#Its like the dark shadowy place im not supposed to go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

orionwhispers · 4 years

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Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!)

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart.

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can��t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #orion writes

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aaudace · 3 years

Text

art of loving on

pairing: sam wilson x ava rhodes

word count: 2.5k

notes: the fact that im super late on posting this says a lot about me, so lets just pretend that its still thanksgiving. okay so i know that the title is cliche and this might flop big time, but i wanted to do something a little different besides simply posting gifs. im a sucker for reading sappy one shots so I decided to make my own. this is part one of my holiday one shot series. enjoy!

If you were to ask Ava Rhodes how she felt about the holidays, more than likely she would give you a whole monologue on her hatred for it.

Call her a Scrooge, but her love for the holidays had faltered a year ago after she lost the one thing that was considered a gift to her. Losing the one thing that brought her peace was the last straw that broke her to pieces. Her patience for the holidays had changed dramatically. No longer had she been longing for the joyous laughter and loving smiles that the goodwill season brought along.

Instead with every waking moment, she dreaded it.

However, for at least the next few hours, she had to throw away her personal thoughts about jolly holiday and put on a facade. Her face no longer carried a cold hearted look, but instead her cheeks were burning red with joy and laughter. Although she hated herself for it, the Rhodes girl would volunteer herself to help at the Veterans Affairs Office that was a couple blocks from her apartment.

Even though it pained her dearly to sit through hours of hearing individuals explain their gratitude and compassion for the season, a part of her felt like the peace that she lost was there with her when she volunteered. Before he died, her boyfriend Marcus would spend hours in the exact building that basically became a formulated routine of the two of them each holiday season. The one thing that Ava missed the most about him was his passion for helping others. Her heart sung with joy as she watched him go above and beyond for each individual that walked through the doors. He had a way with words that made people feel good about themselves. Whether you were the poorest individual or the richest, Marcus was willing to do whatever it took to bring the best out of you. At least that’s what he did for Ava.

God, she missed him.

But she managed to put on a brave face as she stood in the same position that he did before. Her mind and hands had been tied up in many things. For the first hour of her time, she served food to individuals that came by the office. Usually within the first few minutes, the small building was packed from the outskirts. So this kept her mind busy. The few next hours, she spent entertaining the elderly veterans with card and board games. The first hour was pretty easy for her, but soon afterwards, she came to the realization that card games and grown men didn’t really mix as well as she thought. Bernard Chapman and Arthur Wilfred, two regulars at the VA did not really understand the concept of a friendly competition. One minute, she was showing one group how to play Connect Four, the next she found herself in the middle of a brawl that involved childish name calling and sailor swearing. This also kept her mind busy.

And now, with time being the thief that it was, she found herself in the banquet hall that once housed thousands of individuals that came from different walks, cleaning up the remainder of the trash that was left behind. Although the help that she once had offered to stay behind and help, she ushered them out of the door. She didn’t mind doing the clean up part. Out of everything, that was the easiest to her. In other words, it kept her mind busy.

As she cleaned off the tables, a sigh escaped from her lips. The silence that had once inhabited the quiet space had come to halt at the creaking sound of the doors being pushed open.

She figured it has been one of the volunteers, Marge coming back to help her out with the clean up. Marge had been one of Marcus’ favorite volunteers to work with. Her sass was nothing compared to what he put up with at home with Ava, however, it was her golden heart that made her stand out. She was different from other volunteers. Marge had been working for the VA office for years after her husband passed away. For her, this place had been a sanctuary of peace. Just like for Ava. Marge had become family for Ava. She was the only person that knew her the way that Marcus had come to know her. Maybe that was the reason why Ava was able to remain stable throughout her time of volunteering.

“Marge, how many times do I have to tell you,” Ava yelled, placing her rag onto her shoulder. She didn’t bother looking up at the entrance way because she knew looking into the eyes of the shameless woman would only make it hard for her to say no to her. “You know, one of these days you are just gonna accept the fact that no means no.”

The sound of footsteps echoed across the room as they began to move closer and closer towards Ava directions. “I swear, sometimes I wonder how Marcus dealt with you. You are worse than me. And sometimes I can’t even stand me....”

At this point, Ava turned from her duty to look up at the shadowy figure. Her green eyes widened as she realized that the body figure didn’t quite match up to the petite figure that Marge had. Instead, it was made up of bicep muscles that hid under a dark leather jacket. Her mouth opened to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. In fact, the only thing she could say was, “Uh, um—”

“Just so you know, Marge was on her way back, I just managed to convince her to go home,” the man said. He moved a little closer, covering the large gap that stood in between them. “I swear, she reminds of someone that I know. Someone that’s kind of feisty, blunt, and can be a little sarcastic at times. Sometimes a little too much, but we are working on that.”

Ava rolled her eyes, “I think the key of life is getting your point across. And there’s nothing wrong with my sarcasm. Some people just don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Or sometimes you can be a little too harsh and you aren’t willing to admit that.”

“If it makes you happy,” she scoffed. “I managed to put away my sarcasm and trade it in for joy and cheer for the day.”

“Atcha girl,” he laughed. “Look at you turning over a new leaf.”

Ava smirked at him. She loved the idea that he was proud of her. It had been a while since she had felt like that before. “But, now that the day is over. I’m putting it back on and I am now returning to my normal sarcastic, feisty, blunt self. Ah, it’s good to be me again.”

All the man could do is sigh and return a small chuckle as a response. Ava smiled back a little. “But besides my issues, what are you doing here, Sam? It’s the holidays, you are supposed to be spending time with family.”

As she said this, she moved past him, focusing on the last of the table that she had to clean. The smell of fresh lemons brushed against her nostrils as she squirted the bottle of cleaning supply that had been resting in her waist apron. One thing that she loved the most about cleaning the VA office was the vast amount of cleaning products they stored. She really couldn’t her finger on why exactly she enjoyed them so much. She just did.

Maybe it was the idea that each of them held a fragrance that held a sentimental memory in her mind. Like the one that smelt like an island breeze reminded her of the time Marcus cleaned up after a man who accidentally spilled his carton of milk on the floor. It had been a slow holiday at the VA office that day. Although the man was generous enough to help Marcus clean up the mess, it was Marcus that had been too caught up with everything that he forgot to place the warning sign for the place that he mopped and managed to slip. That holiday, Ava spent the majority of the night cracking jokes as they occupied the waiting room of the hospital for Marcus’ broken back. The one that smelt like flowers reminded her of her first time volunteering at the VA office. She and Marcus had only been dating for a couple of months. As part of getting to know him better, he invited her to see what he considered his safe haven. When he wasn’t dealing with police business, he would spend his Saturdays, encouraging other veterans who had been down on their luck. Ava would later find out that his dad was the reason why the place even existed. New York only had a few VA offices, but there was nothing like the one that stood on the corner of Baldwin Avenue and 2nd Street.

The one that she loved the most was the one that smelt like lemons. That one was his favorite.

“I could ask you the same question, Ava.” Sam said. She didn’t bother to stop cleaning. “Mariah called and said you didn’t want to come over for Thanksgiving dinner. She said something about you being sick. But knowing you like the back of hand, I knew that wasn’t true.”

Ava laughed a little. She had totally forgotten about the little white lie she had mentioned to her friend earlier. Mariah Riggs, her best friend, was known for doing the most of the holidays. In fact, she’s so much into it that she basically starts all of her planning in the summer. The summer for Christ’s sake. “Well, I was sick, but after a little while I started feeling a bit better. It’s no big deal, I’ll call Mariah tonight and tell her the truth.”

“Which one?” asked Sam. “The truth about you not being sick or the truth of the real reason why you continue to hate the holidays.” At this, Ava stopped her motion and turned to look at him. “Ava, I understand your reasoning, but you can’t keep—”

“Sam, can we please not get into this? I really don’t have the energy.”

He sighed. “Ava, avoiding the topic will only make it worse. You can’t keep burying yourself in this hole of hurt.”

“I am fine, okay,” she spoke, her tone turning a bit harsh. “I just don’t understand why everyone is so concerned. Why is it a crime that I hate this time of year?”

“Because when Marcus was alive you enjoyed it.” Her heart sank. Even though it was unspoken for the two of them, Ava didn’t like it when other people brought up the issue of her dead boyfriend. Usually, her reaction was cold and she was ready to fight the first person in sight. However, Sam never really brought it up before so she really did not how to react. She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. “Marge told me that once upon a time, you were in love with the holidays. Now all you do is make any excuse to get out of anything festive just so you could stay locked up in your apartment. I can’t even get you say one good thing about the holidays.”

Her green eyes begin to water. She cursed at herself for even allowing herself to feel any type of vulnerability. He continued, “You don’t think when I signed up to be your boyfriend that I wouldn’t be prepared for these moments. Babe, you and I are a team. You have to let me in. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

He had a point, but Ava really didn’t want to admit that. However, the tears that streamed down her face said something else. The pair had been together for a little over a few months. And even though they seemed compatible, the thought of them getting closer scared Ava. If she was being honest, she was terrified when her heart started developing feelings for him. She was terrified when he asked out on a date. And she had been feeling this way for a hot second, but ironically, she was terrified of even bringing it up.

The silence stood in between for a moment. Sam stood in front her, his heart beating out of his chest. The longer she stood in silent, the more nerve wracking it became from him. The few months of dating Ava had its moments of challenges. But it also had its rewards. Even though she was tough, she had her moments to where she brought out the good in him believe it or not. And that was something that wasn’t easy. But she did it. And as someone who cared and loved her, he was willing to do whatever it took to do the same for her.

“I-I am scared that one day, I’ll wake up and you won’t be there for me.” Ava spoke, finally popping the bubble of silence. “I am scared that if I let my guard down, life will take away from me. Just like it did for Marcus. Sam, I want to let you in — I really do, but I am just tired of—”

Her words were cut off by the touch of his soft lips on herself. He placed his hands onto her waist, pulling her a little closer to him. Ava didn’t remember exactly when it happened, but sudden her hands were wrapped around his neck. Even though he was a couple inches taller she didn't have to stand on her toes, the heels of her boots did that job for her.

When he pulled away from her, he looked into her eyes and spoke, “Ava, it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than just life to keep me away from you. I am not going anywhere.”

“You say that, but what if—”

“I am not going anywhere, Ava.”

“Okay, but —”

“I could do this all day, Ava. I am not going anywhere.”

She rolled her eyes. As she pulled away from him, she wiped her face from her tears. Maybe life did have a way of giving back. And even though, life had gave her shit for her whole entire existence, maybe in some universal designed fate, life was giving her the gift of love again. And his name was Sam Wilson.

“Well, if that's the case then just know that since you are linking me to you forever, that doesn't mean I’ll go easy on you, Wilson.” she said. He shook his head and laughed. Maybe he was right? Letting him in couldn’t be such a bad idea. “I am known to be pretty grouchy in the mornings when I don’t have my coffee.”

“Noted. That's why I stack up extra coffee beans back at my place.” he laughed. “I love you.”

She kissed his cheek. “I love you more.” He smiled at her. Before she could say anything, he walked over a table just across from them. She didn’t realize it earlier, but he had a big brown bag that he propped on the table.

