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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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I’m Here For You

Pairing: teen!Loki x female teen!reader (platonic) Summary: Loki comforts you when he finds you crying over school. Warnings: none :) A/N: Here you go nonny! In my head the reader has a tiny crush on Loki, but this can be read as an entirely platonic relationship. Hope you like it :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Reincarnations were a pesky business, really. Loki had been through it more than enough times to know. Unfortunately, his latest one didn’t go exactly as planned, and he’d ended up a kid. It wasn’t all bad, though, as now he had happy childhood memories. He still had the old, haunting ones too, but he no longer viewed youth with nearly so much disdain.

For the past number of years, he’d been living in the Tower with Tony, who he called his uncle but really was more of a father to him than Odin ever was. Thor dropped in fairly often too, and their brotherly bond seems to have benefitted from the little reset Loki went through.

Life on Midgard was different than Asgard, especially when he wasn’t being raised as royalty. Admittedly, he enjoyed the more laid-back life. He took walks in the parks, hung out with friends, went to the mall, and attended school just like everyone else. Ok, maybe not exactly like everyone else, considering he did still have thousands of years of knowledge.

Anyway, he was in his last year of high school, with only a few months left before graduation. Most of the people he knew were obsessing over their next step in the journey of life: college. Not him, though. For once, he was living for himself, and decided to take a gap year. College would still be there after. That is, if he wanted to go at all. Again, he did still have his old memories, so maybe he’d never even feel the need to. Maybe he could just travel the world helping others or work with Tony in the lab. Either way, he wasn’t in any particular rush to figure it out.

Loki was about to head into the renowned Tower he called home when he swore he heard sobbing coming from somewhere. He shoved his keycard back into his messenger bag and walked around the small campus to where he thought the sound was coming from. Stopping in front of some bushes, he saw the outline of a girl hunched up into herself through the leaves. The young god cleared his throat to alert her of his presence, which prompted her to quickly stop making noise. Though, he still could see her body convulsing from the now stifled sobs.

Sighing, he sat on the ground. “Hey, is everything alright back there?” No reply. Maybe it was more than just embarrassment stopping them. Maybe they also weren’t supposed to be here. He decided to try to lighten the mood with some playfulness. “You know, Tony doesn’t mind people being on the campus, but I gotta warn you, he’s kind of cheap with tissues he buys. I’m thinking of getting a handkerchief. What do you think? Is it possible to make me look any dorkier than I already do?”

That earned him a light chuckle. “You don’t look dorky at all. Like ever.”

He startled and said your name, not having realized it was you back there, but recognized your voice. “Is that you? Hang on, I’m coming back.”

You were Stark’s newest prodigy intern. He’d started the program a few years ago, giving some kids an inside look and experience in the tech field. This year, your application had been chosen out of thousands. You were a bright teen, so it made sense to Loki. He’d talked to you a few times before, but the conversations were incredibly short as you were extremely shy, barely even lasting two full minutes. Still, he’d been sure to give you a wave and a smile when he came across you, but it didn’t really ever do anything to help you out of your shell.

After crawling through the greenery, he plopped down next to you in the small, squished space between the bushes and the building. You’d scooched over a little so there would be room for him. He hated the way you were still holding in your cries.

“It’s alright. Just let it all out, ok?” he hesitantly said. That seemed to be all the encouragement you needed before your tears took over again. Slowly, so you could pull away if you wanted to, Loki wrapped you in a hug. When you calmed down, for real this time, he finished rubbing a last few large circles on your back before pulling back a little to look at you. “Feeling better?”

You nodded. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” he parroted back in question. His thumb caught one of the last tears trickling down your cheek. “Whatever for? There is no need to apologize for having emotions.”

“Your shirt,” you sniffled.

He looked down to see it was, in fact, wet from your tears. He just shrugged. “I’ve got more. Besides, it’ll dry.”

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“No worries, kid. Want to come in now? I could make you some tea or coffee or hot cocoa or whatever. Name it.”

“Can I have some cocoa? I-if it’s not too much trouble,” you mumbled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Of course! And you know I was kidding about the tissues, right?” he chuckled, fishing a pack out of his bag.

Once you’d cleaned yourself up a bit, the two of you crawled out from your hiding place, Loki offering his hand to help you stand. Then he led you up to the kitchen to get your drink. Tony would have had no problem with you using the kitchen—or any of the rooms in his home, really—but you were too nervous to overstep and never actually did. You were both seated with mugs of the thick, steamy, chocolaty liquid before Loki tried to find out what was wrong.

“So. What’s up?” he began.

“Oh, nothing. I’m fine,” you replied with a falsely bright smile.

“Kid, I know a thing or two about crying. You’re not fine.” You ducked your head in shame, and he was quick to clarify himself. “And that’s not a bad thing! You’re human, you have human emotions. No one’s ok one hundred percent of the time. And... And you don’t have to talk about it, but maybe you should. It might make you feel better. So, if you want to, I’m here.”

“It’s stupid,” you shook your head with a wry laugh. Your lip was quivering, more tears threatening to spill. “School is stressing me out.”

“That’s not stupid, it’s how you feel. And, might I add, it’s perfectly understandable and valid. I mean, not only are you trying your best there, but you also come here every day for your internship. Norns, you must be freaking Supergirl or something.”

You chuckled at the colloquial from his home world. “I dunno about that now. It just... It seems like no matter what I do, I’m not good enough. I don’t have the best grades, or the most friends, or the prettiest looks, or the greatest anything, really. Ugh, it all just feels so pointless sometimes.”

“You know what? You’re right. It does all feel pointless. But it’s not. Don’t get me wrong, school doesn’t measure how smart you are; it measures how good you are memorizing stuff and taking tests. Which is incredibly frustrating! But it helps you explore some subjects and have fun with the friends you do have. The most important thing it does, though, is teach you perseverance. Like we said, school’s hard. But you keep trying, no matter what. And I see a smart, talented, beautiful young girl before me. Your feelings are valid, but don’t let them consume you. Trust me, you have a lot to be proud of.”

Loki picked at his nails while you stared at your mug, mulling over his words. He worried he said something wrong or overstepped in some way, but he’d been where you were not too long ago.

“Thank you,” you finally said. “I don’t think I can just fix everything overnight, you know? But what you said really does mean a lot.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Loki responded with a warm, friendly smile. He took a swig of his own drink, choosing his next words carefully. “No one should expect you to fix anything that fast. As long as you’re trying, you’re doing something right. A lot right, actually. You deserve breaks too. And if you ever need someone to vent to or whatever, I’m here.”

“Thanks again. And I’m here for you, too.”

He gave you a natural, lopsided grin as the two of you exchanged numbers. He was glad to see you were much more at ease, though still considerably shy with him. Still, he could imagine you becoming more bold as your friendship blossomed. You timidly ducked your head when Tony walked in.

“Oh no. You better not be turning her to the dark side,” Tony teased as he made himself a cup of coffee. “I’ve had enough pranks for a lifetime.”

“Relax, Uncle Tony. I haven’t recruited her for any mischief... Yet,” he joked back with a wink in your direction, causing you to giggle behind your hand.

“Whew, that’s a relief. Well, if you two aren’t plotting my untimely demise, feel free to head to the lab whenever you want, kid.”

“Actually, I’m good to go now, Mr. Stark.” You stood up and grabbed your bag from beside your chair where you’d left it earlier. “Bye, Loki. Talk soon! And, uh, thanks again.”

With one final smile, you scurried off to your destination. Loki smiled back and waved as you left, feeling some sense of hope and direction bloom in his chest. You’d given him an idea.

“Hey, Uncle Tony. I was thinking, how would you feel about another Stark Industries youth program?...”

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kulaykape · 3 years

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Ina Kingsley x MC: Baby Kingsley(s)

Summary: Aliyah thinks Ina was born 32 years old or something. Ina proves her wrong with a photo album.

tags: @sakaily @samanthadalton @citybornchick @domakir @kaitlynliaofanxx @justtryingtofillthevoidxx @thedaft1 @jenxespinoza @astrangeandunusualgirl @nydeiri @thepotatobleh @hellyeah90sbaby @ikingsley @loyalshrimp

---

Not all the time. Just every now and then.

That was how often Aliyah made "you're old" jokes at Ina's expense. They were funny (to her, at least), but admittedly cheap. And the completely unappreciative look on Ina's face every time urged Aliyah to be a little more nice.

But sometimes the opportunity was just there, and Aliyah couldn't help herself.

She looked up as Ina stood from her desk and stretched, as she'd been sitting there for quite a while. Ina let out a groan as she stretched her back, and then rubbed it with a small grimace.

Aliyah looked up over the edge of the book she was sifting through, and bit her lip. Don't do it Diaz, she's tired, she thought.

…But she just couldn't help herself.

"Pull your back, Professor?" She asked.

Ina glared at her. Age was one thing that was a definite button for Ina. "I was just stretching," she said.

Aliyah hummed as she flipped through the book. "Remind me to bring female Viagra next time I go to your place," she said off-handedly.

"Ali!"

Aliyah broke down into laughter. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," she held her hands up, "I don't know why, but sometimes I feel like you were born 32 years old."

Ina pouted. "What is that even supposed to mean?" She asked. She had no idea, but it sounded like an insult.

"I don't know, it's just-" Aliyah had to pause to giggle a little bit. "I can't imagine you any younger." Before Ina's face could detonate, Aliyah quickly added, "O-or older! I don't know why."

Ina paused to think for a moment, rapping the desk with her pen. After a moment's thought, she moved to the mammoth bookshelf behind her desk and reached up to pull something off of the higher shelves. Even in high heels though, it was just out of her reach.

It was honestly a little adorable to see Ina standing on her tip-toes, stretching one struggling arm while flailing her fingers hopelessly. Aliyah knew Ina was not going to ask for help, so she sat back and watched her struggle for a very amusing moment.

"You alright there, Professor Fun-Size?"

"Stop with your jabbing quips!" Ina exclaimed, shooting Aliyah a very upset pout.

"Ask for help, babe."

"No," Ina said stubbornly, turning back to the shelf to try and reach the unreachable. Aliyah only intercepted when Ina started to reach for her chair, which was on wheels, as if she were going to stand on it.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Aliyah stood up and put a hand on Ina's shoulder, "You're gonna hurt yourself. Which one?" She looked up at the shelf.

Ina seemed to struggle just getting the words out, each syllable an attack on her own pride. "The leather book in the middle…"

Aliyah stood on her toes and swiped the book off the shelf with a smile. Ina avoided her eyes as she took the book from her. "You know, women can shrink up to two inches as they age-"

"Aliyah Diaz, you are asking to be bent over my desk and spanked."

Aliyah scoffed. It was getting harder and harder to fluster her, Ina realized. "Don't threaten me with something I'd thoroughly enjoy," she replied.

Dammit, Ina thought.

"That book looks old," Aliyah commented, looking over Ina's shoulder, "What's it about?"

"Actually, it's my way of proving a point to you," Ina replied as she opened it.

Immediately, Aliyah's entire demeanor changed. "Awwww!" She exclaimed, "Baby Ina!" And Aliyah was one hundred percent sure it was indeed baby Ina because the words 'Little Ina, 9/12/90' were written in chicken scratch under it.

"See? I was young once," Ina said with a small smile.

"And absolutely adorable too, what happened to you?" Aliyah took the not-book out of Ina's hands to get a better look at her face. She had shorter, more curly hair than now, and was wearing a little sheep-printed onesie. "Oh my god, your baby cheeks are so cute, I wanna pinch them!" If Aliyah was any less prideful, she would've squealed.

Ina chuckled, shaking her head. "What, you don't like the way I turned out?"

Aliyah looked back up at Ina and was quickly reminded that yes, the woman that baby had grown into was quite beautiful. She gave Ina a small smirk. "Now don't put words in my mouth." She turned back to the book, "Now let's see about the rest of this." She flipped through the next several pages of baby pictures with dramatic aww's and a look of tenderness in her eyes.

"Why did you shove a lego up your nose?" She asked. There was a very unflattering picture of four year-old Ina in the infirmary thrown in there.

Ina grumbled, hiding her bashfulness behind a whiskey glass (how fitting). "I wasn't the brightest toddler, okay?" She muttered.

"Not hard for me to believe."

"Hey-"

Aliyah continued flipping until got to a school picture of middle school Ina, about thirteen years old. "Oh my god, you are adorable." And she was.

Ina laughed in embarrassment, covering her face as Aliyah committed this little pubescent version of Ina to memory. Everything, from the bright grin and bulky braces, to the messy ponytail and acne just screamed 'I'm a little nerd who will one day grow into a bigger nerd'.

"God, your teeth were ruined to hell."

"Well again, I think that face turned out just fine," Ina retorted, sharing a smile with Aliyah.

Aliyah chuckled as she continued to turn the pages. There were pictures of pre-teen Ina performing in the school play, winning the spelling bee, and standing with a huge volcanic science project that had a blue ribbon on it.

"Okay, yeah, you were an adorable little nerd," Aliyah said, "And I totally would've bullied you."

A look somewhat like discouragement crossed over Ina's face. "Really?" Aliyah grinned.

"No, not at all," she laughed, "We would've been friends. I would have offered you cigarettes and you'd say no." She grinned. Ina's eyes widened for a second, then she threw her head back and laughed.

"You… and cigarettes…"

"I was a bad girl," Aliyah grinned devilishly.

Ina's smile seemed to widen. "Oh, you still are," and she pounced.

Aliyah yelped as Ina trapped her against her desk, and started peppering kisses down her neck. She sighed as Ina ran her nails lightly down her back, then her ass. Her hands came to clasp around the back of Ina's neck-

Clatter!

Aliyah cursed as the journal fell to the floor, open to one of the back pages. She looked at Ina apologetically before bending down to pick it up (Ina's hand still on her butt, of course, where else would it be?). She paused to look at the page it'd opened to.

…And she couldn't help but frown a little bit as she studied the picture.

Ina was smiling, make no mistake. Widely. And the graduation cap she wore might've had something to do with that. Aliyah read the note beneath it: 'Columbia Grad School Graduation 5/13/15'. But something was off.

Aliyah knew Ina's real smile. It was as wide as in the picture. But the corners didn't crinkle, and her subtle dimples didn't indent her face. And that mischievous little canine wasn't even peeking out from beneath her lip.

Aliyah frowned as she looked at Ina, who had been watching as if holding her breath.

"Why aren't you happy in this picture?" Aliyah asked softly.

Ina opened her mouth, denial on her tongue, but then she sighed. "Let's just say… the timing of graduation wasn't particularly good," she said.

Aliyah's look intensified.

"…My girlfriend at the time had just broken up with me," Ina spat the words out quickly, as if they didn't come out quick enough, she'd choke on them. She chuckled a bit. "Rest assured, she's nothing compared to you-"

But Aliyah shook her head. "That's not the point," she put down the book and pulled Ina into her arms. For a moment, Ina was slack in her embrace before remembering herself. "Was it her?" Aliyah asked, voice tickling Ina's ear.

After a beat, Ina nodded. The one. The one Ina had talked about in fragments.

Catching her cheating here. Trying to fix it with a proposal there. A mess all-around that made Ina, in her formative years, look like more of a fool than she would've liked Ali to perceive her to be.

This train of thought wasn't lost on Aliyah, though. She caressed Ina's hand gently, raising it to her lips to coax her out of her thoughts.

Ina looked up, and was met with a smile.

Aliyah's eyes, burning and heated at the moment, stared into hers. "I'd never do that to you," she said softly.

Ina bit her lip as she searched Aliyah's eyes for the lie. Then she tilted her head in a nod, eyes shining with a smile. "I know you wouldn't."

"I'll love you better than that, I promise."

Ina grinned slightly, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. "I know you will."

Before either of them could explode from the heart eyes they were making at each other, Aliyah cleared her throat and looked away, fiddling with the photo album again.

"You were really cute as a kid, you know," she said, an edge of shyness to her voice that made Ina smile. Aliyah chuckled, "I hope our kids look like you then, 'cause I was an ugly baby-"

…Shit.

Aliyah's eyes widened, like she expected Ina to drop kick her in the face for saying that. She ducked her head, fidgeting with the photo album as Ina smiled affectionately at her.

"I-I mean, they probably won't since I'll be carrying them- w-wait, I didn't mean it like that, that came out wrong- mmf!"

Aliyah let out a muffled yelp as Ina grabbed her by the hips and pulled her into a breathless kiss. Ina's hands tangled in her hair, and her lips devoured her own passionately. Aliyah groaned slightly as Ina lifted her up onto her desk, and pressed even closer to her.

The kiss broke off with a gasp, Aliyah panting slightly while Ina stroked her cheek.

"Wha…" Aliyah struggled with the words, "What did I… do to deserve that…?"

Ina smiled, and pressed Aliyah's forehead against her own. "You just made me a very, very happy woman."

~end~

#queen b #ina kingsley #professor kingsley #ina x mc #aliyah diaz

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daydream-believin · 3 years

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styrofoam cup give me strength

summary: you’ve not had a valentine’s date since way back when it was invented in the 14th century. you’re still bitter. and douxie asking you to come over to help him with his date is not making it better

warnings: swearing, alcohol

word count: idk i’m on mobile it’s not too long i don’t think

a/n: i wrote this while groggy. lol i just wanted something out this week. 1/3 valentines fics done. bone apple teeth yall

- it’s feb 14, valentine’s day, and you are once again spending it alone

- you thought for sure moving to a new town would help you better your chances at a successful love life

- but alas you have been in arcadia oaks for two years now and you are still without a valentines date

- you cursed this wretched holiday, always mocking you in your singleness

- it was stupid, and commercial, and made up anyway

- that didn’t stop you from looking spiffy tho

- look, the stupid lovey dovey couples that come in the restaurant tip way better when you’re dressed on theme

- it was just smart okay,,

- ngl you kinda felt like spongebob when pearl took over the krusty krab

- but that’s okay :D

- and all those cheeseball couples you served were just oh so cute, didn’t make you want to cry at all

- or at least go lie in a ditch, contemplating your life choices

- it’s okayyy :D :D

- stars, as soon as your shift is over you’re hitting up the bar across the way from your place

- time to drown out them sorrows am i right??

- actually, now that you think about it, your friend douxie asked you if you could make a quick swing by his place before you began drinking yourself into oblivion

- fuck, how did you forget that

- ah, well, you didn’t know what he wanted, but you were sure it wouldn’t take long

- you never asked, cause the answer might have hurt, but you were sure he had someone to hold tonight, a lucky, lucky valentines date. probably that pink haired chick he hangs with, or maybe that guy in his band? either way, he wouldn’t have much time for you

- he probably just wants you to run an errand for him or help him set something up

- and that was okay too :D

- life was dandy

- your shift ended, and you know that you promised douxie you’d be over asap, but tbh you were way too sober to go help your crush set up his romantic gestures meant for someone else. before leaving work, you poured some wine into a to-go cup with a bendy straw for your trip

- don’t judge

- you knocked on douxie’s door, before just walking right in without waiting for an answer

- look he gave you a key did he expect you not to use it

- anyhoo, you were right

- this place was all ready to go for a romantic evening

- candlelight, fancy tablecloth and place settings, red roses in the vase, soft music playing, rose petals on the ground? leading form the door?

- you furrowed your brows, and then rolled your eyes. yeesh. he was going all out apparently. you wouldn’t put it past him to be wearing a suit or something. wait, does douxie even own a suit? you went to go throw away the empty to-go cup, expecting doux to be in the kitchen, but he wasn’t there

- where was he

- you called out “DOUX! IM HERE!”

- you heard a shuffle from one of the other rooms, and a door swing open

- “wait, where are you, love?”

- “kitchen!”

- douxie appeared behind you. hmm, he wasn’t in a suit, but he was wearing a tie. how strange. a black tie on a slightly different shade of black shirt with some slightly different black slacks and, you guessed it, yet another shade of black shoes

- walk walk fashion baby

- “aww, you didn’t follow the petal path?”

- the confusion spread across your face “...no?”

- “okay,” he pressed his hands together, “could you go back outside and pretend to come in for the first time, and actually follow the petals?”

- “... come again, camelot?”

- “ah, you know what, fine.” he scooped you up, carrying you to the table

- “doux what the fuck,,”

- he put your feet back on the ground in front of the elegantly decorated table and pulled out the chair with a flourish, inviting you to sit

- you blinked. what. wh- why? wasn’t this set up for his date? why was he motioning for you to join hi-? ohhh. ohhh

- OH

- FUCK

- you quickly pulled your escaping soul back into your body and sat down in that chair. mr casperan, eligible bachelor of the evening pushed your chair and and took his own seat across from you, leaning with his head in one of his hands, like a cool cat

- you were.. still in shock to say the least

- you think douxie just didn’t like the quietness cause the next thing that came out of his oh so suave mouth was-

- “so, you come here often?” accompanied by eyebrow waggling

- “... to your house?” you cracked a smile, “yeah, yeah i guess i do.”

- douxie laughed, “sorry, i was just trying to lighten up the mood a little,” he poured you a real glass of wine that was not a bendy straw to-go cup, “you’ve been so down lately, i thought you could use some cheering up.”

- “that’s sweet, douxie. i love you.”

- fuuuuuccccckkkkk

- oh my stars, i mean you two say ‘i love you’ all the time, but, but, this was a date right, it means something else now, you can’t just say that

- wait, or was this a date? what he just said kinda made it sound like this was a one time platonic cheer-up-my-friend date and not a date-date

- okay okay uhhh

- “so like, what’d you want me to help you with?” douxie blinked.

- “y/n?”

