#In the dark when her dark brown hair looks black it sort of gives tommy wiseau unfortunately but it is what it is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

killmebythebeach · 4 years ago

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A bunch of head cannons (Maybe too much). Also in talking about the characters.

I think Dream is that one design where his skin is just the static tv screen. He just constantly emits that fuzzy noise, Sam crafted him the smile mask that he can see through so he doesn't scare people.

George is just kind of the server itself. He's the same species as Hannah, but a mushroom and more powerful. If he stays awake too long, the server just kind of freezes. This is also a reason XD keeps him sleeping, it's his way of talking to George and he thinks the server is like his soap opera of mortals.

Callahan is sort of like the person who makes sure George doesn't get killed or dies while asleep, making sure he's surrounded by mushrooms and such. Deer hybrid <3

Alyssa joined the server because she knew all her friends were idiots and didn't want them to die immediately. But once the elections rolled around, she felt the pressure of choosing sides and ran away to the desert, only keeping contact with Ponk. She actually lives just a couple miles from Foolish's summer home. Her communicator actually died after a couple months and she had no way of charging it, so she lost contact with everyone.

Sapnap is a magma cube hybrid and can jump higher than most, his natural temperature runs hotter, and is fire proof. Bad found him in the nether when he was maybe 10-15 years old.

Sam was actually a normal creeper, but gained player like sentience from being struck by lightning. Instead of becoming charged, he gained intelligence and met the others on the server. Callahan taught him some Redstone, but from there he figured out a lot on his own. He's also a creeper centaur.

Ponk is actually a descendant of a fairy, a lemon tree. Their mask was also a gift from Sam because after the second or third time their tree was burnt, their immune system was weakened a considerable amount. Alyssa also wore her mask for them.

Bad is a size shifting demon from the nether, more specifically soul sand desert. He uses soul fire to gain strength, so because the egg died when near it, he was just a little weaker than normal. Because he's a demon he needs a tie to the overworld to stay there, he tied his soul and lives to Skeppy.

Tommy was grown in a lab to be a hero, project: THESEUS. The lab gave him small enhancements, like slightly stronger and just a bit more resilient, to make the Above Average Boy (TM). He then ran away to meet Wilbur. When Dream asked Wilbur if he wanted to come to the server, he asked if Tommy could go first to see what it was like. He also actually really likes gardening and making up funny songs to Wilbur playing guitar. He also made funny lyrics for his discs, but he's still a bit scared to take them out of his ender chest. Other than bringing attachment, Dream also exiled Tommy to see what his lab enhancements could do.

Tubbo is an adaptive hybrid! His hair was blond, shifting to brown when Wilbur found him, getting blue eyes from Tommy, growing small horns under Schlatt, parts of his skin being static when Dream was "helping" him with his presidency, and parts of his scars tinging black and green from Ranboo and Micheal. Tubbo also helped Wilbur write part of the anthem. He likes living in the snow because the Manberg flag had magma blocks on it, casting a heatwave over the country, and after L'Manburg blew up it got really hot from the exposed stone in direct sun.

Fundy can actually hold his breath for a very long time and swim very well because of Sally teaching him and his salmon genes. The yellow things on his hat are actually shells, and the stripes on his jacket are trans colors. Also with his dreams, he saw Eret was going to betray them but didn't think it was real, or didn't want to. He also saw Wilbur blow up L'Manburg but chose not to believe it, thinking his father could still be saved. He actually saw pretty much everything, but didn't quite understand what they were until after doomsday.

The necklace Punz wears is one of those picture lockets, but he lost the picture and can't remember what it was. The first time Dream paid him was when Dream asked for help and Punz made an off hand joke about getting money, and then Dream thought he was being serious. Him, Dream, and Sapnap were like brothers, and Punz got sadder every time he saw Dream pushing people away and diving deeper into darkness.

Purpled is an aliensent to see if the planet was colonizable, but then crashed and was stranded, all his communications down and his ship barely able to hover fifty feet off the ground. When Quackity blew it up, he essentially got rid of his chance of ever going home. Purpled's species can shapeshift, so he turned himself into the first person he saw, Punz. Eventually before trying to communicate with the native life forms, he edited his form a little so they weren't identical, keeping purple eyes and antennae, changing the colors slightly, and changing the voice up. When he moves away from the main SMP, Ponk makes sure to check up on him and that he has a way to check his communicator.

