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all-the-things-2020 · 5 months ago

Text

Rocky Mountain Ride

Pairing: Joel Miller x gender neutral Reader

Rating: R for some vague smut near the end

Word Count: 3800

This was supposed to be a quick drabble for the Pedro Scouts Summer Camp Talent Show, but of course, I had to create a backstory and add some feels because I’m me. I did my best to make Reader generic. No gender is implied, no physical characteristics are described (except that it’s made clear that Joel is bigger and broader than Reader but that’s pretty much a given, lol). Even the smutty bit at the end is pretty vague … this is about YOU so let your imagination fill in the blanks however you like.

@goodwithcheese

The first thing you had noticed when you arrived at Jackson was the horses. A horseback patrol had picked you up and brought you into town and your relief at being safe had run a very close race with your elation at being able to touch a horse. You’d loved them all your life but never had much chance to be around them.

The second thing you had noticed was Joel Miller. His brother’s wife was sort of the de facto mayor of the community, so you’d met him right away. He looked somber but damn was he handsome! Everyone had told you he had a reputation for “having done some stuff” in the past, but you saw the way he watched over his adopted daughter Ellie, and how he doted on his brother’s baby when he thought no one was looking. Plus, he knew how to rock a flannel shirt.

All winter, you’d admired Joel from afar. You had plenty on your plate getting settled into the Jackson community. Everyone had a role to play and it took some time to find your ideal niche. Of course, you’d volunteered to help at the stables, and no one would ever turn down an offer to muck stalls, so that was one of your assigned chores.

Lots of people came by the stables. Some to get a horse to take out on patrol, but others just for the soothing presence of the animals. There were chickens and goats and cows and sheep and assorted other barnyard critters in town, but the horses were a focal point. You got to know Ellie, who liked to visit the foal who was quickly growing up and getting more mischievous every day. And you saw Joel and his brother Tommy quite often, since they rode patrol on a regular basis.

You loved all the horses, but the two draft/Quarter cross geldings Chester and Arthur were your favorites. They were brothers, Chester the elder by one year. Stout, kind-hearted chestnuts, they always welcomed you to the barn with a whicker and a nudge of their muzzle as they gently begged for treats.

Winter was tough. Mud everywhere, winter coats that needed to be brushed out, hay running low, but you had made it through and now it was springtime. There was fresh grass in the pastures, the horses were glossy and fat, and the days were longer.

One morning, as you were brushing Chester, you felt a presence behind you. A quick glance confirmed it was Joel. You could always tell when he was near, because of that embarrassing fluttery feeling deep in your stomach.

”He’s lookin’ good,” Joel said.

“He is,” you replied. “Getting back that weight he lost over the winter.”

”You ride?”

”No,” you admitted. “Always wanted to learn but we lived in the city and I could never afford lessons or anything. I got to ride a few times, on vacation, but that’s all. Other than pony rides when I was a little kid.” You knew you were babbling but you couldn’t help yourself. Joel’s brown eyes were focused on you as you spoke and you didn’t want him to stop looking at you.

”There’s a place Tommy and Maria want scouted out,” he said. “Not too far up in the mountains. Might be a nice place to take the kids in summer, get them out of town for a bit. Sort of a summer camp.” He shuffled his feet in the dirt. “Thought you might like to ride up there with me tomorrow. Kind of a reward for working so hard all winter keeping these critters clean and healthy.”

”I’d love to! But I’ll have to see if I can get someone to cover for me … I work in the dining hall during lunch.”

Joel smiled softly. “I already talked to Maria about it. She’s got you covered.”

”Okay, then,” you said, hoping you weren’t smiling too broadly.

”See you tomorrow mornin’, eight o’clock sharp,” Joel said with a nod of his head. If he’d been wearing a cowboy hat, he’d have tipped it to you. Say what you would about his past, the man was polite.

****************************************

You had hardly slept a wink and you were yawning your head off the next morning. “Why don’t you go back to bed and hit the late seating of breakfast?,” your roommate said.

”Can’t,” you replied. “I’ve got to meet someone.”

”Someone with the initials JM?”

”Shut up. And yes. But it’s business.”

”Sure it is.”

At seven forty-five, you were already outside the stable. The early patrol had ridden out just after dawn and the remaining horses were enjoying their morning hay. The air was brisk but there was a promise of warmth to come.

”Ready?” Joel was wearing your favorite green flannel shirt under his suede jacket. There was lots of Western wear available in Jackson, a legacy of its life as a tourist destination before the outbreak.

”Yes.” You couldn’t trust yourself to say much more than that, since the sight of Joel all cowboyed up took your breath away.

You pulled Chester and Arthur out of their stalls and groomed them while Joel assembled the tack. He was much faster than you at saddling and bridling the horses, so you stood back and admired him as he worked. All too soon, both horses were ready to go.

”I’ll help you up,” Joel said, holding Arthur’s stirrup steady. “Need to adjust the leathers for you anyway. Got my saddle already set.”

Even with the mounting block, getting into the saddle was awkward for you, and it didn’t help that Joel put his hands on your hips to give you a boost. You hoped the burning feeling in your face didn’t show as he casually moved your leg out of the way so he could shorten the stirrup leather a notch. When he grabbed your ankle to put your foot into the stirrup, you had to look away. His hands were so big, so strong …

”There you go,” he said, patting your calf as he fixed the other stirrup. “All set. Just give me a second and we’ll head out.”

He swung easily into the saddle and you must have made a noise, because he smiled at you. “It just takes practice, darlin’. You’ll get there.” You smiled nervously, happy that he’d misunderstood your little yelp as a sign of envy at his ease in mounting the horse and not an appreciation of his ass in those jeans.

The horses walked slowly through town, Chester and Joel leading the way. Heads swiveled as you passed by and you were careful to sit up straight and look like you knew what you were doing.

“Have fun!” Ellie yelled, waving her hand at you and giggling to her friends as they walked to school.

“We’re workin’, kid,” Joel yelled back.

“Yeah, work it, old man!” There were some hoots and hollers and Joel shook his head, muttering something you couldn’t hear. Your face went hot again but fortunately Joel couldn’t see you.

The clip clop of hooves on pavement softened to the gentle thump of hooves on dirt as you left town. The guards on the wall gave you a mock salute as you passed through the gates and for the first time in a long while, you were outside the perimeter.

”We’re perfectly safe,” Joel said, turning in his saddle. “Patrol is out and there are lookouts on the outer boundary. Ain’t nothing out here scarier than a grizzly bear.” He patted the rifle that was sheathed on his saddle.

“There was a time the prospect of a bear would have scared the shit out of me,” you said.

Joel laughed, reining Chester back so he could ride side by side with you. “All a bear can do is eat you,” he said. His face fell. “Who’d have thought there was something worse than getting eaten by a wild animal?”

You rode in silence for a while, only the plodding of the horses’ hooves and the occasional snort as they cleared dust from their nostrils. “So, how far is this meadow?,” you asked when the silence had stretched too thin.

”About an hour’s ride,” Joel said. “We follow that creek up.” He pointed toward a line of trees just ahead. “Not too far but the trail gets a bit steep. Hang onto that saddle horn once we head up.” He winked and you had to look away for a moment.

Joel wasn’t much of a talker, but he kept up a leisurely commentary on the landscape, pointing out spots where deer came down to feed, a stretch of open land where you couldn’t let your horse gallop because of all the squirrel holes, and areas where it might be possible to expand the town. “Maria’s got plans,” he said as the horses waded the creek to reach the trail on the far side. “But she’s cautious. Takin’ things slow. We need more folks to do a lot of it, and she ain’t letting anyone in without checking them out first.”

”I’m glad I passed muster,” you said.

”So am I.”

************************************************

Joel hadn’t been kidding about the trail getting steep. You had managed to stay in the saddle but you’d had a death grip on the horn and almost had to hug Arthur’s neck a couple of times as he charged uphill.

“You still with me?” Joel chuckled as Arthur heaved himself up a particularly steep pitch.

”Yeah,” you said. “Barely.”

”Good, ‘cause your reward is in sight.” He pulled Chester off the trail so you could see past him.

The meadow opened up ahead of you. Flat as a pancake except where it gently sloped up on the sides, the floor of the little valley was emerald green with fresh grass. A few yellow flowers were scattered around and there was a patch of something purple off to one side.

”Still a bit early for flowers,” Joel said. “Tommy said come June or July this place will look like heaven.” He tapped Chester with his heels and rode into the meadow. “It’s wet along the creek but up on that bench it’s drier. Our job is to find a spot where we can build a cabin.”

”It’s beautiful,” you said. Arthur took advantage of your distraction to snatch a mouthful of grass.

”Keep his head up,” Joel said. “We’ll let them graze soon enough. It’s bad manners for him to eat with a bit in his mouth.”

You rode toward the bench, a slightly higher area on the south side of the meadow. Joel slid easily out of the saddle and dropped Chester’s reins. “Be careful getting down,” he said as he walked toward you. “You’re gonna feel about two feet tall when your boots hit the ground.”

You did your best to emulate his dismount, but almost fell as you dropped from Arthur’s back. Fortunately, Joel was there to steady you, his broad hands against your shoulders. “Not too bad for a beginner,” he said.

He was right about feeling short; after an hour looking at the world from the saddle, suddenly everything felt much taller to you. Joel quickly untacked both horses and they wandered into the meadow in search of the juiciest grazing.

”Won’t they run away?,” you asked.

Joel shook his head. “They know they’ve got it good with us. Besides, they ain’t leaving this meadow. Green grass, fresh water, and clear sight lines. This place is horse heaven.”

He pulled a small notebook and pencil out of his jacket pocket. “I gotta take some notes, but you can just relax, stretch out those stiff muscles.” He strolled slowly along the bench, scribbling in the notebook that looked ridiculously tiny in his big hands. “I was a contractor �� before.” He said, his voice falling on the last word. Most people did that when they said that word. Before. So much was contained in one little word.

”So you’re going to be in charge of building this cabin?” You followed him, partly because walking did help ease the muscles that had stiffened while you were riding, partly because you just liked being near him.

”Guess so,” he said with a shrug. “Never built a log house before, but Tommy said there’s a couple of folks who’ve worked on them before so it shouldn’t be too hard.” He squinted at the ground and jotted something down. “I’m gonna be a while. You don’t have to follow me around. You’ll get bored.”

”I’ll get bored just sitting,” you reply. “Tell me about what you’re doing. I’ve never known a contractor before.”

He laughed and started explaining what he was looking for. Your mind tried to wrap around drainage and slopes and substrate and other terms you’d heard before but had always taken for granted. At one point, Joel shed his jacket, then unbuttoned his flannel shirt to reveal a faded grey t-shirt beneath. “Gettin’ warm,” he commented as he hung his jacket on a tree limb.

”Yeah,” you said, taking off your own jacket. It wasn’t just the sun and the exercise that was warming you up, though. It was Joel. His broad shoulders and tight ass were constantly in front of you as you followed him like a duckling.

“That’s about all I can do right now,” he said after a good hour or more of criss-crossing the bench. “But it looks feasible. Next time, I’ll bring up a crew and we can do some measuring.”

”Can I ask you something?,” you said as he headed back toward where you’d left the tack. He nodded. “Why’d you bring me? You could have done this alone, or brought one of the building crew with you.”

He stopped walking and turned to you, one hip cocked out. “Two reasons,” he said. “First, Tommy’d kill me if I went out by myself. And then when he was done, Maria’d kill me all over again. And Ellie would take care of anything that’s left.” He paused, his head tilted to the side as he cooly appraised you.

”That explains why you didn’t come alone,” you said. “But why me?”

He dropped his eyes a bit. “I asked you because … I didn’t want any witnesses.”

Instantly, you remembered every rumor you’d heard about him, how he was ruthless, a killer, had done bad things back in the QZ and even before that. “Um … witnesses?,” you managed to squeak

”In case you rejected me,” he said, ducking his head and scratching at the back of his neck. “Look, it’s been a long time since I … not much dating going on when you’re trying to survive … I’m a bit rusty.”

”Are you trying to ask me out on a date?” Relief flooded your body and you had to try very hard not to laugh. Joel would definitely take it the wrong way.

”Um, yeah,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But you know how it is back in town. Everyone all up in everyone else’s business. If I’d asked you there and you said no, word would get round.”

”Well, the answer is yes,” you said. “So you didn’t have to haul me all the way up the side of a mountain. Although the view is very nice.”

”It certainly is,” he said softly, his eyes on you.

“And a horseback ride is a very romantic first date,” you said, letting your eyes roam over his body.

He took a step closer. “So if this is officially a date, does that mean I can kiss you?”

”Since the date’s going well, absolutely.”

He closed the gap between you and slid his hand to the back of your head. You both hesitated a second before leaning in. Your eyes closed as his lips met yours, and for a long moment there was nothing else in the world but the two of you. One kiss led to another and then your hand crept under the back of his t-shirt.

”Whoa, slow down, darlin’,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “We can’t be doing that out here. It’s not safe. Gotta keep our wits about us.”

”Sorry,” you said, smoothing his t-shirt back down. “But … it’s safe back in Jackson, right?”

His eyes widened in surprise and his face broke into a genuine smile. “That’s very true,” he said. “So what say we have some lunch and then head back to town?”

You sat on the grass and ate the sandwiches and dried fruit from your saddlebags, then Joel whistled for the horses, who came ambling across the meadow. While he tacked them back up, you gathered a small bouquet of flowers. “For Ellie,” you said when you presented them to him. “You can’t come back empty handed.”

”She’s not exactly the flowers type of girl,” he said skeptically.

”I know,” you said with a laugh. “That’s why it’s so funny.”

The ride back was leisurely. The horses had full bellies and so did you and Joel. No one was in a hurry to get back to reality, although the idea of getting your hands under Joel’s shirt again kept you from feeling too dismayed as the walls of Jackson came into view.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight,” Joel promised as he left the stable to report to Maria, the limp bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. You helped untack and groom the horses before heading to your afternoon stint in the garden. You barely had time before dinner to wash all the dirt off your hands and change into clean pants.

Joel was sitting at a table with Ellie, Tommy and Maria. Ellie was squinting suspiciously at the little vase in front of her, where the flowers you’d gathered that morning sprawled awkwardly. “You did this, didn’t you?,” she said, pointing toward the vase as you sat down.

”I might have suggested it,” you said.

The girl muttered something unintelligible but there was a hint of a smile in her eyes.

“So, how’d you like riding a horse instead of just cleaning up after one?” Tommy asked. His eyes flicked between you and Joel and his eyes sparkled with delight. He knew.

”It was fun,” you said. “Arthur’s a good horse. He took care of me.”

”Hope my brother took care of you, too.” Maria shushed him and Tommy gave her a wide-eyed innocent look.

“He took care of me just fine,” you replied. “And I’m sure he’ll take even better care of me tonight.”

Joel nearly choked on his food and Ellie spat out a mouthful of water. “Holy shit, he asked you out,” she said as she mopped up the table with her napkin. “I didn’t think he would.”

”I did,” Joel said once he could talk properly. “And not that it’s any of your business what goes on between two consenting adults but …” He didn’t get any farther than that because Ellie whooped and started laughing her head off.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad, old man,” she said once she could breathe properly again. “You, too,” she added, nodding in your direction. “Should I clear out tonight so you two can have some privacy?”

You were about to say “Absolutely not” when Joel beat you to the punch. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” he said, which made everyone at the table — including you — gape in astonishment. Joel laid his fork down. “It’s not Movie Night, and the bar isn’t open on weeknights, so it’s not like there’s anywhere to go on a date except out to the hayloft like the kids do.” He raised an eyebrow and Ellie ducked her head. ”Thought maybe we could go old school and listen to some records, just hang out.”

