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cosmiccandydreamer · 3 years

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Stability Chapter 14

*****The ending to Stability is here! Stay tuned for the ending in the finale coming "Tranquility" WARNING THIS CHAPTER DEALS WITH CHILD LOSS. Sorry if it's a spoiler, but I wanted to warn y'all. *******

"Wake the fuck up, you piece of shit!" Otis was jerked awake by the loud sound of Wydell screaming in his face and kicking the foundation under him. He adjusted his eyes and found to his horror and he was tied to a chair. They were back at the house in Ruggsville. Looking to his side, he saw his sister and Spaulding in the same situation. Wydell backed away from him, taking a massive swig from his whisky bottle before slamming it back down on the table.

The trio was tried on chairs and shown other pictures of the victims that they had recovered. This was a small amount that you could not shove in the trunk of your car as evidence. Wydell was in a drunken haze and rage. Vengeance had overtaken him; the idea that he was the hand of God sent here to cleanse the earth has consumed him. He held up a picture in front of Baby's face asking her if she remembers the girl in the picture; he then turns to show Otis, "not so attractive after we pulled her out of your little torture shack.” Otis laughed darkly " I tried that bitch to my bed for a month, busted her wide open.”

Wydell spits on the ground next to him in disgust. "Well, he's a little memento for your time together" " that bitch was mine," Baby spat out, "stupid whore" Wydell suddenly grabbed the staple gun he had placed on the floor next to the table and, to Otis and Spalding's horror, stapled it to Baby's stomach. The men exchanged looks of anger, panic, and worry. The love for their daughter and sister and the fact they were helpless to her pain was torture in itself. "Which one did you say you busted open again? This one, right?!" Wydell then grabbed the second photo stapling it to Otis's chest. The sharp pain shot thru him, and he grew angrier.

"Alright, alright, now that I got everyone's attention, I have one more picture to show y'all, and now I'ma need y'all to make sure you take a good look, and I mean a good look…" he took another swig off his whiskey and reached down to grab another picture. "Now I've been looking for this little lady, and now I hear she goes by the name Kitty driftwood, which is a dumbass name if you ask me, but her government name is ( y/n y/last name )."

He held up a picture of you taken at the hotel as you were loading up the car. Otis froze in his seat, and his palms become sweaty and hot. He swallowed as his throat became tight; you looked scared in the picture.. lost and alone. He did this to you, and he made you go on without him; he thought it was the right thing to do now, he's not sure. "Ringing any bells for all of you? Hmm"? Wydell asked, holding your picture in front of Baby and Spaulding. "I've never seen that bitch before," Baby spat. "I don't know who she is.” " What about you, Otis? She seems to be going by your last name.. any idea about why that would be?" Otis silently cursed you for being so casual with his last name. He was glad you didn't use your real name, but any association with them was problematic. "She might have been some Stockholm syndrome bitch who got away, I don't fucking know," Otis replied, trying to steady in his voice.. "you expect me to remember every whore that comes thru the door," he scoffed. Wydell chuckled. "I would expect you to remember your wife, Otis" Otis straightened himself a bit more, looking at Wydell in the eyes but not responding. His heart was racing now.. how much did he know about you.. "now see, at first, I thought she was just some poor soul that got turned around and was lucky enough to escape your freak show. That was until my men started to see her more and more with you clowns. And one of the men overhead her introduced herself as Kitty driftwood. I did some digging, and that's not who she is at all. She's the only survivor of the San Diego massacre. You may not remember it's been a long time, but she seems to have started a life of some sort out here after the death of her family." Wydell shifted through the pictures clicking his tongue. Otis knew about your past; he got curious one day and dug into your public records years ago. He wanted to see if anyone besides your father would come looking for you if you were to join the family. He realized you didn't remember everything that had happened back then and didn't want to bring up those memories for you.

"Why are you telling us all this?" Spalding asked, "what you do with her? What are you going to do with us? Stop playing these games, goddammit!". "I'm so glad you asked," Wydell replied, taking another drink. "so when I got word of a girl matching this description, I had my men trail her; I met up with them close to the Mexican border and decided to go check out if this was the same Lil lady. Now I expected her to be a shit ball bag of ugly in person, if I’m honest. I mean running around you all one can only expect," he chuckled " So you can imagine my surprise when I pulled over her car and saw she was a pretty little thing," he whistles " I thought about taking her out of the car and doing a little strip search myself." Otis felt his face get hot; he was becoming angrier than he's ever been. He twisted his hands in the bound rope on the chair; his breathing became more erratic. "Oh, you don't like that, huh? The idea of someone taking your woman and just having their way with her? Ironic isn't it, so I pull up, and we have a little chat. I ask her to get out of the vehicle". Baby looked over at her and saw his eyes had become dilated with rage. "You better not of hurt my sister," she said, her own eyes stinging with the tears that started to fall, "you son of a bitch".

"Now see what I did here," Wydell said, pulling up the chair closer to Baby while she whined and tried to look away from him. Otis just stared at him, his rage building and building.. he wasn't one to get anxious, but this was causing him extreme anxiety. "I prayed, I asked God to tell me what to do next because when I saw her beautiful (y/e/c) with sadness and fear, I felt I had a choice to make, Well I decided to give her a chance to come to the righteous side of glory with God. so I asked her to step out of the car, she did slowly with her arms up as I asked. She looked warm in the face and asked if she was alright; she said she was fine, just the heat was getting to her and her baby.” “Baby? Is she with a child? Oh my god, OTIS!” Baby yelled, looking over at her brother and father. “Otis, did you hear? You’re going to be a daddy!” a giant smile appeared on her face despite the situation they were in. A child, what a miracle. Otis was quiet, and his expression blank; a baby? No wonder she was so sick, no wonder she looks so worried and so scared. He finally spoke with a calm and collected tone, “where are she and my child?”. He looked at Wydell in the eyes and waited for an answer.

He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it before answering, blowing smoke in their faces.” when I saw she was with child, I knew it was your Otis, I saw it in her eyes when she looked at the picture I held up of you. This means this was a 50/50 chance of being a miracle baby, a child of God, or a spawn of the devil. I decided to give Mrs. driftwood a chance to renounce her sinful ways with your freak show; tell me everything I want to know, and I would provide safe passage for her and her unborn child.

"I'm not going to ask you again where she is." Otis said his patients running thin "where the hell is my wife and my child?"

"I'm the one telling the story here, so I'm going to need you to be patient," Wydell said. "She stood there in the blistering heat next to her car, her hands up in the air. I told her to relax, put him down by her side, and we're just going to have a chat. I couldn't get over how beautiful she was. I had it in my right mind to take her then in there just like you had taken all those innocent women at your disposal."

Otis flinched in his chair, attempting to reach towards the sheriff. "I swear to satan if you touched her"

"Or what?" Wydell laughed, "You're not in the position to make any threats but calm down. I didn't feed my devilish temptations." He took another drag of the cigarette. "No, what I did was I told her that at this very moment, the compound where your merry band of freaks was hiding was being raided and that there was no way out of this. I knew who she was. I knew what she'd been through, and I told her that she doesn't want a life where she's just running cooperate with us, and we'll see what we can do for her. The moment I looked into her eyes, I knew she was not going to give you freaks up. She shook her head. I don't know what you're talking about and bit her lower lip. I decided at that moment that I was going to leave it up to God. I asked her to turn around and put her hands on the car. She did, then I pulled my knife." He pulled out a giant hunting knife and laid it on the table. The trio didn't speak collectively, waiting for the following words out of his mouth. All three of them were frozen in fear. They all loved you and felt powerless in the situation for themselves and what possibly may come next. "See, I walked up to her, and I said that this seed you're carrying now if it's the spawn of the devil you know I can't allow that to pollute this world any further, but this could also be one of God's children who am I to make that decision? And she looked back at me and asked what I mean, And so I got my knife, And I showed it to her, and I said, you know whatever happens next is up to God, and I stabbed her in the stomach. " As soon as those words left his mouth, Baby started to scream, "liar, you didn't lie you wouldn't stab a pregnant woman, lies you're just trying to break us, Otis doesn’t listen he's lying" Spalding spat a bunch of insults at the sheriff. Otis remained catatonic in his rage. He was so angry that he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe.

The sheriff then pulled out a photo and said, "now I'm not saying I killed her, and I'm not saying it killed the baby. All I'm saying is I used my hand to be an instrument of God, and if God wanted the baby to survive, then that means it was a child of God. If it passed away well, then it was the spawn of Satan; either way, that is what happened" He slowly slid a photo of you on the ground clenching your bleeding stomach. "You should have seen the surprise on her face when I put out the Polaroid and snapped the photo of her." Baby cried and screamed; giant tears were falling from her beautiful blue eyes, Spalding still angry, throwing insults at the sheriff. Otis finally looked up, and in the most profound, most demonic voice anyone had ever heard, he quietly said, "I will watch you die. I will tear your soul apart.” Wydell stood up and grabbed a large nail from the table. “Don’t know how you’re gonna do that with your hands nailed down!” suddenly, he slammed the nails into his hands, nailing him to the table. He screamed in horror and agony at what had just taken place. Baby looked over to her brother, feeling helpless to his pain, when suddenly she felt her ties being loosened and she was free, “ you’re free to go, Babygirl, now run along run!!!!”. Wydell screamed in her face laughing; she took off toward the door; she didn’t need to be told twice.

As she ran towards what she thought was freedom, he started to pour gasoline all over the house, engulfing the once wonderful home that you all shared. As the flames lifted around them, the two men struggled to get free. The sheriff went after her, shooting into the air and taunting her as he chased her. One of the bullets hitting her in the leg and causing her to fall, but just as he thought he would have her meet her maker, tiny appeared, saving the day by breaking his neck. If it weren’t for this gentle giant, everyone would have perished in the fire. He was able to save everyone. Unfortunately, he chose not to come with the trio.

Otis took off towards the highway. He knew in his heart that you weren't dead. He would have felt it. Your connection was too strong but still, in the back of his mind, what if you weren't what he would do? He knew that he would set the world on fire that much would be for sure, but he could not fathom a reality with you, not by his side. He drove fast and faster towards your designated meet point. Nothing could stop him now except for the mountain of the police officers blocking the highway entrance. He looked over at the trio, and with a collective nod, they raced toward the police guns blazing. They had come this far, and nothing would stop them. Nothing would keep Otis from you; he pictured your face in his mind as he drove, the smell of your shampoo when he buried his face in your hair, the sound of your laugh. He had to try and get to you. There was a rain of gunfire that engulfed the vehicle. They didn't get far. Eventually, they all were stopped from the blood loss and the bullet holes they were taken to the hospital. He had failed you again.

Otis is right, though. You survived the encounter; what the sheriff didn't know was the ritual, The ritual that you all had done every Halloween, the ritual that you sacrificed souls so you could live on and become immortal through luck. This meant that if you were faced with a situation such as this, the universe would conspire to assist you all. Unfortunately, you were not pregnant during your last ritual. As you clenched your bleeding stomach, you pulled yourself into the vehicle. You were able to pull yourself into the vehicle and speed off as soon as you saw Wydell in the distance. You drove and drove until eventually, your vision got blurry, and you passed out. Somehow your car has come to a stop and ended up in a small town just on the Mexican border. A sweet couple pulled you out of the car and patched you up. The idea that you lost your child destroyed you and broke your heart. The blood loss was too much, and you miscarried. Pulling yourself together, you searched through your items, found one of your fake IDs, and headed toward Mexico, not before stopping into Brownsville to check and see if a particular person was still here.

#rob zombie #three from hell #the devils rejects #house of 1000 corpses #bill moseley #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #otis firefly #sherri moon zombie #thedevilsrejects #slashers #horror #horror movies #firefly trilogy #sid haig

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daddyjackfrost · 3 years

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List the Olympians (+Hades and Hestia) in order form favorite to least favorite, and why <33

omgomgomgomgomg

okay! this actually took a little time cuz i had to really think it over. fair warning, the percy jackson fan in me is highly biased.

favourite to least favourite;

- Hades (is this obvious? yes. okay, beside being like chill and a loyal husband, he is SO cool. his power increases day by day! the increasing number of dead really does nourish his power. AND! his punishments? *solve this is puzzle* what a guy.)

- Apollo (he’s cool. LOL no okay, i know most of the myths about Apollo and yk he ain’t really a good guy, tho none of them are. everything he is the god of, are things i love and enjoy, plus he’s bi! so, respect 😌)

- Artemis (my QUEEN. she’s sexy what can i say. and i’m pretty sure she’s like the biggest lesbian every which i have to respect. i could be wrong don’t come at me she’s also this feminist icon and i love how she kinda did her own thing? and killed the men who tried to dishonour her.)

- Hestia (my soft queen. i really think that she’s just this kind goddess and from what i know, i love her. i love that her priorities were family and community and that everyone seemed to have kinda worshipped her. plus! i have this wicked idea in my head that even though she was kind, she would be the ultimate downfall of her siblings. *wink wink*)

- Dionysus (i love him. tbh, he and apollo could be tied, but i only recently started reading more about him. i have a lot to say about this guy, mainly because he was SO complex. Dionysus teaches us to become more than what we ordinarily are. He represents pure freedom, emotion, pleasures, nonconformity, and chaos. he’s also so chill?? like yeah he’s done some bad things (i found 3 major things) but he’s better than Zeus and therefor i love him)

- Hephaestus (he’s really powerful. that’s all i gotta say. he literally trapped Hera and literally blackmailed GODS. he’s an icon r u kididng me. also! tho he’s strong, he keeps a pretty low profile and apparently he’s nice and has a heart of a child. wait he also tried to rape athena— i take it back. he’s not an icon. idk man. i think he’s pretty skilled and i would love to watch him work.)

- Hermes (i would rob a bank with him, no cap. apparently he was a hoe tho. i feel like hades liked him. i like him mainly because he’s a sneaky piece of shit, and he’s considered the protector of human heralds so imma assume he’s nice. i don’t know if hermes has done anything like SUPER seriously bad, but i think he’s cool)

- Aphrodite (okay, i don’t hate aphrodite! i actually love her and her whole aura. i honestly think she needs to get over herself tho. a war? over an apple? ma’am pls. tbh, i think the goddess was bad tempered and quick to jealousy but she did protect those who worshiped her to some extent so, respect i guess. i think she could’ve kept it in her pants tho)

- Athena (NO I LOVE HER SHE SHOULD BE AT THE TOP BUT recent discoveries has bumped her down a bit. during my pjo phase, i wanted to be a daughter of athena SO bad. there can be many things said about athena, but she isn’t the goddess i thought she was. yeah, she’s super cool, and she’s good at war and giving dumb heroes courage, but eh. i think she’s hot. i just think she had a dark side and so here she is)

- Demeter (tbh i forgot her😀 so. i think she should just lay off hades and persephone. such a hover mother🙄 i think she’s pretty cool tho. very reliable and besides famine and extreme drama, i don’t think she’s ever done anything really bad? OH OH SHES A BAD BITCH THO. she’s also a pretty good mother. she loved persephone and u can see that with the way she defies zeus. zeus is a bitch for raping demeter)

-Ares (i almost forgot him omg. i think ares is under appreciated. he’s kinda only associated with war? and there aren’t many myths about him. i think he’s portrayed pretty negatively tho he did do some negative things. ares was kinda an assholw ngl. not like, SUPER bad, but i think he had daddy issues. oh oh!! i think i read somewhere that he never raped anyone and never considered women inferior to him, so, respect. i like him. i think we could be friends.)

[okay i’m ngl, these three are my least favourite. i literally like everybody above this]

- Poseidon (sigh. he’s a bitch. he’s moody and bad-tempered and so greedy. i think his powers are SO COOL THO. literally i also wanted to be a daughter of poseidon because r u dumb??? oh he’s such a misogynist tho. and a serial rapist?? keep it in your pants?? i don’t necessarily think he’s evil, mainly because our concept of good and evil don’t apply to myths and gods so. i just think poseidon is petty and i would like to give him a wedgie.)

- Hera ( a BITCH. sorry, that’s my pjo self talking. she’s so jealous and vengeful?? like sorry miss girl, ur pus*y just aint it. that’s ur fault. i really think hera and zeus should have gone to couples therapy. i think hera is petty but also rightfully so— her husband SUCKS. she killed dionysus’s while family tho😐 and did a whole shit ton of rude and bad things. i think hera should have killed zeus and retired and then lived among humans and found a nice human man who wouldn’t cheat. idk man. i’m always so conflicted with hera. do i like her? no. but do i feel bad? yeah.)

- Zeus (🙄 enough said. i don’t like zeus. at all. fuck zeus WAIT DO NOT that’s all. i think he’s a bitch and kronos should’ve just sat on him or something.)

WELL. that was... yeah. that was a mess. thank you for asking this tho! i had so much fun.

#greek #greek gods #greek mythology #olympian gods #zeus #posidon #hades #hermes #hephaestus #hestia #athena #apollo #artemis #hera #demeter #ares #asks #dark academia

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years

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The Last Words of 30 Famous Serial Killers

Some killers have offered sincere apologies for the heinous offenses they committed. Others’ final words were filled with anger and resentment, while some seemed indifferent. A few of the most interesting final words are quizzically strange rantings.

What are the last words of some of the most famous serial slayers? The last words on this list come from the mouths of some of the most heinous, dangerous people in human history.

James French

“Hey, fellas! How about this for a headline for tomorrow’s paper? ‘French Fries.'” (August 10, 1966)

James French has the distinction of being the last person to be executed in Oklahoma, via electric chair

Carl Panzram

“Hurry up, you Hoosier bastard. I could kill 10 men while you’re fooling around.” (September 5, 1930)

Peter Kurten

“Tell me. After my head has been chopped off, will I still be able to hear, at least for a moment, the sound of my own blood gushing from the stump of my neck? That would be a pleasure to end all pleasures.” (July 2, 1931)

Peter Kurten, AKA “The Vampire of Dusseldorf,” drank the blood of at least one person.

John Wayne Gacy

Kiss My Ass (May 10, 1994)

Thomas J. Grasso

“I did not get my Spaghetti O’s. I got spaghetti. I want the press to know this.” (March 20, 1995)

Tom Ketchum

“I’ll be in Hell before you start breakfast, boys. Let her rip.” (April 26, 1901)

Jeffery Dahmer

“I don’t care if I live or die. Go ahead and kill me.” (Novemer 28, 1994)

H.H. Holmes

“Take your time. Don’t bungle it.” (May 7, 1896)

Dr. H.H. Holmes was one of the first American serial killers.

Albert Fish

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” (January 16, 1936)

In the 1920s, Albert Fish claimed that he had slain at least 100 children.

Ted Bundy

“I’d like you to give my love to my family and friends.” (January 24, 1989)

The exact number of women Ted Bundy offed or hurt in the 1970s is unknown, but some say the number is somewhere in the 100s.

Marcel Petiot

“Gentleman, I have one last piece of advice: Look away. This will not be pretty to see.” (May 25, 1946)

Petiot was a French doctor who was only found out when the remains of 23 people were found in his Parisian home during WW2.

Steven Timothy Judy

“I don’t hold any grudges. This is my doing. Sorry it happened.” (March 9, 1981)

Steven Judy slayed a woman and her three children in 1979.

William Bonin

“I would suggest that when a person has a thought of doing anything serious against the law, that before they did that they should go to a quiet place and think about it seriously.” (February 23, 1996)

William Bonin’s habit of dumping cadavers near freeways earned him the nickname Freeway Killer.

Amelia Dyer “I have nothing to say.” (June 10, 1896)

Dyer is believed to have slain 400 children during a 20-year period in Victorian England.

Peter Manuel “Turn up the radio and I’ll go quietly.” (July 11, 1958)

Manuel was an American-born Scottish man who is believed to have slain from nine to 18 people during the 1950s.

Francis Crowley “You sons of bitches. Give love to Mother.” (January 21, 1932)

Francis Crowley went on a three-month spree that ended when he was sent to the electric chair.

Angel Maturino Resendiz “I want to ask if it is in your heart to forgive me. You don’t have to. I know I allowed the Devil to rule my life. I just ask you to forgive me and ask the Lord to forgive me for allowing the devil to deceive me. I thank God for having patience in me. I don’t deserve to cause you pain. You do not deserve this. I deserve what I am getting.” (June 27, 2006)

Reséndiz left people’s cadavers near railroad tracks.

Fritz Haarmann “I repent, but I do not fear death.” (April 15, 1925)

Fritz Haarmann of Germany, active in the years following WWI, became known as the Vampire of Hanover because he would bite through people’s throats.

Ned Kelly “Such is life.” (November 11, 1880)

Ned Kelly was often considered a folk hero in Australia.

Donald Henry Gaskins “I’ll let my lawyers talk for me. I’m ready to go.” (September 6, 1991)

Donald Henry Gaskins was known as the Meanest Man in America for slaying at least 100 people, most of them hitchhikers, from the 1950s to the 1980s.

Israel Keyes “Okay, talk is over, words are placid and weak. Back it with action or it all comes off cheap. Watch close while I work now, feel the electric shock of my touch, open your trembling flower, or your petals I’ll crush.” (December 2, 2012)

Israel Keyes took his own life; the words are from his final note.

John George Haigh In a letter to his girlfriend, Barbara: “It is difficult to say farewell under these circumstances, but you will understand that you will always be in my thoughts. You know I have been proud of our association: it has always been an honourable one. I shall remember your great kindness and devotion. Now I must leave you.” (August 10, 1949)

In the 1940s, John George Haigh dissolved six women’s cadavers in acid.

Kenneth McDuff “I am ready to be released. Release me.” (November 17, 1998)

After his sentence was commuted in 1989, Kenneth McDuff killed again before being detained in 1992.

Carroll Cole “It’s all right.” (December 6, 1985)

Carroll Cole possibly committed acts of cannibalism

Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck “I wanna shout it out; I love Martha! What do the public know about love?” – Raymond Fernandez (March 8, 1951)

“My story is a love story. But only those tortured by love can know what I mean […] Imprisonment in the Death House has only strengthened my feeling for Raymond….” – Martha Beck (March 8, 1951)

In the 1940s, Fernandez and Beck would place personal ads in newspapers with the intent of taking money from the women who replied.

Aileen Wuornos “I’d just like to say I’m sailing with the rock, and I’ll be back like Independence Day, with Jesus, June 6th. Like the movie, big mother ship and all. I’ll be back.” (October 9, 2002)

From 1989 to 1990, Aileen Wuornos terminated seven men, with the excuse that each of them tried to rape her.

James Allen Red Dog “I’m going home, babe.” (October 9, 2002)

James Allen Red Dog had been connected to at least five murders

Myra Hindley According to the Catholic priest who gave Hindley last rites, “The last conversation she had before she died concerned her mother. She just expressed concern for her mother – but I will not say exactly what she said.” (November 15, 2002)

Hindley, with her lover Ian Brady, shocked 1960s England when they killed five children.

Earle Nelson “I am innocent. I stand innocent before God and man. I forgive those who have wronged me and ask forgiveness of those I have injured. God have mercy!” (January 13, 1928)

During a two-year period in the mid-1920s, Earle Nelson felled 22 women, most of whom were landladies he approached about rooms they wanted to rent.

Sean Flanagan “I love you.”

Sean Flanagan terminated two gay men in Nevada, claiming he was doing “good for… society.” (June 23, 1989)

#The Last Words of 30 Famous Serial Killers #serial killers #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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inosuketingz · 4 years

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the sheets are stained with blood [p.4]

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE [ PART FOUR ] Victor Zsasz x fem!Reader Warning: language, violence, blood and BOP spoilers Word Count: 1687 Tag: @itsknife2meetu @yourlocalghoul @im-just-one-of-the-avengers @fillechatoyante A/N: im sososoosossososos sorry this took so damn long I promise u guys my reasoning wasn’t too bad, i just got busy with school and then right after became really unmotivated w/ the blm movement. as a black woman, it has always affected me a lot and i really couldn’t stop stressing over it for weeks. of course im still stressed over the protests and stuff, but i did want to get back to writing. if it makes you guys feel any better, you guys are getting your guts rearranged in the next part.

“Holy shit!” You yell the minute the quarrel crashes into he window. It lands only inches away from your face, too short to reach it. And whoever shot the arrow knows that. They aren’t trying to kill you. They only want your attention.

“Since when did Hyunwoo have shooters?” You ask. For the most part, you know Hyunwoo was a very independent person when it came to the shady business he dabbled in. He was never the type to have any guard dogs.

Victor shakes his head, forcing his car door open at a frantic speed. “They’re not with him.”

You narrow your eyes, searching for anything in the distance. There’s a flash of purple within the trees next to Hyunwoo’s house and you look over to Zsasz. He’s standing in the open, a grim look on his face.

“Zsasz, get back in the fucking car before you get shot in the forehead!” You bark your order.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he replies and you sigh in annoyance, slamming your head back into your seat’s headrest. Dealing with him was like dealing with a four year old. You reach into your pocket for the Blood Pendant. If he won’t do what you say voluntarily, you’ll just have to force him. But, when you dig through the fabric, you realize it’s gone.

You glance toward him and see the silver chain hanging out of the back pocket of his cargo pants. That sneaky asshole. You didn’t even notice when he managed to snag it off you.

“Victor Zsasz!” A feminine voice calls out. It echoes around you and you have no clue where to look. You slip out of the car, mentally readying yourself for any of the spells you can conjure.

Zsasz looks even angrier now, his face is painted red with fury.

“Get back in the car!” You try to advise him. You have no clue why you’re so concerned with his safety.

“No, I want to kill these bitches by myself.” He pulls his token knife from his pocket, the one you’ve seen referenced all over the news with his murders.

As he toys with the sharp edge of the blade, you sigh. “No offense, but I don’t think your tiny ass knife stands a chance against a bitch with a crossbow.”

Behind you two, there is a soft crunch of leaves as someone takes a step closer. Like partners in a waltz, you and Victor whirl around. His grip on the knife’s handle grows tighter and you can feel your power tingling at your fingertips.

“Hi, Zsasz.” The two of you face a young black woman, her blonde hair styled in loose locs. You can’t help but notice how pretty she is, despite the cocky grin on her face indicating she wouldn’t hesitate knocking the both of you out cold. “Since when did you start working with the Night Hex?”

“We’re not working together,” You shoot back. “Which is why I think it’s in our best interest that I leave, and let you two hash it out.” You begin to take a step back, ready to bolt out of sigh, when you feel a cold metal against your neck. It’s something sharp, and you hiss as it slightly stabs into your skin.

“Yeah I don’t think so,” A feminine voice behind you says. You look over your shoulder and see her standing there with a crossbow in her hand. She nudges the crossbow closer to your face and you flinch back. “Consider yourself guilty by association.”

Another woman approaches you and you roll your eyes. “God, there’s more of you?”

“Yes. And it looks like you guys are outnumbered.” She mocks you, her inner-city accent evident.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck. These are those Birds of Prey chicks aren’t they? And you remember hearing somebody say they had something to do with Roman Sionis’s death. That’s why Victor looks so pissed.

This isn’t fair. You came to Gotham to relax, and stir away from any of those fuckers in spandex that swear they’re vigilanties. But of course the second you decide to make some hard-earned money, you suddenly have these little birds on your ass.

The one with the crossbow sidewalks to stand in front of the pair of you and turns slightly to aim the weapon at Zsasz. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she tells him flatly. The other two birds step back, seemingly to let her at him. Your mind flashes back to the ugly scar on Victor’s neck. It’s shaped perfectly for a crossbow. Whatever Victor had with these women, it seems to be about more than just his dead boyfriend. “You’re supposed to be dead, like the rest of those sons of bitches,” she insists. Her voice cracks as she says this, and her eyes grow wet.

