#he’s going to kill miles and take his place . well no im being dramatic but he would say that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delicrieux · 3 years

Text

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”.

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing. word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie: y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!”

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

queen rly went from 🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing.

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.”

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall.

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets.

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout.

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #myso #make you say oh #imagine #imagines

952 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

Note

in the dadspy au, what if jeremy was just going to be an assistant/cook/janitor at the base while his dad was being the mercenary (since spy didnt want him to follow the "career" but didnt want to be separated from him), but then jeremy turned out to be even better than the hired scout so they promote him to that position and spy is not happy with this at all

ok i was gonna put this in the queue to post but im impatient because im happy with this one. only thing i didnt have was spy being upset by this development

(warnings for canon-typical violence, discussion of mercenary-type things, paranoia, alcohol, and exactly one proper fight scene. consider this pg-13)

“Would you prefer the good news first, or the bad news?” Dad asked.

Jeremy looked up at him from where he’d snatched up the sunday comics from his dad’s newspaper and was doodling little hats on the characters while they waited for their food to arrive. “Uh,” he said, “good news first.”

“Alright. The good news is, do you remember that line I’ve been tailing? The one in New Mexico?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jeremy said, then nodded a little more confidently. “Immunity, safehouse, somethin’ like that, right?”

“...Something like that,” Dad agreed carefully, and that made him raise an eyebrow. “It went well, and I think there’s the very real possibility that I’ve all but closed the deal, all they want now is an interview.”

“...Interview, singular,” Jeremy said slowly.

“That’s where the bad news begins. Unfortunately... merde, how to phrase this?” He drew a hand down his face. “They’re fully willing to hire me on, but this is a more... corporate affair than I’m used to. They have rules, stipulations. Long story short, they will not hire you as a mercenary on the basis of your age.”

Jeremy tensed. “What?” he demanded. “That’s stupid, I’m old enough to drive and buy guns and whatever the hell else.”

“But not rent a car, at least in many places in the United States.”

“But—“ he started, and remembered they were in public, and lowered his voice to a hiss, leaning in. “We’re hired killers, thieves, criminals. Do they really think we’re above having fakes? False documentation?”

“Actually, that is one of their requirements,” Dad said dryly, taking a paper from his jacket and consulting it. “I’m not happy about it either, mon lapin, but those are their rules. Already they have slightly bent them for one individual, and already I am on thin ice. But I may have a way to manage this.”

“Yeah?” Jeremy asked, nervous now.

“I know the woman responsible for new hires and managing the team I’ve applied for. She owes me a favor—a fairly hefty one. When I go in for the interview, one of my demands will include you being hired on, not as a mercenary, but for... for custodial purposes, something like that. Cook, janitor, security guard, secretary—whatever job there is that needs doing there, and I am sure that there will be one. Something to allow you to live there. Pay will likely be her stipulation, and the play I hope to make is that really, you’re overqualified for the position and she’s lucky to have someone so competent available, and in the worst case scenario, the pay is still good enough even for just one of us that we will not cut too deeply into the savings.”

The savings. That made Scout blink, because they only ever brought up the savings when—

“You think this could be it?” he asked quietly. “Like, it it?”

A hard exhale, and he leaned his cheek on his hand. “Potentially,” he finally said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but the job promises a variety of things. Medical attention available, extremely low levels of danger, and most of all, confidentiality. The only people who will know any name we give them would be the woman in charge of hiring us and their singular medical professional. There is no mode of communication to or from the compound outside of emergency lines to the organization and a single secure payphone located two miles away, there is no civilization within a twenty-five minute drive minimum, and this operation has been going long enough that the local authorities have long since grown used to being paid off, and likely don’t even remember what for anymore. I cash in a few valuable favors and ask this employer to turn a blind eye, we’d have somewhere remote and secure to spend our time after our deaths are faked and once the contract is over, we can start over. No ties to the past.”

“Freedom,” Jeremy marveled.

Silence for a few seconds, broken only by the quiet chatter of the rest of the diner. “I want to warn you, this work may not be glamorous. It may not even be particularly easy. I’m giving you the option of saying no,” Dad said.

“What?! Yes, hell yes, are you joking? To get us to living like normal people? Steady work? Livin’ in one place? Count me in!” he laughed.

“What if the job is something you won’t enjoy? Long hours, boring work?” Dad asked, entirely serious.

“I’m still on board.”

“What if the other people working there are rude to you? Disrespectful?”

“Well most of the people I meet through our job now try to kill us, so really it’s an upgrade.”

“What if there’s no diner nearby?” he asked, and there was a glint of humor in his eye.

“Damn, sorry, that’s the dealbreaker,” he joked right back, and that made him snort, shake his head, greet the waitress as she came back with their coffee and soda and then informed them that their food would be out shortly.

“I’ll ask,” was what Dad said once she was gone again, and that was that, and they started driving to New Mexico two nights later.

“—A warm welcome to our two newest recruits. This is the Spy, and this is the Guard.”

“Guard?” asked one of the men at the table, his accent thick and distinctly Russian. It made Jeremy tense slightly, but he didn’t let it show.

“Night Guard,” Jeremy answered, voice clipped.

“He’s not technically hired on as a mercenary like you all, he won’t be joining you on missions,” the short woman apparently named Miss Pauling (Jeremy was fairly sure it was a fake name) said, hands folded in front of her neatly. “He’s here to work security. Keep an eye out during the night, filter through the camera footage, handle the archiving, things like that.”

“We’re hiring on a civvie now?” asked another man, thick Scottish accent a little harder to digest than the eyepatch and the grenade he was in the process of fiddling with the internal mechanisms of.

“He’s combat ready, and will still be armed. His job is to essentially make sure you’re all safe enough to sleep through the night,” Miss Pauling said.

“I’m not some chump,” Jeremy agreed. “I know my stuff.”

“How old is he?” another man asked, this one in a hardhat with a heavy drawl, looking concerned.

“Twenty, for your information,” Jeremy said, a little sharply, eyes narrowed.

“If you have any other questions, there’ll be time later on. For now, I do need to show our two newest recruits where they’ll be staying,” Miss Pauling cut in.

There was an audible scoff from one of the men at the table, a dramatic rolling of eyes. Jeremy glared at him. He unfolded and refolded his extremely tattoo’d tree-trunk-like arms, tugging the visor of his hat between. “Sorry,” he said, accent thick and distinctly Californian. “I just don’t have the most trust for some scrawny kid in slacks and creep in a ski mask.”

“Scout, don’t start,” Miss Pauling warned.

“Just saying,” this man, apparently called Scout, muttered under his breath regardless.

“Don’t,” she said again, more firmly, and ignored the second eye roll she got for the trouble. “If you two would follow me.”

And they were shown around the base, and Jeremy in particular was shown into a room stuck behind three locked doors, where he found camera feeds and recording equipment. She gave him a basic overview and a thick packet of instructions and policies labelled ‘highly classified’ and a phone number to call if he had any further questions, and a set of hours that were apparently meant to become the new standard for him (with the quiet addendum that if he finished early that was alright, and that technically he could turn in early if two or more members of the team were already awake for the day and he was caught up on the archiving of old tapes).

Then he was left to “get used to the equipment”, which he assumed meant his dad was getting a similar rundown of his job, and it took a pretty quick glance through the packet to understand that clearly this place ran on an extremely secretive and closely monitored series of systems. In the packet, between the sections on camera maintenance and operation hours, were a few sheets detailing what were apparently the movement patterns of the various members of the team, including frequented locations and previously recorded large-scale infractions (mostly on the part of the Soldier, the Medic, the Scout, and one from the Demoman).

He wasn’t the one with the title Spy, but fuck, it seemed like he might as well have it. His entire job wasn’t even necessarily to keep the team safe overnight—he was just meant to watch all of them to make sure nobody was anywhere or doing anything out of the ordinary.

The next time he saw his dad, waiting outside the infirmary to get some sort of physical evaluation, his face was arranged carefully enough that he could tell he’d figured out something was up, too.

“Got your job assignments?” he asked quietly in French, glancing towards the door into the infirmary.

A nod, a glance. “I’m intrigued by the methods used in employee evaluation,” he deadpanned. “Especially the fact that apparently, they’re willing to assign employees for the explicit task of doing them.”

“How often?”

“Weekly.”

“Thorough,” Jeremy deadpanned, and glanced towards the hall at the distant sound of laughter, echoing from somewhere else on the base. “That’s basically mine too.”

There was a long silence, and when Jeremy looked back over, his dad was giving him an almost expectant look, waiting. All he had to offer him was a shrug, which was returned after a moment with a vague shake of the head. “I don’t believe it will be a problem,” his dad said simply. “Not for us, at the very least.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Uh, anyways, good luck with the… physical, or whatever,” he said, and received a pat on the shoulder before he walked back off down the hall, hoping to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do with an entire room all to himself. He’d almost never had one before.

He was used to time changes and jet lag, to needing to switch his sleep schedule on the regular, but the switch to a straight up night shift was a rough one.

His nine-to-five was actually a ten-to-six, as in 10 PM through 6 AM. This meant that, assuming he managed to get his schedule in order, he’d be able to join in on the team dinners if he woke up early and could eat breakfast with them before he went to bed.

Very quickly he realized that going to dinner and breakfast with the team was going to become a staple part of his routine, because it didn’t take long before he began to feel extremely lonely all of the time. In a dark little room, everyone else asleep, scrubbing through tapes from during the day while half keeping an eye on the live feed from around the base that never showed much of anything, it was brutal. It was suffocating.

It was easy, at least. It didn’t take long before he got efficient at it and could start zoning out, and it wasn’t like he was under much pressure. His was the only room without any cameras in it. Security risk, apparently.  And to be honest, what small amount he and Dad interacted with mercenaries and other criminal types, Jeremy didn’t really tend to like them much. A lot of them were loud and rude and had the potential to turn around and try and kill them whenever they felt like it. He didn’t expect that he’d like the team as much as he did. He especially didn’t expect to like them so much without ever really talking to them.

But watching the camera feeds from throughout the day, seeing what they were up to, they were just... nice people. Soldier out by the dumpsters practicing rocket jumps and wrangling raccoons and apparently trying to learn how to spin a rifle, Pyro’s regular minor explosions in the kitchen while cooking and the surprised and frantic way they cleaned it up every time, the Demoman’s tendency to whistle wherever he went, watching through the feed as they all played cards and argued and jostled each other. They all seemed really nice. Really cool. Really dorky, too, but mostly just really nice and really cool.

And there were a few of them he was less sure about—he couldn’t get eyes on the Medic most of the time, what with the one camera in the Medbay being tilted down at an angle that made it hard to see much of anything but the occasional bird (probably by those same birds). The Heavy tended to just sit and read, and was pretty much silent most of the time otherwise. The Scout tended to leave the base pretty often. And the Sniper didn’t even live on base, he had a van outside that he could only occasionally see movement in when he squinted at the far edge of the camera leading outside. But even then, Heavy and Sniper mostly just seemed quiet, and Medic just seemed busy, and the Scout just seemed like a little bit of a dickhead.

But then one day when Jeremy was at breakfast the Heavy caught him leaning to try to get a look at the cover of the book he was reading, and he blurted that he was just wondering what book was so great that he’d stay up until like four in the morning reading, and then the entire team was gawking at him and asking questions and insisting that it was insane that there was someone actually watching all those cameras, and he shrugged and said there was always supposed to be someone watching the tapes back it was just usually some office worker type a hundred miles away. And they seemed almost... upset with him. And maybe that was fair, it wasn’t like he ever talked to any of them much, mostly he just spent breakfast and dinner half-asleep and listening to their chatter. And Demoman admitted that he’d honestly assumed that Jeremy slept his entire shift, he just always looked so tired at breakfast. There was almost this discomfort. This distrust.

And so, now that the jig was up, he made it a point to say some things to certain members of the team. To tell the Medic that his camera was tilted down so that he couldn’t see most of the room, and to very pointedly say that it was weird how that happened and that he didn’t know why they set it up like that in the first place, but it was really none of his business. Made it a point to warn the Engineer in the morning that the previous night, Soldier had been doing something in the fridge for a while, and to maybe check the labels before he made breakfast. Made it a point to tell the Demoman that the camera in his workshop was right in plain sight, and that if he moved one of his blackboards an inch or two to the left, it would obscure the room a pretty hefty amount. Made it a point to tell the Sniper that the camera on the rooftop seemed to be glitching out, and it’d just sort of lost the tapes of the previous two nights, and that it was really unfortunate since for all he knew there might have been someone ignoring the signs about there being no personnel allowed up there.

In return, he found that Pyro would sometimes make little sparkly notes with smiley faces on them and stick them to the door to the security room. That Sniper started tipping his hat at the camera above the door into the base from the garage. That on occasional drinking nights, the team would suddenly turn and start waving at the camera, laughing the whole way. On one night in particular he could hear through the low-quality and tinny speakers that they were trying to cajole him into leaving the security room for a while to join them for cards, and god, but he wanted to.

And he noticed more things. Soldier walking with a slight limp some days when rocket jumps had rough landings. Being able to count the doves in the infirmary and even tell them apart to some extent through blurry close-ups. The Engineer making it a point to sweep really regularly regardless of what project he was working on.

And then he noticed a weird thing.

It took him a long time to get used to the patterns of hallways, the cameras not really lined up linearly after a while, too many branching paths. He learned to follow progress, to flick from one camera to the next as someone walked around corners. And for a while he thought maybe he wasn’t very good at it.

Until he realized two things. First of all, that in a hallway where he knew there were five doors, he could only see four—apparently the door to Pyro’s room was just barely out of sight of the camera. He only figured it out because one day it swung open wide enough to almost bang against the wall.

And then, when he realized there was somehow that massive blindspot, that there was a corner with a blindspot too. One where that Scout kept disappearing.

He watched a few more times to make sure, and yep. He’d see the Engineer walking around the corner, flick to the next screen, and there he was, continuing down the hallway. And then later that same day, the Scout, walking, and flick to the next camera, and he wasn’t there.

One of the worse parts of the job was that he never got to see Dad anymore, never got to just sort of hang out the way they did all the time when he was growing up, and he knew he would miss it but he didn’t know how much. And he found it was even worse when he had something important to say, doubly so when he had something important to say but no idea if it was actually important.

He tried to bring it up casually, in the like ten minutes of time he ever got alone to talk to Dad. Dad was fighting the kettle trying to make some tea and he was trying to stay awake long enough to figure out how he was going to say this.

“Uh,” he said, and Dad looked at him. “So, uh, what’s the read you’re getting on that Scout guy?”

“Lazy,” Dad shrugged, looked back at the kettle. “Arrogant. He seems to care very little about doing his job correctly and has horrible communication on the field.”

“Right, right,” he nodded, fought a yawn down. “Uh. So like, kind of a dickhead.”

“Indeed,” Dad said, nodding vaguely.

“So uhhh... not the best.”

“Where are you going with this?” Dad asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“I, I dunno, the guy just likes hanging out in this one blindspot in the cameras, and it’s kinda freaking me out,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his neck.

Dad frowned. “Strange. I wasn’t aware that there were any blindspots in the cameras.”

“There’s only a few, and only for pretty small spaces I think? But apparently he just likes hanging out in one of them.” Jeremy scuffed his shoe on the ground, glancing over as voices started echoing down the hall towards them. “Just thought it was weird.”

“I’ll look into it,” Dad muttered, voice quiet, and then raised it again slightly. “I refuse to keep up with sports.”

“C’mon,” Jeremy said, knowing this game well, changing subjects into something more normal as people entered earshot. “I’m not even asking you to keep up with sports, I’m just saying, I’d kill to go to a baseball game right about now.”

“The American Pasttime!” Soldier called from the room over.

“Exactly,” Jeremy agreed, nodding at Soldier as he also entered the kitchen, a half-asleep Demoman in tow.

“Any ghosties or ghoulies on the cameras last night, lad?” Demo had enough energy to ask, blinking blearily at the contents of the fridge.

“Oh, a billion,” Jeremy said.

“Guard!” Soldier barked, the most awake person in the room. “Should these ghost-ghouls appear again, don’t be afraid to point me in their direction! I have significant experience with them already and do not fear the likes of them!”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shrugged.

“You’re a champion, Guard,” Demo said with what was either a really disoriented blink or a wink, slugging him on the shoulder and wandering back out into the common room with the entire carton of milk in his other hand. Jeremy gave him a mock-salute that Soldier copied with absolute conviction. He and Dad shared a glance after the two of them left, and Jeremy was the first one to break, snickering under his breath.

“I’ll look into it,” Dad said, and also left the kitchen, and Jeremy nodded and started trying to remember what else he’d been planning on doing before bed.

“So,” Dad said a few days later, materializing next to Jeremy when he was in the middle of his jog and making him almost jump out of his skin, skidding to a stop.

“You’re enjoying that new watch way too much,” Jeremy panted, out of breath and still very much startled.

“Maybe,” Dad said, and he was smiling. “But as I was saying.”

“All you said was ‘so’,” Jeremy pointed out, giving him a look.

“There’s a juvenile joke here about how I’m your father and so of course I say ‘so’, but if you wouldn’t mind it, I did have something important to say, mon lapin,” Dad replied, and Jeremy rolled his eyes hard at the horrible joke and cheesy name, fighting back a smile of his own.

“Go for it,” he said, and took the opportunity to bend and tighten his shoelaces.

“So. Regarding that Scout and his habits. You mentioned he spends time in blind spots of the cameras, oui?” Dad asked.

“Yeah. Keeps, uh, I guess he keeps getting infractions for going off base too much, too. I’ve logged him leaving like three times this week already,” Jeremy nodded.

“Indeed. Well, considering how new we are to the team, I did not want to jump to conclusions, and so contacted Miss Pauling and asked on your behalf for any older records, and I found out something very... intriguing.”

Jeremy looked up at him, blinking. ‘Intriguing’, historically, had always been a very, very bad thing.

“Apparently, it has been two years since they last had a Guard situated on base. The previous one was a much older gentleman, retired from being a full member of the team due to health complications but not entirely ready to part with the company. The previous guard was somewhat strict, and the Scout—the same as we have now—very much disliked the man. He continued acquiring near-constant infractions under the man’s watch for leaving when he was not meant to, so much so that the previous Guard proposed enstating trackers on the team when they went off-base. And before this policy could take hold, the previous Guard left the base one day and did not return, and finally was found dead a state over, one month later.”