”More like make out,” Tommy said to Maria, who immediately hushed him, although she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

”Maybe,” Joel said defiantly. “Like I said, ain’t nobody’s business except ours.” He gestured at you with his fork, then went back to eating.

*******************************************

Tommy had been right. After Joel put an old LP on the record player, the two of you had settled on the couch and picked up where you’d left off in the meadow.

“We can go slow if you want, darlin’,” Joel said during a pause in the kissing.

”If you count the ride as our first date and dinner as the second, that makes this our third date,” you replied.

“You sure?”

”I’m sure.”

It wasn’t long before both of your shirts were on the floor and you were straddling Joel’s lap. “Might be more comfortable up in the bedroom,” Joel mumbled against your throat.

“Let’s go.”

Joel Miller was a man of few words, but he used them well. His hunger was as keen as your own, but he made sure to ask permission before he touched you, and he was not shy about asking for what he needed. Your arms were around his broad shoulders as the weight of him pinned you to the bed, his hands busy roaming your body. And it wasn’t just his hands that were big — when you took him inside you, you gasped at the size of him.

”Easy, darlin’,” he said, talking you through it like you were a skittish horse. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. Just relax. I know you can take me. Been begging for this all day.”

It was true. Ever since that first kiss in the meadow, you’d wanted him inside you, filling you up. Now he was there and moving at a steady pace, pounding against the spot deep inside that hadn’t been touched in years. Ever since the outbreak, sex had become just another tool of survival, a commodity that could be used to bargain for safety, food, simply living another day. You hadn’t been with anyone like this — both of you wanting each other just for the simple pleasure of it — since the before times. This wasn’t transactional, this was sharing. You were sharing your bodies with each other and that simple fact was enough to bring you to a climax that shuddered you from head to toes.

”I’m right behind you,” Joel huffed, his rhythm starting to get sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. “Ahh, fuck!” He shuddered against you and then went limp, catching his breath.

”Damn right,” you said, stroking his hair as he came back to himself.

“Ellie’ll never let us live this down,” he said as he gently pulled out of you.

“Ellie can mind her own business,” you said. “So can Tommy and Maria and everyone else in town.” You cupped his face in your hands and kissed his swollen lips. “This is just between you and me.”

“Ain’t nothing gonna come between you and me, darlin’,” he said. “Not anymore.”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #horses #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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starryseaprincess · 1 month ago

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12 with Laios?

Domestic Life with Laios!

List of prompts

It’s been a long time since I’ve done an actual drabble lol! also i fear he may be out of character since i've never written for Laios and it's been a few months since I watched the anime haha

As always if u don’t like selfship this post might not be for u haha! Also, this ship is with Laios Touden from Delicious in Dungeon/Dungeon Meshi so if you are a non-sharing shipper, skip this!

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

“Ren, could you hand me that?” Laios’ voice reached Renata’s ears as she stared at their monstrosity (no pun intended) of a meal that they were preparing. They had gotten separated from the rest of their party about half a day ago, at least it felt like it, and they had gotten hungry after walking around for a few hours, so Laios suggested that the two of them cook something up before continuing on. Renata was anxious to get back to the party as she was worried about them, but she had to admit her stomach was growling, so eventually she caved.

Renata liked Laios, she really did, but… No matter how long she travelled with him she still got grossed out by eating monsters most of the time, especially the meatier ones. The ones that were like little plants- like that walking mushroom she remembered eating before. Renata hated eating monsters considering she was half-one herself, though her fellow travelers didn’t know that “I wish we still had that bread Senshi made before.” She sighed out loud, checking in her bag to see if they had any ingredients that weren’t monsters, though Laios looked to be enjoying himself, and she had to admit he was cute when he got so excited.

Carrying over the ingredients she had leftover and cut up- some plants that resembled carrots and potatoes, and saw that he was cooking what looked to be some sort of bird type monster. It gave her pause, seeing something with wings just like her. She shook the thought from her head and deposited the chopped ingredients beside him. “I wish the others were here. Senshi always has a way to make this food look… better than it’s looking right now.” She admitted softly, to which Laios nodded in agreement before tossing the food in the pan he was using to cook the birdlike creature.

Renata had to admit it wasn’t one of the scariest dishes they’d eaten, and there was something nice about cooking together with him. It felt like something she hadn’t experienced in a long time, not since her own party had fallen apart- due to her, if you asked her. The crackling of the fire they had made filled in the silence between the two before Laios proudly proclaimed that it was finished and took it off the fire. Renata made sure to check the meat was cooked thoroughly before allowing him to portion the food for the two of them.

“Sorry you got stuck with me and not Senshi or something, haha.” She laughed out as she started picking at the food they’d made. She knew Laios and him were close since they both seemed to enjoy the… novelty of cooking and eating monsters.

“Huh?” Laios looked confusedly at her, tilting his head. He wasn’t the best with social cues or situations, but Renata never seemed to judge him on it. She was always patient and kind to him, so he was confused why he wouldn’t want to be with her. “What do you mean, Ren? Why wouldn’t I want to be stuck with you?”

“Well, you know, I’m super picky with what monsters we eat. Even more than anyone else.” Normally she didn’t like eating birdlike animals because of how close to home it was for her, but she wasn’t going to turn up her nose when it was the only monster they’d found and she hadn’t eaten since the night before.

“I like being around you. Cooking together was fun, even if it wasn’t as innovative as it can be when we’re with the others. And besides, you have the same interest in monsters as I do, even if you don’t like to eat them much! You know so much about them, I’d think you were as crazy about them as I am!”

It drew a smile to her face and she nodded. “Yeah, I’ve read about monsters ever since I was little. They always fascinated me… We had a dungeon near my village, one time, monsters would come out and people panicked. They were tiny monsters. I think they were babies who just got separated from their parents. I felt bad for them and tried to lead them back. People thought I was some sort of monster tamer, haha.” She finished eating her food while she told him her story, and he was staring at her. Renata was an enigma to him- she seemed to be able to get closer to monsters than others without them hurting her.

If only she had been there when they were fighting that dragon. Would Falin not have gotten eaten?

“Anyway.” Renata’s voice drew Laios out of his thoughts. “We should probably take a rest before trying to find the others. I can take first watch so you can get some sleep.” She insisted when he tried to protest, and eventually she won their little argument and he decided to rest his eyes for a few minutes to appease her even if he knew he wouldn’t fall asleep. After a few minutes, Laios felt her putting a blanket- she must have kept it in her bag- over him to keep him warm.

“Pleasant dreams, Laios.”

#{🍲🐦‍🔥} Rise from the Ashes #{🪽} Renata #self shipping #self ship #yumeship

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isas-bathbombs · 10 months ago

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Here to leave more questions because I’m finally home

1. If you could transform into any animal, what animal would that be?

2. Spend five nights at Freddy’s or spend 5 nights in the woods with dangerous shape shifting creatures (they’re hostile, you only get one item of your choice and a flashlight)

3. How tall are you? I saw the questions you tried sending earlier and you asked me why I was so tall 😭 in my country I’m only slightly taller than average

4. Favorite movie?

5. Been meaning to ask this: do you okay any videogames? If the answer to that is yes which ones and if there are any multiplayer would you like to play together at some point?

6. Coffee or tea? What kind?

7. Would you be a hero or villain in a supernatural story when granted to make a choice?

1. a cat!! specifically like the ones that roam around my school. they have it so easy lol

2. i’m going with fnaf, ive watched enough yt vids to figure out what to do i guess 💀 the latter sounds terrifying, especially at the woods

3. what country are u from if its okay to ask?? average height here for women is only around 4’11. i’m pretty sure im only around like 5’2

4. THIS IS SO TOUGH?? i’ll have to come back to you on that some other time, i have too many favs 😞 i love movies so much

5. im so embarrassed to admit this.. i dont play any video games like at all. my laptop is broken and the only time i used it before was either to do schoolwork or play papa louie games (and sometimes roblox). the only video game i play now is tetris

6. coffee!! i cant live without it. i just get any iced coffee ever

7. a hero!!! or at least, i’d try my best to be

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055u4ry · 1 year ago

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Submitting a couple of characters bc I’m curious, and bored. Gonna go for the obvious: Himura Kenshin. And Saito Hajime from the same anime. And (rolls dice) Eve Polastri from Killing Eve.

(also, if you’re up for it, could I get an assessment of my dude Book/Granada Holmes? Dunno how familiar you are with him though, lol)

First of all thanks for actually playing, no one ever sends me anything so this is fun.

Kenshin was my husbando for many years. It was love at first sight, the first time I saw the Toonami commercial for Rurouni Kenshin I knew I would love it. Thematically it hits all my favorite tropes. Kenshin as a character is unusual because he genuinely cares about others to the point of self-sacrifice, and he has to constantly tame that tendency. He’s not educated but he’s incredibly self-aware and is constantly trying to be a better person than he was the day before. He’s very humble despite having what is often described as “god-like” strength, though when he loses his cool you really see that rage come through, the rage of a man who lost both parents to disease and was sold into slavery before being essentially forced into the mold of a martial artist. The rage of a man who’s seen war and who’s killed. He’s able to mostly keep that rage at bay by living in the moment and surrounding himself with found family, but it’s the one vice he has trouble with. Poor baby needed therapy lol. But aside from that undealt-with rage he’s everything a real modern man is not and that’s why I was/am so enamored with him. He’s kind, intelligent, humble, wise, empathetic… he’s how many men see themselves but actually aren’t in reality. So definitely Smash lol.

Saito is interesting because he did nothing for me as a teenager but the older I get the more I like him. He always had a cool, aloof appeal but nowadays it’s sexier, and his whole aku zoku zan philosophy becomes more understandable the older one becomes as well. The main thing I like about Saito is how shrewd/smart he is- he doesn’t let anyone play him. He has trouble showing emotions but again these guys were soldiers and warriors so it’s understandable and even a little endearing. I can sympathize with life making you an aloof asshole lol. Of course deep down he’s not really an asshole, he just cares a lot about justice, which by extension means he cares about people, whether he’d admit it or not. I’d give him a Smash rating as well.

Eve is difficult because I (regrettably) haven’t seen much of Killing Eve. It’s one of those shows that has been on “my list” for a long time. I do think Sandra Oh is attractive as fuck though. She has a soft aura but seems like an emotionally strong person. Based on the actress alone she gets a Smash, and I have a feeling I’d still say that if I knew the character more.

I’m not very familiar with Holmes (though I have always wanted to read the original books). The only version of him I am familiar with is Data’s portrayal of him in Star Trek: The Next Generation (and Data always gets a Smash rating from me, not that he’d know what “smashing” was lol). Based on that portrayal and my penchant for stoic, logical men I’d probably say Smash though.

@gryphius-ginzberg you seem to get my taste in characters pretty well!

#ask #smash or pass

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bluecardigan-13 · 1 year ago

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There is no benchmark anywhere in life that says you have to have this or this figured out. Life is hard, being an adult is hard. I’m 45 and I have a panic attack standing in line at the grocery store when I have to pay for my groceries! I freak out when I’m like yes I’m hurrying to put my check card away back off! LOL my oldest son is 20 and he says he feels bad that he doesn’t have his drivers license by now. I said who said you gotta have anything by now? Live your life, be you, love yourself and don’t pretend to be someone you aren’t. It will work itself out. At least it did for me. Life is too short to make yourself into something that makes you unhappy!

Yes I have actual #panic attacks when I am even in self check out at the store. Irrational as it may seem. I hyperventilate while I take my wallet out of my purse to pay for my groceries, and then when I put it back sweat trickles down my back while I am feeling stared at by probably no one! It’s ludicrous and silly!

Did you know that I have 2 #cats (Ash and Yoda) as my #emotional support animals? They each have their designated roles for me and help me cope. Ash who is grey and white, and meows like (not to be mean) but she meows like a crying baby - she helps keeps my brain in check. Like #grounded if that makes sense.

And Yoda she is my #alpha cat. When I buy them new toys or beds which tends to be more frequent than I’d like to admit will claim everything including the box it came in. But she knows when I am having a #panic attack. She lets her presence know by meowing before doing anything. Be it jumping on the couch, trying to help me balance my check book by ripping the receipts up - even tho I tell her not to. She lets out a short #meow. As to say I’m here pay attention human I am here to take care of you because I know you need me. Which 9 times out of 10 I do. I wish I could bring both of them with me when I go out but that’s frowned upon here. Plus they don’t like the kennels I’ve bought them, and I’m 1 person. I can’t carry both of them.

Yoda will climb on the couch or into bed with me and sit ON me until my #panic attacks pass. I’m not sure how she knows she just does.

I also have #cptsd. This is due to prolonged exposure emotional and mental abuse as a child. And even as an adult. I know no one is perfect. But I grew up in a traditional samurai Japanese household. What my parents said went. No questions asked. The word #NO was not apart of the English language or part of any conversation I had with them. I wasn’t a troubled child but was seen as one. My score in my family compared to my younger sister was a big fat goose egg.

She was the #golden child. I was not. Why you may ask? She did what she was told. She as I’ve heard #taylor swift say, she was the girl that smiled and waved. Did as she was told, never making waves. I #made waves. Not big ones. But like my sister was in AP everything, not me. I was a failure. She got straight A’s, I got A’s and B’s and gasp the occasional C. I remember once I got a D. I was tormented for it for months.

Did I not know that these grades (at the age of 7) would follow me for the rest of my life? #and that I bring shame to my family for such humiliation?! I never felt that this was my sister’s fault. This was just my parents. So my sister and I were still close. We’re 3 yrs apart.

As we got older, I remember her telling me that she had developed depression and anxiety too. But dealt with it by sticking her head in the sand because she saw what I went through with my parents. (My therapist wanted them to come to my sessions - my dad said no. That it was my problem that I needed to fix on my own. Why did he need to be there?) so she pretended like it was all fine. When it wasn’t. I told her she could talk to me if she wanted to. She never did. I’m guessing it’s just easier to pretend #everything is ok. Even when I’ve told her #it’s ok not to be ok.

If any of you need someone to talk to, please respond to this message I am more than happy to listen. Not necessarily give advice. Cause I’m not a dr. But I can be your friend if you want. Even if it’s once, or a million. This is a #judgment free zone. I also have a YouTube channel that’s the same way. #love is love.

I know what it feels like to be alone. And #it’s no fun. Wanna looks me up on YouTube? That’s me! I am a nobody. A small insignificant channel. I barely have 1,100 subs. I’m striving for it though. I really want to hit 2,000. I doubt I’ll get there. (Not enough people care about our my message!)

We talk about #art therapy, #yarn, #epoxy resin (I just moved from HI to OK but I do used to do live resin pours. I’m trying to get my craft area in order so I can start again), we also talk about #chronic illnesses - I have several and it sucks. We talk about #chronic pain which I also have, which also sucks.

We talk about having #fibromyalgia yes it’s a thing, despite what some drs say. We discuss #mental illnesses, which I also have and how hard it is to manage. We talk about how #art therapy helps manage these things and how nice it is sometimes to see on YouTube or wherever that there are other people like us out there. Cause it’s lonely sometimes thinking you might be the only one who has, #fibromyalgia, #chronic pain. These subjects are all hard things to talk about. I know. But I want to talk about them. People find me boring or annoying, or I bring them down. Maybe that’s why my channel isn’t growing?

