#‘I don’t get involved in the kids fights’ well maybe you fucking should

[justagalwhowrites]

Oral Fixation - A TLOU One Shot

It's your boyfriend Joel's birthday but what do you give the man who has given you so much? AKA You learn how to give Joel a blow job. A one-shot set in the Lavender universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

CW: Oral sex, mild age gap (Joel is turning 33, reader is 21 almost 22), mild description of past sexual encounter involving oral sex that wasn't the best, Joel is almost disturbingly happy because he hasn't been traumatized yet RIP trauma-free Joel, unprotected P in V sex, no use of Y/N, 18+ only minors DNI

Length: 4.5k

A/N: The final part of the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration! Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's nanny and has been seeing Joel for about six months.

Masterlist | Lavender Masterlist | AO3

September, 2000

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you said, all but clinging to Cassie’s arm as the two of you made your way through the adult store. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t this, neon colored silicone penises and intimidatingly tiny scraps of lace everywhere you looked. 

“And I can’t believe you don’t own a vibrator,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude, with the way you and the DILF go at it I’m pretty sure you’ve had more sex than I have at this point.” 

Your cheeks got hot but… she was probably right. You and Joel had sex a LOT. So much that it was hard to believe that, just six months earlier, you’d still been a virgin. Sure, you doubted that sex with anyone else was even half as good as it was with Joel but it felt like you’d been denying yourself a whole world of good things because you’d been reluctant to make that leap for so long. Now, you wanted to make up for lost time, something that Joel was happy to oblige. 

But, because you were so new to it, you didn’t really know much and, what’s worse, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. 

Which is why you’d turned to Cassie in the first place. Joel’s birthday was coming up and you’d drawn a complete blank on what to get the man. You’d never gotten anyone a birthday gift who wasn’t your grandmother or your friend. What the hell did you get a boyfriend? What the hell did you get a man? 

“You, naked, ready to recreate the filthiest porn the guy’s got,” Cassie said, not even looking up from the latest issue of Cosmo as she did. “And, because it’s you, bake him a cake or something. He’ll be thrilled.” 

“I don’t know that Joel watches porn,” you crinkled your nose. That made her look up. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked, incredulous. “Babes. He’s a man. Of course he watches porn.” 

“I’m sure he would if things were different,” you said. “But he has a kid at home, we have to fight for privacy, I don’t think he’s exactly sitting down and putting on some…” 

“He is,” she said, closing the magazine now. “I promise you, he is. Maybe less now that you’re in the picture but he definitely is. Stashed under his bed or in some shoebox at the back of his closet is a pile of all his dirtiest fantasies and all you have to do is gift wrap yourself, ready to fulfill them.” 

So you might have done some snooping the next time you were at Joel’s before he got home from work. 

Maybe. 

Just a little. 

And yeah, Cassie might have been right. There might have been a box - one a bit bigger than a shoebox but not much bigger - that had tapes and magazines inside. You took a quick inventory, looking at the covers of the videos and flipping through the pages of the more well-worn magazines. 

It seemed both invasive and oddly impersonal, rifling through something that was mass produced and clearly not intended for you to see but was something that it seemed like you should know. The women in the magazines and on the covers of the tapes were so much more… everything than you were. More sexy, more confident, more knowledgable. It made your stomach twist. 

Was this what Joel really wanted? He was older than you and you’d been a late bloomer in the romance department. Of course he had more experience but he’d never made it sound like anything was missing from your sex life. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe what he really wanted was something more like whatever someone named Candy was doing on the back of this VHS sleeve. 

It seemed like the least you could do for Joel was find a way to give him what he wanted.

So Cassie had convinced you to come to this store to figure out something to do for him for his birthday. Not that you had much idea what that would be. 

“What’s his favorite color?” She asked, examining the tiny scraps of lace. 

“Forest green?” You asked more than answered, examining something that you were pretty sure was a bra but seemed to be missing some key components. You were about to move on to something else when one of the movies playing on the opposite wall caught your eye. It was one of the actresses from the tapes at Joel’s, you recognized her. She was looking hungrily at a cock before taking it into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss with a satisfied groan. 

Cassie noticed where you were staring and joined you, smirking a little. 

“Like watching someone get their dick sucked, eh?” She teased, elbowing you lightly. 

You glared at her. 

“I just…” You looked back at the screen. “I think Joel has that video.” 

“Really?” She said, brows raised, looking back at the screen as the woman started to slide up and down the thick cock. “Well, that’s simple enough. Just blow him, wham bam thank you ma’am, you’re set.” 

“I don’t…” 

“Oh don’t tell me you suck him off too much as it is,” she said. “Your sex life is already insufferably perfect.” 

“No,” you said, defensive, your cheeks getting hot. “I just…” 

“Just what?” She asked when you stayed quiet a bit too long. 

“I’ve never… done that,” you said, looking back at the screen as the woman there hollowed out her cheeks and moaned. 

“What!” Cassie yelped and you shushed her as the other people in the store turned to stare. “You’ve never…” 

“Not with Joel,” you said quickly. “I did once with a guy but it didn’t go great and I really didn’t like it and honestly I think Joel might be too big to…” 

“Too big?” She grabbed your arm, her eyes wide. “Babes, you said he was big but like… what do you mean too big? Gimme a ballpark, like…” she tugged you over to a wall of remarkably life-like dildos and pointed to one on the larger end. “That big?” 

“No,” you said and she looked relieved for a moment before you pointed to one that was even bigger. “More like that one.” 

Cassie’s jaw dropped, looking between you and the silicone dick in awe. 

“That’s what the DILF is packing?” 

“Can you please not call him that?” 

“You big slut!” She was practically beaming. “Taking that for your first time? You deserve a medal!”

“Can we just…” 

“That’s it, you’re sucking his dick for his birthday,” she said, grabbing flavored lube, throat numbing spray and a copy of the tape that was playing overhead. “As often as he apparently goes down on you? Seems like the least you can do is return the favor as he turns… what, 47?” 

You glared at her and she smirked at you. 

“33,” you said. 

“And you don’t want me to call him a DILF,” she said, grabbing a surprisingly conservative set of lingerie and a small vibrator on her way to the counter. “Come on, we’ll turn you into an oral champ before you know it!”

You watched the video with Cassie that night after you had half a bottle of cheap wine in your system. The woman on screen seemed so… into it. The one time you’d gone down on someone was the summer before you left for college, going out with a boy you met at the movie theater when you took the kids you were babysitting there to see Hercules. He was cute, nice, didn’t carry the baggage a lot of the boys you’d gone to high school with did. On your fourth date, you were making out in his car and he’d nudged your head down lower and lower until it was in his lap. He pulled his cock out and you cautiously, hesitantly, took him in your mouth and you did try to do what you thought he wanted while taking it slow. But it didn’t take long before he was moaning and thrusting up into your mouth and you gagged as he pushed your head down further on his dick. You’d all but ripped yourself away, coughing and sputtering, and he half heartedly apologized before trying to push your head to his lap again. You didn’t go for it that time and he took you home. You didn’t go out with him again, deciding to write off men until you were away at college and hopefully meeting one who was fine with you doing things like not sucking their dick. 

Which, Joel was. Or seemed to be, anyway. But if he enjoyed it - if it felt like it was something that was missing from your sex life - you wanted to give it to him. He’d given you so much, you wanted to give him everything. You just needed to figure out how to do it. 

After you giggled your way through the video the first time, you started it again as Cassie gave you some tips: How to breathe through your nose, how to swallow around your gag reflex, how to use your tongue, how guys liked when you choked on it a little. It felt almost like you were in class, taking notes on a piece of scratch paper you mentally vowed to set on fire after you practiced a little with a cucumber so no one had to know that you needed someone to teach you this stuff, stuff that seemed like it should come naturally to you. 

“Just use the throat spray, use the lube and breathe through your nose,” she said when she left to go home the next morning. “You’ll have him eating out of your hand.” 

“Right,” you said, trying to ignore the tight knot of nerves that had settled in your stomach. “I can do it.” 

You carefully selected a Joel-sized cucumber at the grocery store and tried to not feel like an idiot as you followed Cassie’s advice as you practiced leading into Joel’s birthday. It wasn’t as bad when there wasn’t someone shoving your head down on their lap though it still wasn’t your favorite thing. But for Joel? You’d deal. 

The day you were going to celebrate his birthday, the reality of it set in. If there was one thing you were an expert in by now, it was your boyfriend’s cock and your boyfriend’s cock was… big. What if the throat spray didn’t work as well when you weren’t the one in control of what was going in your mouth? Worse, what if you were just bad at it? What if he had an ex who was as good at sucking him off as that porn star would be and you’d be struggling to measure up the whole time? 

You were rarely nervous with Joel anymore but you were weirdly nervous as you made him dinner - chicken fried steak - and tried to not let it show as the two of you ate together and had drinks and cake while watching Alien in his living room after. 

“You spoil me way too damn much, baby,” Joel said as your head was nestled against his chest, his lips in your hair. You could feel him smile against you as he kissed you there. “Best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.” 

“Well, I might have one more thing for you,” you said, sitting up from him and smiling a little, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Really?” He cocked a smile at you, his cheek dimpling. “Does it involve you naked?” 

“It might,” you teased, relaxing a little as you looked at him. This was Joel, the safest man you knew, the person you loved more than any other. It would be OK. “Want to go to your room and find out?” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he winked, getting up and helping you off the couch. Once you were up stairs, the two of you kissed your way down the hall but he moaned as you pulled away from him and nudged him back toward the bed. 

“Just stay put,” you said. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he called as you disappeared into his bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to take a deep, calming breath before going to his linen cupboard and pulling out the throat spray, lube and lingerie you’d stashed away earlier. You used the spray first, wincing at the antiseptic-like taste of it, before you quickly stripped, balling up your sundress and bra and pulling on the deep green lacy babydoll set Cassie had picked for you. As you examined yourself in the mirror - fluffing your hair and adjusting your breasts in the sheer cups - you gave your best friend this much: she knew how to help make you comfortable. The set wasn’t too revealing or over the top but still highlighted your curves and put all the parts of you Joel seemed to like best on display. 

“Thank you, Cassie,” you muttered before taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, the strawberry flavored lube clutched tight in your hand. You looked your reflection in the eye and tried to get lost in the almost-porn star version of yourself in the mirror. 

“You got this,” you said almost silently, giving yourself a single, resolute nod before going for Joel’s room again. 

He was sitting obediently where you’d left him, watching the bathroom door. You draped yourself against the frame, popping a hip out to accentuate your curves, one arm stretched high over your head against the wood. Joel’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. 

“Like what you see?” You asked more confidently then you felt. 

“Goddamn, baby,” he said reverently. “Gonna gimme a heart attack, looking that damn good.” 

“Well don’t go dropping dead on me now,” you teased, walking toward him in what you hoped was a sexy way and not something that made you look like an idiot. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet.” 

He put his hands on your waist when you reached him but, instead of straddling him, you reached down and spread his legs so you could step between them. You knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as you did, reaching for his jeans to open them. 

“What…” he frowned, looking down as you freed his cock, thick and long and hard. 

“Told you,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sultry and not nervous. “I had something for you.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you licked his shaft from root to tip, his skin velvet smooth and salty on your tongue. He groaned as you did and you took a deep breath as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking him gently as you did. 

Even just that was a lot and, as your tongue teased him, you squeezed some of the flavored lube into your hand before you spread it over his shaft, working him with your hand, your heart racing. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you started taking more of him into your mouth, licking and sucking and trying to focus on breathing through your nose as you did. It took more time than you really wanted to get all of him in your mouth, swallowing past your numbed gag reflex as best you could to take his length into your throat. You moaned as you did, sucking him hard, hollowing your cheeks like the girl in the video had done and he moaned, too, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. “Goddamn, your mouth…” 

You would have smiled at that if your mouth wasn’t open so wide. Instead, you started trying to work his cock the same way you did the cucumber in practice, hopefully the same way the girl did in the video he had. 

Joel’s breaths started coming quicker, needy little pants dripping from his lips as his cock dripped in your mouth and you took the encouragement, trying to move faster as you did, trying to take him as deep as you could every time. 

But Joel was big and you were almost positive he was getting bigger as you worked him, his cock swelling even further, his precome salty at the back of your throat, and the faster you moved the harder he was to take. Eventually, even with the spray, it was too much and you choked, coughing and gagging enough that you had to pull back from him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. 

“Woah, you alright?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning at you, still a little breathless as he did. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded, trying to keep yourself from coughing, massaging your throat as you did. “Sorry, I just…” 

“Don’t apologize, baby, goddamn,” he laughed once. “Not after doin’ all that for me…” 

You smiled a little sheepishly, feeling like you could breathe again. But the numb feeling at the back of your throat was gone. 

“I can do it again,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I just… I got some throat spray and I just need to…” 

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together, frowning deeper this time. 

“Throat spray?”

You nodded. 

“It’s numbing?” You said, almost like it was a question. “I hadn’t really done this much before and I really wanted to do it like…” 

“Like what?” He asked and your eyes went wide. Shit. You hadn’t meant to say that part. “Like what, baby?” 

“Like the woman in one of the videos in your closet?” You said sheepishly, your heart pounding, everything else coming out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday and Cassie suggested finding out what porn you liked and trying to recreate it so I might have looked through some of your things, I promise it was just to surprise you and give you what you wanted and…” 

“Baby,” he cut you off gently, tucking his cock back into his jeans. “Hey, it’s OK, c’mere.” He tugged you up on the bed beside him and you kept your eyes determinedly on your hands. “Think you can look at me?” 

You took a deep breath but listened, gnawing on your lower lip as you did. 

“There are those pretty eyes of yours,” he smiled a little, cupping your cheek. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate the thought - don’t think any woman’s ever done something like that for me - but honey, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do. I really don’t want to do something that’s rough enough on your body that you gotta numb yourself to get through it.” 

You frowned. 

“But you go down on me…” 

“Yeah, because I like to,” he said. “Like seein’ what I can do to you but that doesn’t mean you have to do it back to me, not unless you want to. And if you do want to, you don’t need to do it so hard that you hurt yourself. It’s not good for me if it’s not good for you, too.” 

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. 

“Besides,” he smiled a little. “Haven’t needed those videos in a while. Honestly, I kinda forgot I even still had ‘em.” 

You scoffed. 

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he said. “Haven’t used ‘em since you and I got together, that’s for damn sure. And for a few months before that I may or may not have had better luck thinkin’ about this sexy nanny I had working for me…” 

“Oh really?” You teased lightly, heat taking the place of the nerves in your stomach. 

“Really,” he said, almost unsettlingly earnest. “I’ve been yours for a while, baby. And that’s because I love you, don’t have a damn thing to do with what you do in bed.” 

You smiled softly and kissed him, his lips gentle on yours for a moment before it deepened, turning hot and needy. 

Joel tugged you back on the bed with him, one hand splaying wide over your back, the other slipping into the soft lace of your lingerie to cup your breast. But, before you got too distracted, you pulled back from him, making him frown a little. 

“But what if I want to,” you said, biting your lip again. 

His frown deepened. 

“Want to what?” 

“Suck your cock,” you said, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks got. 

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes darkening. 

“Because I do want to,” you said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.” 

“You sure?” He asked. “Because I know I can be… a lot to take.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Think I know how big your cock is, Joel. And I know what I want.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, lying on his back, freeing his cock and stroking it as he did. “Gotta take it easy and let me help.” 

You nodded eagerly before settling near his hips, taking his length in your hand and stroking him up and down, running your thumb over his leaking tip. When you looked at him now, you weren’t intimidated. Instead, you were hungry for him, wanting to feel him deep inside you in a different way, your mouth watering with it. 

You lowered yourself over him, licking his head, your tongue wide and flat against him and Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in the blankets on the bed. You took a moment to really experience him, the taste of him, the heady concentration of the scent of him in the thatch of coarse hair at his base, the tender softness of his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising but you wanted more, more of all of it. 

So you took more, his tip disappearing into your mouth slow and easy. 

“Fuck, there you go baby,” he was damn near panting with need and you smiled a little around his intrusion, at what you were doing to him. “Nice and slow.”��

You moaned as you sank lower, easing more and more of him into your mouth before rising up and then taking a little more of him, your tongue pressed tight to his shaft as you did again and again. 