He placed the bag on the table that she finished cleaning. “So since you really didn’t get a chance to properly celebrate Thanksgivings, I figured I would bring a piece of it to you.” he said. He pulled out two plastic containers along with utensils. “Marge told me you like pumpkin pie, so I managed to get the last two pieces from that diner up the street.”

She laughed. From that moment, she made a mental note to take the time out to thank Marge for the many facts that she managed to learn about her. “Marge knows me well.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Ava. Here’s to many more holidays together.”

“Cheers to that.”

#a marvelous holiday #sam wilson x oc #ava rhodes #otp: love after war #damage control series #sam wilson fic #sam wilson au #marvel au #my edits #my writings

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alkali-is-sleeping · 3 years

Text

The Dog Star 2

[cw: some shouting, anger, could be triggering for some]

If my little brother — a Death Eater who made Walburga, our mother very proud — had not gotten himself killed at the hands of the Dark Lord, I most likely would not have inherited my family’s home. Twelve Grimmauld Place loomed below us. The House of Black had never been welcoming, but I needed to make this Hari's home; its needed to welcome him.

I revved again as we made our descent, careful to make sure that Hari was still safe as we landed.

But there was a shadowy figure at the door. I wrapped Hari with my jacket, separating his sleepy head from what may lay ahead, panicking at the thought that he may be taken from me, or worse...

I neared cautiously, I daren’t say fearfully, my life had overflown with it for too long and I needed my courage more than ever now. The closer I got, the more I became certain that this was someone I knew, but the pressing fog in my head made it impossible for me to say who until —

Fearful amber eyes turned to me, lowered on the slowish breathing lump in my jacket and glistened under the light of the street lamps and the stars — I was named after the brightest one — and the no longer full moon.

Remus teared up more and more the closer I drew. He reached his hand out, once I was near enough, as if to touch Hari, but retracted it just as quickly, thinking better if it.

I did not want to let go of the baby. He was a lifeline then, keeping my head over water, stopping me from drowning in the grief and the mess and the truth and —

Remus had always been the best at gauging my emotion, my confusion radiating to him perhaps, permeating his ever calm demeanor, telling him that my hands and this baby were, at least for now, surgically attached. He tapped his wand to the door causing it to clunk painfully through the soundless night, and pushed it for us all to get in.

He lit the fire in the drawing room, all the candles and lamps and eventually took to standing in a far corner of the room staring at sleeping Hari, occasionally wiping his eyes with his tatty jumper sleeve.

“W-why didn’t you tell me you weren’t the Secret Keeper?” I started at the sound; it was the first voice I’d heard all night aside from Hari’s cooing and babbling.

I lifted my eyes to Remus’s; red and bloodshot, just like mine probably.

“Forgive me... we didn’t think we could trust you... Voldemort had so much he could have offered you in exchange for...” I gulped. The mistake I had made, it cost my best friend and his wife their lives and I could hardly bring my self to telling Remus.

“I went to Peter’s hiding place,” I continued, “I was supposed to check if he was still ok, but he was gone. No struggle, nothing to suggest he left against his will even... it was my idea to make him Secret Keeper...” I whispered the last bit, tears rolling down my own cheeks, landing on Hari’s little blanket.

Remus hurried next to me, wrapping his arms around me and the baby, his tears mingling with mine.

“No one blames you,Sirius. Peter, well he...”

“Talentless rat,” my voice filled with anger suddenly, burning and smoking just like the Potters’ cottage... “Must have been his proudest moment, selling out his friends and their baby son...” I sobbed drily. “Lily was pregnant again... she and James told me last week, while you were recovering from the moon. They were going to tell you, once you were better and... and...” I trailed off. I didn’t want to stop talking, not when there we’re still so many truths wanting to get out, squirming and rioting in my stomach. I wanted to let them all out, to talk and talk until this was all a distant memory. But Remus’s eyes. His eyes were wide and they had stopped leaking. They were staring at me and for a second — perhaps it was my own paranoid mind, perhaps I imagined the contempt — he did blame me.

I think he was going to say something else before the fire had glowered iridescent green. We both took out our wands and and stood abruptly, Remus in front of me, me covering Hari. Ready for the worst.

A purple wizard’s hat, followed by a great mass of flowing silver-white hair which hid a benevolent old face and then the rest of the purple clad body. Dumbledore.

"I thought I might find you all here." His voice, a seemingly perpetual tone of casual amusement, irked me. My best friends were dead and he had the nerve to stand in my house and tell me, matter-of-factly, he knew he'd find me here? "I'd asked Hagrid earlier tonight to bring young Hari to me," he said, sitting, uninvited, on the nearest armchair. I was shooting daggers at him, but he seemed not to care, looking only between Remus and the baby I held. "But by the time he got there, the baby was gone, taken, the locals told him, by a man in a leather jacket and a flying motorbike... I knew, instantly of course, that his godfather must have taken him to safety."

I shifted my feet uncomfortably and redistributed Hari's weight in my arms. Why was Dumbledore here? What did he want?

I looked at Remus, who was in turn looking at Dumbledore, who was finally looking at me.

"I'm not sorry," i said, chin lifted in the airin defiance, daring him to make me apologise for having gone against his will.

"No one is asking you to be bu--"

"And I am not giving him to you."

My interuption was punished by silence, broken only by a dry cough from Remus. Dumbledore's eyes, bright moonstone, penetrating to the depths of my soul...

"Sirius, from what I gather, as Hari's guardian, you wannt what is best for him. However, you do not seem to have the full measure of things," Dumbledor was now making a dome with his hands, leaning forward on his seat. "I have good reason to believe thathis mother's sacrifice, Lily'sbloodshed for her son, has formed an unpenetrable protection on Hari. This is little understood magic, magic which is the sole reason Hari got away from Voldemort's attack with only a scar."

It was his turn to shoot me daggers; he most likely didnt mean it, but his gaze made me want to run and run. I didn't want to hear about what really happened, I'd seen enough, endured enought, I did not want anymore.

But he did not care, he kept talking, telling me everything, feeding me more and more dark, worm like truths.

"This is why i believe Hari needs to live with his aunt and uncle, blood relations of Lily's." I stared.

"WHAT?!" I bellowed, unable to control the sudden influx of anger bubbling over the surface. Hari woke at the sound, fussing and sqirming. remus made to take him from my grip, but I pushed him away, making him nearly-stumble back,eyes wide.

I rocked the baby slowly, allowing him to ease back to sleep.

Instead, I took to a menacing whisper; "You mean to send him to live with Muggles? People who dont even know him? Did you know Lily never wanted him to meet Petunia and..." I struggled for a name, "Whats-his-face? You want to send him to a place where, perhaps for most of his life, he won't know who he is or where he came from? A-and can't ypu imagine what that'd do to him? That no one will have bothered to tell him about his parents?" I panted as if I had shouted; I said all of that in one angry breath.

"I suppose I'm an easier book to read than I imagined." He was wiping his glasses with the hem of his amethyst robes and, my, did I want to throw stones at him just then, to watch him and his stupid, calm face, shatter into a million pieces, leaving only his delicate, half-moon glasses.

"I'm his godfather. I was the one James and Lily appointed as his guardian if they..." I couldn't say it. Maybe tomorrow could wake up, take some Fire Whiskey down to drink with James as we laugh loudly, like we did in schoool, before the war, laugh about the pathetic dream I'm having...

"Isn't... isn't there some magic in that?" I pleaded, finally defeated perhaps. Dumbledore paced the room twice round, Remus' eyes on him the whole time while i closed mine and imagined James grin, full of laughter and love and... life.

"Perhaps... But more than anything, I think I am to trust the Potters' judgement and their own trust in you, for now. I will decide if this is really a good choice after I have gathered enough information. Until then, you are not to leave this house under any circumstances. Not until I have good reason to believe he will be magically protected from teh Death Eaters out to avenge their fallen Master. And, I am also to understand, given that you are both here, that Peter Pettigrew was the spy the Order had so many whispers about, correct? You are not to search for him either, as I am sure you might be tempted to."

Remus and I just nodded deftly. I could not have cared less about this sentence at Grimmauld Place, though the fleeting urge to go after Peter, to throttle him and rip him limb from limb, did possess me for seconds. But Hari was just so much more important to me, and every second with him was precious, like little glittering pearls gathering in my hands.

"That concludes my bussiness here, and my welcome has been long over stayed, so I shall leave you to it." He Dissaparated.

The next moments all blurred into one,and i cannot say how, by sunrise; the pale greenish orange promisisng a cold, summer's morning, we found ourselves laying in the guest bed, Hari between us, still fast asleep. The both of us staring into space, our pillows damp and salty.

Despite the growing sunlight, Sleep's teder fingers caught up to me...

[A/N: gods this one was long, im sorry it took so long to post, ill try to be faster with chapter 3 (which mind you is longer still than this). i hope dumbledore moral ambiguity shows, dont worry if it doesnt, it really will further on. hope you enjoy and thanx for reading!!]

#sirius black #remus lupin #harry james potter #indian harry potter #padfoot #james potter #lily evans #lily potter #voldemort #hp fanfic

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crystalninjaphoenix · 5 years

Text

The Bad Guy

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

We got a hero, we got a villain, but which is which? Or are they so tangled up that nobody can tell? Who knows? Actually I do, because I’m the author and I’m writing this blurb thing to conceal the mystery for newcomers lol. This is the story about Anti and Jackie I mentioned last week. It’s the first time Anti had any direct contact with the other boys, and then that became a regular thing and also one of the main driving conflicts of this AU. So yeah, rather important story to cover

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Taglist: @evyptids @awkward-bullshit @watermelonsinmyattic @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske @odysseus-is-best-boi @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Jackie knew this city was hell. Sometimes he thought he was the only one who knew, who saw the signs even when taking a simple walk. Why else would he be the only one with the courage to do this? The only one who actively sought out information on what the gangs were up to next? The only one currently perched on the slanted roof of this warehouse, staring through the skylights, waiting for those criminals to show up? Either the citizens just didn’t realize how bad the situation was, or they were too scared to do anything about it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Thank god he remembered to silence it. Nothing much was happening on the floor down below, so he pulled it out and checked the text from Chase that had appeared on screen: You coming home soon?

Jackie rolled his eyes, then pulled off the glove on his right hand so he could type out a reply, chicken-peck style. No. Nothings happened yet

Im bored! Chase replied. Everyone is off doing work shit!

Go talk to Jack or something

Im not at home

Jackie paused. Where the hell are u then??? He thought he knew.

The little typing bubbles stayed for a while before he got Chase’s reply. I dunno the name of the place. Its on Forest Ave. Prices are low so i checked it out. But im still bored drinking alone! Cmon and join me here. Besides didnt you say theyd meet at 11? Its 1230 now and if their not there their probably not coming.

*They’re, dude Jackie glanced back through the skylight. It was true. Members of the Spotted Snakes gang were supposed to meet here at eleven to discuss weapon arrangements. Jackie had even heard there was going to be one of the leaders there. It would’ve been a perfect opportunity to eliminate them, but they hadn’t appeared, and by this point it was just insane for every member to be an hour and a half late. Something must’ve been up. Jackie sent another text to Chase: OK, Im gonna go down and check it out. If I find nothing Ill meet u there.