Sometimes I lay in bed at night asking myself what’s wrong with me other than the obvious incurable diseases I have. I’m on so many medications, and I still have medical problems they can’t figure out. It’s a joke.

IDK maybe that’s why I’m here on Tumblr. LOL even though I still don’t know how this works 3 yrs later. Hahahaha!! I’m such a #boomer even tho I’m a millennial. Right? I’m 45. Go figure.

A mom, with 2 sons and a wonderful husband who takes care of me when I have a flare from my #fibro. Cause when you have a flare - it hurts so much even your #teeth, #hair and #skin hurt. Heck it hurts to #laugh!

Did you know that I haven’t been on a REAL vacation in over a decade? It’s sad. I would give my last #breath to my husband, or children before I ever would take a #vacation!

In all seriousness if you are in need to chat with someone cause you feel stuck? Or deal with the same or similar things that I do, please comment! Or head over to my youtube channel and comment. I do my best to comment to my members. (Oh and I don’t call them my subscribers. Yall are #ohana members. Cause you’re family. I find subscribers impersonal. I like having you as apart of my family.) I was born and raised in HI. And ohana is important in HI. I miss mine even if it’s contentious. They’re still my family.

And since my last post I lost my dad. He died during Covid. It’s weird cause it’s like time was before #Covid and after #Covid. Right? He died on 4/21/21 of a sudden cardiac arrest. My mom had just retired 4 months prior. They were planning on taking my oldest son to #Japan for his high school #graduation gift together. As the oldest I had to plan the funeral which was hard because of #covid. My husband was a big upset with this cause right before my dad passed away, my dad told me that he didn’t believe a single word I was saying about my illnesses. That I was just attention seeking. Cause I really love taking ll my meds and being poked and jabbed all the time for fun. But, his mom (my grandma) died in December of 2021. I was super close with her. I just want a break from life.

Anyway no said life was #easy or #happy right? Come join my #ohana where no one gets left behind. See what #silliness or #not so silliness we get up to. #Chat if you want. Or don’t. It’s a #no judgment zone, and #no one says you have to be somewhere or do some benchmark just cause you’re x yrs old.

More to come.

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brummiereader · 2 months ago

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@mischievouslittlecreature Asher 🥰. He's such a good boy!

That four legged fur baby was such a joy to read about when he took note of his mum as she internally battered herself 😩.

Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away. Urghh I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! It was ok in canon because there was no one else. But in this story, which honestly feels more realistic than the canon series 😍, I couldn't stand the image of this. It's just heartbreaking. I get increasingly pissed of at Tommy when he even talks to Lizzie lol. I know it's just a messy situation, and not really his fault, but it hurts me to see Lucy this way. I'm waiting for the day he experiences the same feelings of insecurities, jealousy and heartbreak as she does right now, Lilly! You gotta give us a jealous, moody Tommy to compensate for the the torment you're putting our dear Lucy through 😂.

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully. Oof no, fuck that 😩! Arthur should never make speeches, look what happens when he does 😭.

I'm glad Lizzie is making an effort, and I thought it quite sweet how she approached them with a deck of cards to play a game. But her attitude always has me on edge as much as it has Lucy on edge. I feel like she could completely change her tune at any minute and start making her passive aggressive remarks again. Hmmm, I hope they both stay on their toes with her, and I REALLY hope, Tommy doesn't begin to underestimate her pettiness.

No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened. Ahhh I love how he talks to her 😩❤️. Which only makes this scene even more upsetting for Lucy. Although I don't know much about their relationship, it's clear that their genuine friends that care deeply about the other. But the famous line from the Godfather "it's not personal, it's just business" feels appropriate in this scene.

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved. - “We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car. I love that you added this part, because this is exactly what I imagined happened. I would bet money on Tommy just coming to a stop with a huffy "fuck", knowing he's gotta go and get the dog 😂. Just one more animal to their growing zoo 🤭!

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. Ahh, loving the shared despair! And how they both were mutually going through the horrors, spiralling down together. It feels very intune to their whole relationship and their codependency. When one falls, the other rapidly falls after them. Even though it was a powerful scene to read, i think it was the fact that little Charlie saw his parents in this way that ultimately had them stop. They love that boy so much, enough to force themselves out of the pits.

The smut scene was so beautifully written. I'm honestly relieved they've been able to get back to that point where she feels comfortable enough to be intimate with him. They're both so passionate, so obsessed with the other that It would almost feel unnatural to not read about them in this way.

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?” ahh shit, here we go 🤦🏼‍♀️😂. This line reminded of the scene with Freddie and Ada when she says about the moment his balls are empty it's back to politics 😅. Freddie and Tommy are more alike than they'll ever admit! But the problem with this line means...a tonne load more of problems are coming there way. One of the biggest, Tommy's marriage to Lizzie 😬.

Amazing chapter, hun! Can't wait to catch up on the latest one you posted as soon as possible 😍.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: The vendetta may be over, but peace is still but a distant dream for both of them.

Word Count: 5,769

Notes: Warnings for depictions of trauma, chronic pain, insecurity, smut, and references to torture and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 28: Scarlet Fog

She sat huddled in a corner, watching the celebrations occurring around her as distantly as if she was looking in through the window. She supposed, in a way, that she might as well have been. No one had really paid her any attention throughout the entire gathering.

They were all assembled in one of the big sitting rooms in Arrow House, drinking and chatting and laughing. Lucy watched Tommy where he was perched on the arm of a couch and talking to Lizzie, feeling her heart squeeze painfully, quickly looking away.

She would have to get used to that: seeing them together. Side by side as their own little unit while she was pushed aside.

At least Tommy finally seemed happy again.

How horrible did it make her, that she found herself half longing for the time when it had just been her, him, and Charlie?

Of course she did not want Tommy to be miserable. Of course she did not want him and his family to be estranged. Things were better this way, of course they were. She could take it; feeling like she was an outsider encroaching where she was not wanted. Like she was not as valued. Not loved. She’d done it before, prior to the schism between him and the rest of the Shelbys. She could do it again.

At her feet, as if sensing her thoughts, Asher whined, raising his head. She gave him a tiny smile, reaching out to scratch him behind the ear. His tail thumped against the rug, looking up at her as if to say, I still love you, Mommy.

He’d been glued to her side since they came home, protective on account of her still healing injuries. She was grateful for his presence and companionship. Being alone had gotten a lot harder than it had been previously.

She supposed she would have to get used to it just being her and the animals for stretches of time. Moments spent alone with Tommy would get even rarer after Lizzie’s baby arrived. Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if she would see much of him at all.

She sat up a little when the room quieted so that Tommy and Arthur could each make toasts. At Tommy’s comment of being in a happier place, paired with a quick glance towards Lizzie, she swallowed painfully, trying hard not to read too much into the look, and failing miserably.

Surely it had to be coming soon. The inevitable. When Tommy sat her down and gently told her to pack her things. That he could no longer be with her. Because he loved someone else. And that someone else had demanded he chose between them. And of course he was going to choose the one he was already having a baby with. Who was loved by his family. Who wasn’t broken beyond repair. Who he could actually have a chance at a happy future with.

As if sensing her thoughts, Asher nudged at her knee with his nose, trying to draw her attention away from the ache in her heart. With stilted movements, she reached down to stroke his soft black fur.

Next was Arthur’s toast. A dreaded look crossed Tommy’s face at his brother’s insistence that he take a holiday. The expression only deepened when Arthur raised his glass to peace. Lucy wondered if Tommy was thinking the exact same thing that she was: there would be no peace for them. Not now; not ever. Not with the things that lived eternally inside their heads.

Once the toasts were done, everyone began slowly making their way towards the doors leading into the dining room. Lucy made no move to follow them, just shrinking tighter in on herself in her little corner whenever someone wandered past her.

“Lucy?”

At the sound of Tommy’s voice, closer to her than she’d expected–she had figured he’d just head straight into the dining room with Lizzie–she looked up. Those blue eyes of his were fixed on her questioningly, shuffling a little closer to her while everyone else drew further away towards the other room. Tommy cocked his head.

“Are you coming?”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she shook her head. Fingers still carding mindlessly through Asher’s fur, trying to focus on the soft pelt to keep herself grounded. “I’m not hungry.”

Tommy sank down into the vacant spot next to her on the couch. “Are you in pain?”

“No. I’m just tired.” Only half the truth. Her cuts and shoulders were starting to ache a little.

He frowned, one hand moving to rest on the cushions behind her back. “You’ve barely eaten since we got back, sweetheart.” When she didn’t say anything, he scooted closer to her. “You need to eat.”

“I’m fine.” Eager to change the topic, she swirled the remainder of whiskey in her glass before downing it, mind fishing for something else to talk about. “What did Lizzie have to say?”

“Nothing all that interesting. Just some things about a few renovations that she wants to make to her house.” She could feel Tommy’s worried eyes still fixed intently on her.

“This’ll be the first holiday you’ve taken in awhile. What do you think you’ll do?”

“I don’t know.”

Her gaze drew back to Lizzie where she was standing by the doorway, smiling and chatting animatedly with Polly. She’d been nicer to her since the kidnapping, but Lucy couldn’t help but feel a constant level of tension when around her, waiting at any moment for her to have said or done the wrong thing that would cause Lizzie to snap at her. “You should use it to spend time with her. Could even move into her house for a little while.” She looked down at her empty glass, in desperate need of a refill. “Be there for all the big moments in the pregnancy and everything.”

“And leave you here all alone?” Tommy asked. The worry she’d sensed in his gaze had leaked into his voice.

“I’d survive.” A lie, she was pretty sure, but he didn’t need to be burdened with that.

“You’re still healing.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I know, but…I don’t want to leave you by yourself. If I have to take a bloody holiday, I’d rather spend it with you.”

Sighing, she kept her gaze glued to the floor until Tommy’s hand forced her head up, his icy blue eyes boring into hers, trying to read her mind.

“I am not leaving you alone.”

“But you should–”

“Fuck what I should do!” His throat flexed, eyes darting towards the doorway to make sure no one had heard him. Drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, he looked at her, jaw set in that stubborn way she knew meant she’d have better luck picking up an entire mountain than getting him to change his mind. “I’m not leaving your side. End of discussion.”

Shaky sigh leaving her lips, Lucy nodded defeatedly. The back of Tommy’s hand stroked over her cheek. The rest of the family had wandered out the doorway, leaving them alone.

“Please come to dinner.”

“No one wants me there anyway–”

“I do.”

For some reason, that made her feel like she was about to cry, leaning closer to his side unconsciously. When his fingers ran delicately through her hair, she closed her eyes. “Promise me you aren’t just saying that because you feel sorry for me.”

His fingers tightened a fraction where they’d come to rest on her shoulder. “I promise.” He turned her face to look at him. “I swear it on my mother’s grave. I want you with me always. Eh? Every second of every day.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting the words soothe her and abate the raging insecurities inside her. Even if only for a moment.

“Come on,” his lips moved against the top of her head as he kissed her forehead. “Please don’t make me face them all alone.” His chin shifted against her head, cheek laying against her hair. She huffed out a tired, breathless laugh against his chest.

“Alright. Since you asked so nicely.”

He took hold of both her hands with a small smile, helping her to her feet and entwining their fingers as they began to follow the route that the rest of the family had taken out of the sitting room and into the dining area. Asher padded along beside them, his ears twitching every once in a while as he remained watchful and protective in demeanor.

Tommy helped her into her seat next to him at the table, his ankle hooking around hers, the toe of his shoe every once in a while rubbing up and down along her shin whenever she started to get anxious.

Once the meal was over and everyone retired into the drawing room, she wound up seated on a couch with Tommy’s arm around her, her head resting lazily on his shoulder, trying not to doze off despite how tired she was. Lizzie eventually approached them timidly with a deck of cards, shyly proposing that they all play, and soon enough they had a lively game going amongst themselves and several family members.

For a little while, she thought that things might actually get better.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy quietly lamented the fact that she’d probably be picking little granules out of her socks on the drive back home as her boots sank into the sand. Overheard a seagull squawked, riding the cool wind that rushed over the beach. Waves roiled and crashed against the shore, lapping across the sand until they almost kissed the toe of her shoes. The sand where they were standing was damp, hardened over with moisture more so than the soft, dry mounds they’d had to traverse to approach the figure already standing on the otherwise abandoned beach when they arrived.

He was just looking out over the expanse of the waves, a huge bullmastiff seated next to him, his lead clutched in Alfie’s hand.

Lucy stared at her friend, confliction weighing heavily inside her. Despite everything, she still considered Alfie an important figure in her life. He’d helped to save her, a long, long time ago. And his position as an ally to the gang had brought with it significant advantages. But perhaps most importantly, she liked him. He was fun, and deep down she really did believe that he cared for her and Tommy.

Just not enough to stop him from betraying them when the price was right.

“Alfie, did you know that they took me?” she asked, voice hoarse. The salty wind whipped at strands of her hair, leaving them to dance around her face. Alfie, who until that moment had hardly turned his head to look at them, finally glanced over at her.

“No, treacle, I didn’t know they took ya. If I did, I…” his eyes moved to the bandages that poked out from under the hem of her shirt. “That wouldn’t have happened.” He said, looking at her regretfully before turning back to stare at the rolling waves. Lucy swallowed painfully at the truth in his voice, a little of the weight lifting from her shoulders at knowing that her friend had, at the very least, not been involved in the horrors that had been enacted upon her.

He and Tommy talked for a while more. Well, Alfie talked, Tommy mostly just listened, and then Tommy pulled out his gun from inside his coat. Lucy turned away, face contracting, unable to watch.

The pieces fell into place at Alfie's revelation of his cancer diagnosis. So he’d wanted them to kill him, then. Or maybe he was just saying it so they wouldn’t feel so bad after it was done.

She was still angled away from Alfie when he turned sharply on Tommy with his own gun, so she had no warning when a bullet suddenly skimmed across Tommy’s side. Tommy pulled the trigger of his own weapon on instinct, and a sizable chunk of Alfie’s face was blown off. Both men collapsed backwards onto the sand.

“Tommy!” Lucy lurched towards him, ignoring the way that the sudden movement pulled on her stitches. Her knees hit the sand, trousers growing damp from the moisture as she knelt at Tommy’s side, hands hovering over his torso. He groaned softly, legs kicking in the sand, damp granules sticking to the side he’d fallen on.

“I’m alright,” he mumbled, hand going to his side. Blood stained his palm when he drew it away. “I’m alright, it just grazed me.”

Lucy glanced over her shoulder at where Alfie laid on his back, unmoving. Cyril was whining softly in distress, nosing at Alfie’s face.

“I think he’s dead,” she said softly, not wanting to go over and actually check. Tommy swiped a hand down his face, gripping her hand to let her help pull him from the ground. She eyed his side worriedly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He drew his coat in tighter around himself, suddenly looking very small and fragile. “I’m fine,” but his voice was anything but, rough and rasping in his throat. He took one look at Alfie’s body and cringed away, arms squeezing tighter around himself. Lucy watched as his head bowed, sorrow etching onto his features. For a second she thought that he was going to cry. “Come on.” With a jerk of his head, he gestured for them to head back towards where they’d parked the car.

Shuffling to follow him, she curled close to his side, the pair of them beginning to slow trek off of the beach. The lump in her throat kept building every time she looked back at the figure splayed out in the sand. A few sniffles left her, and she hastily wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“He fired to force you to shoot him,” she noted quietly as they walked. With how close they’d been, there was no way that Alfie would have missed his shot like that if he’d actually wanted to cause Tommy legitimate harm.

“Yes.”

She tightened her arms around his bicep, cheek squishing against the soft material of his coat as she sought refuge from the chilly air against him.

