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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

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Addicted to You

Part 1: The Chain

Summary/Author's Note: As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago "Pope" Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his--the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission. (Follows Canon events very closely with added character and liberties) Thank you to @winters-buck for headcanoning with me about Frankie and getting me pumped up enough to write this.

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k (idk what happened...) Warnings/rating: (NC-17)/18+ Language, smoking, implied drug use, PTSD, sex/smut, kidnapping, blood, violence, threats, fluff and feelings

MASTERLIST

Present Day Somewhere in Texas, USA

Santiago "Pope" Garcia had always had a talent when it came to lying, but never had that talent been used so willingly on his closest friends. He was a good bluffer. It had helped his career in the military with his superiors, it had helped him on their weekly poker nights, but he had never planned on getting the five of them back together to boldly lie directly to their faces. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the locker room as Will looked him over skeptically.

"What did he say?" Will asked, straddling the wooden bench and crossing his arms to mirror his friend.

"He's taking a look at it," Pope sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "He may not be up for this."

Of course he was talking about their friend Tom. Tom, code name 'Redfly' had been their captain back in the day, their leader, and his brutality and no bull shit attitude made him a good one. Pope knew if he wasn't on board with this, then Will would be out, and the rest of them would drop like flies before this even began.

"You know he's the best with something this complex, and he needs this right now," Will said and Pope agreed with a silent nod.

Beyond the concrete walls of the locker room a cheering crowd could be heard albeit muffled. Both men turned and looked in the direction of the noise before Will shook his head and leaned forward on the bench.

"This shit is fuckin depressing," he said.

"Come on let your brother have some fun. Support him." Pope offered with a wave of his hand like Will's brother getting the shit kicked out of him for a couple hundred bucks wasn't a big deal.

"I've been supporting him since the day he was born." Will pointed to the wall that stood between them and the mixed martial arts arena. "That kid's a one in a million talent, going out there playing the fucking clown to a bunch of hillbillies."

Pope started to respond but the door opened and a man dressed in nothing but loose fitting shorts and the med tape wrapped around his hands entered.

"Where are my boys at?!" He yelled in a deep voice like an announcer and threw his hands in the air.

"Benny! There he is!" Pope embraced him before patting him on the back and passing him off to his brother who stood up from the bench.

"Hey, shithead," a familiar voice said in Spanish and Pope turned around to see Frankie, a wide grin on his face.

Frankie "Catfish" Morales, known mostly by 'cat' or 'fish' to his friends, was probably the closest thing Pope had to a best friend. Even though it had been two years since they had last seen one another, Frankie looked exactly like he always did. His dark curly hair stuck out under his trademark, ratted, ball cap. His lips held a full mustache while the rest of his face had what was probably week old scruff and the brightest smile of the group. It didn't hit him until they were embraced in a tight hug just how much he had missed the man.

"How' you doing?" Pope asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Hanging in there, I guess." Frankie nodded, finally letting go and moving to sit on the bench opposite of Will. "Is Tom coming?"

"Yeah, he said he would be here," Pope nodded looking at all of them in front of him. "You assholes get my texts?"

All of them looked in various stages of guilt, rubbing the back of their neck, adjusting their ball cap, not meeting Pope's eyes. Of course they had gotten his texts and by the tension in the room none of them had responded.

"Yeah," Frankie finally broke the silence. "Yeah I got your texts."

"And? I need a pilot." Pope looked at his best friend.

"I don't do that anymore, man." Frankie shook his head and sighed. "Besides, I lost my license."

"I don't need a pilot with a license, I need a pilot I can trust. And that's you." Pope pointed at his chest and held his gaze.

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and stood up, leaning back against the lockers and looking up at the ceiling. "Will, you in?"

"I told Pope, if Redfly was in, then so was I." Will turned his sights to his friend and shrugged.

"And what about you, Benny?" Pope said, asking the man who had been quiet the longest.

"Of course I'm in."

Pope ruffled his short, dirty blond hair roughly with a smile and a word of praise and Benny shoved him away with a grin.

"Fuck," Frankie sighed and shook his head. "So, what's the job?"

"Can we talk details later? It's fight night--I got other shit to think about." Benny pleaded, looking around to the other three as the crowd cheered again through the concrete walls.

"Sure, wouldn't want you to be late," Will scoffed and stood, offering a hand to his brother and helping him up off the bench. The three men left the locker room and started down the concrete tunnel that led out to the arena. Benny was in front, holding his fists out in front of him like a true heavyweight and mumbling what sounded like a well rehearsed pep-talk to hype himself up.

Frankie and Pope hung back a few steps beside the other two, falling into step with one another like they shared the same brain. The other boys often joked that they did. Frankie put his hand on Pope's shoulder and rubbed his own beard in thought before he broke the silence.

"So, I got busted. That's why my license lapsed. It's not a big deal." He let the sentence hang in the air before he shook his head and sighed. "Okay, so it is a big deal."

Pope turned and looked at him. "Coke?" When Frankie nodded in agreement Pope rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Cat."

"It's still pending. But I'm clean now--I swear."

Pope nodded as they kept walking. He believed him. Frankie was a man of his word, and he knew he didn't have to prove anything to him. If he said he was clean, then he was clean. And cocaine or not, Frankie was the best damn pilot he had seen in his entire career, he wanted him for this job. No one else was going to cut it. Not when the objective was this important.

"Hey," Frankie said, trying to act casual but sounding anything but. "Have you talked to (y/n) lately? How--uh, how's she doing?"

There it was. He had to hand it to him, it took him longer to ask than he would have thought, but where it was normally endearing how much Fankie was still in love with you, this time it made Pope sick to his stomach. Did he tell him? He should tell him--even if it was just him. It was the right thing to do. Instead, as they approached the arena, the lie fell from his mouth.

"She's uh--she's good. Took a job down south, but I haven't heard from her this week." It wasn't a total lie. Pope didn't look at him and he could feel his friend staring intently at him.

Frankie let it go, even though his expression said he didn't want to. "So, what is this job really? What aren't you telling me?"

Pope looked over his shoulder, "It is what I said. Simple recon. We can talk details after the fight."

"Sure, whatever you say, man," he shook his head as they walked into the crowd and Benny greeted Tom with a cheer and a hug as the taller man started passing out beers he had just gotten from the concession stand. "I'm in." Frankie said flatly and walked passed Pope, taking a beer from Tom and giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Pope stopped short and watched the other man smile and interact with the rest of his friends. Frankie was his oldest friend, and lying to him hurt worse than that time he was shot down in Peru. Frankie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember, and if Pope was being honest with himself, he was the only man that deserved you and that he trusted to take care of you. He thought you guys would really make it work, and the day you called it quits hurt him too. Why wouldn't he want his best friend to take care of his sister? Protect you when he couldn't? Make sure you spend the rest of your life happy.

The four of them sat in the front row as Benny walked up the steps to the raised fighting platform, ducking under one of the ropes and bouncing around like there were springs on his feet. Pope looked back at Frankie and when the other man smiled, Pope returned it but it was a lie. He knew he was going to be crushed when he found out why the gang was really back together. When Frankie found out you were missing, nothing was going to stop him from getting you back--that's the real reason Frankie was the most important part of this crew. Because just like Pope, Frankie would get you back...or burn the whole country down trying.

Two years earlier

It was just supposed to be drinks and pool, maybe some darts if he talked you into it--you were a terrible shot and it made him laugh until his eyes watered. Frankie had asked you to go to the bar while he was in town and you had happily said yes. You missed him. And by the look on his face you knew he missed you too.

It was never awkward when you were with Frankie. No matter how much time had passed, as soon as the two of you were back together it was like picking up right where you left off. Gentle touches, knowing each other's drink order, holding hands, it was all so natural. He opened every door for you, bought every seven and seven you ordered, and paid for every round of pool, shoving more quarters into the metal slot and racking up the balls the second the previous game ended.

The first part of the date ended when Frankie tried to teach you how to do a trick shot in the corner pocket. He leaned his pool cue against the table and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and putting his large hands over yours on your own pool stick. He smelled like fresh air, like the woodsy smell of recently cut grass, clean earth, and just a hint of campfire smoke--musky and comfortable and safe. He spoke in your ear telling you where to aim, and even though he had to speak over the other patrons and the juke box it felt like he was whispering just for you. When he pressed himself against your ass, your body erupted in goosebumps. He must have felt it too because he asked, "Wanna get out of here?" And all you could do was nod.

The both of you fumbled into your apartment, he barely got the door closed by kicking it, as you dropped your purse and keys on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course all of this would have been easier if either of you could pull away from each other's lips, but that wasn't happening.

"Bedroom or couch?" You said as you shoved his shirt off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. "Both." The two of you laughed and kept kissing as he walked you backwards towards the hallway. "Kitchen. Floor. Shower." He kissed you after each word and you blushed, laughing again at his suggestion. This was the Frankie you remembered. This was the Frankie you fell in love with.

"Got big plans for this weekend, do ya?"

"Yup," he bent slightly and gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "And they all involve you."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue slid into your mouth like it had so many times before, exploring, tasting, moaning softly into you. He knew where your bedroom was, walking down the hall like he lived there and nudging the door open with his hip. Some summers, back when both of your lives were simpler, it was almost like he did live there. He had his own drawers, his own side of the bed, and you made sure his favorite coffee was always in the cabinet.

"Frankie," you breathed against his mouth and his grip tightened on you. You slid your fingers into his hair, removing his ball cap and tossing it behind you.

"Tell me, baby," he mumbled back, putting you down on the bed and crawling over your body.

"I missed you," you said and he froze, looking down at you with those enchanting brown eyes.

He swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. "I missed you, too."

The both of you took a moment just staring at one another. He leaned down and gave you another soft kiss before moving to trail his lips down your jaw, moving to your breasts and unclipping the snap in the front. He took each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as you closed your eyes and carded your fingers through his hair again. When he took one of your nipples between his teeth you gasped, arching your back off of the bed and holding him against you.

"You still like that?" He mumbled, moving to the other nipple and repeating the motion, sucking it into his mouth along with as much of your breast as he could. The feel of his teeth against your skin was exquisite and you could have let him do what he was doing all night.

"What do you think?" You laughed as he moved from your breasts down your stomach, biting and kissing his way to the edge of your jeans. "You always were a boob man."

"For your perfect tits? Absolutely." He undid the button and zipper, grabbing opposite sides of your pants and underwear, shimmying them off of your hips.

"Charming." You scoffed, raising your hips to help him as he stood and did the same to his own.

"You always thought so."

He knelt on the bed, stroking his half hard cock before he fell on top of you, making the mattress bounce gently. You gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back, enjoying the surprise on his face and the absolute adoration as your breasts hung directly in front of his face. He started to raise up to put them in his mouth again but you pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

"My turn," you grinned and he nodded, letting you move down his body, kneeling off to the side.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his dick, his eyes fluttered closed. You worked him slowly before bowing your head and letting some saliva pool in the front of your mouth and letting it drop slowly onto the head and down the shaft. Your hand worked the liquid down, making it slide easier as you pumped him.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he sighed as he watched you. "You're killing me."

"You still like that?" You asked, playfully, mocking his earlier question and he chuckled.

"Smart ass."

You smiled again before taking him in your mouth and you revelled in the way he moaned softly and slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head. You bobbed in tandem with your hand, working the entire shaft as you sucked the head of his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, your lips meeting your fist and a small sound escaped you as he hit the back of your throat. He thrusted up involuntarily and when you gagged slightly, he opened his eyes and looked at you worriedly.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and you shook your head, continuing to suck him off, running your tongue along the large vein that ran the length of him. There was no apology needed, you were just as desperate to remember his body as he was yours. He held out for a few more pumps, rock hard in your hands before he sat up and grabbed you by the arm. "Come here. Come here, baby."

You let him pull you to him as he leaned his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand between the two of you and ran two thick fingers along the slit of your pussy.

"Shit," he cursed quietly as he felt how wet you already were. He loved how quickly you were ready for him, it had always been like that. He could have you dripping for him before he even got you undressed and he loved reaching up your skirt or your dress and feeling you against the lace of your thong. "You're so wet."

