past you, reaching for it. In one swift motion you have him under you, pinning him to the floor.

The movie starts off with a creepy looking scientist, and two women stranded in a forest. You admit defeat, and collapse on top of him.

"Man I got hit so many times over this one," he offhandedly mentions.

"What?"

His response is a grunt.

If he says something out of pocket, it's best not to acknowledge it. He could write an entire novel about his life and barely scratch the surface. It’s almost impressive at this point.

It intrigued you, though. There were about a million questions you had for him. Asking one only brought up a hundred more.

The first thing you learned about Itadori Yuji was how he was Sukuna’s vessel. The second thing you learned was that he was going to die.

You were told not to get attached. Against almost everyone's advice, you did. So did many others. Yuji was truly strange. He didn't have the look of a man given a death sentence.

You often wonder how you'd react in his situation. Maybe you'd go to your death with a lot less grace. But there's no way of knowing until it happens. You like to think you'll go out in a blaze of glory.

Your interactions with Sukuna had been few, and only in passing. Aside from stories, you don't have much to say about him. Generally you aren't around when they switch. The one time you were, they didn't stay switched for very long. It still made you wonder. Since they shared domes, could Sukuna see everything that went on in Yuji's daily life? How much control did they really have over each other?

Sukuna would often switch out with Yuji while he slept. You expected that. He was unpredictable, and a bit of a prick. He's the king of curses after all. What more would you expect from a demon? Strangely enough, he never did anything. It wasn’t a proper switch, more like a particular hand or leg was taken over. Sometimes he'd knock things over, or hide Yuji's things, but he was never much more than an inconvenience. The guy could be a menace, sure, but he wasn't nearly what you expected.

He lays his head in your lap. Instinctively your hand finds his head, gently carding through his hair. It's strangely soft. It feels nice between your fingers. Sometimes you wonder if he dyes his hair, or if it's naturally like that. Come to think of it, you've never seen a baby picture- or even a childhood photo.

It's almost horrifying how quickly Yuji began to doze off. You sat there the entire time in wide-eyed horror. Maybe a bit of disbelief. If he feels the way your legs tense underneath him, he says nothing about it. He's snoring in no time. He can't help it, your hands feel so nice in his hair.

Unfortunately, you had caught Sukuna's attention too.

Nothing went on in Yuji's life without Sukuna listening in. Every little detail about his day to day life was known by Sukuna. Most days he didn't care to listen in. Unless there was a fight, or something to piss off, he wasn't interested. He was the first to realize how fond his host was of you. Immediately he started plotting all the ways he could hurt Yuji with you.

That plan was cut short.

He's not sure when it happened. Slowly you became worth something to him. Your strength was promising. If you continued on your path you could prove to be a truly frightening sorcerer. He found your will to fight impressive, albeit naive. At first it was a reluctant respect. You had promise. He could use that. Either against your or against other sorcerers, it didn't matter to him. You'd work in his favor eventually.

There was one moment that stuck out. One where his feelings went from a general distaste to fondness. You were fighting a curse, of all things. Although it didn't hit hard, it could shrug off a lot of damage. It wasn't particularly strong, but it was tough, and smart, proving to be a pain in the ass to everyone involved. With a snap of his fingers he could have exorcised it. But he didn't. Watching you two fight it was much more entertaining. If his host was killed, he'd simply bring him back.

Something went wrong. He's not quite sure what. The moments went by like shots out of a badly filmed movie. One scene. Then cut. Then the next scene. Then cut.

You're clinging onto his arm, asking if he's—Yuji—is okay. You weren't even hurt, but you were soaked in blood.

His feelings for you weren't disgust, or hatred, or even pity. It was something much worse. If he was capable of liking someone, it would be you. Sukuna could never imagine himself feeling this way for a human.

He hates that.

The affection he feels isn't love in a proper sense, but that's the only word for it. A creature like him isn't capable of love. He's the king of curses, he'll never lower himself to the level of humans. He'll never view you as more than a pet, but he cares for you in some sort of way.

Sukuna's affection comes out as bullying. Well, as much as a lone mouth can bully someone. You've learned to tune him out or brush him off. He's harmless around you. Yuji seems to keep him on a short leash. His bark is far worse than his bite. At least to you. You really can't say that for any unfortunate bastard that decides to piss him off.

Jokingly, you began referring to Sukuna when talking to Yuji. It was only to make him roll his eyes. Everyone hated when you did that, because usually Sukuna would respond. You tried to see how long you could get him to talk before he realized you we're screwing with him. It usually took a while.

Yuji's snores have gotten awfully quiet. The movie is less terrifying than you expected, but it makes your stomach churn. His eyes are open when you look down. They aren't Yuji's; they have a different look in them. Sukuna’s eyes have no humanity in them at all.

Both sets of Sukuna's eyes are focused on the TV. You're not quite sure when they switched. He made no show of it. One second he was Yuji, the next he wasn't. His hand rests on your knee, his thumb gently rubbing across your skin. He feels a bit colder than Yuji. You can’t help but wonder if it’s a curse thing or just a coincidence.

You try not to stare for too long.

"This is boring." He says. "You find this scary? Let alone entertaining?"

He doesn't like seeing you distressed, even if it's directed at something that isn't real.

"Yes, thank you," you say.

Maybe if you keep scratching his head he'll stop talking.

"Why do you like these? Clearly you don't like being scared." He says.

"Keep talking and I'll stop playing with your hair."

His sharp nails dig into your skin. "No."

"Then I suggest you stop talking,"

He sulks. It’s almost impressive how quickly you get him to back down.

He's a bit like a cat; the second your arms are tired and you need to rest, his fingers are digging into your skin. He doesn't want you to stop. The moments where he wants affection are ones where you can't—or don't want—to give it to him.

It's almost a competition between him and Yuji. His host is always so open with how he cares for you. You’re very affectionate towards each other. You’re affectionate towards all your friends. He finds it sickening. He wants your attention to be on him and only him. Yuji is only competition. Unfortunately for him—and you too, let's face it—they're a package deal. Sharing isn’t exactly a skill he has.

He shifts so he's sitting up, his head resting against your chest. Your heartbeat drops off for a second, before picking up in pace. You rest your chin on top of his head. Your hands find his hair, brushing it out of his eyes.

It's not long after his breathing evens out.

His head nods, eyes half shut, gaze still on the tv. You're so warm, he notes. He doesn't remember human contact feeling this nice. However hard he tries to fight sleep, it's no use, he can't stay awake for much longer.

For now, he would settle on sharing you if it meant he could have moments like this.

[wanderingwomanwondering]

Buck’s Slippery Sense of Self

This is a bit scattered but bear with me. Ravi’s comment to buck that he likes being himself has been bouncing around in my skull. Buck absolutely struggles in a big way with being himself. He’s painful self-worth issues in a trenchcoat of swag, charm, and smiles carefully constructed to keep people in his life, but he struggles to be fully and deeply honest about the shattered pieces of himself that he’s still trying to find, pick up, and put together. He’s grown a lot, become more honest and open with select folks but there are still walls to break down for sure.

Think about buck begins. He plasters on a thick heavy smile while telling his firefam that he’s defective parts. In 505 he gives taylor a halfhearted smile at the end when he thanks her. In that same ep he tucks himself into the side of the firetruck, alone, as he listens to yet another voicemail greeting from beloved family that won’t answer the phone. His face drops when he hears chim’s “greeting” then he shouts for ravi so that he can tenaciously train him and strengthen the firefam in the process. When he’s finally ready to deal with his pain over chim and maddie leaving, it’s just to say that “for the good of everyone” he plans to transfer. He legit thought they would just let him go and not miss him. He totally thought he broke one family and would break this one too. Buck honestly thought leaving was a noble sacrifice. He would excise himself so that the team could carry on free of his gross and obviously flaws. Buck nooooooo!!! The firefam loves you, even in your darkest hour. They see your flaws, and that does NOT negate your beauty and worth as a whole person in their family. “You’re stuck with us”

Buck thinks there’s value in parts of him - his skills, his strong body, his blood and sweat - but not in him as a whole person, not as a complete self. Flaws and all. He thinks people tolerate or ignore his flaws rather than actually 100% accept them.

I think ravi blew his frickin’ mind when he said he likes being himself. I think buck likes what he does and how he can serve people but I’m not convinced he likes himSELF. Honestly I think he’s struggling with what that even means AND whether or not he even matters in the grand scheme of things.

I think that’s the struggle that’s being explored with maddie and chim’s absence as the catalyst, and his attempt to replace himself with ravi on the team. Eddie’s chuckle at dinner when ravi asked if he was in buck’s seat struck me on a deeper level as being eddie almost saying “as if you could take his seat at this table!”. Then of course buck says that’s exactly his plan and eddie balks at that…HARD. But to buck it seemed like the most logical and reasonable thing in the world.

Even after everything they’ve all been through together, he doesn’t see himself as a worthy, valued, and loved enough for people to fight to keep him in their lives. Buck sees others’ worth so clearly but can’t quite afford himself the same grace. He gave ravi a hard time but if he didn’t think he was worthy he wouldn’t have invested the energy.

It makes me wanna cry so hard. I hate that buck sees himself in parts rather than as an amazing whole. As tiny shards of limited value rather than a whole of great worth. His pain this season is destroying me. The firefam helps bandage buck’s emotional wounds but I really think therapy and eddie are gonna be the rescue, the healing that he needs to find wholeness and self-worth.

It wasn’t an accident that ravi told buck he respects him but likes being himself. Buck getting to that same place is gonna be a thing this season. His relationship with taylor is playing into things too because she also only sees buck in pieces and parts. She sees ego and charm. She has no idea that all of that is a mask, it’s armor and it’s cracking.

I really think that using buck’s actual name, evan, at key points is a choice and it’s brilliant. I always felt that buck, like the firefighter uniform itself, was a kind of armor helping to protect and hold together evan. Evan has been hurt so badly in so many ways, but buck’s a “badass under pressure”, and spoiler alert: he’s always feeling pressure, always convinced that his life and himself are fragile and hanging by a thread, always afraid that people will finally figure out that he’s worthless. *crying now, give me sec* Maddie calls him evan at points, always in emotional scenes when she wants to reach and heal him. Eddie called him evan in the same way when he told him about the will. But. When taylor says evan, it feels wrong. It feels like she doesn’t know evan at all so her using his name feels off.

We are gonna see more evan this season i think, the vulnerable bits brought to the surface by all the crazy crap this weewoo show has thrown and will throw at him, and I’m hoping for more healing. Buck deserves no less than real healing.

[heliads]

Heartbeats (Part One)

 Based on this request: “Jesper x reader where she was in the first army and grew up with mal and Alina, but then when stuff goes down in the fold she ends up in ketterdam (maybe she’s grisha too) and teams up with the crows but her and Jesper end up falling for each other?”

masterlist / part two

As you look around you, taking in the sight of swirling darkness as far as the sky stretches, the screeches of volcra, and the cries of the wounded, you can’t help but wonder one thing: how did you get here? Even a year or so ago, you were still listed among the soldiers of the First Army, a tracker just like your friend Mal. Before that, you were simply another hapless orphan at Keramzin. How did you go from that to this?

Then again, it’s precisely because of your sunny little bubble at Keramzin that you’re out here trying to shoot literal volcra with a gun- namely, because of your friendships with Alina Starkov and Malyen Oretsev. You’d met Alina and Mal at the orphanage, arriving around a year or so after they’d arrived. A lesser child would have felt stilted that you’d never quite be as close to them because they’d known each other first, but you didn’t mind. What you had was good, as good as it could get when you felt so utterly lonely in the world.