“And yet, I’m not.” Zsasz practically growls. The words came from deep within his chest. His rough hands twirl the knife between his fingers, anticipating what is to come.

The air is thick with tension, and you are standing in the midst of it all. Times like this are when you especially become grateful for your witchcraft.

A beat passes before Zsasz lashes. He raises the knife, aiming for her face. It’s almost like time slows down for you as you notice the woman’s finger reach for the trigger. You rush to latch onto Victor’s empty hand and close your eyes, picturing your small apartment in as vivid detail as possible. You whisper in Hebrew a teleportation spell you learned in Israel that translates to “Bring me there.”

It hardly ever works. Time after time you’ve tried to disappear mid-fight with Wonder Woman, only for you to remain where you are and get her fist in your face. The fact that you’re trying to do it with two people is insane, and you would’ve called yourself an idiot for even considering it any other time. However, for some odd reason, you can’t fathom this encounter ending with a bow down Victor’s throat.

You’re not sure if you managed it or not until you hear Victor mutter “What the fuck?” and you hear the hum from your studio’s A/C kicking on. You let out an audible sigh of relief and let go of Zsasz’s hand. Your moment of relaxation is cut short when he shoves his hard hands against your shoulders, causing you to stumble back. Out of instinct, you step forward and swing your fist at him, but he ducks back.

“What the fuck did you do!?” He yells so loud that you’re sure the entire floor hears him. “I was going to fucking kill her! Are you stupid?”

It takes you a minute to process his words. You just saved his life and he has the nerve to be mad at you? “Are you stupid?” You echo, your voice even louder than his. “She was holding a fucking crossbow, dumbass! She would have killed you long before you could even lay a hand on her! You should be thanking me, you piece of shit!”

He brings his knife to your neck and you clench your teeth, expecting him to bark some new insults your way. Instead, he swallows down and digs his hand into your pocket to take out the keys. “I’m taking these to Hernando myself. Do whatever the fuck you want.” And with that, he turns to the door to leave.

But you’re not going to let this argument go down so easily. With his back now turned to you, you push him, and he stumbles a bit. “And when you’re done with that, leave me the fuck alone! Stay as far away from me as possible, and deal with the bounty the Birds of Prey have on you by yourself!”

He stares at you from over his shoulder as you wait for an answer. Adrenaline rushes through your veins as you hype yourself up for a fight with him, but Zsasz already looks like he’s calmed down. “Go drink some water, you look like you’re gonna pop a vein.” And then he turns and leaves.