"You love it," you said as he continued to stroke you and you straddled his hips, putting his arms around his shoulders.

"Always have," he said and it was in a voice tender enough that you weren't sure if you were talking about the same thing any more.

You leaned up on your knees as he took his cock in his hand and lined it up between your thighs. You lowered yourself on to him, sinking down slowly and letting your body adjust to his length. He throbbed inside of you as you paused, letting yourself adjust to his girth. The stretch was intense and you wanted it to last forever, feeling every inch of him as the bottom of your thighs touched the top of his and you settled in his lap. Your fingers found their way into his dark, soft hair. It was a little longer at the ends and you liked the way it curled around his hat, but that hat was currently on the floor with the rest of your clothes so you could touch the soft locks as much as you wanted.

"You ready, baby?"

You nod and hold him close, your breasts pressing against his chest, your foreheads coming together as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Fuck me, Frankie. Please, please." You whisper the last few words over his lips as he started to thrust up inside of you.

You both released a contented sigh at the same time and it made you smile. Even in your worst days, it always felt like you and Frankie were in sync, two halves of a whole. How your body had missed him, missed the soft way he said your name and the way he held you close to him like he wouldn't be satisfied no matter how close you were.

"I missed you," he said, closing his eyes as he guided your hips up and down, rocking against him as your stomachs brushed together.

"You said that already," you smiled, moaning softly as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of you.

"And I'll say it again," he grinned, pressing his nose against your cheek and kissing your lips.

"Charmer," you kissed him back, soft and slowly.

He dipped his head and kissed your neck, sucking along the soft skin of your throat. You wanted him to leave marks like you both were in grade school, making out in the back of the movie theater, kissing in the bed of his truck, back when things were simpler. His arms tightened around your back as you nosed his hair, breathing him in and kissing the top of his head.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly as you ground your hips down on his lap. "You feel so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you moaned softly in his ear as he picked up the pace. "Harder, Cat, harder, please."

He held you tightly as he looked up and put his hand on the back of your neck. "Look at me." You opened your eyes and leaned back slightly to look down at him with heavy eyes. "God damn, you're so beautiful," he whispered and it made you blush. You kissed him hard and slid a hand between the two of you, frantically searching out your clit as his thrusts started to get sporadic and uneven.

"I'm gonna cum, Cat-" you watched as he looked at you and nodded encouragingly.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me. I got you," he panted close to your face as his cock hit the end of you, pumping up inside of you.

Your orgasm took you suddenly and completely. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you clenched around his cock and squeezed your thighs around his lap. You felt the heat rise up from your core to the rest of your body in a way that made you curl your toes against the bedspread. You threw your head back and groaned out your pleasure to the ceiling, his name falling from your lips with sweet ecstasy as you clung to his shoulders.

He followed right behind you, spilling himself inside your cunt, the feeling of him hot and wet around his cock and starting down your thighs. He thrust hard, and spaced out, a few more times, grunting a mixture of his pleasure and your name with each movement.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, leaning back against the headboard and pulling you against him.

You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing hard as you ran your hand up his neck and played your fingers against the scruff along his jaw. He was still inside you and you clenched your thighs again, an afterthought of a muscle twitch left over from your orgasm. It made him groan again and tighten his grip on your hips.

"Sorry," you laughed softly and he chuckled.

"We still got it, don't we?" He asked, looking down at you with a boyish grin.

"I never had any doubts." You crossed your arms on his chest and laid your head on top of them, looking up into his eyes. You shivered as he lifted your hips slightly and his softening cock slid out of you and you both got more comfortable. It was definitely quicker than the two of your normally liked it to be, but after being apart for so long, you had a feeling anything that happened tonight would be desperate and fast.

He dipped his head and kissed you softly, each kiss punctuated but a soft pop in the silence of your bedroom. He brushed your hair away from your face and smiled.

"You want me to head out soon?" He asked, trying to hide the fear in his face of the possibility that you would make him leave.

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head and staying firmly planted on top of his lap. "No, stay the night. Please." You added the last word sweetly and his face relaxed.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He nosed your hairline and kissed your forehead.

You knew this couldn't last. You knew he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, another pilot seminar, and you were headed upstate for your job as well. You loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and he felt the same way--life just always seemed to have other plans. And yet, life was just as cruel as it was sweet because somehow, someway, it always brought you two back together.

---

Present Day Some where in the jungles of Columbia

You weren't sure how long you had been traveling. In fact, when you thought about it, you didn't know much of anything. You twisted your wrists in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure the zip ties were leaving on your skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whispered, leaning your head back against the side of the van. The bumps and potholes in whatever shitty road you were on caused the back of your skull to bump against the metal. How had this happened?

The last few days had been a blur. You and a group of journalists were having dinner in a local village. You had teamed up with a group of doctors and, in between travel, were lending a hand providing basic medical care to anyone who needed it in the surrounding towns. You cut bandages, gathered clean water, played soccer with the children, and took photos to add to your collection and publish when you got back to the States. It had been a pretty uneventful trip, enjoyable actually, until Lorea's men had shown up. No one seemed to know what the dangers narcos drug lord would be doing in a place like this.

Before you knew what was even happening, there were guns pointed at your crew, men yelling in Spanish that you only vaguely understood, and you raised your hands above your head shouting back, pleading them to calm down. Did they want money? No, that would have been too easy, and as a traveling journalist that dabbled in humanitarian efforts, money was not something you had a lot of anyway.

A rather large man grabbed you by the wrists and even though you struggled, even though you screamed, it didn't make any difference. A hand on your head made you duck as you were shoved into a van along with a few of the others on your crew and the door slammed shut behind you.

"Stop, stop," you tried as the van revved and pulled away down the street. "You don't have to do this--" The man who grabbed you ignored your words, if it was because he didn't understand English or because he didn't care, you weren't sure.

He jerked your wrists in front of your body and wrapped the zip tie around them, pulling it tight. Your heart was beating way too fast and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears and on instinct you pulled your hands away from him and screamed again, turning towards the door. He yelled something in Spanish and pulled his arm back before punching you in the side of the face. Your world exploded into flashes of white as you hit the floor of the van. With the wind knocked from your lungs, you gasped for air and coughed, your eyes burning with hot tears.

The man driving turned and yelled something over his shoulder, obviously upset at his partner for roughing up the merchandise. Your stomach felt nauseous and the last thing you remember was some kind of scratchy material being put over your eyes and the rest of the world went black.

Tag List: @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @winters-buck @seawhisperer If you wanna be tagged, lemmie know!

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedro pascal #pedro character fic #santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales

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powerosewaterpuff · 3 years

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yo ,i remember a post about sort of reverse batfam , between jason and dick , can you do the headcanons about under the red hood please

yes yes yes yes yes and another yes to top it all off. i really really love the idea, and i love under the red hood in general so thank u so much for suggesting this :) like i spent all day brainstorming (probs shoulda been studying but shhhhh) diff headcanons so i’m pretty excited to write it out. also so the timeline with this is a little tight ig?? i really wanted to include tim as bruce’s new sidekick with dick in the middle of his fallout with bruce but again a lil too tight so we’re just gonna have rebellious dick for now and i also haven’t watched death in the family so i’m basing this purely off of under the red hood :) (oh and fuck dick’s hair in the movie oh my god i’m ignoring that it even exists i’m so sorry)

dick is 17 on the cusp of hitting 18 and he’s so fucking sick of batman. every conversation of theirs was leading to a screaming match where each one tries to push their opinion as fact. it was getting messy and soul crushing at this point, and dick hated it. the rising action of it all was dick getting fired from robin, a role he hadn’t even been formally granted by batman yet he felt it in his power to strip him of it. he felt like a pawn in a chess game that gambled his identity and being off of the mind numbing mantra of be better. do better. faster. punch harder. follow orders. be better be better better. and dick was sick of it, so he shed the robin uniform. swallowing it like a bitter pill because he was forced to do so. but nightwing was giving him clarity as of late. the sheer rush, brilliance and exuberance of it all reminded him of when flying was a much simpler task.

however, dick had an annoyingly unwavering loyalty to protecting bruce’s (less batman then bruce. bruce was his father. batman was not. yet nowadays the man himself was forgetting who exactly was the secret identity and who the real person was.) safety and well-being, even if it meant risking another shouting round. so, once dick catches wind of batman’s whereabouts for the night, he decides to help him with Amazo etc., and dick cant help but realize how well they still mesh together when it comes to fighting. the talking part however, did not come naturally anymore. (it used to. it used to be so much easier)

now bruce, is attempting his best to keep dick out of the loop. he knows dick will furious. and dick’s temper is something not many can tame, but bruce would take the risk. he’d rather dick spit on his memory then be dead in his arms (just like jason was, blown to bits when he should’ve been in his room. safe. sleeping after studying for some test not fighting crime with him in the underbelly of Gotham city, or getting dragged along bruce’s self induced fight with the world.)

dick, of course, does not appreciate this and can very easily tell the bruce is trying to get him off the case. dick doesn’t appreciate that in the slightest, and it only makes him want to push more. to fight bruce on every detail and demand he be apart of this because that’s the only way he can get anywhere with him. it was fair to say, that the interrogation with the joker he had to force bruce into taking him too, wasn’t exactly pleasant. he watches, leaning back against the wall as batman has joker by the neck. some part of him hates himself for not being upset about this, like he’s failing his moral code in some way. but he ignores that half, and tries not to feel angry as bruce doesn’t choke joker out like the rat he is. dick wished, in the darkest parts of his mind, that he could burn joker alive, just to watch in vengeful satisfaction that the man who stole his brothers breath wither in pain. ( and watch that fucking laugh die out)

now, the confrontation goes quite similar. except dick is noticing these little things that resemble jason too much it be a coincidence. too much. he knows how jason fights, he’s sparred with him for years and used to spend countless nights in his room trying to emulate his older brothers swift and hard hitting movements in front of his mirror. he always wished he could hit as hard as jason, as dicks strength at the time was his inhuman flexiblity and professional acrobatic skills. now, when he and batman are against the red hood, fuck it doesn’t feel right to dick. it’s all too similar. it wasn’t even the bigger moves that caught his attention but the little moves in stance that screamed at him that it was his brother. he kept shutting the idea down, because if it was possible dick would have made it happen. he would’ve.

dick gets hurt in the aftermath, but bruce must be a fucking comedian if he thinks it’s going to stop him. they get into another argument, bruce talking him down to nothing and dick frustrated that bruce couldn’t see that he’s been doing this for too long to be lectured on it, and that bruce wasn’t atlas. he wasn’t responsible for the world being held up between his two hands. it simmers down to loud silence, like it always does and dick hobbles out. leaning slightly on alfred.

bruce’s hunch is eating him alive. devouring his soul and heart with a satisfying crunch, not sparing crumb. with the revelation that his son could be alive, and the Red Hood of all people, one of the first thoughts that run through his mind is that he could not tell dick. dick could never know, and will never know. it was a hushed promise, one kept inside his chest, locked like all of his unspoken words. it would crush dick, just like it was crushing bruce now. (or maybe it was because if bruce was on the fence about breaking his moral agenda, he knows that dick would hurdle over that fence. he hates that he knows this but he does. dick wears a bleeding heart on his sleeve for his family, especially for jason. this is the same boy that was set on killing zucco all those years ago before jason and him had stopped it.)