Life at Keramzin has been preserved in your mind as something in between the gilding glow of nostalgia and the darkening regret of someone who wishes for nothing more than to go back to those treasured days of youth when nothing ever quite mattered. What had it been like, running the wooden paneled floors of the orphanage, tearing through the high grass of the meadow as you ran from bullies and Ana Kuya for the thousandth time since your arrival there? Certainly, it had to be better than life as a First Army soldier, or life now that you’ve made an enemy of the Black General.

You had an option to leave the orphanage if you had wanted to, you know that. Grisha searchers had arrived at Keramzin on their yearly journeys, with living amplifiers present to see which of the ungrateful little urchins might have a spark of the Small Science residing in their veins. Mal had gone first- he was always the bravest. He had shown no signs, and neither had Alina when she followed him, although you noticed the way she gripped a shattered piece of pottery in her hands so the pain would distract her body from giving off any signs of anything.

You know you weren’t supposed to witness the gesture, that Alina herself had no idea whether she was a Grisha at all, but it’s not as if you didn’t do the same. Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence that you’d slathered a little paraffin on your wrists after you’d read the hack in an old book, and that you specifically made sure to be tested by the oldest and most wizened Grisha there, hoping that her failing eyesight would look past anything lurking in your heart and head. Even then, you might have known that there was something not quite right with you, something that could end with you being taken far away to Os Alta.

However, you didn’t want that, not at all. You’d felt accepted with Mal and Alina, and life with them at the orphanage was as close to home as you’d felt since the war had torn apart your previous life. You had no idea what could possibly be worthwhile in the Ravkan capital city, and so you made sure that no one would see you as anything other than an otkazat’sya, someone to be overlooked and disregarded.

You didn’t have an obvious gift, or you might have had you not done everything in your reach to disguise your stranger abilities. There were just times when you swear you could hear someone’s heart beating loudly in their chests, even from across the room, or when you seemed to sense someone approaching because you could hear the thunder of their blood through their veins. Mal said that you weren’t going crazy, that he could hear the heartbeats too, but you’re not sure whether or not that truly let you off the hook. He’d always been a little too good at finding animals, tracking down beasts and people alike, to fully reassure you of your normalcy.

Your fears were confirmed when you were older and your newly twisted ankle had suddenly healed itself before your eyes. You had been groaning over your latest injury, placing your fingers across the bones as if you could do anything to save it, when it suddenly mended itself. Just like that, with naught but a flash of heat and pricking to show that anything happened. You had glanced around furtively, making sure nobody had seen, but you knew. That was enough, that you knew. You had a secret to keep now, one you’d have to keep for the rest of your life.

You’d heard what the books and stories said of the Grisha. Witches, people said of them, demons and witches and monsters. They were called every name and curse and then some. You didn’t know where your life would lead you, but you were certain that you would not find it as one of the Second Army’s little red-clad soldiers. So, you accepted a place as a tracker in the First Army when your time came to be conscripted, and you did your best to pretend that it never existed.

However, it’s kind of hard to ignore now, when every sense in your body is suddenly flung into high alert. It’s as if there’s a voice in your head, calling out to you- if you wanted, I could save you. If you used your power now, you could save your life and the lives of your friends. You can hear it now, can’t you? The beat of a volcra heart before it swoops, as if there’s a human organ trapped within the masses of shadows and claws. That’s partially why your gunshots are so accurate, isn’t it? You’re sensing the beasts. You’re using your gift.

A shout of praise comes from the ship behind you as you nail one particularly good shot. “Nice one, tracker!” You stifle a groan as you turn around to find yourself face to face with a familiar Ketterdam crook: the sharpshooter from earlier, Jesper Fahey. You stare at him incredulously. “We’re busy trying not to die, aren’t we? Why bother with a compliment at a time like this?” He just grins, unflappable as always even in the middle of a battle against fearsome shadow monsters. “Talent respects talent, love. I thought you were good.”

You roll your eyes and purposefully take a shot behind him, although you can’t help but feel a little disappointed when Jesper doesn’t flinch despite the bullet rattling through the space only a few feet away from him. Then again, if you thought you’d startle the cheekily grinning boy in front of you with a mere bullet, you’d doubt you really met him at all. Judging from your first experience with him, at least, it’ll take more than a gunshot to really make an impression.

You had first crossed paths with the Barrel canal rats a week or so ago, when you were searching for Alina after she had run away from Os Alta. You and Mal had been the trackers assigned to finding her mystical stag in the first place, so you were aware of the fact that she was on the loose and were determined to find her before the Black General did. You still shudder to think of that night, when you’d first seen the stag- Mal had led you and two friends through the Fjerdan wilderness, but on the night you’d finally found the beast, you yourselves had been discovered by Fjerdan patrols.

Now your two friends are dead, and Mal is still grimacing from bullet wounds sustained during the fight. He doesn’t ask how you’re still alive, and you made sure he didn’t notice the fact that you accidentally used your Grisha powers during the Fjerdan attack. You hadn’t meant to do it, not at all, but in the middle of the blood-streaked snow you had felt something deep within your chest. You couldn’t explain it, not with words at least, but it was there nonetheless. You were watching your friends die around you, and, desperate for some way to save yourself, flung out a hand towards shapes moving in the shadows of the trees.

You had felt something, like your hand was closing around a string, and tugged sharply. At the exact same time, one of the Fjerdans came sprawling out of the trees, a mess of arms and legs as the blond man struggled to regain control over his heart. Seconds later, he was dead, with no bullet wounds in sight. You had pretended that you had shot the patrol, just to keep Mal off of your back, but you’re still shaken by the fact that your power had sprung to you so easily. It’s a terrible gift, to take away life so brutally, and you can’t deny that you’re a little afraid of it yourself.

Regardless, you and Mal had found the stag, made the journey to Os Alta to inform General Kirigan, and been notified that Alina was kidnapped by Kerch thieves. Mal had pulled you aside almost immediately, saying something about how he swore he could find her but he didn’t want to alert the rest of the Second Army men. You heard the slight change in his tone when he spoke of the Grisha, and you held your tongue just in case, once again silencing the little voice in your head that almost wanted him to know, just so Mal would address you with the same reverence and fear.

However, you didn’t want to go with Mal. Not yet, at least. He could go track down Alina with the grace of a thousand trackers, be able to tell footsteps from fallen boughs and rabbits from rocks, but you could hear heartbeats rattling out from the trees. You knew you could find Alina if you truly wanted to, but you didn’t want Mal there to question why you weren’t looking at the ground but staring out at the horizon as if you could hear something he couldn’t. Mal could always hear things, that’s how he was. If you were listening to a song that wasn’t playing his tune as well, he would have questions that you’re not sure you could answer.

So, you split up, and traversed the land around Tsibeya and Ryevost in search of your missing friend. You ended up finding her first, if only by an hour or so. You’d lived by Alina’s side for so long and so many years that her heartbeat was practically ingrained into your skull, and when you caught a brief snippet of it on the roads near Ryevost, you knew you had found your Sun Summoner.

You weren’t sure whether you truly believed the rumors that Alina had been kidnapped by the Kerch or not, but when you stumbled upon the scene and saw Alina surrounded by a trio of people dressed in dark clothes with weapons drawn, you knew something had to be up. You had moved quickly, with the efficiency of a soldier with your First Army training, and pressed the barrel of your gun against one of the boys’ heads within the second.

You weren’t sure why you picked the boy you did, why the boy with the dark hair and the ever-present smirk, but you can’t help but smile wryly at the memory. You’d addressed him coldly. “Step away from her. Now.” The boy had clicked his tongue, speaking without fear despite the fact that there was a gun pressed against his skull. “You know, you really shouldn’t do that. Having the gun so close to me just means that I can do this.”

You had to give credit to Jesper- he moved fast. He was quick, likely from life on the streets of the Barrel, and a lesser soldier would have fallen prey to his attack within the second. However, you weren’t a lesser soldier, and you had the advantage of hearing his heartbeat uptake the moment he started moving. So, when Jesper Fahey whips around to grab your gun and force you to the ground, you’re expecting it. That’s why you take advantage of his momentum to slam into his side, knocking him to the ground and sending his twin revolvers skittering across the soil.

You’re not quite sure what you were expecting from Jesper at that moment- a look of fear or resignation? Maybe you weren’t expecting a reaction at all. However, when he looked up at you for a second longer and then started laughing, you were almost as startled as if he’d continued his attack. “Fantastic move. Who are you?” You stared at him, almost forgetting his two companions, whose hands have now directed weapons to you instead of towards Alina. You casually nod your head towards the woods, and Alina, understanding, begins to slip away while her captors’ backs are turned.

“None of your business. Why are you laughing?” Jesper, as you have later learned, just sits up casually, as if he couldn’t care less about the barrel of a gun being pointed his way. “Because I think it’s excellent that you anticipated my attack that way. I’m going to have to remember that one and use it later.” He’s standing up now, practically brushing your gun aside. You’re not particularly moved by this- you don’t care if he attacks you, just that Alina can get away in time. What matters more to a band of crooks- the Sun Saint, or some other girl?

So, noting that you’re now one against three and you don’t really care for using your Grisha abilities right now, you tuck your gun away into the standard issue holster on your First Army tracker drabs and grin back at him. The smile feels almost as hard to fake as when you’ve been standing in your regiments for hours when higher-ranking officials come to visit and see how all the little toy soldiers are doing.

“Well, I’m glad to be an influential figure. I’ll be off, then.” It’s now that the trio whip around and notice that Alina is gone. The other boy, the one with the dark leather gloves, curses softly. You start to slip away as well, but the sharpshooter isn’t willing to let you go so easily. “Wait a second, my dearest influence. If we lose both you and your friend, it won’t be so good for us.” You flash him an irritated look. “You don’t need me, and I couldn’t care less what’s good for you.”

The girl nods to the sharpshooter. “She’s right, Jesper. I’m not killing more people than I have to.” You gesture towards the girl. “Exactly, dearest Jesper. I’m just going to go. I would say that it’s been a delight talking with you, except that it hasn’t.” You’re kind of hoping for a negative reaction, but Jesper just smirks back at you. “Enchanting, of course. I hope to see you again.” You roll your eyes and start walking away, although you can hear Jesper talking to his friends as you leave. They’re chiding him for flirting with you, as this is evidently something he does often. You let out a huff of breath, bothered, then do your best to find Alina. Hopefully, you can find her and get out of here, and most importantly, never see this all-too-cocky boy known as Jesper ever again.

However, that didn’t exactly happen. No, you’re still stuck on a sand skiff in the middle of the Shadow Fold, being attacked by Grisha Heartrenders, volcra, and the Black General alike, and if that wasn’t enough, Jesper is here too. He’s fighting by your side now, as if trying his hardest to annoy you by being as close as possible, and won’t let up the opportunity to exchange a witty retort or irritating grin whenever he can. Honestly, you’re hoping to win this fight soon, because if you have to spend another moment with Jesper Fahey, you might as well shoot him too.

grishaverse tag list: i heartrender you @underc0vercryptid​, @darlinggbrekker​, @cameronsails​, @aleksanderwh0r3​, @story-scribbler​

[gallifrey1sburning]

Hi 👋 a prompt you can take or leave: Draco is very unsure whether he is being flirted with or this is an extension of their office rivalry that he doesn't understand (or the reverse!) Ty!

@skeptiquex and @ihavesomeideawhatimdoinghere, I read both of your prompts back to back, and they worked really well together, so I squished them into one. I hope you enjoy! Thank you both for sending me things, and thanks to @mxmaneater for the fast beta ❤️

—

The Tally

“One more for me!” Harry crowed, scratching a new tally mark next to his name on the chalkboard behind Draco’s head. “Better luck next time, Malfoy.” The board had a partner behind Harry’s desk, and the tallies recorded on one would reflect on the other, but Harry took great joy in invading Draco’s space and rubbing his victories in his face at every opportunity. Not that Draco was any better. It was part of the fun.