They got about halfway down the beach before they both stopped at the same time.

“We have to go back for the fucking dog.” Tommy heaved.

“We should take the dog,” Lucy spoke at the same time. They shared a look, then a small nod of agreement, and turned around to gather up Cyril’s lead and wrangle him with them towards the car.

∗ ∗ ∗

Three months passed.

Lucy healed slowly, the scabs of her injuries scarring over into rough, pale bumps on her otherwise smooth skin.

Tommy knew that she was horribly self conscious of them. Really, he was pretty sure that she thought them far worse than they actually were. She was still beautiful to him, even if the sight of the criss-crossed marks all over her back triggered sorrow and guilt to wash over him at the reminder of the pain she’d gone through.

Slowly, she was able to do more. The stitches were removed and the bandages came off. Her shoulders were still giving her trouble, but according to the doctor, that would always be the case. He tried his best to help her, giving her massages and bringing her ice packs on the days that the pain was particularly bad. Applying salves that Polly sent over to help relax and soothe the muscles. By all accounts, she was considered healed. At least physically.

And yet she was worrying him. Hell, he was worrying him.

Golf. Fishing. Both were things he’d heard that other men liked to do on holiday, but he only got to the sixth hole at the golf course before throwing his club across the green field, not out of frustration, but from sheer boredom. The entire game was so…useless. Lucy had raised her eyebrows at him from where she was leaning against the little green plaque that displayed the hole number.

“You know you’re supposed to hit the ball with the club, right?” she’d asked. Tommy shook his head, yanking out a few notes to pass to the caddy carrying his clubs.

“We’re going home,” he mumbled, draping his arm around her as they started the walk to the car. “This is ridiculous.”

Fishing hadn’t fared much better. They’d been sitting by the bank, Lucy leaning into his side, eyes staring numbly out at the pond. For a second, the world was quiet and peaceful.

But the silence only made things worse. There was no sound to drown out the noises in his head. The horses and gunshots; the screams of men dying around him.

An explosion suddenly boomed around them, and he dove to the ground, taking Lucy with him as he sent them both crashing half into the pond in an attempt to use the bank as a source of cover against enemy fire. One of his hands curled over his head while his body pressed hers to the ground, attempting to shield her from the perceived danger. It wasn’t until more sounds–gunshots, not explosions like he’d originally thought–and the barking of hounds, erupted nearby that he realized it was simply a hunting party passing by, and not the war returned with the intention of swallowing him whole.

“Tommy?” Lucy asked, voice quiet. She had grabbed onto the front of his shirt in surprise, her eyes wide.

“Shit.” He leaned off of her, water sloshing around his legs, damp grass and dirt clinging to his arms where he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Sorry.” He couldn’t quite meet her gaze, embarrassment burning its way across his cheeks.

“It’s okay.” She made no move to pull away, despite now standing nearly up to her waist in water thanks to him. Her head cocked a little when he flinched at another echoing crack of gunfire from the hunters. But she didn’t say anything, just reached out to flatten her palm on his chest. “Sweetheart?”

He finally snapped his head around to look at her. Fear suddenly seized at him as he processed how he’d practically grabbed and thrown her into the pond with him. “Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“What? No,” she shook her head. “I mean…my socks are wet now, but other than that, I’m fine.”

He’d helped her up out of the water, and quickly gathered together the fishing gear so they could head home. The fish weren’t biting anyway, and he didn’t want her sitting around in wet socks and trousers and catching a cold.

They arrived home to find dinner ready for them at the table after they’d changed into dry clothes. Not that either of them touched most of it.

Lucy had gotten almost as bad as him about eating. Where she once almost always cleaned her plate, she now often left it three fourths of the way full before pushing it away. And that was on the days that he was able to convince her to eat at all. Her body weight had dive bombed. She was even smaller than usual; so skinny it scared him a little.

He could feel Frances watching them worriedly from the doorway, hands clasped together, lips set in a firm frown that only deepened when they both rose from the table and went into the drawing room to finish off their evening with two large bottles of whiskey and gin shared between them.

They’d both been drinking more. And his stash of opium for the pipe that they sometimes shared, usually enough to last nearly half the year, was already almost depleted. Most nights one or both of them woke up screaming. He’d lost count of how many times he’d cradled her in his arms, rocking her gently against his chest, stroking her hair until she finally calmed enough to fall back into a fitful slumber.

She’d draw him into bed to make love, only to push him away a few moments later, sobbing and burying her face in her hands. The phone would ring, but they never answered it. Even during the middle of the day, they kept the curtains drawn, the lights dimmed. Everything was easier in the dark.

They drank, and cried, and held each other, and drank some more. The cycle repeating over and over. He knew that they were both spiraling downwards into a deep dark well. But he did not know how to pull them out of it.

Ultimately, it was not really him who gave the push for something to be done about things. It was Charlie.

He was sprawled out on the floor, so drunk he was almost going cross eyed. Glass, from the objects he’d knocked to the floor during his tumble, had sliced into his palms, blood running in thin rivers down his hands. Lucy was kneeling beside him, reaching out to try to get a look at where he’d cut himself. Despite her movements being as uncoordinated as his thanks to her equally drunken state. Her makeup was a smudged mess around her eyes, black smears trailing down her cheeks from when she’d been crying earlier.

The door creaked open, and Charlie peeked his little head in, and their eyes met. A look, not of sorrow or confusion, but complete, all encompassing disappointment crossed his little boy’s features as he took in the image sprawled out before him. Tommy swore that there was a hint of contempt in there as well.

“Charlie,” he choked out, trying–and failing–to scramble to his feet. Lucy’s head snapped around to fix on the boy, who was quickly ushered out by one of the maids. The door closed between them with a sharp, final click.

Tommy managed to finally heave himself to his feat, injured arms crossed around his middle. Shame, hot and violent, bowled into him, and he folded at the waist, face collapsing in on itself as tears rushed into his eyes and began to stream down his cheeks.

Never, never had he wanted Charlie to see them like this. But now he had, and that was something that would never be able to be undone.

“Tommy,” Lucy pulled him into her arms, letting him bury himself in her chest while he mentally collapsed almost entirely on himself. Her fingers petted at the nape of his neck and down his back, trying to soothe him as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed against her.

The next day, he called Polly.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy retreated to bed when Polly came over in the evening, mumbling something about being tired. Tommy didn’t try to stop her. She still felt so fragile, he was worried that if Polly took any of her usual swipes at her, it would cause her to only crumble further in on herself. So he’d just sent her off with a gentle kiss and a promise that he’d join her as soon as he could, watching to make sure that Asher followed her as she climbed the stairs.

“Lizzie wants to see you,” Polly informed him not long after they sat down. Tommy’s stomach roiled with nausea, quickly looking away.

“No.”

“Tom, she’s showing,” Polly tried again, but that just made the sick feeling in his stomach surge. The mental image of Lizzie’s belly protruding as his baby grew inside her elicited nothing in him but dread. The idea of having another child was completely overwhelming, and he was often struck with constant worry at how it would affect Lucy once the baby finally came and he would have no choice but to spend more time with Lizzie.

He’d spent an awful lot of energy these past few months actively not thinking about Lizzie and the baby that would arrive in but a few short months' time. But Lucy…he had a feeling that Lucy spent far too much time thinking about them. She’d said some things, whispered mumbles while she was drunk, that made little sense to him. Things about how he should leave her. That she was bringing him nothing but unhappiness. How he could be happy with Lizzie if he just gave her a chance. He didn’t know if she was aware of the things she was saying, or if she even remembered uttering them after she’d sobered up. No matter how much he tried to soothe or contradict her statements, she always circled back to them. It was like an infection that was not actually getting cured, the symptoms only battered back for a little while by his reassurances before flaring up once again. He did not know how to entirely eradicate the insecurities brewing inside her.

“I don’t want to see Lizzie, Pol.” He looked down, ashamed at the words despite their truthfulness. He felt her looking him over, examining his reaction carefully. Ultimately realizing that now was not a good time to push the subject any further.

“How’s Lucy?”

That got him to look up, brow lifting. “Since when do you care?”

Polly shifted awkwardly in her seat, it being her turn to look away. Tommy frowned, the almost apologetic look on Polly’s face uncharacteristic, especially when it came to anything involving Lucy.

“Pol?”

“Aberama says that I’ve been too hard on her,” Polly sighed. Tommy blinked, too stunned to speak for a moment.

“You been talking with Aberama a lot lately?” he finally asked. Polly shrugged, squirming in place, clearly uncomfortable, looking for a way to dodge the question.

“How is she?”

He wetted his lips, fingers twitching around his cigarette. “Not good.”

“Francis said that she isn’t eating.”

“I can count her ribs with my hands when I hold her.” He mumbled, glancing at the drawn curtains that hide the outside world from view.

“After what Luca did to her, I can’t say that I’m surprised that she’s broken down. Took you right down along with her.”

He bristled. “It’s not her fault–”

“That’s not what I mean,” Polly shook her head. “What I mean is that, if she hadn’t fallen into the dark abyss, she would have been able to keep you from spiraling as well. Like she has before. You’re right. It’s not her fault. It was just shit timing, is all.”

“I don’t know how to pull her out of it, Pol.”

Polly fiddled with her fingers. “I think it’s time you both came back to work. Rattling around idly in here is clearly helping no one. Having something to focus your minds on will help.”

He nodded slowly, heaving out a breath. Polly stayed to talk for a little while longer, offering a few more sage words of advice before gathering up her things and leaving. After she was gone, Tommy spent a long stretch of time sitting and staring at nothing, the cogs in his head starting to slowly spin.

Jamming his cigarette into the ashtray, he stood, making his way to the stairs and towards the bedroom that he shared with Lucy.

She was already curled up under the covers, on her side with her hands pressed flat onto the pillow and her cheek resting atop them. Asher was laying in his dog bed in the corner, his big head on his paws, eyes watching them worriedly. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Tommy reached out a hand to rub across Lucy’s forearm. Her eyes opened slowly, head cocking against the pillows.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he moved his hand to stroke her face.

“How did it go?”

“Fine. She thinks we ought to go back to work.”

“Mm,” Lucy sat up slightly. “Probably not the worst idea.”

“Mhm,” he moved his hand to play with her fingers, tracing the places where she’d picked a layer of skin away while nervously fidgeting. The nervous habit had thankfully mostly ceased since they’d gotten her a replacement set of rings for the ones Luca had taken from her. It was not until Tommy had first noticed the little scabs on her fingers that he realized the importance of her having something physical to busy her hands with. Otherwise she started picking at herself.

“You’re scaring me, love,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone gentle and non-accusatory. And yet still Lucy’s lower lip started to tremble, tears filling her eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know; I’m sorry. I…” her chest rose and fell deeply with her breaths. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” his fingers curled loosely around her wrist. “We’ve both fallen apart these past few months.” He looked at her regretfully. “I’ve done a shit job at taking care of you.”

Lucy frowned, sitting up fully, reaching out to cup the side of his face. “That’s not true. You’ve kept me alive.”

“I think that’s the very definition of the bare minimum, love.”

She shook her head. “With where my mind has been at sometimes, Tommy, it’s no small thing that you’ve managed.”

He let her words sink in, both hands raising to take her face between his palms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She gave him a weak, not wholly convinced smile, and he kissed her insistently.

“I mean it. I love you.” Forehead laying on hers, he breathed in the scent of rose perfume that lingered on her skin. “We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, angling her head up to kiss him again. Tommy trailed his hands carefully down her body, skimming them along the curves of her breasts, lowering to loosely hold her waist.

They’d had sex since the doctor deemed her fully healed. But he still felt the need to handle her as gently as possible; too worried about accidentally hurting her. The first time, he’d spent over an hour worshiping her body, placing kisses to each and every one of her scars, taking his time to make it clear that he still found her as heart-stopping beautiful as he did the first day that he saw her.

He took the same care now, delicately undoing the ties on her nightgown and sliding it off of her shoulders, lips pressing into her soft skin, following the raised lines of her scars. A groan left his throat when her fingertips sank into his hair, massaging his scalp when he dropped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

That grip on his hair only tightened deliciously as he advanced lower, laying her down on the bed and spreading her legs so that he could lay between them, nosing at her cunt, breathing in her delectable scent before leaning forward to swipe his tongue across her clit.

Her sounds were so pretty as he ate her out, the hand in his hair helping to steer him to where she needed him most. Watching her through his lashes, Tommy had to stifle a smirk at the way her head fell back against the pillows when he sank a finger into her, crooking it so he was rubbing right up against the spot that made her moans go up a pitch.

When she came on his mouth, he grabbed greedily at her thighs, lips parting in an attempt to drink her all in, begging for everything she had to offer him.

“Fuck, come here,” she half pleaded when he raised up on his arms above her, reaching out to drag him closer, slotting their mouths together with her release still clinging to his lips. Her hands pulled at his clothes, his own moving eagerly to help her to remove them, covering her body with his once he was bare.

“Ready?” he asked, hand wrapping loosely around his engorged cock, giving himself a few pumps before lining up.

“Yes. Yes,” she chanted, arms winding around his neck. He entered her slowly, watching her face carefully for any sign of discomfort while he pushed forward. The warm embrace of her cunt remained to be like nothing else he’d ever experienced before, her walls hugging around him, so tight and perfect there was to be no doubt that they’d been made for each other.

The combined sounds of their pleasure echoed throughout the room as they started to move. Lucy’s head tipped forward, burying in his neck, her soft lips brushing against the sensitive skin. His eyes rolled in his head everytime she squeezed around him, and he slipped an arm under her to rest between her shoulder blades while he rocked into her steadily. He kept his thrusts at an even, gentle pace, taking care to go slow with her. She knew that she could stop him at any time if she needed, and no matter how lost he may have been in his own pleasure, he always took care to be mindful of her reactions to his movements, on alert for any indications of pain, discomfort, or fear.

“Tommy–” her nails scratched at his shoulder, not enough to break the skin, but just enough to sting. His hissed at the contact, the idea of being marked by her sending a thrill through him that had his cock twitching inside her.

“Just like that,” she whispered when his tip brushed against her g-spot. “Just like that; don’t stop.”

He grunted deeply, doing as instructed, feeling a surge in his balls as his own release drew nearer. Slotting a hand between them, he started to work on her clit again, rubbing it in small circles carefully timed with his deep thrusts. Her walls squeezed around him, even tighter than before, and he had to grit his teeth and focus hard to keep from coming prematurely.

With a cry and a tightening of her legs around his waist, Lucy came, a hand at the back of his head guiding him in for another kiss while she squeezed and gushed around his sensitive cock. Tommy moaned into her mouth, following her right over the cliff, stilling as he came deeply into her. His mouth continued to work, kissing her slowly and sensually as they rode out their climaxes and steadily started to come down.

After, when they were laying together in the dark, Lucy in his arms with her head on his chest and her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo of her name that he had emblazoned on his forearm, he began to tell her of the new plan that had started to take shape within his mind.

“Lucy, do you remember when you asked me if I’d ever thought about entering politics?”

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders series #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy

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vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

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(Mine usually lasted a day, but they were so intense and made me nauseous, I had to sleep them off. I can’t imagine it lasting 2 days, that sounds horrible! Yes yes, I saw you tagged me, thank you! I’m going to read it now! I’m prepared to be amazed and astounded!! Yes yes I’m looking forward to it! 💕👏)

[Grain blinks at you, and his smile softens slightly, "Okay. Okay," he very gently strokes your cheek, "I'm going to talk now, and I want you to listen to what I have to say." He pauses, to gather his thoughts, "First, I want you to know that hearing that makes me so, so happy. And that I'm honored and flattered that you would choose me, when you have so many better options. And I also want you to know that this isn't me refusing you. Okay?" He takes your hands and presses a light kiss to your knuckles, "You're so...amazing. At everything you do. And the idea of you wanting me makes me giddy. But you've just been through a horrifically traumatic experience. And it's never a good idea to make major life decisions while you're reeling like this."

