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#it's been six months and i still am trying to convince myself i don't deserve to just lose it all
james-isqueer · 1 year
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hey if you were abusive or manipulative or something in the past regardless of how recent it was, you don't deserve to die. you deserve to live and get better and do better for yourself and those around you
saying it because no one has said it for me and I can't be the only one feeling this hopeless and irredeemable
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actual-changeling · 23 days
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1/2 I don´t even want them to be together in the end. Sure, I want them to sort out their argument. Aziraphale needs to realize how badly he has been treating Crowly for 6000 years and i hope he starst to change his behavior. I want Crowley to realize there are other people in the world too and that friendships can be mutually respective and healthy (it doesn`t have to be romantic). In the end, I need them to say "i love you, take care of yourself, see you around".
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Your English is great, don't worry! It's not my native language either.
And yeah, looking at the two of them post-season 2, it's actually difficult to imagine them having a healthy, long-term relationship.
Do they love each other? Sure. But love doesn't actually do anything, it doesn't magically make a relationship better or means it's automatically fine/healthy.
So many arguments in "defence" of Aziraphale are along the lines of "but when it's good it's REALLY good", which is not a normal sentiment to have about a supposedly super great relationship. It's what I told myself when my ex kept hurting me no matter how desperately I tried to make us work. It's what abuse victims tell themselves so they can rationalize away the bad behaviour.
Aziraphale's treatment of Crowley borders on abusive at times, and is always emotionally manipulative and actively hurtful. That's not fixed by adding "but he loves him".
Six thousand years, and Aziraphale still treats Crowley like shit, repeating the exact same shitty rhetoric he expressed before time even existed. They need space, and Crowley deserves to be around people that love and respect him, that help him build a life based on self-love and joy.
I spent months trying to find a way to fix their relationship, but I couldn't come up with a plot that was
a) convincing
b) not wildly out of character for Aziraphale and
c) sustainable.
To be blunt, he's a selfish, egocentric asshole with no regard for anyone but himself, and Crowley shouldn't have to put up with that. I hope Neil has a good ending for them, but I am a bit... nervous as to how he's gonna fit all of that into six episodes.
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mrs-johansson · 4 months
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Chapter 6 - Dark Phoenix II - Emergence of conflagration
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Part 1:
“It’s our biggest sighting of Klaue in six months. Our destination is Casablanca, Morocco. We all know he operates mainly in Africa. Our sensors have found Vibranium in the biggest amount yet. Our mission is to retrieve the Vibranium. Klaue has become one of our highest priority targets, if anyone messes up this mission I will fire them myself, understood?” Looked around the room of agents. There were about 10 agents plus Sam and Natasha. “We leave 0500 sharp. Vibranium is the strongest metal on Earth, so prepare yourself.” Everyone stood up and took their files before leaving the conference room. “I’d hate you to be my boss,” Sam walked up to me. “I am your boss,” I chuckled dryly knowing he still doesn’t think I’m his boss. “Okay, fine. Is there anything else for the mission? I’d like to be prepared,” he said and I looked up from the leftover papers. “You know your way around raids, we can use your experience with this many recruits. You have to take this seriously, Sam. I count on you in this one,” I said and he dropped his smile and put on a serious face instead. “Absolutely, thank you for trusting me with this.” I gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder before he left.
“Any notes for me?” Natasha leaned against the table, crossing her arms in front of her chest, a slight smirk on her lips. I looked her up and down before going back to the papers. “Notes… Romanoff, I don’t know if I could give you any useful advice. Just don’t vandalize my mission, I heard that’s kind of your thing,” I said without looking at her otherwise I would have laughed straight away. “Yeah, that’d be fun though. Anyway, I was thinking you and Katarina could come over later. I’ve got something for her,” she suggested and I chucked. “Natalia, you have to stop buying her new stuff every week,” I grabbed the papers and made my way to my office, Natasha following close behind. “But I love seeing her face when she's surprised. Y/n, she stopped abnormally fast, we need to spoil her while we can,” her arm gently snuck around my waist pulling me closer so she could leave a kiss on the side of my head. A smile came along my face feeling so much happiness and calmness in our relationship.
The last 6 months were a growing experience. Natasha and I started going to couples counseling. It was my idea and Nat was pretty skeptical about it at first, she needed some convincing but eventually she agreed to do it. After six months of doing it, she actually became fond of it. It keeps us in line I think.
Natasha and I haven’t moved in together yet which I think was a healthy balance to our relationship. We made sure to build it up securely and honestly, trying to be as independent as possible while also being in a loving relationship.
Of course, we spent all of our free time just us two and Katarina. We always try to spend some quality time together, either going to the zoo or some museum that Katarina could enjoy too.
So that’s been great, I love our relationship and I feel like we will be good.
Katarina had stopped growing fast and since the surgery, her hearing and speaking abilities became better and better. She’s gonna turn 4 in just a month and she’s the most amazing little human. Nowadays, she talks your ear off if you’re not careful enough. It became a tradition that every time Natasha was over at our place, Rina read Nat a chapter of Harry Potter.
Her abilities still don't fail to amuse us. She’s reading like she’s in high school and her vocabulary is insanely high. My dad has offered that he could teach her physics and math but I denied it. She’s 4. I want her to have a childhood. Watch her play the snow carelessly, scrape her knee on the playground, cry because she can’t stay up too late, or smudge her face into her birthday cake. I don’t want her to grow too fast unnecessarily. She deserves every little moment there’s to enjoy.
“What did you get her?” I asked Natasha while we entered my office. She took a seat in my chair very quickly. “A set of the Harry Potter movies. Special edition,” my mouth fell open, and looked right at her. “I wanted to get that for Christmas. Oh my god, you have to stop at least until her birthday. You’re gonna steal all my gift ideas,” I said. I packed away all the files and got my bag. “Fine. Ready to go?” She turned with the chair but did not care to stand up. “Just one more thing,” she stood up and closed the door before turning on the shades in the glass windows. “What are you doing?” I asked and she just walked back to me and took the bag out of my hand, dropping it to the ground, making me gasp. “That’s a really nice bag, why would-“ She cut me off with a kiss. Very unexpected at the moment but not complaining.
Her hands were quick to get a grip on my waist, moving to the edge of the table. I pulled myself back for a second, taking heavy breaths. “We need to pick up, Katarina,” I panted. “We have an hour, calm down,” Natasha kissed down my neck, hands roaming my body. “Thank god, I couldn’t have left this room,” I put my hands on her face and pulled her back into a kiss.
***
“I have to make this room soundproof,” I mumbled to Nat as she closed the door behind us. “Maybe next time keep it down a notch,” she bumped her shoulder to mine with a smirk on her face. “Maybe next time-“ “I hate that my office is next to yours,” Maria walked past us.
After I basically ran to the car and Natasha took her sweet time we finally made our way to Katarina’s school and picked her up. I ordered the groceries on the way and once we got to Natasha’s place it just arrived.
Rina ran inside the apartment as Nat chased her while I took the groceries from the delivery guy. “Wow, I’ve never delivered anything to an Avenger, you guys are really cool. Thanks for keeping us safe,” said the man, and I appreciated how nice he said it. “Our pleasure,” I smiled at him. “Is it possible for me to take a picture with you?” He asked a little hesitantly. “Of course, no problem,” I stood next to him and we took a picture before he said thank you and left.
“Was there a problem with the order?” Asked Natasha as I entered the kitchen. “No, he just wanted to take a picture with me. He was really nice,” I said.
Unpacked all the stuff we ordered and after a little while I cooked something real quick, not in the mood to make anything big. We sat down and ate then Nat spoke up.
“I’ve got something for you,” she said, pinching Katarina’s side. The little girl’s eyes widened and a big smile appeared on her face. “Really?” She asked. “Yup, stay here,” Nat stood up and went off to her room and a couple of seconds later walked out with a bag in her hand and a cheeky smile on. “What is it?” Asked my daughter curiously. Natasha handed her the bag and Katarina was quick to rip open the box and when she saw it she gasped loudly.
“Oh my god, yes!” She said excitedly and observed the package of Harry Potter movies like it’s a treasure. “Thank you,” Rina jumped out of her seat and was quick to shower Natasha with hugs and kisses. “You’re welcome, baby,” she kissed her head while hugging her close. “I love you, Natty,” Katarina mumbled against Nat’s shoulder and the smile that pulled on the redhead’s face was remarkable. “I love you too, Bean.”
The rest of the day went by really fast. Clint was nice enough to take Katarina to school so I could go to the mission in time so at 4 am sharp I was already at the HQ, preparing for our departure. Got my guns and knives ready and met with Nat and Sam at the deck ten minutes before 5.
“Be aware of the trainees. I don’t want any of them to mess this up or get killed on my watch, but stick to your mission too. Be safe and don’t do anything stupid,” I said to the two of them. “She’s talking to you,” Sam glanced at Natasha who scoffed at this. “She’s definitely talking to you,” she said. “I’m talking to both of you.”
At 5 we took off with the team, flying straight to Morocco. Our estimated arrival was 6 which was successful thank god because I didn’t want them to slip away this time.
“Sam, I’ve got you new glasses, you have to wear these,” I handed him a box and he took it with a smile. “Wow, a present for me,” he opened it but the smile dropped from his face. “They look the same,” he said. “Yeah, but they have a Vibranium sensor in them. It detects metal, which makes our job a little easier.”
“Okay everyone, it’s showtime. Team R leaves first then Team W and then Team S. Comms are on at all times, you see something you share, yeah? Don’t die,” I said then we were ready to go.
Nat left first with her team then Sam and lastly me. I was very protective of this mission because I’ve been after Klaue for the last six months and he always seemed to be two steps ahead of me.
I neared the main entrance with four agents behind me, Nat and Sam’s teams already making their way inside.
It was a bigger building than these compounds usually look. Security was way more advanced and a lot more guarded. “We can get through, but there are way more guards than we expected, Y/n,” heard Natasha over the comms. “Yeah, I got that. But I’m not leaving until I have Klaue.” “You’re the boss.”
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Guy Code
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TW: angst. Fluff. Hints at smut. 
SUMMARY: Pope's feelings for you come through to the surface. 
WORD COUNT: 1100
REQUESTED
Pope has a crush on JJs girlfriend and when he cheats on her he comforts her and confess his feelings 
Guy Code
POPE'S POV
I paced long enough that the stone beneath my feet had become worn and tethered from repetition. The speech prepared with each pointless step became iterated in sporadic pronunciation only to ultimately return to a blank page within my mind. Everything conjured from an apology to a full-blown confession weighed in waves within my mind. Just as I convinced myself a clear conscience would free my inability to hold such feelings behind distant smiles, I was reminded of how she was JJ's ex. And yet, at the same instance in which I would recall that detail, I thought of the tears she shed because of him. 