“Please, that one hardly counted,” Draco objected reflexively. “You only caught him because you tripped, for Merlin’s sake. Hardly an impressive arrest.” 

Harry shrugged and grinned, perching on the edge of Draco’s desk. “An arrest is an arrest.”

“Whatever,” Draco grumped. He and Harry had been playing this game for over a year now, and the margin was always extremely close. Harry was just barely ahead, at the moment, but Draco would catch up to him soon. He and Parvati had a potions ring bust coming up that Harry and Weasley weren’t involved in. Once that was done, he’d have overtaken him, and the smug expression currently gracing his colleague’s face would disappear along with his lead.

“So, any big weekend plans?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s pout.

Draco dropped the expression when it failed to produce the desired reaction. “Nothing too exciting. Yourself?”

“I’ve got tickets for the Puddlemere game on Saturday, actually. Ron was supposed to come, but something came up, so I’m trying to find someone else who might want to go. It would be a shame for the ticket to go to waste.” Harry was biting his lip and looking hopeful, and for just a moment, Draco thought— but no. If he’d wanted to ask, he would have asked, he told himself firmly. 

Taking care to keep his expression light, Draco pondered for a moment before saying. “I think McCutcheon is a Puddlemere fan. Maybe try him?”

“Oh, right.” Draco almost thought that Harry looked disappointed for a moment, but on second glance, his expression was clear and friendly. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll see if he’s free. Have a great weekend, Draco. Parvati.” He knocked his knuckles against the desktop twice before straightening and walking off, hands in pockets. Draco watched him go, sighing as he rounded the corner. It really was a pleasure watching him walk away.

He was brought back to reality by his partner smacking him in the back of the head with a stack of paperwork. “Ow! What the fuck, Patil?”  

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, looking even more exasperated with him than usual. “Every time he’s over here, you spend the rest of the day mooning, and he finally asks you out, and you say NO?!” 

“I do not moon!” He did moon, and he knew it, but he wasn’t about to say so. He still had his pride. “And he didn’t ask me out, either.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“He didn’t! He just said he had an available ticket! He very clearly had an opening to invite me, if he wanted to, and he very clearly didn’t.” There had been a number of moments like this, in recent months, and Parvati kept insisting that Harry was flirting with Draco. For his part, Draco kept insisting that she mind her own business, because she obviously could not read Harry Potter at all if she thought he was interested in Draco.

“You are an absolute moron.” Parvati shook her head in disbelief, but let it drop.

— 

They made the bust on Tuesday. Monday had been a rush of preparations and contingency planning and final logistics, and the stakeout had lasted all day, but in the end, it had been worth it—they’d brought in six players in one sweep and were confident that at least one of them would give up the rest in exchange for sentencing leniency. Draco had dropped into bed exhausted but elated.

He was still riding high when he sauntered into Harry and Weasley’s office on Wednesday. He leaned ostentatiously over Harry’s desk, stretching almost directly over his perpetually-tousled head to grab a piece of chalk and carefully add six perfectly straight tally marks to his own side of the board, giving him the lead by three. 

“And that’s how you do it,” he gloated as he straightened, smirking smugly down at Harry. “Suck it, Potter.”

Across the office, he heard Weasley groan and mumble something that sounded suspiciously like ‘he wishes’ under his breath. Harry looked a bit pink, but still smirked right back up at Draco, so it was probably just the heat. “Played that one close to the chest, didn’t you? But don’t worry, I’ve got something in the pipeline. I’ll be back on top before you know it.”

In Draco’s peripheral vision, he saw Weasley bang his head against his desk. “I’m getting tea,” he announced, stalking out of the office. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter, who shrugged. 

Now that he was here, Draco didn’t quite want to leave yet, so he searched for something else to talk about. “How was the game?” he finally asked.

“Huh? Oh, the Quidditch game. Yeah, I didn’t end up going, actually.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact. “Wasn’t really in the mood.” 

Draco wrinkled his brow, not really sure what to make of that, but then Harry asked a question about the potions bust, and Draco forgot about it, instead focusing on a dramatic retelling of his glorious victory.

— 

Harry’s next arrest came after a particularly brutal double homicide. It was all anyone was talking about when he arrived that morning, but, despite Draco’s expectations (and perhaps anticipation), Harry didn’t appear at his desk to brag about it. He was feeling a bit anxious by the time he finally saw him passing by his door in the late afternoon, and the feeling only grew when he did. Harry had bags under his eyes, and his usually confident posture was slumped. He didn’t look as though he had slept. He also didn’t look like he was going to stop.

“Hey,” Draco said, rising from his desk to catch him before he passed by completely. “Haven’t seen you today.” Are you okay?, he didn’t say, but he thought it was probably audible in his tone anyway.

“Oh. Hey, Draco.” Harry looked up at him, seeming a little lost. He looked hollow behind his eyes, and Draco could feel his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Yeah, I’ve been…” he trailed off and glanced past Draco, into his office, to where the chalkboard hung prominently on the back wall. He seemed to curl even further in on himself. “I don’t want to count this one, okay?” he said, finally. “It doesn’t really feel like a victory.”

“Yeah, of course,” Draco said immediately, and he suddenly felt completely helpless. “Can I—” he hesitated, and then put a tentative hand on Harry’s slumped shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

He was half sure that Harry would pull away from his touch, but he didn’t. If anything, he seemed almost to relax into it. “I’m okay,” he said, and it wasn’t convincing, but Draco didn’t want to push it. “Thanks, though.” He reached up and gripped Draco’s hand where it lay on his shoulder, so briefly that his hand was gone before Draco could even fully register it, and then stepped back, continuing on his way.

Draco stood and stared at the chalkboard for a while when he got back to his desk. Then, he picked up his eraser and carefully removed one tally from his own side.

— 

Their next bust, they were on together. A small Neo-Death Eater group that the department had been keeping an eye on, but who hadn’t done much of anything until now, had suddenly decided to make a grand statement by threatening a large-scale attack on Diagon Alley if their (entirely insane) demands weren’t met. Needless to say, the Ministry was not interested in negotiation, and the whole Auror force had been called out en masse. 

Somehow, Harry and Weasley had ended up working in tandem with Draco and Parvati, and now Harry and Draco were back to back in a dead-end alley, dueling a pair that seemed to be the last desperate stragglers, while Parvati watched the street, ready to block anyone who might try to interfere, and Weasley stood to the side, clutching his ribs and sweating but still managing to hold a fairly steady shield charm. There was an unconscious, Incarcerous-ed body on the ground near him; his Stunner’s aim had been true, but the assailant had gotten off one last hex before it hit. He wasn’t in imminent danger—Draco had been hit by the same spell before, and it was extremely painful but didn’t cause any lasting damage once reversed—and although that would be easy enough to do, they didn’t have a wand to spare at the moment.

Harry and Draco worked together like they’d been born to it, and if their respective partnerships hadn’t been working so well for so long, Draco might have considered it a waste that they weren’t paired together. Spells flew around them like fireworks, and they cast and dodged and shielded and attacked without speaking, without pause, until, suddenly, it was over. 

“Ron!” Harry cried as soon as his wand dropped, but Parvati was already by his side, countering the spell, and Ron’s body relaxed almost immediately.

“I’m fine, mate. Great work.” 

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and then turned to Draco, chest still heaving with exertion. Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face even as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel sweat tracking down his face, his neck, his back, and he was streaked with dirt and—he suspected—blood; but they had won, and no one had died, and he was almost high on the rush of it. “I’m not sure who those count for,” he said, half laughing. “It happened too fast. Did you catch who took them down?”

Harry was grinning now, too, the buzzing energy of their win almost visibly coursing through him. He beamed at Draco, and he looked so fucking beautiful, even though he was just as dirty and dishevled as Draco was, that Draco couldn’t help but glance, just for a second, at those lips that he’d surreptitiously observed for so long as they stretched wide with joy. When he snapped his eyes back up, however, it was clear that Harry had seen, because the smile had morphed into something that Draco couldn’t put a name to, and his eyes were searching Draco’s for something. And then— 

“Fuck it,” he heard Harry say, and then there were hands on either side of his head and he was being—quite thoroughly—kissed, right there in the alley. He melted into it immediately, pulling Harry closer to himself almost instinctively. There was an iron tang of blood as their tongues met, and Draco wasn’t sure whose it was, but he didn’t particularly care. He didn’t care about much of anything, right now, besides Harry’s hands, and Harry’s lips, and the press of Harry’s chest and hips against his own, and whether Harry might want to reenact this moment later but somewhere with a bed and a lot less clothes.

“I TOLD YOU!” Parvati yelled triumphantly in the background.

“Fucking finally.” Ron sounded both amused and exasperated.

Draco ignored them in favor of sliding his hands into Harry’s birdsnest of hair, pulling lightly and making him groan into the kiss. He supposed this one counted as a win for both of them.

Also on AO3

[toushindai]

Respect and approval in the relationship between Zagreus and Megaera

So, I think a lot of people know that there's a mini storyline between Megaera and Zagreus that proceeds as follows: Megaera brusquely informs Zagreus that his victories against her "don't count" as he couldn't possibly have achieved them without Nyx's help via the mirror. If you respond to this by emptying out the mirror and fighting her, she'll remark on it. This exchange is referenced in an incredible video about Hades' dialogue system that I will link in the comments to this post (since we all know how tumblr is about links) and which I highly recommend if you haven't watched it already.

But I was surprised that the video didn't go on to highlight what is my favorite (and surely relevant to the video?) aspect of this storyline--that once you've beaten Meg like that, the followup conversation at home has three different variants based on how many gifts you've given her!

Spoilers for a lot of late-game, including post-credits, content.

The three variants are low relationship (zero gifts - five gifts); high relationship (six gifts - nine gifts); "became close" relationship (ten gifts).

At low relationship, the conversation is as follows. I apologize but I don't have screenshots for any of these; I'm taking the text from the files.

Megaera: Beaten. By you. Without the help of Nyx's mirror. You humiliated me. And now you've come to rub it in, I guess? Well, go on, then. Not like you can shame me any more. Zagreus: Meg, what is it going to take for you to quit treating me like I'm incompetent? Have I not grown even a little since we met? You were supposed to teach me something; what does that make you? Megaera: Tsch... why don't you raise your voice a little louder so that all the House can hear. Is that what you want? For everyone to know that you're superior to me? Zagreus: You're not hearing me, Meg. I know it sounds a little disingenuous considering we keep fighting to the death and all, but... I never meant to hurt you. Megaera: You give yourself far too much credit, Zagreus. Leave me alone.

At high relationship:

Megaera: Beaten. By you. Without the help of Nyx's mirror. You humiliated me. And now you've come to rub it in, I guess? Well, go on, then. Not like you can shame me any more. Zagreus: Meg, that isn't why I'm here, you know that isn't how I am. Why can't you see it? All I've ever wanted was to prove myself to you. Megaera: Tsch... you think that you can prove yourself to me by winning in a fight? Zagreus: Sometimes I think that I can never really win with you, Meg. If I held back, what would you have thought? Megaera: If you think you know me so well, Zagreus, then you ought to know better than to keep this conversation going with me, now.

(Yeah, that's "high relationship.")

At became close relationship:

Megaera: I can't believe it, Zag. I thought for sure that Nyx's mirror was the only reason you could beat me. I knew you'd changed to some extent, but... not this much. Zagreus: I had to see if I could do it, Meg. I've learned so much from you, I... thought maybe this was a way that I could prove myself to you. And to myself. Megaera: Prove yourself, to me...? You must not be as comfortable in your own skin as you let on. I can't decide if I like that about you. Now leave me alone while I give it some thought.

Which... it's better, right? It's better. It's maybe not great, still. But they are trying.