Jeremy blinked once, twice. “Holy shit,” he said, and took note of the wary look on his face. “Okay. So we’re thinkin’ the same thing, right?”

“I would assume so. And…” Dad hesitated, moved to fidget with his cufflinks. “And I would not be particularly concerned about this, as I’m confident that you wouldn’t have gotten his attention from what you’ve been up to lately, and therefore wouldn’t be in danger yet should history attempt to repeat itself, but… he’s already taken a disliking to you.”

“What?” he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I believe it’s something as simple as some sort of shallow jealousy. Another American on the team, also relatively young, filling the position of someone he disliked previously. He regularly complains about the fact that you don’t need to go do the same job as the rest of us.” Dad shrugged, glanced over at him. “That, combined with the fact that you have somewhat conflicting duties, well, he tends to rather tetchy. He claims that considering he’s meant to be the first line of defense, they shouldn’t also need a guard at night.”

Jeremy had a number of opinions about that, but he stuck to the most relevant ones. “I really don’t like this guy,” he said. “Might be, uh. Worth keeping an eye on.”

“Agreed.” Dad glanced back over his shoulder towards the base, then at his watch. “Enjoy the rest of your run. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, hit the bricks already, old man,” Jeremy scoffed, waving him off, and Dad rolled his eyes, disappearing again in a cloud of smoke. “You’re gonna be using that thing all the damn time now, aren’t you?”

“Oui,” came a voice from nowhere, and Jeremy huffed a laugh, meandering his way back into the rest of his jog.

Jeremy hummed along to the radio, flicking between cameras on autopilot and wondering when exactly to take his lunch break.

He didn’t face the clock or anything, so he wasn’t sure, but he thought he had a pretty solid rhythm at that point. Click, click, click, between the camera to the road, the camera to the main entrance, and the camera in the hall towards the middle of the building, for about one second each. At just about any time after 11 or 11:30, those were the only three in real time that he needed to keep an eye on, mostly for people coming back late from bar hopping or if Miss Pauling was rolling in on a delivery. All the other cameras he could see out of the corner of his eye, and any movement he’d pick up on pretty quick, even if it was usually just the doves fluttering on the camera to the Medbay. After he cycled through those (and there was almost never anything there) he’d cycle back through to the tape he had in, put it on high speed, and watch it for about two or three minutes, get through a chunk of that time. Mostly he’d just be making sure nobody had been in the base while the team was away ni o(which indeed there never was), so there wasn’t much of a reason to take it off high speed, and the second part of the night would be watching the tapes for the time the team was back on base.

Movement on a camera made him click the pause, and he glanced off to the side. One of the doves had shuffled to face the other direction. He rolled his eyes, looking back at the bigger monitor again and pressing play.

The second half of the night was a little more interesting. He just had to look at the tapes for the time the team was there, check for discrepancies that might point to Dad messing with the disguise technology off-the-clock or the enemy Spy having infiltrated. For the most part things were straightforward, but he at least got to see his teammates up to funny things sometimes. Pyro’s antics were usually entertaining. Soldier he only caught some of, on the basis of him often walking off out of range of the cameras when he went on his excursions. Demo was funny sometimes. Honestly, just seeing the Sniper anywhere but as a fuzzy distant shape was interesting.

Movement on a camera. Same dove. He ignored it. Click, click, click, all three cameras clear, back to the fast-forward of the same empty hallway as before.

He really needed to figure something out, for the Scout. Maybe he and Dad were just being paranoid. It would be insane for him to try to outright kill anyone who inconvenienced him, not to mention reckless, and stupid to boot. Acting like that in their line of work would make him a lot of enemies extremely quickly. It would make more sense for the old Guard disappearing to be unrelated, to be honest.

Yeah. Hell, he barely knew the guy, and here he was assuming he’d straight up whacked a guy for getting a little too on his case about something. Maybe they were wrong.

Movement on a camera. He glanced over and froze outright.

It took him five seconds to come to his senses enough to pause the playback on his screen.

Figures. Shapes. Not at the front entrance, in the hallway, there next to the back way, by the garage. At least three, moving carefully, hard to make out in the darkness.

Okay. Okay, don’t panic, focus.

Jeremy ran through a few things in his head. He’d already done a headcount, the only people he wasn’t sure about were the Sniper and the Medic, but he hadn’t seen the Medic in any of the hallways out of the infirmary. Three figures were two too many to be any of the team, and besides that, they didn’t look like the Medic. Too short to be the Sniper, moving differently. Different clothes.

Three people. He hopped up, rushed over to the wall, yanked open the panel he had there. Three buttons, which he needed to hit in order. The first would send an alert to Miss Pauling, the second to whoever was assigned to be on alert that night, the third would set off the alarm.

He hit the first, hit the second, and hesitated on the third.

Okay. Technically if he didn’t hit that third button, he’d be breaking protocol, which was, according to the manual, ‘grounds for termination’. He was pretty sure that meant a long swim with some concrete shoes. And it was apparently recorded every time he hit these buttons, so they could deduct from his pay on false alerts. So they’d know if he didn’t hit this third button. He needed to think fast.

This was a different button than the alert button. The alert was more subtle, set for just one person. The alarm was throughout the entire base, over every loudspeaker. Louder than a fire alarm. If he hit this one, these intruders would hear that there was an alarm going off. Anyone smart would book it, high tail it the hell out of there. But he still didn’t know where they came from.

There hadn’t been movement on any of the screens, and he looked at the camera feed facing the road already, a few times even. He should’ve seen them. And if they found their way in once, they could do it again.

If he didn’t hit the button, on the other hand, whoever was on alert would wake up and wonder why they’d gotten an alert but the alarm wasn’t going off. If they were clever, which they probably were if they’d lasted this long, they’d come to the security room to see what was up and they could work from there.

He closed the panel again and moved to wait.

A minute later, still no movement from the hallway where most of the rooms were. That was fine, they’d just woken up, and probably needed to get dressed and grab their guns.

Another minute later, no movement, which was fair, they just needed a second to get their bearings. The intruders, meanwhile, were just lurking, slowly making their way down the hall.

Another minute later, no movement, and he opened the panel to press the button again before he continued waiting. Maybe they didn’t hear him the first time.

Another minute later and he took to standing next to the panel, mashing the button rapidly, eyes on the screen where the intruders were passing the kitchen, starting to get pretty far into the building.

Another minute later and he stomped his way into his sneakers, grabbing his flashlight and gun and guard cap from where they were hung on the wall. “Fine, I’ll fucking do it myself,” he grumbled, and carefully shouldered open the door, taking one last glance at the camera before he shut the door behind himself.

He kept his footsteps quiet, squinting into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to finish adjusting as he crept towards where he’d last seen the figures. It was near-silent in the base at night except for the distant, quiet hum of generators and occasional shift of plumbing. It was getting more and more familiar, and he found himself able to tune it out somewhat, instead listening intently for footsteps besides his own, making sure to click the safety off his gun while he was still alone and not when he was close to whoever had decided to break in.

Okay. Dad did this all the time. He could handle this.

He slowed as he approached the corner near the kitchen, peering around as carefully as he could, tugging down the brim of his cap to try and hide any potential shine from his eyes. He caught sight of a vague shape standing near the doorway, hesitating before it crept inside, into the common area.

Not ideal, on the basis of that being their goddamn kitchen, but at least there would be cover.

By the time he managed to sneak up to the doorway, he could make out the sound of vague whispering. It was far enough that it gave him the boldness to peer into the room, and just slightly lit by the glow of the clock on the oven he could see two shapes there in the kitchen, the third lingering nearer to him, there by the table.

Jeremy was only just starting to make a plan, relieved to have the jump on them, when there was the distant sound of a generator humming to life, and all the figures stopped, paused for a moment.

“Fucking spooky here,” one whispered, barely audible.

“Calm down,” another whispered. “What, scared of ghosts?”

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, shifted onto the balls of his feet and started creeping a little further into the room. If he could just get all three of them to one side, so he wouldn’t need to pivot so much…

“You don’t know, maybe there’s ghosts here,” the first protested, and swore quietly at what sounded like their winging their elbow against the corner of the tale, and Jeremy tried to stick near the wall, managed to creep half-behind one of the chairs, trying to keep his silhouette indistinct. “These guys kill people.”

“So do we,” the third mumbled, moving out of sight in the kitchen, and Jeremy bit down on a swear, starting to inch behind the couch. “Don’t be a coward. And stop making so much noise.”

“You can’t shoot a ghost,” the first pointed out, moving a bit closer to the kitchen, giving the table a wide berth now. “Or punch it.”

“I can try,” the second said, and stopped at the sound of a rustle.

Jeremy held his breath, weight half-balanced against where he’d tried to step, newspaper trapped beneath his foot.

“That one wasn’t me,” the first whispered. There was another, more significant rustle throughout the room, and Jeremy could see a glint as the intruders drew their weapons.

Jeremy inhaled, exhaled, and just barely managed not to swear out loud.

The first one was the closest by, lingering beside the arm of the couch Jeremy was crouched in the shadow of. “Do they have a cat here?” they asked, voice quiet.

The second was approaching into the main room more carefully. From the sound of the footsteps, trying to keep a shoulder closer to the wall, clearly paying more attention to the door. “Are you stupid or something?” was the reply, voice also quiet.

The third didn’t speak, but huffed out a laugh, which was enough to tell Jeremy that he was out of the kitchen.

Jeremy inhaled shakily, exhaled shakily, shifted his grip on his handgun and flashlight, and took a split second to think. Inhaled one more time.

He leapt to his feet, swinging his flashlight like a billy club and clobbering the first figure across the side of the head, sending them tumbling to the ground. From the sound of the impact, a dislocated jaw at the very least. One down.

A shout from the other side of the room, arms moving to try to aim, clearly struggling to see him, but that third figure was in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint light from the oven’s clock, and that was enough to figure out where the head and chest were. He aimed, fired, got what he was pretty sure was the neck considering the brief spray of blood that splattered against the oven, darkening the room completely.

A swear from the second figure, and Jeremy wanted to swear too, because he’d hoped that second figure would be stupid and try and charge him, but now he was ten steps away and didn’t have time to fiddle with and cock the gun again, other hand full with a flashlight and no way to—

Oh, duh.

“Stay where you are,” the second figure ordered, but Jeremy’s eyes were a little better adjusted and besides that, he wasn’t the one talking. He lifted his flashlight and clicked it on.

The second figure cried out, recoiling at the sudden blindingly bright light in what had been near-darkness, and Jeremy had time to finagle his thumb up to cock his gun again, now able to aim with absolute accuracy, this shot connecting with the figure’s head.

He exhaled.

It took Jeremy two minutes to remember to fire a bullet into the chest of the unconscious guy, and another minute for the other mercenaries to start showing up, half-dressed and armed. Dad, presumably to prove a point, showed up pretty close to the middle of the pack almost fully dressed. Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how long it took before Miss Pauling showed up, but he wasn’t even halfway through their questions by that time.

“Guard, headcount?” she asked before she even bothered saying hello, still wearing her motorcycle helmet and looking more than a little bit miffed.

“Uh,” he said, eyes drawn away from where Medic was assessing the bodies on the kitchen table, “seven present and accounted for. Sniper’s probably out at his van, don’t know about the Scout.”

“Alright. Pyro,” she said, and Pyro stood at attention, bunny slippers squeaking at the movement. “go wake up Sniper and get him in here.”

Pyro nodded, handing their weird unicorn plushie thing to Jeremy as they passed by, giving him a solemn nod before hurrying away.

“Okay. Guard, hit me with a rundown, then,” she said, and shot a glance around the room. “No peanut gallery needed. And Medic, please don’t take them apart too much. I gotta get rid of those later.”

“Uh. Spotted these guys on the cameras, hit the first and second alerts,” Jeremy said.

“And not the third?” she asked pointedly.

“They were, like, right next to the door, and—here’s the thing, Miss P, is I dunno how the hell they got in here,” he said, and there was a general balk from the room. “No, seriously. They didn’t come in on the main road, they were in one of the back hallways by the garage. There’s gotta be a hole in the cameras or something, because I seriously don’t know where they came from. And if they booked it, they’d take whatever vehicle they used to get here, too, and we might not figure it out. Thought I’d just wait for whoever the hell was supposed to be on alert so we could… I dunno, at least see which way they went.”

“Guard,” she admonished, and he shrank a little bit. “That was incredibly reckless. What if nobody had shown up to help you?”

“Uh,” he said, blinked, “but… nobody did show up.”

A pause. She blinked. “What? You’re the one who did that?” she asked, entirely shocked, pointing towards the three bodies on the table.

“Uh, yeah? Isn’t that my job?” he asked carefully, shifting the stuffed animal under his arm.

“No, you’re—you’re just supposed to be the Guard, you’re supposed to watch cameras, not—“ She paused, taking a second to push up her glasses and rub at the bridge of her nose, inhaling, exhaling. “Okay. Points for… going above and beyond, here, but Guard, don’t do that again.”

“Sure thing, Miss P,” he mumbled, tugging on the brim of his guard cap, and sighed to himself as Miss Pauling moved away to try and stop Medic from attempting to covertly steal a few organs from the corpses. Dad clapped him on the shoulder supportively, and that did make him feel a little better. He wasn’t expecting a clap to the other shoulder, and looked up, surprised to see Heavy there, looking just slightly less grim than usual.

“Little Guard man is credit to team,” he said simply, solemnly.

Jeremy straightened up slightly. “Oh. Hey, thanks,” he said. Heavy nodded at him.

“It’s true,” Demo called, and he looked over, got another approving nod. “Really saved the lot of us, lad.”

“I, I mean, hey, it’s… what I’m here for. Or, uh. I thought that was it, anyways,” he shrugged, glancing away. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty cool, though.”

Dad bumped his arm for the last part, and he snickered. “My question,” Dad continued, doing his best to ignore him, “is primarily regarding who, precisely, was supposed to be present to help Guard with this. Who is meant to be on alert?”

“It’s meant to be Scout, ain’t it?” the Engineer asked from nearby, frowning. A general murmur of agreement. “Could he have slept through it?”

“Heavy doubts this,” Heavy grumbled, looking troubled.

“Why’re we awake?” asked Sniper from the doorway, and various teammates called out a greeting. Sniper seemed half-gone, and completely grumpy, but not as grumpy as Pyro, and not nearly as gone as the man leaning heavily against Pyro’s shoulder.

“Hey,” the Scout managed, grinning, speech garbled, visibly sloppy and unbalanced. “What’s up, guys?”

Groans from parts of the room. “Drinkin’ again, Scout?” the Engineer drawled, visibly irritated.

“That’s my trademark, lad, go on,” Demo laughed, but the enthusiasm wasn’t entirely there.

“Scout,” Miss Pauling said, voice firm in a way that made Jeremy almost flinch in sympathy. “Are you aware that we’ve had a situation here while you’ve been sleeping?”

“Weren’t sleeping,” Sniper murmured, and eyes turned to him. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Came stumbling in ‘round when I was heading in. He was out for the night. Bar, looks like.”  “What?” Jeremy demanded. “Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave on the cameras?”

“Alright,” Miss Pauling said, and Jeremy looked at her. Her expression was hard to read. “It’s possible he went through the back tunnel.”

“Back tunnel?” Jeremy asked, and glanced around. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.

“For emergencies only. Scout’s the only one who I’ve given a key card to. I have one too. It’s supposed to be used for transporting especially sensitive information, most of the team isn’t supposed to even know it exists. If there’s a gap in the cameras around the back of the building, he might have been using it to… sneak out to go to town, even though he knows he’s already in hot water for leaving the base so much,” Miss Pauling said, glaring at Scout, who was looking increasingly annoyed.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal,” he protested, scoffing.

“That tunnel is for emergencies only,” Miss Pauling stressed. “I trusted you with the privilege of knowing about it account of having worked here for so long, and you’re using that privilege and key card to mess around?”

“He was coming back from around the front of the building, at least,” Sniper chimed in, and Pyro nodded. “Not that I’d understand the point of sneaking out if he’s going to just walk back in the front door.”

“Key card?” Medic repeated from near the table, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, it’s, it’s a magnetized card, that can be read by a card reader, used like a key,” Miss Pauling explained, deflating a little bit.

His eyebrows furrowed further. “Would it happen to look anything like this?” he asked, picking up a lanyard from the table and holding it up, showing the room the card clipped onto the end of it.

Two beats of silence. “Spy, would you mind?” Miss Pauling asked politely, nodding towards the Scout, who had gone pale.

“Not at all,” Dad said just as politely, and walked over towards the Scout and Pyro, then circled around behind them, and sank a blade into the Scout’s spine. He promptly crumbled to the floor, dead.

“Well. At least that’s that mystery solved,” Miss Pauling sighed, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose again. “Now I’ve gotta block off time tomorrow to get rid of three bodies, and then hopefully that’s the last we’re gonna hear of this or else the Administrator is gonna kill me.”

“What about the Scout?” Heavy rumbled.

“…Scratch that. Four bodies,” she mumbled, face dropping into her hands. “And then I need to find his replacement. Ugh.”

“Can’t imagine you’d need to go far,” Demo said, and Jeremy looked up, and Demo was very obviously tilting a thumb in his direction.

“He’s proven himself to be better at this job,” Dad agreed, shrugging. “And I would say on a bad day he’s still a better runner than the previous Scout on a good one.”

“He can clearly handle a firearm well,” the Engineer noted, looking over one of the bodies.

“And a blunt object,” Medic chimed, just a bit too pleased. “This jaw is almost completely shattered!”

“Okay, okay, fine, sure,” Miss Pauling waved off, one hand still pressed to her face, clearly overwhelmed and tired. “We’ll get his paperwork in tomorrow. Congratulations, you’re the new Scout, any questions? Can the questions wait until morning? Great, thank you. Good night, everyone. Medic, have the bodies in bags for me at least, okay?”

A distracted thumbs up from Medic, and Miss Pauling was groaning, wandering back out of the room, and most of the team followed, yawning amongst themselves. Sniper half-attempted to ask again why the hell any of them were awake, but gave up halfway through. Pyro, for one, made sure to at least retrieve the plushie from Scout’s arms before wandering off, giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder.

“So,” Dad said, and when he looked over, he was smiling. “A promotion, mon lapin. Congratulations, new Scout.”

“Do I gotta wear that stupid outfit he always wears?” Jeremy asked, entirely serious. His reply was a laugh and a pat on the shoulder before he disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Pops, I’m serious. Do I? Dad!?”