(jason’s tasting bitter green as he mulls over why the fuck dick was there. that little idiot was supposed to be at home. safe. not carrying out bruce’s destructive agenda of self proclaimed justice. he didn’t know whether to be mad at bruce or dick. because of course bruce encouraged this shit, eager to force another child soldier into the suit and send him out to die. but God, did it hurt that dick had taken bruce’s side over his even if he didn’t know it was jason. and that stung like a motherfucker. his little brother, whose fond memories were becoming hazed in a cloud of viridecent smoke, had picked bruce’s side. a little part of himself though, shy and hesitant, whispered that he had hurt dick. he had hurt his little brother and he couldn’t justify it no matter how vengeful he was. but he shoved that part aside, trying to ignore its desperate murmurs as they told him that every time he looked at nightwing or whatever the fuck his new name was, he saw his eight year old little brother smiling up at him).

dick knows that bruce thinks he’s covering his tracks well. he is but dick knows bruce, better then bruce thinks he does. so dick is slowly beginning to formulate a hunch of his own, as he spends countless nights rubbing his formerly injured leg and wondering if he really did everything he could’ve to save jason. if there was something he missed. it’s starting to gnaw away at him, until realization settles into his chest after snooping through bruce’s files. then, he’s dashing to get into uniform, giving a breathless and hasty apology to alfred. itsjasonitsjasonitsjasongogogorunrunrun

batman. red hood. bruce. jason. father. son. bruce cannot stomach the vigor in jason’s words and jason’s heart is giving out at the fact that his father won’t do this for him. to end that pathetic excuse of a fucking life, one that’s stolen from so many people, but it still wasn’t up to his moral standards limit. was jason not enough to warrant a sacrifice for the greater good. (was jason’s desperate need to feel safe of that walking nightmare not worthy to overtake any mission)

it happens in a rush. dick is swinging up to the building, the blood pumping through his ears drowning out the screams of his chest. the joker tackles batman as the timer tick tick tick’s away numbingly. suddenly, dick has kicked the joker off and has one hand over his neck while the other smothers itself over his mouth and nose. why didn’t he do this before? why didn’t he kill the thing before? it didn’t even deserve to be called human, so why would any moral standards apply to a human based code. if batman wanted to be the whole representer of pure justice, fine. he could do that. dick wasn’t though. he was going this kill piece of shit then never let go of jason as long as he lived.

suddenly, there’s a pull at the back of dick’s uniform and at the corner of his eye he catches sight of jason being pulled by bruce as well and he’s just about to call out for him when the next thing he knows a blast rockets through his ears and the world goes black.

jason was no where to be found. and bruce ends up having to shove dick into the batmobile before he lunged after the joker, after realizing jason was missing and that the joker was still alive and kicking. the argument that insues? isn’t pretty. in fact it’s their worst. dick had spun around and asked bruce, ‘who are you? batman or bruce? because im not talking to batman, i want to hear why bruce couldn’t do the one thing his son needed! i want to know why bruce thought it was going to be beneficial not to fucking tell me that my brother-Bruce, he’s my brother! that he was alive, because you thought I was gonna pull shit like this? look at that! the exact thing you tried to avoid happened, you know why? because you cannot trust me, and it blew up in your face!’

it goes on. and on. and on. there’s no resolution, or admittance to what happened. bruce simply shuts himself down, stating this wasn’t changing anything. there was a then and a now, one in which bruce harbours enough guilt to crush his shoulders.

there’s a stony resolution in dick’s voice after bruce tells him to get out with more finality to it then he’s ever said it before, when he says, “fine. batman.”

(jason replays it over and over again in his head. the batarang. bruce turning his back to him. the jokers screechy laugh eating at his mind. eruptions of pain from the crowbar. again. again. again. and dick. smothering the joker. a steely resolve in his brothers eyes he never wanted to see but was secretly glad for. it replays like a broken film in his head, cutting and chopping but creaking out the same tune.)

AHHH OK SO i def wanted to do so much more with this ugh but i really wanted it done td so excuse just how unpolished it is, i might go back with some new ideas in it, but i like where i ended it off. this is more or less the ‘detachment’ phase in dick’s relationship with bruce, as hes nearing the end of high school and cannot do this with bruce anymore (oh college is a whooole other ordeal hehe) but i think dick would be better to tim then what he canonically was to jason. (also because dick is totally not on a mission to get his brother back at all costs and fix this family, nope. not at all.), and i think dick just has a lot more anger in this too? and bitterness here ig? just because he had lost his parents, then his brother essentially, and had to deal with being the emotional support to bruce who was falling apart. it’s a heavy load, and dick is absolutely still himself, just when it comes to jason and the joker as well as his family in general, i think he has a lot more anger as well as less control yk? (oh also i have him less in blüdhaven in this lil thing just bc like he’s still in highschool and is in this weird phase with bruce that hes fired etc., but is now yk fully going into the, ‘i’m not speaking to you anymore’ part. SOO THATS IT FOR THAT THANK YALL SO SOOOO MUCH FOR READING UR KINDA ALL THE BEST TBH AND TYSM FOR THE SUGGESTION AGAIN THIS WAS HELLA FUN :)!!

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elysiashelby · 4 years

Text

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 7

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

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 6,206

WARNINGS: Cursing, Mentions of Previous Self-Harm

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for a year, and the time has come for the show to start. But how will this affect her and Thomas’ relationship?

MASTERLIST CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 8

A/N: Luckily, nothing really happens in this chapter! Thank you for reading!

A week has passed and the Cheltenham races were just ‘round the corner. Me relationship with Tommy had mended. The cuts didn’t sting anymore and were scabbed up. I figured as long as I didn’t pick at them, then I wouldn’t have any scars, but I’m not betting on that. ‘Cause that’s a challenge in itself for me.

I was woken up two hours before I was meant to by Polly.

I whimpered and was abar to talk when Polly said. “Shut your trap. Ada and Freddie are getting married today at eight. Ada wants you there with us, so find a nice dress and fix your hair differently, love.”

I woke up and sprang meself to me feet. “Right! Okay. I’ll get ready.” I started to rub the sleep out of me eyes.

Polly smiled and nodded. She made her way out of me room when she turned to me a little. “And don’t tell, Tommy. He’ll probably try to stop it and I want to be the one that tells him.”

I furrowed me eyebrows for a second before I looked away and back at her. I was confused. “Okay?”

‘What? Did she think I was gonna rat to him or something?‘

She left me room after closing the door behind her. I rushed to grab me mirror and balanced it on me desk. I was going to attempt to curl me hair. After I did something with me robe tie, I started going through all me dresses.

I hummed to meself as I looked through them. I found a nice long-sleeved orange dress that I had received as a present from Angie. I smiled at it. I laid it out on me bed and pulled out me suitcase for makeup.

I got out all I needed and went for a natural orange look. If I went with anything dark and modern, I think people ‘round here would tell me I look like a clown. So, I tried using as little as I could while doing me makeup.

As for me lips, I never really did like lipstick, so I just put on some lip balm and a pink nude shade. I ran a finger under my lip to make sure me lipstick was perfect. I closed me mouth shut and rubbed me fingers to get off the excess. I looked at the clock that I had on me bed stand and read that it was barely 6:30.

I sighed while lightly touching me forehead. I didn’t want to smudge anything ‘cause I had a big tendency of touching me face whenever I had makeup on. I got up and picked out some three inch heels that Polly bought for me when I first arrived here. She told me that I should have a pair in case we have a party or something. Then, I started stuffing me newly bought clutch with items I thought I’d need as well.

When I was done, I sat in me undergarments making homework assignments for the kids while waiting for the time to pass by.

When 7 came, I put on the dress and then undid me curls. They were very loose and honestly, they hardly formed at all, but all I really wanted was some extra defined waves. Afterall, me hair was already wavy as it was.

I was sitting one me bed while putting on me shoes when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” I yelled as I slipped me foot in me shoe.

“Aliena, is Ada in here?” Polly asked.

I stood up, tugged at me dress a little, then said. “No.” Ugh, that girl! How could she just run off without tellin’ anyone! “But she told me that she was gonna run and surprise Freddie.”

“That girl! Come on, then. We have to head to the church.” Polly ushered me out with her hands walking away.

I quickly grabbed me clutch and walked after her. I caught up with her on the stairs and we walked in unison. We went out the door and I waited ‘til she was done locking the door.

Polly walked over to me then we headed for the church. “These kids are going to be the death of me one day.” She told me.

A breathy laugh escaped me.

“Please for the love of God, Aliena. Don’t end up like us. Marry a good man and live well.”

We looked at each other and shared a smile. What she didn’t know was that my smile was forced.

It was that bloody phrase again. ‘A good man! They didn’t know what ran through me mind! They don’t know enough abar me to say that I deserve “a good man.” How can anyone one of us hope for a good life? I think the only ones who hasn’t killed some is Ada and FInn.

They didn’t know me sexual preferences. Not that I wanted them to know either, but-! I don’t care for some vanilla romance. But, I’m not looking for danger either.

They didn’t know that I want to be a housewife. Just cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids, and staying at home. That’s the life I want. Hell, I want all of that with Tommy! I’m sure they knew that one, though.’

I sighed to meself. I looked over at Polly. I couldn’t stop meself from asking. “Pol, what did you mean by what you said this morning?”

“About what?”

“Well, you told me not to tell Tommy as if I run and tell him everything.”

Polly took out a ciggie, lit it, and took a puff. She offered me one, but I shook me head. She sighed before putting them away.

“Ali, I’m not sure if you think your steps or even Tommy’s are light as feathers. I hear you go into his room at night from time to time.” She smirked at me.

Me eyes widened and I went to start explaining, but she stopped me.

“Now, I know you’re not sleeping with him. My nephew may be wicked, but he isn’t that wicked. Besides, Tommy wouldn’t pursue you while you’re just 17, maybe even when you’re 20.” We stopped walking and faced each other.

“But either way, I asked him about it one morning. He told me that you help him go to sleep at night. You talk to him about your day or about your thoughts. So, I know that you and him have gotten close. I know you don’t like keeping things from me or him, that’s all I meant. You wouldn’t have to burden yourself about it.” She cradled me face before giving me a kiss on the cheek. She rubbed her lipstick away.

“You’re never gonna let it go, are you?” I asked with a smile on me face.

Polly sighed while putting her arm ‘round me shoulders. “You mean that time where we went shopping for those shoes you’re wearing and I had told you that I stolen a little money for us to get them, and told you not to tell anyone.

Then when we got home, Tommy grilled into the family and especially, you, about said missing money. And you kept quiet about it, but ending up crying to me the second Tommy left the room. Only to find out it was a test. No, I couldn’t forget about that!”

I groaned while titling me head back. “That was really mean, Pol!” We both had a laugh. We talked and talked ‘til we got to the church.

I sat down on the bride’s side while Polly went to go talk to someone.

‘You know, it’s really humbling when you can just lean your body back and you can be kicking your legs in the air like a fucking 4 year old! Aliena, you’re fun-sized! You’re just fun-sized!’

I took a deep breath and put a smile back on me face. Me attention was caught when the entrance doors opened with a loud bang as they were forced to hit the walls. Freddie came running in and over to me.

I looked up at him about to say me greetings when he pulled me to me feet and spun me ‘round in the air. I squealed in happiness. When he put me down, he gave me a peck on me cheek.

Nice to know that I’m skinny enough to be spun ‘round in the air from time to time.

“I’m getting married today, Aliena!” Freddie shouted in me face.

I laughed. “I know, that’s why I’m here, you divvy.”

He nodded, a hand going over his beard. “So, you’re going to be our flower girl, maid of honour, and ringbearer. Okay?”

Me eyes practically bulged out of me head. “O-Okay!” Freddie instantly passed me the rings before heading over to Polly.

I clutched me hands into fists for dear life before running outside where I’m sure Ada was. I opened the door and there she was with a hand over her mouth.

“Ada!” I yelled.

She looked at me, rushed to me, and grabbed me by me arms. “I’m getting married, Ali!”

I nodded a big smile on me face. “I know! God, you look like a dream, Ada!”

She giggled and gave me a twirl. “Do I really?”

“Of course, you do!” I pulled her into a hug and I couldn’t help but scream.

‘This was so exciting!’

I heard the door open again and it was Polly. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” She said. Then, she stood still, her hand together as they covered her mouth and nose. “Oh, Ada. You look absolutely beautiful.”

Ada smiled with tears in her eyes which made me want to start crying. I noticed that we were all on the verge of tears. I started to tilt me head back and fan me eyes. When I knew I was alright, I put me head back down.

