justmoreocs-writing
justmoreocs-writing
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Eddie saw the dark circles clinging beneath Belle’s eyes and wished there was more he could do to help her. Barely a week back in Hawkins and for him it was like nothing and everything had changed. On the one hand, seeing her had been enough to make the world stop. He wanted to tell her all those feelings that he’d previously tried to ignore; to admit the fear that had run icy fingers down his spine at the prospect of her really being gone. And part of him worried for once she might baulk at his honesty; that she needed the jokes to make things easier.
‘Have I got something on my face?’ Belle asked, hand straying to her lips.
‘No, shit, no,’ Eddie said hastily, forcing himself to look away from her. There were still times when it didn’t quite feel real that she was back. That for the first time they might actually have classes together.
‘Eddie?’
His breathing hitched ever so slightly. There was something about the way she said his name that he’d never quite been able to put his finger on. Some people made his name sound like a curse – for better or for worse; some of Hellfire made it so reverent it hardly felt like they were talking to him. But Belle Barrow almost made it sound like poetry. A song he’d never get tired of hearing.
‘When did you last sleep?’ The question tumbled out of him before he could think of anything else to say. His concern was easier to stomach when not looking directly at her, when he didn’t feel the urge to protect her quite as keenly.
#ocappreciation#A Knife's Edge#Drabble#Made By Me#Stranger Things OCs#Canon: Edward Munson#Claribel Barrow#Canon: Eddie Munson#Belle Barrow
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‘She’ll pull through,’ Alfred said firmly, resting a grounding hand on Teddy’s shoulder.
The young man, for once, tensed at the contact. He was grateful for his uncle, for everything he’d done for them, but right now he didn’t need that compassion. He needed A.J.’s indifference, needed her coolness at almost every situation. He needed her to sneer at him for worrying, even if she didn’t really mean it; he needed the balance that her personality offered to his. Not just because then it would mean she wasn’t injured, but because that’s what they had always done for each other.
‘She shouldn’t have to,’ Teddy said softly. He felt a stress headache building behind his eyes. Sleep lingered at the corners of his awareness and yet he refused to give in to it. Refused to rest when he still didn’t know how his little sister was. ‘I should’ve protected her.’
‘This was in no way your fault, Teddy,’ Alfred said firmly, allowing his hand to fall away from Teddy’s shoulder.
He was quiet as he carefully sat in the next chair over; Teddy wanted to fill the silence, and yet he couldn’t quite find the words. Rambling felt as though it were the wrong thing to do in the situation, and letting the guilt take over was something A.J. would have moaned at him for. Turning the conversation onto how Dick was also wasn’t a viable solution. So Teddy remained steadfastly silent as well, even though it ate away at him.
‘You know, your mother was very similar to Amy when she was younger,’ Alfred admitted softly. ‘Loyal. Determined. A little bit reckless.’
Teddy scoffed. ‘Doesn’t actually surprise me. She always was a bit like that though, I guess.’
‘Yes, I suppose she was.’
Silence settled uneasily between them, hanging there heavily in a way it never had done before. The memory of his mother, of how she’d run into danger to protect others, was so starkly familiar to what he’d seen A.J. and his friends do so often, it had been impossible not to draw parallels. Every time they did it, Teddy worried that it might be the last time he saw them. It didn’t matter that he trusted Lucius’s technology in the suits; trusted his own enhancements on them as well.
And after what happened to A.J.... There was no way the ghosts would leave him alone.
The door to A.J.’s room was pushed open, and the two men were up in an instant. Teddy felt his heart hammering against his chest, but deep down he truly believed A.J. would pull through it, like Alfred had said. Because no matter what, he refused to fully believe that the worst had happened. After all, that had always been A.J.’s job.
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Isaiah had never meant to find himself sitting in the Garrison at three in the morning, and yet when he’d mentioned the idea in passing Tommy had merely noted that Hal would be able to spend more time with his family. He hadn’t asked why, or reminded him that Lucinda Turner wasn’t officially a Peaky Blinder, rather fully part of the legitimate business and therefore no concern of his. Tommy had just accepted and moved on.
Isaiah took another sip of the whiskey he’d been nursing for the better part of an hour. It both baffled him, and seemed to make complete sense, that she still lived over the Garrison. Sure, there was always room with almost any Blinder for her – he was pretty sure the Brandons had a room specifically for her, and Tommy on Grace’s wishes. But –
A crash, and Isaiah was standing. He listened carefully to the quiet that followed, and could have sworn he heard a soft crying.