Your face twists as your door slams shuts, the million words you wanted to throw at him still tingling at your tongue.

~~~

Hot water hits your back and you yawn. It took you an hour to finally calm down, but when you did you ordered some pizza and watched TV for the rest of the day. You aren’t too sure how long Hernando wants you to work on this expedition with him, but when it’s all over you’ve decided you're ditching Gotham.

The first few months here have been peaceful, sure, but too many dangerous people know that you’re here. Your little vacation spot has been ruined. So, you’ll probably head somewhere else, like Orlando or Los Angeles. Maybe you’d move to a small town without any crime-fighting heroes, and live out your Hallmark-movie romantic fantasy after all.

Whichever it’ll be, you’re sure it’s not anywhere near this city. Or Boston, either.

You scrub your body with a soapy loofah to make sure all the dirt is off your body. After a few more minutes you finally turn the water off and pull a towel over your body. Something about Victor Zsasz drains the energy out of you. After all your encounters with him, you remember always feeling beyond tired by the end of it.

Whatever it is, it’ll be gone once you leave Gotham.

You lotion yourself and apply your facial creams, pulling on your panties and an oversized shirt you sleep in in the process, all before slipping into your bedroom.

Your room is oddly quiet, the hum of the TV you normally keep on muted and your fan turned off. You flip on the light switch and freeze at the sight before you.

Victor Zsasz waits for you at the end of your bed. The sheets are stained with blood and you can practically smell the reek of death coming from him. He looks at you with those fake innocent eyes as he says a soft, “Hey.”

#victor zsasz #victor zsasz x you #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz x reader #Chris Messina #chris messina x reader #Birds of Prey #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #BOP #bop zsasz #im srry this took so long :(

101 notes · View notes

conncrfms · 4 years

Text

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐤’𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 , 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈 ! 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐬 @𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐦𝐳 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 . 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐦𝐳 , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐡 . 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐲𝐜 , 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 . 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 . ( 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 + 𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐢𝐦 ) + ( 𝐦𝐲𝐚 , 𝟏𝟗 , 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 , 𝐩𝐬𝐭 )

hi lovelies! allow me to introduce myself! my name is mya, you can reach me on discord for plots at ˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐲𝐚 ˎˊ˗#8406 and i have never had a single cohesive thought in my life! now that that’s out of the way let me introduce you to my demon child connor! i spent literal hours on his intro and it’s still not good but that’s besides the point but for your best viewing experience you may wanna see it through his blog for the ~aesthetics~ anyways on with the intro!

triggers will be tagged and marked accordingly as they come up but here’s what to look out for: cheating tw, death tw, cancer tw, and alcohol tw

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄

bellamy connor livingston

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

bells

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘

october 26th, 1997

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

6″0′

𝐀𝐆𝐄

23 years old

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

male

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒

he/him

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

ceo of premier event manangement / event planner

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

english

𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

bisexual

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌

alex fitzalan

here is his childhood home, family vacation home, and his current home

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

bellamy connor livingston was born in MANHATTAN NEW YORK on an unusually cold october day

his father was voted as the SENATOR of new york and his mother was a LUXURY REAL ESTATE AGENT who sold a majority of the penthouses on the upper east side, it wasn’t easy living in new york and NOT knowing who the livingston’s were, whether you saw their names on billboards on heard it in passing on television you knew who they were

but the livingston LEGACY precedes connor’s successful parents and goes way back to his ancestors who made their fortune, specifically one of his GREAT grandfathers who was granted 160,000 acres along the Hudson and was an OFFICIAL FUR TRADER AND BUSINESSMAN who earned the family a whopping $35 BILLION DOLLARS and the wealth continues to grow RICH KEEP GETTING RICHER

in short connor is a total TRUST FUND BABY.

while a family like this is usually drowning with TURMOIL the livingston’s lived a fairly scandal free life, even when you did MASSIVE DIGGING, no signs of infedlity, their four kids got along great, and they were BIG on philanthropy and giving to charity

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐖

this is until you stepped behind CLOSED DOORS which is were the livingston’s liked their SKELETONS to remain, connor’s dad, was a SERIAL CHEATER and the only reason no one ever spoke up is the livingston family INFLUENCE no one dared to cross them

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐖

despite growing up in such a TOXIC ENVIROMENT connor was actually a really good kid, his grades were nothing to write home about, and he was definitely a CLASS CLOWN but he did what he was supposed to, and stayed out of trouble for the MOST PART

he was the ELDEST of four children so he felt the need to be a good influence on what would prove to be a BUMPY ROAD for the family

connor’s high school experience was not what you would expect from someone of his CALIBER, well at least not ALL of it

for starters he had the tendency to be a bit ARROGANT due to who his parents were and because he knew the scope of their influence, and he used this to his advantage, he was definitively a “DO YOU KNOW WHO MY FATHER IS?” ass bitch, partly due to the fact people had always treated him differently and thus it went straight to his already empty head

and he PARTIED a lot, whether it was throwing parties in a penthouse his mother rented SPECIFICALLY for him, attending LAVISH parties, or jetting off to THE HAMPTON’S “for lunch”, school became a DISTANT PRIORITY

so distant in fact his parents ended up hiring a TUTOR to help him with his studies, and you wouldn’t believe me when i say connor FELL and he fell HARD

so hard in fact i’d say he CRASHED, two planets colliding into each other that was although a CATASTROPHE was ENCHANTING to see, but i’m getting ahead of myself

BEATRICE or BEA as connor and nearly everyone else called her, was connor’s opposite in almost EVERY WAY, she was a straight a student, and connor could hold a c average if he made the effort to CHEAT, she went to their private school on a SCHOLARSHIP, his parents had enough money to buy the ENTIRE SCHOOL, but they were IN LOVE

and i mean the kind of love you see in ROMCOMS the kind of SICKENINGLY SWEET love that others will tell you is IMPOSSIBLE, but they made it work, bea made connor more serious but his studies, and he in turn fell COMPLETELY and EFFORTLESSLY in love. see BEA was already WHOLE so think of this story less of two halves COMPLETING each other, and more so two wholes COMPLEMENTING each other

they continued to date throughout the rest of high school, and BEA became apart of his family, his mother referred to BEA as her DAUGHTER IN LAW, it was cemented in everyone’s minds that one day the two of them would be MARRIED

oddly enough connor NEVER met BEA’S parents no matter how much he BEGGED and PLEADED, all it took was BEA telling him her family life was something she was UNCOMFORTABLE with and he dropped the subject COMPLETELY

due to BEA’S influence, connor applied to university, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY, to be exact and got ACCEPTED into the school of BUSINESS, of course BEA also applied an got ACCEPTED into the school of SOCIAL SCIENCES

connor didn’t HESITATE to PROPOSE to BEA and to no one’s surprise she immediately said YES and the plan was to get married IMMEDIATELY and so the date was set for JULY 17TH 2017, the theme to be WINTER WONDERLAND, it was BEA’S idea a winter wedding in summer, and seeing the way it made her absolutely BEAM it was worth it

the MONTH of the wedding was a tense one, GRADUATION, PREPARING FOR COLLEGE, and a WEDDING

however TRAGEDY would strike, BEA was LATE to the WEDDING and anyone who knew BEA knew that she wasn’t LATE to anything, that’s when connor got a call that would change his life FOREVER

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖

remember how i told you BEA never wanted connor to meet her parents? that’s because BEA was sick, CANCER to be exact, and didn’t want connor to find out. her parents tried to rationalize that she didn’t want to seem him HURT, and that she told them EVERYTHING about him, she DIED with connor right by her side, and what was supposed to be the HAPPIEST moment of his life became the SADDEST

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖

that was THREE YEARS AGO and to this day he hasn’t recovered since

𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐖

since then he has gotten two new vices DRINKING and HOOKING UP, it’s not unusual to see him at a bar drinking his FIFTH or TENTH shot of vodka and taking home his SECOND or TENTH girl of the night

𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐖

he has been CLOSED OFF to the idea of love ever since, and hasn’t held a STABLE relationship since then, he simply can’t see himself COMMITTING to anyone as he did with BEA

in LIGHTER news, he graduated from COLUMBIA with his associate’s in BUSINESS and is now a ceo of his own EVENT PLANNNG company, which has been extremely successful in putting on TOURS, CHARITY BANQUETS, CONVENTIONS, CONCERTS, and the like, they specialize in everything except WEDDINGS

and his father 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍 has started his presidential campaign, that connor has somehow managed to rope himself into

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

he fights in an underground fighting ring.

it started innocently enough, after BEA passed away he wanted an outlet something where he didn’t have to think about the GUILT and could let out his ANGER, really he wanted something to distract from the SADNESS

BOXING seemed like a good idea until he couldn’t harness the anger and nearly KILLED his opponent

that’s when things fell into place, his “ FRIEND ” who witnessed the fight first hand told him about this fighting ring that him and a couple of other people were involved in and connor decided WHY THE HELL NOT, he felt as he had NOTHING else to LOSE

and thus began the cycle of showing up to work in shade to hide BLACK EYES and surprisingly enough BRUISES are easy to hide behind three piece suits

and now current day it’s become THERAPY for him, since a lot of the guys are just like him, looking to ESCAPE from something in their PAST

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂

scorpio sun, scorpio rising, virgo moon

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

chaotic good

𝐌𝐁𝐓𝐈

estp-a

𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌

type 7w8

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

choleric

𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

slytherin

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

in order: physical touch, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and words of affirmation

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒

adaptable, adventurous, affable, affectionate, ambitious, amusing, attentive, brave, bright, calm, caring, charismatic, charming, committed, courageous, creative, decisive, dependable, determined, diligent, determined, direct, driven, easy-going, efficient, engaging, enthusiastic, extroverted, flirtatious, forthright, frank, fun-loving, funny, gregarious, intelligent, knowledgeable, lively, logical, loyal, mischievous, neat, objective, observant, open-minded, organized, outgoing, passionate, persistent, playful, practical, pragmatic, protective, quick-witted, rational, realistic, reliable, responsible, romantic, self-confident, sociable, strong-willed, and trustworthy

𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒

abrasive, aggressive, aloof, analytical, argumentative, arrogant, assertive, avoidant, belligerent, blunt, bossy, calculating, callous, cautious, competitive, condescending, confrontational, critical, cynical, deceitful, defiant, destructive, detached, discreet, dishonest, dramatic, evasive, explosive, foolhardy, grumpy, guarded, harsh, headstrong, impatient, impulsive, insensitive, intimidating, irrational, judgmental, melancholic, narcissistic, negative, opinionated, outspoken, perfectionist, pretentious, private, quick-tempered, rebellious, reckless, rude, secretive, stubborn, temperamental, thoughtless, unemotional, vain, and violent

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎

i’d like to say he’s a weird amalgamation of characters i liked in media i’ve consumed, and although he relates more to some characters than others this is an incomplete list of my influences

p.s. you can click on the names of a character to see a gifset of them that reminds me of connor <3

𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑻𝑻 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑮 ( 𝐀𝐍𝐓-𝐌𝐀𝐍 ) , 𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷 ( 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ) , 𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑩𝒀 ( 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 ) , 𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵 𝑺𝑨𝑳𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑬 ( 𝐓𝐕𝐃 ) , 𝑹𝒀𝑨𝑵 𝑯𝑶𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑫 ( 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 ) , 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑶 ( 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐎 ) , 𝑫𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑨𝑵 ( 𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ) , 𝑨𝑳𝑬𝑿 𝑹𝑼𝑺𝑺𝑶 ( 𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ) , 𝑪𝑯𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑩𝑨𝑺𝑺 ( 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ) , 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑬𝒀 𝑮𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑵𝑬𝑹 ( 𝐀𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 ) , 𝑳𝑼𝑲𝑬 𝑫𝑼𝑵𝑷𝑯𝒀 ( 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 ) , 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑲 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑵 ( 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 )

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑪

𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑬𝑿𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑬𝑿𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑶 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑩𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑭𝑰𝑻𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄.

𝑺𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑺𝑳𝑶𝑾 𝑩𝑼𝑹𝑵. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑷𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑻𝑶𝑿𝑰𝑪 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑷. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑼𝑵𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪

𝑺𝑸𝑼𝑨𝑫. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑩𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑫𝑯𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑵𝑬𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬

𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑬𝑺. 𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐖𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑.

if any of these interest you feel free to message me! i have ideas for all of them that i’m always ready to share! also feel free to mix and match any of the plots above a good influence who has an unrequited crush but is also his roommate? sounds like content to me, a friend with benefits turned best friend turned exes on bad terms we love to see it! and if none of these seem interesting to you fill free to check out connor’s wanted connections page!

#wealthyhq:intro #cheating tw #death tw #cancer tw #alcohol tw #i didn't proofread this #so if there's any typos #rip

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chimtaesty · 4 years

Text

Dark Creatures | part 1

pairing: OT7 x reader | 1,5k words

warning: gore, angst, swearing

plot: leading the biggest mafia group there is, is a job for a woman. So is living through things no one should witness. After keeping those secrets to stay alive it’s time to bring justice upon the ones who deserved it.

a/n: hi there! I’m finally back after a big writingblock. I’ve been thinking and thinking about what I would like to write and to be honest, I’ve been hit with so much sexism nowadays that I thought that this account needed some feminism content. So here is the starter to a two or three parter story. If you like my work, please let me know in the comments or like my works! Thank you a lot for your support and encouragements. I’ll be taking time to write new stuff and update u more frequently now :) - love ellie

masterlist

Loud grunts wake you from your nap. A knock on your office door let’s you sigh “Miss Y/N, there is someone here to see-“Open the fucking door” a low voice interrupted the poor bodyguard. You know who this voice belongs to, Kwon Mark. The son of a bitch who owed you a shit ton of money and snitched you out to the government a year ago.

“Let him in” you shout as you get up to get a glass of water. The door opens with a creek and a grumbling man enters. You text the rest of your team to immediately arrive in your office since you might need someone who stops you from ripping this bastard apart. “Sit down” you demand and he huffs with his eyes rolling in disrespect.

The connection you share with the seven of them is something special. You were the one to save their lives and change them to the people they are now. They owed you their lifes as much as you owed them yours.

Namjoon and Yoongi are the first to arrive. “Everything alright, Y/N?” Namjoon asks as you take a seat on your desk. Was everything fine? No, nothing was fine.

This bitch here owed you so much money that killing him wouldn’t be efficient at all. But letting him live came with a damn headache, he is associated with Joon-Hyuk and you didn’t like that connection. After Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok. Jin and Taehyung arrived as well, Mark took it as the start for a conversation.

“Now that the men are here the secretary can leave and someone can tell me who the boss among you boys is” Your eyes widen in anger. The last thing you needed right now was a sexist man barging into your home. Men don’t fit the position of power.

With two steps towards the disgrace of a man you punch him square in the face. He jumps up trying to get a hold of you as you once again give him a punch to the throat.

“For starters, I’m not a fucking secretary you motherfucker. I’m the fucking boss, I’m their boss. So if you want to talk to the boss, you’ll have to talk to me, you piece of shit.” He gasps for air as you push him up onto the couch. Jungkook chuckles as you kick Mark’s shin in frustration.

“I’m gonna make things very clear for you, okay” he nods his head in a frightened manner as his wide eyes stare at you “You owe me a lot of money and I don’t like being called a secretary so here’s the deal. You get me my money by friday and I won’t chop your dick off” a gasp of air leaves his mouth

“My-y d-dick?” He whispers with tears in his eyes. “Yes, your fucking cock, Mark. So it’s really your choice, my money or your dick” he nods. With a shove you let Jin get him outside.

You turn around to sit yourself down at your desk. Jimin reaches out for the gin bottle and gives it to you, you take a sip and let your head fall back. “His dick, huh?” Hoseok laughs. “That’s something new, I haven’t done that yet” you chuckle.

“I can’t believe he didn’t know who you were,” Jin states as he re-enters the room. “Me neither, do I look like a fucking secretary?” Yoongi laughs as he takes the bottle from your hands “You? With that look? You look like you slash throats for a living not type emails for a rich bastard” you are satisfied with that answer.

“Alright boys, we need to meet Choi Joon-Hyuk in half an hour. Let’s see what this whack job has for us” you stand up just to be followed by the boys. The car outside is ready to take you to the location. “Jungkook, please enlighten us with the basics of Joon-Hyuk” he nods and starts to explain

“Joon-Hyuk, the right hand of Kim Lucas. He’s meeting us, technically Y/N but she insisted on having us all at the gathering, to discuss weapon and drug exchanges. Joon-Hyuk is an excellent sniper and very well trained in hand to hand combat. He has been working for Kim for about ten years now, so we know his loyalty lies one hundred percent with his boss” that’s what people like to believe, in all honesty, he’s a twisted motherfucker.

“What did you do?” The room was quiet. The only sound which could be heard was the sound of blood dripping to the floor. He was hunched over a little girl. She was whimpering, silently pleading for help as he raped her. You couldn’t breathe. At least ten more bodies were splattered over the white tiles.

Without thinking you grabbed the broken off leg of the ruined chair next to you and with all the strength you had in you, you struck it over his head. He fell over with a loud thud and you could see the only one alive. Her hair was wet with blood. Her skin cut and bruised and her pants ripped apart. You took the girl into your arms as carefully as possible and kissed her forehead. “No one will ever hurt you again, I’ll make sure of it. You’re save now” she was barely ten years old.

You nod and with the end of the explanation you all leave the car at the location Choi wanted you to meet him.

The door is opened by two packed men. You follow the waitress to a closed room where the man of the hour waited for you. “Ah, Y/N. How beautiful you look” he tries to pull you in for a kiss on the cheek but Jimin is faster to pull you away from him “Watch it” he threatens him and he backs off with a chuckle.

Your eyes narrow at the table in front of you. There is one chair on your side, but you are eight people. “What the hell is that?” You curse at Joon-Hyuk. “Now, now. No need for language. Take a seat, I’m sure your guard dogs can endure standing for a while” your face changes from confusion to anger.

“If there is one thing I hate more than men who think I’m a secretary are men who call my boys guard dogs. These men are the most loyal and skilled men you can find and they belong to me, If you like it or not. For the love of god, treat them with respect and get them chairs or I’m not sitting down”

Joon-Hyuk sighs and signals his men to arrange some chairs. “They are coming right up so please sit down” you take a seat and you start to discuss business over the very delicious dinner. “So what do you say to the offer?” You look at the man and think for a moment. “The offer is shit and you know it” his eyebrows fasten up and he is about to say something “We are not selling your stuff for this price let alone are you getting in our area on your own” Taehyung says as he takes a sip of the very sweet wine.

“And what would you prefer?” He asks carefully. He knows not to mess up. Lucas needs his stuff to be sold in our area and he has to accept our offer even if he doesn’t want to because having someone else’s stuff here would be unacceptable for him. “We thought about 30/70 for starters. If your stuff sells we can talk about changing things up” Jin smirks at Joon-Hyuk, he knows damn well that he has to accept. “But isn’t that a bit cruel?” You laugh “I could give Lee Ji-Won a quick call if you fancy that” he grunts in frustration. “Alright, I’ll mail you the contract.” You chuckle and eat one last bite of the steak. “Good, let’s go boys”

Joon-Hyuk is fast to stand up „Why are you leaving us this early? Not to mention that I actually invited only you, I would like to spend some alone time with you, Y/N. Catch up on the last years“ you close your eyes in frustration. Hoseok sighs and grabs your arm „Absolutely not.“ you signal him to simply just wait a minute. You push yourself through your boys to the other side of the table

„Let me tell you something, Joon-Hyuk. Men like you don’t attract me. You’ve been serving Lucas like a little rat. treating this man like god in hopes that the guilt you feel because of what you did to those kids might diminish. But the truth is that what you did is in no way ever forgivable and Lucas is just as much a piece of shit as you. You’re a disgusting cockroach, a nasty little leach. And if you don’t stop acting like he shouldn’t have decapitated you then I’ll change my mind and put your penis in a blender. Do we understand each other?”

He was about to say something. „And don’t talk back to me, I’m not your mother“

You grabbed Namjoon’s and Jungkook‘s hand and left the restaurant. In the car Jimin carefully started, testing te waters “Y/N, what exactly did he do?” You closed your eyes for a second to recall the tragedy.

“We were supposed to work together..”

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woeismyhoe · 4 years

Note

Spill the tea, what's the deal with you and the BSG group (avatar-chang and her squad in particular)?

Ok anon, sorry for taking so long! I wanted to get everything right and honestly collecting the posts took a longass time xD

Anyways, the only ones I have a problem there are avatar-chang, hexful/dykesia/bizukos, catrademption, cardboardseagulls (never seen interacted b4) and bizulas (also never interacted b4).

I’m going to be really transparent about this whole thing so it’s gonna be long as there’s gonna be several links and I’ve included the dates so it’ll be easier to understand. Since I’ll be fully transparent about this, i’ll probably get hate or whatever. Honestly, I just want to put everything out there without being biased or hiding anything. I’m going to disclose everything here.

So, the whole thing between me and avatar-chang started off with this post I made last year on 10 March 2019. Afterwards, she PMed me on the same day and this was the conversation:

After that, I thought the argument was over because she blocked me lmao. The only ones I spoke to about this was nbw and my real life friends (who had nothing to do with ATLA lmao I just ranted to them).

And then the next incident I think was on 16 March 2019 when I made this post about Azula’s abuse of her friends. I was new and 16. I genuinely wanted to know why people labeled Azula as an abuser. It was dykesia who responded to me at the time.

Now, unlike avatar-chang, I had a few conversations with dykesia (who was bizukos then) that was generally civil. I first interacted with her when she made a post calling out Zucest shippers or something?? I was very new. Like fresh newbie baby ATLA tumblr fan new lmao so I thought what she said was too aggressive. I didn’t realize that there were actual Zucest shippers until after some time. And then she PMed me on 13 March 2019, saying that she doesn’t always agree on characters with me but I do write some interesting pieces on Azula— that she’s a huge fan of Azula but she just tends to stay away from her fandom. I apologized about the previous incident of the Zucest thing and it was fine after then. We talked about zuko, the fandom, the comics, Mai etc etc. I thought we were on fine terms.

And then I made a post about the cliff scene in the comics on 16 March 2019. Avatar-Chang made a post that was pretty directed at the post but it seems like she’s deleted it.

On 17 March 2019, I received an anon mail telling me that avatar-chang was talking shit about me behind my back. I censored her name then because I didn’t want to believe without any evidence. No one sent me any screenshots about it so I just dismissed it.

On the same day, avatar-chang answered an anon and talked about the 13 child post theory I made on 9 March.

On 23 April 2019, I received another anon mail about avatar-chang, asking if I’d seen the post she made about Azula. I censored her name again cuz I didn’t want to start any shit over having differing opinions. I’m assuming this is the post the anon was referring to.

On 28 April 2019, dykesia/hexful/bizukos PMed me to ask if I was talking shit about other people behind their backs, and her. I denied this because I hadn’t. This was how the conversation went:

Yes, I didn’t censor any name because as I said, full transparency. I have afp blocked because we’ve clashed several times and he’d still come for my posts last year despite already being blocked. If you’ve followed me long enough, you probably would’ve rmbered that time lmao

Anyways during then, I don’t think I realized that dykesia was actually being passive aggressive. It’d been barely a year since I started the blog and I just didn’t want to full out make enemies. Reading the messages now tho lmao she really was passive aggressive. But yeah then she said this in bsg so I don’t even know why she bothered to ask me if she wasn’t even going to consider believing me.

The 9th of June 2019 was the last time she messaged and it was to ask if I mind her discoursing this Zuko post while ‘hard and drunk’. It was the first time she could apparently agree with me so it was I quote a ‘Yay??’. Afterwards I don’t know when she did it but she blocked me lmao

On 17 July 2019, I received another anon mail telling me that avatar-chang publicly called me a bitch when she was answering an anon about me posting the scans of the EK Chronicles. She mentioned this in bsg again on 19 April 2020 lmao (she’s that petty) it seems:

On November 8 2019, an anon (one of avatar-chang’s friends actually) asked about my thoughts towards the allegations against Aaron Ehasz. I still believe in the system of ‘Innocent before proven guilty’, so I didn’t side with anyone. I tried to be as objective as possible. When I said that I hoped men would also come forward, I said that because I don’t want men to just sit on the sidelines and let the women get the heat if they were telling the truth. At the end of this whole thing, I concluded that Ehasz was a dick of a boss to the girls. Being called an abuser carries more weight than just being a dick. Everyone has been a dick at one point, but being an abuser is something else. Just because Ehasz was a dick doesn’t mean I’m going to stop watching TDP or dismiss his involvement in ATLA.

The next day, BSG brought the issue up despite both avatar-chang having already blocked me by then lmao

On 5 February 2020, after Legacy of the Fire Nation came out, I made a post calling out Iroh’s bs to Azula (guy literally blames Azula for everything that happened to Zuko (something which avatar-chang agrees with apparently, and Iroh even sees Ozai in a better light).

That’s so far what I’ve remembered that involved avatar-chang and dykesia.

Moving on to the next three attackers: catrademption, cardboardseagulls and bizulas.

I’ve seen catrademption around, but I don’t remember if we’ve clashed before. We must have though cuz she’s got me blocked lmao and I mostly only debate back to people when they reply to my posts. For cardboardseagulls and bizulas, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them them before but obviously they’ve seen my blog and misinterpreted everything I’ve written.

But according to them, I’m apparently a Azula apologist, extremist, irrational, toxic, coddles and woobifies Azula, justifies everything she does and invalidates abuse victims.

You can see the posts I’ve made to judge whether I actually am an irrational Azula apologist who blames everything on Zuko. One of the most recent posts I made about Azula’s character is this, and there’s still several more posts like that. Just search #meta or #analysis in my blog search and all of them will just pop up. I can assure you, I have never acted as if Azula has done nothing wrong or did everything right or whatever lies these people are spewing.

If anyone has proof that I’ve talked shit about people in the fandom to other people before, please, present your evidence. I highly think this is impossible because I actually don’t have many friends on Tumblr, nor do I usually initiate conversation because I’m awkward af.

I’ve also tried approaching those I recognized in bsg to find out more about the situation (and at least give my side of the story). Most of them have chosen not to speak to me LMAO but one of them who’s chosen to remain anonymous for their privacy, admitted that dykesia (hexful) forced them to block a blog before (after realizing they were interacting with said blog) and if not, they would be blocked themselves. I can’t post the conversation publicly because they’re afraid their speech mannerism will give away their identity. @space-sword has also shared his experience with avatar-chang on his blog and was pressured to cut off ties with ppb21 just to join the oh so magnificent Ba Sing Gay.

There’s absolutely no reason to judge someone based on their sexual orientation, race, color or age either. They rant about being discriminated against or being generalized or stereotypes but they’re the ones hypocritically committing these actions, and then justify their actions by saying ‘we’re oppressed, they’re not, so it’s not racism or discrimination’. And yet people still wonder why discrimination is still rampant LMAO

I can’t speak for the blogs they victimized in bsg, but I personally don’t agree with talking shit about them on a public server and then criminalizing them as if they’re actually predators. I also don’t agree with involving the blogs’ friends simply because of their association. I also don’t agree with demanding people to block blogs they don’t like because that’s just pure manipulation. That’s wrong and marginalizing people. Unless someone has actually been harassing or literally preying on people, then there’s no reason to actually go around warning blogs about them unless they’re asked about it.

If they feel uncomfortable about something? Then avoid that blog, filter their tags or even block that blog if they’re that uncomfortable—BUT they shouldn’t demand others to do the same just for their own benefit. It’s not up to them to decide what a person can or cannot see or who they can or cannot interact with. They’re not their parents, and they obviously have no right to pressure people into doing things they don’t want to. If they think it tactless that I shared the conversations? Oh honestly, a line was crossed when they spread shit about me so idc. If they actually feel terrible for being called out? GOOD. That’s what they should feel, because in no way was any of what they were doing right or justified. If they’re going to shit on me then expect to be burned because I’m not someone who’ll just shrivel in fear because they have a bigger following.

#ba sing gay #bsg

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wkngsnds · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko Characters: Kuzuryuu Fuyuhiko, Pekoyama Peko Additional Tags: With surprise guests at the end, i would tag Natsumi but she isn’t an active character, Angst and Hurt/Comfort Summary:

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko blinks slowly, facing the ceiling instead of him.

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”

—

Back at it again with my bs; I start class again today, but I haven’t slept so that’s fun. This took me a bit longer to write, so I would enjoy some feedback. This time, I’ve also included a read more so y’all can view it on tumblr if you’d like. I may have left like one or two things unchecked, but it’s the same thing (it’s a format thing, that doesn’t really take away from the story).

Two weeks ago, he never wanted a tool. Tonight, he’s grateful for his hitwoman.

He never blacked out during a fight— savoring every cut and bruise (or as many as she let him get), so he was faster and stronger the next time around. His rage was a fickle thing, and even if it he wasn’t a mafioso, he believed, it would still be consuming, vigorous, and perfervid. Never the petty type, his anger was direct; he only saw point B no matter the obstacles in the way. If he couldn’t move them with words, he thought he could smash through them as he refused to lose sight of his goal. That goal being someone’s else’s tooth, finger, blood, and sometimes all three at once.

Tonight was no different.

She never got hit during a fight— she was fast, strong, and cunning. Most of all, she knew how to hide her wounds from him; one bad day and years of training made her an expert. Her rage was restrained, and even if she wasn’t a tool it would still be kept within bounds, repressed, and leashed. She forced herself to see his point B; points C through Z were closed, because the worst case scenarios could happen if they reached points C through Z. If they didn’t cower before him when they got there, she would make them bow.

Tonight, was no different.

All it took was an oblivious idiot with a weird hairstyle in the class, and they finally put the pieces together. Of course it was that obsessive bitch who clung to his other bitch classmate. Fuyuhiko had half the mind to kill her off as well, just by association (those pictures couldn’t have been anyone else’s work), but, again, that’s what Peko was for: when he didn’t have half the mind to think. Though, to be fair, she did also hesitate in stopping his plan— preventing it if only because a trail of corpses would lead back to them.

So, he would have to make this one count.

And he did.

When the two finally returned to his dorm room (the girls had a louder lock at the entrance), they both collapsed from exhaustion: him at the foot of his bed and her at his closed door. It’s not like they went far to dump the corpse; in fact, it had been one their top priorities for clean up. Peko had suggested a copycat murder, yet Fuyuhiko argued against it. With everyone on high alert, the police (if they even bothered) had 29,998 other people to interview before they would be called in. He didn’t want to hide the body; no, he wanted her to rot— maggots crawling in and out of the holes they made of her. Such morbidity had not been his style, but it would be a lie if he were satisfied with her death alone.

They chose the bank of a nearby river.