And then he was at the back of your throat, no longer numbed, and you tried to do what Cassie had told you to do: Swallow him past your gag reflex to get all of him inside. 

It worked, at first, your lips making it almost to the base of his shaft as he groaned. But it didn’t last, your body quickly trying to reject the thick heft of him in your throat, making you gag. This time, though you didn’t try and force it, pulling back quickly but leaving his head in your mouth. 

“You OK?” He asked, his voice strained, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head. You just nodded, his tip still in your mouth. “Here, gimme your hand.” 

You obeyed and Joel guided your fingers to the base of his shaft. 

“Just…” you could hear the desperation in his voice. “Hold on like that, don’t gotta take it all. Feel the most at the tip, anyway.” 

You nodded and worked your way lower again, a little faster this time, adjusting your grip so you were still taking most of him into your mouth but not quite hitting your gag reflex. Joel’s breaths grew sharper, more desperate and you could feel him straining to hold back from fucking up into you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of power at that, the way you could make him almost lose himself to pleasure. 

You started to work him faster, your tongue pressing and curling around him, your mouth working in tandem with your hand. It wasn’t long before you found your rhythm over him, rising and falling, sucking and licking, savoring every inch of him you could take. And even though you were focused on making Joel feel good, it was making you tight and needy, too, the hand not around his cock finding your slit, fingers trailing through the wetness that had grown there. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Takin’ me so well, baby, doin’ so damn good.” 

You moaned, working him harder, faster as your fingers grew firmer on your clit and you suddenly, desperately, needed all of him in your mouth, gag reflex be damned. 

So you took all of him, moaning as his head slipped into your throat, sucking him hard and fast and you felt him twitch in your mouth before he all but ripped you away from him, leaving you stunned for a moment. 

But then he damn near jumped between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side and pushing into you. You gasped at the stretch of him, your pussy already tightening around him. Joel’s hips snapped into yours just as fast as you’d been sucking him before. 

“Ain’t gonna last,” he said, burying his face in your neck and kissing the delicate skin there. “Too fuckin’ good at that, Jesus…” 

You could only moan in response, your own orgasm building quickly, your fingers tugging at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer, your pussy drawing tight around him for a second before you fell apart. Your orgasm was so powerful you couldn’t move, crying out with the force of it as Joel fucked into you twice more before he came, too, pressing himself deep inside as he spilled into you.

Joel collapsed, spent, on top of you after, still fully clothed and panting for breath as you held him close. 

“Holy shit baby,” he said eventually, still a little breathless. 

You laughed quietly. 

“Did I measure up to the video?” You teased. 

He pulled back from you, looking you over for a moment, like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not. 

“Think you know the answer to that,” he said, kissing you gently as he slid himself from you and lay beside you. He tugged you against him as he settled, tucking your head against his chest. “But in case it wasn’t clear, yeah. You beat ever damn porno I ever watched, ain’t even close.” 

You smiled, proud. 

“Good,” you said. “Because… I liked doing that.” 

You felt him lift his head to look at you before dropping back down to the bed. 

“Really?” 

“Yup,” you said, tracing your fingers over the outline of his pecs through his shirt. “Think I’ll want to do it again.”

“Sure as hell won’t get any arguments from me.” 

“There is a downside, though,” you said, sitting up just enough to look at him. 

“What’s that?” He frowned and you smiled. 

“Now I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to get you for your birthday next year.” 

He laughed and tucked you back against his chest. 

“Just keep givin’ me you, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t get any better than that.” 

A/N: I missed Joel and Doc so I wrote this. Thanks for reading them even more than a year after Lavender ended.

Happy birthday, Joel!

Love you all!

[xiaq]

Part 1 Here

Prompts combined for Pt. 2 are : Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an idiot (affectionate), Wayne Finds Out, and Everyone is Queer Because I Said So.

Wayne Munson knows he’s not the best parental figure. He never liked kids. Never wanted kids. And he nearly said no when the social worker called asking if he wanted to take guardianship of his thirteen-year-old nephew. Because surely there was someone better suited. Except then the social worker told him why Eddie had been removed from his father’s care. About the magazines Eddie’s father had found in Eddie’s backpack that preceded him kicking Eddie out. About the fights Eddie had been getting into at school. About the song lyrics his temporary foster had found in his journal. And suddenly Wayne wasn’t so sure there was a better option. He knew there had to be people more equipped to raise a traumatized queer teenager, but there was no guarantee Eddie would end up with one of them. The opposite was far more likely. Wayne knew firsthand that much of the world was unkind to people like them.

In the years that follow, they don’t talk about it. He figured once he’d won the kid’s trust, Eddie would bring it up in his own time. Or maybe Eddie would ask why Wayne spends a weekend in Indy once a month or maybe ask who he’s spending the weekends with. But somehow those conversations never happen and Wayne doesn’t force them. 

It’s not until he finds Steve Fucking Harrington keeping vigil at Eddie’s hospital bedside that he thinks maybe he should have pushed the issue sooner. 

Because Harrington looks like he’s been through a war. He’s covered in blood and grime; only his arms, washed to his elbows where he’s holding Eddie’s hand, are clean. He’s looking at Eddie with naked emotion. And, perhaps most damning, he’s wearing Eddie’s battle jacket.

When Wayne enters the room, Harrington startles and says, “Hi. I’m Steve Harrington,” like Wayne and everyone else in Hawkins weren’t already aware of that.

“I know who you are. I know who your father is, too.”

“I’d uh, prefer you didn’t hold that against me.”

Wayne makes no promises. “How do you know Eddie?”

“We’re…friends,” Steve says. There’s a continent of things unsaid behind the word.

“And how are you in his room past visiting hours?”

“I bribed the nurse," he admits. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“Well. On that, we’re agreed. But I’m here now. And no offense, kid, but you look like you should be in one of these beds yourself.”

“Yeah. I told them once you got here I’d let them stitch me up. It’s not anything life-threatening.” He says this with the resigned intonation of someone who is familiar with the difference.

What the fuck has Eddie gotten himself involved in?

Harrington stands. It’s a slow, painful, movement, and he only lets go of Eddie’s hand at the last possible second. “Can I—I’d like to come back. After. If you don’t mind.”

Wayne considers him. He considers Eddie’s blood-smeared vest on the kid’s shoulders. He realizes, belatedly, that Eddie’s guitar pick necklace is hanging around Harrington’s bruised throat, the rings usually crammed onto Eddie’s fingers lined up on either side of the pick.

“Sure,” he says. “Be nice to have some company. And you can tell me what the hell happened.”

Harington sighs. “Not sure how much I’m allowed to tell. Or how much you’ll believe. But I can try.”

Wayne takes his place holding Eddie’s hand.

He tries to ignore the fact that Harrington stands in the doorway for more than a minute, just looking, before finally slipping into the hall.

He’s back a few hours later, clearly showered, wrapped in gauze, and wearing the preppiest goddamn outfit. Honestly, Wayne can’t fathom how Eddie and Harrington have anything in common. He’s also still wearing the necklace, though. And when he pulls up a chair to sit on the opposite side of Eddie’s bed, he removes the necklace and carefully, downright tenderly, returns the rings to Eddie’s fingers. Wayne notices, almost despite himself, that Harrington isn’t just guessing at the placement, either. He knows. So either he’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s fingers––something that, as impossible as it sounds, is starting to seem more and more likely––or he’s particularly observant. And that kind of observance speaks to its own sort of devotion. 

Wayne isn’t excited about either of these options.

He’s trying to figure out how to ask if Steve Fucking Harrington is Eddie’s boyfriend without scaring him away when Eddie shifts, which has Wayne and Steve both jumping to their feet.

“Wayne?” he murmurs. And Wayne isn’t one for emotional displays but he finds himself participating in one for the next few minutes nonetheless.

Once he gets ahold of himself, Eddie’s head turns, slow with painkillers, to see Harrington.

“Stevie,” he says, grinning. “Hey. I’m not dead.”

“Despite your best efforts,” Steve chokes out. His hands are fisted under his armpits and he looks about five seconds away from crying. Not that Wayne can judge since he’s more than five seconds into crying.

“What did I tell you, what did you promise?” Harrington snarls.

Eddie’s grin dims. “Not to be a hero. But Dustin––shit. Dustin. Is he...”

“Fine. Sprained ankle. Pissed as hell at you. Everyone else is fine too. Max is down the hall. She has some broken bones but she’ll be alright.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs. “How did I—“

“We went back for you.”

“We?”

“I,” Harrington grits out. “I went back for you. Thought you were dead. Carried you back anyway. Didn’t realize you were still breathing until we got you in the car. Drove like hell to the hospital.”

And that’s. Well, shit. Apparently, Wayne is going to need to temper his distrust of this particular Harrington. Because it sounds like he saved Eddie’s goddamn life.

“He also refused treatment and waited with you until I got here,” Wayne feels he has to add. “Despite the fact he was bleeding everywhere.”

Eddie glances between them, eyes huge. “Shit. I’m sorry. Hey, no, don’t––”

Steve is crying now, not even trying to hide it, and Eddie holds out a hand, wincing. “Come here, man, I’m fine. Or I’ll probably be fine, right?”

“So says the doctor,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve doesn’t need a second invitation.

He all but collapses, carefully, into Eddie’s outstretched arms, and Eddie’s hands bunch into the fabric of Steve’s sweatshirt and he crams his face into Steve’s neck and they’re so––their obvious, desperate, affection for each other is so unapologetic that Wayne has to look away.

 It’s not until later, when they’ve hashed out the basics of the insane upside-down phenomenon, that they finally convince Steve to go home and sleep.

He waits ten seconds after the door has closed to exhale, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Jesus, kid. I knew you had expensive taste with cigarettes and guitars but this? He’s the closest thing to royalty this town has.”

Eddie lets out a hysterical little warble of a laugh. “No. No, no. That’s not—we’re not.”

“What the hell are you then?”

“Friends. Bonded through extreme trauma.”

“But you’d like to be more than friends.”

Eddie looks at him askance “I’ll take what I can get and I won’t ask for more,” he says quietly.

Unfortunately, Wayne is well familiar with that kind of love. He just can’t get Steve’s expression out of his head. The gentle way he’d replaced Eddie’s rings. He doesn’t think Eddie’s interest is as one-sided as Eddie does. But he doesn’t want to meddle. He’s certain they’ll figure themselves out.

Two months later, Wayne is starting to think they’re both idiots. Because half the time when he gets home from his evening bar shift––a new job after the plant disappeared into the fiery abyss––Steve’s BMW is parked down the street and when he cracks Eddie’s bedroom door he finds them cuddled up, asleep. Sometimes he’ll go to rent a movie and Steve will be wearing a shirt that Wayne knows is Eddie’s and half the time when he wakes Eddie up in the mornings he’s wearing a pastel sweater monogrammed with initials that don’t belong to Eddie. He’d think they’re together and keeping it quiet if not for the fact that Eddie is driving him absolutely insane with pining. He’s written three songs about longing and heartbreak in the last two weeks and if Wayne has to listen to one more wailing ballad he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

He’s walking back from the bar after closing, only a mile from the new fancy trailer the government had installed for them when he passes Harrington’s conspicuous vehicle a few houses down. He sighs. The boy really has no sense of subtly. 

He’s expecting to find them, as usual, asleep in a tangle of limbs, except when he reaches the porch stairs, he can hear the boys talking.

He pauses with his hand on the railing.

“What are you doing,” Eddie murmurs, voice just carrying from the open living room window.

“Well. I’d like to kiss you, if you’d let me.”

About damn time, Wayne thinks.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie says. And it’s so quiet, so uncertain, that Wayne is tempted to open the door right then if only to prevent Ed from sounding so broken.

“I can’t be a practice run for you,” Eddie says, “Please. I can’t. I wouldn’t survive that.”

“A––what the fuck, Eddie.”

“It’s just, I know this is new to you and I’m, obviously, all about exploration and, um, finding yourself. Congratulations. Yay. But I can’t be an experiment. Not with you. I can’t.”

“You’re not an experiment,” Harrington says, voice a little louder than Wayne would prefer, given the circumstances. The trailer park isn’t exactly spacious. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I want to kiss you because I’m in love with you, how could you think—besides. This isn’t that new. I’ve kissed other guys.”

“You’ve what? Who? When?”

“Just. You know. Friends messing around. I didn’t know that made me bisexual until I talked about it with Robin but apparently, I’ve been kinda gay this whole time.”

“I’m sorry. You thought making out with your basketball buddies was…a standard heterosexual pastime?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

“What other way is there to say it?”

“Okay,” Steve says, “I already had this conversation with Robin this morning. I don’t need to rehash it again. So I’m a little bit of an idiot. Memo received.”

“Jesus, Harrington. You just found out bisexuality was a thing this morning and now you’re here, what, asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“I mean, yeah. Ideally.”

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you.” Eddie sounds disgustingly fond.

“Eddie. I just said I love you.”

“You did,” Eddie says, high and cracked. “You did say that.”

“So if we could refocus.”

“Right.”

“I don’t expect you to say it back, but––”

“God, you really are an idiot. Of course I fucking love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then that’s––well, that’s probably his nephew getting his first kiss from Steve Fucking Harrington.

Wayne decides to give them to a count of thirty before interrupting, but just as he’s about to stomp his way up the stairs, Eddie says, “Sorry, sorry, I’ve never done this before.”

“Hey, no. It’s ok. Neither have I, really. But you’re crazy if you think I’m going to fuck you right now,” Steve says.

“I meant kissing. Hold on, does that mean you would be willing to fuck me later?”

Wayne winces. There are things he does not need to hear come out of his nephew’s mouth.

“Wait,” Steve interrupts, “You’ve never been kissed before? How is that possible?”

“Who would have kissed me?” Eddie hisses, “ I’m the town pariah. And until I met Robin I didn’t know any other queer people existed in Hawkins. Though apparently, I should have just joined the basketball team since you’re having orgies or whatever.”

“The first two were on the swim team,” Steve says. 

“First two. How many were there?”

Steve ignores him. “And that wasn’t––you’re so hot, though. And your band has played in bigger cities. Haven’t you ever gone up to Indy to any of the bars there?”

“I need you to understand,” Eddie says, “that I am 90% bravado and 100% anxiety.”

“That’s not how percentages work.”

“Steve.”

“Sorry. Okay. Well, if this is your first kiss then I better make it good, huh?”

“Yes. That is absolutely the burden placed upon your capable shoulders should you choose to––oh.”

Eddie stops talking and doesn’t start again, though he does make a breathy little noise that Wayne takes as his cue.

He stomps up the stairs as loudly as possible, fumbling longer than necessary with the door handle, and pushes his way inside.

The boys are both shirtless, clearly in the process of shoving themselves away from each other. Eddie’s face is pink and his lips are kiss-swollen and Harrington’s back has a set of welted scratches on it that Wayne imagines are a perfect match for Eddie’s fingers.

“Well, shit,” Wayne says. He definitely should have opened the door sooner.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Eddie says.

“What the fuck else what it be?” Steve says, only sounding a little hysterical.

Except then the kid is pushing Eddie behind him and squaring up to Wayne with his jaw clenched and his head high, the discolored ring around his neck, still not yet healed, the scars down his belly, on display. Wayne is well-acquainted with the nuance of a man posturing versus a man who would gladly throw himself into a fight, even one he’s not certain he’d win. Steve Harrington is indisputably the latter.

Wayne can’t decide if he’s offended or endeared.

“Stand down, kid, I’m not going to hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t let you.” 

“That is…extremely apparent.”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “It’s ok. He knows. Or. We’ve never really talked about it but.” He meets Wayne’s eyes. “He knows. It’s ok.”

Eddie pushes around him, stepping into Wayne’s open arms.

Steve watches distrustfully as Wayne wraps Eddie in a hug.

“You’re both safe here,” he says. Mostly to Steve, since he’s the one who needs to hear it. “And I’ll call up my boyfriend in Indy and have him vouch for me if you don’t believe me.”

Harrington’s expression is just as magnificent as Wayne hoped it would be.

“Your what?” Eddie shrieks.

Part 3 Here.

On AO3 Here.

Tempted to do one more from one of the kid's POVs when the kids find out. Thoughts?