“—So that’s why I figured, y’know, might as well tell you guys,” Jeremy finished rambling, hands in his pockets, continuing down the hallway. “Because… I dunno. I could tell Miss P, but it’s nice having secret stuff, y’know?”

“You think this is how they actually got in?” Demo asked, looking dubious. “Little blind spot in the cameras?”

“Only a couple feet wide, you said?” Sniper grumbled.

“Sounds possible,” Heavy said hesitantly.

“I dunno. Maybe. But if I tell Miss P about it, they’re gonna fix it,” Jeremy shrugged, turning the corner and stopping. “There. I knew it.”

They stopped with him, following his line of sight. “You’re takin’ the piss, mate,” Sniper deadpanned. “You want to tell me he’d been climbing out a window like a teenager?”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to open the window in question. It swung open easily, just large enough to push through with only a little bit of a problem, barely needing to turn his shoulders. “He’s not much bigger than me, and what the hell else would he be doing here?” he pointed out.

“Heavy cannot fit through that window,” Heavy deadpanned.

“Yeah. Sorry, big guy,” Jeremy apologized, leaning back inside and closing it again. “But hey, mystery solved, right?”

“Well, if I ever need windows to climb out of, now I know just the lad for the job,” Demo said, nudging him. “Thanks, Guard. Or, er, Scout. Och, now that’s going to take getting used to, aye? Might just stick to calling you ‘laddie’, laddie.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he laughed, nudging him right back. And as much as they ribbed him for it, he did see a kind of appreciation there. Just like he’d figured, they seemed to take note of him taking their side and not just Miss Pauling’s.

Now he just needed to switch back over to the day shift.

#father-son bonding au #dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #really happy with this one even if it took Way Too Fucking Long

161 notes · View notes

the-weeping-author · 4 years

Text

Trick or Treat Brandon.

A/N: I love Halloween so here’s a Halloween fic it is scary. I hope Im pretty happy with this fic and I hope you all are to, I hope it’s puts you in the scary Halloween spirit.

This fic is for @moonlit-imagines writing challenge

Tag list: @ahoy-stevieboy @thehair-ington @linkispink1995 @harringtown @violet-dahlia @gardeniasandwhiskey @lxvesickreality @bluebellbrooke @thenameishayley248 @pappydaddy @simplesammyx @didyouputyournameinthegob @lenassaviorsblog @wolphielautz

Wanrings: 18+, Gore, Blood, cussing, Graphic. So font read it easily scared, squeamish. Might get you paranoid idk 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Wordcount: 4,971

Please enjoy 😊

Steve was sitting on his couch, like usual his parents weren’t home. When Steve saw me he started to clam up, it immediately made my suspicions shoot sky high. He either was up to something or he did something he did without asking me. I guess I was about to find out which one it was.

“Hey Steve how was your day babe?”

Steve looked at me, smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders at me.

“It was okay I just missed you at school today.”

I smiled, I walked over to him.

“Awe baby it’s okay I just had a doctors appointment, but I’ll be there tomorrow.”

I smiled at him, I plopped on the couch beside him. I leaned on his shoulder, he kissed my forehead letting out a sigh.

“So Babe I might as well tell you I told some of our friends we’d go to a party they are throwing on Halloween.”

I lifted my head up off of him, I let out a groan.

“Steve, why would you do that? You know how I feel about your friends. Are Nancy and Johnathan gonna go?”

He looked down at me, shrugged his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his hair, stood up from the couch, walked over to the phone then punched in the numbers.

“Hey Johnathan Y/N was wondering if y’all were going to the party tonight?”

“Oh okay well I’ll tell her. Yeah alright I’ll see you around bye.”

Steve hung the phone up, he turned to look at me.

“Sorry babe they can't, they already had plans.”

“It’s okay I’ll guess I’ll just go for you babe.”

He kissed my lips, then walked to the kitchen. I stood up, walked into the kitchen kissing his lips.

“You owe me Harrington.”

It was finally Halloween, Steve and I had woken up early enough to go get last minute pieces for our costumes. We had a party to go to tonight. It was at an abandoned farm, a couple of our friends were going, so we’re we. Now it was out of town, but Steve and I didn’t mind. Plus it was a weekend so neither one of us was worried about school, or homework. Steve and I were surprising each other with what we were going to be. I was going as Madonna, all I knew told me he was going to look hot. Which I already knew, I mean not that he needed to try to look hot. He was already hot well at least to me, every other girl at Hawkins.

So you can imagine the disappointment the girls had when they found out we were dating. Steve was currently in our bathroom changing, I was in the hallway bathroom changing. I heard footsteps go past the bathroom, stopping right in front of the door then I heard Steve's voice.

“Hey babe I’ll be in the living room when you get ready.”

“Okay Steve I’ll see you in a few.”

I finished my hair, I pulled on my skirt some. I then unlocked the bathroom door, I stepped out into the hallway. I walked into the living room, I saw Steve my eyes widen as the sleeves of his shirt hugged his arms, god it made me wanna hop his bones. I had more self control than that though, but Steve on the other hand his mouth was gaped open. His eyes were looking all around my body, he smiled at me and walked over to me.

“Y/N you look hot.”

My cheeks heated up, Steve kissed my cheek. Steve and I walked out the front door, he locked up, and we were off to the car. Something felt off, but I just shrugged it off. I mean a lot of bad things happened in Hawkins so I had to get used to not feeling completely okay anymore. As we drove closer and closer to the party I felt like we should be heading in the other direction. At the same moment a car sped past us, laid on his horn which made me jump halfway off my seat. Steve had looked at me, put his hand on my thigh.

“Hey Y/N are you okay?”

I looked over at him, nodded my head.

“Yeah Steve I’m fine I just… there’s just a feeling inside of me that we shouldn’t be going to this party.”

“Oh okay princess well if you want to go home we can.”

I looked at him, smiled and shook my head at him.

“No no it’s okay I’m sure I’m just being dramatic.”

He looked at me, raised his eyebrows.

“Are you sure cause I don’t mind turning around.”

“No no Steve it’s okay I promise I’m fine.”

“Okay if you insist Y/N.”

The rest of the car ride was pretty fun, it honestly eased my mind. It was like Steve was my anxiety cure.

I couldn’t ask for a better way to help calm me. When we pulled up to the barn my anxiety was back. The barn was a brick red like it had just been painted. The house was also kept in good condition I mean besides the grass. I’d love to live here with Steve one day but I honestly didn’t want to rush it.

College was in two years, I didn’t want to go to a different college as Steve I wanted us to be with each other. I gripped Steve’s hand tightly, he looked down at me. He smiled, kissed my forehead and I took a deep breath. The farm was beautiful except the grass which looked like it hadn’t been cut in a few months, It just looked abandoned. Steve and I walked into the back yard, we saw The huge corn field. It was really intimidating.

The only people I knew here were Emma, Josh, Tommy H, Carol, Jack, Ashley, Steve and I, but people sure did show up. If I had to guess I would say at least 500 students had showed up. I saw all types of costumes, I was excited but one guy held my attention. He was standing against the drink table, he was just staring at everyone. He wasn’t interacting, but he was probably one of the guys who thought they were too cool to party.

As the night went on the party had died down slowly but surely. Steve and I were slow dancing, he looked down at me, he smiled pushing some of my now deflated hair out of my face.

“I told you, you’d have a fun time Y/N.”

I looked up at him, let out a drunken snort.

“Did you basically just tell me you told me so Harrington?”

He cracked a smile, kissed my lips.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”

Steve kissed me again then pulled away, he got close to my ear and raised his voice so he could be heard over the music. I nodded my head. I watched him drunkenly stumble away, after he stumbled a little bit into the corn I felt eyes on me. At first I convinced myself that I was just over reacting, but then the feeling became stronger. Not only did I feel eyes on me but I felt tension. So I turned around and I saw him. It was the same guy who was leaning on the drink table. He was just staring at me. I smiled lightly, waved at him. He turned away from me, he walked into the cornfield.

*Killers pov*

I heard a car door shut, I walked to the side of the window. I barely looked out of it, I saw a group of teenagers walking towards the cornfield. I grabbed my knife, as the last kid went into the cornfield I followed them. They had walked about a mile and a half into the field. When they finally got to the party area I saw four huge speakers around the perimeter, the music was blaring. There were drinks being poured, food being eaten. I watch from behind the corn, I’d figured I’d show these kids how to party.

It took awhile for the other teenagers to separate from one another, I knew who my victims were going to be. A young guy who didn't look any older than 17 wandered off, I quickly followed him. It’s not like anyone knew I was here, I knew the paths in the corn maze because I lived here. I grabbed my knife, while he was peeing I walked up behind him slitting his throat from ear to ear. I watched his lifeless carcass lay there unable to move, I watched the life slowly fade out of his eyes. I drug his body where I knew no one would look.

After I knew his body wouldn’t be recovered I went back to the group, I hid the knife in my hoodie pocket. I walked over to the drink table, that’s when I saw a Y/H/C haired girl with a brown haired boy. The girl was staring at me. She smiled tightly, continuing with their night. Little did they know mine just started and it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. I drank a few drinks, I saw the girl that was with the guy I killed went looking for him. I knew she was going to be my next victim, I didn’t have any remorse about who I killed. I didn’t care who I was taking them from.

I can just say they all were at the wrong place at the wrong time. I had only one goal and that was to kill them all. There was a couple here who I knew would be my last victims, and that was the boy dressed as Han Solo and the girl dressed as Madonna. They looked like they’d be fun to torture, but the only question was which one of them would be my last victim? My focus was back on the girl who was dressed as some work out girl. I snuck up behind her, I covered her mouth stabbing her in the back. I slid the knife out, jammed it back in.

After her body went limp I let her hit the floor, I drug her body further in the shed. I cut off her hands, then I continued to dismember her body. When I was done I cleaned myself off, the knife when I rejoined the party, no one seemed to notice that two of their friends had disappeared. I noticed some of the kids started to leave as it got later, I was honestly relieved when I saw my planned victims still here. So I decided it was officially time to play. I loved playing cat and mouse especially with people who had no idea that they were the mouse.

As the night went on the more teenagers died. I made some of my own Halloween decorations. One kid was my official scarecrow, let’s just say he was definitely going to scare people away. His death was my favorite death so far. The way his neck cracked when I broke it gave me a thrill, the way I felt him struggle against me made my adrenaline race. I wanted more, I needed more and I was far from done. There were only six teenagers left. Four girls and four guys, but I had to be smart about this if I just popped out they could all take me on easily. So I went into the bar, I grabbed the knife. After getting that I circled around to the front of the house where their cars were parked, walked up to their cars digging my knife into all sixteen tires.

Now they were stuck here with me, the best part was they didn’t have a clue. I snuck back to the party, I noticed a couple was missing. I went to the bar, grabbed the Axe that was hanging near the handsaw, pitchfork. I walked out the back of the barn, came face to face with a guy. Before he could even think I swung the axe, his head went flying across the yard, near the huge oak tree. The girl which I’m guessing is his girlfriend came out from the other side of the shed, when she saw her boyfriend's head near the tree she screamed. I quickly walked over to her, punched her in the face striking her left temple.

I drug her body to the root of the three, and start stomping her head on the root. I could hear her teeth break as I stomped, I picked her head up by her hair, and started viciously beating her face against the tree. It was satisfying to hear her nose break. The more I beat her face the more her bones broke. Soon enough as blood trailed from her eyes, mouth, and ears her skull cracked, pieces of Brain went all over the place. At this point I didn’t need to hide the bodies anymore. They couldn't escape even if they tried, I picked up the axe I had, then I put more of the teenagers bodies up as decorations. I cut the guy's eyes out, I used him as a Jack O’lantern. I sat the girl at a table that was in another section of the cornfield.

I guess you could say it was like a maze, but these teenagers were smart. They knew their way in and out of an easy corn maze, but what they weren’t expecting was their friends to be so hands on with the maze. Now all I had to do was lure the last two couples away from my last two victims, I was good to go. I walked into the corn maze, back to the party. I whispered something, the drunk girl turned towards me, I backed up into the corn maze. Of course she followed me, the alcohol made her curious and it got the best of her.

As soon as she stepped into the corn I killed her. As I drug her towards the table with the good China on it I sat her in the chair. Sitting her up as a decoration, I fixed the fingers that I chopped off and put them on a plate, I used the other empty plate for their ears. Now we just needed “tea” to finish the decorations, so that’s what I intended to do next. As I snuck back to the cornfield a guy saw me, I was covered in blood. He immediately took notice. He told his friends, but they didn’t believe him in fact they laughed at him. The guy got mad, walked off.

As he walked off I heard my last two victims talking to my next two.

“Can you believe that guy Tommy?”

“Yeah I know Steve he really thinks we are that stupid to feed into his Halloween prank?”

I didn’t hear the rest cause I walked away. I knew the last two guys' names were Tommy, and Steve. I heard footsteps near me, I turned seeing the guy who had walked off immediately. He hit me, I tasted a rich copper taste in my mouth. I quickly wiped at my lip, struck him in the throat. As he was gasping for air I grabbed his head, I raised my knee slamming his face directly into the center of my knee. The force sent his body back, he was lying on his back. I grabbed his feet, drug him to the same exact spot I did the last girl, but when he started to wake up I punched him in his temple, I opened his mouth, cut out his tongue. I leaned him over the big tea pot, let the blood flow into it.

As soon as I felt his pulse slowing down I dressed him up in overalls, put a straw hat on him. I dressed the other two couples up to match him, I knew it was time to get this over with. I poured the blood in each cup, I put their hands on the tea cups. I walked back to the shed, grabbed a few weapons that would make this process faster, but how they died would still be on my terms. I grabbed the pitchfork, I hid it under some of the hay that was in the maze. After setting the next few traps it was time to reveal myself, I was near the entrance of the party. The first to see me was the girl dressed as Madonna. She grabbed the boy dressed as Han Solo, then he got the attention of the other two. As soon as they all saw me I pulled out the machet.

it took them a minute to figure out why I had a machete, but when they did I could see the panic set in. They split up, I couldn’t have been happier. My focus wasn’t on Steve and the girl, but it was focused on Tommy and his girlfriend. I walked towards them, they ran down the other opening of the maze, well I knew that was going to happen, I followed them. Tommy was running, I just stood there. I knew what was going to happen, sure enough it happened. Tommy had tripped on some fishing line I put up, his face met my pitchfork. His girlfriend let out a scream, I heard the other two calling For her.

“Carol? Carol where are you?”

Carol looked at me, wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Why are you Doing this?”

I smirked at her, I walked slowly towards her.

“Oh carol you think I need a motive? It’s scarier when you don’t have one.”

I smiled at her, she took off. I ran after her though. She was almost close enough to grab. so I pushed her down, but when I turned her around she threw dirt in my face, kneed me in the balls. I immediately dropped, wiped the dirt out of my eyes. As soon as my vision came back I stood up, and was on the hunt. As soon as I turned the corner Carol popped out, smacked me with a wood beam. This little bitch wasn’t going down without a fight, if it was a fight she wanted it was a fight I was going to give her. When she went to swing the beam again I ducked, and stabbed her in the leg.

She let out a scream, I stabbed her in the cheek. As I pulled the knife out she grabbed her cheek, spit blood in my face. I grabbed her by her hair, she was a fighter but she wouldn’t win against me. I brought her back to the shed, I lined her up with the hook that was hanging in the shed, I lifted her up then shoved her body on the hook. She let out a gut wrenching scream, I put the wood chipper under her. I went to look for the other two.

*Readers pov*

I ran with Steve, we hid behind the tractor. I heard Carol scream, I jumped slightly grabbing Steve's hand. Tears had formed in my eyes when I heard her scream. He was touring her. Steve had peaked around the tree, saw him going into the cornfield. Next thing I knew we were heading towards the shed. We saw Carol hanging, my hand flew over my mouth. I couldn’t imagine the pain she was in, Steve and I went over to her, she was limp. When we started trying to get her down she let out a scream. I jumped slightly, Steve was trying to get her to be quiet. As soon as Steve almost got her down the woodchipper turned on.

As soon as Steve had gotten Carol down she struggled and he lost his grips her body went into the woodchipper, blood flew all over me. I closed my eyes as her warm blood flew all over me. As soon as I opened them I saw pieces of her body all over the place. As soon as I went to say something the back of the shed was kicked open, there was the killer. Steve grabbed my hand, ran towards the cars. As soon as we got there we saw the tires were flat. Steve looked at me, I looked towards the house.

“Steve we need to get into the house.”

Steve looked at me, raised his eyebrow.

“Y/N are you crazy that’s the first place he’s going to look.”

I let out a sigh, then looked at Steve.

“Well Steve we don’t really have much of an option now do we?”

He sighed then nodded his head.

“Alright let’s go, quickly so he doesn’t know where we went.”

As we walked up the porch Steve had grabbed the door knob, the door opened. It felt too easy, I was right as soon as we opened the door the killer grabbed me. Steve looked at us both, then put his hands in the air.

“Hey, hey she’s an easy kill you don’t want her. If you want someone who’s going to give you a fight it’s me.”

As soon as Steve had the killer's attention I stomped on his toe, head butted him slamming the side of my head into him, when he let go I faced him, kicked him in the knee cap making him fall. His knee hit the step, his chin hit the top step. Steve and I rushed inside, shut the door. Steve ran into the kitchen, I was right behind him. Steve grabbed a knife, I couldn’t find a weapon. So I grabbed a cast iron skillet. As soon as the killer stepped into the kitchen I swung the skillet with all my might and hit him right in the face.

He stumped back grabbing his nose as it started to bleed. He grabbed the knife that was in his pocket, threw it at me. It hit my leg and it got stuck. I dropped the Iron skillet, quickly pulled out the knife. I let out a scream, I dropped the knife and limped over to the killer. He grabbed my ankle, I turned towards him and lifted up my leg. I swung my leg back, I kicked him right in the jaw. He let go of my leg, I limped up the stairs. When I turned around Steve was behind me, I started down the stairs.

When I got down to them I saw The killer trying to get into the pantry where I assumed Steve was. Let out a scream to get his attention which worked, then he was after me. I hopped up the stairs as fast as I could, I felt him grab at my costume, as soon as I went to get away from him he punched me in the back causing me to fall. He turned me around, I kicked him down the stairs. I scrambled to my feet, I limped down the hallway into a room. I walked into the room, I shut the door. The floorboards would freak the more weight I put on them.

