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indecenthoney · 2 months

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"The Munchies"

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Have you ever had that one friend who acts like a completely different person after consuming alcohol? I sort of do. She's a tad bit on the shy side. Up until you present her with some candy. Her eyes would literally glow up at the sight. Not to mention, she becomes the clingiest, most loveable thing. I may be to blame for encouraging such behaviors, but how could I not? I could never ever get another reaction out of her if I wanted to. Completely deadpan, with a cold demeanor. It's enough to break a man's heart. Which brings me to my current situation. I may have a little crush on her. Or well a relatively big one. I've been meaning to ask her out in a good mood, but as I mentioned I could never really get that reaction. I wanted to find some way to help her relax a bit without needing the candies. I don't know. I wanted her to like me for me, you know?

"Hey... How long are you going to be working on that? It wouldn't kill you to take a break, you know? Uhuh... Dude! Let's hang out... This project isn't due till what... Two weeks from now... We can totally take our time... We're already halfway through... So let's go play something! Me? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hugging you... I'm not going to stop hugging you until you follow me to play video games... I know you hate it... That's why I'm hugging you, silly... Either way, it's a win-win for me... Aw... and here I thought I'd get to hug you for an hour or two? Good choice... C'mon, I'll show you to my room..."

On my way to my room, I found her eye-ing out my kitchen. It was pretty obvious what her intentions were. I wasn't really sure either what snacks I had lying around in there, but I sent her off to my room to choose a game while I scrounged around for something for her to eat.

"Do you want something sweet? I thought so... I'll see what I can do... Uhuh... Just head down the hall, to the right... Make yourself comfortable!"

It was inevitable. Then again, I guess I'd rather give her what she wanted rather than see her disappointed. You should have seen me. I was a man on a mission trying to find those snacks. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't any lying around and I had to bear seeing her sad. Is it a reaction? Yes. Is it a good one? No. I took my time cleaning up and figuring out what to tell her. On my way down, I found myself stopping at the door after hearing some "noises". At first, I assumed it was something coming from the television. With my curiosity piqued, I barged in without a second thought. Unfortunately, this put me in a compromising situation. Okay, I know it's my house. But I should know better than to walk in without a warning. My friend was there. Of course, she was. Where else would she be? You know, I just didn't expect her to be on my pillow. Rubbing herself against it. I stood in shock as she mindlessly grinded herself not paying any mind to me. it was like she was in a sort of trance.

"Hey! W-woah... Uhm... What the fuck are you doing? Hahaha... uhm... F-fuck..."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do especially since there wasn't anything to play off on. She was grinding away. No response. But upon closer inspection, there were wrappers scattered on the floor and bed. The shy little thing got herself high from consuming the edibles placed on the tableside near my bed. I quickly rushed over to stop her. Placing my hands around her hips to keep her down. Only whimpers and tears were replaced with the sudden stop.

"H-hey... Shhh... Shhhh it's okay... I'm sorry... Ugh fuck... What am I supposed to do with you? Uhm... Let's see... H-hey! C'mon... It's okay... Why are you still crying? You can rub... It's okay... Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry for stopping you... "

After consuming this many brownies, I doubt she'd be able to speak. I'm surprised she was still even functioning at this point. I didn't expect her to have such a drastic personality change after a few brownies. She wouldn't stop crying. I soon realized her trying to move her hips faster. I guess the stimulation wasn't enough to satisfy her. Luckily, I had an idea. Not to fulfill my own selfish desires, but to help a friend out. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Leave her a whimpering sobby mess?

"I-it's okay... Just for a moment... Sit here... I know... I know it hurts... But we'll get it settled in a bit... You just have to be a good girl and listen, okay? That's it... Such a good girl... Does it feel good when I rub you there? Hm? I know it's hard to talk... Just nod your head... Yeah? Ah no... No moving your hips... If you wanna feel good then you'll have to listen, don't you? That's it... Nice and easy... Keep those legs spread for me, hun... Such a pretty lady... So needy... So wet... I'm only rubbing your clit and you're just leaking... Why don't we take these off, huh? We wouldn't want to ruin your panties more than we already have... Shhh... It's okay I'm just taking these off and we'll continue... I'll give a little more than just rubbing... I promise... Oh fuck... A literal bitch in heat... Gonna slide a finger in, okay? Oh? Well, don't you fit perfectly around my fingers... So tight... Mm... What pretty little noises you have... There's no need to be shy... It's okay to feel good..."

Slowly digging away into her deepest parts causing her to spasm. Choking on her moans as the pleasure increases. Her hands clasped around my forearm. A sign informing me that she's close to the edge. Slowing down my pace even more to keep from finishing too quickly. Soft slow strokes. My middle finger moving in and along her slit. A flick at her clit once at the top. Sending a shockwave of spasms throughout her body. I knew it was about time to give her a break. Running my fingers along her body; lifting her shirt. My hands finding their way up her bra. Running circles around her perky breasts. Pinching. Poking. Tugging.

"Hm? You're going to have to use your words... I'm not going to be able to understand you if all you do is moan and whimper... Please? You wanna cum? What's the magic word? Fine... In a bit... I'm still having my fun... Oh? Sensitive there, are we? Be good and I'll give you your reward... Pretty little thing... Does it feel good? Uhuh yeah? Sound so fucking stupid when I touch you here... Are you going to cum just from your nipples being played with? No cuz that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Almost there, hun... Keep it up... You're doing such a good job for me..."

Hands appreciating every nook and cranny of her body. Tempting her but never really touching the place that needs it the most. Lips pressed. Tongues rolled. A dance of oral pleasure. The taste of brownies lingered on my tongue. How many wrappers were there? I wouldn't be surprised if I got high from tasting her lips. If it were my choice, I would spend an eternity in this bliss. However, she quickly made her needs known. Whimpers and tears once flood the room. Her inability to stay still grew restless as I toyed with her body. One final kiss and I was on my knees. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. The softness of her thighs welcomed my cheeks with each kiss. I start to salivate; eager to run my tongue along the drippy mess I've made. In my own trance, I started eating away at her. A different type of hunger had filled me. Something that couldn't be satiated so easily. I wanted her to quake my touch. Moan at the very thought of me. Get wet at every little word I mutter as I adore her perfection.

"Mmph... Fuck... you taste so good, hun... Mmm... I know... I know... I shouldn't talk with my mouth full... I can't help it... You're just too damn pretty right now..."

Her grip tightens; pulling my head into her. Her morality leaking between her legs as I lapped my tongue into her depths. A wave after wave of orgasms causes her to shake. Even with my tongue gently finding its way around her clit, it brings her to the edge over and over. I found pleasure in serving her. With cock in hand, I stroked myself to completion. Even then it was barely enough to fill that hunger. Grabbing her wrists I stood above her; pinning down her arms before placing my cock against the opening of her pussy. Feeling her squirm on the tip. Watching her eyes roll back as the length of cock disappears into her.

"Hey hey... Shush... You're doing such a great job... Mhm... I know you came... I'm sorry, sweetie... Just a little longer, you can take it... All you have to do is stay still and be pretty, okay? Can you do that for me, hun? Mhm... Good girl... Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh? That's it... Cum as you please... I'm not stopping you..."

Hands pinned above her head as I rut into her in the most animalistic, primal way. Enjoying every bit of her reactions as I pump my cum back into her. Even as she drifts off to sleep, I found myself using her and using her. Satiating my hunger. I was unsure of how things would play out tomorrow, so I wanted to enjoy myself while it lasted. Making my mark. Filling her to the brim. I wore myself out. But even then, I wanted to use her. Finger the very holes I came in. Fucking her with my fingers to keep the cum from leaking. Never wanting this happiness to end.

"Oh! You're awake... What happened? Well... You kinda nodded off while I was looking for snacks... You okay? A dream? You were moving a lot during it... but I didn't wanna wake you from your nap... Sore? Hm... You're probably just hungry... Here... I found some brownies... It's really good... You should try some!"

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Take a bite,

Honey

#cnc k!nk #cnc free use #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #intox cnc #intox kink #fr33use #free use cnc #humiliation kink #edging and denial #rap3 fantasy #somno fantasy #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #cnc drugging #RisquéHoney

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cactibarber · 7 months

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bg3 companions ranked from worst to best cook

9) astarion

has not eaten human food in two centuries and doesn’t want to start now. since he mentions that wine tastes bad to him he’s probably like the vampires in wwdits and projectile vomits after eating so when it’s his turn to cook he just lays raw ingredients out for other people to deal with

8) shadowheart

has been living in a convent where she probably didn’t have to learn how to cook ever. overcooks whatever she does cook and tries to pass it off as a “style”. is the equivalent of a “one iced coffee for the entire day” girl so is surprised when people are still hungry after eating a small bowl of gruel

7) karlach

basically like a college kid in terms of scrounging together food and comes up with awful combinations. would be on an instant noodle diet if she could

6) minsc

only knows how to prep food for boo and no one else so it’s salads and fruit only (literally rabbit food)

5) lae’zel

food is important because it gives you energy to fight so you need exact amounts of it to bring your body to its full potential. what do you mean you don’t want to eat two boiled chicken breasts with a side of boiled potatoes. what about your calories

4) jaheira

now we’re getting into the actual decent cooks. makes very homestyle meals that leave you full, even if they’re not the fanciest and tastiest of meals. her kids always complain about her cooking but never leave home before eating a meal

3) halsin

the druids all take turn cooking so has had lots of practice. manages to make shitty ingredients actually taste decent but cooks a little bit like a health nut. at least you won’t feel bloated afterwards

2) wyll

grew up eating fancy ass food that he then tried to replicate when he was on his own. trial and error means he’s gotten pretty good at it too, although he swears that it’s not as good as he remembers it

1) gale

canonically is the best and does all the cooking and why wouldn’t he? fancy man living on his own in a tower is going to have a lot of time experimenting and developing recipes. loves showing others how he cooks (but isn’t the best teacher)

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 karlach #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 halsin #jaheira #bg minsc #I didn’t put minthara bc I’ve never not stabbed her

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eddiemunsonspantschain · 3 months

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Things Change - Ch.3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x pregnant!reader

Warnings: mention of abortion, visiting an abortion clinic (does not recieve one), pregnancy

Word Count: 3.7k words

Tag List: @boomhauer @corrodedcorpses @wroteclassicaly @blackwidownat2814

“So, what do we do?”

Nancy and you looked at Robin. Robin stared back at the two of you and held her hands up. “What do you mean?” you asked Robin.

“Well, like, are you going to have the baby? Cause if you are… your parents are probably gonna kill you. Or, make you marry whoever the dad is, and that means no college. Your life wou-”

“Robin!” Nancy hissed, and you sighed.

“No, Nance. She’s right.” you grabbed Nancy's hand and looked at her. “I need a plan. I…”

“I don’t wanna say the word but…” Robin started, and you looked at her.

“I know… It’s not exactly a bad idea.” you murmur, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Nancy asks, “There’s no going back, and I doubt it’s exactly comfortable.”

“I know there’s no going back,” you reassure her.

“Why don’t we do this tomorrow? We can scramble what cash we can, and it gives you time to think?” Nancy suggested, looking at Robin for support.

It was decided. Tomorrow, you would go to the clinic and get this taken care of. It was for the best… right? That was what you tried to tell yourself all evening. After Robin and Nancy left, you tossed the boxes for the tests and the tests themselves into your backpack, knowing your parents wouldn’t think to open up your backpack for anything. You tried to go about your evening the way you normally would, but the cloud hanging above your head made it hard to do so. You found yourself sitting at dinner, gently pushing your food around your plate. Just nodding your head when your mother noticed and noted that she worried about your health since you were rarely eating now. You managed a few bites to placate her, wondering if the little being nestled in your uterus would let you keep it this time. Somehow, they had, as your small dinner didn’t make its way back up your esophagus this time. Thank god for small favors. As you laid in bed, you stared at the ceiling, wondering just how you got here. Of course, your mind rifted back to that night. The way Eddie had looked at you like a starving man looking at his first meal in months. The passion in the way his hands grabbed at your flesh as he pulled moan after moan from you. Your hands drifted down under your blanket, stopping to rest on your stomach. To you, it didn’t feel as if you had gained any weight. It had only been about a month since that night or so. So when did pregnant people start to show? It apparently was enough to get a positive on a test. You pushed the blanket down, pulling up your sleep shirt and inspecting your stomach. It all looked ordinary. Nothing out of place. You huffed and shoved your shirt back down. What were the chances of four tests being wrong?

Before you knew it, the sun was shining into your room, signaling it was the next day. You turned your head to look at the clock. Sure enough, it was the morning, and you managed to wake multiple times through the night not feeling like you slept much at all. Giving up on the notion of sleep, you slid out of bed and got into some comfortable clothes for the day. Nancy was sure that the procedure would be an uncomfortable one, even if she had no idea what it entailed. You went downstairs for breakfast, managing two pieces of toast and the tiniest bit of eggs that almost made you gag. Then you sat up in your room and waited.

By the time Nancy and Robin grabbed you, it was early afternoon. You slid into Nancy’s car. Robin sat in the back, counting up all the money they had scrounged up to pay for this. “You guys didn’t have to do that.” you murmur, all your allowance sitting in your pocket.

“Well, we couldn’t have you pay for it through insurance, and we wanted to be sure you had enough.” Nancy explained as she headed to the address for the clinic. The outside of the building was unassuming looking. Beige on the outside with a simple sign telling you the name and a phone number. The parking lot wasn’t empty, but you found your nerves spiking up.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Robin asked, and you nodded quickly.

The three of you went inside, each girl holding onto you‌. Robin held your hand while Nancy gripped the back of your jacket in support. You approached the counter, a woman looking up at the three of you and raising a brow. “How can I help you ladies?” she asked.

“Our friend is here to see a doctor.” Robin led, nodding to you.

“What’s the reason for your visit today?” the woman asked as she grabbed a pen and clipboard.

“Uh…” Robin glanced at you both.

“She has a… problem. We came here to get it taken care of?” Nancy supplied, cringing at how horrible it sounded.

The receptionist's eyes slid down your body to rest on your stomach. “I see. Fill this out.” she slid the clipboard over to you alongside the pen and you grabbed them quickly.

The three of you retreated to the ugly teal and pink chairs that lined the room. You took a shaky breath as you filled out your information, trying to ignore the shakiness of your hands. You periodically had to stop as you filled out the forms. Just to help your sanity. The walls were the same ugly teal color. Not a bright, pretty teal, but more like someone had vomited up a teal color. The floor was white tiles with flecks of teal and pink embedded in the tiling. You wondered who you could file a formal complaint to for the decor and color scheme in this building. It was like it was mocking you that you were pregnant with gender specific colors. Your nose was also assaulted with the overwhelming scent of alcohol. Like the place was somehow too clean. Sterile. By the time you had finished the paperwork, your head was spinning from everything. Robin was gracious enough to bring it back to the receptionist.

When your name was called, you stood on jello legs as you made your way into the back. The nurse led you to a room and motioned for you to step inside. “I’m just going to take some vitals.” she explained as she weighed you, took your height, measured your temperature and blood pressure before letting you know the doctor would be in soon. It thankfully wasn’t long until a man walked in and greeted you with a smile.

“So, Ms. Y/L/N, tell me what brings you in?” he asked as he cleaned his hands and pulled on a pair of sterile gloves.

“I haven’t been feeling well. Randomly nauseous and I took four at-home pregnancy tests… they were all positive,” you explained, trying to look anywhere but at the pictures of mothers around the room and the diagram of a baby in a uterus.

“Well, why don’t we do one ourselves, to be sure? When was your last menstrual cycle?” he asked as he pulled out what looked like a chemistry kit from a cabinet.

“I missed it for this month. Should have been about two weeks ago, and I’m always regular.” you explained, and he hummed. The doctor was quick as he had you do the test. He asked more questions as it developed, and by the time it was done, it seemed clear to him, though to you it seemed confusing.

“Well, congratulations. You are certainly pregnant, Ms. Y/L/N.” he watched you for a moment. “From your forms, you are unmarried. So I assume this was not planned.” he sighed and opened his arms as if he was offering something. “So, I ask you then, what would you like to do? We could offer care for your pregnancy or we could terminate it. It’s not a painless procedure, I will admit. But we could do it today. You would need sanitary pads and some pain medication as you will cramp and bleed for a time, but it is doable,” he explained.

The more he explained, the quicker your breathing became. “I… I want…” you murmur, looking anywhere but at him. It was the right thing to do, right? To terminate it and just move on as if nothing happened? You shut your eyes as you took a breath, feeling the room spin. You vaguely heard the doctor call your name, but it wasn’t normal. It sounded like he was underwater, calling for you. Then, you couldn’t hear him completely. Thoughts rushed through your head of what your life could look like. Without a child, going to college and getting a good job. Eventually fall in love and maybe try again. Then you thought of how your life would be with the child you had nestled in your stomach now. Would they look like you? Would they look like him? Would they be smart? Or artistic and creative like their father? Something cold pressed to your head. Your eyes fluttered open, hearing someone call your name again.

“Shh, don’t rush now. You just had a fainting spell,” the nurse reassured you, dabbing your forehead again.

“Not the first time this has happened in this office, ma’am. I assure you.” the doctor spoke on your left, gently fanning you with a paper.

“I can’t!” someone gasped, your hand clasping over your mouth. Was that your voice?

“You can’t?” the nurse questioned, looking at the doctor.

“I-I can’t do this. I can’t,” you breathed after moving your hand, “I can’t just get rid of them. I can’t, no.”

“It’s alright. Then we won’t… we’ll set up an appointment.” the doctor nodded to the nurse. “In a few weeks, we’ll have your first appointment to check on the baby. See how they’re growing. For now, let's get you some reading material.” The doctor motioned to the nurse, who quickly moved out of the room. “This is a big decision, but we’re here to help ladies like you in these times. These papers we’re giving you will tell you about some of the normal occurrences, things to avoid and if you have questions, just call the office,” the doctor explained, watching you as you sat up on the table. “First concern is, I need you to eat more. It will be difficult, but try your best. Everything you eat, baby gets.”

The nurse returned, a bunch of papers in her hand. She held them out to you and you carefully took them from her. “We’ll see you in a few weeks for your first ultrasound.” she smiled, offering a hand to help you off of the table. Both of them watched as you slid off of the table.

“Thank you,” you murmured and quickly fled the room. You breezed past the waiting room and shoved the door open to head outside. You could hear Robin and Nancy call out for you and hurry to catch up to you. As soon as you got outside, you took a deep breath and tried not to vomit from the racing of emotions.

“Y/N? What happened?” Nancy asked, rubbing your back as you gulped down breaths.

“Is it me, or that was way too fast? I’m not a doctor or anything, but…” Robin spoke beside you.