Whoo! Jackies going out on the town! :D

Night on the town! But dont count on it yet, still might be something up. Text u later Jackie shut off his phone. The skylight was unlocked, as he’d checked two hours ago, so he eased it open. There was a quite a drop to the floor of the warehouse, but luckily he’d prepared for these situations. His belt had a cable with a hook, for climbing easily. Jackie unwound the cable, hooked it around the edge of the skylight, and gently lowered himself down. The moment his feet touched solid ground he yanked on the cable until it unhooked, then retracted it back into his belt.

It looked like a normal warehouse. Huge storage boxes and crates were stacked along the walls and in rows, with a big empty space in the middle where Jackie had landed . There were long metal rafters holding up the slanted ceiling. A few of the large industrial lights were on, casting an eerie glow over the stacks. That alone must’ve been a sign someone was here, but they’d been on since before Jackie had arrived. Maybe they were on a timer?

Well, even if the gang wasn’t here, he might as well look for evidence. Maybe they had some of those alleged weapons stored in those boxes that he could get rid of. The warehouse could go too, they’ll lose a place to meet.

Jackie walked over to the nearest crate. It would be hard to open, even for him, but luckily someone had conveniently left a crowbar on top of it, maybe planning to open it later. Jackie picked it up and, with no small effort, pried the crate open. Nothing was in this one, just a bunch of loose packing peanuts.

One of the lights overhead flickered and died. That was...weird. There must’ve been a whole shitload of lightbulbs inside it, they couldn’t have all gone out at once. Jackie glanced toward it, but couldn’t see anything from this far away. He shrugged it off and moved on to the next crate, also empty. As were the third, fourth, and fifth one.

He had the strangest feeling someone was watching him. At first he put it down to paranoia, but as time went on the feeling only intensified. He stopped his attack on the crates and looked around. He couldn’t see anybody, but that didn’t mean nobody was there. Jackie shouldered the crowbar and stalked away, determined to find out if somebody was actually watching him, or if he was just going crazy.

Another light flickered off. The stacks of boxes were casting long shadows, where anyone could be hiding. Jackie didn’t like it, but he took advantage of it when he could, keeping to the edges of the stacks where the shadows were deepest. No one would see him coming, if anyone was indeed there.

A third light died, this time the one directly above him. And now Jackie was suspicious. Things like that don’t just happen. He glared up at the light, and caught a bit of movement high above. Something...slithery, like a flag in the wind. It definitely wasn’t a loose wire or anything with a normal explanation. Jackie tightened his grip on the crowbar. It wouldn’t do any good from down here, but just in case. “Hey!” he shouted. “If anyone’s up there, I can see you! Why are you hiding?”

There was no doubt about it this time: something big, person-sized, moved on top of the lighting fixture. Whoever it was, they didn’t answer.

“Your cover’s blown!” Jackie said. “And you’ll have to get down at some point. I can wait. Or you can just answer me.”

Nothing for a moment. Then out of nowhere, a person-shaped shadow leaped from the light and landed smoothly on one of the rafters. Something fluttered behind them, probably a piece of clothing. Jackie gaped. How...?

“You’ve got me,” a voice said. Jackie jumped. It sounded like it was right beside him and far away at the same time. And it also seemed familiar for some reason. “What are you going to do now, Jackieboy? Arrest me? Or am I too dange͡ro͟ùs͏ for that?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Jackie said cautiously. His eyes followed as the shape of the person jumped to another rafter. They—he?—shouldn’t have made that distance. It was much too far. And that voice...if Jackie hadn’t been living with Marvin, unfortunately, for the past year or so, he would’ve been so confused right now. But now he just suspected magic.

“You’ve heard of me,” the voice said. “But we’ve never met. You’d recognize my name if I told you.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?” Jackie asked. “I’m sure we can come to a...an agreement.”

The voice chuckled. “Like the agreement you have with your roommates? You look the other way, and they’ll help you get rid of troublesome tricksters? For someone who brags about his strong morals you sure like to let them bend.”

“How do you know about that?!” Jackie demanded. Then he reconsidered. “I—I mean, not the thing about morals. You’re wrong about that. I mean that I have roommates, and an arrangement.”

“I know a lot about you, Ja̶c͝ki̛ébo͟y.” The voice spat his name out like it tasted bitter. “And I don’t like any of it.”

Jackie growled. “Easy to say from up there. But if you were down on my level, I’d set you straight.”

“Ok̵ày̴,” the voice said, amused. Jackie wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. The shadowy hint of a person was suddenly not in the rafters anymore, and with an electric crack like a computer screen fracturing in two, there was someone right in front of Jackie. He gasped and backed up. The other person stayed stone-still.

The dark lighting fixture overhead burst back into life, while every other light in the warehouse dimmed and died. Jackie stared at the man in front of him. It seemed they’d found a seventh doppelganger: same hair, same build, same eyes. Well, not exactly on that last part, as his right eye was covered by a patch. He wore a black t-shirt, blue jeans with holes in the knees, and black tennis shoes. The green scarf around his neck must’ve been what caught Jackie’s attention up on the lighting. Jackie kept an eye on the man’s hands, in case the man attacked him, but his arms were crossed and Jackie couldn’t see a weapon.

“Well?” the man asked, grinning a bit. “I’ve stooped to your level now. Literally, of course, because I would ņev̷e̵r͢ mean that in the way it’s supposed to be meant.”

“You do realize I didn’t mean that, right?” Jackie said. He tried to sound casual, but he was very aware of the crowbar in his hand. “I get angry sometimes. I just want to know what you’re doing here. The Spotted Snakes were supposed to be meeting here, but nobody showed up. If you know something, I have to be in on that.”

“Why?” the man asked innocently.

“I—look, I—if someone is doing illegal shit in a warehouse like some sort of crime show, someone should stop that! That’s what I do!”

“And w̶h͡ò ̛gave y̨ou tha̴t ̀aut̢hor̶i̸t̵y̧?” the man growled. “The police? Maybe not the best, but they wouldn’t sanction this. The government? Absolutely not. Yourself?” He laughed. “Perhaps if you’d had the right idea, I’d let you. But instead, you have knives on your person and gasoline waiting for you outside. Do you understand why I had to tell them you were coming?”

Jackie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You noticed this place was empty. Did it not occur to you that they were warned the crazy vigilante would be stalking them tonight? How easy is it to send an anonymous text these days?”

“You little—” Jackie didn’t even finish his sentence before lunging forward, swinging the crowbar at the man’s head. But just before it connected, the man dissolved. That was the only word for it, he came apart like loose atoms flying everywhere. Jackie barely caught himself before he fell. The other man reformed to the side, his body still caught partly in that glitchy swarm state.

Jackie turned toward him, seething. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yoų'̷l͢l try͟.”

Jackie swung again, only for the man to dodge. And again, from the other side, to the same result. He tried a feint with the crowbar while going for a hit with his fist. The man disappeared and came back in the exact same spot. Jesus christ, couldn’t this guy just stop cheating for five fucking seconds?! Jackie gritted his teeth and flew forward, giving up on tactic and just trying in vain to land a hit. But he couldn’t, no matter what. The guy just dodged, or glitched out of the way, or let the hits pass right through him.

“T̕h̢i̛s ͢is get̡ţi͠n̢g̨ ͟bor͝i̶n͏g̀,” the man said. And that just made Jackie angrier. Was this a game to him?! Jackie went for one more two-handed swing with the crowbar. But the world broke. That was the only way to explain the momentary freezing of time, the way the surroundings became sharp red and green shapes, the loud hum of screaming static. Jackie dropped the crowbar in shock, then next thing he knew the strange man was behind him, wrenching his arms behind his back. Not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to immobilize them.

“Are you fucking—” Jackie did his best to stomp on the man’s feet or kick him or something, but he got no reaction no matter how hard he hit.

“I hope you realize yoų a͞re͟n'̸t̴ doin̡g ͠a̸ny͠thìng,” the man remarked. “Now. I have questions. You have answers. We can play a matching game.”

“Fuck off!” Jackie spat. “I’m not gonna tell you anything, and you can’t make me!”

“You don’t ḱn̨ow̢ that,” the man hissed. “Now shut up and let me start. Where’s Jack?”

Jackie stopped struggling out of pure shock. “Wait, what?”

“Where. Is Jack.” The man repeated. “I kn̢ow͠ yo̧u ̛k͠n͝o͏w. You’re one of his rotten f̷̴͟r̵í͡é́͞nd̶͟͞s̛͢͞ that took him. Where is he?”

“Why do you—” Jackie cut himself off. This guy looked a lot like Jack. Could it be? “Wait...you’re his demon friend aren’t you? Anti. The one with the eye-patch that he talked about all the time.”

“Yes, that’s me,” the man—Anti—confirmed. “And I’m not a d̡e͡mo̡n͏. You’ve talked to him, huh?”

“Of course I have! He’s my friend, as you pointed out.” A smile curved his lips. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

Anti’s grip on his arms tightened. “Ẁh̷at̢ ar̸e͡ ̴y̛ou͞ ͏sa̡ying̡?̀”

Jackie laughed. “Just that he’s finally realized the truth about you. You’re a monster. A demon, as much as you deny it. He’s not gonna want to see you again.”

“Y̸̡͞o̡ú're̸̛ ̶̢͢ly̶̢̕i̷͟n̨̕g!̵͡” Anti shoved Jackie away from him, like he couldn’t stand to be near him anymore. Jackie landed hard on the floor, flipping over to face the glitch. The distortion had increased to the point where it was starting to affect the world around him. His visible eye had turned green, with a black sclera. There was a knife in his hand now, gleaming and sharp.

Jackie tensed, getting ready for an attack but not standing up in case that provoked him. “I don’t lie. I’m just telling you what he thinks. And if anything, it’s your fault for being that way. I’ve been told it’s easy to use bad memories from Halloween as a starting point.”

“ W̡͢h̵̢a̢̢̡t̡̕͠ ̨͟͝d͡͞id ̨͡yo͝͏͏u̷ ̷͠d͡o ͟͟to̴̷͢ ͏̛h̶̡i̢m?̷̧” Anti growled.

“I didn’t do anything. I just don’t stop people from doing things.”

“A̸nd how ͢n̴ob̕le͢ ́of̷ you!͠ H̴ow ͠h̕e̕r̵oi͏c̷!” Anti flipped the knife into a stabbing position. “Th̛a̸t's̸ exac̕tl̕y wh͡at ̕a͢ ̛s͡up̡e̵rh̨e͝ro wo̕u̧l̨d d̴o, s̢i͡t͠ a̡ro͠und and ͡watc̕h b̛y̸st́an̷de̢rş ̡b̷e͡ hurt͡.̛” His lip curled in disgust. “T͝oo̸ s͞c͏are̴d t͢o ̸e͝n̢dan̢ger̴ ỳou͏r̵ ̸l̸it͏tl͡e ́fr̸i͟ends̡hips͝ ̨w͢ith ́t̀he̷ ͏ba̷d ̧gu̢ys̴ to ̷do ͞so̶m̵et͢hi̶nǵ g͡ood͢ fơr on͠ce,̶ ̵t͟h̕en?!”

“I do good things all the time!” Jackie protested. “The streets are safer with me out on them.”