I tried to walk as quietly as I could, but with this leg injury it was nearly impossible. I heard the door knob wiggle, I limped over to the closet. Walking in it but before I could get in it two skeletons fell out the closet, I let out a scream. The door busted open, I whipped around looking face to face with the killer. I took in a deep breath, looked at him.

“If you want me here I am mother fucker get it over with.”

He ran at me, tackled me out the door. We landed on the balcony, he leaned over me wrapping his hands around my throat, I started struggling against him. I saw a piece of the door on the floor, I reached for it but I couldn’t get it. I finally came to grips that I wouldn’t see Steve anymore. I wouldn’t see my little brother, I wouldn’t see my mother. I wouldn’t see another day again. This is how it was going to end and I was fine with it.

As soon as I gave into the idea of death his grip loosen around my throat, I opened my eyes to see him and Steve fighting. All I had to do was look at Steve to get that fighting spirit back, that was because Steve looked like shit. He had blood on running down his lip, his once white sleeve was now soaked red. I grabbed the largest part of the door and it had a rusty nail poking out of it. I picked it up, I swung as hard as I could. I heard a thump then I heard another thump. I walked to the edge of the balcony, I looked down to see the killer laying there. He wasn’t moving, Steve had put his arm around my shoulder, I looked at him then smiled.

“Let’s go home please.”

“Fine by me baby.”

Steve and I walked down the stairs, out the front door I walked to the car, I grabbed my purse out of it. Then I started walking down the driveway when it hit me. The other cars probably had spare tires in them. I looked at Steve, told him they probably had spare tires in the back. We walked back to the cars, I opened Steve’s trunk while he went to find something to get the other cars trunks open. As soon as I turned to get out the car the killer had grabbed my throat and began to choke me. I grabbed my purse, I got my pepper spray out, I sprayed him in the eyes. when he let go I gasped for breath, I grabbed the Jack I stepped out of the car, I hit him in his face with the Jack knocking him out.

When Steve came back he had rope along with a crowbar, I looked at Steve, he looked at the killer on the ground.

“W-what happened?”

I looked at him, took in a breath.

“Well I thought he was dead but apparently not so I knocked him out with the Jack, give me the rope so I can tie him up.”

When he handed me the rope I grabbed the jack to the car and hit him again. I turned him on his stomach, I tied up his arms along with his feet. After an hour or so of Steve opening the trunks and changing the tires. The killer finally came to. He started struggling, I walked over to him and I kicked him in the face.

“Steve I think I saw a gas station down the road when we came here. Drive down there and call the cops.”

He looked at me, he shook his head.

“Y/N I’m not leaving you here with him. What if he gets loose?”

I looked at Steve, I smirked.

“Then the cops will have another body to take to the morgue.”

He nodded then got in the car and started up. He put the car in reverse and took off. I let out a breath of air, I heard him laughing. I walked over to him, I turned him on his back.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

He looked at me, he spit on me. I stood back up, I kicked him in the stomach. He let out a groan, he started laughing again. I got pissed, I stood up and started kicking him. He continued to laugh as I kicked him but he started choking, When he coughed hard He coughed up blood.

“Not so funny now is it?”

He looked at me, he smiled.

I stood back up, I heard Steve pull back up. He got out of the car, looked at me.

“Y/N get away from him.”

“Yeah Y/N get away from me, be a good girl for Steve.”

I kicked him in the face again, just as I went to kick again Steve pulled me away from him.

About fifteen minutes later the police showed up. After they discovered all the bodies they arrested the killer, they started reading him his rights. They took us to the ambulance, I heard one of the officers say his name, I looked at Steve and he nodded at me. I called an officer over, I looked at him.

“Officer did he say why he did that to my friends.”

He looked at me and moved his hat some.

“Well miss Y/L/N Brandon escaped from the mental hospital and it took your friends and you to come here to hit a nerve.”

I nodded my head, I watched him walk back to the squad car. When they were pulling he looked at us smiling, I smiled back and then flicked him off.

“Happy Halloween Brandon.”

Three days after we got out of the hospital Steve and I had got back to his house Steve and I were sitting on the couch snuggled up watching a movie, I kissed his cheek.

“Thank you.”

He smiled at me then looked at me.

“For what?”

I looked at him, shrugged.

“For not leaving me.”

He smiled at me, kissed my lips.

“Y/N you’re the love of my life I couldn’t ever leave you.”

I smiled, I took in a deep breath. We would recover from this but it would take a while, but I knew with Steve by my side that would be completely possible.

A/N: thank you guys for reading this I’m really proud of it. I hope you guys liked it.

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things writing challenge #Steve Harrington Halloween fics

22 notes · View notes

godlessfm · 4 years

Text

⤿ –––– op, well, hello ! i’m neptune and it’s been a lil bit since i last REALLY rped. pls be gentle. it’s like learning to walk again. anyways, since my intro posts are always miles long, i’m gonna try and keep dis as short as possible ( spoiler alert: it was not short ). also. there’s 300+ typos in this and i’m so sorry if none of it makes sense. u got questions about any of this, i can answer it the best i can.

( harry styles , demiboy , he/they , twenty-six ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . west holiday ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ heart-breaking, heartthrob west holiday’s series of drunk tweets about his recent sex-capades now have their own twitter account ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense though , since they’re apparently abrasive and shameless . but i’ve heard they’re also indomitable and debonair ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous singer/songwriter ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that ( redacted ) , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan ! ( the 1975 career claim )

so, first and foremost. fuck this kid. i hate this guy and i’m sure you will too. not because i think he’s fleshed out bad or anything, he’s just the #Worst. i’m just gonna go straight onto bullet points bc this will actually take years if i rant on about this boy.

to start of, he didn’t really grow up great. like ya he was mad rich, but his two moms cannot stand each other. they were constantly yelling at each other and throwing things but hey. west just kind of *wipes tears w hundos* so he didn’t think it was that rough

he grew up mainly in cheshire, england, there for he has a pretty heavy, thick accent that comes across in his music. i mean.... his career claim is the 1975 so you know that i mean

uh he has lil, baby sister, anabelle . she’s v small so sadly no wc. but she is his whole world and if you saw them together u would think west has nice twin brother. he doesn’t but. if he did.... west is the evil twin.

though they always fought they stayed together for some dumb reason, that dumb reason that they’re lil boy got MAD RICH. he started of making some cash by playing out on busy foot traffic areas and having a guitar case wide open . and people would just toss money in there and once he saw a career in this he straight up just dropped out of high school and pursued music. basically, what i’m saying is, he’s dumb. big dumb.

besides being the biggest dummy he’s really super talented i swear. the only problem is that’s his ONLY redeeming quality. im not even being dramatic. that’s it. that’s the only good thing about him. like yeah, he’s charming and he’s strong or whatever but do u think he uses that for good ??? NO.

he’s quite literally the guy you have in your phone as ‘DNR’ bc if u do he’s gonna try and charm you into coming over just so he can hook up with you and get you an uber when y’all are done. he won’t even cuddle u wtf bro.

TRUE LIFE: I’m A Disaster Bi

if y’all wanted to know he is covered in tattoos just like harry, and he’s short - haired harry. even tho as my fren put it: all harry lives matter. watch me making west grow it out bc long - haired harry is my personal fave. we’ll see how long it takes for me to cave. place ur Bets

uh . so about that headline ... am i right Laid Ease. uh, so basically, he recent made like 74 tweets about the guys, gals n enby pals that had recently been in his bed bc all he does is eat, play music and sleep w anything that breaths. im so sorry for that but chances are . if you let him, he will get u into his bed. or try his best .

pls dont be offended if y’all have slept together / met and he doesn’t remember you name . chances are he will call you bro, dude, babe, etc until he remembers your name or you remind him

west has this rly weird habit, it’s kind of funny. HE WILL TRY AND SHOVE HIMSELF INTO YOUR DRAMA BC HE IS BORED. like sure. he means well ........ Well. no he doesn’t. he’s a little shit and is so proud of it

pls hate him. im beggin u he thrives of being hated, he rly does like he’s got fans that love him and see the him that stops to take pictures/calls you honey/loves his fans. but he’s like..... simply put ?? A Dick.

u h. so since he’s horrible he’s never. EVER. been in love. any relationship he’s ever been in is 100% fake and means nothing to him. it’s all for pr and he knows it’ll get his ratings up so like.

i truly cannot think of anything else so like....... uh . pls plot with me. i’ll make him a pinterest in a lil bit. but until then, this is all i’ve got. he’s still a total work in progress but u kno .

okay ! so ! that was a giant mess. but, i do have a quick little list of wcs before i actually work up a whole wc page !

001. 100% smash on a game of smash or pass: uh . so lets say west played a game of smash or pass on a talk show and they asked him who is his number one smash. das where ur muse comes in . ur muse is his number one smash. ALWAYS.

002. most recent public relationship: so west and ur muse were probably spotted out somewhere and his pr team was like. wow ur album is blowin up keep asking this person to hang out with and plead the fifth if they ask if y’all are together. ur muse can choose whether they were together or not. but at this point they’re definitely NOT together, but they could’ve stayed friends or not. we luv enemies.

003. dead to me: would absolutely kill for this plot. bc i LOVE enemy plots . but basically west and ur muse dated, you know, for pr. he didn’t love them no way jose. but it ended REALLY badly and ur muse absolutely despises him... rightfully so. but basically we can totally work on this but i’m sure they get into twitter feuds. their breakup was v messie GIVE IT TO ME.

004. i need just one person to not hate his man........ just give him one single friend. it’s all he’s allowed i swear.

#sixhqintro #/ uh so hear me out. dis is a mess and u do not have to read it. just skim and scroll 2 da bottom for some wcs #tl; dr he's an asshole w no redeeming qualities so u kno. do what u will w that info .#i'm so excited tbh . my fingers can't Move .

16 notes · View notes

my-happy-little-bean · 5 years

Text

Golden Slumbers - Chapter 20

[Previous Chapter]

Chapter 20: Yellow Roses

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 2787 warnings: alcohol, sad vibes, maybe swearing; with solemn, you never know (bean edit: there is no swearing! such wonders is this!) summary: logan fray has been running his flower shop, aster’s, for about three years now. he hasn’t run into too much trouble yet—other than the occasional presence of his friend, roman prince, who runs a broadway-themed café across the street—and his life had been relatively quiet for quite some time now. that is, until patton sanders opens up a gift shop next door that prides itself in pun-filled cards. that’s when logan’s life gets a bit…louder.

a/n- did you know that roman has a cat named dinah? she was mentioned in chapter 9, did you know that?

we back, bby.

thanks to @solemn-writing-vow! writing with you again has been an absolute pleasure. god, we should do this more often.

tag list ✨ – @virgiltheanxious, @pinkeasteregg, @toomuchstuffnotenoughcreativity, @the-anti-virgil, @ace-v-p-d, @minnie-sparkle, @too-precious-to-process, @freepaperie081, @whatwashernameagain, @adoratato, @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2, @softprxnce, @migraine-marathon, @alana-of-the-cartwrights, @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn, @thepusheenqueen, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @hanramz-the-fander, @atomicengineerdetective, @anony-phangirl, @keeshy-ekho, @samwantstobereal, @potatogirl309, @wentzdayz, @incrediblymanlytears, @generalfandom, @paradoxicalpatton, @poisonedapples :), @michealawithana, @pasteliosis, @microsoft-nerd, @theinsanem, @blinded-by-nobody, @taylorharmonies, @axyzel, @29-cupsofyogurt, @grey-lysander, @russian-radiation-station, @razberrypuck, @leafyhill910, @a-lexicon-of-words, @uh-r00d, @definenormalifyoucan, @yeet-me-dad, @misslilidelaney, @corruptedicon, @patton-loves-coloring, @bubblycricket, @i-am-not-a-feeling, @froggyfun27, @penguins-in-turquoise-scarves, @insanityandimperfection, @spacenerrrd, @hissesssss, @pattongirl, @your-username-is-unavailable, @midknight-mania, @wandering-wondering-aimlessly, @crofters-junkie, @hi-disappointed-im-daughter, @peanut0303, @applecannibal, @fandoms-winkitywonk, @illiani, @teenageengineerobservation, @koalaaquabear, @aceofhearts567, @davidthetraveler

((disclaimer: my tag system is a Mess™️ so if ur url is here and it shouldn’t be/you don’t want it to be, or if you want to be on the tag list and ur not on it, pls send me an ask !! thank u ^-^))

read on AO3 if you’d like ^-^

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

“yellow roses = associated with the sun and its life-giving warmth; friendship”

~*~

‘It’s quiet. It’s too quiet.

Say something.

It’s quiet, and it’s dark,

and you’re alone, and–’

“Here we are!” Roman announced, flicking on the light switch with his elbow, turning around, and peering over the box he was holding. His bright smile snapped Patton out of his thoughts. “Welcome to my kingdom!”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Where can we situate ourselves?”

“Dinah’s probably sleeping in my room, so boxes can go in the guest room, Buzzed Light-kill,” Roman huffed. He looked over at Virgil and smiled. “You want to help Logan, mi amor? I would do it myself, but–”

“Boxes would snap your noodle arms,” Virgil said smugly. He nodded, grabbing the box out of Roman’s arms. “I’ll take care of it.”

Roman placed a hand on his chest dramatically, his mouth falling into a little ‘o’. “My arms are not noodles! I just– have other important things to do…” He finished lamely as Virgil and Logan made their way to the guest room. ‘Oh well. Mission Failed. We’ll get ‘em next time. Back to the most important issue’.

Roman turned around and smiled kindly at Patton.

“Let’s embark on a grand adventure to the kitchen, shall we?” Roman extended his hand, sweeping into a low bow. “Fulfill our quest for that hot chocolate?”

‘Say something.’ Patton swallowed down a lump in his throat as he stared at Roman’s hand.

“Sure.” Even his own voice sounded small. Weak. He decided it’d be best to not say anything else. He tried not to notice the fall in Roman’s smile. Now you’ve disappointed him. Made him worry about you. Idiot!

“Fantastic!” Roman said, almost without missing a beat. He straightened himself up once more and took Patton’s hand. And Patton did not flinch, no he did not. “Let’s be on our merry way!”

“Please be careful, will you?” Logan’s voice sounded as if it were miles behind them now. It also sounded sad.

“To infinity and beyond!” Roman exclaimed instead, skipping to the kitchen and dragging Patton beside him.

“Why won’t you smile, Patty dearest?”

Patton didn’t know why.

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

The hot chocolate grew cold on the counter.

“I’m not sure standing here is going to help,” Logan offered, rather unhelpfully if Roman could say anything about it. “Are you going to give it to him or not?”

“I will, calm yourself,” Roman muttered, his tapping on the counter speeding up. (He was tapping in 5/4 time, what has he become?)

Logan looked over at Virgil, who was peering through the kitchen window that gave a view into the living room. Following his gaze, he noticed Patton was still sitting on the couch Roman had left him on, staring wordlessly at The Tigger Movie on the TV. He peered back at the hot chocolate. “It’s gone rather cold, too.”

“I just don’t know what to do.” Roman continued to tap his finger on the counter, pointedly ignoring Logan at this point, since he’s hardly getting to the point. Out of principle.

“He’s never not bounced to ‘Round My Family Tree’ before,” Virgil noted, continuing to stare at Patton with a certain kind of astonishment. Logan sighed.

“Well one of us is going to have to do something,” Logan stated. “We can’t just leave him there alone for a lengthened period of time.” A pause. More quietly, Logan adds, “He’s done that enough.”

Roman glared at him. The tapping intensified. “I’m doing everything I can, Logan.”

“He’s just...staring at it.” Virgil spoke even quieter now.

“We can’t just continue to do nothing,” Logan pointed out once more. “Someone needs to talk to him.”

“Why don’t you do it, Pointdexter?” Roman hissed. “He clearly won’t want to talk to any of us. I’m sure you can Fix-it...Felix.”

Logan looked at him incredulously. “Pardon?”

“Junior,” Virgil quipped lightly. A beat of silence before the joke finally registered, by the look of faint disgust on Logan’s face.

“Ah, I see.” Logan pushed up his glasses. “I suppose I was mistaken beforehand. Someone needs to talk to him other than Roman.”

“I’m trying to help!” Roman protested. “I started the conversation, I made him hot chocolate–”

“That you haven’t given him,” Logan interrupted.

“I put on some Disney," Roman soldiered on, ignoring Logan’s point. “Like, come on! This is the formula to a happy-pappy Patton!”

“Guys,” Virgil finally said, a bit more firmly this time. He spun around on his heel and faced Logan and Roman, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, how about Logan, you just bring the hot chocolate to the kitchen and sit with Patton until we’re there. You don’t have to talk to him, at least just watch the movie with him. Okay?”

Logan looked over at Patton, who was now hugging a pillow to his chest with the same, blank stare at the TV. He sighed, but nodded anyway, grabbing the hot chocolate and making his way to the living room.

When he was gone, Roman glared at Virgil.

“What gives?” he hissed quietly. “You told me I was doing great! This is me...doing great!”

“Yeah, at a distraction,” Virgil said, nervously looking over at the living room as he watched Logan take a seat beside Patton. He shook his head. “Though I’m starting to think we’re running out of distractions.”

“No doi!” Roman said, almost exasperated. “That’s the issue, Christopher Rob-him...of…” A pause. Roman scrunched his face up in frustration. “Look, all my brain power is going towards solutions,” Roman rambled. “Don’t give me problems, give me solutions, Christopher Rob-him-of-solutions! Him being...him being– being me!” He pointed wildly at Virgil and triumphantly blurted out, “A-ha!”

Silence. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Wow.” Virgil shook his head. “My point is that…” He took a deep breath. “I’m starting to think that maybe distracting him so that he can be temporarily happy isn’t what he needs right now.”

“I don’t want to see him sad either!” Roman protested.

“Well, none of us do,” Virgil shot back. “But maybe we need to push that aside for him. He needs to be sad; the one thing we can give him right now is some company to be...sad in.”

Roman said nothing. Virgil sighed, looking over at Patton, who was now crying into Logan’s shoulder. The movie had been long forgotten.

“It’s hard seeing him like this,” Virgil said quietly. “It’s harder knowing that he was hurting. I was standing right in front of the person who hurt him and I did nothing.”

Roman’s face softened. “There was nothing else you can do, mi pequeño rayo. You said what you wanted to say.”