I mean so let's take this from the top. At low relationship, the conversation is fairly acrimonious on both sides. Feeling humiliated by her loss, Meg lashes out, and Zag snaps in return that if Meg's going to keep treating him like he's incompetent, it's only a reflection on her, who was supposed to teach him something. In this version of their conversation, we see the shadow of the relationship Hades pointedly engineered between the two of them raise its head, and if I were ever asked to textually back up my certainty that Meg, not only Zag, contributed to their breakup, I think I'd cite this. Meg's lack of respect for Zag is clearly a longstanding point of tension. Here, Zag feels like he's done something that ought to earn him her respect, only to be... what? Meg's first line is largely about her own insecurities rather than her opinion of Zag, but at the same time, the assumption that she should be superior, that that's the natural order of things, is baked into it. It's a serious blow to her pride that Zag has upset that natural order, and she's projecting her shame into an assumption that Zagreus is here to pettily gloat. Which is insulting, and Zagreus reacts from that place of insult.

But in his second line, as if he notices her pain, Zag is able to disengage from his anger a little (his portrait shifts from his angry "Defiant" one to his "Empathetic" one), realize that their communication is going a bit awry, and tell Meg that he doesn't mean to hurt her. This does not have the effect he possibly hoped for, and before Meg tells him to hit the bricks she says that he gives himself too much credit--by thinking that he has the capability to hurt her. Now this is a pattern with her, throughout their redeveloping relationship, even at max relationship, even once they're back together: Megaera repeatedly states that Zagreus can't hurt her. Here, it has a clear implication that she thinks Zagreus beneath her, not worth getting hurt over. ...It's absolutely belied by her humiliation in the rest of the conversation, but the scorn with which she makes the assertion is cutting and unkind.

Although... I do wonder. Especially given Zag's statement that he "never meant to hurt [her]"--that doesn't sound like he's just talking about his neat trick of getting past her darkness-free. He's referring to their past, almost certainly, and at 0-5 gifts this is well before he gets around to a proper apology or even his feelingsdump (feelingsdump, er, I'm sorry, "building trust", the "we need to talk" conversation, follows gift#6, the last nectar). What I wonder, sometimes, is--when Megaera says that Zagreus can't hurt her (boy does she love to say that.), if part of what she's saying is that Zagreus is not the only person contributing to the poor relationship between them. This is a thought on a different topic, I guess, and I'm not saying that in this conversation, she suddenly has a flash of insight that she's being kind of shitty and chases him away for that reason. Sincerely, I do think "I'm too good to be hurt by Zagreus" is an emotional habit she has for a sizeable chunk of time--perhaps one she developed as a reaction to their breakup, or as a shield against it as she saw it coming--and is what she means here. But maybe it means something else later. I certainly hope so. Because boy. she really loves to say it.

Let's talk about the variant at high relationship next. You could get this variant anywhere between the last nectar ("We may be immortals, but we're older now") and having given her the second-to-last ambrosia ("I wish I could do over how we started"). Once you give her the last ambrosia (when they drink together), you're in the territory of the final variant.

Meg's still cranky; her first line is the same as in the low relationship variant. It's Zagreus, who is at this time in the process of trying to get back in her good graces, who is less testy in response. I'd say he's clearly still hurt by her response, but he doesn't express that hurt by sniping back at her this time. Instead, he opens up, trying to make his intentions more clear, reminding her that he isn't the type to gloat. He all but says that he wants her respect. And he doesn't get it, here. Frankly, this variant is not much of an improvement on the low relationship one. Meg is less openly insulting, but it's clear that she still doesn't want to be having the conversation.

My thoughts on this variant are similar to my thoughts on some of the ambrosia conversations--and I say this as the most dedicated MegZag shipper you will ever see--in that when I see this, I'm not sure why Zagreus bothers. If, like he says, there's really no action he could take here that wouldn't end in Meg being peeved at him, what is he reaching for? He wants to prove himself to her--why? Is her approval worth having here? When Meg says (to cite the gift nine/third ambrosia conversation) that it's just a question of whether Zag is worth her time, why is it positive that Zagreus's wistful response is to ask her if he is worth her time, then?

Let me start bringing in the became close relationship variant here, starting with the last line of it, because Meg's response to Zagreus outright stating that he wants to prove himself to her is emotionally very similar to her response to Zag asking her if he is worth her time. In both cases, she seems to... not soften, exactly. She seems taken aback. She sees Zagreus's desire for her approval and his vulnerability that he lays bare in front of her, and in both cases, her response is one of uncertainty. She wants time to think about it on her own. She has kept hardening herself in response to the pain of their earlier failure (not every relationship that doesn't work out is a failure but I am quite certain she felt this way about theirs, if only because she was supposed to shape Zagreus a certain way), she hardens herself verbally and defiantly right in front of Zag's damn face, and he answers with wistful vulnerability. She tells him he can't hurt her, and he answers with "OK. But do you care about me? Could you?"

I almost wonder if Zagreus's vulnerability makes Megaera ask herself the same questions that these conversations make me ask myself. That remark she makes, that she's not sure how she feels about Zagreus's insecurity--I wonder if she's seeing how she's contributed to it, and needs time to figure out how to respond more kindly. And not just "more kindly," but in a way that's better for him. In the became close relationship conversation variant, Meg starts off in a much better mood, and offers the approval that--as we've seen in the other variants--Zagreus wants so keenly. However, when he states that as an outright motivation, I think she questions that influence she has on Zagreus, and wavers on whether or not it's a positive one, and wants to withdraw to sort out... everything about that situation. It's not an emotionally vulnerable response, maybe, but I do get the sense that it's a compassionate one.

These two are not perfect. They're coming from a background of a relationship that was arranged for them with the explicit intention of forcing Zagreus to mature--a setup that implicitly (if Hades didn't go ahead and make it explicit which, lbr, he very possibly did) defines Megaera as more mature and therefore superior. That relationship fell apart--and how could it not, with a setup like that--and some time has passed, and now they're stuck in a loop of fighting each other to the death. It's not ideal! But they cared about each other, back during their first relationship. Zagreus outright tells us that he caught feelings. Megaera talks around the same admission--through the rigidness with which she tells Zagreus and herself that they can't return to the way things were, that it isn't possible; through her admission, when Zag says he wishes he could change how they started, that she too "wish[es] for a lot of things." They cared-past-tense and they care-present-tense, but they still have emotional habits from the past, from the imposed hierarchy of their first relationship, and even in the most positive variant of Meg's response to the darkness-free victory, even in some of their biggest steps forward, we see some of those habits rear their head. It's something they have to work on and will continue to work on, I think.

And it's not a hopeless process. One of the best in-game contrasts to this dynamic is (of all things) when Megaera notices that Zagreus has made it onto the Featured Houseservant board. She remarks that never in her wildest fantasies did she imagine that Zagreus would make it up there. Zagreus, I think, doesn't know how to respond to that--he picks up the "wildest fantasies" thread rather than the compliment, bless this horny little man--but Meg is undeterred and points out that he really should be proud of such an achievement. And I think this is the perfect solution to the dilemma that is Zag's desire for Meg's approval, because Meg's uncertainty over that, her sense that it's an insecure concern, is justified. So here, she's showing that she respects his achievement but emphasizing that it's something about him, something he can and should feel intrinsic pride over, rather than just taking pleasure in her extrinsic approval.

This has gotten long (oh god it has gotten long) so I think I'll wrap up here. One of the things I love about Hades is how it doesn't force relationships to be Suddenly Great Now That The Story's Over. Hades and Zagreus are still struggling to figure out a relationship that works. Persephone isn't sure she knows how to be Zagreus's mother. Meg's still not getting along with her sisters (although it has been brought to her attention that she is as culpable in their relationship as they are). I think this point of awkwardness between Zagreus and Megaera--their having to figure out a system of mutual respect where it has not been before--is another example of that pattern. And I think they've got a shot at it. I think they can pull it off.

[mrspettyferr]

Reason 1035235 Book 5 is Elriel and Book 6 is Vucien

With the way these books are being written, one stand alone after another with an overarching plot, then ACOSF would need to not only center on a romance, but set up the next one. They need to show progress in some form. And if we go back, the whole point of ACOFAS was to give a little fluff, but also to set up the next few books. (SJM herself said seeds were planted in ACOFAS for the spinoffs.)

Now, I actually want to dive into Lucien's romantic setup. So we're going to look at Lucien and Elain, and Lucien and Vassa.

FYI, this post will be very long, because I wanted to highlight most if not all of their the scenes.

For reference: Lucien and Elain, Lucien and Vassa

ACOFAS

Lucien and Elain

He hadn’t mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay, or to go. And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

- -

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle. No, she tended to her gardens here, silently mourning her lost human life. Mourning Graysen.

How Lucien withstood it, I didn’t know. Not that he’d shown any interest in bridging that gap between them.

- -

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to.

Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.”

I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.

- -

“She wants nothing to do with me.”

“Would you, if your positions were reversed?”

He didn’t answer.

- -

“Spend time with her.”

“I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.”

- -

“I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

- -

“He brought you a present.”

Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

- -

I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it.

“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.

Lucien and Vassa

But Vassa’s freedom would end. Lucien had said as much months ago, and still visited her often enough that I knew nothing in that regard had improved.

- -

“I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

- -

"I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

- -

“You’d be surprised to see how the three of us get along.”

Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends.

“So you’d rather stay with them?”

“I’m not staying with them. The manor is ours.”

- -

“That’s what we call ourselves. The Band of Exiles.”

- -

From these scenes, we essentially know Elain and Lucien have not progressed AT ALL. Elain still mourns Graysen, she wants nothing to do with Lucien, avoids him and is obviously uncomfortable around him.

Lucien on the flip side, isn't really trying to bridge that gap, but he's still hanging on and has some mate instincts regarding Graysen. He's not lost hope for her, but he's not really trying to push too hard either. (IMO out of respect, but also because of lack of interest beyond the bond.)

Conclusion: They're not being set up at this point. They haven't progressed, and his feelings technically aren't really genuine because it's not ELAIN he's interested in. It's his MATE. (Note, not his fault. Not blaming him for this. Just pointing out this is a more superficial "relationship" because its not based on an actual relationship, but a bond that neither chose for themselves.)

Lucien and Vassa on the other hand have made progress. They started off allies in war and are now friends. He's spent a lot of time with her, he's now living with her (and Jurian), and they have a name for themselves. He feels comfortable in the human lands with her and Jurian, unlike in the Night Court. (This is very important for Lucien's journey and I'll talk more about it in a second.)

Conclusion: Lucien and Vassa's relationship HAS progressed. It's moving forward, whereas Elain and Lucien are still stagnant. Friendship is a stepping stone in all of SJM's romances, so we can expect whoever Lucien ends up with, it will start with friendship. And at this point, Vassa is his friend, not Elain.

Now let's move onto ACOSF, because this is where SJM could turn things around, right? This is where she has to really start steering the ships in the right direction because the next books will focus on these relationships.

ACOSF

Lucien and Elain

There had been some tightness in Elain’s face as she’d said it. Normally when she made such excuses, Lucien was around, but the male remained in the human lands with Jurian and Vassa.

- -

“Why are you here?” Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. “Where’s Elain?”

“I am not always in this city to see my mate.” The last two words dripped with discomfort.

- -

Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien.

- -

Elain, the wretch, had taken the seat between Feyre and Varian, about as far from Lucien as she could get.

- -

He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings.

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Lucien and Vassa

“Lucien can’t be entirely trusted anymore.”

Cassian started. “What?”

“Even with Elain here, he’s become close with Jurian and Vassa. He’s voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend.”

- -

"So Lucien can’t be unbiased in reporting to us on Vassa.”

- -

Mor winnowed Cassian after sundown directly to the manor that had become home and headquarters to Jurian, Vassa, and—apparently—Lucien.

- -

Vassa rolled her eyes, then looked to Lucien, who sank onto the sofa beside Jurian. Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them.