“I couldn’t do it.” you gasped, shaking your head wildly. “I couldn’t get an abortion. I couldn’t.” you whimpered, feeling Nancy’s arms wrap around you tightly. She pulled you into her, hugging you hard as you took shaky breaths in an attempt to calm down, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s okay. We’ve got you,” Nancy cooed, still rubbing your back.

“So you’re gonna be a mom?... Shit.” Robin breathed like she couldn’t believe it. Soon, Robin’s arms wrapped around you too and the three of you huddled there in a hug as you tried to make heads and tails of the decision you had made.

Soon you nudged out of their hold, wandering back inside to make your appointment for your first ultrasound. The girls led you back to the car after that, taking you back home.

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One of the first things you did was go to the library. The public library as you wouldn’t dare use the schools. You checked out a couple of books on pregnancy, ignoring the look from the librarian as you took your newly acquired reading material home with you. You practically stayed up all night reading the first book you had grabbed, unable to stop reading about how your body was going to change. For almost two weeks, things had seemed the same. Robin and Nancy didn’t mention your pregnancy even once. Things went on as if nothing had changed. Save for them covering for you when you randomly get nauseous and have to run off. The only other person to check in on you had been Gareth, who had asked at a safe distance if you felt better or not. You apologized profusely for puking on his shoes and, thankfully; he had laughed it off. To your face, at least. Even Eddie had given you a weird look when you returned from the bathroom one movie night after puking up your guts. Robin slid you a soda when you sat back down beside her. You made a habit of turning the tap on when you were puking so no one could possibly hear you.

The hardest was at school. With how often you were having to run to the bathroom, it was hard for some not to notice. You silently prayed for the little thing no bigger than a pea to chill out. Yet here you found yourself, stooped over a toilet as your lunch greeted you once again for what felt like the millionth time. Despite your body yelling at you not to, you were trying to do as your doctor directed and eat more for the sake of your kid. You heard the bathroom door open, trying to be quiet as you spat into the bowl and grabbed a piece of paper towel. You wiped your mouth, tossing the tissue into the bowl and flushing. You could hear a couple of girls talking, recognizing the tennis shoes you saw under the stall door. You pull yourself up, dusting off your jeans as you grab your bag and slide out of the stall. The three girls in question pause as you walk out. You side eye them, moving to the sink and setting your bag on the ground as you go to wash your hands. The girls continue their conversation, quiet whispers about the upcoming graduation parties. One of the girls steps back and turns, intending to leave, but trips over your bag. You stop and look back, groaning, seeing the contents of your bag spilled on the floor. “Shit!” the girl curses and looks at you. “Watch where you put your crap.”

“Watch where you’re walking.” you snap back, grabbing a paper towel to dry your hands.

“It’s fine!” one of the other girls cut in. This one you recognize as Chrissy Cunningham, resident queen of Hawking High. She knelt down, grabbing some of your books and shoving them back into the bag. You kneel down with her, muttering a thanks as you shove some pencils into your bag. “It’s no problem, really.” Chrissy reassured you, reaching out to grab something else and stopping. “Oh…” she murmured, and you looked up from shoving your chapstick back into your bag. Her hand is paused over the familiar blue sticks.

“Are those…?” one cheerleader asks, pointing down at them.

You quickly reach over, snatching up the tests and shoving them into your bag. You shove everything else in. “Thanks again,” you quickly murmur and get up as fast as you can, running out of the bathroom as you hear one of the other cheerleaders gasp and let out an ‘oh my god!’. You tried to quell the worry in your chest. What did those girls know? Nothing much, really. Just that you might be pregnant. The thing you hadn’t remembered, though, was a key detail. The way you and Eddie had been stared at when you left the upstairs bedroom at that party a little over a month ago.

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Word spread quickly in a highschool but most certainly through a small town highschool. The cheerleaders had told the other cheerleaders, who told their boyfriends, who told their friends. Before anyone could realize it had spread like wildfire. Like someone had tossed a lit cigarette into some tall, dry grass on the side of the road. When the next day came, by then, the entire school had heard the secret. That there was a pregnant student in the school, and that pregnant student was you.

Eddie was somehow the last person to hear about it. Though, he assumed, it was because he never really listened to gossip. It was hard to ignore when it was at his table, though. The guys were whispering to one another. They didn’t know about your and Eddie’s time together. He had purposefully kept it to himself to avoid the teasing from the guys. They had ragged on him more than once for purposefully ignoring what they deemed a ‘perfect girl’ for him and how Y/N had clearly liked him at one point. Not that he cared. As Eddie sat heavily in his seat, he looked at the group of boys at the table. Dustin and Mike looked unhappy, particularly Dustin, as the other boys whispered between themselves.

“Would you knock it off?!” Dustin finally snapped at the other three older guys at the table. That made Jeff, Barry, and Gareth stop their conversation. Eddie had learned in his months with the freshmen that Dustin had a temper on him. Especially when it came to those who he cared about. That much he knew from the brief trip to the hellish dimension they had taken. He looked between the young freshman and the other boys, trying to assess what this was about.

“Relax, Henderson. We’re just… speculating.” Barry told him.

“You’re speculating about my friend. A good friend,” Dustin practically growled.

“We’re just curious, like everyone else.”

“I mean… it has to be true. She did puke on my shoes.” Gareth went back to the conversation as if Dustin had never interrupted them.

They were talking about Y/N then, Eddie surmised, because as far as he knew no one else has blown chunks onto Gareth’s shoes recently. “And why are we talking about Y/L/N being sick?” Eddie finally cut in, making all the eyes turn to him as if they only just noticed he had sat at the table. He snatched a tater tot from Dustin’s tray, popping it into his mouth as he waited for an answer.

“Cause according to people, Y/L/N is pregnant.” Gareth answered.

Eddie immediately inhaled pieces of tater tot. He coughed hard, beating on his chest as he tried to clear his airway. At the same time, Dustin stood up from his chair, sending it clattering to the floor. “It’s just a rumor! Okay! And if she is, so what?! That doesn’t warrant how people are talking about her!” the young man seethed, Mike standing and trying to get Dustin to sit back down.

“W-wait,” Eddie choked out, “According to who?”

“What?” Gareth asked him.

“You said according to people. Who said she’s…?” Eddie couldn’t even let the word slip past his lips.

“Like… everyone in the school….” Barry answered for him. “It started yesterday. Supposedly, some cheerleaders saw tests or something. Spread through the school after that. We only just heard it a couple minutes ago from the band kids.”

“And we know how unreliable the rumor mill is.” Mike reminded them, “According to the school, Eddie is Satan himself. Remember?” he scoffed, done with the gossip about you, as Dustin was. Eddie wasn’t surprised by that. He had always thought of you as stuck up. Good grades, normal parents and basically everything Eddie wasn’t. He had met you just after he had recovered from everything that happened in the Upside Down. Even though you had learned about everything that happened, you hadn’t had to see that place yourself.

“Come to think of it… is Y/L/N in school today?” Jeff questioned. “I wouldn’t have blamed her if she skipped out.”

“She was in the morning.” Mike murmured, “but I haven’t seen her since… this morning.”

“Her car was still in the parking lot.” Dustin added, stabbing at his ‘meatloaf’.

So Y/N was still in school. Eddie’s eyes slid around the room, searching out Robin or Nancy, since you’d most likely be with them. He managed to spot both girls, but the spots beside them were empty. After lunch, Eddie went searching for you. He knew he had to speak to you. As far as he knew, he was the last person to be with you. So unless you had hooked up with someone else after your time with him… he knew what it meant. He wanted to hear it from you, though. To know if it was true or not. Through the rest of the day, Eddie didn’t see you. After school, he searched the parking lot for you, but you had slipped away some time before the actual end of the school day. He knew your address. He had driven there before for movie nights with the party or dragged over there by Steve. Eddie heaved himself into his van, shutting the driver’s side door heavily. He sat there, thinking. Had he really been that distracted that night to think twice? Then he remembered you had told him you were on the pill. Did you lie to him? No, that seemed stupid. Why would you lie about something like that? While he wasn’t sure of you in that way, he doubted you’d screw your chance at a college education to have a kid now. Eddie watched the skull necklace dangling off of his rearview mirror swing as he thought about how he was going to do this. He couldn’t be a dad. He knew nothing about being a dad. His own father being one shitty excuse for a dad. He shoved his key into the ignition, heading to the trailer park.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #pregnant!reader

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months

Text

Frozen Ground: Part 1 (Din Djarin x Female Reader)

Content & Warnings: romantic fluff, love at first sight, Mandalorian culture

Word Count: 5.4k

Din travels to a farming planet to recruit a reclusive group of Mandalorians to help retake Mandalore. The snowy season is starting, and the locals are preparing for their winter observance. While waiting for the Mandalorian covert to come to a decision, Din spends time with the local population, finding a bit of comfort with a particular someone.

A/N: Part of the Winter 2023 Collection

Part 2

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: buir – father, mother Mando’ade – Mandalorians (plural) vod – brother, sister, comrade

The N1 Starfighter exits hyperspace and cruises through Itera airspace.

Grogu snoozes softly in Din’s lap. His small body is curled up in a ball, and his face is turned into Din’s chest plate as he slumbers. The foundling has been asleep the entire way to Itera, and he shows no sign of waking any time soon.

Din glances away from his foundling and out the N1’s viewport. A small twang of nervousness coils in the pit of his stomach as he observes the quickly approaching planet. It’s not the planet itself that worries Din, but why he was sent here in the first place. It is the task that Bo-Katan Kryze placed upon him with confidence that sits heavy on his shoulders.

Bo-Katan is uniting the clans. She is calling back the tribes in an effort to reclaim Mandalore. She heard a rumor that a reclusive tribe of Mandalorians dwell on Itera. Din is supposed to find them, and convince them to come back with him to Nevarro.

That is all the information he has. Bo-Katan had little intel to give. Din has no idea if these Mandalorians are more like his tribe, or if they lean more towards the ideals that Bo-Katan and her kin follow.

As Mandalorians, this tribe on Itera should welcome him. But Din knows that isn’t always the case. It wasn’t that long ago that Din had his own misgivings against fellow Mandalorians who walked the path differently than he.

When he first met Bo-Katan Kryze and her Nite Owls, Din shunned them. Even when they stepped in to save his foundling, and then later when a group of Quarren attacked him, Din was still reluctant to engage with them.

It’s not his proudest moment, and since then, much about his life has changed. The way he sees the galaxy, and his understanding of what it means to be a Mandalorian has shifted significantly in the last few years. While he holds tightly to his ideals, he knows that his way is not the only way.

Mandalorians should not hide in the dark any longer.

The cloudy expanse of Itera becomes clearer as Din cruises closer. Itera is a fertile farming planet located on the edge of the Middle Rim. Din rummaged around in some public achieves to scrounge up any information he could about it. According to the information he did manage to locate, Itera is relatively peaceful and mostly inhabited by small farming communities.

Even though Bo-Katan lacked information on who these Mandalorians are, she was able to provide Din with an estimated range of coordinates. She told him that they might be located within this range, but wasn’t entirely sure if her intel was reliable.

He’s worked with less.

Din punches in the numbers and the navigation system focuses in on a small bit of land in the northern hemisphere.

The N1’s engine purrs, and Grogu turns over in Din’s lap. The foundling does not wake.

Din’s ship breaks through the atmosphere and effortlessly transitions into the gray cloud cover. The clouds spit Din out over dreary farmland. Below him, droids and people work the land.

Din does not see any buildings that indicate a settlement. He checks the navigation system again and it reveals his suspicions. The coordinates Bo-Katan gave him cover too much land. He’ll need to tighten the search.

“Kriff me,” mutters Din, as he clears the coordinates from the nav system. “R5, scan the surface. Let’s find civilization.”

R5 chirps, and then a little antenna pops out of its head, spinning slowly in a circle. Din reduces his speed over the farmland, waiting for R5 to give him an answer. After a few minutes, the antenna retreats, and then the navigation system lights up with new coordinates.

Din follows the set path. While most of what Din sees is farmland, buildings start to appear in small intervals. At first, it’s just one or two, and then a cluster at a time. Before long, the wall of a settlement appears. There is open land to the left that Din deicides to land on.

He brings the N1 down softly.

Grogu still doesn’t stir. The little womprat has his right hand in his mouth, and a little line of drool runs down the back Grogu’s palm. Sighing, Din wipes it away.

“R5, what’s the temperature outside?” asks Din quietly as he watches a few swirls of snow drift down from the gray clouds. They land on the glass of the N1 and immediately melt.

R5 responds in a series of binary and Din sighs.

It’s far too cold for Grogu to be walking around for long periods of time. The snowy season has arrived on this planet, and Grogu will need something warmer to wear.

Slowly, Din releases the hatch and cold air drifts in. Using the blanket from Grogu’s pram, Din wraps the foundling in it, gently laying him down in the cockpit seat. Din steps out onto the wing and then the hard ground as the hatch closes.

He turns to R5. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone.” R5 beeps in reply and Din heads toward the open gates.

The wood wall of the settlement seems more decorative than functional, roughly stopping at Din’s chest. Once Din approaches the entrance, he notices that there are no gates at all. It’s entirely open.

Strolling down the main street, Din realizes rather quickly that no one avoids him. It’s the exact opposite. Every person he passes greets Din with a friendly “hello” or nodding of the head before going about their day.

It’s bizarre. Strange. And it momentarily disorients him.

Din thought that he might ask around, see if he could find someone willing to talk to him. But every friendly face only causes him to question who he needs to speak to on locating the Mandalorian covert. No one shies away or avoids looking directly at his helmet. Each person is bold and unafraid of him.

Is the Mandalorian covert known to these people? Do they interact with them frequently?

Perhaps. It would explain why no one seems frightened of him.

Din enters deeper into the settlement, seeking out a cantina or public establishment where he might find information. Not finding any such place on the main road, Din tracks back to the very front of the settlement, deciding to head east and take a look around.

Rounding a corner, he hears the distinct sound of laughter. It’s not one person, or even a few, but a low roar like a small crowd. Din keeps walking, tracking the sound, coming across a small building that hardly looks big enough to hold a drinking establishment. In addition, the door is just red fabric handing from the top of the door frame.

The laughter comes again, and it’s much louder than before. He’s in the right spot.

With all the confidence Din can muster, he strides up to the curtain, pushing it aside and he steps into the building.

Din comes to a grinding halt, nearly tripping on his own feet.

This is not a cantina or anything similar.

A group of women, nearly fifteen in total, occupy the space. They all have large canvas sacks next to them, each one full of something different. Some look like they’re full of flower petals while others appear to hold bright red berries. The women vary in age. Most of them are older than Din, but there are a few who look to be about his age, give or take a few years.

They glance up but keep working, several of them smiling softly at him.

Din feels like an unwanted intruder even though the women appear calm and indifferent to his presence. He mumbles a “sorry” intended to back out the way he came, but the moment his boot slides backward, one of the women stands, her full attention on him.

“How can I help you, Mandalorian?”

You dust a few petals off your apron, missing the one in your hair, and approach Din, hands clasped in front of you. Din’s heart temporarily stutters to a stop before revving into a thudding beat he can feel in his ears. You’re pretty, but that isn’t the only thing he notices. You’re delicate lines and curves appeal to him in a way that trigger’s his protective instinct.

The flash of feeling, this need Din suddenly exhibits flashes bright and hot before his brain catches up and tries to smother it down to cooling embers.

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Din tries to back out again but you only push in, and Din’s hand relexify forms a fist in an attempt to thwart the growing need to touch you.

“There is no interruption. How can I be of service to you?” Your head tilts to the right slightly, and the eagerness on your face sends blood to his groin.

Din’s eyes roam all over your body, but his eyes keep going back to the lone petal that’s tangled in the strands of your hair.

The other women still work, none of them glancing in Din’s direction. He decides to seek help, knowing it might not do much.

“There is a Mandalorian covert on this planet that I’m searching for. Do you know where I might find them?”

“Oh,” you murmur. Your eyes round slightly, and your lips part in surprise. “I didn’t realize—I thought you—” You shake your head and the petal in your hair stays put.

“Is there anyone here that might know?”

The gentle surprise morphs into amusement. “Everyone knows where they are.” The corners of your mouth curve up into a soft smile and Din nearly melts under that gaze. He is so absorbed in your beauty that your words are the last thing to catch up to him.

Everyone knows where they are?

Din does not have the chance to follow-up, you’re already talking, telling him exactly what he needs to know. “Just to the north of here. There’s a forested area where the covert lives.”

This is unusual, and Din is slightly unsure whether or not he can trust what he might find once he ventures in that direction.

“Do you know where exactly?”

You shake your head. “We do not go in. They like their privacy, and we are respectful of that.”

This is better news. The two groups must interact frequently. It would explain why everyone in town isn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not from around here?” you ask, curiosity tinging your tone.

“No,” replies Din. “I’m not.”

Your gaze softens. “If no one has, allow me to formally welcome you.”

Without thinking—without pausing to reconsider—Din reaches toward you, his gloved fingers plucking the petal from your hair. He presents it to you, open palmed.

Delicately, you lift it, rubbing it between your fingers. With your gaze on the petal, Din takes a step back, the curtain brushing against his back. You glance up, and Din inclines his head, disappearing quickly before he does something he’ll regret.

Din still burns beneath his armor even after he arrives back at the N1. Grogu is still sleeping, and his ship is entirely untouched. Din is careful with the foundling when he settles back into the cockpit.

He relays the information to R5 who promptly scans the area, sending new coordinates to the navigation system. Once clear, Din follows the trail north, finding the forest you mentioned. Din circles around a few times, eventually settling on a flat spot of land just outside the tree line. Din lowers the N1 to the planet’s surface. Grogu stirs in his lap but doesn’t wake.

He leaves Grogu behind again with R5, knowing that he can come back for Grogu later. The droid will look after him until Din can assess the situation.

As Din approaches the tree line, he pauses, surveying the ground around him. At first glance there are no footprints of even animal prints. He engages the scanner in his helmet. The moment it switches on, his screen lights up with glowing boot prints. They are everywhere, moving in so many directions that Din cannot find a pattern.

Frowning, Din switches over to another scanner. This one seeks out what only Mandalorians leave behind for others of their kind to find. He sweeps the scanner over the ground, and then the trees. He comes up empty.

Sighing, Din starts walking, stepping past the tree line and tries again, this time doing a slow sweep of the ground and trees. The hard ground crunches under his boots, and it is incredibly quiet, the only sound is the whistling wind.

On a tree in the distance, a soft glow catches Din’s attention in the scanner. He pauses, takes one step back for a better view. It’s a glowing Mythosaur with an arrow beneath it pointing to the right.

This is his lead. This is his break. You were telling the truth.

Din heads toward the glowing symbol and then follows the direction the arrow indicates, scanning the area for any other markers. He locates another that directs him deeper into the trees. It leads to a large rock formation. The stone slabs are layered over each other like a twisted crown.