His gaze is serious, but is also very warm and very kind, "If, when you've recovered, you still feel the same way, then I will happily tell the entire world that you chose me for some reason. But I want, no, I need you to really think about this. Okay? Because I'm a greedy asshole and once I have you, it would take an act of god to get me to leave."]

I smile softly at him. “Oh Grain, I came to this conclusion some time ago. We’ve been together for a while now, and I’ve thought about it for days, weeks. I just never knew how or when to tell you. It’s only unfortunate it took a me so long, it could’ve been too late.” I frown sadly at the thought. “You’re always so wonderful and sweet to me. You’re so kind and considerate, even now that I’ve told you, you’re more concerned that I’m only telling you because of the attack. I know I’m very emotional right now, but please, believe me when I say this isn’t an impulsive decision.”

I slowly and carefully sit up. “It’s been on my mind for a while. There’s no one else I’d rather be with than you.” I reach one hand to run my fingers through his hair and then to cup his cheek. “There’s no one else, Grain. It’s always been you.” I smile adoringly at him. “Only you.”

(Oh sweet, considerate, perfect Grain! Let me love you, damn it! Lol)

-💋 anon

Lol. I used to go to work with migraines. I worked at an animal hospital. Needless to say. It sucked. Barking dogs do not help migraines go away. At all. And happy reading!

Grain gapes at you, "You...really aren't playing fair you know that?" He finally says with a small smile, "How am I supposed to be all kind and considerate when you say stuff like that to me?" He mutters under his breath.

He presses his hand over yours, his gaze serious as he considers your words, "If you're sure. If you're absolutely positive that you want me, then..." Grain smiles gently, "I love you too. Have for a while now, but was worried that you'd run away if I admitted it. Was happy to take whatever you were willing to give." He shifts in his seat slightly, "And if you weren't injured, I would kiss you. But I suppose that can wait for when you're feeling better."

#star wars #tcw #clone oc #oc: grain #answered asks

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dreamkidddream · 4 years ago

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I’d like to request hc’s of the Brothers and Diavolo reacting to an MC that’s so cute, she could pass off as a doll. If she stands perfectly still, she could pass off as a full sized doll until she moves again. She has adorable doe eyes, wears cute clothes (Lolita fashion or just has an anime girl style), and even makes cute desserts. If the usual MC was weak and frail to them already, Doll!MC seems so dainty, precious, and fragile; these guys would ban paper if she ever got a paper cut.

Oooooo this is really interesting! I can just imagine Doll!MC just making everyone so scared every time she moves because they could probably hurt themselves just bumping into a wall because they look so fragile lol. These were short, so hope you enjoy!

Update: here’s part 2 with the other Undateables!

The Brothers and Diavolo Reacting to Doll!MC

Lucifer

...maybe he made a mistake in picking you for the exchange program after all

You just look so delicate, and just so pure.

You have definitely made cute little snacks and brought it to him while he locked himself in the office with paperwork

He lowkey highkey likes it no matter how he brushes it off with the usual thanks. Keep doing it, MC, he really appreciates it

When you get in trouble and he gives you the usual lectures, he can’t look into your eyes for long

Geez, he already can’t stay mad at you for long but now he can just feel his resolve cracking

If you get hurt oh Diavolo prepare for helicopter parent Lucifer

As soon as you accidently cut yourself in the kitchen (it would be the tiniest cut, barely noticeable), you’re no longer allowed in the kitchen unsupervised and can’t handle anything with a sharp end (whether its a butter knife or kid proof scissors that would be safe for Luke to use unsupervised)

“Let me do it for you, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Lucifer, thank you but I’ll be okay. It’s just a frosting spatula it’s not sharp-”

Will punish his brothers 10x worse and demons 100x more if he finds out you got hurt (doesn’t matter what the injury is, could be so much as a paper cut there will be hell to pay)

Constantly checks on you when he can’t see you in person

Handles you so lightly that you barely feel his touch

Move over Belphie, you’re the baby of the house now

Mammon

Protective x100000

Is still tsudere around you, but doesn’t insult you as much

Who are you kidding as soon as he looks into your cute doe eyes, he forgets what he’s saying

Complains about having to do stuff for you but doesn’t mind at all really. He loves it because it feels like you’re depending on him, and that makes him feel worth something.

“C’mon human, let the Great Mammon carry your books! You’re gonna hurt yourself and I don’t feel like hearing Lucifer’s mouth today!”

It was just your planner and a small recipe book that Luke gave you, and it weighed less than 10 pounds but okay. You don’t complain either when you see that he genuinely wants to help and do these things

Basically your loud guard dog and secret service agent rolled into one

He’s gotten into trouble more than once for “protecting you”. A student barely bumped your shoulder and Mammon already tackled him. Lucifer was not pleased (but he secretly understood)

He can’t help it that you’re weak and surrounded by hungry demons! It’s a pain to go through this much effort to just protect you, since you look so helpless

MC he’s just worried that you easily break if a demon so much as breathes on you but he likes that he can protect you because he knows that he can keep you safe. You’re just too cute and sweet okay??

Also stand in his room after watching a horror movie to freak him out and he’ll be sounding like Mariah Carey lmao

Leviathan

RURI-CHAN IS THAT YOU??!

Is for sure having an otaku/weaboo freakout moment

You blend in with figurines so well, every time you come into his room he asks you to stand next to them so he can feel that his collection is complete

He does it sometimes when he streams so people can think he has a rare limited-edition life sized doll that they can’t get. Makes him feel superior

DRESSING YOU UP IN COSPLAY 100%

You’re like an anime character but in real life and he does not know how to handle it

Can’t stare into your eyes, it makes them too flustered because he’s used to seeing it in his otome games and not from an actual person that he likes

Who needs maid cafes when he has you? You even dress and make anime themed desserts (once he built up the courage to ask you to make it for him)

Has to calm his beating heart every time he talks to you, you’re too precious for him MC!

Your like his very own idol, minus the singing and dancing. However, if you can sing and dance....

Levi.exe has stopped working

Satan

Thought you were a real doll until you introduced yourself

He really thought that someone brought you to life Pinocchio style

You looked like a princess from the many stories that he read, and he was smitten

Treated you so graceful and elegant like until he had his rage moments, which he told you to stay far, far, far away from him until he calmed down completely

Secretly placed a hex on you to where if someone tried to attack you or touch you with harmful intentions, they would be somehow be subjected to looking at their worst fear

You were wondering why that random stranger was just staring wide at you with extensive terror, but then you saw Satan grinning, so you left it alone. You thought it was just some weird demon thing

Loved when you made him cat-themed desserts

If you wore cat ears while doing it, he will turn extremely red

If you meow for him, he won’t know how to handle himself

Asmodeus

You are just the cutest thing he has ever laid his eyes on!!

Besides from himself of course, don’t get it twisted he’s still #1

He has most definitely had more than one photoshoot done with you both. And you guys have been trending on the Devilgram a couple of times already

Really you guys trend at least twice a month, and his fans love you!

They always ask where he got the doll from but he always laughs and says that “it’s a secret”

Imagine their shock when they see you walking and talking at RAD, some are amazed and some are downright scared

Fashion shows!

He lives for dressing you up in cute clothes. Your style already suited you and he had great tastes so the new outfits he got you were just *chef’s kiss*

The cute little desserts that you made for him, he always posted it on the Devilgram before he ate it. They were just so cute MC and he couldn’t not show his fans!

Is the most careful brother when it comes to keeping you out of danger. He refused to let his body or skin damaged, and he wasn’t about to let it happen to you either! You are both way too dainty and fragile to let anything happen

Also spa days and self-care nights weekly!

You’re the perfect match made just for him MC

He finally has someone that can understand his struggle of being beautiful, bless you MC

Beelzebub

Soft boy is scared of touching you :(

He towers over you, and he’s scared to even be near you

It takes some time, but he starts to warm up to you

Is always gentle with you, no matter the scenario

Holding hands? He is hardly gripping your hand, said hand fitting loosely in his

Getting hugs? He’s meagerly holding you, not wanting to crush you

You once complained to Beel that it wasn’t fair to get half done hugs (if you were hugging, you were getting a real hug, not a scared one).

He made you swear that if he was hurting you to let him know, so now you have your very own signal to use for him just in case

He was very tempted to wrap you in bubble wrap and just carry you around like that

He LOVES your sweets, even more than Luke’s and Barbatos’

No matter the size, he loves them, mainly because you made them and it was made with love, just for him

It always makes him feel so warm inside, and he doesn’t feel his appetite gnawing at him like usual

No one is dumb enough to try anything with you both in his presence and not, unless they want to end up either a: deep into the ground or b: into his stomach

You just make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he just loves everything about you. He just loves you

Belphegor

Hm, you look cute

For a human

Acts like he doesn’t care, but you’ve caught him blushing before (he still does it too)

Won’t outright admit that you’re charming in your own little way, but he does in his sarcastic way like usual

“MC, you’re such a half-pint. You’re like my personal sized teddy bear.”

Has cuddled with you like you were his personal teddy bear (and still does, but you don’t complain at all)

Has a secret sweet tooth and eat your desserts whenever you make it just for him (and he doesn’t even share it with Beel, that monster)

Demons just have to look Belphie in the eyes, watch him flex his claws, and they all of a sudden forget about whatever they were planning. Good

He hates that you look so fragile, but at the same time he kinda likes it

You just look so soft, and you’re just so kind

It makes him feel like he’s protecting and caring for you, and that makes him feel calm and peaceful

Please make sure that he’s okay MC, he’s scared that he’s gonna mess up again

Diavolo

The Prince of Hell is both surprised and pleased at your appearance

Do all humans look this charming or is it just you??

If someone as soft as you can survive living and going to school with demons, then this is great

Knew that you weren’t a doll, but still liked to admire you like one

Has asked more than once for pictures, you are just too enchanting!

Wants to have a portrait painted of you so he can hang it up in the castle

LOVES you baking for him! Loves when Barbatos does it too (even though it is kinda part of his job), but it feels different with you. It feels...domestic in a sense. Makes him feel like Diavolo, your friend and very interested in being your boyfriend, instead of Lord Diavolo, the prince that will be residing over Hell in the future

No one would be foolish enough to hurt you. If someone was, they wouldn’t even get the chance to lift a finger before they were directly dealing with him. Don’t take his kindness for weakness, he still is a demon after all, the future King of Hell to be exact

Was scared of touching you at first, but quickly grew out of it! He can handle his own strength, and you guys also have a signal to use just in case he does squeeze a little too tight

Will want to dress you up in royal clothes (if you were okay with it). Nothing is wrong with your current style, as a matter of fact it suits you! He basically just wants to play a fancy game of dress up/have a fashion show with royal clothing

Will take 100s of photos, no exaggeration

Asmo will be jealous, so be warned

Plus, he wants to know how his future lover/ruler would look in a crown so he can start taking measurements. You can never be too ready, right MC?

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battle-of-alberta · 2 years ago

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Got a question for Mac here! So I saw in the news recently that Fort McMurray's going to have a public hearing on allowing for child care centres to offer overnight care. That's great, given how many people there are shift workers. But that's also got me wondering: what do you about Patches when you're at work (particularly when you have a night shift)?

It’s world watercolour month so I wanted to do at Least one ask in watercolour ;u;

This is a great question and something I have thought about a little bit. The additional worry is that Patches, despite being Mac’s emotional support animal, is a husky and notoriously huskies are whiny, needy dogs who tend to destroy furniture when they’re on their own. I’ve lazily solved this by saying while he inherited the husky look, he got the newfoundland temperament ;) don’t ask me how that worked lol but I thought it was funny. It also occurred to me that Patches is getting up in years for a dog, so he’s chilled out in his old age too. (Mac found him abandoned around 2016 ish if I recall my own notes, the story being that his previous owners wanted a dire wolf or something due to the popularity of a certain tv show)

This is also why Mac took Patches’ training Very seriously after they settled in together and why Mac doesn’t leave Edward with Patches unsupervised because he knows Ed could undo years of training in one night. (Ed’s bad habits with dogs stem from the fort days in the 19th century [here] and [here] but he also expresses his affection with food these days sooo...) (this is the one time ed is not The Responsible One of the two lol)

Some more notes follow

- Caroline and Calvin bought a ranch in the foothills sometime in the 60s I think, I’m not sure exactly where it is but I think they rent it out when one of them isn’t using it for a retreat or for holiday parties. (They’re co-owners so it’s slightly more balanced in decor than Calvin’s penthouse although Caro puts up with some of the western kitsch because it looks good on air bnb.)

- When Mac isn’t unemployed (which is a bit more often than he’d like to admit), he works for one of the big o&g companies or another and this usually means being bused (sometimes flown) out to a man camp. The camps have gotten more amenities over the years and some of them are leaning more towards luxury these days than previously, but they are still very isolating experiences. One can be called into work at very short notice and shifts are often two or three weeks at a time with one week off or so.

- FIFO (pronounced fee-foe, “Fly In Fly Out”) is the term used for anyone who flies in to work from elsewhere, whether that’s elsewhere in the province or from “back east” (which here means Newfoundland, and that’s almost a ten hour flight between Fort Mac and St. John’s let alone the additional travel time from work or to one’s hometown from there just to spend a short time off.)

- I’d never go so far as to personify all the other “municipalities” of RMWB but I imagine they exist and since Fort Mac is a service/administrative centre, one or two of them might be passing through to check up on things.

- The conversation about families settling in Fort Mac has changed over the past decade, especially since the fire. That said, like the childcare focus of this ask suggests, there are still folks who grow up there and folks who stay for one reason or another, and I feel like Mac has a vested interest in his community and building support networks even though it goes against the reputation. He’s not a kid fresh out of high school and he knows the challenges more than anyone, so of course he will put Patches on loan if he deems you both trustworthy and in need.

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pr1ncessm00n · 4 years ago

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for sale or wanted • jean kirstein x fem! reader

seven.

series masterlist

prev | next

warnings: cursing, some “friends” (tv show) references, hostility towards reiner >:( and some mentions of a disrespectful relationship. slight ass staring LOL. awkwardness. lots of it. thick tension geesh

*written chapter * THE DATES ARE WRONG. THIS TAKES PLACE IN JANUARY. I REPEAT THE DATES ON THE MESSAGES ARE WRONG I JUST REALIZED. 💔 Proceed.*

[ playlist - more than friends : real life animals ]

“Y/N!” Ymir yelled.

Flinching, Y/N turned to face Ymir, who’s arm was around Historia on the non-Porco couch. That’s what they had coined the couch they actually liked and fit with their theme. Ymir and Historia were currently on it, watching a rerun of Friends. Y/N was making a sandwich. Sasha was snoring loudly on the Porco couch.

“You don’t have to yell,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “What do you want?”

“When’s Kirstein comin’?” Ymir asked.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N responded. “He said around 4.”

“It’s 4:15.” Ymir retorted.

“Your point?” Y/N placed her hand on her hip, butterknife in her hand.

“He’s not coming.” Ymir said smugly. “Typical Kirstein.”

Historia sighed, exasperated. “Just shush Ymir. You haven’t seen Jean in years and you still act rude to him!”