- -

Both Jurian and Lucien stared at her, the former’s face utterly unreadable, and the latter’s pained.

- -

Vassa nodded. “It is all I have gleaned from my time enslaved to him.”

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

- -

“And Jurian and Vassa?”

“At each other’s throats, as they like to be,” he said, a tad sharply. She wondered what that was about—and for the life of her couldn’t read it.

- -

Elain and Lucien have still remained stagnant. Elain is even more uncomfortable--she sits as far away as she can, unlike in ACOFAS where she at least sat within talking distance--and she literally shrinks inward and loses her newfound boldness around him.

While Lucien showed disappointment and longing on Solstice, he's now showing actual discomfort, just like Elain. He's spending most of his time away, with Jurian and Vassa, and still isn't doing much to bridge the gap.

These two have, imo, sank further. They didn't just remain stagnant, they kinda backtracked even more. Why? Because at this point, we know Elain has seemingly gotten over Graysen and developed feelings for Azriel, and I think Lucien is developing them for Vassa.

We see a potential spark of jealousy regarding Jurian and Vassa. The manor isn't just theirs now--it's home for Lucien. (Something he was struggling with in ACOFAS, feeling like he had nowhere to go, no place to call home. Again, this is progress in their relationship but also in Lucien's journey. Remember, that's important.) It's pointed out that not only is Lucien voluntarily living with her, but he's so close with her that the Night Court doesn't think they can fully trust him to be unbiased on Vassa. Like he can't do his actual job because of her, and his relationship with her.

All of this is more progress on their relationship, emphasizing they've grown closer, he now has a home (with her and Jurian), and he's setting his target on Koschei, knowing she will have to return to him - THAT is all set up for his romance.

In conclusion, without even needing to dive into Azriel and Elain's progress over the series and obvious setup, we can see Lucien's journey has progressed with Vassa - his romantic setup is with Vassa. Not Elain.

And I didn't even go into the Swan Lake/Koschei parallels. But I'll just leave the post with this:

A bird of flame...and a lord of fire. I wondered if they’d found each other yet.

[willowcrowned]

Okay but has anyone considered Obi-wan/Cody/Satien (is that how its spelled?) Regardless, hes got two hands for his two mandalorians, the au where this happend is gotta be top notch ridiculous ye?

Okay thank you so much for giving me a reason to think about this, because this AU contains three things I adore: polyamory, ships where everyone is frighteningly competent, and Obi-Wan

In this AU, Ventress is somehow even less well-adjusted (bear with me). What this means is that, instead of taking a gap year and finding herself after her family is brutally murdered, she decides she needs to get revenge even more now. What does this mean? In the short term, she still becomes a bounty hunter, but in the long run? She’s looking for a Sith lord team up so she can punch Dooku (with a lit lighstaber) in his stupid, elitist, backstabbing face.

So when Maul invades Mandalore, what happens? Ventress comes right along, ready to give her ‘I know we hate each other, but consider teaming up to kill someone we both hate even MORE’ space TED talk. And though Maul may be terribly annoying, a closet theater kid, always in a tits out kind of mood, and denying his gay awakening, he’s not stupid. He knows Sidious is coming for him, sooner rather than later, and he knows he needs more people on his side than his (impressively beefy) brother. He and Savage agree to the team-up.

Cue Obi-Wan showing up, ready to save his sort-of girlfriend, and finding Pre Vizsla, who got REAL sus the second ANOTHER lunatic with a red lightsaber showed up, occupied by capturing Maul, Savage, and Ventress. 

Obi-Wan saves Satie, who convinces him to call Cody for a quick evac, and they’re running away, flirting, and arguing over shooting things (as usual), when they spot Ventress, Maul, and Savage, about to be executed.

Oh, they both think, hell no. And then, because they have a stupid moral code that makes them do stupid moral things, they go save them.

A little background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has been fighting in a war for over two years. He is exhausted, close to a breakdown, and seriously questioning his place as a General. Next to him at all times, supporting him, helping him, and saving him, is Cody, who is clever, kinder than he has any right to be, and is, of course, devastatingly handsome when he does his special, unique-to-Cody half-smirk.

Obi-Wan, to put it mildly, is totally gone on him. Obi-Wan also, to put it less mildly, is his commanding officer in an army that Cody can’t leave on pain of death. To do anything— make any advance beyond the flirting that he engages in with most people— would put Cody in a very uncomfortable position, whether or not he returns Obi-Wan’s feelings. So Obi-Wan watches him from afar, hoping against hope that his affections are returned, and that one day, after the end of the war, there will be a future for both of them.

A little more background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has always respected Satine. Their correspondence fell apart just a few months after the end of his mission with Qui-Gon, but he’s been keeping up with her professional accomplishments for years. Over time, the love he bore for her faded, leaving him with good memories and an enduring appreciation for her courage, her cleverness, and her ability to deliver devastating blows to someone’s confidence with a few well-placed words.

Until he sees her again. And yes, alright, he might be angry that she’s choosing to stay out of the war— he knows what good she could do— but he understands her fears, understands the very real possibility that if Mandalore gets embroiled in yet another war, they may never recover. The thing is... well, she’s still very beautiful, especially when he’s yelling at him, and as slowly as his feelings had faded then, they come back in a rush now.

He has very much fallen in love with Cody, and he is very much still in love with Satine.

Cut back to the present— Obi-Wan and Satine rescue the three most annoying Sith in the galaxy and get the heck out of dodge. Cody, because he’s Cody, comes swooping in with a last-minute rescue.

At this point, two things are occurring.

The first: Obi-Wan is stuck in a room with four people he’s periodically flirted with over the past few years, two of whom he’s desperately in love with, one of whom he had a weird encounter with that he can never tell Anakin about when she and him got trapped in a middle school auditorium, and one of whom is definitely wearing no shirt and all that jewelry for a reason. It is Supremely awkward for him.

The second: Every single person in that room, each of which is (barring Savage) deeply attracted to Obi-Wan, is realizing that Obi-Wan is dressed in Mandalorian armor, and while Obi-Wan in three layers of tunics and a cloak is an absolute knockout, Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor may very well kill them (and he won’t even have to touch his lightsaber to do it).

For one single moment, everything is absolutely still as they all stare at each other.

...And then Maul starts on the ‘I will rend your flesh from your bones, feel my wrath, Kenobarrgh’ spiel, and Satine stuns him. Oh, and Savage. Ventress agrees to watch the two of them if they don’t stun her, and Obi-Wan agrees.

Which then leaves him, Cody, and Satine in a room alone.

A word on Cody at this point: He has been bred from birth to be the perfect soldier— loyal, clever (but not too clever), and rigourously adherent to protocol. Yet, within three months of knowing Obi-Wan, he’s, well, calling him Obi-Wan in his head. Even just that is a gross breach of protocol, but he’s compromised in more ways than one. He talks to Obi-Wan, now, not just as a subordinate, or secondary advisor, but as a friend, as a councilor. Every time Obi-Wan touches him— never for longer than a brief second— his skin lights up under his armor. One time, Obi-Wan fell asleep on him for half an hour, and Cody’s was sure everyone would hear his heartbeat. 

What he’s doing— how he feels— he knows it’s putting Obi-Wan in danger, knows that if the Kaminoans had wanted to the clones to be equals to the Jedi, they would have told them so. And look, he knows what the natborns would call the way he’s feeling, but he can’t feel that way. He’s a clone— he’s expendable by definition. Even if, on some off-chance, he makes it out of this war alive, there’s nothing for him. Obi-Wan couldn’t care for him like that, couldn’t care for a man with the same face as millions of others, born and bred only for war. So it doesn’t matter how he feels.

A word on Satine at this point: Obi-Wan, when he left, was a gawkish, bumbling thing of red hair and freckles and the sweetest smile. Obi-Wan, when he came back, was graceful, eloquent, and very, very handsome. He is also infuriating. (This does not change how attracted she is to him in the least.)

She’s not a romantic, really, but she is a realist, and she knows she’s loved him in some form or another for over twenty years. She knows she can’t ask him to return it— knows that asking him to leave the order for her wouldn’t just be for her, it would be for Mandalore, and while the politician in her cries for her to claim him, the person in her who loves Obi-Wan could not abide tearing him away from his culture for her own purposes. She still loves him, deeply and irrevocably, and she knows he still loves her. (Maybe, she thinks, after the war... But she can’t afford to be sentimental).

What do Cody and Satine have in common? They’re both extremely competent, both instinctively ruthless, and they both love Obi-Wan. Oh, and they’re also both immediately jealous of their counterpart.

They know they shouldn’t be. They know it’s not fair, not when Obi-Wan isn’t theirs anyways, but it doesn’t change the surge of envy and dislike that happens when they see Obi-Wan use the soft voice he only uses for the people he likes best on the person across from them.

Cody knows he can never compare to the Duchess, who is beautiful and well-spoken and has held Obi-Wan’s heart since they were fifteen. Satine knows she can never compare to Cody, who has been at Obi-Wan’s side every second since the war’s beginning, who is so much closer in ideals to Obi-Wan than she is, however it might appear on the surface.

Fortunately, they don’t have to deal with it for long, because Ventress comes in with Maul and Savage and proposes a team up, at which point Maul reveals the identity of the Sith Master.

Obi-Wan swears a string of words that Cody and Satine are both very impressed by, and agrees to the team up. Cody and Satine, who are both going to Coruscant anyways, agree to it too.

What ensues is a good deal of scheming, during which Cody and Satine avoid each other like the plague, Obi-Wan is repeatedly told to get some sleep, and Ventress cuffs Maul to a door on multiple nonconsecutive occasions. When they get to Coruscant, Satine has already told Padmé, who has in turn told her group of anti-war (and anti-Palpatine) senators, Cody has given Rex a heads up, and Ventress, Maul, and Savage have been metaphorically sharpening their lightsabers for ages.

(It occurs to Obi-Wan, at one point, after he’s woken up from his enforced 25-hour nap, that Palpatine must have created the clone army for a reason— must have a failsafe in place— and he asks Ahsoka to pull all the data the Kaminoans have on the clones. They find out about the chips, and Ahsoka immediately immediately holds the Kaminoans at laser sword point until they reprogram every order into a command that dissolves the chip.)

The thing about organizing a coup together is that it makes it very hard to avoid each other. Cody and Satine are forced to work together, and, what do you know, it turns out that even with seething jealousy at work, they end up respecting each other. (Note: Obi-Wan comes into a room at one point to see them both bent over a commlink, heads together and hands nearly touching. He short circuits.)

In any case, coup, Palps dies, Republic fixed, whatever.

What’s important is that Obi-Wan gets really, really injured— so much so that he might die. Cody and Satine have dealt with him being dead before (Deception arc anyone?), but this? Watching him slowly fade, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it? That’s worse.

One night, when Anakin has fallen asleep, they have a long conversation in low voices about Obi-Wan, darting from fond to furious to devastated over and over again. If he wakes up— if, not when— they agree to say something to Obi-Wan, to let him know that they love him. It’s a meager consolation after all they’ve been through, but this is the end, in one way or another, and they deserve to be honest with him.

(Cody thinks, privately, that he will be— well, not tossed aside, because Obi-Wan isn’t the sort of person who does that, but there won’t be a place for him by Obi-Wan’s side anymore. Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a negotiator, a peacekeeper, and Cody is a soldier for a now-ended war. He is already steeling himself to accept Obi-Wan’s polite rejection with equanimity, to not cause more pain to the man. (It will be easy, he knows, to wish him every peace, every happiness. Cody has only ever wanted to see Obi-Wan happy. This does not mean it will not be painful.) Obi-Wan said once that he would have left the Order for Satine if she’d asked— she will ask, now, and Cody knows Obi-Wan will leave, can see the love written in his face, in his spine, in his hands, whenever he is around her. Satine will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Cody will be left to look for a place in this new galaxy.)