Of all of the reckless and even heartless things JJ has done in his endeavors to numb his own emotions, this had been the most bone-headed. And yet any thoughts to console her brought me to the recollection once again that she was forbidden. 
And yet, here I stood. Outside her house well beyond an appropriate hour, before that door finally opened. 
"Pope? What are you doing here?" My hands hid within my pockets as if I could shield myself the same. And suddenly as my lips parted to speak, every single word from my repertoire disappeared. Even the most basic. Which left only the most unappealing of half enunciations causing her to furrow her brows at me. 
"Did you…need something?" But as she asked, the sniffle iterated was enough for me to clench my fists. I was rarely the type of man to exercise emotion. But she deserved to cry from happiness alone. She was sweet and kind and compassionate. The parts of Kiara I may have found rousing. Only she was no more pogue than she was a kook. She was simply a girl whose heart had been broken by my closest friend. 
"I..I just wanted to make sure you were alright." I finally managed to explain my presence as she offered a kind smile. But the soft nod offered had become weak after only a single bob. 
"Do you want to come in?" I paused. Although she was a mutual friend long before that title changed to JJ's 'anything', accepting this invitation still felt as if I was committing the ultimate betrayal. Even if JJ had been the first to draw blood over our friendship when I'd told him of my interest in her, I believed my feelings for her would fade as she would have been good for him. But I was wrong. About my feelings. About JJ. About her. And because of this, I nodded and motioned to follow her inside against my better morality. 
But the second I took a step forward, those words suddenly returned tenfold. 
"No…I just came here to see if you were alright…"
"I'm…I don't know what I am…But you came all the way here to check on me?" 
I shrugged, acting as if I hadn't spent the last six months waiting for this very moment to transpire. As if my thoughts didn't linger on knowing , for even one second, of what it was like to hold her focus in that way. The kind of mine she always held. 
"I'm sorry…About what happened." She became nervous, no longer at ease in her stance. 
"Did…did JJ talk to you?"
"He locked himself away in The Chateau after you left…"
"So he didn't tell you anything?" 
"Should he have?" She paused, kicking her feet on the cement porch leading to the front door kept ajar. 
"You're making me..anxious."
"Me?" She nodded, pulling her hair behind her ear. "You always do…" She confessed as I hesitated to act. 
"You should go…" I nodded, taking the loss before even trying for the win. And yet, as I turned to leave, my tail between my legs, I called back to her. 
"No….'
"No?" 
"You deserve better. I love JJ, but he…you don't deserve what he did."
"Pope-" I took a step forward, knowing if I let her interrupt me that I'd lose the courage to continue to speak. 
"Please…Just let me say this once before implode…" She smiled. A soft smile I simply wanted to kiss for remembrance. 
"You're…You're brilliant. Stunning. Funny. Talented in everything you put your mind to. Raw and genuine. Giving and compassionate. Inspiring and sweet. And…You deserve someone who knows that…Someone who reminds you of that so much you're tired of hearing it….I'm just sorry he hurt you…" 
"He didn't…" My eyes narrowed. 
"It should have. But he was right."
"Right? About what?" My curiosity piqued as I took a step forward, more desperate to know than to remain indifferent. 
"How you make me nervous. How I can depend on you. How I look at you…It's why…you are why we broke up. Not because he cheated…because I didn't care that he did…I guess a part of me kinda hoped he would." Before I could stop my steps, they were set in her direction. Her hips taken by my grasp before one hand reached for her cheek at the last moment before my lips collided with her own. 
The most perfect buss to satiate a need I desired since I'd first met her. A passion and need that had only intensified since that day. And I would remain as long as I could as if to try and convince myself this was reality. After spending most nights and daydreams constructing this vision, it was nearly impossible to differentiate from fantasy. At least it has been until she pulled me deeper against her. Enough until she came to a rest at the paneling of the house. 
"I-"
"Just kiss me, Pope…please…" That soft but breathless cadence made me submissive to her. Her touch electrified every nerve as I would remain here until she rejected me or led me further. I would have shed every ounce of myself for her if she would have asked. 
"It should have been you…" She breathed as my lips fell down her jaw and to the curve of her neck between her ear and her pulse point, feeling it restless beneath my kiss. 
"It is now…" She moaned to the feeling of my hands rising higher from your waist, just brushing the curve of her breasts from beneath. A tease of my thumbs enough to change her course of modesty.
"Come inside…" She bit her bottom lip, leading me over the threshold with interlaced fingers, as I looked behind one final moment before following suit. A smile beaming across my face for the dream made a reality before me. And any consequence welcomed but ignored as I allowed myself to bask in what I would treasure and adore. The girl who should have always have been mine…
TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916
MASTERLIST
POPE HEYWARD MASTERLIST
MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST
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holdmytesseract · 2 years
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A Place to Stay?
Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader
Summary: Alexandria. A new chance for the group to finally settle down. The people there seem kind and everything looks safe - but is it a place to stay? You'd answer that question with a yes. Would Daryl?
Set in Season Five
Warnings: Uhh... bit of the usual TWD stuff... fluff... suggestive smut, if you squint
Word Count: 3k
a/n: So... This one has a lot dialogue in it, I'm sorry, but I'm still trying to get in line with the characters. Still testing out Daryl and the others. 🙈😊 I hope that fic is not too awful... 🙈 Also, I am still watching TWD. 🙈 Started to watch season six now, so please forgive me for any lack of knowledge. 🙈
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Alexandria was a beautiful place to stay - without a doubt. The people seemed friendly, the system trustworthy and the safety guaranteed. Nevertheless, we were still cautious. Especially after all we've been through... Appearances were often deceptive – how we learned. Mostly in a painful way.  
Deanna gave us the opportunity to stay in two of the countless fancy mansions, but Rick decided that we'd sleep all in one house together that night and not split up. Just in case. You never knew… I really hoped, that we could find a home here. I had nothing against being out there, on the road... But we all needed a break. We all deserved a break. To sleep not with one eye open at night for once. And oh, what would I give for a quiet night alone with Daryl, in which we wouldn't need look out for walkers – or other unwanted guests. Just the two of us and the love we were sharing. A dreamy sigh left my lips at that thought. The last time we had such a night was all those months ago in the prison. We had sneaked out one night after dinner and digged ourselves in one of the guard towers - only to get caught by Rick the next morning, but it was worth it. Even if it was a bit of an embarrassing situation... Rick swore to keep our secret - and he did. Then the prison fell, I got separated from Daryl, everything seemed to go down the drain - until I met him and the others again in Terminus, where we all got almost killed, but well. Was nothing new, eh? We survived - and now we were here. Hopefully for a longer time.
I was on the porch of our mansion, seated on the wooden stairs, as Rick stepped out of the door. My eyes widened when I saw him. "Woah! Who are you and what did you do to Rick?" I joked, referring to his now shaved beard, trimmed hair and clean look. The man just shook his head and smiled. "I dunno. I asked myself the same question, as I looked in that mirror." I giggled at his words, "But it fits you. Lookin' so much better now." and stood up. "Imma go for a shower now as well. Don't tell Daryl I said that." I said, winking. "Don't tell me wha'?" The man of the hour sauntered of course in that exact moment out of the door and towards us - a sceptical look on his face. "Nothin' important, Daryl. Y/N just said, I look better without the beard." Daryl looked immediately at me. "Is that so?" I rolled my eyes, but smiled. He could be so childishly jealous sometimes... "Mhm. Less like a stray dog and more like a puppy again." "Pfft." Huffed out Rick with a laugh. "Gee, thanks." I laughed too, before I turned to Daryl, side-hugging him. The former policeman took that as his cue to leave - what he did; disappearing inside the mansion again. "I am goin' for a shower now." I started, biting my lip, before I stood on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Wanna join me?" I asked, placing a small kiss on his stubble covered cheek. "You could use a shower too, ya know." But Daryl shook his head. "Would be quite a bit suspicious, if we both jus' vanish upstairs in the bathroom, eh?" I shrugged my shoulders, giving him a smug smirk. "We could just sneak upstairs." Once again the man shook his head. "Nah, 'm fine." A pout spread over my lips, trying to convince Daryl to join me - but it didn't help. He didn't budge. "Fine..." I said, letting go of him again. "Then not. Your loss. I'm not the one, missin' out somethin'... You are, baby." With those words and a last kiss on his cheek, I left Daryl standing there, before he could even say something. I went back inside the mansion. "I am going for a shower, guys!" I called into the open living room, before I vanished upstairs.
As soon as the warm water jet of the showerhead beat down on my exposed body, joyous, breathless laughter left my lips. It's been so long since I lastly stood underneath a freaking shower. I let the water rain down on me, wetting my tousled Y/H/C hair and dirty skin of my body. I enjoyed every second of my shower. Although, I was still hoping Daryl would join me - what didn't happen in the end, but well... After I was finished and dry again, I slipped in fresh clothes, then went down again to join the others. It felt like heaven. I was clean, had something to eat and drink, a roof over my head and was united with all the different, crazy and loveable people who became my family through the world's downfall. But most importantly, I was safe and had Daryl by my side. What would I need more?
I sat down on the sofa, joining the others in their conversations for a while. Of course, I had noticed immediately, that Daryl was missing - yet again, but didn't think much about it. He was a big boy and could roam the streets alone. That was what he was most likely doing - or he was out, hunting. I was not worried in the slightest. Not here.
When the moon had replaced the sun and it had gotten dark and very late, the whole group laid spread out in the whole living room, sleeping on the floor on mattresses and/or blankets. I had settled in the top left corner, gaze directed on the passage to the hallway. Everybody around me was fast asleep; snores could be heard from a few. Abraham, for example. I tried to sleep, but couldn't. Daryl still wasn't back and so slowly I got worried for real. I already thought about going out and searching for him, but it was way too dark and probably too risky alone - despite that we were in Alexandria now. Walkers weren't the only thing you've got to fear these days... The minutes ticked by and I just stared at the wall of the hallway. Just before I was about to change my mind and really go out to look for him, I heard the soft squeak of the front door, followed by quiet footsteps. My hand reached for my dagger immediately, preparing myself to defend the group, in case it was not the man I hoped for. But when the intruder turned around the corner with a faint flashlight pinched between his lips, I could clearly see that it was, indeed, Daryl. A relieved breath left my lips. Not just because it wasn't a strange person... "Daryl!" I whisper-shouted, not to wake the others. "Over here!" His head turned towards me, before he tiptoed over to me, getting rid of his crossbow and vest on the way. He knelt down beside me, turning off the small flashlight, before he flopped on the empty space beside me. I couldn't help myself but to cuddle close to him. I pressed my back against his chest, entangled our legs, while Daryl wrapped a strong arm around me, pinning me against him. "Where have you been so long, baby?" I felt him shrugging his shoulders. "Jus' outside, huntin' a few squirrels." I huffed. "You could've told me, ya know. I got worried..." His lips ghosted over my exposed neck, leaving a gentle kiss there. He got much more affectionate through the months. "M sorry, Y/N. Gonna tell ya next time, promise." I nodded, pulling him closer. "Alright." We went silent for a moment, enjoying each other's company. "You know you need to move over soon, if we don't want the others to find out?" "Mhm, jus' another minute." The minute turned almost into an hour. I was on the verge of sleeping in, when I finally felt him move him away from me - much to my dismay, but well...