“Not everything,” Virgil muttered. “There was loads I could’ve said. Maybe more I could’ve done there too.” He averted his glance from Roman. “I wanted nothing more than to rip her to shreds for ever making Patton feel like...like this.”

Roman took a step closer to Virgil. “I know.”

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Virgil’s voice trembled. “It’s a horrible feeling– to know you’ve done so much to make something work. Realizing that what you’ve had for so long wasn’t even love to begin with– it’s a horrible, horrible feeling.”

“I know.” The words slip out before Roman could stop it. Virgil looked at him with wide eyes and Roman blinked.

What was he doing? Roman’s thoughts raced. He needed to be whatever they need right now; why was he not doing that?

He needed to be their hero.

Not this. Not now.

Roman tugged at the hem of his sleeve.

“Maybe you’re right,” Roman finally said. He straightened. “He needs not to be saved — but supported.” He smiled. “I can do that.”

Virgil frowned. “We can do that. Okay?”

Silence.

“Of course, love,” Roman stated simply.

And with that, Roman tapped Virgil’s cheek softly before heading to the living room to accompany Patton. Virgil watched him as he left.

He couldn’t help but stare at Roman’s arm, the scene of him tugging down at his sleeve lingering in his head.

“I know.”

Virgil bit the inside of his lip. It’s a horrible, horrible feeling.

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

When Logan sat down beside Patton, all Patton could hear in his head was “say something.”

“I, um–” Logan cleared his throat, presenting Patton with a soft blue, tartan patterned mug with angel wings on it. “Roman made you hot chocolate. Marshmallows and all.” He frowned. “Though I am afraid it is rather cold now. And the marshmallows have melted.”

A pause, before Logan promptly offered a small smile, holding the cup a little more towards Patton, who just stared at it.

“Why can’t you grateful for once?!”

“Thanks,” he said softly, taking the cup and holding it on his lap. Logan nodded, and the two fell into silence once more. Patton watched as Logan took a glance at the TV. ‘Fill the silence, fool!’

“I simply do not understand the premise of this movie,” Logan finally said, clearing his throat. Patton could see the haze of orange and black reflected onto his glasses. “Why are all the characters wearing those...costumes? I am almost certain that Winnie the Pooh does not look like that.”

Patton forced a quiet laugh.

“They’re trying to make Tigger happy,” he responded softly. He tried to ignore the way Logan looked back at him (stupid, stupid, stupid) and instead fixed his stare on the movie.

“Patton,” he heard Logan say quietly. “I– we are here for you. You are...you are aware of that, yes?”

Patton felt numb at the words. He shouldn’t need to be taken care of.

“I don’t know how I never...how I never saw it, you know?” Patton’s voice barely broke above a whisper. He can’t help but laugh, despite it sounding so broken. “I’m a bit silly, aren’t I?”

“Patton,” Logan said, almost sternly. He placed a hand on his knee, and Patton tensed up at the sudden contact. “You are not at fault for this.”

Patton said nothing.

“Now, you’re not going to cry, are you, Patty?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He bit his lip. “It doesn’t matter anymore because– because it’s over, isn’t it?”

“Pat…”

“I messed everything up, even if– even if you think I didn’t.” Logan’s heart broke at Patton’s feeble attempts of breaking into some kind of an optimistic smile. “And now I lost...well, everything.”

“Falsehood. We have at least four boxes full of your things. Furthermore–” Logan added gently– “you are here.” Safe.

“Doesn’t make me any less lost,” Patton replied, his voice breaking. He swallowed down a sob when Logan didn’t respond.

“Lo,” he murmured, his voice suddenly smaller.

“Yes, Patton?”

A pause.

“What if that was it?” Patton finally asked. Before Logan could cut in, Patton continued. “What if she was all I had?” He looked at Logan with wide, teary eyes. “What if she was my soulmate?”

Logan frowned. Silence filled the room for a few seconds as Patton’s question lingered in the air.

“Patton,” Logan decided to say, “I am not in the business of believing that such errant frivolities such as soulmates exist.”

Patton bit back a sob.

“So I’m alone.” He broke into a laugh; this one more strained than before. “I’m sorry, Logan. I just...I don’t think that helps. Not now, at least.”

“No, the intention of my statement was not to make you...upset.” Logan cleared his throat. “It is a mere belief of mine, I think.” He took a deep breath. “I do not believe soulmates exist because it is preposterous to believe that there is one person for everyone. There are simply just...the right people. That is why people are able to be happy, alone or with significant others — their existences are not dependent on another being, nor are they incomplete until they find that person.”

He sighed. “There are just the right people, Patton; people who improve you and allow themselves to grow alongside you.” Patton averted his glance from him and Logan added, more hesitantly, “The universe is too intelligent as to not have another plan for you. It is…ineffable.”

Silence.

“Thank you, Logan,” Patton said his voice numb; “but you are wrong.”

Logan found himself speechless. Patton continue to force his stare away from Logan in the hopes of hiding the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Y-You’re wrong,” he said again, “because I couldn’t change.”

“Patton–” Logan sputtered out.

“It’s true, okay?” Patton felt himself shake at every word. “I couldn’t change– who’s to say I could change for anyone else? Who’s to say that I’ll be able to change for the right person too?” Pathetic, you’re being pathetic, stop stop stop stop.

“Patton–”

“God, where am I even going to go?”

“I’m not wrong.” Logan huffed. “You’ll stay with…me, I suppose. If you’re amenable– ah, willing.”

“And then what?” Patton cried, exasperated. Logan’s mouth snapped closed. “Logan, what if I wait and wait and wait and then realize too late that she was my last chance?”

Patton bit his lip, tears blurring his vision.

“I-I’m just so scared.” He can’t stop the sob from escaping. “Logan, what if I can’t live without her?”

And that was the breaking point.

Logan’s body structure tensed, yet his walls crumbled; as Patton collapsed onto his shoulder and began to cry. He could feel the tears stain his shirt and it took all of his will power not to cry with him.

He instead took Patton’s wrist and felt for his pulse, making an affirming noise.

“As I thought.” Patton looked up at him, sniffling.

“What?”

“Place your hand over your heart.”

“Why?” Logan sighed at Patton’s blank stare.

“Just do it.”

Patton slowly did as Logan said.“What…” He looked confused. Logan looked at him softly.

“Do you feel your heartbeat? It’s steady.”

“I don’t understand–”

“You’re living,” Logan interrupted. “You are alive, and she’s not here.” Patton sniffled a bit, letting out a strangled half-laugh. Logan’s heart fluttered with the small victory.

“It’s not the same, really. But thanks.” Patton said softly, leaning back against Logan.

Logan’s mind raced for how to respond or if it would be too much, but was saved by Roman resting his head against Patton, wrapping him into a hug. Virgil soon came to sit beside Roman, reaching to hold Patton’s hand.

No one said anything as the movie faded out of their attention.

And it was quiet.

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

The morning came and went without any of them noticing it. Logan—who just watched as the little group that surrounded Patton drifted off to sleep as the night passed him—came to terms with the fact that he would just not be going to work. He could afford one day, after all.

He took the liberty of texting Thomas on Roman’s phone that Roman would not be at work; and every now and then Dinah would make her way into the living room, jumping onto the space beside Logan. She was a gorgeous cat, Logan noted — though by the looks of how Patton’s sniffles turned into sneezes in his sleep, she probably couldn’t stay for that long.

As he continued his mindless thoughts, a dull headache beginning to build up—‘Never again, I’m never drinking again’—he felt his phone buzz twice beside him.

Careful not to wake anyone up, he slowly reached over for his phone and pulled it towards him. Without really looking at the sender, he slid open the first new message.

From: Jen | 7:01 am

Hey, sorry for how long this took. But good news! Turns out ur still smart as heck and the flower TOTALLY WORKED. Obviously not magic, but still pretty close! :D :D Let’s grab some coffee soon and talk, nerd <3

Logan smiled half-heartedly on the screen. He had forgotten to update Jen about the state of his little ‘project’ and wasted her time, god, why does he just do everything wrong?.

Beside him, he suddenly heard the faint sound of Patton’s steady breathing, turning to see Roman’s head slowly drop against his chest. Virgil’s hand was still tightly locked around Patton’s.

And Patton was quiet. And Patton looked...at peace.

If there is anyone who is smart, he typed back, it would be you. It is a complete wonder that you figured it out, and I look forward to meeting with you for said coffee in order to learn your method of how you did so. What day works for you?

He pressed send without thinking about it too hard; it’s time, after all, to change.

And as the golden sun poured through Roman’s curtains, a new thought filled Logan’s mind

as he drifted off to sleep.

You’re going to have to read the other text eventually, you know.

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

a/n- reblogs, likes, whatever — i love ‘em all! thank you for reading, mes amies; hope u enjoyed it <33

[Next chapter]

#sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides #thomas sanders #logicality #prinxiety #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety #logan sanders patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logic #morality #creativity #anxiety #flower shop AU #gabbie writes things #golden slumbers fic

92 notes · View notes

gatticus · 4 years

Note

a wild fic prompt: becca and gat and matching tattoos from when stupid drunk one night

YOU DID IT

also i havent forgotten abt the becca/troy kiss 1! i will do it-- also this is sooo long for a drabble lol, it ends a bit abruptly cos im tired, sorrry :(

also also scroll 2 the end to see what they got on each other :) (johnnys one is very blurry cos i had to get it from a screenshot from tht billboard in sr3 lol)

What was my dogs name?”

Johnny frowned. “Uh...fuck, I know this...Greg?”

They were playing a drinking game of sorts, testing how well they actually knew each other. A jug of a mix of spirits and an attempt to water it down with a soft drink sat between them, ready to be divvied out between the two of them. They were sat on the kitchen floor, crossed legs, like two teenagers at a sleepover--it was quite a step away from the fancy cars and designer clothes.

“Nope,” She smiled at his groan. “George. Drink up, loser.”

Johnny obliged, tilting the liquid down his throat. She watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed, the tattoos across his neck moving with the motion.

She needed to stop that pronto.

“Okay,” He wiped a hand across the back of his mouth. “My moms name.”

“I know this!” She demanded, finger in the air. “Jung Soo. It’s Jung Soo. I fuckin’ know it’s jung--”

“Yeah,” He laughed. “You got it.”

“My brothers name?”

“Darren,” Johnny answered instantly. “C’mon, that’s an easy one, met that scrawny fucker enough times. Uh… what time was I born?”

Becca blinked. Mainly at the audacity. “Are you being serious? What time you were born?”

“You dunno?” He replied, casually. Too casually.

“I mean, I know your birthday, but not the exact fucking millisecond, Johnny.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Guess.”

“Uh,” She racked her brains for an answer she wasn’t going to get. “You were born on the 15th April 1984, at...uh...4AM?”

Johnny winced.

“Was I close?”

“Kinda.”

She blinked. “Really? I mean that was just a guess. What time was it?”

“7PM.”

“‘Kinda’ close?” She repeated, scowling whilst she took a gulp of her drink. “You’re killing me here.”

“Tell you what,” He took a drink of his glass, unprompted. Maybe he enjoyed it. “Same game, different rule. I get this next one right, we get some new ink.”

Becca raised an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t really in need of anything to permanently stain across her body, she liked to have sentimental value behind those kind of things. She supposed that was a little strange, considering she had a wasp tattooed on her collarbone for the Skeeters--

--that was before Johnny informed her that the mascot was, in fact, a mosquito.

“Okay,” She supplied, a little warily. “What’re you getting?”

“Well,” He cracked his neck. He clearly hadn’t expected it to go this far. “You pick out what we’re gettin’.”

Matching tattoos? She supposed it had some meaning to it, but she had nothing in her head to pick. A dog? A dick? His mom? She couldn’t think of anything for them to actually get.

“Alright.” She was drunk. Fuck it. “What’s my full name? My birth name? And...when was I born? And what was my first tattoo?”

Johnny blinked. “You’re gonna make me earn this, huh?”

She hummed, grinning at him over the top of her glass. She took another large mouthful of it, grimacing before she swallowed.

“A’ight,” Johnny’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “Rebecca Elizabeth Al--Hammond, was born on the 23rd of October...shit..I know this…”

Becca watched him with amusement, taking another sip of her drink. She buzzed pleasantly as she watched him concentrate, frowning behind his glasses.

“How old are you?”

“That’s cheating.”

He cursed, brows furrowing again. “1986. I got it. Rebecca Elizabeth Hammond, 23rd October 1986, and your first ink was…”

His eyes roamed over her, checking every tattoo she had on display. His eyes lingered a little too long on the roses on her shoulder--a tattoo for Aisha, before moving on.

“Move your leg,” He instructed, sighing when he shifted it. “Nah, like--”

All of a sudden, his fingers were on her calf, pulling it out from underneath her. He ignored her yelp, examining the anchor tattoo on her skin. She didn’t dare comment about it, about how his fingers had no business feeling that good on her skin.

“There,” He pointed with his free hand. “The anchor.”

She was a little disappointed when he dropped her leg. Even more so that he managed to get them all right.

“Okay,” She pretended to sigh. “You got it. We’re getting massive matching schlongs on our forehead.”

“I think the fuck not,” It left his mouth immediatley. “Think harder.”

She chewed her lip as she thought, thinking of what suited it. She didn’t want to go too sappy, but didn’t want a dick either, or a deformed dog. She mulled it over further until a thought popped into her head.

“Get me a marker,” She demanded. “Quick.”

Johnny rolled his eyes, acting just as dramatic as usual. “What your last slave die of?”

“I shot ‘em,” She supplied. “they didn’t listen to me.”

He gave a short laugh as he wandered, or maybe staggered was the better descriptor, over to the draws. He was careless, throwing things over his shoulder and chucking things to the side before he returned, marker in hand.

“Maybe you should leave the drawin’ to the guy,” He warned, still holding the marker. “You ain’t no picasso, B.”

“Shut up and give me the damn pen.”

He only smirked when he handed it to her, sitting back in front of her. He watched expectantly as she thought more about what she was going to do.

“Arm out.” She ordered, grinning when he rolled up the sleeve of his right arm. “Good.”

She tugged his arm closer to her, uncapping the pen. She hesitated, thinking of spots to do it. The thought of it sprawled across his bicep was a interesting notion, she certainly wouldn’t mind looking at that every so often.

Instead, she settled for his forearm. She pressed the pen to his skin, signing her name down the length of it.

“Oh,” He blinked. “Well that’s different. What you want on you then?”

“You choose.” She shrugged.

Johnny took the pen off her, pointing it in the air. He seemed to only take a moment to choose, before grabbing her arm, positioning it so her forearm was across from him.

“You fucked up doin’ signatures,” He told her, as he scrawled his own onto her skin. “Mine is fuckin’ huge.”

“Then write it smaller.”

He didn’t reply, but the small grin on his lips was enough. It took him longer to write hers, adding a line underneath it for emphasis.

“And…” He placed a final dot on her skin. “Done. C’mon.”

The moment he dropped the pen, he got to his feet. He didn’t wait for her either, he simply reached down to the freshly inscribed arm and yanked.

“Fuck--!” She yelped, landing rather clumsily on her feet. “We should probably walk, there’s a rusty’s round the corner.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, starting off at a walk. “Car’ll be fine.”

The sun streamed through the window as Becca stirred.

She frowned as she moved her cheek, before realising that she wasn’t on the sofa at all. In fact, this didn’t feel very floor like either. She cracked open an eye to reveal that she was in fact, lying on a chest.

She blinked, jerking back, before remembering who it was. Johnny was still sound asleep, his glasses pushed up onto his hair, face almost pressed into the sofa cushion. One of his hands was heavy on her back, the other flopped above his head.

She couldn’t remember the events that had led them there, but at least they were clothed. That suggested that they hadn’t done anything life changing-ly horrific. She slid off him, gently replacing his hand back onto his torso when she had landed on the floor.

Her arm itched. It could have been burning because she was still flustered from where, or who she woke up on. But as she glanced down and saw it wrapped, memories from the night previous flooded back.

They had crashed the car in the end, into a lampost, before staggering into Rusty’s. The tattoo artist almost told them to leave before they realised who they were dealing with.

Becca pressed her fingers to her lips to try and hide her smile as she realised her name was on him too. They would laugh it off, because of course they would, and go about their day.

But it would always be there, all she had to do was look down.

“Hey,” She got to her feet, jostling him. “Johnny wake up.”

He groaned, trying to press his face into the cushion. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

“Johnny,” She murmured. He didn’t move. “Johnny!”

“Wass--” He shook himself awake, blinking blearily at her. “Oh. ‘Sup.”

“Morning princess,” She grinned, watching him frown. “How many aspirins do you need?”

“None,” He grunted, lips turning to a scowl. “I’m a’ight.”

“Liar.”

She rounded past him to get to the kitchen, listening to him grumble and groan to himself. They were both in dire need of a coffee and some pills, and she was nothing if not a deliverer.

“B?” He called from the living room. “Yo, Becca, come here for a sec.”

She placed down the aspirins, knowing exactly what he had called her in for. She saw him, now sat up, staring at her signature on his arm.

“You got mine,” He was still staring at it. “Right?”

Becca took a seat across from him. His glasses were still in his hair, so she could see his eyes scanning over the ink on his skin.

“Yup.”

“That makes you a branded woman,” He raised an eyebrow, sounding way too flirty for the time it was. “All the men an’ women in Stilwater are gonna see that fucker from miles away.”

Becca rose a solitary eyebrow in return. “Not sure I like those implications.”

He had picked up on her fake disgust in an instant. His smirk grew the more he watched her, his eyes momentarily dipping down to his own name on her arm;

“Heh. Sure you don’t.”

#twistedsinews #boss becca #otp; not without you #fic #rachael dont look

6 notes · View notes

movedyourchair505 · 5 years

Text

Napule Nights - trentanove

As always, thanks to Elana for helping me make everything work! This chapter includes some smut people were requesting x

- chapter navigation -

Jade's eyes wandered around the dimly lit room, her gaze wandering past the women spinning from the poles in the back, past the guests on the dancefloor, past the small groups sat on the sofas and at the tables on the side and she brought her glass to her lips, taking a sip of her drink, the very first Jade she'd ordered out at one of Alexander's establishments.

“Bella.”

She turned, instead of Alexander's return, she was greeted with Kane's arrival, his skin bronzed with a fresh tan, a sharp contrast to his tight, baby pink suit. “Looking good” she smiled, licking her lips. “I didn't know you were here tonight.”