“N̴ó,̧ ͝th̶ey͡'͠re̕ ̕f͡uck͡in͟g̢ worse be͟ca͏use anyo̕ne̶ ̀cou͞l̨d̀ b͢e ͟dragged̷ ͠i͝ntơ an̵ ̵a͞lley ̶a̵nd ͟iǹt͟err̡ǫga͡ted ͢be̷cau͝se ̶th̸éy ̛ḿaý ̸be͟ a̧ cr̀i͠min͡a͟l̡!̢”

“You know what?!” Jackie stood up, keeping an eye on the knife. “Why don’t you stop accusing me and start looking for answers! I can take it! I’ll give you as much as I get, I can promise you that!”

Anti stared at him. Then, with a glitch, the knife in his hands disappeared. The distortion lessened. “I'̢m͏ ͝n͢ot l͞i̢k͏e̴ y̵o̴u,” he said bitterly. “Sometimes I think I could be. Bu̶t ̨I̢'̢m̶ n̢ó̵͡t̨̛.͟ And I’m trying to keep it that way, something your little group is̢n͞'ţ h̨e͠l̛p̷i͏ng̛ wi̶th́.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll find him myself.”

Jackie was stunned. This wasn’t how he was expecting it to go. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t get it. If Anti wanted information, why wasn’t he seeking it out? In an effort to cover up his confusion, he laughed. “Oh, good luck. Marvin’s got the house warded, and we got some upgraded manpower now that this new guy’s joined up.”

Anti smiled. “Thanks for that.”

Wait, no. “Wh-what?” Jackie stuttered.

“Now I know he’s just at your house. And I know where that is. So, th̢a͡nk͏s͞.͠” Anti turned on his heel and vanished in an explosion of pixels. All the overhead lights turned off.

Jackie just stood there for a moment. Had he really just? And given away information? But he was fine? This guy...this Anti guy...god, he was the worst. He was the fucking worst. Something needed to be done.

He leaned over and picked up the crowbar. Hey, no sense in leaving a perfectly good tool in the middle of an empty warehouse. Then he reached into his belt and took out the flashlight, making sure he could see in this new dark. He started towards the exit, taking out his phone on the way.

Chase, r u still there? he texted.

Almost immediate reply. Yeah dude! Not on Forest anymore, tho, so I guess youll need the address of the new place

No! Forget that! Jackie hurried to text. Look some big shit just went down and EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW. Get back home and tell the others im on my way

Damn dude whats the rush?

Yknow Jacks demon friend he used to talk about? The one James messed up his head of?

Yeah

Thats the rush. Now i remember Jack said this guy was all electronic so im not gonna give details but get everyone there right now. Call it a family meeting if you have to this is obligatory. Got it?

Wow. Okay that actually sounds important. On it, see you later

See u

Jackie exited the warehouse and entered the cool December night. This Anti was a threat. Not only had he interfered with Jackie’s plan, but now he wanted to get Jack back? Honestly, Jackie didn’t mind that second part so much, but he knew the others would, especially Chase. He couldn’t risk getting on the guys’ bad side.

And the way Anti had talked back there had really pissed him off. Like he was the one saving people. Nobody even knew he existed. Jackie knew he’d done more for this city than anyone else. And Anti had talked to him like that? Like he was the one messing everything up.

He was wrong. Jackie would prove it if he had to. He would show that this way was the only way.

Jackie started running back towards the house. First step was to let the others know. Next step? He hadn’t thought that far yet.

But whatever they decided, he would do it. The ends greatly justify the means.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jackieboy man #antisepticeye #brigid writes fanfiction #septics inverted au #invertedau

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hermannsthumb · 6 years

Text

ok to kick off october (aka the month of halloween) bc its officially past midnight heres a little ficlet i tweeted the concept of a few weeks back! some classic “hermann gets dragged along into a corny fake haunted house and newt is the semi-incompetent worker who keeps flirting instead of actually trying to scare him” au meetcute. also dedicated to @newts-geiszler and @ee-void, the former who indulges me in all my halloween newmann talk, the latter who drew VERY cute art of this on twitter. im gonna make this longer for ao3 lol

The house is large, full of dark corners and artificial fog, fake, too-red gore splattering the walls, the hardwood floors, and cobwebs—these quite possibly real—hang from the chandeliers and wall-set candle holders. It all looks a bit like the set for some bad horror movie. Something that would come on the television at midnight that Hermann would deliberately skip over. “Forty dollars,” he sniffs, as he waits in line with Tendo, Mako, and Raleigh, “for this.”

Piercing, electronic screams drift through the shadowy doorway. The line moves forward. “Look, it’s totally worth it,” Tendo insists. “We’ve done this—what, how many times?”

“Three times,” Mako says. She smiles at Hermann. “It is fun.”

A “zombie”—face green, clothing hanging from its body, groaning—ambles past them, nearly bumping into Hermann, and Raleigh takes a small step between it and Mako.

By the time their group is ushered inside fully, three more zombies and a vampire have wandered by and Hermann is more than ready to go home. His leg isn’t aching him—not yet—but his head is, and it’s been a long day and it looks as though there are a great many stairs to climb in the house. And the flashing strobe lights aren’t helping anything. “Where first?” Tendo says, and points at a little signpost listing the different attractions the house has to offer. Knife-wielding serial killers are delegated to the dining room and kitchen, evidently, vampires to the master bedroom, bloodthirsty scarecrows to the field beyond the house and the undead! to the graveyard beyond that. “Your pick, Hermann!”

Whatever will get them out of here faster. There’s a large group clogging the main entrance that leads to the dining area and Hermann doesn’t particularly fancy standing around anymore, so he examines the sign for their other options. “Basement?” he says.

“The mad scientist’s lab,” Tendo says, lowering his voice ominously, and Hermann sighs.

A few people in costume leap out at them on their journey to find the basement, or, the mad scientist’s lab: a man in a hockey mask wielding a bladeless (and blood-splattered) chainsaw, a villain Hermann recognizes from one of those countless 1980s slasher flicks, a murderous and fanged clown. Much to the delight of Mako, Tendo, and Raleigh, and much to the disinterest of Hermann. He spares a glance at his phone when they finally descend upon the lab. Half past nine. Hermann would normally be in bed by now.

The mad scientist’s lab is decked out in sterile metal, flickering overhead lights, and shelves lined with strange disembodied things in jars. Hermann catches sight of some sort of animatronic Frankenstein’s monster-esque creature strapped to a metal table. That’s all there seems to be. It’s terribly anti-climatic. “Shouldn’t someone be jumping out at us?” Raleigh says, as they stand there staring.

A door swings open, and a short man in thick glasses and a lab coat stumbles in. He’s covered in more fake blood from his face to his clothing and holding what appears to be a large alien brain in a jar. “Shit!” he hisses. He nearly drops the jar in his haste to get to the side of the strapped-down creature, and he’s muttering under his breath. Hermann finds him oddly charming. Tendo and Mako are snickering.

When it’s clear the man won’t be leaping at them or stabbing himself with a retractable knife or any of the host of other things Hermann’s seen others do tonight, he can’t help but say “Are you meant to be scary?”

The man prods the animatronic creature one last time and turns his attention to them once more. “Uh. Obviously,” the man says, and he holds up his bare hands. “You see any gloves here?” He taps at his glasses. “Any goggles? I’m a walking OSHA violation, man. I’m a fatal lab accident waiting to happen.” The animatronic creature suddenly jerks to life with a deep yell, sitting up ramrod-straight and fighting its bonds. The man also yells, in surprise, and he falls back and does drop the jar this time. “Fuck! Now it works.”

Hermann has a hard time stifling his laugh; his colleagues are not even trying. “Are you quite alright?” Hermann says, as green liquid and the fake rubber of the brain ooze across the floor.

The man hauls himself to his feet, brushing off his bloody lab coat, and shoots Hermann a broad smile. “Yep! Yep. All good. Technical difficulties. All minor, though.” He ducks out of sight again, presumably for a broom.

“Come on,” Tendo says, grinning, and nudges the small of Hermann’s back.

They wander on through the basement. The short “mad scientist” they left behind isn’t the only thing to see down there, but he was certainly the only one that caught Hermann’s eye, and the rest of it passes by in a blur. They’re ascending the staircase once more—Hermann, slower up it on account of his cane, bringing up the rear—when a familiar face pops up in a gaping hole in the wall.

“Hi,” the mad scientist says, not making any move to shout or make a grab for Hermann. He’s just leaning on the jagged wood.

“Hello,” Hermann says, and frowns. “Shouldn’t you be—”

“Jumping out at you?” he says. “Probably.” He hoists one leg over the hole, then the other, much to the surprise of Hermann, then lands heavily on the staircase just behind Hermann. He dusts off his lab coat. “So,” the mad scientist says, “uh, I’m Newt. What’s your name?”

“Hermann.” It’s hard to make out Newt’s face from underneath the makeup and fake blood and the poor lighting to boot, but he has pleasantly round cheeks and a very nice smile that Hermann likes instantly.

“Hermann,” Newt repeats, and then goes and spoils the moment by waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. “You come here often, then?”

Hermann makes a face and begins ascending the stairs once more. “Not if I can help it,” he says. He’s lost Mako, Tendo, and Raleigh, but he’s got a new companion, evidently—Newt’s trailing after him, hands shoved into his lab coat pockets.

“Not your scene?” Newt says.

Hermann shakes his head.

“Well, don’t worry,” Newt says, and winks cheekily. “I’ll protect you from—fuck—!” An animatronic skeleton swings out at them from another gaping hole in the wall, and Newt jumps and grabs onto Hermann’s left arm.

“How heroic,” Hermann says dryly, and pats Newt’s hand. Newt does not let go, but Hermann finds he doesn’t really mind. “Why are you working here, exactly?” It doesn’t seem like Newt’s scene, either.

“I’m part time for the season,” Newt says, eyeing the dangling and fairly innocuous skeleton nervously. “I just love Halloween.” They step up another few stairs. Nothing else jumps out at them; Newt starts to relax. And talk more. “I’m a full time biologist, though,” he says. “So the mad scientist shtick isn’t totally a shtick.” He plucks at his lab coat. “I actually stole this from work.”

“You’ve covered it in fake blood,” Hermann says. “Doesn’t that count as some sort of contaminate?”

“Maybe,” Newt says, and shrugs. “I never actually wear it. Anyway, what do you do?”

“I teach maths at the university nearby,” Hermann says, and Newt’s face lights up.

“Oh!” he says. “This—” he waves his hand over Hermann’s—sensible—cardigan, tweed blazer, and glasses chain, “—isn’t a costume, then? I thought you were supposed to be a librarian or something. Math professor makes a lot more sense, though. Cool.” Hermann supposes he should be offended over the jab as his appearance, but Newt’s endearing in some odd, infectious sort of way. Like a particularly animated and particularly resilient weed.

They’ve reached the top of the staircase and Hermann’s colleagues are nowhere in sight, so he doesn’t let go of Newt’s hand quite yet. They wander out to the front of the house together, through a kitschy little graveyard of Styrofoam headstones engraved with terrible puns and more rolling fog.

“My shift’s over in five minutes,” Newt suddenly says, casual. He’s watching Hermann from the corner of his eye. “Just so you know. If you wanted to ditch this place and, uh, grab a drink or something.”

“A drink,” Hermann says, and then he realizes what Newt’s implying. “Oh. Yes. I would like that.” He doesn’t imagine Tendo will be too upset if he calls it a night early. Especially considering the circumstances: Newt is even nicer to look at in the moonlight, faux blood splatters and all (and he does hope Newt has a change of clothing, or else they may not be let in to any bars), and though Hermann isn’t the type to run around falling for handsome strangers at Halloween attractions something about Newt feels different.