Wilbur came a month after sending Tommy. His father being a patron of life and his mother the goddess of death, he met in the middle being born as a human. The only reason Ghostbur was as active and present as he was was because he was so connected to both life and death. Since his corpse was decaying for as long as it was, Wilbur is now super weak, his flesh is thin and his eyes are rotted and gone. Much like Ghostbur, Wilbur in limbo saw what people said about him, and Ghostbur could hear that from the back of his head. Now Wilbur can hear what people say about Ghostbur and he hates it, not wanting to be connected to what he thinks like a shell of himself.

Schlatt is a ram (duh) and actually does the fainting goat thing. So when he died of a heart attack, no one knew at first if he was actually dead or not. His alcoholism stems from the revive book, as the possibility of tampering with death made him existential and scared, so to cope he drank. There are also a ton of other stuff other than revival in the book, but it's in galactic.

Skeppy was just a normal human, but after making the pact with Bad, Bad put a spell on him. Parts of him turned into diamond, protecting both his and Bad's lives. He however, is unaware of this. With the egg, he would just sit on it, the diamonds chipping away to make room for the vines.

Eret was cursed by the Wither Cult, giving them white eyes and a slowly deteriorating memory. Not sure what to do, Foolish dropped them off at the SMP. Sometimes they would dream about old memories from before the curse, but it was just glimpses so he could never tell what they meant. Once they were king, they made the Herobrine shrine subconsciously, not really sure what it was after. They also had a strange affinity of beacons and resurrection, some of their memories resurfacing when they tried to help Phil and Ghostbur revive Wilbur after doomsday. The reason people are more scared of their eyes than any other wierd eyes was because he generally looks like a normal human, but the wither along with their Herobrine origins creates an uncanny valley that people are shocked by.

Jack had red and blue irises before crawling out of hell, but after coming back the whites of his eyes also turned red and blue. He always wears 3d glasses so no one noticed, but he just thought no one cared enough to mention it. He also has a bunch of scars and burn marks that no one but him can see, therefore no one asks about them or thinks something is wrong, cementing the idea that no one cares about him.

Niki is a blaze hybrid (stole this from @/420technoblazeit) whose fire hair color changes based on strong emotion, something she bond with Tubbo for as a fellow shifter. A soft yellow in L'Manburg, brighter orange in Manburg, hot pink on Doomsday, a soul fire blue with the syndicate (which Techno hates), and a dead grey when she found out Wilbur was alive. She was also old child hood friends with Ranboo and Eret, leaving Ranboo for the SMP. Ranboo, unfortunatly, doesn't remember much more than her name. She also knows galactic from Ranboo, so she talks about her troubles to Shy the Enderman. She doesn't really know how to talk to Puffy anymore after Doomsday or finding out how she wants to protect Tommy.

Quackity can perfectly replicate someone's voice and, with a lot of effort, can completely change his form to another player. He also has very small yellow wings, too small to fly, so he almost always hides them. He used to constantly change his voice for jokes with Karl, Sapnap, and George, but he doesn't like doing it now in Las Nevadas, as he sees it as unprofessional. However, sometimes he uses when he visits Dream, changing his voice to people like George and Sapnap to make torture more effective.

In the In Between and Other Side, Karl actually looks like his old skin, or his natural state (the big purple one that inspired his sweater). But most of the time in the normal world, he looks human. With effort he can bring out the interdemential being thing, something only Quackity and Sapnap know about. The more he time travels, the easier it becomes to change, and he's even started defaulting to the other form.

HBomb is actually just a normal news reporter, sent to interview and record what's going on in the server, his first big story being the election. Upon Doomsday, the stress of seeing everyone alone, fighting, and disconnected, he ran away from the world, essentially becoming a cat lady. His undercover reporter persona is actually the cat maid. He eventually came back to the server to see how he could help after Doomsday, befriending Niki again and living with her in the underground city.

Techno is a piglin, so he's scared of soul fire. He forgot to tell Phil before he decorated the syndicate room, so he just suffers in silence. He also does better when around a lot of gold, like in the nether, and he feels drained and slightly weaker without it. Instead of just putting gold around the area (it would ruin his property value), he just hibernates. He has an emerald earing, like all of the syndicate, but his is a locket that unfolds into pictures of the syndicate.

Ant always wears a red hoodie, now ruined by the egg, that used to be Red's. On Red's death anniversary, him, Bad, Skeppy, and Sam would make cake and put flowers on his grave. He missed the last one because it was during the egg, but for a brief moment after Puffy killed him he saw Red. Red then promptly and bluntly told him to stop being a pussy (haha, cat) and that he shouldn't do all this just to get him back, one of Ant's motivators to make amends with the people he hurt while with the egg. Ant is also a shapeshifter, but can only turn into a cat.