[solarmorrigan]

A scene I spent too much time thinking about in the Bob Adopts Steve AU [more on this idea here and here]. Takes place during s2, sometime after they all convene at the Byers house, but I know not exactly when because I don't remember the whole timeline

cw: hurt/no comfort

-

Steve refuses to break. Not now, not when the whole night is ahead of them, the problem of the demodogs and the gate and the mindslayer or whatever the fuck the kids keep calling it. He can’t break, not when they need him.

But he does just need to– take a minute.

Take a minute to breathe, to process the information that Bob had been at Hawkins Lab. That Bob had been involved.

That Bob is–

When no one is looking his way, he steps out onto the porch, just for a minute, to get some air.

He sort of expects it to be Nancy who’s followed him out there when he hears the door open behind him (he sort of hopes it’s Nancy; that even if she doesn’t love him, even if she’s angry at him, maybe she still cares enough to at least make sure he’s not self-destructing out here).

He’s surprised when it’s Joyce Byers who sinks down onto the steps next to him.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Steve wonders if he should speak first. He should probably apologize for her loss or something, shouldn’t he? But he can’t get any words to come out; all he can do is clench his fists more tightly in his lap to hide the way his hands are shaking.

Then Joyce speaks; her voice is still husky, like it was when they’d first gotten into the house, like she’d been crying (or screaming), but it’s steadier now. “I didn’t realize that you were the Steve that Bob was always talking about.”

Steve’s head comes up, turning to look over at Joyce. “He talked about me?”

Joyce offers Steve a tiny smile. “So much that I thought maybe he’d somehow gone and had a son without anyone knowing. He eventually had to tell me that he met you when you were helped him out with his yard.”

Shame prickles in Steve’s stomach, and he looks away. “Yeah, and I was helping him out with his yard because I destroyed part of it when I probably shouldn’t have been driving after getting into a fight with… pretty much everyone I knew, actually.”

“He did say you had a little… hiccup, is what he called it,” Joyce says, sounding fond, and not at all as judgmental as Steve thinks she probably has a right to be. “But he also said that you came right over to make amends, and that you’re a good kid. He always sees – saw. He… saw the best in people, always.”

“Even when we didn’t deserve it,” Steve says.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Joyce says. “You deserve to have people see good in you, Steve. It’s there.”

Somehow, that just makes Steve feel worse.

“I yelled at him,” Steve blurts out. “The last time we talked, I… I yelled at him.”

Joyce is quiet, and Steve knocks his fist against his forehead, because she’s just lost her significant other and he’s over here whining about how he said something petty to a guy he has no right to be upset about losing. Fuck, no wonder Nancy had dumped him. No wonder Bob had gotten sick of him.

“What did you yell about?” Joyce asks, pulling Steve from his spiral. She sounds genuinely curious.

“I…” Steve freezes; if Bob hadn’t talked to Joyce about moving away, then he doesn’t want her to find out that he was going to like this. “He said he was going to talk to you about something, Halloween night. Did– did he get around to that?”

“About moving out of Hawkins?” Joyce asks, and Steve nods. “He did. I wasn’t sure what to say at first, but… well, I’m sure you can see why there’d be some appeal.”

Steve lets out a choked laugh. “Yeah. Well, he floated the idea past me first, and I kind of flipped out on him.”

“Why?” Steve chances a glance at Joyce and she’s looking at him with a soft kind of concern. “Did you not like the idea of leaving here?”

“What do I have to do with it?” Steve asks, brows furrowed. “He said that he wanted to get you and Will and Jonathan out. And, like, I don’t blame him, I just– I reacted badly, and I wish–”

“Oh, sweetie,” Joyce breaks in, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “He didn’t– Didn’t he get to tell you?”

More confused than ever, Steve shakes his head. “Tell me what?”

“He… I mean, he said that he wanted to wait until summer to move, not just because he didn’t think it would be fair to move Will and Jonathan in the middle of the school year, but also because he was hoping…” Joyce trails off for a moment and takes a breath, like what she says next is going to hurt; Steve stops breathing at all. “He wanted to wait until you graduated because he was hoping to convince you to come along.”

“Oh,” Steve says, completely on automatic.

For a moment, the information doesn’t compute. It doesn’t even sink in.

And then it does.

And that’s when Steve breaks.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

hello dearest cal i offer thee some emojis and some good writing vibes!!

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮 (omg more cranberry?? HELL FUCKING YESS!!)

- feather

Hi Feather!

Thank you so very much!

45 for 🔼:

---

As it turns out, Christopher is also having nightmares. Eddie calls her one morning, as exhausted as she is, saying he was up all night with Chris. 

“He’s waking up screaming. Really scared, Shan. Did something happen to him up there?” 

Shannon feels terrible. 

“No,” she promises. “I mean, nothing I didn’t already tell you. Maybe seeing Buck fall and get swept away?”

Shannon has been struggling with that, too. But more while she’s awake than while she’s sleeping.

“Carla thinks I should take him to see a therapist,” Eddie says. “Someone who specializes in trauma in children.” 

Shannon could vomit. “She thinks he’s traumatized? Do you think he’s traumatized?”

“I think he went through something traumatic. You all did,” Eddie says. “But, like, he can get past it, right? Because nothing too bad ended up happening.” 

“Right,” she mutters. 

“So what do you think?” 

Shannon takes a deep breath. She’s too tired to think this through clearly. At the forefront of her mind is just the feeling that her son is hurt again, and it’s because of her. Which is ridiculous. She knows it’s ridiculous. She didn’t cause this. He just happened to be with her. And thank fuck Buck was too.

“Shannon?” 

“Sorry, yeah. Uh… I mean, if you think it’s a good idea, I trust you.”

“I think it probably is, but I still feel weird,” Eddie admits. 

“Weird?” Shannon asks. “Weird how?”

“Like, if I had needed this as a kid…” 

Oh. She gets it.

“Your parents never would have gone for it,” she finishes. 

“Yeah. Dad would have said to suck it up and move forward.”

---

45 for 🪞:

---

“It just sort of happened,” Eddie admits. “While you were grocery shopping the other day? And I took her to the park. It slipped out. She thought it was funny. It’s a done deal now.”

Buck smiles affectionately. “That’s very sweet.”

Eddie shrugs again. 

“Why duckling, specifically?” Buck asks. 

“Well, I didn’t know the name of a baby dove, and the generic bird term chick felt very icky-”

“Squab,” Buck offers.

“What?” 

“The name for a baby dove. Squab,” Buck explains.

“Yeah, see, I am not calling your daughter squab,” Eddie retorts.

Your daughter. Your daughter. Your daughter. 

“I appreciate that,” Buck says. 

“My brain was stuck on birds,” Eddie continues. “And then duck rhymes with Buck, and she’s your kid, so… Duckling.”

“Duckling,” Buck repeats. Because she’s his daughter. “Alright. I like it.”

“Well, good,” Eddie says. “I was going to keep using it either way.”

Buck laughs. “I see how much power I hold.”

“Very little,” Eddie agrees. “At least I’m not telling her medical emergency horror stories involving rotisserie chicken.”

Buck groans. “That was one time!”

ii.

It keeps up like that. The general ease and happiness. 

Well, ease might be an overstatement. Adjusting to a six year-old overnight still has its challenges. Especially a six year-old who is still learning how to be a part of a family. Sometimes he forgets it’s all new to her, as well as she fits in with his life. 

Some things are easy. She’s completely over not asking for what she needs; at least not when it comes to Buck, Eddie, Carla, and Maddie and Chim, when they go there for dinners. She’s always polite and never fights him about bedtime - something Buck knows Maddie and Chim struggle with with Jee. 

---

45 for 🦮:

---

Buck laughs. A bitter and cold thing. 

“Where is all this coming from?” He repeats. “It’s so clear that you are only here for Maddie. And that’s fine. Whatever. You don’t want to know me? Fine. Your loss. You don’t give a shit that I nearly died last year? Fine. But to see so plainly that you never cared about me? From the time I was born? I don’t need to sit around and watch that and wonder why.”

There are a range of reactions to Buck’s outburst. One he could have avoided had they just let him leave. 

Eddie grabs his arm, squeezing it like he’s trying to pull Buck back from the edge. 

Margaret starts to cry.

Phillip looks at the floor.

Chim winces, like he’s watching a trainwreck. 

It’s Maddie that speaks up.

“Buck,” she shakes her head, eyes welling over. “Please don’t go there.”

“Go where, Maddie?” Buck asks, exasperated. “Everyone in the room can see it.”

“Buck,” she tries again.

But he just shakes his head at her.

“Let’s go, Eddie,” he says. 

Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s back, and leads him towards the door. His hand on Cranberry’s leash is white knuckling the paracord loop handle. His other hand is shaking. 

🦮🦮🦮

“Two dinners,” Buck says on the drive home. Eddie is in the driver’s seat. Not their usual arrangement, but necessary, tonight. “That's all it took. Two dinners, and I am twelve years-old again, trapped between my sister and my parents.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, eyes flicking between the road and Buck. “That was really painful.”

“And now what?” Buck continues, hardly hearing him. “I have to plan an awkward fucking apology.”

“Whoa, wait!” Eddie’s tone sharpens. “What do you have to apologize for?”

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER ELEVEN- TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

 Life has really been fucking with me these last six weeks. Work’s hell. The apartment we live in went up by four hundred dollars. And to make matters worse, Megumi and I have been rockier than ever. 

 That’s the thing that’s bothering me the most.

 It’s over simple shit, too. 

 I try my best to be a laid back parent and only go full on dad mode when needed, but I think the kid has taken advantage of that. All I ask is three things from Megumi:

 Don’t get into fights, and if you do, don’t get caught. 

 School night curfew is eight. Weekends are eleven.

 And lastly, tell me your whereabouts.

 But what does he do instead? Miss curfew. Leave the house without telling me where he’s going, and now he’s on a two week-suspension from school since he got into a fight. 

 Grant it the fight was justify because some kids were fucking with him and talking shit about his lack of English, but shit, Megumi. 

 At least he won. 

 One side of me was saying that’s my boy, and the other side had to ground him. 

 Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy with me after that. 

 I’m surprised he actually listened to me, though. But with him listening, I’ve been getting the silent treatment, no eating meals together, and been avoided like I’m the plague. 

 Parenting is not a walk in the park, I know that. Especially when you’re a single parent. When times like this hit, I think of my late wife more than ever. 

 With her death anniversary right around the corner, I can’t help but miss her and wish she was by my side. 

 I can’t do this shit alone. I was not raised in a loving environment, and considering the fact that my old man was an abusive drunk that used me as his punching bag, I damn sure don’t know what the fuck it feels like to have a father. 

 A mom? Don’t know either. Old man wasn’t faithful and was sleeping around with different women, so my mom could be dead or alive. Who knows? 

 My late wife knew all of this, not the severity, but she knew I had a shitty family. Yet she managed to see something good in a motherfucker like me, to the point we had a kid together.

 A kid that fucking hates me. And I’m the only one to blame. 

 God, maybe I should listen to Kong for once. I’m forty-two. Shit, maybe it is time to settle down and look for a housewife. Someone who’s willing to help raise a fifteen-year-old boy. 

 No, what the fuck am I saying? Since when do I listen to that fucker?

 Never. I trust him, though. Hell, do I really have a choice since he helped me take care of Megumi when I was going through my episodes in the early years of my wife’s death? 

 But my kid is my responsibility. Getting a woman involved isn’t going to help my relationship with Megumi. That’s some shit I need to fix myself. 

 Kong and I have one unorthodox ass relationship, but he’s the only bastard I actually consider a friend, and I know he means well. 

 He is Megumi’s godfather after all. Besides, the last thing I want to do is to ever make Megumi feel like I’m trying to replace his mom. Far from it. 

 Maybe loneliness is just catching up to my old ass.m, and the only woman I think of breaking me from my no relationship rule is Y/N. 

 Y/N fucking L /N. 

 That woman drives me insane in more ways than one. 

 After our first date over a month ago, we’ve been talking nonstop. Texting. Calling. Casual dates every now and there when time allows us. If I’m being real, Y/N is the only reason why I haven’t ripped my fucking hair out. 

 People would usually turn to alcohol to depend on the burning sensation it gives you to get drunk when feeling stressed. But me? Y/N is who I get drunk off of. Her energy is fucking addicting, and the reassurance she gives me… who know I needed so much of it. 

Like any other man, I don’t turn to anyone to help with my problems. I’m a prideful motherfucker who has the ego the size of a galaxy. However, I don’t have to be the way around Y/N. I sound sappy as shit, I know. 

 Guess that’s what happens when you become vulnerable. 

 The only reason why I haven’t had sex with her yet.

 I know myself. When I was younger, I only saw sex as a way to make extra cash when I was struggling after I got disowned by the Zen’in. The older I got, sex became more meaningless to me. I can be balls deep in pussy, no matter how good it is, and have no type of feelings attached. Me making a woman come or them making me come doesn’t mean I’ll start buying them roses and shit. 

 It wouldn’t be the same with Y/N. 

 Not saying I’m on the verge of falling in love with her, let alone loving her. But seeing how much we talk, how jealous I fucking get, especially after figuring out she works at the same school as her ex-fiancé, I don’t want any other fucker to even breathe the same air as her.

 Not even myself, but I’ll still be selfish enough to do it.

 That’s the thing about Y/N. I feel myself growing more selfish when it comes to her. I want her time and energy to only be for me. She’s mine without her knowing and I’m planning on keeping it that way. I can admit that’s probably a dick move, but I can’t find myself falling in love again. 

At least, I’m forcing myself not to.

 Hearing her moan my name. Seeing her face when she comes. Knowing what it feels to have that sweet, tight, warm fucking pussy clench around my fingers. I’ll become a starved and possessive man the moment she’s like that around my dick. 

 I’ll catch feelings.

 I’ll want her above me, beneath me, all over me twenty-four-seven. I’m not an easy lover. I can admit to that.

 But that won’t stop me from…

 No, I won’t say that.

 It’s strong. Whatever emotion I feel about Y/N, and I can’t help but think it has something to do with her being so damn familiar. The more I talk to her, the more I know who she is. Maybe in another lifetime I’ve loved her before. 

 Even saying that in my head sounds crazy as shit. The dreams about her aren't helping, either.

 “Get a hold of yourself, Fushiguro,” I mutter to myself. I look at the time to see it’s eleven thirty. “She should be on her free hour right now.” 

 Maybe a phone call wouldn’t hurt.

 “I’m busy,” I grunt.

 I couldn’t even call Y/N before Kong called me to fucking be clingy. He claims he only calls me to check on the kid, but Megumi has his own phone. 

 “Mad because I’m not your girlfriend? Sorry, I had you first, Fushiguro.” I hear him puffing out smoke from his cigarette. “Be grateful you have a fucking friend to check on you, you fucking jackass.”

 I chuckle, sarcastically saying, “Awe, I consider myself very lucky.”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Sorry, not interested,” I replied. And this is what I mean by unorthodox friendship. “Assuming you got some information for me?” After that Zen’in fuck purchased the club ownership last month, I had Kong do some digging for me.

 All the bullshit he was spewing about Naobito forcing everyone in that family who doesn’t have a kid, to have one, and taking interest in finding Megumi, I couldn’t take shit like that lightly.

 Not when my kid is potentially involved.

 Knowing how those Zen’ins’ get down, they always find a way to get what they want. Even if it results in blood.

 “I found some files about that Naoya shitface you told me about… Looks like he’s the real deal,” he says.

 “Meaning?”

 “Meaning he is your cousin. Looks like your old man’s brother had some unwanted kids of his own.”

 “Having kids in the family just to leave them dry is a fucking ritual in that shitty ass family.” I get up from bed and go to the kitchen to grab a ginger ale. “What else you find out?”

 “Zen'in owns half of the real estate in Tokyo,” he tells me, clicking his tongue. “Those bastards keep growing and growing by the minute. So if what this Naoya is saying is true, I can only imagine Naobito is doing this to have the city fear the name Zen’in, even after he’s six feet under.”

 I scoff. “For an ego stroker? So what the fuck does this have to do with my kid?”

 “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

  Over my dead fucking body if they think they could come even twenty feet near Megumi. I have no problem going back to that violent lifestyle that I’m trying to escape when it comes to protecting my kid.

 Actually, I’m hoping that they do because I’ve been itching for a stress relief and permanently getting rid of those Zen’in fucks just might be the way to do it.

 Maybe I should pay them a visit on my trip to Japan in a few months.

 I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “Alright. Keep me posted.” An incoming call comes through and I see Y/N’s name flashing my screen. “Gotta go.”

