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#or in some part of charles' heart he thinks he deserves to be treated that way--that its love
softtdaisy · 5 months
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DESCRIPTION I Winning is great. But is it worth it when you have nobody to celebrate it with?
PAIRING I Max Verstappen × female!reader
WORDS COUNT I 1,8k
A/N I You can ask Bee, this came to my mind because the song was playing in the restaurant and we were like oh my god I have to do something. I can offer tissues if you need them 🥹
“Max Verstappen, you are the champion of the world!”
The scream that escaped from Max’s lips were indescribable. It was a mix of happiness, relief and some kind of sadness that this was over. He had spent a whole year fighting for what he thought he deserved: finally being recognized as the best in his discipline.
And he finally did. Races after races, battles after battles, with celebration and disappointment. Here he was. Congratulated for what he did.
When Max left his car, he was immediately met by all the mechanics and people from the team that helped touch his dream. They were all there to hug him, to thank him for his win like it was only his and not their too. He kept laughing from being treated like a baby brother that they all loved and cheered for. He appreciated Christian’s one particularly. The one he saw more like a father than his own one. 
“You did it Max.” he told Max with such a big smile that for once, in a long time, Max felt loved and appreciated by the people around him. He made others happy with his happiness. That’s all he ever dreamed of. 
To not be a burden in other people's lives. Someone they would rather get rid of. 
As much as he tried to not think about it, most of the time, and act like it didn’t matter if some of his friends couldn’t appreciate his career or life…Max had to be honest. It still hurt to watch people leave.
When he turned his head to the mechanic that was talking to him, he saw Charles with his team. He had just finished second, after a long and terrible battle for the championship. He fought great. Max took a step towards him to congratulate him too. 
But then he saw Charles kissing his girlfriend. Naturally. Because it was part of his ritual. Celebrating with the team, kissing the person he loves and then going to the podium. 
Max decided to ignore the heartache he felt at this vision.
Not that he was jealous. They were a happy couple and he didn’t fancy any of them. No.
But it was, again, just a reminder of how lonely Max was even in his greatest moment.
He wished he didn’t notice that moment. Because that’s all he kept thinking about. 
When Charles finally was free. “Congratulations mate, it was a good fight!” the Monégasque said. And while Max answered, acting so confident and proud, all he saw was the lipstick stains on his cheek.
When he went to the podium to get his trophy, all Max was thinking was that he had nobody to lay his eyes on.
Oh how he wished you were there in the crowd, smiling and screaming your love to him. How proud you would be. How loved he would feel. 
Max just had to hope the pictures didn’t portray the loneliness on his face.
He really thought that the party would help. Being with all the other drivers, surrendering by his family and his friends. 
It worked, at first. Max really forgot about the pain in his heart when he was laughing with his friends or when he started to dance with Daniel, glad to the media and all kinds of social media were forbidden there. He probably could have kept it like that.
If he hadn’t seen you.
He wasn’t looking for you. And you weren’t even trying to be seen. 
It just happened.
Even in his wildest dreams, Max couldn’t imagine you would be there. The fact you saw him win the championship was pleasing. But then again, you were like a ghost. Not really there. At least not for him.
He knew you came here with your sister, who happened to be another driver’s girlfriend. You didn’t go to many races after your breakup so Max didn’t know if he had to be surprised.
You wouldn’t miss the end of a championship that you followed all year long, especially from a sport you were a fan of.
But would you really come to see your ex-boyfriend win? The one that broke your heart so bad you lost any hope you had in love?
“Sorry,” Max apologized to whoever was talking to him -he couldn’t care less after seeing you around. And he started following you. It was stupid, he knew it. He had no right asking to see you after all he did.
But his heart was working faster and better than his brain. Before he could even stop himself or think about that, there he was. In front of you. 
The FIA had rented a huge house that made everyone feel out of town. And the country. It was absolutely beautiful and massive. With a garden that would make formal gardens fans jealous. 
You needed a moment out of this craziness. And the celebrations for Max.
You were far away from thinking the man you were trying to avoid had actually followed you.
“You’re here.” was all you heard. You could have jumped from the sudden voice in your back. You could have been scared of not being alone in such a vast place. You could have screamed from the surprise.
But you didn’t. Because no matter what happened between you, Max was still one of the few people you would trust blindly.
You didn’t turn around. You let him walk to you. It was always the same thing with him. If he felt the need to talk to you, Max wouldn’t stop easily. He would say what he had to say. Even when you didn’t want to listen to him. Proof are the numbers of vocals and messages he left you after your break up.
“I…I just assumed you wouldn’t.” He continued, indeed approaching you. You felt the movement of his hand above your shoulder but it never landed on your skin. Even him knew it was too much. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me win.”
“It’s not like I could choose the outcome of the race.” you laughed. It might sound mean. And Max, being insecure about your feelings for him, probably understood that if you could, you would have made anybody else win. But it wasn’t right. That’s what you meant.
You finally turned around and faced him. “Congratulations Max. You deserved it.” was all you managed to say. Because seeing him in front of him was harder than you thought. He was the driver you saw on TV. The one so many people loved and supported.
He was Max. Your Max. The man you knew every little thing about. From the placement of every beauty mark on his skin, to the way he needed to see everything when you were making love. Expect for when the pleasure was too high and he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. You remember feeling proud anytime you managed to make him feel safe enough to enjoy it. 
So you knew that when he looked down, it was shyness. Which was kind of funny, now that you think about it. A two years past-relationship and he still couldn’t believe you think he deserved this. 
Or maybe he just felt embarrassed that you were still nice to him.
“Listen, I…” he started, still looking at his feet. Max was everything but shy. Everybody knew it. Well, he wasn’t in most situations. But when it came to his heart, he was still scared to open it. Because it never ended well in the past. You were the best proof of this. If he broke your heart, Max broke his own with his decision.
But you stopped him before he could start. “Don’t do that.” You said. And he recognized the broken tone in your voice. Which made him look up to you. “Please, don’t do that Max. Not now. I don’t deserve that.”
Confused, Max took another step to you. But you took a step back. Like you couldn’t be close. Too close. He didn’t have that right anymore. And when you put a hand in front of him, like you were stopping him from trying again, Max knew he had lost every chance already. 
“Do you think it’s fair to me that you come back now that you got what you wanted?” You started, with a shaking voice. You even close your eyes for a second, finding the strength to let go of everything you kept inside. “ You left me, Max. You abandoned me! For your career. For…for this. You broke my heart so you could win the championship. And now that you have it, you want me back? That’s not how it works!”
He didn’t need you to tell him to know that it wasn’t right. To you. To him, either. How could he look at himself in the mirror knowing he treated you like some toy he could put in the closet for a year and get back now that he was done playing with his other game? That was not how he loved you.
If he looked silent and confused, Max was actually thinking fastly about a way to apologize and make you think about the possibility of just talking together again. But you didn’t give me the opportunity. You were faster.
Faster at breaking his heart.
“And I’ve got someone. It’s too late Max.”
You didn’t say it as loud as you thought you did. It was almost like you were sure you wanted him to know. But the way Max’s look changed, you knew he heard. And it had the exact effect you were scared of. It was a mix of being sad and feeling competitive. Which you hated.
There were too many moments where Max let his competitiveness take the advantage. Everything became a fight, a battle. From silly things like a diner competition to proving he was better than your ex or a guy that tried to flirt with you. Sometimes it was nice, most of the time it was just proof that Max would never change. 
Until the day the competition was between you and his passion. A competition you didn’t even start. 
You saw that light in his eyes, the one he always had when he wanted to prove he was better. He was the one. The one you couldn’t leave, right?
Funny how he was the one who left.
“Does he kiss like I used to kiss you?” 
It was like a hit right in the heart. You even stopped breathing for a few seconds. You looked at Max with disbelief. You couldn’t believe he would say that. Suddenly you were back a year ago, when you thought he was your world.
And maybe that was it. Maybe what hurt the most was that he was right about it. Your boyfriend wasn’t him. No one could ever be Max. But you were not stupid enough to let yourself fall for those eyes again. Not after the awful last months you just had.
“He chose me. That’s enough.” you replied.
And you left. Just like Max left last year.
You let him alone.
And in a world where he should be celebrating his title, Max wondered if he was really a winner in the end without you.
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vinvantae · 8 months
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Unmasked
13/16
<<< previous part
Word count: 3.9k
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The sun crept across the floor of the room, crawling towards your bed as it slowly began to rise and you hadn’t slept a wink. Charles had told you he had a late meeting but when he had crawled into bed that night, trying not to wake you - you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of meeting would run until that time. It wasn’t until you saw the tweets last night saying everyone had met without you that you felt a pit in your stomach.
Your eyes flickered to Charles as he slept beside you, the sheets pushed down his torso as soft breaths passed through his lips. Why would the whole grid meet without you? Why would Fernando, Esteban and Max leave part of the way through? All of the questions were buzzing through your head and you knew you could wake Charles to ask but if he hadn’t told you about the meeting in the first place why should you?
Instead you sighed and grabbed your phone off of the dresser, wincing as bright light of the screen before you turned it down a little. Your lock screen was flooded with notifications - at first you thought maybe you had done something but when you realised that it was your fellow drivers tagging you in posts on instagram the uneasy feeling settled a little.
They were all making posts supporting you.
From Lewis and Seb to Kevin and Lance. Each of them had posted something on their profiles about how they stood with you - some more detailed than others but each showed just as much respect for you. Your eyes welled with tears as you read Seb’s words especially, the image was simple but he had poured his heart into the caption - and you felt so much love for your former teammate. He had been there for you through thick and thin and hearing just how much you meant to him in such a public forum was enough to bring the first genuine smile to your face since you were assaulted.
As you scrolled through instagram, taking in all of the kind words from your rivals - you couldn’t help but notice those who were missing. Fernando was no surprise as he was very old school about dealing with your criticisms but it was a little disheartening to see that Max, Pierre and Esteban had not posted anything.
And neither had your boyfriend.
The man who had spent the night in your bed hadn’t posted a single word on any of his social media platforms and you weren’t the only one who had noticed. Rumours that you and Charles had broken up was trending just below the IStandWithThirty hashtag the drivers had been using.
“...Charles.” You whispered, gently shaking him.
He grumbled, snuggling further into the bed. “Too early.”
“The internet thinks we broke up.”
His eyes snapped open and his once relaxed face was overtaken with confusion. “W-What? Why?”
“I don't know, maybe it’s because the rest of the grid has written these posts supporting me but my own boyfriend hasn’t?” You raised a brow. “What happened in that meeting, Charles?”
“Sebastian and I didn’t like the way you were being treated and we wanted to do something… so we called the meeting and suggested doing what the others have been doing - posting their support. But Max and Esteban weren’t happy, said it wasn’t enough and both stormed out of the meeting - and Pierre was angry at himself for how he treated you so joined them.” Your teammate felt it best to be honest with you, you’d seen this outpouring of support from your rivals but not your own boyfriend and childhood friends - he didn’t want miscommunication tearing what you both had down. “...And after I sat with it, I agreed with them. I didn’t want to post some blanket statement, you deserve more. You deserve better.”
He studied your face, your eyes flickered across him. “Charles-”
“Before you say you don’t deserve more, just… just don’t.” You watched as he sat up, bringing up a hand to cup your jaw - a thumb brushing softly over your skin. “I just want to show I stand with you with more than just a post, Cherie.”
You lent into his touch. “I love you, and appreciate you.. So much. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but… to stop the internet from thinking the worst of us, maybe you could’ve done both?”
He watched as the corner of your mouth lifted into a playful smirk and he chuckled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Probably. Max just got in my head, said he was disappointed in me for not doing more for you.”
“Max said that?” It was your turn to look confused - since the Dutchman had discovered the truth, it was true the two of you had reconnected but you were surprised by his willingness to speak up against your boyfriend. “...do you know what he has planned?”
“No. I need to find him though - he joked about burning down the FIA HQ but I’m not 100% sure he was joking.”
“...we definitely need to find him.”
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Pierre groaned as the knocking on his door persisted, only seemingly getting louder - so begrudgingly he pulled some clothes on and climbed out of bed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he crossed the hotel room and opened the door to see you and Charles.You shoulder barged him out of the way and stepped into the room. “Morning to you too.”
“What is Max’s plan?” You looked more like the y/n he’d grown up with than ever - arms folded across your chest, frown etched on your face and foot tapping impatiently. “Because I like you guys but I’m not having you rioting for me.”
“I don’t know, I couldn’t find him and he wasn’t answering his phone.” Pierre approached you, eyes flickering across your face. “But I’m not going to help you stop him, if I find him I’m following him. You deserve to have people fight for you.”
“Pierre, I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.” You whispered. “It’s not worth it.”
The eldest driver looked over your shoulder to your boyfriend who was leaning against the wall. “Bet she’s used the same line on you, huh?”
“I don’t know how many times I can repeat myself. But, I want to do this right, Pierre. In a way where we do what needs to be done but none of us end up out of a seat or in major trouble.” The Monegasque explained. “That's why I was leaning towards just making a statement.”
“You posted something?”
“I should’ve done it in the first place, people were thinking we broke up. Just because I want to do something more, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give people a reason to question us.” Charles stepped closer to you, eyes not leaving Pierre. “We need to find Max, I don’t want to stop him, I just need to know what he’s planning.”
Pierre considered for a moment, before he looked back at you. “I hope you know, you’re stuck with me. Whether you like it or not, I’ve got a lot of making up to do… so, I’ll help you find Max.”
You wrapped your arms around him and sunk into his hold as he returned the favour, squeezing you tight as if he was making up for lost time. Charles watched the interaction unfold - this wasn’t like any other time Pierre had touched you before. It was innocent - like you both had gone back in time and he could almost see you both as kids again.
“Now c’mon, there’s an angry Dutchman on the loose.”
It took the three of you nearly the whole day to find Max, asking everyone who might know something until you realised you were missing the least but somehow most obvious person. Esteban. He’d followed Max out so of course he knew where he was - in fact, when you ended up finding the redbull driver, the two of them were together at a small cafe nestled away in a narrow street hidden from the crowds.
“Now, this is not something I’d ever thought I’d see.” Charles chuckled, pulling up a chair for you both at the table. “I know you’ve moved passed the stuff in the past but-”
“We’re not exactly best friends, I know.” Esteban smiled, standing up to greet you. “Hi y/n, it’s really good to see you again.”
You shook his hand. “You too, Esteban. Please don’t do anything that will get you in trouble.”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “I could do with some trouble.”
“What do you have planned, Max Emilian?” You huffed, sitting beside the Dutchman - narrowing your eyes a little. “I know you could get away with murder being Christian’s golden boy but I still don’t want you getting barred or disqualified or whatever just for me.”
“Nothing that bad y/n. Look…” Max sighed, leaning forward a little. “I just don't think that an instagram post is gonna do shit. The people who use violence aren’t going to read some preachy text.”
“So you’re not going to tell me what you’re up to?”
He shook his head. “Nah, you’ll just try and stop me. I know you probably don’t think you’re with all of this but despite us growing apart over the years, I still care about you. And I can’t just sit by while these dickheads, who are my fans, get away with hurting you.”
“Max-”
“C’mon, y/n, I’m not naive. I’ve seen photos of the guy, I see the profile pictures and usernames… a lot of these twats are my fans.” He grumbled. “So, hopefully, if they listen to anyone, they’ll listen to me.”
Charles placed a gentle hand on your thigh. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel, cherie? I’ll make sure whatever they plan isn't crazy. Okay?”
He smiled softly as you jut your bottom lip out in protest, before nodding and standing up from your chair - casting your eyes one more time across the unlikely group before you. “Just… don’t be stupid.”