The next days flew by quickly. Some of us got a job from Deanna and started to accustomate a bit to the new environment we were in, others were still struggling. Daryl was one of them. I noticed how he isolated himself quite a bit. He was barely talking to us and the other people here. He spent the most of the day on the streets and outside the walls. I felt his struggle. It wasn't easy for him to get used to what we suddenly had… Deanna had thrown a welcome party for us, on which he also stayed away. After almost a week, I decided to talk with him; find out what exactly was on his mind.
I knew he was outside, so I asked the doorman to open the main gate for me - which he did, of course, letting me out. I checked on my daggers and strapped my gun on my cargo pants, before I went to search for him. Good thing he taught me how to track. But what he apparently didn't think of, was that I was also able to track him now as well…
I saw him walking through the thicket of the forest, crossbow in hands and a string with squirrels slung over his shoulder. How long had he been out here already? I quietly followed him further, giggling to myself at the little game I played - okay... Tried to play. "Ya ain't good at followin' people, Y/N." He suddenly said with his back still turned towards me, causing me to pout. How the hell did he notice? I didn't make a peep! With a grin on his lips he stopped and turned to face me. Well... The tree I was now 'hiding' behind. "I can see ya." "Ugh, that's not fair." I stated and left my 'hiding' place, crossing my arms over my chest. "Why are you so good at this, huh?" Daryl just shrugged his shoulders. "Cause I am." I huffed, but smiled. "At least I can track you and not have to follow you secretly." "Yeah and that's the moment I regret, teachin' ya... You shouldn't be out 'ere alone." I nodded into his direction. "You neither." The man rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I can look after myself." "And I cannot?" "Didn't say that. 'S jus'... I don't want ya out 'ere alone." I stepped closer to him with a smile, "Well, lucky for you, that I found ya." and placed a small kiss on his lips. "Now c'mon. There's space for a few more squirrels on that string."
After successfully hunting another few squirrels and getting rid of some walkers, we made our way back towards the safe walls of Alexandria - and that was the moment, where I decided to speak with him.
"Daryl, you okay?" He nodded. "Course. Why shouldn't I?" I took a deep breath. "Cause I can feel that you are not..." Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno what ya mean." "Oh yes, you know exactly what I mean. When are you finally going to learn, Mr. Dixon, that talking to me is better for yourself, than just pretending everything's alright? You can maybe fool the others... But you can't fool me." A defeated sigh left his lips. "Ya gonna be the death of me, woman." I had to giggle at his words. "Careful what ya wish for. I don't intend to lose you." He shook his head, "Ya won't lose me." and paused for a moment. "S jus'... I dunno... I am not the type to settle down in a fuckin' mansion. I feel... caged. Ya know wha' I mean? Gotta be rather out 'ere, than pretend everythin's fine in there. 'S not." I nodded, understood of course what he meant - and I certainly couldn't blame him. He never was the type of just sitting around. "I know what ya mean." "Yeah?" "Yeah... And I can understand it. Trappin' you inside a house, would be like trappin' a lion in a cage. Doesn't work. You gotta be out there. You're made for this. I know that..." I paused for a second. "Doesn't mean I like it, though." I added, voice barely above a whisper. Daryl suddenly stopped in his motions; his hand on mine held me back from walking on as well. I immediately turned to face him - and saw the love inside the depths of his brown eyes. "I know that ya don't like it. I know you'd like me to stay inside those damn walls... But-" "You can't." I gave him a soft smile and squeezed his hand. "We all have our jobs to do - and this one's yours." He nodded, swallowing, "Bout that... I wanted to talk with ya anyway..." before he gently dragged me with him. "Aaron gave me a bike." "A bike?" "Yeah." "But that's great! A bike is exactly the thing you need, isn't it?" I smiled, were truly happy for him. "And… he wants me to replace Eric. Asked me to go out with him, recruitin' new people." I breathed out a small laugh at his words. "Of course, Aaron would ask you. Who else? If someone can do that, it's you." "Really? Ya think tha'?" I nodded. "Yes. You are a tracker - a pretty good one at that. And you can see the difference between good and bad people." "Aaron said that, too." "See?" I giggled, "So... You ain't mad at me, if I'd go out with Aaron?" and shook my head immediately. "Nah." We both stopped, when we saw that the big walls of Alexandria came in sight. "If that is what you want, sure, baby. As long as you promise me to come back to me - in one piece and unharmed." Daryl scoffed. "Of course, Y/N. Told ya before... I'll always come back for ya - no matter where ya are." I smiled at the man in front of me and wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him close. "I love you, Daryl Dixon. Remember that." "How could I not, eh?" Daryl asked, brushing a strand of Y/H/C hair out of my face. "Ain't forgettin' my girl. Ya know I love ya, too." A smile played upon my lips, when stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, pouring all the love flowing through my veins in the kiss - and it didn't just stay at one kiss...
"When are you and Aaron leavin'?" I asked, panting and out of breath with kiss swollen lips. "As soon as possible. Guess in a few hours or so." What? In a few hours or so? My jaw dropped. "Already? And you're tellin' me now? Daryl!" "M sorry... Didn't know how to tell ya..." Typical. "You don't even stay another night? Damn... I was so lookin' forward to spend a night with ya in privacy." I said, pouting at him. "I know, Y/N... 'M sorry. As soon as I'm back, promise." I sighed, but smiled softly. "Alright. I think I can live with that." I kissed him once again, before I let slowly go of him. "Take care of ya, while I'm away, yeah?" "Of course. You too." Daryl nodded. "And if that lil' boy makes a move on ya, I'm goin' to beat his ass into the ground." I frowned at his words. "You mean Spencer?" "Yeah. Saw him lookin' yer way." I couldn't help but giggle. "Why take a boy, when I can have a man." I winked at Daryl and kissed him a last time, before I turned around to leave. "I'll head inside now, before I change my mind and try to convince you to stay." With those words, I walked to the gate and left Daryl behind.
I didn't say him goodbye that day before he left. I never did.
Now, I found myself once again sitting on the porch of the mansion, when I saw Maggie heading my way - with a stupid grin on her face. That meant nothing good... "Ugh, I know that smile. What is it?" Maggie sat down beside me, still grinning from ear to ear. "So... How long is this goin' on now?" An uneasy feeling started to spread throughout my body at her question. I hoped she didn't mean what I feared she mean… Could she...? Did she...? "How long is what goin' on?" Maggie shook her head. "Don't act innocent now, Y/N. I saw you 'n Daryl." I almost choked on her words. "You... What?! When?! How?!" She giggled. "And you just admit it." At her words, realisation dawned on me. I did. "Shit." Maggie giggled again. I liked that girl a lot. She became definitely one of my closest friends. "So?" "When did you see us?" "Few hours ago. I was on the guard tower, lookin' for Sasha, but she wasn't there. That's when I saw ya two - and it looked pretty obvious to me. I couldn't believe my eyes at first. I mean - no offence - but, Daryl and a woman?" I couldn't suppress the small laugh when I heard Maggie say that. "You rather mean Daryl and love." Her eyes widened. "So this is somethin' serious between ya two?" I nodded, smiling. There was no way to deny it any longer anyway, so why should I lie to Maggie? "Yeah, I'd definitely say so. There was always somethin' between us. Since the day we met. We somehow just got together then at some point. I think when we were on your farm." Maggie smile again. This time, it was a honest, happy smile. "Ohh, but that's wonderful. I'm happy for you 'n Daryl. You both deserve this." "Thank you." We smiled at each other. "But please don't tell the others." She nodded. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." Secret... It hardly wasn't a secret anymore, was it?
a/n: Should Daryl kick Spencer's ass in a second part? 🤔
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babylooneytoonz · 3 years
Text
a little bit of you, a little bit of me
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— pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
— summary: Tommy and you had a one night stand right when Tommy was 18 and you were 17 and you fell pregnant with a baby girl- but wanted to convince your husband it’s his- so Tommy grew up seeing his daughter every day grow up in the street and with her other dad. And on her eighteenth birthday she comes into the garrison for a drink with a purpose to meet Tommy.
This is requested by an anonymous, although the request was slightly different, I have modified it a bit and I hope you like it.🤍
A/N- I just modified it a bit because I am really not good with the timelines so there might a slight difference in the age . Let's just assume this is set in 1908 which I suppose is when Tommy would be 18? and then later in 1926 when Grace had been shot and all [end of season 3 - beginning season 4] I'm not sure and my math sucks please correct me but I think Tommy was born in 1890 or something I could be seriously wrong though.
— warnings: mentions of extra marrital relationship, trigger warnings, unplanned pregnancy , a lot of angst (Please do not read if you're not comfortable, thank you.)
*Please reblog if you like it, do not repost or claim my work as yours.
[My Masterlist]
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You were only seventeen when your parents succumbed to bankruptcy and disease, leaving you an orphan, an only child; but not without ensuring that you were married off to a young man. You weren't in love with him, or with anyone else, and thus, it was easy for you to accept.
With the war not yet begun, you and your husband moved to Birmingham City, hoping to find yourself a place to live at half the rent as compared to London.
And it was during that time, when you met Tommy Shelby, a young lad who lived four houses away from yours.
It was innocent at first, just a glance through the window, or a mindless bump against each other on the road which then developed into greetings and then smiles until finally, one day, when you found yourself sat by the docks late one evening, shielded by unwanted, prying eyes with Tommy Shelby next to you, talking about life in general.
You opened up, telling him about how you were never lucky enough to find someone to love, and to marry for love. Although you had utmost respect for your husband, you couldn't bring yourself to love him, yet. But it wasn't all sad talks.