 “Your girlfriend’s callin-” I disconnected our line before he finished his bullshit to answer Y/N.

 “I’m so close to fucking pulling these braids out and choking my boss with them.” Ha, that’s a funny way to say hello.

 “I’m trying to wrap my head around why hearing you threaten to kill someone is turning me on?” I tease.

 She lets out a soft breath. “I’m sorry, big guy. Work is being a pain in my ass right now.”

 “I see that. You cursed twice. That’s something expected from me.”

 “Well, it’s kind of inevitable when you’re a high school teacher,” she argues. “And actually, no. I expect four curse words in under a minute from you. So I think my two words will be alright.”

 I smile while walking back to my room and close the door behind me. “Talk to me, sweets. What’s going on?”

 “Other than finding out that my name was unknowingly submitted to take part in the state’s teachers summit, nothing really.”

“Is it that bad?” 

 “No. It’s actually a good opportunity to voice your concerns as a teacher to the school board, but quite frankly, I’m tired of going. Only one teacher is selected every year to represent each school in the county and it’s always me.”

 “And what is this summit shit? Why do they need teacher representatives?” I hear her smile through the phone when she explains the summit, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of me cursing already. “Probably this isn’t what you want to hear, but I can see why you’re always chosen. You speak your mind well, and I can see the passion you have when it comes to your students.”

 “Well, yeah, but every teacher should be that way,” she counters. “And the summit this year is four hours away from us, so they made it a weekend convention. A weekend, Toji?” 

 I arch my brow. “And who submitted your name?” Her silence tells me my answer. “You sure this fucker isn’t trying to win you back? Abusing his power as your boss to get you to himself for the weekend seems like a man move I probably would’ve done, too.”

 “You would?” she incredulously asks.

 “When it comes to you? Absolutely. Zero questions asked.” I can almost guarantee the silence from her again is because she’s blushing, something I find fucking adorable about her. “You there, Miss L/N?”

 “Toji, I’m at work,” she answers.

 “Admitting that your mind is in the gutter?”

 “I-uh, no. Just reminding you to get your head out of it.”

 I tip my head back and laugh. “Cute. So when’s the summit?”

 “In three months.”

 “And you can’t pull out?”

 “Unfortunately, no. Unless I can prove that it’s due to a medical or family emergency, I’m out of luck.” No doubt in my mind that her ex pulled this shit intentionally. I mean, I get it. If I lost someone like Y/N as my fiancée, I would be going through hell and back until she was mine again. 

 But too bad for this fucker that isn’t the case anymore, and I don’t tread lightly when it comes to people fucking with what’s mine.

 Mine, that’s exactly what Y/N is.

 “I’m way too hungry for this crap,” she says, pulling me from my possessive musings. 

 “And you didn’t eat because?”

 “Someone kept me up last night on the phone, so I overslept and couldn’t get a decent breakfast before work this morning.” 

 I chuckle, remembering our two a.m. conversations that turned into her masturbating while I was talking her through it. “I’m sure that person is sorry.”

 “Doubt it.”

  I look at the time again to see it’s noon. “What time is your free hour over?” 

 “One. Why?”

 “Grab lunch with me.”

 She playfully hums to consider my last minute invitation. “I guess I can squeeze you in.”

 “Squeeze me in?” I mock her response while laughing. “Appreciate it, Miss L/N.”

 “I’m sure you can find a way to show me your appreciation.”

 I smirk. “Forgot you were at work?”

 “Whatever, Mr. Fushiguro. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

 “Alright, alright. I’ll see you,” is the last thing I say before disconnecting the call.

 Smiling to myself like a fucking lovesick idiot knowing that I’m about to see Y/N has me surprised myself. Like I said earlier, this woman drives me insane.

 And I think I’ll grow to not mind it.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

no discussion question this chapter. but would love to hear your thoughts ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[avastyetwats]

All That I Have

Continued from here. @fornassau

The tension between them was thick. Too thick for a knife to even cut through. There was a lot James wanted to say, but he was trying to bite his tongue. He didn't want his anger, or the fact that he had been scared, get the better of him because he was on the verge of just letting loose and he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to yell at Charles. He did and he didn't. Hell, he didn't even have to ask what the hell he was thinking because it was obvious. He had been defending James, that was his intention, that was the reason he nearly went to fucking jail. Fucking idiot. He almost said that out loud, but again, he managed to hold back. His leg was bouncing and it only added to James's anger because he wanted it to fucking stop but his nerves were shot. But maybe if they just sat there in silence for a little while, he'd be able to calm down a bit...

What the fuck was I supposed to do? Just let the guy get away with treating you like that? I don’t understand why you’re so pissed at me!!“

Well, there went any chances of him possibly calming the fuck down.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Charles!?" James snaps, voice booming. "Yeah, you should have fucking walked away when I told you to. When I was trying to drag your ass with me out of that goddamn bar!" He suddenly tosses the ice pack onto the table in anger before he stands up, putting some distance between them. Normally it would've been James that snapped, that wouldn't have been able to home himself back from punching the fuck out of the guy. Hell, he almost did when Charles got involved and the fucker started saying mean shit about him. James was the one with the temper, but being with Charles, and being around his girls, his nieces, James had become... calmer. Learned to control his temper. It was something he'd been trying to work on for a long time anyway, but because of his relationship with Charles, and with his nieces, he had more of a reason to really do better.

Of course when the fight happened, he did join in because he wasn't going to let Charles get hurt like that. He shoved one of the fucker's friends away and fought with him for a few seconds before he dragged Charles off of the guy just before the police showed up. He's never seen him so angry, so full of rage. A feeling James knows all too well.

Charles almost killed the guy. And it wasn't that James was scared of that rage. He wasn't at all. He just didn't want Charles to have that blood on his hands, that loss of life on his hands, and he sure as hell didn't want him to be thrown in jail. Goddamn, that scared him. He couldn't lose him. His girls couldn't lose him. Did he not fucking get that!?

"You could've gone back to jail tonight, Charles! Did that not fucking matter?" He asks him, now looking at him. "Because it fucking matters to me!" He yells, voice breaking when saying those words. There's a rage in his eyes, but more than anything, there's fear. There's pain. "It matters to me because I cannot fucking lose you! And I almost did, Charles. I -- god." He turns away when he feels the tears fall despite trying his damn hardest not to let them. "I can't fucking lose you like I lost Thomas. I can't -- I can't go through that again.. not you, Charles. Not fucking you!" He turns and sends his fist into the wall, breaking it clean through. He then pulls it back with a hiss, blood running down his knuckles, cradling it to his chest with a pained sob. "FUCK."

Not Charles. Please God, don't take him from me, too.

[cryptidsnackpack]

okay this discussion is going to be SO LATE but i’m playing dream daddy (again) and i have ~thoughts~ about our friendly neighborhood youth pastor and his family.

so i’m going on dates with all the dad’s i haven’t in previous playthroughs. (i saw mat and damien and was like good day i do not need to peruse ANY other fathers today).

i’d never done joseph’s route before, bc he’s married duh and i have religious trauma. and he looks like every white man that is a problem. but this time around i wanted to watch the world burn and break that man. ANYWAY. he is- actually… delightful? and i love his dates?? i though that with (potential spoilers ahead i guess but this game is old af) his affair with Robert he would immediately start laying it on thick. but he just invites you to very fucking domestic events, and gets frazzled with basic intimacy.

so i GET that joseph cheated. i understand that a large part of mary’s drinking may be due to that. and i know the “good” ending is not really good at all, and pulls a weird moral gotcha on you. i am all for making players face the consequences of their actions in games but this one falls flat for a few reasons.

1. Joseph objectively isn’t a bad person. Yes he’s had an affair, yes he’s a youth pastor (okay only a little joking). BUT Joseph has his shit together for his 4 kids and i admire the FUCK out of him for it. As someone who was raised by alcoholic parents, seeing Mary’s attitude at her kids’ well being REALLY struck a chord with me. the game wants me to believe Joseph is the bad guy, but i’m watching his wife chug five bottles of wine while her toddler is missing AND SUPPOSED TO BE IN HER CARE. and then i see this dad who is trying, who is involved in community outreach, and keeps a stable home. also i see a lot of “well Joseph puts on an act to make Mary look bad in front of the neighbors”. I’m sorry??? he does not have to make Mary look bad, she does bad all on her own. the “wine mom” and “type a dad” schtick is so fucking heteronormative and played out, even for 2017 when the game was released. and hey maybe that was the point! but if it was, it wasn’t done well.

2. The worst parts of Mary’s character get glossed over in lieu of her being a “wine mom” stereotype. Maybe it’s because i’m an ex alcoholic myself, but i don’t have a lot of patience for the character and i know that. objectively i like Mary, i think she’s funny and tough. but she is a deadbeat fucking mom, and the game WHICH IS CENTERED LARGELY AROUND BEING A GOOD PARENT puts Mary on a pedestal that she doesn’t deserve to be on. would i get dinner with mary? hang out? go shopping?? fuck yeah. would i think, “this person who goes out every single night and flirts outrageously with everyone, ignoring their children and household responsibility for their husband” is a “good” person?? fucking hell no. i would not let that woman look after a hamster. let alone four children.

3. DIVORCE IS A VALID AND HEALTHY OPTION THAT SHOULD BE SHOWN MORE IN MEDIA. i cannot tell you how many nights i lay awake listening to my parents drunk and fighting and prayed (when i believed in prayer) that they would divorce. i WANTED my parents to divorce, because i, at the ripe age of 12 could see what apparently the adults could not. that these two people did not, and should not, be together. now that’s not saying that your “good” ending in joseph’s route should end in a typical romance. i don’t. what i mean is that two people should have come to the conclusion that they are doing irreparable damage to their family by staying together. and your character could have helped and supported in that decision. it is obvious that Mary is living a life she doesn’t want, and i do feel for her. BUT GET A DIVORCE THEN. I know the characters are married and staying together largely in part because of religion… but…. Joseph’s not “that” kind of christian? because i grew up in the church, i know the type. this guy ain’t it. So the “well divorce is a sin” for the character doesn’t work for me.

i love the game grumps and i LOVE this game, but this was an area where i feel like the characterization and “message” was a like clunky and more than hard to follow. i really felt like they missed the mark with this one, i mean hell just make the non-canon ending canon at this point. at least that would make more sense.

also this is not me saying that Mary should be responsible for all household duty bc she’s a woman or blah blah blah. but whether you wanted those kids or not, whether you want to be in that marriage or not, YOU made decisions. your kids didn’t choose to be born YOU did, so you need to step up and idk?? maybe not spend every night out at a bar with the local loner who boned your husband? also maybe your husband sought comfort in the arms of a relative stranger… for… a reason? not a morally sound or correct reason but we can maybe follow the dots.

[f0point5]

pretty sure you’ve talked about this already so many times so if you don’t want to keep talking about it no worries!!

but this Logan/Kimi swap thing BAFFLES me. Yes, Logan should have improved more by now. I really feel for him because it’s clear that he’s trying to improve and just can’t figure it out for some reason. Plus the team’s bizarre switch from “we resigned Logan because we believe in him” to what appears from the outside to be a lack of support. But i agree he won’t be on the grid next year.

But at the same time it’s idiotic for the FIA to approve the dispensation because then the rules are essentially meaningless. It’s idiotic for Williams to take on an underprepared driver (because as talented as Kimi might be, there’s no way he’s adequately prepared for F1 right now) when part of Logan’s issues were due to being underprepared. If this kid gets eaten alive then merc will have thrown away so much potential. Genuinely I think there’s an incredibly high chance no one wins here. Maybe it all works out, but it seems like a hell of a risk just because you’re worried that he might sign elsewhere.

anyway excuse the rant lol just read the new chapter and so intrigued 👀 hoping lando comes thru for you this weekend <3

No I could go for DAYS.

I wouldn’t blame the team for replacing Logan mid season. It’s incredibly difficult to score points at the bottom and you need to be running two cars. Williams have been fighting one handed. Logan is just not cut out for this, that to me is clear. I am so curious why they resigned him, I guess because they didn’t have any other options from their academy, but the way they seem to have absolutely had enough of him is sad. To hear him on the radio calling himself a “dumb fuck” is horrible. It’s all hard to watch. It’s giving Red Bull.

I don’t understand the Kimi thing. They made this rule because they didn’t want any more children in F1. How would they just throw that out the window because someone asks? And not even for a kid who has a wealth of experience. He’s driven what? 18 months in actual cars? The FIA will out themselves as a complete joke if they say yes. I guess Williams will be saying “we will put him in the day he turns 18 if you say no so you may as well say yes it’s 4 months early”, but I think they have to stick to their guns and say not a day before the 18th birthday.

I don’t have an issue with him being in the car. Maybe he’s another Max, maybe he’s not. Regardless, I think if he is good enough, he will show something. And if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t, there will be others who come up through the feeder series who do. I don’t put a lot of stock in preparedness beyond physical fitness. Another few months of driving F2 where the cars are very slow, very different set up wise, and honestly where the racing is kinda just a free for all is probably not going to prepare him any better than he is now (considering how few F2 races there actually are as well). I think talent shines through. Logan might have done better with more prep but he probably never would have been Oscar. And yes Kimi is underprepared, but the best prep you can get is just to drive, so if Toto really is planning to put Kimi in the Merc seat, this is the smartest way to get around the rules about testing. Because that’s all it’ll be, is testing. He can sit in the Williams for half a season and get his bearings, go to Merc and get his bearings again in 2025, and by 2026 he would be an incredibly well prepared driver. IF that is how Toto decides to approach it, and not expect results from Kimi. I actually do see the merit in it. But only if it’s approached properly by everyone involved which with Toto you can’t guarantee. BUT the FIA throwing out the rule book would be insane.

I’m SO interested what on earth Toto has promised Vowles to get a Merc junior who will essentially be wasting a seat for Williams in the middle of a season. Granted he probably can’t be worse than Sargent but again, James will effectively just have Alex all year. Are Williams getting free engines?

Fundamentally I think the person who comes away with egg on their face here is James Vowles. Mr “you need to give a rookie three years and an arm around the shoulder” has absolutely exposed himself as TotoLite™️. As for Kimi, I can only hope he has a good team around him and that he has people who will come to the paddock and look out for him and not just let Toto run his career. Because I don’t think him being in F1 early is a guaranteed failure, but I think he will need a strong support network and someone looking out for his best interests.

I’m just shocked by this turn of events in all honesty

[lostfirefly]

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.11)

Welcome to the final! This story may not have gone smoothly, but I'm still glad I took these two on a new journey. Thank you for the likes, comments, reblogs! This part again contains riddles that gave me a headache yesterday :) Sorry, there will still be a short chapter 12, which will be an epilogue to the whole story. It was created somewhere in the middle of Ch. 4. And I didn’t want to overload the current chapter.

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Riddles on the wall! Will our heroes find what they are looking for? Let's find out! Let's go!

Warnings: Fun, fluff, arguing, adventure, inappropriate jokes, swearing (as always). Shitty shit again:)

Words: 3816

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What? Wasn't it supposed to be at Baroque Works?!”

“I don’t know.” Catherine jumped up from Buggy’s lap. “By all indications, it should have been. But maybe it was hidden? Or they were simply deceived by that recording. So that no one would find the treasure.” 

“So what should we do now?” Buggy stood up from the floor.

“Well, these are riddles.” She pointed at the wall. “This is a cryptex. We probably need to guess them, and just type the answers on this thing and that’s it. It's simple!”

“Simple? Are you fucking kidding me?” He rolled his eyes. “Have we ever had something simple? Are you sure you are not wrong?”

“Have I ever made a mistake?” Catherine spread her hands questioningly. 

Buggy crossed his arms. “Should I remind you of the hall where you screamed like a seagull, and we were almost crushed by the wall? Or a cage with those stupid checkers or whatever it was?”

“Hey! I pulled you out of the water while you were sinking like a fucking cruiser. Listen to me at least once in your life!” Catherine rolled her eyes.

“I listen to you all the time. I just... I just don't want you to get stuck in some cage again. The second time you may not be lucky.” 

“But Buggy, I’m sure we’re on the right path! We can't give up right now!” She clasped her hands. 

“Trust me baby, I want to find treasure just as much as you do.” He came closer to her. “But it’s one thing to look for gold somewhere on an island, and another thing among your fucking Egyptian things.” 