- “ i mean this is nice and all but we should probably get a move on before your s/o arrives, don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

- “y/n-“

- you made a motion like you were about to stand. douxie quickly grabbed your hand before that could happen, pulling you back into your seat. “Y/N,” that got your attention, “I- this is for you, you’re my date, i don’t have a s/o... i-“ douxie looked the floor to gather some courage. there was a scratch mark in the cheap wood where archie’s dragon claws had skidded accidentally. he’d have to fix that. after he fixed this. “i, was hoping,,” douxie rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “that after tonight,, you, would be my significant other?”

- he said that last part so nervously, and posed like a question. a question you had to answer. damn

- “i- yeeEs”

- “oh, okay then, y- yes.” douxie took rather long sip from his wineglass. he set it back down with a start “it’s settled then.”

- “settled?”

- “settled”

- “- yeah”

- douxie stood up, his chair making a loud sound scraping against the hardwood. “OKAY,” he clapped his hands together, “let’s start dinner, shall we?”

- “we shall.” you raised your glass to show excitement. mordrax’s bloody miracles this was awkward. and yet somehow the best thing that could have happened. not the worst case scenario but the best case one. you could be crying and lying on the cold dirt outside a bar right now so

- if awkward is coming with not being heartbroken, being on a valentines date for the first time since the stupid fucking holiday was invented seven centuries ago, fuck you st valentine, and your crush actually reciprocating you feelings and-

- wait hold the fuck up

- douxie reciprocated. he actually likes you. he invited you to this date. he asked you to be his s/o. what the fuck

- douxie came back from the kitchen, plates in his hands. as he set yours in front of you, you just couldn’t help but asking a burning question,

- “how, how long,”

- douxie furrowed his brows, “how long what? the dinner didn’t take lo-“

- “how long have you, i dunno, ah, liked me?”

- douxie looked sheepish, pointing his fingers together, “oh, i don’t know, maybe,, since we met?”

- you let out a defeated sigh. “by merlin, me too, we’re so fucking stupid-“ you wheezed. you couldn’t even finish the thought from how hard you were laughing

- and let’s be real, if you weren’t laughing right now you would be crying

- douxie was laughing too, for the same reason

- and now you two were sitting at this table, laughing like madmen

- it was gonna be a long night

- but, you know what? that was okay

- maybe you’d get a little kiss or two at the nights end

- spoiler: you did

#valentines💘#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #douxie casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia imagine #my writing

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some-dr-writings · 3 years

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v3 girls x SHSL Toy Maker

Kaede Akamatsu:

· Your girlfriend loved your toys. She’d always gush over them and would so happily watch as you worked away on any project without a care in the world. Her favorites though were the wooden ones, just seeing how you chiseled, sanded and worked with the wood was just so interesting to her.

· Obviously, you gave her a toy piano for her birthday once, and it immediately was her most cherished possession. It was tiny, just big enough to be played with one hand, so Kaede took it wherever she went, keeping it close as a reminder of you and her most favorite thing in the world. It actually took her quite a bit of time to get used to it, but once she had mastered it, she’d play it whenever she wanted should there not be a piano around.

· “Hey, how’s my pianist do- oh?” As you entered the dressing room you found Kaede playing you little toy piano. “Ah, Y/N! I thought no one aside from the performers were allowed backstage.” “Yeah… but who ever said I wouldn’t break the rules. I just had to come see you before the recital!” You eagerly sat beside her, just needing to get closer to that entrancing smile. “Getting in some extra practice before the big performance?” “Actually, no.” “Hmm?” She sheepishly laughed, holding your little piano close. “Just calming my nerves. Since I thought I couldn’t have you by my side, I started playing your piano. It’s helped a lot.” It became a tradition for Kaede to play you piano before any performance. It was able to calm her no matter what song she played on it.

· Whenever it was out of tune, even just a little she’d immediately take it to you for repairs. It was usually a quick fix, but she still loved watching you work away on repairing it.

· You also began making little music boxes for yourself. Though not pianos, you placed in Kaede’s favorite songs and before going to sleep, would wind one and have it play should the pair of you be apart. Sometime you’d even send her one so she’d know you were thinking of her.

Kirumi Tojo:

· Like for everyone else, she wanted to be our maid and assist you in whatever way she could and help you become even greater than you already were. “Oh, uh… Sorry, but I don’t need anything. I won’t want much either. I’ve heard how people you work for become amazing and stuff, but… I’m happy with my simply life. I don’t want it to get any greater than this. Honestly, only reason I came to Hope’s Peak is so I’d have an excuse to make more toys without my guardians telling me to study more. I’d be happy to be your friend though! Are there any toys you liked as a kid, I know I could make a nice one for you!” On occasion you’d amuse Kirumi and accept her assistance, but for the most part you’d simply decline and ask if you could make anything for her.

· Kirumi truly just enjoyed helping others, there was nothing else she wanted so it seemed no toy would be of satisfaction to her, only after getting together did you finally come up with something. “A doll?” “Yeah! If somehow you can’t find anything to do for anyone, you can serve the doll. Its pockets are filled with requests for you to do for it, and if this doesn’t feel like real requests to do for you, I request that you care for the doll when you have nothing else to take care of!” “I will do my utmost to fulfill your wish.” You didn’t think Kirumi would actually play with the doll, but the smile on her face at finally receiving a request from you was enough to make you know it was worth it.

· Surprisingly on occasion you would see Kirumi entertaining the doll, whether it be it be having tea parties, or one of the many other requests you had written down. You eventually found out that no matter where Kirumi went, she took the doll with her in case she had a moment of free time she could dedicate to it. You were her partner after all, though she did so for everyone, for you especially she wanted to complete your requests to the best of her abilities. And thought it never came up in conversation, she always had it around because she liked having something you had placed so much time and effort into just for her nearby.

Himiko Yumeno:

· Both being entertainers of sorts you both immediately clicked, you both loved making others smile and bringing joy to them through your work.

· Not only did you and Himiko become romantic partners but business partners as well, you making and selling various toys based off of Himiko, her magic, and of her ‘familiar’ as well. They were a big hit with both children and adults. Sometimes you and Himiko would have long discussions bouncing ideas off one another about what toys to make next. An action figure? A wand? Perhaps some stuffies or a magic broom stick? On occasion one of you would start to go more abstract like suggest something like a pinball machine or soundboard, maybe even a skateboard. Sometimes it became a sort of competition for who could come up with the most outlandish, yet realistic and feasible items to make and sell.

· Often you’d spend your time whittling away making toys for Himiko, she rather enjoyed them, no matter what they may be. She also liked watching you make them. You were so skilled with those fingers and many other things like woodworking, sewing, painting, and other such things. Sometimes she’d toy with the idea of you being her assistant.

· You always had Himiko test your toys to make sure they worked properly if they were more electronic in nature or some such.

· You both liked doing whatever you could to support one another through your own pursuits, you were simply great partners for one another.

Maki Harukawa:

· Being with you always felt… nostalgic to her, especially when you made toys for younger children. How you were so tender, kind, and respectful to them, you reminded her of how many of the older kids at the orphanage acted when they weren’t tired and annoyed at having to be babysitters all the time.

· You had taken to making and donating toys to orphanages, mostly to the one Maki was from though. You were only one person so you couldn’t make many too quickly, but what you did make was durable and could last for several generations while still being fun and not needing too much maintenance.

· You also gave Maki toys on occasion and would play with them with her. Since she had to spend most of her childhood training you wanted to give her a little something to let her indulge in just being carefree for a time. She cherished these gifts and moments almost more than anything else. Being with you was always just so nice and peaceful.

· You taught Maki a few things like how to sew. It took a long time, there were many failed attempts and bleeding fingers, but she eventually got the hang of it. She’d sometimes help you with your projects or even repair some of the kids’ clothes, it started with simple things like you asking her to connect two basic pieces or her adding a patch to some pants, eventually though she was able to do more complicated things. She made a doll for you and a few for the kids. In return for all that you had taught her, Maki would teach you self-defense. Though unlikely it was not impossible for a person to attack you one day so she wanted you to be safe. In her line of work, she couldn’t be attached to anyone, but now you and Kaito and Shuichi and others were in your life, she had connections to people she wanted to be around, so even if it wasn’t much, even if it wasn’t enough to save you should you become an assassin’s target, you could at least not be too troubled by our average crook.

· You were her irreplaceable partner, she adored you, and for as long as she could, she’d keep you as close as she could, just making little toys with you.

Tenko Chabashira:

· She adored everything you made, gushing over how adorable it all was. And she showed every last toy off, much to your embarrassment at times. She was rather loud with her affection, making it so that the whole world knew. Even complete strangers would know the pair of you were partners and that according to your girlfriend, you made the best toys the world had ever known.

· Often Tenko would drag Himiko into testing your latest creations in order to make sure they worked correctly.

· Tenko insisted that you teach her how to make toys and she teach you Neo Akkido. She’d say that learning her form of Akkido would help you be a better toy maker, and her learning how to make toys would help her improve her Neo Akkido. You had no idea how in the world this could work, but just about any excuse to spend more time with your girlfriend was a good excuse in your book, so you eagerly agreed…

· The training was much more than you expected. She didn’t teach you anything and just went straight to fighting you full force, and you just had to make up your own form to keep up and avoid getting too injured, but you did learn how to fight so her training did work.

· You were much more gentle when it came to teaching her though her energy and enthusiasm could cause problems at times like accidentally knocking over items and the like. At least it was still fun.

· Being together could be rather chaotic at times, but it was well worth it.

Tsumugi Shirogane:

· Your friendship began with a bet and through it a more romantic relationship bloomed. Tsumugi was showing off a very expensive, limited edition figure she had just gotten in the mail. “Wait, how expensive? But it’s so cheap! You should get your money back, or at least at a discounted price.” Obviously, this comment ticked off the girl, and a bet was made, if you could make a figure of the same character of higher quality that could simultaneously be less expensive from the cost of materials, you prove your point, if not you’d have to apologize to Tsumugi.

· Not only did you win the bet, Tsumugi absolutely loving your figure, but you had also accidentally won her heart in the process.

· Tsumugi still bought merchandise of her favorite anime and you always made such things for her despite that, though she did teach you why the official merchandise was so important to her. Often you’d end up analyzing the items whether they still be in the package or not, differing what it’s true price would be without the brand association. If it didn’t match you’d make your own version for Tsumugi which happened more often than not, but the few times you deemed the product worth the price it was a pleasant surprise.

· Being deft at sewing and many other skills you often assisted Tsumugi in making her cosplays! She even convinced you to indulge in her passion as well. You much preferred making them, and seeing others wear them, but play-acting as the characters could be fun.

· Sometimes when Tsumugi was at cons or other such similar events, she’d send you toy she found that you might like or might inspire your work. She’d also send you materials for your work, maybe even have you keep some for her own work.

· Sometimes you’d watch whatever anime Tsumugi was most recently obsessed with when she was away. It was something to remind you of her in particularly lonely moments. Tsumugi would do something similar, play with the toys you had given her.

· Though things could be rocky on occasion, you were able to work things out and you couldn’t want for another partner.

Angie Yonaga:

· “Oh my, how divine! I’m sure Atua has blessed you for such wondrous art!”

· Angie completely adored and whole heartedly loved your toys, always calling them your art. Whenever she found you working, she always left you be as to not distract you, knowing she’d want you to do the same if she were working on her art. She’d even go out of her way to get more materials for you if she had noticed if you were starting to run low or if you were using one particular material a lot for a time. If any of your tools broke or needed repair, she already knew just the place to get another one of high quality.

· As one ‘blessed by Atua’ you were the only person she allowed to be in the same room with her as she worked, as long as you were working as well. This was for two reasons, one, to not distract her and two, so that Atua may take possession of you too and help make your creations even more wonderful!

· Though she never needed inspiration, because she had Atua, she would go walking around town with you to do whatever, giving you a new change of pace, which would hopefully help you get out of your rut and be filled with new creativity to create more!

· Even with her colorful background, she understood you more than most others ever could when it came to your work. She would do anything to assist you, because aside from her god, you were the person she loved most.

Miu Iruma:

· “Hey, you’re the toy maker, right?” “Yes?” “You can make adult toys, right?” “What do you take me for!?... Of course I can!” “Oh ho ho, This’ll be fun!”

· Miu was certainly an interesting client turned partner. Whatever you made, she wanted to add improvements to it, no matter how off the wall it may be. She was in inventor after all so tinkering with toys likely just came naturally to her.

· What you did find surprising though is that she never wanted you to make anything sexual for her. She never admitted it directly, but she always just wanted normal toys. Model train sets, bouncy balls, remote control cars, simple things like those. Often, she’d end up ‘enhancing’ them in her own way, yet still, she wouldn’t ask for anything else. For as lewd and crude as she could be there was something about her that was also young at heart in a way, in fact that could be why she was so loud and overconfident much of the time. But then you’d remember that you’re teenagers and you were sounding like an older person with this line of thinking and would stop yourself.

· Miu would insist on working in her lab so she could make tweaks to your designs as you were making them. Things usually got out of hand like making a toy robot that could turn into a cannon and shoot fireworks, or it’d have rocket fists powerful enough to knock out a full grown, healthy adult. Not long after making such items Kokichi would pop up, asking to borrow your toys, and who were you to deny him, toys were meant to be played with, and inevitably not long later you’d hear of Kokichi’s latest prank involving whatever toy Kokichi had borrowed from you and Miu, often getting a laugh out of her.

· Things usually got out of hand rather quickly when you were with one another, but it was a fun, calm sort of chaos

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babylooneytoonz · 4 years

Text

200 Followers Appreciation Post

I'll be very honest, two months back when I joined Tumblr, I hadn't expected that my writings will be read by many, and the last thing I had expected was to be followed. Now look far we've come, from 0 followers to 200.

A personal thank you and a lot of love to each and every follower of mine.

I think this is the best part of our fandom. We love each other like family.

As a little token of my thank you, I decided to publish two of my requests combined as one today. Hope you like it. 💓

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Request 1- Prompt "We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies."

Request 2- Reader was always in love with Tommy, thinking he can't love her back she starts writing cheap novels as a way to deal with it. Her books become popular and everything is cool until Tommy finds out about her hobby and notices similarities between her writing and real life.

Warnings - Angst

GIF Credits - @thomasshelbyltd thank you. ❤️

A Maid's Diary

You slumped against your desk, letting your head rest against the old wooden table top, your elbows on either side of your face. Your desk was a cluttered mess, with sheets of paper flooded all over. In your hand, you held a pen, as you were just seconds back, scribbling vigorously on a parchment as an idea had just hit you, and just as swiftly, the idea had vanished from your mind.

You couldn't forget and you couldn't forgive your best friend, Linda, for having betrayed you by sharing your diary to a local printing press, who had, without your permission, published your countless feelings that you had penned down in your little diary, without even your consent, although they didn't take the credit for it. You were still the writer, even though the publishers never published your real name on it, just a pen name.

As much as you hated to admit it, the little push made by your friend had worked tremendously and your popularity had grown amongst the lower middle class especially; as that is where you hailed from. They loved your modesty, they loved how humble and down to earth you were, although you were extremely talented.

Little did they know, that the book that had been published, as an act of mistake, was actually based on your life.

"What is it that you are reading?" Tommy pushed his round glasses over his eyes, as he looked through them and fixed his broody stare on his wife.

Grace was sprawled on the couch in his study, shimmering in a beautiful pearl white satin nightgown hanging loosely over her slender frame, her natural blonde hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She seamlessly brought up her ring studded hand to her hair, running her fingers through the locks as her eyes came to rest on her husband.

"Would you look at this Tommy?" She raised a red little book in her hand, showing it to him briefly, before she sat back more comfortably. Their son, Charlie, crawled about on the carpeted floor, playing with a toy train. "I don't know who this woman is, but if you read this book, you would feel like you are a bloody part of it."

"Is it one of those fucking love stories again, Grace?"

"It's much more than that, love. It's complex. It's like reading a person's life, living her memories."

"Right, well, I'm out, I've got a bloody meeting with Arthur at the pub." He stood up, sliding his hand into his waistcoat and pulling out the pocket watch, taking a quick glance at it. He then kissed his wife a goodbye, lifting Charlie up in his arms, "Be good, you cheeky little oaf."

Little did he know, how that would be the last week, that he was spending home with his wife. The next week, Grace Shelby was shot, and she couldn't make it.

As days inched by, Tommy started growing more and more morose. Although he didn't show it, those around him felt it everyday. The snapping and the yelling increased, and Tommy found himself sleeping less and less, and chugging down more and more of that alcohol to keep his mind at rest. There were weeks when Tommy didn't see his son. Although he felt guilty, for neglecting him, as the poor child had lost his mother, just like he had lost his wife, he couldn't bring himself to face him, as he reminded him so much of her.

Soon, weeks turned into months and finally, Tommy's agony subsided to a bit. It wasn't as if it was an overnight process, but somehow, over the course of time, Tommy didn't feel the hurt anymore, as he initially did— or maybe, he learnt to live with it.

One night, when the nightmares crippled him to such an extent that he found himself unable to sleep, he decided to go through Grace's belongings, something he had kept locked up in the attic, afraid to touch them. Holding a lantern in his hand, he walked up the flight of stairs, the old floorboards creaking underneath the weight of his foot as he stepped into the dinghy little room. In a corner, a brown crate was hoarded up, keeping all of Grace's belongings.

Pulling off the the wooden board that was nailed shut, he pried it off and ran his hand through the dust coated silk dresses, his fingers gently brushing against the fabric. He let out a weak, pained exhale, slowly sliding down against the floor, pulling his hand out as he started fumbling around his pockets for a cigarette.

With a lit cigarette in his left hand, he slid his right hand back in, feeling around the box until his palm hit something hard. Pulling it out, he saw a little red book that was now turning a shade of purple at the edges. The book was coated in a sheet of dust, causing Tommy to squint his eyes slightly and scrunch up his nose as he brushed the dust off its cover.

A faint smile, a fond remembrance of Grace reading this book with such enthusiasm brought a weak smile to his lips. He took a drag of his cigarette, pulling himself off the floor and pocketed the book, walking out of the attic.

It was his eyes, eyes that could hold an entire ocean in them, that captivated me. I often found myself looking at him, stealing glances, when no one was looking. A part of me begged for his attention, hoping, yearning that he would atleast give me a glance but he never did.

The more he read through the passages, the more he realized what Grace had meant. This was not just a book, it was someone's life, it was someone's feelings. The words were simple and not at all fancy, the backdrop set was not that of a fine mansion, it was a tiny little house, in a clamoured street, a family of five siblings, four boys and one girl, and the writer, who was just a servant. The writer knew the love she felt for one of the sons of the house was wrong, improper and it was forbidden because she was a servant and they were her employers but she couldn't help how she felt, no matter how hard she tried to forget. Tommy couldn't help but feel drawn— drawn to the writer's pain, her anguish and the feeling of being stuck at the end of a self destructive, one sided love. He knew what it meant to not get to be with the person you loved. He had experienced the pain, although in a different sense but somehow, he could relate. Although Thomas Shelby didn't show any feelings, he had eventually fallen head over heels in love with Grace Burgess and life with her had been a life of roses and poppies, while he was a crown of thorns; that Grace bravely adorned on her head.

It was a cold night, and I was freezing. I could feel my cheeks turning to stone and my hands fervously rubbing against my arms to keep myself warm. I could see them right in front of my eyes; the whole family. They looked happy. They brothers were teasing their sister, who had a look of dismay plastered over her face, and the youngest brother, who was just a toddler, ran about the parlour, sucking on his thumb. I wondered if it was selfishly wrong of me to think of him in this way, to imagine how our little household would have been, had I been bound to him by marriage. I wondered if it was a sin, wondering what I would have named our children if we had a handful of them.

Thomas found himself leaning back comfortably in bed, straining into his glasses, wanting to read more, although his body and his eyes were beyond tired. It was as though he could see a glimpse of his life before the war had been, right through someone else's eyes. He could see little Finn, perched on the carpeted floor, running his toy train all over it, making a weird engine sound with his mouth while John and Arthur teased Ada for something she had probably said. He could picture himself by the window, staring at the dimly lit sky, the illuminating stars, thinking of the moment Greta took her last breath, her frail hand falling limp in his warm one.

How unlucky had he been with women, he had watched the women he loved die, in in his arms.

As I scrubbed the dishes in the kitchen, I could hear the curses in the parlor. He was screaming at himself, bringing the dishes down, breaking them one by one. No one dared stop him, because no one wanted to be slammed against the wall or have to be the one taking a porcelain hit on his face. I wondered if I should step in, maybe give him some tea but I didn't. Maybe, he didn't need it. It was only later that I found out he had lost the love of his life.

He shoved the book aside and sat up straighter, running his palm through his face, his breathing shaky and rushed. He grabbed his cigarette box off the bedside table and lit himself a cigarette. Maybe reading this book had been a mistake, it was opening up all his raw wounds that he had buried away.

He was leaving. I wanted to ask him when he would be back but of course, that would have been such a silly question. And besides, he had a lot more on his plate, why would he want to speak to a servant? I stood behind the kitchen wall, listening to the solemn parting, the shuffling of feet, listening to them leave until finally I could hear them no more— I could hear him no more.

Years after years, I went on with life, with a smile on my face. I did what I always did in the mornings; scrubbing the floors clean, washing the dishes, preparing supper and doing the laundry. At night, though, I thought of him and his blue eyes. I wondered if there was any news, for I hadn't heard anything about him in ages. Maybe my prayers were finally answered, the war ended and they all were back home. Only they weren't themselves. The war had killed a part of them. They were the ghosts of war, left to meander the Earth until they finally died.

"Mr. Shelby?" Tommy sharply looked up, his eyebrows straightened into a visible frown.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Charlie's asleep, the supper's ready. I was wondering if I could get a night off—"

"Mary, you may. You have bloody worked hard enough to earn a night off. Go on then, hurry up, it's pretty dark outside."