Sometime, in between the morose and sad revelations, a lighter topic broke out, and they two of you began talking of your favourite pass times, your hobbies and the most embarassing moments of your life.
"Don't you have to go back home, [Y/N]? Isn't someone bloody waiting back home?" Tommy raised an eyebrow, his eyes glistening with amusement and you snorted, pressing your index finger into his chest playfully as you pushed yourself up.
"So, Tommy, what are we friends now?" You remembered smirking, the corners of your plump lips curving into a devilish grin as you stood up, wiping the back of your skirt with your palm.
"Do you want us to be?" He smirked back, and reached forward trying to grab the hem of your skirt, but you dodged, biting your lip as you shook your head, running your hand through your hair.
"Friends don't grab a lady's skirt, Mr. Shelby," you curled your lips teasingly, and taking Tommy by surprise, your fingers slid through his matted hair ruffling them up, before you darted off, the sound of your running the only voice audible to Tommy as he kept sitting by the docks, grinning.
That was only the beginning; and the flirt only rose after that, it didn't die down, no matter how much you knew it was wrong. You couldn't help yourself be attracted to him.
"[Y/N], are you going out, eh?"
You stopped, mid steps, your coat halfway through your arms as you slowly turned around and gave your husband a nervous smile.
"We're out of bread, and tomatoes, and eggs. I thought I'd stock up for two days." You looked at him, glancing at him through your fluttering eyelids, and he simply nodded, pulling a lit cigarette up to his lips, "Don't be gone long, love. It's going to get dark outside."
You grabbed your purse, and fixing your hair with your hands, you pulled open the front door and ran out of your home. You looked left, and right before you crossed the road to the other side and slid through a cramped alley, ducking underneath the clothes that were hanging to dry off from ropes.
Finally, Tommy was in sight.
His hair were disheveled, and his shirt had dust stains on it but you didn't mind; he was perfect in your eyes. You smiled, parting your lips, your tongue sliding out of your mouth as you moistened your lower lip. Your walking turned to running, and the next second, you were standing chest to chest with him, his hand fixed on the low of your back, holding you against him.
"You—"
"Don't, Tommy. Don't make me change my bloody mind," you whispered immediately, cutting him off.
His palm came to rest on your cheek, his thumb stroking against your supple flesh, his blues fixed on yours. You could see the ocean in your eyes, and although you were guilty in that moment for willingly be ready to give yourself to this boy, your guilt was far less than the feelings your heart held for him.
"This one time, Tommy—" you whispered, placing your palm against the fabric of his dusty shirt and balling it into your fist, pulling him closer, you blinked, giving him a nod.
It all flew by in a buzz then. One moment, the two of you were laughing like little kids, chasing after a butterfly, your hand entwined in his, as the two of you ran through the alleys one after the other. Tommy pulled you into one of the structures, made out of bright red brick walls, until he shut the door and pressed you against it, both his hands gripping your neck, his lips pressed to you.
Kisses, moans and gasps. Feelings, passion and unshed tears.
"Can you leave him for me?" Tommy whispered against your ear as he undressed you slowly, his fingers sliding over your bare velvet like skin, making heat and current radiate all through you.
Amongst moans and archs of of pleasure, the crowning and the curling of your toes and Tommy showed you the stars, as he filled you up completely, you moving in sync with him, like dancing to a slow song, you couldn't help but wish.. that maybe you had met him a few months back.
"You know I can't. It's too late now.." Would things have been different then? Would he have married you and then left for war?
"I know love, I know. I'm sorry I didn't find you before." He moaned into your ear, his fingers tracing your spine.
"Tommy.." You threw your head back, your fingers tightly clutching the sweaty boy's head in front of you, as you felt him teasingly bite you on the nape of your neck, all the while, his movements now becoming sloppier inside of you, and the two of you came, and collapsed in each other's arms.
The two of you remained entwined in each other, holding on to each other like either of you would slip into the sands of time. Finally, Tommy's hold on you relaxed, and he brought his fingers to your face, stroking through your sweaty hair, that were sticking to your face.
"This is goodbye then, love?"
You looked up at him, your eyes shriveled with unshed tears, and inexplicable emotions as you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, "I will still see you, only the world will never know. Maybe someday.."
Tommy was true to his words, and he never let anyone find out, about that one slip of the moment the two of you had shared, that had led to the creation of the light of your life.
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Days turned to weeks, and weeks flew by, turning into months and Tommy watched you from afar as you walked down the street with a friend of yours whose name was Greta. Your head hung low, your stomach bloomed and swollen, the glow on your face bright enough to compete with the brightness of the sun. He was happy for you. You deserved to be happy, and he was okay, even if it wasn't with him.
Upon seeing you with a smile on your radiant face as you entered the bakery, Tommy could not control himself, something that he had been doing for months now at the sight of you. He pushed open the bakery door, with a tiny jingle of the bell, and that caused you to turn towards the door, your eyes immediately widening at the sight of him.
He kept his eyes fixed on you for a second before he looked away, and fixed himself on the counter right next to you, as he began looking around, looking for anything he could buy and not be suspected.
You pulled the coins out of your purse and handed them to the bakery owner, and with one glance at him, nodding in courtesy, you turned away, hurriedly walking out of it. Your steps were fast, as fast a six months pregnant young lady could walk and thus, it was easy for Tommy to catch up to you.
"Greta," you looked at your friend, your eyes widened, and the girl next to you smiled.
"Go," she whispered and looked around, just to see if there were any prying eyes that were looking at the two of you.
You slowly stepped into the alley, and Tommy followed until he had you in a corner, and his eyes fell to your stomach. You parted your lips but all that came out was thin air.
"I'm sorry, love. I couldn't bloody keep myself away from you. You look beautiful."
You gave him a tiny, lingering smile, fluttering your lashes as you looked down at your belly and then back at him, "Liar. I feel humongous."
"You're a sight for my sore eyes, love," his words were breaking you down, piece by piece. The wall that you had created, the thin wall of what was right and what was wrong was slowly crumbling down again. Your lips ached, your body ached, for his touch, once again. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, you opened your eyes again, and with a finality, you said, "Find yourself a nice girl, Tom. I want you to be happy."
A woman he did find. As time flew by, Tommy did find love again in your best friend, Greta Jurossi, and you were happy for them. You lay in your bed, your sheets coiled over you, covering up your modesty as the midwife examined you. Waves of pain flushed through you, causing you to ball the fabric of the bedding and the towels and let out cries of anguish. Your husband was downstairs, walking up and down; his shoulders tense, listening to your cries of pain.
After fourteen hours, you finally held your little black haired girl to your chest. Your heart filled with unconditional love; as you kissed the mass of her hair, you realised you couldn't love anyone else like you loved this girl.
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Tommy held Greta's hand as the two of them entered their spot under the bridge. He pushed her to the wall, keeping a hand at the back of her head so she didn't hit it against the wall as he kissed her and finally made love to her.
"Why do you look like you've seen a bloody ghost, love?" Tommy's eyebrows perked up, as he pulled out a cigarette and flicked it to his lips, lighting it with a match.
"Not a ghost, Tommy, it's just that Marigold keeps us up all night long, she is such a fussy babe," Greta sighed, smiling softly when the image of your baby girl flashed infront of her eyes. She was in love with that little angel, but she knew she was Tommy's, you had told her this as you were her bestfriend. She looked down at her hands momentarily before looking up at Tommy, pursing her lips. She knew this man, and you, better than anyone in the world and she could read your faces like a book.
"Sometimes, I wonder," she hopped off the place she was seated at, pulling her skirts properly at place before she bent down as pulled up her stockings. Tommy took a drag of the cigarette and flicked it away, stepping on it, "What would have been if she would have left him."
"She made her decision, Greta, and I respect it," Tommy called out and she flinched, slowly turning towards him, chewing on the insides of her cheeks.
"Still, it's tragic, isn't it? Watching her everyday and knowing she can never be yours?" She whispered.
"I've made my peace with it." Tommy grumbled, under his breath, shaking his head as he threw his hand towards her and she accepted, entwining their fingers together as he pulled her into him.
"She made me swear something, but I can't keep it inside me anymore. This secret.. I feel like you deserve to know. Will you keep it?" Greta suddenly stopped walking and turned towards him, placing her hand delicately over his chest, and giving it a soft stroke.
"What is it, love?" He asked, his voice husky, and low. He kept his eyes fixed on her, like fireflies drawn to a source of light, that light being the impassivity of her words.
"Marigold is yours, Tommy. She's your daughter. She's got your eyes, and that sweet little smile."
Tommy parted his lips, as if wanting to say something, just anything but he felt like someone had choked him. He couldn't speak. No words flew out of his plump, trembling lips. Waves of anxiety suddenly flushed through him, and he clenched his fists, drawing his hands away from her as a gnawing emptiness filled him up.
Nothing felt worse than the bitter, aching slice his heart felt; as though someone had shot him through his heart, and the bullet was now lodged through. Yet he couldn't bring himself to hate you, although you had never told him, not once in these nine or so months that the baby you were carrying was his.
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He laid back down, his head resting against the hard pillow. His mind was intoxicated, his thinking fuzzy yet he couldn't throw out the anguish he was feeling, no matter how hard he tried. The girl he had grown to love, the girl who had pulled him out of the feelings he had for you, the girl who had breathed life into his cold heart once again, the girl he wanted to marry, destiny snatched her away from him like a joke. Was he cursed to not be with the one his heart desired the most?
With a heavy heart, and a tormented soul, Thomas Shelby and his brothers left for war.
The war lasted for years, and so did Tommy, and every single time he felt like death was lurking close by, it never really touched him. When war was over, Tommy Shelby returned a different man, a man with a hollow heart, mind tormented completely differently now. He could hear the shovels in his mind, the clawing of metal against metal. He returned from war, and so did your husband and as the years passed, Tommy watched his daughter grow up, from a young little petal into a full blooming flower, and he never said a word. It was like a silent promise made to you, to protect your honour, something he had sworn with his life.
As the years passed, the hollow void left by you and by Greta slowly died down, and Tommy found himself a woman called Grace. She was enchanting, and she made Tommy feel whole again, complete again, although the shovels never stopped, no matter how hard he tried. Yet, Tommy didn't stop silently watching over the little girl that lived across the street, Marigold.
"Tommy, love?" Grace asked him one day, as she rolled over in bed, the sheets wrapped around her tiny frame and she laid her hand on his rising and falling chest, her fingers tenderly stroking his flesh, "Does that girl mean something to you? I've seen you look at her when she steps out with her mother out on the street, your face lights up."