Miles shrugged, raking his fingers through his short hair and wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. “Neither did I, bella” he informed her. “But now weh bof kno' 's a good fing I am, because I cannot believe Al's left ya on your own.”

Jade shrugged, nodding towards the group of men that had insisted to converse with Alexander. “He's right there” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear as she turned back to look at Kane as he turned to the bar and she saw him mouth for his own signature drink, but she was quick to stop the bartender. “Actually” she cut in. “I think Mr. Kane would like a Jade.”

“Oh, I would vereh mooch” Miles said, his lips forming a smug smirk, cackling when she rolled her eyes at him turning her request around.

“Kane...”

“Can't fookin' 'elp meself, bella, look at ya.” His eyes wandered down her body, taking in the way her tight black dress did not only hug her curves beautifully but put her body on display in a way that they both knew had everyone who laid eyes on her desperate to be in Turner's shoes for more than one reason. The dress left a wide gap in fabric trailing down in length, the skin it exposed merely held together by a series of criss-crossed ties, allowing glimpses at almost every part of her body that was otherwise covered.

“Here you go, Mr. Kane.”

His attention was snapped from her dress by the barman and he looked up, his fingers closing around the crystal. “I 'aven't actualleh 'ad the final product” he said. “So even though I shouldn't beh takin' orders from ya, bella, I'm excited” he stated, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Well” she shrugged. “You forced me to drink that liquid candy” she said, scrunching up her nose at the memory of his drink.

He gasped dramatically, clamping his heart down on his heart in fake offense. “Ya better beh able teh 'andle sum feedback in return. I 'elped make this though, ya kno'?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“Well, I were Al's test person. 'e 'ad meh try different versions 'n tha', took 'im ages teh come up wif this one.” He took a sip from the drink, humming and licking his lips. “Well, fook, tha's joost made meh feel closer teh ya” he chuckled. “Makes meh burn.”

She rolled her eyes, tensing when she felt someone's hand on her lower back but relaxing instantly when the familiar cloud of smoke and spice surrounded her, leaning back into his touch thankfully. “Hey, baby” she rasped, turning her head and pressing a kiss to Alexander's jaw. “Are you okay?”

He nodded slowly, moved to slick his hair back with a swift stroke of his hand, then waved to the bartender. “Joost fookin' 'eard sum unpleasant news” he shrugged.

Jade sighed, turning to smooth down the jacket of his shiny black suit, her eyes wandering up his tanned chest, exposed underneath the half-unbuttoned blue shirt.

“Can't fookin' believe it” he muttered, his body drawn to her touch and leaning forward slightly, instantly aching to be closer when she offered. “Sum people fink they can come in 'ere 'n fookin' disrespect meh in me own fookin' club.”

She swallowed, tilting her head slightly, her fingertips trailing along the smooth skin of his jaw, sharp, tense. “You can't let them provoke you, Alexander” she said quietly, knowing he wouldn't like hearing what she had to say, but she also knew that she had to. “They want you to react this way so you slip up, baby, they're playing into your temper...”

“I don't fookin' slip up...” he stated. “And if yeh're talkin' 'bout tha' guy earlier, 'e were eyein' yeh inappropriately, alreyht?”

Jade sighed, shaking her head. As much as she loved him demonstrating his power, felt a thrill each time, she couldn't help but warn him, worried where the way his passion made him trail off would lead sometimes. “I just don't want you to make more enemies because of me.”

“Tha' were a fookin' nobodeh, Jade” he sighed, relaxing slightly when she drew the pack of cigarettes from his top pocket and fished one out to place between his lips, then offered one to Kane and lighting them both. “If I can't shut down people like tha', wha's next?”

Before she could respond, a loud noise ripped through the room, momentarily drowned out the music, the chatter, the sounds of glasses meeting and liquor pouring. Then, another shot. Jade could now make out the origin of the sound and while the music kept thudding, the chatter had died down, the women on the poles had stopped spinning, every face turned towards the two men that were entering the club, both with one arm stretched into the air, smoking guns in hand.

“Doll, get be'ind meh” Alex drawled, could see Matthew and Jamie slowly moving closer, all the security on alert, but he knew that those two men were most likely not alone, and that there was a risk here of overpowering them before being sure about the situation. His heart was pounding in his chest, one defeat after another and he tried to suppress his anger like Jade had told him, though it was getting increasingly more difficult with each challenge, he couldn't wrap his head around the continuous decrease in control, was unable to process it all.

Jade huffed. “Why? Because I can't fight?” She muttered, yet kept her eyes on the men as she spoke to make sure she didn't miss a single movement.

“No” Alex muttered. “Because I'd never forgive meself if yeh got 'urt.”

She inhaled shakily, took a step back and he stepped forward simultaneously, holding her breath when she heard his voice, loud and roaring and authoritative.

“Wha's this then?” He drawled, Helders and Cook stepping to each side of him as he approached the two gunmen, held his arms out expectantly to his sides. “Are yeh gunna shoot meh in me own club? I never even seen yehr faces before and I'm supposed to be scared.”

One of the men lifted his weapon, pointed it at him but Alexander merely shook his head, gave a click of his tongue. “Yehr first shot would've 'it meh instead of me ceiling if yehr plan were teh shoot meh.”

Jade stayed behind him, looking to her side, searching for Kane's gaze who gave her a pointed look to stay as she was, to let Alexander do what he thought best and while she trusted him and knew that he wasn't at the top of the city for no reason, she still hoped he wouldn't take it too far, wouldn't dare himself further than he could afford because of his temper. And as much as she knew that he was right, that they didn't seem like they were out to kill him, she was well aware that they were meant to scare him, scare him in his own club, make him feel unsafe even in his own spaces and from the way he stood, tense, yet completely unafraid, she could tell that he was aware as well, and that he refused to allow it to work with everything he had.

“You've been looking to Mancini” one of the men stated, raised an eyebrow when Alexander stepped in front of him, eyeing the gun curiously until it was lowered and no longer pointing at him.

“I 'ave indeed. But I doubt yeh've come teh give 'im up.”

The gunman chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “And you're right to. He has agreed to meet you though, Turner.”

Alex raised his eyebrows, couldn't say that he had expected everything but the answer he'd now been given and he licked his lips, not quite eased enough for the tension to leave his body. “And I'm s'posed teh believe 's not a trap?”

“Well, Mancini said to tell you that he's prepared for you to arrange place and time, to come with as much security as you deem necessary if you agree to let him do the same.”

Alex huffed, licking his lips. “Why does 'e want teh meet meh?”

“You can ask him when you meet him” the man stated. “We know you're interested. There will be no meeting if we're stopped from delivering your message.”

Jade saw Alexander grit his teeth, his hand on his hip now, and she could see his fingers shaking with anger. She hoped desperately that he would agree, it was a change in behaviour and maybe meant a change for the business, maybe they could outsmart Mancini and Alfonso somehow, but blocking everything they did would not lead there.

“I'm gunna send the details.”

The man gave a bitter smile, followed by a wave, several other armed men following him, Alex's security looking expectantly at him but he gave a shake of his head, gesturing for them to stand out and when the door shut behind the invaders, his breath came out shakily, mostly with relief, and there was a moment in which despite the music still blaring, the bass still thudding, no one moved a muscle until Alex turned, one look from his dark eyes enough to set everything back into motion and Jade followed his movements with fascination, stepped back slightly when he walked back to her and Kane and ordered another drink, taking a drag from his now almost burnt down cigarette.

There was barely any talking to him the rest of the night, after an hour he decided that there was no point in sticking around any longer, feeling he'd proven his point that he was not afraid, but even on the way back home, he was distant, found himself unable to think anything else and didn't even order for any help, just sat in silence with Jade, Matthew and Jamie, and the more time passed, the more frustrated he became to change it, only when the door of his apartment fell shut and he was alone with Jade, he felt he could no longer keep it in but instead, she beat him to it.

“Alexander” she demanded. “Talk to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, paused where he stood and turned on his heel to look at her. “Wha' do I fookin' say?” He muttered, an edge to his voice that she welcomed in a way that she knew he was not trying to protect her from the reality of the situation, she didn't want him to feel like he had to hold back on anything with her, ever. “Yeh fookin' saw wha' 'appened, Jade!”

She looked back at him, raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue, gave a nod, stood as she was without moving a muscle, patient.

“They got inteh me club! Me own fookin' club! Wha' the fook is next?” His hands were shaking, his anger rising. “Are they gunna come inteh the 'eadquarters, in 'ere? And a fookin' meetin' wif me enemeh? No fookin' wonder me padre's disappointed in meh! I used teh beh able teh stand up teh 'im easeh, got nofin' teh fookin' show for meself.”

She took a breath, knew there was nothing she could say or do to fix things now, except to make it better in the moment until he figured out what to do to improve the business, until he could make the necessary decisions. “You know it's not your fault, Alexander.”

His bottom lip was trembling, his jaw tense. “Yes, I fookin' kno', but 's all on meh, innit? I'm the one in charge, I'm responsible!” He raked his fingers through his hair, then patted down his suit jacket, but before he could even look for another pack, she had a smoke for him ready and lit and he sighed, took it between his fingers and taking a drag, breathing out heavily. “I joost...” He swallowed hard. “Joost need teh fookin' do sumfin'. Can't sit 'round 'n wait.”

“You're making the right decisions” she stated. “And that's why that will show in time. You're smarter than all of them. That's why you're meant to be in charge.”

He blinked, knew that she'd supported him through all of it, but only now realised how little she was challenging him now, how much she reassured him, how genuine in her words were, and it meant a lot to hear it from her. “Jade...”

“No.” She shook her head. “Can I say something?”

He gave a slight wave of his hand, a shrug, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“You're going to figure it all out because that's what you've been doing for all this time. I hate that me being here has made some things difficult, and I take full responsibility for that...”

“Jade” he interrupted. “'s not yeh.”

“Not entirely” she shrugged. “But to some extent. But I can only help so much, I know you won't let me do the most important work, and you're right not to because you know best. And you know that. And that's what I admire. That's what makes you so powerful, and I'm happy to remind you of that, but I think you know how well-respected you are, Alexander. Why no one has crossed you.”

He bit his lip, his jaw locking. He was still tense with anger, and while he knew she was right, knew he was hardly being himself, it frustrated him most that even with that knowledge, he felt like he had to justify his actions. “I'm so fookin' sick of...”

“Of what?”

“Fookin' … explainin' me evreh move.”

She stepped closer to him, stole the cigarette from his lips and took a drag before handing it back to him. “Then don't” she said, brushing her fingers through his hair, a sense of relief rushing through her when she felt him tilt his head into her warm touch, his eyelids fluttering momentarily. “I know I can't make any decisions for you” she whispered, pressing her lips together as she closed the little space remaining between them, felt him tense up more when her chest pressed against his, his gaze flickering from her chest up to her face. “But you can’t do anything either, not right now.”

“Doll...”

“Let me distract you.”

She left no room to protest, and he didn't want to either, a look of immense satisfaction on his face when she sank to her knees, and no matter how many times he'd seen it, he would never get enough, ran his fingers possessively through her hair to keep her close as she undid his belt buckle, dragged her palm slowly over the bulge hardly contained by his underwear, taking him out of the restrictive fabric and giving him a few slow strokes, licking her lips in anticipation.

“You didn't give me permission.”

He swallowed hard, the skin of his throat straining, her words making his head spin, a demonstration of the control he knew he had, not just over her, over everything and he reached to crush his cigarette in the ashtray on the counter without breaking eye contact. “Open wide, pupa” he drawled. “Do yehr fookin' best teh distract meh.”

The moment the edge of her lips touched his tip, he loosened his grip on her hair, then when her lips wrapped around him, he let go of her completely, the only thing locking her in the intensity of his eyes, dark, expectant, wild, and it ignited a familiar fire in her stomach, one that had her desperate to please him, to impress him.

A long moan fell from his lips as she slowly let him sink into her mouth, massaging the base of his shaft as her tongue swirled around him, drew him in and held him there for a moment, the pulsing of his hard length had her already drooling with need. “Baby...” she whispered as she drew back, stroking him slowly, never breaking the connection between their eyes, could sense that he was aching to make her speed up, his fingers stretching. “Let me worship you” she coaxed, suckling on his tip, tightening her lips momentarily, then pulling back just enough to be coherent again when she spoke. “Please. Please relax for me.”

He breathed out shakily, his breath trailing off into a moan as she let him sink right back into her mouth, further until her throat felt tight around the tip of him and she hummed, gripped him tightly, then swallowed around him, purring with delight when he let out a strangled moan, gripped her hair purely to steady himself, moaning shakily. “F-Fook...” he groaned.

She was taking her time, wanted the frustration of her pace to occupy him more than that about the business, needed to take his mind of off everything he could not fix right now. “Alexander” she whispered as she released him again. “Trust me.”

He groaned, let go of her hair again, but the darkness in his eyes remained, the lust behind them fuelling her. “Fookin' prove yeh deserve it.”

Her eyes sparkled and she sensed her chance, in a different way than before and she refused to waste it, wrapped her lips tightly around him again before beginning to bob her head, letting him sink inside her mouth, then releasing him, stroking him and welcoming him right back into the heat of her mouth, thriving off his moans, gradually increasing her pace.

His fingers were itching to force her down on him but every time he got too tempted, she gave him exactly what he wanted, and the way she worked for him, eager to prove to him that she could gave him a sense of control he hadn't known he craved, that left him resisting the urge to control her, because he was already doing so without a word, without even touching her, she was devoted to him in a way that didn't need his dominance apart from the natural power he'd established over her, over everyone and how it made him wish that things were always as easy as they were with her, that people would know what he needed, that people respected him and did what he asked, obeyed without instruction but because of who he was.

She tried her hardest to focus, could hear that he was not letting to entirely, that it was hard for him to let go, that he was desperate to touch her and it made her work even harder and resist letting it overwhelm her how much he was allowing.

“Take meh deeper” he rasped, his voice dark, his tone demanding. “Dun't … d-dun't make meh fook yehr mouth...”

She hummed, allowed him to sink further into her throat again and swallowing around him, her eyes tearing and she swallowed again, jerking the base of his cock, her fingers tight around him and he bucked his hips forward into her touch, had her swallowing again before she lifted off his cock and smiled with satisfaction, his demand having sparked something he had not been prepared for, the look on his face priceless, scrunched up in pleasure, a lack of control.

He opened his mouth, threatening to bark another order but no sound left his lips but a moan, it was loud and guttural and impossible to suppress as she moved closer to him, knelt by his feet and worshipped him, covering his cock with her lips, her tongue, eager to please him in the quickest and easiest way she could and he was unable to resist, didn't see a reason to order her around because she did it all herself, had him weak and feeling more powerful all at once, and he knew she was aware of what he was giving her, knew she wouldn't abuse it, there was no need to threaten with dominance, no need to justify his behaviour in front of her as much as for himself.

“Alexander...” she coaxed. “Stop thinking...”

Her plea had him ultimately give in, the way she got lost in pleasuring him, he deserved it, and he reveled in the feeling, breathing heavily, had trouble keeping his eyes open but he wanted to see it all, see every second of her submission to him, got so caught up in it, watching his cock disappear between her plush lips, then reappear, glistening before she took it right back into the heat of her mouth, inviting, blissful, building his pleasure.

She could feel his body relaxing slowly until the tension lifted from him completely, his hips now moving naturally into the temptation of her mouth, her fingers wrapped tightly around him, her tongue dancing, swirling as she sucked him inside her mouth, slowly but surely making him lose his mind until he stopped her, gasped when she guided him into her throat again and held him there, had him stepping back and smiling with satisfaction, licking her lips and gracefully rising to her feet.

“You want to be inside me?” She whispered, her gaze never leaving his as she walked backwards towards his bed, thrilled by the way he followed.

“Dun't yeh fookin' play games wif meh.”

“I'm not, baby” she assured him, stepped closer to him at the end of the bed and pushing his jacket slowly down his arms, then beginning to work on unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. “I'll do whatever you want me to...”

As much as he loved the challenge, it was turning him on immensely to see her submit to him, to not have her question him because she knew he needed it, and it aroused him to no end that without his demands she put herself below him all by herself. He eagerly discarded his shirt and kicked of his suit trousers before lowering himself onto the bed.

“I'll make you feel good...” she promised, pulling her dress over her head and straddling him before he could even think of giving an order, had worked herself up and was as desperate to feel him inside her now as she was to please him, the need between her legs, throbbing and begging for attention growing more and more prominent.

“Fookin' … please, sit down on meh...” he muttered.

“Promise to relax for me?” She asked, licking her lips as she lifted her hips to position herself on him, taking a hold of his cock to line him up with her entrance, expecting his hands to come down instantly on her hips but he gripped on to the sheets instead, wanted to feel her do this all by herself, wanted her to make all the effort, to do what she could do please him.

“Alexander” she snapped him out of it.

“F-Fook...” he groaned. “Fookin' promise, fookin' get teh work...”

He was trying his hardest to hold on, but it was worth it the moment she sank down on him, the moment he felt her wet heat enveloping him and she squeezed around him, tight and snug and he groaned loudly, watched her with wild eyes as she missed no time before beginning to roll her hips into his, brushing her hair from her face as her face scrunched up with pleasure, her walls struggling to accommodate to him but she had no regard for her own adjustment now, worked her hips into his hard, fast, took him deep and he could feel himself filling all of her, throbbing deep inside her as she squeezed him.

“Yeh're so fookin' … fook, yeh feel so fookin' good, principessa, f-fookin' faster...”

She hummed, her eyes threatening to flutter shut with pleasure as she felt the delicious stretch of his cock, the continuous burn that had her aching for more and she steadied herself with her hands spread out flat on his chest, working her hips faster, allowing him to sink deeper inside of her and his moans drove her mad with lust, had her desire nothing more but for him to come undone, to allow her to make him feel good. “A-Alexander...”

“Make an effort, doll, fookin' … oh f-fook...” His voice trailed off into a moan as she slammed her hips down hard on him, her nails digging into his chest, her lip caught between her teeth, her smooth skin shiny with sweat, her breasts bouncing, the jewel sparkling, a focus blurred with a pleasure in her eyes that made it effortless for him to lean back and enjoy her working on him, it made him feel more powerful and at the same time like he had to do nothing at all for her to please him, she was his and his alone.