His heart tried to shatter, but he held it together as he flew up the stairs, careful not to stomp. Luce wouldn’t need his pity, and he knew better to offer it.
Luce’s door was familiar, and he knocked gently. The spare key he always kept with him dug painfully into his other palm.
‘Luce?’ he asked gently, the sobs louder now but still muted, as though she were trying to stifle them. As if she’d known tonight was one of the nights someone was there. Never a routine though, lest someone use it against them.
‘Lucinda?’ His heart thundered in his chest. Too many memories drawn to the front of his thoughts at her silence. Memories that shouldn’t have terrified him as much as they did. But Lucinda Turner had a way of burrowing her way into people’s lives. They were all testament to that.
‘It’s Isaiah,’ he announced, shocked by how steady his own voice was, ‘I’m gonna come in.’
He waited a moment, even if he didn’t want to. But she didn’t yell at him not to, so he opened the door and scanned the room.
It still looked too small to call home, but that had never mattered to her, and it wasn’t the most pressing observation. The duvet was off the end of the bed; the small chair turned upside down close to the wardrobe, and probably the cause of the noise.
Luce herself was curled in a tight ball beside the bed. Her head bowed, hands pressed firmly against her ears. Her knees were drawn too close to her chest to be comfortable. She was whispering through the sobs, words he guessed were Italian.
Isaiah took a single step into the room. Luce’s attention snapped to him, and in the diming candlelight he saw the fear in her eyes.
She didn’t recognise him.
She shook her head, said something, pleaded, as she struggled to stand on trembling legs.
Isaiah’s heart thundered. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but that terror had never been directed at him. And he hated it. Hated the realisation that one day it could happen. Their paths were so different. If he walked away now, they might both survive it.
But he couldn’t.
‘Lucinda,’ he said, forcing his accent onto every syllable as he moved into the room, hands raised to show he meant no harm. ‘I’m Isaiah Jesus. I don’t speak a fucking word of Italian. You once asked me to teach you to fight like a Brummie, and then a Blinder. I said no to the second.’
He finally reached her, and it scared him how small she looked. She trembled as she looked up at him, tears in bleary eyes that still seemed to find it impossible to place him.
Slowly, keeping his eyes on her, Isaiah knelt. Her eyes tracked him, and he could have sworn a little of the fear receded.
‘Luce?’ His breath hitched ever so slightly on her name.
She visibly swallowed. Another few tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Isaiah?’
‘You’re OK,’ he assured her, just before she collapsed against him. He held her tightly, felt her gripping the back of his waistcoat with a force that felt impossible. ‘I’m here.’
‘Can you stay?’ she whispered against his shoulder.
‘For as long as you need,’ he assured her as he gently smoothed her hair. ‘I’ll be right here.’ He just hoped it would be enough to keep the nightmares of the past at bay.
#ocappreciation#The Piccola Rossa Series#Drabble#Made By Me#Peaky Blinders OCs#Lucinda Turner#Luce Turner
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Sylvain nervously folded the corners of his napkin back and forth. Never before had he been so scared to see Lucinda. Never before had a business meeting held such gravitas for him. And yet they’d both insisted on this. They needed it more than anyone really understood.
In an attempt to eases his nerves, Sy contemplated the last time they’d properly seen each other. It had been on the docks, a goodbye that should never have happened. But he’d lied – and he hated to admit it, bribed – his way onto the boat. He had to fight for his country; do whatever it took to keep Luce safe. Even if at the time it felt like the worst decision. Her blue eyes had filled with tears, her lips trembled; she’d held onto him so tightly that he’d joked about cracking a rib.
He quickly dismissed the memory. That wasn’t how he’d wanted to remember his piccola rossa. It probably wasn’t what she’d want either. An adventure; the two of them exploring some new corner of London before everything went to hell. A trip –
‘Sylvain?’
Despite the softness of her voice, the complete disbelief, Sy tensed. For a second he found it impossible to turn. If he didn’t look around then the dream could never shatter. They’d remain two kids getting into trouble; not two professionals trying to broker a deal.
Luce, however, made the decision for them. She walked around the table and stood behind her chair, eyes never once leaving his face, searching for the lie. She was almost exactly as he remembered; though perhaps there was a slightly harder look behind her eyes.