Tommy didn't reply and instead buried his face into her side, letting himself get lost in her sweet fragrance, soaking him up. When he didn't answer, Grace didn't ask again, but the question remained at the back of her mind, until the day she left Tommy and went to London, breaking his heart all over again.
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Just three months later, Tommy found himself standing at the back, his head hung low, staring at the wet soiled ground as your husband's coffin was lowered to the ground. You sniffled, your palm pressed to your lips, as you pulled Marigold closer to you, letting the thirteen year old child grieve, and cry her heart out as her father was lowered to the ground.
As the guests started dispersing, the two of you kept sitting in the front, on chairs that had been put out for you by someone kind. Tommy slowly walked up to you, hesitant and reluctant. Marigold was the first one to look up and Tommy felt his heart swell at the sight of her. It was like he was staring at himself, the same ocean like eyes, her hair just the same amount of dark like Tommy's were, the nose was, however, you and so were the lips. This was the first time Tommy felt he had seen her this close, and the more he saw her, the more he felt how she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes across.
You looked up then, and a faint, weak smile crossed your lips,"You came, Tommy? I never thought.."
"If you need anything, I'll always be here for you," that was the only words he could bring himself to say to you for he had by now, suffered so much, he had leaned to lock the young boy that had fallen in love with you, away in a corner. You watched, your eyes cloudy, as he left the cemetery, and you weeks later, left Birmingham, never to look back again.
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1926,
The warm liquid rushed down the canal in Tommy's throat. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair messy and tumultuous, dark bags already forming under his eyes as he has been working mostly through the nights. Garrison was as usual, crowded but the Shelby room provided him with the solitude and the peace that he didn't find anywhere else.
It was just then when a knock resonated from the door and his head snapped upwards as Curly poked his head through.
"What's gone wrong now, Curly?" He said, dryly.
"Tommy, a young girl who goes by the name Marigold says she has some unfinished business with you?" He knew instantly who she was. He hesitated for a bit, his fists clenching slightly before he nodded, "Let her in and close the door, Curly."
Marigold bit her lip, yes she had a purpose to be here and yes, she had thought she had motivated herself enough to finally do this, yet one look at the man seated in front of her made her insides churn with nervousness. This was much difficult as it appeared to be.
"Take a seat, Miss.." Tommy pointed towards the empty couch in front of him and she nodded, absentmindedly sitting down with her hands now resting against her lap, "Marigold [Y/L/N]."
Tommy raised an eyebrow, regarding her through his cold, ocean like eyes, "You don't go by your father's name?"
Marigold didn't reply; instead she gave him a knowing smile and Tommy leaned forward, letting his elbows rest against the table, his hand absentmindedly grabbing his glass of whiskey, "Curly said you had some, eh, unfinished business?"
She nodded, her fingers toying nervously with other.
"Care to walk me home, Mr. Shelby? We can talk while we walk."
"Alright then," Tommy nodded as he stood up downing the drink in one go and began reaching for his coat, "I'll walk you home then," Tommy's eyes flickered as he waited for Marigold to walk out first, and once she did, he closed the door behind her and walked out of the Garrison.
Tommy couldn't describe the feeling; although there were no words, there was a warmth. Right next to him, his little girl, now not so little anymore, walked. Slowly, he craned his neck towards her as he pulled out a smoke and flung it to his lips, "How is your mother?"
"Growing old, that's her words, not mine."
Tommy smiled, looking up at the sky, his eyes fixing on the moon for a split second before he looked at her again, "I'm sure she is just exaggerating, yeah."
"Mr. Shelby, it mind sound like I am poking my bloody nose into your business, but I think I deserve to know. There was something between my mother and you once, wasn't there?" She suddenly asked, as blunt as a knife. She had the same fire burning in her eyes, like that in her real father's.
Tommy faltered upon hearing her words though, for he hadn't expected her to ask him this. He paused for a minute, looking at her with a perplexity, he wasn't sure how to answer her. She waited for a second and finally, reached out, grabbing the lit cigarette from his hand and flung it to her lips, taking a drag of it.
"Why would you think that ey?" Tommy blew out.
"Come on, Mr. Shelby, I'm not a little girl any more. I remember you at my father's funeral, the way you looked at my mother, even my dad didn't look at her that way. Come with me," Marigold suddenly grabbed Tommy's hand rather inappropriately if anyone was looking at the interaction and she began walking in a fast pace towards the building now right in front of her eyes.
"Hey, will you bloody slow down?" Tommy tried, but she was headstrong, and the grip of her on Tommy's hand was strong, although Tommy could pullout his hand in one jerk, yet he didn't. This felt personal and it somehow, warmed his heart.
Marigold finally came to pause, her hand letting Tommy's wrist go as her hand flung to her chest, and she began gasping like a fish for air, looking at Tommy.
"Now are you going to answer me? My mum's asleep upstairs by the way." The girl bit her lip, looking from Tommy, pointing her finger upwards, and Tommy realized that she had brought him to her house.
"Did your.. mother.. ever remarry?"
Tommy finally muttered, in a low voice although he had no bloody idea of whether he was ready to hear the answer or not.
"No, she didn't, Mr. Shelby." Tommy felt he could breathe again.
"Is that the unfinished business you wanted to talk about? Because its late and I don't want your mother worrying about you, Marigold," Tommy's eyes remained stoic, not a sign of emotion reflecting in his ice like radiant face. "Goodnight then," He turned away, letting his hands slide into the pockets of his coat when she called out from behind him, making him freeze on spot.
"I know you're my father, Mr. Shelby. That makes me Marigold Shelby, doesn't it?"
Tommy turned around, slow as a snail, and fixated his eyes on her. She had half the door open and she was leaning against it, her chin resting against the back of her hand with which she was holding the door and smiling.
"What did you say?" Tommy almost choked out, surprised.
"Aunt Greta left me some letters, for when I would turn eighteen. She left you some too, if you want?" She slid her hand into the pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a letter that still had a seal on it. Slowly, she extended her hand and Tommy looked from her to the letter, his hand trembling as he took it. It had Greta's signature on it. He blinked, an inner turmoil forming inside of him. Finally, he gave up, and handed the letter back to her.
"Won't you read it?" She asked, confused.
Tommy sighed, "It's better for the dead to stay dead."
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"Christ, Marigold, what's gotten into you?" You frowned and watched your eighteen your old act like a five year old, her arms crossed against her chest, as she blinked, impatiently, "Mum, can you hurry up and get dressed? We are going to miss the 7 o'clock show."
"Alright, alright. I'm getting ready. Don't make a fuss, love."
Now, an hour later, you were stack in an almost empty movie hall, watching the black and white movie that Marigold was so interested in watching. And next to you on the right hand side was the man you had least expected to be there, Thomas Shelby.
"She planned this all, didn't she?" You whispered, leaning towards him. It was only days back Marigold had told you everything, especially about Greta's letters and you had been shocked. Now here he was, days after the revelation, and it couldn't have been a coincidence.
"You know I can't bloody say no to her. If it were up to you, I would have never known she was mine." Tommy whispered back, and you stiffened.
"Greta played a nice game," you drawled, absentmindedly turning towards Tommy, who was looking at you with a look of amusement in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're still beautiful. And look sixteen."
You flushed, your cheeks turning a scarlet red, and you were thankful you were in a dimly lit movie hall, and he couldn't really see. If amazed you, how almost nineteen years after you had ended things with Tommy Shelby, he still gave you butterflies, like you were eighteen again,"Jesus, Tommy stop. You're not eighteen anymore, and neither am I."
"Jesus, mum, dad, can the two of you please stop? I'm trying to watch something." The eighteen year old protested, but unbeknownst to the two of you, she had an amused, content smile playing against her lips, as she forced herself to look away.
You glanced at Tommy, and without uttering another word, you slowly sunk into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder, and your hand snuck into his, your fingers entwining with his.
If the two of you were eighteen and seventeen again, who would have thought that it would take losing Greta, and losing your husband to finally end up in Tommy's arms nineteen years later?
What made you smile, however was the fact that he was still the same; he still smelled the same like he did before the same lingering smell of burnt cigarettes and alcohol, mixed with a strong scent of musk; his hands were the same amount of calloused and warm, and your hands still fit perfectly into his. You were sure his lips would too, but maybe that was a thing for another time. You wanted to enjoy this night, watching the film, as a family of three.
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Permanent Tommy Shelby Taglist:
@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @baumarvel @captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyfooky @buckyxreader99 @theflamecrystal @milea
Want to be added? Please ask, message or comment.✨
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crazy4myself · 4 years
Text
No Harm List Pt.4
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Word Count: 7.2k
Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy's life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.
Trigger warnings: DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK!! I really took my time with writing this, trying my hardest to convey these feelings without being triggering. I also tried to make it as comforting as possible, but if you are feeling a little anxious maybe save this fic for a better day. Mental health first!  
Additional warnings: mentions of violence, explicit language, mentions of death,
Genre: Romance, angst, violence, gang/mafia AU, 
Rating: 18+  (bc of mentions of violence there’s no sexual content)
<- Pt.3
"Hobi, I don't wanna be mad. I just wanna know the truth,” you pleaded, voice wavering. And that was the truth, you felt like you could care less if he was in a gang. It was Alcorn, you had to be in a gang to survive if you weren't rich.
Upon seeing your eyes water and your lip tremble, Hoseok instantly wished you would scream at him. He didn't want to hurt you. He didn't mean for it to go this far. For you two to get so close after his sister's death, or for him to lie to you for so long. He told himself he kept you out of it for your safety, but really it was just too easy for him to live two lives, for you to look at him like he wasn't a murderer and for him to pretend for a few hours that he wasn't. 
He sighed, sitting on the couch, and you plopped down next to him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. 
"I guess it's best to start at the very beginning, which was when I was around 16," he started. 
"I lived in the same neighborhood as these two guys RM and Suga. They had actually served some time for getting busted with another gang, the Dime Lions, they're long gone now but basically, some shit went down during some kind of gang raid, and RM and Suga ended up taking the fall for it. Instead of the Dime Lions busting them out of jail, they left them there and basically disowned them afterward."
You nodded along to let him know you were following. 
"Anyways RM and Suga, they had a rough start when they got out of the gang, both were bastards, street rats on the Westside they never had anyone to look out for them. So they did the only thing they could do at the time to survive, which was breaking it to cars and shit and cleaning them out. I don't just mean personal belongings of these guys took engine parts, piping, tiers they took it all, and sold it to any scrap shops they could find. At the time, I was working at my uncle's scrapyard. I knew RM and Suga when they were in middle school before they joined the Dime Lions. They stayed with the foster family that lived in my neighborhood. I knew they had been kicked out of the house and were basically living with the Lion's, so when I saw they were working alone, I got curious. For a year or so, I convinced my uncle to continue buying from them even when he started getting a little suspicious about the guys stealing. The guys knew I looked out for them, and we were cool for a while. Then my mom got sick," he paused for a moment looking away from you.