There, glowing bright against the gray rock, is another Mythosaur.

“Hail, vod.”

Din whirls around, his hand on his blaster. The only thing that stays his hand from drawing the weapon is the use of the word vod.

A male Mandalorian drops from a tree branch and strides forward, stopping a few feet away from Din. His armor is dented in a few places and painted in various green tones that emulate the trees.

No wonder Din didn’t see him.

The man has not drawn his weapon, which means he does not see Din as a threat. But why would he? Mandalorians are stronger together, and any reunion, even between tribes, is a joyous one.

Din immediately removes his hand from his blaster, standing tall and proud. He has a job to do. “My name is Din Djarin. I’ve come on behalf of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.”

The green-clad Mandalorian crosses his arms. “I see,” he replies, tone grim. “And what does Lady Kryze want with us?”

Better to get it out now in case he’s turned away. “She is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

The man is quiet for a beat before he answers. “And she wishes for us to join her?”

“She does.”

The Mandalorian nods, and drops his arms, striding forward. “Well, Din Djarin. You are welcome in our enclave, and we will hear what you have to say.” He presents his hand and Din clasps it. “I am Crix Lera. Welcome to our home.”

Crix releases Din’s hand. He brushes past Din and heads to the rock.

Din follows, and notices a small opening that Crix disappears inside. The space isn’t tight but the formation of the natural rock hides the entrance. You’d need to know exactly where it is to see it.

Din slides through the opening, only to find himself in a small tunnel. Crix walks ahead, and Din follows on his heels along the path. They don’t walk for long. The small tunnel begins to widen, and then opens up into a large communal area.

The first thing Din immediately notices are the lack of faces. Everyone wears a helmet except for a few small children. The communal area is circular, and the center of the room is lower than the rest of the floor. There is a fire burning there, the smoke curling upward to exit through a naturally formed ventilation shaft. In the rocky ceiling are small cut outs that let in some natural light.

When Din enters the area on Crix’s heels, several people pause and glance up, watching the duo as Crix walks along the edge of the room. Din takes this time to take a closer look at the Mandalorians he’s been sent to speak with.

They all appear healthy. Their armor is relatively clean and in good repair. The ratio of men to women is fairly equal, and the number of foundlings is much larger than his tribe’s. Din’s gaze passes over a woman standing by the far wall with a man and a small child. She’s clutching her belly, and that is when Din notices the slight bulge underneath her chest plate.

“You’ll meet with our armorer and tribe leaders,” says Crix over his shoulder, drawing Din’s attention away from the slowly growing crowd of Mandalorians.

“Do they make all the decisions?”

Crix shakes his head. “No. We make them as a group. But when it comes to matters pertaining to the whole clan, they are the ones who mediate the discussions. We will often look to them for final guidance.”

Din does not reply. It’s similar to how his own tribe operates, but he still has too many questions.

Crix guides Din to a small cut in the rock wall. It’s an archway, and it deposits them into a much smaller chamber. A simple forge sits in the center of the room. A Mandalorian Armorer and a child stand together near a workbench. The child is young but old enough to start their training. The two of them talk softly.

On the opposite side of the room, another Mandalorian hammers away at some armor. It’s clear that this is still a child, perhaps a teenager, and must be an apprentice of some kind because his armor is like that of the armorer’s.

The armorer and child both look up when Din and Crix enter the room. Din hangs back near the archway as Crix addresses the armorer.

“We have a visitor, Vikal. This is Din Djarin. Sent to us by Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. He says she is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

At the mention of retaking Mandalore, the apprentice pauses mid-swing to glance over at Din. The small child at Vikal’s hip shifts slightly, clearly nervous.

Vikal sets the vambrace he’s holding on top of the workbench. He turns toward the apprentice. “Darro. Take your brother and leave us.”

Darro immediately responds, heading in their direction.

“But buir!” protests the child, his little fist tugging on his father’s hand.

“Hush. Go with your brother.” Vikal places a hand on the child’s shoulder just as Darro presents his hand. The child takes it, and Din steps to the side as they pass through the archway.

Once they leave, Vikal steps out from around the workbench and strides forward, pausing just a few feet away from Din. Vikal’s armor and clothes are all black. It’s almost like looking into the void of space. He’s tall, too. Perhaps as tall or even surpassing Paz Vizsla in size.

“Yours?” asks Din, using the question to learn a little bit about the tribe’s practices.

“Mine,” confirms Vikal. But he doesn’t elaborate, and Din decides not to say anything more. “Have you just arrived?” inquires Vikal. “From Mandalore?”

“No,” answers Din. “I came from Nevarro.”

“That is far.”

Vikal closes the distance, his helmet moving with him as he clearly observers Din’s armor. It is not an objectifying look, but an appreciation. “You wear fine work.”

“The armorer of my tribe forged it for me. I am honored by it.”

“This is the Way,” states Vikal.

“This is the Way,” replies Din.

Vikal inclines his head and takes a step back. “You are our guest here. You shall have our hospitality before we speak on more serious matters. As warriors, we are always so quick to take action. Rest. Eat. We will proceed from there.” He turns to Crix. “See to it that Din Djarin has a private room and a hot meal.”

Crix nods, and he and Din depart.

In his private room, Din removes his helmet, and eats.

The food is hot. Fresh. So different from the plain rations he’s used to eating with his tribe. Din wants to know more about this one. He is curious to their ways. When Crix comes for him, the two return to the main communal area. The entire tribe is there, including all the younglings. It is then that he notices several Mandalorians clutching infants.

Din scans the crowd and his heart drops into his stomach.

R5 is here. The droid is on Vikal’s left side. On the armorer’s right, sitting on the floor near his boots, is Grogu. The foundling has a wooden bowl before him. He reaches in, and lifts a handful of something that Din doesn’t recognize and shoves it all into his mouth.

Din immediately aims for Grogu. Seeming to sense him, Grogu glances up and coos, his food covered hands reaching for Din.

“I assume this one is yours?” asks Vikal as Din lifts Grogu and holds the little womprat up to his face. Din checks him over but the foundling is fine. No signs of injury expect the food that’s smeared all over the child’s hands and face.

“Yes,” sighs Din. Crix holds out a hand, indicating he should take a seat. Din does so but he puts Grogu back on the floor. The foundling immediately crawls toward the bowl.

“Your foundling and the droid arrived not too long ago. Found us quite easily. Impressive for one so young.”

Din smiles softly behind the helmet.

Vikal rubs his knees and then stands, striding forward, stopping before the fire. The entire room quiets.

“Mando’ade! We welcome Din Djarin.” Vikal turns toward Din and extends his arm in Din’s direction. The Mandalorians in attendance beat their fists against their chests three times before dropping their arms. “He brings us an important message.”

Vikal retreats, stopping before Din. “Approach, vod. We will hear you.”

Din stands slowly. Grogu’s head tilts to the side, watching Din, his mouth full of food. Din walks to the center of the room just shy of the fire.

“I am Din Djarin. My tribe lives on Nevarro. I have come before you at the behest of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze. She is rallying the clans in an effort to return to and reclaim our ancestral home world of Mandalore. She sent me to ask you if you are willing to join our efforts.”

Din pauses and every single person in the room is watching him, saying nothing. He swallows, knowing that he’ll need to say more to convince them to join.

“I know that I am in no position to ask this of any of you. But we have lived in the dark for too long. Our people are scattered. Like stars in the galaxy. Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again. So that our culture may flourish and our children can feel what is it to play in the sunlight.”

The Mandalorians around him chatter softly, but Din cannot differentiate between their conversations. He turns toward Vikal, and the man stands. “Is Lady Kryze certain of success?” he asks, addressing Din. “Mandalorians are few, and our preservation is important. Can she guarantee that there will not be needless death?”

No.

Din sighs, his shoulders heaving slightly. “I cannot give you any such certainties.”

Another Mandalorian stands. It is a man, and his armor is a deep red. “That planet is cursed. The air is unbreathable and nothing grows. We have all heard the stories. Why should we go back to a dead planet?”

“This is not true,” says Din vehemently. “I have been to the surface. I have seen Mandalore with my own eyes. The air is breathable. Life is possible.”

The quiet chatter heightens. Becomes a dull roar.

“What is Lady Kryze’s plan for when the planet is retaken?” This time, a woman asks the question.

“Her goal is the Great Forge. That will be our place of operations and base for reconstruction.”

Din will tell them the truth. There is no reason to hide anything.

“But will we have a place there? Can we call Mandalore home? Or must we return to this planet?”

“All Mandalorians are welcome.”

Vikal nods and stands. “Does anyone else have questions for Din Djarin?” No one replies. “Thank you for relaying Lady Kryze’s message. You have given us much to consider.” Vikal addresses the room. “We will reflect on this, and then convene tomorrow evening for deeper discussion.”

The crowd of Mandalorians incline their heads and place their fists over their hearts. When their arms drop back to their sides, many start to get up and leave.

This isn’t the outcome Din was hoping for. He thought he might receive a quick answer, or even an indication that they are willing to join.

Crix comes up beside Din. “Decisions are never made quickly. You’ll likely be here a few days.”

“As long as I can return with an answer.”

“I’ll come for you tomorrow morning. The local population is holding a festival to celebrate the coming cold.”

Din thinks back to you and the women in that small dwelling. He didn’t exactly get a good look at what you were doing, but Din can only assume the two are connected.

Din tips is head to the side. “You mingle with them?”

“To an extent,” shrugs Crix. “They have no standing army or protection. We look after them, and they take care of us. It has kept our tribe safe for many years.”

Din nods and then bends at the knees to pick up Grogu, cradling the foundling close to his heart.

Crix fetches Din in the early hours of the morning. Grogu is left behind with the other younglings. Din is reluctant to do so, but Crix is persuasive, and Grogu is visibly happy to be amongst other children.

The two men head back through the tunnel, stepping out into the forest. The sun is starting to rise but it’s hard to see through the gray clouds. It snowed overnight, and there is a dusting across the forest floor.

Three Mandalorians mingle just outside the exit. Two men and one woman. They greet Crix with firm handshakes.

“This is Din Djarin,” says Crix. “He’s joining us on our visit into town.”

“Passionate speech you made last night. I’m Jido. Welcome.” Jido and Din clasp forearms and shake.

Jido steps back and points his thumb over his shoulder at the other two Mandalorians. “That’s Ran and Cerra.” Ran gives Din a half-hearted salute while Cerra lifts her hand in greeting. Jido leans in and whispers. “They’re a bit boring.”

“Heard that,” snaps Cerra as she turns her back on the group. “We going?”

The five of them head into the trees, walking in the direction that Din entered from. When they exit, Din heads for the N1, looking it over for any signs of tampering. It’s clean, and Din sighs with relief.

“The people here don’t touch things that aren’t theirs. Your ship will be fine,” states Crix as he walks up beside Din. He runs his gloved hand over the wing in appreciation.

“On Tatooine, I had a run in with some Jawas,” replies Din.

Crix snorts. “What was left of your ship?”

“Nothing.”

Jido, Ran, and Cerra’s jetpacks ignite. Crix and Din follow suit, the five of them launching into the air. Din trails behind, following the four Mandalorians as they jet across dreary farmland.

In minutes they approach the small settlement Din visited yesterday, landing right outside the wall. The people moving about don’t even seem to care that a group of Mandalorians landed amongst them. They keep going about their lives as if is this the norm. It’s the same reaction they had with Din.

Din is almost always the stranger. The unknown variable. In crowded places, he is avoided unless someone needs something from him.

He stays at the back of the pack. Jido, Ran, Crix, and Cerra all appear relaxed. They chat amongst themselves, and even stop for an old woman who presents a basket to them full of the red berries Din saw yesterday. Each Mandalorian takes a handful and deposits the goods into various pockets of their flightsuits.

The old woman approaches Din and holds the basket out to him. He doesn’t want to offend her. He scoops out a decent handful and finds a home for them. He’ll share it with Grogu when he returns.

The old woman inclines her head and moves on. Din’s helmet follows her but Crix taps against Din’s upper arm, drawing his attention away from the woman.

Din inhales, and he isn’t sure if the voice receiver in his helmet picks up the soft sound.

You’re standing right there, eyes bright and eager.

“You found them,” you say enthusiastically.

“I did.” Din is nervous. Why is he nervous? Do you do this to him?

Crix crosses his arms and pops a hip. “The two of you know each other?”

You laugh, and it’s the loveliest sound Din has ever heard. “He stumbled in to Tarra’s workshop while we were preparing the Daily Strands.”

“Make enough for us?” asks Jido, his voice a bit sultry. A bit teasing. Din instantly hates that he’s speaking to you that way.

“There are plenty. So, yes,” you tease back, smiling widely.

Crix shifts, turning his body toward Din. “Since you’re our guest, you don’t need to follow us around while we work.” Crix inclines his head in your direction. “She’ll show you around a bit.”

You look so hopeful that Din cannot say no.

He walks beside you the entire time as you go on about the important buildings, the history of the people, and the finer details of your culture. Din is enraptured by how animated you are toward him. He hardly risks asking any questions, mostly wanting to hear you talk.

“Here we are.” You extend your hand toward the building Din stumbled into yesterday.

“Are we going inside?” asks Din skeptically.

You grin and push back the curtain, gesturing for him to come inside. He follows, and this time there are only two other women in this space. They greet Din politely, but return to their work. You walk over to a large table. On it, are…necklaces? Din isn’t entirely sure what they are.

With caution, he approaches, you present one to him.

“These are Daily Strands. We wear them every day during the winter observance.” You point to the threads holding it together. “The threaded cord is the base, symbolizing the importance of community.” Next, you point to the flower petals. “These symbolize the eventual thaw and growth of new life.” Then the red berries. “These are native to the planet. We dry them out to represent the frozen ground.”

“And what do these symbolize?” asks Din, pointing to long, thin, green, stick-like leaves.

“Abundance. These are needles from local trees, and they grow everywhere.” You smile softly. “But it’s more of a wish for prosperity in the future.”

These are what Jido and Crix were referring to.

You gently lift the Daily Strand, presenting it to Din like an offering. “It’s customary to wear one of these.”

Din does not refuse. Instead, he lowers at the waist so that you can slide it over his helmet and around his neck.

You gently draw away and your hands fall to your skirts, your fingers fumbling with the fabric in nervousness. “It is also customary for the giver to kiss the cheeks of the receiver.” You shrug. “But I can make an exception given the circumstances.”

Din remembers how eager Jido was to receiving one of these. Briefly, Din imagines you kiss the sides of Jido and Crix’s helmets, and Din instantly simmers.

Not knowing how to ask, Din bends again, this time just enough that all you’ll need to do is to go up on your toes to place those gentle lips against his beskar.

“No exceptions,” he murmurs.

Your mouth forms a soft o, and then it cools, turning into tender satisfaction. Slowly, you kiss the curve of his helmet on the right side and then the left.

Even with the helmet on, Din still manages to catch a whiff of your scent. You smell like the trees and warm sugar. Without instruction, his hand brushes against your hip.

You do not draw away, and that pleases something deep within Din. When you pull back, Din instantly misses your heat.

“I will wear this every day,” says Din, his hand resting against it briefly.

You laugh, and Din doesn’t understand what you find so funny. “It’s a Daily Strand. You receive a new one each day.”

Every day? Does that mean you’ll kiss him every time you place a new one around his neck?

“Then I will be back tomorrow for a new one.”

“Promise?” you murmur.

“Promise.”

Part 2

taglist:

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quietblueriver · 7 months

Text

Because I couldn’t get this out of my mind, some Southern Gothic fluff. Very minor spoilers for last night’s ep but this is almost entirely just them being soft witches in love.

Her hair is a tangled mess. It has been since that shitshow with the dead Paragon’s Call fuckers, but she’s had other things to worry about—ghost pirates and FCG and parleys and, if she’s honest, her girlfriend’s tits, which had caused her brain to stop in its tracks at least half a dozen times since Laudna had declared that she was “bringing out the girls” to help their cause.

Now, though, after an hour-long game of rollies she escaped only because Fearne flirted her way into the bony lap of her opponent, she’s staring at the results of Laudna’s attempt at braiding.

Her reflection winces back at her as she tries to untangle what she can with her fingers, turning her head side to side to take stock of the damage. She’s gonna need a comb.

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck it.”

“Alright, darling?”

Imogen looks up from where she has been wrestling with a knot to find Laudna in the doorway, crooked, concerned smile on her face as she hefts a small stack of blankets that they must have managed to scrounge up between the ship and their stock in the hole. Her top is still arranged for ghostly seduction, and Imogen lets her eyes wander appreciatively. Again.

She finds suddenly that she could give a shit about the comb stuck in her hair and pulls it, and a chunk of purple she doesn’t let herself think too hard about out (she’s been bald for fuck’s sake; what’s a little hair loss for love?), tossing them onto the small barrel by the mirror.

Three steps and she’s taking the blankets and cupping Laudna’s sharp jaw, kissing her softly in greeting. Laudna’s little sigh, the small, surprised noise she makes almost every time they do this, makes Imogen’s stomach flip as it always does, and she leans into the kiss, deepens it and then pulls away, drawing a whine.

“Hey there.” She lifts the pile of blankets. “Looks like y’all found some.”

“Yes.” Laudna clears her throat, face that deeper shade of purple Imogen tries to bring out as often as she can, and Imogen smirks, smug as can be, until Laudna rolls her eyes at her. “Oh, hush.”

“Don’t know what you mean, Laud. I didn’t say a word.”

“Your face said plenty, thank you.”

Imogen grins and kisses her again before turning to toss the blankets onto the bed.

“Can’t say I’m sorry ‘bout it.” She turns back and lets her eyes trail purposefully down Laudna’s neck, stopping at her chest and staying there. “It’s been real hard to focus today. Nice knowin’ I can fluster you a little, too.”

Laudna laughs disbelievingly, and Imogen raises an eyebrow.

“You sayin’ you wouldn’t have trouble focusin’ if I…” She undoes a button and Laudna’s dark eyes focus in on her fingers. “What did you call it? Bring out the girls?”

Her eyes are still pinned to Imogen’s hands, and she undoes another button, because she likes it when Laudna looks at her like this, wants Laudna to look at her like this, and there’s no reason now to pretend she doesn’t.

She offers a gloating, teasing, “Laud?”

Black eyes snap up, and she smirks again when Laudna pouts at her even as she flushes that pretty color. “Yes, well. There’s a bit more there to admire, dear, isn’t there?”

She’s working on this. On Laudna moving beyond a blustering veneer of self-confidence and learning to see herself at least a little bit like Imogen sees her. It’s not exactly a hardship, letting Laudna know how beautiful she is. The chiding voice inside her head had already shifted over the months before the market in Jrusar, moving from “she’s your best friend, Imogen” to “don’t ruin this, Imogen” to “it’s not the time, Imogen.” (She doesn’t think about the days when the voice had been nothing but a raging, screaming thing. She’d answered its call. She’d gotten her back.) Now, the voice says only, “Show her.”

