#been sitting on this line of questioning/reasoning/hypotheticals for a week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simperator · 1 year

Text

Haeresis Dea - Chapter Three

AO3 Link

Secondo remembers a Sister and feels warm nostalgia and affection, a Sister knows Secondo and feels nothing but fear.

You look like an idiot right now. Say something, anything, just don’t say that again.

Every thought shooting through Secondo’s head seemed to be running at a mile a minute, and none of them were good. Not only does this girl look absolutely petrified of you, but she also doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about. To add insult to injury, you can stand there saying you remember her but you can’t even recall the poor girl’s name.

Unfortunately, the only laurel he knew to rest on was the fact he had satanic nepotism, to speak to them as a superior no matter the situation. The thought of it made his stomach churn in pure self-loathing and disgust. His younger brother Terzo had always loved the attention and actively revels in it, and even his older brother Primo is quietly lofty with other people.

“Yes, I think we knew each other as children, Sorella.”

Secondo winced at himself for only calling her by her title. He had always made an effort to learn people’s names but seeing how this Sister hypothetically slapped him on the wrist for it by neglecting to call Copia by his newly ordained name. That was the big lightbulb for him into remembering her, the relationship they shared. No one in their right mind should be talking to an Emeritus that way, correcting them on what they are allowed to call their subordinates. After all, their bloodline has been associated with the satanic papacy since Nihil’s father, his father’s father, and however long Nihil was able to continue on for when reminding the brothers of this fact.

But here the Sister was, not afraid to stand up for the young priest and openly disregard the unholy bloodline, to an Emeritus’ face. She could get many extremely stern talking to’s by her elder Sister’s for doing that. Disrespecting his father and his role in the church. Secondo liked that.

“We… we did?”

In fact, it was that very abrasive attitude that kicked off his memory of this particular Sister. Growing up within the church’s curriculum and subsequent nuns and priests as teachers, obviously there was a level of strictness, which made room for a level of rebellion. Of course, Terzo and some of the young boys were usual problem children, talking back and slacking off on assigned work. Not young Sorella. She was never afraid to stick up for herself and question authority no matter what matter was at hand- a very welcomed blessing in a Satanic environment but it definitely got old for many Sisters after a long day.

It was definitely a more-than-once-a-week occasion Secondo would be surveying the cathedral halls with his older brother and father and see her sitting outside, slumped over a desk pushed outside grumbling to herself. His father would always lightheartedly chastise her with his shit-eating grin with a line like “You focus better out here?” while Primo tried to silently discipline her by means of a disappointed stare. This vexed Secondo for two reasons. One, shouldn’t they be encouraging rebellion as one of the pillars of their faith? Two, they acted exactly like this toward everyone all of the time. Nihil acts too much like a child to be Papa and Primo acts too much like Papa to be a child. Whenever the two would share their unwelcome two cents with the poor girl Secondo just looked at her and tried to send his sympathies with just a look. Maybe she would remember his attempt at telepathy.

“Yes, I remember you uh… would get in trouble a lot. My brothers and I would see you outside.”

Secondo wanted this to stir up playful nostalgia in the poor Sister but her face contorted into somewhere between a sneer and guilt. “Ah. Right. They sure had a lot to say.” Secondo bit the inside of his cheek. Once again, Secondo’s attempt at honest, light conversation seems to go awry. He knows that he’s intimidating, arguably the most out of all of the Emeritus men, but that didn’t mean he wanted people to fear him. It just sort of… came with the territory of his height, status, and general flat tone. The only thing Secondo could think to do to remedy this would be to squat down to match the young Sister’s eye level but that would be wildly patronizing.

Trying to think fast, Secondo wanted to soothe any feeling going through her head, and let her know that he wasn’t scolding or making fun of her. “I always thought they were a bit hard on you…” Secondo’s eyes were fixed on the hallway ahead, pretending not to be hesitant about looking back to the Sister, whose eyes were wide with surprise. The lack of eye contact gave Secondo the confidence to continue his thought. “My family and the older Sisters.”

Secondo, despite his resting I’m-going-to-maul-you-if-you-say-the-wrong-thing face, was in reality just a shy young boy with insurmountable pressure put on him since the time he was born. Being a bastard son of the reigning Papa and brother to both the most insufferably high-achieving and just regular insufferable left him in an impossible position. Secondo worked hard every day to make up for what Terzo lacked in regards to future Papacy, but was forever cast in Primo’s shadow because he couldn’t help raise his younger brother and aim for perfection in everything he did because it would break him down.

He did not want to disappoint his father but felt as though his very existence did that for him. All of the Emeritus brothers felt that way, they all just coped with it differently. Primo tried to be the best at everything in an attempt for validation, Terzo just coasted through with his looks and charm because he had given up on appeasing Nihil a long time ago. Secondo was in the middle of these two extremes but was not allowed to complain about it at all. Any attempt at venting would result in Primo saying he has no right because he doesn’t work hard enough or Terzo just brushing him off saying that he shouldn’t care. He felt trapped, and anyone who was able to break out of their hypothetical cages- no matter what they were, earned his respect.

He was snapped out of what he believed to be a pity party by a small snort from the Sister. Hearing a small semblance of joy after she was practically radiating fear was a small nugget of pure relief. Secondo turned back to her, her hand covering her mouth. “I’m sorry, Father Emeritus it’s just… really? You looked like you were going to give me a real talking to every time you looked at me.” Damnit. Not only was Secondo scaring the living daylights out of the poor girl all she knows from him is fear. It was right then and there Secondo decided that right now, even if it was just one person, was going to realize how warm he really was.

“Please, if anyone needed to be sent into time-out it’d be my father for teasing children instead of doing any papal duties.” Secondo could feel the tension in the air dissipating, all because he let his mask slip a little. He grew up constantly hearing from Sister Imperator to speak formally with everyone in the Clergy and to always remain collected and professional, which earned him a lot of respect but also made it very hard to make friends. He prayed the Sister wouldn’t notice his discomfort in being comfortable with someone who wasn’t Imperator or his family. Hell, at this rate, he may even end up smiling, which according to Terzo would bring about the apocalypse.

Small, poorly-hidden giggling was echoing through the halls, the young Sister was eating this up. Secondo let a small, awkward smile stretch across his face, and a sense of pride twang in his chest. Being able to convince this girl he wasn’t going to bite her head off and joke about something that the Clergy considers oh-so-serious was a feeling completely foreign to him, but one he was now desperate into happening more often. That’s not even mentioning hearing how he made the young Sister laugh. She sounded so delighted, genuine, and… pretty…

“Father Emeritus, should you not talk about Papa that way? What if somebody hears you?” The Sister chirped through laughter. Secondo wasn’t even thinking about anyone else right now, he didn’t care if anyone, not even Imperator, heard him knocking his father down a few pegs with a subordinate. Secondo decided to push this new feeling even further. “What they do, tell on me? They’ll have to find him dicking off or pestering Sister Imperator first.” Speaking casually with an inferior, making fun of Papa, and now swearing. Secondo was on a roll. It was freeing calling his father out on his shortcomings to someone who was raised believing he was oh-so-all-important, especially when it meant he could see a smile and hear a laugh half as adorable as the young Sisters-

Nope. Too far. Shooting the shit with Clergy members is one thing, finding them attractive is a whole different beast and a whole other world of angry lecturing from Imperator. Secondo tried to nip these feelings in the bud but this conversation was just too good. He liked this new energy he can create, and he liked how she responded to it. That’s totally innocent, right? “Are you going to tell my mentor that I’m laughing at your slander, Father?” Secondo's smile quickly faded. “Mentor?” The not-a-Sister Sister swats a few more laughs from out of the air, but still smiling responded. “Yes, I’m a Novitiate.” Oh no. Not only was he testing out a new streak of cockiness to make a cute girl laugh, but this cute girl also wasn’t even an ordained Sister. They both could get into some serious hot water if this got out. The Novitiate was an adult, twenty at least, so it wouldn’t be like a teenager giggling with their friends and getting him in trouble. During his little crisis she continued, “...Perhaps I should have told you before you called me Sister…” Her smile began to slowly drop.

Not on Secondo’s watch. It was like a line of a drug sharing laughter with a Clergy member, for once as potential friends rather than a business partner. Plus, it would not be out of pity, this notion utterly puzzled him. From what he remembered, despite her constant sticking-to-the-man, she had a lot of potential and much going for her by the time she graduated from the Clerical equivalent of high school. With her passion, she should have been an ordained Sister years ago, what is she doing stuck in that position? Secondo just had to know. “You’re not ordained? Were you not someone apart of top-of-the-class and well-liked among the Clergy?” The Novitiate smirked, meeting Secondo’s green eye. “Smart, maybe. Well-liked by my Sisters? You just mentioned how much of a problem child I was.” Secondo was affronted by this. He knew problem children, he has dealt with some real pieces of work both in the Sister and Priesthood. Someone who was simply just passionate and argumentative should not be held back like this. “That’s ridiculous. Well, if someone like my younger brother could end up an ordained priest 6 years early, you should be fine.” “Your brother is also your brother. It makes sense he’d be ordained and I’m not.”

Right. The whole son-of-the-Papa thing. Secondo felt a strange sense of guilt despite not having any part in anyone’s potential clerical career. Terzo was not ready for ordination, he barely cares about the church. In fact, Secondo barely knew anything about the church until after he was ordained into the priesthood, he had to pick up where his schooling left off by whiling away hours in the cathedral library. He hated unfair treatment and hated how much he benefitted from it. “Besides…” she began again. “I wasn’t born in the Clergy…”

That’s it. He knew about nepotism but had no idea it stretched to everyone who had the so-called honour of being born from a Papa and his Prime Mover, and discriminated against anyone who converted or was left here on the steps… just like him. “There’s no reason why you’re stuck under everyone’s thumb just because you’re not the byproduct of some bloodline bullshit.” His tone was deep and angry, this touched a deep nerve in him so sorely he did not realize the tone of his voice and how passionate he was getting. So much so that his anger made the Novitiate recoil.

Secondo immediately let his fire fizzle out, he hated upsetting people. Especially someone he had been so, perhaps unbeknownst to them, vulnerable with. He put his gloved hands on her shoulders and leaned down to match her eyeline, no longer caring about coming off as anything and simply trying to soothe her. “You don’t deserve this kind of treatment, especially from the people who claim to be family. Now, you tell me if anyone hinders you or makes you feel like you don’t belong here, understand?”

His voice was stern but not out of commanding respect, but out of feeling disrespect for another. Noticing the slightly shaken expression on the Novitiate's face Secondo’s eyes softened. He moved his hands from firmly on her shoulders to holding them in his hands. “I’m on your side. Promise me you’ll tell me.” She blinked a couple of times and then nodded slightly, letting out a small sigh of destressing from the sudden outburst. “Thank you, Father.”

He sighed in a strange sense of embarrassment for letting himself be so emotional, a very typical response for a man in his power but more for potentially upsetting the Novitiate. Not wanting to mess anything up further, he quietly held her hands and slowly glided his thumbs over her soft hands. The two stood there for a few beats, just breathing, quietly rebalancing the comfort felt just seconds before. Secondo looked down at the ground, shamefully.

“Really,” she spoke again, Secondo meeting her eyes expectantly. “Thank you, Father.” She smiled warmly at him, a silent acknowledgment of his fears and a way of soothing him in return, a way of her saying I’m-not-afraid. Secondo stood up and straightened himself up, not letting go of the Novitiate's hands, who was now shyly averting eye contact. “I really must be getting to the Sister’s quarters…” she squeaked out, her face flush. “They’d uhm… get really upset with me if I skipped out on chores.”

Secondo’s shoulders relaxed, now fully safe in the knowledge that she felt safe, but he didn’t want to leave this newfound companion on an awkward note, just parting ways like this didn’t mean something to him or she was just another subordinate to dismiss whenever he pleased. The Novitiate let go of his hands hesitantly, she was absolutely worried she was overstepping holding hands with an Emeritus but Secondo secretly mourned the loss of her touch. Secondo took a leap. “Per favore, lascia che ti accompagni indietro.”

The Novitiate cocked her head, puzzled. Ah, right. “Please let me walk you back,” Secondo repeated, putting his son-of-the-Papa voice on to mask his nervousness. He swallowed a dry throat. “If you would like…” The Novitiate's face got so hot Secondo could practically feel it, which he absolutely adored. “Yes…” she began, voice hoarse. “I would like that.”

The two turned and questioningly took their first steps back towards the Sister’s sleeping quarters. The Novitiate's hands were poised elegantly in front of her while Secondo opted to put his hands in his pockets. He secretly wanted to offer up his arm to hold, more than anything to be a gentleman but also as an excuse to be close to her again, but his shyness got the better of him. The walk back was still pleasant, the two enjoying the other's company in silent comfort. Secondo felt her eyes glance at him, scanning his large frame but when he attempted to look back her eyes darted back forward, which pulled a restrained chuckle out of him. She was making it very hard to repress the feelings he convinced himself he rid of earlier.

It seemed like a minute and they were at the crossroads between sleeping quarters, the hallway stretching with midday sunlight dappling the walls through the tall cathedral windows. The Novitiate continued walking but noticed the presence beside her disappearing. She looked to Secondo, curious as to why he stopped so suddenly. Secondo put his hands behind his back formally, letting his lip twitch before speaking for the first time in a good few minutes. “I don’t want to startle any Sisters.” If he was to be nothing else, Secondo was going to be respectable, and as much as he wanted to ignore any of his duties for the day and spend more time with the sweet girl he just gotten acquainted with he knew better than to impose his presence on potentially unwilling Sisters. Respecting women’s privacy went without saying to him and his brothers of course but any young priest who tried to glance would definitely be subject to cruel and well-deserved punishment- even the old casanova knows that.

“Ah, well, thank you very much for accompanying me, Father Emeritus.” She was putting on her own formal voice now. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you at Papa’s next sermon.” Secondo let that damn smile creep back on his face, hoping the distance between the two of them would render it unnoticeable. “I’m sure I will, but please, you may call me Secondo.” She looked to him, eyes twinkling with disbelief, and then to the floor, her face bright pink and fingers twiddling anxiously. “Am… I dismissed… Secondo?” She was unsure of the new name, Secondo liked how it sounded coming from her voice. “You do not need my permission,” he replied, as warmly as he could muster. The Novitiate looked back to him with a restrained smile on her face, still facing him as she began to walk back to her room. “Farewell, Secondo.” His smile grew wider without his own volition at the unspoken new signal of friendship “Farewell, Sorella.”

Turning away from her before she caught on that he was absolutely bursting with butterflies, he began the long trudge back to the library, contorting his face in all sorts of ways to stop smiling like an idiot. Just because she could see him without the stuffy and aloof act doesn’t mean he’s ready for everyone else to be able to as well. Saying nothing to those he passed by besides offering a curt nod with an unchanging typical Secondo expression his head was absolutely reeling. Replaying the conversation, picking apart all the things he did, and trying to burn the Novitiate’s laugh in his memory.

Standing in front of the heavy doors for the library he entered, with so much of his usual bravado he did not notice that Terzo was in there, book half-open in his hands. When the two’s eyes met Secondo completely dropped into a usual scowl. The library was his safe space, his space to ponder on those moments, and his little brother infecting it. “Since when did you read,” Secondo growled. Terzo’s face went from neutral to a shit-eating grin, very usual fashion for him “Since when did you flirt with the Sisters?”

Secondo’s face rose in temperature rapidly, burning an ever-increasing red. Terzo had very little idea what was going through his head but was very delighted to mercilessly tease the brother that so often scolds him for everything. Secondo let a hand drop over his features in a failing attempt to cover his embarrassed blush. “I was not flirting with anyone!” Terzo let out a laugh. “Ooh! Defensive! This is a big deal, most of us were under the impression you didn’t have feelings!” Secondo was about to slam that door in an attempt to assert his brotherly dominance but Terzo stood with his hands up disarmingly. He loved to tease but truly was invested in Secondo’s little venture. “It’s okay, Fratello, I won’t tell Imperator. But you must tell me who the lucky girl is!” Secondo’s fingers impatiently tapped on the door as he avoided eye contact with his brother.

“Or boy…” Terzo added. Secondo knew that Terzo was absolutely saying that but this was about all he could take. He shut the door behind him, leaving Terzo to simply shrug off what just happened and chalk it up to Secondo being Secondo. Standing outside the library door, he stared into nothing for a few beats, then buried his face and hair into his hands. If he wasn’t overthinking it before, he certainly was now. Did I make her uncomfortable? Does she think I was flirting with her? If I did would she be upset?

Great. Not only did he make himself vulnerable, shortcircuit with social anxiety, and risk getting a royal ass-whooping from Imperator for saying all that stuff about his father, but now his brothers have more ammo to tease him with. Worse yet, he now is stuck with all of these feelings he would never have had if he had just stayed in his library or in his quarters all day. So much Secondo now had to suffer, but the worst part is, he didn’t want it to stop.

#ghost bc #ghost band #secondo #secondo x reader #terzo #ghost fanfiction #ghost the band #fanfic #haeresis dea fic

29 notes · View notes

xsamsharons · 3 years

Text

shooting lessons - jesper fahey.

pairing: jesper fahey x reader.

genre/warning: fluff.

words: 1.4k

summary: who would have thought getting jesper to teach you how to use his guns would lead to finally kissing him?

“Oh for Saint’s sake! Cut it out, you two.” were the words that could be heard by you and Jesper, and probably everyone else within a ten mile radius thanks to the volume Nina had decided to give to her sentence, while you had a gun in your hand pointed at an apple sitting on top of a garbage can.

The reason you were in this situation right now, was because you could never give the dregs too much free time, or else they’d start making stupid decisions. Usually, everyone would take turns, and the stupid decisions would never be made by the same person too many times in a row, however, it seemed like you and Jesper were on a streak. Last week, it had been breaking into a rich old guy’s house with the sole purpose of just laying around their living room for a few hours, and then head back to the Slat: you hadn’t stolen anything, hadn’t killed anyone, and hadn’t even broken anything… or anything that was too expensive, anyway. Three days prior, it had been trying to see how many jewelry houses you could rob in a row using the same line: ‘My husband and i are looking for an expensive ring’, while Jesper sneaked in through the back door. And, finally, it was having convinced Jesper to teach you how to shoot his precious revolvers.

It had been after breakfast, while you were just running around the city looking for something Kaz had told you to get for your next heist, that you didn’t really pay attention to, when he’d stated how he was getting restless again and needed new activities to fill his day. Three steps later, it’s like a light bulb had appeared on top of your head as Jesper observed your face light up and eyes grow wide with excitement.

“You could teach me how to shoot!” you’d stated enthusiastically, to which Jesper chuckled.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea if we want everyone to keep their eyes, love.” he answered, watching your wide eyed expression transform into a frown.

“How do you know I wouldn't be good at it?” you questioned, crossing your arms.

“How would you grab it?” he answered with a question of his own, handing you one of the guns he kept with him at all times. He watched as you grabbed the gun in a way that could only be described as life threatening, and not for the right people. “Stop, stop.” He panicked, and grabbed the revolver from your hands. “That was horrible, darling.” he laughed.

“See? That’s why i need you to teach me!” you tried again, grabbing his right arm with both your hands and pleading with your eyes. “What if i’m in danger and the only way to get out of it is by shooting people but then I suddenly remember how a certain Zemeni boy refused to teach me so now I have nothing to do but hope for the best?” you said dramatically, acting out and dramatizing the situation with your hand movements.

“How manipulative!” Jesper gasped sarcastically. “But fine, only we’d need to do it at the Slat for the sake of everyone out on the streets right now.” he finally gave in with a smirk.

You let out a celebratory exclamation that caused him to throw his head back with laughter, before grabbing his hand and dragging him back to the spot he had suggested. Once there, you let Jesper set up everything you were going to need, and you made sure to let everyone in the building know that it was probably in their best interest to keep away from the room u and Jesper had claimed as the practice room.

The disregarded and empty beer bottles that remained from the night before were scattered all around the floor, and the upside down garbage can looked like it would fall apart any minute, which is why Jesper decided that the two were a match made in heaven, and set them up against the wall opposite to the door, walking you to stand in front of them with your arms raised and hands outstretched ready to grab the hand he handed to you. Learning from his past mistake, this time he came to stand behind you and press against your back, using his hands to guide your fingers into the right positions, and smirking down at you when he noticed the goosebumps that erupted on your exposed arms.

“Am I making you nervous, darling?” He breathed against your ear, bending down to make sure his lips were touching the side of your head as they moved.

“I wouldn’t tease the person holding the gun.” you replied, your voice sounding weaker and less threatening than you had wanted it to.

“I would, if the person holding the gun had no idea how to use it.” he replied, and bent his pointer finger causing it to push your own one backwards to pull the trigger. You let out a scream at the unexpected noise of glass shattering and jumped, causing you to lean more into Jesper behind you, and feeling his chest shake with laughter from where you were pressed against him.

“Jes! What the hell?” you spun around, holding the gun down by your side with one hand and punching his chest with the other. “A warning would’ve been nice.” you said, releasing a sigh after the moment passed.

“You wouldn’t get a warning in your hypothetical life threatening situation you used to guilt trip me into teaching you.” he raised his eyebrows, walking closer to you, causing you to walk backwards and collide against the wall behind you when he didn’t stop.

“How would i shoot with one hand?” you asked, raising the hand you were holding his revolver with, and moving it to stand between the two of you to prevent him from moving forward and coming closer to you. Not because you didn’t want him to, but because you didn’t know how you’d hide your erratic breathing if he did. He chuckled and looked down at the gun between you, then back up to meet your eyes, and finally grabbed the gun with the hand that wasn’t pressed against the wall behind you.

With one swift movement, he moved the gun to rest upon his opposite shoulder and fired, knocking the garbage can the beer bottle had previously been laying on top of over, and making you close your eyes with a gasp. “You really should get used to that sound.” he chuckled lowly, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him once more.

He had started to bend down towards your face when Nina’s scream reached your ears. “Oh for Saint’s sake! Cut it out, you two.” she said, pounding on the door with her fist to get your attention, as if the sound of her voice already wasn’t enough.

Jesper chuckled from above you, his laugh matching your own, and leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “I’m not the only one who dislikes the sound.” you smiled, and he released a frustrated huff of air. “What?” you asked at the sound of it.

“She could have picked a better time to interrupt.” He rolled his eyes.

“Why? Were we in the middle of something?” you smirked, causing him to pick up his head from where it had been resting against yours, an incredulous look in his eyes before he caught the teasing expression adorning your face.

“That was cruel.” he shook his head, his smirk mirroring your own.

“Consider it payback for the lack of warning.” you shrugged, raising your hands to hook them around his neck and pull his ridiculously tall frame down towards you. His own hands came up to grab the sides of your waist and pull you inhumanly closer to him, making you laugh at the force with which your body collided against his.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time.” he admitted against your lips, and you rolled your eyes.

“Then how about you just shut up and do it?” you challenged.

“Well, If you are going to insist like this, darling, i guess i’m gonna hav-” he couldn’t finish his sarcastic remark because you crashed your lips against his and raised your hands to disappear beneath his hair, pulling on it and causing him to release a sigh into your mouth.

You were the first one to speak once you pulled away due to lack of oxygen. “Worth the wait, darling?” you asked, exaggerating the pronunciation of the pet name he had previously used to teach you.

“I’ll let you know once I can remember my name.” he answered, causing you to laugh and kiss him again, and as many times as you wanted to.

#jesper fahey #jesper fahey fanfic #jesper fahey fic #jesper fahey imagine #jesper fahey x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows fanfic #six of crows imagine #six of crows duology #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone netflix #kit young

321 notes · View notes

persephone-plasmids · 3 years

Text

The Third Rail

Deacon X Sole fanfic

[AO3]

(Part 1 can be found here)

Deacon was sitting on a padded bar stool in The Third Rail, his fingers gingerly wrapped around a cold drink. He’d never really been a fan of tuxedos. He normally called them penguin suits, but he had to admit, he looked good in his current disguise.

His dark hair was slicked back and his trademark sunglasses protected him from any intimate interaction with the other bar patrons.

Even though Deacon kept his eyes trained on his drink, his ears were working overtime. Dez seemed positive that information about a kidnapped Synth would be discussed at the bar that night and she’d sent Deacon undercover to get as much intel as possible.

The tux had been his idea. He told Dez that his character was a wealthy trader who came to the Third Rail to unwind after a long day trading in chems and fancy hats. When Dez had pointed out that she just needed him to sit at a bar and listen for a few hours, he’d shushed her, insisting that his character was a vital part of the mission.

Sole had been sitting nearby in the Railroad HQ, her legs draped over the arms of a chair as she read an old tattered copy of Time Regained that Deacon had loaned her. She’d laughed at his insistence and when Dez had rolled her eyes and stomped away, Sole winked at Deacon.

The memory of this short interaction was enough to make his heart rate pick up a few paces. Not because it had been particularly special, but because it only reminded him that he and Sole shared something now. A special closeness. She’d kissed him, however briefly, one night after she single handedly killed a Deathclaw. Of course they hadn’t acknowledged it since then, which was just fine with Deacon. His feelings for Sole were already complicated enough. His best course of action would be to bury those feelings deep down and never examine them again.

He could do that… right?

Deacon tapped his thumb lightly against his glass, sighing deeply.