‘Is it really you?’ she asked, voice reverently low as he jumped up to pull her chair out, as she sat opposite a little too heavily to be causal. She still couldn’t believe it.
‘The one and only,’ he said, trying for a jovial little smirk as he sank into his own seat. But the gesture felt hollow. There was too much to explain, to apologise for, on top of business… It was impossible to know where to start.
He motioned over a waiter. ‘Two mugs of your best chocolate, please,’ he ordered, for once cursing the Prohibition and the fact his meeting was being held in a legitimate establishment. For now, sugar would have to suffice. It might just be the beginning of a very long, and exhausting, afternoon.
But Luce was there, and to Sylvain that always made prospects a little brighter. He just hoped the feeling was still mutual like it had once been.
#ocappreciation#The Piccola Rossa Series#Drabble#Made By Me#Peaky Blinders OCs#Sylvain Alfonsi#Lucinda Turner#Giovanni Capretta#Luce Turner#Gio Capretta
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Lucinda Turner wasn’t quiet. She was the kind of person that drew attention to herself no matter what she was doing in a room. It wasn’t just her hair. It was the air of cheer that she seemed to exude, the sense of adventure that was magnetic in a way Isaiah couldn’t quite explain. But ever since she’d been taken, since Michael had saved her and Charlie, she’d seemed smaller. Seemed reserved in a way that terrified Isaiah more than he thought possible.
Ever since Hal’s arrest.
‘Luce?’ he asked softly, earning a start from her. Wide eyes snapped to look at him, a glint of fear behind them that unnerved him. ‘It’s just me.’
‘Yeah, of course,’ she said, but he could still see the tension in her shoulders, still saw the panic.
Isaiah carefully plucked a cigarette from his pocket and lit it before offering the book of matches to her. ‘Do you want to go for a drive?’
Luce gratefully accepted the matches and lit one. Her attention lingered on the flame, on the motion of the fire, before she shook it out and glanced back up at him. The pause before her answer was answer enough for him, it was a hesitation she’d never given before. For once, the outside world seemed to scare her.
‘I’ll be there,’ he assured her gently, crouching so he was eye level with her. ‘But we can –’
‘OK,’ she said softly, and yet there was still that fear behind her eyes.
The fear that Isaiah was sure, if Michael hadn’t already killed the man responsible for it, he probably would have done it himself.
#ocappreciation#The Piccola Rossa Series#Drabble#Made By Me#Peaky Blinders OCs#Lucinda Turner#Luce Turner
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Charlie’s Yard had always been a sanctuary for Luce. It was the place she tried to go whenever everything felt like it was becoming too much. And yet with Sylvain...
No, she had to remember that that was no longer his name. He’d carved a new life for himself elsewhere. A life that cut her out of it completely. He hadn’t even bothered to send her a letter, to explain. He’d thought she’d be disappointed with him for what he’d done. But how could she be? She’d seen the effects of the War on her brother. On her father.
She’d run away from London for the exact same reason.
But the unexpected reunion was too much even for Charlie’s Yard. She needed to go somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere where nobody was expecting information or a smile or anything from her that right now she couldn’t offer.
‘Luce?’ Stan’s voice was soft, but she still heard it over the noise of wheels from the train.
‘Sorry, miles away,’ she noted, looking towards him. Sitting opposite, Stan’s eyes seemed to survey her in a way she wasn’t sure was good for him. Least of all with everything else. Stanley Shelby had enough on his plate, without having to worry about her as well. ‘You ready for an adventure?’
There was the ghost of something behind his expression, and she knew that he was contemplating seeing how she was. But he seemed to swallow the instinct back, probably sensing that right now she didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t really want to think about Sylvain and the lies that surrounded their reunion.
‘Bit late to turn back now,’ he joked instead.
Luce offered him a wink and a small smile before glancing out the window. Perhaps getting out of the city was exactly what both of them needed to help with everything that had been going on.
#ocappreciation#The Piccola Rossa Series#Drabble#Made By Me#Peaky Blinders OCs#Lucinda Turner#Stanley Shelby#Luce Turner#Stan Shelby
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Hearing voices wasn’t normal, Belle had always known that, always knew that admitting Axel was back would only land her back where she’d started. But now the voice’s owner stood before her, a towering figure that might have been worrisome even without all the other connotations.