“Ha! Awesome!” Newt’s near-bouncing on his feet with excitement and beaming at Hermann, which is probably why he doesn’t see the chainsaw-wielding man in the hockey mask from before until he leaps out right in front of them. Newt swears loud enough to wake the dead and undead alike. “Shit! Okay,” he says, as Hermann smothers his laughter behind his hand and the man in the hockey mask crouches behind a tombstone once more, “I’m so over this.” He starts dragging Hermann towards the exit. “Let’s go, Hermann.”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #halloweeeeeeeeeeen!

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sunlitlion · 5 years

Text

candleverse chronicles | pt 0

so. astral projection. we all do it.

okay, not all of us, but some of us do. and ya girl is no stranger to it.

if you know of the slenderverse, specifically the everymanhybrid verse, you know of the candleverse. habit’s playground, the pocket between timelines and dimensions.

i’m gonna astral project there. and im gonna keep all my notes here. in case anyone is stupid enough to follow my footsteps.

so, for anyone into emh but not witchcraft/astral work... here are some sources. (x), (x), (x) < that last one is a masterpost of resources for research purposes and those looking to astral travel.

a warning: if you want to astral travel, do NOT do what i’m doing. i’m not smart. this isn’t kosher. this isn’t a good idea. even with all of my precautionary measures im still putting my astral body at risk. if you really truly want to, you can PM me about it, and ill share my personal notes but i am NOT a professional. go forward at your own damn risk.

alright, so warnings aside, let’s get into the prologue.

i am lucky enough to have contact with an evan, a habit, and a noah/firebrand. if you believe in kin shit, call it that. if you believe in past lives, call it that. i personally call it a mix of past lives and a system. i am a spiritual person. don’t pm me, send an ask, or @. me about it because i’m not gonna respond.

i asked firebrand and evan about the candleverse and got their specific general advice for what it’s like, precautionary measures, and an escape plan. here’s what i was told, in transcript form:

firebrand || candleverse notes

general

- Mind tricks. Constantly changing. Do not trust your senses, rely only on your intuition, it’ll guide you.

- It looks like Princeton, New Jersey. Evan’s house is the exact centre, and the clearest part. Everything beyond it gets darker and harder to traverse through due to illusions and mindfuckery.

- There is a purple haze that surrounds the Candleverse. It’s safer, but harder to work out. Hide here, but don’t stay in one place for too long.

- The bridge is an OK spot. But don’t fall in the river. You’ll die in the astral.

protective measures

- Do NOT try to play offensively. It won’t work. You’re in Habit’s house.

- Use wards for hiding, and confusing anything that enters the vicinity.

- Use glamours to alter your astral body and make you into a spirit as unassuming as possible. Humans are what he wants.

- Keep your vibrations basic. Too low means you’ll be drained. Too high means you stick out.

- Get a glamour for any guides or thoughtforms you bring. (In my case, Figaro the thoughtform).

escape plan

- bring a power bank or totem that will give you just enough energy to make a door and leave if you need to in a moment’s notice.

evan || candleverse notes

general

- Do NOT interact with the Candle versions of Evan, Vinnie, and ESPECIALLY Jeff/Steph. Just don’t do it. They’re like big fucking beacons.

- Any kind of foliage is good. Trees, bushes. If a rabbit can hide in it, you’re good. A good rule of thumb is “Think like a rabbit.” So, the town is a good place to hide, but it’s also gonna be real confusing. Anywhere out in the open, you’re fucked.

- If your vibrations are high so you can keep up magic, places with moderate lighting are gonna be your best bet, so you’ll blend in. If you’re keeping your vibrations low to hide, keep to the edges and forest-y areas. Whatever makes you feel safest. Either way, you’re playing on the losing side in a game rigged in Habit’s favor.

- If you aren’t panicking, you’re giving off less energy, so you’re safer. Fear will stink you up, and it’ll catch Habit’s attention. Keep calm, you’ll stay safe.

- Cover the tracks of your spirit/thoughtform if they can’t do it themselves, or if they naturally produce magic. For example, my thoughtform Figaro is built to feed off of naturally occuring excess negative energy and build harm-shielding wards for himself and I from it. In the Candleverse, this process needs to be hidden.

- Piggybacking off of that point, a mosquito could fart and Habit would know. Any tiny move you make, any change to the verse, Habit will pick up on it. He might ignore it if it’s insignificant, but he might not. If you do something risky, your best bet is to get away from the mess, hide, and try not to leave a trail.

protective measures

- Only stay in for 15 minutes at first, up to 30 minutes. No longer than an hour. Time is slower in the Candleverse, but you’re gonna get exhausted, and it’s gonna get easier to find you.

- Do not let Habit know you’re a human. You’re toast.

- Get better at improv. Learn how to play your part. If Habit approaches you, do NOT panic. Know what you’re supposed to be and act like it.

- Use DEFENSIVE wards and magic, not OFFENSIVE. Wards that protect you from harm make it seem like you’re EXPECTING Habit to attack you, and he might just. He’d definitely seek you out for it. Don’t make it seem like you’re ready for a fight.

escape plan

- Make that power bank as inconspicuous as possible. Remember-- play the part.

- If you’re in a bind, or about to be caught, just make a break for the edge, find a place to hide, and calm down before leaving.

other

if you’re like me, and tend to crack under pressure or panic in the face of danger and make the wrong decision, then you’re gonna wanna practice beforehand.

there are all kinds of candleverses that take place in different areas of the timeline of EMH. start with a dead candleverse, in which there are no more traces of habit. you will know the difference because the energy they give off is pure white rather than dark purple.

live <-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> dead

this is the scale firebrand gave me in reference to this. the closer to white they get, the more dead the candleverse (meaning the less traces of habit, the safer!).

another look at the scale

white verse - no traces of habit, little to no traps or illusions, dawn/sunrise

grey purple verse - just a hint of habit, slightly more traps and illusions, midday

pale purple verse - a little of habit, a moderate amount of traps and illusions, afternoon

blue purple verse - half habit, slightly more traps and illusions, sunset/evening

true purple verse - mostly habit, many traps and illusions, dusk

dark purple verse - habit is live and present and on the prowl, a fuckton of traps and illusions, dead of night

i was also lucky enough for firebrand to be willing to get in contact with other firebrands, as all noah’s stick together, and they might be able to give me a little extra help. pending.

map

firebrand and evan helped me to draw out this rough sketch of the map, but it will be updated as I explore.

as i said, it’s very rough, but here’s a key.