She was building her own orgasm as well as his own, maybe even faster because the way he eyed her lustfully, had shifted so much and yet not at all in his power turning her on beyond reason, but she held on, he came first and she had let him know that, humming needily when she could feel his hips slowly bucking upwards, shuddering as he sank deeper inside her.

The closer he got, the harder it was not to actively take her, but he knew as well as she did that it would be so much more intense, worth it if he let her work for it and got him there without him moving so much as a finger and he gasped when she suddenly slowed, his eyes widening. “Jade...”

“Shhh, baby, I know you're close” she whispered, could feel him tensing but she wanted to see how far she could take it, as much as she wanted to make him feel good, she wanted to make it count as more than a quick fuck, wanted to build him to make him come hard, and make him come good.

He breathed shakily, tried his hardest to maintain the self-control he'd had because of what he'd allowed and he watched her wide eyes. “Please...” he grunted, his chest rising and falling quickly and he could hardly breathe. “Fookin' need yeh, f-fookin' do tha' again, squeeze me fookin' cock wif yehr cunt...”

She licked her lips. “You want me to make you come, baby?”

He nodded eagerly, the warning in his eyes enough to slowly pick up her pace again and his gaze softened instantly, had him submit to her movements as he gasped for air shakily, could barely contain himself as she worked his cock inside her again, her pace building and building and with ease she had him right on the edge again.

“I want you to relax” she whispered. “Relax. Trust me.”

He exhaled sharply when despite the softness of her words she sped up, rolled her hips into him faster and harder and had him sinking deep inside her repeatedly, again and again and she was as close as him, her back arching but she forced her eyes on his and the look in them made his hips buck up as his orgasm ripped through his body, a loud groan escaping him as the waves of pleasure took over, washed over him further and further and consuming him whole, all the tension that he had built up when taking what was his going up in smoke as she did it all for him, gave him what he knew was his without needing to be told and forcing him into what he wouldn't have done for his own pleasure but needed so badly.

She held herself steady as she squeezed around him, riding out both their orgasms as she slowed the movement of her hips but didn't allow them to cease until they'd both come down, panting, shaking, attempting desperately to catch their breaths.

“J-Jade...” he muttered, his voice steadier than he'd anticipated, but she cut him off, leaned down and cupped his face into her hands, pressing her lips to his.

She felt him relax once again, felt his lips melt into hers as their bodies were pressed together, connected and stuck and she kissed him harder, felt no resistance or attempt of dominance from him, merely drew back when she could feel that he as well as her needed to take a breath, squealing when his arm looped around her and she felt his muscles tense only to pull her down into his arm, had her whimpering as he slipped out of her and forced her into bed next to him, struggling to pull up the covers underneath them.

She hummed appreciatively, her fingertips trailing slowly up his chest. “Mmmm, well, that was good, wasn't it?”

Her scent had locked him in, had him desperate and yet, he'd never held her closer, possessive, she was not going to let this one go, ever. He burned for her, and there was no putting out the blaze. “Well, dun't yeh fookin' get used teh it.”

She giggled, pressed a kiss to his chest as he stroked her hair back and she pressed herself closer to him. “Anything you want” she hummed, closing her eyes.

“I alwehs get wha' I fookin' want.”

#alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner smut #alex turner/oc #alex/jade #napule nights #nn #adt #The Last Shadow Puppets #arctic monkeys #chaptered fic #writing #miles kane #mafia!al #mafia au

55 notes · View notes

lookbluesoup · 5 years

Text

OC Interview Meme

Tagged by @tarberrymentats and @wastelandwandererstuff B)

SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO GET TO THIS GUYS spring break kept me busy xD But I AM BACK NOW AND READY TO ANSWER THESE TAGS THANK U ALL <33 It’s been a blast getting to read about everyone’s Fallout characters ;w; I’m trying to get braver about leaving comments/reblogs but in the meantime just know I SEE YOUR AWESOME CHARACTERS and I APPRECIATE THEM.

This was actually a challenge answering from Nate’s POV xD There’s stuff that I KNOW ABOUT HIM AND WANT TO SHARE but he wouldn’t volunteer or he wouldn’t view the same way so… take it for what it is! And feel free to ask questions! ;w;

It is long. Long long long. Not sorry. 16, 19, 28, and 33 are my favorites c;

1. What is your name?

Oh. Wow. We’re starting this interview off with some tough ones, hunh? Uhh… hm. My name. My name… Let me think. (overly dramatic pause) Nathaniel Christian Ronan? Yeah. That sounds right.

2. Do you know why are you named that?

I was told my name means “God has given,” because my parents didn’t actually think they’d be able to have a second kid. That and Pops was an army chaplain - wanted me to have a name reflecting the faith. He was very literal in his approach. Ronan is an Irish surname, which seemed a lot more important 200 years ago than it does today. It means… uh, oh, shoot, I used to know… Don’t worry, it’ll come to me.

3. Are you single or taken?

(chuckles) Sorry folks, my roving days are over. Got a nosy reporter waiting for me back in Diamond City... whatever time I’ve got left I’m giving it to her.

4. Have any abilities or powers?

Powers? What, like, superpowers? That’d be awesome but, hah, no. Though I’ve been told my ability to talk myself out of trouble is uncanny. My martinis were legendary, and still would be if I find the ingredients for them in this apocalyptic wasteland. Friends say I’ve got a good ear for music… Oh, and ventriloquism. That’s always fun.

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

I know you are but what am I?

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue, like my grandmother. (blinks dramatically several times for emphasis)

7. How about your hair color?

Coal back. (runs a hand through it almost nervously) And holding up better than the rest of me, considering the complete lack of well-deserved grey hair.

8. Have any family members?

I have a son, Shaun. Piper gave me roots, and Nat’s pretty much my little sister, too, at this point. The Railroad’s been more family to me than most of my own blood ever was.

9. Oh? How about pets?

Legs Washington, an orphaned radstag I brought to the Castle. He’s a bit of a mascot for the men, follows Shaun everywhere. Yeah, it’s adorable.

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you don’t like?

You guess? Look, after this interview, I’m taking you to the Castle to meet them yourself. Your life will be changed. There’s plenty to dislike about the Commonwealth, enough to go mad over. It’s not exactly the charming old homestead of days gone by. But we’re making it better one day at a time.

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

Hah! “Duck and Cover” is a big one. Got me suspended from Railroad HQ once, though. I still say that was Deacon’s fault. I like long walks through the woods, playing baseball with Shaun, and a General’s work is never done but it does bring fulfillment. I like all those activities infinitely better when Piper’s around. Is that mushy? God, that sounds mushy. (smiles shamelessly)

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

Yeah. Some deserved it… some I’m still trying to make up for.

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

(stops smiling) Yeah. I have. You want a kill count? Six-word soundbites about all the blood and screams and the way men look when they realize they’re about to die? It’s not a fun fact. It’s not fun. Next question.

14. Name your worst habits?

I’m afraid that information’s classified. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. OH! LITTLE SEAL. That’s what Ronan means! Yeah, you know, like, selkie babies.

15. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

Aha… seriously? I’m Pipersexual, end of story. Unless you count the undying affection between my best mate Deacon, and me, which I’ve been told occasionally inspires jealousy. Honestly, I never gave putting a name to my romantic inclinations much thought. It’s always been women, but maybe I just never met the right man.

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Piper, for sure. She’s - the way she sees the world? It gives me hope. She’s brave, brave enough to fight for what she believes in. No matter how bad it gets she always finds a light to hold onto, somehow, and keep going. And she’s genuine. I didn’t know what courage really was until I met her. Scribbles’ friendship is… a hell of a lot more than I deserve. I wouldn’t be the same without it. And, God, she’s funny. Sweet, and - a-ha, hm… we’d be here all day if I tried to list all the reasons why I love her.

I also have immense respect for Nick Valentine. He’s a good guy. Without ‘im, I might still be chasing my tail out in the woods somewhere. Or worse. Nick was a friend to me when I needed it most, put everything on the line to help me find my son - didn’t even hesitate. I’ll never be able to repay him for that.

17. What kind of animal are you?

One of a kind. (winks)

18. Do you go to school?

The Commonwealth has a way of schooling everyone, doesn’t it? I’m a bit too old for arithmetic and hall passes, but I never stop learning, if that’s what you mean.

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

I’-ve… been down that road before. (breaks eye contact abruptly) Times were uncertain enough when Shaun was born. Now? Scribbles and I roll the dice every day of our lives. Asking her to marry me – starting over – was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. A baby would be, uh, a really big change. (smiles briefly, uncertain) Maybe if – no, I don’t know. Piper’s never shown any desire for something like that. If she did – even if she did... (sighs) I – look. Let’s just move on, okay?

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

Oh yeah, I have an ensemble of groupies that follow me around the wasteland with a pack brahmin and an eyebot.They pitch my tent for me and cook all my meals. I pay for services with my autograph instead of caps. (rolls eyes, but keeps a smile)

21. What are you most afraid of?

Losing someone I love. I know we don’t get any guarantees out here in the wasteland, but… loss never gets any easier. It makes it hard to open up, y’know? I spent a long time keeping folks who cared about me at arm’s length, and some days it’s still a challenge.

22. What do you usually wear?

What you see is what you get! Derbys, slacks, a shirt as white as I can get it in these conditions, and a black vest, because that never goes out of style. My favorite hat is - take a look at this. It’s a bicorne. Has anyone worn that since the French Revolution? It’s great. I love it. Piper doesn’t.

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

You know what I miss? Chocolate. I’d kill for chocolate. … kidding.

24. Am I annoying to you?

Hah! I married a journalist. This is just another Tuesday.

25. Well, it’s still not over!

Look, if I’m not back by seven…

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

I mean… it’s not like anyone’s ‘wealth’ compares to what it was like before the war. I’m not living off charred molerat, but I certainly won’t be moving into the Upper Stands anytime soon. Most of what I have, I made myself.

27. How many friends do you have?

More than I deserve. Piper and Deacon are probably my two best friends though. Nick, Preston, and Kent oughta be mentioned, too.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

You mean those damn perfectly preserved slices stuck in the Port-A-Diners? God, I’ve tried everything. I spent an entire afternoon trying to break in. What is the glass even made of? I couldn’t put a scratch on it. You have to just keep pushing the button. Over and over. I’m convinced it’s all some Vault-Tec conspiracy. There is no pie. The pie is a lie. Piper says she managed it once, but I don’t believe her.

29. Favorite drink?

Nuka cherry! No question.

30. What’s your favorite place?

There’s a spot up at the top of Diamond City. I mean the top top, even higher than the Stands. Clear night with a full moon? You can see for miles. Can’t be beat.

31. Are you interested in anyone?

You’ve - been listening, right? Aha, was I unclear about being madly in love?

32. That was a stupid question…

You’d be surprised how often it gets asked. (chuckles)

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

Lake. Definitely. I’m marginally less likely to get eaten there. That being said, I was up in Maine once, went out to pick lure weed. You know, those radioactive yellow flowers that grow in muddy ponds? Bad idea.Terrible idea. Maine is a terrible place and I will not be building a summer home there e-ver.

34. What’s your type?

Kickass reporters with the brightest hazel eyes you’ve ever seen, hair like Aphrodite, and a smile to make you melt.

35. Any fetishes?

Look, you’re very nice. Really. And I appreciate the interest, but ah, this isn’t any of your business. Only one person gets to ask me about those and - you aren’t her.

36. Camping or outdoors?

Camping? Oh man, those were the days. An RV trip would be the bomb. It’s not much of an option these days. But I’m used to sleeping rough, and I gotta admit, it has its charm.

#anyone who hasn't done this is tagged #nate ronan #meme #tag #oc interview #screenshot #pipan #piper x sole #fallout #fallout 4

15 notes · View notes

orionwhispers · 6 years

Text

🍒 Hey, Lolita, Hey! 🍒 ; Tommy Shelby

(A/N - Wow!! Its been a long time, sorry for my absence, I suck! Lana Del Rey is one of my favourite artists of all time and Lolita inspired this imagine, because as Im sure you have all figured out now in my head Tommy is brought to his knees by a small country girl who he adores. I know my characters are all similar but i can’t help it lol! Thank you for your patience and PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this, kisses and hugs my angels xoxox also - lolita is one of my fave books and i would never romanticise pedophilia or anything gross like that, this character is of age and entirely consenting all that good stuff!)

Part Two

There was one thing Thomas Shelby was not, and that was a babysitter. He was respected and powerful, wise beyond his years with no time for childish antics or immaturity, he had a business to run, one that required his undivided attention. He was surrounded by an aura of dominance and authority, as grey as the smoke that passed his full lips, engulfing those around him and contaminating them with his darkness. In contrast, you're a beacon of light, radiating youth and enchantment - so bright you rivalled the sun, illuminating everyone you came in contact with your exhilarating nature. Maybe that’s why you became so close, two opposite sides of the spectrum drawn together like magnets, unaware that you needed the other to help balance yourselves out.

You were Michaels best friend from childhood, except, when you knew him he was Henry. You grew up in cottages side by side, with matching rose vines blossoming up the brickwork and sharing a stream at the bottom of your garden. Ever since he was adopted by his foster parents you became as thick as thieves, sharing secrets until the sun set and rose again behind the clouds that consumed your neighbourhood. You paddled in the water, catching frogs and newts with your bare hands, splashing each other until your mother ran out, shrieking at you for ruining your new dress. As the years passed and you slipped into adolescence you remained just as close, stealing whisky from your parents and drinking it on the roof of an abandoned house, staying up till midnight in the cornfields, laughing until you burst into tears of pure elation.

Everyone was convinced you would end up together, your mothers sharing tea and tales about what your children and future home would look like. The both of you would roll your eyes, teasing and giggling the other relentlessly, knowing that although the bond you shared was unbreakable, you never once thought of the other romantically. Deep down though, despite his toothy grins and the adventures you shared, you knew Michael wasn’t happy in the country. He was brilliant, destined for a life more than just meadows and wildflowers, as much as it pained you, you knew your best friend would eventually leave.

That’s why, when he came rushing to your house, scaling the vines and darting in through your window as he had always done - (despite the door being constantly unlocked) - and he breathlessly told you about the suited man who had visited him, telling him about his birth mother, you grabbed his face and demanded he leave. You both knew it was for the best, and you helped him pack his bags and fix his best tie as he prepared to start a new chapter in his life, both of you wiping away tears as you remembered your fondest memories spent in the village, grateful for the fact that it brought you impossibly close.

“Oi! You better not forget about me.” You teased, wiping away droplets from your rosy cheeks as you watched him board the train, ready to start his new life.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, “Please. Like you’ll get rid of me that easily, we both know we’re stuck with each other forever.”

His words were beyond true, and no sooner than a week later a letter arrived at your doorstep, it was on fancy paper only available in the inner city and you fingered it gently, running your hands over the words as if they would fade from the page. It described how he had met his birth mother and had been welcomed into a new family - he seemed hesitant to describe them but you didn’t mind, your heart soaring at the happiness leaking from the ink. Despite his stupid pride, he was truthful about how much he missed you, and how it wasn’t the same without seeing you every day, and you agreed, missing the connection you shared. He was adamant that you would come visit, telling you how he was desperate to show you around and introduce you to his family, you beamed with pride, running inside to get your ink and write back.

A year passed and the only way you communicated was through your weekly letters. Without fail, every Friday morning as you drank your tea sweetened with sugar and honey, you perched on the window seat eagerly, unable to stop the grin as you saw the postman’s statement bag from behind the gate. You’d rush outside and tear it open, laying in the grass as you read his weekly update, missing him with your whole heart. You had so badly wanted to go and visit him, but things were more complicated than you anticipated.

Not only did you still have school to complete, but village life was all you had ever known, and you soon got sucked into the routine of feeding animals, taking care of the children and tending to the plants. The letters were the tear in your familiarity, exposing you to a world beyond what you knew. Despite the miles of distance between you both, conversation flowed like it had never stopped, your friendship evident on the pieces of parchment paper travelling across the country. It was something you never knew you needed, for you, it was the idea of a life outside what you knew, more than rivers and fields, that idea that you were possibly destined for more. For Michael, it was a reminder of where he came from and who he had left behind, as he slipped more into a Peaky Blinder, your letters would bring him back to sanity, reminding him of the good in the world.

The Friday following your eighteenth birthday and the start of summer, you were watering the sunflowers blooming below your windowsill when you heard the crunch of the gravel behind you. You twisted at the sound and gleefully took the letter from the weary postman, seemingly tired from the weekly trek he made to your cottage. You thanked him as you felt the package in between your fingers, it was much larger than before, and you could feel a slip of something between the edges of your hands. You ripped it open, your heart hammering as you saw the train ticket, fragile and delicate between your shaking palms and printed in large red letters, Birmingham. Placed behind you could see Michaels tell-tale handwriting but instead of pages of detail, there was only a line.

“Happy Birthday. Come and visit me, no excuses this time. I’ve missed you.”

Much to the rest of the Shelby’s amusement, Polly was a nervous wreck, ever since Michael had announced he had invited you to come stay with them, she had been cleaning and dusting relentlessly. Tommy rolled his eyes as she pushed his feet off of her coffee table, wiping it down for the third time since he had arrived. “You know, Pol, I hardly think this new guest is going to be judging you on the woodwork.” She gave him one of her hardened stares and he held his hands up in mock defeat, sucking on the end of a cigarette and turning the newspaper. “I don’t see why you’re being like this - isn’t she just one of Michaels friends from the country?”

She stopped mid-wipe, placing her hands on her hips and staring him down like a tigress. “She’s his best friend.” She emphasised the words as if they would have any significance to him, he resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose, he had work to do, and he hoped that his cousin wouldn’t keep him busy with childish antics. “Not like you know the meaning of those words.” She added slyly, dusting the bookcase with far too much vigour, sending speckles of dust into the air. “You know how much he goes on about her, it’s sweet. I want everything to go well, She knew him all those years I didn’t… she knows a side of him I don’t.”