Polly and Ada were holding each other’s hands, staring at each other with smiles. Polly wiped away a tear away before saying. “Okay, now let’s get you married. Ali, go in before us then stand where the maid of honour goes to.”

I nodded, taking the flowers that she shoved me to, and we all got into position. I had me hands on the doors. “Ready?” I asked.

“Ready.” Ada said. Then, I pushed the doors open.

After the ceremony, we went to have something to eat in London. Ada and Freddie couldn’t stop touching each other. Polly and I shared smiles and glances. I was happy for them. I really was, but it was bittersweet since I knew he was going to die. I’m ashamed now to admit that the reason why I don’t know how he dies is because I couldn’t be bothered. I was just obsessed with Tommy.

When it was ‘round 3, we went our separate ways. Ada and Freddie would be staying with his communist friends while Polly and I went home. We got home ‘round 5. I was gonna go to me room when Polly stopped me.

“Hold it! You’re not going anywhere. We still need to tell Tommy about today.” Polly said leaning against the kitchen counter.

“WE?” I shouted in confusion, me eyes blowing wide and me voice pitching up.

“Yes, we. So, take a seat and ‘cause we’re waiting for him to come home.” Polly ordered me with her finger pointed at me as she walked to the phone.

I tsked and plopped meself down in a chair with a pout and me arms crossed.

When the call ended, Polly walked to the cupboard and got herself a glass then poured herself something. It was alcohol, alright, but just didn’t know what kind. I watched as she lit herself another ciggie.

Begrudgingly, I limply extended me arm and shook me two fingers at her. She chuckled before giving the one she had already lit. I took it in me hand and took a long drag out of it.

“Want one of these too, Ali?” Polly teased.

I shook me head. “Nah.”

The door soon opened. “All right?” Tommy said. I watched the surprise flash across his face as he witnessed me smoking, or maybe it was the makeup. He was abar to say something when Polly cut him off.

“Are you armed?” She asked.

Tommy’s head whipped ‘round to her. He took off his cap. “No.” He answered.

“Then, I’ll tell you.” Polly had such a grave look on her face.

Tommy raised his ciggie to his lips and tucked his cap in his pocket.

“Ada and Freddie Thorne were married today. They defied your orders. They haven't left the city.”

As Tommy started to walk away from Polly, he took the ciggie from his mouth and took an audible breath while he brushed some of his hair away from his face. He stopped at the space opposite of me. He rested his one arm on the back of a chair and the other on the table. He heaved a big sigh.

Polly walked behind me as she spoke. “I'll deal with it. Thomas. I'll deal with it.”

“Where are they?” Tommy asked as he raised his head to look at her.

As Polly started to answer him, I got up from the chair and stood off to the side which could be considered the middle of them.

“Freddie's comrades have safe houses. Why do you want to know?”

“I want to send them flowers. Why do you think?” He gaze shifted towards me for a split second before it went back to Polly. I took another long drag.

“Would it be so bad if they stayed?” Polly asked.

Tommy leaned forward, closer toward Polly. “I promised I'd run Freddie out of town.” He whispered.

Polly put out her ciggie, leaning forward as she did so. “Promised who?” She asked.

Tommy stood up straight then turned ‘round facing the open doors to the betting shop before looking away again.

I rolled me eyes and shuffled to close them. Since they were wide open, it took me a door at a time. When I turned back ‘round, Tommy took the ciggie that was supported by me lips and put it out. I sighed before moving back to give Polly some room.

Tommy stared at me for a while before turning his attention back to her. “I told the coppers Freddie wouldn't come back. It was part of the deal.” He whispered.

“What bloody deal? What happened to family votes? What happened to meetings?” Polly asked.

Tommy looked away.

“If you let me deal with Ada and Freddie, it'll end in peace.”

Tommy’s breathing had gotten louder.

“Christ knows you've had your fill of war.”

Just like that, it was like something flipped in Tommy. He looked up at Pol and got in her face. “You get Freddie out of town, Pol. Or else I'll deal with it myself.” Then, he walked off.

I waited a little before I huffed and decided to go after him. “Tommy!” I shouted. “Tommy, wait!” I closed the door behind me and ran to him.

“I was wondering where you were. You didn’t give me lunch, so. At least you were safe.” He took one last puff of his ciggie before flicking it out into the street.

“Polly woke me up early in the morning. Said that Ada wanted me there. Can you believe that they didn’t tell me before today because they were afraid I would rat them out to you?” I looked for anything. A smile or a smirk, but he kept a stoic face. When he didn’t respond, I rolled me eyes.

“I made him a part of the deal, Ali, you know that.” Tommy said as he finally picked up his head and looked at me. “And what was that in there? You’re smoking now, right? You’ll finally get off my back about it?”

I scoffed. “Look, I’ll give you that I’m now a hypocrite, okay! But this is just one time. Something to take the edge off, alright? Plus, it’ll all work out in the end, Tommy. So, let Ada-!”

He shook his head and started walking off. I sighed. I kicked a non-existent pebble before running after him. I grabbed his arm and tugged him to look at me. “Tom, everything will be fine. Alright? Ada will be fine. If you still want to be mad, even though by me telling you this can jeopardize your family, then fine! But there, Ada will be fine.” I shoved his arm out of me grip and walked back into the house.

Later that night as I was brushing out me wet hair, Tommy knocked on me door. He asked if I was serious and I told him that I was. Then, he asked me to sleep with him and I did.

The next morning was pretty tame. I did me same old routine before I was in the kitchen making lunch for the boys. The front door opened with a bang and closed with a bang. With me eyebrows heavily furrowed, I took a peak over me shoulder and saw Arthur fuming me way.

“Are you alright, Arthur?” I asked.

He didn’t acknowledge me. John stepped into the room and tipped his head at me, questioningly. I shrugged me shoulders. Arthur reached up, opened a cupboard, and grabbed a bevvy. Then, he flew out of here. The door slamming shut again.

“Did he say anything to you?” John asked.

I shook me head. “No. Just came zipping in then right out.”

John sighed before ruffling his hair. “Christ. It’s the Flanders Blues again. I’m gonna go tell Tommy. You stay here. Tommy will probably need your help to calm down Arthur.”

I nodded and put the butter knife down. I watched as John ran over to Scudboat, grabbed his coat, and then left. I walking into the betting shop and waited there for a while. Then, when I started feeling too uncomfortable I went into the living room. I sat down in one of the two chairs and waited.

Tommy came barging in, soon enough. His eyes searched for me, which instinctively caused me to sit up straighter. He walked over to me and sat on the opposite chair.

“Right. How was he?” Tommy asked me as he took his cap off and rested his elbows on his knees.

“He looked distraught, but determined. Didn’t say anything. Just got what he was looking for and left.”

“So, he wasn’t in tears and yelling?”

“No.”

“Good. I have a plan. Go on to the Garrison and wait there. I’m sure you know why. John, walk her there then come straight back.” Tommy got up, walked past John, and out the door.

A “wait, Tommy” had fallen in me ears and not Tommy’s. John sighed before he looked over at me. “Come on then, songbird.”

I sighed 'n I stood up. John helped me put on me coat, and then we were out the door.

“Has it been worse?” I asked John as we walked.

He sniffed. “Yeah, it was before you came. You see everyone else in town really expected Arthur to head the family, but we’ve always known it was gonna be Tommy. He’s just better at making the plans and stuff. But people outside of our family doesn’t get that and people just know Arthur as a brute, so that doesn’t help. Then ever since we came back, Tom has been keeping everything to himself.

Arthur didn’t like that. None of us did. It sucks, you know. To be out of the loop within your own family’s business. It’s like, do you trust us at all? So, it really got to Arthur and he made a fit about it. Threw stuff around, was crying and shouting. A real ugly sight.”

I nodded while muttering, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

After that we were silent. When we got to the Garrison, John explained to Harry what I was doing there and threatened him if anything should happen to me. I sat at the bar top. Me legs weren’t near the ground, so I was just kicking them. Harry asked me if I wanted anything and I said water.

After I got me water, I waited for Tommy and Arthur to show up. And let me tell you, they took their sweet arse time!

They walked in and I threw open me arms and yelled, “Ta-da!”

“Tommy, she better not be my bloody surprise!” Arthur shouted and laughed.

Tommy chuckled too. “No. What is it you've always wanted, Arthur? Eh?”

I slowly hopped off the bar top. Let’s just say, I didn’t let go ‘til me feet was close enough to the ground. Then, I walked over to them.

“When we were in France, you used to say, "When I go back to England, I want to own my own pub." Well.” Tommy opened his arms to Arthur before tucking his hands into his pockets.

I smiled and giggled. “Ta-da!”

Arthur was looking ‘round as if this was his first time in here. “Now, you've gone soft. You've gone soft, Tommy.” Arthur said, leaning into Tommy while tapping him with his bottle.

A big smile spread across Tommy’s face. It was one of the biggest I’d ever seen.

“How do we know it's for sale?” Arthur asked as he started walking toward the bar top. Tommy and I followed him.

“Everything is for sale to us, Arthur.” Tommy cleared his throat. “We're making a lot of money these days.” He leaned an elbow on the top, his side digging in it.

While, I tried hopping back up. Arthur grabbed me by me waist and helped me up.

“We need a legitimate business to pass the money from the shop.” Tommy told Arthur.

Arthur sighed. His face looked astonished. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

Tommy and I both looked at him, confused. “You spent two-thirds of your life in pubs, just pour it. Instead of drinking it.” Tommy said.

“But I can still drink it though, right?” Arthur asked while poking Tommy’s shoulder.

“Your pub, you do what you want.”

Smiles broke out on all of our faces. Arthur clasped his hand ‘round Tommy’s shoulder and he started shaking him ‘em.

That was when Harry decided to come out. “Ah! Sorry, gentlemen. Didn't hear you come in.” He said.

I blew out me exhale before cringing loudly. I made like a whining noise.

‘I felt bad for the man. But what’s done is done.’

I jumped off the top the same time Tommy turned ‘round to face Harry.

“What can I get you?” He asked them.

I cleared me throat. “I’ll be in the snug!” I ran off into the little place and waited for them in there. I took off me coat while I was at it.

It didn’t take them long to come in with drinks in their hands.

“You are now looking at the new owner of The Garrison!” Arthur shouted. I cheered and clapped. They both sat down in their usual spots. “As the new owner, I request a song from my songbird.”

That made me groan and Tommy laughed at me. I reached over and tried to smack him, but he moved out of the way.

“Fine! But only because it’s a special occasion.”

“Thank God! That means I’m allowed to smoke, brother!” Tommy slammed his hand on the table before digging out at ciggie.

I gasped before chuckling. “Oh, do one, Tommy! Arthur, what do you want me to sing?”

“Uh, the one that goes “excuse me, I love you,” that one!” Just like his brother, he slammed his hand down on the table.

I sighed before taking out the pins in me hair. Arthur started whistling which made Tommy start cheering. I squealed while covering me faces with me hands. “Knock it off! Or I won’t be able to sing.”

Their cheers died down and I sang “R.E.M” by Ariana Grande per Arthur’s request. Despite having nothing in me system, I put on a little show for them and danced. When the song ended, I fell to me arse and tried to catch me breath.

“Another one! The owner wants another one!”

“Whoo! Another one, Ali! Give the man what he wants!”

I started laughing again. This time it wasn’t pretty, as if they always were. But this time it came from me nose. I covered it in fear that snot came out.

I caved and sang them “Goodnight ‘n Go” by Imogen Heap but Ariana Grande’s version. Then it was “Something's Got A Hold On Me” by Etta James but Christina Aguliera’s version. That one was a lot of arm swinging and hip twisting.

I sighed as I fell onto me arse again. “That’s the last one!” I waved me hand.

“Well, best for last!” Arthur shouted. He and Tommy clinked glasses before taking a swing. “Come on, Ali. Have a drink.”

I shook me head. “I don’t like drinking.”

“Liar.” Tommy said.

Me head whipped to him. “Ye wha?”

“What? Need me to say in a different way? Blagger. You’re tellin’ a blag.”