He didn’t want to bury the feelings down. He wanted to crush his lips against Sole’s and tell her how much he loved the way she laughed at his dumb jokes. He wanted her to know how much he loved the little dimples she got in her cheeks when she smiled. And he wanted her to know that he loved the way she believed almost any lie he told her and then got mad when she found out the truth.

He loved all of it.

But he couldn’t say that. So he took another drink and continued to bury those feelings deep down.

When Deacon felt two hands rest on his shoulders before sliding down the front of his chest, he jumped.

It wasn’t until a pair of lips brushed his ear lobe and a familiar voice said, “Fancy meeting you here,” that an involuntary smile broke across his face.

“What are you doing here, Charmer?” Deacon asked, tilting his head to face Sole with the ridiculous smile still in place.

He couldn’t help it. This was just the way his face looked around her.

“I’ve been looking for you all night, Darlin,” Sole said loudly with an exaggerated fake southern accent. “I trust your long hard day of selling chems and fancy hats hasn’t made you too tired for our date?”

Deacon couldn’t stop the smile from spreading even further across his cheeks. “I’m never too tired for you… Peaches.” Deacon had tried to think of the most ridiculous pet name he could think of. The fact that Sole almost broke character when she heard the name he’d come up with, told him he’d done a good job.

Swivelling around in his bar stool, Deacon finally got a proper look at Sole and had to work hard to keep his jaw from dropping. She wore a form-fitting red sequin dress that seemed to hug every curve of her body in a way that made his mouth go dry. She also wore a pair of sunglasses identical to Deacon’s, her crimson lips quirked up into a smile.

The last thing Deacon wanted to do was let Sole know just how incredible he thought she looked. He needed to maintain some semblance of dignity. Instead, he patted the bar stool beside him, and when Sole sat down, leaned over and said in an exaggerated whisper, “You’re wearing the same dress as Magnolia. That’s just embarrassing. One of you will have to change.”

“It’ll have to be her, Sugar. I’m having a drink with my man.” Sole kept the awful southern accent going and Deacon broke down in a fit of laughter that he stifled with his hand.

Sole was notoriously bad at accents. When she’d tried to do the Silver Shroud voice for him a few weeks back, he’d almost passed out from laughing so hard. She knew her bad accents were his weakness. She was doing this on purpose.

Another thing for him to add to the checklist of things he loved about her.

The checklist was quickly becoming its own novel.

“And remind me where you’ve been all day?” Deacon asked. He wanted to see just how much thought Sole had really put into this little ruse of hers.

“Why I’ve been off at the old Cabot place, basking in the refinement, of course,” Sole said.

Deacon shook his head before lowering his voice so that the other bar patrons wouldn’t over hear him. “Seriously though, what are you doing here?”

Sole leaned in conspiratorially, her grin full of mischief. “Dez didn’t trust that you were taking the job seriously after you came up with your whole… character.”

“So she sent you to babysit?” Deacon guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

At his question Sole looked down at Deacon’s drink and blushed. “I volunteered. Told her you might need some looking after.”

Sole had asked to come keep Deacon company? They hadn’t really been alone since she’d kissed him and he liked it that way. He didn’t need any more reasons to be head-over-heels for this girl. He was supposed to be past those kinds of attachments.

“And Dez didn’t think your character idea was childish?”

At this, Sole’s grin returned. “She didn’t know I was coming in costume.”

Deacon let a sly smile that matched Sole’s cross his lips. “So that’s the trick, is it? Be childish, but only when Dez isn’t looking?”

“It’s been working pretty well for me so far.”

“You just out-Deaconed me,” Deacon said. “I’m impressed, Charmer. You’ve even got the shades.”

At his words, Sole removed the sunglasses and sat them down on the bar in front of her. She rubbed the bridge of her nose gingerly.

“I know you swear by those things, but I just can’t get the hang of them. I don’t like that they add a barrier between me and the person I’m talking to,” Sole said. “It’s weird.”

“That’s exactly why I like them,” Deacon admitted, his sideways smile back.

Sole watched him with her lips pressed together in a hard line. Her eyes roamed across his face in a way that made him feel oddly vulnerable; even with the sunglasses on.

“You trying to use your x-ray vision over there?” Deacon joked. It was his default and the only way he knew to deal with an uncomfortable situation.

“Just trying to remember if I’ve ever actually seen you without the sunglasses on.”

“That’s a privilege you have to earn,” Deacon said.

At this, Sole perked up, her eyes alight with the challenge. “And how do I go about doing that?”

Deacon thought about this for a moment. What could ever make him feel comfortable taking his sunglasses off in front of Sole? Nothing came to mind. Because if she did see him, really see him, she might not like what she saw. That thought alone nearly killed Deacon. He wasn’t even sure he liked what he saw on the rare moments he allowed himself some brief introspection. But he was stuck with himself. Sole wasn’t. She could leave. And that was something he didn’t think he could bear.

It seemed better to keep her at arms length so he could continue to enjoy her company. He didn’t want to risk disappointing her. He didn’t think he could live with that.

“Don’t blow this mission for me and I’ll start to consider possibly thinking about maybe letting you see what’s behind the sunglasses,” Deacon said with a vague wave of his hand.

“Oh my! You’ll actually start to consider possibly maybe hypothetically letting me see you?” Sole repeated in an exaggerated tone. “How could I ever turn down a rock solid offer like that?”

“I don’t make the rules, sister. I just enforce them,” Deacon laughed, taking a long drink. “But if you could help me get some intel on this possible Synth kidnapping, Dez might actually respect me.”

“She respects you as an agent already. You know that,” Sole said, before grinning. “She just thinks you’re a hopeless man-child.”

“That’s Professor Hopeless Man-Child, thank you very much. I didn’t go to years of Peter Pan school to not be addressed by my full title.”

“Noted,” Sole said with a little salute in Deacon’s direction. “So, do we know who might have this possible intel?”

Deacon turned slightly in his chair and let his eyes roam over the patrons of The Third Rail. There were the regulars on the couch, holding their drinks while listening to Magnolia’s sultry voice with rapt attention. He gave a sidelong glance to the VIP room where he knew MacCready would be making deals with shady characters for caps. And then there were a few strangers he didn’t recognize sitting at the bar a few stools away from him and Sole. Those were the most likely sources of intel.

“I’d say we keep an eye on old no-nose and Danse over there,” Deacon said, nodding subtly in the direction of a ghoul and an uptight looking perfectly-groomed man.

Sole let a little giggle escape her lips as she turned away from the pair. “He totally does look like Danse,” she said, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she laughed.

Deacon tried not to notice.

He failed.

“Ad Victorium,” Sole mocked in her best Paladin Danse impression. It was just as awful as her southern accent.

“That old tin can is such a boy scout,” Deacon said, wanting nothing more than to make Sole laugh again. The sound made him happy. “But he’s good in a fire fight.”

“He’s actually really sweet,” Sole said. “And super helpful out in the field.”

Hearing Sole say nice things about Danse should have warmed Deacon’s heart. But instead he felt something ugly and unfamiliar spring up inside of him. Was it jealousy?

“Yeah, he’s great. If you get over the fact that he’s a raging bigot who hates synths,” Deacon said. His words sounded harsher than he’d meant for them to. He actually liked Danse a lot. But for some reason, he didn’t want Sole liking him too much.

“Hey, he’s still coming to terms with a lot right now,” Sole said. “Give him time. He’s a good person.”

Deacon nodded but didn’t answer. He didn’t like how much this conversation was bugging him. He wanted to pretend it was because of Danse’s less-than-stellar opinion of synths. But he knew the truth. Bigotry aside, Danse was a good guy. A wholesome guy. The kind of guy that probably reminded Sole of her late husband.

What was Deacon?

A liar. A man-child. Someone who couldn’t get close to people without devolving into a stand-up comedian for fear he might expose too much of himself.

Why would Sole want that when she could have the muscled boy scout with the badass scar over his eyebrow?

“Hey, are you okay?” Sole asked, placing her hand on Deacon’s arm and looking at him with a furrowed brow. “You kind of disappeared for a second.”

Deacon cleared his throat and adopted the fake smile that served as his everyday mask. “I’m good, boss. I was just listening for any intel we might hear.”

It wasn’t a great lie, but he hoped it was good enough to get Sole’s hand off of his arm. He couldn’t handle it when she touched him. Even like this. It gave him hope. And hope was dangerous.

The two sat in silence for a long time and when Sole did eventually move her hand away from Deacon’s arm, he hated its absence.

They watched the ghoul and the pretty boy drink their drinks in silence and Deacon began to wonder if they weren’t actually the people they’d been looking for. But when Deacon saw MacCready leave the red VIP room and walk up their stairs towards Goodneighbor, the ghoul and the pretty boy instantly stood up in unison and headed over to the now empty room.

“Bingo,” Deacon whispered. “They were waiting for somewhere more private.”

“This is so exciting,” Sole said, bouncing in her seat a little.

It was quite possibly the most adorable thing Deacon had ever seen in his entire life.

And that was including the time he’d seen a mutated bunny with four soft fuzzy ears hopping around the Wasteland.

“We need to get in that room,” Deacon whispered, standing from the bar stool and heading over to the VIP room.

He and Sole entered, but made sure to stand around the corner where the two conspirators wouldn’t be able to see them.

The ghoul and the pretty boy spoke in hushed tones, but Deacon was still able to make out the key points.

“Nuka World,” Sole whispered, looking up at Deacon who nodded.

That was it. That was where the Synth was being held. Dez would be over-the-moon with this intel.

Deacon only had a moment to revel in their victory, because without warning, he could hear the footsteps of the ghoul and the pretty boy heading towards them. They would have maybe two seconds before they saw Deacon and Sole standing there. And then what? They’d probably try to kill them without a second thought.

Deacon opened his mouth to try to tell Sole to run, but before he could, she pushed him up against the wall and crushed her lips against his.

The forcefulness of the kiss caught Deacon off guard, but it only took him a moment to understand her strategy. Just be a couple of Third Rail occupants looking for some privacy for a good time and no one would suspect they’d been spying on the conspirators.

Sole pressed her body against Deacon’s, her hands sliding inside of his tux jacket and around to his back. Her lips were soft, even as they moved forcefully against his. And even though he was tempted to close his eyes and give into the kiss, he kept one eye open to make sure they hadn’t drawn any suspicion from the pair they’d just been spying on.

Deacon watched as the two men eyeballed them for a moment before shaking their heads and leaving the VIP room without another thought.

They’d done it. They’d fooled them. And now they could stop kissing. But Sole didn’t seem keen on slowing down. That meant it would be Deacon’s responsibility to stop the kiss.

But did he really want to? Now that he had a good reason to kiss Sole that wouldn’t make him have an existential crisis?

Instead, Deacon placed his hands on Sole’s waist, squeezing her sides and pulling her against him. He could feel her smile under his lips and the expression only encouraged him. He ran one hand up her back, keeping the other low on her waist as he kissed her back passionately.

He never wanted this to stop.

The heat from Sole’s body mixed deliciously with his own and with every kiss, he felt himself fall for her even more.

After a moment, Sole finally slowed down their moment of passion and broke the kiss. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were bright and full of life.

“Our targets left,” Deacon finally said after a moment, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. “I don’t think they suspected us… good thinking, boss.”

He knew he sounded breathless and frazzled and he hated himself for it.

Sole didn’t step back away from him. Instead she stayed leaned up against him with her hands resting on his back.

“Mission accomplished,” she whispered. He could feel her breath against his lips and it made him shiver. Being this close to Sole was like drinking clean cold water after wandering the Wasteland for days with no rest.

Deacon and Sole stared at each other for another moment, neither one willing to break contact. Deacon still had his hand low on Sole’s waist, and he moved his thumb over the bumpy sequins there.

“We should probably report back to Dez,” Deacon said after a minute. Something that looked like disappointment passed behind Sole’s eyes and he wondered briefly if she had wanted him to say something else. Something unrelated to the mission.

Had he wanted to say something else too?

“Good teamwork,” Sole said, standing up on her tiptoes and placing one last long, slow, soft kiss against Deacon’s lips.

The motion gave Deacon chills all over his body.

When she pulled away, she gave him a meaningful look. “I guess we should be getting back.”

Deacon nodded dumbly, unable to speak for a moment.

When Sole pulled away from Deacon, he felt her absence like a punch to the gut.

“Right behind you, boss,” Deacon said, watching as Sole headed towards the stairs that would lead to Goodneighbor.

He let her climb a few before he started to follow her. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to be too close to her right now. Not after the kiss they’d just shared. Because he knew he wanted more. And he knew he’d always want more.

But the worst part of it was, he almost thought that maybe Sole wanted more too. The look she’d given him had held some kind of meaning. But there was no way he was going to pursue that. If he was wrong, and Sole wasn’t sending him signals, he’d be devastated.

No. It was better to live a life wondering, than to throw away a good thing on a small possibility that his feelings were reciprocated. Sole was too good for him and he knew it. She probably knew it too.

But maybe she didn’t care. And maybe he shouldn’t either.

[Part 3]

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

Based on this pic of my OC and Deacon being dorks together.

#fallout #fallout 4 #deacon #fallout deacon #deacon x sole survivor #deacon x sole #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #deacon fanfic #deacon x sole fanfic #fo4 #fo4 fanfic

59 notes · View notes

lettheladylead · 3 years

Text

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 8: Webby [ao3 link]

It had officially been one week since Goldie first stepped foot in the manor. And she was still there. This was the longest she’d ever spent in Scrooge’s home since his cabin in the Klondike (excluding times when she was sick or injured, of course).

She was pretty sure, by this point, that Scrooge was avoiding her. He’d been spending a lot of time with his daughter (or whatever) and a lot of time at the Money Bin trying to fix the many issues that cropped up over the past few months with his money managers betraying him, but then even the time he did spend at the manor seemed to always involve other people besides her. The only alone time they’d had was right after he crawled into bed, but every single night their conversations were brief and then he’d fall right to sleep.

So she was a little annoyed. She’d had a few conversations with the kids, sat in on a few dinners, harassed Beakley, been harassed by Sharpie...it’d been quite the couple of days. But it was getting late and she couldn’t wait much longer to talk to him about how she was feeling or how he was feeling or where they might want their relationship to go after all of this…

Ugh. Goldie sighed and wandered around the upstairs hallway. She hated thinking about mushy family stuff, but ever since Florida she’d been feeling an unstoppable pull towards the Ducks and she kind of wanted to relax and see what could happen. But if Scrooge couldn’t make any time for her in the next few days, she was definitely leaving and not coming back for at least a year. Love or not, she did not take well to being ignored.

A door ajar in the distance caught Goldie’s attention and she started walking towards it, curiosity being the best cure for her boredom. She wasn’t sure what that room was - Scrooge didn’t redecorate much, but she couldn’t keep track of everything since he collected so much junk and had 50 regular rooms plus another 10 secret rooms and who could remember all of that?

Goldie tried to peek inside, but it was pretty dark except for a small light in the corner. With a shrug, she forwent her usual sneakiness and just fully opened the door to let the light from the hallway light up the room.

She was met with a surprised chirp and two bright eyes staring directly at her.

Goldie stared back, not sure what to make of what she was seeing.

Webbigail was sitting on a table near the back of the room with a giant book on her lap - surrounded by heaps of other similar-looking books. She looked sweaty and grimy, and the whole room was covered in a thick layer of dust.

“...wh-what are you doing here?!” Webby asked, closing the book that was on her lap.

Goldie raised an eyebrow and decided this situation was interesting enough to explore. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said as she took a few steps towards the girl.

Webby frowned and shook her head for a second before wiping her hand across the cover of the book. “I was, um...well...trying to learn some stuff.”

Goldie leaned against the table Webby was sitting on and craned her neck so she could properly see what she was holding. Oh. “In an ancient photo album?”

“Yeah,” Webby said a little sadly. “Uncle S-, er...my dad has been telling me all about our family...well, just more than usual, I guess...but some things still weren’t quite adding up and I thought maybe I could piece things together on my own.”

Goldie raised an eyebrow and stared at the girl without responding.

She didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve always liked connecting things together...before I was told anything about the McDuck Clan or my dad’s life story, I went through all his different biographies and the photos he has around the house and tried to figure it all out myself. And now he’s telling me things that almost, like...conflict with other things he’s said or other things I’ve read about and it’s just getting confusing.”

“Well,” Goldie said quietly, “he is pretty old, you know. Could be he’s just forgetting some things or mixing up stories.”

“But...but he’s Scrooge McDuck!” Webby said with a frown, opening the photo album again. “It’s one thing to forget a few details from a story, but like…” She pointed to a photo of Scrooge’s parents and a very small baby duckling. “The back of this photo says it’s from 1939, but whose baby is that?! Hortense didn’t have kids until the 1980s and Matilda never had kids so is this just some random baby or-”

“That’s Gideon,” the blonde answered, pointing to the way the baby’s hair stuck out at the top. “Scrooge’s half-brother.”

Webby stared at the photo again, then up at Goldie, her mouth wide open in shock. “Wh...wait, so...does that mean one of my grandparents had a baby with someone else while they were still married?”

“Uhh…” Goldie leaned back and scratched her neck. She knew Scrooge didn’t like to talk about his brother much, but she’d met the man a few times so there was no point ignoring the physical similarities. Though the complications of his conception might be why Scrooge didn’t bring him up. “...something like that. Don’t worry about the details too much.”

“Worrying about the details is exactly why I’m here,” Webby mumbled, flipping through a few more pages. She glanced up at Goldie. “You know my family really well, don’t you?”

“Not by choice, but yeah. If you think Scrooge loves to talk about his family now, you wouldn’t believe how he was back in the day. Very talkative.”

“I know the feeling,” Webby said, chuckling a bit to herself. “Lena said I’ve always been a little too obsessed with the McDuck family and now I’ve gotten even worse.”

Goldie felt an unfamiliar twinge in her chest and plopped a hand down on Webby’s head. “If she’s still sticking around, it doesn’t bother her as much as she says it does. Trust me.”

The preteen seemed to think about that, letting out a low hum while she considered Goldie’s words. “Trusting you doesn’t seem like the smart thing to do, but it sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

Goldie removed her hand from Webby’s head and shoved it back in her pocket. “Despite what your granny says, I’m not always lying.”

Webby turned her whole body towards Goldie. “I don’t think you were lying about Gideon either...so...would it be okay if I asked you about other confusing photos from any of these albums?”

Goldie sighed and lifted herself up to sit on the table, too. “You can. I really think you should just ask Scrooge about all this stuff, though. A few memory lapses here and there doesn’t mean he’s going to withhold entire family members from you.”

“I know, I know,” Webby mumbled and held the album against her chest. “I’m just still getting used to all this. I feel like I should know all these people already, y’know? Like...like Elvira Coot, the mother of Quackmore Duck, isn’t related to Scrooge McDuck at all, but they refer to each other as cousins in a lot of old letters. Is it just them being friendly with each other? Or is my research totally and completely wrong?”

“They’ve just known each other for a very long time,” Goldie said matter-of-factly. “Some people call old friends brother or sister, some people call them cousin. Scrooge usually just generally calls everyone his family, but some people get friendly little titles.”

“That’s very confusing.”

“It is what it is,” Goldie bent one of her legs so she could lean on her knee. “Scrooge has always enjoyed being a little confusing.”

“Is that why he likes you? ‘Cause you’re confusing, too?” Webby asked with an innocent tilt of her head.

Goldie rolled her eyes. “Maybe. I’m sure he’s got a long list of reasons why he does or doesn’t like me.”

Webby huffed out a short laugh as she tapped her hands on the open album page. There were photos of a few familiar members of Scrooge’s family and even a baby picture of Donald and Della.

“...you are really confusing,” Webby said, breaking the awkward silence. She didn’t let Goldie interrupt as she continued. “I don’t think I understand you at all. You’ve been here for a whole week so...are you moving in? Or what’s going on?”

“I’m just here to talk to Scrooge.” Goldie grabbed a photo album that was next to her on the table and flipped it open. “He’s been particularly busy this past week so I’m waiting.”

Webby watched her flip through pages and wondered if there were going to be any more secret relatives she didn’t know about in there. “I didn’t think you liked waiting for things.”

“Not a huge fan, no.”

“But you’re still here,” Webby mused. She watched as Goldie stopped flipping pages and stared down at a photo of Hortense and Quackmore, clearly having a fun time on their wedding day. It was a very sweet picture. “Huey says you and Scrooge are gonna get married, too.”

Goldie rolled her eyes and flipped past the wedding photo. “I’m sure he did.”

“If you did get married...would that make you my mom?”

Goldie closed the album and glared down at the girl next to her, annoyed that these kids were so interested in weddings and marriages. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Webby asked, trying not to seem too confused.

“Why would it?” Goldie said with a hand to her forehead. “At the most, I’d be your stepmother, and that’s only in the very unlikely scenario where I say ‘yes’ to Scrooge’s proposal.”

“But this is a hypothetical scenario, so...if you did get married...would I be allowed to call you mom?”

“Ugh.” She knew there was a line here where her crabbiness would start to offend, but Goldie was not enjoying this line of questioning. “Even in this magical, crazy, hypothetical scenario...I would rather you didn’t. If I’m being completely honest, I’m still uncomfortable hearing you call Scrooge ‘Dad’.”

Webby, rather than be offended like Goldie thought, laughed out loud. “You think you’re uncomfortable with it?! I’ve been saying it over and over in my head all week and it still doesn’t sound right!”

Goldie raised an eyebrow at her and Webby froze, clearly surprised at her own outburst, and settled down. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say that. It’s just a little weird still.”

“Why shouldn’t you talk about how weird it is?” Goldie asked genuinely, leaning back on her hands. “If you don’t want to call him ‘Dad’ then you don’t have to.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Webby mumbled, imitating Goldie’s lean. “If I go back to calling him ‘Uncle Scrooge’ then it’s gonna seem like I’m rejecting him or something. That’s too mean. I can’t be mean like that.”

“It’s not mean.” Goldie sighed and turned towards the younger girl. “It’s your life. Call him whatever feels right to you."

Webby leaned her head back to stare up at the ceiling. "I've never had a dad or a mom before so I think I should keep trying for a little longer. It might just feel weird 'cause it's so unfamiliar."

"Or maybe it feels weird because it is weird," Goldie grumbled. "His DNA was stolen and used to create you, sure. So he's your father, but does that really make him your dad?"

The younger girl glared at the ceiling for a moment before turning towards Goldie again. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Being your biological father is significant, obviously. But family is whatever you want it to be." Goldie sighed and stared down at another photo - one of a much younger looking Scrooge. "You can run away from it. You can accept it without question. Or you can just try to figure it out."

Webby watched Goldie's face - trying to read the woman's expression as she stared at the photo. "I think I get that."

"Your grandmother wouldn't appreciate you listening to me, you know."

She smiled. "I know. But it's kind of interesting to get a more...outside perspective. I mean you're not not part of the family, but you weren't a part of all…" Webby waved her hands around for emphasis. "...this stuff."

"I suppose," Goldie said as she put the photo of Scrooge back down. A part of her really wanted to take it, especially knowing that Scrooge never went into this room so he likely hadn't looked at any of these photos in over fifty years. He wouldn't miss it!

"Do you think...um…" Webby stumbled over her words. "...do you think he'd be mad if I started calling him Uncle Scrooge again?"

"No," Goldie answered sternly. "He wouldn't be mad. Especially given everything that's happened with your family lately, I think an opportunity for some normalcy would be appreciated."

Webby flipped to another page in the photo album while Goldie spoke, and her eyes widened as she saw a familiar face in one of the old photos. She looked back up at Goldie and then back down at the photo. "So...if I call him Uncle Scrooge, then I guess I can call you Aunt Goldie, huh?"

Goldie turned to scold Webby for bringing up that nickname that she always knew would come up around these Duck children...when she came face-to-face with a photograph she didn't even know existed. Webby was holding it up dramatically, smiling smugly as she did so.

It was a slightly out-of-focus snapshot of Scrooge and Goldie in wedding attire, at an altar. Pretty clearly getting married.

Goldie quickly snatched it from the girl's hand and turned it around to check if there was a date or any notes. In Scrooge's handwriting it said "1953. Almost felt real."

She blushed a bit and turned it back around. "...I didn't know there were any pictures from this."

"And to think you made such a big deal out of my hypothetical scenario! But you're already married!" Webby looked more smug than she'd looked in a while, clearly ready to announce this news to the whole family.

Goldie frowned, unable to tear her face away from the image. Both her and Scrooge's faces were visible and, despite being at a bit of a distance, she could see just how happy they were at that moment. "...it was a con. A business decision. Not a real marriage."

"So you got an annulment afterwards?"

She laughed. "You think Scrooge would waste money on something like that? No, we just...moved on. I completely forgot it even happened."

"Well, Aunt Goldie, it doesn't look like he's forgotten."

Goldie sighed and pocketed the photo, wondering if she should show it to Scrooge later and shake out some memories. "Clearly he hasn't been in this room for a long time, so I wouldn't assume that."

Webby's excitement died down just a bit as she noticed Goldie's lack of embarrassment. "Isn't this...I mean, I know you say you don't wanna marry him, but you're still here despite everything plus you're already married! You really are Aunt Goldie and I don't get why you'd try to fight it."

The blonde frowned and exhaled loudly through her nostrils, trying to think of the best way to explain how she felt. "You've spent a long time idolizing Scrooge, right? Wanting to be a part of his family and whatnot."