You reached out and placed your hand on his leg knowing how hard it was for him to talk about his mom and Dawon. 
Collecting himself, Hoseok went on, "So I asked for an in with the guys, I needed money and I knew cars. I could remove the parts more effectively than they could. I also knew some clientele who were always coming by and buying parts because they flip cars for fun, those guys were easy targets. So I guess the three of us were a little gang of misfits for a while, I used the money to help pay for mom's treatment. They used the money to survive.
Then we started taking some younger ones under our wing. RM and Suga got their own place and opened their doors to some kids in a rough spot like they were. But as we got bigger, we started getting sloppy. We had been at it for about a year at this point. The guys started taking on some other jobs, but I stuck to what I did best. I wasn't really interested in broadening my horizons. Like I said, we had been at it for a while, and I got cocky, I guess. We had a few scuffles here and there, but we always got out of them okay. Then one night, we got busted scraping a car at some guy's house, and he shot me in the leg, and the cops got me. RM ended up bailing me out of jail, and Suga, Suga got me a gun." 
He shifted in his seat and looked at you nervously, "I wanted out at this point, mom was basically on her deathbed, and I was all Dawon had. I couldn't risk going to jail, ya know. I owed RM money for bail, but my uncle got me a job as an actual mechanic, I thought I could earn money the honest way, pay them back and then Dae and I could just go back to our lives. But then the doctors told us about some experimental treatment that could possibly cure mom. How the hell could I pass that up? I would have done anything to help her get better." his brows furrowed as he tightened his fist into balls.
 "So I stayed. At this point, BTS was growing, it was an official gang, tattoo and all. We had recruited Jin, who came from money, he used some of his trust fund to fund BTS and help us grow, and RM was starting to get a little ambitious. He wanted territory, he wanted me to take the tattoo and be his third." Hobi squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sigh, he felt like he had to force the words out of him to confess his sins to you. 
"I told you Suga got me a gun after the arrest, and it ended up I'm a really good shot, so good I didn't even have to kill a guy for a long time. I researched where to shoot to keep someone down for a long while without it being fatal, so that's what I did. I worked a few more jobs for RM, we did a big heist. Actually, that was our big break. A team of six other guys and I broke into this old rich dude's mansion, nearly cleaned out his safe when we split the money most of the guys put a percentage into my pot. I walked out that night with almost enough to pay for mom's treatment in full. 
I told RM I wouldn't be his third, and he offered me an out, I just needed to take one more job for him, and he would pay out the rest of mom's bills, so that's what I did. I killed for the first time, and then I was free. I wouldn't have to do any of it again. Well, that's what I intended," he paused, his voice growing softer. 
You tried to keep your face neutral as he revealed the horrors to you. Not that it mattered Hoseok couldn't even bring himself to look at you.
"Mom ended up passing that night." he laughed, a bitter sound that felt foreign to the kind man you knew, "I swear whatever cruel god is out there pulling all the strings did it to punish me. To let me know, they saw what I had become and that I didn't deserve to have people I love in my life. I wasn't good enough to feel love in this world," 
"Hobi, that's not-" he cut you off with a bitter laugh as he looked upwards to hold back his tears. The motion made him seem as though he was searching for the fates he mocked. "Don't y/n, I know what I am,"
"Dae was a senior when mom passed, and it absolutely broke her. I had to fight to get her to go to school for those last few months. Hell, it was a fight to get her out of bed for her graduation. Her exit exams were a disaster, and the councilors at the college were understanding, for the most part. They still admitted her to the school, but not a drop of financial aid was offered to her. She deserved so much more," Hobi's voice was laced with bitter disdain, his eyes looking far off. 
"So I did everything I could to give it to her. I borrowed from Namjoon, enough to cover her entire admission at Alcorn University."
"Hobi, that's so much," you couldn't hold the comment in. It was near impossible for an ordinary person to buy their way into Alcorn if they didn't get scholarships, the tuition at the prestigious school was over $20,000 a semester for admission alone. 
"And I did it, I had Jin make up a fake scholarship for her, send her a cute little letter telling her about the award. She thought that she earned a full ride, and I let her believe it. I even borrowed enough so she would stay in the dorms, I figured it would be safest to keep her out of the house. I didn't know what kind of jobs RM was going to have me do."
"I took the tattoo, and killing became more of a normal thing for me. It started to get easier, I kept my distance and tried my hardest to not even see their eyes. 
There was a big turf war that year. I don't know, the city was on the brink of a recession, a lot of big players in the city were changing the rules of the game. Business owners fought to take down other businesses simply so theirs could stay open, the market was a disaster. I never cared about the politics of any of it, I just did what I was told, and because of that, I'm still not totally sure all I did that year. What lives I took. Who all I hurt. I did everything I could to forget those nights and the blood. I told myself I was doing it for a good reason, ya know. 
I didn't want to know, I thought I would save that for the day I'm standing outside of hell, and they list off every single one of my evil deeds before they sentence their judgment." Hoseok's vacant eyes started to shine with tears.
 "And that was the stupidest fucking thing I could have ever done. I had no clue who had it out for me, I had started feeling invincible. I didn't even consider that someone would want to take their revenge, I had killed Kim Martin Sr.'s son." 
Your blood chilled at the name, and he didn't look at you as he continued.
"He was some big business owner or something, I was supposed to kill him, but there was a mix-up, and I got his son, Kim Martin Jr. instead. Whoever made the call decided that killing his son was just as effective because the grief practically destroyed him. A few misguided stock investments, while he was grieving, crashed his empire. He lost everything and had to move to the Westside in the aftermath. 
Suga kept good tabs on the guy, but then he fell off the grid. We figured he left town or hell maybe he died. We didn't consider him a threat, he showed no interest in coming after BTS, so I didn't even think to keep an eye out for Dawon."
You felt hot tears roll down your face as you realized what happened. The media painted Martin as the bad guy. They accused him of losing his business after his son died due to extreme drug abuse. The city officials wrote him off as such a pathetic low life, that come the time of his death that his murder was barely investigated. It was simply declared a drug deal gone wrong. But he was a father, a father who lost everything to a hitman and wanted to return the favor. 
Hoseok believed he didn't deserve love. Whatever higher power that was calling the shots took everything away from him as punishment. 
You think of your best friend now long passed, her beautiful smile and contagious laugh. The way she could always read you and knew exactly what you needed, whether it be your favorite ice cream on your period or a trip to the botanical gardens in the middle of the night when she knew you were missing home a bit more than normal.
There was a loose glass in the greenhouse that hosted the plants native to your home. You would both scale the fence to the gardens late at night and push that glass panel in and carefully crawl into the greenhouse. The air would be filled with the floral scents you grew up with, and you would just walk the rows of plants and run your fingers over the velvet petals and waxy leaves. 
Until Dawon would play music, a playlist the two of you made of songs in your native tongue. You would dance around the humid greenhouse singing on the top of your lungs while Dawon would laugh and clap along, excitedly shouting with you when she recognized a word or two. 
You thought about the way you and Hoseok both carried a burden of guilt after she passed. Until now, you had felt like you failed her as a best friend and roommate. 
For three years, you had tortured yourself with thoughts like if you hadn't procrastinated so much on your assignments that week, you would have been home when she decided to make a late snack run. You told yourself the robber probably wouldn't have stopped her if you were together. You reasoned that two of you would have deterred her as a target. 
Or maybe he would have just shot you instead. Dawon would have recovered from the loss so much better, she had Hoseok to comfort her and family and friends to support her. You were merely an exchange student in a city with no morals, loved by no one, but taken in out of guilt by her brother. It would've been a better trade. 
You tortured yourself with these thoughts day and night consumed with feelings similar to survivor's guilt.
You never understood Hoseok's guilt, until tonight, you felt like there was nothing he could have done to make that night play out differently. But now you realize he could have anything, and it might have made a difference. 
"Y/n, I understand if you hate me," Hoseok said softly, watching the tears that dripped down your cheek as you processed everything he told you.
"I wanted to honor Dawon's wish. I didn't expect you to do so much for me, for you to become my best friend and for you to make me feel normal. I kept this from you because you were the closest thing to her I had left. There was a time where I thought I would distance myself from you when you moved out. That I would just become another hazy detail to the tragedy, and you would move on completely with your life, but y/n you were so sad, and you needed me too. 
When you moved out, I was terrified of something happening to you. I couldn't stop myself from checking up on you. I couldn't let us grow apart." Hoseok's voice broke off as you looked at him, the pain and betrayal in your eyes.
 "Y/n, you're the closest thing I have to redemption, protecting you, being your friend is the last thread of humanity I have left, I can't lose you," he pleaded. 
"You watched me blame myself," you whispered accusingly, your eyes shining with betrayal. 
"You watched me tear myself apart, and used comforting me to make you feel better about yourself?" 
He flinched at your words, "I tried everything I could to convince you there was nothing you could have done," Hobi argued feebly. 
"Everything but tell the truth," you hissed as hot tears rolled down your cheek. 
You got up as a sob escaped you, your face red and snot running from your nose. Hoseok stood with you, but you flinched away with a broken no.
 "I need time, Hoseok," you begged. 
You swallowed thickly as you did everything in your power to keep it together, "I don't want to hate you, but please, I need time to think about everything," you assured. Even knowing what he did, he was right. You needed him too. If you lost him, you truly didn't have anyone in the city who cared if you lived or died tomorrow. And maybe settling for that made you your own kind of monster. 
It was funny how he claimed such a tarnished person could be his redemption. 
You secure your bag to your shoulder, stepping out into the night air and pulling the door closed behind you. You couldn't even bring yourself to lock the door behind you, afraid that if you stopped moving for one second that you would completely break down and be unable to make it home. You only hoped Hoseok was smart enough to check the door behind you and make sure to lock it. 
You counted the stairs as you made your descent and into the parking lot, making an effort to take in your surroundings. You tried to list off the colors of the cars as you passed them, and while some distant part of you did the action, you still felt like the effort wasn't reaching whatever corner of your brain you were hiding in. 
You got a lot better with controlling your anxiety attacks as you made it further in college, even going as far as taking advantage of the university's free therapy sessions to get professional guidance in your junior year. You defaulted to your go-to grounding technique as your feet moved of their own accord to carry you home. 5,4,3,2,1 was an exercise that made you aware of your surroundings and tether yourself to this world when your mind felt a dimension away. 