He watched her leave, staring at the door before bringing his gaze back to the book, wondering if the writer was out there somewhere. And he wondered, and hoped, that she had finally gotten to be with the man she loved. She deserved it. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

I finally mustered the courage, after what seemed like eternity, to speak my heart out. I was afraid of rejection, but he deserved to know. I deserved to be free of this heavy secret in my heart. I didn't care if he would ask me to leave, stop coming to work from tomorrow but he needed to know I loved him. So, I stepped out into the chilly night, wrapping myself with whatever warm I could find. I walked and walked, until I was at his pub. Of course, he wasn't there. With a heavy heart then, I thought of going back home, through an alley, that was a shorter route. Little did I know, I was never going to get the man I loved for he already had the woman he loved, the woman from the pub; that barmaid. I saw the man I was in love with, from a window, the way I always imagined him to be with me, kissing her and stroking her cheeks. It was as though I heard a devastating sound somewhere close by, but it was nothing but my heart—shattered into two.

Thomas Shelby was many things, but he was not ignorant, or dumb. He slammed the book shut, shoving it on the bedside table. His heart was racing rapidly and he could feel blood rush through his veins. Arching his body forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, he buried his face into his palms. Every single detail in the book, every single piece of writing was something he had experienced before. It couldn't be a mere coincidence, could it? He slid out of bed, stomping through the hallway into his study until he was perched on a stool by the telephone his fingers frivolously moving against it. He knew what he had to do now.

"Pol?" He mumbled into the phone the instant he heard her on the other side.

"Tommy? It's fucking midnight, what's the bloody matter?" Tommy didn't mind he had woken her up. He needed answers.

"Do you remember a maid that worked for us?" He sighed into the receiver.

"Tommy, we have hired a dozen fucking maids, which one are you talking about?"

"She was with us when Greta died, when we went to war—"

On the other side of the telephone, Polly's demeanour softened. She remembered you, she even knew how you loved Thomas, but she could never bring it up to her lips, because she knew that you and Thomas had no future.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is? And for fucks sake, don't lie."

Your coffee mug lay on the table untouched, smoke bellowing out of it in waves. Outside your window, snow drizzled from the sky, like tiny droplets of fur falling to the ground, your garden sheeted in pristine virgin white.

"Love, you have to bloody see this," your friend Linda's voice echoed through the closed door, loud enough to alert you.

"What is it?" You threw open your window, watching your bestfriend stand at the gate, her eyes fixed to your window, "Just get your bloody arse down here (Y/N), I have to show you something. Come on out, now."

Annoyance.

You practically ran down the flight of stairs, not even stopped to calm your breaths.

"Jesus, Linda, it's fucking snowing, I'm going to freeze to—"

"Sorry love." Linda gave you an apologetic smile, her index finger pointing towards the silhouette of a man leaning by your front gate, slowly sliding out of the periphery of gaze. Neither were you watching her. You were watching a ghost of your past, that stood leaning by the metal gate on your front door, a cap on his head, a long overcoat drawn over his scrawny body. He had gotten weaker than you had last seen him.

"Miss (Y/N)." His voice was curt, yet warm, without a trace of malice in it. After all these years, he was right here, on your doorstep.

"Mr. Shelby? Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head, rather, his eyes and you knew that he didn't want to talk in the confines of your home, under prying eyes. He slowly pulled out a book from his pocket and your eyes widened. Your fingers flew to your lips and you felt a rush of blood in your body, an instant feeling of being in the warmth of a fireplace. You wanted to reply, but you couldn't find the words.

"You read my book, you found me out."

"It wasn't that fucking difficult to figure it out, love."

"Jesus, would you please come in? It's freezing out here, you're going to bloody catch a cold—"

He cut you off as you turned to walk in, grabbing you by your arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop you from walking. He then pulled you towards him, your front hitting his hard chest, to look into his face.

"It was you all along?"

You didn't know what to say anymore. He had found you out. After all these years.

"I don't understand—" You whispered, shaking your head. You couldn't lie, his eyes were making you nervous and all the feelings that had simmered over the course of time were finally lighting up again. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it will get published."

"Do you believe in destiny?" He cut you off.

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to mentally think where he was going with this, "Perhaps, Mr. Shelby, but you need to be clearer than that."

"I didn't believe in fucking destiny, until this minute. I can't believe I'm fucking saying this—" You could see reluctance in his eyes, an inward fighting. You could see that he was thinking hard, probably having a hard time figuring out what he should say to you. "You remember Greta?"

You were hundred percent sure you weren't smiling, but had you been smiling, it would have withered.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby, the girl that died holding your hand, the girl you loved."

"Good, and what about Grace? The woman you saw at the fucking window."

Your cheeks reddened at the remark with embarassment, making you regret how he had read that part. That was a private thing between Thomas and Grace.

"I didn't mean to pry, I was just passing through the alley and I looked up and I —" You voluntarily bit on your tongue in an attempt to silence yourself because you knew you were babbling and your words were not making much sense. You needed to compose yourself, compose your thoughts.

"I married her, yeah? And do you know what happened then?"

You closed your eyes briefly, hoping he wouldn't see the pain in your eyes. When you blinked your eyes open again, you straightened slightly, almost taking a step away from him. He caught your arm, pulling you back to him.

"We have a lovely boy together, Charlie, he's three almost."

You wondered if Tommy was here to chastise you, to make you apologize, or maybe, your book had caused a rift in their marriage.

"She was shot. Fucking took a bullet that was meant for me. I fucking watched her die. Twice, (Y/N). I think it was my destiny. Will you ask me why?"

"Mr. Shelby—" You hopelessly began, trying to tell him how sorry you were about what had happened. But what could you do? It wasn't as if you had shot Grace.

"Just bloody ask me why."

You stiffened at the harshness of his voice.

"I- Why?"

"Because this fucking destiny had something else in mind for me. Perhaps it was you all along, the one I was maybe meant to be with."

Your eyes widened in surprise at his words, a sudden palpitating feeling in your heart, a sudden throbbing in the back of your mind. You pulled your arm away, wincing slightly at his sudden outburst, instantly moving away.

"Your words make no sense. Will you please stop?"

He parted his lips in an attempt to reply, but all that shot out of his plump lips was foggy winter air and he shut it. His hand flew to the side of your face, but he didn't touch you. He merely took a loose strand of your hair, curling it over his index finger. You could feel the sudden tension, his lips so close to you, you knew if you didn't stop him, he would kiss you. And later regret it.

"Mr. Shelby, this is a mistake. If I was your destiny, I would be the one buried in a grave and not the women you loved. I did love you," you spoke, hopelessly pulling yourself one step away but this time he didn't make an attempt to pull you close, perhaps having sensed your reluctance.

He raised his eyebrow, "Did?"

"I still do, but I don't think we were meant to be."

"I see," he almost stepped closer, reluctantly, fighting for control at the back of his mind. This was a new feeling. He knew he didn't love you yet, but at the same time, he knew he was in love with the woman from the book. The woman who had always loved him.

"Why?"

A single word can hold a vast meaning. A single word can have an answer that you could probably write a book on.

"Because Thomas .. We can’t win. Either I have you and my soul sings but your cries, or we’re apart and your soul rejoices but mine dies," you whispered in a low voice, tears shrouding into your eyes.

"Yet there's a bloody thing that binds us to each other. Something neither you nor I can see," he mumbled under his breath, sliding his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes.

You didn't know what to say to him. Your mind was fervently throbbing through your skull. Your heart leapt with joy but your mind didn't let you be at ease. He waited a few seconds but when he realized you had made up your mind, he decided he will not push you. You had given him the answer. You didn't want him. He nodded softly, letting his eyes wander down to your feet for a bit before giving you a last look as he turned his tail and started walking off, his boots crushing the snow as he started walking away.

And just like that, you realized that history was repeating itself. But this time, it was all your fault. You were letting him walk away when you could finally be happy.

"Thomas stop.." His name flew out of your mouth even before you could clamp your mouth shut. You saw him freeze, but this time, he didn't turn your way, but with his back turned towards you, you missed the hint of a smile that crossed his lips; the way you had stopped him meant that he still had hope.

"I would like to work for you again, does Charlie need a nanny?" You bit your lip.

It was nothing, but yet, it was a start. If destiny really wanted the two of you together then you wanted to try it out from the beginning, maybe make the man fall in love with you and not the woman who wrote the book. You wanted him to love you and not pity you.

"Twenty shillings, you stay at the Arrowe House, no further will be discussed on that, yeah?"

You gave him a weak smile, although you could not see his face.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Shelby, first thing in the morning at 9."

He nodded and then, sliding his hands into his pockets, he walked away, his heavy boots crushing the snow underneath, generating a squishing, crunching sound until you could hear him no more. You couldn't wipe that smug smile from your face as you looked up at the sky, scrunching up your nose when you felt something cold; perhaps a snowflake had landed on the tip of your nose. It was a start, a start of a new day and who knew, perhaps a new life for you. Needless to say, you were excited.

#thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders x reader #200 followers appreciation #thank you for liking my work

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im-pok · 3 years

Text

Just for fun (and to make these easier to find) I have made a compilation of JSRF quotes!

I did find the quotes from this video by RisingSonic17 on YouTube. I do suggest watching it as it gives more context to the lines:

youtube

Keep in mind that some interactions may be missing, as I have never played JSRF and may be unaware of some interactions. Characters and their quotes appear in chronological order according to the video.

Corn:

"This is the GG's Garage. Hey, where's our pizza? Huh? You're not the pizza guy? Oh, you're here to join the GG's, eh? Heh... Tell you what. Find Gum. She's the one you wanna talk to. Just get close to her and pull the 'Right Trigger'. Got it?"

"Why don't you talk to her now?"

"Now, just 'cause you're new don't mean you can act like a big baby. The police are tightening up here, especially since the Rokkaku took over the police force. I know we look crazy 'n all, but even we know to pick our fights. So don't mess things up for the rest of us, got it?"

"Roboy's training changes as your skill level changes, so be on the lookout."

"I had a feeling Poison Jam would have their hideout in the sewers beneath Rokkaku-dai Heights. This is it... looks like the time to throw down has finally come."

"Man, those Poison Jam freaks are out of control. I say we start on Chuo Street and cover everything to Rokkaku-dai Heights and 99th Street in our graffiti. Chuo Street is probably the best place to start."

"Roboy told you, right? If you find a Mystery Tape, you gotta check the GG-notebook. It'll tell you where to find the Graffiti Souls in the area."

"Where the hell is Yoyo? Maybe he freaked out and skipped town? I'm sure he's alright. But we gotta take care of those Immortals. They've been walkin' around like they own the place. We gotta go and cover up all their graffiti."

"I'll send those Immortals back to the grave as many times as I need to!"

"We'll stop those Noise Tanks!"

Gum:

"Poison Jam knows something about Yoyo. I know they do."

"Damn! Punk, I'll get you for that!"

"The fortified residential zone... that's deep in the ghetto. And it could be the fake one again..."

"Here they come. The crazies from the Golden Rhinos. Concentrate, and watch your back. These guys ain't no joke."

"We gotta protect the streets. That's not a choice. We can't let these fools just waltz in and take over."

"The real enemy is your own fear. Remember that."

"So you're the cat that wants to join us, huh? I don't know where you're from, but the streets are tough. Real tough. Let's see what you're made of. We'll start you off nice and slow. Let's see how much air you can grab. Press the "A Button" to jump."

"Dogenzaka Hill is GG territory. I heard there's some headphone wearin' freak creepin' up here. If I could just find him, I'd show him what's up...."

"You can do it, can't you?"

"There are a couple of places in Shibuya Terminal where you can get on the roof of some buildings. You can get there by jumping from a Grind. You should check it out. Who knows what you'll find up there? When you're looking for something, the best place to start is the Map. You can see it by pressing the START button."

"The area of 99th Street is built around a tower that has a bunch of places to Grind. Definitely check that place out. There are also telephone poles to Grind and billboards to Wallride... the most important thing is to just try everything out. Oh, and don't forget to check the map by pressing the START button. That should give you some helpful hints"

"We actually found Roboy in a dumpster. Corn fixed him up real nice."

"I've been lost in the severs before. Its kinda crazy in there, but as long as you keep moving up, you'll be ok."

"Yoyo just can't chill and stay out, can he? He'll be back soon, I'm sure. I heard the Immortals hang out in the skyscraper district or something..."

"Actually, they say Roboy is actually a Noise Tank prototype. Don't tell him that though, ok? We don't wanna make him cry or nothin'. In any case, we're gonna get those damn Noise Tanks."

Yoyo:

"Those tracks should connect Sky Dinosaurian Square to the edge of the skyscraper district..."

"I hear that Poison Jam's woman leader has been showin' her face in town."

"Man, the Rhinos gotta be pissed off!"

"Shibuya Terminal is in a state of panic. I really wanna stay out of this, but we gotta go over there and take care of business."

"Don't use your eyes. Just try to feel it, ya know?"

"Graffiti has the power to wake up the energy that's asleep in the streets of Tokyo. The Rokkaku Group... the police... they don't know what's up. So let's just cover this whole place in art, yo."

"Yo, you know that dude Hayashi from the Rokkaku police force? That guy is one messed up dude. He's a complete psycho. Watch out for him."

"I heard through the grapevine that some weird-lookin' girl's been hangin' out at Rokkaku-dai Heights."

"So you think Poison Jam is after us?"

"We gotta get the Doganzaka Hill goddess statue that Poison Jam took. We better hurry, or things are gonna get real ugly."

Beat:

"Anything go down while I was gone?"

"I've always thought that thing in Shibuya Terminal was nasty lookin' anyway! Let's do a little redecoration."

"Sometimes, you just gotta get moving or else nothin's gonna get done, yo.

"Hey, I've heard of you. You're one of the GG's, huh? Tell you what... I'll race you. If I can beat you in a race around Doganzaka Hill, then this place belongs to me. Got it?"

"Hope you won't regret that."

"Shibuya Terminal? Now that you mention it, there was this huge guy wandering around there... And fishy graffiti? That sounds familiar, but I didn't really look close enough to see if the graffiti that the fool was paintin' actually looked like a fish or nothin'."

"Hey. Is it true Poison Jam used to cause trouble in Chuo Street under a different name?"

"Rapid 99 of 99th Street. They don't show their faces in public very often. Some say Rapid 99 and Poison Jam are sworn enemies because something big went down a while back. I don't know the details, though. A friend of mine told me that the girls in Rapid 99 are real lookers. I just think he was too scared of 'em to say otherwise. In any case, it ain't gonna be easy to find 'em."

"You meet Rapid 99 yet?"

"Noise Tanks? Never heard of 'em. But we gotta find Yoyo. I'll go through the sewers and check out Kiboganoka Hill."

"Those Immortals really get on my nerves..."

"Crazy stuff is going down all over town! Looks like it's time for a little clean up... GG's style!"

Combo:

"Time to get serious."

"This kid's kinda funny."

"This time we should be able to tell if it's the real one or the fake Yoyo just by talkin' to him, right?"

"That crazy guy?! What're you talkin' about? He looks nothing like me. Besides, we don't got time to deal with that fool. Remember? The Golden Rhinos??"

"Well, they told us to come. Don't look like we got any choice."

"There are some things that you can only feel when you're out in the streets, you know?"

"What's this?! Who's been sprayin' these ugly tags on my turf?! Hmph. I'm guessin' it was you... Its on! If you loose, you're gonna be answerin' to me from now on, punk!"

"You think you can do this too? Let's see it!"

"Man, you're not all that. Here, I'll show you one more time."

"The deep end of the sewers is closed off because it's contaminated. At least, that's what I heard..."

"Hey, why you gotta go out and get a dog?! There's only one thing I hate more than dogs, and that's goldfish."

"I heard Rapid 99 used to run under a leader named Cube..."

"Thing that ticks me off most is, the Immortals ain't worth all this talk and trouble. I wonder if they got somethin' to do with Yoyo's disappearance?"

"There's a bunch of real big guys with real big attitudes causin' a big scene over on Highway Zero. Maybe they might know something about the Noise Tanks. Man, where the hell is Yoyo?!"

Rynth:

"What is UP with Yoyo, anyway?!"

"Hey, Graffiti Souls are a big commodity, right?"

"I don't care if it's a golden rhino or a blue hippo, I'll send 'em right back to the zoo where they belong."

"What's their master plan? I mean, the Golden Rhinos don't seem like their just out here to run the streets, you know what I'm sayin'?" (This quote was spelled like this in game. From my knowledge it should be "they're just out here...")

"Here comes Gouji. Let's end this."

"Did you get all the Graffiti Souls? We still got a full laundry list of things to take care of, you know."

"Hehehe... So this is your hideout."

"Poison Jam are... kinda cute!"

"Is it just me, or does Captain Hayashi not look like he eats his breakfast?"

Poison Jam:

"I don't think Yoyo's that kind of a person."

"I think hes hiding something."

"This feels like a trap. Be careful."

"Someone's after DJ-K?! You sure about that?!"

"Gouji Rokkaku is kinda interesting. But, I think he went a little too far this time..."

"I love everything about Tokyo... even the things I hate."

"Hur hur hur. You want to get rid of us, don't you? Nothing in life is free. You gotta work for it. Beat us in this race and we won't mess with you anymore."

"Har har har!! I told ya'll you were a bunch of wussies!"

Rapid 99:

"ghahah! Next thing you know, you will be all crying like a baby."

"If you can win a flag battle against us, I'll tell you where Poison Jam' s hideout is."

"Suit yourself."

Garam:

"I won't hold back."

"Hey. Keep it real."

"There's this lightning-quick girl over at Kiboganoka Hill. Dunno if she's still there. But man, I gotta say, I'm really trippin' out over Yoyo missin' and all."

"When it comes down to it, the Immortals are just dried up mummies, man. I bet they all nasty under those bandages."

Boogie:

"The Noise Tanks might look strong, but they're like cheap action figures! Just run into them and they fall apart! Oh yeah, that girl from the stadium... I heard she's been lookin' for us. You seen her yet?"

"Aww man..."

"The fortified residential zone... it's directly attached to the underground sewers. Man. I don't like that place at all."

"Is that dude in black even human? My heart's pounding... I don't know why."

"You're never as good as you can be! Don't slack off!"

"Y'all are crazy!"

Jazz:

"This doesn't look good."

"Alright. Stay cool."

"Yeah.... we were a little too laid back this time, I think."

"The fortified residential zone... hey, why don't we pick numbers to decide who goes?"

"It's about time the Rhinos brought things up a notch. We better be ready to get real serious too."

"What the hell IS that big thing, anyway? But, you better watch out for that fool in black..."

"If you get a "Jet" in the Trials, you can even use people who aren't here to take out into the streets."

"You're one of the GG's, right? Then tell this fool that they got the wrong girl! They think I'm one of you guys! So, they dragged me out here and looked what's happened to me!!"

"Hurry up! Tell him that I'm not a GG!!"

Noise Tanks:

"Hey, you're that GG that helped me out! Thanks for that man. Say... there's something that I've been wondering since then. You wanna find out who's the fastest? I KNOW I can beat you. Let's give it a shot!"

"Alright. Fine. See ya."

"I'll get 'em good no matter what!"

"The more worked up we get about this, the harder it'll be to find what we're lookin' for."

"There's somethin' not right about the way the Golden Rhino's are actin'."

"Why are those Golden Rhinos going after the Radio station? Well, make sure to be on the lookout for Captain Psychopath."

"We gotta save DJ-K! I can't stand listening to this music anymore!"

"If this town could talk, what poetry it would speak..."

"Ready?"

"Practice all you want, it will not make a difference."

"It is not over yet. Prepare yourselves."

"Heh... Go on. Fight!"

"Are you ready?"

Special interactions:

"Sometimes it just doesn't matter how much you practice."

Slate:

"Dude. I'm bored. Entertain me."

"Hmph. What a bore."

"My sources tell me that the Noise Tanks and the Rokkaku Group are in this together. Be careful."

"So is that Clutch guy in with Rokkaku too? Or is he just a little punk?"

"I'm about ready."

"The Golden Rhinos are really startin' to get on my nerves..."

"I got better things to do than play house with Gouji Rokkaku, but man, that big ugly thing has GOT to go."

"Graffiti Souls' sole purpose is to be sought out."

Clutch:

"You're looking for that kid, Yoyo, right? Tell ya what, if you go out and get some Graffiti Soul points... Hey! Wait a sec, you've already got quite a few. Lemme see those... Sucka! Thanks for the Graffiti Souls! See ya around!"

"Hah, hah! I look forward to it!"

"I dunno, but I just don't get what's going on here. Heh..."

"This Gouji Rokkaku dude is pretty funny!"

"Haaaahaha! Tokyo ain't half bad!"

Cube:

"If you can beat me at my own game, I'll leave you alone."

"Suit yourself."

"The fortified residential zone... Unless you're absolutely sure of your skills, you should stay away from that place."

"I've dealt with the Golden Rhinos once before. If you don't take them seriously, you're as good as dead."

"I can't stand even looking at that thing. Its just so... so... damn ugly!"

"Yeah. You just have to try everything with an open mind."

Beat to Corn:

"So you're the leader of the GG's? Heh... How's this sound? If I beat you in a race around Doganzaka Hill, you and your buddies have to answer to me from now on. If you beat me... well, we'll just see when it happens."

"Huuuh? You're so boooring..."

Talking to Beat in the garage before fighting the police:

"Anyway, I'm ready to rock. But what's up with that pooch, eh? Where did ya pick him up? You sure that's not the leader in disguise? Heh heh. Its only a matter of time before I become the leader of the GG's anyway."

Combo to Gum:

"What's this?! Who's been sprayin' these ugly tags on my turf?! Hmph. Was it you, princess? You've been a bad, bad girl. You've better hit me with everything you've got, 'cause I ain't gonna hold back just because you're a girl!!"

"The cue tone get you all jumpy?"