“Stop whining! You.. You told so many stories about treasure hunts. How you found the gold. And all I wanted is to share this spirit of adventure with you, idiot. How can you not understand this?” Catherine lowered her eyes to the floor and became sad.

Buggy changed his face when he heard the last line and put his hand on her head. “I told you that you got involved with an idiot. Fine. We can fight later, right? Just be careful, ok? I'm worried about you. Tell me what we will do, my Egyptian girl.”

“I will read the riddles, and you will spin the wheels on the cryptext so that you get the answer. If there are fewer letters than wheels, then look, turn them until this eye symbol is on the edges.” Catherine noticed the worry in his eyes. “Don't worry, you're doing great.” She kissed Buggy on the cheek and handed the cryptex into his hands.

Catherine stood against the wall and rubbed her hands. “Well, Egyptian gods, who will win? Are you ready, my love?”

“Yes.” Buggy plopped down on the ground.

"So.. Let's see. 

From chaos, he rose,  Two twins he composed.  Two beginnings in him flows, The two parts he controls.“

Catherine looked at Buggy, then at the wall, then back at him. She scratched her head and began to walk from side to side, muttering a riddle under her breath. 

“Two parts. Two parts. They always talk about two parts.” Catherine looked again at the slab with the riddle. She took a couple of steps away from her and bowed her head.

“Cotton candy?” Buggy watched her carefully.

“Quiet!” She waved her hand at him. “Two beginnings… Two beginnings. Oh! I know! It's Atum!”

“Are you sure?” He looked at her attentively.

“Yes!” Catherine scratched her nose. “Atum was considered the patron saint of Upper and Lower Egypt. And he also gave birth to twins from his mouth. And he combines the masculine and feminine principles. That’s why they always talk about the number two. Spin the rings, Buggy! Atum!”

“Ok!” Buggy shrugged and began to twist the letters in the right order. “Is something going to happen? I don’t know. Maybe mummies will crawl out of the walls. Be careful that some dead pharaoh doesn’t crawl out of the sarcophagus and drag you away with him.” He chuckled and continued spinning the rings.

“Aren’t you gonna protect me? I can't believe you'd just hand me over to the pharaoh so easily.” Catherine shook her head. “Does it work? The cryptex should probably click.”

“Nothing clicks in this fucking thing. Maybe it's broken?” Buggy was clearly starting to get angry and started shaking the cryptex.

“Wait, I'll take a look.” Catherine walked up to him, put her hand on his head and looked over his shoulder. “Atum is spelled with an A, Buggy. Not with an O.”

He blushed and changed the letters. They heard… nothing.

“So, what is next?” Buggy asked and looked around. “Nothing clicked. Nothing is moving. There is no treasure in sight. Are we sure we're doing everything right?”

“We must do it right.” Catherine gently tapped his head with her fingers. “Let's try again. You're great!” She ruffled his hair, watched as he blushed even more, and returned to the wall. “So. Who do we have next? Oh! Him! Let’s see. 

He grew from the body of the goddess of the fields, Defend two kingdoms and people with shields. The dawn that dispels the darkness, The flower that night closes.” 

Catherine walked away a little, crossed her arms and looked at the drawing. “The flower that night closes. Which flower closes at night?” She looked at Buggy.

“Are you serious?” He stared at her. “Do you think I know?” 

“Well, I don't know. Maybe before you steal another bouquet for me, you talk to the sellers and they suddenly told you interesting stories. A flower that closes at night. Rose? Peonies? No.” Catherine hit her nose with her finger. “Lotus! The lotus closes at night. Do you know what god was associated with the lotus?” She turned half a turn to Buggy and looked at his questioning gaze. “You don't know what god was associated with the lotus. This is Nefertum. Spin the rings.” Catherine ran up behind him. “Here… N.E... Yeah. U.M. You’re great, my love!” She couldn’t resist and kissed him on the head.

Buggy spun the rings and… they heard nothing. They both looked around again.

“Nothing.” Catherine whispered. “Something must happen. What the fuck? Some kind of nonsense.”

“Cathie-pie,” Buggy cleared his throat. “I may not be the smartest person in the world, but there are several riddles on the wall. Exactly as many as there are rings on this fucking cryptex. Maybe this makes some sense?”

“Wait! Shit!” Catherine grabbed her head. “Of course! Do you see? I told you that you are smart! We guess the gods, take the first letters of their names and, apparently, we should get some kind of word.” Catherine took out a notepad and pen and threw it into his hands. “Write down the letters. N and A.” She rubbed her hands. “I'm starting to like it. Oka-ay! The next one.

Flood is strong in this season, Water of darkness, ocean of chaos,  Gathered the council of gods, And support the solar boat.” 

Catherine clapped her hand and started jumping. “Oh! I know, I know! It’s Nun! Write down the letter N, my love. Do you remember I told you about Nun?” 

“Were you naked at that moment?” Buggy giggled. 

“What? No!” 

“Maybe you were half naked?” He tilted his head and smiled. 

“No! Why do I always have to be naked?” Catherine glanced at him questionably. 

“Because at such moments, I listen to you carefully.” Buggy chuckled. 

“Asshole! You never listen to me. And if you do… God, I’m even ashamed to say at what moments you listen to me.” She blushed. “What do we have?” 

Buggy shrugged, opened the notebook and made a note. “So, we have N, A and one more N. Not bad. Who’s next?”

“Let me check.” Catherine shook her butt. “This one! Listen! 

Mistress of two lands,  In Lower Egypt she stands. Life and power bringing, Stability, health, and joy giving.”

Catherine snapped her fingers. “Take a bite, Egyptian gods! Buggy, write the letter W. This is Wadjet! She was more protective of the power of the pharaoh.” Catherine threw her arms over her head in joy and started waving them.

“Ok, my dancing queen. Now we have N, N again, W and A. I like it!” He clicked his tongue. 

“You’re doing great!” Catherine glanced at him over the shoulder and winked. 

“Are you mocking me? What am I doing? I just sit and write down fucking letters.” 

“Do not say that! You're helping me a lot. Don't forget, you are responsible for the power, and now it's my turn to shine.” Catherine adjusted an imaginary crown on her head. “That's it, clown! Do not bother me! Listen!

She’s the sun’s daughter, Who taking all of her water. She’s mother of the stars, Lion-head of all rainfalls.” 

Catherine scratched her head. “The mother of stars. Lion-head of all rainfalls. Yes, the Egyptians were sometimes a little difficult with rhymes. Oh! I know! I know! Buggy, write down the letter T. It’s Tefnut. She was a lioness-headed goddess of the water.” 

Catherine ran up to Buggy and buried her face in the notebook. She ran her fingers over his notes for a long time.

“Oh my God, you write like a five-year-old kid!” Catherine tilted her head, then looked back at the wall and back at the sheets. “Wait! All these gods that you wrote down were somehow connected with water, and also somehow connected with Lower and Upper Egypt. The first pharaoh, whose palette I showed you, united these two parts of the country. It was believed that the homeland Wadjet was the Nile delta and was worshiped in Lower Egypt, Nefertum's lotus resembled the Nile delta. Tefnut is the goddess of water. Atum was the father of Tefnut and was worshiped by both parts of Egypt. Nun is the embodiment of the water element.” 

Catherine began to rush between the wall and the notepad. “I don't understand. I don't understand.” She sat down on the open sarcophagus and buried her head in her feet. “I don't understand.”

Buggy stood up and walked towards her. “Cathie-pie…” He put his hand on her head.

“I don't understand!” She muttered.

“Well, if you don’t understand, then no one will understand. Especially me.” Buggy began to stroke her back.

“I don't understand. Wait!” Catherine straightened her back. “It's wobbly!”

“What?” He glanced at her, removing his hand.

“The sarcophagus is shaking. See?” She jerked her hips several times while sitting on the edge.

“Do not do such movements, please.” Buggy swallowed.

“What movements?” Catherine looked at him blankly. “Oh, my God! Are you serious?! You're disgusting, clown!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!” He reddened. 

“God, I just can't believe you're thinking about such things right now!” She blushed and jumped off the sarcophagus.

“But I.. But I..” 

“But I, but I.” She started imitating him. “I don’t even want to think about how you used to go on such trips. I can only hope that if you went with Cabaji, and he moved his hips wrong, you at least hired girls for… well, you know. Help me move this crap!”

“Do you realize what you are saying?” Buggy rested his hands against the wall of the sarcophagus. “First of all, it’s not my fault that you’re beautiful and sexy. Blame nature for making you this way!” 

“Oh, thank you! I immediately felt better.” Catherine narrowed her eyes. “You should be ashamed, Buggy! We are among the gods! Show some respect!” 

Catherine rested her hands on the wall of the sarcophagus and the two of them began to move it. “A little more. A little more. There!” She dusted off her palms. “See, pervert. You're strong! Scepter?! How did it end up under the sarcophagus?!”

“Don't know.” Buggy looked into it. “Maybe it fell?”

“Fell and rolled?” Catherine said mockingly. 

“What’s your idea? The spirit of the pharaoh came and stole the scepter?” Buggy whistled.

“I’m sure that as always, in a fit of anger, you grabbed it and threw it away and didn’t understand what you did.” Catherine waved a hand at Buggy. She grabbed the notepad and started looking at the letters. She felt him place his chin on her shoulder, reached out her hand and scratched his head. “I’m sorry, I didn't want to grumble.” 

“Yes, in our relationship, I should be the one to grumble.” Buggy said quietly. “What do we have?”

“Look!” Catherine pointed to the floor with a notepad. “There are letters under the sarcophagus. And there are many of them. There is a letter on each slab and they are repeated. See? There are three with T, there are five with E. Something is encrypted here. Letters.. Letters. Wait!” Catherine opened her notebook. “Try to collect Nun on the cryptex.”

“Are you sure?” Buggy turned it over in his hands, looking carefully. 

“No, but let's try.”

“Ok." Buggy shrugged and spun three rings. “So what? What's next? Nothing happens.”

“It'll probably be tickled when we find the right word. These things always click. Try Nut.” Catherine put her hand on his back.

He blushed, but spun the rings. Nothing.

“Wait. We have. N, N, T, E, A, W.” Catherine traced the letters with her fingers.” Nau… net. Try Naunet.”

“But we don’t have U. Or did I write someone down again?” Buggy said with a sad voice. 

“No, no!” Catherine softened her voice and stroked his head. “You did everything right. The goddess Wadjet was at one time written through U. Try it.” 

“But we didn’t figure out one letter. Are you sure this’s this Nau...whatever her name is.” He mumbled.

“Yes, I'm more than sure. She is the embodiment of the water element and the ocean. That's where the water comes from. And that’s why all the symbols here are related to water. Try!” Catherine started jumping with impatience.

Buggy shrugged and began to spin the rings. They both stared at the cryptex. One letter, two.

“...net..” They heard a click. “It worked!!” His eyes bulged. “It worked!”

Catherine, apparently not expecting success herself, stared at him.

“What's next, cotton candy?” Buggy asked.

Catherine was silent for a long time. She looked at the ceiling and at the scepter. “This fucking Amset is here for a reason. God, I'm starting to get tired of him.” She scratched her head. “Look! There's a symbol in the center. It's the eye of King Narmer. Wait, wait!” Catherine took out a notebook. “I remember something like that.” She began flipping through the pages. 

Catherine raised her head, looked at Buggy, broke into a wide smile and shoved the notebook into his hands.

“Cotton candy? Cotton candy! What are you doing?” Buggy watched her every step.

“Quiet!” Catherine stepped on one slab, looking at the ceiling. 

“The king's eyes peeking out through a hole, when you put the puzzle whole.” She stepped on another slab, and continued looking at the stars. “The goddess of water will open the way...” She stepped on another slab. “Stay on the road, don't go away.” Another slab. “The spear will help you find the trease.” Another slab. “Under the stars it found peace.” 

Catherine smiled widely. “It's here!”

“What did you do?” Buggy came closer to her, trying to figure out what just happened.

“I simply stepped on the letters that were close to the bright stars in the constellation Amset.” Catherine jumped on the slab a couple of times. “It's here!” She jumped again and the slab below her lowered. “Oh, shit!” She quickly jumped off and ran up to him.

They both slowly walked to the place where she had just stood and looked there.

“Look!” Catherine pointed with her finger. “We need to go down there.” There's some kind of round slab there. Well, my love! Now is your time to shine!” She giggled and patted him on the back. “We should probably spin that thing.”

“Well, shall we go then?” Buggy winked at her and quickly jumped down. “Come on, come to me.”

“Coming!” Catherine, groaning, swung her legs down and caught herself on the floor. “Fuck, I'm like a cow. Will you catch me?”

“I'm holding you!” Buggy put his hands on her waist and helped her down.

They quickly approached the round slab and examined it .

“So what now?” Buggy scratched his head. 

“Turn it!” Catherine showed a circle with her finger.

“Which way?”

“Wait!” She took out her notebook again. “Look. Do you see these hieroglyphs and drawings? These are their letters, and usually it was read in the direction in which the birds are looking. If they look to the left, then from left to right. And there are small numbers on the wall. Previously, these numbers were used to understand in what order to assemble the sarcophagus. And you see? Here are the gods that we deciphered, they look to the right, then to the left. Apparently, you need to spin it in the order in which the names appear. Look! Nefertum comes first. He was considered one of the main gods. He's looking to the right!”

“Ok.” Buggy rubbed his hands, rested them on the stone ring and began to twist. “Fucking heavy. Why are these things always heavy?”

Catherine came closer to him and put her hand on his back. “You’re doing great! You’re so strong!” She saw him blush.

Buggy twisted the ring, following it, until he heard a click.

“So! There is one!” Catherine glanced at the paper. “The next one was Atum. He is also looking to the right. Turn it to the right! Then we will have Wadjet. She is looking to the left. But if you need some rest..”

“No, I’m fine!” Buggy took the ring and twisted it first to the right until it clicked, then to the left. “I will demand compensation, cotton candy!” Out of breath, he rested his head on the stone. “This is some heavy shit!”

“I promise you, if we find something, you can do whatever you want with me.” Catherine laughed, but noticed the sparkle in his eyes and how he instantly perked up. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that.” She blushed. “You’re unbelievable, clown! Spin the stone! Right, then to the left and to the left again.”

Buggy giggled, rubbed his hands, winked at her, and began to spin the stone, first to the right, then to the left, and again to the left. They heard a slight rumble and looked around. Catherine felt him grab her hand.

“So, it seems like nothing falls or closes, that’s already good.” She looked around. “It clicked! And look, the center of the stone went down!”

They slowly looked inside.

“Look! There are three serifs inside. Exactly the same as those on the scepter!” Catherine grabbed the scepter and took it apart into three parts. “Put this part here.” She pointed with her finger at the inscription on the stone. “This part there. And this one here." Catherine watched as Buggy put everything in place. And they heard the click again. "The center of the stone! Try to move it." 

Buggy shook his hands and, placing them on the stone, began to move it. "Fuck, it's so-o heavy!!”

“I think thinking about the upcoming sex gives you strength, pervert.” Catherine rolled her eyes. 

“Fuck you! I won't even deny it!” Buggy moved the stone a little more. “Cotton candy, look!” He patted her on the shoulder, and she stared at where he was pointing. “I promise you a great night tonight!” Buggy put both hands into the stone and pulled out a large, the eighty-eight cut shaped diamond. “It's heavy!” He smiled widely. “We did it!” He looked at Catherine's stunned face. “Cotton candy! Hello-o-o!” He snapped his fingers, holding the diamond tightly. 

“I can’t believe it!” Catherine whispered, grabbed her heart and plopped down on her buttocks. “All these gods and mysteries. You and me.”

“You and me.” He nodded, breaking into a smile. 

“Found it?” 

“Found.”  He nodded again and picked her up from the floor. “Honey, I know you're shocked by your first big find in your life, but I think we need to get out of here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Catherine was still in slight shock as she took out her notebook. She froze for a second, her face creased into a smile and threw herself on his neck. “We found it! We really found it!! Fuck me! We did it!” She began to shake him from side to side, constantly squeling and kicking her legs.

“Yeah, baby!” He kissed the top of her head. “High five!”

She extended her palm and slapped him back. “I won’t just give you a high five today!”

“You dirty little girl, Cathie-pie. Ok! Let’s get out first! I’m afraid something might start falling on us again.” He looked around. 