"...yeah?"

"And from what I could tell, you two were getting close over the past few years. You called him Uncle Scrooge, he remembered your name. Yeah?"

"...uh-huh…" Webby had a feeling she knew where this was going.

"But now that this father-daughter thing was suddenly dumped in your lap in such a...such an awful way, really, you're feeling weird about it. Maybe it feels a little hollow, like this is what you wanted but it's not how you wanted it."

Webby frowned deeply - Goldie was completely right, but hearing the words said so casually didn't make her feel better about it.

"...that's what that wedding was for me," Goldie finished, finally connecting the two thoughts together. "I'd...wanted to be closer to him. I thought we were headed there. And then he suggested that plan and how could I say no? He was splitting the money with me 60/40 and I knew I could steal my missing ten percent whenever I felt like it."

"So you wanted to get married, but then you did but for the wrong reasons?"

Goldie sighed and shrugged. "Basically. It was a long time ago. Things change."

"And some things don't change," Webby added, noticing that Goldie was still staring at the photo in her hand. "You've had decades to talk to him about this, so why haven't you?"

"Eh," Goldie answered and stuffed the photo into her pocket. "Adult relationships are complicated."

Webby shook her head. "Not all of them. Just the ones that don't talk to each other."

Goldie glared down at Webby again, but the girl was already flipping pages in the album once more. She wasn't going to whine to a kid about how she was trying to talk to Scrooge but he was just making it difficult. Maybe if she told him she'd spent some time with his kid, he'd finally sit down and talk to her.

"Who's this?" Webby asked suddenly, pointing to another photo.

This one was older - depicting a young Scrooge (maybe nine years old?) with an even younger child that looked very similar to him. Goldie pouted and put a hand to her chin before grabbing the photo and turning it over to see if anything was written on the back.

"Oh, this is Douglas. One of Scrooge's cousins."

"On whose side?" Webby asked curiously.

Goldie shrugged. "Not sure. I know he lived alone in the Netherlands somewhere until he died, but he and Scrooge weren't very close, from what I could tell."

"Oh." Webby looked down at the photo, not really being able to read either child's expression. She supposed photos from the 1870s were rarely as expressive as ones from modern day. "You really know a lot about my family.”

"It's completely useless information taking up valuable space in my brain," Goldie complained with a smirk. "Maybe I'd be fluent in Mandarin if not for Scrooge."

Webby smiled, happy that she was able to recognize Goldie's words as a joke. "Well it's not useless to me. Thanks, Aunt Goldie."

Goldie frowned and rolled her eyes, but that just made Webby smile. She felt like she was starting to understand this woman...just a little bit.

A realization hit her and Webby suddenly gasped before hopping off the table. Goldie watched her with curious surprise. "I need to update my board!" Webby said as she rushed towards the door.

Goldie raised an eyebrow and hopped off the desk to follow. "I have no idea what that means!"

She followed Webby out the door and down the hall, until the girl was back in her own room. Goldie stuck her head inside just in time to see the unveiling of an insane-looking board filled with photos and string and notes and hearts and…

"...is that a locket with my face in it?" Goldie mumbled as she continued into the room. She stared at the locket as Webby ran around looking for something.

As she reached out to grab the strangely unfamiliar locket, Webby was suddenly on a step stool next to her and reaching for it herself. Goldie watched silently as the girl tugged her away from her little grouping of villains (rude) and moved her oh-so-closer to Scrooge.

Goldie blushed the slightest bit as Webby shortened the string, added some little hearts, and slammed a sticky note between them that said MARRIED-ISH!

"There's no way I'm letting you keep that up."

Webby laughed and wagged her finger in Goldie's face. "I'll just put it back when you leave!"

Goldie crossed her arms over her chest. "Then I'll just have to st...hm."

Webby's eyes were sparkling.

"...visit more often."

The correction didn't dull Webby's sparkle, instead she just smiled brighter. "I think everyone would really like that."

Goldie raised an eyebrow. "Nice try, but I can assure you that your grandmother would sooner attend my funeral than enjoy having me around."

Webby hopped off the step stool. "Then you'll just have to win her over!" she said with a skip as she pushed the stool back to its regular spot.

"Yeah...I don't really see that happening," Goldie mumbled, not objecting when Webby grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the door.

"I think you could be friends! You just have to try!"

Goldie rolled her eyes but still didn't pull her hand out of Webby's grip. "Don't get your hopes up, Pink," she said with a sigh, but there was a little part of her that wondered if getting along with the whole family was even possible. She'd spent so long pushing away from Scrooge and his family and his friends that she'd never really considered what it would be like to actually...try. And she struggled to admit it, but...she wanted to find out.

She squeezed Webby's little hand and stared down at the bouncing bow on her head. Goldie still wasn't anyone's aunt, but...if she had to be, Scrooge's kids would be her first choice.

#ducktales #goldie o'gilt #webby vanderquack #scroldie #not your aunt #fic #fics #this is the final chapter yayayayyayyyy

54 notes · View notes

elysiashelby · 3 years

Text

In Another World - T.Shelby Imagine Ch. 25

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 18,006

WARNINGS: Angst, Cursing, Fluff, Continuous First Person to Third Person POV Shifts, ONE! Tom Third Person POV, Self-harm, Alcohol, SMUT! (NSFW): oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

Summary: It’s March of 1922, Ali’s nearing the end of her stay with the Shelby’s. After years of waiting, she’s finally ready to move on, but will fate let her.

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 24.2 CHAPTER 26

A/N: This chapter contains some POV switches as will the next chapter! Y’all know the deal. Black line breaks are there as a warning for the self harm scene. Only 1 ‘n it’s small!

Smut is finally here! I haven’t written a SMUT scene in forever, so I fear I’m a little out of touch.

It’s March of 1922 and things are going great! Well, not really, I had a mental breakdown so... I mean, not as bad as my last one, which was like a year ago. But, I was coming to terms with the fact that I killed someone! Someone who I did not have a paid hit on, but I murdered out of pure hatred.

So, I had to do some inner reflection on that, and it would have gone a lot smoother if I had chosen to stop doin’ my side job. But I didn’t. I kept on with my “assassinating.”

So was I really healed? Probably not, but hey! I don’t think about it anymore. I did it, I got away with— let’s move on. The guy was a douche anyway. Probably did society a favor.

Yeah…

Right now I was cleaning up at Cassie’s flat. The gang was coming over soon, and I had to get the blood of a client off of me. The job was easier than most. I infiltrated another big party, seduced the target, and shot them in the chest and in the head. It’s a rule of thumb I have that I took from Zombieland. I got some blowback on me, so that’s why I’m taking a shower.

I’m not in the best of spirits tonight. Why, you may ask? Well, it’s because Michael and Arthur were to be arrested tonight. The only reason I knew was because Moss tipped me off. He caught me while I was visiting his wife. He took me aside and told me that Campbell had reason to arrest Michael, and he told me when it was going to take place.

The only reason why he was letting me know was because Campbell had his own plans for me. He didn’t know if Campbell wanted me arrested, but if I was on the scene— I was to be taken in.

Let me tell you, I was so fucking proud of myself for befriending Moss’s wife! The single best thing I ever did. I mean, I knew I would be “bailed out” in no time thanks to all my rich mates, but Michael would still be in the clink. I think. I could ask around for some connections, if I needed to or was asked.

But, yeah. Michael and Arthur were being arrested tonight while I was at Cassie’s. Of course I felt guilty that I couldn’t prevent it, but it’s not like I could in the first place. That would mess with the timeline too much.

Eventually, I got out of the shower, dried off, and put on my underwear. I’ve been trying to get more comfortable with my breasts, so I haven’t been wearing my bra to bed. In nothing but my towels and underwear, I walked out into the room.

“So,” I began while walking over to the bed, where I had my clothes laid out. “What’s on tonight’s agenda? Some heavy flirting? A therapy session? Or some good old fashion gambling?”

Cassie giggled, a pillow in her grasp as she threw open her arms. “All of it, babes!”

I chuckled. “That’s what I like to hear.” I dropped my towel and put on my dress. It was a velvet robe-like dress. Very flowy and comfortable, though it had a deep v-neck. Again, trying to get comfortable with my tits. Luckily, this process has been going on for a while and Dougie and Horace are now used to seeing a bit of my cleavage.

The pair do not regard me as anything more than a mate. Dougie is like my male twin flame while Cassie’s my female twin flame. They just match my vibe so fucking well! While Horace...well, he only has eyes for Angie. We bond pretty well academically, though. He answers a lot of questions I have pertaining some of the hypotheticals I conjure while writing.

After I put on my dress, I lotioned up my legs and arms before moving on to caring for my hair. I was brushing it out when the gang came in.

Dougie came up to me and kissed my temple before heading toward the table with the rest of the group. I hurriedly scrunched up my hair as I desperately wanted to join the conversation in fear of being left out.

I threw my hair towel aside and quickly shuffled to the table. Cassie saw me coming and got up from her seat.

While beckoning me to her, she said. “Ali, c’mere.”

I sat in her chair and once I was settled down, she sat on my lap. I sighed before asking, “So, what are we playing first?”

Cassie was sitting on my lap sidesaddle. She reached over on the table to the carton of ciggies that someone had thrown, tapped it on the bottom before pulling two out.

With a ciggie hanging from her mouth, Angie replied while shuffling the cards. “We decided on Go Fish. Your favorite.” She winked at me and I returned it.

I giggled before accepting the ciggie Cassie held for me. She rested hers on her lip and just as she went to lit it— Dougie leaned over to us.

“Here, just use mine.” He said while pressing the end his ciggie to hers.

Muffled, Cassie replied. “Thanks.” She looked back to me, took my face in her hands, and connected the ends of our ciggies. Basically, repeating what she’d just done with Dougie.

I swear to God, this group is so sus. And I think I’m partially at fault for how close and open the group is. I’m sorry, okay, I’m a physical person and I cut through the bullshit with the people I hold dear!

Angie dealt the cards, and I slid them closer to my face. I was exhaling when Cassie decided to start the conversation flow again.

She asked. “So Tina, how’s your married man? What was his name again?”

Tina tsked, a scowl on her face. “Darren, his name’s Darren. And, he’s fine...”

I raised an eyebrow. “Just fine? Who the hell’s starting?”

Angie cleared her throat. “I dealt so Douglas goes. Cassie’s sitting in your lap, so either you or her is next and vise versa. Then, Tina goes and finally Horace before me.”

I nodded as a quiet “oh” escaped my mouth. I looked back over at Tina.

Tina replied. “Yes, just fine.”

“So, has he filed for a divorce from his wife? Any sevens?” Dougie asked.

Horace and Angie gave him their cards.

Tina pouted, her arms crossing defensively. “He—! He’s been avoiding the question.”

All of us shared a glance and some of us hummed.

Dougie asked. “Any fives?”

“You know, statistically and due to England’s current standpoint on divorce— Darren is less likely to actually ask his wife for a divorce. There is an even lesser probability that the divorce would even be granted in a court of law—”

The four of us girls shouted. “Go fish!”

“--because we’re obsessed with this “Christian purity.” And, his wife would have to be the adulterer. And as it stands right now only he has—!” Horace was spewing before he was cut off. His face contorting in pain before hunching over.

Collectively, we all glanced at Tina, who was not holding up well.

This was not going good, and the urge to tell her that I told her so, was not helping. She should just dump him, but eh, who was I to judge?

I cleared my throat before holding my ciggie away from my lips, and asking through an exhale, “Anyone got any Queens?”

Cassie didn’t hesitate to give me two. I took the two I had in my hands and laid the four cards on the table.

“Anyone got any nines?”

Angie threw one of her cards to me. Cassie passed it to me before looking over to Tina.

She said. “Well, Tina. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll support you. If ya want to stay with him, or leave him. We’ll be right here for ya.”

All of us tried comforting her ‘n all we managed to get was a small smile in return. It didn’t reach her eyes, I knew that. However, I really wanted to have a good time so I was looking to change the subject.

‘Just—! Anyone please talk about anything else!’

As I inhaled, I asked. “Any threes?”

“Go fish!”

I tsked.

I was laying down on the floor with Horace. Our arms were extended up in the air and we laid opposite to each other, if that made sense. Like basically, our heads were right next to each other.

Our arms were in the air because I was playing with Horace’s fingers. Angie, Tina, Cassie, and Dougie were either sitting on the sofas/couches, or somewhere else in the room. He was a little drunk and wanted to calm down, so I offered to stay with him.

“So, how are things going with Angie, buddy?” I asked while still playing with his fingers.

He sighed and then chuckled. “Better. I think she… I think she’s beginning to like me back.”

I hummed and chuckled under my breath. “Well, don’t get too cocky there. She’ll knock back down a peg or two if she finds out that you’re feeling like that.”

Horace scoffed. “Don’t I know it. Hey! The only way she’d find out is if you tell her!”

My eyes widened and I spluttered rolling over to my sides. When I calmed down, I repositioned myself and grabbed hold of his fingers again. I sighed. “Well, that’s true but I promise I’ve never told her a thing.”

That’s a blag, I’m almost certain. It probably slipped from my tongue from time to time.

I was running my fingertips over his short-cut fingernails while blowing raspberries. I took a deep breath before asking, “Well, you guys went on that date like last week, right? Angie’s told us some things, but how’d it go from your perspective?”

He blew raspberries before replying, “I think it went rather well. I mean she actually paid attention to me this time.”

I couldn’t help but snicker. “Oh my god, Horace!”

“It’s true! This time I felt like she was actually like looking at me. I don’t know. She’s hard to read sometimes, but it’s endearing, really.”

“So, you’re saying that you like the mysterious side to her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, in a way, I am.”

“So, if you discover all there is to her, do you think you will lose interest in her?”

Horace and I grew quiet. His arms flopped down to his side which I repeated. I rolled over to my side, an arm supporting my head as my other hand scratched away at the rug.

Horace mimicked how I was laying, so that we were facing each other, and he sighed through his nose. “I don’t think I’ll ever know everything about her. People typically evolve over time as do their curiosities and interests. So, I don’t think you nor I nor Angie will ever fully know one another. However, to answer your question, no, I don’t think I would lose interest in her even if I knew everything about her. I—! I’ve been in love with her since I was a child, so it would be pretty odd if I were to just lose interest once we were together. I mean, then why the hell did I waste all these years pinning after her. You know?”

I hummed and nodded. “I feel that.” I continued picking at the rug. “Hey, Horace?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, um. Basically, you know what, nevermind, it’s dumb.”

“No, come on. Ask me.”

“No—”

“Just ask me.”

I sighed and looked down. “Well, I wanted to ask you since you’re a guy ‘n all. Um, why doesn’t Tommy like me?”

Horace’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he jerked his body around a little. Basically, shaking on his side like a mermaid out of water would, but not as violent. “Now, Aliena. Do you want an honest answer, or do you just want one that will solidify the ideas you already have in your head?”

I chuckled, a small smile spreading across my face before I shouted. “Both!”

Horace rolled over to his back and I inched closer to him. I hovered above him as he spoke. “Okay, then. The honest answer is, well, why does anyone not reciprocate a person’s love? It could simply be because you’re not the person’s type, or there could be any other extenuating circumstance. Why—? Why does Angie not acknowledge my love when I’m obviously ready to give her my all? She just has her reasons. Now, I’m not her nor am I your Tommy, so I can’t speak for him. I don’t know why he won’t look your way. Only he could truly tell you.”

I blinked, my mood souring. I took a deep breath and reached up to fiddle with the collar of his white dress shirt. “And the answer that would solidify my thoughts?” I whispered.

We stared into each other’s eyes as he replied. “You met him too early in life. You met him too early in life, and now all he can see is that 16 year old girl. Not to mention the 12 year age gap! I mean it would probably be nothing, if the both of you had met now, as you are 20 and he’s 32, but you met when you were 16 and 28. I—! Don’t get me wrong a lot of men would have gotten with you being 28 and you being 16. So, regretfully, I have to applaud the man.”

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s the truth, Ali. Men are—! Men aren’t the best. I’ve learned more than enough of the struggle women go through because of men from Angie, believe me!”

“Oh, I believe you!”

We chuckled before falling to a silence.

Horace continued. “There’s also your personality!”

My jaw dropped and my face contorted. I smacked his chest as I gasped. “What’s wrong with my personality!”

He raised his arms and tried defending himself from my attacks. A big ol’ smile on his face. “Ali, you’re very affectionate! Do you know that? God, I’d have believed that Cassie would have fought with you if she didn’t know about Tommy. It’s honestly rather settling to know that you actually have your heart set on someone ‘cause you’d have fooled the rest of us!”

I pouted. Still fiddling with his collar, I asked in a childish voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you flirt with everyone in the group. You know that, right? You sit on Douglas’s lap. You sit on my lap! You sit on Angie’s! You kiss us on the cheek. Dougie kisses your cheek or temple. Then, there’s your unique fashion sense. I’m not judging your choice to display what God gave you. Angie would kill me if I did! But, you can even ask Douglas, we—! Well, I! Don’t regard you all that innocent, anymore. If you get what I mean, I—!”

I waved my hands as a way to stop him from tripping himself over his words even more. “I, I know what you’re trying to say. I get it all the time. Your point is?”

Horace took a deep breath before rubbing his forehead and letting his hand rest there. “Well, don’t you think that a person will just either get used to the affection or eventually grow annoyed by it?”

I’m regretting talking to him entirely.

“I don’t act like that with him, Horace. He’s still my boss, you know. I—! I could never!”

His eyes widened. “O-Oh! Then, disregard that last statement. Uh...”

I mean, but I have thought about that. I debated whether or not my compassion and love for the man was being taken for granted. Well, that he was manipulating me into like placating his feelings. I’m more used to that treatment coming from girls. You know, they act like they’re sad just so that I can comfort them— that sort of thing! I don’t deny that it’s crossed my mind.

Horace cleared his throat. “Well, then, perhaps he’s the sort of man that can’t handle you. You’re very independent and upbeat. I mean you can be serious when the moment calls for it, but you’re quick to giggle. Maybe he just wants a damsel in distress. Maybe he wants a more serious, proud woman. Proud being opposite to your “down to earthness.” Is what I’m trying to say.”

I snickered. “Uh… Right, okay? That was a whole lot in a small package. Um, right, okay then! Well, thank you for giving me your most honest answers, sir.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome, madam.”

I snickered away while cringing and then stuck my tongue out at him. Eventually, we got up from the floor and rejoined the group. We chatted away while sipping our bevvies, and nursed our cigarettes before finding ourselves seated on the couches.

Tina and Cassie were sitting on the couch opposite to Dougie and I. I was sitting rather close to him with my legs draped over his thighs. His right hand rested on my thigh while I ran my fingers through the back of his hair.

Ah! I see what Horace was talking about. Yeah, all those Tik toks ‘n shit are coming back to me. Maybe I should ask Cassie how she feels about my touchiness? Oh, I definitely should. Great! Fucking dammit! Why did my love language have to be physical touch?

He was telling me about his week when Angie’s voice was growing increasingly more loud by the second. She was pacing back ‘n forth in front of Horace, who was sitting on the arm of the couch.

Angie groaned exaggeratedly before snapping her fingers and shouting, “Ali, Ali! What about your opinion, eh? How do you feel living in these times while looking the way you do? Acting the way you do?”

I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced at both Cassie and Dougie. They both gave me shrugs. I sighed before pushing some of my hair away from my face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a drink in her right hand and waving about her left, she said. “Well, I mean you don’t conform to beauty standards. Right? Your hair is still very long, you typically wear what you want to wear. You enhance your curves and you know, embrace the waves in your hair. I mean that’s almost the total opposite of the way women dress today.”

I get that I was out of tune with the modern style, but she was making it sound like I was trying to be some sort of trendsetter.

I giggled and waved a hand and dismissed her comment. “I don’t know what to say. I wear what I want to wear. I—!”

“Exactly! Exactly. You wear what you want to wear. And, and you scrap with men. You fight your own battles. I mean—!”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Angie, Angie, wait a minute. I—! Look, we live one life. I intend on living it how I want. That’s all.”

She nodded. “I know! Exactly and that’s what I love about you. You don’t give a damn about what anyone else thinks. You live your life the way you want, and I don’t know... Well, like tell us—! No, tell me how you do all this without worrying about snagging a man.”

Ah! And the other shoe drops.

I sighed and rubbed my left eye. “Ah, okay. There we go, something I can answer. First and foremost, I dress and act however I want regardless of how a man sees me. How he chooses to warp me in his head, in anyone one’s head, is their problem. I will talk, dress, act, laugh anyway I want because at the end of the day— I have to live with myself and love myself. That’s how I go about my business.”

She began clapping and nodding, her lips pursed.

Oh god, she was tipsy.

Angie snapped her fingers. “Exactly. And! And the beauty standards men put on us and other women expect each other to uphold is ridiculous. Like how the hell is one figure more attractive than another. Women are—! Women, men, everybody should be appreciated. Why, Why do we have to favor one type more over the other? I-I mean, I understand preferences but to subject people to a set criteria when some of us aren’t even capable of accomplishing that standard. It’s—! It’s preposterous.”

Angie raised her free hand to her forehead and she scratched it. “Take Aliena and Cassie for example, they can’t become more flat-chested. They can’t make them smaller. Nor, nor can they help their curvy figures! Why should society tell them to, you know, bind their breasts or something. Or to hide their figures in loose fitted clothing! They’re beautiful! Beautiful!”

All of us shared a glance at one another before bursting with laughter. We laughed so much that I’m sure all of our stomachs ached in pain.

Through her laughter, Cassied rasped. “Angie, Angie sit the fuck down ‘n take a breather, hon’! For the love of...”

I chimed in. “Yes, please sit down before you blow a casket ‘n like faint or some shit.”

Angie pouted through a smile and plopped down on the couch. “I’m just saying. I mean Aliena, you exercise, right? Like, you work out in a way that a man does. Not just take strolls or ride bikes.”

I wiped under my eyes before nodding ‘n sniffling. “Yeah, I do. I exercise for myself. I don’t do it to please society or any man. I do it for me.” I shrugged my shoulders and turned my attention back to Dougie’s hair.

Angie snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Thank you. I love you. Thank you. And that’s why I want to tear down Hollywood.”

“Ah—!” I snickered and shook my head before blowing her a kiss.

After that fiasco, things called down a bit ‘n I went back to talking to Dougie. He was tapping my thigh when he quickly picked up his head and said, “You know I finished developing the photos.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “The photos…? Oh, shit! The photos! How’d they come out?”

Some weeks ago, Dougie bought this camera and wanted to practice his photography skills. He loved the art, but it could never be his main job, for obvious reasons. His father was passing on the company to him, so we all know how that goes. Anyway, I made the suggestion that the gang could be like his practice models ‘n eventually I got everyone to agree.

It was fun, obviously! I helped position everyone and of course, I had to sneak in some 21st century gestures. I just hated that I wouldn’t be alive to see my grandbabies’ faces. I’ll break the timeline, just for this reason. To fuck with my descendents.

During the day, we went to an empty grassland area and had like a cottagecore photoshoot. It was fucking fantastic! One thing from my bucket list I was lucky to complete. But at night, it was a more risque photoshoot. And yes, even Horace participated in it. I made him as did Angie.

Dougie smiled and nodded. “I think they came out to be pretty good. I’ll bring them next time. It just slipped my mind today.”

I psh-ed him and shoved his head away from me before throwing my head back in a cackle. We talked a bit more before I beckoned somewhere else. I eventually made it back to Cassie, and I was sitting on the couch while she was on the floor. I was messing around with her hair. Right now, I was making a bunch of braids.

Cassie was eating some fruit while she was talking to Angie. “Okay, but like who was your first kiss?”

Angie hummed through hooded eyes with an arm hanging in the air. “Oh, it was Tina.”

I spluttered and began spazzing out. I scurried off the couch and started running around the room while shouting over and over again. “No way! No way! No fucking way!”

Cassie joined my freak out session by rolling around on the floor and slapping the couch behind her, where I was previously sitting. When I felt calm enough, I ran back to my spot.

I shouted. “No fucking way!”

Angie chortled. “What? Why is it such a big deal?”

“Uh...” Cassie and I just looked at each other. In an American accent, I said. “Well, I mean. I don’t wanna be a bitch, but like when I felt met y’all… You guys were kinda sus. Like Tina, full truth, I thought you had a humongous crush on Angie ‘n yeah so, um, yeah. Did y’all date or…?”

Angie’s eyes widened and she rose from Tina’s lap, who was stunned, by the way. Angie snatched a pillow from the couch and chucked it at me.

“She’s. Just. Shy. And we were kids when we just did it! It was innocent.” Angie yelled.

I cried out when the pillow hit me. Through my laughter, I replied. “I’m sorry!”

Angie huffed as she laid back down on Tina’s lap. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not the only one to think it. People just get the wrong idea. She’s just shy.” Angie reached up and caressed Tina’s face. “Oh, we’ve both kissed Horace, too.”

My jaw dropped and a hand flew over my mouth. I looked at Cassie and Dougie, who were just as shocked as me. I screamed into my hand and began running around the room again, only this time I wasn’t alone. Dougie was running in the opposite direction of me.

He zipped over to Horace while I tackled Cassie on the couch. Well, I more like got her in a headlock ‘n swung her around a bit as I settled onto the couch.