“How can we? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” Max grinned, making you gasp and smack him playfully upside the head. “Sorry, sorry. Kidding.”
“You better be.” You turned to Charles. “Text me when you’re on your way back, please?”
The Monegasque nodded. “Will do. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
You took a deep breath before leaving their fates in their own hands - you had no idea what they were planning and honestly? At this point you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Instead you hopped into a cab and started messaging your fellow drivers, thanking them for their kind words and support on instagram. Even after you reveal, you had really only spoken to those who had known who you were before - so when Lando asked if you wanted to join him and Carlos for a beer, you decided to go.
Maybe it would take your mind off of the scheming Max was doing with your boyfriend and childhood karting rivals.
“This is a pleasant surprise.” Carlos smiled, as you sank down into the booth beside Lando - a gentle smile on his face. “If I thought you were out of Charles’ league before, you definitely are now.”
You laughed. “Thanks Carlos. And thank you, Lando for inviting me out - I’ve been wanting to get to know everyone better.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t believe you said yes.” The young Brit grinned, you could tell why everyone liked him - he had this boyish charm. “This is sick. I’m hanging out with the Thirty!”
The pink took over your cheeks within an instant and you rubbed the back of your neck. “It means a lot that you don’t see me any differently now you know I’m a girl.”
Lando took a sip of his beer, ignoring the buzz of his phone against the wood of the table - more interested in what you had to say. “If anything that just makes you cooler.”
“So, colour me curious.” Carlos spoke up, propping his elbows up on the table. “Who knew about you before? Obviously Charles and Sebastian, but who else?”
“Just Max and Lewis. They both had me figured out so I just came clean, but it was only really a few weeks that they knew.”
Carlos huffed a little and leant back in his chair, strong arms folded across his chest. “Can’t believe my own teammate knew and I was blind as a bat, I thought I’d noticed him acting differently around you.”
You frowned. “What do you mean?”
Carlos raised a brow. “Well he went from being super suspicious of you one minute, to indifferent. He told both me and Daniel he expected you but neither of us believed him… sorry about that.”
“I wouldn’t have believed him either, y’know?” You smiled reassuringly. “That was kind of the whole point of the story that the team came up with.”
“You got me there. Well, cheers to this new friendship, aye?” He grinned, the three of you clinking your beers together - Lando’s phone continuing to buzz on the table. “You gonna answer that, mate?”
Lando huffed and picked it up. “Some of the others want to crash later, turn it into a real party but I was only gonna stick to a couple of beers.”
“…I mean… I could party.”
Carlos grinned. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
And that is how you ended up doing shots with Carlos and Daniel - as the evening had progressed the music had got louder and the bar had gotten more crowded. It was distracting you from the fact Charles still hadn’t texted you despite you having sent him a few question marks. You were scared of what was taking the four of them this long to plan - there was no way this wasn’t going to be trouble.
“You okay?” You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, Lando gently tugged so you were facing him - his eyes were somehow still bright beneath the flashing lights of the dark club. “For someone who ended up on the podium, you don’t seem to be particularly happy.”
“Lannn.” You whined, leaning into him a little - the alcohol buzzing through your veins. You thrust your phone in his face, the bright light of the screen making him squint a little. “Why hasn’t Charles’ text me?”
He chuckled softly, draping an arm across your shoulder - coaxing you gently towards a booth where a few other drivers were sitting. “Uhm, not sure. Where is he?”
“Planning some dumb thingy with Max, Pierre and Esteban. They’re going to get in trouble for me and I don’t want that.”
Lando shook his head. “It’s cus they care about you, I bet. They wouldn’t do this for just anyone… Pierre and Esteban in the same place? Those two haven’t got on since they were kids, you know that better than anyone.”
“You think that’s why?” You pouted softly. “I’m gonna text him again.”
“Okay, y/n. You do that… I’m gonna get you a glass of water.” He patted you gently on the shoulder before heading back over to the bar, leaving you in the company of Carlos, Daniel and George.
You shuffled further into the booth and tucked yourself under Carlos’ arm, the Spaniard squeezing your shoulder. “You okay, hermosa?”
“Charles is ignoring me.” You grumbled, propping your chin up on his shoulder - whatever he was wearing smelt manly, and with Charles preferring a more subtle fragrance it was noticeable.
Daniel laughed. “Well that’s not very nice of him is it. Are you having a good time though?”
You nodded. “Yeah, it's nice to get to know you guys. Just can’t help but miss Charles, he’s my rock. Feels weird having fun without him.”
“His loss then, hmm? You can have a great time with us instead.” He chuckled, his eyes boring into yours, a kind smile on his face.
“Oh can she now?”
You moved your gaze from Carlos’ dark eyes to the source of the voice to see Charles stood in front of the table with his arms folded across his chest - his brow raised. “Charl.”
“Did you not get any of my texts… or calls?” He said, sitting beside you in the booth - wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you away from Carlos and into his side.
“Did you not get any of mine?” You frowned, fishing your phone out of your pocket - eyes widening a little when you saw none of your messages had gone through to your boyfriend. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Charles teased, leaning in to kiss you. “Were you worrying, Cherie?”
“…maybe.”
“And did you get drunk to distract yourself from the fact you were worried?”
Your cheeks flushed. “…maybe.”
He laughed and thanked Lando as he placed your glass of water on the table. “Thanks for your text mate, I was starting to think I’d lost her.”
“I saw the non-delivered when she showed me her phone so I thought it might be a two-way issue.” The Brit smiled softly. “You gonna stay for a bit?”
“Only a little while, I think this one has had enough fun for both of us.” Charles smiled at Lando before looking down at you - your cheeks flushed a pretty pink. He let his gaze wander to Carlos for a moment but the Spaniard didn’t meet his eyes.
Not another one. He groaned internally. Sooner or later he was going to have to put a flashing neon sign above your head to remind the other drivers that you were his girlfriend. It wasn’t purely selfish either, there had been one too many tweets calling you a paddock bunny, so he didn’t want to give anymore fuel to that fire. So if he had to give Carlos and Lewis a not so friendly warning, he would. Pierre had become less of a concern since the two of you had reconnected - the Frenchman starting to see you as more of a little sister, like he used to back in the day. But Carlos and Lewis didn’t have that connection with you - so you were just this insanely talented and beautiful woman to them. He hoped that his relationship with you would be enough to keep them at bay but he couldn’t help but feel a little worried.
“Charl.” Your warm hand on his jaw brought him back to reality - your eyes were transfixed on him when he looked down at you. “Where did you go, amour?”
“Nowhere, cherie, I’m here with you.” He smiled, the sparkle in your eyes was enough to put him at ease - it didn’t matter what the others did. You were as in love with him as he was with you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “Wanna go home?”
“Yeah, but kisses first please.”
You keened as Charles curled a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into a searing kiss. You draped your arms over his shoulders, letting him lead the show you knew he was putting on for the others - he didn’t have to say out loud that he had felt jealous of Carlos, but it was never going to be Carlos. It was always going to be him.
As you pulled back, you let your eyes meet his as you smiled. “I love you.”
“Je t’aime, y/n.”
Lando gagged, reminding you that you weren’t alone - Charles relished in the way you hid your face in his neck. “We get it, you love each other. Get a room now, gross.”
You made sure to give each driver a hug before letting Charles lead you outside to grab a cab - you watched him as he tapped away on his phone, his breath leaving his body in soft clouds. When he caught you staring, you weren’t embarrassed, you simply stepped closer and let him wrap you up in his arms. “Charl, are you going to tell me what you boys were planning for so long?”
“Mhmm, I don’t know. Don’t know if I want to ruin it for them. I promise you it’s nothing crazy.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, before opening the door of the taxi for you both as it pulled up on the street. “Now, early flight tomorrow, need to get you to bed.”
“Fiiine, only ‘cus you’re pretty and I love you.” You giggled, tilting his chin down so you could kiss him before sliding into the taxi. “I will get that plan out of you by the end of the night.”
He rolled his eyes playfully, climbing in beside you - going to protest your claim but when you pulled him in for another deep kiss, his words were stolen from him and his mind was distracted by your hands running all over him, a hand ghosting over his belt. “Even if that means we get a fine for fooling around in this taxi.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Your playful smirk told him that you absolutely would so he used all of his willpower to move your hand away from his trousers. “Okay, okay… So here’s what’s going to happen.”
He pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling away so they were ghosting over yours - the way your breath hitched in your throat was delicious but he was going to behave. It was his turn to smirk now, his hand trailing up your side.
“This is what’s going to happen, Cherie.” He purred, pressing a kiss to the pulse point under your jaw. “We’re going to go back to the hotel, get some sleep and in the morning I’ll tell you all about what Max has planned okay?”
You were in no place to protest, your brain foggy with lust as he pressed kisses along your neck and jaw - so you simply nodded, dipping your head to catch his lips in another kiss. “Can… Can I add one more thing to the agenda?”
When your eyes met his, you could barely see the green - his pupils blown wide and he seemed to have as much trouble catching his breath as you did. His strong hands gripped your waist and he pulled you in closer. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then we can definitely add you… add that to the to do list.”
He captured your giggle with a kiss, not wasting a second as the taxi pulled up outside the hotel. After a generous tip to the poor cab driver, your teammate took your hand in his and led you through the hotel. With a swift kiss as a distraction, he swiped the keycard from your pocket and opened the door.
You kicked your shoes off and turned to face your boyfriend. “Well we can tick off going back to the hotel on the to-do list…”
Charles chuckled and took your waist in his hands, pulling you closer. “What was next?”
“Let me remind you.”
*******
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littlewomenpodcast · 2 days
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I saw your answer to @fandomsarefamily1966's question whether Meg is "vain" or not, and it made me wonder. Do you think Alcott shows some internalized misogyny in portraying Meg's desire for pretty clothes and status as "vanity"? Do you think subconsciously at least, Alcott was being anti-femininity and judged Meg more harshly than she deserved?
That is a good question. I have never seen Meg as a vain character, I always thought that the "Vanity Fair" chapter name, was intented as criticism for the Sally Moffat's and the likes, and I love that Meg is having inner conflicts.
There is a part of her who enjoys being pampered, but she also feels (and knows) that these girls are not real friends, they speak gossip about her, they make fun of her being poor and spread rumors about her and Laurie.
I have read quite a few times that Louisa May Alcott, enjoyed beautiful clothes, and when she had extra money she liked to buy new clothes and hats. It doesn't sound like a person, who is against having nice clothes and material things (in reason).
Also, Louisa loved to write about clothes. She is often describes the fabrics and laces (Rose in Bloom is another example where this happens).
I do think there is some unconscious criticism against femininity. It's almost like there is guilt for liking pretty clothes, when you have a reputation of someone who is "not like the other girls" type of tomboy.
In the "under the umbrella" chapter, it's almost sad, because Jo feels guilty for having romantic feeligns for Friedrich, she is afraid that people are going to laugh at her, when she is going back on her words of being above marriage and all kinds of romantic feelings.
Another thing that I believe is unconscious, is the religion. The transcendentalist believed to the idea of person constantly transcending and evolving as an individual. Thoreau has some criticism of men and women who were bragging with their clothes so much, they were being ridicilous. Louisa has some similar statements, when we see Jo mockering the way how much money Laurie spends on gloves. They believed that person's value should not only be based on their wealth or how much money they have, but on their actions and how they treat others. This is an idea that we can find already from early Christianity and especially from Protestant Germany, which is where transcendentalism originates. This is also why in Little Women poor characters such as Fritz and the Hummels are portrayed in a good light. They maybe poor but there is richness of the heart.
Having money is not directly seen as a bad thing, but bragging with money is condemned in the Alcott's world. Even when Louisa herself became rich, she continued to be critical of other rich people who bragged with their money or were "vain". In London she saw Charles Dickens, her former idol, but she was dissappointed, how dandy he was.
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what-if-queen-camilla · 8 months
Text
Chapter 26
The part we've probably all been equally awaiting as afraid of... 🥺 The house of cards is collapsing, everyone... 🥺🥺🥺
20th November 1995
Middlewick House
To her own surprise, Camilla had managed to find a more or less comfortable spot in front of the television tonight, on the floor in what used to be her and Andrew's sitting room, between half-packed boxes and half-dismantled furniture; they were in the middle of relocating, the final moving date was scheduled for the first week of December so that they'd settle down in their new home just in time for Christmas. She had just put Thea to bed, got herself a huge glass of red wine (she had no idea just how much she was going to need it at this point…), cuddled up in a fluffy blanket and tuned in on tonight's program just in time… "Your Royal Highness, how prepared were you for the pressures that came with marrying into the Royal Family?", was the first question the reporter asked Diana, who, trapped in her hatred and anger, had decided to give an interview, publicly slamming everybody but herself for the misery she found herself in and somehow Camilla had the feeling that it probably wasn't going to do her any good. The Princess put on the sad look that she wore so well, dramatically lowering her eyes, as she replied, full of self-pity: "At the age of 19, you always think you're prepared for everything, and you think you have the knowledge of what's coming ahead. But although I was daunted at the prospect at the time, I felt I had the support of my husband-to-be." Camilla rolled her eyes, emptying her wine almost in one go. "You actually did have his support.", she thought, re-pouring herself another glass. "Before you started acting like a… oh nevermind." It was true. She had, indeed, had Charles' support. She, Camilla, remembered all too well how, before the wedding, he'd come over one last time, excitedly telling her all about his wife-to-be and how he'd do anything to make her feel comfortable and welcome and help her settling in her role - a role that yet had to be written at that point. He had been so optimistic and really had thought highly of Diana, convinced that she'd do brilliantly, that everyone was going to love her… and, with that, he'd been right actually."So you were isolated?", the reporter asked at some point, referring to how she was, or rather felt she was, treated by Charles, and of course that little bitch only too happily confirmed: "Uh,uh, very much so."What came next took her by surprise. Camilla had of course been expecting Diana to take every given opportunity to go after her… but that question seemed to come just as much out of nowhere as the response…
"Do you think Mrs Parker Bowles was a factor in the breakdown of your marriage?"
"Well, there were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded."She had said it in a self-pitiful, innocent little girl sort of manner, again, dramatically underlined by a dramatic glance and Camilla's heart cramped in pain. This wasn't true. It simply wasn't true. They hadn't even… rekindled their relationship until, well, a certain sort of breaking point had been reached on both sides. And there had been nothing but heartache for all of them anymore… She could actually understand why Diana hated her and she couldn't even blame her, but Charles… Charles didn't deserve this. He'd tried so hard to make this marriage work, to make her happy, but she had almost broken him! He’d only just been a shadow of his former self when she first saw him again in 1986, full of self-doubts, insecurities and little to none self-confidence left. And that had been Diana’s work! She had constantly ridiculed him for everything he had done and stood for, laughed at his ambitions and ideas, his visions for a better future… She had never cared about his work, and he was such a visionair with such amazing, far-sighted ideas, but like most geniuses, also an incredibly sensitive, vulnerable soul who needed a lot of love, support and reassurance… But neither Diana nor anyone else in this world or at least in this press and media jungle ever seemed to even think of it. A woman’s heartbreak sold, a man’s didn’t. It didn’t fit with the common image of what a man, especially a future King, should be like; strong, resilient and caring and always looking after others; Charles was all of this without a doubt but he needed somebody to look after him, too. But Diana had never been willing to do that. Camilla gulped heavily and swallowed a few tears away, as the reporter asked his next question:
"There have been rumours about Mrs Parker Bowles' youngest daughter and certain… questions regarding… her biological father…" Camilla was in a state of shock. Had he really just asked her about… Thea's father? "Oh God, please don't… ", everything inside her screamed, desperately praying that…
"Well, if you're trying to imply that my husband could have an illegitimate child with his mistress then I can only say that it wouldn't surprise me at all."