‘It’s good to finally see you,’ Axel offered, though there was something condescending about the tilt of his head; he looked down at her with a smile on his lips she didn’t like.
‘Who are you, Axel?’ she asked, feeling her heart beat a nervous tattoo against her ribs. Part of her hated him, hated the part he’d played in her moving away. And yet part of her couldn’t hate him. He’d made sure she wasn’t alone during the darkest time of her life.
‘A friend,’ he said, smile faltering ever so slightly; the barest hitch of his voice separated the words. ‘I’ll see you soon?’
It was pitched as an almost tentative question, and yet Belle wasn’t sure how much say she would have in another meeting. In his voice bouncing around in her head again.
‘Belle?’ Tey’s voice was sharp with concern, it pulled her attention over her shoulder.
And, unsurprisingly, when she glanced back, Axel was already gone.
With a sigh, she started back the way she’d come, towards her brother’s voice. ‘Right here, Tey.’
#ocappreciation#A Knife's Edge#Drabble#Made By Me#Stranger Things OCs#Claribel Barrow#Axel#Mathieu Barrow#Belle Barrow#Tey Barrow
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‘Why’d you do it?’ Eggsy’s voice was barely more than a whisper in the darkness, and yet I found myself shifting in the bed, trying to sit straighter.
He rested a cautiously gentle hand on my shoulder briefly. I stopped fidgeting as he took up the plastic seat beside my bed.
‘My partner was in danger,’ I remind him, grateful for the dim lighting. At least this way he won’t see my pulse beating a tattoo against my throat. ‘I had to do something.’
‘Not jump right into the fucking danger, Lil.’ His voice is harsh, and he forces himself to take a shallow breath. I hear it stutter slightly, but force myself not to apologise. I was merely doing my job. If I could’ve avoided injury, I would’ve.
‘You could’ve died.’
‘So could you,’ I remind him. ‘But neither of us did.’
Silence settled between us, for once awkwardly uncomfortable. We both know the other has a point, and yet neither of us wants to admit to it. Because the truth is hard, and the consequences of our actions suddenly mean so much more.
‘Perhaps this was a bad idea,’ he murmurs.
‘Which bit, exactly?’ I ask, hearing the defensive edge to my voice. I don’t mean to let it get to me, but after everything it’s impossible not to let emotion play some part in all this. ‘Letting me come along? Coming to see me? … Starting something?’
‘No,’ he assures me hastily, taking my hand carefully. ‘I ain’t ever gonna regret that.’ He speaks with such vehemence it’s almost impossible to question it. ‘Just maybe I should’ve waited until after we’d saved the world.’
‘World’s always gonna need saving,’ I remind him softly.
He gives my hand a squeeze. ‘You’re part of the world too though, Lillian Robinson.’
Despite the darkness, I shoot him a small smile I hope he can actually see. Maybe this thing was the worst decision we made, but I can’t say I regret it, and by the sounds of it, Eggsy doesn’t either.
#ocappreciation#Listen To Your Hart#Drabble#Made By Me#Kingsman OCs#Lilian Robinson#Canon: Gary Unwin#Lily Robinson#Canon: Eggsy Unwin
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‘Dick?’ A.J. asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe of the training room. His punches were too rhythmic for training, too forceful. They were punches she was far too familiar with. Though seldom from him. Where most of their circle held everything in, Dick Grayson was master at trying to get people to talk. ‘Richard?’
His punches faltered and stopped. He heaved a deep breath, she practically saw the muscles in his back moving.
A.J. felt her own irritation bubbling beneath the surface. She’d tried to quell it, but with Dick acting out of character it felt as though the world were ever so slightly off kilter. And she had no idea how to fix it.
‘What is your problem?’
Dick was in front of her in an instant. For once, she was acutely aware of the height he had on her. On how they both had to tilt their heads to actually look each other in the eye.
‘I thought you were going to die,’ he said, emotion barely leashed.
A.J. opened her mouth, closed it again, then swallowed. Her own grief had completely blindsided her to his. For months, she’d been a terrible friend. But she knew Teddy, knew Wally, had been there to help. That didn’t make up for it, but if had been the only way to stop the guilt eating her alive retrospectively.
Cautiously, she went to take a step back, but Dick gently caught her hands. Instinct, he didn’t even look, merely kept his eyes on hers. She saw the tears creating a film over the ever familiar blue, saw his jaw tremble before he spoke again, as if the words were being dragged from him.