Tina groaned, averting her gaze from us before running a hand through her hair. She asked. “Well, who were your guys’s first kiss?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Ugh, I guess my first kiss was with my childhood best friend too. Name was Brooklyn.”

“Mine was with Mary, she was a classmate.” Cassie replied.

Angie tsked. “See a girl, right? Why are you harping on us for?”

Cassie and I just shrugged. It was like we had this silent agreement that we weren’t gonna bring up the fact that we kissed each other on the lips as a greeting and a farewell.

“Hey, do you guys think I would look hotter with blonde hair?” I asked.

They all began telling me what they thought.

Later in the night, we just went wild ‘n I was happy for it. Michael and Arthur didn’t cross my mind once. We blasted our records, danced the night away while chatting, drinking, and smoking away.

I was overwhelmed with emotions at the end of the night because—… Because I never thought I would have a friend group like this, and now that I did— it was surreal. I genuinely felt that I wouldn’t be in the mental state I was in, if they weren’t in my life.

They made everything that much better. I was always happy with Tommy, but that feeling was contorting into something else now. You know? It was becoming increasingly more platonic, and as much as that should feel liberating— it frightened me.

I have a million reasons why I held out for him for this long and why it frightens me so, and I’m not going to dwell on them. To be honest, I think the moment he did reciprocate my feelings and he told me, I probably would numb myself immediately. I would just be in such a state of shock that I’d deny his feelings ‘n just move the fuck on.

‘I mean that’s what is expected of me, right?’

Since I am the way that I am. I can’t just blame it on social media’s influence. I mean when I imagined the scenario I end up cringing a ton, and I send myself into like a “tic fit.” It’s the best I can describe it.

Anyhow, back to how the night went! We got super drunk, super high, and probably pissed off Cassie’s neighbors but we settled down at like three or four in the morning. The people living downstairs were most likely the most grateful since we were jumping around like crazy people.

We, collectively, all crawled onto Cassie’s bed ‘n knocked out. I was probably the first to sleep. I’m not going to tell ya a blag. It was completely plausible. But, what I loved most about tonight— it was that I was surrounded by people who loved me. It was warm and I felt safe. Something I wasn’t even able to feel in my own home at times when I was back in my own universe.

Cassie was the big spoon while I was the little, and Dougie was her big spoon. I made sure to avoid being in the middle anymore. I talked to Cassie and she was fine with my touching. She said I showed her the same amount of attention, and she knew I didn’t fancy him— so we were good.

However, I didn’t want to interfere with a perfectly good moment. So, I chose to be on the outside while Cassie was in the middle. Yeah, that didn’t stop her from cuddling me instead. I was too intoxicated and tired to tell her to cuddle Dougie instead.

When I woke up, I found it to be fairly early in the morning because the sky was grey. There’s a difference to the 6 am sky and the 8 am sky, okay! I didn’t get up right away. I wanted to savor the tranquility that surrounded me for a little while longer. But like all sweet things, they must come to an end.

My guess is that I was probably stirring around too much by accident ‘n woke up Cassie, who inadvertently awoke Dougie. I tried coaxing her back to sleep, but it was too late for the both of them. Begrudgingly, I inched my way off the bed and strolled over to the table.

Dougie was right behind me. I could hear his loud yawn from behind me, and then his hands gently fell on top of my head. My head bobbled as he kissed the top of my head.

“Mornin’, Ali.”

I smiled and while my head did a little dance, I replied. “Morning, Dougie.”

He pulled out a chair for me before going to sit on his own. While gripping the arms of the chair, I scooted closer to the table. I craned my head back to see Cassie on the phone, no doubt ordering food.

We really didn’t begin talking till the food came. I think we were just still sleepy, but food and orange juice helped. Horace was the first to get up ‘n he attacked the bacon. Then, it was Tina and finally, Angie. Who was very grumpy, by the way. So not happy about being awake.

I don’t know how it happened, but eventually we broke out into a food fight. It was awesome.

“Oi! Fucking watch it!” I exclaimed as I narrowly dodged a ketchup covered egg. I knew it was covered in ketchup ‘cause I saw Tina drown them in it. I grabbed a syrup-soaked waffle and chucked it at Dougie.

It got him right on the side of his face. He exclaimed and his face contorted in disgust. My mouth immediately contorted into deep frown ‘n my eyebrows raised, and when his crazed eyes found mine— I gasped. My gasp was so deep like a man’s that I hurt my throat doing it.

I held my hands up as I croaked. “Wait.” He inched closer to me. “Wait! Wait!” I turned my back and started running. Something you should know about me, I never liked being chased. It gave me another type of anxiety and happiness— it was so weird.

Eventually, Dougie caught me and we started wrestling with each other. Through our grunts, I heard the phone ring and Cassie hopped across the room to get to it. She landed on the bed and crawled to the phone. While sitting on her knees, she answered the phone.

I turned my attention back to Dougie and tried crawling away from him as he attacked my sides. It wasn’t my tickle spot, but I laughed at the pain of his fingers digging into my sides, nonetheless.

“I’m sorry!” I yelled. “I’m sorry! I give, now cut it out.”

Dougie loosened his hold and sat up on his knees, flipping his bangs to one side as he did so. I didn’t hesitate to get up on my feet.

“Never!” He shouted. “You got syrup on my face.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I playfully yelled as I charged at him ‘n I barely managed to get him into a headlock when Cassie shouted for me. She motioned the phone toward me, and my smile dropped as did my hold on Dougie.

I walked over to the phone and brought it to my ear. While taking some of the hair that fell into my mouth, I said. “Hello?”

“Aliena, love.” Polly sniffled before continuing, “Thank god you’re alright. Um, I need you to come home, darling.”

“Polly, you’re crying. What’s happened?” I’m only half-ashamed to admit that I was exaggerating my concern. Hard to actually experience when I already knew what was up.

“It’s Michael. He’s been arrested. You need to come home to the house in Small Heath. We’re gonna have a family meeting.”

“Is Tom there yet?”

Polly sniffled again before replying, “No, not yet. You still have time before it begins, so come quickly. Love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I hung up the phone and looked back at my mates. They were all looking at me concernedly. I waved my finger around before finding the words. “I, uh… I need to go. Cassie, can you tell Simmons—!”

She nodded. “Of course.” Cass instantly grabbed the phone and began calling him.

I glanced at my mates one more time before walking over to the closet. I put on this off-white frock with some black heels. I didn’t fix my hair up or put on any makeup. I just packed up my things, threw on my coat, and hurried out the door. I bade everyone farewell before leaving.

I ran out of the car and into the house. I threw my backpack on the couch before shouting, “Polly, I’m here!”

Faintly, I could hear Polly gasp and then we met each other halfway in the kitchen. She pulled me into a hug and squeezed the breath right out of me.

“Thank god!” She said. “Thank god you’re okay.” Polly parted from our hug ‘n began stroking my hair and face.

Footsteps coming from my right caught my attention, and I hugged Finn, John, and Esme as they came up to me. All us exchanging words about how we were all glad that one another was okay. John caught me up to date as Polly was fawning over me.

She couldn’t stop stroking my hair and kissing my temple. I didn’t mind it, but everything she did was exemplified since I wasn’t used to this sort of treatment from her. Well, I was ‘n it always happened in some sad event in our lives, and that’s probably what’s upsetting me the most.

I managed to get her to sit down, and smoked a ciggie with her. Tom sure took his time coming home. It took him, perhaps, twenty to thirty minutes later before he strided through the kitchen and into the shop.

I stubbed my ciggie out, just as Tom said. “John?”

“Coppers have lifted 10 of our men in Camden town, the rest of them on the run.” He replied.

Finn added. “Tom, they've taken Michael.”

Polly rose from her seat and walked closer to the family and I followed suit, taking the opposite door to lean on.

Tom waved Finn off saying, “Business first.”

“They took Michael— ”

“I said business first.”

“They picked him up—!”

“Polly, business first!”

‘Great! Went from having an awesome time last night to an anxiety ridden morning. I love my life. Wow, way to make it about myself. I’m amazing!’

Tom gave Pol one last look before asking John to continue. Polly looked vulnerable. She looked, sorry to say, pitiful. She was desperate to help Michael, but— obviously, Tom had an agenda he was intending to follow.

John continued. “They took all our whisky. So no doubt they'll be supping that for Christmas. They've impounded all our vans, put their own locks on the warehouse. The Eden Club and all our pubs have been raided by the coppers and handed back to Sabini and Solomons. The Black Country boys think it was Arthur who killed Billy because that's what the coppers told them. So there'll be no more free passes for our whisky boats.”

“I don't give a fuck about whisky. I don't give a fuck about Billy Kitchen.” Polly said as she walked over to the table and began to lightly slam her hand down on it as she spoke, “I want my son out of prison now.”

Esme decided to speak up, at the wrong time. “Thomas, I spoke to Johnny Dogs.”

“This meeting should just be family.” Polly insisted.

‘Ah—! Ma’am, the fuck does that make me? Oh, wait, family! You, idiot, you.’

“I can help.”

“-It's family only, she's not blood.”

“Let her speak.” Tom interjected, but Polly kept on going.

“Tommy! Or is this a business… How you forgotten family—!”

“ENOUGH!”

My hand flew to my mouth and I swear to God, my heart sank to my arse. ‘Holy fuck is the wrong, but holy hell is it erotic!’

I was given the side eye by multiple people in the room, and I quickly numbed my feelings. Faster than I ever had to before. I stood up straight and cleared my throat.

Tom looked back at Polly as he said. “Enough, Polly. Esme.”

“I spoke to Johnny Dogs. The Lees are kin.”

“The bloody Lees!” Polly exclaimed

“They can give us men.”

“We don't need more fucking men! It's men that have done the damage! It's… It is men fighting like cockerels that have put us here in the first place.”

Tommy said. “Esme, I'll take up their offer. We need men.”

There was this pregnant silence that stilled between all of us, and it made me bounce on my heels.

Polly pointedly stared at Tommy, inching closer to him as she said. “If Michael ever gets out of prison, I am taking him away from this family, for good.” She took a step back from Tom and waved her hands around her. “This life is bad.”

Polly walked over to Finn ‘n grabbed him by the arm. “This life is all bad.” She began dragging him away and made a beeline for me. Pol gripped my arm ‘n began pulling me away too.

“Ah!” I exclaimed as my feet skidded across the floor.

“Aunt Pol, what’re you doin’?” Finn cried out as we were both being tugged away.

“Shut up and walk.”

I managed to crane my head back for one last look at Tom before Pol had tugged Finn and I out of the house. Tommy didn’t meet my gaze.

Polly ushered us in her car and drove us to the house in Sutton. She ordered us to stay in the house, but I knew where she was going. I saw her make a call, which went on for sometime, before she darted for the door.

I think she was calling Ada.

I grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. “Polly, wait! Where are you going?”

She sighed before taking my face into her hands. “I’m going to go see if I can get my son out by myself. Thomas isn’t going to help, so I’m doing this on my own.” Polly stroked the side of my face as she looked into my eyes.

“Don’t go...” I whispered.

Pol sucked on her teeth before shaking her head. I gripped her wrists as they were still close to my face and said. “I can—! I can call someone. My mates can help. They’re Michael’s mates too, so I’m sure they won’t mind.”

She shook her head and gently tugged her hands away from my face. I let her wrists go without hesitation. With one hand on my shoulder, and the other waving around as she talked, she said. “No. No, I can’t have your friends knowing about this side of the family. They’re different from us ‘n they need to have the best image of you they can. I will deal with this on my own. I will deal with this on my own as I’ve always done.”

Polly quickly kissed my forehead and left just as I was about to continue to beg her not to. I ran after her, but my reaction time was a little too late since she was already in the car. I shouted after her, but she took off.

I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t—! I couldn’t interfere when she didn’t want me to, so I just walked back into the house ‘n focused on taking care of Finn. We spent our time talking and playing card games. I finished making our lunch when Ada showed up. I knew she’d show up. ‘Cause of the episode, of course.

She brought Karl, which made everything better ‘n brighter for a while.

I spent time playing with the baby and catching up with Ada. Eventually, I left Ada alone with Finn since I’m sure she’d wanted to talk to him alone. I had the maid make dinner ‘n eventually sent Finn’s lanky butt up to a room. Had the maid prepare it for him beforehand. Ada and I talked into the night till Karl grew tired.

She took another room and retired for the night. On the other hand, I only went up stairs to change into something more comfortable, then I went back down to wait for Polly to come back home. I basically wore a nightgown and put my hair into a ponytail.

I knew Polly was going to want to take a bath ‘n I wanted to be the one to help her. It was only right since she’d helped me when I needed it.

I hated myself. I hated myself. I could’ve tried harder. I could’ve used better words to persuade her. I could’ve—!

Polly stumbled in at around eleven o’clock at night. I sprang up from the couch ‘n she didn’t even make a fuss about the fact I was up. Pol stumbled into my arms with the stench of alcohol on her breath.

“Ali my love!” She slurred as she leaned all her body weight on me.

I muffled a groan as I held her up.

Polly picked herself up a bit and slapped her hands on my face. I flinched at the force she put behind it.

“Beautiful...” She whispered. “Absolutely beautiful...” Her thumbs roughly wiped the space under my eyes. Bringing them up and down and stretched back.

“Polly,” I whispered. “What’s happened?”

Her head jerked back and she stumbled away from me. Averting my gaze, she replied. “Is done. Michael with—! Michael will be out within, at, in the morning.”

I smiled and clapped my hands in front of my mouth. “That’s great news, Polly!”

She smiled and nodded, drunkenly. Like she was nodding like a bobble head, someone who wasn’t in control of their motor functions. Polly’s gaze drifted to the side and she pointed to the tub. “Were you gonna take a bath?”

I shook my head. “Oh, no. I thought about it, but then I was waiting for you to come home. I had the fire lit. Why? Did you want to take a bath?”

Polly stumbled forward and gripped my arms, steadying herself before she nodded. “Yes. Yeah. Ali, darling, can you be so kind… And help me?”

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowing in concern. I ran to the kitchen and filled up the bucket for hot water. This house actually had a water heater ‘n that meant hot water from the tap. I had to make a few trips back ‘n forth but it was quicker than it would’ve been at the other house.

“Alright, all done.” I turned back to Polly, who was sitting on the couch as she gazed into the fire. Her head shot up when I spoke. I turned around as a way to give her the privacy she needed to undress.

I could sense her walking toward the tub and I turned my body more to the left while closing my eyes. Slowly, I got down to my knees ‘n sat on them. I wanted to give her the respect she deserved. The water sloshed as she dipped her body in the tub.

“Can you pass me the soap and sponge, love?” Polly asked me.

My eyes fluttered open instantly and I crawled to where I had placed the body soap and sponge earlier. I reached up for them and then crawled back over to her before giving them to her.

I sort of just sat there as she bathed herself. Her movements were sluggish and looked to be done with great difficulty. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted to pry. I wanted her to open up to me and just cry about it. I didn’t want her to keep it in. However, I knew that was wrong, so I just picked at the carpet below me.

Eventually, I couldn’t stand doing nothing and I asked her if I could shampoo her hair. She gave me a sloth-like smile and gave me permission. I reached up for the shampoo, took off my sheer robe, and shuffled on my knees around the tub.

Polly leaned forward to give me some room. I scooped up some of the water from the tub using the pitcher and poured it along her hairline, slowly making my way to the back of her scalp.

Shampooing someone else’s hair was always something comforting to me. I did Cassie’s hair all the time as she did mine. It was a type of intimacy that was more innocent than others types.

I began humming something from Billie Holiday. I didn’t know the song by heart, but I knew some of the words ‘n rhythm enough. I was rinsing her hair when Polly’s shoulders began to shake. Muffled sobs escaped her nose as she shakily took deep breaths.

I didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t know if it was appropriate to touch her and hug her, so I asked. I asked if it was alright if I hugged her. Like a child, she nodded through her sobs.

I hugged Polly from behind. She was wet, I knew that. I was painfully aware of the new sensation of my dress sticking to my body and her cold hair against my cheek. Everything in my being was screaming and begging me to launch myself backward, away from her— but my heart was pleading for me to do the opposite.

My heart wanted to absorb her pain, and it was my heart that won. I choked back my tears. I didn’t have the right to shed them. I could’ve saved her from this pain. I could’ve prevented this. But, ultimately when I blinked, they slipped down my cheeks.

I didn’t pry, I stayed true to my word. We composed ourselves simultaneously and silently.

“Love?”

I wiped my nose on my arm before answering, “Yes?”

“Can you get me a cigarette? They’re in my purse.”

I nodded as I muttered. “Of course.” I rose to my feet and walked over to her purse, which was on the sofa. I put one in my mouth and lit it. With it still hanging off my lips, I took a quick puff as I grabbed the ashtray. I placed it on the stool that had the soaps on top, and then passed Polly her ciggie.

I walked back around to the chair that was behind her ‘n admired the fire crackling. Ada came in not too long after. I left…

Truthfully, I didn’t know why I left.

I trudged up the stairs all the way to my room. I closed the door behind me and slid down it.

I felt like a complete piece of shit and hollow and empty. My face scrunched up in a sob, but no tears came out. There was this increasingly more painful headache forcing me to acknowledge it, and with it came anger and annoyance. I wanted to punch the walls. I wanted to throw stuff around. I wanted to kill Campbell for what he’s done to this family.

I wanted his blood. I wanted to slit his throat. I wanted to bite a chunk of his neck out. I wanted…

I heaved a deep breath and found it still difficult to breathe. I crawled forward on all fours with one hand supporting my weight while the other clutched my throat. I took deep breaths till finally I couldn’t take it anymore.

I had to release these emotions inside of me. The need to punish myself became overwhelming, and my eyes flickered to the suitcase that laid under my bed.

I shook my head. ‘I couldn’t afford any marks’ I thought.

With my other job, my body is a tool ‘n any harm to it hinders my ability to get it done.

So, I yanked the straps of my gown down and let it fall under my waist. Ferociously, I began to claw away at my neck, arms, and stomach. The burn. The burn was what I needed.

And when I stopped, the pain took over but as much as it meant everything— it was also nothing.

Slowly, I brought the straps of my gown back up to my shoulders, rose to my feet, and sauntered over to my bed. I climbed in it and just laid there while staring at the lamp that was always on at my desk. I fell asleep, eventually…

The next morning, Polly came into my room ‘n asked if I wanted to come with her to go ‘n get Michael. I felt like she wanted me to go with her, so I said I’d go. While dressing up, I was glad to see that none of the scratches I’d made scarred up.

I made sure to dress warmly since we would be going out so early in the morning and then we headed off to pick him up. We didn’t make any conversation during the drive or as we waited for him to come out.

But nothing— and I mean nothing, could tear my eyes away from the scarf around her neck.

I chose to lean against the wall as we waited while Polly was pacing back ‘n forth on the pavement. When Michael walked out, the first thing I noticed was the ugly bruise on his right cheek. Then, I noticed the little cuts all around his face. The need to comfort him was strong, but he walked straight toward his mother while smoking a ciggie.

“You need cream on them cuts or they'll go bad.” Polly said to ‘em.

Michael didn’t reply. He took a drag before saying, “The screws told me why I've been freed. They told me what you did.”

Polly looked away from Michael. Her gaze found mine, and she hurriedly looked away from me too. Polly stared straight on, instead.

“They thought it was funny.” He continued. Michael took another puff before he said. “Maybe it is.”

The urge to degrade and make someone cry had never been activated so fast in me before now. I glared at Michael as he walked away. My blood boiled with each step he took.

With my foot, I launched myself away from the wall and walked to Polly’s side. I put a hand on her shoulder and whispered. “C’mon. Let’s go. He probably needs time is all.”

Polly said nothing, but allowed me to lead her over to the car.

Michael eventually had to come home, and he had the audacity to knock at my door. Of course, I let him in but only to give him a piece of my mind.

“Do you even know what she did?” He shouted.

“She got you out, didn’t she? Why should you care how?” I shouted back.

“She fucked Campbell to get me out. She prostituted herself!”

I pretended to process it and be shocked before I continued. “And? So fucking what? Who are you to say that it was funny, huh? Fucking bastard! Fucking ungrateful prick!”

I wanted to put my hands on him so badly, but I resorted to punching my palms repeatedly instead. As well as folding in on myself.

I whipped my hair back and ran a hand through my hair.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t see anything wrong with that? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Of course there’s something wrong with that! Campbell abused his position and abused his powers. He raped your mother!”

His face fell.

I scoffed. “Did you actually think I would side with you? Oh, fuck you, Michael. I would’ve done the same for me own son and so much more. She did that out of desperation ‘n fear ‘n pure maternal love! And—! And, you threw it back ‘n her face! I mean look at you, Michael. How much more of that could you have withstood?”

“All of it! I would have taken every beating… Every fucking—!” Michael choked up and rose his fists over his eyes.

I averted my gaze. My tongue prodded the inside of my cheek as I violently shook my right leg. I tsked before rushing toward Michael and pulled him into a hug. Weakly, he hugged me back.

Muffled, I said. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you for the things you said, but me and you are not alright right now. And I need you to respect the fact I need some time to process and get over what you said to her. It was very insensitive and I don’t play when it comes to situations like that. I don’t care about the excuse. You should have comforted her or each other when you were given the chance.” I parted from the hug and turned around.

I didn’t turn back around till I heard my door shut from behind me.

About a week and a half has passed since Michael’s release and we’re still not on good terms. He hasn’t apologized to Polly for what he said, so obviously I wasn’t going to just sweep that shit under the rug. Little shit would have no idea how much restraint it took to not slap him across the face!

Of course I encourage him to “get it over with” and “clear the air.” But the stubborn twat was like his mum, and he refused to do so. It was like that conversation we had went in one ear and out the other. So, I’ve just steered clear of ‘em. Pissed me off just looking at him.

Anyway, John and I went to visit Arthur in jail. He was pretty rough, but when was Arthur not? We just visited him to see him. Tommy didn’t have a plan drawn up yet. Other than that, I’ve been busy with work. Legit and side hustle alike.

Since the coppers fucked with the inventory, Tommy needed my help with the numbers and had me running around more often. At the same time, Dom gave me hit orders every other day.

Some of the hit orders were during the day as well! I had to run off to get that job done, then hurry back to Small Heath. I’m just lucky nobody gets on my arse. Tommy could, no doubt there, but he was busy himself and I got the job done anyway.

I knew he had some Peaky men or juniors watching me, for my “protection.” I knew they told him what I was doing, where I was going, but they never found out what I did. I had to let Dom know what was going on at home, and he helped me get away from them.

Was it suspicious? Short answer, yes.

Not like I could stop the side, though. The second season was coming to an end soon and what happens on Derby Day determines if I’m staying in this family or not. I, myself, don’t even know what to expect.

I mean, it’s obvious he’s going to sleep with Grace and knock her up. What the fuck did I even want to happen? Did I want him to just confess to me and we get together instead? Well, of course, I want that to happen! But it’s not. And I can’t even see Tommy doing something as cringy as that. Yes, cringy.

The idea of him just springing on a confession on me still made me cringe up. My feelings have never been recuperated, so if they were to finally be mutual— there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have the romantic reaction I would be hoping for. Sad truth, but what could I do? Not like I had control over what my crushes felt.

So, basically, if Grace is pregnant— I’ll quietly go away. I haven’t brought it up to Cassie yet, but I’m planning on slumming it with her. Just for a while, I know I have enough money to buy a house of my own. I would probably get Dom to do it for me, though, since I had no idea how to do it.

If Tom tried to find me, then I’d just hide at Dom’s place. I’m sure he’d let me. On the topic of Tom, though— I missed him. Like talking to him, bugging him, and especially seeing his face. I was being deprived of my daily dose of serotonin. It was a crime!

Despite all that, today was a night of relaxation. I’d planned to go out with my mates, but since it’d be too dangerous to go South— they had to come to me. Ridiculous, I know but Tom insisted on the idea the last time I saw him. Even though I’d been going all around the fucking country for a week and a half.

We were in the snug at the Garrison. Smoking a few cigs while sipping on our bevvies. It was a girls’ night despite the fact that Finn was here. Let him have two pints, and that was it. He was still working on his first like a good lad.

Angie spat. “I mean who the fuck does that bitch think she is? Just because her mum is a famous pianist doesn’t mean she is too! Dumb dora doesn’t know about key or pitch to save her life.”

I raised my eyebrows and slurped my bevvy. I smacked my mouth before asking. “Hey, Ange. How are you and Horace?”

Her movements faltered and a smile crept up on her face. I gasped and my hand shot over my mouth.

“Oh my god! Oh my god, are you two finally dating? Are youse dating?” My hand flew back to Cassie’s arm and I gripped it while shaking her. She was just as excited as I was.

Angie couldn’t meet my gaze to save her life. “I-! We… Yeah, we’re dating. I, I said yes.”

All of us girls squealed and congratulated her. Internally, I was congratulating my boy, Horace. My mans was pinning after Angie since childhood and he finally got the girl.

Even material to make a story out of, oop! Mayhaps.

She told us how it happened. They had been in a fight since her father secretly set her up on a blind date and he’d caught them as she was out. Horace didn’t blow up on them at the spot, but Angie felt compelled to follow him out the restaurant they were dining in. On the street, he aggressively professed his love and told her he couldn’t bear to beat around the bush anymore. He gave her an ultimatum, and she was thrown off by how assertive he was being. It made her heart flutter, and she confessed she felt the same.