“Yes, yes! Sorry!” She tried her best to calm down. “Ha. You won't believe it! There is direct access to the surface from here. This is apparently some kind of treasury for special artifacts. Most of the tombs were looted. But I read that Narmer hid a couple of expensive things that he supposedly received from the gods.”

“Are you saying that, theoretically, we have found some kind of gift from fucking God?” Buggy raised the diamond to his eye level and squinted. 

“Who knows! The main thing is that we found it!!” She grabbed her head. “Okay, I need to calm down.” She looked at the notebook again. “So... My love, we go to the left.”

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

Catherine rushed around Buggy, tried to do a cartwheel, but could barely lift her legs and plopped down in the middle. 

“Ouch! I’m not an acrobat!” She fell on her back and laughed loudly. “Can't believe it! I found my second treasure in life!” 

“Why is the second treasure?” Buggy put the bag with the diamond on the ground and stretched his back. “Maybe you forgot in joy, but the first time the cave collapsed, cotton candy!” 

Catherine looked at him with satisfaction and broke into a smile. “You're such a fool.” She jumped up from the ground and rushed at Buggy, hugging him with her arms and legs. Out of surprise, he fell to the ground. She found herself on top of him and felt he immediately put his hands under her buttocks.

“Because my first treasure is you. Love!” Smack. “Love!” Smack. “Love, love, love you!” Smack. Smack. Smack. She started kissing him. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” A tiny voice was heard above their heads. “Do you do this at all the pyramids? Don't you know how to restrain yourself anywhere?!” 

They both slowly looked up. 

Catherine narrowed her eyes and put her hand to her forehead to see the silhouette. “The deer guide!”

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 13: Dance of Darkness

Summary: Tommy and Lucy take some of the Peaky Blinders with them to an auction to buy a horse.

Word Count: 4,242

Warnings: Sexual content and violence.

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Chapter 7: Horses

Tommy leaned against a stack of crates, watching as the boys worked to load and unload the boat docked at Charlie’s yard. He was in a good mood. The kind that not even the particularly hazy air or Charlie’s grumblings could puncture. Behind him, someone jostled a box and Charlie barked at them irritably. Tommy smiled, fighting back a laugh.

“And wipe that smile off your face. I want another pound a boat.”

Tommy glanced at his uncle, then gestured with his cigarette. “Done.” 

Charlie’s face cracked with a disbelieving smile. “You don’t even fight me anymore. Jesus. The fuck is wrong with you? Lucy put you in a good mood or something?”

Something like that. His eyes trailed lazily over to the mop of loose auburn curls, like a beacon amongst all the gray of Small Heath, watching her as she helped with the boat. There were still the remnants of a pleasant, satisfied ache in his muscles from the things she’d done to him the night before. And this morning.

Charlie huffed, shaking his head at whatever he saw in Tommy’s eyes. “And it’s no sport getting through the Black Country with this truce. They just fucking wave at you from the bank.”

“Well just wave back, eh?” Tommy straightened as Lucy came over, patting Charlie on the arm, stooping to press a kiss to Lucy’s temple. She looked pleasantly surprised at the rare showcase of public affection, smiling and taking his hand as he began to lead her away.

“And all these fucking cars. When did you last ride a horse, Tom?” Charlie shouted after him. 

“What’s his problem?” Lucy asked, taking his cigarette from his fingers for a drag before giving it back.

“He’s just bored,” Tommy huffed, though Charlie had a point about the horses. Perhaps this weekend he should take Lucy riding. Out to the nice little meadow just outside of town. They could bring booze and sandwiches and let the horses graze while he fucked her under a tree by the lake. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She held the telegram tightly between her fingers, crinkling the paper slightly, foot tapping against the floor rhythmically as she stared out the window.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” Tommy asked, footsteps thudding across the floorboards. Lucy sighed, wishing that she could just toss the damned paper in the fire and forget all about it. Things had started to actually look up, for once. And Tommy had been in considerably higher spirits as of late.

They’d stopped by Campbell’s lodgings earlier, to inform him of the little joke that the police department had played on him by putting him up in a hostel run by a prostitute. Campbell had gotten all huffy and stormed away, but Lucy and Tommy snickered to each other the entire way back to the office. 

Petty? Maybe. But hilarious and utterly worth it? Absolutely. 

This was going to ruin his whole damn mood.

No use in trying to keep it from him. That had never been their way of doing things. They always told each other everything. 

Silently, gravely, she held out the telegram to him. He took it from her fingers with furrowed brows, standing close to her as he read it over.

“The Digbeth Kid is dead,” she reported. “Sabini’s men slit his throat in his cell last night,” her heart sank as she watched whatever good mood Tommy’d had walking into the office drain away.

“Fuck,” he lowered the telegram, wiping a hand down his face. Lucy nodded, sighing as she looked down. Tommy rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“He was just a sweet kid, Tom.”

“I know.” 

Her fingers fumbled together. “If you still want to go get that racehorse at the auction, you’re going to need to bring more than me for protection,” she eyed the taunting telegram from Sabini; that not only confirmed his involvement with the Digbeth Kid’s death, but contained a blatant, rather graphic threat to Tommy as well.

“I’m calling a family meeting now,” he said. “I need Polly’s permission to spend the money to buy the horse anyway.”

“Okay,” she went to get her coat and followed him outside towards the betting shop.

“I’ll have a fund set up for his family,” Tommy added, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Yes, I think that would be good.”

They had to send John to go get Polly, but other than that it was easy to get everyone else gathered in the shop. Lucy leaned against the railing in front of the chalkboards next to Tommy, rubbing at her neck while he clasped his hands in front of him after handing the telegram over to Arthur to read.

The door creaked, then squealed as it opened to allow John and Polly in. Polly was complaining about them interrupting her holiday, snapping at John when he suggested Michael be allowed in from where they’d locked him in the other room. John blinked rapidly, looking very taken aback and more than tempted to bite back at her. Lucy raised an eyebrow. From everything Tommy had told her about Polly’s long lost son, the boy likely had far more interest in the activities of the gang than Polly would be willing to admit–if she even knew about it at all, of course.

Tommy began to relay the contents of the telegram to everyone, ordering a few of their men to get themselves arrested so they could track down and take care of whoever it was Sabini had in Winson Green that had killed the Digbeth Kid. Polly agreed to the setting up a fund for the family, then glanced around. 

“So, is that it? Can I go now?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. Sometimes–oftentimes, actually–she wondered why the woman didn’t just pack up her things and leave, considering how consistently she treated her duties to the company like a burden.

“Well, as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend a thousand guineas.”

“On what?”

“On a horse.”

“A thousand guineas on a horse?”

“Here we go,” Lucy mumbled, bracing herself for the argument that was about to break out. First Polly bristled at the suggestion that the decision to buy the horse had been made while she was on holiday with Michael. Tommy actually seemed to be getting somewhere with his argument that a good racehorse would work as a passport to the owner’s enclosure when they made their move on Sabini’s racing pitches, until John spoke up. 

“The Epsom Derby, Pol. We’ll be drinking with the bloody king,” he grinned. 

“Goddammit, John,” Lucy muttered, her blood going cold, she dropped into the seat at the same table as Arthur, and pressed her face into her hand. This fight could be a long one. Might as well get comfortable.

“The Derby? Did he say the Derby?” Polly’s voice was rising. Tommy shot John a look. This is why so often, she was the only one he told things too. She actually knew when to keep her fucking mouth closed.

As Polly and Tommy went back and forth, Arthur poured himself a drink, then nudged one to Lucy. She shot him a grateful smile. 

“So when is this sale?” Polly tilted her head.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tommy’s had a death threat, so we’ll have to go with him for protection,” Arthur said. Over his shoulder, Lucy spotted the door that led into the kitchen opening just a crack, Michael peering at them through it, expression curious.

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

“It’s a really pretty horse,” Lucy mumbled into her whiskey. Michael had crept further into the room, and when Polly finally caught sight of him, her face fell and voice strained with panic as she snarled at John for not locking the door.

“He did. I used the key on the nail,” Michael said. “Look, I’ve been listening. I want to go with them.”

“You see?” Polly screeched. Lucy winced at the noise and made a face, honestly not entirely sure what she was supposed to be seeing other than Polly attempting to lock her son out of a very prominent part of her life. Not exactly the best strategy, if she wanted to encourage the boy to stick around.

But even as Michael pleaded his case, Lucy could see in Polly’s face that it was hopeless. She had already made up her mind. 

“Let him come, Polly. We’ll go there, buy a horse, come back,” Arthur said.

“He’ll be safe,” Lucy chimed in. He would be surrounded by a small army of gangsters. He would be fine.

“I’ll drop him back at the house in Sutton before it gets dark,” John added.

“No,” Polly shook her head. Michael’s face fell. “Fucking no!”

Michael looked up at her with eyes that were more angry than disappointed, before spinning on his heel and storming back to the door, slamming it shut behind him. Polly snapped her head around to Tommy, glowering at him as if this was all somehow his fault.

“All right, that’s it. Back to work. Come on,” Tommy announced, and the group began to disperse. Polly remained motionless, with her arms crossed over her chest. John approached her, adjusting the angle of his hat on his head and saying something to her in a lowered voice. Whatever it was, it made Polly’s face change, arms tightening around herself as she frowned. Lucy blinked once, slowly as she watched her, before Tommy’s hand on her shoulder drew away her attention. He jerked his head in the direction of the door, and she nodded, standing and stretching her arms.

“Tommy,” Polly said, as he moved to walk past her. “You don’t–you don’t let anything happen to him. You hear me?”

He looked down at Polly carefully. “I won’t.”

She nodded. “All right, then.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“Are we early?” Lucy asked as they rolled up in a truck, idling outside of Polly’s house. Tommy pulled out his pocket watch.

“No, right on time.”

“Oh, good. Then I have an excuse to do this, then,” she leaned across John in the driver’s seat and leaned on the horn, letting it blare a few times before Polly came bursting out the front door.

“This is a respectable fucking neighborhood!” she shouted. Lucy cackled and leaned back into the space where she was squished between Tommy and John in the front seat. John snickered while Tommy grinned around his cigarette. Michael stepped out a moment later, carrying a bag that Polly had given him, allowing his mother to kiss and fuss over him before he climbed into the back with the other boys.

The ride to the auction was bumpy and uninteresting. Lucy leaned her head against Tommy’s shoulder, curling in closer to his side as she allowed herself to doze. They were on a narrow road, lined with trees whose branches, naked of leaves, twisted and tangled with each other. The air was clear of smoke, and smelled damp. The truck suddenly jerked, then made a hissing sound of complaint. John mumbled a curse and pulled off to the side of the road. The front part of the car was smoking slightly. Tommy gave her a gentle tap until she raised her head from his shoulder, then jumped from his seat to go around and talk to the boys in the back. Yawning and stretching, she followed him. Curly came rushing around to the front of the car to look it over.

Joining Tommy at the back of the truck, she found Michael fumbling with the bag he’d brought with him, pulling out a bundle of cloth that he unfolded to reveal several sandwiches stacked within, offering one to Arthur.

John had come around to the back too, glancing at Arthur with a grin as he snatched up the thermos with the tea. Lucy let out a disbelieving laugh. In all the years she’d been around, this was probably the most motherly thing Polly had ever done.  

“What?” Michael looked between them all, confused.

“Sandwiches?”

“Yeah.”

“Polly made bloody sandwiches?” Arthur repeated. Tommy was smiling as Lucy nudged him. 

“What’s this? Teddy bear’s fucking picnic?” Charlie asked.

“All right. We will drink the tea and we will eat the sandwiches. And then we will drive on. All right? No crumbs, Charlie,” Tommy swatted his uncle on the shoulder. 

“Gimme one of the ham ones,” Lucy said, pulling herself halfway into the back. Michael handed her one, and she bit into it gratefully, retreating back outside into the fresh air to follow Tommy to the front of the truck.

“John! Come on!” he called over his shoulder.

“You don’t want one?” Lucy asked around a mouthful. Tommy turned, one hand on the handle to the door, and before she could react, he bent down and took a sizable bite out of her sandwich. “Oi!” she squawked, pulling away and holding it protectively to her chest a moment too late. “Oh, you asshole!”

Tommy grinned and opened the door, stepping aside to let her get in first. She climbed in, taking another bite; laughing when he accepted her offer for more.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Leaning against the railing, Lucy looked down into the pit below to watch the horses while the auctioneer made announcements.

“They’re all so pretty,” she said, quiet enough for only Tommy to hear. He sighed.

“If only we could bring them all home with us, eh?”

She smiled over at him. “We’d need a bigger stable.”

“All right, Tommy, this is her,” Charlie whispered after another announcement from the auctioneer.

Lucy watched as they walked the gray filly out, a stripe of white running along her snout. She was gorgeous. 

The auctioneer was calling for bids, but Lucy ignored him, letting Tommy handle the actual bidding. Eyes scanning the crowd, they landed on a woman across the way. A rich woman, dressed in fine clothes and carrying herself with all the poshness of someone who knew money and knew it well. Her hair was styled in stiff brown curls, eyes brown and…sad. 

She was quite pretty.

She was also one of the people bidding on their horse.

Lucy elbowed Tommy to get his attention, nodding to the woman who was staring at them. His brow quirked as he set his gaze on her, clearly just as intrigued as Lucy was. With every nod to the auctioneer, he shot a glance back over to the woman. Lucy grinned, keeping her eyes trained on the woman attempting to out bid them. When her brown eyes pulled from Tommy to Lucy’s, Lucy cocked her head, watching her with amusement and interest. The counter bids stopped.

Finally, the auctioneer banged the table. “Sold to mister…?”“Thomas Shelby,” Tommy announced in a voice that boomed throughout the entire room. He glanced at the woman across the way, nodding. As if to say good game, before they headed towards the exit. Lucy smiled at her as warmly as she could manage before following him. 

“She was pretty,” she whispered into his ear as they descended the stairs. Tommy shot her a knowing look.

“Yes, she was.”

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Waiting just outside the auctioneer’s office, Lucy tapped her foot rhythmically against the floor, arms crossed as she waited for Tommy.

“I’m not used to being outbid.”

She was startled by the rich, posh accent, looking up to find the woman from the auction staring at her, approaching with the gentle click of heels.

“Sorry,” Lucy said, smiling as she looked her up and down.

“May Carleton,” the woman held out a hand. Lucy shook it. 

“Lucy.”

“Are you Mr. Shelby’s wife?”

She let out a tiny laugh, shaking her head. “No, I’m not his wife. I’m his assistant.” 

“His assistant?” May seemed taken aback.

“We weren’t expecting for anyone else to take such interest in the horse,” Lucy said, leaning up against the wall.

“I train racehorses,” May explained. Lucy grinned.

“Really?”

May nodded.

“All I wanted to do when I was a kid was to work with horses,” she said, wistfully. “You come to these sorts of things often, then?”

“Oh, yes. Sometimes I don’t even bid on anything. I just like to come watch them.”

Lucy nodded. “Well, if you train racehorses then you should stick around, talk to Tommy when he’s done with the auctioneer.”

“Have you been working with Mr. Shelby for long?”

“A few years now, yes.”

May nodded, looking thoughtful. The door opened, and Tommy walked out, tugging his hat back on, heading towards where the boys were gathered.

“Tommy,”  Lucy called, before he could get very far. “Come say hello.”

He turned around and cocked an eyebrow curiously, approaching them.

“You beat us to it,” May said.

“Did I?”

“I was trying to nab a filly for my stud.”

Tommy looked surprised that she knew the lingo regarding horses. Lucy stood beside May and shot him a mischievous grin. She liked this girl. He shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Thomas Shelby from where?” May asked.

He hesitated, as he often did whenever anyone asked questions even bordering on personal. Lucy shot him a look. Do not blow this for us. “From Birmingham,” he finally answered.

Lucy watched anxiously as May introduced herself, trying to fight the urge to fiddle with her rings. 

“I breed racehorses and train them,” May explained as they shook hands. “What is it you do?” May

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

Ugh, Tommy. He could be so charming when he wasn’t being so cagey. Still, May didn’t seem entirely put off. Lucy raised an eyebrow. Maybe she had a thing for bad boys.