Unsurprisingly, she stood before he could; once the adrenaline of his killing passed, his body felt sore and his muscles tensed up again. It felt as though any movement made cracked his joints, while his eyes briefly crossed over. He shook his head— he shouldn’t feel this weak, not when Peko was the one who carried, quite literal, dead weight in her kendo bag when they walked to the river. When they arrived, he waited for her to unwrap the corpse before taking its arms and she took its legs. He can still feel the force it took to swing it back and forth before flinging it down the bank. After that, they walked back to the boys dormitories. Taking public transportation was out of the question, and he couldn’t face his family by asking for a ride even if the deed was done. Perhaps if he had done things the more ‘traditional’ way, he would have been asleep by now, but that didn’t sit right to him. No, Fuyuhiko had to follow through on everything; this whole process was too personal to not get involved (although that in itself is a exact reason why he shouldn’t have been involved). He wouldn’t be able to face Natsumi if he accomplished such a cold hearted, empty revenge.

He forced himself to sit up even if made him want to throw up.

“You need to bathe.”

“It can wait until morning.”

“No, it cannot.” He watched as she reached into a separate duffel bag, “The stenches of blood and death are ones that linger if you do not remove them immediately.”

From the bag, she pulled out an antibacterial liquid body wash and shampoo. She had also brought a roll of black bags, a bottle filled with what he assumed were cleaning chemicals, and a cardboard box.

“Young master, please give me your cap and gloves.” He forgot he even had them on, “Thank you. I will burn these items, so if you have any trash you would like to dispose please place it in this bag.”

Not only were those put in the bag, but her black cap and gloves were tossed in as well; he hears her folding the the aforementioned paper she wrapped Sato in before throwing it away as well.

Sato. Even her name was repugnant and simplistic.

His arm rested on a raised knee, “Do you need to burn my clothes as well?”

Watching her fix the box and line it with another black bag— the way her movements were quick and sharp nearly gave him vertigo, but it’s her calm demeanor (doing everything as if from muscle memory) that gives him chill. This...was truly her speciality, wasn’t it?

“No, that will not be necessary. That is one of your more expensive suits, is it not?” He nodded, “Then I shall send it the manor to have it carefully cleaned.”

“What about your clothes?”

“Please do not worry about that.”

“Do you have anything to change into?”

“Young master.” She looked like she wants to say something, “Please go bathe.”

He grabbed onto the footboard behind him, and stood, albeit struggling, before she could reach to help him. She’s worried about him (always, always worrying about him), that much is obvious by her facial expressions, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue with her. He took both bottles before grabbing his nightwear, and headed towards the shower room.

“There’s a washer-dryer set in this closet. Wash your clothes.”

Normally, it took him 15 minutes to get himself clean, but the falling of hot water on his back kept him in for five minutes longer. For five minutes longer, he mulled over his ambivalent thoughts— remembering how Sato’s face contorted into shock, and then overcame by dread and terror at the sight of him...it elevated him. The way she tried to run from him, but Peko threw her to the ground; kept down by an elbow between the shoulders, yet her head kept up by her hair. He’s never felt that kind of power: having everything and everyone in his control. For once, they feared him and not her. For once, someone begged at the feet for his mercy and not his father.

Did Natsumi beg for her life?

Was she afraid?

Did she call out for him?

Then came the boiling rage once again; the jarring reality that it didn’t matter if he killed one person or left an entire town to die, he still had to bury his little sister. He knew her death wasn’t his fault, he’s not that delusional, but he thinks he could have stopped it. If he stopped running away from being compared to her, would she still be alive? He could have been a better brother if he wasn’t such a fucking child. Would that have developed her talent faster? If he tried to put in a good word for her with the recruiters— persuade them to look into her, would that have kept her safe? If he let Peko go check on her, she would still be here, wouldn’t she?

He watched as the blood from his hand (there’s only a crack on the tiled wall) washed down the drain, and then turned the faucet off altogether. He didn’t need to pass out form all the heat. As he dried himself, he noticed the basket he left in the washroom before the shower had almost been emptied save for his underwear and socks. Well that took care of that.

Exiting the bathroom, he kept a towel draped over his head, and found her meditating on her knees in the same clothes she arrived in. Everything around her had been ‘prepped’, so to speak; the box of his clothes was closed and ready to be shipped out, the ‘burn bag’ kept in her kendo duffel, and her black yukata was folded neatly next to her.

(Strike) That’s what the face of a professional looked like. (Endstrike)

“There’s an extra clean towel in the washroom. ‘Left the soap and shampoo inside the shower for you.”

“Thank you.” He doesn’t miss the way her voice sounded weaker than before. Nor does he miss the redness in the whites of her eyes.

Had Peko been crying?

She cleared her throat, and he had her attention; of course, that itself was the problem.

“Young master...please turn around so that I may undress and place my clothes in the wash. It would be inappropriate otherwise.”

Fuyuhiko didn’t verbally respond, but he complied with her wishes— the blond sat arms crossed on his bed opposite to the small hallway. Though, he only now realizes that the body mirror he used each morning aligned with said area, and created a distorted reflection. Within a second, his golden tired eyes closed to prevent the chance of seeing anything beyond the small of her back.

The gangster relaxes, somewhat, after he heard the sound of his shower for the second time that night. Slowly, he picked his feet up onto his bed and laid his head on his pillow; it felt like his head would explode with all the pulsing in his veins.

He blinked.

2:20 AM.

In three and half more hours, he will be awake for twenty four hours— nothing unusual for him, but worth noting in silence.

He breathed.

He heard his bodyguard shuffle, throwing her wet clothes into the dryer no doubt, and then returned into the shower just as quickly.

2:36 AM

When Peko finished showering, it hadn’t been as hot as when he exited— humid, yes, but he knew she liked to take cool showers. He also knew that despite all her yukatas being black, they had subdued patterns on each of them if one looked closely enough. He had gotten two of them for her birthday and Christmas last year, after all, and nearly had an aneurysm over convincing her to keep each one. For this year, Fuyuhiko had his eye on a specific thin, golden chain— one she could hide under her clothes— sold by a nearby jewelry store. Truth be told, this was only half of his choice, but it was the realistic half.

The other half had been a pendant of a crescent moon with a dragon wrapped around it strike (though he’d give her the world in a heartbeat if she asked for it, statuses be damned). endstrike

He sat up, “That’s the birthday one, right? The one you’re wearing.”

“Yes, it is. Thank you once again.” She switched sides and continued to squeeze the water out of her hair, “The material is incredibly comfortable and breathable.”

He looked he had something to say, all of a sudden.

“Peko when was the last time we bathed together?”

He’s just as surprised to ask her that as she is hear the question,

“Um...” But of course she takes the question seriously, “I believe you had requested we stopped doing so a week before your seventh birthday.” Of course her memory was good like that.

Peko told him to put his worries aside, and to sleep for the rest of the night— that it was advisable to take today off as no one would bother him for it. However, he only half listened as he saw her pack everything together. Without warning, it felt like all the gravity in the room decided to center in his chest, threatening to pull him down if he didn’t keep his head up. Fingers not his own wrapping around his heart, and clutched it as if to have it explode in chest. She’s going to go back to her room, she said.

She’s leaving him.

“H-Hey, it’s the middle of the night, there’s some pretty drunk bastard roaming a out, no doubt.”

“I’ve handled worse.”

“You’re hair is still wet.”

“The air is still warm.” Her shinai is propped onto her back, “Please do not worry me. I will be fine.”

Fucking hypocrite.

“The girls dormitories have a loud lock at the entrance, don’t they?”

“As I said, please do not worry about me. I’ll use my sword to climb over the fence and enter through my window.”

She’s leaving him all alone.

“Then, if there is nothing else you need of me, I shall leave you alone now.” But just as she reached for the handle, she paused.

“What?”

“That Sato deserved to die. No, she deserved a fate worse than death. Even Koizumi should...” Her shaking breath hadn’t gone unnoticed by him, “I digress. You did it; with your strength and your wits, you killed Sato. That being said, accepting the fact you’ve murdered another person is not without trouble. Regardless if they deserved to die or not, regardless of how strong or skilled you are, regardless of premeditation or in the heat of the moment. Someone’s blood is now on your hands.”

“And there’s going to be more in the future.” Of all the times and of all people to be such a miserable asshole towards

“Yes...I suppose that is inevitable. My apologies, young master.” How dare she lecture him, “Please sleep well.”

She’s going to walk out that door, and she’s going to die just like Natsumi.

“Stay with me.”

Fuyuhiko hadn’t been sure if the words left his mouth, and, if they did, he didn’t know if she heard him. Not that he had any right to make demands or give her an order after brushing her off. These mood swings of his were, no doubt, confusing for her. She just wanted to help him with something he truly knew nothing about (despite it being his birthright), and he practically told her to fuck off. She always wanted to help him. Make herself useful to him with no damn regards to her own needs.

Was he so incompetent that she couldn’t rely on him?

In the end, it seemed that she did hear him, but it’s his fault for not communicating properly when she kneels before the door placing her shinai on her lap.

“I don’t mean guard my door. I meant that I want you to stay the night with me.”

Fuck.

“Young master...?”

“That definitely came out the wrong way. Look, what I meant was,” He exhales forcibly, “What I mean is...remember when we were really small? How you stayed in bed with me when I had those horrible nightmares?”

Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“Yes, I do.”

Out came another sigh, but he’s still agitated, “L-Like that, but only if you’re okay with doing so. A-And don’t say yes just because I want it, understand? If not, I’ll take the floor and you sleep on the bed.”

“Please don’t sleep on the floor at my expense. I...I want...to.”

Fuyuhiko should know better than anyone how difficult it has been for Peko to express her desires truthfully. He knew that she thought asking him for something had been forbidden. That requesting something outside their ‘professional’ parameters meant she was an ungrateful miscreant. The fact that she agreed did not shock him, but given that it came from her will did. Still, he wanted to rule out any possibility in which she felt obligated to agree with him.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. I want to sleep with you.” Her confidence would have fooled him if not for the blush on her pale face.

“R-Right then.” With a simple push of his arms, Fuyuhiko placed himself to the left side of the bed. The mattress itself had been full sized (yet another benefit of an upgraded dorm room), so it wasn’t as if they had to force themselves into an inappropriate position to fit. At worst, they may have ended up closer than when they fell asleep, but that did not necessarily violate his own morals. He had to remind himself that, puberty aside, they had done this before and it was no different from those times.

“Young master? You’re trembling.”

Fuck.

“I-It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Sir, please don’t force yourself to do this. I truly don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“Shut up, I told you it’s fine already. Just turn off the lights and come here.”

Within a few seconds the lights were flicked off, and now the soft glow of his small lamp was the only source of light in the room. The mattress dips when she finally sits down, and hears the faint sound Peko fixing her bamboo sword in the small space between the bed frame and the nightstand. Her glasses were the last to leave her body, and joined the lamp on said stand. However, before she could lay down Fuyuhiko stopped her with a jolt; he reached under the pillow to find the tanto knife he always kept hidden. She had lent it to him long before they arrived at Hope’s Peak Academy— when they went to different middle schools, in fact. It hadn’t been taboo to carry a weapon, but no one bothered to give him one; he even had to use part of his allowance to buy his favorite brass knuckles. The clan members assumed with Peko by his side she was the weapon he could use. Nevertheless, the silver hair girl seemed satisfied that he kept it with him for the past few years. It was one of her own, after all, that she had picked specifically for his own skills and strength.

Once he placed the weapon beneath him, their bodies collapsed on top of the blankets— each letting out an exhaustive sigh.

“Hey Peko? My bad for cutting you off like and saying shit like that.”

He hears her hair rustle as she turned her head to him, taking a moment to choose her words carefully (though, it’s his fault she can’t speak comfortably with him).

“It is no bother. In any case, the young master is right: once you ascend to your role as the oyabun, you will have even more enemies.” Her tone becomes more assertive, “Rest assured, I will be the one to dirty my hands and cut them down if they oppose you.”

“I still should let you speak.” He stared back at the ceiling, “You said something like that before, ‘Someone’s blood is my hand now’. What were you gonna say after that?”

“Simply that it would be wise to detach yourself from what you’ve done. Regret is futile, but to associate this with any kind of pleasure is dangerous as well.” In the darkness of his room he can just barely make out her face, “If you let Sato haunt you it will be as if you never killed her at all.”

“I-Is that what you do?”

Peko blinks slowly, facing the ceiling instead of him.

“I don’t feel anything when I do. Not anymore.”

At least now he knew where she was whenever he found her room empty. Or maybe, he always knew and deluded himself into thinking she was staying up late to practice.

“When was the first time,” Why does he keep pushing her about this, “That you killed someone?”

“When those men kidnapped you and I, and brought us to the mountains. Once I realized that you were unharmed, I went and killed them all. It was the only we could escape safely.”

“...” What does he even say to that sort of thing? They were five years old when that happened. At five years of age, the world (his world, their world) turned her into a murderer.

“Young master, I am sorry for not doing a better job that night.”

“Peko, what the hell are you talking about? I only survived that night because of you.”

The swordswoman sat up, feet swinging onto the floor— he couldn’t see the expression she was making, but he didn’t need to know she was blaming herself.

“But I only made things worse. If I wasn’t so afraid that night,” Her fingers grip onto the sheets, inhaling deeply, “If it wasn’t so weak, the young master wouldn’t have been petrified. If I kept my head clear, like I was supposed to, we would have gotten lost!”

“We were five— even grown adults would have been scared out of their fuckin’ heads.”

He doesn’t expect her to turn around so suddenly, and it caused him to sit up as well. Again, he could barely see her face, but he can damn well hear it in her voice.

“That is not an excuse! I am the young master’s tool, protecting the young master...killing for the young master, that is my only purpose. I should never make you doubt the safety of your life! If I were smarter that night, then the young master would not have been afraid. If I were faster, Lady Natsumi would still be alive and the young master wouldn’t have to have had dirty his hands.”

What?

Fuyuhiko’s silence worried her, and the panic sets within; she messed up. She was always messing up. Why couldn’t she just be competent for him? In a second, Peko regained control of her emotions and thinks she removed her expressions. In another second, she was back on the floor performing Dogeza...

The words flowed in and out of his ears, refusing to stay. He thinks— no, he knows she’s apologizing, but he doesn’t understand why.

...

What?

“...Stop.”

“Please do punishment unto me as you see fit for my loose tongue.”

“Stop it, already. Just stop...”

He’s tired.

“Young master...”

“You were just following my orders. I’m her brother, so it was my responsibility to check on her.” It returned again: the heavy feeling in his chest, the one that drags him to the floor and plops him next to her.

She’s tired.

“Sir, you mustn’t blame yourself. If I were a tool capable of being trusted, then I am sure your orders would have been different! If I were more sensible— young master...?”

They’re both so exhausted.

“Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can trust.” He was suffocating, “You always put your life on the line for me, with no damn regard to your own. You're not invincible, Peko.”

“That is exactly why I intend to fulfill my purpose as your tool until I am corpse at your feet.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” (He’s grateful that the room was sound proof), “I don’t want a tool! Tools can’t die. They become dull, they break, and you replace them, but they definitely cannot die. If some fucking rotten cunt smashed your skull in with gravel in a swimsuit you’d die!”

She sat up, “I-I wouldn’t let that happened, I promise!”

“But you can’t know that, you can’t possibly fucking know that! What the point if you’re dead?!”

She can’t do it again to him, not now. She can’t fall apart on him. Not again. That wasn’t fair to him. She has to be strong, she has to be strong, she has to be...

“Natsumi thought she was untouchable, that’s why she was all starting shit with everyone around her. And now what? Now we have to fucking cremate her.” She sees the way his eyes plead with her, his hands desperately grabbing onto her shoulder, “So stop saying you’ll protect me until the day you die, because if I have to bury you too—”

His throated closed on him, and he nearly chokes on himself— as if his body couldn’t finish a thought he never really wanted to have in the first place.

So. This is what it felt like? Breaking their nine and ten year streak of no crying.

“...Young master?”

“Please don’t leave me! I can’t do this on my own, Peko, I need you!”

“Young master! There’s no way I would ever want to leave your side!” She struggles to steady her breathing, her hands clutching onto his arms, “There are so many things in this world that can hurt you, so many things that I cannot protect you from and I hate it. If something fatal were to happen to you...being expected to live on is just too cruel for me.”

“I wouldn’t be able to do it either, you know?” He stopped crying, but his voice still hadn’t recovered, “My little sister died because I failed to protect her, and if you died because of my actions...I seriously couldn’t...”

He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed someone else to touch him so personally— running away even from his mother’s touch. Her hands were warm on his face, and he lets himself fall into them. He knows once they wake up again, once they went home, this closeness between them would have to be forgotten. He presses his hands against hers, and sighs;

So warm.

So human.

“Peko, from now on it’s just you and me. Not as master and tool...just together, okay? We live together and we die together.”

For once, she lets him help her do something: raising her up and leading her to the bed. When they wake up later on, she’s knows this could never be brought up again. An indescribable dream or a sleep deprived hallucination, that’s all she can remember it as. Though, in raw honesty, that seemed better to her than nothing at all.

When their bodies hit the bed for the second, they do so facing each other— much closer than his morals would have allowed. It just felt natural, like how their hands intertwined wish ease.

“Then let us die of old age and nothing else.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Finally, they fell asleep.

———

A few months later

“Ugh, that’s so totally LAME! Your sister dies and you just move on with your hit-man-squeeze??? Then again, I can totally relate to that. I mean, just being within 100 feet of grosses me the hell out.”

“And you’re high pitched voice gives me a splintering headache,” But it’s said with such a loving tone, “In any case, should we separate them? That might drive one of them over the edge.”

She rolled her eyes so hard that she was afraid her contacts would get stuck behind her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever! That’s too much effort for energy I do not have. Besides, I’m over the ‘murder the lover for the shock value’ trope. It’s done and over with, so out of style!”

Junko continued to watch through her binoculars; their upperclassmen, it seemed, were getting ready to move into the new building. How cute, she thought, after the funeral came a honeymoon.

“Besides, a codependency like theirs has been brewing in the pot for years now. We just need to turn up the heat, upupupupu!”

#kuzupeko #kuzuryuu natsumi #mentioned but not an active character #references to the game

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hood-ex · 4 years

Note

For the post about plot bunnies for short fic about Dick and Jason! 1) Dick and Jason going train-surfing before his death and after his return. 2) 1st time one of them got the other a birthday gift. 3) Jason finding out that Dick was the one who finally took down the memorial case in the Batcave and realizing his brother hated that thing as much as he did. 4) Bonding over ranting about Dad. 5) Jason lowkey trying to get Dick and Kory back together cuz he shipped them hard when he was younger.

@bigskydreaming These are all great prompts! I decided to take a whack at #2. I might write for some of the other prompts though. Anyways, hope what I wrote is somewhat satisfying lmao.

Link to read on AO3

Jason’s so glad the 250 pound goon he was fighting earlier decided to leave him with a brand new spankin’ set of bruised ribs. Really, truly, he shouldn’t have given Jason such a nice gift for his birthday. The goon should’ve been embarrassed though. Giving Jason the same gift his dad used to give him? Tsk, tsk. Tactless.

Jason sucks in air through his teeth, mentally preparing himself for the pain, and then tries to sit up. He barely raises himself up three inches before sharp pain shoots up his torso and forces him to thunk back against the rooftop floor. Yeah, okay, he really doesn’t want to try that again.

This is just great.

He sighs. There’s nothing that says happy birthday quite like staring up at the smog that keeps him from seeing any of the stars he’d normally wish on or the fact that he’s probably lying on heaps of bird shit. Alfie is definitely going to give him the stink eye for the latter.

A shadow crosses over the corner of the rooftop. It doesn’t look distinctly Batman shaped.

Jason tenses and reaches for the smoke pellet in his belt. Normally he chooses fight over flight, but he doesn’t want to take any chances with his ribs this time. Creating a distraction and then using whatever adrenaline he can muster to get the hell away is probably the smartest decision. That’s what Batman would say, anyways.

Whoever is creeping around is being way too quiet. Goons don’t usually bother being quiet around Jason. They just see him as a small kid in a costume. An easy target. The whole Robin getup is good for creating that kind of misconception.

“Hey, shorty,” a somewhat familiar voice drawls right before a guy in a blue costume flips into Jason’s view.

Black hair. Plunging neckline. A collar somewhat akin to the cone of shame.

Nightwing.

Jason relaxes his muscles, relieved, and stares at Dick in surprise.

Dick’s got a big stupid grin on his face. The niceness of it is what throws Jason off. He’s still not used to people smiling at him and shit. He’s used to grins that are meant for mocking or that are sleazy and spell trouble. Dick Grayson’s grin is none of those things. His is all playful and good-intentioned. Something about it feels safe, and safe’s not something Jason feels a lot outside of the manor.

“Hey, Old-Timer,” Jason says, “fancy seeing you here.”

He suddenly remembers how much his ribs hurt when he tries to sit up again to see Dick better. He can’t help the small sound of pain he lets out as he settles back into his original position. God, bruised ribs are such a bitch.

Jason can’t see Dick’s eyes because of his mask, but he just knows Dick is looking him over from head to toe, mind probably tripping over itself to analyze Jason’s situation.

“You good?” Dick asks, already kneeling by Jason’s side.

“Oh, totally,” Jason says. He tries to adjust his position without hurting himself more. “Sometimes I just come up here by myself to stare at the smog. Just contemplating the rampant amount of pollution in the city—ow fuck. I don’t know if Bruce told you, but I’m an environmentalist first and Robin second. I’ve always been that way. Since the womb.”

Dick frowns and presses his fingers against Jason’s pulse point. “Have you been drugged?”

Jason smacks Dick’s hand away. “No, I haven’t been drugged! I got my ribs busted by some Hulk Hogan wannabe.”

“Ouch,” Dick winces in sympathy. “Been there, felt that.”

“Yeah, well, how about you give me a hand so I can stop rolling around in bird shit.”

The worried furrow in Dick’s brow melts away and is replaced by an amused grin. God, Jason needs to learn how to become immune to Dick’s stupidly genuine face. It’s stuff like that that makes it easy for Jason to see why Bruce has such a hard time letting Dick go. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s a little bit jealous that Dick can warm people over so easily. If Dick is the gooey middle of a s’more then Jason is the hard-coated graham cracker that takes a little time to chew through.

“I’m going to lift you up a bit and then I’m going to come under your arm so you can stand up, capeesh?” Dick says, moving just beside Jason’s right shoulder.

“Capeesh?” Jason grunts in pain as Dick levers him upwards. “Who are you? Uncle Jesse?”

While Jason’s torso is off the ground, Dick positions himself under Jason’s right arm and then quickly, but gently, helps Jason onto his feet. Jason squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths while he waits for the pain to calm down.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” Dick assures him softly, draping his arm over Jason’s shoulders.

If anyone asks, Jason totally does not lean into Dick for support, he does not. He just. Trips. Into Dick’s side. Yup. That’s what happens. The bird shit is witness to it.

“Would this be a bad time to tell you that I got you a birthday present?” Dick asks suddenly, taking Jason off guard.

“Birthday present? What birthday present? How did you know today’s my birthday?” Jason demands, leaning closer to Dick’s face so he can stare into Dick’s… eyelets.

Dick places a finger on Jason’s forehead and gently shoves him backward.

“O ye of little faith. Give me some credit. You think your big bro doesn’t know when your birthday is?”

Jason stares at him with a knowing look.

“Alfie told you, didn’t he?”

Even though he meant it lightheartedly, he’s a little surprised to see how Dick’s mouth tightens into a frown.

“B sure as hell didn’t,” Dick grouches in a tone Jason’s come to associate with Dick and Bruce’s yelling matches.

“Yeah,” Jason drawls, “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

Dick’s expression levels back into a neutral look. “Right, yeah.” He gives Jason’s shoulder a squeeze as a silent apology. “So do you want your gift or not?”

Thank God for Dick’s ability to smoothly change the subject.

“You know you’re not supposed to ask stupid questions in the field,” Jason says in mock horror. Dick makes a bitch face at him and Jason cackles. “Too bad Poison Ivy isn’t around to give you some aloe for that sick burn!”

Dick stares at him before walking towards the edge of the roof.

“Wait!” Jason says, quickly snagging Dick by the wrist. His ribs only scream a little bit, but honestly, who’s paying attention to that kind of thing when the person with his present is about to disappear into the night. “Fine, fine, fine. I’ll stop being a brat. Although, for the record, you’re an asshole for even pretending to leave me all alone with my busted ribs.”

Dick’s stupid grin makes a reappearance.

“An asshole and a brat walk into a bar—”

“Shut up,” Jason says, shoving Dick away from him. “Are you going to make me stand up here for eternity or can we get to the whole gift-giving thing.”

Jason’s not sure what he expects the gift to be. From what he knows, Dick’s not exactly rolling in money, so he doesn’t expect it to be something as extravagant as what he received earlier in the day. Alfred gave him six new books and also made him a buffet of breakfast food. Then Bruce had given him a new bookcase for his room, an insanely gaudy watch Jason doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do with, and an entire set of baseball equipment for him to play with in the yard.

Compared to his other birthdays, the gifts he got this year are almost too much to comprehend. Hell, the price of the watch alone will probably be enough to put him through college. The gifts are nice but… overwhelming. Honestly, Jason doesn’t think he deserves shit that nice. It’s not like he can refuse them, though. It’ll make him sound like an ungrateful little snot, and Jason doesn’t want to give Bruce that impression at all.

“I’ve only been in your room once,” Dick says as he pops open a compartment on his glove, “and I saw a Poison Idea poster over your bed. So—” he brandishes two blue rectangular pieces of paper in front of Jason.

Eyes wide, Jason snatches them from Dick’s hand. “Holy shit—”

“I got you two tickets to their concert,” Dick finishes with a smile.

Jason stares at the tickets and reads the print on them over and over again. Hands shaking, he throws his arms above his head, ignoring the sharp pain it causes.

“Shut the fuck up! No way! No waaay, dude!” he chatters. He grabs onto Dick’s arm and shakes it in excitement. “You’re not allowed to be this cool! Dude, what? Are these real?”

Dick’s sudden laughter only fuels more excitement in Jason’s chest. He shoves at Dick again.

“Don’t even tell me these are good seats, dude. Like. These are nosebleed seats or something, right?”

“Nosebleed?” Dick squawks indignantly. “These are VIP tickets! You get access to the venue before general admission and you get to meet the band backstage.”

“What!” Jason yells, genuinely shaking now. “Di—Nightwing! Are you serious?”

Dick laughs again and grabs onto Jason’s shoulders to squeeze them. “Yes, I am completely serious.”

There’s a feeling in Jason’s chest that he’s not sure how to describe. It’s a weird mixture of excitement and gratitude and… awe. It’s something he only feels rarely. Kind of like the first time he went out as Robin or like the time he got to work with the Titans. Special moments like that.

Jason reads the print on the tickets one last time, unwilling to vocalize just how touched he is that Dick’s given him such a personalized gift. He didn’t expect to get anything from Dick at all. Hell, he didn’t even expect a phone call, knowing how busy Dick is. And now that Dick’s given him one of his favorite gifts he’s ever gotten, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know how to act.

All he can think of is to extend his fist and to blurt out a quick, “Thanks.”

Luckily for him, Dick’s had a lot of time to adapt to emotionally inept people. Dick extends his own fist and bumps it against Jason’s.

“No problem. Happy birthday, Little Wing.”

Notes:

I don’t know if any of you have ever hurt your ribs before, but I’ve bruised mine, and trying to move was a bitch. My mom had to help me sit up because it was too painful to bend my torso. I don’t know why in fics people constantly break the batfam’s ribs and then have them running around like it’s no big deal. So that’s why Jason is like I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up.

In comics, Robin Jason called Dick “Old-Timer” and Dick called Jason “shorty” and “Little Wing”. So I incorporated that into the story.

Jason referring to Dick as Uncle Jesse is a reference to the TV show Full House. On the show, Uncle Jesse asks “capeesh?” a lot when he’s talking to his nieces or sons.

Poison Idea is an actual band that Jason used to like when he was Robin. In comics, he had a Poison Idea poster on his wall and I thiiink he might of also had a shirt with their name on it. So yeah. Jason is a punk rock bitch.

#Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #kinda hurt/comfort #Dick's a good brother #Robin Jason #birthday #prompt #my fic #replies

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dust2dust34 · 4 years

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Four Walls (Of Law Firms and Honey) - Olicity AU, Explicit

Summary: Oliver is Felicity’s boss at Queen & Queen, a prestigious international law firm. She’s the tech genius, he’s the top dog’s son, and they viciously disagree on nearly everything. Despite that, they work together, neither outright acknowledging the ever-present simmering attraction that has slowly been growing hotter and hotter…

Until a chance meeting at a grocery store one night has them crossing a line, a tiny little line that was never meant to be crossed.

A collection of ficlets in the same ‘verse: Of Law Firms and Honey.

Rated: Explicit

Full fic: AO3 | Tumblr | Timeline

Reminder: This is not a story about love. This is a story that ends in love, but it definitely does not start that way.

Please read the story tags and notes at the beginning of each chapter.

This fic is being told out of order. Please see the timeline to read them in order. Please see the previous installments for additional author notes and story information.

Check out the Four Walls playlist, and if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!

Additional A/N: This was originally intended for Olicity Clue, but I’m super late on that now. My prompts were Felicity’s glasses, Queen Consolidated, and Isabel Rochev. This is partially written for a Fic For Food Drive I’m taking part in (please check out the details here, and consider donating!), and I say partially because I intend on writing something else in this series for a generous donor.

(read on AO3)

10:06 p.m. Queen & Queen

“There you are. Of course you’re in the last box I check.”

Felicity fished out the honey, destroying her beautiful packing job in the process. Her stapler fell over and the Doctor Who mug she used for her pens and pencils tipped precariously against the tray filled with projects she wanted to finish. Projects you should probably delegate since you, you know, have people to delegate to now. Felicity made a face. Yes, fine, it was a logical idea, but they were hers, damn it. It was her blood and sweat that had made them, and she wanted to finish them the way only she knew how.

Not very boss-like of you.

“Learning curve,” she grumbled. She pulled the bottle out with a triumphant, “Ha!”

Silver caught her eye and she inched her door open to see the letters fully.

Felicity M. Smoak Director of Information Technologies

With a smile, Felicity brushed her fingers over her new title like she had, oh, twenty thousand times over the last two weeks. Her name, on her door, on her corner office - her huge corner office with glass walls that turn opaque when you click a switch, and a bathroom, and a couch… Everything was looking up. She was settling into her promotion, she was getting dinner with Caitlin and Barry this weekend, she had been given leeway to hire more techs to go along with being given the reigns for setting up the system at the new Queen Consolidated…

Everything was good.

Her computer dinged.

The smile evaporated as she spun to her desk.

“No.” Felicity hurried over to her computer. The thick area rug she’d bought first thing muffled the smack of her bare feet until she hit the marble floor again. “You’re not supposed to find anything, what are you finding?”

She landed in her chair with a plop so hard it sent her chair - an ergonomic monstrosity that still reeked of plastic from being packed away - rolling. She grabbed her desk to stop from crashing into the credenza behind her. The honey bottle got in the way and she tossed it away, sending it rolling into her still-steaming mug. Tea sloshed over the sides, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were too busy bouncing between the three screens before her, looking for what had made that very specific noise that had all the hair on the back of her neck rising.

Foreign code was in the system.

In her system.

“Frak,” Felicity breathed, attacking her keyboard. “Frak.”

A few keystrokes later, the alien code popped up on the middle screen, and she was ready to launch into a full-on attack…

Felicity frowned.

It was her code.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

It had her framework, her technique, but it was nothing like what she used here, at all. And nothing she had used, considering it was missing her signature. Which meant someone else had used her code on her servers. And simplistic as it was, it was still hers and very capable of doing damage. Which it had, she discovered with a curse, as she dug deeper, tripping over holes where files had once been. Not that it was hard - everything this person had touched was a flashing red hot mess that she would have eventually found anyway because they hadn’t even tried to cover their tracks.

So it was stolen and sloppy.

“Oh. Hell. No. You steal from me, and then you use it on my servers, and you don’t even try to pretend you didn’t? Do you even know who you’re messing with? Ooh no, no, no…”

It took all of twenty-three seconds to follow the trail.

She expected it to be from outside the building, to lead back to some whippersnapper who didn’t know who she was, and who was about to learn that when you mess with her company, you’re messing with her…

But it didn’t.