She underlined the significance of her accusation with one more dramatic lowering of her eyes and Camilla felt like vomiting. Her heart was beating like mad, she felt dizzy in her head and her hands were soaked with sweat. No, no, no, this couldn't be real, it mustn’t be real, not her daughter! Thea was only eight, her sweet, little innocent child… she had nothing to do with that mess, she did not deserve any of this… How dared Diana going after her daughter?! She could go after her as much as she wanted, she could make the whole world hate her but… in going after her daughter she had crossed a line. She'd kill her. She'd get into her car, drive to London, storm Kensington Palace, find that witch and shoot her down. And then she'd end up in prison… and her poor little girl would be all on her own, so, no, that wasn't quite an option.
Oh God, what had she done. What had they done with all of their lies, all of those years… This was going to be her last night as a carefree, happy, normal child, before the eyes of the world would be on her. She'd thought they'd been through hell following the publication of those goddamn tapes almost three years ago… then she'd thought they'd been through another hell following Charles' interview last year… but now this… this was going to be her end. She was not able to go through any of this again, it would kill her. She had somehow managed to stay strong as long as it had only been about her but now that her daughter was the target… How was she supposed to protect her? How was she supposed to explain it to her? It would turn her entire world upside down, it would shatter everything they'd so lovingly built up for their sweet little angel…
Floods of tears were running down her face as she was wandering around the house aimlessly, when she suddenly saw headlights shining through the cracks in the shutters, followed by screeching tires in the driveway which almost frightened her to death. Who on earth was that now? The press? Oh God in heaven… Panicking, she rushed over to the main entrance, desperately trying to lock the door from inside with her trembling hands, but the person outside was quicker and opened it and before she had a chance to recognise who it was, she felt two strong arms wrapping around her tightly, pulling her close, and a well-known voice unusually loving assuring her: "Don't worry, Milla, I'm here. You're not alone. I'll take care of you both."
And - who do you think has immediately shown up to protect the ladies? :-)
*Side Notes:The panorama interview did happen, it did, indeed, air on 20th November 1995. The Royal Family seemed to have been aware that there was going to be an interview but unaware of the exact content. You might have heard about the recent investigation and Prince William´s moving statement regarding the interview, saying in 2021: “It is my view that the deceitful way the interview was obtained substantially influenced what my mother said. The interview was a major contribution to making my parents’ relationship worse and has since hurt countless others.” The first three quoted questions and answers are taken from the real transcript, but please, while reading and hopefully enjoying, keep in mind that there's, let's say, some certain controversy around the whole topic.
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nighttimeebony · 11 months
Text
A collection of my thoughts, reactions, predictions and whatnot that I had and wrote down while I was reading The Sea of Monsters. So spoilers for that under the cut.
EDIT: part 1, part 3, part 4, part 5
Ah, I just now realized that Percy’s sword, Riptide, is another nod to his Poseidon heritage
Where the hell was this kind of school when I was Percy’s age? You don’t get grades, and you just get to blow shit up in science class?? I fucking wish
Tyson kind of reminds me of some of the special ed kids I knew in elementary school. Or kids with low-functioning autism. That’s probably what Percy figured, too, since he didn’t know that Tyson was a cyclops at first. Percy is such a sweetheart, and he does his best to treat Tyson kindly and to protect him from bullies. And he does it not to feel better about himself but because he wants Tyson to feel better. And he doesn’t just protect Tyson and leave him alone afterwards and hope he doesn’t talk to him. He genuinely considers Tyson to be one of his friends and he cares about him. I just. I love this kid.
Ah, yes. Tantalus. I remember you. Your son had sex with Percy’s dad.
I like that whenever Percy sees Grover in a wedding dress, he says nothing about the fact that Grover is a boy wearing a dress, he’s just like, “bro, that does not fit you at all, you need a size 9 at least before we can call it kosher”. I love these kids.
I like Silena Beauregard and Charles Beckendorf. I imagine that they're a couple, because it would be a cute reference to the fact that Aphrodite and Hephaestus are technically married. In a very crack shippy kind of way.
I just now realized that the name of Luke's sword (Backbiter) was foreshadowing for his inevitable betrayal. Backbiter is a term used to describe someone untrustworthy, or used to describe a traitor. It’s basically a synonym for “backstabber”. The trickster Norse god Loki is actually frequently referred to with the epithet Backbiter. It could also be a reference to the fact that Hermes is not only a trickster god, but also the god of liars and thieves, which would make sense considering that Luke is a son of Hermes.
Holy shit, Luke is trying to Voldemort this shit!
“‘Percy,’ Annabeth said, trying to keep her cool, ‘we’re going to Polyphemus’s island! Polyphemus is an S-i-k… a C-y-k…” She stamped her foot in frustration. As smart as she was, Annabeth was dyslexic, too. We could’ve been there all night while she tried to spell Cyclops.” I love this book.
Percy’s like, a donut shop in the middle of nowhere is a little weird, but donuts aren’t all that high on my list of threats to worry about. Percy, last book you were almost murdered by Medusa at a diner. I think you should know by now that free food is sketchy as hell when you’re you.
“‘I DON’T CARE WHAT IT SAID!’ Ares bellowed with such force that his image shimmered. ‘You will succeed. And if you don’t…’ He raised his fist. Even though he was only a figure in the steam, Clarisse flinched.” Oh, baby…
I think Clarisse should swear. She deserves it.
Annabeth talking about weaving and Athena’s skill with weaving specifically makes me wonder if we’re ever going to meet or get some other mention/reference to Arachne.
“‘But…’ Annabeth’s voice sounded hurt. ‘What’s wrong with my hair?’” Annabeth saying this broke my heart, but then I remembered that she’s going to be Black in that new live action series, and thinking about this scene with that context in mind hurt me even more considering how Black kids are often shamed and punished for their natural hair texture. I’m just imagining little Annabeth getting made fun of by other kids for her hair and teachers punishing her for being “dirty” or “ungroomed”, and then thinking about the way this cunt is manipulating Annabeth to feel like she’s lesser than because of it. That new live series Disney+ is making better not mess this up.
Holy shit, did C.C. also invent the concept of Instagram?? Why is she obliterating these thirteen-year-olds’ self-esteem???
Oh, because she’s a witch. Yup, Circe, that checks out
Amelia Earheart was a half-blood? I love that. Also, yes! Thank you for mentioning Atalanta, I adore her! She’s one of my favorite characters in Greek mytho-history.
Also, Blackbeard being a son of Ares makes way too much sense
Percy being good at sailing is amazing. Finding that one interest that’s very niche and obscure that’s almost useless in modern society and nailing the hell out of it is very neurodivergent of him and I’m so proud of him for that
“I looked over, expecting to see Annabeth, but the girl wasn’t Annabeth. She wore punk-style clothes with silver chains on her wrists. She had spiky black hair, dark eyeliner around her stormy blue eyes, and a spray of freckles across her nose. She looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.” Wait. Is that Thalia?
"'But… you're still getting married?' Grover sounded hurt." Grover, baby, he was going to kill you. This is not about you not being hot enough for him.
Annabeth calling herself Nobody to get Polyphemus's attention—I remember that myth; I read it in elementary school. I thought it was hysterical. It still is. Also Annabeth's burn game is on point.I didn’t know that that hero was Odysseus specifically, but now that I do, it makes a lot more sense.
By the way, isn’t Odysseus related to Poseidon? I can’t remember, but I could swear that Odysseus was a grandson of Poseidon… (two Google searches later). Nope, it was Hermes. He’s a grandson of Hermes, which, yeah, that makes more sense than Poseidon.
"'Not a traitor,' Tyson said. 'And you are not my kind.'" YES, BABY!!
Percabeth. Just Percabeth. I love these children and I love them together.
Percy is one of the best protagonists ever. When Polyphemus was crying and asking Percy not to kill him, Percy spared him. Not because Polyphemus didn't deserve to die, but because Percy didn't want to kill him and felt bad for him. He sympathizes with Clarisse when she's upset, even though she's insulting him and Annabeth is angry with her. He remembers the way Ares had treated her on the boat, and instead of yelling back at her, he treats her with kindness and patience. He lets her complete her quest and have the glory that comes with it, because Percy doesn’t care about getting recognized by the camp for what he did—he just wants the camp to be saved, and as long as the Fleece is delivered to do that, he doesn’t care how. I just. I love him so much. He's such a sweet kid.
I love that Annabeth is the bloodthirsty, petty one between her and Percy.
Holy shit, Tyson's watch thing!! Damn, Tyson!
Percy proudly calling Tyson his baby brother is everything to me.
I love that at this point in the story, Percy is only 13 and has canonically been wanted by the police on two separate occasions.
HOLY SHIT!!!!! THALIA'S ALIVE!!!!!!!!! I AM READY TO LOVE HER!!!!!!!!
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safetycar-restart · 2 years
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I am not okay about Charles right now 😭😭😭 his SCREAM over the radio, his teary eyes in his interview, I wanna cry for him 💔 I couldn’t decide whether to focus on softdom or little!charles so here’s a bit of both:
You would have to treat charles like the most breakable china doll tonight (in both softdom and littlespace)… he just makes it through the debrief and media but as soon as he sees you the tears start to well up.. you quickly grab charles and get him back to the hotel as soon as possible…
Charles would be in the most self depreciating headspace you’ve ever seen him in, he’s so sad he can barely form words, he’s just shaking his head and muttering about how stupid he is… you dont even bother with the shower you just strip him of his race clothes and put him in a soft t shirt before laying him out on the bed… he’s def not in the mood for anything intense just yet but maybe you get him comfy and slowly finger him, showering him in praise, telling him he’s a good boy, he’s /your/ good boy, you love him, you’re proud of him, everything is going to be okay…..
Charles would be crying so hard he’s bordering on sobbing, you check in on his colour and he can barely speak to say green.. he grinds against your side as you work him open and comes all over you with a gasp and a sob. Afterwards, he’s dropped so hard he can just stare up at you with glassy eyes as you gently clean you both up. You get him settled against you and continue the praise as he falls asleep with one of your hands stroking through his hair and the sucking on the fingers of your other hand in his mouth…. It’s gonna take him a few days to recover from this one..
Little!Charles would be the most teary little babby ever, he would barely let you get him changed before he was clambering over you, pushing his face into your chest, crying and whispering over and over how bad and stupid he is, apologising over and over… you take his face in your hands and stop him in his tracks, firmly tell him that he’s mommy’s (or daddy’s) good boy and make him repeat it but he keeps on crying. You get him swaddled up in a blanket and cuddled against you, give him his stuffie and just rock him back and forth until he starts to settle and sniffle..
Charles has dropped pretty young this time, unable to really do much apart from cry softly and suck on his thumb for comfort… you feed him some water from a water bottle and put one of his favourite cartoons on for background noise. Charles falls asleep in your arms with his face smushed against your chest as you gently stroke his hair and press kisses to his face…, -🐬
Ok ok ok yes time to heart breaks and comforting Charles you’re absolutely right. Again, I’m gonna write this as part of the D/S AU because I think it makes the most sense.
SOFTDOM:
Yeah I definitely think that Charles would barley even hear you as you direct him to his hotel room. He kinda just keeps on staring into nothing, mumbling about how stupid he was whenever you ask him a question.
It’s heartbreaking and you really want to try to get through to him, but you know you can’t do that until you’re back at the hotel because you can tell that Charles will breakdown the moment you try to hold him.
So you wait until you’re online and then it’s like Charles kinda just crumbles? You strip him of his clothes and get him into bed, holding him tight and letting him cry into your shirt until he feels a little better.
You don’t intend for it to be sexual, but he starts to get shivery and wriggly in a way that you know means he needs some domination.
You ask Charles if he wants to feel good, but he says that he doesn’t deserve it. That strikes a cord with you. Because he doesn’t get to choose what he does and doesn’t deserve. That is your job.
You tell him such, holding his jaw tight and saying “you are mine. I decide what you deserve. Do you understand me?”
Which is how it turns sexual because you decide he deserves to feel good and, in a way, feeling good is almost like his punishment because he doesn’t think he deserves it. But he gets to have it anyway. Because it’s your choice. Not his.
It’s so soft though, just softly fingering him open and lightly curling your finger up to touch his prostate and letting him shake and sob. He’s a mess instantly, completely ruined by the slightest of pleasure.
And then he just sleeps against you, clinging to you even in sleep.
LITTLE!CHARLES:
The moment you see Charles after the crash, he immediately asks if he can drop and you know what he wants: he wants to regress.
And you so wish you could say yes. You wish you could say yes and walk him right to his drivers room to fetch his things and back to his hotel where he can spend the night with you, dropping as young as he wants.
But you can’t. Because you haven’t checked if you can remove him from media yet and so you can’t say yes.
It hurts so much to see how sad Charles gets when you say no, like he hasn’t even considered that you’d deny him.
You manage to work a deal with the media team: Charles will give three statements, one in English, one in Italian and one in French to three different news networks. He won’t take questions, he’ll just say something. That’s it.
The moment he does that, he can go home. You pull the team debrief entirely, and no one fights you on it.
You can see in his statements how much he’s struggling, how he’s fidgeting with watery eyes and struggling to maintain eye contact. You know what it means. He really needs to just be able to regress.
He’s in littlespace before you can even get him in the car to go to the hotel. Which isn’t surprising.
He really wants a cuddle instantly, but obviously you have to drive him back to the hotel first, so you hand him a sweater of yours and tell him to hold it right and be a big boy.
And he, bless him, does just that, clinging to the sweater snd only letting out the occasional sniffles as you drive.
The moment you’re in the hotel, he drops even younger? He’s just a baby then, sobbing and trying to somehow hide under your shirt because he needs to be close to his caregiver right then.
You strip him of his clothes and get him in bed, fetching his teddy too. And your heart breaks when he puts the teddy at the foot of the bed instead of cuddling it because he ‘was bad and needs teddy to stop the mad people from finding him’
You, of course, tell him he isn’t bad. He’s good. He’s your little boy.
Ok I know this isn’t in the ask, but I think arthur might join?? He knows Charles regresses and he was there that weekend for F3 and he knows Charles will have regressed really young from what happened.
So arthur knocks on the door and you let him in because you know how much little!charles just ADORES his brother. He sees arthur as his big brother, which obviously isn’t the truth in reality but in this headspace, arthur is his big bro.
Arthur actually manages to make Charles smile!! Because he loves his big brother so much and he’s so happy he gets comfort from his big brother too.
So it’s just Charles smushed between you and arthur, sucking his thumb and letting out teary giggles whenever arthur says something funny about the cartoon you put on.
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opie-nixx · 2 years
Text
Chapter 6 WDYM Attached?
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Now, when I said that I'd have to start sleeping in my own tent I meant by myself. I'm not really complaining but he hasn't even asked about being a couple yet. Then again I don't know where I stand with him and the whole Mary thing. I never voiced anything because he is entitled to still have feelings for her. When I woke up 1 morning and didn't see him bringing me coffee or seeing if I was awake, it filled me with a bit of jealousy. Not in a bad way where I resent her but where I kinda wish I was her. I think he noticed I was upset because when he came back he was trying to offer to go do something. Hell, he was even gonna let me look in his journal. I declined and told him I don't want to look at his journal just so we can be on good terms again. He was moping and nothing but grouchy for a week. I filled my time with getting to know the other members by doing some chores or hunting with Charles. When the time came to go to Valentine Dutch asked me to ride with him I obliged.