Her voice was unusually soft and it made Tommy rub a hand over his eyes reluctantly, he met Polly’s expectant gaze and nodded, a small signal of mutual agreement - he would be nice. He didn’t have any high expectations and hoped the two of you would leave him in peace, he had no need for two teenagers to mess around in his business, his plan was to hole himself in his office for the duration of your stay. He grabbed his jacket and pocket watch, checking the time quickly and making an exit as he realised he was late for a meeting, he offered a salute of departure as he heard his Aunt’s voice cut through the brisk air.   “I swear, if you mess this up for him Thomas, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

He rolled his eyes, she was back.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, Birmingham seemed as foreign to you as Mars, but that day as you stepped off the train onto the platform, stomach twisting into gnarled knots from your nerves, and you saw the familiar face of your best friend, it felt like home. His transition was shocking though, at first. His hair was shorter, the blonde fading chestnut from his lack of sun, he was taller and broader, and had an aura of power surrounding him, you could tell from the way people avoided his gaze, slinking back like he was a wild dog. His accent was different as well, thicker and he spoke slower, more eloquently as if he had rehearsed every word that fell from his lips. Any qualms you had about seeing him dissolved though, as soon as you saw his trademark eyes and soft smirk, his lips twisting as he enveloped you in his arms. Beneath the fancy suits and rolls of cigarettes, he was still your Henry.

Polly adored you. She was the one you were most terrified of meeting. You knew Michael was adopted, and even as a small child he spoke of his Mother as if she was a Queen from the storybooks you would share, it broke your heart to find out the truth - and your sympathy and genuine kindness made you and Polly close, your heart of gold unusual in Birmingham. The three of you would spend all day and most of the night sharing stories, you could have filled up a book with hilarious anecdotes of your childhood adventures, Polly snorting with unrefined laughter as you reminisced about Michael falling down a well. You were the closest thing she had to the boy Michael once was and loved the fact that you brought a childish glimmer to his ocean eyes.

The days passed and you slowly became more intertwined with the roots of Michaels new life, he opened up to you about the family business and introduced you to his cousins Arthur, John and Finn. They were kind and hilarious, welcoming you with big smiles and hugs as if you were a long-lost family member. You also bonded with Isaiah, sharing a talented knack for teasing Michael and knowing how to exactly get under his skin and make him squirm with embarrassment, the three of you laughing till the sun rose in the Garrison.

Coincidently, that was the first place you met Tommy. It was a particularly hot evening and after Michael enthusiastically showing you around his new kingdom, he dragged you into the pub for something bitter and unfamiliar. You were never much of a drinker, only occasionally stealing liquor from your parent's cabinets and stealing swigs under the stars, but you were desperate for some relief from the unrelenting heat. Arthur and John noticed your arrival, both men beyond tipsy and waving for you to join their booth, you smiled as you slunk in next to them, smelling sour spirits and old cigarettes. Michael returned with a pint of something that smelt and looked like petrol and you raised an eyebrow, laughing as he winked and murmured. “Birmingham's finest.”

It was hot and spicy on your tongue, but refreshing and it didn't take you long until you had downed the glass, enjoying the buzz it gave you. You weren’t sure how long had passed but soon you were giggling like a little girl, already drunk, the blood rushing to your head. You thew your hair back as John told a dirty joke, and you nestled deeper into the arm Michael had swung over your shoulders, at some point he had plucked the flower from the vase on the table and tucked it behind your ear, singing a drunken rendition of a lullaby from your childhood.

“Tommy boy!” Arthurs voice was booming and made you wince from the sudden intrusion. You blinked away the headache forming and tried to focus on the figure in front of you. You almost audibly gasped but managed to close your mouth before you could let it slip, you hoped the blush rising to your cheeks seemed like natural flush from the alcohol and heat but even still you hid behind your loose hair. The man acknowledged his brother momentarily but kept his eyes on you, impassive and emotionless, making you quiver under his stare. Up close he was even more beautiful than you originally imagined, his eyes were the colour of the summer sky and you felt even dizzier as you melted under his gaze. He radiated domination and pure power and you felt beyond intimidated, but so intrigued, his beauty making him an enigma you were desperate to uncover.

To your surprise, he extended a palm, so cool and collected it made you shiver. “You must be, (Y/N)” His confidence was alluring and you nodded in return, reaching across the sticky table to meet his fingers, unable to ignore the spark as your hands connected. “Thomas Shelby.” You simply stared in return, getting helplessly lost in those eyes, feeling hot and drunk and unable to form any kind of sentences. “I’ll be seeing you around.” it wasn’t a question or a friendly remark, it was a statement, one that made your knees buckle, only snapping out of your daze as you heard John snigger.

“What?”

He lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the humidity. “I think Tommy has seen something he likes.”

You weren’t what he was expecting. Truth be told he had forgotten all about you, his mind wrapped up in business deals and endless meetings, and he had simply slipped into the Garrison on his way home looking for something strong to numb his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting to see you there, with loose hair and flushed cheeks, captivating everyone around you unknowingly. He hadn’t expected his jaw to clench at the sight of his cousin's arm around your shoulders, heavy and strong against your small and delicate frame. The heat rose inside him unconsciously, even though he had no reason to be jealous of such a small and simple gesture, especially one directed at a girl he didn't even know.

He shrugged the feeling off and remained impassive, extending a hand as he drank you in like a glass of water after a scorching day. He roamed over your features, freckles from the sun sprouting along your nose, eyes big like a young doe’s and lips prominent. It was your skin that made him stop though, impossibly smooth despite the few blemishes of adolescence, untainted from smoke or age, no wrinkles from laughter or sadness. Simply glossy and beautiful, dewy from the heat and unbridled with years of drinking or fighting. He fought off the thoughts in his head as he left the pub, fondling the smoke between his fingers as he slid into his car. You were just a child, you were innocent.

Three days passed without any contact between you both, Tommy caught up with his business and you enjoying spending the days with your best friend. It was just approaching mid-afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and even Tommy had to shrug off his jacket as he approached Polly’s door. He gave three rapid knocks against the wood, waiting a millisecond before sighing in annoyance at the lack of response and unlocking the door with a spare set of keys.

“Pol?”

He ran a hand over his brow as he entered the hallway, searching for any sign of his Aunt. He was feeling impatient, inwardly annoyed at the fact she wasn’t immediately answering - even though he had arrived unannounced. Walking through the kitchen he pressed a hand to the teapot resting by the sink, frowning when the ceramic was cold to his touch and opened his mouth to call one last time.

“Polly?”

“Sorry, you just missed her.”

He turned to the noise, enthralling him like a bell against the wind, soft and gentle. You were stood in the doorway, hair loose and your dress hitting just below your knees, showing slivers of sun-kissed skin. Fire was brewing in the pit of your stomach from the mere sight of the older man and you turned your face to the sink, heading over to wash your mud stained hands to escape his gaze. You cleared your throat at the silence that lasted a millisecond too long, feeling like a school girl with a crush as you felt his eyes trawl across you.

“She just left, with Michael - they went to the betting shop, I think they had some work left behind.” You almost bit your tongue to stop yourself from rambling, but you were embarrassed and insecure, feeling like a complete and utter child. You knew he probably already thought of you as a burden, especially after your ridiculous encounter at the Garrison, and now barefoot in a sundress in Polly’s kitchen, you felt like a field mouse encountering a fox.

“And they left you.”

It was a simple statement and you couldn't decipher any hidden meaning behind it, your anxious nature wondering if it was a dig at you - perhaps he thought you were unable of doing mathematics or simply too stuck up to help out with the family business. You ran your tongue over your teeth momentarily as you turned off the faucet, wiping your palms with a tea towel and shrugging your shoulders.

“Michael doesn’t want me involved.”

“Overprotective, eh?”

“We’ve been best friends since we were kids, we both are of each other.”

Tommy’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes lighting up with a flicker of humour that you couldn't read as he lit a cigarette. Even an action as simple and collected as bringing the smoke between his lips made you feel uneasy at the sheer authority and power he held over any situation. Being alone in a room with him made you feel small and meek, but you couldn’t help but yearn for him, his dominance and beauty were unrivalled with anything you had met before and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Unhappy with the silence that engulfed you both, you lifted your leg to scratch your ankle with the underside of your foot, unknowingly lifting your dress an inch higher. You watched as his eyes darted to the flesh that had slipped out, the momentary blip in his demeanour making you regain a sliver of confidence, your eyes meeting properly for the first time.

He was first to break contact, back to his impassive and in-control state. “You been gardening?” The causal dip in conversation made you stammer but after noticing his eyes drift to the stems and tools strewn beside the sink you nod, toying with your fingers.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to thank Pol for everything, she mentioned she loved Violets and I saw some when I was at the market, thought I could surprise her.” Your words were dainty, even with your slight country accent they glided across Tommy’s ears like the finest silk, much to his displeasure at the effect you were having on him.

You noticed the change in the air and tried to brush away your inner discomfort, “I’ll ask her to ring when she’s back? I’ll tell her you stopped by…” You paused, “Thomas.” His good looks and character made you feel small and once again you diverted your attention to the tiling, sure that by now you could memorise the pattern in your sleep.

Footsteps made you tilt your head, and exhale from deep in your chest as you noticed how close you both were now. Without warning his thumb skimmed across the side of your cheek, making your heart hammer madly. He tilted it so you could see the calloused underside was covered in speckles of dirt and immediately your hand shot up, your face turning as pink as the salmon coloured roses outside.

“Call me Tommy,” You nodded, sucking on your tongue for comfort as his ocean eyes bore into yours, a confident smirk on his beautiful features and you inwardly cringed that he knew the impact he had on you. Without warning, he turned to the door, grabbing his coat and box of matches, back facing you as you scrambled to pull yourself together. “It’s a shame.” You looked up, confusion evident on your features, the summer breeze mingling into the cottage as he held the front door open. “Me and Michael, I don’t wanna fall out with him.” His voice was so even and calm you weren’t sure you were hearing him properly, your brows were knotted together in surprise and he answered for you, “but one thing you should know about me - I always get what I want.”

From then on Tommy took every opportunity to watch you from afar. He observed you from a distance, admiring the little quirks and mannerisms that made you, but he remained impassive, refusing to be submerged into you entirely - he had a reputation to uphold after all. However, it was much harder than he thought. During intense family meetings at Polly’s, his eyes would travel to you outside, sat in the sun away from the drama, tanned legs tangled together, reading a book in the grass. Your laughter would hit him like the brisk winter air as it flowed into his office as you giggled down the hall with Michael, forcing him to get up and shut the door, despite it ringing in his ears like wind chimes. You would catch his eye at the Garrison, swallowing pints of bitter as large as your head, or sneak glances at you as you roamed arm in arm with Michael around Birmingham, radiating the cobbled streets with your infectious smile.

One particular morning, as Polly stirred milky tea and spoke about business, he diverted his gaze to you outside. Standing on your tiptoes to hang bundles of washing onto the line, face flushed from the heat and tongue caught between your lips in concentration as you fiddled with the pegs. Feeling eyes on you, he watched as you turned to face him, squinting momentarily from the sun only to blink it away once you recognised the familiar face, you offered him a playful wink, your confidence and cheekiness surprising you both. You grabbed the empty basket and walked away, and Tommy frowned inwardly when he realised he didn’t want you to go.

The sound of clashing china brought him from the depths of his own mind as Polly slammed the cups onto the saucers lining the table. She gave him a pointed look as he sighed when the liquid sloshed onto his sleeve, he went to open his mouth but Polly cut him off, “Stop sniffing around that girl, Tom.” Upon seeing his expression she put both her hands onto the mahogany, looking him in the eye. “I mean it. She’s a good girl and I won’t have you dragging her into this shit. For Michael's sake.”

Polly could strike the fear of God into men and could make anyone twice her size cower from her sheer authority and cold tone. Even Tommy with his abundance of war medals and engraved bullets would think twice before crossing her, but even his intimidating aunt couldn’t stop him this time.

As the nights became longer and the sun beat down like rays of golden honey onto the streets of Birmingham you and Tommy grew closer. It was subtle and small at first, gentle glances and touches, words with hidden meanings and silences filled with significance. He stirred up a feeling in you-you couldn’t understand, something you had never experienced before, flickering in your stomach like a match. Your whole life you had felt tiny and insignificant, but around Tommy he made you feel like the world.

The feared Gangster did an incredible job at wooing you, despite you falling head over heels for just his charm and good looks. He soon realised you weren’t a champagne and pearls kind of girl and surprised you with novels you had offhandedly mentioned or perfumes that smelled of citrus and pine. He made your heart flutter and cheeks widen whenever you saw him, but you still felt massively insecure, you were years younger than him, and despite being mature you could still be playful and childish. He surrounded himself with brilliant and beautiful women and in comparison, you felt tiny, you wanted to trust him, you wanted to more than anything, but you couldn’t see what he saw in you.

He persisted though, knowing exactly what he wanted, he took you to the races, saying it was because your country roots would help him choose a mare, but really he wanted to observe you in privacy. Watching your demeanour change and shift depending on who you were talking to, holding your own against the toffs but being sweet and soft by the horses, making his heart unexpectedly swell. Your confidence around him soon grew, spending evenings reading in the candlelight of his office as he scribbled on forms, occasionally reciting a line that you liked. You exchanged glances, and he offered you his signature smirk that made you weak at the knees.

Your initial worries diminished entirely one late night, as you twirled around with Michael to music coming from the gramophone in the ballroom of a party, slightly drunk from cherry wine and you escaped the garden. He followed immediately, unable to take his eyes off you the entire night, you captivating him completely, you smiled at his presence, face flushed and eyes twinkling, but before you could greet him, he took your faces in his large palms, kissing you passionately under the moonlight.

That night you lay on Michaels bed, limbs spread askew and heart thumping wildly as you recited the night to your best friend breathlessly.

“For fuck's sake, (Y/N)! You could've had anyone in Birmingham and you pick Thomas fucking Shelby, you are such a twat!”

You paused, gauging his reaction and wondering if he was actually annoyed. You never wanted to do anything to hurt him, and you knew that he was massively overprotective and didn't want you involved in the Blinder’s business, but also Tommy was his cousin, and you didn’t want it to be uncomfortable. You both momentarily stared at the other, faces twisted in anticipation until you both broke out in peals of laughter that lasted till your ribs hurt. You threw a plush pillow at him that he caught effortlessly, beating your stomach with it as he declared,

‘Seriously, though. If I ever walk in on you two fucking I’m driving you back to the country myself.”

Truthfully, Tommy had never met a girl like you. He hadn’t expected the connection he felt to be anything more than lust, but to his surprise, his feelings went deeper than that. The women he was usually with were a sharp contrast to you, with your long hair and sun-kissed skin, dancing around barefoot and soft-lipped. He took a while to get attached to anyone, and it happened very rarely so he was beyond confused when he noticed the overprotectiveness and jealousy that bubbled inside him whenever you were with someone other than him.

Something in you brought out a side of him no one had seen since before the war, your youth and optimism awakening a light that he thought would forever be extinguished. You were half his size and about as intimidating as a kitten but it wasn’t long before you had him utterly wrapped around your little finger, so sickly sweet you almost brought him to his knees. The difference between you both was huge, but you meshed together perfectly, he was the most dangerous man in town and you were his little angel.

You were hardly innocent though, using your power over him for manipulation whenever you could. You were infatuated with him and had never been in a relationship like it before, only cheesy kisses with the young boys from back home. You knew how to tease and wind him up, running your tanned legs over the other as you lounged alone, tracing a finger over your exposed collarbone as you drank sweet tea in the sunlight, biting your lip as you read a book, licking your fingers clean of strawberry juice with an innocent grin.

Nights were spent under the stars, forcing him back to his Gypsy roots as you tangled up in one another, hot kisses mingling in the evening air. Giggles escaping your cherry lips as you sat under the crystal sky laughing with Finn, making him pause his work to listen to the noise. Exchanging stolen kisses whenever you could, making him feel young again as you demanded his undivided attention whenever he was free. You were completely drunk off of him, relishing in his kisses and the way the smallest touch could send sparks across your skin, you gave yourself to him entirely, raw and exposed, without a single regret.

The sun would eventually go down, but the heat remained as close as ever between you two. Raspberry coloured blush rising to your cheeks as his finger trailed over your skin, cigarette between his lips. Compared to you he was rough and calloused, and he loved how pure you were in contrast, big eyes and soft-spoken, feeling like he won the lottery at the fact he had you next to him.

“Do you own anything that isn’t pink and frilly?” He’d ask, voice thick with smoke, the room smelling of whiskey and sex. You’d raise a brow and place your hands on his exposed chest, tracing the tattoo as you playfully bit his shoulder and kissed his neck. He toyed with your satin knickers, pulling the lace and greedily eyeing the skin underneath, wanting nothing more than to smother it in possessive kisses of ownership, but relenting as you sat up to answer.

“Thomas Shelby doesn’t like pink?”

Your voice teasing and playful, mimicking the sweet champagne lingering on your tongue from dinner. He rolled his ocean eyes, trapping you in his stare as he smoked in the moonlight. You extended a foot, lavender coloured toes darting across his skin as you tilted your head innocently, reaching up to pull your bra straps over your skin and down your arms.

“I guess I’ll have to take them off.”

Months passed by and you made the decision to stay in Birmingham, not just for Tommy but because the entire Shelby clan were now like your family. You were introduced into the business, despite Tommy’s reluctance at letting you get involved. “For god’s sake Tom, stop acting like her dad! She’s a grown woman!” Polly would protest, defending your honour as you raised a brow in a playful challenge when Tommy forbid you from going to the races with Michael one day.

The truth was, Tommy thought you were far too good for him and knew that his enemies would love to use you against him, knowing how pure and kind you were compared to the blood that stained his hands. Bad thoughts would enter his mind again, you covered in crimson, face black and blue, telling him it was his fault as the light drained from your eyes. The shovels would start again, and he’d become snappy, his walls building back up with thick bricks as he was determined to push you away, telling himself it was for your own good. He’d drown himself in whisky and cigarettes, spend full nights under dim light doing work until his head was thumping and his hand was swollen.

But, as always you would drag him out of it. You rendered him completely useless as you turned the corner into his office, eyes twinkling and smile wide as you crawled into his lap making him grin for the first time in the entire day. You’d reminisce about something that had happened, small hands toying with his buttons, smelling of rose and sweet fruit, talking with your hands, face lit up with glee. As selfish as it was, especially knowing the dangers you were involved in by simply being associated with him, there was no chance he was letting you go, completely trapped under your spell.

Without warning he'd smash his lips onto yours, making you squeal but quickly melt under his intoxicating kiss, the two of you connecting entirely, falling into each other like you were made that way.

“What was that for?”

His voice was deep, eyes solemn and meaningful as he answered truthfully,

“I’m so fucking glad I met you, little one.”

#tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders drabble #thomas shelby #tommy shelby oneshot #writing

858 notes · View notes