Phil actually used to work under Foolish as a patron of life but then he had a son with the goddess of death, so his title was removed so he could be with her and he became an Angel of Death. Kristin noticed how sad he was after being released, so she gifted him wings. They were however, destroyed on November 16th. His chat also serves as messenger pigeons, which were used to send letters to Wilbur.

Connor is actually just a hedgehog who somehow befriended Schlatt. Even before the haunted mansion, Karl vented to him about his time travel troubles, not knowing he was a sentient player. As a hedgehog, no one really cares where he goes, so he goes outside the server limits to meet his friends from the haunted mansion.

Puffy is a distant relative of Schlatt, but instead of politics she went into piracy. With her mom, she went travelling the seas. One say, a storm came and wiped out her ship, her crew, her mom, everything but her. The reason she survived was because Foolish saw her and saved her. Unfortunately, Puffy hit hee head in the crash and doesn't remember anything.

Vikkstar is the equivalent of a big time celebrity, so of course his endorsement of POG2020 was a big deal.

Lazarbeam is literally just a ginger bread cookie.

Ranboo has actually met a lot of the smp before actually joining. He's met Niki, Fundy, Eret, Punz, and Dream at least. He also sees the inverted colors Enderman see. His suit was actually a gift from Eret before they forgot how to tailor. He got the crown from Techno after joining the syndicate, claiming he didn't want any syndicate members to look like trash.

Foolish came to the server most recently to check up on Eret, but he couldn't bring himself to leave again. When Puffy adopts him, he can't say no because he remembers saving her. His initial goal was to kill an ender dragon to claim the XD title and become a full god like DreamXD, but after realising someone already killed it he went into his totem if death phase. Upon meeting Eret, he got over it and they went on some silly adventures, Foolish now taking a more peaceful route.

Hannah is essentially a weaker George, as her power is tied to the plants themselves and not the entire server. She however has a lot more physical power because rose dryads like to fight because they have thorns. Since roses can be taken out a lot easier, she is essentially a glass canon. Also when around any plant, she can make it grow faster than normal.

Any guest on the server? Corpse, Pokimane, Lil Nas? They were all Slimecicle. That's how he knows where everyone is from, even outside of Las Nevadas. No one else knows this. He's also ancient, if he met Phil they would probably recognise eachother. There was an actual Charlie Slimecicle who was not a slime, but after being launched into orbit this Slimecicle decided to impersonate him.

Michael Mcchill is a sort of bounty hunter. He came to the server after hearing of all the crime, assuming there'd be a lot of bounties to collect. However, he soon learned that no one really cares if you commit a crime. He then took to reading news articles made by HBomb to see if there were any past open bounties. But after reading for a while about the server's wronguns, mostly Dream, he began to sympathise with them. And he's also a speedrunner, so maybe he could help with some bounties across other servers!

This was a very long post and i apologize, but it was so fun to finally write all these thoughts down! I hope you liked them! I can't even fit all the tags I want.

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redorich · 4 years ago

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A favorite trope of mine has always been- getting to see another person’s past. Is it some kind of judgment thing by a higher power? Something like Freeze Day from SCTFOE? Person trapped in a nightmare and their nightmare is being projected? Who knows. All that’s important is after months of healing, some of the Hermits get to see exactly what Tommy went through. It shows short clips of him before being happy, the rise and fall of Manburg, Wilbur going insane, the festival, the withers, all of it. Just short clips of these things though. The last clip of the SMP is just Dream’s mask outlined by his green hood saying, “you’ll stay here alone with just me until you learn to be quite and respectful and not fight those who are in power over you. Even if you have to stay out here *forever*.”

This turned into a whole drabble smh xD

((btw @give-grian-rights helped me so thank you))

-------

The remaining hermits aren’t sure what happened. They have no way of knowing. There was a witch involved, Cub thinks, but what their fallen friends must have done to piss her off to the point of getting cursed is beyond their ken. Among those laid out are Cleo, Grian, Xisuma, Zedaph, and Tommy.

Scar and Cub work their Vex magic together to figure out that their friends are trapped in their worst memories. (Etho calls it a Demonic Hell Viewing Illusion, and False smacks him upside the head for the Naruto reference.) Holding hands with a victim pulls you in, but that’s what they’re counting on. Joe’s already wading through Cleo’s nightmare before anyone gets the chance to ask, and Impulse and Tango aren’t far behind doing the same for Zedaph. However, it doesn’t work for Grian, Xisuma, and Tommy; they were found already holding hands. They must have figured something out about the curse before they succumbed to it. All the hermits can do for them, for the time being, is hope.