So she does. She’s back in Laudna’s space quickly, hands gentle but sure as they make a home on her waist, and she catches her eye seriously, holds it.

“No, baby, I don’t think there is.” When Laudna’s smile wobbles into place, the quirk of her lips small but genuine, Imogen flexes her fingers and presses her own lips to the skin of Laudna’s neck, letting her tongue tease skin as she says, “Wanna show you how much I admire you later, if you want.” She pulls back with a graze of her teeth, and Laudna brings her hands around Imogen’s shoulders and kisses her with purpose, mumbling, “Yes, please,” as she winds her hands up into Imogen’s hair.

It’s then that she remembers the state of it, hissing as Laudna’s fingers get caught in a tangle. They’re gone instantly, as is the heat of the moment, Laudna’s cool palms cupping her cheeks as she apologizes and checks for injury, eyes roaming over Imogen’s scalp.

“I’m sorry, darling. Are you…” Fingers move back to her hair then, gently exploring, and Laudna bites her lip. “Oh dear. It’s my fault.”

Imogen doesn’t shake her head, doesn’t want to dislodge the hand still on her cheek, but she says, dismissive, “Nah. Just a long day. Quick comb and I’ll be right as rain.”

The purse of her lips tells Imogen exactly what she thinks of that explanation.

“It really is no big deal.” She turns her head to kiss gray skin, the smallest tang of ichor on her lips as she licks them distractedly and fights the urge to go back for more.

“Can I…would you mind if I…” Gentle black nails trace the skin of her temple as she tucks a lock of hair, blessedly free of knots, behind her ear. “Would you like help brushing it out?” She adds hastily, before Imogen even has a chance to breathe out her obvious and immediate yes. “I understand if not. After all, it is my fault it’s like this in the first place.” Her mouth is pulled tight at the corners, eyes squinted in worry, and Imogen places a kiss at the corner of one, stretched onto her toes to reach.

“Thanks. That would be great.”

Laudna is, of course, gentler than Imogen would ever be with herself. She produces some herbs from somewhere, busying herself at the basin before she returns. They’re far enough away from the others that she doesn’t think much before she takes off the circlet, sitting it gently on the table near the bed and sighing into the sound of Laudna’s thoughts, the musical hum of them.

“I could work around it, darling.”

It’s nice, hearing you. If you don’t mind.

Laudna’s smile reaches across her face, delighted, and Imogen feels it, stomach flipping at the surge of affection. I love having you here. Stay as long as you’d like.

She kisses her then, chaste with the barrier of their smiles, before situating herself on the floor. As it turns out, it’s too fucking cold, so Imogen reclines, propped between Laudna’s knees on the bed, which is much better anyway. The angle is a little awkward but they mess around with a few pillows and blankets until it works, and then Laudna’s hands are in her hair, gently working whatever she made through tangles.

“Smells good.”

Laudna hums, pleased. “Rosemary.”

“Mmm.”

She gets lost for a bit, in the feel of Laudna’s fingers on her scalp, the rhythm of the brush, the lilt of her thoughts. She lets them wash over her, beautiful but fleeting, and avoids processing details as much as she can.

Laudna is so gentle with Imogen, whispered apologies with every knot, occasional internal rebukes loud enough to break through the general flow of her thoughts. Imogen soothes those as best she can, stopping the brush to plant a kiss on Laudna’s wrist, a none of that, darlin’ paired with the press of her lips. It seems to work, mostly, thoughts of gratitude that Imogen doesn’t deserve but doesn’t challenge for the moment replacing the self-criticism.

Imogen wonders, not for the first time, what Laudna’s life would’ve been like if she’d been given all the love she deserved right from the start. She thinks of a little girl who never learned to braid, lonely and strange and kinder than anyone deserved. Beautiful and familiar.

Imogen can’t help her, but she can love Laudna. She will love Laudna.

“You know,” she says, eyes closed and as casually as she can, “I could teach you how to braid. If you’re interested.”

The rhythm of the brush stops just for a moment before it continues, Laudna’s voice, small, answering, “I think I’d like that. Thank you.”

She reaches back for a hand, kisses knuckles and fingertips until Laudna is giggling and then she presses her mouth to palm, to deep purple veins on a fragile and perfect inner wrist.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” she says as she tilts her head back to catch deep black eyes. “I think you’ll look real pretty with a braid.”

Laudna blushes, catches Imogen’s fingers and brings them to her own mouth, drops a cool kiss to the back of her hand. Imogen closes her eyes again as Laudna resumes brushing and relaxes into the bed beneath her.

#critical role #imodna #imodna fic #imogen temult #laudna #southern gothic

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iruiji · 1 day

Text

SAGAU but Creator Reader has been tagging along with the Gourmet Supremos.

If you didn't know or have forgotten, Gourmet Supremos are one of those quest series that is randomized because some part of the questline can only be accessed with dailies (like Whispers in the Wind or Snezhnaya Does Not Believe in Tears or Garcia's Paean).

This questline spans from Inazuma up to Sumeru. I think there was 6-7 quests in total? I forgot. (it's 8).

(These are Julie, Parvaneh and Xudong in order.) There are more characters that made a cameo in here but we'll just limit it with these three.

Context dropped, onto the short HCs.

• Okay so, I didn't really read the whole story of this one so I'm just going to make some random HCs on the fly. I'm aiming for a goody-feel with this one so no heavy angst will be involved.

• Alright, so. Xudong is the leader of the Gourmet Supremos, and he only found you because when you land in Inazuma, you literally dropped into their camp and was about to steal a sausage from Julie's backpack (but there were so many ingredients there!!!)

• Xudong was fuming, lmao.

"THIEF!! SOMEONE, HELP!"

• Aight, geez, made you run a marathon there.

• The next time you've met, all three were together and they saw you roasting some lavender melon in some dilapidated tent you found while walking aimlessly. Hey, better than no shelter at all. For some unfathomable reason, your inventory only consists of food materials - with everything, and I mean everything, missing.

• God damn. It's like the heaven is telling you something. 🙄

• Anyways, yeah. So for some reason, the only access to the goddamn ingredients are locked, and you can't use it and you don't know when you would be able to use it, so you have to scrounge up whatever pitiful sources you can get.

• Sadly, it's mostly lavender melons.

• Like, you already made several dishes from this and it's really starting to grind on your gears, so you took a dive in one of the caverns and found some meat and was happily grilling it with the melons when the trio came out of nowhere.

"Thief!"

The hell. "I didn't get the sausage, though."

"But you still tried to!"

"I mean, I was dying of hunger, so.. you know."

Julie, bless her heart, gets in between you two. "It's fine, Xudong. They needed help, did they not?"

"But-"

This time, Parvaneh chimes in. "As they've told you, they didn't get anything, so let it go. And you." She points at you with calloused finger. "Who are you?"

That caught you off guard a little. Told them your name and, to Xudong's bewilderment, started chatting amicably with you. Some time later though, he softened a bit but still a little cautious. They traded cooking tips with you, and, to their utmost surprise, you exchanged many tips on cooking as well.

"How do you know all this?" Xudong asked as you finished explaining the difference between sauteing onion and garlic first.

"Oh. I'm uh, a professional chef back in our place. Been years though, so yeah." You replied as you took a bite of their chicken. "Holy shit, why is this so good?"

Julie and Parvaneh just smiled proudly.

• So like, you became a new addition to their team - but you actually specialize in desserts. Xudong has many a great views in cooking, as well as the two ladies, and together you journeyed the whole of Inazuma for rare ingredients and made some two or three journals that have been since published and loved by people. (The fangirling/fanboying is real when you saw Xiangling's message drooling about your own version of Tiramisu).

• One day, however, you lot came across a shrine - it doesn't look abandoned, oddly, but it looks really, really old. You asked them what's the deal with this one, and they explained about the Creator.

Oh.

You're in SAGAU?

Shit.

"People said they've come back, but we don't really know.."

Double shit.

• With that knowledge, you try and avoid the main cities as much as possible and only let the three buy on populated areas. Thank God they didn't really notice you suddenly covering half your face with a mask - which you only shrugged when asked.

"I like masks."

Fair enough, they suppose.

• ..oh fuck, is that Yae Miko?

"Ara, and who is this?"

Xudong, Julie and Parvaneh bows and you hastily followed.

"She is our new companion, Lady Miko."

She looks at you with an impish grin. "Oh?"

... "Yo."

Nice.

• Coming across the main characters from the game are very, VERY rare. You can actually count on one hand the characters you've met:

Yae Miko;

Thoma (he was going around asking for favors as usual and you bump into each other and only had quick apologies as interaction);

Kujou Sara (she was patrolling the area and asked about your mask - which you replied that it's part of your outfit. damn, her glare was fucking menacing!);

Kuki Shinobu (you were side to side buying groceries once), and lastly;

Kamisato Ayato (you actually didn't meet - you just saw him giving speech in a podium for some event you just came across).

• You figured, hey, maybe you're NOT the creator or whatever. And just tried to live normally after some time. The mask stayed though, because you just survived the pandemic back here and was cautious.

• About a year and six months with the team, Xudong suggested you come all to Sumeru to expand your knowledge. Holy shit, yes please!

• ..and then you met the Traveler on your way.

"Your Grace..?"

Triple shit.

😭 sorry for disappearing for about a year - i was too lazy finishing anything. And now, I added another idea not to finish on the list 💀 wrote this whole thing in like 30 minutes motivation really is a wonderful thing, huh?

#sagau brainrot #genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #genshin isekai #genshin headcanons #sagau idea #sagau x reader #sagau #genshin sagau

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shelbyssins · 1 year

Note

Hi there Rosie! Welcome again!! 😊😊 I apologize in advance for the fact that this request may not be the best…I’m not good at thinking them up — but I wanted to send one in, so here goes…

Would you be able to write a Tommy Shelby x Reader where Tommy and reader were previously in a relationship but separated for some reason (I can’t think of one atm so I’ll leave that up to you) but then he crosses paths with her some time down the road, when he least expects to, and is suddenly sidetracked by her again…like maybe he was about to do some business but sees her and is completely distracted. And then he does whatever he can to talk to her again. …. It’s up to you whether you want to go full angst or sprinkle in some fluff at the end.

I hope this made sense…thanks so much in advance if you choose to write the story!! ❤️

Home ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of violence, Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 7,872

Request for: @runnning-outof-time

A/N: So this story ran away with me a bit... I absolutely loved writing this request and really wish I didn't have to work so I could've finsihed it sooner. I hope this story does justice to what you had in mind! If you read this fic, let me know what you think! I'm excited to upload more soon. Enjoy x

The shop was quiet today. Race day wasn’t for another week and most factories didn’t pay their worker’s wages until tomorrow, so most men were scrounging up their last few pennies to put food on the table before they could crowd the betting shop. It was all for the best, really; Tommy was in a frightfully awful mood, clattering about his office, ripping desk drawers and cabinet doors open as if the wood had personally offended him.

“Where the fuck is this fucking diary?” He muttered to himself, an unlit cigarette hanging forgotten between his lips. Stumbling over his desk chair, he cursed at whichever higher power was listening for testing him so harshly today. As he fumbled with his final drawer, the last iota of patience he had left drained out of him, and he forced the handle so hard that the entire drawer came out of the cabinet and crashed to the floor with a near deafening thud. Tommy flinched as the noise echoed around in his head, briefly taken to a place better forgotten, distant explosions, distant death. He pushed away the burning behind his eyes and bent to collect the various papers scattered around the floor.

They were mostly old contracts and accounting bills, permanently wrinkled, ink faded by the passage of the years, but one thing Tommy didn’t expect was peeking out from under a pile of old letters. A photograph, a reminder of someone he all too often tried to push away, just like every other painful memory. He staggered back a little, struck by this sudden resurgence of his past love, struck by this sadness curling around his lungs.

Tommy clasped the photograph in one hand, her eyes staring unwaveringly back at him. He remembered when she gave him the picture; she had tucked it into the pocket of his coat just before he left for France, her hands softly trembling, eyes glassy with tears. Tommy slept with it under his pillow every night during the war. Sometimes she was the only reason he fought for another day, the only thing that could bring him back to his feet from the abyss of crippling fear.

He was so angry all of a sudden, kicking the wooden drawer across the room just to feel the ache of his foot, just for the satisfaction when it hit the wall and splintered apart. Just so he could distract himself from the guilt rising through his body like a sickness.

“Fuck!” He roared into the silence.

Tommy’s fingers twitched for a moment, immediately craving to tear the photo into a thousand shreds, but he couldn’t do it to her - he almost felt like it would hurt her now if he did. He was too ashamed to look back at her beautiful face as he folded the picture away, just like he couldn’t look at her when she left.

All it took was one threat against her. One far too many. Tommy closed his eyes and thought of her, the soft smiles she gave only to him, her melodic laugh, the way she lit up every dark corner of his life. There would be no reason for him to keep living if he robbed the world of that brightness, could never live with himself if he didn’t keep her safe from his enemies. So Tommy convinced himself it was better to push her away than to ever see her dead because of him. He could make her hate him if he had to, anything to get her as far removed as possible. “You’re just not enough for me anymore, Y/n,” He said, aiming for nonchalance though his voice cracked on her name.She recoiled away from Tommy like he had slapped her, eyes stinging with tears as she turned her back to him, embarrassed.“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve proven to me what everybody always told me was true,” She spoke in a watery voice, tearful yet calm, but Tommy almost wished she’d scream at him, anything was better than this broken girl in front of him. “You have no room in your life for anyone’s interests but your own, Thomas Shelby. You knew I’d loved you from the moment we met, and yet you strung me along anyway. I knew exactly what you were capable of, but I never saw such cruelty in you.” Y/n finished her sentence looking Tommy in the eyes, fierce in her grief, “If you say you don’t love me, I swear you’ll never see me again.” Her words tore through him like a bayonet, killing a part of his soul he didn’t know was still alive. He refused to meet her gaze, ashamed of what he might see reflected in her eyes. He didn’t speak for a beat too long, not trusting that the truth of his feelings for Y/n might come tumbling out of his mouth like a traitorous avalanche. “I understand, Tommy,” Were her final words to him, spoken so tenderly that it almost comforted Tommy, it reminded him of the softness of his mother’s voice when she’d hushed him to sleep as a child, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, fighting to keep his face vacant.Y/n left Tommy standing on his own, her perfume lingering just in front of his face, fogging up his brain with all the loving words he wished so desperately he could say to her. Tommy’s chest heaved with the effort it took to keep his legs from darting out after her and begging her to stay. He cursed his ambition, cursed himself for breaking her heart, cursed himself for driving her away. He cursed everything he could for hoping she’d stay away from him forever.

~~~

Two days after he’d rediscovered Y/n’s photograph, Tommy found himself in the Garrison meeting two Irishmen over some headache about a fight. The air was a little stale in the snug, old alcohol soaked into the fabric of the couches and cigarette smoke absorbed by the walls.

“Thomas Shelby,” The greeting hung stagnant in the room, Tommy not wanting to humour the men more than necessary.

Tommy seated himself at the table, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so, exuding class from every fibre of his clothing.

“So, what seems to be the issue?” Tommy ventured, knowing full well why they wanted an audience.

“One of your men attacked one of ours. All we’re asking for is fair recompense,” one man gurgled through his mouthful of whiskey.

Tommy bit his tongue, dying to praise the Irishman for knowing such a long word, but he kept his little joke to himself, lips turned up in a smirk, “And why would I take responsibility for a street brawl I had nothing to do with?” Tommy asked, bored with the conversation.

“There’s only one gang reckless enough to employ stupid little feckers who wave around their razor-tipped hats like they’re trophies. Am I wrong in assuming you take responsibility for those stupid fucks?” The other man drawled, clearly a few more glasses deep than Tommy.

Tommy leaned forward in his seat, taking the bottle of whiskey from in front of the men and pouring himself a glass, having had his fill of them before he’d even sat down.

“Now, listen, gentlemen, you and I both know that my men don’t fight unprovoked. We also know that the Peaky Blinders have previously forgiven you a little misstep when one of your men tried to take another man’s wife against her will. A man on my territory and on my payroll. It wouldn’t take much for me to find out exactly why one of my men attacked yours and dissolve this little peace treaty,” Tommy rasped, his voice dropped low to threaten the men sat across from him.

“We still demand you make this right. We hear you Shelbys are rolling in the money nowadays,” The glint in their eyes told Tommy they were more moronic than he’d first thought. They’d shown their hand far too soon and shown they couldn’t keep up with Tommy’s intellect.

“So money’s what you want, ey?” Tommy smirked. “Tell you what. Here’s the first fucking instalment,” Tommy reached into his breast pocket and pulled out five pounds, throwing it onto the table in front of the men, “That’s nothing to me, as I’m sure you’re aware. Then for the next instalment, you’ll get your fair recompense in the form of a bullet each, right through both your heads.” Tommy makes an exaggerated and obvious gesture of stretching, showing the Irishmen a glimpse of the revolver strapped to his body holster, enjoying the way it made them squirm.

“My men outnumber your men by four to one. If I catch sight of a single one of you in my territory again, your little gang will go extinct. You can keep the five pound, buy your man a nice new white shirt and hope it inspires him to fight better, keep it clean this time round. Go on, fuck off,” Tommy gestures to the door with the cigarette he was in the midst of lighting, following the scared bodies as they scurried away, their metaphorical tails between their legs.

Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette and sighed out the smoke, closing his eyes to bring himself out of the mood those Irish had put him in. He knocked back another shot of whiskey, the satisfying burn distracting him for a brief moment.

Then he heard it. A laugh, high and lilting like birdsong. A laugh he knew too well. He opened his eyes, his immediate thought that he’d drifted off briefly and was dreaming. He strained his ears, searching for the laughter again when it floated into the snug, tempting him out of his seat.

He was opening the door before he even had a chance to tell himself to run the other way. Then his eyes fell upon her. Y/n was like an apparition, the way the last dregs of the afternoon sun filtered through the cloudy windows and bathed her in an ethereal glow, the light daring to touch only her, just like how she appeared to him in dreams. Y/n was stood at the bar, sipping a clear drink and wincing slightly at the taste after every mouthful. Rum, if Tommy remembered her preference correctly. He smiled despite his shock; she still had to force herself to drink it. She was chatting happily to a girl he didn’t know, a girl who was probably good looking when on her own, but who’s appearance was overshadowed in every possible way when placed next to such a beauty.

Despite the three years that had passed between them, Tommy noted that Y/n hadn’t changed too much. Her hair was a little darker, her features had become sharper, the softness of her youth having departed. Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, so familiar yet so unknown to him. The Y/n that left him was a girl, all wide grins and excitement. The Y/n he saw now had become a woman in her own right, she held her head a little higher, she kept her smiles demure. Tommy’s chest ached a little, he wondered when she changed into the woman who stood at the bar, wondered whether she was forced to leave her youth behind, wondered whether he could’ve protected that innocence if he’d have stayed with her.

Somewhere next to him, some drunkard knocked a glass to the floor, the sound of shattering glass drawing everyone’s eyes. Y/n’s gaze immediately locked with his.

Tommy was rooted to the spot, feeling like the little boy who’d been caught eating sweets just before dinner time. He tried his best to regain control over himself and wandered over to the bar as nonchalantly as possible.

“Thomas,” Y/n greeted simply, Tommy silently thanking her for opening the conversation for him. The way she looked at him felt undressing, her eyes were not unkind but she obviously wasn’t as affected by the meeting as Tommy.

Tommy’s pride was a little wounded by her indifference, he hated that he was so nervous around her when she couldn’t seem more unbothered.

“Y/n,” Tommy replied, “You look good,” Such an understatement seemed like a crime, but he didn’t think he could find the right words to describe how she’d floored him with one look.

“Thank you,” She smiled softly at him, oozing class. Tommy’s legs felt a little unstable as she weakened him with that smile. He cleared his throat to attempt an even tone, “So where have you been?”

The friend she was chatting with whispered something in Y/n’s ear before wandering over to a table, leaving the two alone. She knocked back the rest of her drink and Tommy couldn’t help but follow the way she tipped her head back, eyes trailing her exposed throat as she swallowed. She placed the glass back on the bar silently, “London,” She answered finally.

Tommy supposed that London made the most sense, given Y/n’s drive for adventure, he could see why the big city would attract her. Tommy thought that maybe he should leave it at that, her noncommital answers should have been enough of a clue that she didn’t want to talk, but his entire being was desperate for the encounter not to end so soon.

“So what are you doing back?” Tommy continued when the silence stretched on, distantly remembering the promise she made last time they spoke.

“I’m staying here for a while. For a friend’s wedding,” She clarified.

“I see,” Tommy replied, unsure what to say on the matter.

The silence drew on once again, such an unfamiliar feeling between the two. Tommy remembered the way they used to laugh, how Y/n’s lips were always curled up slightly at the corners, but looking at her solemn face now, he wondered if she had anyone who made her happy like he had.

Tommy was abruptly hit by the emptiness in his chest, the space Y/n left when she was gone having never been filled. He wanted to take her hand and talk about everything like they used to, longed to see her grin like she did three years ago, wanted to mend the heart he’d broken.

“Will you join me in the snug for another drink?” Tommy ventured, watching her eyes intently, hoping he could see the cogs turning in her brain.

She smiled that soft smile again, with a warmth he didn’t deserve, wounding him. She reached out her delicate hand and cupped his cheek, Tommy couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered closed. He had no idea that he’d missed her touch so greatly. Y/n brushed her thumb across his cheek gently.

“I think you and I both know that that’s a bad idea,” She replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy fought hard to keep the disappointment out of his eyes when he finally brought himself to look at her again. Her hand lingered on his cheek for a moment, and Tommy wanted to run, push her away, fall into her arms all at once.

Y/n’s eyes pierced him, as if searching for something, then she let her hand drop back to her side, “Goodnight, Tommy,” was all she said as she went to rejoin her friend.

Tommy felt winded like she’d punched him. Seeing her again was such a sweet torture, knowing that she’d survived well enough without him should’ve been a welcome thought, but the overwhelming feeling was jealousy and sadness that others got to see her grow up, bitterness that it was his decision to drive her away and yet he wanted her back so badly.

Tommy spent the rest of the evening stewing and drinking, trying hard not to show any expression. All the while his eyes kept drawing to Y/n like a compass needle drawn to the North, eyes studying her face, trying to find his answers there. Not once did she look back at him. He deserved her ignorance.

Tommy suddenly felt like he’d over stayed his welcome in his own pub, so he drained his whiskey and left. The icy rain lashed the gravel streets on his way home. Numbing his face, not quite numbing his heart.