☆ - safe for hiding purposes

* - unsafe

X - immediate death

``` - light source (the more light, the more unsafe)

🌀 - entrance point

EH - Evan’s House, the center of the Candleverse. UNSAFE.

Town - Just as the name implies. Good for hiding but, very dark and confusing. Take it slow.

B - Buildings. Decrepit, good for hiding.

N.E.H. - Never ending house. If you recall, in Bridge to Nowhere, Noah went up and down this stairwell repeatedly. Unsafe.

Bridge - Bridge to Nowhere. Moderately safe. Don’t stay on for too long.

P.G. - Playground. Moderately unsafe.

Open Space - Not good. No hiding spots.

Forest - Very dark, but good for hiding. Lots of foliage.

River - Runs through the forest and under bridge. Instant death upon touching.

Habit tends to stay around the more lighted areas. Do not by any means go near or enter Evan’s house. Just don’t do it.

protective measures

so, we all decided that lots and lots of defensive magic is your best bet. cover up the fact that you’re human first and foremost. if, like me, your energy is bright and beaming, make an energy mask to cover that. put up wards with multiple layers. put up illusion glamours with multiple layers. run, hide, camouflage. you’re a rabbit here.

here’s what im doing specifically. lemme go over it.

defensive-offensive ward - protects from anything you deem to be harm. it won’t do much for you at that point. if all of your other wards/glamours have failed at this point, you’re fucked anyway. its basically one last line of defense if all else fails.

illusion/energy mask - this is to change your energy. its to cover up your human parts. make it strong. make it powerful. make it work. if habit gets a single SNIFF of your human pussy, your ass if grass and he’s gonna mow it.

appearance glamour - this is to change your appearance and all. make you look not human. idc what you look like, im choosing a hazy kinda shadowy unassuming spirit type thing. look lost, not like a tourist.

camouflage ward - this is gonna make you blend in to the foliage and shit much better. keep you under the radar. you are a cat in the night. a simple breath in the breeze, you feel. you ARE the dancing queen.

hidden/hiding illusion - same deal, but this makes it harder to track you if you hide. hide well, don’t fuck this up. its literally your astral body on the line, maybe even your astral life. but don’t worry, as long as you hide your cord and keep it in tact, you can come back. just give it a few moon cycles.

and thats basically all ive got in preperation for this trip. ill keep cc updates coming as they happen. my first trip is tomorrow (Tuesday, March 19, 2019), around 5:00 PM CT.

#mine #candleverse chronicles #astral projection #astral projection stories #candleverse #emh #everymanhybrid #habit #evan jennings #tribe twelve #firebrand #noah maxwell #etc etc #experiences #notes #grimoire

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lovesickjoon · 6 years

Text

gelid - 01

pairing: taehyung/reader

rating: sfw

desc.: reader is a hunter who, while on a hunt, finds a bit more than she asks for. she meets a faerie named taehyung and he promises to heal her. ;)

genre: faerie!taehyung, human!reader, paranormal/supernatural au

words: 5.1k (roughly)

warning: swearing, future smut, violence (its pretty minor tbh)

notes: hi. yes, this is my first /reader fic. this is unedited and rushed a bit towards the end. hhh im not the best af this whole plot stuff lmfao. so like.. this is essentially minor plot w eventual smut. (tbh theres probably gonna be only one or two other parts after this?)

part one | part two | part three

Working for Owlaid, it was your job to think ahead and act as quickly as possible. Your work required you to be prepared, on guard, and always ready to use your wits against your opponent. Initially, accepting this position was something you had never dreamed you would do. It was considerably terrifying at first, too.

At first? That was a blatant lie. Frankly, you almost shit your pants throughout most of the cases you worked. To be fair, if you weren’t frightened while working for Owlaid, you were either the janitor or not afraid of death.

You, now, couldn't imagine yourself not taking on this job.

Catching monsters, simply doing your job, had become a way to cope.

For the longest time, you felt trapped. With your ex, there was no other option, no other choice. His way or no other way. He was the puppeteer and you were the puppet. During the opening act of the puppet show, the sky was a bright hue of blue, and the birds were singing as they flew past. In the course of the main act, the scenery changed and a storm began to roll into the picture. You learned you were not the only puppet to have been handled by the puppeteer. In the final act, you had managed to break the strings connected to the puppet master and outsmart him. You began to fall, not remembering how to live without being controlled, but Owlaid was there to catch you.

You finally had options.

Well. That was another lie-

You definitely were on a leash.

For the most part, you were free. Freer than you had ever been.

You were also incredibly lonely.

You had a roof over your head, clothes on your back, food in your mouth, and money in your pockets. You had everything but a social life. One point the company had made clear was that they would not allow was any kind of outside relationships or friendships. You could not speak to your family or friends outside of Owlaid without consent from your boss. When you were finally allowed to speak to them, it had to be recorded and under surveillance. Owlaid permitted you to have a friendship with those who work in the Owlaid building with you, but usually, everyone was too busy to concern themselves with you.

Why was Owlaid taking all of these precautions?

Owlaid is an international company that was founded in the 1700s.

During this time period, supernatural beings outnumbered the humans. Humans were used, snacked on, and tossed to the side. As the human population grew rapidly bigger, riots began to take place. Groups began to form against the corrupt creatures. Owlaid was one of the groups. Owlaid ended up securing themselves and is now one of the few remaining groups from that time period.

During the 1800s, things had changed for the better. The bonds between the humans and paranormals had been mended enough to let the paranormals take jobs in the company.

The incident happened so, so much longer after that. 1947 rolls around and there are always bad apples. For the most part, everyone is getting along. Things go down and one of those bad apples make its way into the Owlaid building. A human man had met a woman outside of work and slowly they became friends and eventually lovers. She was a siren, half-bird, and half-woman. She seduced him and lured him into letting her friends enter the company.

The building was set on fire and every ounce of paperwork was damaged. Those who were working that night were slain or burned alive.

That’s why you were only permitted to speak to those who were sworn to Owlaid.

Recently, your feelings toward your job had changed.

You wanted out. It was no longer something you needed to distract.

Yet, here you are hiking up an empty trail in the middle of the night. Job after job had been coming up out of nowhere tonight. After you finished one, you were assigned another.

You never supposed you would be advancing up a deserted hiking trail at two in the morning, in search of a beast that could shred you apart in moments.

A ‘hunt’ would be a better term for what you were doing, not hiking. The moon was shining brightly, illuminating the path you stepped upon. At times, the trees were dense enough to cause the stars and moon to vanish. You had a lantern and even a headband with a light, but the gleaming moon made you feel it was unnecessary to have either. The air nipped at your nose and brushed through your hair. Your eyes kept drifting up to the sky to stare. Even though you knew you should be watching your step, you couldn't refrain from gazing upwards.

The only times you were let out of the Owlaid building was for a case, and most of your work took place in the mornings or afternoon. It was a rare occurrence to get to see the dazzling night sky.

Not only did you have to be prudent about where you moved, you had to keep an eye out for what was lurking in the darkness.

You were not here for the scenery, but for the hellhound that was ripping people to bits.

Strapped to your side, you had all the necessities: taser, tranquilizing gun, etc.

You were still unsure of why they sent you, a human, for this particular case. When hellhounds are moving fast enough, humans cannot detect them. A vampire or even a werewolf would have had a much easier time with this hunt. You assumed it had something to do with the fact that job after job kept showing up. Either Owlaid had a few employees get slaughtered or there had been a random outbreak of creatures. Owlaid may not have had anyone else to send.

The only movement was the trees melding to the way the wind was blowing and a bird startling in a tree.

You feel a tinge of relief flood into your veins as a camping ground came into view. As you moved closer to it, you could see that it was completely abandoned. The newspapers were presumably warning against going camping, which would justify why no tents were set up or a fire dwindling down.

You scanned the area and paused to listen before strolling towards the center of the campground.

The campsite was a massive circle of grass, with two small trails paved through it and a picnic table. In the very middle of the area, a sign was planted. You approached the sign and read about the two paths. One path would take your further in and to a scenic view. The other would loop you around to the area you had gotten dropped off at.

Another thing about your job that pissed you off?

You were dropped off, usually by a witch’s touch. It never failed to make you nauseated.

You stole one last glance at the sign and assumed it would be beneficial to explore further. You wouldn't get paid if you came home empty-handed. You crinkled your nose as a strong gust of wind slapped you in the face. The musty scent is peculiarly familiar and your pulse quickened. Acting on instinct, you linger, unmoving, but study the forest. A shadowy figure is standing on the route that leads further into the woods. You hesitated, anticipating it to make the first move. You felt like you were having a staring competition and the grand question was, who would break their gaze first? You suspected your headlamp was blinding the red-eyed shadow creature.

Your gut was informing you that this was certainly the hellhound you were searching for.

Was there another one? Two more? Three?

That question was the most troublesome among the numerous amount of others that were popping up in your mind.

You softly took a step forward and kept the light focused on it. It’s breathing was harsh and could be seen in the air as huge fog clouds. Hellhounds had remarkably sensitive hearing, and when you stepped on a pile of loose pebbles, you knew you were fucked.

You scrambled backward but discovered you couldn’t move back any further. You twisted your head around to see nothing blocking your path. You pressed again, trying to step back.

As your head turned back, attempting to understand what was wrong, the light that was blinding the beast moved with your head. It’s black, gnarly fur vanished into thin air and you knew it was coming.

You yanked your taser out of your pocket and lifted your arm to point it at the beast, however by that time it had tackled you. You swung one arm over your face and aimed the best you could at the hound with your other. You hit the switch on the taser and the beast let out a cry. It didn’t seem to faze or affect him much, he only now seemed more anxious to end you. He snarled and he latched onto your arm, sinking his razor sharp teeth into your flesh. You raised your feet from below and repeatedly slammed them into the monster.

The monster unhooked his teeth from your arm and dived for your face, determined on ripping you apart.

Naturally, your eyes closed as his teeth neared.

A yelp.

Followed by a thud.

The hellhounds pressure was lifted off of your chest. Your eyes pop open and you seek the source of the noise.

The tree is unevenly split into two sections and glowing. The hellhound lies at the base of the tree, motionless. Adrenaline was rushing through you and with your unharmed arm, you lifted yourself up from the grass.

Your headlamp had tumbled off during the conflict. You had likewise dropped your lantern when the hound had pounced on you. You left the electric lantern, which appeared to have lost the battery, untouched.

Your attention shifted to the tree when it cracked and the two halves sunk into the earth, absorbing the hellhound with it.

You reached for the headband, pointing the light towards the base of the tree that no longer was there, right where the hellhound had been lying. The grass was growing back over the area rapidly. The land was fixing itself, changing back to its undamaged state. You let the light travel along the edge of the forest and jumped when a slender figure stepped towards you.

A ‘tsk’-ing sound surrounded you, everywhere but nowhere all at once.

“Oh, my. You’ve been hurt quite badly, dear.”

You rapidly survey the area around you, finding no source of the sound.

A silvery laugh rings around you, “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. I only want to help you.”

You pivot and cry out when you bump your arm accidentally. You flail around with only one arm, in attempt to stand up. You nearly make it to your knees but end up crashing down, a fragment of pain spreading throughout you.

“Show yourself,” you command.

“I’m right here.”

You're stunned by his beauty, inhaling sharply upon looking at him. In his palm was a white flame, the source of the light that had his features irradiated.

He began to move, sauntering around you cautiously. You could feel his eyes raking over every inch of you. “I had a feeling something had gotten trapped in my ring. I just didn’t know it would be something so cute.”

Knowing that any signs of distress could give the enemy an advantage, you put on a brave face. “What are you?” you hissed the words and your eyes narrowed.

“I’m a Fae, shouldn’t you know that, little huntress?”

You gulped, faeries were rare creatures. Intelligent and very powerful. The only way to control them is with their full first name. Beautiful creatures, commonly confused with fairies. The most obvious and well-known difference between a fairy and faerie was the size. Faeries and fairies are both playful creatures, but faeries stand at the size of an average individual. Owlaid never taught their employees about Fae’s, because they were extremely rare and often stayed in the shadows. No jobs ever came up when it came to Faeries.

You knew that Faeries could only be taken down with silver, just like with werewolves.

“What’s your name?”

He bends over to gaze at you closer, “You can call me Tae.”

A feeling inside told you not to even try, that it was pointless.

“Tae, take me to the Owlaid building.”

“Ah, so I was correct in guessing you are a huntress. Did you really think I would give you my full name? Don’t try to play tricks on me, honey.” Tae paused, “--or you’ll end up upsetting me.”

The pet name spurred you to scrunch up your nose in minor disgust. You went silent again, trying to formulate a plan to escape. The rush of adrenaline was starting to fade and the sting in your arm was growing worse as each moment passed. You eyed the ground, now seeing what was known as a ‘fairy ring’. From what little you knew, they were traps, often made of plants or other materials. Tae’s happened to be out of smooth stones. When the ring is created, a transparent border blocks everything from escaping the ring.

It’s what you had collided with while striving to escape the hound.

You jerked in surprise when Taehyung stretched his hand towards you and lifted up your chin. “I can make the pain go away, just come with me until you’re healed.”

You instantly shook your head, refusing his offer. His touch was incredibly warm, almost to the point of being too hot, but not quite reaching that level yet. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“You’re so cold. Aren’t you tired of being cold and alone? Being empty?” Taehyung’s eyes are pools of ebony, beckoning you to dive in.

“Let me assist you, come with me. When you’re healed I’ll take you home, I promise.”

You shook your head again.

But what was stopping you?

The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them from leaving. His lips curled into a smirk and he hunches down to wrap an arm around your waist. He raises you to your feet with ease, and the pain becomes more intense. The mystery man departs his hand from your waist to wrap his fingers around your good wrist tenderly. You relocated your hand to his hand and grabbed on tightly. You weren’t sure how traveling through the Faerie paths operated, but you did know letting go of whoever leads you would be a massive mistake. From beside you, you heard him murmur for you to close your eyes.

You raised your eyebrows but did so without question.

In the center of the camping grounds, a doorway of light had appeared. You kept your eyes tightly clamped shut, slightly afraid to open them.

The smirk never dropped as he tugged you into the doorway.

Tae remained to your left, guiding you. When the brightness you saw through your closed eyes somewhat faded, you let yourself take a glimpse of the path with one eye. Faerie traveling vs. witch traveling was nothing alike. A gasp left your lips when you examined the space around you. You unintentionally clutched his hand tighter, becoming slightly anxious. The floor and walls were not walls or floors. It was all just... white. Hospital white. With witches, usually they’d tap you, you'd feel sick to your stomach, and you’d blink and be at where you needed to go. This, somehow, made you feel even more nauseous than when you traveled with witches. You were in too deep to back out now, you had to commit. You closed your eyes again and blindly let him lead you. You put one foot in front of the other and did your best.

And then it was open, the air around you changed from warm, to cold.

Not subzero levels, but definitely on the frigid side.

The light was much softer here, and you cracked open your eyes to peak again. The light was emanating from a source that you could not see. The walls could be described as pale, solid, and made of a blue rock. The first thing you noticed was the lack of windows and the very obvious missing door. Luxurious furniture was placed at random. You got a vibe that it took hours to decide where the pieces should have been placed and that they weren't just placed at random. Grey, purple, and soft green fabrics decorated the home. Everything was either silk or velvet.

“Welcome.”

Fear suddenly crept up on you and you began to wonder how many countless girls Tae might have taken here.

“Y/n.” Your name in his mouth was like a caress. Goosebumps began to raise all across your skin.

You had never told him your name.