This time I really did manage to smack ‘em in the arm. “Fine! A drink. But one of youse is carrying me home and there’s no buts abar it, ya hear?”

They cheered me on and Tommy ordered me a gin. It was bitter ‘n it made me feel funny. I like smoking more than drinking. More specifically pot.

I was mainly listenin’ to them talk. Nursing me bevvy for awhile.

“Eh, Ali. ‘ave you met the pretty new barmaid that works ‘ere?” Arthur asked me.

I shook me head. “No. I’ve heard of her from Finn and John, but haven’t seen her.”

He hummed. Then, his eyes widened and he slapped his hand down on the table again. “Ya know, now that I’m thinking about it. Tommy, doesn’t Grace look a little bit like our Ali? Like an older version of her?”

Tommy’s smile dropped. “No, Arthur. She doesn’t.”

I couldn’t stop me face contorting in obvious disgust.

“Nah, I think she does. But don’t you worry, Ali. You’re still number one in our hearts.”

I scoffed before downing me bevvy. That comment really took it out of me!

“You know that Tommy ‘ere is taking Grace to the races? Hmm. What do you think of that?” Arthur asked me.

I looked over at Tommy. His face now stoic. “I knew abar it, yeah.” I replied.

“But, what do you think about it?”

“Hmm. Better her than me, that’s what I think. But I also wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her.” I was tracing the rim of the glass with me finger. Then, I looked at Tommy. The man looked like he was studying me or trying to get me to crack.

“Right. One more round then home. Especially for you.” Tommy said while pointing at me at the end.

I mouthed, “For me.” While putting a hand over me heart. Arthur and me had a laugh. So, I half finished the second bevvy when Thomas ‘n Arthur finished theirs.

They stood up.

“As promised, boys! One of you has the honour of carrying me home. Who’s it gonna be?”

They shared a look. “Two up?” Tommy asked Arthur who nodded. “You call it.”

They both took out a coin from their pockets and got it ready.

They both said. “One, two, three!”

The coins were in the air and Arthur called, “Tails!” The coins came down and they checked their hands.

“Fuck!” Tommy muttered. Arthur and I both started laughing.

“C’mon, Sergeant Major! I’m as light as feathers.” I held out me arms, me shoes in hand.

Tommy walked over to me. “Shut up.” He told me before he tucked an arm under me knees and ‘round me back. “Arthur, get the door.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shut up before I knock your head into every doorway we pass.”

I did shut up, but I smacked him upside the head. As promised, he carried me all the way home. I’m not ashamed to say that the thought ran through me head again— that I was skinny.

Tommy told me to go to bed in his room ‘cause he didn’t want me choking on me own vomit and so I did. He didn’t come in ‘till late and he had a very sour look on his face.

I picked meself up from the bed while he took off his cap and sat down next to me. I shuffled to stand on me knees. I put me hands on his shoulders. “What ‘appened?” I asked.

“Moss just told me to hand in Freddie or Ada gets four years for sedition.” He looked at me, worry across his face.

I started to massage his shoulders underneath me hands. “Whatever you ‘ave to do, do it. It’ll all lead to a better path. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You can’t tell me more?”

“No.” I said before laying back down. I crossed me arms above me eyes. “That’s the thing. Like I said, if I tell you something really important and it changes the future— that’s not good. It may seem better at the time, but a worser event will end up ‘appening in its place. And you don’t want that. Trust me. I’ve seen it ‘appen before.”

“What happened before?”

“What ‘appenes when someone messes with the future. There’s a balance to everything you see, so if I give you something to tip that balance toward the good, then inevitably the bad will have to be tipped over too at sometime.”

After that, he got undressed and joined me in the bed.

When I woke up the next morning, it was eight. I had a bit of a headache, but I soldiered through it. I knew what today was, so I scrambled to get out of Tommy’s bed and into me room.

I got dressed as fast as I could then left the house. I ran for the Garrison. On me way, I had caught up to Ada who was running with a waddle.

“Ada!” I yelled. “Ada!”

She turned ‘round and faced me. “Ali! Ali, have you seen Tommy or Freddie?”

I took her outstretched hands into me own as I shook me head. “No, love. Why are you running? You know you’re pregnant!”

Ada tried shaking her hands out of me grip, but it was a very weak attempt. Then, she doubled over and cried out.

“Come on.” I said. “Let’s get you inside.” I guided her into the pub.

‘I didn’t expect Ada to go up to Grace, but she did. I guess you can’t interfere with fate.’

“Have you seen Freddie Thorne?” She asked Grace.

‘All of a sudden, me world moved slowly. Our eyes locked and we both studied each other.’

“No.” Grace answered.

Ada took a shaky breath. “Or Tommy?” She cried out while cradling her stomach.

I helped Ada stay on her feet. “Can you get her a glass of water, please?” I asked Grace.

I guided Ada into a hall in the Garrison. I already knew where Grace was gonna take her, so might as well get a move on! “Ada, you need to calm down. Everything will be alright.”

“No. No, I think they’re going to kill each other.” Ada said as she used the wall for support. One hand on the wall while the other supported her back.

“Wait. Who’s going to kill who?” Grace asked, coming from the back of us.

I tsked in annoyance. I grabbed the water from her hand. “Excuse me, but this is private.” I put me hand up while jerking it forward as if telling her to stop.

She closed her mouth, her eyes blinked slowly. Before she turned and walked away. I turned me attention back to Ada. “Sweetheart, nothing is going to happen. Come on, have a sip of water.”

“No. I have to find Freddie first.”

“Ada.” I scolded. “You need to stop thinking about yourself and think about the baby. You know, in your hearts of hearts, that Tommy wouldn’t dare hurt Freddie, nonetheless kill him! As long as you love him, he wouldn’t dare. So, stop hurting the baby with all the running and worrying and drink the damn water, Ada.”

She took a few deep breaths before she shakily took the glass from me hands, and started to gulp it down.

“Ada, slowly, love. Slowly.”

She let the glass go with a gasp. She leaned her back against the wall while wiping her forehead with her free hand. “You know.” Ada started. “Tommy wasn’t always like this. Keeping everything inside and they used to be best friends, but ever since-!”

“The war.” I finished. A sad look passed on me face.

“Yeah. He used to smile a lot, then. And laugh. I miss that part of him.” Ada covered her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs.

“Oh, Ada.” I put me hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we go on home and I’ll massage your feet for a while before you plan on going back to Freddie?”

Her head sprang up at that. “Really, you’d do that for me? They really have been hurting!”

I chuckled, caressing her face. “Of course!” We shared a smile before I took her hand and started walking her out of there. We said thank you to Grace before we left.

“Do you really believe Tommy won’t kill Freddie?” Ada asked me as we were walking to the house.

I hummed with a smile on me face. “Oh, I know. Afterall, I’m the Shelby’s fortune teller, right?” I tapped her nose and sighed.

“Then, the gift you talked about. Was it the baby?”

I nodded. “I think so.” I can’t believe she still remembered that reading I gave her all those nights ago.

Tommy came home late that night. I knocked on his door then walked in. He had his head in his hands.

“Not tonight, Ali.” He said.

I rolled me eyes as I leaned on the doorway. “Well, before you go and hit your pipe. I thought that you should know that Danny is coming over. Don’t know what time, but he is. He has something to tell you.” I turned ‘round and left the room. But with one hand still lingering on the doorway, I peaked back in. “Once he’s left come get me, if you don’t want to hear the shovels that is.”

I closed his door and went into me room. He never knocked. I only knew that ‘cause I never went to sleep. I spent the whole night drawing, singing, and writing. The next day, I spent the whole day at John’s. I took a nap with them too, it was nice. Tommy didn’t talk to me at all that day.

The day after that, I was stuck doing deliveries. So, I was practically out the whole day. He didn’t call for me that night either. I knew Cheltenham was the next day, so I didn’t go to sleep that night either. It was six in the morning when I heard Tommy’s stirring. I waited ‘till it was ‘round 6:30 before I made me way downstairs.

I slowly made me way down. When I saw Tommy in the parlor, he was putting on his jacket.

“Morning, Thomas.” I said softly. His head snapped up. Under different circumstances, I would’ve smiled but we weren’t on good terms, right now. I walked past him and took the bowl that was filled with his shaving cream and water.

“Good morning.”

I dumped it out in the sink then dried me hands, in case any of it spilled on me hands. I rubbed me hands dry then walked over to him.

I took me robe and crossed it tighter ‘round meself. We stood there just staring at each other. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I cleared me throat and took his cap from his hands. I fixed it in me hands then stood on me tippy-toes to put it on ‘em.

He bent his knees a little to help me. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me lips, and I didn’t miss that small smile of his.

I bounced back on me feet while holding onto his arms. I smiled, just looking over him. Then, I did the cross thing on him.

“Didn’t know you were religious, Ali.” Tommy whispered.

I chuckled. “I’m not. But this is a special occasion.”

“Ah! I must be made with special occasions, then. Since they always seem to happen around me.”

I smacked his arm. “Shut up! I’m trying to bless you for your safety, ya know, like a sweet gesture.”

“Well, thank you.”

I hummed while dusting off his shoulders and tugged on the flaps of his jacket. For some odd reason, me eyes and nose stung. I looked up at him and whispered, “Goodbye, Tommy.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Bye, Ali.”

I nodded, letting him go. Me eyes were getting unbearable, so I turned ‘round and ran upstairs.

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston @nemesis729 @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

#thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #in another world #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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havens-most-wanted · 3 years

Text

Scraps - Trash Can Edition #1

Well here it is. A fic I wrote when I was 13 years old while I was in school, pretending to learn. It’s Jak/Torn, cliche AF and has the Erol-did-things-to-me trope, extremely OOC. BTW I just turned 30 a few months ago so this fic is...*counts* 17 years old.

Fixed spelling issues. No change to grammar or anything else.

--CRINGE WARNING--

Feel free to poke fun at it in a comment if you’d like.

No title featuring showercurtain!Jak. Slight AU.

----

His back was pressed against the alleyway. The Krimzon Guards advanced, and Jak knew he had nowhere to go. He could hear their voices and shouts around the corner. It was only a matter of time…

...Suddenly he was violently grabbed from behind, strong arms pulled him back. His head hit cement painfully, his head was spinning and stars burst in front of his eyes before he was dragged down a flight of stairs.

“Wha…?” Jak murmured before a rough hand covered his mouth.

“Shut it,” said the voice.

Still dizzy, Jak complied. There wasn’t much of a choice in the matter. He heard a door slide shut behind him.

He was violently thrown backwards. Jak braced for a hard landing, but instead found himself on a soft, green quilt. He had landed on a bed.

A tough looking elf sat across from him on another bed. “Explain yourself,” he growled.

“Where am I?” Jak asked, looking around, somewhere inside a crowded quarters of four beds a table sat ahead under a lamplight.

“I’ll explain later,” the older elf waved off dismissively. Jak looked up to meet the older elf’s eyes. “Now,” said the elf, matching Jak’s gaze. “Who are you? I see you were a prisoner--I can tell because of your clothes--but it looks like you’ve escaped.”

“Obviously,” Jak said, suddenly feeling more powerful. “The good Baron likes me, I suppose. Who the hell are you?”

“The name is Torn,” said the other elf simply. Torn was an older elf, brown hair and a suit of armor. He had tattoos on his face. Wait, Jak thought. Erol and that woman had the same thing.

Jak sprung off the bed suddenly, jumping on Torn and twisting his arms behind him while Jak stood behind. “You’re not one of THEM, are you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Torn tried to twist around and failed.

Jak moved his hand down to reach for Torn’s gun. The brown haired elf knew all too well, and knocked Jak’s hand out of the way and twisted around to face the blond elf. “I’m not your enemy,” Torn whispered, breathing heavily. “If I was...I would have killed you now.”

Jak glared, forcing the ice of his blue eyes into the cold, green ones. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

“I’m part of a group called the Underground. Kor told me you were wandering around and he figured you’d be useful. Now can I let go of you without you trying to blow my head off?”