~~~

Y/n walked home alone from the Garrison that night, grateful that the rain had ceased, yet wishing there was something to distract her from thoughts of Tommy. Sadness weighed heavily on her chest as she thought of what could’ve been between them by now. Marriage? A family? Every time she blinked, she saw blue eyes staring back at her. Small Heath invaded every one of her senses, the familiar smell of coal fire burning her lungs, distant shouting and car engines settling in her ears; they were odd things to be comforted by.

She finally arrived at the lodging house she was staying at and let herself into her room, the sudden silence oppressive. With nothing else to occupy her mind, she let out the shuddering breath she’d been holding all night, and with it, her tears fell freely down to her feet, the dam holding them back ultimately giving up. Y/n had stuck the pieces of her heart back together as best she could over the years, but all it took was one meeting with him to shatter it once again. Her ribs ached with the force of her sorrow, as if the shards of her heart were piercing her skin from the inside. She fell to her knees on the creaky wooden floor and clutched her arms around herself, sobbing like a child.

When she had received the invitation to the wedding, her immediate reaction was the throw it away, knowing that returning to Small Heath was a poor decision, knowing she shouldn’t even entertain the notion. But Y/n was tempted already, she found herself daydreaming about the town that had once been her home, imagining what it would be like to return. She accepted the invitation, writing a letter to her friend informing her she would come. Y/n pretended to herself that she was only going because she wanted to support her friend, wanted to witness her marriage. But she knew her reasons were selfish in reality. She craved to see Tommy like he was an addiction, so she’d packed all of her things and was on the next available train home.

When Y/n saw him at the Garrison tonight she didn’t quite know what to do. There was a cruel part of her that reared its head, telling her to be cold, give him a taste of his own medicine. But she found it wasn’t hard to be distant from him, her heart closed its doors as soon as he started towards her, reminded of the pain he’d caused.

Her entire reason for even going to the Garrison tonight was the hope that she’d see him, but when she finally did, all she hoped was that he’d feel a fraction of the misery he’d created in her, hoped that he regretted everything he’d done. The anger was a new emotion for Y/n, she’d spent night after night crying over her lost love, yet facing him now, she only felt a quiet rage simmering in the pit of her stomach.

Y/n climbed to her feet, feeling a little unsteady, from the alcohol or the night’s revelations she did not know, and peered out of her window. The glass was grimy with dust and soot, the town slept below her. The sky was an inky blue, never really turning pitch black during the summer, a permanent blanket of mist completely covered the stars. Her home hadn’t changed at all, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she had changed too much. She itched to run away from it all, return to London and pretend this had never happened, forget everything that once tied her to Small Heath. However, those ties were knotted around her every limb so tightly that no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t get free, she couldn’t pretend that she had no feelings for Tommy anymore. He pulled her toward him like a string linked them and he was tugging, she feared that soon he’d pull her under if she let him.

Exhausted by the constant battle between her head and her heart, she fell into her tiny bed, head aching. Y/n fell asleep that night with tear-stained cheeks, she dreamt of blue eyes and rough hands.

~~~

The next morning, Y/n awoke fairly early as she’d forgotten to close the curtains last night and the morning sunlight was shining directly into her eyes. She groaned and checked the clock on her bedside table, it read 7:15am. Y/n decided against wallowing in her bed today and instead went to her cupboards to look for breakfast. She was wholly disappointed when she discovered the cupboards were empty save for some preserves, her stomach growled at the promise of food. So she pulled on a simple cream dress and black lace up boots and headed out into town to find something to eat.

There was something about walking the streets of Small Heath that felt so routine even after all these years, Y/n knew every pothole, every turn, near enough every face she passed. She didn’t realise how close she had strayed towards the betting shop until she saw the unmistakable heavy moustache upon Arther Shelby’s face. Panicked, she turned her head away from him, fully aware of his lack of tact, knowing he’d be asking all about her and Tommy if he saw her.

Safely away from being cornered by any Shelbys, the bakery just down the road from the BSA Factory caught her eye, if the display of various fresh breads and pastries hadn’t convinced her, she was thoroughly tempted in by the sweet smell emanating from the building.

Upon entering, she was hit by the noise of the shop, bakers slamming oven doors in the back, cashiers chatting to customers, so Y/n was confused when all the noise suddenly ceased. She looked around searchingly until her eyes found Tommy stood in the doorway, looking every bit the royalty of Small Heath.

He was dressed in his usual three piece suit, tailored to perfection, and it was only now Y/n realised how much he’d grown since she last saw him. His shoulders were broad and muscles thicker, he’d become every bit the man she always thought he would be. He seemed now to tower over her, even though they were still of a similar height. She tried to tamp down the heat rising to her cheeks as she took in his appearance, chiding herself for still being so attracted to him.

“Mr Shelby!” Cried the owner of the place, “So good to see you in here,” the owner nodded his head so low it looked like he was bowing. Y/n nearly laughed, a little twinge of pride swelled at just how much Tommy had made of himself while she was gone.

Tommy just nodded dismissively, his eyes never leaving Y/n. She watched as the rest of the customers shuffled out one by one, all either rightly scared of Tommy or simply having other places to be.

The way Tommy’s eyes raked over Y/n’s body made her feel self conscious, suddenly overly aware of her plain outfit and the fact that her hair was hanging down past her shoulders and not pinned back like usual. She felt irritated that she evidently still cared what he thought of her. Y/n suspected that he’d followed her in here just for the purpose of seeing her again, why? She couldn’t figure it out, but the casual way he stood, hands in his trouser pockets, not speaking, was starting to annoy her. Y/n could only think he was enjoying the effect this little game of his was having.

“What are you doing here?” She accused, like this wasn’t a place open to the general public.

Tommy smirked a little, seemingly amused, it just incensed Y/n that much more, “Just buying some breakfast, same as you,” He replied, warm voice heating her body more than the blaze from the ovens.

She couldn’t let herself be at his mercy, that one sentence sending a flush to her cheeks she could only pray he didn’t see, it wouldn’t do his ego any good. Despite his answer, he still hadn’t moved from his place, apparently content to just watch Y/n.

“Good morning, Thomas,” She bid him like it was a goodbye as she slipped past him at the door, doing her very best not to shudder as she brushed against him, the notion of breakfast flying to the back of her mind.

Y/n’s suspicion that he’d come to the bakery just for her was confirmed when Tommy followed her straight out of the shop without buying anything, despite his disclosure that he would.

Y/n turned to Tommy and met his eyes with all the courage she could muster, “Tommy, will you please just let me get through this stay in peace?” She pleaded, suddenly tired again even though she had only recently woken.

His eyes softened then, and they reminded Y/n so much of the way he used to look at her that she wanted to cry. Tommy reached out and took her hand before she could think to move away and it felt so right that it stole the air from her lungs. His hand was a little rougher than she remembered, a few more callouses rubbing like sand paper against her smaller hand, but it held the same warmth and the same delicate touch that seemed to juxtapose Tommy’s hard nature.

Her eyes widened as he started to speak to her again, she couldn’t focus on his voice over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears, “If you tell me to leave you alone, I will,” is all she heard him say.

She fought every one of her instincts as she pulled her hand out of his, heart aching a little at the loss, a tear she didn’t know had formed escaping her eye when she turned away. It would be so easy to tell him to leave, to save herself all this hurt, but Y/n knew she couldn’t honestly say that was what she wanted.

Even though it pained her to be near him after everything that happened, she was still in love with him, both sides of her feelings constantly warring with each other. She found that her head fell silent when he spoke to her.

Confused and perturbed by what she really wanted, Y/n walked away from him, fighting to keep her pace even. She expected Tommy to follow after her, didn’t know if she was disappointed when he didn’t.

~~~

Today was the day before the wedding and Y/n had only just got round to trying on the dress she’d brought for the occasion. It was a classy blush pink gown, hemmed just below the knees, cut low enough to expose her chest but still modest enough to leave something to the imagination. She slipped the fine fabric over her head, internally praying that it would fit, though she didn’t know what she would do even if it didn’t.

Blessedly, the dress fit. It was tight in all the right places, showing off her attractive curves, but it was just loose enough that the fabric fanned out behind her when she twirled. Y/n thumbed the delicate lace that covered her shoulders and allowed herself a small smile, she thought that maybe she could have fun tomorrow.

No sooner than the thought had settled into her mind, there was an insistent knock at her door. Y/n hurried over and peered through her peep hole, she cursed at the ceiling as she recognised Tommy Shelby tapping his foot impatiently, flicking his spent cigarette to the floor after his last long pull. She felt a little unsteady as she watched him stand there, eyes trained on his lips, the fluttering feeling she always used to get around him making an unwelcome appearance in her stomach.

Y/n considered pretending like she wasn’t there for a moment, staying silent as she mulled over her options. But she knew that Tommy wouldn’t have come if he didn’t know for certain that she was there, and he would absolutely do something stupid like break the door down just to get his way if she didn’t answer.

“How did you know I was here?” Y/n demanded as soon as she opened the door, immediately cutting Tommy off from whatever he wanted to say first.

“Not important,” Tommy replied coolly, and his voice was so smooth and warm like honey, the look in his eyes just as impossibly sweet that Y/n kind of wanted to punch him in the face so she wouldn’t have to see it.

“What do you want?” Y/n asked, turning away and fighting to keep in control as she found herself inexplicably hypnotised by Tommy’s being.

“You look beautiful,” Tommy avoided the question.

Y/n’s head spun a little as she watched Tommy watching her, she felt he had no permission to be looking at her the way he was, hungrily. She felt that the girl reflected in his eyes looked nothing like her. The history between the two simmered in the heat of his gaze as she tried to recall a time he’d wanted her so obviously as he did now.

She was dizzied by the sudden change in her relationship with Tommy. Just mere days ago they were no better than perfect strangers, and now the past she shared with Tommy had come back and hit her with the full force of a steam engine, now he was standing in her room, staring at her as if he hadn’t broken her heart. She felt like she’d been pushed and pulled every way Tommy wanted her to go, like he was a child and she was his rag doll. The worst thing was that she kept letting him.

“What do you want?” Y/n repeated, an unmistakable waver in her voice.

“I want to know if you’re ok,” He replied simply.

Tommy’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly, revealing the fine wrinkles at the corners. Y/n noted that there were a few more lines there than when she last saw him three years ago. She assumed he’d laughed a lot since she left. She didn’t know why her mouth tasted so sour at the thought.

“Are you joking?” She asked incredulously, laughing without humour.

She wondered then something that everyone wondered about Tommy; did he really have no conscience?

Did he really care about her so little that he didn’t notice how broken she was when she left? Did he really think they could just continue as if nothing had passed between them?

Y/n was silent for a long time, her hands shaking with silent anger, her face seething with heat when Tommy spoke up again.

“Seeing you around here has shown me just how dark my life is without you to brighten it up. I know I’ve no right to ask you to stay here but… I just really want to know if you’re truly ok living away from home. Away from me,”

Y/n had kept all the despair about hers and Tommy’s relationship trapped inside for the past three years. She pushed it further and further inward until it started filling her bones, weighing her down with every step further away from him she took. Now, as she watched his eyes softly gaze back at her, all of it rose to the very pinnacle, boiling over like an unwatched pot.

Barbed words were spilling from Y/n’s lips before she could stop herself, “No! I’m not fucking ok, Tommy. Is that what you want to hear? You want to hear that you shattered my heart, Thomas Shelby? You told me I wasn’t good enough. I - I wasn’t good enough for you.” Y/n finished her tirade with a broken whisper, she had started to cry somewhere in the middle of her sentence, not daring to look Tommy in the eyes, afraid of his pity. “You ruined me for everyone. I haven’t been with anyone else since I left because I gave every last shred of the love I had in my heart to you! Everything I did was for you. And you wasted all of it. So, no, I’m not ok.” Y/n breathed heavily, surprised a little fire wasn’t coming out of her nose by how her words had burned even her.

She heard the old floorboards creak and looked up to see Tommy crossing the room in two long strides, standing face to face with Y/n. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out, Y/n knew that if he did, she would crumble.

“So come back. For good. I know I hurt you and I- I’m sorry,” Tommy whispered, looking at her like she was the one who kept the world spinning. Y/n was sure Tommy had never apologised to anyone, so no one could blame her if she didn’t quite believe it.

They stood there for a moment, locked in each others eyes, each one searching for an answer, searching for a way back to their forgotten love. Y/n is so helplessly pulled in by the man in front of her, so inexplicably attracted to everything he did; she thought if they stayed like this any longer that she would just cave in, the part of her heart she gave to him still beating strongly in her chest. Her mouth quivered with unspoken words as she remembered the pain of Tommy’s betrayal seared into her skin, begging her not to let him back in.

“You’re sorry,” she bit back more tears, “Well, you don’t get to ask me to stay. You don’t get to toy with me like this. Are you enjoying this? You push me as far away from you as possible just to pull me back when you decide you want me again! And now you want me, what, because your ego is hurt by the idea that I could’ve possibly moved on? God knows, I’ve tried but you lurk around every corner of my life, waiting in the silence to remind me of what I thought I had. It hurts me every fucking day that I really thought you loved me too,” An ugly part of Y/n hoped every word was painful for Tommy, hoped they were like a poison, rooted in his brain, that they would stay there and remind him every day of what he’d done.

“I forgave you so long ago, so why are you trying to bring it all up again?” All the words that had been imprisoned inside her chest had escaped, she felt a little bereft without them. A new emptiness spread inside Y/n, making her feel faint with the weightlessness as she clung onto her night stand.

“Because I love you,” the world stopped.

Those words, spoken so gently, struck her with such force that for a minute, Y/n thought she’d been shot. Agony bloomed beneath her ribs and her fingers flew up to her chest to touch, she was confused when her fingers came away with no blood.

“No, you don’t, you’re only saying it because you think it will absolve you,” She replied, refusing to let the door to her heart swing open, no matter how hard Tommy was kicking it, “If you loved me, you would’ve fought for us back then. You let me go like it was so easy,”

“I do, I love you,” Tommy said, words coming out shaky, breath uneven, “I just couldn’t bear to see you hurt because of me,”

Even after everything he’d done, Tommy failed to see the irony in those words , “Hurt?” Y/n asked disbelievingly, “You killed me the day you wouldn’t say you loved me. Don’t think your confession will revive me now.” The words hung like lead in the air, neither one wanting to take their weight.

“Y/n-” Tommy began, a glint of something unfamiliar in his bright blue eyes.

“I want you to leave,” Y/n cut him off, Tommy’s every word reopened her countless scars, but now the pain was unbearable. He tried to touch her, but she recoiled so harshly that Tommy backed away, “Please.”