Another round of squeals at the table, please! Poor Finn, he had to suffer through us. His own fault for volunteering to, like, chaperone me.

The topic changed to the ball Cassie had for her 21st birthday. This happened like a couple of Fridays ago since her birthday was on the tenth of February. It was really extravagant and the theme was like a royal ball. So, we got to dress up in these really amazing ball gowns. I wore this beautiful green ball gown that was most likely akin to 16th century fashion, as one man told me.

I wouldn’t know the exact period my dress resembled since that wasn’t my area of expertise. Glad the man knew, though!

Cassie tapped me on my arm, her face contorted in confusion. “Ali… What did we do for your birthday?”

I blinked before smiling. “Oh, we didn’t do anything.”

Her face immediately contorted in horror and she looked at Angie and Tina, which of course made me do the same. They had the same expression on their faces.

Tina raised a finger and began wagging it as she said. “Wait a minute… Did we even do something for your birthday last year?”

“Uh...no.” My eyes kept flickering between the three of them and I watched as the horror deepened in their faces.

They began showering me in apologies, and while it did comfort me— it annoyed me at the same time. ‘Like it was too late for apologies since the days already passed. So, like why sweat it now?’

The girls surrounded Ali and showered her in apologies. Finn watched from the sidelines. He saw the flicker of discomfort on Ali’s face before she began to smile.

He knew that his family had forgotten about her past two birthdays as well, and he wanted to get something for her. But the last time he did that— he got in trouble for it. So, the best he did was wish her happy birthday.

“Okay! Okay! We obviously just have to throw the biggest party ever to make up for them both.” Cassie said, her lips pursing as she talked. Tina and Angie nodded, but Ali sighed.

She shook her head while clutching her forehead. “No. No, it’s alright really. My birthday passed. I don’t need anything.”

The girls dismissed her wishes, which annoyed the crap out of Ali and Finn.

Ali rubbed her eyes roughly before waving her hands up. “Okay, okay, fine! We can have a little something. It has to be little. I’m not allowed South, so—!”

Cassie cut her off. “That’s completely alright. We can do it here like last time. You know?” She looked around the room. Tina and Angie nodded in agreement.

Ali thought about it and just succumbed to her mates’ wishes. Ali took a breath and thought about it in a different perspective. Instead of holding onto the fact her birthdays were overlooked, she was just appreciative that they, at least, wanted to celebrate it now.

They girls talked it out and they decided they would reconvene next Friday at the Garrison. Finn was welcomed to join, and the lad was not going to miss it for anything in the world because of what they were planning.

These girls were planning to get “fucked up.” More specifically, Aliena “fucked up.” He had some idea of what that meant, and he knew he wasn’t going to like it.

Eventually, Finn ended up asking Aliena what that meant, and she told him that her mates basically wanted to get her really drunk. He knew he wouldn’t like it.

That week Finn, Aliena, and the girls were all just really preparing for the “doomsday.” Aliena was pumped up to have fun with her girls in her honor, and couldn’t decide what she to wear. The girls were trying to find gifts for her birthdays, you know, since they missed two of ‘em.

While Finn, he was going through it. He was debating so hard whether or not to tell Tom. He didn’t know if he should. He usually would have, but with things being so tense lately— he really didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news or add fuel to the fire. So, he decided against it and was just glad to be invited. He also looked for a gift.

The day of the party both Finn and Aliena visited Tommy’s office. Aliena went to give him his dinner at around 5:30. She had yet to get dressed for the night, but her hair was beautifully done in waves from the braids she made the night before. She had half of it up since if it was all down— her hair would be too poofy.

Aliena knocked on Tom’s door before entering. Tom was finishing up some last minute paperwork. He didn’t tell Aliena, but he was going to Ada’s house to meet up with Grace. She’d called some weeks ago, and Tom was finally available enough to meet her.

She rested the basket on his desk and moved a piece of her hair away from her face. “Here you go, Tommy. Have a nice night.”

Tom picked up his head and his eyebrows wanted to furrow as he took in her appearance. Her hair was done nicely and she was wearing a nice outfit.

Ali had on a white tank top with a sheer white long-sleeved blouse over it and wore a ribbed off-white skirt that hugged her curves. She didn’t think anything of it, but Tom sure did.

He wondered if she got dressed up for another boy of hers, but then he realized he had no business admiring her or getting jealous. After all, he’d be meeting up with Grace in almost a half hour.

Tom looked into Aliena’s eyes ‘n noticed she was wearing a bit of makeup and holding a vanilla folder in her hand as well. “Night, Ali.” He replied.

Ali smiled at him, gave him a nod, and knocked on his desk before spinning around on her heels. Ali was almost out the door when her hand knocked into one of the chairs and the contents of the vanilla folder went flying. Ali cursed under her breath and bent down to collect the papers from the ground.

Tom’s eyes never left her arse. Tom recognized that Aliena was blessed with well-endowed features— ample breasts and a large behind as well as thighs. He admired the way her breasts hung from her body as she had to reposition herself to get a paper that had flown under the chair. He admired the arch of her back.

Tom realized he was acting like a pervert and resituatied himself. He silently cleared his throat and sat up straight while tugging on his pants. Aliena tapped the folder on the ground to straighten its contents before rising from her knees.

She smiled at him, sheepishly, as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Sorry ‘bout that, Tommy. Good night.”

Tom repeated the phrase under his breath and Aliena made it out the door without a mishap.

Finn came in not five minutes later, passing Aliena on the way to the office. He walked straight into Tom’s office.

Tom’s head shot up and he didn’t hesitate to begin speaking, “Finn, I want you to look after Aliena tonight. I’m going over to Ada’s and I don’t know when I’ll be back.” Tom had risen from his seat as he spoke. Putting on his coat and cap.

Tom walked over to Finn and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Alright?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah, got it.”

Tom nodded and began walking ahead of his little brother, but then turned around all of a sudden. Tom pointed toward his desk ‘n said. “Oh and eat that for me, yeah? Aliena made it so… It should be good.”

Finn chuckled and took his brother up on the offer. He’d been starving.

Aliena rushed home and practically inhaled her meal. She didn’t want to eat, but since was planning to drink till her liver bursted— she didn’t want to knock out on the third drink. After eating, she hauled the tub to her room and took a bath.

Aliena decided tonight was the night.

She wasn’t going to wait for Tommy anymore.

She’s been building up to it and she didn’t care anymore. Virginity was just some societal construct anyhow. Plus, she wouldn’t tell anyone but she owned a dildo in her other universe ‘n yeah…

Aliena just assumed this body, that was very fucking different, had it’s hymen, so…

She freshened up and shaved her vagina. Not for the poor guy she was going to use, but for herself. Aliena was big on, “you like me for me or you can fuck off.”

Don’t worry Ali had her hair all tied up away from the water and when she was done— all she had to do was dry her body off.

Ali kept her towel on as she did her makeup. She kept it light and noir like she did for the Garrison’s reopening. After makeup, she slid on her dress. The best Ali could describe it was a loose body con dress that had ruffles that reminded her of a curtain. It was sky blue ‘n fit with the times.

Ali took down her hair once she was done putting on her dress. She tried her best to keep her waves, but they had ultimately lost most of their volume throughout the day. Aliena tried to not let it bother her. She put on her heels, grabbed a matching clutch, and her white fur coat.

Aliena walked over to Finn’s room ‘n knocked on his door, asking if he was ready. He didn’t answer from his room, but from downstairs. Aliena hurried down the flight of stairs, joined their arms once she was down, and then they were on their way to the Garrison.

Isaiah met them on the way, which was a pleasant surprise. Finn had invited him along ‘n of course Aliena wouldn’t mind. She hadn’t seen him in a long time, and she figured it was due to the business.

Aliena was escorted with two men around her arms to the Garrison and she chatted with them the whole way. She was all smiles and it warmed both the men’s hearts. More so Finn than Isaiah.

When they got to the pub, they instantly walked to the snug. They quickly seated themselves down ‘n got comfy. Isaiah ordered their bevvies from the window and they were served not too long after.

The gang couldn’t have gotten there not twenty minutes later. Their hands were occupied with gifts ‘n the boys were carrying the cake. Aliena couldn’t feel more loved ‘n appreciated. She greeted her mates with kisses and hugs ‘n thanked them for the party.

Aliena ended up thanking Douglas and Horace for showing up and for their gifts separately since she wasn’t expecting them. First manner of business was the birthday cake. Horace revealed this magnificent simple cake that had twenty candles around it.

Ali couldn’t stop covering her face as she smiled. She tried reeling in her emotions, but she never could act “right” when people sang her happy birthday. For her birthday wish, she wished that she’d continue on working on her happiness.

Before having a piece of cake, Aliena opened her presents. Cassie gave her another set of expensive jewelry that was to die for! Ali loved it! Douglas gave Aliena a new pair of shoes, a clutch, and a purse. While it wasn’t to die for, Aliena appreciated it since after all he didn’t even ask her what she wanted. It was ballsy to get a gift for Ali without talking to her first since her face usually gave her true thoughts away.

She’s worked on that since she was young, but sometimes it will show. Hasn’t happened yet, but doesn’t mean it won’t.

Angie gave Aliena more designer clothing while Horace bought her a typewriter. She absolutely gushed over their gifts, especially the typewriter. Tina’s present was Pride and Prejudice, Anna Karenina, Little Women, Romeo and Juliet, and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Aliena loved the fact that Tina gave her books. Truth be told, she hasn’t really read a book unless they were someone else’s.

Isaiah didn’t have a gift, so we can skip over him. Finn, on the hand, did. Ali was a little apprehensive about it since last time he got her a gift, he would’ve caught a charge if he was anyone else. It was a big box, too. Aliena shook the lid off the box to find a box of items packed inside. There were about five different shades of lipstick, two bottles of perfume, and a whole lot of makeup.

Ali couldn’t help but be in awe at the gift. She hugged Finn and thanked him for something so wonderful ‘n thoughtful. Finn was able to let go of the breath he was holding and felt extremely happy that she loved her gift. Swear, the boy had a smile for a majority of the night.

The minute Aliena was done opening her gifts, the real party began. Finn watched as Aliena and her mates took shot after shot after shot. He participated a bit himself, but out of conditioning from Aliena— he took his time. Isaiah was faring no better. He’d received the same order as Finn. His sole duty tonight was to protect Aliena ‘n the way she was drinking— he had a bad feeling something was gonna happen.

Eventually they made their way out of the snug ‘n began dancing more freely. Isaiah expertly manipulated Ali into only dancing with their mates. The minute she tried catching the eye of literally anyone else, he’d step in.

Out in the city, he had no problem with who she danced with or who she made out with. In Small Heath, his and every other person’s eyes were at stake. But more importantly, his eyes were at stake!

Truthfully, Aliena wasn’t actually drunk— she was buzzed! But, she wasn’t drunk. She was mimicking Cassie’s behavior, who was on a completely different level drunkenness than her. She did it in a sense of solidarity and recklessness. She felt that since they were celebrating her birthday, since it was her night— she should be able to act freely. Especially when she was trapped in Birmingham per Tommy’s orders.

Aliena was getting bored with just dancing and began to sing. She sang ‘Ain't No Other Man’ by Christina Aguliera. At first, it was just the mates who were aware that she was singing, but then other patrons heard her voice. Aliena was lifted in the air by a particularly strong ‘n tall patron and he set her down on the bar top.

Aliena “under the influence” began to sing as clearly as she could and belt as loud as she could, as much in tune as she could manage.

Not like they would know if she butchered the song or not.

Finn, who watched all of this go down, had enough. In his opinion, Aliena had gotten out of control ‘n it was out of his hands. So, he decided to get the big guns involved.

His senses were filled with her. Her perfume, the texture of her dress, the taste of her lips and the feeling of pressing them against his own.

So, what had changed for him?

Tom wondered why her kiss didn’t set him aflame like it did months ago.

“Tommy. Tommy, do you have someone?” She asked him.

Tom kissed Grace again.

“It's too late, Tommy.”

“It's 11:00, Grace.”

“I mean, it's too late. If you'd come with me to New York...”

“I had things to do.” He kissed her again, searching for that feeling. That feeling of completion and—! And wholeness.

“You mean the coin landed the wrong way?”

“It couldn’t have worked. That was the question.” Their lips met once more ‘n fiercer this time ‘round.

Grace parted from the kiss and breathily asked. “Tommy… Tommy, do you have someone?”

‘Yes?’ He thought as the memory of Aliena looking back at him at the park flashed in his mind. Tom took a deep breath. “I have a racehorse. She’s gonna win the Derby.” He said. Tom joined their lips again and this time— they didn’t part after a few seconds.

Tom was desperately seeking that feeling of passion, but he figured he was gettin’ into his own head by rushing it. So, he took it slow. Grace slipped down the sleeves of her dress, and it hardly did anything for him.

It aroused him, of course, but—! It wasn’t the same. It was akin to the times he’s laid with a prostitute.

‘You’re getting in your head, Tom. The feeling will come back. Take your time.’ He told himself. He led her backward toward the couch, his lips never parting from hers.

The more time he spent kissing her, the more that pit in his stomach grew.

That feeling wasn’t coming back.

Tom trailed down to her neck, and he paid attention to Grace there before going back to her lips.

‘Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! Give it some fuckin’ time, man!’

Then by the grace of God, the phone started going off. Tom parted from the kiss ‘n Grace’s hands flew to his face.

“Let it ring.” She rasped while trying to pull his face back to hers.

Tom never averted his gaze from the phone ‘n it didn’t stop ringing either. Annoyed, he got up from the couch and walked over to the telephone.

Tom had barely gotten the address out when Finn’s voice cut through the phone. “Tom, Tommy, are you there?”

“Finn, what’s happened? What’s wrong?” Panic overwhelmed his being and Tom began buttoning up his shirt.

The pub could be heard through the phone and Tom swore he could hear Aliena, but he thought he was just imagining it.

Finn cleared his throat. “Uh, Tom, it’s Ali. She’s kinda going outta control right now.”

“You are there when I'm a mess

Talk me down from every ledge

Give me strength, boy, you're the best!

You're the only one who's ever passed every test!”

Aliena’s belting could be heard from over the phone ‘n Tom sighed, exhaustedly.

Finn continued. “She’s dancing and singing on top of the bar at the Garrison. I just—! I don’t know. I thought you should know. I don’t know what to do! Do I just let ‘er or—?”

Tom exhaled deeply as he rubbed his forehead. “Finn, all right, calm down. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Get her off the fucking bar top ‘n make sure she doesn’t do anything else.” He hung up the phone, turned around, and faced Grace.

She looked confused with her eyebrows drawn together and Tom was half surprised to see that her dress was still down.

“Tommy,” She began. “What’s happened?”

Tom blinked before replying, “I, uh, I have to head back to Birmingham.”

“What?” She asked softly as she rose to her feet and slipped her sleeves back over her shoulders.

Tom began putting his coat on as he said. “I can drive you, if you’d like, or you can call a Taxi.”

Grace scoffed while shaking her head. “You're serious, Tom?”

Tom looked at her like she stated the obvious and gave her a curt nod. “Yeah.”

Grace’s jaw dropped a little as did her head. She picked up her head, steeled her gaze, and stood up straighter. “I can find my own way back.”

He nodded again before motioning her to follow him out the door.

The night didn’t go as he’d planned. But he had more important things to worry about.

‘Fucking Aliena!’

Aliena was just glad she was able to finish her song before Finn and Isaiah pried her off the bar top. She had her little moment ‘n that’s all that mattered to her. ‘Cause she managed to get the attention of most of the lads in the pub.

Some were just staring at her from afar while others actually walked up to her. But they only managed to get a few words in before they were run off by Isaiah. At first it was cute. Yes, Aliena thought it was cute that Isaiah was scaring off the blokes that approached her— but then it got annoying.

Why? Because he was ruining her fucking plan to lose her viriginity tonight!

“I’ma tell ya right now, mate. You either piss off or you’re losing your eyes, which one are you gonna pick?” Isaiah threatened the man in front of him.

The man scoffed and was about to say something when Isaiah reached up for his peaky cap.

“One...” Isaiah said ‘n that was all it took for the bloke to run off.

Aliena scoffed as she tried to look over Isaiah’s shoulder only to catch a glimpse of the guy running off. Aliena groaned and roughly shoved Isaiah in the chest. “The fuck are you doing, Saiah!” She shouted.

Isaiah raised his hands in surrender. “Look I’m sorry, Ali. All right, I’m sorry.”

Aliena’s face contorted in confusion and her head shook. “No, what the fuck is going on! You’ve never done this before, so what the ‘ell is up?”

Isaiah sighed and looked all around the room. He debated tellin’ her the truth or not, and he decided it would be easier if she just knew what was up. “Look, Ali… I can’t let any bloke in here have a go at you, all right?”

Her face didn’t change. “The fuck is that supposed to mean? The fuck you mean ‘you can’t let me’? Who’s...” Her voice trailed off as did her gaze.

‘No way!’ She thought. ‘There’s just no fucking way!’

Aliena huffed. “Di-Did Tommy—! Does Thomas have something to do with this?”

Isaiah nodded. He hesitantly said. “Tom… He ‘n the family ordered a long time ago that no one in Birmingham is allowed to have a go at ya. They’re not even allowed to accept a confession from you. And any Peaky Blinder who tries to disobey or not try ‘n help ya if you’re in danger, or knew about it ‘n let it happen— gets their eyes and tongues cut.”

Aliena was taken back by the rule. Some part of her was in awe that Tommy cared that much for her while the other was annoyed that he was.

Why the fuck did he have to go ‘n do that? Why the fuck was he preventing her from going out with guys when he had no intention of going out with her himself? It was fucking ridiculous!

Her nose wrinkled in her anger before she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. Aliena took a deep breath before clapping her hands in front of her. “Okay, Saiah! You have two options. One, you either keep on carrying out this ridiculous order Tom have you ‘n you’ll have to face my wrath. Or two, you call it a night and get out of my fucking way. So, what is it gonna be one or two?”

Isaiah didn’t hesitate. “Two.”

Ali raised her hand for a high-five, which Saiah reciprocated. “Good man.” Aliena said before walking off, on the prowl.

It took sometime before the men in the pub realized Isaiah was no longer lurking around Aliena and began approaching her again. Aliena was picky when choosing the man she wanted to lose her virginity to. After all, what’s the point of doing it if she wasn’t going to enjoy it? She wanted a man she could look at and be aroused from.

She was lucky enough to find one sitting at the bar when she walked over to get another drink. His name was Robert, last name unknown since she didn’t care for it. They made small talk, but Aliena wasn’t looking to get to know him. She just wanted to make sure she could get wet.

And she found that she could, as she began imagining all the positions he could put her in.

Tommy kept intruding on her imagination— hijacking her scenarios, but she’d just close her eyes ‘n take a moment. The next time she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Aliena brought her bevvy up to her mouth and took a sip before shoving Robert’s shoulder for something he said.

Unbeknownst to her, Tom had walked into the pub deadset on finding her. And that didn’t take very long. Tom witnessed Aliena’s little interaction firsthand. She was sitting on top of the bar top while flirting with some random fucking bloke. He didn’t know what infuriated him more.

The fact that someone dared to go against his orders, or that she was flirting with someone in front of his face.

Tom’s jaw dropped a little and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. He closed his mouth and nodded before he made a beeline for Aliena. As he grew closer, she’d finally noticed him. A smile on her face was quickly wiped off as Tom walked right up to her, tugged her off the top ‘n threw her over his shoulder.

Ali gasped and exclaimed. “What—!”

Tom hiked her further up his shoulder before spinning around and making his way toward the door. “Shut up, Ali.”

“--the fuck are you doing!”

Tom had no intention of letting her down. He feared she’d just talk her way out of it, or try to fucking run away. Tom was gonna give her the lecture of a lifetime whether she liked it or not. He wasn’t going to let her get the chance to go back to her mates and cause more embarrassment for herself.

Aliena was shouting at Tom to let her down. She was pounding on his shoulder as an extra measure, but it wasn’t like she was doin’ it hard either. The pounding resembled more like knocking or somethin’.

Eventually, Aliena huffed and just let herself be carried to wherever he was taking her. From the streets he was walking, Ali soon realized they were going to his flat. She tsked and tried to support her head up.

When they reached his front door, Tom hiked her up on his shoulder again before reaching for his keys.

Aliena rolled her eyes as she muttered. “I can walk on my own two feet, you know.”

Tom ignored her as he struggled to get his door unlocked and open. It was difficult with a body over his shoulders, but he did it. The minute he walked through the door— he let Ali down.

As she regained her footing, Tom locked the door behind him. Ali stabilized herself rather quickly and threw her head back with an overexaggerated groan as she stomped away from Tom ‘n toward the stairs.

Tom turned back ‘round and shouted. “Oi! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Ali rolled her eyes and faced him. A hip dropped as she said. “To bed.”

He shook his head. “No.” Tom walked right up to her face and repeated. “No. We’re going to talk about the little show you put on at the pub. Huh?”

Ali averted her gaze from him and began shaking her leg.

Tom grabbed her chin and made her face him. “Huh? What the fuck was that t’night?”

Aliena couldn’t tell ya a blag. What he did went straight to her cunt and the fact she was looking to fuck tonight— did not help her case at all.

Tom released her chin and waited for Aliena to answer.

She sighed and waved her left arm out before letting it drop to her side. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Tom.”

He scoffed.

“I DON’T... know what you’re talking about ‘cause all I was doing was having some fun with my mates. That’s all.”

Tom shook his head. “No, that’s not all. You got on that bar top and sang and danced. You got drunk ‘n started making a fool of yourself.”

Aliena tsked, rolling her eyes, and throwing her head back. “I wasn’t fucking drunk.”

“Yeah fucking right!”

Aliena looked at him in disbelief. “You know what! You weren’t even fucking there, so I don’t even know how the fuck you knew about what I was doing, by the way! Don’t tell me you had another Peaky Blinder looking after me. ‘Cause that’d mean you sicked three people on me tonight, and I’d want to know the fucking reason for that too. ”

“Finn phoned me, worried about ya. And I did not sick three people on you tonight. I only told Finn to look after you.”

Aliena sighed deeply at the news, her eyes rolling again. A hand came up to her forehead and she rubbed it. “Finn...” She whispered. “Of fucking course, that goddamn kid.” Aliena didn’t even look at Tom again. Instead, she waved him off as she turned around while walking toward the staircase.

“And where do you think you’re going, Ali? We’re not done here!” He shouted as he watched her climb the stairs. His gaze naturally falling on her arse.

She craned her head back a little as she replied. “Yes, we fucking are. Both of our emotions are high right now. There’ll be no moving forward in this conversation. So good night, Tom.”

Tom shook his head, his pointer finger running over his bottom lip. Angrily, he ripped off his coat, and threw both it and his cap on his sofa. He marched up the stairs as he shouted for Aliena.

Dumbly, Ali was deciding which room she wanted to bunk in for the night, and it allowed Tom just enough time to catch up with her. He grabbed her by the crook of her arm and pulled her into his room. He threw her into it, to which she cried out.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” She yelled.

None of this was helping, by the way. This roughness he was handling her with. Yeah, she liked this! So, he wasn’t winning in the slightest.

His eyes were blown wide, and his hands were on his hips. With the wave of his finger, he asked. “Yeah ‘n who the fuck was that who you were talkin’ too? Eh!”

Aliena squeezed her hands into fists before letting them relax as she stifled her groan. “God, Tommy! Why the fuck does it matter?”

“Who was he, Aliena! I want a fucking name!”

“I DON’T KNOW! Okay? He’s name was Robert and that’s all I know.” She yelled louder than Tom, which was making his blood boil more. Aliena clapped her hands and with finger guns, she began. “You know fucking what? Answer my fucking question, Tom. Why the fuck do you care? Huh?”

Aliena inched closer to him, and making Tom stand up straighter, slightly.

“Why the fuck did you have your men scare away other men away from me? Explain it to me.”

Tom chuckled, humorlessly. “For your own protection, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “No. I would’ve believed you if you only ordered them to maim anyone who tried assaulting me. That would make it believable. But to put a city wide order that I was not to be fucking approached in the slightest! That even if I went up to them, they better run the other fucking direction unless they wanted to lose their eyes! No… Fucking no. So, tell me, Thomas. What the fuck is up?”

Aliena was standing directly under Tom. She could hear his heavy breathing with clarity. He didn’t respond. She scoffed and walked away from him further into the room.

By the grace of “intoxication,” Aliena felt like she was finally bold enough. She was going to blame it on the alcohol. If what she was about to do, backfired on her— she’d deny, deny, deny.

Tom watched as Ali walked away from him before facing him. The air about her was different. She didn’t look angry and annoyed anymore; she looked like she was on a mission. It was attractive. Seductive. Arousing.

Aliena’s fingertips trailed up her arm, an eyebrow raised as she said. “You wanna know why I was even talking to Robert, Thomas.” Her fingertips grazed up her left shoulder and across her collarbone. “It’s because I intended on fucking him.” Her voice trailed off at the end.

Tom’s head snapped up and he looked at her straight in the eyes, flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

‘She—! She was gonna what?’