Dutch: "We're gonna meet Strauss, John and Arthur there. They should be finishing up with some business there." My heart twinged when he mentioned Arthur.
Dutch: "What has been going on between you and Arthur?" I roll my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
Y/n: "To be entirely honest I'm frustrated. He's the most gentlest giant I could ask for and I love the way he treats me, but I'm frustrated because he went to see Mary."
Dutch: "Ahh. Have you tried talking to him?"
Y/n: "Well, no. It's not my business and I don't wanna pry on a matter that doesn't concern me. I mean I know they loved once and true but I don't know I thought that we had something in the bit we've known eachother?"
Dutch: "Oh darlin, it concerns you. We've all noticed how he's been with you. You have every right to be upset. Please talk to him about it. I'm sure he's willing to do anything to fix his mistake." We slow up and trot once we pass the post office. The smell of sheep shit fills my nostils.
Y/n: "I suppose. I think I've ignored him enough."
Dutch: "We're also done with watching him mope around. Come on now, I think you deserve a drink." He holds open the door for me. Once we sit he orders a whole bottle of Brandy a few glasses. He toasts to relationships. That's when Strauss walks in like a greedy cockroach and sits down and begins rambling about closing on certain debtors.
'Thank god I took care of the Downes debt...which basically consists of a few robberies to give them a little extra money and putting there debt money into the collection box. But at least I can have piece of mind, Arthur won't die from this.'
I keep downing some shots of Brandy as Dutch keeps pouring offering me a few smiles as he does so. Not to long after I hear the door open and 2 sets of footsteps walk in. I snap my head and see a grumpy Arthur and annoyed looking John make there way over to us.
Strauss: "Gentlemen."
Arthur: "Dutch, Leopold...Y/n." He greets as we avoid eye contact. The air seemed to fill with tension.
Dutch: "Where have you been?"
Arthur: "Working... Marston's thing."
Dutch: "Good....And?"
Arthur: "We're just waiting to get some pay on... a few sheep." I snort as I take another shot.
Dutch: "Y/n, Strauss, why don't you go along with John and ensure there ain't no funny business." I throw back another shot before standing up.
Y/n: "Yeah, sure." I stand up and glance at Arthur as he looked down and make my way out the door, John and Strauss right behind me. We begin to make our way back over to the sheep pen.
John: "What's goin on between you 2?"
Y/n: "What do you mean?"
John: "I mean he's been worse than his usual self since you stopped giving him attention."
Y/n: "I don't know, I'll talk to him when-" That's when I feel someone yank my arm and twist it behind my back.
'I forgot all about this part. Leviticus.' I try to scream and throw up a struggle when I feel a cold metal barrel get pressed to my temple.
'Shit.' I see the same thing has happened with Strauss and John. They drag us back over to the front of the bar. That's when I see Cornwall on his horse as he looks to the 3 of us and adjusts in his saddle seat.
Cornwall: "Van der Linde! Get out here. Get out here now!" The man holding a gun to my temple moves my hair to the side exposing my ear.
??: "I hear that the right hand man has a sweet spot for you." I focus my eyes and see Arthur peaking out the window and Dutch take a swig out of the brandy.
??: "I don't blame him, you sure are a pretty little thing." I begin to try and yank my arm free which causes him to click the barrel of the gun.
??: "I wouldn't do that when I have this gun so close to your head." He chuckles slightly in my ear. That's when I see Arthur and Dutch make there way out of the bar with there hands up. I have never seen Arthur's eye's fill with such rage and disgust as he did towards the man holding me.
Dutch: "Please, gentlemen, this is a terrible mistake. This is a case... of mistaken identity. What is worse... than admonishing a man... for the sins... of another? Who wants to be the Messiah? Not me... Nor do I want to be this "Dutch van der Linde," whomever he may be. I am Archibald Smith."
As if I could feel time itself slow I could see Arthur slowly yet skillfully pull out his gun and aim at each of the men holding us hostage. I could hear the bullet whizz my my head and into the man's skull as blood splattered on my backside. I stand in shock for a moment. That's when I reach for my revolver and start shooting in the madness. I run back behind a crate but not fast enough as a bullet whizzed by and grazed my thigh. I drop when I get to the crate. A burning feeling erupts from the open wound as blood begins to rush out. I whimper as I clutch my leg. That's when I see Arthur rush up to me.
Y/n: "This shit fucking hurts." I try to laugh out.
 Y/n: "I've never been shot before." I laugh as the pain causes tears to brim my eyes.
Arthur: "It's okay girl!" He tries to pull me up which fails as I plop back in the mud with a shooting pain. Arthur mutters and curses to himself. I look around before my eyes meet his worried ones.
Y/n: "Put me on your shoulder and I'll cover you as you put me on that wagon!" He nods as he hoists me on his shoulder with ease and puts his hand on my thigh to keep my in place. I unholster 1 of his gun's and duel wield. He makes his way to the wagon with ease as bullets skim by us. I slide off him as he puts his hand on my waist and helps me sit on the carriage. That's when I notice Strauss has also been shot and John griping and telling him to shut up. I laugh. I grip my leg as the shooting pain returns. I push my self up against the side of the carriage and begin to shoot people on the roofs.
Once we make it past the stables I hop off and limp my way over to the horses. Arthur carries Strauss and stows him on the back of John's.
Arthur: "You ain't ridin with that leg."
Y/n: "Well, I'm also not leaving you, so we better get this area cleared out before we hightail it out of here." I shift my weight on my legs to avoid the throbbing immense pressure.
Dutch: "Y/n's got a point, we need to leave and fast, we'll meet you both back in camp and we'll get everyone to move." We both nod our heads as they mount up and ride off.
Arthur: "Your the most stubborn person I have ever-"
Y/n: "Yeah, yeah let's just finish this up and leave." I switch to my carbine and begin to take aim and firing away. Takes us about 5 minutes before we created an opening for us to escape. He picks me up bridlestyle and carries me to his horse which causes a deep red blush to make it appearance on my face as my heart begins to flutter. He hoists me on his horse before he climbs in it. I clench my hands on his jacket. I feel a fat migraine make it's way as it gets hard to keep my eyes open.
Y/n: "I know this is a bad time, but I'm not mad at you." I sigh as I bury my face in his backside.
Arthur: "You are most definitely right about it being a bad time, but what do you mean?" He kicks his horse to go faster.
Y/n: "The way I've been treating you. It's because of Mary." He yanked back on the reins causing the horse to come to a skidding halt.
Arthur: "What?" He pants out moving in his saddle so he can look at me.
Y/n: "I'm upset you went to see her, but I feel I have no right." I look up at him.
Arthur: "We loved once, I won't deny it, but what we had has long since ended. I do still have feelings and I'm sorry I can't get rid of them. But I like what we have or had." He says.
Y/n: "I do too... I still feel horrible. Your the last person to have been treated that way. I like the way you make me feel and how you treat me."
Arthur: "How do I make you feel?"
Y/n: "Let's get to camp." I groan out holding my leg.
Arthur: "Y/n? You don't look so goo-" That's when I feel his hand grab me as I was beginning to slide off.
I was in and out for a while as I heard voices mainly his. Mainly Arthur cursing at people to hurry up as he paced back and forth with my and his belongings. Before I knew it I felt someone begin to take off my pants which caused me to flush red and sit up in a rush and grab there hands. I could barely focus as my head felt dizzy.
Tilly: "It's just me." I sigh and drop my entire weight back into the bed.
Y/n: "I'm sorry. I just don't feel so good." As if Tilly was some fairy god mother she had a bucket ready as she scoots it closer to where my head was resting. That's when every bit of alcohol I consumed came right up as a mix of heartburn and bread. She kept rolling my pants off and applying a wet cloth to my leg. The cooling feeling like an instant relief to my body that seemed to be roasting over an open volcano. She soon replaced the cool rag with new bandages and wrapped my leg.
Tilly: "Your leg will have a scar, but I'm sure it'll make for a cool story." She tries to lighten the mood by saying. I wipe my mouth and offer her a grin.
Y/n: "Thank you." I swing my leg over my bottom half.
Y/n: "Where's Arthur?"
Tilly: "Grumpy but him and Charles went to go scout out a new camping ground."
Y/n: "When isn't he? Does anyone need any help?"
Tilly: "Nothing we can't handle. Arthur will bite our heads off if we let you help with anything." I chuckle.
Y/n: "I'm sorry."
Tilly: "If...Well...He seems pretty attached to you." My heart flutters and my stomach does flips when she says that.
'Attached?'
Y/n: "What do you mean attached?" I look at her questioningly
Tilly: "I don't know what you guys have been going through, but he has been short fused since you started ignoring him."
Y/n: "I-"
Tilly: "Whatever it is, get over it." And with that she stands up and walks off, leaving me there to ponder.
'I never meant to upset him?'
That's when I see Javier come over to me.
Javier: "Let's get a move on, amor." He scoops me up in his arms.
Y/n: "I got to be honest, I love getting picked up like this." We both chuckle with each other. He sets me down right before the wagon seat. He keeps both hands on my hips as he boosts me up and I grip on to Dutch's hands as he pulls and then readjusts my leg as gently as he can. I wince a bit from the pain. With that Dutch talks to me a bit while everyone loads up and makes a few finishing touches and then we head out to Clemen's Point.
Once we pull up to Clemen's Point, Arthur was the first 1 over to me as he held out his hand to help me down. The air nothing but muggy and scornfully hot. I smile and grasp his rough hands tightly as I slowly begin to make my way down. Once my feet hit the ground I keep old of Arthur's hand even the they begin to clam up and my face turns a bright red. He helps me limp over to a log so that I can sit.
Y/n: "I owe you an apology." I say staring at the ground.
Arthur: "No..You don't. I know the way I've been treatin ya. I'm a fool. I think you'd be better off with someone who can treat you better." I squeeze his hand and turn to him.
Y/n: "Arthur, I don't want anyone else. I truly enjoy being around you. I'd be a dick if I told you that I don't want you to see her...I'm just frustrated because I'm jealous." Arthur cocks his head to the side.
Arthur: "Jealous? Of what?" My eyes widen as I stand up, but Arthur just yanks me down.
Y/n: "Jealous that she was able to steal your attention with just a letter." I mutter.
Arthur: "Okay..I thought I made it clear that you've had my attention since you joined." His gruff voice words out softly. My face flushes again as I look at him. His face did the same but he looked away from me.
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Y/n: "Yeah?" We both chuckle.
Y/n: "Fine, I will refrain from ignoring you." 
Arthur: "And I'll refrain from making you feel the way ya did."
Micah: "How come the lovebird's get to slouch while we all have to set the camp up.
Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth: "Shut up, Micah!
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kxllerclaws · 2 years
Note
💭 Charles memory for UFO because :)
Send me a “💭“ and your Muse will experience one of my Muse’s Memories
Energy was ever-present, visibly or otherwise. That which makes matter, ethereal or corporal, all consist of particles which form into one whole. Even portals, tears in the fabric of space, require something to hold them open, all before breaking off to allow them to close.
These atoms utilized for such a process often sit drifting about everywhere and anywhere, holding all forms of being together. However, should excess be brought into the equation, via conjuring or otherwise, there must be a use for the loose extras.
In such cases of cosmic tampering, anything was possible. And it just so happened to come in the form of a vision into the past, spurred on by sleep.
~~
Possibly to the UFO’s utter confusion, the vision started off in total darkness, with the soft sobs of a child being the only sound they could hear. Little by little, a picture did form, and alongside it, the usual sounds of a suburban area, particularly cars driving by and native wildlife singing their tunes.
They were situated in the middle of a playground. Or at least, the blacktop part of it. Should they glance back to the playset itself, they would find a bunch of elementary-grade kids hiding about in any nook or cranny they could find, warily staring in a certain direction. To them, it might seem like it was towards themself, and that they were actually present in the scene, but beyond them were two individuals: another child and a brunet man. The latter’s features were somewhat recognizable, especially the larger glasses and long mustache. Strangely, however, some details were off – particularly his eyes, which were hazel instead of brown.
While his appearance could be focused on for a time, his speech may have cut off these thoughts as he addressed the youth seated beside him, weeping lowly. A hand was situated on their shoulder for comfort, and he softly assured, “It’s alright now. They won’t be belittling you again anytime soon; I’ll make sure of that.”
The kid hiccupped a few times, sniffling and wiping at their eyes. Once their freckled face was visible, they looked to the elder, cheeks damp from the tears. “Bu-But… what they said… it has to be right. The name I want to be called… it’s stupid, isn’t it?” They sniffed.
Although there was no mouth to be seen on his face, the man was clearly frowning at the question. “I didn’t quite catch what it was, since I had only just come out to supervise you all… but I do not doubt for one second that it is anything but.” He spoke sternly, yet kindly, urging them by his tone to tell him, so he may assess it.
“Eirian.” The grade schooler stated. “I… I want to be Eirian. I just, don’t feel comfortable with the name I was given. I don’t feel like a boy, but I don’t feel like a girl, either.” Their head dipped. “I don’t… I don’t really feel like anything, really. Is… Is that weird? They all think it is…” Anxious green hues glanced up at him, awaiting his response.
Much to their relief, his features relaxed, and he calmly shook his head. “Of course not,” he guaranteed, “what you feel inside your heart – inside your soul – about what you identify as, whether it be male, female, or otherwise, is what you are meant to be.” He seemed to smile. “And if it changes? That’s perfectly fine, too. Gender is not black and white, no matter how many attempt to argue that it is.”
Albeit less upset than they were, the child shifted uneasily. “And my name…?” They looked expectant, hopeful.
“It’s wonderful.” Their blond hair was playfully ruffled, prompting a small laugh. “Just like you are.”
Once he had given him the encouragement he knew they fully deserved, the man rose from his crouched position beside them and turned to the playset. “Now, Eirian, wait right here. I’m going to go have a talk with your peers.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “I’m going to see to it that they treat you kindly and as an equal, just as they should with each other.” He momentarily peered over at them to ensure they were okay.
Steadily, Eirian stood up, and they nodded to him. “Okay, Mr. Martin. Thank you…” Shyly, they rubbed the back of their neck. There was a hint of nervousness on their face, likely unsure about how the confrontation was going to turn out.
‘Mr. Martin,’ so he was addressed, crossed his arms behind his back and flashed them one more smile. “You’re welcome. It’ll be alright, I assure you.”
As he turned and began strolling off towards the other kids, the scene melted away into darkness, bringing an end to the supposed dream. Whether or not the witness woke up afterwards was up to them.
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seasidepierre · 2 years
Note
OK so it's less of a paragraph and more like my thoughts thrown into words/bulletpoints ready to be written into an essay, where to start
the title, love it, rather than a pt 2 you gave it a similar name,more original
I like how pierre just knew by the way charles acted that something happened between them
I loved the like 5 different times kinda trope you incorporated, it was subtle.