‘I thought you were going to die.’
‘I didn’t,’ she reminded him, trying for a detachment that might help to ground him. And yet she heard the slight catch in her own voice.
The ghost of a smile flickered across his lips as the first tear rolled down his cheek. ‘No.’
A.J. shook her head before pulling Dick in for a tight hug. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead before hugging her back just as fiercely.
‘You didn’t die,’ he whispered into her hair, and A.J. wasn’t entirely sure which of them he was trying to reassure.
#ocappreciation#The Making of a Hero#Drabble#Made By Me#Nightwing OCs#Amelia Jane Kane#Canon: Richard Grayson#A.J. Kane#Canon: Dick Grayson
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‘Millie?’ River’s voice startled her attention away from the files she’d been poring over, and towards the young man she was beginning to see as a thorn in her side more than anything else. Today he wore glasses that could only make her think of Superman and his own awful disguise. And yet, there was something about the look, something that made her wonder if perhaps the comic writers hadn’t known exactly what they were doing with that. ‘Have you been here all night?’
‘No,’ she said defensively, hearing the heavy footsteps of Lamb upstairs. She’d hoped to get in and see him, and yet fear had stopped her. The truth of her arrival at Slough House was something she’d taken pains to hide. Getting sent there had been harder than she’d expected; and yet now she was there she couldn’t actually find the courage to do the one thing she’d wanted to: Have a proper conversation with Jackson Lamb. ‘Got in early.’
River quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ she said simply.
‘You’re not wicked,’ he said.
Millie groaned, turned her attention back towards the paperwork she’d been looking through. She didn’t want, nor need, his concern. There were still times when she couldn’t help feeling bitter towards River Cartwright. She’d worked her way into the business, had to earn the place she’d given up – which, in retrospect, was probably the stupidest way of going about it. In her eyes, River had had his job handed to him on a silver platter. He’d just then manage to screw it up.
‘I mean it, Midge.’
‘Don’t,’ Millie snarled, looking up simply to glare at him.
River held his hands up peaceably, but she knew he was trying to figure something out about why she was really in super early. There was no need for her to be looking at the paperwork, no need for her to be in the office where there were plenty of other things she could be occupying her time with. But Millie refused to let him know the truth.
‘Still better than my real name being River,’ she teased, leaning back in her chair.
River chuckled softly, leaning against the spare desk opposite her. ‘Not sure Mildred is, though.’
‘Oh, it totally is,’ she assured him. ‘I get an awesome witchy character to share my name with.’
A small smirk played on his lips.
Millie almost matched it, but quickly schooled her features into something more neutral. She liked working with River, she really did. But part of her still wasn’t sure what to think about him. How he’d react when the truth of her being there was revealed. And that uncertainty was something she hated, something that she’d only been able to cope with by pushing his buttons, trying to learn as much about him as she could before the bombshell of the truth hit and there was time.
She just hoped it wouldn’t ruin anything too much; though part of her had always believed it would. Not specifically with River, but with the whole team in one way or another.
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‘Hey.’
‘Go away, Heath,’ Mal said, forcing herself not to look up at him, not to properly acknowledge the shadow he cast across her.
‘You know that’s not happening, Mallory.’ There was a gentle teasing note to his voice as he settled on the sand beside her.
Despite everything, a small part of her was grateful he hadn’t simply taken her dismissal. She craved solitude, for once, but deep down she knew it wasn’t what she needed.
‘What if we’re stuck here?’ she asked in little more than a whisper. ‘Emie came home twice, but what if that was all the universe gives us?’
‘We’re not stuck,’ Heath said, though she couldn’t fully buy his words. His own wobble about everything was far too fresh in her mind. ‘We’ll get home.’
‘What if people don’t want to?’ It was one of those fears that she tried to keep bottled up, to suppress it as if that might suddenly make it not real. And yet everyone had seen someone. Not necessarily with good changes, but familiar faces.
Except for her.
‘We’ll get home, Mal,’ Heath vowed, earning her curious gaze.
She could see the conflict in his eyes, and yet there was a determination beneath it too.
‘You’ll be complaining about Emie and wedding stuff before you know it.’
Mal scoffed, absently rested her head against his shoulder. ‘I hope you’re right this once, Buckland.’