Jak let his muscles relax a bit. “Underground for what?” he asked, while the tattooed elf still held him.

“For overthrowing the Baron, idiot!” Torn snarled, shoving Jak back a bit as he let go of his arms. “You don’t know what he’s done to this city…” Torn slunk back on the bed, looking at Jak.

“Oh, but I do,” said the blond, leaning over Torn a bit to make sure every word sunk in. “YOU’RE the one who doesn’t know what it’s like,” Jak said, his voice lowering, remembering the prison and the Baron put him in. And Erol, who…

No.

“Name?” asked Torn suddenly, changing the subject.

“What’s it to you?” Jak growled.

“If your ass plans to stay alive, you better give it to me,” Torn snarled back.

There was a five second pause. “It’s Jak,” the blond elf said, reaching out a hand to shake Torn’s. Torn had a look of disgust, but he complied. “Welcome to the Underground,” he said with a satisfied smirk.

Jak paled. “Please don’t do that,” Jak said quietly.

“What?” asked Torn. “Look Jak, you’re bleeding severely,” Torn stated, holding up his hand he shook. It was smeared with blood. “Let me get some bandages.” Torn sat up off the bed and headed to the open space.

“Forget it, Torn,” Jak said dismissively. “I feel no pain. It’s probably…”

His blood.

Jak looked down at his hands. Blood was caked on his finger nails, where he knew he slashed Erol across the face. But it wasn’t his choice of action...was it?

But it was worth it. Worth all the pain and suffering he went through. The first two years of being in Haven City. Alone. The only thing that he lived on was the spark of hope that one day he could escape. And now, he was fueled on revenge. Whatever Erol did to him, he’d deserve it back tenfold.

“Probably what, Jak?” Torn asked. He didn’t receive an answer from the young elf. “Well, if you’re not going to talk, you might as well get yourself a shower to clean up. I’ll get you a new outfit. The one you have now is a dead giveaway…” Torn said with another smirk. “Get going.”

Jak let the hot water flow over his naked body. It had been a long time since he had a shower. It relaxed his tense muscles slightly.

It was only here that Jak realized how much weight he lost. His body suffered malnutrition, he had gone from well-toned to thin and slender. They never fed him well in prison--in fact, nothing was ever well. Not with Erol, he surpassed the term ‘hatred’. He had manifested himself into Jak’s fear. His heartbeat raced faster at the thought of Erol, the pain and emotional torment he had caused. Erol had stolen everything. His pride, his hope--his innocence. God, in ways Erol had been much worse than the Dark Eco treatments.

But they became routine. It started pretty simple at first--stressful conversations about two times a week, but then he started coming more often. Forceful kisses--if you even called them kisses--started every night, then it escalated from there.

Blood flooded the floor of the shower before circling before it was pulled in the drain, disappearing from his sight.

Jak was tired of lying to himself. Most of the blood was his. Besides the few cuts, the remaining gashes were on his shoulder and lower back. They didn’t hurt much, the only thing left was a dull throb.

Jak heard the door open suddenly, and he moved to the back of the curtain. “Whos there?”

“Just me,” said a gruff voice from the otherside. He heard an opening and closing of cabinets.

Suddenly the water went extremely cold, Jak yelped.

“What, what?” Torn pushed the curtain back and Jak yelled again as the water shut off.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Jak screamed as he slipped on the water of the tub floor and fell forward, grabbing the curtain as he did so, ripping it from the bar and it covered them both.

“YOU IDIOT!” Torn roared as he tried to find a way to get out of it. He pulled it away from his face, now wet from the humidity of the room. He heard a muffled reply a little bit away. Torn moved the bot of the shower curtain way to reveal a struggling nude Jak giving all his strength to battle with the shower curtain. “Calm down Jak!” Torn said to him, but Jak continued to pull on the fabric. “Jak!”

Jak’s eyes widened when he realized the older elf was watching him. “Torn!” he gasped, trying to cover himself. “I’m naked!”

Torn shrugged as he pulled the curtain off them. “So?”

Jak turned beet red. “So? So?! I’D LIKE SOME PRIVACY!” he yelled.

Torn turned his head away. “Trust me Jak, I’m not going to grope you or anything.”

Jak froze. “Erol?” he whispered, bringing the curtain over his body and up to his chin.

Torn looked back at Jak and narrowed his eyes. “What did you say?”

Jak’s eyes went pale. “Get out,” he said, staring unfocused at the ceiling. “Please…”

Torn stood up. “Alright,” he said, and threw Jak a towel. “Hurry up,” he said and closed the door behind him.

As Jak appeared in the hall, Torn nodded at him. “If you want to know why the water stopped, it’s because the slums got little water, if any at all. The Baron cut off a little while ago. Some stupid new rule, so called ‘conserving water’, he says...bullshit...he’s the one who takes all the damn water…” Torn rambled on to himself, while Jak waited (somewhat impatiently) for him to finish.

“That’s okay,” Jak interrupted Torn as he was in the middle of explaining how the Baron left a part of the city to die. “It’s alright, because I’m planning to kick his ass anyway,” Jak said boldly.

Torn smiled. “Knew you were one for the team, Jak.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tell me what you want me to do,” Jak said dismissively.

Torn looked a little taken a back, but smiled. “Eager to mission, eh? I want you to go down to the pumping station and turn on the water.”

“Alright,” the blond haired elf said, walking out of the Underground.

“Do you even know where it is?” Torn yelled after him. Jak stopped.

“Where?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Water slums,” Torn said, walking towards Jak.

“You’re coming?” Jak asked as Torn reached for his gun.

“Got nothing better to do.”

“Hey...do I get a gun?”

Torn smirked. “Not likely.”

Torn insisted Jak to drive the double seated zoomer, even though Jak never really drove one before. Not to say he was really good at it, either. The front of the car was dented as Jak slammed into another wall.

“Watch it!” Torn hissed, grabbing the wheel nearly missing running into a Krimzon Guard zoomer.

“Well I wouldn’t have this problem if you didn’t make me drive!” Jak shouted back defensively. “Just let me lower the zoomer--”

“Ah, forget it you ass. You’ll hit a guard,” Torn said, taking the wheel on his side. “Let go.”

Jak would have listened but he decided to be a prick. He wanted to see how much he could piss off this Torn guy before he broke down and shot him or something.

Jak turned the wheel forcefully, sending the green zoomer to the right. Torn tried to turn back.

“Let go, you moron!” Torn yelled, veering sharply to the left.

“You wanted me to drive!”

“Well I don’t now! Give it to me!”

“No!”

“I said GIVE IT TO--”

Crash!

Jak felt himself falling underwater, he swam to the surface quickly, looking for the older elf. “Torn? Torn?!”

TO BE CONTINUED NEVER...

#jaktorn #jak and daxter #urgh #dont expect quality #THIS ISN'T EVEN THE WORST ONE

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bearstarseraphffxi · 7 years

Text

Wife of the Saiyan Prince

(Wrote this last year after the Black Arc.)

Bulma startled awake after a second night of troubled sleep. While her future son’s presents had tempered the first night’s ghosts, now that he had left the rain of fire from a laughing sky fully consumed her dreams. Bulma rubbed her eyes and felt her pillow in one quick motion then swiftly flipped and aimlessly fluffed the pillow to hide the reason.

“The wife of the Saiyan prince shouldn’t be crying,” she thought.

But when Bulma went to shift her shoulders back, she discovered another reason her mind went to darker places. Vegeta was not in bed. She looked to the clock.

“2:17? What the hell…” she mumbled as she sat up and looked around.

Even in the dark, she could tell he never came into the room. The faint smells of his sweaty clothes from the “not-as-air-tight-as-advertised” sports equipment hamper and the shower mist from under the bathroom door were completely absent.

She turned on the nightstand lamp. She put her slippers on, walked around the bed to the bathroom and took her robe from the hook to cover her slip. After washing her face and checking that her eyes looked clear, she left for the kitchen.

“You haven’t lost track of time this bad in forever, but with everything… You’re just in the kitchen eating like you normally do before you come to me,” she thought coming down the staircase.

But as she turned the corner to the kitchen she saw no light drifting into the hallway. She almost jogged the rest of the distance to the kitchen.

Bulma turned on the lights. The chair he always sat in was still neatly tucked under the table. No pile of dishes in the sink. She went to the fridge. All his food was there, untouched, jus—just waiting to be reheated in the microwave.

“Is he still training? Wha—?” her brain stopped as she ran from the kitchen, leaving the refrigerator door wide open for the timed motor to eventually close.

Bulma slid slightly and lost her balance trying to come to a stop at the viewing port. She had not noticed she was running. She finally stopped sliding and put her nose to the glass.

Vegeta was on his stomach. He never slept on his stomach. And he wasn’t wearing his breastplate. It sat neatly next to the internal controls. His cloth clothing was all torn up and his skin was bruised and raw underneath, it was almost if…

Bulma ran the few steps to the door. She pulled up the settings on the external control panel. She took a sharp breath through her clinched teeth as she formed her fists.

Maximum.

The gravity and lasers could no longer critically injure him now that he was a god, which is why she assumed the bio reader had not automatically turn off the gravity like it should have.

“At least the motion sensors turned off the lasers,” she thought ordering the computer to turn off the room and open the locked door.

Bulma stiffly walked over to her husband. She knelt next to him and gently rolled him over. No injuries that wouldn’t completely heal in a few days that she saw. She lifted her head and glanced at the scorch marks across the floor.

“The lasers would have turned off after 20 seconds if he just stood still. He must have trained till he dropped once he realized that.”

Bulma stood up. She glared at the proof of his sin around his eyes and nose. “You promised,” she whimpered. “You promised,” she said louder as she kicked him. He did not react, or even budge for that matter. She began kicking him over and over again.

“You promised! You promised not to never deliberately hurt yourself again when you almost killed your-Fucking-self after Trunks left the first time, YOU FUCKING APE! YOU STUPID FUNKING APE! GOD DAMN GORILLA! PRINCE OF SHIT-FACED ORANGUTANS!” Bulma flew into every primate-related curse her rage-blinded brain could string together as she kicked him over and over again.

Eventually the pain in her foot got through to her head. She held up her throbbing foot as Vegeta moaned slightly and twitched his eyebrows.

“At least one part of you is as hard as a rock…” Bulma said watching a new tear add its mark to his otherwise placid face.

Bulma limped to the side room and opened the door to a small wash room. She grabbed the bucket there, but instead of filling it up at that faucet, she carried it out of the suite.

About 15 minutes later she returned, bucket full of water with every ice cube she could find. She stood over her sleeping husband and readied it. She would not give him an escape from the proof of his crime on his face, so she dumped it on a more — sensitive region.

Vegeta gasped awake as ice tortured his crown jewels. His knees jerked up violently as he bent over to his side, hands instinctively grasping towards his nether regions. “FUCKING BALLS! SHIT Fucking shit,” he growled trying to crawl away from whatever was cold around him. His still-awaking brain thought it registered the sound of clanking metal on something, but the next sound registered perfectly.

“FUCKING BALLS!? YOUR BALLS WON’T BE FUCKING ANYTHING FOR A LONG TIME YOU — you PRINCE OF BABOONS!”

“Yahe!” Vegeta gasped and looked over as he continues to crawl on his side. “Bu-Bulma? What? You? …” Then the pain from his burses reregistered in his brain. “Awe…he. Wha?” Realization finally dawned on his face, “Awe crap.”

Vegeta held his right arm out as he continued to crawl away from the water, “Bulma, Darling, this isn’t wha-”

“Isn’t what it looks like?! BULL SHIT!”

“Sweetie please. I didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t mean to deliberately hurt yourself again?! After you-”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO PASS OUT IN HERE!” Vegeta finally yelled over her. “I’M S … I’m sorry…” he finished as he finally made it to the wall.

The emotion in his voice made her pause.

Vegeta finished propping himself up but after several moments of wincing he gave up on pulling his legs in. There was no point. He had been caught. “My fault… everything…”

Bulma watched her normally stoic husband lie body and soul prone to the world and start to sob.