Ymir cackled. “It’s just fun to work you guys up.”

Y/N turned back to making her sandwich. “It’s not like we’re on time for anything either.” She grumbled.

“Defending Kirstein?” Ymir scoffed. “Sounds like you got the hots for him.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Are you 12?” Y/N snapped. “The ‘hots’? Really? Who says that anymore?”

Ymir only cackled in response.

—

Jean clicked his phone off, leaning back in the passenger seat of Reiner’s car.

“Everything good?” Reiner asked.

“Yeah, just Connie and Sasha being aggravating as usual.” Jean explained. Reiner shook his head.

“So this couch, was it really worth it or did you just see a pretty girl and get too embarrassed to say no?” Reiner teased, smirking.

Jean rolled his eyes. “It’s not the best piece of furniture out there but I am, one, BROKE, and two, it was an easy buy.”

Reiner shrugged. “I don’t know, I saw your tweet.”

Jean blushed. “I just tweet my thoughts, we all know that by now.”

Reiner’s smirked deepened. “Not everyday you tweet about a pretty girl.”

It’s not everyday I meet one, Jean thought.

Jean shook his head, looking out the window. He tried to stretch but hit his arms against the truck’s roof. His legs were cramped as well.

“How do you even fit in here?” Jean asked, irritated by the tight fit.

Reiner shrugged. “I’d trade the inconvenience of no leg room for a big pickup bed anyday. It’s useful.”

“Nah, you probably just like to show off your massive truck bed and hope girls find that kinda thing cool.” Jean said.

Reiner laughed. “That too.”

“Has it worked?”

“Nope.” Reiner replied cheerily.

“Is that Becky G!” Jean exclaimed, suddenly hearing the faint sound of “Shower” playing through the truck’s speakers.

“Shit!” Reiner exclaimed, turning red. He quickly rushed to move his hand off the steering wheel and change the song off his phone. Jean continued laughing, the sight of Reiner’s red face, embarrassment clear, only fueling his laughing fit.

“Shut up,” Reiner growled. “It’s a good song.” The thought of the huge guy jamming out to Becky G almost sent him into another fit, but Jean strained to hold it in. The ride remained silent for a few minutes when Reiner spoke again.

“If you ever mention that to anyone, I’ll run you over.” He murmured. Jean chuckled and turned to face Reiner only to see he was being serious, staring intently back at Jean. Jean shut his mouth, nodding.

A few moments after, almost subconsciously, Reiner began to whistle the tune. Jean couldn’t resist the laugh that escaped his throat, earning a dirty look from Reiner.

—

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Coming!” Y/N called, taking her apron off and rushing to the door. She opened the door, smiling.

She was met with Reiner’s face.

“Reiner?” She asked, somewhat in disbelief.

“Y/N, put the butterknife down,” Reiner put his hands up, backing up a few steps.

“What-“ Y/N remembered the butterknife in her hands, clenched tightly now between her knuckles. “Oh, sorry.” She went to put it in the kitchen. “Come in!” She called behind her.

Reiner cautiously stepped inside the dorm, eyeing his surroundings.

“Braun.” Ymir greeted, nodding at him.

“Hey!” Historia waved cheerily. Reiner sheepishly greeted them back.

“Ymir, Historia. Good to see you all again.” He managed to get out awkwardly. He tilted his head curiously, looking at Sasha snoozing on the couch. He gestured to Sasha questioningly at Ymir.

Ymir waved her hand dismissively. “She’ll wake up, just give her a minute.” As if in response, Sasha mumbled in her sleep.

“Um,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Jean’s on a phone call, but he’ll be here soon.”

Jean was on the phone with his mother, who called at that exact moment and decided it was a good time to scold him about not calling for a week and a half. Jean was pacing on the sidewalk, his hand in his hair.

“Oh, okay.” Y/N replied. “Um, so how have you been?” The tension in the air was thick, but since neither Y/N or Reiner were confrontational they didn’t know how to address the mood.

“Good, good.” Reiner nodded. “And you?”

Y/N nodded back. “Good, too.”

The room grew silent.

“I’m sorry, but did someone die?” Ymir blurted.

“Ymir!” Historia gasped, slapping her arm. Ymir removed her hand around Historia and sat forward, opening her hands in a What? gesture.

“Well, it feels like a funeral in here!” Ymir said defensively. “Y/N’s over here glaring at Reiner like he’s an enemy of the state.”

“I am not!” Y/N semi-shouted, her voice shrill. Sasha sat up on the couch.

“Can y’all shut up?” She snapped.

“No!” Ymir and Y/N shouted at her. Sasha groaned, throwing her hand over her forehead and falling back on the couch.

“Look, Y/N,” Reiner started awkwardly. “I don’t mean any harm, and I know it’s weird after everything with Porco... but I just wanted to say that I don’t agree with anything he did. And I wouldn’t have just shown up here if I knew it was your place.”

Y/N uncrossed her arms, trying to fix the visible displeasure in her face. She could not hide her emotions if her life depended on it. There was a few beats of silence before Y/N finally spoke.

“Reiner, I don’t hate you,” She said begrudgingly. “It’s not that, it’s just… You knew what Porco did and said behind my back and you just never told me. I always felt like his friends agreed with him that I was crazy or something.”

“No! Not at all,” Reiner reassured her. “To be honest, I didn’t really know what was going on in his life. I haven’t talked to him much since I left Marley. All I knew was that he was dating you. He just told me you broke up and that’s when he finally told me everything he did. I’m so sorry.” Reiner rambled.

Y/N sighed. “I mean, I’m not going to blame you. It was between Porco and I. But I guess that makes me feel better, like you didn’t betray me.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“No, I’d never stand for the stuff Porco did.” Reiner said.

“Did he cheat?” Sasha whispered to Historia. Historia shushed Sasha, swatting her.

“So we’re good?” Reiner asked. Y/N nodded.

“Sorry for the hostility, I just never expected you to be here.” Y/N admitted.

“No, I get it. But I wish Jean would’ve at least given me a headsup you were Sasha’s room mate.” Reiner muttered.

There was a knock on the door then. “Come in!” Y/N shouted. Jean walked in, peeking his head around the corner to where Y/N was standing in the kitchen with Reiner.

“Hey!” Jean said. He waved at Historia and Ymir. “So I assume you met Reiner?”

“Actually,” Y/N chuckled nervously. “We’ve known each other.”

“Oh!” Jean replied, eyes widening. “Even better! So he’s gonna help me move this thing.” He patted the couch Sasha was snoring on.

Y/N nodded, a tight lipped smile.

“Kirstein,” Ymir called. Jean glanced at her. “Long time no see.”

“Oh yeah! How have you been?” He asked Ymir. “And nice to see you too, Historia.”

Historia waved.

“I’ve been pretty good,” Ymir responded. “But I see you’re still late to everything.”

Jean blushed a deep red, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I got a phone call I had to take.” He looked at the floor, embarrassed. Ymir simply grunted.

“So do you want to start moving it?” Jean asked Reiner.

Reiner nodded, walking over to the couch. The men stared down at Sasha’s sleeping figure, unfazed by the commotion. “Do we wake her?” Reiner questioned.

Jean sighed, shoving Sasha. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up. Wake upppp,” He shook the side or her body with his palm.

Sasha groaned. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.” she grumbled sleepily.

“You and Ymir literally bullied me to get rid of it,” Y/N scoffed.

“I had forgotten how comfy it was!” Sasha protested, turning to the opposite side. “Five more minutes.” Y/N scoffed.

“Do you guys want a sandwich while we wait for Sleeping Beauty?” Y/N offered, tilting her head towards the kitchen with the butterknife.

“More like sleeping ugly.” Ymir snorted.

Y/N and Jean made eye contact.

“You get used to it..” Y/N mouthed. Jean nodded, agreeing.

“I heard that!” Sasha exclaimed to Ymir. “Just for that, I’m gonna fart in your bed.”

Reiner turned a deep red. For someone who liked to listen to 2014 pop, he was pretty bashful.

“I’ll take one, if it’s not too much of a bother,” Jean raised a finger, inquiring.

“No problem! Follow me. And you, Reiner?” Y/N walked back to the kitchen, opening the fridge, Jean a few steps behind her.

“I’ll take one too then, thank you.” Reiner accepted. Y/N nodded, bending over into Jean’s line of sight almost unassumingly. Jean’s eyes widened, before looking the other way, a faint blush appearing on his features. He didn’t want to get caught ogling the girl on their second meeting, possibly giving the impression he was a creep. But damn, was it hard. He felt someone staring at him, and when he focused he realized it was Historia, who was holding back a giggle. He got even more flustered, looking away from her too.

“Any specifics? Mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup? We have pickles and a wide variety of condiments and lunch meats.” Y/N listed.

“Y/N,” Ymir scolded. “Those lunch meats are for the fancy guests!”

Y/N shot her a glare. “Ignore Ymir, she’s just grumpy because she hasn’t been fed her daily sacrifice of small children.” Jean laughed a little too hard while Reiner chuckled. It was hard for Jean to focus when she smelled so good and was at a certain angle.

“Um, lies,” Ymir replied nonchalantly. “Children eating is at 12, it’s 4. That’s the senior citizen buffet.”

“Har, har.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “So what do you guys want?”

“Anything is fine, really,” Jean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Is ham and muenster cheese good?” Y/N asked, standing upright and grabbing the two containers.

“Monster cheese?” Reiner asked, puzzled.

“M-U-E-nster. It’s so good, try it!” Y/N began to assemble both boys their sandwiches. “I’m gonna give you the works! Lettuce, mayonnaise and tomatoes!”

“Is Y/N making sandwiches?” Sasha asked from the couch, eyes tightly shut.

“Yeah, but don’t get your hopes up. There’s no children flavor.” Ymir mocked.

Y/N flicked her off without turning back.

Sasha bolted off the couch. “Can you make me a sandwich, Y/N? Pleaseeee? Pretty please?” Sasha begged, appearing at Y/N’s side and slightly shoving Jean.

“Yeah, yeah. But I’m not cutting the pickles this time. That’s gross.”

Sasha hummed happily, going to the kitchen to hand Y/N her sandwich components.

“Why don’t you just make your own, Sasha?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because!” Sasha exclaimed defensively. “Y/N makes the best ones! They’re so good, and they aren’t lopsided and sloppy like Ymir’s.”

“You could always just starve.”Ymir suggested unhelpfully. She suddenly joined Historia in clapping her hands along to the Friends theme.

“But hello! Cheerio!” Ymir waved frantically to Jean and Reiner. “Don’t y’all got a couch to be moving?”

“Right,” Reiner agreed, walking over to the couch. “Jean, you take that side and we’ll lift it to my truck. Can someone open the door?”

“On it!” Sasha ran over to help.

Jean got on the other side of the couch, and on the count of three him and Reiner lifted it.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Ymir chided. “PIVOT! PIVOT!” she suddenly shrieked, causing Reiner to startle.

“Is she always like that?” He asked, wincing.

“Yes.” Everyone in the room agreed.

As Jean and Reiner moved the couch out of the dorm, Ymir sang the Friends theme song loud enough to be heard from the hallway. Historia harmonized with her happily, leaning into her chest.

Once Reiner and Jean safely secured the couch to Reiner’s truck bed, they returned to the dorm room.

“Yay! It’s gone!” Y/N clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Thanks guys, really.”

“Thank you,” Jean replied. “I really needed a couch.”

“And thank me,” Reiner teased. “For having a truck and upper body strength.”

Y/N laughed. “Here’s your sandwiches, courtesy of Chef Y/N.”

“Five stars!” Sasha banged her first on the table, chewing loudly.

“I put some chips on the side,” Y/N pointed to Jean’s plate. “It just adds that extra flavor.” She admitted almost shyly. Jean’s heart swelled. Why was she acting so.. adorable? There was just no other word for it. It wasn’t a big deal. His friends often acted adorable. Armin, Connie, even Sasha. Eren… On second thought, not Eren.

“Thanks! I love chips!” Jean said. Y/N laughed again, the corners of her eyes crinkling, shaking her head a bit. Even Reiner chuckled.

“Great commentary,” He said, patting Jean on the back with a large hand. “Thanks, Y/N.” He made his way to the couch, where Historia scooted to make room for him, smiling brightly.

“Don’t even try anything,” Ymir warned, holding up a finger to Reiner and giving him a death stare. Reiner shook his head, eyes widened in fear. Ymir borderline barked.

“You can sit!” Y/N motioned to the small breakfast table Sasha was devouring her sandwich at.

Jean quickly glanced at the table, then at Y/N leaning against the counter. “Nah, I’m good here.” He took a bite out of his sandwich.

“Ugh, that’s so barbaric,” Y/N scoffed. “Eating standing up.”

Jean nearly choked on the bite of sandwich. “Weren’t you just thanking me for buying your ugly couch?” He sassed.

Y/N rasied her eyebrows. “Um, you should be thanking me and my ugly couch for saving you from sitting on the floor. Why’d you even buy one if you just eat standing up? You animal.” Jean shook his head, trying to contain his smile.

“That’s rude.” He stated simply.

Y/N punched his shoulder jokingly. “You can handle it.”

Jean shrugged. “I don’t know. I might just cry myself to sleep every night. Who knows how long the guilt will eat you alive for.” He said in a fake menacing tone.

“Oooh, I’m terrified.” Y/N waved her hands.

“For good reason. I’d be a pretty annoying guilt trip.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Y/N agreed. His voice is so deep, Y/N thought.

Sasha stared at them blankly, head on her hand, mouth partially open.

“Uh…”

“Sasha,” Jean rolled his eyes. “Close your mouth, I can literally see the chips.”

Like a fish, Sasha’s mouth closed with a wet sound. She finished chomping and swallowed before getting up.

“You guys are weird.” She said, walking to the couch as well.

Jean and Y/N watched her go, attempting to fit on the medium sized sofa.

“I think we might need another couch.” Y/N commented, watching Sasha try to shove Reiner off her usual seating spot.

“No take backsies,” Jean smirked, looking at her.

“I sold it for a reason, whatever your last name is.” Y/N crossed her arms.

Jean guffawed. “Like you don’t know my last name.”

“I don’t! It’s pretentious.” Y/N insisted.

“Uh, huh.” Jean replied, not believing it, more so hoping it was just a joke. “It’s Kirstein.” He said instead, opting to not find out the hard way.

“I was right, it is pretentious. All fancy soundin’.” Y/N shuddered.

“It is not!” Jean argued.

“Whatever. Do you know mine?”

“Duh,” Jean mocked, staring at Y/N and placing his empty plate on the counter.

“Then what is it?” Y/N shot back, staring just as intently.

“It’s uh- It’s um,” Jean drew a blank. He stuttered, trying to recall the memory.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

Jean waved his hand dismissively. “It’s probably just basic.”

“Sure, Kirstein,” Y/N dragged out the syllables. “It’s L/N, if you must know.”

“L/N.” Jean repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out.

“You’re not gonna freeze up now?”

“Very funny. You totally froze up first.”

“You looked like a deer in headlights.”

Jean shook his head, checking his watch. It was 5:15. Connie would be home soon, hungry. “I should head out, I got a lot of stuff to do.”

“More interesting than couch transporting?” Y/N picked up Jean’s plate, moving it to the sink.

“If you can believe it, yeah.” Jean chuckled. “But hey, thank you. It was pretty good.”

“The sandwich or the couch?” Y/N teased.

“Both.”

“Probably the sandwich.” Y/N said.