"You liked that, eh? I'll do it again for you."

Yoyo to Rynth:

"You're... like... you know... yo."

"Where'd you come from?"

Gum to Rynth:

Rynth to Beat:

"Cool. Welcome aboard."

"You kinda... smell weird."

Garam to Boogie:

"Hey. I'm next in command around here, little lady. The name's Garam,"

Combo to Boogie:

"This group is growing bigger every day. Fool just dig me, I guess."

Gum to Boogie:

"So you're the one from Kiboganoka Hill, huh? Well, this is the GG's. What you see is what you get. Just be yourself, you'll be cool."

Garam to Jazz:

"Well, um... I... uh... be cool."

"That freak who's been making all those weird tags... you think he's connected with the Golden Rhinos somehow?"

Boogie to Garam:

"Alright. Stay cool."

Jazz to Garam:

"I feel ya, but I think you should try to chill a bit. Keep it together."

Corn to Clutch:

"What a fool. But the fortified residential zone... that's deep in the ghetto. And it could be the fake one again..."

Jazz to Clutch:

"Don't push your luck."

Beat to Clutch:

"You just wanted some attention from us, right? Aww..."

Combo to Clutch:

"Man, you're such a jerk I almost like you."

Garam to Clutch:

"One of these days, I'll get you one-on-one! Just you and me, fool!"

Boogie to Clutch:

"Fine. I'll let you off just this once."

Slate to Clutch:

"Heh... Stay outta trouble."

Corn to Yoyo:

"Long time no see, bro."

Clutch to Yoyo:

"So you're that Yoyo guy, huh? Heh..."

Jazz to Yoyo:

"So, you're the real deal, huh? 'Sup. I'm Jazz."

Combo to Yoyo:

"You gonna go and try to get back into shape, huh?'

Garam to Yoyo:

"Heh... I caused enough havoc for the both of us while you were gone, bro."

Rynth to Yoyo:

"The most unbelievable stuff was happening while you were gone! Hehehe..."

Yoyo to Slate:

"Hey, sorry about all that, yo. My bad. But thanks to those fools, I'm all out of shape now. Maybe I'll go out and cause a little havoc to warm up, yo."

Yoyo to Jazz:

"Man, things have sure gotten busier sice I was last here?"

Gum to Beat:

"That fool dressed in black who's been hanging around Chuo Street... now that I think about it, you guys kinda look alike."

Clutch to Beat:

"In times like this, you won't fall as long as you look where you're going. Heh heh."

Garam to Beat:

"Hey, you know that guy everyone's been saying looks like you? Well, is it you?"

There is some cutscene dialogue missing from these lines. If I can find all the cutscenes, then I'll be sure to add them.

#jsrf #long post #jsrf beat #jsrf yoyo #jsrf corn #jsrf gum #Youtube

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hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Dream Baby Dream

A/N: So Charlie’s latest movie, Jungleland, is an ABSOLUTE MUST-SEE!! It’s so fucking lovely 🥺😭🥰 Whether you’ve seen it or not, I hope you’ll enjoy this little one shot, based on the below request that I got! It’s all kinds of angsty and smutty and fluffy. (Title is a reference to the Springsteen song played at the end of the movie!) **This fic is SPOILER-FREE**

Pairing: Stanley Kaminski x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, reader gets pregnant, gifs of Charlie in his underpants 😋 Request: This lovely request (p.2) for pregnancy/smut with Charlie’s character from Jungleland!

Word Count: ~3.1k

Important Note: The first line of this fic is a line Stanley says in the movie (scene shown in the gif above and in this gifset) – yes, loves, an actual quote. So if you’ve not yet seen this film but are a fan of Charlie Hunnam, I promise you this scene is reason enough, to watch if only just to hear those words from him... 🤤

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

“I like the way they make my dick look.”

... Is he serious? Yes, definitely is. One drink was all it took, for you to know. He walks and talks like someone straight out of an old forgotten book or an obscure off-Broadway show. As if his whole life is imagined, yet for him the fiction feels so fucking real that it’s the only thing he’ll ever understand.

“I like the way they make my dick look”? What the fuck? You’d just paid him a half-joking compliment on his ridiculous sweatpants. But this is a man who takes jokes for the truths they expose. Mama always told you to avoid men like this—cons and crooks—men who crush their own hearts in their fists, steal their strength from the shadows, to run from their weakness. She knows best, and knows that you can’t. Knows that you turn to dust in their hands. But she’s not here to witness.

No, nobody is.

You take another shot, tossing away what little self-restraint you’ve got. “Dare you to tell me just how many times you’ve used that line.”

The fucker flashes you a smile. Cheeky smirk, the only kind that suits his style. Cheap as dirt. Just like his stupid ugly shirt. “Hey, if I had a dime...”

Rolling your eyes, you suck the sour from a slice of lime. Can’t seem to chase away your thirst. “How many times did that shit work?”

“Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t be the first...” he whispers, leaning close to take the lime in his own fingers, squeezing it without reason till every little pulp ruptures and bursts. “Wanna fuck you so hard it hurts.”

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

Is it the best sex that you’ve had? Hell fucking no—not even close. It’s pretty bad. Probably the worst.

It’s almost gross. Feels like you’re stuck in a low-budget porno. Just a mess of theatrical thrusts. Heated groans, grating deep in his throat. Grabby hands. Somehow you know that he could fuck you so much better, though, if only he stopped trying to put on some kind of show. You doubt he even knows he can.

“Ugh, just—” you grit your teeth against each thrust. “What are you even doing, Stan...”

He groans out loud again. “Screwing you like a fucking man.”

That tasteless statement almost makes you want to laugh, but you bite back the urge. “No, that’s not how it works,” you mutter as his hips spastically jerk, massive dick splitting you in half. “You can’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he rasps, ravaging your ass with a rough series of slaps. Pulling your hair, making you arch your back, wrapping one hand around your neck until you choke. The sex is so damn close to being epic if this man would just stop acting like a joke. Like, really close, which honestly doesn’t seem fair. “You’re not supposed to talk when you’re taking my cock. Supposed to be too drunk to care.”

Oh God—he’s even dumber than you thought. He should’ve counted that you’d only had a couple shots. “Yeah, well, I’m not.”

“As fucking if,” he huffs, taking the hint that you’ve had quite enough. Reluctantly rolls off. Finally stops fucking you over. And that’s when you realize you miss it, although it feels strange to admit. He turns aside, tucking himself in tight under the covers like some kind of scorned lover. Spurned and burned so many times it makes him sick. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. Sober, a girl like you wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot stick.”

That gives you pause and breaks your heart a little bit. How is this man already getting at your heart, damn it? Mama would say he’s creeping in there with his crooked claws and all that shit. You can’t let yourself fall for his theatrics. Is that even what this is? Somehow, you sense the weight of more than just his body on the mattress; your heart feels heavy now, but not nearly as heavy as his.

“A girl like me? Seriously, what does that even mean?” you ask, reaching to run your hand across the faded scars and bruises on his back. Noticing how he flinches as if your soft touch is a savage attack. No doubt he wishes that you hadn’t seen. No wonder somebody so damaged really thought you wouldn’t touch him with a ten-foot stick. “Stanley, you are honest to God hot. And plus you’ve got an almost-ten-inch dick.”

He reacts with a snort, and a shake of his head. Scooting out of the bed, shrugging into his hideous shirt. All the scars on his back and his heart safely hidden inside it. “Doesn’t matter if it’s big. Apparently I can’t use it for shit.”

Without bothering to put pants back on, he settles on the couch across the room. You move to follow him, unable to resist when he looks so cute sitting there. Raking your fingers through his ruffled golden hair. “That’s not a problem we can’t fix—come back to bed with that big dick. You just have to get out of your head. Just a bit.”

That’s a notion he’s quick to dismiss, though you notice he’s no longer flinching away from your touch—which means something, you’d bet. It must. Nevertheless, Stanley snickers at what you said, struggling to keep his facade firmly set. “Out of my head? Bitch, I live in it.”

You don’t doubt it. Just want him to try stepping out of it. “Just for a minute.”

Lucid blue eyes look up at you now like you’re seeking to push him past some lifelong limit.

“Damn, what’s it like in there...?” you wonder aloud as you comb through his hair. He’s a poem, a portrait of someone who doesn’t believe he’s a man. Soul has never known any true home. Heart has been locked away for so long that he thought it could never be freed. Head full of dreams, broken and bursting at the seams. His silence fucking screams. “What do you really want, Stan? Really need?”

And you can tell he’s scared, to dare believe you really care. “...Nobody ever asked.”

There’s a whole world behind his words. Woefully true. Yet a whole other world now opens up before the two of you, with yours. “Well, then I’m glad to be the first.”

Of course you asked. Of fucking course. You barely even know him now, but can already tell somehow... you want to love this man so hard it hurts. Truly glad that you were the first. Already want to be the last.

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

Fucking months have gone by in the blink of an eye. And already you love him so much you could die.

He’s never fucked someone who ever gave a shit about him, so he gets a rush from knowing that you cannot live without him. And the feeling goes both ways, needless to say. He’s always looking at you like his first glimpse of the sacred light of day. And always seems afraid you’ll run away, no matter how wholeheartedly you reassure him that you’re here to stay. That he should never doubt it.

Still he’s just crippled with this unshakeable fear of fucking up and everything falling to shit, just as it always did. Of losing love now that he’s finally fucking found it. Stanley’s past is a ripple effect of the failures and losses that constantly kept him desperate and dishonest, and it’s fucking haunted. Can’t help but dread the day it’ll rear its monstrous head and make him pay for ever dreaming he could have the kind of life he’s always wanted.

The most that you can do is hold him close and fuck the pain away, and love him more than words can say. His dreams are beautiful, you tell him. They deserve to see the light of day. With you he never has to act like he’s some character straight off the page; he doesn’t have to be afraid to feel. To fear that all the demons in his soul are real, and full of rage, and fierce enough to kill him. ‘Cause now you’re finally here to hold him and to heal him.

All of his dreams once revolved around his intense bond with his brother. For so long, his heart never had room for another. He tells you often about Walter. The fighter. ‘Lion’ as it were. The whole life that they lived for no one but each other, till one day the champion boxer abandoned his gloves to vow love at the altar.

And Stanley is happy, that Lion has found a new family. A new life as boundless and bright as the sky. Such love as an overbearing older brother could never provide. Though Stan knows that the door’s always open for him, to be part of that family and part of that life... he won’t take Lion up on the invite. Tells himself that the home that his brother has built is too precious for someone so poisoned to set foot inside.

You fuck the poison and the pain out of his veins a little bit more every night. But you know it’s a big fight; you won’t try to push it or rush it. Just guide him and stay beside him as the shadow slowly turns to light.

So what’s left to dream now? Somehow your lover tells you his deepest secrets and desires without ever breathing a damn word aloud. Like the fire’s so fragile a whisper could blow it right out.

Tells you and shows you through passionate, powerful kisses, devouring you with the heat of his mouth. Through the touch of his tough calloused hands on your skin, softly treasuring every last inch, devoting his whole broken heart to the moment in such breathless silence... then driving inside you with vigor and violence, the lion inside him awoken and roaring out loud. Slow and gentle again, at the end. Once you’re both well and truly fucked out. The soft look on his face and his tender embrace expressing just how grateful he is that you taught him to fuck, and to love, without playing pretend.

Is it the best sex of your life? Hell fucking yes. Without a doubt. Every damn day, every damn night. Far and away the fucking best. The kind of sex starry-eyed poets strive and fail to write about.

Stanley Kaminski is a living, breathing, tragic, magic little poem. But he is also very real, thanks to the love that you’ve allowed his heart to feel. Beating so beautifully now that it’s finally healed. And he’s become your fucking home.

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

“Babe, you up?”

You weren’t until he spoke. The sun is only barely just; as he so often does, Stan beat the day before it broke. But you don’t mind being awoken by the man you’ll always love. More so than ever now because... you have some news to share today, bound to blow him the fuck away. In the best way, you hope. And trust.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, shifting in bed, lifting your head to see him seated by the window far across the room. Gaze lingering upon his gorgeous features gilded by the glow of dawn. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing at all, for once, he wordlessly responds. Smiles at you before he glances back outside, watching the sun begin to rise, as if its light promises everything he wants.

“Today’s gonna be good, baby,” he states, blue gaze so wild and bright he looks a little crazy. “I mean, I can see it. I can see our future when I close my eyes.”

It’s almost like he knows what’s coming, in the next moment. Maybe he does? Your souls are intertwined so close you wouldn’t really be surprised. “Well, looks to me like they’re wide open. Why you even gotta close ‘em?” you reply, stretching your arms out with a peaceful sigh. All set to break the news you would’ve shared with him last night, if only he hadn’t come home and fucked you so epically hard that you just went out like a light. “Stanley, I...”

“Shouldn’t have woken you up, actually,” he interrupts, somewhat unnaturally. Crosses the room toward the bed, to hold your head up, kiss you slow and deep. Then turns to leave. “Love you—sorry. Go back to sleep.”

You pause and blink your bleary eyes. “What? Why...?”

“...‘cause it’s a special day and I’m cooking up a surprise.”

Although that’s super cute... you don’t exactly like the thought of Stanley making food, to tell the truth. You almost puked, first time he tried. He has a lot of skills and virtues, but his cooking isn’t one of them, unfortunately. “Babe, I told you there’s no need to make a big deal of our second anniversary...”

“Yeah, but why’s that for you to decide?” he playfully retorts as he heads out the bedroom door. Shouting back at you down the hallway as he hastens away. “Besides, you’re gonna need something to build your strength up after getting fucked so good and hard last night. Stay put and don’t even try sneaking into the kitchen, alright?”

“Fine,” you sigh, figuring that you might as well listen. No harm letting your man do his thing in the kitchen. You just hope that he won’t be offended if you can’t hold down what he’s serving... especially now that your body’s especially prone to hurling, for reasons that he just unwittingly stopped you from sharing with him.

You can picture him trying to cook, looking so adorably domestic as fuck. So damn cute it hurts. Standing there over the counter in his fugly turtleneck shirt, glancing up every few seconds, just to make sure his girl doesn’t walk in on him while he’s busy at work.

Absentmindedly scratching at his lower back with his wandering fingers, as he shuffles over the cracked tile floor in his raggedy slippers. The ones that he stole from some random hotel years ago. Why he chooses to wear a long-sleeved shirt and slippers, when he can’t be bothered to put on a damn pair of knickers, even in the middle of winter... you don’t even know. It’s such a fucking Stanley thing to do, though.

You can picture the low-hanging hem of his shirt getting stuck in the top of his briefs as he scratches his back. While he just carries on with his business, oblivious, focused on whipping up some sad excuse for a breakfast that will most likely make you gag. Your man can’t cook for crap, and you’re certain that he’s well aware of that fact. So what gives? Where’s he going with this...? You wonder as you wait in bed, enamored with the image of him in your head.

GIFs by uuuhshiny

When he finally returns to the bedroom he’s holding a steaming white mug in his hand, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from grinning like a madman, for reasons that you can’t even begin to understand.

“Okay, listen, Y/N—before you say anything...”

You can already smell the unholy concoction he’s got in his cup, and you’re struggling so hard not to throw the fuck up. “Stan, is that what I think—”

“Hear me out,” he begs, squatting down next to the bed. For some reason he looks all at once shy and proud. “I want you to remember our first time together. The morning after.”

You nervously swallow and nod your head. He can’t really expect you to put that ‘breakfast’ in your mouth—doesn’t he know you’ll spit it right out? You just try to focus on the heartwarming words he just said. “Babe, you know I won’t ever forget. But is that...”

“Yes, it is. Kaminski’s specialty hot shit. The mess I used to make for Lion every day for breakfast. The only family that I ever had, until the day we met.”

You pause at that; is it just a coincidence now that he’s talking about you as family? Surely he knows somehow, what you’re about to tell him now. You want to just tell him already, so badly. “Stanley...”

“Just let me say this. Please,” he murmurs, shifting where he’s squatting on the floor, repositioning his knees. “Tonight I was thinking of taking you out to some nice swanky place I can’t even afford... would’ve tipped the waiter off to drop a little something in the fancy French champagne we ordered...”

Your heart stops as it hangs on his words. Why is he suddenly... down on one knee...

“But I thought maybe this would mean a little more,” he continues. “Baby, I cooked this for you, the first morning I ever woke to the most beautiful view... because a part of me already knew. I wanted you more than I’d ever wanted anything before. I was already fucking yours. I never would’ve made this crap for anyone but family—that shit’s sacred to me. And now I know, deep down, that’s what I always wanted you to be.”

“Stanley...”

“You had to dig through so much shit, inside of me, and stole my fucking heart right out of it. Still can’t believe you did. Still can’t believe you think I’m worth it. Scared I’ll wake up any second just to see that this was all some crazy dream.”

Your heart is bursting at the seams. “Believe it, baby. You’re worth everything to me. I’ll dig through all that shit again, if it means being with you in the end.”

He holds the cup out toward you like the treasure that it is. “That’s what it means. That’s what I’m asking you with this. Dig, baby, dig.”

You love this man so much more than you can believe. So much for him thinking that you would never touch him with a ten-foot stick.

Your hand dives straight into the mess to find the ring and scream out yes. Stan smiles and wipes the excess stuff off on his sleeve, then slides it carefully onto your finger as you shower him with kisses. Honestly couldn’t be happier right now that someone else is here to witness.

And he needs to know it, right this fucking minute.

After he takes your newly bejeweled hand in his, blessing it with a kiss... you take his hand in yours and press it onto the surprise that you’ve been harboring inside. Your secret little Stanley. “So... you know I had something to tell you as well, right? I’m not the only one who’s so happy about this. Happy to be part of your family.”

His eyes go wide, the brightest light you’ve ever seen. “Y/N...! Y/N, does—does this mean...”

You answer with a smile as big as his, and seal the promise with a kiss. “Dream, baby, dream.”

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

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sillyguyhotline · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Sara, having voted for Shin to die, in the classroom (or lab?) taking Joe's dog keychain

“Alright, it looks like this room is all clear,” Sara spoke up, just loud enough to alert the two allies who were trailing behind her. Ranmaru, bandaged hands shoved lazily into his pockets, gave a quick nod, and Keiji scratched his neck in assent.

She moved down the hallway, still rather cautious as to what traps could be sprung at a moment’s notice, finger poised carefully on the map. She couldn’t quite discern what kind of room was up ahead, and that only heightened her anxiety about what she was about to face… but nevertheless, she stepped a steady foot into the room.

Sitting before her was a painfully familiar sight, dredging up memories that, in any other circumstances, could have been fond. It was her old math classroom, without a doubt, the one she’d spent years sitting in with Joe sitting right beside her. She’d resented it once, because Ryoko wasn’t in the class with her and she was seated next to the most painfully cheerful person in their grade.

Oh, how she’d feared receiving endless mockery from Joe or her other classmates; after all, Joe was so peppy, so lovely, and she’d spent her school years stewing quietly in the corner of the room.

It felt silly to look back at those fears now, after how long Joe had been her best friend and after how many secrets and wonderful moments she’d entrusted him with.

It felt even sillier to look back on those regrets now that he was gone. She’d been so sure that she would have all the time in the world to make amends for those fears of him, that she’d have all the time in the world to shake him awake when he dozed off in math class or to fall asleep on the school rooftop during lunch as he kept a watchful eye on her, knowing how badly she needed that sleep.

Sara had been a very future-focused person, a stark contrast from her cheerful best friend, but he’d often shattered her intricate plans for university with his own proposals for how they’d live life after high school. Karaoke and doner kebabs every day, he’d suggest, or they could volunteer at the animal shelter.

“Imagine how much free time we’ll have when we’ve graduated,” Joe would daydream at lunch. “And we’ll have money, too! We can do whatever the hell we want, all day long, and nobody’s gonna be there to stop us.”

“You know, we’ll have to get a job in order to have money,” Sara would always counter, looking forward to the way his face would crinkle with disappointment at that response.

“Not necessarily,” Joe would say back, overdramatically raising his finger. “We could get a job play-testing things at the arcade and then we could spend our days doing that.”

Sara would roll her eyes and flick a chip crumb at him, and then the two of them would devolve into raucous laughter that couldn’t help but attract stares from their classmates. They’d taken the future so lightly, always believing that the only things laying ahead of them were university and work and retirement. They’d never once imagined a future that didn’t have the other in it.

But, Sara realized as she stood paralyzed on the threshold of this relic from a past she’d never be able to return to, some futures simply aren’t meant to be.

Had Joe come to that realization at any point, or had he died with peace in his heart? She couldn’t help but hope for the latter.

“Sara? You doin’ alright?” Keiji’s voice pierced through the room, and she glanced over her should to find him fixing her with a very concerned stare. She knew exactly what he was thinking, knew that it had probably taken him a mere glance around the room to realize what thoughts it was meant to bring.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave a confident nod, as much for her own sake as his, and stepped into the room. There was moonlight twinkling through the windows, almost a carbon copy of how the classroom had looked when she’d woken in it the night of the kidnapping. She’d always thought the school had looked a little odd in the darkness, a little too cold and empty for her tastes. Now, though, with the pang of loss still stinging through her brain, it seemed even colder and more unforgiving.

She stepped carefully through the room, fingers gliding over each desk as she walked past, trying to memorize the sensation of the grooves of wood against her hands. Slowly, carefully, she approached her desk... and found that there was a bookbag neatly perched in the seat right behind hers.

His seat, his bookbag.

“Hey, uh, you want me to check that out for you?” Ranmaru was quick to step forward and make the offer, face creased with worry. How much had he been told about the events of the game? Had he seen the portrait of the bloody boy in the same uniform as Sara’s and put two and two together?

Sara hesitated, then… “yeah, go ahead.”