From a ways away, Arthur and John had clearly gotten impatient, heckling them to hurry up. They ignored them, Tommy and May still discussing the horse, and potential trainers for her. May pulled out a card, holding it out to him. Tommy took it and tucked it into his inner pocket. May didn’t look perturbed by the boys’ shouting, if anything she looked like she was trying not to laugh. 

“My father knows Mick Hancock. He trained three Ascot winners,” May said. Lucy liked the sound of her voice; it was soothing. 

“So that was your father?”

Thomas, I swear to God I will kick you, she thought at him, shooting him a look and pouting. Tommy’s eyes danced with amusement when they briefly met hers before snapping back to May. As if he knew that his more standoffish approach to the beautiful woman was making Lucy nervous that he would scare her off.

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

Oh. Well, shit. Lucy looked back at Tommy with wide eyes. Well, she supposed that explained the melancholic aura May carried with her, then.

“Tommy! We got to get back to the caravans!” Arthur suddenly yelled. “The chickens, they’re hungry!”

Lucy groaned, dropping her head down. She was going to throw Arthur out of a window, the first chance she got. But May just chuckled at the antics.

“So will you consider me?” she asked. Tommy stared at her, then nodded.

“I will consider you.”

Lucy would have done a celebratory fist pump, had it not likely come off as odd in the moment.

“You still didn’t tell me what you do,” she said before Tommy could rejoin his brothers.

“Oh, I do bad things. But you already know that,” he flashed May a tiny smile before bidding her goodbye. Ah, there was the charmer Lucy knew so well. 

“It was good to meet you, May,” Lucy told her. May smiled.

“You too, Lucy.”

Lucy nodded to her before following Tommy. 

“Right, about bloody time,” Arthur grumbled, he and John continuing to snicker as they began the walk to the exit.  

“She seemed nice,” Lucy said, shooting Tommy a knowing look that he returned, smile smug.

“Yes, she did.”

Arthur and John were blabbering on behind them.

They entered the pit where the horses had been walked out during the auction, the sand covering the floor sinking with the weight of her shoes. The desk where the auctioneer was seated was still there, a man in a gray suit and hat sitting at it. Was there another auction, following the one they’d just been to? It hadn’t seemed like it. Looking up, she spotted two figures on the balcony above. 

Hm. She kept an eye on them. Arthur and John were still talking. Tommy pulled out the keys from his pocket and tossed them to Michael. 

“Here, Michael, you drive.”

“Thomas Shelby?” the man at the table spoke. A mistake, in hindsight. He should have just fired the gun he held in his hand. Thanks to the verbal warning, Arthur had more than enough time to catch him by the arm, forcing him to aim the gun up into the air.

“Tommy!” Arthur shouted, and then the gun went off, bullet firing up to the ceiling. Tommy dove back in surprise. Arthur headbutted the man to the ground. 

Lucy had her gun out of her coat in a flash, eyes trained on the men above them. Men pulling guns from their coats. But not fast enough. She fired upwards twice. Each of the men who had been taking aim at them on the balcony dropped dead. Tommy had scooped up one of the assassin’s guns, raising it as he scanned over the balcony above them with her for any other attackers. 

Arthur was still bellowing, each shouted word punctuated with a punch to the first assassin’s face as Arthur started to beat him savagely.

“Get him off him!” Tommy shouted, still watching the above balcony with her.

Charlie and Curly rushed forward to try to haul Arthur away, struggling. The squelch of blood echoed as Arthur continued to pummel.

“Go help them. I’ll cover the upstairs,” Lucy said, keeping her gun raised and eyes scanning the upper balcony as Tommy rushed over to help. Arthur was groaning, locked in a violent, uncontrollable rage. Tommy had to put him in a headlock in order to drag him back and off of what was left of the would-be assassin. 

Finally, Arthur settled, bloodied knuckles relaxing at his sides while he panted. Tommy let him go, bending over the unconscious, bloody man.

“He’s still breathing.”

“Then he’s lucky,” Lucy still did not take her eyes off the upstairs.

“Don’t get blood on the kid!” Tommy barked, suddenly, as if he, like her, had just realized that Michael was just standing there, staring at the whole scene as it unfolded before him. Tommy ushered Michael back a few steps, away from Arthur. “Michael, you didn’t see a thing. This didn’t happen. All right?” he held out a hand. “Give me the keys.”

Michael didn’t move.

“Michael, give me the keys.”

The kid took a step forward, his eyes steady. “I’m alright to drive.”

Tommy looked at him, then nodded. “All right,” he shoved him lightly by one arm, ushering him to the door. 

“Right, let’s get out of here, sharpish!” John came barreling back in from where he’d been dealing with the other assassins on the ground floor. 

“Luce!”

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” she brought up the rear, keeping them covered until the last possible moment before jogging along with them to the outside, and into the car. She squeezed in between Tommy and Michael in the front seat, holstering her gun and running a hand through her hair, breathing hard as they began to pull out onto the road.

“You alright?” Tommy asked, finger curling under her chin so she was facing him, checking her over for any injuries.

“Yeah. Are you?”

He nodded, throat working as he swallowed, she grasped his hand in hers tightly. In the back, she could hear Arthur groaning softly while John, Curly, and Charlie all tried to bring him back to himself. It was probably for the best that Michael was up in the front with them, rather than back there with a man still half mad with bloodlust. 

The hand holding tightly onto Tommy’s squeezed.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

It was fully dark outside by the time they got back to the office. No one else was there; Lizzie had already gone home for the day. Tommy didn’t even bother taking off his hat or coat as he went to the chair behind his desk and collapsed in it, leaning back with a sigh. Lucy made a beeline to the table containing the alcohol, pouring them both generous glasses of amber. She set one down in front of him, balancing the other in her hand as she settled in his lap, an arm sliding around his shoulders while their heads rested against each other.

“Today was interesting.”

He huffed. She took a gulp of her drink and set it down. 

“May seemed nice.”

“Mhm. She did.”

“Can I see her card?” Lucy asked. Reaching into his pocket, Tommy pulled it out, holding it up in the light for them both to see. Humming, Lucy let her head drop more firmly against his neck, both of them eyeing the card with lazy interest. 

At their same time, both of their gazes shifted to the phone on the corner of the desk.

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[clericofshadows]

I’ve written over 6K words of a hurt/comfort, angsty, grief/morning monster of a zaeed/kaidan fic that takes place after the events of the ME2 prologue and right after take me back to eden and there’s still no end in sight...

not that I’m like, complaining, but damn, I really wanted to work on my regis/kaidan version of the UNC hostages mission with the L2 biotics but I guess this is where I’m at lol

anyway here’s a snippet of what I’m working on:

Kaidan shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. She and I've never been close, but that's mostly due to Regis."

"He was very tight-lipped about his childhood. Not great?"

"He never wanted to be a spacer kid."

"And he joined the Alliance anyway?"

"He did, but he did it on his own terms."  And because I was there to do it with him.

Zaeed chuckled. "I can see that." He crossed his arms against his chest, giving Kaidan a calculated look. "What is it you aren't telling me about him and space?"

Shit. 

Kaidan tossed his shirt on the bed, mingling with Zaeed's clothing. "The last thing Regis wanted was to die in space."

Zaeed widened his eyes. "Fuck."

"And I listened to it," Kaidan admitted, sitting back down on the bed. "I heard every last word, every breath he struggled to take, every plea he had for him to somehow not die in space."

“Wait, you heard him get spaced?  What really happened?”  Zaeed sat down next to him.

“We were hit by an attack from some kind of unknown ship.  Ripped us to shreds damn near instantly.  He ordered me to get off the ship while he grabbed our pilot.  He was able to get our pilot out, but not himself,” Kaidan summarized.  “Regis wasn’t going to leave anyone behind, but I knew all the details of his ‘disaster’ plans, and our pilot disobeyed his orders.”

“How so?”

“Regis was a bit of a pilot himself, at least, when it came to smaller ships and shuttles.  There’s a story I should tell you about the time when he was a teenager and stole a shuttle off his mother’s ship to get to Earth.” Kaidan cleared his throat.  “Anyway, Regis recognized when a situation couldn’t be helped, and wanted our pilot to get himself out alive because there were moments that no good piloting could save a ship.”

And the space above Alchera was one of them.

“Feel free to blast me across the room for even asking this, but do you blame ‘the pilot’ for not abandoning the goddamn ship when he had the chance?” Zaeed asked.

Kaidan laughed mirthlessly. "You read me too well."

"Part of the job. You don't have to answer."  That’s answer enough, was left unsaid.

"No, I might as well tell someone else," Kaidan sighed. "We exchanged some heated words after the fact once we were all 'settled' back on the nearest Alliance station."

"What the hell happened, Joker? Why wasn't he with you?"

"There was another blast right when he got me in the shuttle."

"Did Regis have to drag your ass in the pod?  You knew he was going to come for you!"

Ashley came up behind him. "Kaidan—"

"Don't 'Kaidan' me!  He knew what the fucking plans were and still stayed put!  I don't care what you have to say Joker, Regis—"

"My piloting ensured as many of you could get the hell off the ship!  I know that Regis died while saving me, but don't go blaming me for something that I couldn't have controlled!"

"Couldn't have controlled?  No, you just couldn't stand being wrong about anything involving the Normandy!  But it doesn't matter anymore, now does it?  You might've saved the ship a few precious seconds but Regis didn't get any!"

Ashley stepped between them, interrupting whatever Joker was going to say next. "This is not the time to be fighting!  God, it's a terrible day when I'm the fucking mediator. Joker, you knew what the orders were. Both of you, walk away before things get more ruined than they already are."

"You aren't going to call out Alenko for prioritizing his boyfriend over the rest of the crew?" 

Kaidan felt his biotic corona roar to life. "Go fuck yourself Joker, and remember that Regis died for you!  He was never going to leave anyone behind!  And he chose you."

Zaeed listened to the story, never betraying anything with his expression about his own thoughts and feelings on the matter. 

"We haven't talked since, not even during the damn funeral.  All I've heard is that he's grounded now, and with his record, I'm not sure if he'll fly anything like the Normandy ever again," Kaidan finished. "I'm not proud of how I reacted, but I'm not yet ready to apologize for anything that I said."

"No need to defend yourself to me, but it sounds like you at least have a good friend there in that Ashley."

He nodded. "She tore me a new one, and I don't blame her for it. But I had to know."

"Regis once told me he felt like he finally found himself a home on that ship," Zaeed said after a short moment of silence. "Even if he did bitch about some of the crew."

"Like who?"

"That pilot you were talking about. Some of the younger Marines.  The asari you rescued," Zaeed listed off. "But he seemed to like everyone for the most part. Would've loved to see him in his element.  God, I should've brought out the goddamn whiskey for this talk."

Same group Regis would always complain to him about. Kaidan hadn't thought about T'soni since the Saren mission, not really caring where she went after the battle of the Citadel. 

Regis prioritized her mission last, and he never really formed a bond with her in the same way with all the other crew members and ground teams on the ship. He saw her as a liability, and openly refused to let her meld with him. 

Honestly, Kaidan wouldn't have allowed it either if it were him in that situation. It still shocked him that Regis let Shiala in, but that was far more dire in comparison.  Especially since Regis was able to supply enough detail for T'soni to figure out where the Conduit lied purely from his descriptions. 

"There's still time."

"Nah, even I can admit that would've made things worse right now. It's too damn fragile right now."

To hell with it.

Kaidan leaned in and claimed Zaeed's mouth with his own, pressing in against him and making him fall back on the bed. Warm skin rubbing against each other, feeling every inch of the man underneath. 

A feeling he's yearned for again for too long. 

Zaeed made a pleased noise, one hand grasped in Kaidan's curls, the other slowly teasing down his front.  Kaidan joined his hand on top of Zaeed's, guiding him down to his zipper as he started to kiss down his neck. 

"Anything changed since our last encounter?" Zaeed asked, pressing lightly against his hardening cock. 

"No, not really," Kaidan said, hovering next to his ear. "But I've taken to an even greater liking to being in charge."

"That doesn't surprise me.  Want to order me around, be in control?" Zaeed chuckled, but his expression was serious. 

Kaidan pulled back slightly so he could face him. "No, not today." He maneuvered himself so that he was leaning against the pillows, switching their positions for the moment. 

It would be so easy to say yes, to claim and that semblance of control he so desperately wanted to have right now. 

But not yet. Not when things felt so delicate between them. 

Not when the ghost of Regis still lingered.

[zeformulaeater]

Hey if you’re underage you shouldn’t be in this type of discourse. It really changes you. For your own sake I hope you stay away from that. I went down that rabbit hole before and it made me both chronically online and unable to differentiate between fantasy and reality.

I’m worried about you, op. I hope you take this to heart. No kid should be involved with social media. I have no idea how to talk to people face to face because of the internet. It’s better to talk to people at school than searching through discourse tags. Please stay safe.

I’m anti pro shipping. 2. Man.. if your worried so much., why not just. Not give me attention? 3. I use this as a coping method because I already fucking can’t due to number 4. I have severe adhd and anxiety! Diagnosed as well. My meds do fucking nothing. 5. I don’t really care., it makes me feel safe and better to FINNALy get in a fight after my bum fuck life get up.. I sound like an edgy teen.. Mostly cuz I am, but maybe, just Maybe. This edgy teen has issues and is as a coping method. Now. Politely. Get off my blog. I don’t want this situation. I don’t like this. I didn’t want that threat, I didn’t want any of it.

[youdontknowwheretogofromhere]

saturday, october 5, 2024 11:01 pm

i have a headache and i want to complain so

I’m in a really bad mood kinda and i have this shitty headache and my brothers in the hospital and i can’t listen to music without getting upset but I’m uncomfortable cuz i really want to listen to something

so i live with my sister and her kids right? and she in the middle of getting a divorce but like they still live together. so like they fight all the time and niggas(i don’t usually use this online but i’m mad as fuck so who cares anyways[did i ever say i was black?]) always end up getting involved and her fuck ass stupid babydaddy is yelling at me and doing all this bs. i need that guy to die. this nigga got drunk last night and cuz my sister didn’t want to endanger her kids she called the police, tell me why he woke up the next morning and didn’t even remember it happened? seriously fuck this guy, i HATE him HATE HATE HATE. this nigga makes me feel like am from i have no mouth and i must scream cuz it’s just pure hate. and then this guy is saying we have to move out in two weeks even though last week he said the end of the year when he knows we don’t have any money and my brother is literally in the fucking hospital

fuck anyway. i was gonna make a post the day he had to go but i didn’t feel like writing anything but now i can’t sleep and I’m trying to draw and I’m pissed off with a headache so. we was feeling really sick for like a week or since like monday or saturday right? and he like couldn’t stand or move or get up and so thursday my mom was like, “okay we need to get you to the hospital because this isn’t what colds are like”. so he goes to the hospital and they diagnose him with chronic appendicitis and he has to get emergency surgery. he’s been in the hospital ever since and i just visited him today and stayed for 6 hours or something like that. it was from like 11 to 5 pm. he’s not reallly getting better. the surgery went well and all but he hasn’t been able to eat and anytime he eats he throws up so they keep extending his stay like every day. i know he’s gonna be okay i just feel really bad for him cuz like he’s in a lot of pain

okay next thing. so i struggle with like feeling like no one cares about me or anything i do and i feel really lonely all the time right? and so every time someone doesn’t respond to me or they stop messaging or talking to me for a few hours/days or they start talking to me less, i feel like they hate me and they’re trying not to be mean and hoping i take the hint and just fuck off and leave them alone. and of course, because i’ve been working on myself for the past couple of months, i’ve been working on this too and i’ve gotten better and tried not to jump to conclusion. but, i have this issue with my bf(idefk anymore bro T-T) so like he’s just got a job(YAY!! i was so happy for him when he told me) so maybe that’s what he’s busy with but like remember when i said he doesn’t message me unless i message him first? now even when i message him he won’t reply for hours or he will then i’ll respond then he’ll stop talking . and he’s probably genuinely busy or something i just wish he’d tell me but i don’t want to bring it up because i don’t want to seem like some clingy annoying idiot and i don’t like bothering people so idk what to do. and like i really like this guy, i think about him all the time and it’s so fucking lame but i enjoy thinking about him and we don’t talk as much and we haven’t called in weeks and i should just kill myself. sorry that isn’t funny. anyways, i’ve been trying not to take it too hard and telling myself that he still likes me and he wasn’t using me for anything and that he’s just busy, but i think I’m like super paranoid or something and I’m still super freaked about it.

i just realized these are three really long paragraphs about shit no one cares about. sometimes i really want to kill myself. and i don’t think anyone would be too upset. they’d come to my funeral, they’d eat, then they’d forget my name until the eulogy and i would just be gone. i wish any cared or pretend to.

sorry. I’m being really dramatic. i just feel horrible today. thank you for reading this. i love you a lot. I’m glad you care, even a little, just enough to sit through my stupid ramblings. i hope you’re laughing or maybe crying or feeling pity or anything at all. i hope my words cause a reaction in you. i hope i do anything at all. i love you. it’s true, pure love. so much love inside of my heart and if you care at all i will give it all to you. i love you.