The technique walked you through your five senses, making you list off 5 things you could see, 4 things you could feel, 3 things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. Even in your most anxious moments, you were a slut for making a good list. You always found this exercise more soothing than any breathing technique. 
Your eyes searched without really seeing as you tried to find five things you could see around you. Straining yourself to really take in your surroundings, you settled for a yellow fire hydrant, a car parked on the side of the road, a penny on the ground, a drainage inlet tucked into the curb, and finally your own yellow shoes pacing down the concrete sidewalk. 
You were going to be okay, you reminded yourself as you took an intentional breath. 
Next, four things you can touch, you focused on your breathing as you reached an arm out to graze your fingertips along with the rough brick of the building you walked by.
You shifted a little more with each step, concentrating on how the fabric of your clothes moved across your skin and curling your toes into the padding of your shoes. You didn't count each feeling, your wandering mind struggling to really take in each sensation, but you were sure you touched four things by now.
This was a mistake you often caught yourself making when counting down like this. Sometimes you were in such a rush to reach the end and get to one as if identifying one taste would magically make all your anxieties go away that you forget to take it slow and really center yourself. 
Three things you can hear, it was at the time, as you strained to let the world in through the all-consuming pounding of your heart in your ears, that you realized you were whimpering to yourself slightly. The awareness of your own vulnerability made you stumble as your mind spiraled, and you struggled to find something to tether you back to the earth. 
You began walking faster before realizing you're not certain you were going the right way. So you came to a halt, realizing you couldn't bring yourself to focus enough to take in your surroundings. You stared at the street sign for a long time, repeating the letters to yourself as you made them form a word finally settling on Gardenia. 
Your breathing hitched as you realized you had wandered off the main streets and into a neighborhood in your daze. You were lost, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about it, and the lack of fear flashed an alarm in your mind that let you know you were too far gone to count away your anxieties.
You struggled to breathe as you tried to come up with a decision. You needed to ground yourself to calm down. You needed to list off 5 things you could see, fourth things you could feel, three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. You knew the only way to bring yourself back to the world was to become aware of your settings. 
But it felt as if the part of your brain that knew all these things didn't even touch whatever part of your mind was controlling you now. You were better off giving directions to the light pole you stood under. 
You felt your breathing get harder as you desperately gasped in all the air you could. Your arms and legs began to tingle as your body over oxidized, and your head began to spin. 
Slowly you slumped to the ground, wrapping your arms around the light pole you had stopped under as you spiraled. 
What were you even doing before this moment? How did you even get here? You forced your eyes open wide, hoping the action would make you actually see and register what you were looking at to no avail. 
What were you doing, what were you doing, what were you doing?
You struggled to reign in your thoughts of your laughing best friend and her crying brother. Or was it your crying best friend and his dead sister? 
You were supposed to find three things you could hear. Your crying doesn't count. A more logical voice seemed to get through to you. 
You strained your ears to hear past your own breathing, you could hear a frog croaking in the grass nearby, you felt the earth beneath you to confirm you had in fact settled in a patch of grass. You smiled to yourself proud of your progress as you continued to listen as you continued to listen. You heard the electricity buzzing in the light pole you had wrapped your arms around, you felt almost childlike as you opened your eyes. Actually, seeing this time as you looked up at the pole, you were around. 
You needed one more sound, you strained your ears, expecting to be met with something like a far off car driving by. Instead, you heard your name being called. You blinked as you turned away from the street lamp and towards the repeating sound of a familiar set of syllables coming from a familiar voice. 
Jungkook jogged up to as he saw you curled around a lamppost. Even from a distance, he could see the rapid way your chest was rising and falling in that familiar chaotic rhythm he only saw when he found Taehyung or Yoongi having a panic attack. You looked up at him with a tear-stained face and saw the confusion of his presence take you off guard and snap whatever control you had over yourself. 
Your face crumpled as a sob broke from your chest, and you turned away from him and curled yourself around the light pole a little tighter. 
Jungkook felt such a rush of guilt and panic at the sight of you so broken that he ignored the dull ache in his knees as he instinctively fell down in the grass next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the cold metal pole, trying to position comfortably in his chest. 
Jungkook shifted as he uncurled his legs from beneath his body and stretched them out next to yours in front of him, trying to touch as much of his body to you in comfort. You didn't resist, but the jolting motions did seem to make you more upset for a short moment. Jungkook realized he forgot to ask for permission to touch you before he acted. 
He knew Tae preferred physical comfort to calm down, but sometimes it could act more as a trigger when unwelcomed. He loosened his grip hesitantly, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him closer to you in response. 
Physical contact is. He thought to himself as he began stroking one hand up and down your back and rocking you both side to side slightly as if he was trying to calm a baby from a tantrum. 
Which he basically was doing, you thought bitterly to yourself as you accepted the comfort.
You were too far gone to calm yourself down. You had ridden the river of upsetting thoughts that triggered your attack all the way down, and now you risked floating out to sea and losing yourself forever. Not actually forever, just until you would cry yourself unconscious and wake up to start anew. But you supposed accepting comfort was better than sleeping outside in a neighborhood you didn't know. 
Jungkook whispered to you, not the sweet nothings people typically say when they see people break down like 'it's going to be okay,' or most annoyingly 'breath.' No Jungkook simply told you, 'you're safe,' 'take your time,' 'you're stronger than you give yourself credit for' and in your case most importantly, 'exhale.' 
When people see you having a panic attack and hear the loud gasp you make as you fight to breathe, they instinctively tell you to breathe as a way to calm down. But it's your failure to let the air out that keeps your body over oxidized, making it harder for you to feel in control of yourself. 
Slowly, you regained control of your body, and your desperate gasps for air morphed into shallow panting. Your shallow breathing morphed into soft whimpers and sniffled. Jungkook held you as your continuous knit itself together, and you faced the pain your mind was so desperate to escape.
He rubbed you back as you let out soft sobs as you reopened wounds that had healed into jagged scars. You cried for Dawon and her undeserved death. For Hoseok and the guilt you knew, he carried every day. You cried for Kim Martin, who died at the hands of the killer that stole his son. You cried for yourself, over the fear of the future as you saw it grow intimately tangled with a notorious gang.
You don't know how long Jungkook waited as you reeled yourself back together. He waited long after you finished crying, knowing just because you had control of yourself physically didn't mean you were mentally ready to face the world, so he wrapped you in his warmth and hummed to himself as he rocked you both slowly. 
You loosened and tightened your grip on his shirt and curled and uncurled your toes as you tried to become more aware of your body. You were basically sprawled out on the grass with your upper body twisted and pulled into Jungkook's middle. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but you weren't willing to risk losing his warmth to move. 
You licked your lips, and the jarring taste of your salty tears pulled you from your self pitying thoughts, deciding to work your way up the list you once again started to count. 
One thing you taste, salt. 
Two things you smell: you inhaled deeply and took in the smell of laundry detergent that clung to Jungkkook's shirt. "Detergent," you mumbled into his shirt, and the sound of a coherent word leaving you made Jungkook's humming stop as he looked down at you, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest. He held in his chuckle as you stiffed the air again, and confidently said, "and grass."
You finally pulled yourself away from him only slightly to turn your face away from him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.
"I can hear frogs, cars nearby, and.. your heart," you listed as you looked up at him from under you thick lashes still clumped with tears, "it's louder than mine," you observed as you listened to the hammering in his chest. 
He was from a different kind of nerves. 
He recognized the countdown and realized you were working to ground yourself, "What can you feel?" he prompted eager to get you to move on from his pounding heart. 
"Your t-shirt, it's soft, the grass poking at me through my jeans, my bra digging into me" you wrinkled your nose as you became aware of the discomfort. 
"And?" Jungkook prompted. A smile curled your lips as you looked up at him mischievously, "You're abs," you giggled as you sat up, finally pulling away from him. Jungkook felt the heat crawl up his neck as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. 
"And what do you see?" he asked gently, looking everywhere but you. 
You smiled at his bashfulness as you look around, "I see the street sign, the green grass," you pause as you squint, "I think that's either a rock or some dog poop over there," Jungkook let out a startled laugh. You smiled to yourself proudly as you continued. 
"Our shadows from the street light, and,” you pause realizing how close the two of you are, "the little mole underneath your lip."
"Good," he whispered, and you watched in fascination how his lips formed the words, "Are you ready to get up now, or do you need a few minutes?" he asked. It was the way his mouth twisted into a smile at the end of the sentence that made you realize you were still staring at his lips. You blinked before looking up at his eyes, which was alight with a teasing glint. 
"I can stand," you answered, flustered as you pulled your body away from him. Maneuvering your feet beneath you to get up. Jungkook offered you a hand once he was up helping pull you to your feet, before bending down and grabbing your purse for you. Your feet still tingled in that pins and needles feeling. You wiggled your hands to wake up your fingers as well, but other than that, you felt like you recovered from the physical toll of the panic attack quite well.
"C'mon my place is at the end of this road, let me grab a car and drive you home," he offered. 
You walked with him obediently, your hands brushing past each other twice before Jungkook's hand finally snatched yours mid-swing; you looked down and watched as your fingers intertwined with his effortlessly. You looked to him to see a change in his expression, but he looked straight ahead as he walked, acting as if nothing happened. 
You smiled at yourself, thankful for the affection. You always did get a little clingy after panic attacks, relying heavily on skinship and the feeling of someone taking care of you as a way to feel calm. You were surprised how easy it was for you to let Jungkook fall into that roll despite barely knowing him. But you suppose in the handful of interactions the two of you shared, he's always prioritized your comfort and safety. 
"This is your house?" you asked as you took in the massive white art deco house behind the gate you stopped in front of. The gate buzzed and rolled open for the two of you of its own accord and rolled open for the two of you. 
Jungkook smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, kinda," he said with a shrug. 
You raised a brow, "kinda?"
"It's complicated, c'mon let's get you home," he said with a tug reminding you that the two of you were still holding hands. You flushed but followed obediently as you made your way to the garage. 
You squinted as your eyes were met with a flood of fluorescent light upon opening the door. A row of vehicles lined its way down the length of the garage, varying from sports car, to jeep, to a large black truck at the end of the row. A line of 4 motorcycles along the furthest wall. 
"J-Hope sells Namjoon a car any chance he gets," Jungkook chuckled as he took in your awed expression. 
"J-Hope?" you questions, and Jungkook's smile faltered.
"That's what we call Hoseok," he clarified. 