Ranmaru nodded solemnly, then reached into the bag and rummaged around in it before pulling out a very familiar object. “What’s this? Some sort of… dog keychain?”

It was remarkable how different it felt to see the keychain without the plague of hallucinations constantly weighing on Sara’s shoulders. No more bloody apparitions stirring in Sara’s subconscious, no more nauseating guilt threatening to spill out. Just a heavy ache in her heart at the sight of all that was left of her best friend.

“Did this… did this belong to that Joe guy or somethin’?” Ranmaru gripped at the keychain a little tighter, turning it around in his hand to examine it, and there was a clench at Sara’s heart.

“Give me that, Ranmaru.” Keiji’s voice came out cold. “Sara, don’t look at it.”

“No… no, it’s fine.” Could they hear how raw her voice was? “I don’t have to deal with the hallucinations anymore. It’s alright.”

The other two of her allies fell deadly silent, and she could only pray that they would listen to her. It was true that the real keychain was still nestled snugly in her pocket, close to her heart where nobody could ever hope to hurt him again… but this was Joe. Copy or not, she’d grown fond of seeing that keychain in Joe’s pocket, knowing that it was a symbol of all his affection for her.

He couldn’t carry the keychain to graduation anymore. It had fallen into the timeless garbage pile of shattered promises and futures that would never come to be. But she would do her best to make sure that she kept his promise alive, even if he couldn’t.

“Ranmaru… please give that to me. It’s very… very special to me.”

Hesitantly, Ranmaru handed the keychain over, and she was swift to pocket it. Perhaps she’d be able to give one to Ryoko, as cheap as it would seem, and they’d both be able to cherish their own individual remnants of their extinguished sunshine.

“Can… can you guys leave the room for a bit? I know there’s more to explore, but… can I have a few minutes alone?” Her eyes were still fixated on the carefully-carved wood of the desk, refusing to meet theirs.

After a long, weighty pause, Keiji spoke up. “...Alright. But call out for help if anything happens. And don’t take too long. We still need to catch Midori, alright?”

“Alright.”

She waited with bated breath until their solid, clicking footsteps faded away and the door fell shut behind them… and sat down at her desk.

The silence of the room consumed her, broken only by the gentle whistle of automated wind pushing against the windows. They were far too underground, surely, for the night sky to be authentic, but even the quiet ambiance brought its own flavor of peace. Even in her own quiet solitude, she felt foolish tracing her fingers over the wood of the desk, wishing so stupidly that he might be there to listen to her.

“Hey, Joe,” she spoke up quietly. “I know… I promised I wouldn’t cry over you. I know you’ve never liked to see me cry, I know it makes you miserable… I’m sorry. I hope, wherever you are, if you can even hear me right now, I haven’t made you miserable. I certainly hope you aren’t punching yourself.” She let out a quiet, heavy laugh.

Oh, the burden was too much to bear, and she quickly reached for the dog keychain, the one she knew was real, the one snugly nestled up to her heart. She gazed into the beady eyes glinting in the moonlight, trying to reclaim her courage… and saw only his smile in that plastic one.

Joe’s dopey, foolish smile, the smile that was such a perfect brand of stupid that only he’d managed to master it. The smile he’d given her whenever he’d told a good joke that managed to make her laugh, or when something genuinely good happened and he was practically bursting with joy in anticipation of telling her.

She hated that the last time she’d seen that smile, it was bloodstained and heavy with exhaustion.

It was so foolish, that out of all of the things that could possibly still haunt her, his smile had done the trick. The clatter of the hairpin on the floor, the way she’d spun hoping upon hoping that maybe he was still alive, maybe she could salvage him and they could go home alive and happy… only to be greeted with that dumb, beautiful smile. Drained of life, eyes dull with the promise of death, mouth dripping blood, he’d beamed up at her with such happiness pushing against the pain… and then she’d watched him die, still smiling.

Stupid, stupid Joe Tazuna, who could smile even in the face of death if only so his best friend wouldn’t cry.

And she’d failed him.

She’d taken the hairpin, though, even blinded by tears and grief. It was just a bobby pin, one of the many he’d use to keep his hair up all day. She couldn’t begin to recount the amount of times she’d slept over at his house and watched him style his hair with gel and pins, grinning when he’d catch her eye in the mirror and wink at her. He’d always offered to style her hair, but she’d always refused, joking that she didn’t want her hair to look like his and giggling when he gasped in mock offense.

Now, though, her motions were slow as she closed her eyes and reached her hands up towards her head. Carefully, tenderly, she slipped the hairpin into her hair, tightly securing her braid. She could almost fool herself into thinking he was the one sitting behind her, doing her hair with such care and precision.

“I miss you so much, Joe,” she said, eyes closed. “God, I miss you more than I’ve missed anything in the world. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get us out alive. I know… wherever you are, you’re probably happier. I guess this was just never meant to be, huh?” Her voice broke. “It hurts to sit here and know you’re not sitting behind me, to know you’re never gonna sit behind me again. I know you’re gone, and I know I shouldn’t be crying over me, I should be smiling so you’re happy.”

She wiped her tears away with her sleeve, staining it a darker blue. “We’ve broken so many promises, haven’t we? But… I’m going to get out alive, and I’m going to tell Ryoko what happened, and I’m going to carry this keychain to graduation. That’s one promise I refuse to break.”

The tears took over, then, but as she cried the room grew a little warmer. For a fleeting second, there was the phantom weight of a warm, bangle-wearing hand on her shoulder. As she stood up, though, it dissolved, leaving only the whisper of her words behind and the vague echos of affection in her ears.

#yttd #your turn to die #joe tazuna #sara chidouin #ranmaru kageyama #keiji shinogi #My fic #yttd fic #depressobean’s asks #nacrene archaeologist

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Some Fun

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1&2, Swearing, Sleazy/Creepy Behavior, Mentions of Heartbreak, Alcohol

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: While the Keating 5 is out enjoying the first time they have been allowed to let loose in a long while, Michaela finds herself nursing a broken heart following the debacle with Levi. Sadly, heartbroken girls seem to be a magnet for sleazy guys at clubs.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Hope you had a great commencement ceremony, sending you my biggest congrats and hugs! Sorry you had to experience such an important event online and not IRL, but I still hope you got to make the most out of it and celebrated your success safely :) Hope you enjoy the fic as well hehe. Love, Vy ❤

“Girl, you weren’t even together for two weeks!“ Laurel says, handing Michaela her lipstick while the two fix their appearance in the bathroom they were happy to find empty at the club where they’re currently celebrating having avoided going to prison for the nth time. “I’m surprised you’re not over him already.“

“Honestly...“ Michaela trails off, pausing just as she’s about to apply the lipstick, “In two weeks, he made me feel more than Aiden ever did.“

Laurel rolls her eyes exasperatedly, “Either that or you got too attached too soon. No offense, you seem to have real shit taste in men.” Seeing the glare her friend is sending her in the reflection of the mirror, Laurel quickly defends herself, “I said no offense! Can you really say I’m wrong though?”

Michaela rolls her eyes, applying the nude shade of lipstick before gracing her friend with the reply she already knew she’d hear, “I can’t, you’re right. But that’s not helping my current situation in any way. So, care to share any helpful advice?” She turns to look directly at her with this strict and annoyed yet somehow still soft look in her eyes.

Laurel takes the lipstick from her and drops it in her purse, “There’s a bar out there with surprisingly cheap drinks and a ton of hot guys surrounding it. I’ll let you guess what I’m insinuating.”

Michaela’s face contorts in a displeased expression, “A hook-up with one of those lowlifes who waste their lives at underground bars like these? No thanks, I’d rather wallow in my sorrows.” She shakes her head with evident disgust and repulsion, her shoulders tensing at the mere thought of hooking up with anyone before seeing full info about said person. It’d be an understatement to say Levi only fueled her already existing trust issues that were already present even before Aiden. Laurel’s definitely right about one thing - all the ‘luck’ she’s had with guys throughout the years has led to these trust issues upon trust issues, creating a mountain-high pile of distrust.

“No, fuck no! I’m talking fun. Dancing, drinking, flirting and then going home alone, not with one of those assholes.“ Laurel explains, “See, that’s your problem, Michaela - you can’t just have fun with a guy and forget about him, can you?“ Michaela inhales sharply as though she’s about to snap a retort to shut her friend up, but she finds herself lacking words to say so she closes her mouth and clenches her jaw as her eyes wander around the white-tiled bathroom. Realizing she won’t be talked to hell, Laurel continues with a tad bit more caution this time, “Have you ever even tried to do that? Have fun and then dump a guy?“

Bracing herself to be laughed at and teased for her answer, Michaela bites her lower lip and shakes her head. It’d be a blatant lie if she said she had tried. Her and Aiden were high school sweethearts and she had never even gone on a date before meeting him. Following the break of their engagement, she threw herself into work and didn’t allow herself much partying or drinking out of fear she might start regretting the decision to call it all quits. Sober, she knew it was the right thing to do, so sober she stayed. And then she met Levi and fell for him almost immediately, distrust after Aiden be damned. So, in conclusion, this is her first time finding herself in a party setting in a very long while. Single and in a party setting, that is. Ok, single, heartbroken, and in a party setting. A perfect combination for getting drunk and letting loose. Laurel might have a point.

“In that case...“ She says, taking Michaela’s hand and giving her a mischievous smile, “Let’s break your ice.” She proceeds to drag her friend out of the bathroom and into the club where they get a friendly reminder of how loud the music really is. The bathroom must have one hell of sound isolation, considering the two girls nearly get deafened when stepping back onto the main and oud scene so abruptly.

The club is as crowded as it is loud and they have already lost sight of the male half of the Keating 5, but neither of the girls seem to care as they make their way to the bar, ordering themselves vodka shots which Laurel takes upon herself, winking at Michaela and mouthing the words, “My treat for your first time.”

Smirking, Michaela accepts the offered dose of alcohol, clinking the shot-glass against Laurel’s before they down their first of many shots for the night. With each rush of vodka going down her throat, Michaela finds herself getting more and more relaxed, loosening up and she’s even starting to consider accepting the offer Laurel posed earlier about moving the party over to the dancefloor. The tipsy chat they’re having is lighthearted and fun, often swerving because of their inability to focus on one topic for too long without bursting out laughing.

Eventually, the two are interrupted by someone familiar but someone they weren’t expecting to see.

Michaela spots him first, “Frank? Who the hell invited you? Were you sent here to babysit us? We’ll pay you to leave if that’s the case.“ Yeah, after a few rounds of shots it’s safe to say she’s lost any kind of thought-to-speech filter and is being 100% honest which is quite amusing to observe.

At the mention of that name, Laurel whirls around in her bar stool, eyes wide when they meet Frank’s, “Wonderful, Annalise has sent her hitman to keep a watchful eye on us.“

Surprisingly unbothered by Laurel’s comment, he smiles, “Nice to see you too, Laurel. And no, I wasn’t sent by anyone. You just happen to be at a bar a buddy of mine owns. A bar I frequent too.” He explains, his claims backed up by the lack of his professional suit that has now been replaced by jeans and a button-down. He glances briefly at Laurel who has turned back around, downing her Margarita with frustration. His smile turns into a smirk as he points at her and turns to Michaela, “Is she bothering you? I can escort her away if she is.” He sends her a subtle wink, clearing up the message for her hazy brain to properly pick up on.

When it does, she returns the smirk right back at him, “Please do, she’s a real party-killer.”

Laurel turns to face her and Michaela can swear on all she’s ever owned she has never received such a betrayed and pissed-off look from anyone. It almost cracks her up to the point of laughter but she knows better than to fuel the the rage fire within her friend at the moment who has already hopped off the bar stool and is slowly being led through the crowd by the aforementioned ‘hitman’. Before she’s completely out of view though, she mouths a quick ‘I’ll kill you’ at her.

That manages to break Michaela down as she starts laughing, calling after her without any hope that she’ll be heard: “I won’t be your first.”

“You could be my first.“ An unfamiliar voice appears right next to her ear, startling her.

She turns around and sees a guy, a stranger, smirking at her. Even in her drunken state she finds herself unwilling to enter a conversation with him. But then she hears Laurel’s words repeating in her mind, telling her to have fun.

Ok, I don’t really need to like the dude in order to have fun, do I? She thinks to herself, briefly contemplating the whole situation before finally replying.

“First what?“ Her voice has a friendly tone to it - friendly, but not quite flirty.

“First lady to dance with me tonight.“ The stranger replies, “If I play my cards right you may also be the only.“ He winks at her and she can’t help but find it more repulsive than appealing. She finds herself comparing him to Levi all of a sudden, despite the two having nothing in common at least appearance-wise.

In order to push those thoughts away she makes the rash move of offering him her hand, tilting her head towards the dancing crowd, “I don’t know. Let’s test that theory out, shall we?” She definitely sounds more confident than she feels but she’s prepared to do almost anything to get Levi and that whole ordeal out of her mind, so a quick dance with a stranger doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Oh boy how quickly she regrets it.

The guy has no chill nor patience. He’s handsy right from the get-go: touching her inappropriately any opportunity he gets, grasping at the chance he’s been given seeing as how she has no escape and no room to get further away from him without bumping into other people dancing carelessly. However, when he starts grinding his hips against hers, she’s finally had enough planning her escape and instead chooses to act on impulse.

Looking around the unfamiliar faces for the odd chance she might spot someone familiar, she slowly inches further and further away from him, despite the fact she’s not able to put much distance with his hands on her waist, keeping her close to him. The alcohol seems to have evaporated from her system as she’s in critical survival mode, wanting nothing more than to leave the situation or maybe even the whole club for the night, finding it too uncomfortable to stick around after this event.

And then, like a literal miracle, she spots him and he has very clearly spotted her and is giving her this confused yet concerned frown.

That’s all she needed really. Pushing the stranger’s hands away, she pushes through the crowd, ignoring the people calling after her, calling her names for bumping into them or shoving them a little harder than intended.

“Connor, baby, how’s it going? You’re having fun?“ There’s a grin on her face, but her eyes are screaming ‘help me‘ at him. Something he clearly doesn’t pick up on because the frown of confusion remains mounted onto his face.

However, before Connor could reply, the creep has appeared next to her yet again, having followed after her from the spot they were dancing at, “Is this your boyfriend?“ He asks, not hiding how pissed and disappointed he is by the sudden emerging of Connor.

Michaela parts her lips to answer but Connor beats her to it, “Yeah, her boy space friend who has a boyfriend. And you are?“ He narrows his eyes, analyzing the guy’s face as much as he can in the dark, vaguely strobe-light illuminated club.

“Interested in the young lady.“ The creep smirks, giving Michaela a once-over look, taking in her body from head to toe with a gaze that makes her shiver with disgust.

Connor, thank God, picks up on this and takes a step forward so that he’s standing between the guy and Michaela, a serious and intimidating look on his face. “Well, she’s not interested in you. Go find someone willing to put up with your inappropriate and downright disgusting behavior.”

The creep laughs, his jaw clenching as he licks his lips, frustrated that things aren’t going the way he’d like, “Whatever. She’s a 4/10 anyway. A four who thinks she’s all that with her head in the clouds and playing eye-candy and then running away. I know her type quite well.” He shoots a look at her over Connor’s shoulder before turning around to walk away.

Michaela is not at all bothered by his words, she’s just glad he’s off her back. However, she can tell Connor is far from done with the case, seeing as how he takes a step to go after the guy and go off on him. To avoid further complications of what’s supposed to be a fun night after so much stressful shit in their lives, she quickly takes hold of his arm to stop him in his intentions.

“Connor, let it go, it’s ok. Let him be. Don’t waste your time and energy on a sleazy fucker like him.“ She tells him, gripping tightly on his bicep until he finally turns to look at her, seeming significantly calmer.

“But it’s not ok, Michaela. I was planning to leave.“ He says, his voice stern, “What if I had left? God knows how that asshole would’ve progressed his creepiness. Shit like that’s not ok and it’ll keep happening if fuckers like him aren’t put in their place.“

“There’s no putting them in their place. You think pep-talking him was gonna prevent him from doing the same to another girl in this very bar?“ She looks at him expectantly, knowing full-well she’s proved her point. When he sighs in defeat, she claims her win in the argument and changes the subject, “Also, leaving? Why?“

Connor shakes his head, grimacing as he motions at their surroundings, “All this, not really my scene. Plus I’m starving. There’s a Burger King down the street so yeah, that was gonna be my stop before going home. After all the crap we’ve been through, some of us might appreciate a little partying, but I’d rather have a quiet night in, you know? A fast-food-and-movie type of night.”

A genuine smile spreads across Michaela’s face. “Makes two of us. I prefer partying when I’m completely free from my worries. They just end up resurfacing after a couple drinks.“

Connor scoffs, returning her smile, “Who knew we could have more things in common than the need to be better than everyone else?” This comment actually manages to earn him a laugh from Michaela - something he rarely gets from her so he’s willing to hold onto it as a positive sign for the progression of their frenemy-ship. And so, he pushes his luck, “Wanna accompany me?”

Although surprised by the offer, Michaela feels the sudden urge to accept it without much thought. Even so, she decides to say: “As long as we’re not watching a rom-com, I’m in.”

Connor smirks, “You pick, boss.”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s the problem, I’ll pick a rom-com out of instinct. You know they’re one of the top five medicines for a heartbreak?”

He shakes his head, unamused, “No they’re not.“ He takes her arm by the wrist, guiding her through the crowd towards the exit, “Fast food is though“, he tells her, flashing her a quick smile over his shoulder as he adds, “And ice-cream. My treat.“

Once again left at a lack of words, Michaela just accepts what’s been offered to her. Never did she expect spending the night watching a movie with her main rival would be more appealing to her than partying under strobe-lights but here she is, leaving a club to head for Burger King with Connor and she doesn’t care enough to dwell on what that means for the constant war they’ve had between them. Guess it’s put on hold, but just for tonight.

Who knew wars could be paused by a fast meal and a movie?

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thatgoblin · 3 years

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Small Town Affairs Chapter 2

Summary: Hazel is an Omega in the small town of Tin Springs, Midwest America. She's trying to live her life after breaking up with the local sheriff, John Walker, and his mate, Brock Rumlow. New people aren't something that happens often, but when a new pack comes to town her whole life goes from a small mess to a complete disaster in the best way.

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Assault, Sexual abuse, Himbo Bucky, Misogyny, will update as story goes.

Chapter 2

The rest of the day went by smoothly. The lunch and evening rush came and went, making time pass by quickly.

At a half hour till close, Clint came back in.

“Hey,” I said, waving to him with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. Got our stuff unpacked and put up so that’s a relief. I was on my way to pick up dinner from the restaurant and decided to stop in and say hey, also thanks again for helping out our first night,” he said, moving the lean against the counter as he talked to me.

“It’s not a problem. Like I told one of your packmates, Helmut, we’re a pretty friendly bunch here,” I said, tidying up my area before shutting down for the day.

“Oh, he came by?” Clint asked, his brows raising.

“Yeah, him and I think his name was Bucky. They came by to get some groceries and Helmut asked about a plant nursery. I pointed him to the one on the west side of town,” I said. “Why do you look surprised?”

“Well, Bucky and Helmut usually keep to themselves. Especially Bucky. I guess it’s the small town just bringing it out,” he said with a chuckle as he began to fold a piece of trash paper into something.

“They were nice. Well, Helmut did most of the talking, but Bucky was courteous. It’s not often we get Alphas that aren’t forceful or dominating. Even if they don’t mean to, it happens a lot around here,” I said, printing out my end of day numbers.

“Yeah, I got that sense the other night,” he said with a cringe. “Does the sheriff always greet new people like that?”

I paused a moment, chewing on my lip as I thought of my answer carefully.

“It differs. Like I said, Alphas around here tend to be more old school and domineering,” I said softly, my smile gone. Any time John and Brock were brought up directly to me I couldn’t help but go quiet and submissive. It took me so long to start breaking out of my old shell and still I’d slip right back into it at the mention of their names. “I’d be careful of him. Just don’t get on his bad side.”

“Is he that scary?” Clint asked, his fingers pausing in their movements to lean forward as if we were sharing a secret.

“Hazel, why don’t you head home early today?” Peggy said as she stood in the office doorway, stopping the conversation. Whether it was to protect me or put a barrier up for Clint, I wasn’t sure and I wasn’t going to argue. “I’m sure you need to get cleaned up for your other job before heading over. I’ll finish up your register for you.”

“Alright, thanks,” I said, not wanting to argue. “Uh, I’ll see you around Clint.” Handing the sheets and keys to Peggy, I grabbed my thermos and purse before heading out the back door. Peggy was my boss and felt like family, but there were times that she was different. Mostly when it felt like she was trying to hide something, a switch flipped and she turned into almost a commanding officer. I liked my job and knew there was a limit with her if I tried to push back, so I didn’t bother trying to figure anything out. Some mysteries were better left unsolved.

I drove home to get ready for my other job. I told people I was a bartender at a hole in the wall in the next town over, but if they knew the truth, they didn’t say a word. Probably because they weren’t supposed to be there themselves. I packed my small bag before grabbing a quick nap and snack. It was dark when I left the house and twenty minutes later I was backstage at the Pink Pony strip club. The other girls and guys were all in various stages of getting ready as I stepped into a smaller, private dressing room.

First things first was, well, to strip. I put my comfy, warm clothes in the small bag before pulling out my costume for the evening. It was a black mesh and bedazzled number that left little to the imagination. The mesh kept it together and on me as well as double sided tape, lots of tape. I quickly ran a baby wipe over my arms and legs to dry my skin a bit which would allow for the smaller crystals and stones on sticky strips that were for decoration to stick better.