(Satine thinks, privately, that Obi-Wan’s feelings for her must be long faded, replaced by his obvious ones for Cody. Obi-Wan is a warrior, a Knight, and Satine is a diplomat who foreswore violence long ago. She is already steeling herself to accept his rejection with grace. (It will be easy, she knows, to wish him well. She has only ever wanted good things for him. This does not mean it will not be painful.) He said once that he would have left the Order for her if she’d asked, and whatever he’d felt then for her pales to what he feels now for Cody. Cody will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Satine will rule as she always has.)

And then Obi-Wan wakes up.

Cody and Satine let him have his long talk with Anakin first, partially because they know how important it is to him, partially because Anakin wouldn’t let them if they wanted to, and partially because they are dreading their own coming conversation. When Anakin has finished, and Obi-Wan is asleep again, they go in, hand-in-hand, and wait for him to wake up.

When he does wake up, he sees them holding hands and immediately comes to several wrong conclusions. Wrong Conclusion A: Cody and Satine are in love. Wrong Conclusion B: Cody and Satine are going to try to break the news that they’re in love to him gently. Wrong Conclusion C: This conversation is about to break his heart.

Then they speak.

At the end of it, Obi-Wan has some Thoughts. Thought One: alkdfjhskhsgjljlbhkgkjbjvnab,gkjvn;qlerghjsv?????!!!!fwbfwlkrehwogwhuwrijvhfdbhkf!!!! Thought Two: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thought Three: Oh, we’re all idiots. Fantastic. 

He then passes out, because being on the edge of death for days and then having a shock to your system this big tends to do that to you.

When he wakes up, he is mildly more coherent. Then he sees that Satine and Cody are asleep on each other, and the coherence is lost, but he does manage to wake them up and get across three things:

Thing One: He is desperately in love with them both.

Thing Two: He’s leaving the Order for a multitude of reasons, but they are a Significant Bonus.

Thing Three: He would very much like if they both held his hand while he falls back asleep.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s right hand, Satine takes Obi-Wan’s left hand, and the three of them stay like that, fingers intertwined, for a long, long, while.

[shorkbrian]

I’ve noticed a shortage of yan! Shoto :0 Whilst Kiri is my absolute fave, Todoroki needs some love too! Could I request some Yan! Shoto being absolutely touch starved and obsessed with a sweet, loving, motherly and smol reader? (it can be nsfw if you so wish!) Thank you!! (Btw, I love reading your stories, it’s a blessing in my day, even just looking at your shitposts/memes. And if you ever want to talk, jus say so. I hope you have a good day!! 🥺💞) - Sugar Anon 🧚‍♀️

Sugar anon! That is such a cute identifier and I hope to see you in my asks again!! Hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking!!!

It’s a very good concept btw cause like mhm him getting completely overwhelmed and overstimulated during diddly times cause he’s never had anyone be intimate with him.

Like moaning and his cheeks are flushed and oh

(Y/N) is a new doctor  at Shouto’s agency in charge of patching him up between missions and basically being his doctor. Shouto likes her gentle hands and soft touches, lets himself get a bit more scraped up then he would normally.  He’s just so touch starved and she’s so motherly and its such an intimate setting and he’s never had feelings like this before and he doesn’t know what to do.

Has yandere tendencies but tries to squash them down or hide them, tries to be normal.

One day gets hit with an aphrodisiac quirk, stumbles into her office and she’s immediately worried, once she figures out what’s up she tries to get out, lock him in there until someone stronger than he can come escort him home but he grabs her before she can get to the door. 

He’s crying cause he’s so horny it hurts (he’s never been this aroused in his LIFE) and he wanted everything to be perfect and he wanted to woo her but now he’s forcing himself on her and he can’t stop his hips from moving and he’s confessing all the bad things he’s done while he’s known her and she’s absolutely horrified, traumatized.

Warnings - NSFW, noncon, very hard noncon. Aphrodisiacs (spelling?) and a low-key weird comment about Shouto’s mommy-issues at the end. Dude is so twisted and sad and touch starved.

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“Todoroki-san, I have had to patch you up six different times in two days.”

Shouto cocked his head, staring at you with his bi-colored eyes, studying your face as you tended to the wound on his shoulder. The lilt to your voice suggested you were teasing, making small talk to distract the man as you swiped a disinfectant pad over the cut. You knew what you would be expected to do when you applied for this job, knew that heros were often injured. 

He had overseen the hiring process himself, his last doctor had left the agency for a job in a different country. Shouto held no hard feelings for the doctor, knew that as a hero he often got himself into trouble, needed a lot of attention and care. Not everyone could be expected to spend so much time with him, attending to his health - even if he was paying them a more-than adequate salary.

Most of the candidates had bored him when they came in for their scheduled interviews. Too many of them were looking at this position as a way to launch them into a nice comfortable position in a prestigious hospital. They seemed… uninterested, or too interested, some of the candidates invading his space when they came for a handshake, babbling about how much of a fan they were.

  You weren’t like that. There was a professional distance when you shook his hand, smiling at him pleasantly as you introduced himself. Then you sat down, waited for him and his team to begin asking you questions. Shouto couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to your hands, letting himself wonder whether those hands would be the right ones for the job. You looked so delicate, at least to him, a pro-hero.

But he already liked you better than any of the other candidates.

So you were hired, on the condition that you would be on a trial period for the first two months, with halved pay. It was still far above minimum wage, but Shouto was weary of hiring seemingly-normal employees only for them to turn out to just be trying to get to know him, whatever their reasons. The trial period was for his own sanity.

Currently he was sitting in your office, perched on the edge of the exam table tucked into the corner. Today he had managed to escape his most recent fight with only a few mild scrapes and bruises, but as his doctor, you needed to make sure he was okay, clean his wounds and patch him up before letting him go home for the day. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if one of the top pro heros collapsed on the job because of a lack of medical care. 

Your office was stocked with everything a doctor of your caliber could possibly need. Your “office” was really a mock hospital room, in a medium sized room located at the back of the agency. Having you on site meant that Shouto never had to bother with trips to the hospital, being swarmed by fans when he wasn’t feeling good or having someone who didn’t understand the capabilities of his quirk try to treat him.

It also meant he could relax, know that he was being taken care of. With you being so new, Shouto still had his guard up, ready for any-and-everything. So far you had been nothing but gentle.

You had hardly talked to him, other than the expected “This might sting” or “Deep breath in”. You warned him before you touched him,  but otherwise were very quiet, working diligently and professionally.  Shouto enjoyed it honestly, being able to step away from the buzz and hubbub of his agency and into his doctor’s office, where it was quiet and calm and peaceful.

Being with his mother had felt like this. Felt safe and refreshing and like a secret haven tucked away from the rest of the world.  

Clicking you tongue, you gave the pro hero a thumbs up as you stepped back. “Alright, you’re good to go! Please be safe on your way home Todoroki-san.” Shouto nodded, a stiff smile passing his lips as he rose to his feet. You were a good doctor, always took the best care of him.

“You as well Y/N.”

——

The next visit to your office revealed that you had added a few personal touches. 

A cheesy poster on the wall, directly across from the exam table, a single plant on your desk, A bowl of mini lollipops on the shelf by the door.

Cute.

Today was a short visit, just a quick once-over to make sure there weren’t any cuts or wounds that he hadn’t felt, the normal questions any quirks used against him during the day.  Shouto found himself wishing the visit had been longer as you gave him the all-clear,  moving away from the exam table so he could stand up. Before he walked out the door, you stopped him, silently handed him a lollipop. He took it,  noticing how soft your hand felt against his as he withdrew.

Shouto didn’t like sweets, but he didn’t mind accepting a lollipop from you. He could just offer it to his secretary when he passed her desk, no biggie. It was easier to do that than hurt your feelings by refusing.

Well, he knew it probably wouldn’t hurt your feelings.  He just liked seeing the little twinkle in your eye when he accepted it. He assumed the lollipops were a gag, something usually given to small children for being brave at their checkups.

He wasn’t your only patient, much as he would’ve liked. His agency had several other up-and-coming heroes, and several sidekicks, and you tended to all of them. Shouto liked to think that you saved the majority of your tenderness for him.

One time he had come in while you were setting one of the sidekick’s shoulders. You had asked him to sit down in your office chair, to give you a minute so you could finish up with his coworker. Shouto had done exactly that, watching as your soft hands gripped the sidekick hard, fingers digging in. 

“One, two, three.” You gave a countdown, forcefully jerking the shoulder back in place on “three”. The sidekick groaned at the pain, head shaking as if to clear his head from the intense sensation. You went over to your lollipop bowl, ignoring Shouto as he sat in your chair, returning to the sidekick to give him the sugary treat.

The sidekick sucked on the lollipop while you bandaged his arm into a sling, immobilizing it so it could heal. When you were done, you sent him on his way with a soft smile, before turning to Shouto.

“Todoroki-san, thank you for waiting.  How are you feeling today?”

Todoroki moved to the exam table when you motioned for him, immediately stripping off one of the boots of his hero costume.

“Hello (Y/N), it’s good to see you. I’m feeling good, got nicked by a spike during a fight today. Luckily it hit my ankle, and it’s not very painful.”

“Mm, let’s have a look.”

You kneeled down,  giving him a small warning before pulling his foot towards you, examining the tiny cut gracing his ankle. Shouto paused, closing his eyes as he relaxed at your touch. He didn’t remember the last time he felt this at-ease with another human. He didn’t know what it was about you; maybe your gentle, soft demeanor? Perhaps it was your kind touch, how you never pressed too hard and always respecting his personal space.  

Even as your fingers prodded at the cut, feeling the bone underneath, Shouto felt relaxed, content. He liked being around you, being with you. Even if the two of you hardly conversed. Maybe he could change that?

“(Y/N), how have you been finding working here?”

You looked up at him, bright eyes warm and kind. Shouto felt his chest tighten. “Oh, it’s very nice Todoroki-san! I hope I’m doing a good job attending to everyone.” With a smile, you returned to his ankle, producing an alcohol wipe from seemingly nowhere.

Shouto nodded, hands gripping the edge of the exam table. “I certainly appreciate your service. You have very tender hands.”  Just like his mom.  When he was younger, before his scare… Shouto remembered the care his mother would give to a scraped knee or a bump on his head. The soft touch, the kindness, the gentle hands - Shouto didn’t want to insult you by comparing you to his mother, so he stayed silent.

With a start, the man realized you were beaming up at him, wrapping a bandage around his ankle. He smiled back, felt his cheeks flush a little. What was this?

“Thank you! I know how important my patient is to the world.”

Ah, yes, his job. 

His job that he should probably getting back to.

Reluctantly, Shouto accepted the usual lollipop from your hands, wishing you would linger so he could feel the brush of your skin against his own.

Was he developing feelings for you?

——

It was a startling idea. Shouto never thought himself the type to have /feelings/ for someone else. When he thought of his future, it never involved another person. He didn’t want a family, didn’t want the opportunity to make the same mistakes as his father.

But as he gave the idea more thought, Shouto realized that he was feeling… something towards you. It was different to what he felt for Izuku, for Bakugou and Kirishima. He didn’t crave their touch like he did yours. Had physical contact always had such an appeal?

His last doctor had touched him, it was necessary of course to patch up his various wounds from fights. But somehow it wasn’t the same as when you touched him. 

Shouto spent each exam studying you, your features, the way you moved, how you almost skipped over to the lollipop bowl to retrieve him one at the end of the exam.  He felt drawn to you, wanted to touch your hair, hold onto your hand when you handed him the lollipop. Would you touch him if he asked? A hug maybe?