I love how everyone treats tink, like I find it adorable that she's so loved and not just by ferrari but by the others, which links to the dinner. How everyone just knew what she likes etc, makes me think it's cuz charles talks about her so much that the others feel like they know practically everything about her now
how she was so enamoured by him that mattia was like don't forget to take pictures of carlos lol
how Charles wore her bracelet and then the mechanic like auto completed his sentence of she's not my girlfriend
and the memes! I take it we are talking about stuff like the fastest lap thing they have on their Instagram and the funny captions they have on others, but I see this being more frequent with tink doing it, it's something I'd do tbf
and then bumping into carlos after that with the excuse and how he just 'accepts' it all, I reckon that's when he first clocked it and then suggests it to other drivers. and the comment about wearing pants because of the struggle to revive charles, I just loved that, thought it was funny
and her friendship with pierre I loved!!! how he was so sweet with her too and the affection which is uncommon from him. The fact that she can talk about it all freely with him. The fact that he saved their asses with the hickey accident. Surely not the only time he's had to cover for them
and the dinner!!! asdfghjkl it was so sweet and very fitting for him to just swap desserts no questions asked but then the kiss leaving everyone in shock, I wouldn't know how to react, I feel like they covered it up well ish but obvs everyone already had suspicions, I think this solidified everyone's assumptions that they were indeed together, but then how he went on with kissing some of the others just to really sell it was great!
and I like how you allude but don't go into full detail and smut, more simplistic and like teasing
monza my beloved, and mattia with the little grins and nudges cuz he just knows, and how the mechanic is just like so chill about it like yep we been knew, but then Daniels comments all jokey omd I loved them like the cheating one or the stealing the trophy, and the trophy being her bday gift I would simply pass out, Daniel calling Charles babe! saying this is what he's missing :(
and then the final public reveal too with a short but sweet caption
I just loved it all, thanks for listening to my Ted talk :)
Xx
First of all: I love you so much you have no idea. This has MADE my night and I slept the entire night for the first time since Covid grabbed me by the neck. Entirely sure this was your doing. Even if it wasn't, I'll say it was. The fact that you took the time to write all of this? You deserve a crown. Here, it's yours queen, take it 👑
Omg let me answer in bullet points too because this was too good to be true last night but now I woke up and it's really true..?
I'm so glad you liked the title, it was my cheeky way of having a part 2 without having it called "part 2" lol
Listen, I love Piarles with all my heart, I don't think I ever will write Pierre and Charles mad at each other.
Gotta say thanks to my boo Rach at @parkerbunny she was the one who suggested it and it inspired me A LOT not gonna lie!
I live for the idea of a team sweetheart. I've always found it much easier to hang out with guys than girls, though I do have more girl friends than the other way, but I find it so cool to be one of the guys? Idk, it makes little sense, but that's why I also love the friends to lovers trope and that's why many of my characters are apart of a guy group at the beginning. And yes, that's totally what I hoped for with the dinner part. Charles talked so much about Tink that they all know her by heart anyway. Like sure they consider her as a friend but they don't hang out much during the race weekends so they don't know much about her.. except when Charles constantly raves about her.
Imagine being called out gently by Mattia? Ugh, I'd die of embarassment but thanks kind King for being gentle about it.
the mechanics are so fed up with him lmao they literally can't anymore the teasing is up to the roof lmao
We are absolutely talking about the unhinged memes of Charles throwing fast laps in the air lmao I just imagine Tink cackling behind her phone, making memes with her boyfriend's face and then showing them to him before he'd go "Oh God..." with his lil blushing cheeks??????? ugh.
Oh Carlos knows the SECOND he finds her in the hallway without pants. Like he's had his doubts but when she goes "yeah yeah i was just walking and oh my feet took me right in the hallway where Charles' room is, what a coincidence!!!" he's like "gurl, i'm a smooth operator, i'm no dumdum"
I think he listened to Charles' sappy rants enough to be happy that he finally stopped lmao. The girl who made Charles shut up? She's his bestie lol. Also, he's a tiny bit older to Charles and he's normally the baby of his brotherhood so taking the role of a big brother to Charles is probably making him happy, so if he can help and protect, he will!
You'd like his dessert? No probs queen, he'll swap, anything for you!! They didn't cover it well ish lmao, Charles being a drunk slut is not a cover up, they all already know at this point, they just played with them because it was way funnier to pretend like they had a hang on the situation. Also, I imagine Lando has roasting material for the next ten years thanks to the bro kisses.
I'm not entirely comfortable writing smut yet, though I'm absolutely PROUD of part 4 of pull me back to you because I stepped out of my comfort zone for that one. I'm slowly building myself up for it, though, so the teasing and allusions are a nice warm up!
Mattia has known for a while, now, but it's not his place to say anything. He smiles about it when the mechanics talk about you two and how oblivious you are to them actually knowing but he's always the one walming down everyone and reminding them that you'll come out to them when you feel ready to. He tries to help you find the assurance that nothing will change in your status within the team.
Daniel wouldn't be Daniel if he didn't tease them about finally coming clean. I feel like Charles is romantic to the CORE so him gifting her a trophy makes all the sense.
The Insta caption is just simple but effective (cue 1D war flashbacks)
Thanks again for this very comprehensive reaction post, it meant the world to me you have no idea!!!
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Hello! Sorry if my English is not as good 😅, but I really love your insightful thoughts about the characters and how you describe Comte 😍. If it's not an annoyance, I wanted to ask something about Charles (I know his route is not out yet and there is not much information about him). I've been seeing in some posts that Vlad did something to him in Dazai's route (i'm not sure what really happened) and i'm really curious about it, because even though it's known that Vlad uses his powers against his people, i can't really picture it due to the way Charles acts towards him with so much affection ?🤔 or admiration... (I guess it's because of his personality or trauma, behavior that it's different from Faust, who acts cautiously with Vlad) So it's something i'm truly curious about. Sorry for bothering you and Thank you!
Welcome welcome! Please don’t worry, I had no trouble at all understanding you, your English is great! ❤️❤️❤️ As for what I know about Charles, my information is limited due to the nature of his content so far--I haven’t seen a ton about him quite yet. But in Dazai’s route we get a glimpse into his situation due to his increased screentime there.  
I’m just going to put a spoilers warning here for Dazai’s JPN rt, since that’s where I’ve learned the most about Charles:
Charles is indeed a very affectionate and generally genki boy as far as interpretations go, but there are heavy implications that Vlad is manipulating him on a profound psychological level. I say this only because there is plenty of evidence that Charles’ behavior isn’t quite his own at points, and because Dazai himself proves it to be true.
One piece of information that is necessary before delving too deep is that Charles finds MC’s handkerchief at one point early on and develops a sudden curiosity/desire to see her. While a person could just assume he was curious, I don’t personally believe that curiosity went without surveillance or intervention--since Vlad was there the whole time.
My best guess is that Vlad wanted to find out more about MC and perhaps use her as bait to manipulate Dazai (or threaten Comte), but Dazai already offered him something interesting in wanting to warp the flow of time--so Charles’ relationship with her was only collateral in the end. While Charles did have some level of sincere feeling for MC, it’s later revealed that it was ostensibly an obsession and did not operate on a normal level of personable feeling.
The way Dazai further proves that Charles’ mind has been manipulated is that, when Dazai begins to suggest that Vlad is essentially a con-man that intends to use Charles for murder no matter the cost to his mental health, Charles reacts with unnatural distress. It’s not the kind of refusal a person would normally have at the suggestion of someone’s betrayal of their loyalty, where they reject it and are uneasy but otherwise aren’t physically controlled by the emotion. Charles seems unable to mentally handle the suggestion that Vlad’s intentions aren’t good at all--that he’s lying--to the point where Charles nearly collapses from the intensity of the dissonance between his own mind and the parts Vlad is forcing into obedience. 
There is also a scene following Charles’ intense mental distress where Vlad essentially interrogates Charles as to his loyalty, and gives the overtone that any kind of disobedience will be swiftly destroyed if he sees it. Faust tries to protect Charles as best he can, but his power is limited compared to Vlad’s.
Furthermore, Vlad is Charles’ sire (aka Charles’ creator as a vampire)--if he can command and manipulate Shakespeare as well as people extraneous to him so easily, I really doubt Charles would be beyond his control. The only reason Faust seems to have more agency and stability is that Faust is highly attached to his own internal emotional compass and what he believes in. (The keyword here is “seems”, if I’m honest I’m not 100% sure if Vlad isn’t still there in his mind, subtly manipulating him to the darker sides of his nature.) Charles, as much as I love him, seems even more susceptible to the emotional/motivational overtones of others around him. I mean Faust even uses a similar tactic to help Charles, in that he slowly walks him through to the solution, and Charles never once questions his judgement or thought process because it feels right to him. If you think about it Shakespeare is much the same way; he’s so obsessed with the creation of his plays and public reception to them that he is easily manipulated because he lacks personal grounding. Vincent, despite his gentle nature, is not half so susceptible to this manipulation because he is immovable at his core. There are moral lengths he will not go to no matter the intentionality, and his inspirations come from deep within. Even Dazai is too mentally strong to be controlled due to his immense love for other people. Vlad also cannot control him because he loves MC so deeply he would never betray that trust, the only single time he betrays it is when he seeks suicide (which is more about fighting his mental illness and self-harm than it is about hurting MC).
If I’m honest, I think Charles may want to believe in the best of Vlad. But I don’t think that necessarily means that Vlad is not manipulating him to his own ends, or that he isn’t causing Charles significant psychological distress/dissonance throughout the game. Charles seems like the type to want to believe in people even if he knows that belief might be misplaced. As for Vlad, I have little to no reason to believe he is not hurting Charles. He does not consider Charles his son in any capacity, and openly treats both Charles and Faust like tools to a greater end. With Vlad, only the results matter--the means are irrelevant.
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randomfandomimagine · 2 years
Text
How You Make Me Feel (Jake Peralta x Reader)
Characters: Jake Peralta, Charles Boyle
Fandom: Brooklyn 99
Tags: Mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and reader is super smitten
Word Count: 3,7k words
Summary: After Y/N has a nice gesture with Jake, his reaction causes a rollercoaster of emotions that culminate when he takes actions on how Y/N’s gesture made him feel.
AO3: Link
A/N: This is the last Jake fic for now, I promise! During my rewatch of the show, this idea has just been floating around my head for weeks until I finally managed to write and finish it! I’m just a sucker for Jake bottling his feelings up until he eventually opens up. I hope you lovelies like it!
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Jake Peralta x Gender Neutral Reader
Being Jake’s friend wasn’t always easy. He could be a lot sometimes, he was always busy, addicted to work… worst of all, sometimes you felt like you appreciated your friendship more than he did. Maybe because you were starting to suspect that the relationship had stopped being enough for you when those strong emotions arose in you.
Still, you wanted to be a good friend. For that reason, and knowing he was working many hours, you dropped by the precinct to visit Jake. Besides, you liked his coworkers, they were all very nice.
“Hello!” You greeted everyone, waving at Terry as you passed by his desk.
“Y/N” Charles said through grit teeth. “You’re here…”
“Relax, Boyle” Jake playfully told him, even as he turned to you. “You’re still my best friend”
“Take that, Y/N!”
“Good to see you too, Charles”
“What are you doing here?” Jake asked you, putting an end to your brief interaction with his friend.
“Well, my life is boring without your annoying presence” You teased him, dropping a paper bag in his desk. “And while I’m here, I wanted to bring you a little snack”
Jake grinned, excitedly opening the bag like a child on Christmas. He gasped in awe when he pulled out the cupcakes you had brought for him.
“Yes!” He exclaimed, veraciously biting one of them. “You’re the best, Y/N!”
Charles loudly cleared his throat, causing Jake to roll his eyes at him.
“You’re still my best friend, Boyle” He tiredly repeated, even offering him some of the food. “You know Y/N is Y/N”
“Is that good or bad?” You teased Jake, earning an adorable grin from him that made your heart race.
“Good, obviously, free food!” Jake’s playful tone turned to sweet. “You really didn’t have to do it”
“I know, but I wanted to” You shrugged, slightly flustered at the loving way with which he watched you. “You deserve to treat yourself, and since I care so much about you, I thought I could do it for you”
Jake sighed, staring at you for a moment. Then, however, his expression shifted. It changed from fond adoration to alarm and it finally settled on panic. Frowning in concern, you stared at him.
“Jake?” You called him, watching how he rolled his chair away from you. “What’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing” He nervously chuckled, rolling even further. “I just… remembered I have something to do in the, uh… in the break room”
“What…?” You couldn’t finish your sentence, because he had already jumped to his feet and rushed to the room, where he closed the door after him.
“What did you do to him?” Charles uttered, glancing from Jake to you in outrage.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“You’re smothering him, Y/N!”
Suddenly feeling anxious, as your nice and normal day had turned upside down, you backed away. A troubling feeling settled in your stomach, very different to the butterflies you usually felt around Jake. Deciding to let things be for now, you left the precinct and walked home, having some time to think about what happened.
_
Two days had passed. You didn’t have any news from Jake, even though you texted him and called him to no avail. A part of you feared that you had somehow upset him, that you had overwhelmed him and scared him away. You did have gestures like the one from the other da often, maybe they had become too much for him. The more you thought about it, the more you realized your affections could have smothered him. Sure, Charles was also a lot, but he didn’t have feelings for Jake. Maybe Jake had seen through your affection, realized that they were caused by something stronger than platonic love.
You had given him space, but you needed to see him again. That was why you were heading for Shaw’s. Like many other evenings, you expected to find the detectives of the 99 having a few drinks at the bar. However, you found with something unexpected.
“Y/N!” The very object of your thoughts came rushing outside of the bar. “What are you doing here?”
You gawked at Jake, suddenly speechless at the sight of him. The butterflies swum in your stomach, and you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself. How you had missed him, not knowing anything of him for two days... His contagious energy, his adorable smile... You shook your head to focus.
“Hi” You breathed out. “I was just hoping to catch you here… maybe we can talk? You seemed a little put off the other day”
“Uh…” Jake clenched his jaw, throwing furtive glances over his shoulder to the inside of the bar. “I don’t know about that...”
“I see” You made an effort to smile, to pretend like his refusal didn’t break your heart.
“But!” He piped up, showing you a nervous smile. “Maybe we could go grab a bite”
“There’s food inside… Besides, it’s really cold outside and-”
“But I really want to take a walk with you, Y/N!”
“So you want to be around me?”
“Y-Yeah… why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re not mad at me”
“Of course not, Y/N!”
“Then… you don’t want to talk about why you have been avoiding me?”
“Well...” He let out an awkward chuckle, looking over his shoulder again as he moved quickly to put an arm over your shoulders. “You know what? We could talk about… about... D-Die Hard”
You stared at him, completely baffled. Even if that movie was one of Jake’s favorite subjects, he was behaving in a strange way. You could tell there was something off.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing! I just don’t want to talk about that right now”
“Okay… but don’t you think it’s gonna be awkward between us?”
“Nah” He chuckled, but right after there came a very loud silence. “T-Title of your sex tape?”
“Jake, what the hell is going on with you lately?”
“What? Nothing, I’m normal, I’m cool…” He vehemently nodded. “Cool cool cool cool cool”
“Um…” You gulped, shifting in the spot as you tried to understand what was happening. “How about we just go inside and hang out with the rest?”
That would at least make it less awkward. Hopefully the others would help Jake loosen up, whatever his problem was. It worried you that his strange behavior had something to do with you.
You made to walk into the bar, your hand already resting over the doorknob. Just as you were about to swing it open, Jake stopped you.
“No, wait!” He exclaimed, startling you so much that you jumped slightly. “I… uh…”
“What’s the matter, Jake?” You insisted, turning to him in anguish.
“I suddenly got very dizzy” He put a hand over his eyes, heaving a sigh of exhaustion. “I actually feel a bit faint”
“Are you okay?” You rushed to stand beside him, urgently linking your arm with his and trying to keep him steady in case he faltered. “You do look a bit pale”
“Y-Yeah” He dangerously swayed, gulping in what you assumed was unwell.
“Jake!” You exclaimed, positioning yourself before him and firmly holding him by the shoulders.