Well, for decoration and hiding blemishes and marks I didn’t want others to see. I had a lot of those that would identify me, but the sparkle helped cover them nicely with some make up as well. I moved on to fix my hair into a wig cap then pinned it down with almost a thousand bobby pins and nearly a whole can of hairspray to help keep everything in place. I would glue the front of my wig down before doing my makeup to blend everything together. Lately I've been using a dark ruby colored wig with lots of curls, I got a lot more tips with that one than my other neon yellow wig. Coming out of the dressing room, I spotted a work friend Kira who was just finishing her own costume.

“Hey, Kira, can you get my back spots please?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure,” the other woman said with a smile. Her own costume of chains and feathers jingled like tiny bells as she walked over to me. Almost all the dancers got along well enough to help each other out as much as possible. There were a few dancers that didn’t get along very well, but they were at least able to either avoid each other or were at least courteous. It made the job 100 times easier if things were hunky dory backstage. A few minutes later, Kira had finished and I was set. I thanked her as she went to go do her own show. I pulled my knee high boots on, double checked my makeup, then went to work.

The seating areas at the front of the house as well as the other four smaller stages for one person were filled and still there were people standing at the bar. It was busy for a Friday night, but I wasn’t about to get mad about it. The drunker people got, the more money they’d spend.

“Hey, Carrie,” my manager said, waving me over to the bar. All the people that worked there had a stage name, some for safety and some because it was fun. I wanted to fly under the radar and be left alone when I wasn’t on the job. I walked over to him, waving and smiling to everyone that paid me any mind.

“Hey, Nick, what’s up?” I asked, leaning against the bar next to him.

“I know you’re my girl when I need extra sessions, especially private sessions. You wanna take this group coming in later? There’s supposed to be six or so. Includes lap dances and pole work, maybe a few body shots. They’re paying extra for my best girl. You want it?” He asked as looked around the floor of the club with his one eye.

“Sure. I never say no to extra tips,” I said with a shrug.

“I knew I could count on you,” he said. “They’ll be here in about an hour. They called ahead for some reason. No one calls ahead.”

“Great, hopefully they’re out of towners and get drunk easily,” I said, looking over the floor as well.

“Let’s hope so, go ahead and let Holly know that you’re not on the main stage tonight so she can have it,” he said, motioning to a brunette who was chatting up a table.

“Yes Sir,” I said, giving him a mock salute and getting an eye roll in return.

I let Holly know of the update and made myself useful by helping with serving drinks, making sure to give the tips to the servers I was helping, did a few lap dances, and mingled on the floor to pass the time till my party got there. My shifts were shorter, just five hours, compared to others because I only worked the weekends and was lower on the pecking order, but I still made a good amount on the weekends.

A little bit before my group got there, I headed to the room I was told we were using to double check that everything was clean and in order before getting on stage. I was swaying on the pole when the group came in. I nearly tripped over my platform heels when I saw who it was. It was the new pack in town, including the Alphas I had met at the store.

Fuck me.

Thankfully I was able to grab the pole and make it look like I meant to swing further, spinning myself around.

“Hi ya, fellas,” I called, making my accent thicker and my voice higher to hide my real voice. “Glad to see ya’ll made it. I’m Carrie, what’re your names?”

Taking seats around my stage, they all ordered drinks when a server came in. At first no one said anything, looking at one another almost nervously before I stepped down the stairs towards them.

“Oh come on, don’t be shy. I don’t bite,” I said, giving the dark haired man with a salt and pepper mustache a wink. He was dressed in a wine red button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slacks. It was all tailored to him instead of the usual baggy church clothes most men around the area wore. The material didn’t look like something from Walmart either. As I slid my hands over his shoulders and straddled him, getting a feel for his disposition, the shirt had to be a mixture of expensive fabrics. There was no other explanation for how soft it was without looking cheap.

“That’s disappointing,” he said with a chuckle, leaning back in the leather seat. “I’m Howard, that’s Thor, Bucky, and Helmut.” Howard pointed to each in turn from the blond with a beard and shoulder length hair that was pinned back in a half ponytail to Bucky and Helmut. “We’re new in town and figured we’d see what this place has to offer.”

“And what do you think so far, Sug’?” I asked.

“I think we found a good place,” he said, smirking looking me up and down.

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said, standing from leaning over Howard. “Now, who wants a lap dance?”

“Bucky, why don’t you go first?” Howard said.

“Me?” Bucky choked as the drinks were brought in, set on the small side tables between the seats.

“You shy, Sug?” I asked, moving to pull an armless leather clad chair to the front of the stage. “I promise, I’ll be nice.”

“Go on, live a little,” Thor chuckled as he picked up his drink. Even in the dim, colored lighting, I could still see a bit of blush across Bucky’s cheeks as he begrudgingly stood up. The men cheered as he moved to the chair in front of everyone.

“Now, some small ground rules, boys,” I said, sliding my hand along Bucky’s shoulders as I walked behind him. “No touching unless I say so, ask like good little boys and you’ll get body shots, AND the bigger you tip, the more you get.”

“I like her,” Helmut said as he watched. The music started for me, something with a good beat that allowed me to tease and taunt. Bucky’s clothes were different for tonight, more like Howard’s really. It was a dark navy blue button up with the sleeves buttoned around his wrists. What was odd was that he had leather clothes on. They were tight around his hands and while I usually wasn’t one to question someone’s fashion choices, I also wasn’t complaining as I took his hands to slide down the sides of my body as I faced away from him. My ass was inches from his face, letting me lean over to twerk for him.

It was common to smell arousal, the need from Alphas and Betas and Omegas alike when I gave performances, but Bucky was different. His scent was coming off in wafts, no hindrance at all. It was intoxicating and easy to get lost in. Especially being so close to him. All the dancers used neutralizing spray to keep our scents to a minimum, adding manufactured floral or fruity scents. I was so glad that I had put on an extra layer that night. When it came time for the tips from Bucky, it took a bit of prompting to put the bills in fun places.

“Put the bills down your shirt or the waist of your pants,” Howard said with a laugh. Usually I hated when customers did that, but with this group I didn’t mind. With slightly shaky hands, Bucky slid a few bills under the belt of his slacks as well as down the front of his shirt to peek out.

“Jesus, Howard, you’re going to get us kicked out,” Bucky huffed at his friend, shooting him a glare before looking down when I had squatted in front of him. Slowly, I slid up his body, making sure to grab the bills with my teeth to end with the tips of our noses touching. His steely blue eyes were wide open, his small gasp letting me smell his breath that had traces of mint and whiskey. Had it been just us, I would have been even dirtier, but with an audience most customers didn’t want to get too turned on.

“You did good, Sug,” I said with a grin, moving to sit directly in his lap as I plucked the rest of the bills from him to shove down my top. I gave him a kiss on the cheek before turning to the group.

“Who’s next?”

Thor took his turn, much happier to have a scantily clad person in his lap. He was fun too. Apparently he was from Scandinavia or something and was new to this type of club. I figured they had strip clubs abroad, but he seemed to be tickled to be in one now. Howard had his, showing off exactly how much he knew about dancing with how he knew where he could touch without getting in trouble. Then there were body shots between the dances that all the men took part in. After a couple, they were all pretty loose and goofy, even Bucky who was laughing and smiling wider.

The last dance of the night was for Helmut and that man was the one I was most worried about. Despite being the smallest Alpha there, the man had something about him that was alluring and almost dark. It was the same with Bucky and when both of them were together it felt like I was in one of those cartoons where the scent of fresh baked treats floated through the forest to beckon the lost ingenue to it. While Bucky had been nervous though, Helmut was not.

He wasn’t cocky like Howard or playful like Thor, no the man was steady and was moving with me almost. I would go to one side and his nose would follow, barely touching my neck and shoulder. His beard would tickle my chest as I peeled off a layer of mesh to let him motorboat me. The dance was intense and when I was done, I was sure that the neutralizer wasn’t working. Just like the others, he got a kiss on the cheek before letting him up.

Despite my fear of being recognized, no one said a thing. Overall the group had a good time, tipping generously as I finished on the stage.

“Now, I hate to say it boys, but that’s all the time there is for us. Make sure to come back and see me Sug’s,” I said, winking at them. They had paid for almost 4 hours and my shift was nearly up, but I would have rather kept servicing them the rest of the night. Especially Helmut and Bucky.

I waved to them as they all got up and left, Howard leaving more tips under his empty glass as he held back. “How about one last lap dance? Hmm? I’ll make it worth your while,” he said. The man had been leaving hundreds all over the place in my room, Nick would understand if I spent an extra fifteen minutes getting the house tips that way.

“Sure, have a seat, darlin’,” I said with a smile, sliding from the stage to the floor. I pushed him back into the chair when he hadn’t sat just yet, earning a surprised look.

“So, out of curiosity, do you do parties?” He asked, looking up at me as I straddled him, holding onto the back of the chair as I moved my body to the music.

“Never been hired to do one out of the club. Usually we keep them in house,” I said, rolling my hips over his thighs.

“I see. So, if I wanted to book you specifically for an event, would I just ask the manager then?” He asked, his eyes roaming over my body. It wasn’t out of the norm for customers to do that as they talked with us, but it felt off with Howard. Like he was acting the part of a customer instead of being one.

“Yup, his name’s Nick. He’s at the bar right now probably, he’ll be the guy with the eye patch,” I said with a hum. “Why are you so curious how things work here? I heard you new people were from New York. You must have fancier clubs there than this nowhere town.”

“True, but there’s a certain charm to this place,” he said. “My mate seems to have taken a liking to the town, especially a certain Omega at a grocery store he’s been seeing.”

“Oh yeah? Good for your mate, though if you’re here and not at home, I’m not sure how good that is,” I said, feeling my heart pick up pace. What the hell was he doing? How did he figure it out without even seeing me at the store?

“Clint, my mate, says the sheriff here is kind of odd. I haven’t met him yet myself, but small towns always have those sort of secrets don’t they?”

“You’re in the middle of the midwest in a small town, Sug’. There’s secrets everywhere. Everyone wants to save face despite hating the people they wanna impress,” I said. This was Clint’s Howard? Did Clint know then? He added me on Facebook, but I rarely posted more than work stuff for the store and even then I had nothing to say that I worked at the club.

“What about you? Do you have any skeletons in your closet, Hazel?” He asked, whispering my name. I stiffened, standing up to glare down at him.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but leave the money and go,” I said firmly.

“Look, I’m not trying to cause any trouble,” he said, holding up his hands.

“Uh huh,” I said. “I don’t care what you were thinking or doing, but your time is up and you should go. Now.”

“Look, Clint said some weird stuff about the sheriff and said you acted funny around him and when pressed about it. Why?” Howard asked, standing up as he pulled out a wad of bills.

“It’s entirely none of your business and honestly, stay away from the sheriff if you know what’s good for you,” I said, reaching out to snatch the money from him as he held it out.

“Well, I would, but he likes to make house calls and greet everyone,” he said. “I wouldn’t make a big deal out of it if it didn’t worry Clint and my pack, okay?”

“What do you mean, house calls?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

“The sheriff came by to see us, going almost door to door to introduce himself. Usually people don’t do that unless they’re trying to prove something or if they have something they want to stay hidden,” Howard said. “I was out when he came by, but enough of the pack was put off by it that it became a concern.”

“Just don’t put your nose in other people's business and you’ll be fine. Sheriff Walker just likes to make sure everyone knows he’s the one in charge,” I said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Howard said with a sigh.

“How’d you know it was me anyways?” I asked as he turned to leave.

“Clint said you had a weird birthmark under your left ear, that it looked like a crescent moon. Also when I pulled up the website, he recognized you from a promotional picture,” he said, his eyes trailing over my face. “But it’s not a birthmark is it?”

“You better go before security thinks you’re holding me hostage,” I said, gathering all the money as well as the glasses onto a server’s plater. If Clint figured it out, did Bucky and Helmut? Fucking hell.

“I’ll see you around, Carrie,” he said, giving a small wave before leaving the room.

I watched him leave the room before exiting myself, going right to the dancers room. There I sorted the bills before giving the house mom a tip and paying the house a cut. Sitting down, I took a bit to catch my breath and grab a snack. Things that had been simple were suddenly getting so very complicated. I had my second job for nearly six months now and was doing fine with keeping that part of me a secret. Things were steady, kinda boring, but steady. I needed that to get on with my life. Maybe it was time to start saving up to move to a new place. Somewhere far from the small town that was eating me alive.

“Hey, Carrie,” Kira said, coming into the room. “Your weekly visitor is here.”

Another thing to just make the night crap.

“Thanks. Tell him I’ll be out in a minute, I’m just changing,” I said, giving up on the last half hour of my shift. Usually I would have worked the floor more, but he was early this week. As quickly as I could, I took off my costume and accessories before wiping myself down then changing into my usual clothes.

Walking out the door for the night, I had made sure to get the money ready beforehand, wanting to hand it off then leave.

“Hey Sweetheart,” a gravelly voice called from a picnic bench next to the back door. I looked over to see Brock sitting there with a stupid smile on his face as he smoke a cigarette. He was lit up by a lamppost that was supposed to give us a good range of vision. Most of the time it just made everything orange and looked like it was from a horror movie. With Brock waiting for me, it felt like one. “I didn’t cut your night short, did I?” He asked, standing up to his full 6 foot four height, to throw the butt of his smoke on the ground and grind it out with his boot. I put my shoulders back as I marched over to him, pushing the envelope of money into his stomach. With Brock I couldn’t show hesitation or weakness, the man was a predator that would go for the throat the moment it was shown.

“There’s your cut,” I said, turning to leave.

“Uh-uh, you know the rules,” Brock said, grabbing my elbow tightly. Growling, I moved back over to him as he counted the money.

“Can you hurry up?” I hissed, pulling my hoodie sleeves down over my hands as I shifted my feet in wait.

“Calm your ass. I’m just making sure,” he said, not even looking away from the bills. “Ah, see, this is why you wait. You’re $300 short.”

“That’s because John decided to stop by the grocery store this week and bother me,” I said. “Per our deal, if either of you interact with me beyond necessary needs, you get less money.”

“Not $300 worth,” he said, looking up at me.

“He was an ass and I’m in a mood, so just take it and go,” I sighed, adjusting my bag strap on my shoulder.

“Not how this works, Sweetheart,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fork over the other $300 and we’ll call it even. I’ll talk to John and remind him of our agreement. After that, if he still decides to be an idiot, then you can give less money, but not till then.”

“That’s not what you said,” I snarled. “I’m not paying you to sometimes stay away. So that’s what you’re getting and nothing more till next week.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re dealing with, but I can assure you that it’s not nice guy John who you can just sweet talk,” Brock said, grabbing my arm hard to jerk me close. “Now, either give me the money or I make things really hard for you at your regular job. You know, the one where everyone likes you enough to pity you instead of whispering about what you really are.”

“Let me go, Brock,” I growled, trying to pull away from him.

“See, this is making the price go up. Now we’re at $400 that you owe me. Wanna fight me some more and make it higher?” He asked, tightening his grip on me.

“Fine.” Pulling out my wallet from my bag, I grabbed the extra money for him. Waiting as he counted it out, he slipped it into the envelope with a smirk.

“See, was that so hard?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Fuck you, Brock,” I said, wanting to just go.

“Oh no, no, no,” he growled, his hand shooting out to grab my face and force me to look at him. “We are not going to start that attitude. Understand? I can remind you why you hate me so much if you really want me to. It’s no skin off my back to take you home and fuck that look off your face.”

“Let go,” I grunted, struggling as his grip tightened.

“Not until you promise to be a good girl,” he sneered. The music to the club was loud, making it impossible for anyone to hear me scream for help or even know there was something happening. The music also covered the sounds of footsteps approaching us as Brock easily lifted me onto the picnic table to pin me down, making me lose my bag as I held onto his arm to try and pry it off with a cry.

“Hey! Get off her!”

Brock’s tight grip on my face kept me facing him, hiding the people who were coming over to us. It didn’t stop me from struggling though.

“This isn’t your business, fuck off,” Brock snarled, making my hair stand on in. John was a bully, someone who could only get so rough before feeling bad. Brock was a fucking monster. Something I’d wished I’d known before being with him. Just the sound of his voice raised and angry had me trembling.

“That’s not how this works,” another voice said as they got closer. “Let her go now.”

“Or what? You’ll call the cops?” Brock scoffed.

“No, we’ll just kick the shit out of you.” That voice I knew, making my stomach roll. They should have all left by now, what were they doing still there?

“Brock just go,” I managed, hoping he wouldn’t do anything. “Just take the money and go. I’ll pay extra next time.”

“Damn right you will,” he grumbled as he let go of my face before backing up. “She’s all yours. A heads up though, she likes it when you bite her.” Brock chuckled as he walked away, probably planning something for next week. My stomach rolled at the thought.

Sitting up, I swallowed hard as I hopped up on shaky legs to grab my bag. I kept my face down as shame threatened to set it on fire with how hot it was. I was near tears as I picked up my bag, my hands so unsteady I almost had to drop my stuff.

“Are you okay?”

My hair only covered so much of my face, but the people had seen everything already. I wasn’t hidden anymore.

“Look, uh, just. . . It’s fine, okay? It was just a misunderstanding,” I said, seeing Helmut recognize me. “You guys should go.” There was a confusion of sorts as his brows furrowed together, but he didn’t say anything. Before anyone else could say anything, I started off towards my truck, hoping that I would be able to make it without tripping over my own feet.

“Wait,” Helmut called as he followed. “Please.”

“I’m leaving for the night. It’s fine, I promise,” I said, putting on a nice smile as I stopped. Everyone loved my smile at the club. They said it was warm and friendly with a little spice. “It was just a mix up, that’s it. Thank you for checking on me though.”

“At least let me walk you to your car. You look shaky,” he said, trying to be a gentleman. I wanted so badly to let him, to have someone who wanted to help me instead of use me, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to him when there was so much more that could hurt him and the others.

“I think your friends are waiting for you actually, but thanks,” I said, my eyes watering as I kept forcing my smile. The last thing I needed was anyone getting involved between me and my exes That would just make the mess even bigger. Worse, I liked Helmut and his friends. Him and Bucky specifically. I didn’t want them to get in trouble or tangled up in my stuff. They didn’t deserve that.

On the way home, I had to pull over to keep from driving off the road. My vision was cloudy from tears and I couldn’t breathe. Things had been so good for me and now shit was hitting that fan. Why me? I didn’t do anything wrong! I played by the rules and got nearly killed only to escape and think I can leave it all behind. Why can’t I just be free of this!? I screamed as I hit the steering wheel, so mad and hopeless that nothing else had work. About ten minutes later I had calmed down to a sniffle and was able to see properly. I put my truck into gear and drove home.

I pulled into my short driveway to see everything was still the same there at least. I trudged in to put things up before bed, almost not caring enough but knowing I would be pissed in the morning. As I flopped onto my mattress after changing into my pajamas, I got a text.

[Brock SMS:] You owe double next time for the trouble.

Fuck.

#zemo/oc #bucky/oc #john walker/oc #helmut zemo/oc #bucky barnes/oc #brock rumlow/oc #zemo/bucky/oc #john walker/brock rumlow #john walker/brock rumlow/oc #zemo/bucky #abo au #marvel

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bellestalesoffiction · 4 years

Text

Clean Love

Pairing: Eventual Mob!Steve x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, a swear here or there, minor shit talk

A/N: I wrote this in the span of two days over 6 hours. I’m not sure if I'll continue with this, but I was inspired to write for the first time in years. Please don't judge too hard. Also sorry for the shitty summary! Feedback appreciated!

Summary: She’s a city girl, an artist with a day job, because how else is she gonna pay the bills. She cleans for Tony Stark’s offices, one day she has the pleasure of cleaning up a mess made by the most feared boss in all of New York, Steve Rogers.

It was brisk, just like any normal autumn morning in New York. Steve stepped out of his town car, fixing his coat, before heading into the tall building that held the name 'Stark' in large letters high in the sky. Another meeting with his god-father about one of many deals that their organizations made. Today would be a messy one, held in the lower levels of the looming building. Someone in their lower ranks had tried to steal half a shipment of guns and ammo, they didn't get far at all. Steve's right hand man and best friend had gotten the three who tried before they even left the docks.

Two of the three men were already at the bottom of the harbor, the third was currently on the lowest floor. Most likely the traitor was bruised and beaten into cooperation, or so Steve hoped, he really didn't want to bruise his knuckles or ruin his new Armani shirt.

The few people milling about the lobby paid no attention to Steve as he strode past. He nodded at the security guard on duty before heading past the main elevators and towards a back hallway to a private lift. It was one of two elevators that reached the lower levels, the other elevator was used by maintenance staff and regular employees to reach the underground parking (not the floors below said parking that Steve was headed to now).

The doors to the elevator opened up after Steve input a 6-digit code, he stepped on pressing the corresponding level switch before clasping his hands in front of him. There was no music during his decent, no soothing calming or annoying music, just silence. The doors slowly parted, opening up to a metal gate, on the other side of which stood James Buchanan Barnes, "Bucky" as Steve knew him growing up. The sight of the slightly shorter dark-haired man made the mob boss grin slightly.

"So Buck, how's our friend?" Steve smirked walking alongside his right-hand.

Bucky smiles, it's almost sinister, "He's about ready to talk boss. Tony's waiting right outside for ya, wants you in the room for intimidation factor."

Steve nods, spying Tony up ahead. He gives the older man a nod, showing his respect with a hand on his chest reaching for the other man's hand. Tony smiles and returns the gesture, pulling Steve in for a quick familial hug and a pat on the back. They step apart after a moment, "You ready?" asks Tony, receiving a nod from Steve.

The older man twists the handle and pushes the door open, the room behind it was rather large, deep and wide. A single bulb hung from an exposed wire, the only source of light in the room. The temperature was low, cold enough to make your fingers go numb and just cold enough to see your breath leave your lips. In the center, just below the exposed bulb was a chair, tied down to said chair was a man, blood running from his ear, nose and mouth, one eye swollen shut. Tony approached him slowly, circling around him, just on the edge of the light.