“Probably.” Jean agreed. “You ready to go?” He asked Reiner. Reiner nodded, getting up from the couch. Sasha scrambled to her feet off the floor to take his spot.

“Bye, everyone,” Reiner waved. “Thanks for the food, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome! Hope you enjoyed it.” Y/N waved.

“And um,” He stepped closer to Y/N, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry about earlier. If you ever want to um, talk about it,” Reiner ran a hand through his hair. “Just text me.”

Y/N grew stiff. Plastering a fake smile on her face, she just nodded. “Thanks, Reiner. I’m okay though.”

Reiner nodded. “I’ll see you outside, I’m gonna start the truck.” Reiner told Jean. He walked out, keys jangling, and shut the door gently. Jean stared at Y/N quizzically. He decided it was best not to ask, not wanting to come off as nosy or creepy. But Y/N could tell he was curious. She figured Reiner would explain and grew flustered just thinking about the humiliation of Jean knowing what Reiner knew. She preferred to leave that to Reiner and Jean to talk about.

“So I’ll see you around?” Jean asked, making his way to the door. Before Y/N could respond, Historia piped up.

“Wait, Jean!” She walked over to the breakfast table, digging into her pink Coach shoulderbag. “Here!” She produced a small pink invite, extending it to Jean.

HISTORIA’S 21ST BDAY BASH <33

Jan. 15 @ 8 PM @ Reiss Estate

2000’s THEMED

wear ur best y2k attire!

can’t w8 to see u there ;)

Jean raised an eyebrow, flipping the card to the back. It was a pic of Historia as a kid, wearing a hot pink feather boa with a pink plastic cellphone against her ear. She looked more or less the same, only more subtler. The girl did like pink.

“You should totally come! Connie’s also invited, and Eren is coming with Mikasa! It’ll be so fun, I hope to see you there.”

“Thanks!” Jean replied, glancing at Y/N. “I’ll be there. Bye guys!” A chorus of “bye!”s ensued. He stepped out the door.

Outside the dorm, he let out a sigh of relief. Historia’s birthday bash. Another opportunity to see Y/N.

Inside the dorm, Ymir glared at Historia. “Why’d you invite him, babe?” She whined, pouting like a child.

“Many reasons,” Historia began, walking over and sitting on her lap. “One, to spite you. Two, he’s nice! Three, I can’t invite all of his friends and not him. That’s rude. And four, for Y/N.” Sasha and Ymir looked at Y/N.

Y/N’s mouth dropped. “Um, what? I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh, please,” Ymir rolled her eyes in disbelief. “We all saw you canoodling.”

“No, we weren’t.” Y/N grumbled, washing the dishes.”

Historia giggled. “It’s okay, Y/N. You can just talk to Jean at my party.”

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe.”

Pulling out her phone, Y/N found herself re-reading her and Jean’s messages. Not really knowing why, she decided to save his contact.

Just incase, Y/N thought.

—

Later that night, Y/N’s phone dinged.

—

Meanwhile:

—

a/n: hey guys!! i’m sorry for the late update but I made this chapter extra long to make up for it :D so i saw this post and it was like “fanfic authors be going thru the most traumatic shit and then come back like nothing happened with a 6k word count chapter” and LET ME TELL YOU, that is my life. Rn nothing traumatic is happening but man it’s like this fic WANTS to be delayed lol. So i broke my thumbnail and i could NOT type for a few days without excruciating pain!! then i was busy into the night time which is my usual writing time. now i am sick with a fever, sore throat and a stuffy nose!! but i’m here, hopefully i won’t be sick for my graduation lol cus then i won’t be able to go. i hope y’all enjoyed this and ahh i felt so bad being mean to reiner but i feel like this was necessary for the porco plot to develop haha. also this is not proofread it’s 2am and i literally suck at writing first meetings/conversations. can you tell this was rushed lmaoooo. there was a lot more i was going to say but i forgot omfg so tune in to the next chapter!! love you all xx

btw i literally do not know how to do that “keep reading” tab thing where it cuts off your writing so it isn’t one big post so can someone please teach me :)

taglist: @usernamehere91 @calumsfringe @tsunderehokage

223 notes · View notes

gentlemancrow · 3 years ago

Note

idk if you’re still taking requests so no pressure but maybe jmart 18 about jon’s scars? or,,, honestly however you wanna interpret that lol

Hehe bet you thought you weren't getting one. But of COURSE you're getting one! <3 HERE YOU GO!! Sorry it is late I am not a fast writer haha! This was a VERY interesting one to interpret and I got a little wonky and metaphysical there for a bit WHICH I LOVE and THE IDEA MIGHT HAVE BEEN A BIT LONG FOR A DRABBLE BUT! It's soft and I'm soft and I enjoyed this one SO SO MUCH ; w ; I hope you do too!!

Jon had Seen enough. Martin had decided that long ago. He had witnessed enough, been forced to witness enough, been the vessel into which literally everything had funneled into in an unrelenting typhoon of unspeakable, unfathomable horrific knowledge comprehensible only to him long enough that he damn well deserved the luxury of imperception. He had earned the right to not notice when Martin accidentally bought the wrong brand of chai, the one he insisted tasted like someone rubbed a stick of cinnamon on plasterboard and jammed it in a cardamom pod, but honestly tasted just like the one he preferred. The universe, whichever one they happened to be in now, owed him not realizing the buttons on his cardigan were one off until they were about to head out and Martin had to fix them, fingers humming with the warmth of him lingering in the cashmere every time. He deserved to forget his keys and then also have to go back to check that their flat door was locked twice, just to be sure. He deserved tossing cabbage in the trolley at the market, only to get home and realize it was a head of iceberg lettuce instead, and also he had completely forgotten the onion anyway so back he would have to go. Tiny and insignificant, patently human foibles that any normal person might tally up to a really rotten day overall and gripe about over a glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape he had won as gleaming, pyrrhic badges on the ruins of his humanity yanked back from the claws of the yawning, devouring dark matter of the cosmos and stitched painstakingly back together with love.

But mostly Jon deserved to not notice the way people looked at him.

He need not see the painted-on expressions of strangers that ran the gamut from quiet pity, to voyeuristic curiosity, to outright revulsion that Martin could not help but see everywhere they went. They had no idea. Not even the slightest inkling of what, exactly, had composed that magnum opus of horror and pain scarred resplendently on his flesh, his bones, his sinews and synapses. To even try know was to go mad, the mind looping through and around and between consciousness and logic and love and fear and philosophy and metacognition until it squeezed into an ouroboros black hole singularity of dense unknowing that collapsed in on itself and perished in cataclysm. They had merely gotten lucky that being extruded through the plumbings of creation seemed to straighten out their fibers enough to be woven back into the fabric of reality, but they were too kinked and snagged and gnarled to ever lay fully flat again. And that was why they stared.

The invasive beings of Jon and Martin had come to mutual terms with it long ago, but they also knew they would be forever incongruous with an innocent world, with a world where they did not belong and that collectively looked at them both like an ontological cancer, benign but festering and ugly. They would never know the thing that crouched behind the stars with pointed knees and elbows that even then, groped to find their new world in the lightless vast, and Jon deserved to not perceive any hints of that either. He deserved their quiet, their peace, their wordless human acceptance.

Jon deserved to be innocently chewing a periwinkle-painted thumbnail in front of the ice cream counter, just as he was that gossamer spring afternoon, turning woeful and forever mismatched brown and green eyes at his husband and asking if he should get mint chip or rum raisin before deciding, actually, could he have a sample of the salted caramel ribbon first? He pointed eagerly at the various frozen tubs behind the glass with his gnarled right hand, where the fingers never did quite open or close properly again, and missed in his wonderment at the veritable cornucopia of sweet delights available to him the mingled look of pity and horror on the cashier’s face as she doled out samples at his request. Martin lurked protectively behind, silent, sentinel, seeing it all, a hot brand of fury boring its way through his chest as he glared icy blue daggers at the clueless young woman, who only compounded her crimes by complimenting the permanent white forelock in his ginger curls as she took his order.

Martin snatched his double scoop of rocky road and pralines and cream out of her hand with a withering scowl and said nothing. Jon, frowning in the dread shadow of Martin’s hushed wrath and finally deciding on just the mint chip, took it upon himself to pay while the poor young woman skirted around both their gazes. They took their ice cream to enjoy in the balmy sun on the metal patio tables outside the shop under a cloud of unspoken insults and slander which Jon was more than happy to pop open the conversational umbrella beneath before the downpour.

“Something wrong?” he asked solicitously.

“Nope. I’m fine,” came the curt answer, suspiciously also lacking in eye contact as Martin stabbed his pink spoon into the rocky road.

Jon’s mismatched eyes narrowed shrewdly. There was one thing that never escaped his notice, even now, and that was the painfully obvious way Martin always broadcast his inner hurts and the physical language of his turmoil he had become fluent in over the years.

“Okay, yes you are probably fine. And I’m guessing it has nothing to do with you actually, because you’re angry and you rarely get angry on your own behalf, which means it’s probably something to do with me or some perceived slight. What happened in there? Did someone make a snide remark about my eccentric ice cream selection? The long skirt on a warm spring day? Oh, no, I’ve got it. It was probably the earrings, yes? I knew I should have gone with the feathers instead of hoops, matches the outfit much better.”

The corner of Martin’s mouth quirked up in a hapless, crooked smile as Jon coaxed a laugh out of him, and he looked up into his gaze adoringly to grant him unspoken conciliation.

“No, no not at all. Nothing like that. It’s nothing, love. It’s not a big deal. Just low blood sugar or something. Just eat your nasty mint chip or rum raisin or whatever that unholy concoction is,” Martin snorted, gesturing at his cup.

“Liar,” Jon crooned with loving reproachment, reaching out to thumb a little bit of rum raisin on the tip of Martin’s nose as punishment.

Even breathed with such unfettered, undying affection, Martin hated that word. He hated how transparent he still was to the man he loved, how much he still truly saw him, saw through him. At least all it took to compel him now was a little melted ice cream rubbed clean off his nose and a winsome smile with love-puddled green and brown eyes.

“Okay, okay… fine,” he admitted with a resigned smirk and a sigh, “I don’t like the way they look at you. Okay? That’s all.”

Jon’s brow knitted together curiously.

“Hmm? Who? What do you mean?” he asked.

“Everyone!” Martin finally effused in frustration, “Everywhere! They look at you like you’re… like you’re damaged goods! Like you’re some pitiful beaten animal on the street, or worse, like you’re some sort of- some sort of um…”

“…Monster?” supplied Jon, lips pursed and lids drooping.

“…I wasn’t going to say that,” Martin stammered.

“What other word is there?”

“Fine, they look at you like you’re a monster. They take one look at your face or your throat or your… your hand. And I can just see it on their faces. They look at you like you’re a monster, and I hate it. You don’t deserve that. You never did! They don’t even know you! They don’t know what happened to you…! And sorry, Jon, but I get angry about it because it’s not fair, and I can’t exactly go about lobbing right hooks into the faces of everyone who even looks at you cross-eyed, now can I? Much as I’d like to…"

Jon went quiet as he listened, dabbling first in the rum raisin, then indulging in a little mint chip chaser, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully as he nibbled on the plastic spoon.

“Is that what you see?”

The color rolled out from Martin’s freckled cheeks along with the very spirit from his eyes in a fog, his entire mien awash in pallor.

“What? How could you say that to me? I would NEVER think that about you, Jon! How could you ever think I would think that? I-I know I said some awful things in the past about your scars, but I-“

“No no! Martin, no! Of course not! I know you would never!” Jon cut in, reaching across the table to snatch his hand and squeeze it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles and over his wedding ring, “You misunderstand! I was asking if that’s what you see in their eyes?”

Martin clung to Jon’s hand, heart palpitating and breath easing.

“Oh…” he blurted dumbly, flushing with lively hues of reds and golds once more, “I-? Of course I do, what else could it be?”

“I don’t see that. I don’t see that at all,” Jon answered simply, “It’s… hard to describe but, damaged goods, disgust, morbid curiosity, those are all… Hard things. They have sharp edges. And when people here look at me, I don’t feel anything hard or sharp, it feels… soft? It feels gentle.”

Shaking his head, Martin frowned.

“Gentle? How is openly gawking at someone’s scars in any way gentle?”

“It’s just a feeling I have. I suppose,” Jon mused, thumbing at his beard with his free hand as he constructed an analogy that would make sense in his mind, “Mmm… Think of it like this. Humans, life, we’re all very visually oriented creatures, right? We respond to visual cues in our environments that are universally understood. We wear these rings so that everyone knows we belong together, just the same as bright colors usually mean poison, or how specialized feathers, or horns, or dewlaps and the like let others know they’d be a good mate, or how some things look like eyes or like entirely different creatures to scare off predators, and so on.”

The creases in Martin’s forehead only deepened in confusion.

“Okay sure, but scars aren’t a natural adaptation? We don’t look at scars the same way we look at pretty eyes on a moth wing or something.”

“I know that, that’s not what I’m saying,” Jon reiterated tenderly, “What I’m saying is I’ve always felt like my scars are a visual cue, but one that says to others ‘treat me gently’, because clearly I haven’t been. And it’s… well it’s been quite nice. You were about to tear that poor girl’s head off, but didn’t you see how she not only gave me about six samples when the sign clearly said two per customer, but then she also gave me the rum raisin ‘by mistake’ and then conveniently forgot to charge for it?”

“Wh-did she?” Martin gasped in shock, rewinding the transaction to remember that indeed, Jon had only asked for mint chip, but there was clearly also a generous scoop of rum raisin in his cup, ”She did… No I… I guess I didn’t notice…”

Jon let Martin’s hand go to cup his cheek pointedly in his scarred palm, running his thumb over the soft curve of his cheek and the spray of his ruddy freckles comfortingly.

“You want to know what I think? I think what you perceive as disgust or aversion or even pity is just fear, like you had. Fear of pain, fear of disfigurement, of fallibility. People are always afraid of seeing what can become of their mortal bodies, but that has nothing to do with me, or being disgusted by me. People are, at their cores, good and gentle, Martin. I know they are, we both do. They see me, my cane, my limp, my hand, my gray hair, my face, and they don’t even ask, they just know, on some primal level, that life was not kind to me. And so in some tiny way, like free rum raisin, they almost always try to give something back to me.”

Jon had known. He had noticed. It had never escaped his perception as Martin had assumed. Jon had known all along, but it was only Martin who still saw daggers in the smiles of strangers while he had taken the last vestiges of his powers irrevocably branded on his body and soul and sowed something delicate and beautiful and blossoming in his new earth. Martin had made a weapon. Perhaps no less delicate and beautiful, but still cold and sharp and deadly. The razor white edge of the sun through frigid fog.

“I’m so sorry, Jon,” Martin choked, his throat pinching shut with the threat of tears, “I-I had no idea…. I-I only thought…”

“It’s alright, please don’t cry, darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. I understand. You only thought you were protecting me. I protected you for so long, when you were desperate to do the same for me, to save me, but had no power to do either. Now you’ve got your turn to do the protecting in earnest, and honestly, it’s a… can I- can I say hot? Can I say it’s a hot look on you? Or is that weird?” Jon asked, tips of his ears blushing coyly.

Martin managed a laugh as he sniffed back the tears and thumbed both sets of lashes dry under his spectacles.