“… why must everything I touch turn to ash? Why…”

Vegeta’s heart-wrenched plea to the Fates stopped Bulma in her tracks. She had only heard him say that phrase once before… When he came to her drunk a few weeks after the Cell Games saying he couldn’t take the pain anymore and demanded she use whatever voodoo curse she placed on his emotions to make it go away. But… he didn’t smell like alcohol when she looked him over.

“I deserved that fate, everything, oblivion, but you and everyone else….” Vegeta crossed his arms gripping his shoulders and bowed his head. “This is worse than death, worse than everything, everything I’ve ever done!”

“Vegeta this wasn’t y-“

“Bullshit!” He began to choke, “Why did I trust that idiot when he said everything was ready. If we had taken just 5 minutes… we would have noticed the seal was missing… we could have put the jar with your tools in the garage you packed, or even its own dinocap! I let my rage blind me… and it cost us everything,” he whimpers the last few words.

Bulma understood how he felt. Until they returned and met Roshi, she thought she wasn’t fast enough with putting out the fire and the seal had burned up.

“I don’t like feeling like this again, the Hate,” he growled the word. “No direction. No recourse. It’s ripping through me like a flash flood in a desert.” He let go of his arms and looked at his hands. “All the old withered runs you don’t even know they are there until it rains and you drown in the sudden rush.”

Vegeta sobbed grabbing the sides of his head. “This was supposed to be over,” he cries out desperately. “When Babidi ripped my soul open, he drained out the putrefied cyst that had been rotting my insides my whole life. I’m supposed to be healing for the first time, not just a superficial scar that hides the truth of the wound beneath from the world.” He gripped his hair and tilted his head back, “I’m a god, god damn it! A pure spirit with a kind heart! I’m not supposed to feel this way anymore…”

“Vegeta, please don’t hate yourse-“

“Then who am I supposed to hate?!,” he screamed, “Kakarot again?! Our son or his woman?! Even you?!”

Bulma saw him begin to pull out his hair. “Vegeta don’t… covering up one pain with another only leaves you twice as bro-”

Vegeta’s head snapped sideways and glared at her, “Don’t quote that bullshit at me, Woman!”

The venom in his eyes caused Bulma to freeze. He had not look at her like that in years. Not since before Buu.

Vegeta’s eyes instantly widened and let out a small gasp. He knew it was unconscious, but it only made it hurt worse than if it was just one of her emotional taunts. She had actually shuddered and shifted her body weight to pull away.

Vegeta’s hands dropped lifelessly to his lap. He clinched his eyes and turned his head down and away. “I wasn’t trying to hurt myself. I needed to think. Training helps me think, but it wasn’t working. So I kept turning it up and up. Then I just cranked it all the way. I was impatient. I did not mean to worry you.”

He opened his eyes and glanced at her feet, unable to lift them higher. “What are you doing up anyway? You normally sleep like you’re… I mea-. You’re normally out like a light all night. You roll off the bed or something because I wasn’t there to be your foot rest?”

Bulma knew him long enough to know a dodge when she heard it. She crossed her arms. “Actually, yes. I did. Falling three feet to a concrete floor is just how I wanted to wake up today.”

Vegeta knew her long enough to know sarcasm when he heard it. He closed his eyes but the muscles of his face refused to smirk. “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we should rig the bed to shove you off instead of the god-awful siren you sleep through every morning?”

Bulma saw and heard the numbness in his comeback. She gently floated down next to him. Not wanting to get blood on her head from his open shoulder, she placed her right shoulder into the wall next to him and leaned her head against it. She then smiled and moved her left hand gently onto his stomach. She began lightly tracing the lines of his muscles until it got the desired effect.

Vegeta saw her give that smile.

“Just ignore it, Bulma,” he said. “It’s always had a mind of its own around you.”

Bulma began moving her hand down anyway, “But it must be so cold after I-”

Vegeta grabbed her hand and met her gaze looking up at him. “Didn’t you just say ‘covering up one pain with another only leaves you twice as broken’?” He was relieved when he saw in her face that she understood.

Bulma moved her hand to his chest. “Do you want to go get your snack?”

“I’m not hungry…”

Bulma closed her eyes knowing what it took for a Saiyan to refuse food. “Shower and sleep then?”

“Yes.” Vegeta answered bracing against the wall to stand.

Bulma watched him slightly sway as he slowly but deliberately walked towards the door.

“trunks ZEE two KEY,” she said suddenly.

Vegeta stopped. “Tsk,” he went slightly turning his head. “You have no idea what you just said.”

“No. But I can guess from the context that I have always heard it in.” He felt her smile on the back of his neck.

“Whatever.” Vegeta began walking forward again.

Bulma watched him tightly grip the handrail as he climbed the steps. Truth was she knew exactly what it meant. In fact, if she hadn’t been gasping for other reasons at the moment she would have gasped at hearing it. But she could never let him know that, he would feel so betrayed.

Even after the past decade, he was so much like a feral cat. Just tame enough to eat in your presence and be petted on its terms, but if you made a move it didn’t like it would run off hissing and hide. And that was the last thing Vegeta needed, especially for the next few days. Maybe even a few weeks. He must feel so humiliated right now.

She thought back to the day of Goku’s funeral. She and Trunks had just finished prepping the time machine to head back in the afternoon and stepped into the house to clean up and change.

“Trunks.”

They both yipped in surprise and spun around. Vegeta had been waiting in a shadow near the door.

“Vegeta! That wasn’t nice!” she pointed at him shouting. “Scaring us like that!”

Vegeta sneered, “That’s exactly what I’d expect from a weak Earth woman.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about Mother like that! She’s stronger than you’ll ever know!”

Surprisingly he didn’t snap back at Trunks. If anything, he looked… nervous?

“I need to talk to you Trunks,” he said, rather gently too. He looked at her, “Alone.”

Trunks was also caught off guard by his tone. “…Okay.”

Vegeta glared at him.

“I mean, Yes Sir,” he said standing straight.

Bulma walked in the opposite direction and disappeared, but she wasn’t about to leave them alone.

Bulma walked into the security room. Having the alien that had nearly destroyed the Earth as a house guest had gotten the guards reassigned to other buildings for secrecy, so she monitored everything herself and deleted suspicious recordings. But as she sat down she mused that now that he was more likely to be recognized from the Cell Games and was the father of her baby, if it wasn’t time to start letting the extremely loyal ones back into the house.

She noticed robots starting to repair blast marks in a hallway in the direction they walked. Apparently, whatever was said ended in the usual argument. Vegeta would kill her if he knew she watched him like this, but her mother’s aesthetic stubbornness had led to something in the house that only spies normally had access to, pinhole fiber optic cameras and sound bugs.

Bulma traced the footage of the encounter and set the computer to combine the multiple angles to the 3-D table display. Then she pulled up a chair, crossed her arms, and began to watch.

As Vegeta walked them to the family kitchen, Bulma became fixated on his face as it kept losing color. By the time they reached the empty kitchen, he was white as a piece of paper. Almost the same shade that — to her horror, seriously, at his age?! — the virgin prince had turned when she had led him to her bedroom. But the sounds and faces he made compensated for his inexperience that first night. She’d swear he had never yanked himself as a teenager.

When Vegeta stopped, he kept his back to Trunks. He crossed his arms and stayed silent for several moments.

“Father?” Trunks asked eventually.

Bulma used the controls to freeze and rewind. She turned the image around. Luckily for her, Vegeta had been looking dead center at a lens.

What had looked angry from the back had a very different view from the front. His arms weren’t folded like they normally were. He was gripping his shirt. He was… shaking… and trying to hide it.

“What could you possibly be scared of?” she asked out loud.

“Trunks… did your mother ever tell you what happened when I returned to Earth and she showed you to me the first time and told me your name?”

“What did that god-awful argument have to do with anything?” she thought back remembering his venom over the baby.

“No, never,” Trunks answered perplexed.

“Well… without going into details your mother proclaimed you HER son and you were to be raised an Earthling and have absolutely nothing to do with your ancestry by me— like ‘Goku’,” he hatefully mocked his name.

Both Bulma and Trunks seethed but kept quiet. It was the day of his funeral, asshole…

“Truth is… Trunks, I actually approved.”

Both Bulma’s and Trunks’ eyes widened.

“When I heard your name was Trunks and that she wanted you to have nothing to do with your Saiyan blood, I gave your mother 10 times the vitriol she was throwing at me be-because…. Trunks is a Saiyan name.”

“What?!” Bulma shouted.

“Fa-Father?” Trunks asked surprised.

“You, were so tiny,” Vegeta continued, “I could have missed you popping out by… minutes. That name might not yet have even been on the official records on this planet. I had to give you something, anything, to make you not like— HIM. … And even if it was, you were so young and your mother’s noble family here is so powerful, she could alter your name at any time. So… I used her hatred of me to protect your Saiyan heritage.”

There was silence for a long time in both rooms.

“Trunks is a word technically, not a name,” Vegeta broke the silence, “I’m sure there was name version of the word considering its meaning, but I do not know it.

“I was… 5,” Vegeta continued after an extended pause, “When I lost everything. Other than the names of servants I bothered learning and the heroes in our religious histories I’m sure all parents hammered into their offspring at that age… I know nothing.”

Bulma watched him silently stutter between large breaths practicing his next words.

“I’m sure if I went back in time and showed myself to my father, I know I’d be just as big as disappointment to him as you are with me. Tsk, there is no denying you’re my seed in that regard.”

Trunks took a sharp breath and opened his mouth to respond, but then slowly let it out unable to find words to vibrate it with.

“I am a transitory individual to your people and planet, and despite the superficial similarities the deeper levels of your language are a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, and time has run out for more elegant craftsmanship…

“Trunks means ‘Unbreakable Strength’ as in the foundation of a building. Are you aware of these ‘Passion’ theatrical productions that are shown every Spring by some of your for-profit communication networks? The ones with the,” he began to chuckle, “ridiculously unrealistic deaths of those three humans up on sticks? With the center one a disguised deity of some kind?”

Trunks’ eyebrows flatline, “Yes Father, I am vaguely aware of the origin story of one of the largest religions on Earth whose universal symbol is a ‘corpse on a stick’.”

Bulma watched Vegeta make an exact replica of her son’s face, before mentally correcting herself that it was the other way around.

“Pull up your pants. Your sarcasm is showing.”

Bulma’s mouth dropped, trying to figure out what comedian he could have heard that from. Trunks managed to keep his mouth shut, but his surprise showed in his eyes.

The corners of Vegeta’s mouth twitch up briefly before returning to his normal scowl. “Mother… would say that to Father. She was the only person he ever allowed to talk back to him. But back on topic…”

He cleared his throat softly, “There’s a conversation highlighted in the versions I’ve passingly glanced at, where the disguised god asks his travel companions who he is and only one gets it right. The god responds you are the rock I will build my religion on top of. That sentence epitomizes what ‘trunks’ means, not just for foundation but the stakes involved. That human was a ‘Hail Mary’ maneuver by that god, to use that mock-combat sport’s metaphor. He was all or nothing. Everything depended on him.

“It’s like the accidental arboreal pun with your language. Damage to the leaves, branches, even roots can all be recovered from. But damage to an arbor’s ‘trunk’ is crippling or even fatal to the plant. It is the strongest part of the plant, evolved to survive everything. But it is simultaneously its greatest weakness. When harvesting the plant, evolved races never attacked the roots or the leaves. They construct a powerful enough blade— and then part it from the rest of the lifeform.

“‘Trunks’ was never a word used lightly. It was a symbol of power. But it also made you a target. One’s greatest strength can always be turned into one’s greatest weakness…”

Bulma watches his mouth twitch up again briefly.

“…A double-edged sword, as Earthlings say. It was often used in titles. Supreme General Nappa, if your mother ever mentioned him, the ‘supreme’ in our language was actually ‘trunks’.”

Vegeta takes a deep breath. “Now… I want you to repeat back to me what you think the word ‘trunks’ means before I get to the real reason I’ve told you all this.”

“Wha-? Yes Sir!”