"Do you know why you're here, hmm?" Tony continued to circle the man, getting closer to him with each step.

"Let me tell you why," Tony stood behind him, grabbing his shoulders tightly, making the man wince. "You and your little friends tried to steal from us." Tony motioned to Steve and himself, the former staying just in the shadows.

"You tried to take 250 semi automatic weapons and sell them off, to who? And for what? You knew that if you got caught you'd end up dead... what's so important you'd risk your life? Or rather who?" Tony smacked the back of the man's head, pretending to have a moment of clarity, "Oh That's right! Your wife, Georgia... She's pregnant with your first kid right?"

The man tensed, "You wanted to get her away from all this right? Set her up somewhere you wouldn't be found?" Tony began to circle his chair again.

"You never would've been safe you know, we'd find you anywhere. We'll find her anywhere she goes." Steve smirked, Tony continued, "Who were your buyers?"

The man glanced up at Tony before he spat at him, right in his face. Tony wipes at his face, turning and nods to Steve, giving him the que to take over. Stepping forward slowly, Steve grins, making his way towards the chair. The man's eyes widen, fixed on the knife in Steve's hand. He squirms and yells out, no one moves or tries to intervene as Steve begins to slice into the man.

"Stop! Stop!! Please!" Tony doesn't listen, watches the man's face as he cries like a baby.

"He won't stop until you talk... Mr. Rogers here doesn't take too kindly to people who take his things," Steve smirks, moving to press his knife to the mans cheekbone, "... maybe after he's done we'll send your head to your lady" Tony chuckled watching the man go white as a sheet.

"Please, no, leave her out of this, I'll tell you anything!"

Steve glares at him, pressing hard with his knife, "Your buyers names, who put you up to this?"

"S Sitwell, his name's Jasper Sitwell!", that was all they needed to hear.

She hurried up the street, jacket half on and a granola bar hanging out of her mouth. Her alarm hadn't gone off, the power in her building had somehow gone out during the night causing the events leading up to now. She had overslept by a good half hour, she had skipped her shower and a real meal, having time to barley grab a snack for breakfast before running out the door 5 minutes late already.

Weaving and dodging through the crowds, she made her way down a back alley stopping at a door with a pass card sensor. She digs through her purse, grabbing her Stark Towers cleaning badge and swipes it, successfully walking into the building.

"Hey Y/N, you're wanted for a mess on level 26!", one of her coworkers calls out.

She groans, "I just walked in, I'm not even on the clock yet!"

"Yeah and the supervisor isn't happy about that. She said it's your punishment" Y/N sighs and nods punching in as she quickly scarfs down the rest of her breakfast and tosses her coat on the back of a chair. As you can probably guess by now, Y/N cleaned pretty much anything she was told to clean inside the tower. She was one of 3 cleaning ladies, besides her was Wanda Maximoff and Jessica Drew. The girls supervisor was one Felicia Hardy, who once was just a cleaning lady like the rest of them. Felicia had stabbed the trio in the back and thrown them under the bus for her mistake with their last supervisor, convincing the hiring staff that she was the most competent to take over the position. The maintenance team knows Felicia isn't meant to be where she is, the position should have been Jessica's, Felicia just knew how to brown nose better.

As they say, speak of the devil and she will appear, "Y/N, floor 26 now! Men's room on the south end had two urinals that went out of order!" Felicia snaps sauntering into the room. Besides ordering her around, the woman made her way to the coffee machine for a refill.

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw her (hair color) locks into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She turned and made her way down the hall to the supply room bumping into Scott and Luis, the two maintenance men for the building, besides their supervisor Flash Thompson.

Luis waves and smiles, "Morning y/n, how was your weekend?"

Y/n smiled and gave him the rundown as she gathered her cleaning supplies, groceries, another failed date and a dozen texts from her ex trying to get back with her. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Man, he just won't leave you alone," Scott huffed, annoyed for her. "Well if you need anyone to help you get the guy off your tail, let me know. I'd gladly offer my services."

Y/n smiled softly and nodded, "Thanks Scott, but I can handle it. You guys already fix the busted urinals on 26?"

Luis nods and makes a fake retching noise, "It's only Monday and already some asshole decided to-"

She cuts him off, "I don't wanna know, all I need to know is that it's fixed so I can clean the floors. You left the Out of order sign up right?"

Luis smiles sheepishly and shakes his head no. The man was good at his job, he could fix pretty much everything well enough, his only problem was that he often forgot about the cleaning crew and forgets to mark the areas that need cleaning out of order so the regular staff don't go in. She sighs, shaking her head, oh Luis. She picks up her cleaning bucket and pushes the mop bucket towards the service elevator and waits quietly.

The elevator dings and opens up, allowing her to step inside. She presses the corresponding button and waits, mind wandering to lunch and what's close and cheap. The elevator dings again and she makes her way off. The rest of her day is just as boring, cleaning more bathrooms and a few meeting rooms. Finally the day comes to an end, she heads back to the maintenance break room, only to be stopped half way by Felicia.

"Oh, Y/n, great, glad I caught you. Mr. Stark called and needed someone to do a quick wipe down outside his office. Security had to get involved and well, Mr. Stark doesn't want blood stains on the carpet," Felicia smirks at her, "Besides, it's not like you have anywhere to be tonight, or any night."

Y/n frowns softly, nodding and averting her eyes. When the young woman wasn't working she was making art, drawings, pastel illustrations and paintings even. She loved art more than anything, it was her passion growing up, helped her forget the harsh environments she lived in. Currently she was building a portfolio to submit to a few lower end galleries, hoping to spread her name and gain some recognition. Now here she was, stuck at work cleaning up after millionaires and office snobs just to pay the rent, pushing her dreams to the back burner.

Her supplies gathered once more, she heads up to the top floor, anxiously. She had never gone up that high, never had she been asked to clean anywhere near Mr. Starks office, normally that was Jessica or Felicia who took care of that. The ding snapped her out of her train of thought as she stepped out onto the floor cautiously. Giving the hall a once over she headed towards Mr. Starks office, his personal assistant should still be there if there was a mess to clean. The woman she knew only by name, her name was Natasha Romanoff. Ms. Romanoff had a particularly sharp eye for details and a 'no half ass' policy when it came to anything. Y/n had only interacted with the woman once, and that was when Felicia threw them under the bus. Now here she was, leaning against her desk tapping away at her phone.

"Good, you're here. My desk needs a total wipe down and when Mr. Stark is done he'll need some clean up on the marble in front of his desk," Natasha explained without looking up once.

Y/n nodded, "Yes Ms. Romanoff, I'll get right on that."

And she did, doing a thorough cleaning of the sides of her desk and the top, making sure not to move any of her personal items and work around the woman herself. Once she was finished with the desk and the floor in front of the desk she stood still, waiting for the ok to head into the CEO's office. Natasha finally glanced up at her, eyeing her in a very unsettling way. Almost as if the woman was peering into the very depths of her mind.

"You can go in now." Natasha nodded to the door and stood opening it for her. Three men were still standing inside, but quiet. "Gentlemen, the cleaner is here"

( @kayteewritessteve @katurrade @kaybrownies )

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writeyouin · 4 years

Text

The Crooked Man X Reader - Purpose (COMMISSION)

A/N – Thank you for yet another commission from @petitelepus. I hope this is to your liking.

Warnings – Minor thoughts of suicide. Minor harassment.

Rating – T

Commission Request: A female Reader Fable who is loyal to the Crooked Man down to the bone! She knows what he is doing is wrong but he also gave her life a meaning.

Word Count - 1827

You clung tightly to your purse which was the only thing you had left in the world; all it contained now was one lonely five-dollar bill and a pocket-sized painting of your cottage in the homelands. You had never been one of the main fables that the Mundy’s talked about, only one of many scullery maids in Prince Charming’s palace; nobody of great importance.

Ever since you had come to the Mundy realm, it had been one problem after another, going week to week trying to scrape enough money together just to survive. Now, with no money and no job prospects from either Fabletown or the surrounding Mundy area, you were forced to go to the Business Office for help. If Old King Cole was still around, you doubted it would be a problem; he was a merry old soul after all. However, the person you had to convince was Ichabod Crane, and you had heard that he didn’t have much in the way of generosity. Although it was late and you were the last person awaiting a meeting with Mr Crane, you hoped it wouldn’t affect his judgement, and that he might be moved to help you.

Finally, Crane himself opened the door but it wasn’t to see you, it was to kick both Snow White and Bufkin out.

“TAKE THAT WRETCHED CREATURE AND KEEP IT AWAY FROM THE BUSINESS OFFICE MISS SNOW! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MORE OF ITS DISRUPTIVE BEHAVIOUR.”

Snow looked like she was about to argue, but had evidently had enough that day, “Come on Bufkin, let’s leave the Deputy Mayor alone; it’s closing time anyway.”

“Yes, Miss White,” Bufkin agreed, not caring that Crane had kicked him out. The advantage of being a flying monkey was that he could always get back into the Business Office from the outside window whenever he wanted to, and now he could mooch a drink off someone before returning.

“AND YOU-” Crane pointed an accusing finger at you, seeming to lose some of his bluster afterwards, “Make it quick.”

“Yes, Sir,” You squeaked, stepping into the office and closing the door behind you.

Crane walked to his desk, closely followed by you as you explained your plight. At the sound of your desperation, he started paying closer attention.

“So you need money,” Crane concluded.

“Yes, Sir, but a loan would be fine, I’ll pay it back as soon as I find work.”

“That’s redundant. If you are unable to find work, then I’ll have wasted an investment. It would be better if I simply gave you a job myself.”

“That’d be wonderful, Sir. I used to be a scullery maid so I can clean and-”

Crane waved your explanations away, “I am not in need of a maid. I have another job in mind for you.”

“Anything, Mr Crane. I’ll do anything.”

Crane closed the gap between the two of you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a way that only made you feel vulnerable and afraid. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You tensed up, clenching your teeth, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as Crane trailed his hand down your arm. Under his touch, you froze, feeling cheap and abused.

“I happen to need someone for various roleplays,” Crane told you. “And since you’re willing to do anything-”

Coming to your senses, you pushed Crane away from you, running out of the office as fast as you could with tears in your eyes; Crane’s screamed insults following you out of the room.

In the dark of the night, you kept running, not daring to stop lest your shame catch up to you. Without Crane’s money, you had nothing, not even enough to rent somewhere cheap for the night. Once you got to the park, you finally stopped running, walking along the bridge so you could look down at the glassy water that reflected you and your many failings.

Catching your breath, silent tears slid down your cheeks. What was the point of living in a world crushed in the fist of capitalism? With all that you had in the tiny handbag, you may as well resign yourself to starving to death, if the cold didn’t take you first. It would probably be better if you drowned yourself now. Unlike Mundy lakes, the one in Fabletown was deceptively deep, and would serve as a half-decent final resting place. Mechanically, you inched your leg over the side of the little wooden bridge, so you were straddling the handrail.

“Begging your pardon Miss, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a cockney voice said from behind you.

You turned to find Tiny Tim watching you sympathetically.

“Tim,” You breathed, recognising him instantly; it was hard not to when he was such a major character.

“Aye, thanks for leaving off the tiny. I hate it when people say that. You wanna come with me? I have someone interested in employing you.”

You looked towards the glassy water once again, fear now clutching your heart as you scrambled to get away from it, back onto the safe side of the bridge. Tiny Tim put an arm around you to steady you. “Do you want my coat, Miss? You’re freezing.”

You nodded jerkily, stuck with the thought that you had been close to throwing your life away. Tiny Tim removed his coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Alright then, you coming? I’m s’posed to take you to the boss.”

“Who is it?”

“Ah…Best he explains it, he’s had a bit o’ bad press lately, so his name does no good.”

You started thinking of all the villains you knew of. Bluebeard, the Tweedles, the Jersey Devil; you couldn’t picture Tiny Tim working for any of them.

“I promise he’s good. He gives people like you and me jobs. Who else’d hire me as a bodyguard?”

“…Alright, I’ll join you.”

With an amiable smile, Tiny Tim led you towards an out of place door on the bark of a tree, deep within the park. From the door, he led you down a rich hallway till you were in front of two solid-oak doors.

When he opened them, you found a man like no other. He was an older gentleman with a sagging left eye, as if he’d had a stroke. His nose looked like it had been broken more than once, and he held a cane, to keep up straight.

Instantly, your breath left your body in a state of panic, for who did not know of the Crooked Man? He was whispered to have taken part in every recent major crime in an attempt to control Fabletown, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do; suddenly, Ichabod Crane was starting to look like a real martyr.

“Miss (L/N), Sir,” Tiny Tim announced, before leaving you alone with the Crooked Man.

“Ah, yes, Miss (L/N), please, take a seat,” The Crooked Man gestured to the sofa opposite him in the small office.

“Why am I here?” You asked in a small voice, sitting down.

“Why? Because I heard that you were looking for employment, and I saw the manner in which Crane was planning to abuse you.”

“How? That only just happened…”

“Ah, it is of no real concern,” The Crooked Man answered, thinking of Bloody Mary and all she managed to see through her mirrors. “Tea? Coffee perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ah, I see you have manners. They’re so often overlooked nowadays, don’t you think? Alright, down to business,” He sat down in the armchair and scratched his chin. “I have heard that you are in need of employment, and it so happens that I’m looking for a personal chef, as well as a house maid. You will be free to come and go as you like, and you will be handsomely compensated for your work. The only thing I would ask is for your discretion. You see, my name has certain connotations, as I’m sure you are well aware of.”

A small part of you wanted to ask whether you would be executed if you didn’t take the job, but another larger part of you didn’t seem to care. You had met Tiny Tim time and time again, and he seemed to be a reasonably good judge of character. Perhaps he was right; it wasn’t every day you got offered a job that you were suited to for a good wage.

“It will be a pleasure to work for you, Sir,” You inclined your head politely.

After three months of working for the Crooked Man, you had never been happier. The work was good and it paid more than you deserved. You found yourself looking forward to taking his meals to him, enjoying every interaction with him. He was always polite and respectful, in a way that nobody else had ever been before, and whenever you brought the tea tray to his meetings, he made sure his goons always treated you with the upmost respect. Once, Tweedle-Dee had dared to lay a hand on you, and he was immediately punished. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it had warned the others off you for good.

While you knew that the Crooked Man’s business dealings were morally wrong, you found that you didn’t care. He had brought you back from the brink of depression, and for that, you would forever be loyal to him.

“Breakfast, Sir,” You announced yourself into the office where he spent most of his time.

“Hm,” He replied, reading through some paperwork. He was unusually quiet as he scanned the script in front of him.

“Everything alright, Sir?”

He put the papers down with a sigh, managing a smile for the first time that morning. “Nothing that cannot be fixed. Just a dip in some stocks of mine that I find rather disappointing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It will all be fine, my dear,” He said with a grin.

Your breath hitched in your throat; he’d never called you anything but your name before. Was it possible that he held the same feelings for you that you harboured for him? Or was it merely a platonic nickname, now that you had been working for him a while.

“A penny for your thoughts, (Y/N)?” He asked, noting your distress.

As coolly as you could, you approached him with his morning tea. Upon delivering it to his desk, you pecked his cheek. It was a move that could possibly lose you your job, but you decided to risk it anyway. If the Crooked Man had any thoughts, he kept them well guarded as you silently left the room, your heart pounding. Once the door was shut, the Crooked Man pressed a hand to where your lips had been and took a deep breath. He would have to find a way to repay the gesture ten-fold; you had very quickly become more to him than just another employee.

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#the crooked man #the wolf among us #telltale #tw #harassment #suicide mention #the crooked man x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fables #reader insert #reader #purpose #commission

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camillegladstone · 3 years

Text

08.12.79

Red signs cluttered every branch of thought that was unravellling through Camille’s mind. Stop. Danger. You’re going to hurt yourself. This is the least intelligent thing you’ve done in your entire life. All of it blasting violently at the corners of her brain where, days ago, a decision had been made: To stand up. To do something. Even if it could be for nothing, even if it put her in danger. Do something. Be dumb. Just don’t stand still.

Each step she mustered in Doris’ direction felt simultaneously like a win and a loss. A loss, because she was about to give up a little bit of comfort and a little bit of peace of mind, right after that which was arguably the best weekend she’d ever lived. And a win, because, even then, she pushed through it. Even if her hands shivered and every nerve in her system told her not to do it. This had to mean courage, didn’t it? Either that, or stupidity. She never would have thought it would be so hard to distinguish between the two.

When she finally sat at Doris’ table, at the most reserved corner of the inn, Camille could barely look the other witch in the eye. Not out of fear, now. The prospect of speaking out brought an altogether different feeling, and that was shame. She’d never told anyone what she was about to tell Doris, because it was a testament to her inadequacy in each world she’d ever inhabited. And inequacy meant a constant struggle— pushing against the tide just to reinstate your existency. Nothing ever coming without begging for it, apologizing for it. People often had this thing about them. They belonged to the world they inhabited, which, in return, belonged to them. Match made in heaven. Natural. Poised. Camille had always envied that. It would never be her. Even if, at Hogwarts, belonging felt like a possibility, it would never just be. The instinct was there, everpresent, to wince at people’s touch, deny connections, convince herself that she did not deserve it. Belonging was not for her, was what she’d learnt.

“I... Don’t even know where to start. This isn’t just about primary, for me. It’s always been like this. This inadequacy.” She stood in silence for long, fidgeting at her ring and keeping her eyes locked at it. It was old and intertwined, cheap silver with dark stains of wear all around. A gift from her mom. “I dunno why, but I was never liked. It’s not that I was unlikeable, I just wasn’t liked. Mum would always try to rationalize it— say the kids were jealous of my... Light, as she put it. Or say they just thought they were better than me, ‘cause we didn’t have money or a name. But that never made sense, to me. They must have had a genuine reason, you know, there really must have been something off about me." Somehow she wasn’t crying yet, but she sniffed. Was Doris unimpressed? It was hard to tell. She couldn’t focus on her face for more than half a second. This couldn’t be what she wanted to hear, could it? Fast-forward, then.

“So I guess when I learned I was a witch, it came as an answer to the question, you know? ‘What's wrong with me’. And... It was actually brilliant. There was some light, really, so it meant mum wasn’t all wrong. I was so hopeful. Then I went off to Cambridge, and...” Another sniff as a burning tingle spread all the way from her gut, to her toes and her face. Getting to the point. “The same thing all over again. I’d... Think I was beginning to make friends with some group, but just as quick, they got to shunning me. Then came little remarks, comments. This time, well...” The tears were coming. She always had to cry, didn’t she? It was a lot, but it felt like such a foolish reaction. Whining. Like a child. “This time it was all about my blood. My origin. Just the fact that I stood there, alive and among them, was ridiculous, joke-worthy. Everyday was dirty stares, names. People sitting away from me when I came into class, leaving me hateful notes. ‘Mudblood’, ‘insect’, ‘unnatural’, ‘freak’, just... So exhausting.” She sobbed. “I didn’t do anything to earn all that hatred, but it was there all the same, so real, I—” Again, she sobbed, catching her breath. This wasn’t going anywhere, it just cut through her for no reason. She had to recompose. Doris wanted specifics, right? No whining. No mumbling. Something that might make a difference. Her jaw clenched— Would any of it make a difference? She took a deep breath and wiped away the tears from her eyes and and cheeks.

“The first few years were the worst. On my first month, this girl Lilith... I don’t remember her last name, but she was a year above me. Slytherin, now.” Her eyes found Doris’ now, uneasy. Is this useful? They might have asked. They trailed to Doris’ notebook, for a second. Yes, she was taking notes. That was good. “She invited me to a party, once. Friendly, and just... Picture perfect, you know? ‘Of course I wanted to be friends with her’, was what I thought, so I said ‘yes’. We made plans to apparate out of school but...” The memory came back to her with clarity. She didn’t even need to shut her eyes to feel the shiver through her spine. Tears came back to her face. “When we got there it wasn’t a party, just a dark, cold, big abandoned warehouse. She took my wand,” a sniff, “and apparated away, just leaving me there, and... There were screams,” a sob, catching her breath. “And whispers. She’d set it all up, a bloody nightmare. I didn’t even understand what ‘mudblood’ meant back then, but it echoed in my head and all around me, swallowing me up. I just ran. And ran, and ran.” Bumped into walls, fell, got up, and ran. All right there in front of her. Could have been yesterday. How dazzled she’d felt to see the lights out on the street when she found her way out of that place. “When I got back into school my wand was waiting for me in my bed. Carved with a big ‘mudblood’ along it. It was weeks before I could go to Ollivanders to get it fixed.” Would this suffice? Camille wanted to end this. It didn’t make any sense to relive it now that things were better. Things are better, she told herself, calming her breath. I can do this. Doris seemed to say it too, just by being there.

“And, um... In second year, too,” she recalled. Not that she’d ever forgotten. “I had this little bag where I kept my cassette tapes and player. Mum had made me mixtapes. A bunch of them, over the years. She used to tell me they were like... A portable hug. ‘Like one of your spell things’, she’d say... I lost it, one day, didn’t know where I left it. And Amycus Carrow found it, of all people. He said he’d give them back to me, just like that, over a note. With a time and a place. Instead, he...” The tears continued to come violently, a consistent warm stream sticking to her cheeks. “He called a bunch of friends over to watch. He said that, if I repeated this and that — that I was a disgusting, filthy mudblood, that I shouldn’t ever have been born, that... —” She sobbed. Almost over, now, she told herself. She had to keep going. “If I said it, he’d give them to me. So... I said it. But he shredded them all, right in front of me... Everyone laughed. I felt like the most stupid person alive. Maybe I deserved it, maybe I really was as rotten and despicable as he’d made me say I was. How could I have fallen for that?” You’re not, a voice told her, somewhere. Things are better now. It was her own voice. Most days now, these memories barely came to mind. She had to believe she was finding her way.