Suddenly, you were very close together. You didn’t remember ever being this close to Jake, and it flustered you so much that you lost the ability to speak. Up close, you noticed his eyes were deep and beautiful, filled with a soft kindness that made your heart flutter. They had a light of their own.
“I’m okay” He assured, suddenly speaking in a whisper. Jake was staring into your eyes, and it made your cheeks burn. You hoped you weren’t blushing.
“Are you sure?” Frantically, you pressed your hand against his forehead. At least he didn’t have a fever.
“Yeah” Jake chuckled, moving your hand away. “I’m just a little... lightheaded”
You were too, but yours certainly had to do with the way he was staring at you and the fact that you were in love with Jake. A chuckle of disbelief escaped you. What a moment to realize how deep your feelings were. You didn’t just like him or have a crush on him. No, you were in love with Jake Peralta.
“I’m glad to hear that” You said to explain your outburst. “A-About you being okay, I mean”
Jake nodded his head, letting out a shaky exhale. His cheeks were now of a subtle pink shade. You frowned, fearing he was actually sick. Maybe he got cold, it was certainly freezing outside.
“Can we sit down?” He asked you, backing away much to your dismay. Or to your relief, you couldn’t tell.
“Yeah, sure... sure, sit down and rest for a moment”
Jake plopped down on the side of the pavement, sighing in relief. Begging your enamored mind to behave, you towered over him for a moment. Thinking of ways to help him, you stood there in deep thought.
“Do you want a glass of water?” You motioned over to the bar. “I could go in and get one for you”
“No, no, no! It’s fine, I just...” He immediately took your hand to stop you, making it hard for you not to gasp at the sudden and intimate gesture. “Stay with me, will you? I… don’t want to be alone”
“Sure, I’ll stay with you, you look a little under the weather” You slowly sat by him, which seemed to reassure him. “Is that why you’re being weird?”
“Yeah, I… I guess I just feel a little weird”
“You… you can…” You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling very shy under his gaze as well as by the offer you were about to make. “You can rest your head in my shoulder, it might help with your dizziness”
He stared at you for a moment. Then, and without a word, he slowly leaned his head against your shoulder. Taking advantage of the fact that he couldn’t see you, you allowed yourself to smile at the closeness. If only you could tell him how you felt. You had to. After things had settled a little, you would. He didn’t seem too bothered by your presence any more after all.
“Better?”
“Yeah” He lightly nuzzled your shoulder. “Much better”
You stood very still, still a bit tense around him while at the same time fearing that he would move if you did. Jake suddenly patted your knee, chuckling in a cute way.
“Relax, Y/N, don’t worry about me”
“I always do, Jakey… You know I care about you”
Another silence arrived, and you wished you could read his mind. Were you smothering him again? You gulped when you made the sudden connection that those were the very words that made him freak out last time. 
Worried, you opened your mouth to say something else. You didn’t know what, but you needed to fix it before he distanced himself from you again.
“Jake?” Charles suddenly poked his head out of the bar, staring at the two of you. “It’s ready, you can come in now”
“What are you talking about?” You muttered, wondering if you had somehow stumbled upon some sort of police work. At least, that would explain Jake’s strange demeanor.
“You’ll see” Jake replied, taking a deep breath as he softly pulled you up.
Your heart began racing. Moving in a daze, you stood to your feet and looked at the two of them. Both Jake and Charles were smiling, sharing a look of rapport that somehow had a fondness to it.
Following after them, you finally stepped into the bar. As soon as you did, you pressed your hands against your mouth to suffocate a yelp. Everyone in there yelled ‘surprise!’ and welcomed you with bright faces and big smiles.
Trying to understand, now more than ever, you gazed around. Hanging from the ceiling was a big banner that read ‘you’re the best, Y/N’ and the entire bar was full of decorations. You could see your favorite colors everywhere. As well as that, the tables were filled with your favorite foods and drinks. Like that wasn’t enough, it was when you glanced back at the people there staring at you that you realized it wasn’t just the 99 there. All your friends were there, even some that you were sure you hadn’t introduced to Jake and the others yet.
“Surprise!” Jake grinned at you. “I realized how cool and sweet you are, how you’re always having those little gestures of yours and I wanted to do something for you for a change”
“It was my idea!” Charles intervened, beaming as he looked from him to you. His sudden change of mind seemed suspicious, but your mind was too busy with the actual party to think too much about that.
“Yeah, Boyle helped me figure out what I could do to thank you for everything”
Mouth agape, you turned to Jake. All you could do was gawk at him. A few hours ago you thought he hated you, or at the very least that he was very annoyed with you and needed some time away from you. Now, he was making a big display of his affection for you, with all the people you loved and all your favorite things. Even if he hadn’t put that much effort into it, the thought alone rattled you. The fact that he had gone out of his way to surprise you, to do something so beautiful for you…
“You” Was all you could mumble, trembling slightly as the sudden urge to cry reached you.
“I know, I know” Jake showed you a forced grin, opening his arms and readying for a hug. “I’m the best and you loved the surprise”
A part of you wanted to throw your arms around his neck and hug him tight, but the other part wanted to run away. After those awful those days, finally finding him and talking to him to only worry about him being sick to then him pulling that stunt...
It all become too much.
Only dedicating an apologetic gesture to all the people there, you ran out of the bar. Tears were already feeling your eyes, and your chest burned with a new sensation that felt like an extension of the love you had for Jake.
Astonished, you sat down in the sidewalk in a daze and tried to take everything in. To breathe, since it had suddenly become a little hard.
It all started making sense. Why Jake was so adamant on not letting you go inside the bar, why he was acting so weird...  Was he distracting you until everything was ready? So he wasn’t sick… and that moment you had shared when you thought he was...
“Y/N?” His voice startled you again, but you didn’t look his way.Turning your head, you wiped your tears in embarrassment.
A brief moment of stillness followed. After a bit of hesitance, Jake finally joined you in the sidewalk. When he did, that prior moment of sitting there with him seemed to linger with you, and you felt all those emotions you felt before, with one exception. While that fondness for him had doubled, so had your confusion mixed with some anger and frustration.
“We’re back here again” He joked, surely hoping he could break the ice that way.
None of you talked for a moment. None of you moved for several seconds either. The only change came from Jake, who sighed and put his leather jacket over your shoulders as you shrunk over yourself in a mixture of cold and shock. Even after that endearing gesture, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. That was, until Jake piped up again.
“Come on, Y/N…” There was no trace of his playful and joking tone anymore, replaced with a serious and slightly worried one. “Can you talk to me? At least say something”
You pursed your lips, finding that you couldn’t keep it all in anymore.
“No! You scared me!” You repeatedly punched him in the arm, punctuating each word with a new hit. “I thought you hated me and then you insist on staying with me and then you come up with this? I’m freaking out!”
“Ow, ow, okay! I can see that!” Jake took you by the wrists, putting an end to your attack. “I’m sorry!”
“Explain yourself, Peralta”
“You called me Peralta… am I in trouble, Y/N?”
“Jake...”
“I know, I messed up… it’s all my fault…” He realized he was still holding on to your wrists, so he immediately let go of you. For the first time, it angered you to miss his warm touch. “I know you’re mad at me, and the surprise only made you more angry. I see that now”
“What? No…” You finally turned to him, becoming flustered once more when you locked eyes. “That’s not why I ran away”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I was overwhelmed! A second before that I was tense and scared and worried, and the next I realize it was all a diversion to finish preparing a surprise party for me?”
“Rollercoaster of emotions, huh?” He smiled, but stopped doing so when he saw your expression of annoyance. “My bad...”
“I’m still mad at you!” Conveniently, you decided to leave out the part where you were profoundly relieved that everything was okay between you two. “You couldn’t have told me that everything was okay? Answer my calls or my texts?”
“I know, and I’m sorry!” Jake sighed, somehow in a similar way that he did when you thought he was sick. “I was just worried that if I talked to you, I would tell you and ruin the surprise, I was so excited about it! I could finally make you feel the way you’ve been making me feel all this time”
You tilted your head, watching him and considering if his words made up for it.
“Keep talking...”
“Look” Jake sighed, daring to gently rest his hand over yours. Whether he knew it or not, that greatly soothed your anger. “When you brought me food the other day, I just realized how much I care about you and how it made me feel and… I freaked out”
“How it made you feel?”
“I.. uh… well...”
“Jake?”
“There’s a small chance that I have.. feelings for you” He quickly said, letting go of your hand and timidly averting his gaze. “Like... I like like you”
“You like me?” Your expression of astonishment and confusion turned to an amused smugness. “You like me… you… like like me”
“I can’t help it! The way you always look after me, and you’re so sweet and so beautiful... and you’re super smart and fun and...”
“Jake...” You tilted your head, watching him in adoration.
“Stop looking at me like that, Y/N...”
“You like me...”
“Fine!” Jake suddenly erupted in loudness. “I’m so lost in love with you that I couldn’t even find my way with a map, happy?”
“Yes, I am” You chuckled, now overwhelmed with joy. “I’m just... surprised that you told me”
“That’s Boyle’s fault” Jake rolled his eyes, still avoiding your gaze. “The other day he told me that you probably liked me and I was already thinking the same thing”
“That’s why he was so nice to me today, and why he helped you prepare all that” You glanced at the bar, remembering about the party. Despite it all, you chuckled at Charles’ demeanor. “He realized I don’t want to take his spot as your best friend”
“No, he’s actually really excited about the thought of us together” Jake bit his lip, frowning with a vulnerable expression that made you even softer for him. “Just... pretend I didn’t say anything, okay?”
“What, why?”
“Because I know I haven’t been the best, and you’re probably still too overwhelmed to say anything in return” Jake clicking his tongue in annoyance to himself. “I don’t want to pressure you on top of all, you’ve been having a bad few days because of me and after confessing my feelings for you I understand that you’re not ready to-”
“Jake?”
“Yeah”
“Shut up”
Before he could object, you placed your hand on his nape and smashed your lips against his. You surprised even yourself with the impulsive movement. Jake even yelped against your mouth, but relaxed instantly after. His hand came to cup your cheek, and for the first time the contact didn’t feel shocking or flustering to you. It felt right, it felt comfortable and warm and magical.  
Your lips danced at the unison, filling you with more butterflies that you thought possible. It was a passionate but tender kiss, imbued with all those things you hadn’t told each other. You didn’t need words any more. Your answer and your reciprocal confession was written in the loving way you lingered. You could read his apology in the way he sweetly held you against him. You poured your forgiveness in the exchange, expressing relief and happiness and adoration only with your lips and with your hands on his neck and on his chest. He in turn reciprocated with his other hand falling on your hip, delicately squeezing to express his love.
Reminding you that there existed life outside of you and him, Jake breathlessly pulled away. You felt out of breath too. He happily chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.
“Wow… I’m light-headed again” He moved away to properly gaze into your eyes.
“Stupid” You chuckled at his joke, taking your hand off his neck but refusing to let go of his shirt. “You weren’t even sick”
“But I was dizzy” He gravely told you. “That’s what how you make me feel… i-in a good way, of course”
You grinned, so wide that your cheeks hurt. It seemed like the tables had turned and now he was the flustered one.
“C’mon, Peralta” You playfully said, taking his hand and standing to your feet, dragging him with you. “Let’s go inside to enjoy my party before you get too sappy”
“Too late, you’re the love of my life!” He exclaimed, even if he violently blushed after his outburst.
“You don’t have a middle point, do you?” You said, kissing his cheek to calm him.
Jake shrugged, following you into the bar. People were still waiting at Shaw’s, ready to get the party started once you returned.
Somehow, you were very tranquil now. Maybe it was the relief of knowing things were definitely okay with Jake. More than okay, in fact. Or maybe that rush of happiness, excitement and confidence was just how he made you feel.
Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist
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exfoxforfrogs · 2 years
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Help to blame
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Diluc x favonius assistant gn!reader
Warnings: solution to an argument
part 1 here
Synopsis: You try to help Diluc lighten his workload, but he turns his stress against you, hurting your feelings with it. You set him straight in anger and storm away. Now he is burried deep in guilt, the question is if he will ever succefully apologize
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes: whowie, actually a part 2! I honestly didnt expect people liking the first one so much (45 notes is a lot when thats the second thing u ever post, okay?) so today I found the motivation to finish it. Turned from “could be platonic” to “no way this aint romatic”. What can I say, I am a simp for this man.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The vineyard bloomed in the fresh spring winds, not caring about its owners heavy heart. If anything, the contrast made Diluc sigh more frequently, reminding him of how unfairly he treated such a sweet person. He didn't care that his workload almost doubled because of it, felt like it was well deserved on his end, but it didn't ease his guilt.
He wanted nothing more than to solve this, to apologize and get back the sunshine person that you were. It felt strange to not get greeted by sparkling eyes whenever he walked into the Favonius headquarters. He missed the conversations at Angel's Share that kept him entertained while dealing with customers. He felt a void crawl at his chest at the realization of how much comfort you actually were in his life and that he needed a petty argument to notice it.
Still, he kept quiet and avoided you like wildfire. He was afraid of you not accepting his apology, his guilt convincing him youd have no reason to do so. Maybe childish of him to think so, but he'd rather hope than get rejected. 
Two weeks went by like this, nothing changed in the eyes of a stranger. Two weeks, when you showed up in Angel's Share. Honestly you hoped youd find Charles behind the counter... no, actually, that wasnt honest, but still, you've seen no attempt, no regret from Diluc, so why cross paths.
"What can I help you with?" his voice was softer, quieter than you remember, but it was enough to make you not flee immediately.
"Just some papers... the new oak barrels ordered... the contract..." you did not look at his face while fumbling with not just the papers you were supposed to hand over. You didn't even do anything wrong, still you couldnt stop your hands from shaking.
"Thank you, Y/N" he put down the vine bottle he was holding. The void screamed at him so loud inside - seeing how the usual cheerfulness was replaced by so much sadness on your face because of him. Couldnt decide if it was worse to see you like this or when you were angry, either way his heart could barely handle it. He reached out to take the contract you slid over on the counter. "Actually wanted to check on this matter today... you always know how to help" those last words were quiet, barely reaching your ears but making you pick your head up and freeze non the less.
"I'm..." what are you supposed to say to that? Was that the apology? At least now it seemed like he was trying to mend things but... that was it? The anger you felt weeks ago started to resurface. 
"Diluc Ragnvindr" his hand whinced back a little at your stern voice. "You are coming with me. Yes, right now" you saw the unasked question in his eyes. "I'm done dancing on fire and I'm sure you don't want to have this conversarion in front of your patrons." Your hands were crossed over your chest and even tho you managed a level head voice, it resulted in such cold demeanor, Diluc barely recognised you behind it. 
"Of course" was all he managed, put the papers under the counter, waved at his workers to show he will be out for a bit and than followed you out. He felt like a scolded child, the weeks of guilt poking at his throat, but he was determined to use this opportunity right.
"So?" you suddenly turned around when you arrived in an alley behind the bar. Maybe he wasnt as prepared as he thought, staing into those eyes he liked to see shine, now furrowed. After long moments of silence he cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from your face. 
"I am... I didn't mean when..." he mentally slapped himself. What a great way to start. The big breath he took made his eyes shut. "I didn't mean what I said that day. I am so sorry for taking your help for granted, I..." he felt a hand squeezing at his arm which stopped him from rambling on and made him look up. His eyes widened with panic at your teary eyes.
"I thought you didn't care" you admitted while gently holding on to his bicep. You wiped the escaped tears with your free fingers and smiled. Diluc could have swore the sun started to shine brighter. "Im also sorry for blowing up on you" the smile turned sheepish, but the red head still soaked it up with joy, like he was trying to make up for the days missing.