Aliena giggled, humorlessly, as she took in Tommy’s expression. Her fingertips stopped her dance as she did so. Ali composed herself rather quickly ‘n she continued. “I was going to fuck him...” She shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips as she said. “To finally get over you.”

Aliena cocked her head to the side and waited for his reaction. Tom shuffled his stance and tucked his hands into his pockets. He could feel his eyes glaze over and lust creep on him as Aliena teasingly had a single fingernail under the strap of her dress.

Aliena looked away before looking back at him. “So, there it is, Tommy. I said it. Now, you have two options. You either walk out that door, or...” Aliena attempted to look sexual as she slipped both of the straps of her dress down her shoulders ‘n let it fall to the ground.

Tom gulped at the sight of her. Her bare breasts. The sight of her in nothing but her panties.

“You fuck me.” She finished, fixing her posture.

Truthfully, she was trembling in anxiety. She hoped to God she wasn’t making a fool of herself.

Tom had to internally fight his demons and he needed to do it quickly, out of respect for her. It was a whole lot of, “should he” or “should he not.” But then, Aliena just had to trail her fingertip down her neck again with this far-off gaze and he knew his choice.

Tom rushed toward Aliena and captured her lips, hungrily. Aliena couldn’t help but gasp happily. Her mouth opening wide. Tom didn’t waste the opportunity to shove his tongue inside. He made her walk backward toward the wall. The pace caused Ali to be shoved into the wall. The pain that erupted in her back made her moan into his mouth.

Tom’s hands trailed up from her waist all the way to her breasts and he squeezed them eagerly. Almost wantonly, Ali gasped with a smile again as she arched her back into Tom’s hands.

This… This is what Tom was talking about. This passion, this feeling of completion! This was it!

Tom parted from her lips which made her pant for air. He pressed kisses on the side of her mouth, her cheek, before peppering her neck with them. Aliena’s fingers found Tommy’s hair and she found herself pressing him closer against her neck.

‘So, she feels it here...’ He thought.

Tom increased his antics. Nipping, sucking, and kissing her neck all over. While Aliena wasn’t moaning, she was panting ‘n gasping as if she couldn’t breath. Hitching as if she were in pain.

Tom left her neck and lowered himself down to her breasts. He rolled her left nipple in his mouth while still kneading her right breast. When he decided to tug on her nipple with his teeth, he tugged on her right nipple with his fingers. Aliena gasped and yanked Tom’s hair as she arched her back into him further.

“Tommy...” She rasped. “I—! Please.”

Mentally, it hurt her to plead like this. It sent her cheeks aflame, and she would’ve hid her face in embarrassment if she wasn’t feeling so much pleasure from running her fingers through his hair.

As Tom moved to her right tit, he shushed her and whispered against her skin. “Patience, love.”

Aliena’s breath hitched once more as Tom nibbled on her nipple, her thighs rubbed together. It did nothing, but allow her to get some pent up energy out of her.

Tom let go of her right nipple with one last tug before he rose up a little to begin marking up the space above her breasts. Aliena giggled at him.

“So, are you a tits man, then, Tommy?” She asked breathily, a giggle at the end of her sentence.

Tom stopped sucking on a particular spot on her chest as he began to smile. He picked his head up and pecked her lips repeatedly. “Yours. I’ve. Been. Wanting to. Do this. To yours.”

Aliena’s hands had slid down to his face and she stroked his cheek lovingly. She parted from their pecks and whispered. “Who am I to deny you, then?”

Tom stared into her eyes before hooking his hands in the crooks of her knees and carrying her. Ali yelped and wrapped her arms around his neck before going into a giggling fit. Tom walked over to his bed and plopped her down on it.

Aliena bounced as a result. Tom hurriedly back to yank his clothes off and cursed himself for wearing so many accessories. While Tom was working on taking off his shirt sleeve garters, Ali had scooted herself down the bed and worked on getting his belt off.

The whole situation was laughable, so Tom began to laugh— which made Aliena laugh. Once Tom got the bloody things off, Aliena had already thrown aside his belt and unzipped his pants. Tom bent down and tried to kiss Aliena.

She realized what he was trying to do ‘n met him halfway by standing on her knees. Grateful that she allowed him to bend less, he continued working on unfastening the buttons on his vest ‘n shirt while slipping off his shoes. He took off his shoes, stepped out of his pants, and kicked them both away while throwing his vest and button up off his shoulders.

The pair broke their kiss to let Tommy yank off his under shirt. Tom found her lips once more as he slowly climbed on top of her and hovered above her on his bed. After a minute or two more of kissing, he parted and asked against her lips. “Are you sure you want this, Aliena? We can stop right now.”

Ali stared into Tommy’s eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. She nodded her head. “I want you, Tommy. It’s always been you.”

They stared into each other’s eyes a bit longer before Tom’s head ducked down and began trailing deep kisses all the way down to her groin where the hem of her panties lied. He placed kisses along the hem as he hooked his fingers into the side of the band, and slowly slid them down.

Aliena’s eyes were closed shut and she was fisting the blankets of his bed. She flinched at every kiss he placed closer and closer to her cunt.

Tom licked a long stripe upward toward Ali’s clit as he slid her panties down her legs entirely. Ali whimpered as her hips bucked. Tom couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. Aliena was biting her bottom lip so harshly that she was afraid it would split.

Tom spread her pussy and started off slow before working his way toward violently flicking her clit with his tongue and sucking on it. Aliena still didn’t allow her moans to escape her, instead, only letting out whimpers, gasps, and pants.

Aliena’s thighs clamped around Tom’s ears, but that didn’t stop him. Hell, it couldn’t even stop him from hearing her little mewls.

Ali felt that familiar build up growing in the pit of her stomach, and her hand flew to Tom’s hair. “Tommy, I’m close!” She said. “Stop, please. I don’t wanna... without ya...”

Tom didn’t stop, in fact, he worked her faster. “Go on.” He rasped. “Come.”

Aliena’s hands flew to her face as her face contorted in pure pleasure. Tom didn’t like that. She was blocking the view. Ali threw her head back and finally let out an audible moan. Her hips wildly bucked against Tom’s mouth and chin, and he let her ride out her climax.

He let go of her with a pop and a hiss. Tom took a deep breath, trying to catch it before sliding a finger along her opening. Aliena’s hands had fallen to the sides of her head. An uncontrollable smile on her face. She outstretched her arms and whispered, lovingly. “Tommy...”

Tom felt his heart swell and without stopping his teasing— he leaned toward her and kissed her as she wanted.

Aliena didn’t mind the taste of herself on his lips, she was used to it. Having been a chronic masturbator. Ali tugged on Tom’s bottom lip and when she finally let go, she coquettishly whispered. “Fuck me, Tommy, please. I’m ready.”

Tom’s eyes looked over her face and he chuckled. He pecked her lips before replying, “No, it’s your first time, Ali. I won’t be rough with you. This time.”

Ali’s mouth stretched upward into a smile and she bit her lip. “Promise?”

As Tom finally slipped a finger inside her— making her gasp, he rubbed his nose against hers, replying, “I promise.”

Tom slowly pumped his finger in and out of Ali, and truthfully, the girl felt nothing. She’s teased her hole with her fingers loads of times. So, it was just a foreign feeling. But for the sake of seemingly “innocent,” she began panting a little.

Tom added a second finger and then a third— and that’s when she felt something. Her pants turned real and she wondered if he had to add the third finger so that she could accommodate to his size. She still hadn’t seen him.

Meanwhile, Tom was handling his delayed satisfaction just fine. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, so he was lucky enough to just be able to focus on making this the best experience for Aliena as possible. When he felt that her pussy was sucking his fingers in, instead of trying to push them out— he removed them.

Aliena moaned and looked up at Tom. Tom misinterpreted her gaze as her being scared and was quick to reassure her that everything would be alright. In reality, Aliena was just startled that her pleasure had been taken away from her.

She never thought she’d get off on fingers. She thought it was impossible for her.

‘You really do need someone else’s fingers.’ She thought.

Tom pulled down his boxers and kicked them away. He was about to gather her wetness when Ali took his hand and pulled it toward her mouth. She gathered the saliva in her mouth and let it fall down onto his hand. His cock throbbed in his hand at the action.

He couldn’t believe that she’d be this tempting.

Tom lathered his cock in Ali’s spit and pumped his cock a few times, hissing at the pleasure he gave himself before lining up to Aliena’s entrance. Tommy hovered above her and took his free hand, and interlocked it with hers.

“You ready?” He asked once more.

Aliena nodded. “Yes, yes, please...”

Tom kissed Ali as he slowly entered her. Ailena moaned from the sensation. Tommy began littering the side of her mouth and cheek with kisses. They both groaned when he was fully sheathed inside her. Her walls fluttered around his cock, squeezing him tightly.

Made him grunt from the sensation.

Aliena wasn’t in pain, but it has certainly been awhile since a cock has been inside her. Not to mention, she was still pretty sure this body was a virgin. There was no pain, but there was a lot of pressure. She couldn’t tell if he was big or not.

Aliena just felt very “full” and “satisfied.”

“Move, Tommy.” She rasped.

Tom breathily chuckled. “I can’t. You haven’t gotten used to it, yet.”

Aliena gripped his chin and made him face her. “Tommy, move slowly. I want to feel you.”

How the fuck could he deny that?

Slowly, Tom began moving his hips. He’d pull out just enough so his tip won’t fall out and then slide all the way back in. Ali whimpered at the feeling, but after enough times— she found herself wanted more. So, she vocalized it.

“Faster, Tommy.”

Tom complied to her wishes and began thrusting faster. He found himself admiring this whole situation. Intoxicated on the feeling he’d been missing from… Yeah. It was Ali. He’d fallen in love with Ali.

Tom was taking in every reaction she had. With her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts bouncing softly with each thrust, and her face contorted in pleasure. She couldn’t hide since their fingers were interlocked.

Tom’s breath began to waiver as pants and grunts escaped his lips. He picked up the pace to which Ali couldn’t hold back her moans anymore. This only encouraged Tom to go even faster.

“Fuck, Tommy! Yes!”

Ali was unsure of what she was feeling. She couldn’t tell if she was climbing toward her big O, or if she was getting off on pleasing him. She actually never orgasmed when using her dildo, but this was different. Sex with Tommy was different, of course it was, and that’s what threw her off.

It wasn’t till Ali began bucking her hips upward did she realize she was really feeling it. Ali admired Tom’s blissed out face. She was doing this to him, and it absolutely gave her an ego boost.

They were meeting each other’s thrust so roughly that all you could hear was skin slapping against skin along with the sloppy wet sound coming from Aliena’s pussy. It fueled them both with more lust for one another.

Aliena felt that pit in her stomach again and she cried out as did Tom since her pussy tightened around his cock. He was so close and her tightening didn’t help at all.

“Tommy, I’m clo—!”

Tom slammed his lips on hers before reaching down with one hand and began rubbing her clit. Aliena’s hips stuttered, her legs trembled, and her grip on Tommy’s hand turned iron. Tom pounded into her cunt, overwhelmed with pleasure. Aliena’s squeal as she came was muffled by Tom’s kiss. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her back arched into his chest.

Tom wasn’t too far behind. He parted from the kiss and looked up at the ceiling as he came. Strained pants escaped him as he rode out their highs. Tom hiked Aliena’s legs up and got incredibly deeper which made Aliena giggle and sigh.

Ali was surprised at how fucking nice it felt to be came inside of, but she loved every minute of it. Ali was the one to capture Tom’s lips this time and when she parted, she asked.

“You down for a round two?”

Tommy chuckled as he rested his forehead against her own. “Why the fuck not!”

Aliena gasped as he flipped them over with her now on top. Aliena laughed breathily and steadied herself by placing both of her hands on Tom’s chest. Tom was taken back at how sexy she was above him.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @tlfshelby1 @halepea @lilymurphy03 @marsfireeyes @masumiyetimziyanoldu @i-love-superhero @thatweirddaydreamer @xxbeckybeexx-blog @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @well-hydratedpvssy @the-jess-life @babaohhhriley @7shadesofharold @melissamaine @urbankaite2

#in another world #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst

113 notes · View notes

aizawaslovebot · 3 years

Text

NOW PLAYING: the ex factor by iwaizumi hajime

—reader pronouns: he/him

—warnings: curse words ; slight implied violence

—summary: desperate times mean desperate measures, and y/n is definitely the embodiment of desperate. eager to make his ex jealous for reasons undisclosed, (read as: he's just petty), he asks his long-time best friend, iwaizumi hajime, to pretend as his boyfriend

—note: y'know how it always is, sorry for being late!!

TAGLIST: OPEN ; just send me an ask!! i don't mind you guys resending asks to be added ^^

@ohmygodronnie2020 @beyond-the-mxxn @clinomanians

<- the sweetheart playlist | part i | part ii | next song ->

The plan was simple, really.

Pretend to be boyfriends and find the bane of your existence so you could rub it in his face that he was much more disposable than he made you feel. Then you’d both get the hell out of there and go someplace you both actually enjoyed. It was easy to do, too. Pretending to be together was something you had done when one of the other had problems with strangers. Finding your ex was an easier task because all you had to look for is where there was an influx of vulnerable girls.

Apparently, this plan was simple only in theory.

Realistically speaking, as you and Iwa fail to wade through the many drunk people flailing their limbs and calling it dancing, finding your ex was not an easy task.

The other part of the plan was also much more difficult than either of you expected too. Pretending was not easy. It was not easy when either of you couldn’t ignore the beating of your hearts at close contact. It was not easy when everyone readily acknowledged that you were together; that it was normal for Iwaizumi Hajime and Y/N L/N to be together. It was not easy when pretending reminded both of you that this was fake and that reality will sink in much sooner than the way next week came.

“Finally!” Someone would say, “We’ve been waiting for you two to get together!” Then a drunk acquaintance would add, “I thought you were together this whole time!”

So, sure, making it seem like you two were together was easy. But pretending— oh dear lord, just pretending— was what made it difficult. It had become apparent to both of you, without the other knowing, that just pretending hurt so much.

“Just how much did everyone drink? I heard the party started an hour ago,” You sigh, cringing when you see the class valedictorian puking her guts out by the plant.

Iwa snorts as he fixes his grip on your waist, “Just let the bunch of idiots let loose. The sem ended after all, puddin’.” Only a mere squeak comes out of your mouth because of the way his soft lips neared your ears.

God damn. Was it really necessary to gay panic in the middle of a mission?

With no answer to the hypothetical question in your head, you decided to let the energy die out a little before you commence part two of the plan. You and Iwa find solace in the comfort of an unoccupied booth but you couldn’t sit still at all.

The thought of being close to Iwa tonight felt different. It made you giddy and nervous and flustered and anxious all at once. It was like having to hold your breath and close your eyes to prepare for the “big thing” to happen. And you were too scared to find out what the “big thing” was for you so, despite much reluctance, you said, “I’m gonna get a drink, Zumi.”

You hastily got out of the booth and made a beeline for the kitchen to look for any drink that was sealed or canned. As much as you wanted the confidence that being intoxicated gives you, you’d rather not be embarrassingly drunk while facing your ex. In your quest to find something safe to drink in a college party, your acquaintances strike up a conversation.

“So, you and Iwaizumi, huh?” The aforementioned drunk class valedictorian asked, surprisingly still able to make a conversation despite feeling unwell just a few moments ago. “Been a long time coming,” she continued when you nodded, “You two are made for each other, y’know?”

You two hear a sigh from Claire’s, the drunkard valedictorian, friend beside her. “How romantic… I still remember how the whole ‘pudding’ nickname started. We honestly thought you’ve been dating ever since then.”

Claire looks at you questioningly, as if mentally asking you to relay the story to her because she was probably piss drunk when it happened; I mean, she’s still drunk right now but she was far worse back then.

You give in before they start to get the idea of gathering more and more people to make you tell the story. “It’s a weird story though,” You warn, but judging by the way they still urged you on, you could continue. “There was a time in our first year when we had this party, right? By then, Iwa and I were, at most, acquaintances if not just roommates.”

“I didn’t know how to like, interact with him because I found him so intimidating,” You smiled faintly, causing the two girls to look at each other quickly. “Anyway, everyone got challenged to eat as many diet pudding cups as we could possibly eat— which was quite unhealthy considering we’re studying to become trainers.”

Claire’s friend snorts, reminiscing the day when your class bought out all the diet pudding cups available in the nearest convenience stores for a stupid game.

“I got really competitive about it to the point where only Iwa and I remained. Neither of us wanted to back down but everyone got concerned about the amount we ate so we were both crowned diet pudding cup champions”

They giggle at the odd story but let you continue. “We started calling each other ‘diet pudding cup champion’ after that but it was honestly a mouthful to say so somewhere down the line, it got shortened to ‘pudding’.”

“Which is why we thought you two were a thing but you dated that asshole ex of yours and left us stumped,” Claire downs another bottle, “You didn’t even look comfortable with that ex and you two were never compatible, honestly. But all is well now! I wish I had love like yours…”

Claire’s friend rolls her eyes when the valedictorian starts crying, mumbling how cute you and Iwa were and that the entire class should be invited to your wedding. Claire then cries out how soft you two are for each other. “Sorry for her nonsense,” Claire’s friend sighs, “Anyway, we shouldn’t keep you for long… You should go back to your boyfriend.”

You wave slowly as they leave you to yourself and your thoughts. Was that really how people thought? That Iwa and you were a much better match? Would you have been far happier if Iwaizumi Hajime, your long-time best friend, was your boyfriend instead?

Speaking of your ‘boyfriend’...

Iwaizumi was thankful you decided to part for a while. Had there not been distance between you two at that moment, he wasn’t sure what mistake he would’ve made. He was too scared to risk everything and find out too. Patiently, while rejecting the class drunkards who wanted to dance or drown in booze with him, Iwa waits for your return.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hopelessly, irretrievably in love with you. You were his idiot, his contradiction, his pudding, his everything, and sadly, just his best friend. How much did the universe have to hate him to bind you two to simply being best friends? How much did the universe have to hate him to let Iwaizumi Hajime get a taste of what could’ve been and deprive him of what would be? Why, of all people, did it have to be Iwaizumi Hajime who had to go through the turmoil of falling for his best friend?

Far too many questions have formed in his head but Iwaizumi persists. He still had to help you after all. So Iwa waits and waits and waits for your return while simultaneously having to deal with his realization and the universe’s hatred.

And the universe might have hated him more than it let on.

Y’know what they say when you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for specifically because you’re looking for it? How you should let time pass and that thing will magically pop up when you don’t need it?

It happened.

In front of Iwaizumi stood the very person they planned to spite that night, the very person who decided it was fun to toy with your heart, and the very person who Iwaizumi loathed to the very core: Akuma Azamuku.

While you were questioning your “what could be” with your pretend boyfriend, Iwaizumi was busy facing your bastard ex.

“I heard you two are together now,” The poor excuse of a man started, standing confidently as if he didn’t have women in his arms, “Kind of a fast development, don’t ‘ya think?”

Iwaizumi almost pulverized your ex to the ground at that statement. What a hypocrite. What a stupid guy. What a terrible person. To imply that you were the one who cheated when the God forsaken ex was the one who manipulated you into this chaos.

“Fast development? What do you call yours then?” He challenged, eyebrows raised unamused at your ex.

“I’m not here to argue with you,” Akuma rolled his eyes rather condescendingly, “He never had eyes for me anyway. The same way I never liked him one bit.”

Iwaizumi’s fingers twitched; they itched to close the distance between Akuma’s face and Iwa’s fist. You never liked him? What utter bullshit. You spent most of your days walking on eggshells to please the goddamn piece of shit and he tells him that you never liked your ex? He tells Iwa that he never liked you?

Sadly, Akuma took his silence as a sign to continue. Bad choice on his part, really.

“He has always liked you though, hasn’t he? You always had to be the man of the hour in Y/N’s eyes when he and I were together. The son of a bi—”

Then fist connected to face faster than anyone could have comprehended. Iwaizumi never liked your ex and his fists figured it was time to convey what he had been internalizing this whole time.

“You don’t get to talk that way. Not when it was you who two-timed him from the start,” Iwaizumi’s voice took a menacing tone. This was, by far, the scariest he had been: he wasn’t spouting off in anger, his voice sounded hushed, but it was obvious that there would be carnage.

“Y’know,” Iwaizumi started, slowly walking up to Akuma who was keeling over in pain, “I didn’t even hear the news from Y/N.”

“He wanted to hide that you cheated on him from me because even if he didn’t want to beat the shit out of you physically, he knew that I would.” Iwaizumi sat slowly to look at your ex eye-to-eye, death seen in his, “And he knows me so well.”

The girls in your ex’s arms were long gone. All that was left to face the wrath of Iwaizumi Hajime was the poor excuse of a man who manipulated you, hurt you, and used you. Your ex wasn’t going to go out of this party unscathed and everyone in their radar knew. Before his right knuckle could find its way to Akuma’s fear-stricken face, however, you had arrived.

“Stop it, Hajime.”

The aforementioned male sighed, relaxed his posture, and complied. Iwaizumi walks towards you as his anger slowly dissipates. As much as Iwa wanted to do so much more to your ex, he’d rather not anger nor disappoint you. It was you who was involved in the chaos after all, not him. Iwa was there to back you up and if it meant that he had to restrain himself from getting revenge for your sake, he would do it. He would do anything for you.

Akuma visibly relaxed too, assuming that you stopped Iwaizumi because you wanted to save your ex. He got so cocky at your presence to the point that he thought it was a good idea to utter the words “Just a guard dog, eh?” when you and Iwa started to walk away.

You retaliated at the speed of light, snarling as you threw a heavy punch to your ex’s disgusting face and successfully knocked the living daylights out of the spawn of Satan. Shocking everyone speechless, you looked your ex dead in the eyes and before leaving, you muttered, “Go to hell.”

Whether the mission was successful or not, neither you nor Iwa could tell. Yes, you were able to fool your ex and the entire class that you were together. Yes, you did make your ex feel jealous. So why did it feel so incomplete? Why did it feel as if you had more to resolve than you first did?

That was it? Is this the end of your faux relationship then?

The walk to your shared dorm was silent; the air heavy from what occurred just a few moments ago. With more questions than answers, you two had no choice but to retreat to the comfort of your shared living space.

While you went straight to your room to change, Iwa does what he does best when the atmosphere isn’t as light as either of you liked. He goes to the kitchen, gets a flurry of unhealthy junk foods that you two, as health practitioners in the making, ironically had, and prepares the living room for your impromptu Godzilla marathon.

This is how it always had been, you muse as you hear him surf the TV for the movies, this is how you two always cheer yourselves up when you get into disagreements or when either of you haven’t had the best day. You will forever be grateful for the support that Iwa always had been because without him, you don’t know how you would’ve survived this gruelling journey of yours.

Iwaizumi will always be important to you. He was your pillar, your anchor, your partner in crime, your pudding. You find yourself smiling as you fix your— it was Iwa’s but it’s yours now— hoodie, deciding to leave out all negativity that you had experienced because at the end of the day, Iwa was still with you.

Iwaizumi Hajime was still with you.

You pause, moments away from opening your door to your Iwa, wondering why it made you feel so warm to know that Iwaizumi Hajime was still with you, is still with you, and will always be with you.

Then you realize it all along.

The reason why pretending hurt more than your breakup, why seeing him so readily into your revenge quest stirred something inside of you, and why you felt that it was far more important to have Iwaizumi Hajime by your side than your ex.

Iwaizumi Hajime is and will always be your everything.

And maybe that meant that you wanted him by your side not as someone who you call your best friend, but someone who you hoped would be yours.

Is that too much to ask for?

Too focused on your revelation of the century, you failed to realize that the one person who reigned in your pretty head was standing before you— concerned by the fact that you had taken too long in your room, only to find you frozen by your front door, quite oblivious of his presence.

“You good?” He whispers, tone nothing but gentle. Iwaizumi, the ever-gruff and brash athlete, had always been gentle to you, hadn’t he?

You’ve had too many thoughts about your longtime roommate and best friend that his one question left you speechless. Perhaps it was your body’s precautionary measure against you and the possibility of a flurry of your heart’s unspoken desire pouring themselves out readily for Iwaizumi Hajime.

You love him, you realize. You’d always be ready to do anything for him, you realize.

“Hey…” Iwaizumi tries again when the only thing you did in response was look at him. Then he nervously goes on a tangent because he wasn’t fond of your silence, you had always been the better talker between the two of you, but Iwaizumi would rather he embarrass himself than let you sleep the night feeling terrible.

“I have Godzilla on for a marathon and I know we swore off on diet pudding cups after the challenge, but I bought some yesterday to eat with you because it had been years, right? Maybe we could—”

“I like you.”

“— eat some while… What?”

It was Iwa’s turn to be speechless. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was actually dreaming right now. You just said what?

“I like you,” You firmly repeated, far more serious than he’d ever seen you been. Iwaizumi stands frozen, unable to process what you had said; unable to fully grasp the thought of you liking him back; unable to get it in his head that the one person he had always cared about admitted to having feelings for him.

Iwaizumi Hajime had to be dreaming. That’s not what you said right? How could you ever possibly like him back?

“‘Like’ isn’t enough to convey how much adoration I hold for you, ‘Zumi. I care for you more than you could comprehend— more than the four letter word could hold so when I say I like you, Iwaizumi,” You mumble, nerves getting the best of you when your confession only received silence but you couldn’t stop yourself from finally admitting, “I mean I love you.”