It led to a terminal right here in the building: QQ112.

Her chest hollowed, buzzing filling her ears, scorching heat numbing her fingers.

It was impossible to remember who was assigned to every computer at Queen & Queen. A handful stuck in her mind from her technician days. The attorneys who barely knew how to open their email. The users who lacked any common sense when it came to downloading any old thing they found on the internet. Those who thought they hid their browsing history on the extremely not-safe-for-work side of Reddit, and those who didn’t even bother. The ones who insisted on fixing problems themselves and always wound up making it worse.

And Oliver Queen’s computer.

She fought to breathe as she stared at the letter and number sequence. She waited for it to change, to become something else, attached to someone else, to not be this. But nothing happened.

Except something had happened, hadn’t it?

Ice scored her insides.

She had shown him that code months ago, before anything had happened between them, back when she thought he might have been a friend. She had shown it to him as a courtesy, to teach, to spread the knowledge and maybe make Queen & Queen better by association. Not to use it against his own firm’s servers. Not to use her code on Q&Q’s servers. If someone who knew half of anything happened to be in there, they would be able to spot it.

They would be able to trace it back to her.

“Son of a bitch.”

Rage tore into her gut.

“What did you do?” Felicity growled. She went after the code with a fervor that had her keyboard scooting over the desk with every furious keystroke. Her eyes darted across her screens as she used everything she could think of to find out exactly what he had been doing. Angry tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away rapidly with a harsh curse. No. He didn’t deserve her tears. He didn’t deserve anything. She forced herself to breathe through a growing pressure in her chest, but all she could manage were short, sporadic breaths as she murmured, “You bastard. You stupid, stupid bastard…”

He had used the code two times. Both in January.

Felicity’s fingers faltered.

She hadn’t found out about her promotion until February.

The word sabotage seared her mind.

Is that what this was? They were co-directors now, more or less. They shared the department instead of her answering to him. She had taken his old position as Director of IT and a new one had been created for him - Director of Production. She had no idea what happened behind closed doors, but she’d wondered if everything she had done here - all that Oliver had taken credit for - had finally seen the light of day.

Or was this something else? Was it about Isabel, about the holiday party, about the horrible night that had followed here before she started separating herself from him and the debauched things they had done the last few months?

Fire ripped through her and more goddamn tears burned the back of her throat.

Isabel was gone and things hadn’t gone back to the way they were before.

Did he think they would?

Felicity fought to keep her hands from shaking - with anger, she told herself.

Things would never go back to the way they were. Because she didn’t want them to. Because she didn’t want him. She didn’t like waking up looking for him, missing his touch, or that there was an emptiness she couldn’t explain inside her. She hated that she felt anything at all. She hated what they had done. She hated who she was with him. She didn’t want whatever had been between them. And things were good now, she was happy, she was-

There.

He had deleted…

Emails?

Felicity leaned closer to the middle screen, as if she could make sense of the data fragments, but they were too broken still.

The only good thing about him using her code was she was able to deconstruct it quickly. Her code was effective, but it was simple, and it had nothing against the algos she threw at it to put them back together. If it had been someone else’s, it might have taken longer. But it was hers and she had a backup on top of her backups, and it was just a matter of time before she would see what he had destroyed…

All too soon bits and pieces of correspondence appeared. Broken email chains without senders or recipients, or dates or times, the words appearing in splintered sentences that had just enough for her to try and make sense of them.

It’s being split. I brought this up last month anyway,

It’s hers

Call me when you’re out

What do you want

Are you positive?

It can go out next week if you want

CONFIDENTIAL

We had an agreement. This is what you’ve been working towards. Are you sure?

Do you have any idea what you’re doing?

I found them

Let me know and we will get this in motion

I don’t think that’s a good idea

We have a deal

Call me.

yes

It’s best for everyone to get Felicity out

“Get Felicity out of what?” she demanded.

She tried to beef up the program to make it work faster, but there was too much information to cull through to find what was missing from the servers. Felicity huffed, even though she knew it was going as fast as it could within its limits. But waiting for every piece to appear, in the right order? She cursed under her breath. Her leg bounced in time with the speed of her thoughts, nearly matching the agitated beat of her heart. Pinpricks of heat danced over her cheeks, burning. It wasn’t until a lance of pain sliced through her jaw that she realized she had been chewing on the edge of her lip enough to tear a piece of skin.

“Ow,” she hissed, grimacing when her tongue touched the tiny wound. The taste of copper flooded her mouth.

Email addresses.

“Oh,” she blurted.

She could narrow the search to see who was involved. She hammered at the keyboard, changing the directives, switching priority to email addresses, and to order them by the amount of emails they appeared in.

A list immediately began populating.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

The floor fell out from under her.

Felicity stared at the last one, waiting for it to pop up and explain itself, but it didn’t. Instead a boulder crushed her chest and the back of her neck burned as ice showered her insides.

“I thought I’d find you up here, Oliver.”

“I see old habits die hard.”

“I like your shoes.”

“Isabel knows.”

The list continued.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

“What?” she breathed at the last one, but before she could even begin to put any of it together, the program started bringing up the corresponding emails. Her email address was attached to only one, and the subject simply read:

Please see the attached.

It wasn’t done loading, but she didn’t wait, opening it anyway. There was nothing in the body of the email. It was just the attachment, addressed to her…

And Oliver.

The attachment was a video.

From Isabel.

“Oh god,” she choked out, her stomach twisting. Her hands shook so hard the keyboard rattled and she snatched them back, digging her nails into her palms. She stared at the email, dread coating her insides like tar.

She told herself it was because it was still loading that she didn’t immediately hit play, but even when it finished - even when the other emails finished coming together - she didn’t touch it.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she finally opened the video.

All she saw were black and white flickers and pixelated snippets. The cursor along the bottom told her it was playing, but nothing showed up, and for a blissful second she let herself believe it was nothing.

Then an image appeared.

An agonized moan fell from deep in her chest.

It was her and Oliver, in an elevator. He had her pinned to one of the walls, his face buried in her neck, one hand in her hair, making a mess of it, the other migrating down her neck, then her chest. She didn’t have to watch to remember the feel of his fingers slipping inside the band of her skirt and yanking her blouse out where it was tucked, so hard it tore one of her buttons. She had one of her legs up as much as her skirt would allow and wrapped around his, so damn eager that she hadn’t cared in the slightest where they were.

Isabel had this.

Her stomach pitched until she thought she was going to be sick.

In a twisted haze, Felicity watched her own hands claw down his back, raking over Oliver’s suit jacket where it strained against the width of his shoulders. She dug her nail into his neck. Her eyes half-closed, her mouth slack in pleasure, so obviously flushed despite the grey wash of the video. She remembered waking up with hickeys and bite marks all over her neck and chest. She had been so mad, she numbly recalled. But not while it was happening. Never while it was happening.

The Plaza, she remembered. They had used the suite the firm kept there for high-end clients.

“They never check the records, Smoak. They don’t want to know.”

The video abruptly switched, and it showed her walking backwards with Oliver following her down the hallway, towards the Premier Suite.

It occurred to Felicity in that second that it wasn’t showing his face.

There was no way there wasn’t video somewhere of him - entering the elevator, at the very least, because someone else had been on there when they’d first gotten on. Oliver had been standing next to her, only attacking her when the person got off a floor later. But the way the video played, if someone didn’t know, it looked like Felicity was taking some random person up to the suite.

His back was still to the camera as they reached the door. She had the key card, having taken it from him earlier, and she slipped it into the lock. She twisted the handle before turning to enter the room backwards. The soft lights overhead reflected on her glasses as she grabbed Oiver’s tie and yanked him in with her.

A blip of static overtook the screen and then it showed her slipping out of the room some time later, head bowed, her hair up in a chaotic ponytail, her clothes askew, her heels in-hand as she hurried to the elevator.

Alone.

It was all her.

The numbness cracked, just enough to take a breath, to frown, to think.

Felicity switched back to the email from Isabel. Short. Simple. To the point. To both her and Oliver.

So why…?

But if someone knew it was Oliver with her, that they were using the suite under his name, under the firm’s name, then there wouldn’t be much reproach, would there? Because regardless of his status within the firm, he was still a Queen. A hand-slapping, perhaps, and she would surely get reprimanded in some way.

Just her, though? Seemingly taking advantage of the firm like this?

But then why had she gotten the promotion she’d been angling for since long before Oliver swooped in and stole it out from under her last year?

She shook her head. None of it made sense.

Heart fluttering so fast it hurt, Felicity flipped through the other emails. There were so many of them, a couple dozen easily, most of them formalities, simple back and forths, nothing substantive. The ones between Oliver and his father were the most confusing, both of them talking in shorthand about a plan, something Oliver had been working towards, their conversations talking around something they both obviously knew and didn’t need to explain.

She stopped when she saw an email from [email protected] to [email protected].

No subject, no body, not even a signature.

Just an attachment.

A draft announcement naming Isabel Rochev as CEO of the newly formed Queen Consolidated.

Release date: March 1.

Felicity stared at the mockup uncomprehendingly. She read the words over and over until they blurred. She noted the empty spot where Isabel’s picture would go. She stared at the question mark after the date in parentheses. She tried to think, to understand what she was seeing, what she had seen. What had happened. How it had happened… and all without her ever knowing. It was blackmail, plain as day. Isabel had the perfect leverage in her possession.

And she had used it to get what she wanted.

“Oh my god,” Felicity blurted. “What did you do? What did you do?”

She grabbed her phone with trembling hands, swiping it open, going straight to her phone app. Muscle memory dialed the number she could never forget, but when his name appeared because her phone recognized it, her heart spasmed and she almost hit the END button.

A soft trill echoed from down the hallway.

Felicity’s head jerked up, her breath catching.

Another trill, so faint she barely heard it.

But she did.

Her phone hit her desk with a thud, but she didn’t hear it, already up and out the door. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she followed the ringing past darkened offices, a copy room, the shadowed kitchen, to the opposite corner of the floor.

To his office.

The trill abruptly stopped followed by a harsh, “What?”

She heard it from the open door that came into view when she turned the corner.

A nervous wash of adrenaline crashed through her veins, especially when a softer, “Felicity?” followed. The closer she got, the more her limbs felt like they were going to shatter, each step shakier than the last. “Felicity?”

She heard him so clearly her mouth went dry.

Felicity stopped when she reached his door.

Oliver stood by his sitting area, just like the one she had, his office a mirror version of hers. He had a sheaf of paper in one hand, his phone in the other, a dark glower on his face as he glared at the little coffee table before him.

Her chest squeezed tight.

It had been so long since she’d been in here - so long since she’d seen him, period. He seemed bigger, yet somehow he took up less space. His muscles were bulkier, but his waist was leaner. His face had a gauntness that hadn’t been there before, his jaw sharp and angular. His tie was off, the first buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up in messy bunches, his hair askew from running his hands through it. Dark circles underlined his eyes and in place of his signature scruff was the beginning of an unkempt beard.

She had deliberately not sought him out. She didn’t look for him. She barely offered him a glance when they had to interact outside of telephone calls or emails.

He looked like hell.

She stepped inside.

“Are you…?” he started before he saw her.

Oliver’s words died off, surprise widening his eyes. Then he frowned, and the closer she got, the deeper the furrow between his brow went.

“Felicity?” he said, his voice low, rough. “What’s wrong-”

She grabbed his face with both hands as she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him.

He froze. She barely noticed under the press of his lips to hers again. They were dry, chapped, but still so soft, just like she remembered.

Felicity whimpered and grasped him tighter, pressing closer, kissing him harder. The little wound she’d given herself a few minutes ago burned under the pressure, but the pain only edged the heady sensation of his mouth against hers again. God, she had missed it, she had missed him, more than she wanted to admit. But it was impossible to deny right now, when it had been months, when the last time she had kissed him had been in anger, her only intent to hurt and maim, to inflict the pain she’d felt. There was none of that now. This was different.

He stood stock still. He didn’t even breathe, stiff and unrelenting, implacable.

Until he wasn’t.

Oliver melted into her.

She gasped at the abrupt surrender, the sound morphing into a strung out cry as he kissed her back. He dropped the papers and his phone, both landing with a thud, the papers hitting her naked toes, but she barely felt it. He wound his arms around her and yanked her off her feet.

It had been so long.

Too long.

Felicity opened her mouth at the same time he did, their tongues meeting halfway. She groaned at the first taste, eclipsing his breathy whine. He clutched her hard as he bowed forward, chasing the kiss with vigor, his tongue spearing into her mouth. Her knees buckled, her feet hitting the ground in an uncoordinated mess, and it was only because of his hold that she didn’t fall. But then she pushed off the floor, shoving back against him, kissing him with equal ardor. Teeth collided, lips yanking, pulling, sucking, tongues exploring and tasting and tangling. Despite how they chased each other, he still eclipsed her, surrounding her, swallowing her up. She whimpered at the overwhelming sensation and he drank it all in as his hands roamed all over her, before falling to her ass. He gripped her so hard she broke away with a cry.

He didn’t let her get far, though, and she didn’t want him to.

Not anymore.

Oliver captured her mouth again, sucking on her bottom lip, groaning when she nipped at him.

The back of her legs collided with something hard before she even realized they were moving. The coffee table. The heavy, low-sitting furniture scooted across the floor, but they just followed it. Oliver urged her down with hard hands. Felicity clawed into his shoulders, unwilling to release his lips, forcing him to follow her as she laid back on the table. It was awkward and uneven, but neither of them cared, or bothered to fix it, because it meant stopping, and that couldn’t happen. Oliver loomed over her, gripping the edges of the table, his muscles rippling to keep from crushing her as he ravaged her mouth with a thoroughness that left her head spinning.

But then all too soon, he was wrenching away.

With a ragged gasp of air and fogged glasses, Felicity arched up to follow him - don’t go, don’t stop, don’t - but he just fell to his knees before her. She tried to spread her legs to wrap around him, needing to feel him pressed against her as much as possible, but her skirt was too tight. She frantically yanked it up as his hands flew to his belt and pants.

Heavy breathing and the rustle of clothes were the only sounds for a moment.

Pants half-hanging open, Oliver grappled for his wallet. He ripped it out of his pocket and dug out a square package. He tossed the leather away as Felicity pushed her panties down, pulling her legs up enough to yank them down one leg, leaving them hanging off her foot as she spread for him.

Oliver’s eyes dropped to her sex. Mouth swollen, cheeks flushed, lids heavy, he stared at her as he rolled the condom down his length, his pupils eclipsing the stormy blue as he drank her in.

A shiver shot down her spine.

She missed this, missed how he looked at her, half-drunk with need that matched her own.

“Please,” she begged, grasping the edges of the table and scooting closer to him. “Oliver.”

He grabbed her hips, yanking her until her ass hung off the edge. The swollen head of his cock rubbed up her cleft, and then back down, nudging her entrance.

“Yes-”

Oliver thrust in, hard and fast.

Felicity shouted at the intrusion. Her back bowed, her eyes squeezing shut as he filled her to the brim. The pressure was incredible, his girth stretching her nearly to the point of pain. She felt him in every inch of her body and it stole the air right out of her lungs.

“Shit,” Oliver gasped, his hands grabbing her waist as he pulled back out. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Felicity pleaded. “Don’t-”

She found his hips and yanked him inside her once more. She hissed when he stretched her so wide it was all she could to keep breathing. But she did, and she angled her hips to take him in even deeper. She hadn’t realized how much she had shut down, shut him out, not even entertaining the option, to the point she wasn’t ready for him like she would have been before. But she would be, again. She knew if they kept moving, her body would catch up. It would.

Her name fell off his lips in a choked moan as his fingers dug into her ribs.

To stop her. To pull out. To leave her.

Felicity shook her head wildly.

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she babbled breathlessly, but her voice breaking betrayed her. She arched up to keep him inside her. “It’s just… been a while, I’m… I’m okay, I’m not… I can’t… Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop-”

She was begging him.

The anguish in her voice sliced her heart to ribbons. She felt ready to burst into a thousand pieces, for a thousand different reasons, and absolutely none of them made sense. She had prided herself on keeping her distance, on being stronger than whatever was between them, on being able to walk away.

But now all of that was gone in the blink of an eye, just gone, as if it had never been there.

The realization tore through her and Felicity fell back against the table with a broken cry.

All of it had been a lie. She was a lie. Everything she told herself she felt was a lie.

Another sob threatened to escape, but she bit it back. Because the only thing that mattered in this moment was staying here. With him. She needed to be here - with him - and she couldn’t think about it, about what it meant. She could only feel.

She only wanted to feel.

“Please,” Felicity breathed, arching up again, her legs winding around him, her nails scrabbling under his shirt. “Don’t stop. Please-”

“I’m not,” Oliver whispered in a rush, falling over her. It changed the angle of his hardness inside her and she whimpered as he cupped her face on a ragged, “I’m not stopping. Ever,” before his lips found hers in a burning kiss.

It matched her desperation so perfectly that tears burned her eyes. It shouldn’t soothe her, and she knew that. But it did, and it felt so good, so right, to be here, to be back with him. But it was more than that. It grounded her, in a way she couldn’t do herself. She mewled, opening for him, winding her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her until they were both gasping for air, and then he kissed her even more, deeper, harder.

He invaded her in every way possible.

More.

Felicity twisted his shirt, twisting it, yanking. She slid one hand under the collar, and then his undershirt. His skin was blisteringly hot against her palm, and she moaned, kissing him harder as she dug her nails into his muscles. His hips jerked into hers, and this time they both moaned when he slid in a little easier, sending tiny bolts of pleasure through her.

“Off,” she mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “Off.”

He didn’t bother with the buttons, ripping his dress shirt off along with his undershirt. Buttons went scattering, but Felicity barely heard them pinging, or felt the ones that hit her as she yanked her own shirt off.

Her breath caught at the sight he made. His abs stood out in stark relief, too stark, the lines of his body harsh and rigid, a wall of pure muscle. He had always been well-defined, but this was extreme. Felicity flattened her hands to his stomach and smoothed them. She was transfixed by the feel of his hot, silky skin over such hardness, her fingers ghosting over his taut nipples, his rock-hard pecs…

“C’mere,” Oliver grunted, hooking his fingers in the front of her bra and yanking her up.

The lace tore across her skin and she yelped as she crashed into his chest. The pain only fueled her need as the new angle had him shifting inside her again, gasoline on a fire, turning a simmer into an inferno.

Felicity’s teeth found his collarbone.

He cried out, grabbing the back of her neck. He crowded her closer as she worked her way up his neck, savoring his salty taste, sucking and nipping, leaving little marks that would be there for days.

“Fuck… Felicity…”

She’d never heard her name so many times from him like this. She was always Smoak. But not right now, and the knowledge that he was just as undone as she was had her licking and sucking harder, wanting to hear more of it. He gave it to her, a raspy plea as he turned his face into her hair, his breathing hot and damp, his fingers digging into her neck as she marked him, up his throat, his jaw…

On a groan, Oliver captured her lips with his as he inched his hips forward.

He filled her up, so much more smoothly, so good, so perfectly. Burning need arched through her, the pressure changing, her slickening inner walls clamping down on him. Oliver swallowed down her cries, matching them with his own as he pulled out a bit to thrust back in. He rubbed against her with each thrust, his pubic bone hitting her clit, sending little bursts of pleasure sparking through her. She keened, clinging to him, and he did it again, and again, slow and steady, making sure she was ready for him.

“Yes,” she whimpered, grabbing his face, kissing them both breathless. “Yes.”

His fingers found the clasp of her bra. He undid it quickly and pushed her back down to the table.

The cold tabletop was a shock, but then Oliver was pulling her bra off, tossing it away…

And then all she felt was the burn of his gaze, and then his hands as he grasped her waist.

His hips slowed as he stared at her with unfathomable eyes, so dark, so intense. It was almost like he couldn’t get enough of what he saw. Captivated. Transfixed. His gaze danced all over her, up her chest, her neck, her mouth, then back down to her breasts, her abdomen.

“Felicity…”

He dragged her name out, tasting every single syllable. Did he know what he was saying? He couldn’t, she thought, not with how he looked at her, or how he touched her. There was a reverence that hadn’t been there before.

Felicity’s heart skipped, her mouth going dry, her stomach fluttering.

She had missed him, so much, and not just his body. But that was the confusing part. They didn’t have a relationship. They didn’t have anything.

And yet… the way he looked at her… how he made her feel…

“Felicity…”

She shivered, and fought to breathe, but then he was touching her. Oliver smoothed his hands up her waist, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts before slipping back down, one hand cupping her ribs, the other spanning the width of her stomach…

So soft.

So gentle.

Felicity shuddered, goosebumps erupting over her skin. They sent another shiver ripping down her spine, and another. The goosebumps spread everywhere, her chest, her stomach, her breasts, peaking her nipples into hard little beads that ached.

It was nothing compared to the way he stared at her.

It was too much.

“Oliver,” Felicity choked.

His dark gaze flew to hers and her heart clenched at the look in them.

Too much.

She grabbed his hands and slid them up to her breasts, cupping herself with his fingers. Lust slackened his face and he took over, squeezing them before raking his thumbs over her nipples. Pleasure spiked through her and she moaned, loudly, and he did it again.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding, closing her eyes as she arched her back, rocking her hips. “Please. I need you-”

On a harsh growl, Oliver squeezed her breasts, so hard and fast it took her breath away. Using his grasp on her to keep her still, he thrust into her, burying himself as deep as he could. Her hands scrambled up his arms for something to hold onto as he gripped her breasts, relentless and unforgiving, and thrust into her again. Again. Again.

“Oh… god!” she cried. “Oh… oh god…!”

Oliver fell on top of her, pinning her to the table, spreading her legs impossibly wide.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth finding hers in a messy kiss.

She struggled to respond, but his demanding lips stole her ability to do anything. He ripped away only to shove his hands up into her hair. He destroyed her ponytail, pulling on the long strands until enough was free so he could make tight fists. Oliver braced himself over her and used his new leverage to pull out nearly all the way before thrusting home, so hard the table shook. Felicity shouted, grabbing his sides for something to hold onto. She was completely at his mercy and it had a rush of arousal sweeping through her, her juices flooding her sex, a desperate ache for him to fuck her sensenless razing her from the inside out. Blood rushed in her ears, her heart pounded, heat swamped her veins, a mind-numbing pressure deep in her core coiling tighter as Oliver thrust into her so hard the table slid across the floor.

“Say it.”

“I need you,” Felicity gasped. He groaned at the words. “I need you. I need you. I need you.”

They moved together, finding a rhythm to his pleading, “Again,” and her breathless, “I need you,” echoed by the sounds of their harsh pants for air and her wet sex taking in every inch of him over and over until they both dissolved into mindless cries.

The orgasm hit her in a tidal wave, bowling her over, eclipsing everything. White sheeted over her eyes, a series of short, startled cries flying from her as she fell to pieces.

Oliver’s grip on her tightened so much she whimpered as he started thrusting with abandon. Hard, harder, each collision sending her higher, dragging her pleasure out until she didn’t know where he began and she ended. His forehead landed on hers, skin slick, his breaths hot and ragged against her mouth. Felicity grabbed hold of him, cradling him, nonsensical words falling from her as he plowed into her, erratic and frantic, chasing his pleasure.

He jerked, his back bowing, his pistoning hips stuttering.

With a strangled, “Felicity,” on his lips, he came.

Oliver collapsed on top of her, burying his face into her throat, her skin muffling his desperate noises. He didn’t stop, his hips rocking into her as he rode out his orgasm, her inner walls milking every last bit out of him, his cock twitching deep inside her with each burst.

It was a long moment before he finally slowed, and then fell still.

Buzzing filled her head.

Pleasure. Satisfaction. Shock. Confusion.

She wanted him to move. But she didn’t. She wanted to want to. She wanted to get off this uncomfortable table, to get his bulk off her where he crushed her, but at the same time, she didn’t. She didn’t want to move. Ever.

Oliver made the decision for her.

He slowly pushed up. He slipped out of her, trying to quiet his groan when he left her wet heat. Felicity bit her lip so hard it nearly tore the skin as her sex clenched at the sudden emptiness. And then he was off of her, pushing to his feet. He grabbed his pants, yanking them back up as he turned away from her.

He didn’t look at her once.

Felicity sat up, grimacing at the throb blossoming between her thighs. She stood up gingerly, her hands shaking as she pushed her skirt back down. The silence was deafening. He moved to his desk, peeling the condom off as he went before tying it off and tossing it. The cool office air stung her sweaty skin and she crossed her arms over her breasts, looking around for her blouse.

She spotted it in a crumpled heap next to his tangled shirts.

It smelled like him when she slipped it over her head.

“Were you supposed to be the CEO of Queen Consolidated?”

Silence.

Felicity looked at him where he stood by his desk, his hands frozen where he’d been re-buttoning his pants. The slacks were tight across his backside, stretched over his thighs in a way that they hadn’t been before. His back was covered in red marks where she’d raked her nails over him, making the well-defined muscles in his back stand out in harsher relief when he finished fastening the buttons. His belt was next.

That was it.

“You were, weren’t you?” she asked. The full weight of that hit her and Felicity’s ribs closed in around her, making her gasp. “You were leaving Q&Q. But now you’re not. Because of Isabel. Because of…”

Us.

He turned his head slightly, but that was it.

“How did she know?” she asked. She caught the edge of his forehead creasing in a frown. “About the Plaza. That we were there that one night…” He finally turned, his brow creased in muted surprise, and she huffed. “C’mon, Oliver, give me a little more credit than that. This is my system, remember? I know when something’s wrong. Or… missing. I saw the video. And the emails. And the announcement about her, that you sent. Like it was… gift-wrapped. Because she had something that she couldn’t have possibly known about, didn’t she? But the odds of her picking that one night…”

He didn’t answer her. He just turned to his desk.

“Oliver-”

He opened one of the bottom drawers and pulled out…

“My glasses?” Felicity frowned when she recognized the frames. She absently reached up to touch the replacement pair she currently wore. “I thought I lost those.”

“A couple weeks ago…” Oliver said in a low voice, not making a move to hand them to her. He tilted them back and forth in his fingers, the move so easy and familiar, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He stared at them as he spoke. “Isabel walked into my office and handed these to me. I told her they could be anybody’s, but then she showed me the security tape.”

Felicity’s heart sank. “Oh god…”

“I told her to go to hell,” he continued, still watching the glasses. He huffed. “She must not have liked that very much because then she sent the video to both of us. Except this time it was focused on you. She said she wanted you gone, and that if we didn’t do anything about it, she would take the video to the Board, since you not only work here, but are slated to be so involved with getting Queen Consolidated set up.”

Felicity closed her eyes.

This was her fault. It wasn’t them, together, specifically. It was her. She remembered wanting to escape that room the next morning more than anything, before Oliver woke up, before she had to face what they had done. Again.

“It was a game to her,” he said and she opened her eyes to see his locked on her. “She wanted to see what we would do when she pushed us into a corner. If it was just me, or if it was both of us, I could have at least… But it was you, and I knew I couldn’t do anything without risking her releasing that tape, so I gave her something she couldn’t resist.”

“Queen Consolidated.”

“Queen Consolidated,” he echoed. The broken way his lips lifted in a half-smile, an attempt to hide the depth of what he had given up, cracked her open. “It didn’t matter, though. Whatever we had, it had nothing to do with your job. You’re the best asset this firm has and I wasn’t going to let you pay the price for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Felicity could only stand there, staring at him, too overwhelmed to comprehend any of it.

So she focused on the one thing she could fix.

“She still has the video.”

Oliver pursed his lips on a slow nod. “Yeah.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing they tapped me to set up Queen Consolidated, isn’t it?” She gave him a tight smile before lifting her hands to wiggle her fingers at him. “I’ll get it. Somehow. Once I’m in, I’m kind of hard to escape.”

Something flickered over his face, but it was so tiny, nearly indiscernible, that she wondered if she saw it. Then she remembered how he’d looked at her a moment ago and her heart faltered.

He dropped his eyes back to the glasses.

“Here.” Oliver cleared his throat as he stepped towards her and held them out to her.

Felicity slowly took them. “Thank you.”

All he had was a tight nod and a bland attempt at a smile before he turned away.

She grabbed his arm. “Oliver, wait-”

He looked back, his brow twisted in what she could only read as concern, but she barely gave herself time to discern it.

The second he faced her, she pushed up onto her toes again and kissed him.

It was soft, chaste, her lips capturing his with an ease that settled something deep inside her.

“Come home with me,” she whispered against his lips.

He hesitated and her chest caved in.

“Please.”

An eternity passed, their breaths mingling, noses brushing, but that was it.

She pressed her lips together before biting her bottom lip, the urge to ask him again - to beg - overwhelming her, nearly taking over.

Please.

Oliver pulled back and she barely bit back a whimper. He was going to say no. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to see the look he gave her, to face what she was asking him, after she had slammed the door in his face. Felicity bit her lip harder, fighting to keep more words from falling out…

He cupped her jaw.

Felicity’s eyes flew open as his thumb tugged her lip away from her teeth with a whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The word was out before she could think, and the second it was, his mouth was on hers. With a sigh, she fell into him as Oliver wound his arms around her, pulling her into him. They opened for each other, and she whimpered when he took a deeper taste, re-sealing the unspoken bond between them.

“Yes.”

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

On a final note, I want to thank everyone who has engaged with me about this story. I appreciate every single comment and tweet and DM and ask. I know the way I'm writing them in this 'verse is very challenging, and demanding, and it's not an easy read. But it shouldn't be, because I don't want it to be. I don't want my readers comfortable during certain parts of this story, because I'm not comfortable. I'm pushing a lot of boundaries with this story. This is my most difficult undertaking to date, and I question myself at every turn in this process. All the more reason I truly appreciate those who continue to read, who reach out, who share their thoughts with me. I'm learning a lot about myself as I go on, and I thank you for being on this journey with me!

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow #fanfiction #olicity au #of law firms and honey #four walls #my fics #my fics: au

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revisitingstoneybrook · 3 years

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#68 Jessi and the Bad Babysitter: Chapter 14

Now it’s time for some fireworks! It’s always fun to see someone snap and call the BSC out. Godspeed, Wendy.

It's the next BSC meeting on Wednesday and Jessi has her eyes glued to the door, praying that Wendy arrives on time. She's afraid another Kristy-Wendy showdown will take place, and I think she's also worried that because she's the one that brought her into the BSC, it'll be her ass too.

Much to Jessi's relief, Wendy shows up at 5:29 and she's not a happy camper. “Her mouth was set in a thin line and her big brown eyes were narrowed and angry.” *gasp* How could anyone not be in a good mood to be at a BSC meeting? Wendy says she had to leave a Super Mario tournament just to be at the meeting on time. And to top it off, she was winning too! Guilt-trip all you want, Wendy. The BSC is immune to all excuses. And Super Mario...Ann must have been tearing her hair out when she read all these modern pop culture references.

Jessi tells her she did the right thing and thinks to herself the BSC is more important than video games. The BSC supercedes all! And imagine if Wendy showed up 25 minutes late again...she'd wake up in the morning with “YOU'RE GOING DOWN!” spelled out on her windowsill in baby blocks. Jessi tells Wendy it's important she's here, but Wendy doesn't look too convinced.

At 5:30, Kristy calls the meeting to order and says she has two pieces of business. First, Shannon's coming! But she's going to be late. So anyone else showing up a minute late = LOOK. Shannon showing up late = that's ok! You know what, fine. Shannon gets like no love, let them bend the rules for her.

The second piece of news...Wendy was late to the job at the Pikes! Dun dun dunnnnnn. Wendy, completely blindsided, looks at Jessi accusingly. Oh no, Wendy. Jessi didn't say anything. It was Kristy's little Yes-Girl.

Mary Anne tattled on Wendy to Kristy. She says she didn't do it to be mean (yeah right) but said it was something that Kristy had to know. Wendy tries defending herself by saying she was maybe 15-20 minutes late and Jessi was already there. Kristy snippily counteracts with this:

“The big deal is that when parents call here they know they can count on us in every way.” (Good times, bad times, in between...) “That means they can be confident that they can get out the door when they need to. This business works because we run it in a professional manner.”

Uh, no, you run it in a dictatorial manner, Miss Napoleon Complex. And geez, if Mary Anne had kept her mouth shut, nothing would have happened. I mean, Mrs. Pike came home and both girls were there and the house and kids were all in one piece. I feel for Wendy because she's being ganged up on when all she's guilty of is assuming wrong. And they all keep forgetting that SHE WAS AT A BABYSITTING JOB. It wasn't like she was out shopping or was on a date (Stacey) or something. Oh wait. That's against BSC rules too. Girl's between a rock and a hard place here.

Wendy opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. Too bad this a G-rated book because Wendy telling Kristy to fuck off would have been great. After thinking her words over, Wendy says things aren't working out. Stacey, who's said like six lines in this whole book, wants to know why, mainly to ease the tension and keep Kristy from unleashing her claws. She's also mentally taking notes for future reference when she quits this bitch in 15 books.

Wendy says there's too many rules and doesn't like the fact that she has to surrender all her personal jobs over to the BSC. She also doesn't like having to be at meetings three days a week because it takes up too much time. Kristy, your rebuttal? “You knew the rules when you joined.”

NO SHE DIDN'T!!!!!! NO SHE DIDN'T, NO SHE DIDN'T, NO SHE DIDN'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good lord! No one gave her an explanation of the rules when she first joined. Kristy was too busy acting all high and mighty, demonstrating how the club assigns jobs and yelling at Mallory for being sick. Holy shit, Kristy is such a bitch. Wendy, in a more composed manner, tells her what I just said. How the first meeting she attended was so frantic and no one ever told her what any of the rules were. Through all of this, Kristy stays silent.

Wendy admits that the club is great (so the brainwashing did get to her a bit) but it's great for all of them - not for her. Mary Anne suggests that it's just an adjustment period and she'll be fine soon. It falls on deaf ears, because Wendy stands up and gives the BSC a verbal smackdown:

“No, I don't think so. I have parents. I have teachers. I don't need a club telling me what to do, too. That's just one too many people bossing me around.” Oooooh, want some ice for that BURN, Kristy? “Sorry it didn't work out. 'Bye.”

With that, Wendy walks out of the room and into BSC obscurity. Or there's always my theory that she was driven out of Stoneybrook for defying the BSC and was sent to live in RI in exile, like Anne Hutchinson.

Since this is a G-rated book and there can't be any lines of “Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!”, Kristy spits out a goodbye and adds on, “No offense, Jessi. But I can't believe you and she are friends.” Ouch x 100. Geez, someone is a bad match for the BSC = shitty friend. Jessi tries to defend Wendy and calls her “pretty independent.” Yes, free spirits have no place in the BSC! Hear that, Dawn? Change your hippie ways, or you're next!

Stacey jokes that Kristy's met her match. Kristy glares at her (which makes her perm go stick-straight) and gives us this. “Wendy? Not likely. I don't think there's much value in being completely undisciplined and unable to follow a few simple rules.”

A few SIMPLE rules?! The BSC runs around like a bunch of maniacs to make sure they don't break them and cower in fear at receiving one of Kristy’s Looks. The fact that the BSC is literally terrified of pissing off their president is scary and shows that their rules are not that simple.

Jessi remarks that Kristy and Wendy are actually quite alike and that's why they clashed. The only difference is, Kristy's a leader...and Wendy's a loner. Yes, let's just keep shitting all over her.

Jessi apologizes for bringing Wendy in and Kristy says it's alright, she's relieved she's gone. Because if she kept showing up late, they'd have to can her and “that would have been pretty unpleasant.” Oh yeah. With the trial for high treason and the beheading in the town park? Very unpleasant.

Mary Anne says she was afraid they'd fire her and actually had a nightmare over this the night before. “I dreamed we all had to stand in a circle and tell Wendy why she had to leave. In the dream, I couldn't do anything but cry because I felt so bad for her.” Like we need any more evidence that the BSC is a cult. I'm picturing them all in black robes, holding candles with Wendy in the middle, waiting for Logan to lead her off to her tower.

And WTF Mary Anne. If it hadn't been for you blabbing all this to Kristy in the first place, Wendy wouldn’t have up and quit. Shut up.

Before they can trash talk Wendy anymore, Shannon shows up and everything gets sunny again! And, guess what...her Honor Society dinner committee meetings are over! So she isn't as busy now! Claudia gives her the news about the newly-departed Wendy and Shannon says Kristy told her “she wasn't working out too well, anyway.” I'm sure Kristy used much more colorful language than that.

Shannon tells them she has a cunning plan...a plan so cunning, you could brush your teeth with it. Since they've been calling her like a million times a week to offer her jobs...why doesn't she just come to meetings and take over Dawn's position as alternate officer? Then when Dawn comes back, go back to being associate?

Sounds great...JUST LIKE IT DID WHEN I SUGGESTED IT LIKE 10 FRICKIN CHAPTERS AGO!!!!!!! God, it took them THIS long to come up with that?

Kristy is overjoyed, Shannon says she has no issues with stepping down, as it'll be spring by then and she'll be swamped with school stuff and she'll be going away for the summer. Kristy freaks out and demands Shannon not go away for the summer because they'll need her. Shut up, Kristy.

Stacey tells Kristy to chill out and Kristy lets it drop. For now. So the phone starts ringing as the neglectful parents of Stoneybrook call in, Shannon takes lots of jobs, problem solved.

As Jessi goes home, she wonders about whether she should still be friends with Wendy, considering she kind-of told off Kristy and is unreliable. Because having a friend who is late to stuff is BAD. If I dumped any friends who were not punctual, I'd have to get rid of a lot of friends. Jessi finally gets a hold of herself and realizes that not everyone is used to Kristy's iron fist of power, it isn't the end of the world if her friend isn't punctual and decides to talk to Wendy.

Jessi calls up Wendy, Wendy seems to have been fretting over the same stuff because she thinks Jessi hates her for quitting the BSC. The two clarify their feelings, Wendy says she just didn't fit in with the BSC, admits she doesn't like Kristy (but doesn't hate her...no please, tell us your true feelings about her) and they decide to stay friends. Well, at least as much as the BSC will let Jessi, since all non-BSC friends kind of fall to the wayside eventually. She even says Wendy would fit in great with the We <3 Kids Club. I don’t get why Wendy could have stayed on as an associate. She wouldn’t be required to be at every meeting and it would take some of the pressure off Logan and Shannon.

#babysitters club #jessi and the bad babysitter #jessi ramsey #bsc #snark

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psycheswritings · 4 years

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Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Three

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC) Warnings: Swearing, I guess. Word Count: 5019 Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Life has been a bitch this week and I was hating everything I wrote. Thanks to everybody that liked and commented on the fic, honorary mentions to @blues022, @livingmybestfakelife, @livvtheangel and @stressedandbandobessed7771 - thank you all for taking your time to review this, it makes my heart swoon with happiness. @livvtheangel kindly asked for me to add some kind of separation between the scenes to make it easier to read, I have already done it on the other parts and will do it in every chapter from now on. It was supposed to have a blank space between the scenes but God knows what happened. Let me know if its better this way. And, finally, before I go, @stressedandbandobessed7771 asked to be tagged in the series, which I'm going to do from now on, and I wanted to let you all know that if anybody wants to be tagged too, let me know. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated. I relly hope you like this one. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Daphne receives a very unexpected invitation while the Shelby's have to deal with Sabini's retaliation. Tommy buys a new horse and gets to know a possible new asset at the same time that Polly tries to understand what is the nature of his interest in the woman working with Solomons. Ada has a heart to heart with her friend and Alfie makes a surprise for Daphne.

Three

“Next month?!” Daphne’s shocked expression and high-pitched tone of voice made the engaged couple laugh. William was a little behind them, by the door, a smirk on his face. “Now I understand what you’re saying about them hushing things.”

“You never believe me.” Daphne just rolled her eyes at his mockery before Jane quipped in her defense.

“Well, you have a habit of overreacting about things.” The doctor narrowed his eyes to looks at his sister.

“Always knew that you were going to be a little traitor.” They all laughed, apart from William, although everyone knew that it was just an act.

“Nothing like a little display of sibling love by the Weston’s.” Alfie commented, surprising Daphne with his good mood. The last few days had been a little strange for them, both had totally ignored the episode of the window, but his words kept coming back to haunt the woman every time she looked at him. She was distracted observing him when their eyes met, Alfie gave her a heartwarming smile that Daphne promptly returned.

“We are always happy to entertain, Alfie.” There was false mockery in his tone.

“But we didn’t come here for William to complain about everything.” She turned to face the other woman, her expression was serious but joyful. “I want you to be my maid of honor.” Daphne blinked a few times, shock washing trough her. She expected to be invited to the weeding, of course - the two of them were good friends, after all – but being Jane’s maid of honor wasn’t something that she had in mind.

“Oh, I… Of course. It will be my pleasure.” Jane got up to embrace her friend, bubbling with happiness.

“William here already accepted to be the best man, despite his constants complains.” That resulted in Charles receiving a slap on the back of the head, given by his future brother-in-law, making them all laugh aloud.

“In all these years that I know him I never saw William do anything without complaining.” He looked at Daphne shaking his head.

“What’s this, a plot to ruin my reputation?”

“What reputation, mate?” Charles chocked in laughter and soon the others accompanied him.

“Et tu, Brute?”

“What can I say, mate. You make it too easy, aye.” When they all recovered from their laughter, Jane addressed herself to the gangster.

“Of course you’re invited too, Alfie.”

“And I will be there, for sure. Wouldn’t miss William’s speech for anything.” That was something that Daphne had missed, the friendly banter between Alfie and William, that brought a genuine smile to her face that didn’t escaped Alfie’s eyes.

“The betrayal. I thought we were friends, Solomons.” The doctor complained while Alfie just shrugged.

“What can I say, business is business, my friend.”

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“This had better be good to interrupt my holiday.” Polly rushes into the betting shop after John has opened the door that connects it to the house. It’s clear that she is in a hurry and in no mood to small talk.

“Where's the boy?” Arthur asked when she was putting her things on the table.

“In the back room. I only brought him because afterwards we're going to the museum.” Another obvious thing was that she didn’t wanted Michael involved in the family business, even though she knew it was an herculean task.

“He wanted to come in and say hello but...”

“Shut up, John. There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room.” Said nephew stopped talking altogether, looking a little dismayed. “Tommy, get on with it.”

“Last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winson Green. This morning, I had a telegram to say it was Sabini who ordered it.”

“And it says here that Thomas Shelby's next.” Arthur added, ripping said telegram into pieces. Despite the death threat on his life, Thomas didn’t looked that concerned, like he wasn’t with most things. Just another day in the job.

“If our men think we can't look after them in prison, they'll not work for us. Sabini knows that. So we need to get the Green sorted out. Scudboat, you and one of the boys. Break a couple of windows and get yourselves arrested. I'll have our coppers get you into the Green and you can find the bastards who did it.”

“Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car?” All of the men, besides from Tommy, start laughing. “What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car. I'm still on a donkey.”

“All right, just get yourselves fucking arrested, it doesn't matter how. And before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid. We'll start a fund for his family, Pol.”

“Agreed.” The woman says, solemnly. “So is that it? Can I go now?” She starts picking up her things just to hear Tommy talking again.

“Well, as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend a thousand guineas.” That makes her stop and look at him.

“On what?”

“On a horse.”

“A thousand guineas on a horse?”

“That's right.”

“When was this decided?” She starts passing, deep in thinking.

“You've been busy with Michael.” He knew that she would question it but this was a means to an end. Sometimes it was difficult to make people see what he saw. Even Polly.

“Oh, my God. So, in the absence of common sense, you boys have had an idea.”

“Polly there's a thoroughbred quarter-Arab filly up for auction at the Doncaster Blood Stock.” Polly looks at him.

“What do we want with a thousand guinea horse?” Tommy sighs, before explaining.

“When we make our move on Sabini's racing pitches, any men we get into the betting enclosure will be lifted by Sabini's police. A good racehorse is a passport to the owner's enclosure.”

“We'll be in there with all the toffs. Coppers won't know where to look.” Arthur adds and John accompanies him, excitedly.

“Yeah, the Epsom Derby, Pol. We'll be drinking with the bloody King.”

“The Derby? Did he say the Derby?” The glare Thomas gave to his younger brother erased the smile in John’s face while he lowered his head. The leader of the Peaky Blinders took a deep breath and cleared his throat before speaking.

“That's right. For the last ten years, Sabini has made it his race. If we're going to take him down, might as well make it there as a symbol.”

“Did you come up with this idea in a pub by any chance?” Her tone was drenched in pure sarcasm.

“Pol a good racehorse is an investment, like property. We need to diversify the portfolio.”

“So when is this sale?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And Tommy's had a death threat so we'll have to go with him for protection.” The older of the Shelby siblings explained.

“So, you're going to close up the shop, go out on a piss-up and blow a thousand guineas on a horse that's not even whole Arab?”

“Quarter Arab is better! Quarter Arab, it means...” Polly cuts him off.

“Curly, shut up.” The door that connects the betting shop to the house open to reveal Michael. Polly instantly looks reprovingly at John. “I thought I told you to lock that door.”

“He did. I used the key on the nail.” The younger boy explains. “Look, I've been listening. I want to go with them.”

“You see?!” The Shelby matriarch throws her arms up in exasperation while Tommy looks at his cousin.

“I love horses. I could even help!” The excitement mixed with hope that his mother would allow him to go with his cousins was evident in Michael’s face.

“Over my dead body.” The older woman said, crossing her arms.

“It'll be all right, Mum. I've been to loads of horse auctions before with my uncle. They're very respectable. People bring their butlers.”

“Yeah, and their posh wives!” Arthur said, smirking and taking a sip of his whiskey.

“And their mistresses.” Added John, elbowing his cousin while they laughed.

“Let him come, Polly.” Arthur tried to convince the woman. “We'll go there, buy a horse, come back.”

“I'll drop him back at the house in Sutton before it gets dark.” Promised John to his aunt.

“No. Fucking no.” Michael left the room slamming the door behind him, clearly upset. Polly looked at Thomas and after a minute that seemed to last too long, he treated to clear the room.

“All right, that's it. Back to work.” All of the men started to leave, going back to his own tasks. John stayed behind, approaching his aunt.

“Come on! Aunt Pol, when I was Michael's age, I'd killed a hundred men and seen a thousand die. If you want to scare that kid away forever, carry on how you are going. If you want him to stay, let him come.”

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Thomas couldn’t say that he was surprised to see his aunt entering his office later that day. After the incident with Michael earlier he expected that she would come around, he just didn’t predicted the reason why she wanted to talk to him.

“How’s Michael?” He asked when she took a sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, his eyes not leaving the papers he was analyzing.

“Beaming with happiness now that he wored me down to go with you lot, tomorrow.” She answered with a sigh. “But that’s not what bought me here.”

“What it is then?”

“That woman” Polly started, waiting for his attention to be back on her, but he ignored it completely, the only reaction that she got was his pen freezing for a couple of seconds “the one you and Ada were taking to at the Garrison.”

“What about her?” His tone was dismissive, however, his aunt wasn’t foolish. She was pissed off with him that night at the reopening of the Garrison, but she most definitely saw his interaction with the unknown woman that had arrived and departed of the pub like smoke, but not before drawing all eyes to her.

“Who is she?”

“She is the woman who works with Solomons.” He hoped that would end with the interrogation but he wasn’t that lucky.

“The one you were curious about?” Tommy exhaled loudly, dropping the document he was currently reading to look at his aunt.

“Yeah, that would be her.”

“She knows our Ada.” She would have asked Ada about the woman if she had had the chance, – her niece certainly would be less evasive than Thomas -but her son had appeared at her door and the subject escaped to the back of her mind. Also, the gipsy woman needed to see his reaction to know if they were going to have another problem like they had with that barmaid.

“Yes, they know each other from London.”

“I want to meet her.” He wrinkled his forehead.

“Why?”

“Because the last time a woman caught your attention your judgment became clouded and we both know that it didn’t end well.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Maybe not yet, but I know the look in your eyes. She intrigues you. I noticed the first time you talked about her. I brushed it off because I thought it was just because of the business, but the way you behaved yourself around her that night at the Garrison tells me otherwise.” Thomas takes a deep breath but does not confirm or denies her suspicions.

“I’m certain that Ada can schedule tea for you three...”

“No. I want you to be there.” She wanted to see firsthand how he reacted to this girl because the last thing that Polly trusted was in men and their cocks. Thomas wasn’t the worst of the Shelby brothers in this topic – John was the man whore of the three of them – but since he was in charge of things in the family, the potential of trouble was higher.

“I will see what I can do.”

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“To the premises of Mr. Charles Strong, Small Heath.” The man wrote down on the book before looking up at Tommy. “What kind of premises?”

“Boat yard.” The Brummie answered unamused.

“Yachts?”

“Canals.”

“I'm curious. What is your business, Mr. Shelby?” The man asked, giving Tommy a piece of paper.

“Import, export.” Before he left, Tommy added. “But I also sell pegs and tell fortunes.”

“You beat us to it.” The feminine voice made him stop and turn around - it was the woman of the auction. The one who had been stealing glances at the gangster since they arrived.

“Did I?”

“I was trying to nab a filly for my stud.” Thomas knew that she was only trying to catch his attention, but he played along.

“Sorry.”

“Thomas Shelby from where?” He took a deep breath before answering.

“From Birmingham.”

“Goodness!” There was a certain amount of surprise in her voice, mixed with shock.

“No, not much.”

“May Carleton.” She extended her hand for him and he took it. “I breed racehorses and train them. What is it you do?”

“I rarely answer questions, is what I do.”

“Tommy, come on, hurry up! We've got to go!” Arthur shouted in the background, laughing.

“Well, before you go, if you ever decided to put that filly out, I'd be interested in having her.”

“I plan to race her.” She looked at him surprised.

“Do you have a trainer?”

“I know people.”

“I know people, too.” The woman replied giving Tommy her card.

“Tommy! We've got to get this kid back before dark or Polly will have your balls!” John shouted this time while they all laughed.

“She will have 'em!” Arthur quipped in.

“We know different people, I would guess.” Tommy just ignored his brother’s giggles in the background.

“My father knows Mick Hancock. Trained three Ascot winners.”

“Oh, so that was your father?” He was right, them. She was talking to him for a reason – a reason that didn’t involve the horse at all.

“Yes. We're joint owners of the stud. He took the majority share when my husband was killed. Ypres.”

“Tommy! We've got to get back to the caravans! The chickens are hungry!” May looked at them and chuckled before asking.

“So will you consider me?”

“I will consider you.”

“You still didn't tell me what you do.” Tommy turned to face her again.

“Oh, I do bad things. But you already know that.” She could be a good asset for their plan and maybe – hopefully - help him get his mind off of the damn mystery that was Daphne Scott.

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Things have been quite calm for Daphne since she received Jane’s invitation to be her maid of honor. She saw the girl almost daily now, helping her prepare everything that was needed for the ceremony in such a short time. To say that the youngest of the Weston’s siblings was beaming with joy would be an understatement – she was all smiles and compliments and it ended up rubbing off on Daphne, even if just a little bit.

She had met William a couple of times too, since he was involved in the preparations as much as her seeing that he wasn’t just the best man but also the bride’s older brother. He tried to sound annoyed in every meeting, but Daphne knew that he was happy for the couple, just worried that his little sister would be out of his sight from now on.

Alfie was an entirely different matter. Things had been as normal as you would expect between them. No more visits from Thomas Shelby, no more employees being knocked out cold, everything seemed to run smoothly. However, Daphne knew in her heart that something wasn’t right. More than once, she had caught him staring at her from the distance with a frown on his face, deep in thinking. He usually did not even noticed that she had caught him staring, but when he did, the Jew made quick work to turn the other way, pretending that nothing happened.

In all the years she had known him, Daphne never gave too much though about the reasons why he kept her around. Alfie wasn’t exactly what you could call “a man of his word”. She had seen him betray his associates for his own benefit more than once - and being brutally honest, she couldn’t say that if the roles were reversed she would have done different. With her, thought, he always had been anything but loyal. He had helped her in the moment she most needed and they constructed a strong bond. Strong enough for her to consider him family.

In all the years they have worked together, they learned how to read each other – that was one of the reasons why they functioned so well as partners. And that’s why she knew she wasn’t going crazy because he was, most certainly, hiding something from her. His words kept hammering in her head: “Do you trust me? Because sometimes I wish you didn’t.”.

“You look like Tommy.” Daphne blinked a few times while looking at Ada.

“What?”

“You do this thing of looking straight away, to nowhere, not blinking or moving while you’re deep in thinking. He does that sometimes.” Ada laughed when the other woman raised one eyebrow at her. “I can’t help it if you two have so much in common.” There was a pause while she poured the both of them another cup of tea. “He’s been asking about you.”

“Who?” Ada rolled her eyes, sitting down on the chair again.

“You know who. My knucklehead of a brother.” Daphne laughed at that while the other woman just observed her carefully. There was a hint of concern in her voice when she asked “Why is he so interested in you, Daph?”

“It’s not in me he’s interested in, it’s in my relationship with Alfie.” Or so she had been trying to convince herself. Since she last talked to Harriet Daphne had been trying to figure out what she felt towards the Brummie gangster, with no luck so far. It seemed that the much she thought about it more confused she was getting.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe in that for a second. I know my brother and the way he looks at you has nothing to do with curiosity about your relationship with Solomons.” Daphne had no answer to that so she took a sip of her tea trying to ignore Ada’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Just be careful, okay.”

“Ada, even if he is interested in me it doesn’t mean that anything will happen. Even if I was interested in him too.” Daphne regretted her words the moment they left her mouth.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Interested in him?” There was a long silence where the two of them just stared at each other. “Just have in mind that Tommy usually gets what he wants and this not necessarily means that it will be what you want too.”

“Ada…”

“I really like you, Daph. And I know that deep down my brother is a good man. He’s just… Not the same since he came back from the war and I would hate to see him hurt you.” Neither of them had the time to address the subject further since Karl entered the room in a rush going straight to Daphne’s lap. As they both giggled at something that the little boy had done, the topic dissipated in the air. The unfinished conversation had to wait for another time.

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When they entered the pub everyone stood up, clapping their hands as they passed. Daphne just looked at Alfie and he only shrugged, a hand on her back to guide her through the crowd. Some of the people greeted her on their way to the mezzanine just beside the stage.

“I’ll bloody kill you, Solomons.” She said to him through clenched teeth and he laughed at her, whispering into her ear.

“No, you won’t love.” Despite being pissed off at him for ignoring her wishes of not doing anything at her birthday, Daphne couldn’t help but feel touched by his gesture.

“You tricked me into this.” He made her stop at the base of the stairs that lead to the mezzanine beside the stage, turning her to face him and resting his hands on her arms.

“I knew that it was the only way for you to come, don’t blame me for wanting to see you happy.” The young woman just nodded, ignoring all the eyes on them, before she let him lead her upstairs. She recognized almost all of the faces that turned to look at them when they arrived on the mezzanine – Ollie and his wife, Jane and Charles, William, Harriet, some of their work associates, Ada and Karl, but her eyes were instantly draw to a pair of blue irises fixed on her. His stare was so intense that she felt like getting lost in them, but the connection was broken when Karl escaped Ada’s arms and run right to her screaming “Dee Dee”, making everyone smile. She caught him by reflex while he hugged her.

“Mommy said that this was for you. She said it is your birrr…” He gave her a package that Daphne knew contained a book all the while struggling to say the word birthday. She smiled and kissed him on the check.

“Birthday, sweet pea.” Alfie chuckled behind them while Ada walked to them.

“That it.”

“What have I told you about running away from me, Karl?” It was always amazing to see Ada step into her motherly figure.

“But it was Dee Dee!” The boy protested snuggling into Daphne’s neck while the woman smiled.

“It doesn’t matter, you can’t do that, Karl.”

“It’s okay, Ada. He won’t do it again.” Karl straightened himself to look at Daphne. “Will he?”

“No, Dee Dee.” She smiled at him again and he gave her a kiss on the check. Ada could do nothing but shake her head.

“That’s a good boy.” Daphne placed him on the ground and Ada stepped closer to hug her.

“Happy Birthday, Daph. I know you hate it, but try and have some fun, will you?” They looked at each other for a moment.

“I won’t promise you anything.” The two smiled at each other and Ada hushed Karl back to where they were sitting so Daphne could talk to the other guests.

Jane almost knocked her out to the ground in a very good mimicking of what Karl had just done while everyone laughed. Charles was right behind her - the couple seemed to be stuck into a bubble of unbreakable happiness. William was trying – and failing miserably – to hide a smile right behind them.

“Trying to maintain your reputation of ‘The grumpy Weston’, I see.”

“Somebody has too.” He smiled, before hugging her. “Happy Birthday, Daph.”

“Okay, can you release her now? She’s not exclusively yours, you know?” They separated themselves from the embrace and laughed at Harriet standing right behind them, hands on her waist as if she was about to give them the scold of their lives.

“You and your wonderful timing, as always.” William huffed, rolling his eyes and receiving a slap on the arm from Daphne.

“Get away, lover boy.” The courtesan jested, smiling bright at Daphne before taking her in a hug like the others. “Are you okay?” The question was asked quietly, just for Daphne to hear. They kept each other close after they parted from the hug.

“I will be.” Harriet knew that it was a lie – Daphne was not okay, she would never be okay, not entirely and the sadness in her eyes proved that. She wanted to convince her friend that she could be happy, she should be happy, but sometimes the woman could be as headstrong as Alfie. Harriet just nodded and Daphne moved onto the next person that was waiting to greet her, with the Jew following her closely.

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The blood red of the dress contrasted with her skin and for a moment, Tommy let his eyes wander down her body. The sleeveless piece of clothing was sophisticatedly draped with intricate embroidery at the front, the velvet was loose on her curves, marked only at the waist but the back had a low-cut that showed a good amount of her skin, since her hair was loosely tied. The golden locket always around her neck.

Thomas felt pulled by her presence like a moth to a flame. He observed, curiously, as she crossed the room with Alfie right behind her, all eyes on her. Then it took him by surprise the way his nephew had run to her, hugging and kissing her as if she was family. He already knew that she and Ada were close but he was right in assuming – after Ada called her by a nickname – that their bond was stronger than he had predicted.

Polly noticed the way Tommy’s eyes were immediately attracted to the woman the moment she entered the pub. She took her time observing the girl too. It was undeniable that she was beautiful – all soft curves, long hair and a smile that could light up the whole room – but there was something more, something about the way she carried herself that made people captivated by her.

She watched Thomas observing the girl and immediately recognized the spark in his eyes – there was no denying that he was attracted to her, Polly wanted to know in what extent. The older woman saw the same spark in Daphne’s eyes when their eyes crossed just before Karl jumped into the woman’s arms. Her relationship with Ada was something that Polly would explore later, because there was no way that her niece would have left Karl around someone she didn’t trusted.

“That woman over there isn’t Harriet?” John’s voice broke the spell and Tommy looked at the woman his brother was talking about – it was the brunette, dressed in a tight navy blue skirt and white blouse mocking a the man who was hugging Daphne at the moment.

“Harriet? You must be crazy Jhonny, boy. This can’t be…” Arthur’s mouth fell open before he could finish the sentence.

“The owner of one of the most famous brothels in London?” John looked at the older Shelby, smugly, but Tommy’s attention was securely held by the interaction between Daphne and the man that had just hugged her. He seemed like one of those rich gentlemen that every mother wanted for their daughters at the same time that he held an air of rebellion. What made Thomas wary was the way his touch lingered on Daphne who seemed unbothered by it.

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Daphne graciously greeted everyone in the mezzanine – everyone except for the group of people watching her on the other side of the mezzanine. She looked at Alfie that just motioned for her to follow him.

“And I took the opportunity to invite the rest of the Shelby clam, so we could get acquaintance, aye. Now, you already know Tommy here, this is the rest of his family.”

“Arthur Shelby, at your service.” The eldest of the brothers kissed the back of Daphne’s hand, making her smile.

“Daphne Scott.”

“John Shelby, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He mimicked his older brother moves, a flirtatious smile on his face.

“Likewise. You aren’t supposed to have a wife, somewhere?” Arthur almost spat his drink trying to contain his laughter and John cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. Alfie chuckled behind her.

“She had to stay home with the kids.”

“Send her my regards, then.” He nodded at her, clearly not used being caught flirting like that. Daphne’s eyes then stopped in the older woman beside Thomas. She was staring at her quizzically but there was a hint of a smile on her features.

“Polly Gray.” She took a second too much to extend her hand for the younger woman to take, probably trying to make a point. Her grip was firm but so was Daphne’s – two could play at this game.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Ada talks greatly of you.” The girl knew how to play, Polly had to give her that. The way she handed John’s flirting showed that she knew how to handle herself and, most importantly, that she had done her fair share of research on them. By bringing Ada into the conversation right now, she was trying to gain the older woman’s good graces.

“Funny thing is that she never mentioned you.”

“I had to keep her away from the bunch of you or otherwise she would have left running.” Ada quipped in, having just arrived back at the mezzanine after going to the bathroom, before Daphne could say anything.

“Well, she is not running.” Her hazel eyes encountered Tommy’s when he spoke, keeping himself beside his aunt. Daphne held his gaze when she answered.

“It takes a lot more to make me run.”

“I hear that a happy birthday is in order.” He extended his hand to her, that she took without question, the touch lasting a minute longer than it should.

“Dee Dee, are you going to have a cake?” Daphne released Tommy’s hand to lower herself to Karl’s level before talking to the little boy.

“Maybe. Why? Will you want some?”

“’Cause when it’s your birrr…” She smiled again.

“Birthday.”

“Yeah, you have to blow the candles, right?”

“That’s right, lad. Do you want to go see if Daph’s cake is ready?” Daphne was amused at how shocked everyone looked when Alfie lowered himself at her side to talk with the little boy, who looked at him shyly. Karl looked at his mother who nodded at him, before looking at Daphne again.

“Will you help me blow out the candles?” He only nodded excitedly, before taking the hand that Alfie offered him and the two of them walked to the kitchen. When Daphne straightened herself, observing Alfie and Karl going down the stairs seemingly in a happy conversation, she directed herself to her friend. “That was a low blow, even for you.”

“What can I say, we play with the cards we have.”

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years

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Rebel Without A Cause-Ch 20

A/N: Here is it guys! The last chapter of Rebel Without A Cause. There is a 2 part epilogue that I am going to post over the weekend. So this story will officially be completed on Sunday (3/15). Also, the song in this chapter is not an actual song. It is one my beta, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss and I wrote for this.

As Maggie nears the door at the end of the hall, she can't help but recall the dream she had had; Dean cheating with a blonde named Suzie. She keeps reminding herself it had been a moment of self-doubt and uncertainty.

After Mr. Singer had tried to task her with another month of plays and shows to attend, she had realized that Bob Singer was being manipulated by his step-daughter, Jo, to keep Maggie away from Dean. So, she had turned in her week's resignation and packed up her cubicle, leaving Ft. Garrison News behind. Maggie had uncovered the association between her boss and co-worker when she had heard Jo call the woman known as Mrs. Singer, Mom. It didn't take much to put the rest of the puzzle together to figure out that Jo was using her connections to thwart Maggie from seeing Dean.

Rayne had promised to keep Maggie's employment status a secret from Dean and had assured her that they would figure out something to do. Maggie had confided in Rayne about her family and their treatment of her and how she refused to go back there with her tail between her legs. Rayne had also influenced Maggie to come out 'on the road' with her and the band as they traveled to different cities and towns for gigs.

So, here she is, standing outside Dean's door ready to knock and surprise him. She hadn't told him she was coming and had gotten a shock of her own to find out he had begun insisting on his own room and no longer shared a suite with the rest of the band. Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with the frequent routine of orgies and fraternizing that the band had with groupies and fans. More proof that his words were true, he did love her and didn't want to do anything to ruin that.