"There is nothing to apologize for you, Y/N" he took your hand off his arm and held onto it longer than he meant to. Why is it so soft? He came back to reality when he heared you chuckle and say probably because you had good skincare routines, voice a tad teasing. In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, he exsused himself and went back to the bar, but even when he walked in the door, his face was still noticeably pink, to the delight of Kaeya, who now had new material to tease his brother with.
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i’m not her - ts pt.2
here it is 😌 i was honestly like taken aback by the reception of this but like yolo
i rewrote the second half bc i forgot to save it originally (i almost cried) so there may be some big revisions in the next few days
continuity error with the obe but it doesn’t really matter? i switched it to mid series 3 for angstier purposes but billy is...there/mentioned v briefly?
avoiding dialogue be like: this fic 🥳
tommy shelby x fem!reader
part 1 part 3
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tommy was trying. stopping himself from scolding charles for his favorite term for you, “mama,” attempting to be more present, more attentive. and he was a better husband, for a bit.
he was at family dinners, he was in bed at reasonable hours, spending weekends he could spare with you and charlie and the horses. but then, as always, tommy shelby’s ambition got the best of him. the russians. he had gotten himself involved with the fucking russians.
before his latest venture, you had been complete, so content in his new presence, you had spent time with linda, absolutely doting on billy, while just about tolerating his mother, having fun with esme, visiting ada. you truly were happy, now, and everyone was glad to see it- you were practically glowing.
polly, who you had weekly tea with, even told you how worried she had been, but so glad to see her nephew had gotten some sense and truly started to treat you the way you deserved. it wasn’t to feel posh, but rather to check in. no longer were all the shelby’s accessible on watery lane, and you liked to keep up, like old times. 
you felt like you were walking on clouds, your heart, already so full, felt ready to burst, your eyes were happier, less vacant- even tommy had noticed.
you felt like it had all been ripped away as tommy dealt with the russians- as a russian princess stayed in your home, half nude and aggressive, as charlie was taken, a fear more intense than anything before gripped you, as tensions grew and he went back to the tunnels, and as he was beaten, on the brink of death. it escaped him this time, thankfully, but you couldn’t be so sure he would the next time. because with tommy shelby, there would always be a next time.
this series of events came unknowingly. tommy was acting strange, even for being tommy, but it wasn’t too unusual: just more cigarettes, more thinking, just less dinners, less time. 
you could probably place blame on arthur and linda for your discovery, and while it would’ve been true, you know that it wasn’t really on them. it could even have partially been john’s fault, really. but no. it all came down to tommy. 
when tommy had told you he was taking the boys out with him hunting, barely mentioning his father’s death in passing, you nodded, consoling him slightly. you remembered arthur sr., and not very fondly, but losing anyone is hard, so you encouraged the trip. 
you stayed at the betting shop with the girls, while not exactly participating in the rebellion, coming along, making jokes, and living a little. it was nice, even if just for a little bit. 
after that bit, you were surprised to see arthur back so soon, sitting in the parlor, nonetheless, you all joined, sitting and chatting until John came, with charlie in his arms. charlie, who upon spotting you in the full parlor, started making grabby hands, babbling “mama!” your heart was so warmed, so full that you hadn’t noticed john sneak off with arthur, nor questioned why exactly charlie was with you, or where tommy was. 
in the kitchen, john shared everything; the strange but attractive woman, his orders from tom to put the nail in the tire, gathering his nephew into the car. arthur simply responded, 
“i’ve got a bad feeling about this, john. ‘bout this whole deal with the fuckin’ russians. ”
john agreed, but they were interrupted by linda, who had overheard. 
“you boys aught to tell her, you know. adultery is a sin, especially on good friday.” john laughed in disbelief, then headed over to wherever esme had found herself to be. 
arthur mumbled a somewhat cohesive response, not really wanting to meet your eyes as the pair returned to the parlor. 
when you announced that you would be taking charlie and yourself back home, to arrow house, linda gave arthur a pointed look and he insisted that he drive you back. 
the drive was quiet, mostly for the sake of the toddler in your arms, but you made small conversation, though arthur was practically stiff as a board, tension and anxiety radiating off of him. 
nothing had prepared you for what you would see. never had you anticipated to see what you had upon entering your home. arrow house had finally started to feel that way, like it was yours, and that it was a home, a place with love, support. and it was all ripped away once you reached your foyer. 
there was a woman, with dark hair and dark eyes, practically naked, looking deranged and standing in front of her, too close, was tommy. you wanted to pass it off as an unwelcome visitor, simply out of their mind drunk, or just unaware of their actions, but as you truly looked at your husband, you took in his bare feet, his tousled hair, his lack of a proper shirt, not even a vest or his jacket.
you could tell they had been yelling before you had entered. everyone had tensed with your presence. mary was stood on the stairs, frozen, tommy was still, turning towards you, but looking onto you in disbelief, though he masked his shock at least a little. you were supposed to be at polly’s, his son certainly wasn’t supposed to be there either. and then that woman, didn’t even have the decency to look surprised. in fact, if anything, she looked smug, not trying to step away from your husband, even though he had stepped towards you.
you couldn’t have stopped the tears if you had even tried.
his hand was held up defensively, as if you were a wild mare, his words attempting to calm you, but you couldn’t hear them. you could only focus on your husband, indecently dressed and the company of the smug woman, with the dark eyes.
mary made a move to try and take charles to his room, this wasn’t a suitable scene for him, but you refused to let him go.
arthur was trying to lead you away but you wouldn’t budge. you just couldn’t stop staring, and crying, the tears streaming ceaselessly.
nobody really knew what to do until charlie mumbled out “mama” in his sleep, to which you just pressed soft kisses to his head, managing to keep your voice steady with,
“i’m here charlie love, i’m here,” and he settled.
tommy reached out again to touch your shoulder, but you didn’t even realize how you flinched, stepping back a little bit.
he certainly did, and his heart ached at the sight.
arthur put his arm around you and led you out to the door. when tommy called out, “arthur- arthur, wait!” angrily, a slight hint of desperation in his tone, arthur gently pushed you towards the car, then turned to his brother.
“no, tom. you stay right here, brother. you stay right fuckin’ here!” spit flew, arthur making his anger known, before getting back to the car.
when arthur got back to the car, you were sobbing, and he did his best to console you, but he knew that what he would share wouldn’t help. it wouldn’t matter that they would be £150,000 richer, or that tommy had said this would be the “last job,” he had betrayed you, and there was possibly no going back now. this couldn’t be written off as “just business,” this was so much more.
arthur made the decision to take you back to polly’s. he loved linda- at least he thought he loved her, but knew that bringing you back to their home would result in more shame. the last thing you needed was to hear about the massive sin that was committing adultery during a holy time; you needed polly, once again, because thomas had broken your heart, once again.
polly swore her heart broke when she saw the state of you, taking charlie and putting him in a spare room, then holding you in her arms as you sobbed, this time it being all too much. you didn’t know what to do with your pain because it felt like it had consumed you, and so she let you cry it all out.
she would most definitely be having more than a talk with tommy, even if she hadn’t known what he had done this time, she knew it was worse than ever before.
if only she knew.
tommy was alone in his office. he tried drinking, but threw the glass across the room in frustration, then started tearing up his shelves, throwing himself around, shouting out in anger.
he had been better. he was a good husband, and he saw how your mood had improved. he did notice these things, because with your own happiness came his- he was feeling lighter too, he was feeling content, but then tommy shelby wanted more. once again convinced himself he wasn’t worthy of love, that you were there out of pity out of necessity, and he betrayed you. he thought it was “just business,” but it wasn’t. it didn’t matter that he at least hadn’t done it in your bed, he still did it: and did it in your shared home, too.
he was worried for your safety, but he knew arthur wouldn’t let anything happen. he trusted his brother.
he didn’t want to face his family right now. not exactly knowing how he knew, but he would know this wouldn’t stay as a private matter- even if you hadn’t said anything, desperately not wanting to share what you saw, his family would. and they all currently knew, cursing his name. once you had fallen asleep, poll had gone on a rampage, calling her nephews, searching for answers; and answers she found. arthur picked up the phone, and though he was slurring his words, the message was more than clear.
polly gasped in shock and almost left him on the line- not that he would’ve noticed, but the magnitude of the situation truly hit.
this wouldn’t be like last time.
this couldn’t be helped with more dinners, more time, more weekends. this was much deeper than anything before- before tommy hadn’t promised himself to you. but you were married now, and he had gone and broken your heart beyond repair.
she lit a cigarette, allowing her to take some respite amongst the sharp smoke, and called tommy, knowing he would answer.
her sharp words and anger, almost hatred present as tommy could do nothing but pretend he wasn’t hurting.
“i hope you rot with misery! all you ever do is think with your cock, thomas! after everything that woman has done for you, for charles, your son, and you go and stomp on her heart- again might i add. you were never there thomas, but i was, and i had hoped, and i had prayed, that you had turned a new leaf, that you were giving her- your fucking wife, what she fucking deserves, and you go and break her heart again. you spat on your marriage. that girl has given everything to you tom. do you know how many men courted her while you were absent with others? how suitable they had been? how happy she could’ve been if she had just married any one of them years ago! she’d have everything she deserves, but no. you selfishly always kept her close, but not close enough, and now you’ve gone and shot it all to hell!”
after she finally paused, he simply said, “is that all polly?” like it was a business meeting. she told him to go fuck himself. kin or not he had done a terrible thing, and so she hung up.
tommy felt shame and guilt, like when killing the stag just earlier that day. if only he were still out on a hunting trip, not sitting alone in arrow house, cold, and ashamed. but no, tommy shelby had gone and fucked it all up, once again, and was alone.
usually, when he was alone, he never was truly solitary, not for long, because there was always support. your support. and so, tommy didn’t sleep, images of your face relaying through his mind, your eyes so broken, and he cried.
thomas shelby cried- real tears, big fat elephant tears, a vulnerability so rare, that the maids outside the door scurried away, scared of what would happen if discovered. and he cried himself to sleep, in his office which looked like it had been through hell, in his stiff chair, alone.
from now on, alone.
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Yet Another Rewrite (Part 2)
For the thomstair appreciation week by @youngreckless ik it's over. Sorry I'm late :(
You can read part 1 here then come back and read this one.
Thomas and Alastair working things out part 2. Enjoy!
Tw: mentions of racism, bullying, abuse, colonialism
"Even our angels have mercy, Thomas." His voice was hollow now. 
Despair threatened to pull him under. It wasn't worth it. Anything. He would always be like this. It was a miracle even Cordelia was able to look him in the eye without hate. He did deserve this, he thought, settling back on his bed, all the fight drained. He deserved every blow and every bruise he'd inflicted on others.
Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa 
Funny that he now remembered his Latin lessons.
The bed dipped under Thomas's heavier weight, and he felt a flash of warmth when hesitant fingers crept over his skin. Too close. He was too close. 
Let go, he wanted to say, but lies seemed to evade him whenever Thomas Lightwood was present. His eyes looked dark brown in the dim lighting. There were  dents on his bottom lip where he must have bitten it. It took everything in him to not let his hands rise and trace the lines of his jaw.
"I remember Paris."
Alastair's eyes widened. He sat frozen, and Thomas took that as his cue to continue. "You were kind to me when I was very alone, and I am grateful." He looked up, face a bit red. "It was the first time I realized you could be kind.”
He tried not to let the last comment needle him. “It is my favorite memory of Paris as well.”
“You don’t have to say that. I know you were there with Charles.”
His jaw went tight. Not that. Anything but that. "Charles Fairchild? What about him?”
Thomas cocked his head to the side, his expression innocent. “Wouldn’t that be your best memory of Paris?”
“Exactly what are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything." His tone indicated the exact opposite though. Cheeky little–
"I’ve seen the way you look at Charles, the way he looks at you. I’m not an idiot, Alastair, and I’m asking …” Thomas shook his head, sighing. 
He was going to say it. Right here. Angel help him.
“I suppose I’m asking if you’re like me.”
There it was. 
Perhaps he could salvage this conversation. He gathered his thoughts, straightened out of his slouching position.
“Thomas Lightwood,” he said. “I am nothing like you."
Thomas stared as if he'd been clubbed on the head, eyes dazed in shock again. He was shuffling from side to side, probably preparing to launch himself far, far away from him.
A bit more effort, dâdâsh, Layla said in his head, amused and exasperated.
Right. “I am nothing like you, Thomas." His breathing was faltering again, throat closing up, fighting against the vulnerability he was exposing. “Because you are one of the better people I have ever known. You have a kind nature and a heart like some knight out of legend. Brave and proud and true and strong. All of it.” 
He smiled bitterly. “And all the time you have known me, I have been a terrible person. So, you see. We are nothing at all alike.”
His head snapped up, surprise etched on his features. His eyes started twinkling again. What was he doing to him? Even looking at him made Alastair want to smile. 
He hadn't wanted to smile in a long, long time.
"I'm not—" Thomas broke off. "That's not what I meant."
Don't I know that, eshgham? "I know what you meant." His voice had softened. The words hung in the air for a moment. But he needed some answers of his own now. "How did you know about Charles?"
“You wouldn’t tell me what you were doing in Paris,” Thomas replied. Alastair thought he heard a note of hurt in his voice, but promptly dismissed the notion. “But you mentioned Charles, over and over again, like you got pleasure out of just saying his name. And when you came to London this summer, I saw the way you looked at him. I know what it is to have to hide the—the signs of affection.”
“Then I imagine you may have noticed I don’t look at Charles that way anymore.”
What did you just say, Carstairs? Admitting to your own failures now? Couldn't even hold on to first love?
His jaw tightened again. Get out of my head, baba. Charles. Get out, both of you.
“I suppose I did,” Thomas said. “Though for the past four months, I’ve been trying not to look at you. I told myself I hated you. But I could never really make myself. When Elias died, all I could think about was you. What you must be feeling.”
His father's name reopened the gashes on his heart. Heat sparked behind his eyelids. “I insulted your father and blackened his name. You were under no obligation to care about mine.”
“I know, but sometimes I think that it is much harder to lose someone who we are on bad terms with than it is to lose someone with whom all is well.”
“Bloody hell, Thomas. You should hate me, not be thinking about what I must be feeling—” Alastair passed a hand over his face. It came back wet with tears. He didn’t even know when that happened. He’d never had an audience for his crying before. 
"But I do," said Thomas softly. His fingers ghosted higher along Alastair's wrist, making his heart skip a beat. Once, twice, three times.
Bewildered, he marvelled at the sensation such a small touch could cause. 
"I'm sorry." Thomas's voice was soft, filled with guilt. His head bowed as if in prayer. "I—what you said. What happened at school." His gaze trailed over Alastair's features, and he shook his head. "I always found you beautiful. Then and now. I didn't know people hated how you looked. You're like a poem, but in human form."
"Poem," Alastair repeated numbly. If his brain had short-circuited before, it was blown to bits now. No one had ever called him that.
Charles had called him a beautiful secret. His safe haven. His comfort and best friend.
Never a poem.
"Yes." Thomas's cheeks were slowly flushing rose. Another nice contrast with his skin and hair. "Graceful. Elegant. Confident. You were always so poised and sharp. Like one of Jamie's knives. You were smart, managed to turn people over. They listened to you. Look what you did just now. I didn't know what to do. If I wanted you. Or if I wanted to be you. Remember when I followed you around school?"