With that final blow, Iwaizumi could finally affirm that you will be the death of him. You were his idiot, his contradiction, his pudding, and, with full confidence, he could finally say, his everything.

“Say something you idiot,” You whined out of pure embarrassment— too nervous to calm the loud beating of your heart as you witness Iwaizumi’s ears turn red— successfully bringing him out of his everlasting gay-panicking for you. Godzilla plays on in the background, reminding the both of you that the world will keep moving to tomorrow despite how slow time seemed for you two.

Iwaizumi tries to calm his nerves in the guise of sighing the way he always did when you did something that was contradictory to how things were for him. Smiling ever so softly at your scrunched up face trying its best to hide your trembles, he says:

“I like you too.”

“And when I say I like you, Y/N,” Iwaizumi immediately adds with a teasing smirk on his face, “I mean I love you.”

“Damn you idiot.”

[omake]

before either of you could even move from your place, your dorm's door bursts open with an annoyed oikawa waiting.

"i've been standing outside for 15 minutes with all my luggage because i wanted to surprise my best friends but this is the welcome i get?" oikawa growls as he chucks the multitude of suitcases that he brought, only then noticing the atmosphere.

oikawa feels daggers pointed at him when he meets iwaizumi's glare. "oh wait..." oikawa slowly realizes, the imaginary lightbulb on his head lighting up by the way you had been so embarrassed, "oops...?"

"kUSOKAWA!!!"

—reblogging helps, thank you!!

#the sweetheart playlist #iwaizumi hajime x male reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwa x you #iwa x reader #fluff #fake dating au #friends to lovers trope #male reader #x male reader

104 notes · View notes

taechaos · 3 years

Note

just for a hypothetical scenario, if someone started liking the oc, not knowing shes in a relationship, proposes her, how would jeongguk react?

P.S.- I feel like my last ask wasnt very clear, and i am sorry for that

it's alright really!! but i'm gonna assume the proposal isn't marriage related since yk 💀 that'd be a little INSANE so i hope you don't mind ^^

The piercing eyes of a mere stranger to you can't help but lock onto you out of pure awe. It's difficult to notice the man when you're so distracted by someone else who he can't bear looking at. Jeon Jungkook, the absolute douche that you're speaking with instead of looking at him.

His annoyance always dissipates when he only sees you and how passionately you talk, and it helps with the jealousy lacing his heart when he imagines it's him across from you. You aren't so forthcoming when he sits next to you during lectures, and he understands that—appreciates it, in fact. There's no competition unless you count the acquaintance or whatever that listens to you with love adorning eyes.

Jungkook has no chance with you, and no one else will when he musters up the courage to finally ask you out. He's been waiting for weeks, maybe months, to ask the magical line he's practiced countless times: Will you go out with me?

He just has to wait until Jungkook isn't fighting for your attention by not even doing anything. It's so frustrating how he gets to have you all for himself in this exact moment, but not for long—he's growing impatient.

And it's perfect timing when some older guy joins your conversation, immediately earning greetings by the both of you, and he takes this opportunity to walk in your direction. He adjusts the cuffs of his shirt and the stray hair hanging over his forehead before approaching you. Finally. You will look at him this time.

"H-hi," he curses under his breath at his stutter before clearing his throat. You look up at him from your seat and your gaze immediately turns into one that could only be described as Stranger Danger.

"Yes?" you say, not even noticing the error in his first word. He finds it sweet how you don't care.

Just as he's about to introduce himself, that douche, that stupid Jungkook rudely cuts in, "The fuck you want?"

He has to inhale a deep breath and stop himself from glaring at the guy before locking eyes with you. His heart flutters at your attention and he stops grinding his teeth. His eyes soften and he bites lip nervously before saying, "I-I'm Yeonjun a-and I know who you are, w-we have Human Anatomy together if you remember—"

"Cut to the chase."

You disregard Jungkook's attitude and coldly say, "Yes, I remember. Did you need something?"

"Well, uh," he has to take his eyes off of you to get his words together and squeak, "I was wondering if you were busy tonight, you know, because th-there's this—"

"She's taken."

Yoongi has to stifle a laugh as he mutters, "School's new heartthrob, huh?"

Yeonjun blanks out for a few seconds before he mumbles, "You have a boyfriend?" He's crushed, disheartened, and what's this other feeling? Bloodlust?

"Right here," Jungkook points at himself with a sickening smile. "And I believe this is your cue to leave and never speak to her again."

"You're her boyfriend?" Yeonjun laughs in disbelief. He can't understand how you can be with someone like him and it gives him the courage to say, "Now I seriously think you should consider my offer. You're really dating this asshole?"

Jungkook abruptly stands and hovers over him with his eyes throwing daggers. "And I seriously think you should leave before I fucking–"

You stammer before awkwardly standing up as well. "The answer is no," you affirm and try to hide Jungkook behind you. At least Yeonjun is looking at you now. "I'm in a perfect relationship–"

"Yeah, now scramble, kid."

"Yeonjun," Yoongi sighs, "it's your best option really. Wrestling is my favorite sport, but I mean, you're not really an opponent here."

The man in question exhales shakily and trembles under your stare. His heart is racing just from this proximity alone, and he's okay with this eye contact until Jungkook pushes him back.

"Keep your fucking distance."

"Please just leave," you exasperate. You hate it when Jungkook turns violent for no good reason. This whole situation is stupid. "I'm not interested, and never will be."

"You won't have the fucking chance either," Jungkook reminds you as he tugs on your hair. "You heard her. If I see you around her again, harrassing her for some fucking date, I swear to–"

"I won't." Yeonjun smiles widely before adverting his eyes to Jungkook's. "She'll come to me once she realizes how much of a cliché you are." He then winks at you, "I'll see you later, cutie."

#textbook love #did this go off the rails a lil #anyway...

44 notes · View notes

ibijau · 3 years

Text

Part 2 of Lan Xichen refusing to listen when Nie Huaisang tries to tell him about Jin Guangyao’s crimes, this time post canon. As a quick warning... don’t go in there expecting a reconciliation ahah :D

In all his years of acquaintance with the Nie sect, this is the first time that Lan Xichen is made to wait at the gate, and the insult smarts. This is how a merchant or the servant of a noble family begging for help might be treated, not the leader of one of the Great Sect, and certainly not an old friend. Then again, it has been many years since Lan Xichen last came to the Unclean Realm alone. Perhaps he would have received such a welcome all along, after he and Nie Huaisang...

They never broke up, not exactly, not in such a manner that Lan Xichen could pinpoint an exact date to mark the end of their intimacy. But Nie Huaisang became more closed off in the months after his brother's death, more reluctant to tolerate any sort of affection, and Lan Xichen, tired of being denied again and again, stopped visiting alone. He only came alongside Jin Guangyao, in whose company Nie Huaisang was always a little less cold. For a while, Lan Xichen even wondered if his former lover's affection hadn't shifted toward a new target.

He wishes now that it had been something so easy. The truth, he fears, might be more unpleasant yet.

After nearly a shichen of waiting at the gate, Lan Xichen is brought inside by a disciple. Not Qinghe Nie's first disciple, but one of lesser importance who takes him to a sparse room and offers him subpar tea. He is then informed that the sect leader is currently busy, but will make time for him as soon as possible.

In a way, Lan Xichen finds this already answers the questions he has come to ask. Just a few weeks ago, Nie Huaisang would never have dared to be so rude to anyone, least of all one of Nie Mingjue's sworn brothers. He used to always drop everything for Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao, throwing himself at them with heavy tears... but then again, he was always the one begging them to come as well, whereas Lan Xichen is now here uninvited.

Another shichen passes, and then some. The tea Lan Xichen was offered is worse cold than warm, but he still finishes it as darkness creeps on him. Night, outside, is coming close, and Lan Xichen regrets not booking a room at some Qinghe inn. He has never had to before, and quite foolishly he hoped this wouldn't have changed. A mistake he will not repeat, if he ever visits again.

At long last the door opens, revealing Nie Huaisang who looks...

It would be only polite for Lan Xichen to rise up and bow to his host, or salute him in some manner. If he doesn't it isn't in protest of the long wait, but only because he can hardly recognise Nie Huaisang. The man in front of him might as well be a stranger. It might just be that it has been so long since Lan Xichen has had cause to truly look at the man he once loved. It might also be that for the first time in nearly a decade, Nie Huaisang isn't playing a role. Either way, Nie Huaisang seems taller than Lan Xichen thinks he ought to be, even accounting for the fact that one of them is standing and the other sitting. That might be because he is standing so straight, his shoulders squared rather than hunched. He looks, as he has for this past decade, a little too thin, but rather than making him frail and delicate, Lan Xichen finds the other man's features now bring to mind a carefully sharpened blade. Nie Huaisang's eyes are certainly as cool as steel, his narrow smile threatening in a way his sabre never managed to be.

“Er-ge, I'm surprised you've come here,” Nie Huaisang calmly states, looking down at Lan Xichen as he puts down a candle on a chest near the door. “I suppose I should ask the reason of your visit.”

“I think you know it already,” Lan Xichen replies without thinking, too startled by this stranger bearing a face he once adored to be polite.

Nie Huaisang smirks. “Do I? I don't think I do. Please do tell me, Er-ge. I am but a stupid man, I need things stated plainly.”

Not so long ago, Lan Xichen might have unkindly agreed.

“I'll ask this before all else: the other night, did Jin Guangyao really move?”

Nie Huaisang's smirk curls a little higher. “I've said already that I can't be sure, haven't I? Maybe he moved, maybe he didn't... I was tired, and I was wounded, and I was so terribly scared,” he explains in a mocking tone. “Weeks after the accusation was first made, I just had it confirmed that one of my very dear friend had murdered my da-ge, and you expect me to have been clear minded enough to remember every inconsequential detail?”

“You already knew he had killed da-ge,” Lan Xichen retorts.

Nie Huaisang's mouth slowly opens in a artful 'Oh' of surprise too deliberate to be anything but artifice, while his hand sets on his heart as if wounded by the accusation. He looks right out of a picture, beautiful and elegant and insincere.

“Er-ge, I'm not sure I quite understand what you're saying.”

Lan Xichen frowns. He had not expected this to be easy, of course, but he hadn't prepared himself for such coldness either. In his mind, Nie Huaisang ought to have been shouting at this point. But then, he was thinking of Nie Huaisang as he lives in his memory, young and spoiled, rather than the man he became while Lan Xichen wasn't paying attention.

“I am saying that I have given due consideration to what Wei Wuxian said last month in that temple,” Lan Xichen says. “I believe that he might have been right.”

Even an actor as talented as Nie Huaisang can break character. For a brief instant, he appears to struggle to contain a smile, though that problem is solved when he quickly opens a fan with a sharp yet graceful gesture. Lan Xichen is left breathless when he recognises the fan. It is one he bought for Nie Huaisang, when they were young and not yet crossing the line between friends and lovers. When they finally did, they wrote together a few lines of poetry on that fan, because Nie Huaisang, so sweet at that time, wanted to do like the couples in those stories he so enjoyed reading, and Lan Xichen of course couldn't have done anything but indulge him in this caprice.

It cannot be an accident for this particular fan to have been chosen as Nie Huaisang's shield.

“Er-ge... no, sorry, Zewu-Jun, that is a serious accusation you're throwing at me,” Nie Huaisang saying, almost sounding hurt. Almost. “So, I must ask... do you have any proof? You can't say this without some serious proof.”

Something in Nie Huaisang's tone is a little odd, as if it matters to him whether Lan Xichen has anything concrete to show.

“No more than you probably did when you started all this, Huaisang.”

“But if I had done that, I would have had proof” Nie Huaisang retorts, his eyes burning from behind his fan. “Plenty of it. If I were to have gone on the path of revenge, it might have been because Baxia had become restless in the weeks after her master's death, and started causing problems in the sabre's hall,” he explains, dropping the fan to reveal a feverish expression. “So of course I would have checked my brother's tomb, and found it empty. That's when I might have become suspicious of foul play, and turned to you for help. I wonder, would you have listened to me, or would you have rushed to defend someone you clearly valued more than me?”

Lan Xichen's eyebrows rise high in surprise. He knows for a fact that Nie Huaisang never mentioned his brother's corpse being missing, he certainly would remember that.

“If this is your excuse for never letting me know the truth...”

The fan comes up again. “Er-ge, this is purely hypothetical of course,” Nie Huaisang says pleasantly, as if they were discussing the weather. “I suppose if those things had happened, I wouldn't even have had a chance to make a case against Jin Guangyao before you'd make it clear on whose side you were. You've always been so quick to defend him, haven't you? Even when da-ge was alive... they were both your friends, but you only ever seemed to side with one of them, didn't you?”

It is an unfair statement. Lan Xichen used to defend Jin Guangyao in front of Nie Mingjue, yes, but he made no less efforts to mend that relationship on both sides. Many times he tried to explain to Jin Guangyao how their sworn brother's personality worked, how Nie Mingjue meant no harm by speaking the way he did, how he was truly trying to help by offering chance after chance for Jin Guangyao to prove his good faith, especially in that business with Xue Yang, and how Nie Mingjue's education and personal experience made it hard for him to understand that Jin Guangshan wouldn't be swayed by the demands of a bastard son he half openly despised.

Lan Xichen had done all that he could to be a bridge between two men whose affection was so disturbed by deeply different worldviews. Many things had escaped his attention at that time, but he had never been so foolish as to think every problem in their friendship came from Nie Mingjue alone.

Just because Nie Huaisang had borne witness to only one side of his efforts didn't mean the other side never existed.

“Someone had to defend him,” Lan Xichen coldly points out. “I realise now that some of his enemies were right to hate him, but how could I not dismiss them when their first impulse was always to attack him for his birth?”

“But I didn't!” Nie Huaisang explodes, closing his fan to furiously point it at Lan Xichen. His hand trembles with rage, and there's not art to his expression now, only raw emotion of unexpected intensity. “I didn't come to you calling him a son of a whore!” He cries out. “I didn't call him a bastard, or a servant unworthy of his title! All I said was that I suspected murder, and instantly you defended Jin Guangyao, before throwing it to my face that maybe it was my fault if da-ge had been so unbalanced!”

Nie Huaisang waves his fan at Lan Xichen, heavy tears staining his face.

“Do you know how terrified I was to share this with you? You'd been on Guangyao's side so often, you'd been the reason he'd had access to da-ge even in his unstable state! Everything was telling me that you could have been complicit in da-ge's death, that you and Guangyao could have been working together! But I loved you!” Nie Huaisang shouts, his voice breaking on the words. “I loved you, you were the only thing I had left and I loved you, certain you loved me as well, so I trusted you and tried to come to you with my discoveries, and for what?”

Laughing hysterically, Nie Huaisang reopens his fan to hide his tears.

“You don't even remember that day, do you?” he croaks. “Everything changed for me that night, and it wasn't even worth remembering for you.”

Lan Xichen stares down at the table in front of him, desperately trying to recall the conversation that left such an impact on Nie Huaisang. It must have been before they drifted apart, he guesses. To his shame, he truly cannot remember.

He tells himself that he too was grieving, that Nie Huaisang doesn't remember well, that he was perhaps less clear in his accusation than he now thinks he was. Lan Xichen easily finds many excuses for not remembering, but he knows them for what they are: excuses. The truth, ugly as it might be, is simply that he paid little attention to what Nie Huaisang had to say at that time. His grief, raw and exposed, had been uncomfortable to witness, and Lan Xichen had only held on to the good parts of his lover while waiting for the bad ones to go away on their own.

“So Wei Wuxian guessed right, then,” Lan Xichen whispers, unwilling to dwell on his past failings at the moment. “You did all this...”

“Did I?” Nie Huaisang asks, regaining control of himself, his expression turning distant again in spite of the lingering hoarseness in his voice. “Everything I said was hypothetical of course. Who knows what I did or didn't do? After so long, who knows what could have been prevented if you'd only trusted me half as much as I might have trusted you? But I will say this...”

He lowers his fan, revealing a sharp smile, more like a beast baring its teeth than anything.

“Er-ge, supposing I did any of the things Wei Wuxian accused me of the other day, then you would bear as much fault in my supposed crimes as you do in Jin Guangyao's,” Nie Huaisang says, almost sweetly. “The mighty Zewu-Jun, so pure and good, so untouched by dirt and blood, having enabled so much pain and chaos just because it's easier to look away when things are unpleasant.”

Lan Xichen doesn't answer. It is an unfair accusation, he tells himself. Jin Guangyao's actions were never under his control, and neither were Nie Huaisang.

What happened wasn't his fault, and he refuses to react to Nie Huaisang's very obvious taunting. It is clear now that the other man will not give him a straight answer regarding anything that has happened. Perhaps it was foolish to ever hope that he would, considering what Wei Wuxian said he might have done.

“It's getting late, Zewu-Jun,” Nie Huaisang remarks, glancing out the window as if he only now realises how dark it has become around them. The candle he'd brought with him offers little light. “You should get going. I hope you'll understand why I don't offer to let you stay the night.”

“I wouldn't accept even if you offered,” Lan Xichen replies as he stands up. “I suppose we'll meet again some other time, Nie zongzhu.”

“Only if I have no other choice, Zewu-Jun,” Nie Huaisang says. “I'll call for someone to take you back to the gate. I've already wasted enough time on you.”

With how often he has been here as a guest, Lan Xichen doesn't need a guide to find his way inside the Unclean Realm, not even in the dark. He keeps that remark to himself, unwilling to deal with Nie Huaisang longer than necessary.

Soon enough he is outside the gates of the Unclean Realm, free to breathe again, and starts walking into the night, toward Qinghe. Lan Xichen knows he could fly, but walking gives him a better chance to think and consider what he has just learned, and to analyse this conversation with Nie Huaisang.

It is the first time in many years that he gives this much thought to his former lover's words and actions, he realises, and something like guilt curls coldly into his chest. Perhaps this really could have been avoided, if he had paid more attention to the changes in Nie Huaisang's personality... but in those years after the Sunshot Campaign he'd seen too much grief, accepted too well that it manifested in odd ways, that someone people would wallow in it and let it become the core of what they are. Nie Huaisang had seemed only another example of this. Having always been so expressive in his joys, it felt unsurprising that he would fall as eagerly into his despair.

Lan Xichen, busy with his own trouble, with a sect to run, with his brother's punishment only then lifted, cannot be expected to have dedicated all his energy and time analysing the changes in a lover who kept pushing him away.

Can he?

He also cannot be blamed for the crimes of others, Lan Xichen eventually decides. All he did was consider the information at hand, and trust people based on their actions. Anyone else would have done the same, his actions were measured and reasonable, and though he was wrong in his judgement, everything he did was in good faith.

What happened wasn't his fault.

Was it?

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs

76 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

- Chapter 9 -

Wen Ruohan presided over dinner in what was now a monthly occurrence.

He liked habit more, now that he was getting older; liked to have everything in its proper place.

Liked to indulge himself more.

Nie Mingjue mechanically forced down his food, drinking his soup first to fill his belly as quickly as possible. If he was very lucky, he might get a case of food poisoning, same as the one that had struck down the younger children that one time; if he did, he’d do his utmost to throw up all over Wen Ruohan’s shoes.

As always, they answered his questions. Wen Ruohan was just in the middle of an especially complicated hypothetical when one of his deputies rushed in with an urgent letter, falling to his knees before him. Wen Ruohan took the letter and read it; he scowled and dismissed them, rising to his feet to return to the throne room.

The reprieve felt like a brush of cool wind on a hot day.

Nie Mingjue caught Wen Xu’s eye.

Wen Xu winked.

It wasn’t really a surprise when the war started.

There were only so many hypothetical battle plans Nie Mingjue could be asked about, whether by Wen Ruohan or by Nie Huaisang and the younger generation of Wens, without him putting two and two together. He was put in the awkward situation of having to answer both sides to the best of his ability, and the whole thing started to feel a little like playing a game of go against himself.

“That’s what you get for being irritatingly good at tactics and with a knack for strategy, and having proven for years and years that you could find weaknesses in all of Sect Leader Wen’s hypothetical battleplans,” Nie Huaisang told him. “Talent brings with it its own punishment.”

“What’s your punishment for all your scheming, then?” Nie Mingjue asked, amused despite himself. “Becoming emperor and ruling the world?”

“I,” Nie Huaisang said, putting his hand to his chest, “am going to grow up to be absolutely useless.”

“Nice try.”

To Nie Mingjue’s relief, Wen Ruohan did not send him to the front line, perhaps afraid that Nie Mingjue would attempt some sabotage or maybe merely run away, and that made it more difficult for him to implement the plans Nie Mingjue suggested to him. They were good, solid plans, each and every one of them, Nie Mingjue implementing everything he learned about the rules of war and adding in a touch of his own knack for forecasting how people would react in a fight, but living so long in Qishan meant that he knew a little bit about how people behaved the rest of the time, too.

He couldn’t make bad suggestions in the plans he recommended or Wen Ruohan would know, but he could propose a plan that required a will of iron and nerves of steel when he knew that the general in charge of that particular division was crafty but cautious, could suggest a complex maneuver requiring cooperation for a general who hated his underlings, could apply just a bit of the brattiness he’d picked up from Wen Chao and Nie Huaisang alike to make his plans just that little bit more annoying to implement.

He could murmur counterplans in the dark of the night when they were all supposed to be asleep, casually sharing a single bed because it was cold, the strange chill of the Nightless City’s interior despite the warmer climate. He could stare at the ceiling, reciting weakness after weakness of the plans he had proposed as if he was merely anxious about them, and this time he tailored those weaknesses to specific strengths: how the pincer maneuver wouldn’t work if it was used against the Jiang, especially if they relied on their watercraft to escape, turning strength to weakness by retaliating in the aftermath; how the advantageous high ground of the mountain would backfire if their enemy were the Lan, their battle-songs’ effectiveness multiplied by the clear mountain air and the resonance of the echoes; how the effect of the ambush would be halved if it was used against the Jin, who were so rich and so lazy that their baggage train would never move fast enough to spring the trap in full.

He still didn’t know how Nie Huaisang and Wen Chao exchanged letters with Lan Wangji, or what Wen Ning was doing over in the Lotus Pier with the full support of Jiang Fengmian’s mother-in-law, or even what scheme Wen Xu and Wen Qing had concocted between them to lure in the normally reluctant Jin sect and force them to take a side. He didn’t need to know, didn’t want to know; he wanted to put his body between them and Wen Ruohan, distract the man with his ‘walks’ and his punishments and the influence that Wen Ruohan thought meant he knew everything there was to know, and to give them as much time as he could manage before disaster struck.

“Isn’t it time for Nie Huaisang to go to the Cloud Recesses?” he asked, playing ignorant, in the middle of a dinner when Wen Ruohan was already stewing over some unfortunate reversals, more than a few caused by the reemerged Qingheng-jun, who had taken on the mantle of leading the war as its general.

Wen Ruohan turned to him with lightning in his eyes, and Nie Mingjue didn’t have to opine on the war for an entire week, confined as he was to his sickbed.

But good things could not last, and he closed his eyes in anticipation of pain when Wen Xu came to sit by his bed in the middle of the night.

“Where is he sending you?” he asked. The two of them were the only ones old enough to be used in war, the others too young to go even for someone as disdainful of social norms as Wen Ruohan, and if Nie Mingjue could not be trusted on a battlefield then it had to be Wen Xu.

“I’m sorry,” Wen Xu said.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault – are you supposed to tell him no? I know you will do everything you can to stop the worst of the war, to fight honorably and with fairness, avoiding harm to the common people.”

Wen Xu swallowed audibly. “You’ve always thought so well of me,” he murmured. “Always assumed such things…to continue to do badly even after I knew what you thought of me was to fail to live up to your expectations, and even if it made things harder sometimes, the alternative of letting you down was always worse. I hate to disappoint you now.”

“You won’t.”

There was a pause, a long silence. Wen Xu gathering his thoughts, steeling his spine.

“He wants me to burn the Unclean Realm.”

Nie Mingjue had expected a blow. He had not expected –

He exhaled, hard, and found Wen Xu’s hand with his own, squeezing it lightly.

I cannot forgive this, he meant. But I will hate him for it instead of you.

When the news came, Nie Mingjue allowed himself to feel for the first time the rage he had been swallowing down for nearly five years – his father’s rage, his family’s rage, Baxia’s rage, his own.

Training the saber was a style that promoted aggression, both in fighting and in the soul, and yet Nie Mingjue had restrained himself to the point of agony, oppressing himself internally as thoroughly as Wen Ruohan did externally, and all because he knew that the consequences of his actions would not be felt by him alone.

Because he was still his sect’s heir, still the rightful leader of Qinghe Nie, and if he could by his submission and humiliation earn them even a little more consideration, he would do it, however anathema it was to him.

He would be his sect’s heir before he was his father’s son, forgetting injustice and bending knee to his father’s killer – he would keep silent, no matter what he endured.

Wen Xu burned the Unclean Realm, and for the first time, Nie Mingjue put aside his silence.

He howled.

At first, Wen Ruohan laughed at him – the rage of the impotent was merely attractive coloring to him – but Nie Mingjue was not so foolish as to waste the gift of anger so easily. He did not do what Wen Ruohan had undoubtedly expected him to do: savage some training dummies, beat up a few pointless guards, beat himself even if only to vent the pain in his heart.

He did what Wen Ruohan did not expect.