Raising her hand, she rapped her knuckles against the door. "Just a second!" She heard Dean say. Hearing the words in person through a piece of pressed wood made her smile. Phone calls and Skype conversations just weren't enough. She wanted to feel the deep timbre of his voice wash over her, to be face to face with him when she told him. They had a lot to discuss, after all.

She hears the click of the lock and watches with trepidation as the knob turns and the door begins to open. What if he wasn't happy to see her? What if her arrival wasn't a surprise for him but a disappointment? Would he be happy to see her or would he be upset she was here? Maggie took a deep breath as the door came fully open to reveal her boyfriend. "Surprise!" She said smiling nervously, pausing for his reaction.

"Mags?" Dean questions, the look of shock evident on his face. "Wha-what are you doing here?"

His inquiry leaves her feeling concerned and anxious. She begins second-guessing herself but before she can get too far in her own insecurities, Dean tugs her to him, pulling her into the room and closing the door. He wraps his strong arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Baby. Goddamn, I've missed you!" Maggie can hear the delight in his voice. "Are you really here?! I'm not, like dreaming or something am I?"

Giggling, Maggie pulls back and takes him in. Deep forest green eyes with specks of hazel that reminds her of leaves after a rain, his square cheekbones that lead to a sharp jawline, plump pink lips that captivate her when they stretch into a smile over perfectly straight white teeth. When the tip of his tongue peeks through those ivories in amusement and contentment she is completely enchanted. This beautiful specimen of man should be a sin but she'd happily go to Hell to call him hers.

"Baby," Dean queries, pulling Maggie from her thoughts. "What are you doing here? I thought you were swamped with shows and plays for work?"

"Yea, about that…."

"And so I told him everything," Maggie finishes telling Rayne, explaining Dean's reaction to her resigning her position at the newspaper.

After she and Dean had gotten reacquainted after two long weeks of being away from one another, Maggie calls Rayne to go get a bite to eat while the band rehearses and finishes setting up. The two best friends sat in a booth at a local bar and grill and caught up.

"So," Rayne says grabbing a fry and dipping it in ketchup. "The bitch got jealous and used her contacts to sabotage you. What did she think she would accomplish? That she'd have a chance with Dean? Psh, whatever. That man is madly in love with you," Rayne accidentally spills, not catching the admission right away. Not until the lack of response from Maggie does she look up to see her friend staring at her, eyes wide. "Oh come on! Maggie, you gotta know that man is head over heels in love with you." Rayne knows it's too late to try to retract anything but the truth is out now so she goes with it. "Maggie, Dean has practically become a recluse. He stays to himself before and after the shows. He just goes out there, does what is needed and comes back to sit to the side and stare at his phone, at the pictures of you on his phone. Girl, the man is smitten."

"He told me he loved me," Maggie says nonchalantly, taking a bite of salad.

"WHAT?!" Rayne yells, bringing everyone's attention to them. "WHEN? OH MY GOD! MAGGIE WHY HAVEN'T YOU TOLD ME?"

"Shhh!" Maggie's shushed Rayne and leans forward over her plate. "It was a lethargic statement. I doubt he even realizes he said it. Just don't say anything. Don't even tell Sam." Maggie sits back but can still see the glee on her friend’s face. "Rayne, promise me you will keep your mouth shut. Please? He didn't mean it. It was right after we had Skype sex, he was just in the moment."

Rayne feels disappointment and defeat at Maggie's blatant disregard of Dean's profession. She spends the rest of the meal trying to figure out how to prove to Maggie that she is wrong in her assumption.

Dean sits in his private suite, wishing Maggie was there. It's been almost three weeks since she has been able to be at any of his gigs and he misses her immensely. He misses the way her presence calms and soothes him. It didn't matter how many performances the Winchester Sex Bombs gave, Dean's nerves are always raging and on edge. He would usually drink them away but since Maggie Fitzgerald came into his life 8 months ago, he only needs to be in her embrace to get the feeling of peace and tranquility. His performances seem to have improved with her in his life, too.

She is so much different than her step-sister. Dean thinks back to his younger days when he dated Lisa Braeden. He was so young and immature that he just shrugged off all the warning signs. Clues of her true nature should've had him running for the hills but in his juvenile brain, he overlooked all the flags in favor of getting his dick wet. Dean regretted ever giving that gift, his virginity, to such a vile human being.

Where Lisa is horrible and nasty, Maggie is the exact opposite. Maggie is good and kind, a gentle soul. Someone Dean can see spending the rest of his life with. Dean rummages through his bag until his hand runs across the velvet box stored inside. He's had the ring for a week now, waiting for his love to return to him. He planned to propose to her in the same setting that brought her back into his life, one of his concerts but work has kept them apart.

A knock on the door makes him jump and he takes one last look at the piece of jewelry before hiding it back in his bag. "Just a second."

Expecting to see Sam or one of his other bandmates, Dean unlocks the door and opens it. He knows the band has rehearsal but that wasn't until later. But knowing Sam, he wants to go over the revisions to their set one more time. He can't believe his eyes when he realizes who his visitor is. His heart skips a beat and he feels overjoyed. "Mags? What-what are you doing here?" He asks but all he wants to do is pull her to him and lavish her with all the love he has for her. And so he does. Pulling her body to his, he quickly closes the door and hugs her to him, his arms embrace her. He can smell her body wash, some minty aroma that drives his senses wild. He can't help but bury his nose in her hair and inhale. Dean can't believe she’s finally back in his arms. She is finally back where she belongs.

"Baby. Goddamn, I've missed you!" He doesn't even attempt to hide his glee. "Are you really here?! I'm not, like dreaming or something am I?"

Her giggle is the sweetest sound on earth, followed closely by the moans she wails when he is deep inside her. His dick twitches at the thought. She pulls back and he takes the time to study the woman who has stolen his heart. Her dark brown eyes remind him of saccharine chocolate, her hair the light golden brown of chestnuts. Her face is the epitome of beauty. High cheekbones, full kissable lips, and a tiny button nose. He pecks her lips with a smile. She is here, in his arms; his heart feels like it is going to explode in bliss.

"Baby," he asks. "What are you doing here? I thought you were swamped with shows and plays for work?"

"Yea, about that…." Maggie sighs and pulls from his grasp. "I resigned." Dean quirks an eyebrow and she continues, beginning to pace in front of him. "Apparently Jo is Mr. Singer's step-daughter and she used him to keep us apart."

"What? Why? How?" Dean blasts, confused and perturbed. Someone was trying to sabotage her, them, their relationship? It pissed him off more than he could explain. He would fight tooth and nail for the woman before him.

"Jealousy," Maggie shrugs as she stops her stride. "She was jealous that you picked me. That you and I are sleeping together. Real childish bullshit. So as soon as I figured it out, I put in my resignation and left. So now I'm unemployed and have to look for a new job. It will probably mean more time apart for us but…. Dean, I just couldn't stay at Ft. Garrison. Not after that. I'm sorry."

Dean pulls her back to him and envelopes her in a hug. "Don't you dare apologize, Mags. I don't blame you a bit. Jo is a major bitch for doing that. We'll figure something out, I promise okay?"

Dean looks down to see a small smile on her face as he feels her relax in his arms. He vows to do whatever it takes to keep her exactly where she is.

Dean swears he will never get used to the feeling of Maggie's body taking him in. As he settles inside her hot, wet cavern he revels in the sense of intimacy, the closeness to another person. This isn't just a hookup to him, isn't just another way to get off. To Dean, this is an intimate bond between him and the woman he loves. Between the push and pull of the dalliance, he bares his soul to Maggie. He lets her in more than he has ever done before.

He can feel her walls fluttering around his shaft and it enraptures him. His momentum increases and he reaches between their bodies to caress her swollen nub. He loves the fact that he can make her feel so good, can make her hit her peak so thoroughly. He watches with his forehead lain against hers, as her eyes roll back and her mouth hangs agape, a silent cry of pleasure.

Watching her climax is the highlight of his day. She is so beautiful in the throes of passion and his eyes well up when he thinks she is all his. It brings on his own end as he lets go and fills her with his release.

He knows that no matter what obstacles come their way, together they can conquer anything!

Dean decides during rehearsal to let the rest of the band in on his plans. He had teamed up with Sam and Meg and wrote a song for Maggie and with her being back, and the circumstances of her return, he decided tonight was the night to debut it.

"So, there's gonna be a little adjustment to the set tonight." Four sets of eyes look his way in confusion.

"What're you talkin' 'bout there Chief?" Benny spoke up for the rest of them.

"Sam, Meg, and I have been working on a song and I want to sing it tonight," Dean explains. "It holds special meaning to me and it's time."

"Are you sure?" Sam asks, skeptical of why his brother wants to perform that particular number. "I mean, will she even hear it?"

"Mags is here," Dean tells his brother. "Showed up a couple of hours ago. She's out with Rayne right now. So yea it's time," Dean says knowing his younger brother understands the meaning behind his words.

Dean turns to the other three. "So I was thinking in between 'Set Me Off' and ''Ex You Out'...."

The crowd is pumped. People are on the dance floor, dancing to the music while others sit at the tables or at the bar, nodding their heads or tapping their feet. Dean feels alive; he feels as if everything is right in the world. His band is drawing bigger and bigger crowds every night; his girl, his lover and best friend is in the shadows observing; and tonight his life will hopefully change. With just one word.

As the ending to 'Set Me Off' crescendos, he looks to Meg and she nods as she begins playing the soft notes on her keyboard.

🎶Someone call the police

This girl has stolen my heart

A crime of passion has been unleashed

My heart is shackled to hers like a work of art

With only a glance I’m her prisoner for life.

With one look of her dazzling eyes

And one sway of her hips I was mesmerized

She’s got me all up in a twist

And I’m loving every bit of it

Feeling things I ain’t never felt before

Down deep in my core

Can’t shake this feeling although I tried

She’s got me hypnotized

Like a muppet on a string

I give her the reins

To mould me and shape me

Into who she needs me to be.

With only a glance I’m her prisoner for life.

With one look of her dazzling eyes

And one sway of her hips I was mesmerized

She’s got me all up in a twist

And I’m loving every bit of it

Feeling things I ain’t never felt before

Down deep in my core

Can’t shake this feeling although I tried

She’s got me hypnotized

She's got me hypnotized

She's got me stupefied

She's got me, heart and soul

I give her my all.🎶

"Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming out tonight. The Winchester Sex Bombs deeply appreciate your support. Now if you don't mind, I want to take a minute to do something that's been years- I mean YEARS- in the making. Maggie, will you come out here?" Dean says as he looks toward the curtain he knows Maggie and Rayne are behind. He watches with laughter as Rayne pushes his girlfriend onto the stage. He can tell Maggie is nervous as hell on top of confused about why he called her out to join him.

As she nears center stage where he is, he removes his guitar and hands it off to Sam. The lights go out except for the spotlight that is shining right on them. Dean removes the microphone from its stand and grasps her hand in his free one.

"Margaret Eugenia Fitzgerald. I have known you since you were 14 years old and I have always felt this bond, this connection with you. Even when we went our separate ways, you would often cross my mind. Then one night, much like tonight. I saw you. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. I thought there was no way you were in the crowd at one of my concerts. But it was you. My life has become so much better since then and I know it will only get better." He lets go of her hand and pulls the ring from his pocket, then gets down on one knee.

Looking up at her, his angel, he asks the one question no one but Sam was anticipating. "Will you marry me?"

@pink1031 @spnbaby-67 @winecatsandpizza @joseyrw @kricketc29 @tftumblin @markofdean79 @sandlee44 @michellethetvaddict @lyarr24 @travelingriversideblues-x

#dean winchester #SUPERNATURAL AU #dean winchester au #rockstar!dean #reporter!reader #rockstar!dean x reporter!reader #Dean x OFC #lil bit of angst #lil bit of fluff #whole lotta smut #smutapalooza #e'erybody be fucking #my second foray into AUs #deans-baby-momma #rebel without a cause #maggie fitzgerald #dean x maggie

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howrry · 5 years

Text

when you need me

a/n: here’s that slowburn i mentioned. there WILL be a part 2 so don’t hound me on it!!!! i promise she’s coming!! enjoy :~)

w/c: 5.1k

warnings: sfw! brief mentions of violence

***

Harry and Y/N were friends for exactly one summer.

Y/N and her family moved in next door to Harry when she was seven, and her parents were delighted to find out that the boy was the same age as their daughter. Sure, at the time of the move, Y/N wasn’t intensely attached to any of her old friends or her old home or her old school, but it was good to have someone to ease her into the new life.

The two clicked immediately. They played every day that summer, either swimming or playing cops and robbers or drawing on sidewalks with chalk. They rode bikes around the neighborhood, and shot basketballs in the hoop that belonged to the teenager down the street, and explored the small forest behind their home for squirrels. He taught her cool card tricks and she taught him how to make perfect chocolate milk without using an overwhelming amount of chocolate sauce.

It was a match made in heaven—up until a few days before the beginning of classes, the last time they would've openly called the other a "friend". It wasn't that when the summer ended, they'd had some big fight or randomly stopped talking to each other; it just... wouldn't have been logical to remain associated once the school year picked up.

They’d been playing in a sandbox at the local park that day. Sure, they were a little old to be playing in a sandbox, but the only people there were a family occupying their usual spots on the swing set. Harry dug around in the sand forming both holes and piles around him while Y/N drew pictures with a stick.

“Look what I found!” he yelled, holding up a little earwig he’d dug out from the sand. He waved it in her face, to her disgust.

“Gross, Haz.” She backed up and almost stumbled back out of the sandbox.

Harry laughed and tossed it back into the sand, where it burrowed itself. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

“Because I don’t want you shoving bugs in my face?”

“Tommy and James like bugs. They think they’re cool.” His gaze dropped down to the sand where he began to mimic her drawing.

Y/N paused for a second. “Well I’m not Tommy and James, am I?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “So… you don’t want to be friends with them when we go back to school?”

“Not really. I don’t like bugs. I like…” She scanned around the park. “Flowers. And art!”

He laughed. “I guess we’re just different people at school. What are we gonna do?”

She thought it over but didn’t answer. “It’s getting late. Let’s start walking home.”

The two strolled back to their homes, kicking rocks and not saying much. Once they’d reached their front lawns and the street lights flicked on, she broke the silence.

“Just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean we can’t say hi.” Such a simple conclusion. “And we’re pretty helpful to each other.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I taught you how to shuffle cards.”

“Exactly. Let’s make an agreement.” Y/N had been watching some Law and Order episodes when her parents weren’t around. They mostly bored her (since she was far too young to understand what was going on) but the legal parts of the show enticed her. “Let’s just be there for each other when we need it.”

“Like when we’re in trouble?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She giggled. “Yeah. But just in general too. If one of us needs help, the other will do what they can.”

Harry nodded, staring past her. “Sounds fair. Shake on it?”

The two shook hands and went inside their homes, with no idea what can of worms they’d just opened. ***

The first time the pact is utilized, it's for a jar of dewberry jelly.

The school year had arrived, and Harry and Y/N had almost no contact other than a brief ‘hello’ whenever the two ran into each other during the day. He hung out with Tommy and James who laughed too loud in class and threw dodgeballs really hard in Phys Ed. She made new friends with girls in art class who put stickers on their binders and gushed about fashion. Their agreement went unused for a very long time—two years to be exact, but it’s not like a child is gonna find themselves in deep trouble at every turn.

Y/N's parents were still in bed asleep one Saturday morning and she really wanted some toast. It was quite an easy breakfast to make for a 9-year-old by herself, up until she went to open the jar. Nothing. Not even a budge. It was almost ridiculous how much she was struggling to open the stupid lid. She even tried going on Google for tricks on how to open a jar: tapping the lid with a knife, running it under hot water, using duct tape, etc. No dice.

The idea of waking up one of her parents for help flashed over her mind, but stirring them before noon after a whole week of hard work just seemed evil. She had no other option but to ask Harry for help.

She grabbed the jar and ran next door, using the knocker to alert them of her presence. Gemma opened the door, one headphone in her ear and the other dangling. She scanned Y/N, and before the younger girl could even open her mouth, Gemma turned around.

"Harry, your friend is here!" she called and drifted back in without inviting her in. Fortunately, he appeared in the doorway before Y/N could realize how awkward the situation felt.

"Oh, hey, what's up?" he asked. Instead of answering his question, Y/N just shoved the jar into his hands.

"Please help me! I just wanted some toast but the jelly doesn't want to get eaten!" she whined, crossing her arms in a huff.

He inspected the jar a bit before laughing and popping open the lid with ease. When he handed back the jelly, their fingertips brushed together but he pretended not to notice. "Enjoy your toast."

"Thank you!" And she went off with her opened jar, skipping back to her house.

***

The second time, he needs her.

It's been two or three years since the jar fiasco, and Y/N had started to get an inkling that she wouldn't be seeing much of Harry anymore. If he could go so long without needing her or even acknowledging her in the hall, maybe that was the end of the two of them. The long amount of time without H had somewhat given her closure anyways.

Her mother had already gone to bed and she should have as well, but late-night reruns of Full House were so much more appealing than sleep. Y/N could feel her eyelids get heavier and heavier and she almost drifted off right there on the couch before there was a tap on the living room window looking out into her backyard.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but when her eyes adjusted and she realized it was just Harry, her shoulders relaxed. As quietly as she could, she opened the back door and guided him inside, holding a finger to her lips so that he’d remain silent. Y/N took him to the dining room, an area far from her parents’ room so that they could talk freely.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked, eyeing the backpack draped over his shoulder.

“Mrs. Williams is gonna fail me if I don’t get this project done,” he breathed, setting the bag on the table. “It’s a collage piece, and I’ve tried to do it m’self three times now and I ruin it every time. You’re an art genius, can y’help me?”

She smiled at being called an art genius. Sure, Mrs. Williams gave her an A on every piece and she even won an award at the local art competition for her stop-motion movie on a butterfly hatching, but she wasn’t Van Gogh. Still the compliment rang in her ears and the pact itched at the back of her mind. “Of course.”

It was a simple assignment, using magazine clippings to make a collage about anything they wanted, and Harry picked football. He pulled out several magazines, most of which had been cut out of already (presumably for his first three attempts) but there was still enough left to make a coherent project.

As Y/N got to work, he stared at her. “You’re not using enough glue,” he noted as she arranged David Beckham in the center of the cardstock.

“Who’s the art expert, again?” she snapped. The cutout stuck perfectly and he hummed in deflation. “I see why your first three projects didn’t work,” she joked, making a little smile appear on his lips.

As Y/N finished up the cutting, the two of them could no longer contain their yawns and Harry began rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Do you ever think that we shouldn't be this tired, at this age?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence lingering over the dining room.

Harry unceremoniously dropped his chin into his palms, watching her work. "I think we'll be thinking that for the rest of our lives."

***

Y/N hated being late.

First there was the issue of wasting other people’s time, then there was the whole show about feeling awkward when you did arrive. This was all her history teacher’s fault—he was so freakin’ deaf he didn’t hear the warning bell and griped at the students who tried to pack their bags or leave. Once he’d realized what time it was he griped even more about how nobody told him it was time to go (they did; he just didn’t hear).

So, she somehow had to make a five minute journey across her campus in negative two minutes. Easy peasy. Y/N had no other option but to book it, until she unfortunately ran smack into Cara, one of the mean girls in her year.

“Watch where you’re going, spaz!” she whined, even though Y/N was the one who crashed onto the floor. Two other girls stood behind her, one of whom was named Lacey and the other was just some bitch who copied Cara to get ahead.

At the beginning of eighth grade, the secretary at the front desk of the school chose a few students each class period to help her with filing and giving notes to teachers and so on. Cara was one of the students chosen which virtually gave her the free pass to wander around whenever she wanted. Her friends, not so much, but if Cara told you to do something, you did it, even if it meant skipping class.

Y/N scrambled back up without apologizing, adjusting her bag and planning on walking away and ignoring her. Unfortunately, Cara stopped her by stiff arming her. “What’s the rush?” she hissed, a malicious smile curling up. Her eyes fell down to the ground. “Nice shoes. Do they come in women’s sizes?”

Okay, she was just trying to psych Y/N out. They were plain black Doc Martens, for crying out loud—it’s not like she was in steel toed work boots. “Are you done?” Y/N asked, unamused.

The grin on Cara’s face dropped and was replaced by a grimace fit for a cartoon villain. “Now listen—” she started, ready to chew the other girl out, but was interrupted by someone behind Y/N.

“Fuck off, Cara, or I’m telling the headmistress that your clown posse is skipping class thanks to you.” It was Harry, of all people. (Why he wasn’t in class either was a whole new can of worms, but Y/N chose to be grateful.)

She huffed out of her nose, realizing she was backed into a corner. Cara shoved past Y/N and slammed her shoulder into her, her goon squad following behind hot on her coattails.

Y/N breathed out a very appreciative thank you to Harry, and when he nodded at her, she went back on her way to her class, now with negative 4 minutes.

***

Y/N’s first mixer party was a night to remember, to say the least.

It took ages to convince her parents to let her go, but in her defense, both her mom and her dad were going to parties at 15. Plus, that was in the age of serial killers and before cell phones, so she definitely had the upper hand in that argument. Besides, it’s one party, what’s the worst that could happen?

Someone in her geometry class had invited her, and the same day she went to get a new flowy top from H&M to wear there. One of her art friends, Jenna, had already gotten her license and drove the two of them to the party where things were already in full swing once she’d entered.

It was a very mild kick back. It was a lower attendance than she’d anticipated, but the main point of reference she had were those crappy teen movies. The only thing people had to drink were those Smirnoff Ices that have almost no alcohol and a ton of sugar in them, which totally repulsed Y/N. Guess it’d be a sober evening for her.

After a few hours of chatting with people (that she would just talk to in school anyways) and listening to music, Y/N was about ready to call it a night. She excused herself from the host’s living room in search of Jenna when she felt someone tug at her arm.

It was Tyler, one of the centers on the school basketball team. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?”

She was totally caught off guard. Tyler was reallygood looking and didn’t usually spend his time around the art students. “Oh, um, hey. I was actually about to—” she started, eyes drifting to where he was holding her elbow still.

“Leave?” he finished, flashing a pearly white smile. “No way, it’s so early! Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

A pit formed in Y/N’s stomach. What could Tyler want with her? Her eyes narrowed, but she figured she’d probably regret leaving more than finding out what he wanted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“In private, I meant.” He gestured towards the back porch, which eased her mind. If he was just trying to get handsy with her, he’d take her to a bedroom—not outside by the pools where everyone could see.

“Okay,” she finally agreed, letting him guide her outside into the yard.

The backyard was large and well taken care of. The pool had lights that changed colors, and all of the furniture matched the mahogany color of the deck, fence, and pool shed. A black grill looked like it had never been touched and the grass was a beautiful shade of bottle green.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, breaking the ice and shoving his tanned hands into his pockets.

“Kind of. Not many of my friends are big partiers so this scene is pretty new for me,” she admitted, eyes dropping down to her shoes.

“That’s why I was surprised when I heard you were coming.” His hand came out from his pocket and lifted her chin up so that they were making eye contact. “I figured it was my only chance to tell you how pretty I think you are.”

Y/N was, how you say, shook. Her eyes widened and she squeaked out a “really?” before being alerted by a noise coming from the pool shed just a few feet away. “Did someone just laugh?” she asked, head snapping over to the shed in question.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tyler claimed, trying to get her attention away from the shed to no avail.

“No, I swear I heard a laugh,” Y/N absentmindedly insisted, leaving Tyler to go yank open the doors of the shed.

What happened next was in light speed. The doors flew open to reveal Cara and Lacey, the former holding a 5-gallon bucket and the latter a cell phone as if she was filming. Before Y/N could even get a dazed ‘what?’ out, Cara had dumped the contents of the bucket onto Y/N. Ice water.

She let out a shriek at this, frozen in every sense of the term. When she could feel her feet beneath her again, she spun around to see Tyler laughing his ass off along with the girls.

“I almost couldn’t do it!” he yelled, clutching his stomach.

“Thanks, Ty,” Cara purred, going to loop an arm through his. “You earned that $20 fair and square.”

Y/N didn’t stick around for any longer. She didn’t want to go back in the house in the state she was in, and everyone had probably seen what happened anyways. Rather than face even more humiliation, she did the only thing that came to mind: run.

Y/N could text Jenna later. She ran and ran and ran until she was home, but rather than go inside and cry her eyes out in bed, she found herself at the base of the oak tree next to Harry’s window.

She frantically shimmied up the tree, pausing only to wipe tears out of her eyes. Her knuckles collided with his window and for a moment she wonders if it was too loud. Then the thought of Harry not hearing the knock at all flashed through her mind, and she was left wishing she'd hit it even harder.

The room brightened just a little bit, as if he'd turned on a lamp. She perked up at this, leaning forward but keeping her balance in the tree. He pulled aside the dark curtains and opened the window carefully.

"Y/N?" he asked groggily. "What are y'doing? Why are you soaking wet? Y'scared me half to death." She opened her mouth to explain but her eyes just welled up and she felt her face turn pink. "Wait, are you crying? Get inside." He lifted the window even higher so that she could tumble in gracelessly. Without asking any more questions, he pulled her into a big hug, where she sobbed quietly into the crook of his neck. It took a moment to get the sad out of her, but once she was ready to let go, his hug lingered for a half-second too long.

So there she sat, on his bedroom floor, covered in cold water and trying not to shed any more tears then she already had. Harry handed her a fluffy towel and she wiped her face off before starting to babble. "I'm sorry it's late, and you were probably sleeping, but it's been a really - hic - long and rough night and I just needed someone. I know I needed you last and it's not my turn but I didn't know who else to go to—"

"Wait wait wait, what did you say? Your turn?" he asked, holding a hand up and completely halting her babbling.

She nodded, wiping at the mascara running under her eyes. "I mean... yeah. The past eight years we've switched off who gets the next favor. You helped me last time when Cara and those other girls were picking on me, and now here I am again."

His eyebrows were knitted together in sheer confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "It's never been on a turn system. Whenever you come to me in a time of need, or vice versa, we help each other." Y/N nodded, feeling dumb. "Besides, you didn't cometo me that time. I was just in the right place at the right time. Even if we were doing turns—which we're not—it's still technically yours anyways."

He was trying to make her laugh, and it worked. Her wobbly and blotchy face broke into a cute smile without her even trying, and Harry always found an underrated beauty in a laugh after a good cry.

"Now, do yeh wanna talk about tonight?" he pressed gently, sitting on his bed and offering her a spot next to him. It was hard explaining what happened without crying again, but once his hand started rubbing up and down her back, it was easy to relax and tell her story.

He was disgusted with what he’d heard, of course. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N,” he stammered, unsure of what to say. “You don’t deserve those kinds of people in your life, not now and not ever.”

She smiled and it was totally contagious. “Thanks H.”

“Do y’want me to get you some of Gem’s clothes?” he offered. “Yeh look like a sad puppy, shiverin’ and all.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go home. I can tell my parents I fell in the pool. Thank you for listening, and everything else. You’re a great friend.”

She returned the towel and left the same way she came in, Harry making sure she safely got to the ground before she ducked into her home. Something felt strange for a few minutes afterwards and Harry couldn’t put a finger on it until he was tucked into bed and drifting out.

That was the first time she’d called him his friend in eight years.

***

Fuck, my laundry!

Three universal words that will have anyone throwing themselves out of their bed late at night to go dig through a washing machine and pray it hasn't been so long that the clothes need to be rewashed.

Y/N was one of these people, on a night where she should probably be out with friends. It was Saturday night, but that meant tomorrow was Sunday and the day after that was Monday and that meant her stupid Calculus homework would be due. Who said that senior year would be a breeze? She wanted to kick their ass.

Fortunately, the clothes were fine, and on the way back to her room she was imagining how she was going to backflip into her bed and knock the hell out for nine hours. Just before she went upstairs, she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye fluttering outside the front door.

Her blood ran cold. Her parents were long asleep at this hour; if this was some intruder, she wouldn't be able to make it over to their room and have them awake quickly enough. Her mind scrambled over dozens of plans and ideas (all of which ended with the intruder totally catching her) before something really surprised her.

A knock at the front door.

Umm... people planning on breaking into your house don't knock. Well, they do, but only at two in the afternoon when they're checking if someone's home, not when it's well after midnight. She tiptoed to the door and peered through the glass to see none other than Harry.

She swung the door open instantly. "Harry? What are you do—?" She stopped when her eyes adjusted and finally was able to see that he was notin good shape.

Harry's hair was mussed up, lacking its usual composure. He wasn’t able to stand up straight without leaning on the column, like he was drunk as hell. One of his eyes had a purple smudge under it and his nose trickled a tiny amount of blood. His arms were covered in scratches and bruises, but the most pressing issue was what seemed to be a paper towel soaked in blood he was holding against the side of his torso.

"Oh my God!" she whisper-yelled, guiding him inside and taking him upstairs to her bathroom. She sat him down on the edge of her tub and dug through her cabinets for a first aid kit.

Y/N didn't ask any questions. She washed her hands, found a clean rag, wet it with warm water, and rubbed a tiny bit of soap on it. Harry was still sitting with the paper towel, which she tossed in the trash can immediately.

"Can you... uh..." Y/N trailed off, gesturing weakly towards his black t-shirt. He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant, and slowly reached up to the back of the neck on his shirt to yank it off his body. He hissed when he was able to lower his arms, and she got straight to work cleaning up his wounds despite his whines.

She'd never been this close to his skin before. That was kind of a weird sentence when she thought about it, but it was true. It was tanned and firm, and a few inches above the cut on his side were the ripples of the serratus muscles. Nice.

Once the cut was cleaned up, it was clear to see that it wasn't bleeding nor had it been very deep in the first place. To be safe, Y/N used an alcohol pad to sanitize the wound once more (which Harry was not a fan of, since he didn't see her pull out the packet nor have time to brace himself) and bandaged it up with a Band-Aid bigger than the palm of her hand.

Harry watched her intently while she tended to him. He noticed how when she focused really hard she always pursed her lips, just like she did when she did his art project. Everything she did to him was delicate, as if getting his ass beaten was enough excitement for one night. Even just her stepping back to admire her handiwork and cocking her head was so... gentle.

"Hmm... you're pretty," he goofily mumbled, making her head snap up. As soon as it was out in the room, he shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "God, sorry about tha'. I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Wow, the first boy who compliments me immediately takes it back and blames it on being drunk. Just my luck, right?" she joked dryly, cleaning the bloody rag and rewetting it with fresh warm water.

He stared at her. "Wait, are yeh serious? The first?"

Y/N paused, staring down at her hands. "I mean... does my dad count?"

Harry laughed at this but only for a second before wincing from the pain. He figured she wasn't counting that skeez who'd tricked her back when she was 15. "Then I take back taking it back. You're beautiful and caring, and I really appreciate you--ah, fuck-- doing this for me."

She'd started dabbing at the dried blood from his still-sensitive nose. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." Y/N further inspected his nose, gingerly feeling it and holding the rag below it to prevent any further bleeding. "Doesn't feel like it's broken. Think it's just a little sore. In a day or so you'll be right as rain." Her focus moved up to his black eye, and Harry didn't breathe while she let her thumb ghost over the thin skin. "This doesn't look that deep, either. I'll get something to cool it down, and if it still looks bad, I'll give you some makeup to cover it. Be right back."

She left him alone in the washroom but returned quickly with two little boxes of apple juice. "Why'd y'get two?" he asked, taking them from her.

"So you can drink one. You looked parched." She went back to cleaning the remaining blood from the rag and hanging it to dry on the towel rack. Once the bathroom had been reorganized and Harry had finished his juice box, she sat on the lid of the toilet. "So... if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but... can I ask what happened?" She waved a hand around his entire body.

He snorted. "Honestly, whenever I think about it, I cringe a little. It's so cliché."

"How so?"