He raised his slender hand and motioned with a long finger for you to come over to him. You hesitated but let your feet guide you closer to him. He lifted his long arm and grazed his fingers over your throat. A wave of relaxation consumed you.

Taehyung roamed over to his sofa and sat gracefully. A small, claw-footed table near the sofa held two glasses and a crystal bottle. You followed him and sat beside him, still tense. Taehyung was tempting, it would be so easy.. So, so easy to request for him to enclose you in his arms and soothe the empty ache within you.

The sofa suddenly shifted and the heat became really close. “Y/n, stop thinking so hard. Let me see your wrist, now.”

You held out your damaged wrist towards him and he softly covered his massive hands over it, almost like a cuff. From underneath your hands, you swore you could see a radiating white light. The warmth traveled up your wrist and into your upper arms. You didn't know how to react, your free hand clenched so tightly in a fist it began to throb.

“Aren’t you tired of being hollow, don't you want the void to be filled?” Taehyung asked again, almost the exact question from earlier. You gazed up and into Taehyung's deep and eternal eyes. You sputtered, a blush making its way across your cheeks.

Your stomach flopped back and forth. His hand on yours was so warm. Your wrist was now burning from his touch, in such a pleasant way. The pain from the bites and tears was fading more and more as the warmth spread.

Why not give him your heart, your soul? No one else could have them or wanted them.

Taehyung could feel your surrender and pulled you closer with his free hand. He removed his hands from your wrist and twisted to pour a liquid into the two glasses on the table. “Drink?” He held a glass up to you.

You shook your head.

What the fuck were you doing?

No, no way in hell was this happening.

Coming to your senses, you scooted back down to where you originally were sitting.

Not phased, he drank it himself. You looked down and began to check yourself over, expecting for your entire arm to at least have a scar or two. Nothing was there, just unblemished skin and a lingering warmth.

“Hm. Well, I have to go.”

You gaped up at him in surprise, “What?”

Taehyung was already standing up and in the middle of the room. “I’ll be back later, rest well while I’m gone,” He beamed.

With a blink, he was gone before you could stop him.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Tae!” You yelled. “Don't fucking do this! Come back!”

You had hoped he could hear your pleas some way and have a tiny ounce of mercy on you. Your voice echoed off the walls, only being heard by you and you only. You stood up and began to tromp around his place, searching for some sort of a door. You had let yourself get distracted, blinded, by Tae. He had some sort of an effect on you, another thing you didn't understand. How had he enticed you so effortlessly?

You explored the vast maze that Taehyung called a 'home' until you found yourself back in the living room. You plopped on the couch, heart hammering in your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, imagining the comical look on the Faerie's face when you screamed thousands of horrible obscenities at him. You needed to find his full name. Maybe he had something in his home with his nam-

The air shifted and your heart went to your throat. You threw yourself upright, surveying the room. A short man, with black hair and thick lips, was standing a few feet away from the couch.

His head tilted to the sight upon you.

“You’re his.”

It was a statement, he wasn't asking.

“Do you know where he is?”

It was a question in which you had no answer to. You weren’t as phased by him, having already dealt with one other beauty. It was clear to tell he was someone like Tae. Your heart had returned to thumping swiftly and steadily in your chest at the sound of this man's voice. You shook your head and attempted to find words. You opened your mouth and an all that came out was a croak. You reached for the glass on the table and took a sip, finding it to only be water in the glass and not some sort of potion or poison.

"You’ve made a very bad choice, little human.” He winked.

“What’s your name?” You demanded, disregarding his comment.

He giggled, “I’m afraid I can only give you my nickname, maybe one day we will be able to be friends. Call me Minnie, even though it’s usually only reserved for people who care about me.”

You ground your teeth together in annoyance. Your fingers tensed around the glass, and you brought it up to your lips again.

“Don’t you know if you eat any food when you’re here, then you’re here forever?” Minnie pried.

You nearly spat the water out but swallowed it down instead. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m sure he won’t let you go that easily anyways. Well, I came here for Tae, but it was nice meeting his fated. Toodles.”

He was gone in seconds.

Toodles?

What felt like hours, was probably more like twenty minutes. In those twenty minutes, you had spent the majority of the time cursing the air and shouting for Taehyung to come back. Exhaustion consumed you as you heavily sat against the sofa. This evening didn't appear to be going to get any better anytime soon. Half-awake and ready to cry, your eyes nearly popped out of your head when Taehyung appeared in front of you.

“You.” You growled, raising up off of the sofa.

“I demand that you take me home right now. You healed me, I need to go home now. You said you would take me home once I was healed.”

Taehyung frowned and approached you. He moved his slender hands up to remove a piece of hair from your face.

“You’re not fully healed yet.”

You pulled up your sleeves, eyes glinting dangerously, “I’m fine.”

“Mentally.”

You paused, taking in what that one word implied.

“You’re healed physically, but mentally... You’re not in the best state. I promised I would heal you and you’re not healed yet.” Tae reached for both of your hands with his two hands, attempting to hold them. You jerked away from his grasp. Tae spoke quietly, “I don’t understand. Earlier your body was begging for me to touch you and heal your pain, now, that is not the case. What's wrong?”

You yearned for your taser.

“I keep my promises, Y/n.”

You snapped, lightly shoving yourself away from him, “I don’t want your help. Take me home.”

“I care about you, please. Just one day for me to fix you..”

“No,” You lowered your voice, trying to remain calm. “How can you care about me when you don’t even know me?”

“There is no one else for you, my love. Only I can fix you. Let me fill you.” Tae grabbed your wrist and the ache inside of you felt a million times worse.

You ripped away, “You’re such a freak, who goes around spouting shit like that? Being called a freak by someone who works for Owlaid says a lot about you, doesn't it?”

Taehyung's face grew dark, the glimmer in his eyes fading and dulling. “You will one day beg for me to touch you, and I will savor it. Shut your eyes and we’ll go.”

The second meaning behind his words set off a wild shiver through you. It took you a moment to determine whether you should or not, but you decided on closing them, not dallying around long enough for him to change his mind. The air shifted and Taehyung was nowhere to be felt. “Keep moving forward,” his voice ordered, traces of anger were evident in his tone. He was holding it back. You missed a step, and his warm hands grasped you, sitting you upright. He let go of you as soon as he saw you were steady and stable.

For some reason, a pang of guilt hit you.

The air shifted and you were alone in your room. The coldness you had endured on the Faerie path today made your normally chilly room feel like a desert. Yet, the heat of your unit was gelid compared to the warmth of the sun-kissed boy. Everything was in place. The room was the same, dull color scheme as the rest of the Owlaid building. Your eyes shifted to your phone, which was lying where you had left it.

You moved towards your desk and saw it only had 29%. Your eyes landed on the time, causing you to gasp. You were trapped in the Fae realm for hours, yet it had only felt like an hour.

You placed your phone on the charger and pushed open the door that led to the hallway.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a voice behind you boomed, “It didn’t eat you!”

Arms were thrown around you, and you had to snicker.

The brunette released you from her grip and you twisted around to look at her. She gained her composure, “We have been trying to contact you for hours! Where have you been?”

“My scanner was broken. I lost my taser and pretty much everything else. So, I couldn’t contact anyone for transportation.”

“What happened to the hound? You were supposed to tranq him. We searched the area and couldn’t find him.”

You let your eyes bore at the floor, contemplating on what you should tell. Should you inform them about Tae? Your stomach twisted and your heart screamed for you not to say anything.

So.

You didn’t.

You shrugged, “It’s an odd story, really..”

Althea’s eyes narrowed, “Continue..”

“He attacked. I tried to hit him with my taser, he jumped and bumped into a tree.. And it swallowed him and sunk into the ground.”

Althea’s expression was blank. “Next time, don’t come back empty-handed.”

You stalked out of the hallway and back into your room, incredibly annoyed. You weren’t irritated with Althea, you loved her. You were more troubled with yourself. You had lied, why? It was obvious that Althea had seen through your lie, but she had just accepted it.

When you got to your unit, you slid under the covers. A silver knife at your bedside, praying nothing would happen as you rested. You sealed your eyes and after a few moments, you were promptly out.

That night, you dreamt of your childhood.

You dreamt of your best friend from when you weren’t corrupt. You also dreamt of Tae.

The dream began with you sitting beside someone, coloring. You heard a muffled voice and shifted your eyes towards the voice. It was from the boy who was sitting beside you. He was speaking, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You squinted your eyes, zeroing in on his lips, trying to read them. You thanked him, feeling your cheeks grow warm. What has he said to you? The boy whispered beside you again. You nodded, “I won’t.”

The boy grinned, teeth proudly on display. You tried to read his lips again as he spoke, and couldn’t make any sense of it.

The dream faded into another.

You looked around and even in the dark, you could tell someone was with you and was in your room. It seemed familiar. Your heart began to thump, every hair on your body raising in alarm. A deep voice floated through the air, “Owlaid really has ruined you, haven’t they? You will soon call for my name, love. You will remember eventually.”

“Who’s there?!”

A familiar white flame began to glow in the corner of your room. You reached to your bedside table for the knife. “What do you want from me, Tae?” You gripped the handle of the knife tighter.

“I'm not the only one who will live up to my promises. I just want to restore you, fill you... Fix you. If something doesn’t change soon, then you must realize, you’re leaving me no other choice.”

Your eyes widened, and your voice got caught in your throat.

“I know I am not welcome right now. Until we meet again.”

The light dimmed and you swore, not wanting to be left alone in the dark with him. By the time you found the switch on the lamp, he was long gone.

You were wide awake.

Only one of those things were a dream.

You sat up properly and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Your phone lit up, notifications causing it to begin flashing, and you internally groaned.

Another case.

The message was from Althea:

“I have a job for you. (Sorry.) Meet me at transport ASAP.”

You threw your covers off of you and hurried to get ready. You stepped into the hallway, one shoe on, and the other in your hands. You slipped the untied shoe on while you moved. You stopped when you got to the center and tied it.

“Ah! There you are. I was just on my way.”

“What’s going on?”

“Shapeshifters in some small Texas town,” Althea replied, pushing a black bag towards you.

You took the bag from her, “I'm not exactly dressed to bag and tag.”

Althea shrugged, “You look fine. There’s new equipment in that bag, don’t lose or break it like you did last time. I have some errands to run. Contact us if anything goes bump.”

Althea. Always prompt and in a rush.

You gave a curt nod and took off towards transport.

#taehyung/reader #taehyung x reader #smut #shh #im new to this chill pls dont kill me thanks #bts one shot #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #reader insert #bts smut #paranormal au #supernatural au #pretend you didnt read that #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #yikes tae and jimin are both pretty ooc #oof send help

230 notes · View notes

marshaeb · 3 years

Text

P.S: I'm Mated With The Cursed Alpha!

Chapter Three

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During the ride to St Pete’s, we were like fugitives taking several shortcuts to avoid being caught by Mom’s coast guards.

I checked my bandaged arm for any sight of blood, feeling the slight pain running through its fractured nerves. Exhaling anxiously, I tried my best to calm my troubling mind until Sarah took notice of my injury, panicking behind the wheel.

“Jo’, what the hell happened to your forearm?” She panicked, glancing between me and the road with her pink lipstick in her hand.

“Calm down, Sarah, please! Focus on the road before you kill us both!” I breathed out.

“So was it true?” she asked. “Did you really get injured that other night?”

“No, Sarah! This was recent!” I argued. “And that’s some stupid rumor Chelsea and Eugenia made up about me.”

“Dang! those two are still at it!” She sucked her teeth, shaking her head slowly. “So...what on earth happened to you then?”

“Gileon and Talloc happened!” I said, and from there I didn’t need to explain any further.

“Oh!” She mumbled beneath her breath. “Can those two ever get along! No one would believe those two owners are best friends by the way they carry on with one another. Sorry about that Jo’... I bet it’s Gideon’s who did it.”

“I don’t know which one had done it. I was too caught up on trying to separate the two savages.” I said. “I even got stitches because of them, and it hurts like hell.”

“Well, you know if you had told me this before we left, I could of cancel out on the party.”

It’s ok, really.” I said. “I could manage, and besides, I’ve already gone through the trouble, sneaking out to go with you...and we’re already halfway there.”

“True...but there’s something I want to tell you.” She said as the sound of howls reverberated through the shadowy forest. “there’s this guy named Bobby.”

“W-who?” I said looking carefully through the tall trees as we sped past.

Those howls, there was something awfully strange about them. They were definitely none of our kind. It also didn’t sound like those from the Tariaki tribe. Something didn’t feel right about it. What else could possibly be out here tonight in this region?

“I said Bobby, Jo’!” She repeated, but I was too focused on the sound drifting our way.

The tiny hairs on my arm began to rise as chills crept over my body. Whatever was out there was on the same trail as us. All of a sudden, all the commotion seemed to have strangely quieted down. My focus instantly drifted back to Sarah, who patting my legs, calling my name over and over asking if I was listening.

“Joel!” She called as she turned the corner. “What is up with you? Are you thinking about Jackson?”

My breath caught in the back of my throat. Jackson, I had no idea if he’ll be at the party. I love Sarah, but the main reason I kept my word about going to the party, despite my injury, was to meet Jackson out there.

“I heard he’s already making the second rank.” She said as a proud smile curl on my lips. “That’s saying a lot you know.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, confusedly.

“Something or...someone had really boosted his stamina.” She teased, knowing just what to say to make me flustered. “I wonder. Who. Could. It. Be...hmm?”

“Alright, alright you got me!” I confessed.

“Did you let him have it?” She asked.

“Have what?” I rolled my eyes.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She said provokingly. “Did you let him have the goodies?”

I choked on the air, widening my eyes by what she was the remark. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lied, blushing ear to ear.

She gasped deeply, covering her mouth. “You did, didn’t you?” She exclaimed in disbelief. “And didn’t tell me! How was it? Was it good?... Did he make you cry, or even went all the way?”

“Gosh, Sarah!” I chuckled, turning up my nose. “What are you, a journalist?

“No, I’m not a journalist... I’m your best friend.” She said. “I told you the time I lose mines...”

“I was going to tell you eventually.” I sighed and paused for a few seconds, reminiscing on that magical night.

A tingling sensation came over me just thinking about the way he touched me. The way he kissed and caressed me. Why was I heating up like this? It’s so obvious that I’m new to all this.

“It was...very romantic and he was so passionate and gentle with me,” I explained, feeling my heart rate speeding up. “It really hurt at first, but after a while--

“It felt like paradise, I know. She added. “Every girl hurt during the first time. I did, but I managed to get over it quickly.”

“Do you miss him, Ricky?” I said.

She hesitated for a second and shook her head abruptly. “No! I’m totally over him, Jo’. Seriously.”

“And this Noah or Bobby guy?” I asked. “Who is he?”

“Bobby...He’s the physical education teacher at the school.” She blushed. “I caught him a few times looking at me like I was some sort of alien from out of space.”

“And...that’s a good thing?” I asked, furrowing my brows confusedly.

“Well... I guess because I ran into him in the hall and he was turning all red, fidgeting like a shy kid in front of a class.” She said.

“Do you think...you could possibly...you know...be his mate?” I asked.

“W-what?” She huffed. “Mom said the same thing! My mate? I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“Because...I... I don’t know,” she stressed, “I don’t know who my mate could be...not until I’m eighteen.”

“But he’s not eighteen,” I said. “More than anything, he would know, especially if he’s acting like that whenever you’re around him. You could always find out. Are you scared or something?”

“Scared? I-I’m not scared of something I can’t control, but I am nervous.” She mumbled. “I wish I was like you and Jackson. You two already know that you’re mates.”

I chuckled faintly as it grew quiet between us, thinking about me and him. Those same doubtful, insecure thoughts were resurfacing my mind again. I hated it so damn much. Why is it, no matter how much everyone says it, and how much Jackson preaches to me that we are, there’s still this slight doubt that keeps haunting me? The feeling always makes me depressed, because I don’t want anyone else to be my mate, but Jackson. And I would be devasted if he belongs to someone else. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I love him too much.