Tommy looked so conflicted, a million ideas spinning through his head, so quickly they seemed to flash across his eyes. Ultimately, he heeded Y/n’s words and slipped out silently, leaving her alone once again.

~~~

Today was Y/n’s final day in her hometown. She thought back to the wedding as she folded away her dress, placing it on top of all her other packing so as not to spoil it. She sat through the entire ceremony with her mind entirely elsewhere, she felt a little guilty about it now but she hadn’t listened to a word of the vows. She would like to pretend that she wasn’t jealous, but as she watched the newlyweds kiss tenderly to rapturous applause, she felt a bitter pang in her stomach. As a teenager, she dreamed of that fate for herself, a pure white dress, fresh flowers in her hands, Tommy waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Y/n had felt tears pricking behind her eyes as she watched the couple exit the church, hand in hand, she tried so hard to feel happy for them.

Y/n closed her small trunk with a click and sat down on the edge of her bed, exhausted. She fumbled for the train ticket in her purse, a return ticket to London. She folded it safely away in her pocket and stood, wandering over to her window. She looked out onto the street below her, the summer sun cracking the cover of mist today, casting polka dot shadows on the cobbles.

Here in Small Heath, the houses were little and charming, warmth seeping out of every window you passed. The streets were never quiet during the day, always bustling with the community of a working class town.

Y/n sighed then as she thought about what waited for her in London. Row upon row of oppressively looming buildings, making her feel even smaller in a city so big. She was surrounded by thousands of people on the streets, yet she’d never felt so alone. Every day was the same, get up, go to work, come home. Y/n tried to be happy with it, she really did, but returning to Small Heath had ruined the pretence. It was like she’d left her heart here, and now that she was back, the beat was even stronger, refusing to let itself be buried again.

Y/n knew though that her love of her hometown wasn’t the only reason she was hesitating to leave for the train station. Her heart rate quickened as Tommy appeared in her mind, if she breathed in deep enough she swore she could still smell him in the room - his cologne, the Irish whiskey, the specific brand of cigarettes he always smoked. Her legs felt weak as she took it all in. Y/n struggled then to remember how she’d found the strength to walk away from this place those three years ago, to walk away from Tommy. Her resolve now was so weak that she prayed she could find that strength again today.

Y/n shut the curtains, blocking the view of the street below, wishing so desperately it was just as easy to shut out her memories of this place. As her hand touched the door handle, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she left now, she’d regret it forever.

Her departure time drew nearer and nearer, so she closed her eyes and pulled the door open, holding her breath.

“Please don’t go,” the sound of his raspy voice made her eyes fly open, she pinched herself subtly to make sure he wasn’t a hallucination.

There he was, Tommy stood tall in front of her doorway, hair flopping over the sides of his head and chest heaving like he’d run all the way here. Tommy reached out one large hand and gripped Y/n’s arm, his fingers almost circling all the way around it. He clutched her as if he was afraid she was going to disappear.

Y/n dropped her case then, forgetting everything else as she searched his gentle eyes, only barely remembering to continue breathing. She could push past him, she could run away again into the arms of a city that didn’t care about her, or she could fall into Tommy and pray this time he’d catch her. But she knew her decision was made as soon as he spoke.

Y/n stepped backwards slightly, allowing Tommy entrance into the room. He pushed a hand through his mussed hair, peaked cap nowhere to be seen. Neither of them spoke for a minute, and Y/n wondered if it was a mistake to let him in, the possibility of her escape becoming slimmer and slimmer as time ticked on.

Tommy sat down on the bed and inhaled a steadying breath, “I meant what I said the other day,” he said, quietly as if admitting a secret.

“I know,” Y/n replied, and the confusion that overtook Tommy’s face almost made her laugh, his eyebrows quirked, lips slightly parted, “I said all those things yesterday because I’m terrified of letting you in again. I’m scared that I’ll let you hold my heart and you’ll crush it again. I’ve waited so incredibly long to hear you say those words that when you said them so easily yesterday, all the pain came straight back.”

Guilt was written all over Tommy’s face, pooled in the ocean of his eyes, colouring his slightly flushed cheeks, “I was just so terrified I’d put you in danger, couldn’t live with myself if you were hurt, so I hurt you myself, told myself I wasn’t worth your love anyway, you’d get over me. I thought it was for the best,” He admitted, palm rubbing into the socket of his eye when it began to glisten with tears.

Y/n went over to the bed, sitting slowly and gently the way one would approach a skittish horse, she put a tentative hand on his thigh, tension buzzing beneath her skin where she touched him. “When did you know you loved me?” she asked quietly.

Tommy looked up at her then and shifted so that they were closer, legs pressed together. Y/n fought not to blush like a teenager, the touch so intimate after all this time.

“About a month before I left for France,” Tommy began, and Y/n didn’t miss the flicker in his eyes when he spoke, “You were out in the garden with Finn. He’d just learned to toddle about and got a bit too confident, fell and skinned his knee,” Tommy didn’t fight the smile that rose to his lips, “And when he cried, you went running and you held him like he was your own brother, you got him to calm down better than anyone else could have. You held him and fussed him until he laughed again. You didn’t know there was anyone watching you, you just did it because you loved him,”

Y/n felt breathless as Tommy told his story, she didn’t know whether to be furious or thrilled that he’d loved her such a long time, “That’s when I knew your name was forever branded on my heart, Y/n. I knew that I could never see you hurt because I couldn’t protect you from my world.”

At some point while Tommy spoke, their faces inched closer together until their noses were almost bumping. He finished his confession in a whisper, his unmissable blue eyes flickering between Y/n’s own gaze and her lips, exposing his desires blatantly.

“You’re an idiot, Thomas Shelby,” Y/n breathed before Tommy leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss was exciting yet comfortable, like a knew book from her favourite author; the writing familiar but the content all new. One of Tommy’s hands came up to rest on the back of Y/n’s neck, fingers weaving into the strands of hair there, sending a delightful shiver down her body. His other hand cupped her cheek, pulling at her bottom lip so he could take it into his mouth. Tommy broke away briefly, only to breathe, before he leaned in again, kissing Y/n torturously slow, learning ever crevice of her lips once more.

They finally broke apart, Y/n didn’t know how long later, she couldn’t control the whine from the back of her throat when they did. Tommy looked amused, maybe a little proud of himself and Y/n rolled her eyes at him. Tommy’s hands still cradled her head like something precious, their lips still tantalisingly close.

“I really don’t want to go back to London,” Y/n confessed against Tommy’s mouth, tiny sparks zapping every time their lips touched.

“Please don’t go back,” Tommy all but begged, stroking Y/n’s cheek with a calloused thumb.

She closed her eyes at the feeling, every fibre of her being giving up to him in that moment, “Tell me you love me and I’ll stay,” She said finally, her words so similar to those she’d broken her own heart with three years ago.

“I love you,” Tommy avowed as he kissed Y/n with a dizzying passion, his lips devouring hers as they told each other all the things words couldn’t say. Y/n’s hands found purchase on Tommy’s chest, feeling the rapid flutter of his heart behind his ribs, telling her he really did feel the same.

“Stay with me,” Tommy whispered, each word punctuated by a kiss, the two lovers unable to stop touching as if a magnet permanently held them together.

Y/n nodded, unable to speak as she felt Tommy’s fingers brush against her neck, against the exposed skin on her chest, goosebumps raising on her skin as she fought not to tremble.

All of her nerves were alight, the pieces of her heart coming back together as she kissed the man she’d loved for years; no big city could replace their small town love. London faded into nothing as she felt his tongue lick at her lower lip, her train long since missed as Tommy pressed his kisses deeper.

Y/n broke away just to look at Tommy again, his lips were plump, reddened by his ministrations, his eyes were fogged over with adoration, his hands still clung to Y/n anywhere they could hang on. She smiled one of those blinding grins she only ever saved for Tommy.

“I’ll stay,” Y/n promised.

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x reader fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff

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sailor-aviator · 7 months

Text

Singing in the Sanctuary: Chapter Three

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw is a simple man. Well, as simple as one can be while living a life of crime. The notorious outlaw of the western territories has never been interested in settling down and having a family, but will that all change when he meets a shy, new teacher who just moved into town?

Warnings: Mentions of dead parents, Bradley Bradshaw. Think that's it?

Word Count: 2.37k

A/N: Here's Chapter Three at long last! I know this one is a little shorter than what we're used to, but I don't want force the narrative, and this seemed like a good place to stop. We should see longer chapters on this one soon! As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I will be posting these fics as well.

Series Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

“You know, I had the strangest conversation with Bradley yesterday afternoon,” Maverick said, stabbing at his eggs. Penny lifted an eyebrow at him in intrigue.

“Do tell.”

“He came by askin’ me about what my plans were for a schoolhouse. Can you believe that? Since when does he care about the education of the kids?”

Penny hummed, glancing at you slyly from the corner of her eye before taking a bit of her toast. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, and I told him that we were looking more into it now that we have Birdie here to teach’em, but he was pretty insistent that I make it a priority.”

“You don’t say?” Penny smiled, snorting a laugh that she quickly tried to pass off as a cough. Maverick looked at her with concern.

“You feelin’ okay, sweetheart?”

Penny waved him off, finishing her mouthful of eggs. “I’m just fine, honey. Tell me more about what Bradley said.”

“Well, it’s just like I said,” he continued. “I know he and the other boys help people out around town, but to volunteer the other boys the way he did? That’s unusual for him.”

“He volunteered the other Daggers?” you chirped, surprise clear on your face as you looked up at him. He nodded, laughing with a shake of his head.

“I know, I could hardly believe it myself!”

Penny shot you a coy smile. “I wonder what could have caused him to go and do something like that.”

You flushed at her words, ducking your head down to stare at your plate. Maverick let out another chuckle.

“I don’t know, Penny, but you should have heard Mickey hollerin’ up and down Main Street at him. Wouldn’t be surprised if you could’ve heard him all the way in Independence! with how loud he was yellin'.”

You and Penny laughed at that, and Maverick’s grin turned into a warm smile.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but I hope it sticks. I can’t tell you the last time I saw that boy so determined to work on a good cause.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Penny hummed, casting you another conspiratorial glance. “I think whatever it is that’s lit a fire under his butt is gonna be good for him. Might even stick around for a while.”

“From your mouth to the good Lord’s ears, darlin’,” Maverick chuckled, placing his napkin on his place as he stood. “It’s good to see him so passionate about something again. Haven’t seen him like this since before…”

He trailed off, and Penny leaned over to lay a sympathetic hand over his. “I know, sweetheart. You don’t need to say it.”

Maverick sniffed, running a finger under his eye before straightening. “Anyway, the only problem we have now is comin’ up with the money for supplies.”

“How do you mean?” you asked him, a furrow in your brow.

Maverick grimaced. “Town is runnin’ low on building materials. We’ve got enough to start the foundation for the schoolhouse, but we’ll have to scrounge up some money for everything else.”

“I see,” you frowned. Maverick gave you a reassuring look.

“It’ll be alright, Birdie. We’ll figure something out. We always do.”

You nodded, and with one last smile to his wife, Maverick was out the door. You helped Penny clear the table. The older woman began to wash the dishes as you took them from her to dry.

“So,” she drawled, looking over at you with a smile. “That was real nice of Bradley to volunteer to help out with the schoolhouse.”

“Wasn’t it just?” you gushed, a smile breaking out over your face. “I’m not surprised, though. The children seem to love him, and it looked like he felt the same way.”

“You still mad at him?” she asked you. You hummed before giving her a shrug.

“I wasn’t really mad at him to begin with, Penny,” you sighed, placing a plate in the cupboard. “I don’t know him well enough to be mad at him for his past. It’s not like he owes me an explanation or anything.”

“No,” Penny said carefully, “but despite his past as a philanderer, he’s a good man at heart, Birdie. He was a wild, young thing back in the day, but he’s older now.”

“Besides,” she smirked, looking directly at you now, “Doesn’t take a genius to see the way he looks at you.”

You flushed at her words. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t,” she chuckled, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Just like you don’t know why he would volunteer him and his friends to build the schoolhouse.”

You stayed quiet for a moment.

“I want to thank him in some way,” you murmured, not meeting her gaze.

“I’m sure you’ll think of somethin’,” she mused. “Now, come on. Don’t want you to be late for class.”

A couple of hours later, you were perched on the steps of the altar, looking around at your class.

“What about a baseball game?” Ricky grinned. Lottie wrinkled her nose at him.

“No way!” she cried. “It needs to be something we can all do!”

“What about a bake sale?”

You had told the children the good news about finding volunteers to build the schoolhouse, and the sanctuary had exploded in a chorus of excitement.

“Hold on, hold on,” you had smiled, trying to calm the children down. “There’s just one more thing we have to figure out.”

“What’s that, miss?” Michael called out from his spot in the third row. You sighed with a slight frown.

“After talking with Mr. Maverick today, I’ve found out that we unfortunately don’t have all the funds we need to build it,” you said. The children exclaimed in disappointment, but little Billy looked at you with big, green eyes.

“Maybe we can help, teacher!” he grinned.

You smiled back at him as the other children voiced their support for the little boy.

“That’s a fine idea, Billy,” you said. “And it sounds like all of you agree.”

“We do!” smiled Michael.

“But how can we even help?” frowned Lydia, a plucky red-head from the second row. “What could we possibly do?”

Samantha raised her hand. “We could hold a fundraiser?”

The children murmured in agreement, and you nodded your head slowly.

“That could work,” you hummed. “What is it you all would like to do?”

Now you sat there as the children volleyed ideas back and forth at each other. None of them had been bad ideas, but it was hard for a group of thirty children to come to an agreement on what to do. You worried that they would grow too frustrated to settle on an idea, and then you would have to pick. You wanted the children to enjoy their time helping with preparations, so you knew that it would have to be their decision on what to do.

“My mother and father went and saw a play when they were visiting my grandmother in Kansas City,” Theresa said thoughtfully. “We could do that?”

The room was left in a hushed silence as the children mulled over her words.

“I like it,” Samantha nodded, and the other children were quick to agree.

“We should do Snow White!”

“No, Cinderella!”

“I wanna do Sleeping Beauty!”

You chuckled at their enthusiasm, moving to stand.

“Alright, class,” you smiled warmly, “we’ll have plenty of time to decide what our play is going to be. Now, let’s get back to your math lesson.”

You dismissed your class not too long after that, and now you were walking idly down the main street of Maverick. People greeted you as you past, and you returned the gestures. Your thoughts kept turning back to the play, however. It had been a miracle that they agreed on doing a play in the first place. Maybe you could convince the townsfolk to buy multiple tickets for different plays?

You stopped walking, sighing as you stared up at the sky. A chill was starting to stir in the air as Autumn began fast approaching. You wondered how your parents were faring back home in Missouri. Your eyebrows furrowed as you heard the quiet melody of a piano drift through the street. You realized it was coming from the saloon, and you moved quickly until you were standing in the entryway.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a golden hue across the rooms as the sunbeams stretched across the wooden floors. The gentle lilt of the keys danced in your ears. You didn’t recognize the song, but you watched as the familiar brunette strummed his fingers along the ivory.

Bradley hadn’t seen you walk in, to lost in the way the music washed over him. You thought he looked sad as he played, which was strange because you were certain the song was supposed to sound happy even though he was playing slowly. You didn’t realize you were moving until you sat down gingerly next to him. He jumped, fingers flying off the keys as he turned to look at you. The two of you stared at each other.

“Please, don’t stop,” you whispered, pleading for him to continue. Bradley swallowed before turning back to the piano. His fingers pressed down lightly on the keys as he began to play the same tune as before.

“You’re very good,” you smiled as he continued to play. He huffed out a light laugh as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Birdie,” he joked, causing your face to flush.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you rushed out, but he shook his head.

“I’m only teasin’ you, little bird. I know I don’t look like the type that knows how to play.”

“Well, I am a little shocked,” you admitted. He gave you a playful glare, and you giggled up at him.

You shifted closer to him on the bench. “How did you learn to play?”

“My dad taught me,” he hummed sadly.

You watched him for another minute before asking quietly, “did something happen?”

His fingers stilled over the keys for half a second before continuing. “He and my mom died when I was eight. It was scarlet fever, made its way through town pretty quick. Took Hangman’s folks too and Bob’s daddy.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you began, but he cut you off with a stern look.

“Don’t,” he snapped, fingers banging on the keys with a crash. His eyes softened when he saw your confused look. “Please, don’t. I get enough pity from the folks here in town. I don’t think I could handle it if you looked at me like that too.”

“Okay,” you said softly, nodding in understanding. Bradley let out a shaky breath, refusing to meet your gaze for a moment.

“My dad and Mav were best friends,” he said finally. You remained quiet, letting him speak at his own pace. He continued. “They did almost everything together. They drank, they sang, they even broke the law together.”

He looked at you then, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He always told me that my mama was the reason he gave up his wild life. Said he couldn’t bare the thought of her cryin’ if he never came home.”

You reached up to cup his cheek in your hand, and he immediately turned his face into your palm, nuzzling it.

“He sounds like he was a good man,” you offered, giving him a gentle smile. Bradley frowned at your words.

“No,” he said. “He was the best.”

The two of you didn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at each other. Finally, Bradley pulled away from you with a sniff before turning back to the piano. He began to play a different melody now, something quicker and more upbeat.

“So,” he chirped, offering you a bright smile, “what brings you into the saloon today?”

“Oh, I was actually looking for Penny,” you told him, glancing around the room but not seeing the older brunette.

“Think she’s still showin’ the new girl around,” Bradley muttered, earning a look from you.

“New girl?” you asked.

He hummed with a nod.

“Came rollin’ in with Joel yesterday mornin’. Walked right up to the bar and asked Penny for a job. She must have liked the look of her, ‘cause Penny accepted right then and there.”

“How interesting,” you trailed off. Bradley glanced at you before moving to stand. He held his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet.

“C’mon,” he smirked, pulling you towards the doors, “I’ll walk you home.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence down the street. Bradley’s hand rested gently on your lower back, and you felt giddy at the contact. You thought back on what Ricky and Michael had said to Bradley in the churchyard the other day, but then you thought about Penny’s words from that morning. The two of you stopped in front of the door to the house.

“Bradley,” you said, earning a hum from him. “Are you seeing any other girls?”

He stopped, turning to face you with a look of bewilderment. “What?”

“Are you seeing any other girls?” you repeated.

He stared at you. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I was just thinking about what the boys and Penny said,” you shrugged.

“I see,” he said slowly, studying you. “No, Birdie. Haven’t seen anyone since I laid eyes on you singin’ all sweet in that church.”

You blushed at his words, biting at your bottom lip to suppress the smile that threatened to make a home on your face. A grin broke out onto his face at the sight of your bashfulness, and he leaned against the door to look down at you, hovering over your space. The two of you looked at each other for a moment before Bradley’s smirk dropped, replaced with a look of confusion.

“Wait, what did Penny say?”

You giggled up at him before turning the knob on the door and pushing it open. You slipped inside before moving to close it behind you with one last giggle.

“Goodnight, Bradley.”