Harry inhaled through his bruising nose sharply. "So m'at this party with my mates, right? I didn't know a lot of people there, so I was just trying to mind my business and have a pint or four. I'm sitting in the corner of this house near the front door and I see this girl trying to leave. She's totally wasted, and it kind of looked like she was calling an Uber. I tried t'keep an eye on her 'cause, y'know, world's a dangerous place. Just as she's about to leave, some guy comes up to her. Looks real mad. Demands that she go home with him, which she protests, says her ride is there. They kind of argue while she's going out the door, so I got up to follow 'em." Harry paused to roll his neck side to side, one pop one each side making the only sound in the bathroom. "Out on the porch, he's practically got her in a bear hug. I go into panic mode and start yelling at him.

"I'm yelling at him 'get off her' and 'what's your fuckin' problem' and stuff till I catch his attention. He shoved me, I shoved him back, then it's kind of a blur. Guess he got a couple in on my face before one of his buddies joined in on kicking my arse. I got knocked down and I landed on somethin’ rough which is what cut me up so bad." He gestured towards the bandage on his torso.

"Jeez, Harry," she breathed out, eyes like saucers.

"I know. The girl managed to make it out to her ride while all this was going on. Some other blokes pulled the fighters off me and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed some paper towels from a gas station t’stop the blood and came straight here.” Once he’d finished explaining, his gaze dropped down before adding a soft, “Didn’t know where else t’go.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re okay and I’m glad that girl is as well. The universe will reward you for this for sure.”

He laughed at her ominous remark. “Little weird, but it’s not like I expected normalcy from the art expert.”

Y/N guided Harry back downstairs after giving him a big shirt to change into. “I’ll wash this and give it back as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stopped at the front door. Harry looked down at his little Florence Nightingale, decided to do the one thing he’s wanted to do for almost ten years now, and leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

For a second, she was pliable and willing, and he thought she was about to deepen it, but instead she pulled him off. “I need…” she started, dazed. “I need you to forget that just happened.” Then she opened the door, pushed him outside, and closed it in his face.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry concepts #harry styles masterlist #permanentcross #majorharry #harryforvogue #jawllines #haroldloverboy

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ichigo777666 · 4 years

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FE3H Characters Ranked

My opinions of all the main characters in FE3H ranked from worst to best in my opinion. These are MY opinions! Spoilers ahead, obviously.

*NOTES*

This does not include any of the DLC characters. This also does not include the following characters since they have limited dialog / appearances within the game: Gwendal, Pallardo, Duke Aegir, Anna, Lambert, Ionious, Metodey, Kostas, Holst, Macuil, and Indech. Any other characters who are only mentioned by name are also not included. And Byleth is also not on this list due to being the player’s character.

Everyone else included in this list has a few interactions or mentions in multiple ending paths so they’re fair game. Not having a lot of interactions is not going to affect placement that much so don’t be surprised if some major characters wind up low on the list…

*The PIT*

Aka the worst of the worst. The characters I would throw into the void.

#54 – Leonie

I absolutely hate this character so much. Her personality is so flat and grating that she drives me up a wall. Her character can be summed up in two words “loves Jeralt” – that’s it. Just about everything about Leonie revolves around impressing Jeralt or being like Jeralt or doing this because of Jeralt ect. I don’t care if she’s useful as a playable character – every time she opens her mouth I cringe. Her support which is only available after Jeralt dies in which she berates you for “not appreciating him enough” is just the epitomny of selfishness. Then PTS she basically turns herself into a second Jeralt, replicting his outfit as best she can and giving herself his title “the blade breaker” and adds a 2. Excuse you, but is ANYONE can call themseleves that it’s Byleth, aka Jeralt’s child, not YOU. But she doesn’t care and does it anyway...

#53 – Rodrigue

Oh boy this is going to be a very unpopular opinion but in terms of a character, Rodrigue is kind shit. Rodrigue earns this spot for being the shittiest living parent in the game. His eldest son Glenn dies and his comment on that is how “he died like a true knight”. His first emotional response is pride not remorse. He never mentions how much he loved him or how he misses him: just how proud he was of him… And this pisses off poor Felix. Felix whom gets left ALONE after this happens because Rodrigue decides he’s got to be Dimitri’s mentor / guardian. So he basically straight up abandons his grieving 13 year old son to be the new father figure of the prince. Dimitri was more important to him that his own child. We can all see what the impact of this was on Felix through the game. And then, in Azure Sky, when Rodrigue joins you as a “mentor” character, he lacks all balls. Dimitri is going crazy and acting like a psychopath and Rodrigue doesn’t even really try to do anything about that – he just stands aside and comments on how he’s “changed”. I mean FRICK MAN – your were his guardian, his mentor. TALK TO HIM! But NOOOOOOO! So yeah, Rodrigue sucks!

#52 – Lord Lonato

Speaking of shit parents, here’s another for you! Yes, Lonato was kind enough to allow Ashe and his siblings to live with him, which is the oddest decision ever considering this came about after Lonato caught Ashe sneaking into his castle to steal from him. “I’ll just adopt this thief child”. Despite that act of kindness, he also chose to not tell Ashe the truth about what happened to his son Christophe; that Christophe was not involve with the Duscar incident but rather had been a part of a plot to try and kill Rhea. Lonato could not bring himself to believe that his son was wrong or had done anything wrong. Despite the fact that his son had decided, for whatever reason, to try and kill someone, Lonato thought that this was okay. He then sacrificed himself for the sake of trying to avenge his true son instead of continuing to care for the children he’d taken in. He basically took Ashe & his siblings in, giving them security for the first time in years, then chooses to follow his only wrong beliefs and thus put Ashe & his siblings back into the world again. He gave them 7 years of security and this just went “oh well, you’re on your own again”.

#51 – Gilbert / Gustave

And rounding out the “shit parents” section of the list, we have the father that literally abandons his daughter and wife due to own depression. He’s totally alive and out there but just can’t bring himself to give a crap about either or write them any letters. Nope, he’s caught up in his head that he wasn’t there during the tragedy of Duscar, of how he “should have arrived sooner”. I mean, really? It is in now way his fault just because he’s a knight. He wasn’t supposed to be there and he’s got guilt that he wasn’t there? Seriously man?! And then when he finally does reunite with Annette all he does is push her away. Instead of letting Annette decide whatever she wants to be around him again, he chooses for her and denies her attempts to reconnect with him. Yeah, shit father…

*The Bottom of the Barrel*

These characters are bad. They’re not absolute utter garbage like the PIT characters, but they still are awful.

#50 – Dimitri

Yeah, I don’t like Dimitri. What is there to like about this guy? He was traumatized as a teenage when his dad was killed in-front of him and that changed him into a survival-guilt ridden bloodthirsty killer? Jeez, it honestly feels like someone tried to ft a whole bunch of tropes into one cohesive character and failed massively. The whole “brooding” phase in Azure Sky where he’s basically a tantrum throwing 5 year old only makes him worse. Also, I still don’t understand WHY he immediately jumped to the whole “Edelgard is the one who killed my parents” conclusion. The entire Duscar incident had nothing to do with Edelgard, unless Dimitri thinks a teenager with no power could do that. And, if he’s blaming the Empire, why does that extend to Edelgard who was just a princess at the time? I could see if something like the FE was present and that’s why he went crazy after Edelgard but I’m pretty sure the FE didn’t exist back then… so WTF? This is like “my parents were killed by a drunk driver. Hey you, unrelated person who just learned to drive this year, you are drunk therefore I HATE YOU – you killed my parents!” Really, no. NO.

#49 – Acheron

He has a minor role only but you fight him twice and you can get some background from Lorenz. He’s annoying and I guess he’s designed to be so. I don’t like him much. But he’s not as annoying as Dimitri.

#48 – Cyril

Oh Cyril. He’s such an annoying character. He’s a more toned down version of Leonie with his obsession with Rhea. He’s a bit of a jerk during his support conversations and he’s dismissive of his homeland. I think his supports with Seteth best show what Cyril’s all about: he’s devoting himself to repaying Rhea without thought for anything else, even his own future. He has no ambitions and no desires….how can a character be so bland?

#47 – Hannerman

And the obsessive one. ‘Obsession with Crests’ is just the only phrase you need to describe Hannerman. While I can understand why Hannerman as a character wants to research crests, the way he goes about it is just wrong. He hounds Lysithia w/o realizing why she’s avoiding his questions until she basically has to spell out WHY she’s uncomfortable with talking about it. He’s been hounding Seteth for 21 years about his crest and Flayn’s too. 21 fricking years of bothering someone and he can’t understand the answer “no”.

#46 – Arundel

Yeah, he’s a piece of shit but at least he’s interesting. He’s Edelgard’s uncle and yet he basically allowed her to be experimented on. Why? Who knows? He’s associated with TWSITD but why? Power? Conquest? He’s mysterious. His personality “suddenly changed” leaving the option open that he was replaced and the Arundel that exists now is a fake. He’s intriguing but he’s still a piece of crap.

#45 – Dedue

Oh Dedue. I feel like Dedue is stuck playing the “victim” card but without looking for sympathy. He’s from Duscar so everyone looks down on him...and Dedue just takes it. He doesn’t try to defend himself or say that just because he’s from Duscar doesn’t mean he’s evil. He does nothing to try and change anyone’s opinions – he’s content to just sit and take it. But then he talks about wanting to have the world move past the tragedy….so which is it Dedue? In order to have it change, you need to actually DO SOMETHING!!!!

#44 – Thales

The weakest character of the main three. The game tells you almost nothing about Thales...and then you go and read the wiki and find out he’s Arundel….yeah mind telling us that game?! So he’s higher than Arundel.

#43 – Nemesis

Another evil character with no personality or real background. Why did he start his rampage? Was he manipulated or just evil? Who knows….

#42 – Judith

Judith has such a small role unless you’re playing VW. And in VW she’s a bit of a bitch who treats Claude as a misbehaving child even after he proves himself again and again.

#41 – Nader

AKA the Alymrian general you meet briefly in VW and in CF. He’s in for less than a few minutes and he appears to be jolly/happy and has the rep of being an undefeated general. I guess he’s alright. But with no real role I can’t bring myself to feel anything for him

#40 – Annette

When I first played I was on the fence with Annette. I sorta liked her determination and her drive to reunite her family. But then her singing started...and oh boy do I hate her singing. So many of her supports center around that annoying singing! Just STOP already, please! Also WTF is that blue “tab” in her PTS redesign that’s right on her butt? It’s the only one...

#39 – Ferdinand

Ferdinand’s personality is just...annoying. From his meme’d battle line to his constant talk of “being a noble” he just grates my nerves. And why does he act like this? Because his father is not and he’s trying to not be like his father and be a “good person”….

*The Low-End*

These characters are “eh” characters. They’re aren’t too good or too bad...but they lean more towards bad than good.

#38 – Kronya / Monica

This was an interesting idea. I just wish she had been more involved or usable. Like if you’re playing BE house, she becomes a playable member. Something to endear her a bit more other than “this other random character you rescued who acts suspiciously”. Let’s face it, we all knew something was up with her. And then she’s killed off so easily and quickly...

#37 – Cornelia

Okay, she’s a bit interesting and a manipulator. They weren’t afraid to give her an “ugly face”. She’s a schemer and not afraid to flaunt her assets to give her an advantage.

#36 – Alois

Eh. Alois. Loves jokes, very loyal. I guess he’s alright but he’s not spectacular and some of the jokes and just so so so so so so bad.

#35 – Ashe

Ashe is another character that I think lacked development. I mean he just gained a slight bit of confidence and purpose but he’s not one for much change. His personality over all is a bit bland: he likes stories about knights and is worried about his siblings. Oh and he used to be a thief.

#34 – Jeritza

Bland because he’s meant to be bland. His other personality is typical “killer knight”. What saves Jeritza is his support conversations where you get background and you realize why he’s the way he is.

*The Middle Ground*

These characters are right in the middle. Not great but not awful.

#33 – Ladislava

In every ending except CF, you only get to see her once but in CF you can chat with her and learn more about her. She’s the head of Edelgard’s person guard and its heavily implied she had next to nothing before this appointment. She’s fully loyal to Edelgard, even willing to die for her cause.

#32 – Flame Emperor

I listed this character separate since FE is an enigma. I actually liked the design of the FE and the whole mystery surrounding them.

#31 – Manuela

I’m...ambivalent about Manuela. She’s a drunken whiner at time and other time she turns into something sweet and reliable. She’s so worried about her age but she’s NOT that old. It’s a bit trope-y though...to have an older character all concerned about her age.

#30 – Jeralt

Jeralt’s a good dad character albeit a flawed one too. It’s a shame they didn’t give him any support conversations to flesh him out more. As it is most of what we learn about Jeralt comes from others.

#29 – Sothis

I don’t hate Sothis like most. She’s a bit bratty, yes but look at from her way – she’s got no memories, no recollections, and has found herself somehow stuck with this person. She tries to help out Byleth best she can, even if it sometimes leads to near disaster.

#28 – Gatekeeper

A nice wholesome character who always wants to help out and be useful. He’s a nice guy but suffers from lack of characterization.

#27 – Mercedes

First off, I dislike the “breathy” quality of her voice. She’s a very nice girl and very kind...but that’s about all there is to Mercedes...

#26 – Raphael

Ah, the big guy who loves to eat. He’s overprotective but not too overprotective of his little sister. He’s strong, interested in his muscles, and in getting stronger but it’s because he’s shouldering the responsible of taking care of his sister. Still he’s a bit trope-y.

#25 – Lindhardt

Lindhardt make up your dang mind! He talks about wanting to study crests but when he’s offered by two separate people to do just that he complains about how he’s being “tied down”. Really? His laziness and sleepiness also gets tired after a while.

#24 – Ignatz

Ignatz is a character who shows a lot of growth and goes from having no confidence in what he wants to do to finding his path. However Ignatz remains a pushover who gives in to whatever anyone advises even when he knows its wrong. It takes a long, long, long time for Ignatz to learn to have any say in himself...which is why he’s down here.

#23 – Solon

The most developed of the three main TWSITD characters. I feel his reveal as Tomas was ruined by the poorly executed Monica / Kronya earlier. However he was unexpected. Who expects the librarian? It would have been better if they didn’t have him as “suspect” in the whole Flayn is missing part through.

#22 – Randolph

You only really get to know Randolph in CF although he’s got a minor part in AS where we see that he truly cares for his sister and how he feels he must do this, even if he risks dying. In CF, we get to learn more about Randolph. He’s actually a step-uncle to Caspar through his mother marrying into the family. He has no power or clout so everything he earns is done by action. It’s a shame they killed him off so early.

#21 – Caspar

Caspar is a good character in several ways. He’s not depressed about not being the heir to his house and is motivated to find his own way. He knows he’s flawed and in his supports he tries to change only to learn that he’s better off following his own path. It’s his boisterous yelling and charging headfirst into danger is what I don’t like about him.

*The High Side*

These are characters I like. They’re not the best but I like them and can understand them.

#20 – Hilda

Ah Hilda. Hilda’s one of those characters that surprise you. Hilda starts off being this lazy character who doesn’t want to battle and doesn’t want to do chores. Not because she can’t do them, but just because she’s lazy. You see her trying to get out of things in her supports only to either feel guilty or wind up helping someone learn something. But I think where Hilda shines is in VW where she acts as Claude’s “advisor” and some of Claude’s best plans come from suggestions from Hilda. By then she’s come into her own. I also enjoy Hilda’s C support with Seteth greatly where he just lists all the excuses she’s given flat out as Hilda gets more and more nervous.

#19 – Claude

Claude made it up here due to his unprediacbility. Some of his plots/schemes are downright hillarious. Claude is unashamed of who he is and where he comes from – he knows who he is and who he wants to become. And, in a game riddled with characters who struggle with that very issues, Claude’s a bit of a breath of fresh air.

#18 – Fleche

Ah Fleche. She’s a very minor character but she’s got such an impact on the story in AM – this is what path we’re going to discuss. We first meet Fleche when she’s talking with Randolph, her brother, right before Randolph heads out on a mission that will ultimately end with his death. Instead of doing the typical thing for a young girl which is to cry, Fleche goes ‘nah’ and decides to take revenge. She disguises herself as a “maiden” and goes to try and join the Kingdom Army; she’s allowed to by Dimitri. Fleche bides her time and waits until after a big battle and then straight up goes and tries to murder Dimitri. She actually stabs him once and barely fails in her task of killing him. Against Dimitri, one of the strongest characters... a little girl.. Yeah, Fleche is kinda badass.

#17 – Miklan

Okay, so here’s another good sympathetic villain character. Miklan was born with no crest so he was looked down upon by his family. He was the first child however so his family kept him...at least until his brother Sylvain was born with a crest. Then Milan became “garbage” and useless in the eyes of his family and thus was disinherited. He lashed out against his brother multiple times. With no one on his side, Milkan became the leader of a group a bandits and began taking things he wanted, things he felt he should have had, by any means necessary. He later stole the heirloom lance from his family, intent of keeping it and its power for himself. While it’s true Miklan is not a nice person at all, more like a sadist, the reason he became that way was due the treatment of his family.

#16 – Dorothea

I am in the camp of the very few who like Dorothea’s second outfit better than her first – that dress is boss. Some of her supports are downright sweet and her interactions with Ingrid in their paralogue are just adorable. I love how we get to see so many different sides of Dorothea and how she treats each of her aquantinces with the side of herself that’s most appropiate.

#15 – Shamir

The silent Shamir. Unlike so many characters who talk and talk and talk, Shamir only speaks when necessary until she gets close to someone. Her skills are top-knotch, which is showcased in her supports. Her personality is a reflection of her work and the kind of jobs she does as well as her way of protecting herself. She’s mysterious and deadly.

#14 – Rhea

Oh Rhea. I’m often torn in the way I feel about her, going from understanding to becoming frustrated with her within the span of a single conversation. Her desire to see her mother is what drives everything she does – every single thing. She is 100% committed to trying to reach her goal, no matter the cost, and she’s been at it for almost an eon. Outside of that goal, what she’s doing she truly believes is the right thing. She’s trying to guide people towards the right path and away from conflict. She lets no one truly into her innermost thoughts, not even Seteth, and her emotions are all sequested away, so much so that when they do come out it becomes obvious. I mean, for anyone who thinks she’s nuts, let’s take a look at some of the trauma she’s gone through. Her beloved mother, whom she obviously cared for more than anything, was murdered and her body was used to make a weapon. Said weapon was then used to slaughter the vast majority of her brethern who were then in turn alos turned into weapons to be used to kill. She had to then fight the man who had killed her mother to reclaim what’s left of her body and to stop any more pointless killing. Yeah, Rhea’s had it rough.

#13 – Marianne

Ah, sweet Marianne. It was great to watch her change and grow based on her supports with the other characters. Her caring nature towards the animals, espcially the horses, was lovely – she even knows the names of a few of them (the only one to refer to the horses by name). I like how her PTS outfit reflects the changes she’s overcome – even the subtly of making her hair neater.

#12 – Catherine

Badass female knight with a legendary sword. She’s brash, not lady-like, and not afraid of anything really. The way she rushes into combat w/o a though for danger, the fact that she doesn’t try and hide her past from the person whom it affects the most, and her way of testing people. Catherine’s great.

#11 – Hubert

Juts missing the top 10 is loyal Hubert. I’ll admit I didn’t like Hubert at first but he grew on me bit by bit. Hubert’s S-Support with Byleth is like the cutest thing ever – I was not expecting it at all. This is loyalty done in a good way.

*The Summit*

The best characters in the game, IMO. These are the characters I love!

#10 – Petra

I got to admit, I like her not-perfect talking. That’s so much of Petra’s charm. Adding to that is how Petra’s always trying her best and trying to advance herself. She has modest goals she wishes to reach and doesn’t try and sell herself as better than she is. She’s always willing to learn and to help others. When there’s someone with a different opinion, Petra tries to understand why they feel the weay they feel and to try and find common ground.

#9 – Lysithia

Oh poor girl. Lysithia struggles with others seeing her as a child or too childish due to the fact that she’s younger than most of the students. She’s incredibly intellegent and throws herself into her studies. Both of these things lead to others teasing her, either playfully or actually. Instead of taking it stride, this ‘teasing’ causes her temper to show and erupt. She can’t tell them WHY she’s trying so hard, why she’s so desperate to achieve cause that would reveal her secret. She’s burrying all this hurt and anger deep inside that she can’t talk about because can understand what she went through (except perhaps Edelgard). And even though she knows she’s going to likely die soon, she’s not focused on her own life: she’s doing all she’s doing to try and help her family...

#8 – Sylvain

Sylvain quickly became one of my favorite blue lion boys. At first glance he looks like this degenerate womanizer...and then you learn abut him and why Sylvain is why he is. His father views him as a studhorse and that his crest is the only good thing about him; his father literally cannot see Sylvain as an actual person, just a way to further the family. Having a father like this and a brother who hates him for having been born with a crest has greatly shaped Sylvain. In order to have some semblence of himself, Sylvain began to act out, to do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING he could to not be what he was supposed to be. His father wanted a noble son; Sylvain did everything he could to not be that. This got him into trouble again and again but Sylvain didn’t care. Sylvain is willing to do things that make others look down upon him if it helps him try and escape from his life...

#7 – Bernadetta

Aw, Bernie. Bernie’s such a good girl. Based on what she went through, it’s amazing she’s even sane. Her father’s idea of parenting was tying her to a chair and forcing her to remain quiet and submissive for hours, to “teach her to be a good wife” which is the reason she turned into such a nervous wreck of shut-in. He resorted to beating to near death a boy she made friends with because he was a commoner, which terrified Bernie into not wanting to make friends at all. Bernie’s mom seemed to have a little sense and smuggled her out but this is only AFTER she allows this stuff to go on for years – YEARS. Bernie’s had years of psycological trama inflicted on her and then she gets thrust into a school surrounded by people whom she has to interact with. The poor thing. It’s a testament to her professors and friends to see how far Bernie has come; to watch her change and grow as she slowly comes around to adjusting to normality.

#6 – Ingrid

There is something incredibly entertaining about a lady knight who loves to gorge herself on food. Loving eating food is generally a character trait you see on guys (typically big guys like Raphael) so to see it on a chick is a good change of pace. Her whole no-nonsense strict attitude is a great contrast to that. She’s not girly or into very lady-like things such as dresses or makeup or tea parties. Ingrid is a guy’s soul in a girl’s body….and she’s amazing.

#5 – Felix

If you haven’t read the entry for Rodrigue (he’s #53 on this list) go read that first. After all that shit that Felix’s gone through, it’s amazing he’s even still standing and capable. He’s stewing with anger and grief that he’s never been able to work through and it manifests as anger and his stand-off attitude. Poor freaking Felix.

#4 – Flayn

Fishy Queen. I do not get the hate for Flayn. She’s been horribly oversheleted by Seteth in his attempts to protect her so it’s left Flayn a bit naive. Flayn’s usually very cheery and happy which is a bright light in the depressing war times. She’s also a quite capable mage, mainly with healing magic but she can also learn a good bit of reason magic too. Flayn is always trying her best while trying to fit in with the others – she’s over 1000 years old, mind you! It can’t be easy trying to fit in when you don’t understand and when a vast majorirty of those years were spent asleep. She was involved in an ancient battle where she was badly injured (Seteth blames it on her being too young) and requires sleep inorder to heal. Meanwhile everyone else she knew and lived with aside from Seteth was killed. She wakes up an everything she knew and just about everyone she knew is just...gone. Not only her beloved mother but any friends she had too are just gone. It’s no wonder she fears falling asleep when this is what happened. Her obession with fish? It’s Flayn’s coping mechanism for dealing with the loss of her mother. Flayn explains on numerous occassions that she spent lots of time sitting with her mother while she fished and that fish is her favorite food due “to no small part” of this pastime. Fishing and eating fish is Flayn’s way of remembering her mother and dealing with the fact that she’s no longer with her. Flayn’s supports are just great; they all develop her personality more. With Dimitri and Dedue, Flayn’s cooking is explored. Flayn can’t cook although she tries her best. With Dedue, Flayn tries to learn to cook better. With Dimitri, Flayn expresses her disdain that no one enjoys her cookings and how this wastes food, even when she tries her best. Obviously Flayn never cooked before – her mother did most of it. Now there’s no one in her family to cook so Flayn’s trying to learn to try and follow in her mom’s footsteps. With Ignatz and Manuela, Flayn’s exploring things she never has seen or done before: the opera for Manuela and paintings with Ignatz. In Claude’s and Lindhardt’s supports, Flayn sidesteps questions about her heritage and her crests. With Sylvain, we see how Flayn grows and learns to not trust the rumors others say. In Felix’s, she’s trying to help Felix find a purpose after the war ends that still allows him to use his sword. With Raphael’s it’s Flayn who’s being helped by Raphael as she tries to “grow stronger”; she even mentions how she’s frail and how this worries Seteth. And then there’s Ferdinand’s supports where it’s clear Flayn’s been starved of physical affections aside from Seteth. And their supports, between Seteth and Flayn, are a great progression between the two...Overall, I love little Flayn.

#3 – Lorenz

I like noble boy. I will admit, I hated his schooldays haircut with a burning passion...and then man on man did he become HOT pts. Winner of the best boy glow-up. A lot of Lorenz’s character flaws are the fault of his father. His father taught him that all that is important is being nobility and Lorenz ate it up, not knowing any better. His father instilled into him how he neeed to find a wife to further the family’s influence and thus how she must be a noble. This worked so well on Lorenz to the point that he willing to even give up someone he loves if they happen to be a commoner. Lorenz spends a lot of time trying to ‘interview’ girls to find his perfect noble bride, coming off as a bit on an ass – even when he’s confronted by Byleth he refuses to believe he’s done anything wrong since this is what his father taught him to do. It takes a long time until Lorenz starts seeing that he is wrong that what his father taught him is wrong. He starts using his own head and his own eyes to determine what is instead of using the opinion blasted into him by his father. He’s always trying to help other, feeling it’s his obligation as a noble to help those around him, which is a quality that he alone seems to take seriously (despite the school being filled with nobles). He originally dislikes Claude cause he believes that Claude isn’t taking his responsibility as the next Alliance head seriously since Claude is so laid back. He eventually comes to see that, despite appearances, Claude is working on the issues and is capable. His S support with Byleth where he mentions how he has "worked tirelessly to improve" "to become a man truly worthy of (Byleth)" and then is uttely shocked if Byleth tells him he already was worthy shows how dedicated he can be. With Ignatz, he instills confidence in him, seeing talent in Ignatz for art and talking about how there is more to knighthood than combat. His poetry writing comes out with Manuela’s supports and he convinces Hilda through actions to actually throw herself into battle. But I think his best supports are with Marianne. The vast majority of her supports are the others telling her to “be more confident” or “smile more” or other such things where they give her advice on how to improve...but Lorenz is the only one who comes to see that nothing needs to change. He starts by complementing her and then commenting on how she “needs polish” only to realize he was wrong and state she is “becautiful just the way she is”, accepting her fully for who she is without looking to change a thing. He is, essentially, telling her she is perfect the way she is and she doesn’t need to change at all for him to love her...which I find just so utterly sweet.

#2 – Edelgard

Edel gets a lot of hate but I honestly love her character so much. Edelgard is a doer not someone who sits by and does nothing. Due to things outside of her (and her father’s) control, she would up the victim in an experiment, a experiment that killed all of her siblings. Edelgard alone survived although at a cost. That experience forever changed her. Gone was the child and in her place rose Lady Edelgard. Unlike Lysithia who is dealing with her similar situation by trying to provide for her family before her time runs out, Edelgard isn’t. Her goal is the destruction of the circumstances that caused the experiment as well as those who caused the experiment to happen upon her so that this cannot happen again to anyone else. Since the experiment were done to give crests and since Edelgard has obviously seen how some children are treated whent hey have / do not have one, she aims to destroy all of that. Edelgard is literally stomping her foot down and saying ‘no, this isn’t a good or fair system and I’m not going to stand around and let it continue’. She’s willing to sacrifice everything to attain this goal, even if it turns her into a monster or ends in her death. Instead of waiting for the world to change, Edelgard decides to BE the change. She knows she’s going to be responsible for the deaths of a lot of people and she clearly struggles with the idea of this but in the end she decides that if she does nothing than that number will be greater so she persists. She burries her desire for friends and for love because she can’t bring herself to trust or rely on others – her father loved her but couldn’t protect her; the nobles in her father’s court are resonsible for hurting her too. They had her trust and they betrayed it. Her heart has been broken already; I don’t think she wants to risk it breaking again by trusting someone who will betray her, by making friends who can abandon her, by falling in love with someone who doesn’t understand what she’s doing. In CF when you side with Edelgard, you get to see more of that emotion slowly come out. Think on the PTS reunions: Dimitri was in disbelief and then apathetic that Byleth was alive; Claude was slightly surprised but then glad; Edelgard though broke down. Edelgard was the only one to get so emotional over Byleth’s return – someone she had trusted whom had returned that trust wasn’t dead after all; there wasn’t another corpse to add to the pile of people she cared for. And in that final animatic where Byleth falls – she’s clearly so upset. She’s crying, clearly devistated. Devistation which turns into laughter when Byleth revives because she can’t believe it. I stand by my opinion that Crimson Flower is the canon ending for FE3H. It’s the only ending where the endings song is different; all 3 other paths have the same song “Edge of Dawn” but not CF – you get something different. Add to that that EoD is sung by Edelgard. And let’s not forget the symbolism. The game is Fire Emblem. What’s a fire emblem? Crest of Flames. Who posess this crets out of the main cast: Byleth & Edelgard. And in CF you unite. Also notice the same letters. Crimson Flower (CF) & Crest of Flames (CF). That’s not a coincidence.

#1 – Seteth

I honestly could fill pages on why I love Seteth as a character but for here I’ll try and keep it shortish. I’ll start with his supports. Seteth’s supports are all about his advice to the others and him trying to guide them. For Cyril, he’s talking about how it’s great to repay debts but it is also important to consider one’s future as well; he doesn’t want to see Cyril just waste his whole life in servitude to Rhea but rather to grow into his own. With Catherine, it’s concern over her safety, over how she throws herself into battle without care for the consequences. For Manuela, it starts with a lecture over her drinking habits but turns into something far more personal when his wife and daughter get mentioned. Outside of the paralogue, this is the only time an outside person gets to learn that Seteth even had/has a wife and daughter and it’s Manuela who gets told it, implying a deeper friendship. Hannerman’s involves his investiagtion of Seteth’s crest and how Seteth is constantly refuting him, obviously trying to protect himself and Flayn from others finding out the truth. With Leonie, he teaches her how to relax while fishing while she improves his own skills in the area. For Hilda, he’s trying to improve her work ethic first by confronting her about her excuses, and then by writing a story about her laziness...which does work somewhat as it gets her to work on illustrations. For Ingrid, he’s a voice of reason about the demands of her father and he’s the one who suggests that Ingrid simply talk to him about her issues, something which she didn’t consider. For Felix, he’s trying to help Felix realize his beliefs are holding him back and that he needs to make friends. With Bernie, he helps her build some confidence in her own skills and talents. And of course we can’t forget his interactions with Flayn where he goes from overly protective, to realizing he’s a bit too overbearing, to actual apologizing for that. Seteth acts as a conduit or a spark that helps inspire change in those around him, to wake up potential, or to see things differently. He’s strict and often seems somewhat unreasonable about rules and regulations but its obvious this is his way of trying to protect people. He’s shouldering massive guilt over the events that happened in the last war. He personally blames himself for Flayn being hurt and for his wife dying. This event spurred him on to becoming overprotective of his daughter, of the only thing he had left. Seteth is doing what he’s doing to PROTECT his child (unwilling to see her to come to harm), even if he’s going about it in the incorrect way. He has literally devoted his whole life to protecting Flayn to the point that when she gets kidnapped, he falls apart at the seams and is unable to do anything at all except despair and distress. Flayn has become his whole world and just about everything Seteth does is to protect her or help her. That kind of devotion from a father is incredible, especially in a series where most of the parents kinda suck. I also adore how he breaks the typical “paper-skinned mage” trope. Let’s face it, most of us probably thought the stern chuch advisor was likely going to be a mage – and then we get a wyvern rider with a lance. I could go on and on, but I’ll leave it here. Seteth is just the best character.

...this was 18 pages of writing.....

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