He gently tickled her side as he wrapped an arm around her waist. ‘It’s been known to happen sometimes, Thompson.’
She merely nestled into the comfort of him a little more, wishing she could buy his words, even if only for a few minutes before something else shattered the calm.
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Cece had always tried to keep hatred at bay. It was a feeling that did very little to help with anything, and her father had always joked that it gave their family indigestion. She’d never bought into that story, but she agreed that it wasn’t a good feeling. And yet, in recent years, Thomas Shelby had done more than enough to earn her ire.
‘Ce?’ Hal asked softly, drawing her attention away from her toolbox. ‘What’re you doing up?’
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she admitted, resting an absent hand on her swollen belly. The baby’s due date was still a few months away, but she worried she’d only just got used to knowing it was there. How strange would it be after they were born? ‘I was... thinking.’
Hal pressed a gentle kiss on her temple before dropping to sit on the other side of the sofa. It had been a long time since the two of them spent a quiet night in, and she carefully rested her feet on his lap.
‘Thinking’s dangerous,’ he teased softly, gently rubbing her feet. ‘What’s on your mind?’
Cece sighed contentedly, trying to push aside the darkness of her thoughts. Thomas Shelby didn’t deserve her time. Her unborn child, on the other hand, and her husband, deserved all the time she could give them.
‘I’m excited to meet our baby,’ she told him softly. There was only the briefest stutter in Hal’s massage, but it was enough for her to notice. Enough to have her moving so she could hug his arm. ‘You’re going to be a fantastic father, Henry Brandon. Don’t ever doubt that.’
Hal pressed a soft kiss to her temple. ‘And you a fantastic mother, Cecily Brandon.’
#ocappreciation#The Piccola Rossa Series#Drabble#Made By Me#Peaky Blinders OCs#Cecily Hawthorne#Henry Brandon#Cece Hawthorne#Hal Brandon
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‘Remind me again,’ Eliza said in an irritable whisper, arm carefully threaded through Alex’s, ‘why this is necessary.’
He chuckled softly, earning an irritable glare from her that he completely ignored.
‘I’m serious,’ she hissed, quickly looking towards a flash. It wasn’t some weapon deploying, but rather a camera. The photography teacher had set up a booth near the entrance, grinning as each new group stepped in front of him.
‘I know,’ Alex assured her seriously, though she could have sworn there was still a spark of amusement in his eyes.
Eliza moved to pull away, but Alex put a gentle hand on top of hers. She glared at him, grateful for the way her heels brought her closer to eye level with him. Not that it seemed to bother Alex in the slightest.
‘Just for today,’ he said, an almost pleading note behind his voice that gave her a moment’s pause, ‘just try being a kid?’
Eliza humphed as she steeled back into place beside him.
‘If anything happens –’
‘You can go full Elizabeth Moriarty on it.’
‘Good,’ she conceded, glaring around the school gym, wondering how long, exactly, they’d have to wait for that moment to arise.
#ocappreciation#Unexpected Partners#Drabble#Made By Me#Alex Rider OCs#Elizabeth Moriarty#Eliza Moriarty
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The common room was alive with noise; people were cheering and singing songs that seemed to be being made up on the fly. Laughter came in bursts of joy, recounts of the match that seemed different to everybody who had seen it. However, amongst the noise and celebrations, Hope had realised that there was one person who appeared to be taking a backseat. The fact the twins hadn’t collared him was a testament to just how deep in his own thoughts he was lost.
‘I might actually start telling people we’re related again,’ Hope teased, sidling up to Oliver as she forced herself through the crowd. Most people were spending time with Harry, with the Chasers. She guessed Ollie’s bad attitude was putting them off commending him for the team he’d trained.
Oliver gently nudged her with his elbow. There was a spark of pride behind his eyes, but she knew he was still thinking about everything. He was taking the match apart rather than celebrating with the others.
‘Only works if I say you’re my little sister, too,’ he said, before gently pulling her into a side hug. ‘We might just win this year.’
Hope wrapped her arms around her older brother’s waist and gave him a squeeze before extracting herself from him. ‘That we might.’
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Hal surveyed the young man carefully and wondered what he might have done in the same situation. It was difficult, given his own tumultuous feelings towards his father. But he guessed he could understand rage. He could understand, he supposed, if Giovanni – Hal refused to use his old name yet – decided to take action against him for killing his father. All he could hope for was that he’d not take too deep of a revenge; that Hal would still be able to see Joanie growing up because he couldn’t leave her or Cece. He’d fight that fate if he had to.