As Trunks gave his quick summery, Bulma’s heart was in her stomach. “If I’m right… Do… I even want to be wrong?”

Vegeta closed his eyes after Trunks finished. Bulma watched him take a deep breath.

“It is hard to tell at that age. But there is a good chance this is my earliest memory…

“I was 3. It was my first trip off-world. It was Frieza’s birthday and the leaders and heirs of the planets he had subjugated came to kowtow before him. I had a basic understanding of the universal tongue, very basic. And it led to me making quite an impression.

“We were introduced as King Vegeta and Crown Prince Vegeta.” Vegeta smiled, “I was livid. Temper-tantrum from hell. Father tried to calm me saying ‘crown prince’ was how aliens say it but I was pointing and screaming saying ‘…‘crown’ did not mean ‘trunks’ a crown was what was on top of our heads! My name is Trunks Prince Vegeta!’ Later in the party the other rulers began calling me Prince Trunks Vegeta after I killed someone— still don’t know who and I don’t care so don’t snap at me with those weak human sentiments! — I thought they were fools for getting it backwards but at least they were saying it.

“It was reported in the intergalactic press that way as well, ‘Prince Trunks Vegeta’. Father never corrected it. He even used it in his propaganda. I never bothered either after… everything. Why would I? It was true. I was the favored son destined to rule the galaxy. To become the first super Saiyan in 1,000 years and lay Frieza’s corpse at my feet and use it as a foot stool as I sat on my new thrown. I was… Super Vegeta, and everyone would soon know it…”

Bulma watched Vegeta clinch his eyes and snarl. He was startling to lose the battle against his trembling.

“Get out.”

“Father?”

Vegeta unfolded his arms and transformed, “I said ‘Get OUT!’“

Bulma watched Vegeta chase Trunks down the hall blasting over his head screaming obscenities for a few moments before she stopped the recording.

“Computer, where is Vegeta?”

A 2-D display was projected of the space ship in the yard. She could tell from the flashes in the windows he was blasting the robots to bits.

“Computer, where is Future Trunks?”

The computer showed Trunks in his room. He was sitting on his bed with his shirt off dangling in his hands staring at the floor. It was obvious he was frozen.

Bulma stood up and walked to his room. “Trunks?” she knocked. When he did not answer, she let herself in.

“So, you saw everything?” he asked.

“Saw what?”

“When I was little, you would show me security footage of Father. I know you watch him like a goldfish.”

“I wouldn’t say tha…”

“Those were your own words Mother. You watched him ‘like a goldfish in a bowl on your desk’.”

Bulma felt guilty for a moment but pushed it aside. “I know you’re not alright, Trunks? Do you want to talk about it?”

Trunks tilted his head away from her.

“Trunks listen to me. I carried you alone. I birthed you alone. I’ve raised you alone. You are named after your grandfather, who was given the middle name of his uncle, who shared it as a first name of a cousin, who were both named after his father. And so on. Don’t let what he said bother you. You are a Brie-”

“Bother me?!” Trunks stood up. He had been crying. “That Father just admitted he’s loved me since day one?” He points at the ground, “That I am his ‘trunks’. That I am Everything to him?!” He turns and walks to the bathroom, “I need to get ready for the funeral.” He slams the door.

Bulma felt a hand grab her arm. “Watch where your heads at, Woman.”

Bulma snapped out of her memory and found herself inches from the wall at the top of the steps. She looks at the hand on her arm, then follows it up to her husband’s concerned face.

Her husband… A man who gave up his pursuit of ruling the galaxy to live with her on such an insignificant, primitive, backwater world in his eyes. To raise their son, to help raise the children of the man he hated too. It was him trying to protect Gohan that got Babadi’s attention after all…

Vegeta saw his absent-minded wife shake a thought from her head. “Thank you, Vegeta.”

“Whatever,” he said letting go and continuing to their bedroom.

Bulma sat on the bed as Vegeta undressed and threw all his clothes in the hamper. She saw how raw his skin really was for the first time. “God the laundry…” she thought thinking on how stained his pajamas would become. Vegeta had always slept in clothes of some type. A lifetime in full armor made his skin feel unnatural if there wasn’t something between him and the sheets and blanket. Some things were just hard-wired into him.

But it had proven a strong insight into her husband’s head. The way Vegeta dressed at night revealed how he was feeling. Full pajama suit he was insecure about something, undershirt and shorts he was completely relaxed.

The corners of her mouth turned up. Watching him sleep on the security monitors had been the beginning. Her husband really was a cat. When they met, she thought the only emotions he showed was anger and indifference. Always hiding away then swatting and hissing when cornered.

Then she learned his “language” and realized he had been trying to talk to her the whole time. He was no “lap kitty”, but he had become “I’ll-sit-on-the-couch-at-the-same-time-you-are-but-don’t-pet-me kitty” almost instantly. Over the years, he had inched closer until he finally became the “I’ll-lay-on-the-back-of-the-couch-behind-your head-and-purr-in-your-ear-but-don’t-pet-me kitty” he was today.

Vegeta closed the bathroom door and Bulma heard the water start. She stood up from his side of the bed and laid her robe over one of the sitting chairs. She’ll put it away in the morning. She then turned off the morning alarm and curled up in bed watching the clock. It was the weekend anyway.

It normally took Vegeta 14 minutes to shower after training, but before bed he always took extra time to scrub himself. He even used scented soap. She did not even ask him. He just came to bed one night smelling like Ireland instead of his normal cleanness. At first she thought he had changed brands permanently, but then noticed he only smelled like that after the bedtime shower. She confirmed it when a new bar of his old soap appeared alongside his scented soap after the original bar ran out.

Bulma continued to watch the minutes tick by thinking on how to handle her cat-like space Viking over the next few days. 15 minute mark. 20 minute mark. 30 minute mark. As 41 minutes clicked off on her clock she got out of bed. She went to the bathroom door and walked in without knocking.

Normally Vegeta would react, but he did not even flinch. Bulma knew instantly all he had done was stand under the twin rain heads. There was no smell of his soap or shampoo in the mist.

Bulma took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. She then slipped her underwear off and pulled her slip over her head. She opened the frameless glass door to their massive shower and walked in. She moved in front of her husband. He took a sharp breath, but otherwise did not acknowledge her.

After briefly looking him over, she grabbed her bath pouf and tried to lather up his soup. After failing several times, she grabbed the wand from the wall and rinsed it completely out. She then took her body wash and built up the foam.

Vegeta closed his eyes but otherwise did not react. “Is he really so far he doesn’t care about smelling like flowers?” she thought as she softly dabs across his body.

Bulma carefully washed his neck and shoulders. She was surprised when she went to lift his right arm that he moved it himself gently following her lead. “He’s being submissive…”

She gently held his hand and washed each finger before moving up his arm, repeating the process on his left.

As she began to trace the muscles on his chest, his body responded as it always did when she gently touched him like this. She looked down as it proudly demanded its due. Vegeta made a small grunt mixed with a whimper. She looked up and saw Vegeta had opened his eyes. They were dull.

Bulma smiled, then pushed the buttons to turn off the rain heads and turn on the wand. She added more soap to the pouf. Bulma looked him in the eyes as she rung it out. The generous suds dripped over his erection from tip back towards the base before she gently began cleaning his lower abs. After the whole thing is obscured, she takes the wand, adjusts its strength to a gentle setting, and began carefully rinsing the soup from the region. She moved the wand over, under, and between.

Vegeta closed his eyes and made his soft, thankful grunt.

Bulma then hung the wand up and turned the rain heads back on. She moved to the right and knelt to wash his leg. She then stood and circled to begin washing his back. Her pouf circled his shoulder blades before it moved up and down his spine. She then knelt to wash is butt and inner legs.

Vegeta grunted disapprovingly and jerked his right leg when she goes too high.

“Sorry,” Bulma said softly and she lowered her hand. She went to move to his left, but before she could stand, Vegeta surprised her and rotated on his own.

After finishing, she stood, then pushed the button turning off the rain head that covered the back half of the shower. Vegeta tilted his head slightly questioning her. She grabbed his shampoo bottle. “Turn around,” she ordered.

Vegeta understood and turned around and tilted his head back so the water poured over his hair but cut off at his face. Bulma gently pushed his shoulder and he moved forward so he was completely out of the water. Bulma poured a large glob of shampoo into her hand and began rubbing his scalp.

Saiyan hair had always driven her nuts, even back with Goku as children. It was oily and greasy to the point of being filled with wax. No amount of scrubbing got rid of it all and by the next day it had returned to what it was before. She was so glad Trunks had human hair. Poor Chi-Chi.

But with Vegeta, she had her own private guinea pig. It took 2 years of experiments, but she finally got him silky, clean human-like hair she could run her fingers through all day. In the end, nothing could remove the wax without being too caustic, so she added chemicals to treat the scalp itself so it made more human-style fluid that could be washed away with normal oily hair shampoo.

He knew he was being messed with, but unlike his clothes or trying to enforce Earth manners, all he said was “the shampoo smells different” then answered “whatever” on what he thought.

She remembered their first night when he was so confused on why her hands were always in his hair. “Why are you so obsessed with my hair? Do humans has a sex organ there or something?” before patting her head like an animal.

“Hmph. Strange Earth fetishes,” Vegeta spoke suddenly.

Bulma realized she had been giggling out loud. She blushed then went back to lather, rinse, repeat.

Ultimately Bulma turned the water completely off, then guided him out of the shower. She threw a towel over her shoulders then took another and began padding him dry. There was a yellow tinge to the white towel when she finished.

After quickly drying herself, she guided him to their bed. He sank into the mattress lying on his side and was seemingly out like a light. Bulma was shocked. Vegeta never slept naked without her intervention. “Are you really that exhausted?”

Bulma went to her side and grabbed a new night slip, then slid gently into bed. After she placed the free sheet over him, she made sure to press her back fully into his.

Back when they first shared a bed he had jumped out from a dead sleep when she had laid her arm over him. In the ensuing argument, he had proclaimed warriors to not “spoon” and sleep back to back. She had tried to prove to Vegeta that was not how things worked on Earth, but when she actually researched it, she saw that soldiers actually did sleep back to back on the battlefield for safety reasons. After that, she stopped forcing the issue.

Bulma smiled to herself remembering the first time Vegeta rolled on his back. It was a year after they reconnected. She was so used to being back to back it actually startled her awake. She ended up watching him the rest of the night. His arms limp at his sides. His head slightly tilted back exposing his neck. No guard. No fear. She knew he had fully given himself to her that night. His soul had proclaimed “I love you” even if his lips never would. But right now, her husband needed comforted, so she pressed into him as much as she dared.

Bulma woke up a second time. Her body told her again something was not normal. Her blurred vision told her the clock said 5:1—something. She went to move and realized there was a pressure on her arm and legs. She looked down.

“An arm? Who’s…?” her still sleeping brain thought and she ran her free hand over it. The familiar texture of her husband’s flesh jolts her mind awake. Vegeta… was hugging her?

She looked herself over. Vegeta had his chest to her back, and was pressing her slightly painfully into him, one arm over the top of her arm, the other underneath just under her breasts. His legs were also intertwined and locking with hers. She felt his head deep into her hair as her ears became aware of the soft coughing-like noise he made when having a nightmare.

For the first time in their life together, he was genuinely spooning her in bed. No bugging her for sex or anything. He was completely lost in his dreams and hugging her like a teddy bear.

This was more than love when he rolled on his back or the comfort he sought pressing his back into hers. This was “I need your protection”, “I need you to save me”.

Bulma smiled and held his hand, trying not to think about the bruise forming on her arm or what she will be washing from her hair in the morning.

“I am the wife of the Saiyan prince,” she thought. “I am his Foundation. The Rock this god has chosen to build his church on.” Bulma slid her free hand onto her stomach. “I was going to wait until things quieted down more. But I think I’ll tell your father about you over our wake-up coffee.” She giggled, “After he swallows of course.”

#my first dbz fanfic #vegeta #bulma #vegeta x bulma #vegebul

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