In his penthouse, Shouto mulled over his feelings, his wants and needs and how you fit in. Would it be prudent for him to start a relationship at this point in his life? Would you even consider him as a partner? No, probably not. You were much too professional, wouldn’t even think of starting a relationship with your boss. 

Maybe he could fire you.

No, no, Shouto couldn’t do that, it would make you hate him. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to see you as often. And Shouto was quickly becoming of the opinion that he wouldn’t mind seeing you more often than he did now.

He wanted more from you. He didn’t know what he wanted, but… maybe he could learn. 

——

If you noticed how frequently Shouto seemed to be visiting you, compared to his usual once-daily check up, you didn’t say anything.

Tabloids were beginning to comment on how eager the pro hero seemed to engage in hand-to-hand with villains. His usual strategy involved using his quirk, only getting his hands dirty if absolutely necessary. But now? He was constantly looking to get hit, kicked, clawed, wounded.

He had to come see you after every over-dramatic scrap with a villain.  You didn’t seem to notice, nor mind seeing his face pop around the door 3-4 times a day, sheepishly asking if you could patch up a new cut, check out a new bruise, make sure his nose wasn’t broken.

Shouto could feel himself falling, further and further into the rigid embrace of love, or at least, his version of it. Did other people experience attraction this vividly? 

He had come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to you, not just your body but your mind, your personality, your very existence.  He wanted to stay in your office, lingering after every visit and awkwardly attempting small talk just so you would interact with him, just so he could be with you a little longer. 

In the privacy of his own apartment, Shouto found himself researching on his laptop. “How to get the girl” “Ways to let her know you like her” “What does love feel like”. He felt so juvenile,  but the man was genuinely at a loss for how to deal with his feelings for you. Telling you outright wouldn’t be appropriate. You would never enter a relationship with your boss, Shouto knew this, you were too good of an employee. Flirting was not his forte, and was completely out of the question. 

So he stuck to what he knew how to do - keep his mouth shut and watch. You never turned him away from your office, never showed irritation when he showed up, never gave any sign that you were becoming tired of his presence. Shouto took this as an invitation, a sign that maybe, just maybe, you had feelings for him too. He found himself bringing his lunch down to your office, asking if he could eat there, just to get away from everyone for a little bit. You always let him, nonchalantly scrolling through your phone as you ate during your lunch break. 

Shouto was a bit embarrassed of himself when he pulled your file from the employee records. If anyone asked why, he would just tell them that he was considering giving you a raise, but wasn’t sure. That’s a valid reason to bring out an employee’s file, right? He just wanted to know where you live, if it was far from the agency. The man couldn’t stomach the thought of you, gentle, little (Y/N)  having to walk home alone at night, or take the train with all the creeps that could be there. 

When he came upon your address, Shouto made a note to ask if you’d like him to drive you home. It was at least a thirty minute drive, he didn’t want to think about how you usually got home. What if something happened to his doctor? When he broached the subject, Shouto thought he did pretty well at acting nonchalant.

“The weather’s getting colder, isn’t it?”

You nodded, wrapping gauze around a nasty gash on his calf.

“I feel bad for anyone who has to walk during the evenings.” He stated.

“Aw, it’s not that bad in my opinion.” You took the bait “I walk home from the train station every night and the weather isn’t awful. It’ll probably get nasty as winter comes though.”

“You have to take the metro to get home? Where do you live.” As if he didn’t know. But you’d recoil if he offered just yet, probably be weirded out that he knew your address.

“Yeah, I live over in the Shikuyu district. It’s a really pretty walk in the fall though, all those trees turning different colors.”

Shouto wrung his hands, taking a deep breath. “Let me drive you home tonight, there’s been some criminal activity going down over there and it’s not one of my sectors. I need my doctor safe.”

You tried to protest, and Shouto let you, but ultimately pulled the boss card, insisting that he needed to take care of his employees, especially one that he bothered so much.

“You never bother me Todoroki-san.” You laughed, dropping a lollipop into Shouto’s lap.

Shouto kept his face from souring, missing the usual contact of your gentle, silky-soft hands as you handed the treat to him. But it was fine, he would get more time with you. In his car, just the two of you, outside of work.

Then he registered what you said, and his head snapped up, eyes wide and roving over you as you turned away, cleaning up the exam table and messy supplies. 

It was all the confirmation he needed.

——

After the first time Shouto drove you home, you refused to let him go out of his way to help you out. Still, he was your boss and he could insist that you at least call an uber, or a cab. He didn’t feel comfortable sending his little doctor off onto the train every night after work. Shouto even upped your pay so you could afford it easier, saying there was no reason to be unsafe.

It was hard for him to know if he was being too suffocating.  He didn’t want for you to regret your statement about him never bothering you.

So he had his agency install new security cameras. 

One was placed in your office, where there hadn’t been one before. You weren’t too pressed when Shouto asked you what you thought of the upgrades, said you could see the sense in making sure the building was safe, especially the doctor’s office, where the heroes would be at their most vulnerable. 

Shouto agreed - he was always at his most vulnerable when he was around you.

But now he could stop letting his body take a beating in order to see you. He could sit in his office, busy himself with paperwork and have the security feed from your office pulled up on his laptop. Half the time Shouto got distracted, abandoning the paperwork in order to watch you work, treating sidekicks and heroes-in-training and anyone else the agency had hired. 

He tried to ignore the bitter pang of jealousy that reared it’s head.

Shouto knew jealousy, knew anger and negative emotions very well. His childhood had been littered with nothing but bad memories and negative moments. The only time he felt at peace was when he was curled in his mom’s lap, the woman running slender fingers through his bi-colored hair. Sometimes, when he was still very small, she would have the time to read him a story before bedtime. 

She was such an amazing woman. 

Shouto saw her in you.

The way you tended to him so gently, delicately treating his wounds. How you carded through his hair, just like his mom used to, when you were checking for head wounds. The way your lovely hands pressed against his back when you felt to see if a rib was cracked, rubbing each rib slow and soft, pressing. It was just like how his mom would rub his back.

The man swore your touch was addictive. He wanted more and more and more and he didn’t have a clue as how to get it.  Shouto had to be satisfied with fleeting brushes when he moved before you were ready, accidentally jostling you against his body. Or telling you (lying) that his body was hurting, sore, it didn’t quite feel right. You would do your best to check for any injuries, asking where it hurt (usually his torso “hurt”) and then skimming your hands very carefully over the skin there.

Shouto imagined how nice it would be to fall asleep with your hands on him. He wasn’t stupid.  He was getting too attached, too invested, was practically stalking your at this point. He shouldn’t be doing this, lying to you, watching you. But he didn’t know what else to do.

Guilt was beginning to take root in his mind.

One day he knew he would have to tell you, confess his feelings and deal with the outcome. You would accept him, hopefully. Shouto felt afraid for what he would do if you didn’t.

——

Shouto felt hot, disoriented, thirsty. He was pretty sure he was in your office, had gotten hit with a villains quirk during a fight. Apparently it had knocked him out, as he didn’t remember even coming into the agency.

Muffled voices could be heard past the closed door, and Shouto winced at the noise, at the light, at the feelings of his clothes against his skin. Everything felt  too much.  He stumbled off the exam table, yup, your office, and moved towards the light switch, stripping off his shirt as he did so. 

The voices outside were still making noise, but with the light off Shouto felt a little better. His remaining clothes were still bothering him. His head felt fuzzy. His boots came off, followed by his pants. He wanted to take off his boxers, but his rational mind supplied how bad of an idea that would be. What if you came in?

At the thought of his little doctor, Shouto’s stomach jolted in arousal. Confused, the man peered down, surprised to find himself completely hard in his boxer briefs. He knew he considered you very attractive, but it usually took a fair bit of stimulus before he found himself aroused. 

Shouto gulped as he climbed back onto the exam table, immediately curling onto his side towards the wall. He was practically panting with the heat of the room, sweating and drooling. Wait, drooling?

The door opened.

“Todoroki-san, I have bad news.”

Your voice was so sweet, like warm honey. Shouto shivered when he heard it, his cock twitching between his legs. He wanted to turn to you, stand up, pull you close. But he… he shouldn’t.

“You got hit by an aphrodisiac quirk. It’s going to take a bit to leave your system, and will probably be uncomfortable until then. I’m going to leave some supplies in case you would like to use them, but I will be taking my leave after getting you settled. The rest of your team and I have decided it’s safer for you to remain in this room than attempt to move you back home. We will be locking the door so no one can come in.”

And you can’t get out.

You didn’t have to say it,. Shouto heard you shuffling around the room behind him, he was so hot, sweat was beading all over his body.

“(Y/N), Why am I so warm?” Shouto groaned out, trembling. It felt like he was sick but with… arousal.

Objects were set down on your desk, before Shouto heard you step towards him.

“The quirk is going to make your libido hyperactive for the next twelve hours or so. It’s very likely that you will be aroused and craving stimulation.”

You sounded so clinical, so robotic, none of the usual warmth in your tone when you talked to Shouto. He wanted to whine, cry that you weren’t treating him the way you usually did.  And when he needed your help too! His rational brain was telling him that you were trying to be professional, give your mostly-naked boss privacy. 

HIs rational brain told him to stay still, wait until you left the room to grab whatever you had left for him on the desk.  It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back from grabbing your hands if he turned. He wanted to feel your hands on him, running over his torso, rubbing his back, cupping his cheek. He wanted your touch, so, so bad. 

Shouto decided it was time for his rational brain to shut up.

When he turned over, sitting up, you looked like a deer caught in the headlights, already halfway to the door.

“(Y/N)” Shouto rasped, rising to his feet unsteadily. The arousal pooling in his gut was overwhelming - he couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so hard.  His penis was so rigid that it hurt, throbbing in his boxers.

You took a step back, eyes trained firmly on Shouto’s face, determined to not let them stray below the belt.  

Shouto didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t rationalize any of it. The man wasn’t even in control of himself, feeling as if some demon from hell had invaded his body, taken his dirty thoughts and insisted that he act upon them right now.

The pro hero didn’t even know when he had grabbed you, but then he was pressing you up against his body and it felt so good that the man whimpered. A low, needy sound, softer than the spluttering and shocked noises tumbling from your mouth as you pushed against your boss, trapped in his grip.

“Todoroki-san! Please let go! The quirk-!”

Shouto didn’t listen, didn’t want to. He started grinding his hips against yours, breathing hard through his nose at the pleasure roaring into his veins at the simple contact, his dick pressing into your stomach. 

It wasn’t enough though, he needed more.

Shouto dragged you to the exam table, manhandled you up against the flat surface and bent you over despite your struggling, the shouts of “No! Stop!”. Should he stop? Probably. But he wanted this. Had ever since he realized that he loved you, although it hadn’t been this intense before. With one quick movement, Shouto pulled off your scrubs, discarding your underwear in the same movement. He wasn’t concerned about foreplay - he needed, he needed all of you right now.

But the man couldn’t resist falling to his knees behind you, hands moving their iron grip from your palms to your thighs. His fingertip dug into your flesh, dimpling up your skin as he leaned forward, your pussy exposed oh so prettily for him.

Shouto didn’t know if you were screaming or crying or begging for more. He was too focused on the juicy flesh in front of him, leaning forward quickly to greedily slurp at the pink slit. He felt you jump, try to straighten your back but he let his hold on his quirk weaken, simultaneously heating and freezing each thigh held in his grasp. 

You quickly resumed the position he had put you in.

The pro hero couldn’t get enough, licking and sucking with fervent desperation at your folds, no rhythm or technique whatsoever. He couldn’t think, not with his face buried between your legs, your thighs shaking in his hold, your sweet little cries (“Todoroki-san /please/! Stop!”) filling the air. 

It could have been seconds, or minutes, Shouto had no concept of what was happening, only that you were the best fucking thing he had ever tasted in his life, and he needed everything you had to give him. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to burying his face closer, trying to spread your thighs further and further so he could reach deeper into your puffy pussy.