11:28 pm

i keep mourning myself

[fairydust-stuff]

Revy & Ash

Its 12 am when Revy finds Yut Lung in the basement with Ash. That kid realy seems to have a death wish.  He’s chained to the wall with double locks arms and legs because the little prince refused to put him in a stress position! 

“ Why are you here girlie?” 

Yut Lung smirks  “ Soon you’ll have to give yourself up to save that Japanese boy” 

“ Ok” 

“ Still not going to reconsider then? You really are willing to give up the freedom you fought for” Yut Lung clenched his fists. 

“ Why are you so upset, Yau si? This is what you wanted.” Ash paused  “ I won’t forget this one day i’ll come for you….bastard” 

“ So you will keep your promise to me….the one you made that night at The old perverts mansion” Yut Lung smiles. 

“ You won’t like it….i’ll make sure you don’t….for Shorter….for Eiji!” Ash grabs his hair and Revy rushes into the room and points her gun at him. “ Let go or i’ll shoot your god dam dick off” 

Ash’s eyes blaze as he releases Yut Lung. 

Revy notices Yut Lung looks a little chilled  good maybe Ash’s unspoken threat knocked some sense into the kid.  

“ Tramp stamp why are you down here?” Revy sighed “ You need to gloat send one of your  maids to do it or Clinglish” 

“ I’m sorry for the trouble…” Yut Lung said then shuffles out of the room looking pale. 

Revy tosses a pizza box at Ash. 

“ Not that you deserve it” 

“ Hey old lady!” 

“ There’s nothing wrong with that fucking pizzia….you anorexic  whore!” 

“ I won’t eat it” 

“ How about I shove it, down your god dam throat!” Revy retorts. 

“ Fucking bitch” Ash mutters. 

“ Fine don’t eat, i’ll be easier to transport you, if you don’t have the strength to struggle” 

“  I won’t fight, not with Eiji’s life on the line” 

“ Ugh! If do on about your little love affair, I’ll puke on you” 

“ I’ve seen the way….you look at that Rock guy” Ash smirked 

“ Don’t you  think about it…” Revy said calmly. Feeling a farmilar chilly rage overtake her at the thought. 

“ Maybe you should remove my dick, it would piss off Baldy” 

“ Trying to get me to feel sorry for you, what a joke. You reek,  ” 

“ He keeps trying to hurt Eiji” 

Revy laughed   

“  Honestly……..I’m just here to make sure you don’t fuck things up for everyone else. You think your some of action hero from a movie fighting for your love.  Well I got news for you Wildcat….your not even half as good as you and that delusional fuck think.”  

Ash snorted  “ Underestimating me, how unusual?” 

“ Oh you got skill don’t get me wrong. Whoever trained you was good, but you never improved your technique.” 

“ Baldy had me gaining territories at twelve” Ash said smugly. “ I grew and I learned” 

“ Against boys  with zero assassin training.  As someone who grew up on fucking food stamps.Your gang wars must of been a real joke”  Revy retorted. 

Ash looked thrown as if he’d never thought of this. 

“ What did your high IQ never register you were given the advantage from the begaining?” Revy mocked  

“ I never asked for any of it…I just wanted to be free.” 

“ If you waited a few more years. You could of killed that moron and taken over.  Then you could of done whatever the hell you wanted.” she paused 

 “ But you had to go on some revenge quest and fuck everyone ever involved with the drug trade! Roanapour  may be a shit hole and the home of the walking dead but for some of us its the only thing left” 

“ Did you put up with the bastard who stuck his dick in you?” Ash snarled 

“ Fuck you!” 

‘ Fuck you and everyone else who wants me to go back to him! Like it was easy being in those videos! His pet what a joke, I was his dam toilet” 

“ Now you have a boyfriend willing to be your Knight in shining armour and take you away from all this. So cry me a fucking river!  I bet your tourist boyfriend isn’t even real. At least not the image you have in your head.” 

“ Eiji is the one person in this world, whose not affected by it.” 

“ I bet you don’t even know the guy” 

“ Do you know that shady asshole Rock?” 

“ You don’t know shit about us” 

Ash smirked “ I know that guy has false eyes” 

“ Yeah and I know your little boy toy tried to hurt Yut Lung to exscape multiple times. So your whole  motherfucker wouldn’t hurt a fly view its bullshit. You think he’s innocent….so detached from your world. But, secretly I bet he gets off on the thrill. ” 

Ash lunges at her. 

Revy sidesteps him.

“ At least Rock wants to change things…. …….what does your dumbfuck Japanese tourist want?” 

“ Nothing, he wants nothing” Ash smiled serenely “ And that’s what I love about him” 

Revy laughed  “ What a load of shit! You just got your head so far up your ass. You cann’t even register your tourist's desires. So much for love….” 

Ash looked frustrated by the things she was saying. 

“ Then again, guys like you cann’t even connect to other people, you think you're so fucking above the rest of us” 

“ I’ve met people like you in prison. Rapid dogs so broken they only know how to kill and they enjoy it” Ash said with disgust. “ No matter what I did….I never sank to your level” 

“ Shut up!” …

[starlingsrps]

sister mary cosmopolitan explains it all.

there’s a smudge of lipstick on nell’s chin when she finally gets in from what was supposed to be a quick walk with captain holland.

walk. sure. some fucking walk.

helen is at evening chapel and should be back soon. mary had thought about biking to town to have a drink and a laugh but was pmsing in a way that had her ready to strangle the next man who asked her a question. she stayed back to wash and set her hair instead. she’d been thinking about painting her nails when nell got back, redirecting her attention.

“you’ve got,” mary taps her own chin and holds out her cold cream. “might want that off before helen gets back.”

“oh.” nell flushes adorably and takes the jar. “thank you.”

mary can’t help but tease her a little. “have a nice walk?”

her skin slips from pink to red and she mumbles something about it being a nice clear night before disappearing into their tiny bathroom.

if nell was getting involved with anyone else, she’d have more cause for concern. if it were hatcher or any of the other jackals, she’d have shipped nellhome in a box herself. as it is, holland is just nell with a dick. he’s so wholesome, she’d be amazed if he were capable of an impure thought but ever since he got back from that conference with halstead, their little evening walks have lasted longer and longer and nell has been coming back with a half glazed look on her face that mary knows a little too well from personal experience.

she doesn’t have to ask and she knows it. she can keep her mouth shut and her nose in her own business but…christ, it’s nell. mary feels like an awkward parent and then remembers she’s older than nell but not by that much - an aunt, maybe, but that doesn’t make her feel any better. it’s not that she can’t talk sex - she does, extravagantly with the other girls - but nell is such an absolute innocent that mary finds herself struggling to translate it in a way that won’t scare her off. “you and holland are being…careful, right?”

nell’s face, covered in cold cream, pokes out of the bathroom. “careful how?” she pauses in thought. “oh, i mean we’re not taking out an ad for brass or anything but-“

she’s going to kill herself. there’s no way she can ever be a parent. “i meant like a condom.”

“like a…oh my god,” she ducks back inside and mary hears the sounds of her hastily wrapping up her grooming. she comes out again with a clean face and with her uniform folded over her arm.”i - we-“

“look, holland seems to know what he’s doing and i know you can turn a man down but i don’t want any curly headed little accidents to fuck you both up.”

nell has now blushed so violently that she’s almost purple. “he’s been very respectful,” she mumbles, hanging up her clothes. 

when she turns around, there’s a hickey the size of a silver dollar on her collarbone revealed by the strap of her slip and mary sighs. “is he a gentleman or a vampire?”

nell glances down, claps a hand over it, and when she looks back at mary, her eyes are wary and shuttered, the color fading from her cheeks. “he’s a - i’m sorry.”

mary recognizes the stiff, hunched set of her shoulders and careful look on her face, the same as when helen starts getting a little too fire and brimstone. whatever church she went to as a kid did a number on her and mary is suddenly grateful for her religious instruction being half assed at best. “the fuck are you apologizing to me for?” mary sighs again and drops her head in her hands. “i’m not mad. i’m just impressed holland has it in him.”

nell thaws a little, pulls out her nightgown and ducks behind the screen to change.

mary decides that she’s going to fight nell’s mother if she ever gets the chance. she’s had that gut feeling for months and now she knows she’ll wipe the floor with mrs. howard and have a great time doing it. “look: does he make you feel good?”

nell hesitates long enough that mary wonders if she’s going to have to put holland on that same list of people to fight but when she comes back around the screen, she’s fighting back a smile and nods.

“then fuck it. god’s got other shit to worry about.” nell laughs and sits cross-legged on her bed, pulling her pillow into her lap. her bed faces mary’s and it’s another reason she’s not looking forward to the new girl. it’s like a sleepover. “if he’s treating you well and you’re being safe, then don’t worry about it.”

she sighs, a soft and dreamy little sigh and mary hates that she’s a tiny, tiny bit jealous. not of holland - he’s adorable but mary knows she’d eat him alive and use his bones to file her nails - but of that early relationship shimmer where everything is perfect and possible. “he’s really great, mary.”

“good, i’m glad. but you’re not getting out of this.” she leans over and roots in her nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom from her stash. she holds it in front of her like a piece of evidence at a trial. “this is a condom.”

“i know what a condom is, mary.”

“thank god. that saves me at least five minutes.” she fumbles again. “have you…used one before?”

nell clears her throat and punches the pillow in her lap. “um, well. no. but we’re…slow.”

“yeah, he doesn’t seem like the type to fuck you against a tree out of nowhere.” she tosses it onto nell’s mattress. “i’ve got more in my bottom drawer. help yourself but don’t leave it empty.”

she mumbles a thank you and turns the little foil square over in her fingers.

“if anyone, holland or otherwise, tells you he doesn’t want to use one, you sock him right in the nose and get the hell out of there, got it?”

“i got it.”

mary doesn’t know where to go next. there’s condom application, anatomy, positioning and she’s not sure where to start that won’t make either of them die from embarrassment. she’ll have to see what she can do about some dirty novels. hers have been loaned out to a few of the wacs but she can easily get them back. all she has right now is a trashy little number called silken sally without much of a plot but at least has a few scenes with a woman on top. that’ll be good for nell, at the very least, as long as she doesn’t think too hard about the plot. she tosses it next to the condom. “here, read this. there’s some good bits you’ll like.”

nell thumbs through it and stops at random. she reads for a moment and her eyebrows fly up. “oh! oh my god, people like that?”

with no way of knowing exactly which scene it is, mary shrugs. “sure. you might if you give it a shot.”

helen comes in, bringing a cold wind and burst of mist with her. “oh, am i interrupting?” she asks, eyes darting to the condom on the mattress and book in nell’s hands.

mary meets her gaze and shakes her head slowly. she likes helen must fine, contrary to popular belief. she’s about as serious as a heart attack but she’s a work horse with a strong, steady heart. she’ll be a great nun when she goes home but right now, mary needs her to get the hell out of here so she can explain to nell what and where her clitoris is.

“i’ll do another lap,” helen says, looping her scarf back around her neck and leaving again.

[nickambrose]

“Oh fuck off.” Nick uttered, eyes narrowing as Emre bolstered himself by flying out offhand compliments meant to cause catastrophic damage. Falling right for the trap that was laid out for him, Nick brought a hand to his face exasperated by it all. There was a sad kernel of truth in Emre’s words. Ana was a little younger than he was now, and that was the real tragedy of it all. Something he’d never really seen in his angst-fuelled youth. Even now, Nick had done a good job of turning a blind eye to that. Focusing on feeding them all sweet highs. The wedding. His achievements. He, himself, and none of the pitfalls. No self-destruction.

“Mmph…right so jinn are good, but I was brought up believe souls moved on y’know…” Nick gestured with his hands. “They didn’t come back. No, it’s definitely not old memories, or not exactly.” They were an interesting pair, Emre’s ex and his mum, another enlightening moment that he couldn’t quite read her. Not in the way he’d grown accustomed to for those he surrounded himself with. She wasn’t so much old memories rehashed, but so totally detached to him that it was hard to mesh back together. Maybe that was a little bit pessimistic. 

“Space dust. Well Emre tell you what theories like that should really get your name written down in history, enlightening. Fascinating.” Nick drawled, dry and with a sliver of a smile. Melody interjected loud enough for them all to hear about shagging, and that was about as much as Nick needed to learn about Emre’s sex life. It was a rather messy cross-section of life spliced together for a higher chaos.

‘Oh he was–’ Ana was cut off, and in some ways Nick was a little relieved. What was there to say? Melody started spouting off about death, a train, cage fights, he tuned out hearing nothing but fast-paced static until she sung his name. Nick turned back to her, a sly grin. “Of course it is, who wouldn’t want to cut loose at end of the world?” So much for uplifting, Melody turned back to Ana, with another question.

‘Well…’ She looked adrift. ‘Nick’s father and I were going away for a weekend, I had an art show and I believe a lorry went straight into the side of us but if I’m honest it’s all just a smidge hazy. It was a long time ago and Nick well you were such a little kid then, a child.’ His mum seemed to reappoint Emre, a calm smile even though there was tremors under the surface. ‘He was such a shy little kid, my darling angel. I’m so proud of him for coming so far. And well, Melody it sounds like you lived quite the life. I do think, unfortunately, that you are dead love.’

“Well, this is charming.” Nick chimed, eager to side-step to another topic that didn’t involve his youth. “Emre I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us, keeping Melody such a secret. I don’t think you’ve even ever mentioned the lovely lady.” 

"Obvi it's real. You're seeing what I'm seeing, innit. Your mum's fit, by the way," Emre commented offhandedly. Nick's 'ghost' mum could've been half-decapitated and guts spilling out, and Emre would've still called her 'fit'. After all, this was about annoying Nick, nothing more.

Emre kissed his teeth. "Not demons exactly. Jinn could be good, could be evil..." He glanced over at Nick's mum, and Melody. Melody more tentative and expecting cruelty from a woman so posh. "Isn't exactly like they's old memories replaying," Emre mused, watching Melody's reactions to Nick's mum. Fascinated, really. She was real, but not alive. Or she was a jinn that believed it was Melody. He forced his gaze back to Nick.

"They're here to bother us? Fuck with us? Island's doing? Might - " Emre thought about Walid, and their worship of Flower Tower. "Oi! Might be, erm, time-traveling! The teleports and...electric...erm, misfeed. Space dust..." Emre huffed. "Fucking hell, mate, I don't know."

"It's alright, innit? Could do this." Melody replyied to Nick's mum, perhaps a bit too eager to get on mum's good side. She giggled. "Haven't had a drink though have I. No one's offered -" She threw a glare at Emre; like a good boyfriend, Emre rolled his eyes. "And what's the shagging gonna be like - oop! I mean, erm. Soz, ma'am, no offense and that."

Melody beamed (or rather hummed, like an old LCD tv) at being called 'lovely' by the posh bint, and Emre smiled wanly at mum's question. "I'm sort of an organizer around here, Mrs Nick's Mum," he airily replied. "Mrs Nick's Mum, can I ask you a question? What was little Nicholas like as a little one then? I've been dying to know but your Nicholas here, he's rather shy, isn't he."

"I'm not dead!" Melody protested to Nick, then sided with Nick's mum. "I mean we - we're not dead! Or...well I suppose I am, now that I think about it. A train fell on my head, Emmy. Whole bloody thing just toppled right on me and that was it. Done for. I was doing quite well for myself too. I had a new gig after London fell, didn't I. Bookie accounting for cage fights, in the Underground. Told you I had brains, you're the daft one between us innit. Oh but the cage nights was proper lush, you would've loved it Emmy. You too, Nick! This club yours? Oh it's brilliant," Melody gushed happily, looking back at Nick's mum. "How'd you reckon you died, luv?"