Nie Mingjue, who loved only his family more than his sect –

He lashed out at them.

Nie Mingjue rampaged through the familial quarters at the Nightless City: he burned a sobbing Nie Huaisang’s fans, calling him worthless and a disappointment on their family name; he destroyed a cauldron in Wen Qing’s room in the midst of a batch of medicine she was making, unable to find her but naming her complicit, shouting that she supported evil from behind a façade of righteousness; he attacked Wen Chao’s room, searching for the son of his enemy and calling for his head, demanding blood for blood, red-eyed with fury, searching for a target.

He found one.

Not Wen Chao himself, of course – Nie Mingjue was not, as he was pretending to be, truly maddened beyond all reason, for all that the sorrow and anger he felt were real – but rather his bodyguard, who was nominally there to protect him.

Wen Zhuliu, the Core-Melting Hand. A technique that could only be used for two things, for scaring people – or turning the course of a single battle.

For destroying good people on the other side of the war, turning them into regular people that could not fight, and destroying morale at the same time – Wen Zhuliu was a plague-carrier, a danger that needed to be avoided, as much as weapon simply in the threat of him as he was in actual reality.

Wen Zhuliu was a fierce fighter, more powerful than a person with that sort of technique usually was, and Nie Mingjue was not in as good a shape as he could be, still recovering both emotionally and physically from his last walk with Wen Ruohan and the consequences of his insolent tongue, but he had the advantage of surprise on his side and his saber was unmatched in close combat, the melee his specialty.

By the time Wen Ruohan realized that Nie Mingjue had turned against his own in a way he’d been refusing to do for years and came to stop him, Nie Mingjue had already claimed Wen Zhuliu’s head, sticking it on a makeshift pike before burning the body as an offering in his father’s name.

He turned, red-eyed, to look upon the man he would much rather have killed but knew in his weakness that he couldn’t, and in the strength and safety of his rage decided to give it his best shot anyway.

It didn’t work, of course.

This time he was bedridden for more than a week.

Nie Mingjue found himself missing the others more than he thought he would.

He’d anticipated it, of course. The instant Wen Xu had told him his mission, the plan had leapt fully-formed into his mind, the only way he could think of to keep the younger children safe since there was no way to keep them beneath Wen Ruohan’s notice. In Wen Ruohan’s eyes they were tools, not yet old enough to be properly useful but still sharp enough to use where it counted – he knew how much Nie Mingjue loved them, and if the war went badly he would undoubtedly threaten their lives to get Nie Mingjue’s compliance, would use them as leverage to send him to the front line as a general for the wrong side. Any failure would be punished, and Nie Mingjue didn’t need personal experience to know that war was nothing but failures, one right after the other, interspersed with occasional victories snatched from the jaws of defeat.

Wen Ruohan would not accept that. He would hurt the children, again and again, just to hurt him.

He would put his attention on them, and when he did, he would figure out what they were doing. All their little schemes would become clear to his eyes, and then –

There was no and then. It was unthinkable.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t strong enough to stop Wen Ruohan, no more than he could stop the full weight of a rushing river, but like the river even Wen Ruohan could be diverted if you were clever enough about it.

Nie Mingjue was not especially clever, he didn’t think, not the way Nie Huaisang or Wen Xu or even Wen Qing were, but that was why he thought his plan would work – Wen Ruohan wouldn’t expect it from him.

He would accept the surface reading of what happened: he would think that Nie Mingjue had succumbed to his family’s curse and lashed out blindly in his rage, burning bridges it had taken him years to build, and his cruel mind would immediately leap to how he could use this to hurt and torment him. He would know that Nie Mingjue would be all the more pained if he knew that Wen Ruohan was using his gross violation of trust to replace his influence on the children, which Wen Ruohan hated, with his own.

Under the circumstances, it would hurt him more for Wen Ruohan to treat them well, seeking to seduce them into dependence, than it would hurt him to see them in pain. Nie Mingjue could only count on Wen Ruohan’s sadism to do the rest.

(And since he had no choice but to break with his family in such a horrible way, there was no reason not to take advantage of the situation to get rid of Wen Zhuliu. The benefits outweighed the costs – or at least, the benefits went to everyone, while the costs fell only on him, and he could accept that.)

Nie Mingjue had already seen the fruits of his efforts. At the very beginning, when Nie Mingjue was still bedridden, Wen Ruohan had brought Nie Huaisang with him to the room in the Fire Palace where Nie Mingjue had been imprisoned, and Nie Huaisang had quailed away from him, rocking backwards a little, almost even leaning behind Wen Ruohan as if Nie Mingjue was the scarier of the two.

(Nie Mingjue knew that Nie Huaisang was the finest actor of their group, but oh – it hurt, it hurt!)

Wen Ruohan smiled at the spasm of pain that crossed Nie Mingjue’s face and put his hand on Nie Huaisang’s shoulder as he drew him away.

Nie Mingjue wanted to cut off that hand and burn it to ashes.

He wanted –

He wanted many things.

A different life, for the most part. To live somewhere where he didn’t have to make these sorts of dirty calculations, to hurt the people he loved in order to save them from worse pain. Where he would be able to take Nie Huaisang into his arms and whisper promises that he wasn’t going to succumb to a qi deviation the way their father had, at least not any time soon; where he could buy Wen Qing a half-dozen new cauldrons in apology; where he could tell Wen Chao that he didn’t mean any of the things he’d forced himself to say…

He’d warned them, of course. But there was knowing, and then there was experiencing, and he – he hated to disappoint them, even a little.

And in all his plans he hadn’t realized how terribly he’d miss them, all of them, now that he couldn’t see them.

There was nothing to do but miss them now that he was here, trapped in a small little bed in a small little room with barely any light but that which came in through the door when someone walked by, all alone and waiting for Wen Ruohan to decide his fate.

A fate that was a lot less certain than it had once been, Nie Mingjue reflected. Wen Ruohan had once been bound by etiquette to keep him alive, to pretend to the cultivation world that his forced adoption was an act of generosity rather than an outright act of conquering, but all of those reasons went away now that the cultivation world had declared war on him.

He’d already sent Wen Xu to burn the Unclean Realm. Why bother with hiding behind a puppet?

At least it didn’t seem like Wen Ruohan had realized it yet.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen ning #wen qing #my fic #my fics #fire and light #reminder for those that need it that this fic will not show on screen torture

142 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 3 years

Note

I don’t know if you’re still doing asks for the advent calendar. But just wondering if you could do a Ben x Reader x Present!Roger, where Ben and reader are the subs for Rog and he is hard!dom and they’re getting punished but at the end it’s super fluffy with my fav poly relationship. Idk if this makes since and I hope you could be comfortable with writing this! Btw love your writing! ❤️❤️

Oh i absolutely love this prompt and honestly i can’t think of a better way to end this thing than with a rog x ben threesome!!

Warnings: smut, spanking, edging/orgasm denial, sir kink, dom! rog, sub! ben, sub! reader, collars, a tiny bit of hair pulling, overstimulation, minor mentions of oral sex (m and f receiving), there’s also a bit where rog steps on reader, also its like 4k lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 25

It had been natural to let Roger take the lead, so to speak, in your relationship. Even in the early days, there’d never really been a question about you submitting to Roger. For one thing, you trended towards submissive anyway but something about Roger, the way he carried himself, automatically made you want to kneel before him. Age probably had something to do with it too. There was a perceived expertise because he was older (and as he frequently joked, wiser too), that had you agreeing to call him Sir and to follow his instructions, even within the first few weeks of getting together. Normally you’d wait a while before jumping into anything especially kinky with someone new, and to be fair he hadn’t rushed into bringing out the harder stuff, but it was almost shameful how fast you’d let him toy with you, agreeing to wear a collar to symbolise your submission. You’d well and truly established your dom/sub relationship before you’d agreed to consider each other boyfriend and girlfriend, (His age may have been a hinderance there, the word boyfriend not often associated with someone like him) so when Ben first met you, he assumed something entirely different. Roger had invited him around for dinner, with the added intention of being able to talk drums for as long as they wanted. Ben had shook your hand and made a comment that implied he thought you were Roger’s niece or grand daughter or something along those lines and before you’d been able to correct him he was caught up in a discussion with Roger about one of the songs he had to play in the movie. You left them too it, shrugging Ben’s assumption off. If you were going to date a man in his seventies then you had to be prepared for people to think you were connected by blood or else that you were in it for the money. Neither was true but it’s what people would think and there was no reason to get upset about it. Ben’s impression was re-evaluated later that day when he’d wandered away from the drum kit to find Roger and walked in on him giving you a quick edge. As soon as he realised Ben was there Roger apologised.

“Oh, that’s um, no, uh, no need for that,” Ben stuttered out, “I just thought, but, uh, I was obviously wrong,”

“Family or sugar baby?” Roger asked curiously.

“Family. Then sugar baby when I saw your hand up her skirt.” Ben seemed to realise what he’d said, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“She’s my girlfriend actually,” Roger turned his head to smile at you, “I would have said so but we’ve really only just started telling people so it kind of slipped my mind that I could,”

“No worries, um, I’ll leave you to it and just go try out that bit on the drums again.” Ben turned and walked back down the hallway as quickly as he could, Roger chuckling softly as he kissed the top of your head.

“How would you feel if I invited Ben to have sex with us?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“I’m not saying I definitely will but…he’s been looking at you a lot this afternoon. I figured he was probably trying to work out who you were to me but if he assumed family he might have been checking you out.”

“You think?” you asked, trying to keep your tone level. Ben was fit and you wouldn’t have minded him making a pass at you, even if you’d had to turn him down.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, see if I can work it out, but would you be okay with that? If he joined us?”

“That sounds kind of fun,”

“Alright then, I’ll feel him out and see if I can’t convince him to stay the night.”

Over the course of the afternoon and evening Roger used every trick in his book to determine Ben’s attraction to you, and if he’d be interested in a threeway, steadily getting less and less subtle. By the time dinner had been eaten just about all delicacy was out the window.

“Look, sorry again about earlier,” Roger said, passing Ben a scotch and soda, “I’ve been edging Y/N a bit today because I’m planning on fucking her rotten tonight and I want her dripping wet and ready to beg for it,”

You weren’t sure whether you or Ben was more embarrassed by that but Roger didn’t seem to notice.

“Not that I really need too because she’s got, well let’s call it a very healthy sex drive. Edging her keeps her in her place and makes sure she knows I’m the one who controls if and when she gets an orgasm, but honestly she’s ready to go whenever I ask. I could tell her to strip right now and she would.”

“Is that right?” Ben said despite himself. His eyes darted about the room, not knowing where to look, but his tone was curious.

“She’s very obedient. If you wanted I could tell her to suck you off and it would take literally two seconds for her to be on her knees.”

Ben audibly gulped, his face beyond pink.

“Should I tell her to do that Ben?”

“Umm,”

“I think she’d like it if you joined us tonight. She does think you’re fit.”

“J-joi-join you?”

“We can set up one of the spare rooms for you if you want to stay. I might even see about lending her to you for the night.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, hypothetically, if you did stay, we’d share her for a bit, make up for all those edges I gave her. Then afterwards you could take her off to another bed and have her as many times as you wanted while I got a good nights sleep. Twice this week she’s wanted me in the middle of the night, it’d be nice to let someone else deal with her instead. Of course, there would be a few ground rules but they’re easy enough.”

“Like what?”

“Oh well, you can take her raw if you like but we’d prefer you not to finish in her cunt. Anywhere else is fine though. Obviously safewords are a must and limits have to be respected, hers, yours and mine. And you do need to understand that I’m in charge. She submits to me, she calls me Sir and she wears a collar for me. We both enjoy it, we both get off on it, and we expect anyone who joins us to understand that.”

“I understand,” Ben nodded.

“Does that mean you want to stay?”

“Yes.”

Roger had grinned and turned to you, “Well, why don’t you give our guest a proper welcome.”

Ben fit in better than you might have assumed he would. It had been natural for you to submit and apparently Ben felt the same. That first night he constantly looked to Roger for guidance and permission, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or do something that would bring the night to an end. As you’d sucked Ben’s cock Roger had commanded you both, telling you when to deepthroat him and when to come up for air, telling him to grab your hair or push you down further. After that he’d suggested Ben repay you and walked him through edging you with just his fingers, teaching him the signs of your impending orgasm so he could stop it at the last second. And when you did finally make it to the bedroom, he’d told you both how to position yourselves, giving instructions and making demands as you’d been filled by both of them. Ben joined you in calling Roger Sir, giving up control as fully as you did. When Roger suggested edging Ben himself, Ben didn’t object. He dropped his eyes and bit his lip and whined prettily as Roger stroked his cock carefully, always stopping short. Afterwards he’d been rewarded, as Roger had promised he would be, with you as company in his bed. Mostly you’d stayed up talking, Ben curiously asking questions about your relationship with Roger and how it had come about. He was most intrigued by the dominant and submissive dynamics, how it worked and how you’d felt adding an extra person to it. Of course, you’d made sure it wasn’t all talk. Ben was hot and Roger expected him to fuck you so there was no harm in it. Besides, you knew Roger would call you a good girl if you were obedient and took Ben however he wanted. Ben seemed to like that aspect of your reasoning too. He didn’t want to disappoint Roger by not using you and the chance of being called a good boy for it was motivation enough.

You’d expected it to be a one night thing but a couple of weeks later Roger had extended Ben another invitation to dinner. Things went in much the same direction, only Ben had fallen asleep in the bed you shared with Roger rather than taking a spare for himself and the next morning had offered a repeat performance of the night before. It was the same the next time Ben came for dinner and the time after that. On the sixth time you all gave up the pretext of dinner. Ben arrived earlier in the afternoon and Roger greeted him with the order to strip, which he did without question. The next morning Roger, pleased with Ben, made a suggestion that it become more official, and offered him a collar identical to yours.

“You can say no, of course,”

Ben hadn’t even hesitated before he picked up the collar and fitted it around his throat. You’d helped him with the clasp at a look from Roger who’d then ordered you both to suck him off. From then on it became a much more regular thing. For the most part both you and Ben would submit to Roger, gradually showing Ben harder things like spankings and restraints and all the fun stuff. Sometimes Roger would just sit back and watch Ben have his way with you and sometimes he’d disappear with Ben while you were busy or not in the mood. When Roger was called overseas unexpectedly Ben stayed with you. Roger asked for photos and videos and you delighted in sending him pictures of hickeys and scratches you gave each other as well as videos of each of you edging or Ben’s cock sliding in and out of your cunt, your moans in the background. Of course, the shifts in your sexual relationships also impacted your non-sexual relationships. Ben was important to you and Roger. He wasn’t just someone you hooked up with, he was part of things. When you redecorated the kitchen, Ben helped pick out the colours and when Roger wanted someone to listen to the first demo of a new song he’d written, Ben was there to give feedback. He was an extra shoulder to lean on, an extra pair of hands when there was chores to be done, and extra person to spend time with. But even with all the changes, your sexual dynamic remained the same. Roger was in charge. And that was how he liked it. Especially when he got to punish one or both of you.

Not that his punishments were ever really punishments. Once he’d come home from a weekend trip, expecting a clean house only to find the kitchen covered in rubbish and dirty dishes while you and Ben giggled away under the covers upstairs. He’d got very stern and made you both write lines. I will complete my chores before I have sex one hundred times each. But for the most part his punishments were actually fun, if a little painful. Spanking and orgasm denial and bondage, things that you could get off on, and always for small misdemeanours like poking your tongue out at him or going over an edge before you had permission. Because you and Ben enjoyed giving up control so much, your slight bratty tendencies generally just signalled a desire to be pushed or for something a little harder than what he was giving you. When one of you acted out without involving the other he’d let them help with the punishment, giving you both an outlet for any of your slightly more dominant inclinations. But more often than not you’d wind up being punished together.

On one such occasion, you and Ben had started teasingly referring to Roger as Mr Softie within his hearing after he’d dripped ice cream on his shirt. He’d smiled and laughed along but that evening he’d got back at you, using your collars to chain you to the desk in his office, your hands bound in cuffs in front of you. For a while he left you there, just out of reach of each other, wondering what he had in store. The silence was broken every so often by one of you making a quiet suggestion as to what he might do to you or wondering when he’d return, the anticipation building with each passing minute. Your heart pounded in your chest but you only grew wetter as you were forced to wait and Ben seemed to be in a similar predicament, his pants getting steadily tighter. Finally, Roger returned, ignoring you as he placed a paddle and a vibrator down on the desk you were tied to. Without acknowledging you he unclasped Ben’s collar, giving it a tug to make Ben crawl toward the couch set up at the other end of the room.

“Sir?” Ben asked as he reached the couch, looking up at Roger from his place on the floor.

“Up on the couch. Face down. Now.”

Ben jumped to follow the direction, settling with his face pressed against one cushion, his knees resting on the other, and his hips as high in the air as he could comfortably manage.

“Right,” Roger said, turning back to the desk and continuing to ignore you, “It seems you need to be taught a lesson about respect. And I think the fastest way to teach you is to spank your arse raw. Maybe a few days of not being able to sit down will be a strong enough reminder that I own you and you will respect me.” As he talked, Roger retrieved the paddle and tapped it against his hand, just loud enough that Ben could hear, his whimpers rising as he waited for the first strike. You watched as Roger stalked towards Ben, raised his arm and brought it down hard on Ben’s arse, the shocked cry that escaped Ben almost enough to have you whining yourself. Roger didn’t pause, just lay three or four hits on Ben, each one hard enough that Ben tried to wriggle away and the sound cut through the mostly quiet room. Suddenly Roger reached for Ben’s cock, stroking his already hard member before laying another few spanks on him. Ben made a mixture of sounds, some of pain and some of pleasure but all of them egged Roger on as he edged Ben and turned his arse a dappled purple wherever the paddle struck.

“How does that feel slut? Does it hurt?” Roger’s tone shifted to one of mock whining and back in a matter of seconds, “that whore’s going to be in for it too since it was her idea to disrespect me.”

Ben howled as another few spanks hit him, tears getting lost in the cushion of the couch, but you could see how his hips jolted with every light touch to his dick and how he twitched when Roger retracted his hand.

You’d lost count of how many edges and spanks Ben had received by the time Roger hooked two fingers into the collar, using his grip to pull Ben up higher, “Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson or should I keep teaching you?”

Ben shook his head, eyes still watery and voice more of a sob, “no more, please, I understand,”

“I’m very happy to hear that. Do you think you should be allowed to cum now?”

“Yes please Sir,”

“Yeah? You think I should stop being mean and wank you off already?”

Ben nodded.

“Okay then Benny. But only if she manages to hold out.”

Ben whimpered but nodded, falling to his side.

Roger gently stroked his fingers through Ben’s with a few quiet words of praise before he turned to you. Just like with Ben, Roger unchained you and then made you crawl to the couch. It was awkward with your arms bound but you didn’t dare sit up straighter to walk on your knees, that would only leader to a harder punishment. When you reached the couch Roger stopped you, telling you to turn around and get into the same position Ben had been in, your face against the carpet and your arse in the air. The only difference was that you remained on the floor, your arse facing Ben. The first spank took you by surprise. You’d been so concerned with your position and wondering how closely Ben was watching that you’d forgotten what was coming. It was followed by another three in rapid fire, the paddle thwacking you with such force that you jolted forward each time.

“You’re in trouble Benny,” Roger said, bending slightly to drag his fingers along your cunt, “She’s already soaked. Don’t know she’ll last.”

You whined and squirmed as his fingers traced over you and then yelled when he hit you again. There was no pattern to his punishment, try as you might to find one. He gave you two hits and then pressed his fingers into you, fucking you with them for a moment, and then another five hits, his fingertips lightly rubbing your clit, another two spanks, a spank to your cunt, another three to your arse, and then his fingers again. But there was no way to tell how many spanks you’d endure before he edged you or even how he’d touch you, whether he’d twist his fingers inside you or circle your clit.

“Finger her for me,” Roger said and you heard Ben wince as he stood and knelt behind you. You heard Roger walk away as Ben sank his fingers into you. He slowly pulled them out and pushed them back in, wanting to do as he’d been told, but not wanting to accidentally push you over the edge lest he not get his own orgasm. That was until Roger, over his shoulder, told Ben to do it properly or be spanked again. After that Ben was merciless, shoving a third fingers into you and roughly pounding his them as deep as he could go.

“That’s better,” Roger said when he returned to your side, “make the whore pay for getting you into trouble.”

You cried out and tried to wriggle away as another spank came down on you, but it was impossible to escape with Ben’s fingers hooked in your cunt and your bound hands. All the same Roger placed one of his feet on the side of your head, holding you down against the carpet as he whacked you again and again, ignoring your screams and the tears soaking the carpet. He stopped and you breathed a sigh of relief but it was short lived as a buzzing noise filled the room and you remembered the toy he’d brought in with the paddle.

There was no way to suppress your moan as Roger held the vibrator against your clit, warning you not to cum. He held it there for a matter of seconds and then pulled it away again. Ben’s fingers left you a second later and then you were being tugged up by your collar again, the thick leather band pressing into your throat.

“On the couch, whore.”

“Yes, Sir,” you managed to sob as a few more tears rolled down your cheeks.

Once you were on the couch, positioned the same way you had been on the floor, Ben was handed the vibrator.

“Against her clit, highest setting. Don’t move it until I tell you.”

You whimpered, knowing there was no way you could hold back an orgasm with that kind of stimulation. But that didn’t seem to matter to Roger. He expected you to hold it, reminding you that you didn’t have permission in low growl as he spanked you on the back of your thigh. Your arse tingled all over, stinging twice as much whenever he hit you again but it was nothing to the sensation of the vibrator against your clit.

“I’m close,” you whined before another cry was ripped from you as Roger spanked the back of your other thigh.

“Don’t move it slut. The whore needs to fucking hold it.”

You tried but it was no use, there was nothing you could think of, nothing you could do, that could keep you from disobeying. You moaned as the orgasm rolled through you and heard Roger drop the paddle.

“Don’t move it Ben,” Roger growled as he stalked around to your head, pulling it up by the hair, “I thought I told you to hold it whore,”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you half yelled, whining as the vibrator kept buzzing against your clit.

“You will be.”

You lost sight of Roger as he shoved you back down and walked away.

“Guess we have our answer Ben. Since the whore couldn’t stop herself from cumming, you won’t be allowed to.”

“No, Sir, please, I really need to,”

“That was our deal though slut.”

“Sir,”

“Don’t argue, it’ll just make things worse for you. And don’t move that vibrator.”

Ben fell silent, though a few whimpers escaped him as he pressed the vibrator against you harder.

You were expecting another series of spanks, so when you heard the small jingle sound of Roger removing his belt you cringed away, assuming that was what he was going to hit you with. But instead of the swishing sound it made before a strike, it was followed by the sound of a zip. Roger grabbed your hips and pulled them around so he could press his cock into you. By now the vibrator against your clit felt painful, the overstimulation enough to make you sob but the feeling was only amplified by Roger fucking you hard, his jeans rubbing against your arse since he hadn’t bothered to push them down. You squealed and sobbed as he used your cunt, the vibrator torturing your sensitive clit and making you cry into the couch cushion. Roger just grunted about how tight you were and how your sobs just turned him on more, until finally he came deep inside you. Only after he pulled out did he take the vibrator from Ben, shushing you when you sobbed out a thank you. He stood behind you until he saw his cum dribble out of you and then pulled Ben up by the collar and told him to clean you up. There were footsteps as he left the room but neither of you dared disobey so Ben continued to spread your lips with his thumbs and lick along your slit, pulling a soft moan from you. Roger returned with a warm damp cloth and told Ben to stop. He swiped the cloth over your thighs and up along your lips, gently cleaning off whatever Ben had missed. When he was satisfied he asked you to move over and sat down in the centre of the couch.

“You did so well, Y/N,” he said softly, letting you rest your head in his lap and smoothing back your hair with his palm, “Do you wanna come up here Ben?”

Ben nodded and gingerly knelt on Roger’s other side, too sore to sit properly.

“You were such a good boy Ben, and I’m so proud of you for holding out,” he said as he lay the damp cloth flat against his hand and then reached for Ben’s dick, using the cloth to wank him, “You can cum now.”

Ben panted out a thank you, his voice falling into a moan as he finally got what he’d needed for so long. You watched through tired eyes as Roger’s fist pumped over Ben’s length until his hips stuttered and he moaned with his release. Roger kept praising him until he was completely spent, using the cloth to gather the evidence of the orgasm. It was thrown to the floor and Roger carefully unfastened Ben’s collar, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips and whisper that he loved him. He wrapped his arm around Ben and let him settle on his chest.

“Y/N, love, can you sit up for me?”

You nodded and slowly pushed yourself up, feeling a little dazed.

Roger gently removed your collar and kissed you too, taking an extra moment to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away the last of your tears, and remind you how good you were and how much he loved you before he let you settle in his lap again. He knew he’d have to move you both eventually. There were ice packs and aloe downstairs in the kitchen that would help with your bruised arses and he’d have to make sure you both ate something and drank some water before you went to sleep. But Roger was happy just to sit there for a while to comfort and cuddle the two people he loved most.

#my writing #my blurbs #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #roger taylor x reader x ben hardy #Anonymous #(technically im a day late but its fine #its probs still the 25th for most of ya'll)#blurb advent 2020

142 notes · View notes