Your cum gushed onto his tongue, and the man slurped it up, reveling in the stick, wet sensation. 

He couldn’t ignore his dick any longer.

Letting go of your thighs, Shouto stood, pushing his boxer briefs down his legs as fast as he could, desperate to sheath himself inside your cunt. He could barely breathe, was so aroused he was light-headed with need.

With his boxers off, the man pressed close to you again, lifting one of your legs to brace it on the table, forcing you to go on tiptoe. When the head of his dick met your folds, Shouto felt his cock jump, the strange sensation making butterflies rise in his stomach. 

“Mmhm, (Y/N) I don’t know-I don’t know what’s happening.” Shouto confessed, one hand on your hip, the other guiding his thick cock into your pussy. “You just-oh, you look so good, always - always do. I need to feel - need to feel you so bad.”

He could feel your body trembling, and it briefly crossed his mind that you were probably crying. But his arousal slammed into him like a truck the moment he let his hips twitch forward, sliding his length into your wet pussy. “Oh god, oh-oh god, oh!”

Shouto came, crying into your neck, saliva dripping from his mouth and onto your heated flesh.

To his surprise, his dick was still hard, and the arousal was still pushing, urging, needy.

“(Y/N), I don’t - I’m so sorry.” Shouto stuttered, pulling back just to have his hips plunge forward again. You were so warm, so wet from your own orgasm and from his cum sliding inside you. It was heaven. 

Shouto had never touched, nor been touched this much in his entire  life. He didn’t know what to do, how to feel; it felt like his brain was on fire, and with each desperate snap of his hips, he was throwing on more and more gasoline. He had longer stamina this time, pounding you into the edge of the table for what felt like forever until his hips stuttered, his legs shaking as he orgasmed inside you.

When Shouto felt himself steady, he was horrified to find himself /still/ aroused. “I’m sorry (Y/N), This isn’t - I didn’t want to do it like this.” He was crying as he rutted against you, tears dripping hot onto your back. “I’ve been trying to be perfect, plan - plan dates, a relationship, anything, as long as it’s you.”

The man buried his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling raggedly. “It can only ever be you.”

His clarity was returning, each orgasm making him feel less and less feverish. At this point, his cock hurt, and he was too sensitive, but still, his hips wouldn’t stop. 

“I was going - going to ask if we could go out.” A lie, but it felt like the right thing to say. You were definitely crying underneath him, Shouto would be lower than trash if he didn’t try to comfort you. You didn’t need to know that the pro hero would rather have made you his home-doctor than ask you out. That way you’d be at his house, waiting for him, just like a pretty little wife, like a mother.

“I love you… think I always have.”

It felt good for Shouto to admit it out loud.

[thepeakygurl]

Well I'm here. I wanted to tell you what a sucker I'm for some good fluff Tommy Shelby fluff..

I had this idea at the back of my mind where the Tommy married the reader as a formality because Polly had been constantly nagging him to get Charles a mother.(Like after Grace dies). Now he makes it clear that he cannot give her "love" and she should not expect it but she should be a dutiful wife (I know, patriarchy) and take care of Charlie. Reader decides to give the marriage a try.. and thinks it's not always love that builds marriage. As long as Tommy keeps her safe, it's fine.. It's only when the reader gets pregnant with Tommy's kid, the way her body starts changing, Tommy's heart starts changing as well and he starts falling in love with her as her pregnancy progresses..

I'm sorry if this is too much. 🙊🥺

A/N: I’m so in love with this one, I really, really hope you like it!🥺 thank you for requesting this amazing piece✨ honestly this one gave me so much life that I could wrote a whole series out of it!

Another Day

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,834

When Grace died, Thomas knew that a part of himself went with her. Part of his heart and his capacity of loving followed the woman who owned that same heart into the abyss of death. And he was fine with it, the only reasonable thing to do was to let his heart rest next to his beloved wife, that was alright with him.

Everyday that went by Thomas felt as his life were slowly drowning into a whirlwind of inconsolable sorrow. Nevertheless, he was trying his best for Charlie and he was darned proud of how such a sweet boy he happened to become. So mannered and so caring that sometimes he almost failed to believe he was his son, this was his only spiral of joy. Every time Ada would come around with Karl, Charlie wouldn’t help, but ask about his mommy and why him and daddy were always alone. And he was right, Thomas and Charlie were always going to be alone in a way, that thought was so dreadful and achingly painful that one morning he did what he had to do. Polly spent the last few weeks begging him to meet the daughter of this friends of hers, single and behaved, What more could you ask for? Polly would always end up saying. A question he would have promptly answer with Grace.

The first time he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t help but think how pretty you were. He was a man with pride, but he also had eyes and he would never say something that he doesn’t mean so he said it “You are a very beautiful woman” in a tone so cold and unemotional that made you laugh, clearly he was forced into this meeting as well. Marriage was the last thing in your list: Travel and study the art of painting that was your dream and see it being crushed by the economical need of your family almost crushed you a well. Being the respectful and obedient wife of Thomas Shelby was never part of your plan, but you weren’t selfish enough to say no and let your family sink in debt. And while Polly was taking your mom’s arm and pulling her aways from you two for some intimacy, you look at time a stare that he didn’t give back and said “Next time be more convincing.”

The wedding came soon enough, everyone on your side of the family was happy, excited and hopeful for the future that this union would bring. The Shelby’s on the other side, they weren’t allowed to celebrate as this wasn’t a marriage of love, but need. A small wedding, no reception. You never really thought about marriage, but somehow it made you sad how so careless this man was. How cruel he was to care so little about something that for you could have a meaning.

On the night of your wedding Thomas didn’t talking much, if anything at all. Some candles were lit on the side of the bed, they smelled nice you remember, but nothing could ease up the tension in that room. You in your night gown standing in front of him as he close the door behind him while he enters the room. His eyes locked in yours but it’s hard to tell whether he wants this or it’s just a duty. A step after another he finally was in front of you, so close that he could easily hear your heart racing on your chest. His hand slowly reached your cheek and he smiled a small imperceptible smile “Love is a tricky thing. From this night on I will respect you, protect you, but love...” he eyes were now somewhere else, they were still looking at you, but you could tell they were elsewhere. That was enough for you, or so you thought.

Time passed and the only thing that made those miserable day bearable was Charlie. You saw in him a lot of Thomas, but there was also a side of him that you didn’t quite get, probably from his mom. Grace a woman that was still an important presence in the house, in their life. Charlie would sometimes stare at the paint of him, Thomas and Grace and would point and her, asking where she is. You would then proceed to sit next to his and point at his chest close to where his heart his “She is here. She’s in here everyday, even if you don’t see her” you would say smiling at him. She was beautiful, so beautiful and so much loved that you would pity yourself, a resentment that caused you to be sickened by yourself, at some point in time you realised that you started to compete with the death and that feeling brought so much shame that you decided it was time to get back at your art. So you did, painting and looking after Charlie. When the Sun would disappear in order for the Moon to gloriously take its place, Thomas would come home, sometimes even later than that. He would kiss Charlie on the forehead, then he would smile at you. After all expectations, Thomas had no problem in engaging in a conversation with you, however he never talked to you as his wife, more like a newfound acquaintance and that again was alright with you.

Then one day you found out you were pregnant. You had all the signs, morning sickness, late period, body changing, but a part of you didn’t want it to be true. You were so afraid of bring to Earth a creature that was not made out of love that you took quite enough time to tell Thomas, the enough time it took you to start showing and made it impossible for you to hide it longer. Your heart was racing as fast as the horses that Thomas so much loved, when one night he grabbed you by your hand and pulled you closer to him, not a moment of love, but a need. And while a hand slowly caressed your arms, the other was finding his way under your night gown but stopped as soon as he felt your stomach. Surprised as it was he went from looking at your body to staring at your face, while you were nervously biting your lips “I’m pregnant” you said in a whisper. His hand fell down as soon as those words left your mouth and he quickly stepped back. He didn’t want another child, not like this, but he was not going to say it. In fact he didn’t say anything and went to bed.

Weeks after that Thomas didn’t touch you, or talked to you. He even barely looked at you. He felt as if he was betraying Grace, as this baby could bring an end to the connection he had with her. He wasn’t ready for any of that, but neither were you and so the hostility between you two grew. Charlie however was super excited to have a little brother or sister. Seeing his son so excited about the news made him think that maybe that was such a bad news, after all that’s what he wanted for the both of them, not being alone.

And the baby was growing, strong as ever. Polly and Ada started to come visit more and you liked that, that made you feel less alone.

“Don’t worry he will come along someday” Polly would always say to you and you would always smile repeating yourself that you didn’t need his love, that this was a marriage without love, but now with this baby inside you, you couldn’t help but thinking if he was ever going to love your baby.

Thomas was now at home more often “I do not have so many employees for nothing now eh?” He would say every time you would wake up in the morning and see him already on his feet preparing Charlie for the day. The truth was that Thomas knew you had trouble sleeping since the baby, he woke up sometimes during the night to see you walking around the room while moaning in pain. He knew how stressful it could be to not having enough sleep, carrying a baby and providing for another one, so he decided to stick around for a while. Seeing your daily routine, how you would play with Charlie, sit in front of the painting of hi late mom, telling him those kind word and seeing you meticulously give time to your own passion, that did something to him. Perhaps it was just time what he needed, perhaps love was something that he could feel again, because now every time he looked at you, he felt alive again.

“What now? Are you going to do the laundry as well?” You jokingly said while you were having breakfast.

He looked and you and chuckled “No, I pay other people to do that. But you are more than welcome to do it yourself, it’s money that I can save” and as he saw you rolling your eyes in response he smiled “I got you something” he said talking a little bag under the table and placing it in front of you.

You almost gasped in surprise, Thomas Shelby caring to waste a bit of his time to buy you something? Not even your birthday made him turn around like that. You were almost scolding yourself out loud for how much you were smiling at that gesture. You carefully opening the bag to reveal a pair of white baby shoes, the most precious thing he could ever get you. Thomas looked at you with the same big smile that was on your lips and he hold your hand, he didn’t say much after, but your hand on his meant something for the both of you.

You gave birth to the most beautiful and precious baby girl. Polly and Ada were at tears when they first saw her and you could tell to have seen even Arthur shredding some tears and being scolded by John. You even shredded some tears. The love that you thought you couldn’t get and that you were never going to experience, it was all there in this tiny little girl. Charlie was absolutely in love with her, so much that it was hard to convince him that he was to big to sleep in the crib with her. You were looking at your baby girl, sleeping peacefully and there it was, the most beautiful piece of art you ever made. While this thought slid through your mind, Thomas wrapped his arms around your waste in a hug from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and he smiled looking at his daughter “So darned beautiful” he whispered while looking at her, he was completely astonished and happy, so darned happy. “You both are” he then said holding you a bit tighter than before and this time, you believed him.

[let-them-read-fics]

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders. 

"...Y/N." 

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly. 

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." 

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you." 

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship. 

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement. 

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was. 

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy. 

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere. 

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today. 

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again. 

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer. 

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter. 

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded. 

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her. 

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return. 

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke. 

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life. 

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit. 

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast." 

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person. 

"You're too good to me." 

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time. 

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head. 

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond. 

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." 

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this." 

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you. 

"Okay." 

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in. 

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care. 

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy." 

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over. 

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips. 

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes. 

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again. 

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again. 

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics. 

-------

The Second Anniversary 

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction. 

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Come on, let's go inside." 

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house. 

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today. 

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us." 

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there. 

"Okay, we'll be there." 

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return. 

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much." 

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter. 

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now. 

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something. 

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other. 

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone. 

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely. 

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend. 

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh. 

She always was a sucker for happy endings.