#top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #top gun rooster #sits #singing in the sanctuary #dpu #dagger posse universe

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katakaluptastrophy · 4 months

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We've heard the story about the young woman living under imperial oppression conceiving an unusual baby with god, but what happens after that?

The local potentate gets twitchy about succession and engages in a spot of mass child murder, of course!

It's the fourth day of Christmas, aka the Feast of the Holy Innocents, and it's time for more weird Bible study for goth lesbians!

A quick refresher on the Christmas story: following some hotel over-booking shenanigans, baby Jesus is born in a stable and after singing angels turn up to chivvy them along, is welcomed by some shepherds. A little while later, three enigmatic wise men from the East turn up with some rather odd baby gifts, having been led to Jesus by a star.

While cash, liturgical incense, and embalming ointment feel like they'd be considered practical new baby gifts on the Ninth, Gideon doesn't get such fanfare with her arrival. Just a few geriatric nuns who only manage to necromantically scrounge up a name between them.

However, by toddlerhood Jesus and Gideon are on a rather more equal level: people are trying to kill them.

In Jesus' case, it's the local king, Herod the Great ("the Great" is perhaps best read in the same way as "Democratic Republic" or "gentlemen's club"). Herod was a client king, ruling on behalf of the Roman empire. The wise men stop to ask him for directions and Herod is non-plussed to say the least, because prophecies of the birth of great kings who will deliver their people from oppression are not great news if your job depends on said oppression. Handily, the wise men are warned in a dream not to tell Herod where they found Jesus and they go home a different way to avoid having to see him again.

But since Herod knows the general time and location of Jesus' birth, he decides it's better to be safe than sorry and has every boy under two murdered. (It should be noted that historical accounts other than the Bible, while generally agreed that he was a bit of a shit, do not mention this). Mary and Joseph had also conveniently been warned in a dream and left town before the unfortunate incident.

If this story sounds familiar, it's because it's not the only political baby murder incident in the Bible: you may also recognise elements of it from the story of Moses in Exodus.

Meanwhile, Harrow's parents are also rulers of a small but significant province of an empire, whose power is threatened. Though in their case, the issue is not a birth but the total lack thereof. With necromantic fertility issues and approaching menopause threatening to end the line of Anastasia, they murder 200 under-19s to generate enough death juice to ensure a necromantic fetus in what must have been one of the worst date nights on record. This incident is also not widely reported, in their case likely due to their ability to necromantically bind people's tongues.

Gideon, of course, is probably not actually spared in Pluto's own Massacre of the Innocents. But she handily does not stay dead, thus escaping the fate of her fellows. As with Jesus, being god's child has its perks.

Churches that celebrate the Holy Innocents understand them to be among the first martyrs, often considering them saints who have the power to intercede with God, particularly in situations involving babies and children. That is, a collective group of infants (6-144,000 of them, depending on who you ask) have the ability to impact outcomes across time and space.

What metaphysical impact those 200 Ninth infants imprinted on Harrow's soul might have on the outcome of Alecto the Ninth remains to be seen...

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #pelleamena novenarius #priamhark noniusvianus #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav

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cosmos-dot-semicolon · 30 days

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Act 1, and Leshy's relationships with the other Scrybes

There was a post on here a while ago about Leshy outright hating Magnificus more than P03, and one interesting observation was that he cuts the Wolf's stats, but boosts the Stoat's. I think there's more you can gather from Leshy designing around the other Scrybes, though:

GRIMORA:

Leshy seems to be the most amiable with Grimora. Yes, I think this probably comes a bit from the dev finding their aesthetics and gameplay styles easier to pair up, but I think's its also a little bit because she values fun quite strongly, which meshes well with his focus on lore: both things that aren't purely gameplay based unlike the weirder mechanics of the west-side Scrybes.

Similar to Leshy in act 2, none of her puzzles really cause any harm to her subordinates. It's meant to be some fun flavour plot for the player to engage their brains with before the battles. Honestly, the amount of times she says 'Marvelous!' alone should convince you of her priorities (outside of destroying the world!)

Leshy goes out of his way to design a totally new card for Grimora, which doesn't appear anywhere in act 2 or Kaycee's mod.

It's the only one with a sigil on it - it's a fragile card, but it requires more actual strategy than playing the non-sigil Wolf and Stoat.

One line of dialogue remarks that he wishes he had kept Grimora around, as she was at least a worthy challenger.

He says that the Stinkbug is weak, but other than that accepts you having it in your deck. Compare that to him absolutely hating the Stunted Wolf on sight.

If you look closely in the finale, Grimora has an insect crawling across the table in her campaign. I don't know if it's really a stinkbug, persay, but it's an interesting parallel to his choice of her species.

Someone has said before that there are notably more insect cards than any other species in act 1, which also plays into him being closer to her than the others.

Bones are literally the secondary currency in his campaign, whereas energy doesn't appear at all, and sigils are limited to a single map event.

stinkyyyy

MAGNIFICUS:

Between Leshy actively saying he hates Mag's card once you first get it (versus one line about the Stinkbug being weak), and him literally stabbing the guy's eye out, it's safe to say Leshy fucking hates this guy. I've seen different theories on this, between the clashing gameplay and Leshy being kinder to his subordinates, but the one I've thought was the most interesting was that Magnificus is arguably, the most powerful Scrybe.

He's the only one who does have a plan to get Leshy's takeover back to normal, and the other two Scrybes are desperate for you to find him in act 1 because of it. He has future vision, he writes letters to the others warning about potential takeovers, and you never see him scrounge for the OLD_DATA. correction in reblogs: i think it is mentioned that he has

I've always read Leshy's feelings towards Mag as jealousy, mixed with clashing ideologies. I don't think there's a single moment where the two agree on anything outside of act 3.

I don't have much to say on his card, gameplay-wise, as you get it very late. Honestly most of the Stunted Wolf's design is just foreshadowing that Leshy beat this guy up and stabbed out his eye, lmao, but it's still interesting to note that:

The Stunted Wolf is one of those cards that's a variant of another one (i.e. Wolf Cub/Wolf, Mantis God/Mantis), but it's notably the only one whose stats are worse than its predecessor.

At the same time, it only costs one blood, and it's the only 2-attack card to have that. Gameplay wise, this is to balance things out, but it hints towards Magnificus having been much more powerful in the past. Like it makes you ponder how fucking good it would be to start off with a one-blood 3-2 card.

Magnificus's only other gameplay feature in act 1 is the sacrificial alters (given his association with magic and sigils). These are fucking busted. God I wish I could have four sigils on a card in Kaycee's mod.

P03:

Leshy seems to not think very much of P03 (both in the sense of not acknowledging it and thinking it's not a good designer), but doesn't seem completely unwilling to work with him. I'd argue he's not really hostile towards P03, just very aggressively trying to push it into his own ideal of the world.

In Kaycee's mod, Leshy refers to him as a rival and not an enemy, which I think gives a good basis for interpreting how he views it. P03's breakup speech snapping at Leshy in act 2 is ultimately what gets him to question his intentions at all.

The mention that the stoat's suffering was real during the tutorial isn't really ever brought up again by Leshy. It's interesting to think about in hindsight, given that P03 being a robot means its the least likely to have experienced pain out of the four.

Combined with P03's remark that Leshy keeps him around just to suffer, and the later remark in act 2 that he thinks that it is noble to be a beast card, "even one as lowly as a stoat," this implies that Leshy's at the very least trying to get P03 used to his world, and almost hopes that he'll come to like it.

The unbuffed stoat is a really terrible card. All the 1-2 cards have some sort of gimmick to them to make them playable, but the normal stoat just doesn't at all. The buff to 1-3 is a gift from Leshy to P03, despite everything. It implies he at least thinks there's something that can be salvaged between them, in his own view.

And like. The buffed stoat is so so useful in act 1. The extra HP means it can take a hit from so many more cards and it's a solid foundation for basically any run.

The stoat's the only one of the talking cards without an animal family. Of course it is! Nature and technology are usually thematic opposites, especially compared to magic and death. P03 doesn't fit in here, but Leshy is still clearly trying to make it a foundational card in his campaign.

#inscryption spoilers #inscryption #inscryption analysis #inscryption leshy #dots dots dots #i may have needed to rewatch the finale bc i was unsure if the stinkbug was canon or only a grimora mod thing #anyways idk if anyone will read this but these guys are so fascinating and I need an actually decent take of them out on tumblr #so i guess i will have to do it myself.

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greenteabelle · 5 months

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orv au based on one thousand and one nights where kim dokja is the sacrificial bride of his town to be wed to the kingdom's tyrannical king yoo joonghyuk .

kdj is used to being alone . ever since his mother left without a single word after she was accused of dabbling in the dark arts , he's left to bear the scrutinising gazes of the villagers . rumours circulate in whispers , though he hears them all the same , accusing him of inheriting his mother's curse because why else does he have that strange gloominess surrounding him ? he becomes an easy target for bullying , but he never goes down quietly . after all , he has fought better with words .

because if one thing is for certain , kdj is observant . he will listen to their self-righteous words and hear their venomous secrets , take in their luxurious robes and see what they try to hide , endure their beatings and find their weakest spots . no matter how badly he aches nor how suffocating his heart , he finds the right words and strikes where it hurts .

and once they throw the first punch , well , it's self defense is it not ?

and kdj is resigned to his fate . he doesn't expect to find kindness in others , for life as a mundane citizen in a kingdom constantly on the brink of war makes no room for generosity .

but he meets good people .

yoo sangah who sneaks him bread for breakfast every morning ;

han sooyoung who throws him stolen books from the scornful librarian ;

lee hyunsung who defends him when the fights get too rough ;

jung heewon who offers him a place to hide when running is the only option .

so kdj is content .

until one day , the village head wants to rise higher in the ranks of nobility , and secretly makes a deal with the party that opposes the supreme king . the laws of the kingdom mandate that the king's bride must be chosen by the council of nobles , so they scheme to find a bride who can remove the king once and for all .

so the village head thinks of kdj , rumoured to have inherited his mothers dark arts , and offers him up as a sacrificial bride .

before kdj can even try to escape , he's drugged and whisked away to the supreme king's castle .

when he wakes up to the glint of a blade aimed directly at his throat , kdj does the only thing that comes to mind in his desperation to see another day .

"let me tell you a story , before i go . "

momentarily stunned by kdj's bravado , yjh allows it with cruel amusement .

so kdj just talks .

he tells him the story of a gamer who is thrown into an apocalyptic world where death comes knocking at every moment . he rambles on and on , scrounging every nook and cranny of his brain to glean each detail to bring the story to life . as each hour passes , yjh slowly lowers his sword and sits back to hear the story .

and just as the first slivers of sunlight start to break over the horizon , kdj says this :

" and that is the end of the protagonist's first life . "

" ... first ? "

" yes, your majesty . "

" how many lives does he have after this one ? "

" one thousand more . "

the corner of yjh's lips quirk up slightly , though kdj doesn't dare to call it a smile . it's obvious that the man has seen through his plot , though he doesn't comment on it .

" to a thousand nights of our marriage , then . nothing more , nothing less . "

then night after night , kdj is brought to yjh's chambers to continue his story . their interactions begin to bleed into daylight , as yjh seems to gradually integrate kdj into his life . he gets to know lee jihye , commander of the royal guard , lee gilyoung and shin yoosung , caretakers of the beasts etc. and he grows attached to them .

for some unfathomable reason , yjh even allows kdj to contact his old friends .

as each day passes , kdj gets to know the elusive king a little more . their banter never gets tiresome , and it is always a delight for kdj to see a glimpse underneath that cold mask he hides behind . he starts to genuinely care for him .

perhaps a bit too much .

so when the deadline of their marriage arrives , kdj makes a decision .

" ... and that is the end of my story . "

" kim dokja , why won't you look at me ? "

" why are you doing this to me ? "

" doing what ? "

" doing such cruel things to me . i have no more stories to tell , meaning that my time , no matter how delayed , is now up . today is the date of my execution , yet you still look at me as if I were your most prized possession , when I no longer hold any value . "

" your stories do not equate to your value , kim dokja . "

" do you mean for me to believe that you will continue to keep me by your side even when I have no story left to tell ? "

" why would you believe anything else ? "

" my story is finished , what other story is there left for me to share ? "

" then , my beloved , perhaps we shall write our own story . together . "

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #yoo sangah #han sooyoung #lee hyunsung #jung heewon #lee jihye #lee gilyoung #shin yoosung #alternate universe #au #ok this was an old idea i had like 2 years ago but never got around to writing it #i don't think i even have the abilities to do it justice LMAO #so here it is on my third day back on tumblr #thank you for reading

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 11 months

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4k fic recommendations

thank you all so so much for 4000 followers! truly, that's wild! unfortunately I don't have the time right now to do the usual fun, big celebration, but I do have time to scrounge up some fics I've been loving lately/just ones that are on my mind, show them a little bit of love. other then that, I hope you all are having a wonderful morning, afternoon or night, sending you all a bunch of smooches in the form of recommending some fun reads ♡

the bodyguard by @chvoswxtch (bodyguard!frank castle x reader, series, still ongoing)

I love this series. every time a new part comes out I genuinely get so excited! I also low-key feel so spoiled because I know court and she tells me a bunch of secrets about things she wants to play with in this story... love you court. thank you for blessing us with this amazing AU.

why are you scared? by @onsunnyside (stepbrother!curtis everett x innocent!reader)

yes, this was a halloween fic but I still think about it to this day. I only have one question for you, do you like somno? are you a little somno hoe? if so, might I recommend this nasty little piece of fiction because DAMN! like all of sonny's works, this is just the purest of filth and we love that here. (also her life has been pretty busy lately, so I just hope she's okay. hope you're okay, darling. miss seeing your beautiful little stories on this mess of a website)

your head is so numb (that nervous breath you try to hide) by @oncasette (eddie munson x reader)

best friends to lovers is actually something that can be so personal. I gobble that shit up every time. (also just hey roma. get over here, let me give you a lil smooch♡)

reader being like a little crow blurb by @appocalipse (eddie munson x reader)

idk what to tell you, this is actually just the cutest ♡

this blurb by @solarluvs (peter parker x clumsy!reader)

PETER AND CLUMSY!READER! THIS IS THE KIND OF ROMCOM I NEED IN MY LIFE!!!!

sirius doesn't want you to leave for work by @bruisedboys (sirius black x reader)

in this house, we worship adorable little domestic tales like this.

this blurb by @ddejavvu (eddie brock x reader)

and speaking of domestic little tales, no one does it better then my wifey mei. she is the queen of adorable little blurbs. so if you like pretty dresses, chocolate or monsters flirting with you, this blurb is for you ♡

this blurb by @ddejavvu (aaron hotchner x bau!reader)

okay, even though I'm not really an aaron girlie, this one was just too cute to pass up. also, maybe a little bit too relatable going grocery shopping while looking like an actual zombie. I remember the time when I lived somewhere where I bump into my crush on those kinda days... it is mortifying, but the kind of mortifying that you're secretly crossing your fingers to have happen, you know?

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dickmedowndc · 11 months

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Sour - Jaime Reyes x Reader

Word Count: 1,686

Summary: Of all the things Jaime expects to find in his partner's fridge, a whole bag of seedless lemons certainly is not one of them. At first, he thinks it’s for food and drinks as a garnish or ingredient, but then he never sees them used for such things. It isn’t until one afternoon when he stays over to study that he finally finds out how his chaotic partner eats them.

Notes: Requested by @pink-lemonadae-san. Okay, so this is partially based on me as a heathen; my roommate bought seedless lemons for her water, she then offered me one and I just scarfed it down, flesh and all, which concerned her.

…★…

“Did you already get the keys? I can’t find mine!” The voice of his partner rings down from whichever room they’re scrounging around in, and Jaime snaps up at the sound. A moment of patting down his own pockets confirms he has picked up the keys already and he yells back as much before opening the fridge, like he had been going to do only moments before.

He just needs a quick snack. They’re running late for the show already and won’t have time to eat until later. But Jaime knows that if he doesn’t get something in his body now then he will either be forced to endure Khaji Da’s lecture or his stomach singing the song of its people. Whichever unfortunate outcome would make itself known first.

All he does is grab a quick snack; one he knows that his partner sets aside for him. That should be the end of it. And it is. At least until he is closing the fridge door when a large splash of yellow catches his eyes.

At the bottom of the fridge sits a large, open bag of seedless whole lemons.

It’s a strange enough sight, but Jaime has no time to consider it further when you round the corner in a huff and usher him out the door, assuring him that he can eat on the way there.

By the end of the night, the unnatural resident fruit of the fridge is forgotten by Jaime as he enjoys the show that they just barely make it in time for.

And it remains forgotten until a week later when he makes his way back to their place after a long and grueling fight had cancelled date night. At almost 1 in the morning, he’s knocking on the door, only for his very tired and sleep deprived partner to open up, confusion on their face until they see his weary state and move to let him inside.

He can’t even manage to make it to the bedroom to collapse on the comfortable mattress, instead barely making it to the couch before falling over its arm and laying face first into the cushions. He has class in the morning, and his partner’s home is closer to his school as is – so with Khaji Da already sending off a notice to his family that he was okay, Jaime has little to worry about.

Before sleep can overtake him however, his partner has jostled him, moving to lay his head in their lap and he complies. He flips over to look up at them blearily. They offer a small smile before running their fingers through his hair, leaving him to close his eyes and enjoy the soothing sensation.

Khaji Da will wake him with enough time to take a shower and get ready, and for the moment, Jaime relaxes enough to go to sleep, lulled by the quiet humming of his partner.

When Khaji Da finally rouses him, he finds himself curled around his partner in their bed – how they managed to pull him there was beyond him, but he’s thankful for it. The scarab gives one more warning for him to get up that Jaime ignores, arms wrapped around his significant other as he curls tighter against them. He’ll enjoy this for a moment longer. At least he will until he squeezes a bit too tight, causing them to stir.

Needing to get ready for class, and not wanting to wake them, he pulls himself from under the covers after giving the top of their head a quick kiss and moves to get ready. Silently thankful for the spare clothes he leaves behind and the hot water of the shower against his sore body.

It’s in the act of grabbing a quick breakfast that has him pausing and jarringly reminded of the bag of lemons – sitting at the bottom of the fridge still, more than half of them gone. But once again, he has no time to think about them, prompted to move by the sentient technology attached to his spine.

He really needs to pry about it – from what he knew, there had been no food and no desserts you had made requiring that many lemons. In fact, he had yet to see you use them at all.

It’s something he can ask about later, he reasons once more.

But the opportunity never arises, because three days later he gets his answer without asking.