Alastair's rusty throat muscles regained a bit of their ability. He wanted me? It wasn’t the best, but it was okay. Charles had wanted him. It hadn’t been too bad. Until the end. Until the horror of his actions had dawned on him. Until he realized that all his time spent with Charles had been wasted in tending to his needs, not Alastair’s. He hadn’t even known a relationship required his own needs to be taken care of. That it was a necessity. 
"I remember,” he managed. “Then I met you in Paris and you’d grown up and turned into Michelangelo’s David. I thought you were beautiful. But I was still caught up with Charles—” He broke off, regret weighting his stomach. “Just another thing I’ve wasted. Your regard for me. I wasted my time and my affection on Charles. I wasted my chance with you.”
Thomas blinked. And blinked. And blinked. A pulse had started in the base of his neck, thudding against the delicate skin. Alastair raised his eyes only to find him already staring. 
"Thomas?" His name tasted strange on his tongue.
"You said angels too have mercy," he said in answer. "I—I must apologize. I'll admit I didn't know how people treated your family. I have been sheltered in that regard."
"You must know where those indigo-dyed silks came from," said Alastair softly. They were from India. Ariadne had mentioned it during their little dance, the news that had trickled in. The brown-skinned, hollow-eyed servants brought in for labour by mundanes and Shadowhunters alike. "Or why England never has a shortage of adamas, but my country does." 
That one was still going on. Britain liked guising their nefarious schemes behind offers of trade. 
He released a sigh, shaking his head in despondence. "They never tell you. Layla and I knew because we saw it happen; we know our histories ever since we could walk and talk. And it still happens. It's more than demons and humans for us. It’s always been that way." He held one brown hand up to the light, and Thomas’s eyes followed. “This isn’t apparently how we were supposed to look. I tried changing that, and it did work for sometime but.. I hated myself even then. I hated my family and my culture and my books. Do you flinch from your own face, Thomas? I always did. Still do, sometimes. 
“I hate that my skin isn’t like yours. If it was, perhaps people wouldn’t have said so many things. Perhaps I wouldn’t have as many bruises.” He leaned his head back against the wall, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “In another life, perhaps we would’ve had our chance, you and I.”
His words ended with a plaintive note; the bone-deep weariness that there was nothing he could do, aside from ripping off his own skin or trying to be like his father. In appearance, at least. They remained silent for a long while, but it was the thoughtful sort. Alastair didn't know how many hours he passed by just counting the cracks in the walls when Thomas's voice pierced the quiet.
"Teach me."
He jerked awake. "What?"
"You said there are things I don't know about you. About where you come from and what you and Cordelia have to face. And… perhaps I'd like to know. I'd like to understand how the world works." A small smile ticked up the corners of his mouth, and Alastair found himself besotted by the expression.
By the Angel. Definitely not coming out in one piece.
"You'd like to… umm…" Words had fled when he'd needed them most. Damn you, Thomas. 
Thomas’s fingers enclosed over his wrists. The warmth was steadying, comforting. His expression was hesitant, at odds with the way his body commandeered space. “I want help. Really, truly. I found myself fascinated in Spain by the difference in language and culture. And then Paris. One-time travel gave me a different perspective, so imagine what more knowledge would do.” He was practically shaking with excitement at the prospect of learning of his ancestor’s atrocities. “You’ll be teaching me, so it won’t feel like a debt to you.”
“Are you sure you want to know, Thomas? People have done some terrible things.”
“I need to know what I’m redeeming myself for before I ask for forgiveness.” His hazel eyes were clear, expression determined. Like a knight readied for battle. A scholar rewriting history on pages. 
Alastair felt his throat tighten at his excitement. He wasn’t used to any of this. Apologies. Forgiveness. Love. Hope. His story was supposed to have died after all his attempts to apologize to The Merry Thieves. He’d failed then to ask for friends, so why would someone give him another chance?
“And maybe you’re wrong,” Thomas added in what was supposed to be a nonchalant tone, but Alastair detected a slight tremor in it. “About me.”
“Speak sense, Lightwood.” His tone sharpened, a defense against his wrecked emotional state. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this.” In answer, Thomas hooked his hands around Alastair’s shoulders, and the sudden onslaught of warmth and gentleness made his body sway with the sheer impossibility of the situation. No glass. No manipulation. Nothing but warmth and truth and compromise. The good sort. 
This had to be a dream. He would wake up any time now, but he couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn't stop admiring his smile, the brightness of his eyes, the shape of his mouth, that damned pulse at his throat. And more. His strength. His passion for learning. His bravery in venturing after a killer alone. The openness of his heart.
I’m not worth it, Alastair wanted to say, but by then his head had fallen on his shoulder, nestled in the crook of Thomas’s neck. He felt lighter than air. For the first time, his head felt empty of anything: trouble, grief, responsibilities, duties. It was just them. Thomas with his arms around him, holding him in the storm of his life. His heartbeat was a steady clock that Alastair could time his breaths to. 
With Charles it had been all heat and desire, and the furious pounding of his heart in the thrill of being wanted by someone. This felt like coming home, sitting down for a cup of tea with his favourite book. Warm and right and natural. Tears slipped down his cheeks, freed after years and years of being locked away for the sake of his family. 
Thomas set his lips to Alastair’s brow. 
His body seized up at the soft pressure. It felt like someone had poured sunlight into his veins. Another tear slipped down his cheek. Impossible. Wake up, now. Happiness wasn’t a part of your life. But he was still here, feeling Thomas lean his cheek against his hair. Through the swirl of emotions, he heard his voice again.
“We’ll get past this together. I will relearn you, Alastair.” The sound of his name on Thomas’s lips sent his heart careening again. “Negaran nabash.”
Don't worry. Even with the different cadence, it would’ve been hard to miss. Thomas had just spoken in Persian. 
Lifting his head, he raised an eyebrow. “Where did you learn that?”
“Oh. Umm. Just something…” That adorable smile surfaced again. “A little hobby? Like Kit and his test tubes?”
Shaking his head, Alastair allowed himself a little smile. Perhaps, it had been worth it to risk his neck. For this. Only for this.
Taglist: @cherilyn-rose @youngreckless @eugeniaslongsword @nott-the-best (2nd part eeeeeeee🥳🥳🥳) @cant-think-of-anything @livingformyself
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cordeliaxcortana · 2 years
Text
Chain Of Thorns Theories pt6.
🚨 Chain of Iron Spoilers 🚨
You need me, I don't need you
Just admit it, just admit it
Oh, I'm too broken to fix you too
I admit it, I admit it
For this song many parts gave me thomastair vibes but some were specific towards Charles and Alastair's situation
Ha, ha, please don't lean on me
'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth
I, I think I better leave
'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth
I can't take the pressure of it, I can barely breathe
Ah, ah, please don't lean on me
'Cause I don't want your heart between my teeth, no
I know we don't want Alastair & Charles to get back together but can't deny that since they were in a relationship they still might have feelings for each other..
And I-I-I bite my tongue
'Cause I don't know how to tell you
I'm getting this urge to run
And I-I-I bite my tongue
'Cause I don't know how to tell you
Oh, you deserve someone else
Who can treat you like I want to
With how COI ended for thomastair where alastair says they can't be together and also goes to charles since he's injured and asking for him... I really hope they do not get back together 🙏
Gleaming, twinkling
Eyes like sinking ships on waters
So inviting, I almost jump in
is this cordelia talking about james and their relationship?
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush
I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush
I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch
Everybody wants you
Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
Walk past, quick brush
I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush
I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush
Everybody wants you
But I don't like a gold rush
yeah this is cordelia's inner monologue🚶‍♀️
-> maybe after Alastair spends time taking care of Charles they get back together (even if they don't Thomastair aren't going to be a thing officially atleast before the end so in their case it'll just be angst angst angst✨). As for Cordelia..
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the ghost of unbroken love pt 1
Summary: Thomas pays the Carstairs home a visit once the dust has settled (COI spoilers!)
Read it on AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist
CW: PTSD, implied child abuse, bullying
thanks to @littlx-songbxrd for the title :) (it’s a line from “silhouettes” by sleeping at last)
Alastair’s eyes widened in surprise when he opened the front door to see Thomas Lightwood standing before him. “What are you doing here?” 
“Hello to you, too,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Alastair’s hands. “Why do you have a hedgehog?” 
He turned away slightly, gently stroking the hedgehog in his palm. “Excuse you, don’t be rude to Alfred.” 
Thomas gave a slight smile. “My apologies, Alfred. Wait- Isn’t that Christopher’s hedgehog?” 
Alastair’s eyes flared, clearly offended. “He is not! He was merely watching him for a few days.” 
“Ah, I do think he mentioned that. My mistake.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.” 
“Since when do you have a pet hedgehog, though?” 
He tried to focus on the feeling of Alfred squirming in his palms and not on the tall, handsome masterpiece of a man standing before him, or on the memory of what his lips and skin tasted like. “If you’re here to try to change my mind-” 
“I’m not, don’t worry. I just… I thought that perhaps we could talk, now that some of the excitement has passed.” 
Alastair sighed. “Fine, come in, then, before you freeze.” 
Thomas followed him in, shaking some of the melting ice and snow from his hair and hanging up his coat. His nose and ears were red from the cold. 
“It truly would not kill you to wear a hat, you know,” Alastair commented. 
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve a reputation to uphold, don’t I? What would my friends and I be known for if not our aversion to hats?” 
“Besides being a nuisance, you mean?” 
Thomas smirked. “Kit did look after Alfred for you.” 
“Believe me, any time I mention you and your Merry boys, I never mean Christopher.” 
He chuckled. “That’s fair.” Thomas’ eyes drifted to the piano. Alastair cursed silently to himself, realizing that he’d left the fallboard open earlier. “You play?” 
“I…” Alastair hesitated. He certainly used to. He wanted to, again. He could play music from a sheet without much effort, though he was still rusty, but playing written music was never what Alastair had enjoyed about playing. He’d always found his joy in creating, in taking written words and crafting it into a beautiful melody. That had been what he was attempting earlier, before he’d gotten overwhelmed and abandoned the project to fetch Alfred to calm him down, before Thomas had arrived at his doorstep. But it was a lost cause, for the part of Alastair that created, the part that dreamed, had died long ago. “Sometimes. Sometimes I do.” 
Thomas pulled something out of his coat. “I, uh, I brought you something. I thought… Well, I’m not sure what I thought. I’m certainly not an expert in dealing with grief. But this is one of the books I read after Barbara died, and I thought it was a helpful distraction, and I figured at the very least you could amuse yourself with my trying to make sense of it all in the margins.” 
Alastair gave him a small smile while placing Alfred down on the sofa and accepted the book. It was a volume of Sufi poetry, written in Farsi and Arabic. “Thank you, this… it means a lot.” 
The conversation stumbled awkwardly for the next few minutes until finally Thomas made a pensive noise. “May I… May I ask you something?” 
Alastair paused. “You may.” 
“Why are you still friends with them?” 
Alastair cast a dark gaze away from him. “I already told you, I-” 
“You have no friends, I know. But you certainly pretend to be friendly with them, at the very least. You certainly don’t treat them anything like the way we’ve treated you.” 
You don’t treat them anything like the way you’ve treated me, he wanted to say, but he knew that he would be deflecting to bring it up now. The truth was that Alastair asked himself the same questions. Why was he civil with them, friendly even? Why did he placate his father knowing how he would still treat him? He was sure he could see the wheels turning in Thomas’ brain, though his face betrayed none of it, wondering how badly they could have truly treated him if he was able to stay so amicable with them. Alastair, too, often worried if his own memories were lying to him, tricking him. “I can hardly blame them, can I? When I myself have done horrible things?” 
Thomas hesitated. “That- That’s not really fair, is it?” 
“I’m not sure what you mean.” 
“Well, it sounded like, at the time, you hadn’t done anything yet. At least, not to them.” 
“What’s it matter? What goes around comes around.” 
“More like what comes around goes around. Life isn’t just some twisted justice system, paying for crimes you hadn’t yet committed. What reasons did they have for treating you the way they did? Have they apologized?” Alastair’s brain stalled as Thomas added, “Do you think they owe you one?” 
Alastair could feel his heart beating, blood rushing to his head, his chest constricting. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded a little too forcefully. “I told you to leave me alone!” 
Thomas took a daring step towards him. “I think you think you deserved it. You think that you’re a monster, that you’re dangerous, a terrible person. You think that means they were justified in hurting you. That’s bullshit, Alastair. No one deserves to go through what you did, even someone who is terrible, and you are not. You’ve done bad things, certainly, but you’ve had reasons for doing each of them, and not one was that you are a terrible person. You are none of the things that you call yourself. You are strong and resilient and compassionate, and you love with your whole heart even those who do not deserve it.” 
Alastair took a step back. “You’re wrong.” He wasn’t. Alastair hated feeling so seen, so vulnerable. He wanted to scream. Why wasn’t it enough, then? His love was never enough to make his father want to change, to get better. It was not even enough to get him to stop throwing things at him whenever the night quit going his way. His love was not enough to make Charles love him back. Even the boys at the Academy, Augustus and the rest, he’d spent so much time and energy trying desperately for them to genuinely like him, but it was never enough. He was fairly certain that it never would be. Thomas was wrong, Alastair was none of the things Thomas believed him to be, he was weak and pathetic and whatever love he held inside of him was broken at its core. “You ask me why I treat the boys from school better than you treated me, but why do you? You and your friends have never given them a fraction of the grief you’ve given me, even Augustus after he hurt your sister so terribly. Why?” 
Alastair could see the defenses light behind Thomas’ eyes. “Don’t talk about Eugenia as if you know what happened!” 
Alastair looked him in the eyes without a hint of expression on his face. “I do, and I know because she told me.” 
Thomas stumbled on his words, unsure of how to respond. 
“I told you why I was cruel to you lot at school, but I did not tell you why I spread that rumor. The truth is that I was hurting and I was scared and all I wanted was for you to leave me alone, but you wouldn’t. And then Matthew came, running his mouth with his endless nonsense, poking fun at the way I looked and reminding me yet again that there is not a single person on this Earth who sees me as anything more than an afterthought. And so I repeated that rumor to him. And I repeated it again, and again, because I was angry, because when Matthew blew up my belongings, my father decided that the cost to replace them was more than simply the coinage at the shops.” Alastair inhaled, pushing away the memory of the fury in his father’s eyes when he came home that semester. 
Releasing a shaky breath, Alastair continued, “And I know. I know that wasn’t fair to him, or to you, or to your parents. But I have been trying to apologize for five months, only you decided without even hearing my apology that I did not deserve forgiveness. What now, Thomas? Now that you know my secrets, you’ve seen my scars? Do I deserve forgiveness? Do I deserve to be hated? Because truly I cannot keep track.” He gestured to the door, his voice now angry. “Who are you to decide what is deserved and undeserved? You do not get to come here and pretend like you understand me or my life. You and your friends think that you’re better than everyone else, but I have a secret for you: you are not morally superior simply because you are less broken than the rest of us. Get out of my house.” 
“Alastair-” Thomas tried, but he was cut off. 
“Leave, Thomas. And put me out of your mind. I left Charles because I did not wish to be his secret, and I will not be yours, either.” 
Thomas looked like he was about to speak, but stopped himself. He looked hurt and confused, something like a wounded puppy. Alastair would not flinch. Finally, he obliged, though he turned at the last moment. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice, though not ingenuine. Alastair shut and bolted the door without responding. 
Once the door was secure, Alastair sank to his knees, a million thoughts and feelings flooding his brain, from relief to anger to utter despair. Shaky breath after shaky breath, he attempted to piece the world back together again.
taglist (lmk if you want to be added and, if so, whether for every TLH fic I write or just for this series or something else): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs 
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