~~~~

As we arrived in the parking lot of St Pete’s Tavern, the place was overly crowded.

“Why are so many people here?” I asked as we drove slowly past the crowd of loitering people standing around parked cars. “This was only supposed to be a class graduation-party...”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean the place’s exclusively for us only,” Sarah explained. “They’re still open for regular customers.”

I sighed, completely over it before we even step foot into the building. I looked out my side of the window and glanced at the unfamiliar faces. Most were either from different schools or were out of school for quite some time.

Like any wild party filled with young people, the music was blasting up to its max with the sound of people screaming and shouting to the top of the lungs like the imbecile they are.

“I had a deep feeling we shouldn’t have come.” Sarah sighed, disappointedly. “We should just head back...call it night.”

Before she started up the car to leave, I stopped her and tried to reason with her, but deep down I wanted to see if Jackson was out here first.

“Come on, Sarah...” I said. “I’ve already gone through the trouble of sneaking out again, just to make it all the way out here to go back?”

“I know but...” She paused, throwing her hand in the direction of the party. “Look at this... I wasn’t expecting this!”

“I know, but how about this...” I said calmly, “why don’t we just take a look around and then...leave.”

After a few seconds of trying to weigh out whether to go or not, she finally gave up and agreed.

“Fine! Just a walk inside, then we’re out of here.” She said, turning off the engine.

As we exit the car a loud, perverted whistle was blown my way. Instantly, I felt the pit of my stomach churn. As Sarah locked the car door, she pushed me by the shoulders gently and said, “Let’s go. Probably one of those morons from Valley heights.”

As we near the entrance, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol was ramping in its hot atmosphere.

Sarah was following right behind me, when I suddenly paused, causing her to collide with me just before I stepped through the doors.

“Ouch, Jo’, what’s wrong?” She asked balancing her posture. “Why’d you stopped all of a sudden?”

There it was again. That chilly, dark feeling. It was now even stronger than it was before. What on earth could it be?

“I-its nothing...sorry about that.” I shrugged it off.

We entered the tavern filled with people, partying, dancing about, engaging in boisterous chatter. We shuffled through the packed floor. My eyes wandered everywhere with hopes to see any sign of Jackson, but instead, my eyes met hers, Chelsea.

How did I forget that she would be here too with her sidekick Eugenia and their clique of groupies?

“Wow, looks who’s here!” She shouted as they marched towards us. “Don’t tell me...”

“Did you sneak out the window again?” Eugenia concluded as they burst into laughter.

Chelsea tapped on her wristwatch provokingly, and formed a fake frown on her face, puckering out her bottom lip.

“Better be home before midnight, Cinderella.” She taunted. “Or Mama Alpha’s gonna have your neck like last time.”

I could feel my blood gradually starting to boil as they ran on and on. And the sad thing about it, nothing they said we’re lies. It was all the truth. Mom doesn’t have the slightest clue that I’m out and if she does she would definitely throw a tantrum and embarrass me in front of everyone like she always does.

“Hey, I remember that!” Eugenia said scornfully, biting on her stubby thumb.

“Let’s go, Joel!” Sarah said, pulling me back, but my wolf was to rile up to step away. I was ready to snatch her little throat.

“Who doesn’t?” Chelsea chuckled. “Can’t even go shopping with friends without Mama Alpha’s consent. I really pity you. I could never live with myself having a mother like that.”

“That’s enough!” Sarah said stepping between. “Leave her alone, Chelsea. At least she has a mother who cares about her daughter’s well-being, unlike yours!”

Anger and shamed immediately washed over her face as she couldn’t find the words to reply.

“Oh yeah!” Eugenia stepped into her defense. “At least she knows her real mother...you Joel don’t even know if your’s is dead or alive!”

Just like that, my mind went blank. Without holding back anymore, my hands lengthen into claws and I strike her hard across her face.

“Oh my goodness!” Chelsea squealed, supporting her whimpering friend. The folks standing nearby turned towards us as she continued to draw attention. “What the hell’s wrong with you? You had no right to put your hands on her!”

Together, they rushed Eugenia and her overdramatic gasping and wailing, into the lady’s room. Sarah too took me by the hand and escorted me to the bar to calm me down.

“Sit! You need to cool it!” She said, helping me onto an empty seat near the countertop. “What was that about?”

“Don’t you blame me...we were minding our business. They were the ones who started it.” I mumbled.

“I know...and she somewhat deserved it, but you might have hurt her really badly, Jo’. Then you’ll hear word going around that the Alpha’s daughter had struck someone at a party she’s not supposed to be to in the first place!”

Though she was right, I was too satisfied to feel bad about it. I had put up with their shit for far too long. At some point, I would have lost it and it just so happened to be that night.

“What would you ladies like tonight?” The bartender asked.

Sarah turned to her and ordered two martinis. After making and serving us our drinks, Sarah placed mines in my hand and said, “drink up, we leave right after.”

But I was too deep in my thoughts to finish mines as quickly as she did. I sat there, sipping my drink slowly, and stared blankly at the hectic crowd.

“Look, I going to use the restroom.” She said placing her car keys and pouch in my lap. “Watch them carefully, I’ll be right back and we’re off to go back home.”

When she left me there alone, my eyes wandered once more, hoping to find any sign of Jackson. By the looks of it, it’s seemed like he didn’t come out after all. I let out a deep sigh, clutching Sarah’s things tightly in my hands.

“Damn it! I should have known he wouldn’t be out here...” I mumbled. “It’s not like Jackson to go out without me knowing, anyway.”

As my eyes lifted and glanced across the room... settling on him.

No, it wasn’t Jackson. It was a very tall, strapping man with a face that was as if it sculpted from the Moon Goddess herself. But there was a dark, scary hint to it, sending shivers down my spine. I had never in my life seen a God-like man like that before.

Slowly, he raised his nose into the air which looks like it seems he was taking the most intense, exaggerated sniff I’ve ever seen.

His head almost instantly snapped in my direction. His eyes...those wild, golden eyes were steadfast and locked onto mines like I was the last prey on the earth. His long straight hair ran below his taut chest as he stood across the room.

All the laughter, chatter, and music had suddenly zoned out as we continued to exchange eye contact that was intensifying by the second. It felt like he was seeing through my soul, to my she-wolf within.

His postered was becoming more and more unstable as he leaned back in forth on his feet. Before I know it, he let off a loud, powerful howl that petrified everyone in the building.

I hoop off my seat, panicking like a madwoman, looking for Sarah through the raging mob.

I shouted her name as everyone ran to and fro throughout the tavern.

My eyes immediately turned back towards the unknown man and watched as he shifted into this gigantic black wolf.

My heart thrashed violently against my chest as I saw my life flash before my eyes.

The monstrous beast lowered its head growling loudly as it suddenly took off, sprinting towards me.

Right there and then, I knew this was the beginning of the end for me.

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