You’re curled against his back. Doing what? He isn’t sure, eyes too busy scanning the page of his textbook as he studies. He needs to use whatever time he can to stay as far ahead of his course work as possible, his busy lifestyle leaving too many opportunities to fall behind.

So that was the plan for their day. Jaime would stay over for the evening until he was satisfied with how much work he had completed, or he had met his study goal, and afterwards, the pair would order out pizza and enjoy a movie or maybe just cuddle.

Cuddling sounded better, if Jaime was being honest. Life had been even more hectic recently, and the chance to just relax, and maybe catch up on the affection the universe had stopped him from receiving would be the best course of action.

And that plan would have gone just as well, if not for your next choices.

“Hey, do you want a snack?”

The current Blue Beetle gives a little hum of no, too focused on his reading. But it doesn’t stop him from seeing you roll off the bed and make your way to the kitchen.

In fact, he doesn’t even notice what you bring back to eat until Khaji Da speaks up after you have already made yourself comfortable again.

“Your partner has just taken a bite out of a lemon.”

That causes him to pause.

Khaji Da was just messing with him. Right?

Slowly he turns so he can see you from the corner of his eye. And sure enough, you’ve dug your nail into the lemon and peeled some of the skin away, taking a bite of the yellow flesh and letting the excess juice drip onto the plate in your lap.

It has him reeling, and Jaime forgets to hide that he’s spying, closing his book before turning to face you.

“Are you just... eating a whole lemon?”

It has you making eye contact, lemon in hand and bewildered expression on your face – like somehow, he’s the weird one for asking.

You glance between him and the lemon before nodding your head. “Yeah? I’m having a snack.”

Jaime furrows his brows, lips pursed as he studies you for a moment. “That’s a lemon.”

“It is.”

“Just a whole lemon.”

You say nothing, only nodding once more before turning back and taking another bite of the flesh.

Jaime can only struggle to find the words he wants before he gives up, shoulders dropping. “At least you don’t eat the skin,” he comments, before he sees the look that crosses your face.

You say nothing, but make direct eye contact, and he can already imagine what is about to happen – he just prays to be wrong.

But no, it seems that his comment had been taken to heart, and without breaking eye contact or changing from that same serious expression, you take a bite out of the lemon, skin, flesh and all, before chewing and swallowing.

Jaime looks horrified, and if you didn’t feel so defensive over your snack, maybe it would be funny.

Okay, it’s still a little funny. You can just laugh later.

He takes one deep breath, eyes closed, then turns towards the ceiling for a moment before adjusting to face you.

“Did you eat the skin just because I said that” is the first question out of his mouth when he finally looks back at you.

“No, sometimes I just like eating the skin last, but you started this.”

“Is this what you’ve been doing with that bag of lemons in the fridge?”

“Actually, this is from a new bag, I finished off the others.”

The look on his face is too good – so concerned, and so distraught at the same time, that stopping the laugh bubbling up from you is almost impossible. An action that makes his indignation all the funnier, causing you to laugh even louder.

“It’s good, I promise.”

He grimaces at that, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Do you want some?”

Before Jaime can even respond, an aggressive clicking is sounding out. Looks like Khaji Da has already cast a vote for no.

It has you laughing all over again.

“Even Khaji agrees this is unnatural.”

“You come into my home, on the day of my eating a snack, and insult my choice of food?”

“Don’t misquote 'The Godfather' at me! Who does this?”

“Me!” You chime, letting yourself fall forward until you’re almost face to face with him. “But I'll let you off easy if I can have a kiss.”

Jaime really has to think about it, and you can see the gears turning before he resigns himself. “I'll kiss you, even if it tastes like lemons.”

“Forgiveness has a price, mi héroe.”

Jaime rolls his eyes at that before leaning forward and stealing a kiss, until he pulls back, betrayal and utter defeat on his face.

You’re cackling too hard, almost wheezing out your question: “what’s wrong?”

“It’s more sour than I thought.”

The sheer disapointment in his voice has you cooing at him, pushing his book aside – which has him only mildly complaining as you pull him towards you. “Oh, poor baby, let me make it up to you.”

“You’re laughing at my pain.”

“Hmm, only a bit, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Well, forgiveness has a price.” He turns your own words back on you with an amused grin, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

His smile is wiped clean when you pick your plate and half-eaten lemon back up.

“It does, and I'll pay you back in full,” you purr, “after I finish my snack.”

#dc x reader #nicole writes #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle #blue beetle III #Jaime Reyes

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wexhappyxfew · 22 days

Text

home is an anchor

(a/n): annie x brady girlies we're back with another piece where we finally dig a bit into annie's background; was trying to go for a bit more light-hearted again, but instead...it got a little bit sad at parts, so don't mind that. between listening to sad taylor swift songs + hard school week, just needed to put emotions somewhere and here we are :) sometimes we all need a little comfort that feels just like home......

Her mother wasn't really the best at playing the 'mother-role' but she had tried her best, especially with the amount of siblings running around.

Her father had been away in a local mechanic garage, working his hardest to earn what money he could for his family and her older brother, Roy, at the peak age of 16 was going to the mill everyday to earn some extra cash, as Annie and the rest of her younger siblings had done chores around the house, cleaning, washing, scrubbing, keeping the farm running the best they could.

And Annie, being the second oldest, just under Roy, who was always away, the stress and weight of everything seemed to fall right on her shoulders. And the nights her father was working until 2 in the morning, and the stress was far too much for her mother, who went and would drink the night away with what she could scrounge, Annie would take care of her other siblings - and when Roy would get back just after dinner, he'd help out the best he could.

They'd work side by side, feeding, cleaning, locking up the house at night, getting their 5 younger siblings into beds, washed and clean and ready for sleep without a worry in the world. Annie would forget about herself, usually taking whatever was left after everyone had eaten, usually the last to sleep or she'd stay up and wait for her father to get home so that'd he'd be taken care of. The Depression had been the hardest - not just weeks or months like that, but years. Years of that, day in and day out.

So, being here at Thorpe Abbotts - it was like it was telling her that had all been worth it.

She was currently cramped in one of the chairs in the officers' club chairs by the crackling fire, listening to the patter of rain somewhere above her, half in-and-out of sleep as she curled into herself, trying to catch up on sleep that she had missed the previous night. They'd been up so early for today's mission that the tossing and turning of her sleep had done nothing but make her run on only about an hour of sleep by that point.

Annie felt something drape over her body, instantly becoming warmer and she cracked an eye open and saw that it was Brady who had laid the blanket, who was moving himself over towards the chair opposite the table that was at her side, settling down with undoubtedly a cup of something that would take off the edge.

The blanket was warm and instantly made her a bit more exhausted than she had been previously; she shifted around a bit and then cracked open her eyes more and turned her head towards Brady, squinting at him and yawning.

"Thanks." she said through her yawn, slowly sitting up, her hair a bit wet from coming out of Silver Bullets in a torrential downpour, the chill of the evening rolling in, as she rubbed at her hands and scrambled to pull the blanket up and over her body a bit more, "Didn't think I was this tired." Brady watched her for a moment, a small laugh from his lips as he sipped his drink.

"You looked cold, and with this rain," he looked at the ceiling, "nothing a bit of a blanket can't fix."

"Yeah," Annie said quietly, cuddling the blanket up over her body a bit more, "I appreciate it." She met Brady's gentle, doe eyes and he continued smiling at her, the soft glisten of the fire dancing in his eyes as he watched her right back.

Annie lazily stared at the golden hues, her eyes becoming entranced by the flicker of the flame in front of her, enjoying the hum of the heat of the orange and yellow licks of fire in front of her, the slight chatter behind her of pilots and bartenders, the patter of the rain above them; the overall general comfort that at the minute, no one was asking for her. All she needed to do was sit here, warm up and rest.

"Gotten any news back home from your family?" Brady asked her quietly, looking towards her with an almost innocent gaze, "Some of the guys have started getting mail again, and I figured…." Annie slowly slid her eyes towards him and nodded.

"Yeah." she said, "A letter. From my father." Something in Brady's face changed.

"Everything okay?" he asked her, a slight edge to his voice that wasn't there before.

"Mom's not doing well," Annie said, but quickly recovered herself, "hasn't been for a while so." Brady slowly leaned forward in his seat, catching her gaze and a bit of guilt seeped into her stomach, just seeing that look on his face. Worry. Concern. She didn't want someone to have to worry and bother themselves over her for something she herself couldn't even control. Especially people who were already stressed beyond compare.

"Annie…."

"It's okay, really," Annie said with a nod, her eyes traveling back to the fire, "she's actually the one that didn't want me even coming here. Said she needed hands back at the farm, she couldn't do much anymore….I told her no. That I wanted to do this. And now….." Annie stared at the fire and let out a shaky sigh and nodded, before glancing back over at Brady and finding him, worry lines drawn across his face, eyes saddened, expression deep in thought.

"It's complicated." Annie said, a small laugh escaping her lips, but she felt her body constrain at the end of her attempt of covering laughter, "Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize," Brady said, watching her gaze again as she held his, "I'm sorry, Annie." Annie watched him, their gazes a whole other level of complexity Annie had no time to dig into at this very moment, and she smiled.

"Thanks, John." she said quietly and he nodded. Then, before he could look away, she looked down at the fire and let out a small breath. She wasn't looking at him, but she could tell he wanted to say something; the air wasn't cleared, there was clearly something still on the edge of his tongue and the longer they sat in that tense silence, the more she wanted to hear him say it. Whatever it happened to be.

Annie thought back to those times - her mother drinking, father stressed out of his mind, all those kids, Roy barely afloat, Annie feeling like a single mother at 15 when she shouldn't have even been in that position in the first place. She had just done as she was told, to survive, to breathe a bit. She thought it had been the right thing and it had, but the guilt never left her. Leaving her family like that, thinking it was okay. She knew that she was an adult and had every right to do what she did, to live a bit more, fight against this war, but sometimes it ate her alive. Knowing her mother was dying and she was here. Annie hadn't realized her eyes had begun to fill with tears until one was itching down her cheek.

"Hey, Annie, you okay?" Brady asked quietly, leaning forward, his drink forgotten about along with the world. Annie looked to him and nodded, reaching up to wipe at her eyes and get rid of the tears as fast as she could - it was embarrassing, alright? To be getting so upset over this, in front of Brady, in their current situation. There were a lot more worse-off situations than hers.

"I'm okay," Annie said, "all good." Brady slowly stood and kneeled beside her chair and watched her face - God, he was pretty tall wasn't he. Kneeling beside her, he leaned a hand on the chair back that snaked an arm around the one side of her form - and he watched her face, trying to dissect the problem and fix it, seemingly as fast as he could.

"I'm sorry about your mom, Annie," he whispered, her eyes looking to his like some sort of forbidden safe haven - because it'd never leave her - even when her mother did eventually die, and this war was over. It would never go away. But she could try and bury it.

"Thanks, John," she whispered, "I didn't mean to turn into a sap. Especially here, goddamn." Annie briefly, angrily, reached up and wiped at some tears.

"It's stupid anyway."

"No it's not," Brady breathed out quietly, catching her eyes again, and offering a small smile that made her heart warm, "things like that, especially dealing with family. It's not stupid, I can promise you. Despite whatever's going on." Annie held his gaze.

"It's not stupid to me." he said softer this time, "Especially when it's you." Annie stared at him, the tears in her eyes making his face a slightly blurred Picasso painting and she managed a watery smile his way.

"I just hate the feeling, ya know?" Annie said quietly, "Feeling guilty, but knowing you can't do anything. Like, I know I can't do a thing, I did what I could, we turned out our separate ways, but I still feel like that scared little girl. To her. To me."

"Hey," Brady said quietly, reaching up to wipe at the tear that squeaked out from her eye, before resting a hand on her arm through the blanket, "don't worry yourself thin at the minute. You said it yourself. You can only do what you can right now. Especially half-way across the world. You just did a helluva bombing run, okay? You're doing your best, Annie. It's admirable." And when Brady uttered little things like that to her, she believed them like a prayer verse in the family Bible in her father's bedside. She believed it like it were something she'd whisper to herself every night. She believed it because it had fallen from Brady's lips.

"Here," Brady said, getting to his feet and standing in front of her - floppy hair in his eyes, A-2 jacket having seen better days, tie that she felt the urge to fix - and holding out a hand. Annie stared at him, raising a brow his way, and chuckling a slightly wet laugh from the tears that were slowly disappearing.

"What are you doing?" she managed out quietly, with a laugh.

"Just trust me." he said with a lopsided smirk, that seemed to light up his eyes in a way that made her insides twist. Annie laughed quietly, but shifted off the blanket, which had been delightfully warm now that it was removed from her now cold form and took his hand - warm, much larger than her own it practically encased it, and inviting. Comforting. A touch that lingered.

He took her other hand and she stared at him. There hadn't been really any times previous they'd been like this. They'd danced together once - one of those big-band upbeat songs that had her off her feet and twirling in his arms. But she'd done that with Bucky, who'd nearly twirled her into a table. This felt different though. The way his hands held her own, the way he was watching her, the way this felt.

"What's going on?" she whispered sneakily with a chuckle. Brady, smirking again that brooding and rather charming grin, pulled her closer to him and placed a hand on her hip, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her own jacket and the fleece underneath, his other hand holding her own against his shoulder like something holy. And he watched her, just inches above her and smiled.

"Ahhh." Annie whispered quietly, with a small laugh, "I'll admit, I have two left feet when it comes to this." Brady watched her, his eyes so big and whole and staring only at her; it made her want to shrink into him for some reason.

"I saw you dancing with Bucky that one time," he whispered, his voice gentle on her ears, "you have anything but." Her cheeks flamed a bit at the thought - he'd seen that? Annie laughed lightly, catching herself as she looked to his bright eyes again. He leaned his head forward to her ear.

"I didn't realize you had freckles," he whispered, before his small chuckle seemed to fill in her ears, "they're cute." Annie's face must've been on fire as a laugh left her lips and she curled her head to the side in between his neck and collarbone - he smelled sweet, almost like honey, and in some weird way, it reminded her of home.

"You're such a tease, John Brady," she whispered against his neck, his grip tightening on her hip as he pulled her closer to his form, "but thank you." He chuckled.

For a moment, they both grew quiet, these sweet nothings between them lingering and as tender as a light touch, their bodies swaying back and forth like a wave lapping gently on the shoreline. Annie closed her eyes, inviting the touch from him all over her body - her face pressed on his neckline, his hand on her hip and lingering on her hand, holding it softly, his face somewhere in her hair and near her ear, her body pressed against his chest, holding on like he were an anchor of some sort. A grounding one at that.

"No one's ever told me that." Annie whispered against his neck, her breath warm.

"What?" Brady whispered back into her ear - his voice seemingly always doing something to her no matter what.

"About my freckles." Annie said softly, no one's ever been this close. She heard Brady's little laugh in her ear and smiled.

"Honored to be the first." Brady said, though his words sort of hung out in the air like a tree branch in fall. Maybe you'll be the last, Annie thought, but jumping to thoughts like that right now was something she buried deep inside her.

"I think a part of me will always be attached to the idea of what my life was when I was younger, when Mom was better," Annie whispered, and Brady seemed to tense under her fingertips, "but, I won't lie, right now all I can think about is…." she trailed off in a manner she hadn't intended and could feel him waiting for her to finish her answer. Instead, she pulled back slightly and looked up at him and managed a small smile. He watched her, eyes glowing, on her.

"Right now all you can think about is…." Brady started quietly, expectantly waiting for an answer. Annie felt herself go red again, a deeper crimson than before and found that when he was suddenly very intently watching her like this, all she could do was smile.

"Annie." Quickly turning her head from Brady, her walls suddenly going back up unexpectedly, she found Francis coming towards them and let her walls crumble again as the woman approach with a small smile on her face.

"Listen, I hate to break this up, but Harding's been asking for you. Needs an opinion on….something or other, says there's some new crews joining us. Primeblue? I don't know, something like that - lead pilot did some runs in Africa, name's Matilda Kerkering. Got a crew, too. Like a mini-you." Francis rambled on, and then caught Annie's expression and cleared her throat, "Alright, listen, just….meet me outside. I got an umbrella and everything, real snazzy." And with that Francis was turning away and Annie was frozen somewhat in her place. Slowly, she turned back to look at Brady and found him watching her with that look on his face, all warm and gentle and intently focusing on her, his eyes all soft.

"A mini-you." Brady said, his hand squeezing at her hip a bit, before whispering in her ear, "You look incredibly excited." Annie mock-scoffed and gave him a small smack on the shoulder with a grin and shook her head.

"Just because you can read my facial expressions, doesn't mean you have to verbally express that meaning," she whispered back with a chuckle, "it might get me in trouble one day." Brady smirked at her and raised a brow and she shoved at his shoulder again with a buckle of laughter, before turning slightly and grabbing the blanket and pulling it into her arms. His hand ever-presently still lingered on her hip and she found herself enjoying that bit of a presence there. Just a touch that told her he was there.

"Thanks for taking my mind off things a bit," Annie said to him, smiling brightly up towards him, "it just gets to me sometimes, all of that. What's going on back home, can't control things, all of that. So, just, thank you, truly." Brady smiled at her and nodded.

"Everyone needs a little cheering up sometimes," Brady said, "but hey, look, I'll see you later." She smiled at him.

"Go on, Lieutenant, they're in need of your wisdom and guidance." Annie let out a bark of laughter, shoving his shoulder teasingly again before stepping away, her hip slightly cold, the lack of Brady's hand suddenly engrained in her brain, her thoughts, her feelings.

"Hey, Annie," Brady called, and she turned to look over her shoulder and found him stood, hands in his pockets, smirk on his face, "right now all you can think about is….?" Annie stared at him, suddenly staring him down from a few feet away now, no longer under his rather intense gaze that she gravitated towards.

You.

You, you, you, her head seemed to scream. Annie smiled at him and then offered him a mock salute before immediately turning away and speeding right out of the officers' club, a small smile on her lips as she stepped outside, immediately crash-landing into Francis, who caught her arm and chuckled.

"You and Brady looked incredibly cozy." Francis said with a chuckle and Annie rolled her eyes.

"Shut up." "Just saying, looked like the guy was about to ya know, make it official or something."

"He was just being nice, Francis," Annie said, "nothing to worry about."

"You and I clearly define 'nice' as completely different things."

"It was nothing." Annie admonished again, crossing her arms and glancing up towards the woman, "Brady's just…..he's just being nice." Francis smirked and sent her a look as she held the umbrella up above their heads.

"Tell that to the grip he had on your hip." Francis said and then looked away and stepped forward, "Come on! Harding's got a million different documents that need sorting and a second brain." Annie followed under the umbrella, bright red in the face, Francis smirking like a loon. Maybe anchors didn't only anchor other things, but one another in some sort of way a war would force something to.

#THEMMMMM #home is annie's anchor and.....brady feels like home.....#brb going to go sob!!#them them them!#annie trying to ignore these feelings (it's okay sweet girl feel what you need to feel <3333)#plz get these two hugs #thats it #annie bradshaw #john brady #annie x brady #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #francis knowsssss LMFAO #francis montez #she was so fun to include LMAO #john brady x oc

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