You nodded in understanding, "Like how Taehyung goes by V?" you asked, and he nodded. 
"Hoseok, does he sell drugs like V does?" you asked curious of what all Hoseok's gang involvement entailed.
Jungkook opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as the adjacent door slammed up from what looked to be inside the house, revealing a man in a black t-shirt with a mop of platinum blond hair. 
"There you are," he practically growled as he stormed in the room.
The man was dwarfed by Jungkook a good bit, but somehow Jungkook seemed to cower and appear smaller as the man approached, dropping your hand as if he were caught doing something he shouldn't. 
You looked at him curiously and wondered if he was. 
"Yoongi hyung," he greeted as he tried to force a smile, "I was just about to-" 
"Save it," he snapped, "I have half the army out looking for you, ya know," he turned his fury to you much to your surprise as he added "both of you." 
Your mouth fell open, shocked by the confusion apparent on your face as he continued, "Do I need to babysit both of you, because believe it or not, she's taking up a lot of my time. I really can't handle you getting flakey on me Jungkook, we need to know that you're safe," 
Jungkook looked down as he lectured, murmuring a small apology. 
"And you" Yoongi turned to you, "That goes for you too, the Black Tips are still on your tail, I can't do much for you if you go running off,"
"Hyung," Jungkook hissed. "Not now, please." 
Yoongi blinked at his younger in surprise, turning to you and making a point to really look at you, and take you in. Your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face, the way you seemed to lean into Jungkook. He recognized that far off look in your eyes like you had to concentrate on being present in the moment, and Yoongi remembered the warning in Hoseok's earlier message when he told him you had run out.
"Yeah, okay, get her home and come straight back when you're done, we still need to talk," he said dismissively. None of your questions were answered, but you didn't resist as Jungkook put a hand on your back and guided you towards a nearby car. 
"Good night, princess," Yoongi called over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. Unlike with Jimin, you felt like you were being mocked when Yoongi called you that.
"Who was that, your brother, and why did he say he needs to babysit me?" you questioned as you both settled into the fine black vehicle the windows were so deeply tinted on the outside you wondered if it was safe to drive at night, but upon getting in the car, you noted that you could see through the windows clearly. 
Jungkook waited until after he put the key in the ignition and backed out into the driveway before he started talking."That's Yoongi hyung or Suga, he's head of surveillance for BTS. He was the one who sent out a message to go escort you home when J– Hobi Hyung told him you were upset and left his apartment so late. I was on my way in that direction when I ran across you on our street," he said, breaking at a stop sign and turning on the blinker.
You looked out the window as you took in everything he's told you, noting that you were stopped again by the light pole you had a panic attack under. Suga was one of the original members in Hoseok's story. You thought to yourself as you connected the dots. Your head still felt a little foggy as you recovered from the literal mental breakdown. The sudden change of lighting earlier had started to make your head throb. You were ready for bed.
"Hobi sent people to look for me?" was all you could manage, not entirely understanding the emotions stirring in your chest. 
"Well yeah, I mean, I was supposed to escort you home after work, and you kind changed plans, so we had to roll with them. I figured Hoseok would have taken you home after everything, so I didn't wait around. And then when Suga did send out the message I didn't notify them that I found you it was dumb on my part," he clarified. 
You leaned onto the console between the two of you, propping your cheek upon your hand in a way that squished your lips into a slight pout. Jungkook tried not to stiffen as you got more in his space. Peeking down at you through his peripherals he saw your brow furrow as you processed everything. 
"Why do you care?" you finally settled on asking as you still struggled to pinpoint why so many people would be worried about your safety.
Hoseok, you understood, to a certain extent, you even understood why he called in the favor. He knew your patterns and signs, you were probably shouting you were about to have an attack with your body language as you walked out the door. He knew he could never comfort you, not when he was the trigger. What you didn't understand was why BTS would listen.
"Because you're still not safe, and BTS took responsibility for your safety when I did," Jungkook said, simply turning to look at you as he stopped at a red light. 
If you were in the right state of mind, such a comment would have triggered an immediate fight. You had been on your own for far too many years to suddenly need a whole gaggle of men to tend to you as if you were some helpless girl. You were a grown-ass woman. But you weren't yourself as you searched for a response in the fog of your mind. 
"You're not responsible for anything about me?" you said softly as you shifted to rest your hand on your chin. 
"Y/n what all did Hoseok hyung tell you?" Jungkook asked, confused, you weren't rejecting his protection, you just seemed oblivious. He assumed the cat was out of the back as soon as you learned what BTS was, who they were concerning you. 
"Just how he joined BTS as how he ya know," you stuck your pointer finger and thumb in the air making soft 'pew pew' sounds. You couldn't bring yourself to talk seriously about the subject. Too much of this night had been severe for your liking. 
"Y/n, you saved my life last week," Jungkook said, trying to look in your eyes and convey all his gratitude. You shifted under his stare.
"I wouldn't call it that," you murmured, turning away, "The lights green," you added flatly trying to turn his attention from you. He ignored you and placed a warm hand over yours. 
"I would, and because of that, I and all of BTS owe you a life debt. We want to protect you as best as we can, especially since you're not totally safe from the guys you saved me from," he emphasized. 
You looked up at him owlishly as you thought over everything he said. But whatever you were going to say died on your lips as a car honked its horn behind you. You both jumped startled, and the intensity of the moment evaporated slightly. 
After a few moments of silence, you decided he didn't require a response. You can't imagine you would give a correct one anyways. You looked down at your hand, his larger one still resting atop your own and turned your wrist quickly and intertwining your fingers.
You rode in silence the rest of the way home, and you were fighting your eyelids as you pulled up to your complex. 
Jungkook wondered if you always fell asleep in the car even with dangerous men. He wondered if that's why he never sees you take the bus at night.
"You really should consider living somewhere safer," Jungkook muttered under his breath as he shut off the engine.
You bit your tongue holding in several comments and gave a noncommittal 'mmm' as you unbuckled and stepped out the car to see he planned to walk you to your door again. 
You grew embarrassed as you climbed the stairs and scrambled to think of parting words dwelling on everything Jungkook had done for you that night, "Thank you," you finally forced yourself to say. Jungkook looked down at you as you came to a halt in front of your door. "For earlier, with the crying and the counting," you offered awkwardly your eyes looking everywhere but his as you breached the sensitive topic. 
"Oh, it wasn't a problem, really. I'm glad I could help" he laughed nervously, and you smiled, reaching for his hand before he could bring it to the back of his head, a nervous habit you were quickly picking up on him having. 
"I'm serious Jungkook, a lot of people freak out and make the situation much worse for me, and I get it seeing someone crying like that it's never an easy thing to react to, but you did—" you hesitated as you searched for the right words, "You were good, comforting." 
You didn't give yourself time to question it as you stood on your tiptoes, deciding to convey your gratitude in a way that your stuttering mouth wouldn't botch, and grazed a small peck aiming for his cheek. Unfortunately, the height difference and your own lack of balance had you landing more on his jawline. Jungkook gasped only slightly at the feeling of your soft lips on his jaw, the heat of your body radiating off of you in your nearness. You smiled at him again as you turned towards the door to unlock it. 
"Haha yeah, happy to hear that," he responded, his voice crawling in pitch as he ordered his heart to beat, and you gave him another warm smile as you pushed open your door. 
"Good night, Jungkook."
"Good night, Ella." 
Jungkook's face split into a grin as you closed the door, a hand reaching for his jaw and pressing against where you kissed him as if it would simulate the feeling. His steps seemed to bounce as he made his way down the concrete stairs and back to his car.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading please tell me what you think! Your comments make me eager to write more :)
Pt.5 ->
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jimkirkachu · 5 years
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If you don't mind me saying, you should keep playing the game because once you feel better (and you WILL feel better), it feels fantastic. Once you aren't depressed anymore, life is really great. You'll feel so strong and proud of yourself for how far you've come. You'll be very happy you didn't quit. I'm sure you have a hard time believing me, but that's okay, just think about it, okay? And remember, if you want someone to talk to, I'm here. Might take a few hours to answer because of work.
Thank you dear, you are truly a sweetheart and I very very very much appreciate your kind words and encouragement. 💛💙
Sort of relevant side story, in case somebody else out there could benefit from the information: I asked my doctor about 10 months ago if I possibly had bipolar disorder, because, as I told him (and I had my mother come in to talk with him too and act as a "witness" to my testimony), I occasionally (once every few months) have days where I feel like I'm in hyperdrive/warp-nine mode, and I get a million things accomplished and I feel unstoppable and like I'm bouncing off the walls. We talked about it for a good long while, and he eventually put it in these terms:
"You aren't bipolar. Your depression is just heavy enough--and it's been that way for so long--that your brain's perception of a 'normal' day mood-wise [holding his hand halfway down his shin] is way below the average person's 'normal' [holding his other hand up by his waist]. So when you have an actually normal day and you're in an average person's normal mood [both hands at his waist], you think you're being hyper or manic because it's so much more activity and adrenaline than you're used to. If you were bipolar, your high days would be way up here [holding hand near his shoulder], and they would probably be way more frequent. Instead, it's just that those days where you feel manic are how most people feel most of the time. Your brain is so accustomed to being way down here [first hand back down near the floor again] that it interprets an actual 'normal' as 'manic.'"
I think about that conversation at least once a day. I've had such severe depression--for decades now--that I had seriously all but convinced myself I was experiencing manic episodes on the one or two days every six months or so that I get to feeling hyper and confident and like I've accomplished things. What must it feel like to have that kind of day on the average, to feel basically okay (not particularly sad or happy but just neutral) more often than you have days where you feel worthless, unloveable, and like a complete waste of space? Unfortunately, I will never know. I've run the gamut of drugs, I've had all sorts of jobs and school schedules, I'm in therapy... and nothing has fixed me so far. And I'm still going, but ever since I had that conversation with my doctor, I've been trying to figure out how to truly accept the fact that even if I live/struggle/survive until I'm a wretched old 120-something, I will never know what it's like to feel happy/decent and productive on a regular basis. It simply isn't in my brain's biological capabilities, even with the crutches of counseling and prescription medication.
So... I'm still playing for now. But I have no idea if or when it might all just be 'game over' for me. Thank you so much, though, @yourea--stubborn--man , you are far, far kinder and more compassionate than I deserve. 🖖🏼💜
(I really am sorry to be such a downer on main, and to have been such a butthead here for the last few months. I just got my living will and POAs signed and filed last week, so I've been having even more morbid thoughts than usual lately. It's not an excuse, I know, but I'm hoping it paints a clearer picture.)
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