‘He was going for Lu?’ Gio asked in barely more than a whisper, eyes trailing to where the young woman was talking to Isaiah. Hal wasn’t entirely sure why she was there, but he supposed it was more for his benefit than the ghost from her past.
‘Like a dog with a bone,’ Hal said simply, recalling the way Mr. Alfonsi had blamed her for what had happened to his son. To the son now standing in front of Hal as if nothing had happened at all. ‘If I hadn’t –’
‘Thank you.’
Hal’s brain stalled for a moment, the words weren’t what he’d been expecting. Not at all.
His shock must have been obvious, because Gio shot him a small smile; there was something else behind the look, but Hal couldn’t exactly place it.
‘I spent years trying to protect Luce from Dad,’ he admitted. ‘The people he was with either wanted her to join the gang, or to eradicate a problem. I...’ He heaved a breath. ‘I was terrified when I didn’t come back that something would happen. But I think dying protected her.’
Hal carefully chewed on the inside of his cheek. Part of him thought the young man was right, but he also knew the impact the letter of death had had on Luce. If he’d returned home, she might never have found her way to Birmingham – least of all alone. She’d never had been caught up with the Shelbys.
‘So,’ said Gio, ‘thank you for protecting her.’
‘Always,’ Hal vowed, knowing that it was the truth. Luce was kin now, and he’d do whatever he could to make sure she was safe. No matter how difficult she made that sometimes.
#ocappreciation#The Making of a Hero#Drabble#Made By Me#Peaky Blinders OCs#Henry Brandon#Sylvain Alfonsi#Hal Brandon#Giovanni Capretta#Gio Capretta
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The cafeteria was a mess of noise, so much sound never really felt possible and yet it always seemed to surprise Mia no matter how many times she dared step foot in the place. But Belle had needed food, and a sly smirk had lit Robin’s face that was impossible to ignore.
‘King of the freaks,’ came a cheerful jeering voice, and instantly Mia’s attention shifted to Belle. A small smile was growing on her face, something almost shy about it.
‘Yeah, some things never change,’ Robin said, and Mia glanced towards Eddie. Despite the chaos of the canteen, his gaze lingered momentarily on Belle as he lowered his hands from his head.
‘I think Tink knows that,’ Mia teased softly, glancing back to Belle. A slight flush had flooded her cheeks as she looked to Mia.
‘Cafeterias are the same everywhere,’ she noted dismissively. ‘Please tell me the food improved though.’
Robin chuckled, slung an arm over her best friend’s shoulders. ‘Of course it didn’t,’ she said, gently guiding Belle towards the line. ‘But I don’t think we’ll get scurvy.’
Mia scoffed, glanced briefly back to Eddie. Perhaps Robin’s decision for the detour rather than sneaking off campus for food wasn’t such a bad thing.
#ocappreciation#A Knife's Edge#Drabble#Made By Me#Stranger Things OCs#Ximena Moreno#Canon: Edward Munson#Canon: Robin Buckley#Claribel Barrow#Mia Moreno#Canon: Eddie Munson#Belle Barrow
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‘Murder?’ Cali asked, arching an eyebrow at Jamie. Part of her knew he was telling the truth, though she didn’t know why. And yet part of her rebelled at the accusation, simply because it was too much.
‘I know it seems crazy –’
‘Good.’
‘– but I’ve seen it.’
Cali’s insides flipped at that admittance.
‘We can stop this. It’s what Pippa was trying to do.’
‘And we’re in a better place to succeed?’ For once, there was a hint of incredulity in her voice that she couldn’t help. ‘Reeve’s an officer. He could –’
‘He was there.’
Cali shook her head, refused to accept those words even though she heard the apology in Jamie’s voice.
‘He didn’t do anything.’
‘That’s almost worse,’ she said, voice hollow. Her thoughts tried to stray to how much her best friend had changed. How jittery he’d been when she boarded. There were too many things to question. Too many distractions.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she hastily said, not needing any more reassurances. It was a bridge she’d cross when she next saw Reeve. ‘What can we do?’
Jamie offered her a small, grateful smile. She just hoped they wouldn’t regret what they were about to do. But, that they’d live long enough to maybe get the chance to, at least.
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