“It’s a little weird for you, in particular, to say it, just because it’s you. But I’ll take it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Perhaps then, Martin thought as Jon leaned over their whimsical little metal table outside an ice cream parlor by a park with a striped canopy above them and birds singing and kissed his tears away and then kissed his lips into a smile, that sharp things needn’t always be weapons. Perhaps his sword was, in reality, a spade, or a hoe, something to tend and nurture the new and fragile happiness Jon had tilled. Gentle things deserved gentle protection, and he was still going to devote every iota of his being to protecting Jon until the end of their days. After all, as they finally got to enjoy their slightly melted ice cream, Jon still dribbled a bit of rum raisin down his beard and carried on none the wiser. Martin let him go on like that, blissfully unaware, talking about Polyphemus moths and the myth of the cyclops and something about someone going about as Nobody, until he finally reached out with a napkin to attentively wipe it away.

Other than a gracefully paced ‘oh, thank you dear,’ Jon never missed a beat.

#The Magnus Archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #Fan fic #Crow Writes #Ask Drabble #Fricklefracklefloof

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moonlight-escapade · 3 years ago

Text

The King & I (Pt. 6)

HISTORICAL AU (but not necessarily historically accurate bc this is a fanfic not a research project lol): King Henry V & “Street Urchin” reader who takes in and cares for abandoned/orphaned children.

Chapter 6: A HELPING HAND

HALS POV

She reminded me of a deer. I’d grown up hunting all sorts of animals with my father, but I hated hunting deer. They were my mother’s favorite animal, and my father could never understand the reasons behind my opposition towards hunting them. Nevertheless, he was insistent that I should whenever the occasion arose. But I’d manage to find my own way around his demands.

We would go out to the woods, bows and swords in hand, chasing down stags and doe. I’d manage to sneak a satchel of grains underneath my cloak, preferring the idea of befriending the sweet creatures rather than killing them for sport. I remembered my mother said she’d liked doing that, and the idea made me feel connected to her somehow. I’d been raised to fight, brawl and take heed since I was young enough to hold a sword, but there had to be a place for softness somewhere… at least I remember my mother saying so time and time again. Keep your warriors heart but leave room for softness there.

Deer were highly intelligent creatures. They’re constantly on alert and are extremely hard to gain their trust. Yet somehow, despite everything they watch humans do to them, they can find a way to open their heart to you. Maybe that’s what I saw in (Y/N).

She fought hard against showing it, but it was that very softness she hid that intrigued me. Holding out a hand full of grain to a deer isn’t enough to get them to trust you; it’s the steadiness of that hand, the softness with which you approach them and the patience you keep. That’s always the key. They’ll never come to you on your terms; you must play by their own. Otherwise, they run away. And you’re lucky if you ever come across that same deer again.

“But I can’t today,” (Y/N) spoke, her hands clasped behind her back. Her gaze was uneasy, shifting back and forth between the ground and me.

I nodded, showing her I understood. The grains still outstretched in my hand. She could take them whenever she liked.

“Tomorrow then,” I stated. I could see her mind working beneath her guarded gaze.

“(Y/N)! We’re ready to go,” a voice called from outside. The door opened and the same group of young boys from yesterday stumbled through the door. I moved aside, allowing them to fill up the space. (Y/N) stood up quickly, greeting them all and offering seats to the lot. They looked at me with wary expressions though they moved with intention. I was a guest in their home, and they made sure I knew it.

The tallest of the group, a boy of about 15 I’d say, came around and stood in front of (Y/N). His body language tense and on guard. This boy was a devoted soldier to his captain.

“Are you Hal?” The boy asked firmly. I glanced down at (Y/N), realizing she hadn’t introduced me to them as the King. I was glad, I secretly wanted it to stay that way. I stared back at the young man before me. “I am,” I confirmed.

“Have you brought us more food?” he asked. “Carter,” (Y/N) scolded him, as though the comment took her by surprise.

“We don’t want to expect anything,” the boy retorted. I watched his firm gaze analyze me… whether as an opponent or a friend, I wasn’t too sure.

“I have,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, trustworthy. “You have?” (Y/N)’s sweet voice sounded from beside the boy. I smiled softly, nodding. “I wasn’t sure if you’d accept it, but I hadn’t gotten to ask you yet,” I admit. Her hand reaches behind her neck, her other arm coming around her waist, “I… that’s very kind of you,” she mutters.

“If you care to join me by my steed, young man?” I ask, taking the pressure off of her. The boy, Carter, looked to (Y/N) for approval, which she gave with a nod.

Carter and I walked outside to where Perseus stood, sacks of food hanging on either side of his body. I watched the boy’s eyes widen at my steed. “A white horse? They say none but the King has one,” he exclaimed.

“Aye, so they say. But Perseus has been with me for long as I can remember,” I tell him, giving Perseus a pat on the head.

He brushed a hand across Perseus’ white hair with the same kind of admiration I’d had when my Father had gifted him to me many years ago. It fell heavy on me that in merely a few weeks… this boy would become a member of my guard in our efforts to win the war against France.

“Why are you helping us?” He asked then, snapping me back into the present. The interrogation continuing where it left off. The boy had taken the place of the man of the house in this unconventional family arrangement. I wondered what his feelings towards (Y/N) were. Did he see her as a mother? Or as someone he wanted to protect the same way I did? I quickly shook the thought away. It was ridiculous. He was a boy. But I’d been a boy once, and I remembered what it was like to be in the presence of a beautiful woman.

“Because I felt compelled to,” I admit, stroking Perseus’ neck as Carter traced the embroidery on my saddle.

“(Y/N) has been kind to us,” he began, “she sacrifices a lot to help us all. We were up to seventeen of us last week… but not everyone stays.” I listened attentively to this description of their lives. “I was one of the first, after Joseph and John… this was their parents house,” he signals to the deteriorating shack. “(Y/N) welcomed me in with open arms…” he spoke, his voice trailing off.

“She seems to love you all very much,” I say, trying to prod into his reverence towards her. Carter smiles warmly, nodding his head. “She’s a mother to the younger ones, and a sister to the rest of us” he admits. I silently sigh in relief.

“But I’ve been here a long time, and I am tired of seeing her come back home bloodied and bruised every week,” he says, shifting one of the sacks off of Perseus’ side. There is a frustration in his tone and movement that I recognize. He wants to be more than (Y/N)’s ward in this home. The way I wanted to be more than my father’s disappointing son.

“She can’t continue this way… I can’t-“ he catches himself, “we can’t lose her.” His gaze moves far off.

“I’ve a way to help her,” I tell him, hoping his trust in me could help to gain (Y/N)’s. Telling him about the job I have available for her could be helpful in convincing her to take it.

“There’s a job at the old tavern just down the road. An old friend of mine owns it and is willing to take her on,” he says. Carter looks at me with surprise.

“Take (Y/N) on?” he asks. I nod. He chuckles then. “What’s funny about that?” I ask. He shakes his head and slings the sack over his shoulder. “I don’t think (Y/N)’s ever worked for her supper a day in her life.”

I knew he didn’t mean that in the way most ladies were to be revered. Rather, (Y/N) was a professional thief. It was all she’d known.

“No matter, she’ll learn,” I tell him, undoing the straps on the second sack of foods.

“(Y/N) isn’t one to take orders,” he confesses, a playful smile on his face. I can’t help but chuckle in return. That was something I could easily believe.

“Well, that’s why I hope you’ll talk to her. If she feels she’s doing it for you rather than for her, maybe she can.” I tell him, walking back around to the front of the house.

“I’ll give it my best,” Carter says. I nudge his arm with my elbow and we share a friendly laugh. Patience. It’s always the key.

————————

“Gods Bones! You bastard!” I screamed, feeling the blood rush out fresh down my face.

“Good heavens, I’ve never heard a woman say such a thing in my life,” the doctor said after removing his hand from my nose.

“I’ve never felt such god-awful pain before in my life,” I yelled back. “That was worse than when it broke!” I cried. I stared over at Hal, who sat in the corner with a pained expression on his face. “You!” I pointed, “This was your fault!” I yelled.

The doctor looked at me with his mouth open. “Young Lady, I will ask you to not speak in such a manner to the King in my study— nor anywhere you’re with him,” he scolded me.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the cloth from his hand. “Don’t you ever touch my bloody nose again,” I warned. I couldn’t stop the tears that pooled around my eyes. My face was undoubtedly a holy disaster now. How could the King still stand to stand there, looking at me like this.

“Hal, please leave, this isn’t an ideal moment for a lady to wish to be looked at,” I say. He walks towards me, his hands coming out to comfort me, but I shrug him off. “I’m serious. I look like a skinned cow.”

He backs off, allowing the doctor to bring him away to his study. In the meantime, I wince and cry with pain as my newly re-broken nose hangs on my face. The doctor said it had to be re-broken in order to set. To me it sounded like a classic move to torture a woman— as everything seemed to be with modern medicine. Hal would certainly pay for this.

“Now, do not touch it, no matter what you do,” the doctor spoke as he walked back into the room. “What if it itches?” I retort. “Are you daft? I said no matter what you do,” the doctor jabbed back.

He excused me with a bottle of lavender, sage and hemlock extracts, to be applied every day and night for three weeks.

“But how will I apply it if I’m not allowed to touch it,” I ask him, spite full in my voice. “Goodbye Lady (Y/N),” he says without looking at me. I would have rolled my eyes again had he not called me “Lady.” It surprised me. Who did he think I was?

Hal was waiting for me when I walked out of the room, attentive as ever. His fingers grazed my face as he tilted my now cleaned face up at him. “I’m so sorry (Y/N), I wasn’t expecting him to do that,” he spoke honestly. I couldn’t stay mad at him, not with the way his blue eyes gazed down on me… not with the flurry of blossoms I felt swirling in my stomach as I gazed back. But there was something I had to ask.

“He called me Lady,” I told him, my face still lingering on the tips of his fingers. “Why?”

He smiled, bringing his fingers down to my chin. “I suppose it’s because you look like one.”

I shove his arm, staring back at him, waiting for his real response. He chuckles. “We should be off, Lady (Y/N),” he says, holding an arm out for me. I bite my lip, trying to hide my amusement, then walk past him out to the street below.

It’s busy today, with carriages and people flooding out into the streets. Today is the meat market- the good kind that hails from Scotland and their highland cattle. Even though half the people here can’t afford it, it’s a luxury many an Englishman is willing to spend a pretty shilling on.

Hal however, doesn’t seem to notice. Instead his attention is entirely placed on securing a path to the Boar’s Head. His arms wrap around me as he maneuvers us through the crowds. When I trip on a turned stone, he is there to catch me immediately. I found myself trying to pull away from him out of my own pride, but I melted when he pulled me closer. Whether he did it intentionally or not, the feeling was indescribable.

Finally, we’d reached the tavern. I was surprised to find it in full swing at such an early hour. But I suppose just like it was for my mother, tavern work was never really over. I hesitated as we made our way inside.

“Are you alright?” Hal asked above me. I stared at the room around me, gauging the patrons and the energy of the space. It was lively, loud and… it reminded me very much of Madame B’s. “I don’t know about this Hal,” I say to him, feeling my voice falter. I follow him as he guides back to a quieter corner of the bar. He sits down on the table in front of me, his attention fully focused. I can hardly stand to think about that right now, I need to figure out if this is what I want.

“(Y/N), slow down,” he says, as though hearing my thoughts, “I’m only introducing you. There’s nothing at stake here,” he says, his fingertips brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I look at him, feeling a surge of frailty begin to crawl around me. “I don’t think I want this,” I tell him, feeling the honesty burn in my throat.

Hal nods, taking my hand. “We don’t have to stay,” he says. As I begin to agree with him, a joyful voice calls out to him from behind us.

“There he is!” a woman who I assumed to be Mrs. Quickly (I’d never put a face to her name) called, wrapping her arms around Hal’s shoulders. Hal smiled, chuckling merrily at her cherubic smile. I couldn’t help but find myself smiling too.

“Is this your friend?” she asked, turning towards me. She pulled me into a hug that felt incredibly comforting.

“Hello Mrs. Quickly,” I say with a small curtsey. She waves her hands at me as if shooing the gesture. “No need for such propriety here love, we’re a tavern, not a tea room,” she winks at me. I can’t help the laugh that leaves my lips. When I look over to Hal, he is already staring at me, a smile settled on his lips.

“Well love, we’ve got plenty for ye to do. Shall I show ye around?” she asked, holding a hand out to me. I looked to Hal who nodded at me encouragingly. I suppose there’s no harm… they seemed like nice enough people after all. I take Mrs. Quickly’s hand and follow her into the tavern space, letting her show me around the bar, introducing me to a few loud, albeit humorous patrons gathered around a table playing some sort of game.

I gazed up a rickety stairway, trying to peer at the hall there. “You won’t need to worry about the second floor dear,” Mrs. Quickly spoke reassuringly. Her hand patting mine as she lead me back to the bar. Ah.

“Do you know how to cook dear?” Mrs. Quickly asked. I shook my head sheepishly. I don’t think I’d ever even been near a stove in my life.

“No matter, there’s plenty more work that’ll keep you occupied,” she smiled warmly. It was truly amazing to me that this woman… that Hal… both of them were so willing to give me a chance. Undoubtedly it was Hal’s good word that even got me this far. I could barely hope to find work without his recommendation. Or was Mrs. Quickly just as unable to reject the King's proposal as I was?

Before I could think too much about it, a flash of the familiar burgundy coat he seemed to be quite fond of caught my eye. “How about it?” He asked, his voice radiating a careful hopefulness.

“I see no reason as to why I should refuse.” I tell him. Mrs. Quickly claps happily. “Oh wonderful dear!”

And with that, I am whisked off. An apron tied around my skirt and a tin platter placed in my hand. Hal stayed the entire night, always there when I’d encounter a group of rowdy men clamoring for their next round.

“Hal, you can’t be here every night to deal with them for me,” I tell him as he sticks by my side. You could hardly tell he was a King while in a place like this. He was so comfortable with the rambunctious customers that swayed and tripped about the tavern like drunken oxen.

“No, I suppose not,” he said, placing a hand on my waist as he moved around me to set a pitcher on the table. “But I am here tonight,” he smiled down at me. I shook my head, laughing at the stubbornness I’d grown to enjoy from him. But in an instant, his good humor seemed to falter entirely. I followed his gaze over to the door where a rather annoyed looking guard stood. I thought I may have recognized him, but guards all looked so much the same I could hardly tell. “Excuse me a moment,” Hal said before dipping away from my side.

He approached the man swiftly, speaking to him with lowered head, making it impossible to catch a snip of the conversation off of the movement of his lips. The guard seemed adamant about Hal’s leaving with him, but Hal seemed to resist. Again bearing that stubborn nature with pride. After a few moments, he came back over to where I stood behind the bar.

“I must take my leave now, but you are in the best of hands,” he assured me. And there it was again… that strange disconnect that happened that changed him right before my eyes from my friend Hal to the King, Henry V of England. I nodded at him assuringly, “Yes, don’t worry about me.”

That crooked smile I’d seen once before played on his lips again, “It seems that’s all I’m able to do these days.” My heart jumped at his confession. His hand grazed my own before taking it between his fingers and placing a kiss atop it. Thank God I’d inherited my mother’s talent for hiding all emotions from my face. I simply nodded in thanks. A gesture that made him chuckle before turning back and leaving with his impatiently waiting guard out the door.

Yet before leaving, the guard turned back, his eyes staring straight back at me. His expression was full of something I couldn’t quite gather. What did he see me as in the light of his King? I bowed slightly, as a gesture of good will. He returned the favor with a slight bow of his head, then turned out the door.

And suddenly, the world was just me again. Though now I was left with one demanding thought: Who was I becoming in the world of the King?

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #the hollow crown #Henry V #King Henry V #prince hal

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