“It did get better. I actually got used to it. That’s maybe the worst thing, innit? I... Learned the best ways to stay out of everyone’s attention span. Who to steer clear from. And life went on, kinda. New muggleborn students came in, soon after, and the focus shifted away from me. I never... I didn’t offer them help. I stood away from them, far away, because it was safer.” Like a coward. She shushed the voice. Her own voice. There was no point in flailing herself. She was doing something now. No more missed opportunities.

Only then she realized there was tea by her side. Black tea. She hated black tea, but she drank it all the same. Let the bitterness rest in her throat for a long pause, before meeting Doris’ stare again. “I... I don’t know if I could’ve made a difference. I don’t know if this will. Maybe it’s just whining.” The accusations were vague. There were no crimes, no proofs. But there had been far too much pain for things to stay buried forever. If this made difference to nobody else, it would make for her. “Even whining is something, I figure,” she muttered.

She forced a smile, like she’d forced herself through this. It was an unbelieavable smile, through her red-spot-covered face covered in sticky tears, still tense around the eyes. But it did made her feel better. Not good, but light. Lighter. Was there ever any relevant change that came without at least a little bit of whining? Probably. Who knew. Today, she did what she could. Tomorrow, maybe change would come.

#drabble #:|#c:doris

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soulheartthewolf · 4 years

Text

i am... so sorry

i... i made it. might as well just straight up submit it to you, eh?

---

Caustic is a patient man. On par with Bloodhound with how calm he is.

But the new addition to the league of Legends?

He was testing him.

“Going here—follow me and I’ll gut you like a fish!” the new subject called out, sprinting ahead into the obviously-already-scoured Drill Site, where open doors and unlocked Supply Bins emphasized how already searched this place was. Caustic scowled and followed Revenant, ignoring the threat from the latter. Their third teammate, an unremarkable newbie that almost died six times, follows suit, nervously trailing Caustic.

Revenant, of course, reached the ping faster than the rest of them, having both made the ping and sprinted there. He threw open a door and fired into the building, shooting the small Silencer ability he had. Suddenly, he spoke into the comms, “Whole squad down. Waitin’ like sitting ducks, really.”

“You should have waited for us—they could have—”

“Shut it. Their blood is on the floor and not mine. That’s what matters most,” the simulacrum snapped, irritation bleeding into his voice. He took mostly everything from the deathboxes, and slipped onto a roof, leaving Caustic to plant traps in a house he was soon to leave.

Soon enough, another Squad that had just fled the torturous space outside the Ring headed into the Drill Site, desperately searching for cover. One of them—Wattson, Caustic realized sadly— headed into the booby-trapped house, immediately choking on the new-and-improved hydrogen sulfide gas. She fell quickly, the Ring having depleted her health significantly. Fortunately, the gas emitted from the traps hid her face as she fell, weakly reaching for the nearest human.

Caustic stepped over the lifeless corpse and looked outside, seeing that his teammate had—once again—fallen, what little blood they have gushing out rapidly, quickly killing them. Revenant, however, was holding his own easily, peering through his fully kitted Sentinel, sending round after round in the already-weakened Squad. Eventually, the two of them finally realized that peeking the quick, efficient robot might not be the best idea. So, they hid.

Revenant scoffed, and slung his Sentinel on his back, taking out the EVA-8 he wasn’t much of a fan of. Both him and Caustic stalked towards the small building, the latter priming his ultimate, taking the small gas grenade and preparing to throw it.

A frag grenade flew past them, poorly thrown. Then, Caustic threw his grenade inside, the ghost of a smile under his mask. Revenant threw open the door and fired at the coughing and choking subjects, the ammo ripping them apart. When both of them fell and the cloud of gas dissipates, the two victors stand above the dying victims. Revenant slipped behind his target and snapped their neck, while Caustic stepped towards his frightened target, and punched them thrice.

Their deathboxes appear and the two victors set to work looting them.

After a few minutes, Revenant says, “I saw Sparks go into your death house. Did you kill her?”

“Yes.”

The simulacrum picks up on the lilt of sadness instantly. “Don’t feel bad. She’s just another skinsuit—”

In an instant, the skeleton-esque robot is pinned against the wall, a boxcutter nearly digging into his eye and a Devotion about to shatter his limbs. “I can tolerate your vulgar and unnecessary comments. I can tolerate your views towards teamwork. I even share some. But you will not insult—”

“Touched a nerve?” Revenant laughed, before a receiving a shot to the stomach, or where it would be if he was human. He fell, wires and faux blood pooling underneath him. A wheezing noise punctuated by static emanated from his voice box. Caustic stepped on his neck and snapped it, destroying the connection between the rest of Revenant’s body and his brain.

“I know you’ll live through this—I’ve yet to invent something to melt metal. But I hope you have fun.”

Then, the chemical scientist strode out of the building, leaving Revenant to silently be consumed by Ring, sacrificing a win in the process.

When they both returned to the Ship—where every official Legend lives until the season ends, when they can visit loved ones or go home for a bit—Caustic immediately went to his room, where he reveled in the satisfaction of breaking the smug bastard. After shedding the gear and slipping into more comfortable clothes—a t-shirt with the periodic table and grass-green sweatpants, as well as galaxy crocs— he walked into the hallway that connected everyone’s room, only to be shoved back into his room by a particularly pissed-off Revenant.

“The fuck was that?!” was his first question, slamming the door shut with an audible ‘bang’. Faintly, Caustic heard Renee ask, ��What was that?”. Pathfinder, oh-so-helpfully, replied, “Revenant! He’s probably just going to talk with friend Caustic!”

Nox responded, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Revenant, who had orange sparks flying off him and a distinctly burnt look, wrapped a hand around Caustic’s throat and lifted him into the air, fuming. “What. Was. That. You snapped my fucking neck, you—”

Renee opened the door, saw the scene before her, and closed the door promptly. Revenant dropped Caustic, leaving the man to regain his breath. “I told you I did not tolerate you insulting people I care about. Leave.”

“Not a chance—I’m gonna rip you limb from limb you miserable skinbag—” Revenant lunged at Caustic, who quickly grabbed a hammer he kept from a project and swung it at the robot, who’s midsection crumpled under the force, damaging the electric flow that allowed him to move. In a flash, the robot disappeared, an orange trail from where he fell to his room.

“Not as impressive as he was made out to be.”

In a moment, the door was thrown open again, and Nox swung again, the crunch of metal breaking informing the scientist that he had hit his mark. Revenant crumpled to the ground, his face horribly disfigured and bent. He swore, and was respawned in the Medbay.

And there started a feud—one that span across hundreds of matches.

The system designed to set up teams seemed biased, always having Caustic and Revenant together, along with a random.

Caustic always won, eventually destroying the simulacrum.

A crunch under the boot, an experimental gas that melted the wires that let him move, a quick snap of the neck… Every time, a swear that he would get him next time and a ‘recover banner’ right next to his fallen squadmate’s face.

Until, for once, Revenant got the upper hand.

In the Epicenter, Caustic rushed into the center building, bullets trailing him, hitting the building and door as he shut the flimsy defense and moved to a more secure part of the building. He was about to throw a trap when someone knocked him over, sending him to the floor with a kick. Nox, disoriented, flipped over to face his attacker, only to realize it was a squadmate. Revenant stood over him, pinning his limbs and laughing hysterically. “Finally! Fucking finally! Oh, I’m going to make this slow for you.”

Caustic, as opportunistic as ever, revealed a notepad and pen from his apron, an excited light in his pale green eyes. “Fantastic. I will take notes on your methods—”

Revenant snarled and knocked the materials out of his hands, excited hysteria souring into irritation. “Smug fucker. It’s going to be even worse—”

“Even better! I have a remarkable memory anyway,” Nox interrupted. Revenant remained silent, his fingers twitching with the desire to render his adversary blind. He stayed still, even as a grenade was thrown through the broken doors behind him.

Then, the simulacrum realized with a horror, he didn’t want to kill him. Sure, he spited the smug way in which he was about to take notes on his own mutilation, but…

A shot to the back quickly eliminated Revenant, while a well-placed thermite burnt the scientist to a crisp.

[MATCH: FINISHED. You now have a two-day break from the Games to recover and plan for future battles. The Medbay will be closed after 9PM, so please leave as soon as you revive. Lights off is at 10PM. Have a nice evening.]

Revenant thought he had forgotten his humanity. The residue of when he still thought he was a human. As he rushed out of the Medbay, he hurried into his room. His room was barren, not yet having been decorated—not like he had any real desire to decorate, as the other Legends do. With a disappointed huff, he laid down on the stiff bed. He didn’t need to recharge after a match, as Pathfinder does, but he also doesn’t need (or want) the plush bed that most of the human Legends like. So, whoever set up this room decided that a cheap twin bed was good enough for the murder robot.

Said murder robot covered his face with his hands, a very human gesture, as he tried to…think. Just hear himself think. Part of him was screaming that he was failing. Most of him was chiding him on how he missed an opportunity—and the lack of opportunism would ultimately ruin him.

Eventually, he fell asleep—something he was somehow still able to do.

Caustic almost never slept on weekends, devoting the time under the moon to research that would take a while. Mixing chemicals, fixing his traps. Little things that took hours. He hated using up daylight for things that could be done at night. The little things would also often make a lot of noise, and since the rooms are all soundproof, no one would hear him as they slept.

His work stopped when, in the room adjacent to his, a static-filled scream startled him. The lab wasn’t soundproof, so he heard it clear as day. He set down what he was working on and walked to the source of the scream, opening the door to Revenant, covering his eyes with his hands.

Night terrors are common when you’ve died as many ways as the former hitman has, and the feeling of his eyes melting out of their sockets lingered longer than it should have. Caustic tilted his head slightly at the sight, confused.

“Leave me alone.” Static made his voice louder, an attempt to scare the scientist.

“Not after you’ve disrupted my work,” Nox scoffed. “Whatever you’re going through—”

Revenant lunged forward again, hand around Nox’s throat, one hand still covering most of his face. With a growl, he said, “I’m not ‘going through’ anything!”

“Clearly.” Nox sighed, and gently moved the simulacrum’s hand from his face, only to get a glimpse of the skeletal robot… crying? A saline solution had made teartracks of sorts down the skull-like face of the robot, orange light from his eyes glinting off of it.

The scientist froze, as comfort wasn’t his specialty. “I’m—”

“Leave!” Revenant snarled, loudly, before shoving the scientist out the door, shutting and locking the blackened bronze between them.

Nox didn’t move for a minute or so, trying to process what the fuck just happened, before returning to the lab. He sat down, thought for a minute, and muttered to himself, “Could there be any worse way to realize you have a crush on the murder robot?”

DUDE YOU JUST WROTE A WHOLE DANG FIC IN ONE NIGHT XJEJ! ITS GREAT!!! Thank you for submitting 💕💕💕

#if you go off anon id love to credit you A #anon #submission #ficlet #revenox #caustic #revenant #not my fic #apex legends

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bonniebird · 4 years

Text

The Girl Next Door (Part Four)

Masterlist

Hvitserk x Reader

Thank you @honestsycrets for letting me borrow your marco gifs :D

“So are you going to tell me what went on?” Ubbe asked quickly. Hvitserk had been avoiding talking to him all evening. Ubbe managed to find him back at the bar the next morning, cleaning up the bar.

“Nope.” He replied. Ubbe watched as Hvitserk swept down the bar and frowned.

“Shouldn’t (Y/N) be doing that?”

Hvitserk froze, eyes snapping up to Ubbe who raised his eyebrows. He’d asked around and found out what Hvitserk had done. After the mess at the bar the night before he needed to be sure he was in the know.

“I’m not letting her work here anymore. Last night was…”

“If you say a fucking close call Hvitserk. That was your own damn fault, you couldn’t tell them to fuck off you had to shoot somebody!” Ubbe scolded. Hvitserk scowled at him before continuing working.

“What’re you going to tell Aslaug?”

“Why do I have to tell her anything. My bar, she doesn’t want to know how we make our money. Just get Ivar to take (Y/N) somewhere.” Hvitserk grumbled as he paused for a moment.

“But you like her. She likes you.” Ubbe said carefully. He knew Hvitserk had liked you since highschool, his worst kept secret, Ubbe had a sneaking feeling he was the only one of his brothers that didn’t have a crush of some sort on you.

“That doesn’t fucking matter Ubbe! Look at what happened! There's a reason none of us settle down.”

Ubbe sighed, shaking his head. Hvitserk was losing it. At least, he needed a break. Realising he couldn’t get through to him Ubbe headed home.

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

Sigurd groaned as he opened the front door. Half dressed and exhausted from his gig the night before. “(Y/N)!” He said with a wide smile, perking up when he saw you. “Ivar’s out with Aslaug but you can wait if you’d like.”

“Actually I’m here to see Hvitserk. I have a few ideas for his bar.” You explained, holding up some of the papers in your hands and showed him the plastic tupperware tub in the other.

“I think he’s down at the bar. I could give you a lift. If you wanted?” He asked, still sporting a cheerful smile as he spoke.

“Sure, that’d be great.” You said as you followed him upstairs. You headed into the living room while Sigurd jogged up the next flight of stairs to his room. The front door opened and shut and Ubbe bounded up the stairs.

“(Y/N), hey, you waiting for Ivar?”

“No, he’s with Aslaug, I had some ideas for Hvitserk and Sig said he’d give me a lift down.”

Ubbe had a funny look on his face as he sighed and nodded. “ He mentioned he urm… wanted to talk about you working there.” He didn’t say anything more as Sigurd rushed down the stairs. He greeted Ubbe who rolled his eyes and shook his head. Margreth would be waiting for him to call so he excused himself and left.

“There’s something weird about… the bar and whatever Hvitserk and Ubbe do.” You said quietly. Sigurd had led the way to the car and started driving. Of course he picked the long way and babbled about his music for a while, showing you a few songs he liked.

“You probably shouldn’t ask many questions. Just do what Hvitserk said and you’ll do great.” Sigurd said hesitantly.

“I just feel like they’re hiding things from me. Ubbe and Hvitserk don’t give straight answers. You and Ivar don’t seem like that…” You babbled. Sigurd felt sorry for you. When Aslaug had agreed with Ivar that you could work with Hvitserk the house was in a chaos of arguing, not that anyone would ever tell you.

“I’m not like them. Thay have a lot of secrets. A lot of things to hide.” He admitted. He couldn’t smile, even when you looked over at him. It felt horrible to disillusion you. “They mean well and if they’re acting weird it’s just because they want to protect you.

“What could they be doing that’s so bad?” You asked wearily. You couldn’t imagine Hvitserk doing anything awful. Sure he was a bit of a flirt and you’d always been disappointed that you never got a chance to be one of his girls, but he was Hvitserk, sweet always happy and fun loving Hvitserk.

Sigurd didn’t say anything as he pulled up outside the bar. It had been a while since he had been down. He didn’t answer you. Eventually you hugged him goodbye and thanked him for the ride. His cheerful demeanour found its way back to him.

Entering the bar you found Hvitserk sat on one of the barstools, nursing a drink with his head in his hands and a lit cigarette between his fingers.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Sigurd gave me a lift down. Ubbe said that you didn’t run the restaurant anymore but I thought maybe it’d be a good idea?” You rushed to put the paper and box of food in front of Hvitserk.

He sighed and stared at them for a moment. Now was the time to tell you to leave. It wouldn’t take much to have you never talk to him again. Off you’d go with Ivar, maybe Sigurd he’s always had a thing for you. He wouldn’t see you again. You wouldn’t see him again and that would be better for you. Glancing up at your face he realised you were watching him nervously. He could just as easily reach out, stroke your cheek, lean in and kiss you slowly, move his hands down your back with gentle touches. He could kiss tantalisingly slow down your neck and then. He cleared his throat and grabbed at the box. A neat burger sat in it.

“You have the kitchen out back. You could just do some simple food and open… more often. I’m sure you’d have some new regulars.”

It was sweet. The way you really thought this was a real bar. He wondered how he’d managed to make you so naive when it came to him. Taking a bite of the burger before he had to shoot you down he groaned. It was good. You had to be good at cooking too.

“It’s good but I’m not sure it’s what people come in for.” Hvitserk muttered as he licked his fingers.

Your brow furrowed. He knew the look on his face. It’s the same look Ivar got what he knew he could win an argument. “Well, I wouldn’t need your help, I’ve got everything written out here.” You slid the papers over to him and Hvitserk sighed. Your research was extensive you’d found a chef that knew the Ragnarssons and you had done enough research that Hvitserk couldn’t think of how to get out of saying yes.

“What about a trial? It’s quite a bit of money to pump into something that might not work.” Hvitserk countered. At least now he’d have a way to shut it down. He’d just have to get Ubbe to make sure it flopped.

“Really!” You said with a bubble of excitement that seemed to light up your face. Before he could do anything you’d hugged him tightly. He could smell your shampoo, it made him think of those nights, years ago, that you’d stay over. You’d all build a fort and watch movies all night, Ubbe would get bored but You, Sig and Ivar would be determined to stay up. You could never make it through the night, often falling asleep against him. He’d spend so long thing how lovely it was to watch you sleep, stroking your cheek, hoping his younger brothers would leave the two of you alone.

He quickly pushed you away and smiled. “I’ve got to fix some stuff in the kitchen if you’re going to use it.” He said quickly and moved away. He hoped saying yes meant you’d leave but you followed him.

“Can I help?” You asked hopefully.

“No it’s just fixing the lights.” He muttered, quick to put distance between the two of you.

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

Ivar prowled into the living room. He’d gone to your house and you hadn’t been home. So naturally you had to be waiting for him.

“Where is she?”

“(Y/N)?” Sigurd asked as he looked up from his guitar. He looked over his brother who was leaning against the doorway, crutches in his hands as he frowned. “She’s with Hvit.”

“Why?”

“She wanted to show him something.” Sigurd said and turned back to the music he was trying to write.

“So she just spends all her time with him now?”

“It is where she works.” Sigurd pointed out. With a scowl Ivar slapped off to his bedroom, slumping down on his bed.

His room was smaller than his brothers but he didn’t mind. Aslaug had spent so much time perfecting his room. His bed was a little higher so he could sit easily. It also meant he could lay in bed and watch out of the window without any trouble.

His desk was built into the wall and he had state of the art computer and screens tumbling about it. His piles of no longer needed college books sat in piles around the desk.

The cupboard that doubled as a wardrobe was messily spilling clothes across the old wooden floor.

The floor above had Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd’s room. Plus a bathroom that the three had to share, it was always a mess. Ivar had his own just across the hall. Aslaug got the largest room in the attic. It was so light and airy, warm and comforting. Sometimes Ivar would go up and stay all day.

Ivar had found the fact that you clearly liked Hvitserk to be highly amusing and when he’d started messing with you. It had been fun. But now. There was a chance that you might actually get somewhere with Hvitserk. He didn’t want that.

“Hey Ivar.” Ubbe called as he knocked on the door. Ivar meerly grunted, not bothering to sit up as Ubbe entered.

“Hvit needs some stuff from the store. He’s fixing up the bar. You want to come?” Ubbe asked. Ivar glanced up at his brother without moving. He could see from the state of his shirt and the hickeys on his neck he’d been with a girl most of the day. The unpleasant scent of cheap perfume stung his nose and he guessed it was Margrethe.

“I was going to watch here for (Y/N).”He answered as he set his head back against his bed.

“She’s at the bar. Maybe you could take her out to dinner or something, maybe a movie?” Ubbe offered. He sighed when Ivar gave him a condescending look before scoffing.

“Hvit wants her to gohome before he tries to fuck her doesn’t he?” Ivar waited for Ubbe to answer but all that came out of his brother was a loud snicker.

“He’s not as bad as Bjorn. He’s just a little distracted and under pressure.” Ubbe muttered. Ivar heaved himself up and reached for his crutches as he stood.

“He’s an idiot.”

“You got him in this mess Ivar!”

The trip to the store was quick. Ubbe rushed around grabbing everything they needed and Ivar leant on the huge flatbed trolley. It took Ubbe twenty minutes to find everything and Ivar added a few bits he found interesting. Then they were on their way again. Ivar wondered why Ubbe and Hvitserk didn’t just move closer to the bar. They were forever driving across town to the bar or the warehouses.

Ubbe pulled up right next to the door. “Will you go in and get Hvitserk? You can have the car if you want, or I could call you a taxi?” Ubbe waited and Ivar shrugged.

“Yeah. If we go out somewhere (Y/N) will probably drive.” He muttered, disinterested as he got out.”

“Is it ok? I don’t know if I’m doing it right?” Your voice came from the back. Ivar frowned and followed it.

“Yeah babygirl you’re doing great, don’t worry.” Hvitserk encouraged.

Ivar shoved into the room and rolled his eyes. You were fixing something, tongue stuck out as you frowned in concentration. Hvitserk smiled as he watched, glancing over at Ivar.

“Ubbe wants you.” Ivar snapped and Hvitserk raised his eyebrows. “(Y/N) we’re going to see a movie.”

“Oh? Did I forget? I’m sorry Ivar!” You said as you climbed down off the counter. You hugged him and smiled when he scowled. He didn’t want to admit he felt… odd that you were spending more time with Hvitserk. He just wanted to torment you both a little.

“It’s fine. We can go now and have dinner. Ubbe’s giving us the car. If Hvitserk gets the stuff out of it.” He glanced at Hvitserk who took a deep breath before speaking.

“Of course I can go and help him Ivar. I um… I’ll see you later.” He added the last part as he glanced at you, brushing past Ivar who deadpanned until he left.

“We should go or we’ll be late.” Ivar muttered.

#hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson imagines #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #bonniebird #the girl next door

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