Tommy, Grian, and Xisuma wake to the smell of sulphur and smoke. The ground is orange and littered with bullets. Grian grabs Tommy’s hand, and Xisuma grabs a discarded rifle. Tommy points his finger up at the top of a mound of scrap metal and dead bodies. There’s a nether portal, except the obsidian is whiter than quartz. That's where they have to go to get out of here.

All around them, demons lurch and shriek and hiss and all sorts of unholy behavior, bodily flinging themselves at the trio as though they know none of them can take the men on their own, and that just by dogpiling them all one of them will get lucky. Xisuma instantly snaps into a professional mode, the way he sometimes does when he's killing zombies but they keep social spawning. He takes up the lead with machine gun fire and grenades, carving a path through the crowd. Grian takes up the rear with a handgun. Neither Xisuma nor Tommy ask why Grian is so comfortable with a gun. They've got more pressing issues.

An imp gets lucky. It's just enough to crack the visor of Xisuma's helmet, and the imp instantly gets mowed down.

"I can't see," Xisuma rasps through gritted teeth.

"Then take the helmet off," Tommy says, cleaving through an enemy with a sharp piece of scrap metal. Grian breathes in sharply. As far as Grian's aware, Xisuma always wears his helmet.

Xisuma goes quiet for a second. "I suppose you've got a point."

The helmet gets dropped to the ground and demon limbs shuffle it away. They don't have time to look at Xisuma's wild brown hair, his purple eyes, the burn scars on his jaw.

They make it to the portal all in one piece. Xisuma takes one last wistful look at the Martian hellscape, then takes his friends' hands. They step through the portal together.

----

They step out of the portal into the foyer of a high school. Grian's eyes shutter.

"We'll be headed toward the roof, I believe," he says, staring dully through the spectre of a broken, bloody man holding a rope.

Tommy latches onto Grian's clammy hand to ground him as the three ascend stairs and traverse the dark, winding hallways. The ghost follows them. It isn't like Ghostbur-- it's, well, not vengeful, but it's not kind. The man named Gareth keens about Grian's sins, about a boy named Taurtis who Gareth hates, about mafia and yakuza, about his poor wife Jane.

On the last set of stairs, Gareth makes a wailing remark that causes Grian to bodily flinch. Tommy doesn't even know what the ghost said (he wasn't listening).

"Fuck off," Tommy says, "you're the shittest ghost I've ever met. Even my brother could..."

He trails off. This is not the way to fix things for Grian. On a hunch, he reaches into his pocket. Of course the object he's looking for is in there; it's his brother's coat.

He holds the object out to the ghost. "Have some blue."

Gareth warily takes it, dropping his rope. It floods periwinkle, then cyan, then dark royal blue. A weight seems lifted from the ghost's shoulders as he clutches the blue, mutters something about Jane, and leaves.

Tommy takes Grian's hand, then Xisuma's, and they go through the door to the school's rooftop together. They halt as one. The portal is there. Standing between them is a boy maybe Tommy's age, with a corpse at his feet.

"Sam," Grian whispers. "Taurtis."

The standing boy smiles, eyes obscured by a purple mask with a rectangular symbol on it, and flexes bloody wings. The corpse on the ground has blood all over its back, where wings once were, and broken headphones around his neck.

"Man, Grian, you really held out on me," Sam says. "This Watcher power really is something else--"

Sam topples over backward. His body hits the ground in front of the portal. Xisuma lowers his gun.

"He looked like bad news," Xisuma says.

Grian grimaces. "He was. Come on, let's go."

They once again step into the portal.

----

“Do you want to be a hero, Tommy?” Technoblade roars, “Then die like one!”

Their paltry little group of three gets no chance to take in their surroundings, to see what’s going on and where they need to go. All they can process is the legendary PvP champion, acolyte of the Blood God, Technoblade, unleashing Withers upon what once might have been a town.

Tommy yanks them into cover. “I don’t know where the portal is,” he hisses.

Grian squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll find it.”

Explosions rain hellfire down upon them from all angles-- not just the Withers, but TNT buried in the ground. They’re so close, they can see the man who set it off. And he must have, because he’s yelling about it, yelling about his L’Manberg and his unfinished symphony and begging his father to kill him. He’s wearing Tommy’s coat--

Bile rises in the back of Grian’s throat. Tommy wears his brother’s coat.

Tommy’s eyes are glued to the gleaming diamond sword that Wilbur gives to his father. He watches his brother die all over again, and he knows where he must go. He turns his back on his broken family and breathes.

“We need to go to the Nether,” he says. They nod.

The black portal is across the battlefield. They come across corpses more than once on their way, but ignore them. They can’t afford not to.

In the Nether, there is a rickety, dangerous pathway with no rails, made of cobblestone and obsidian and oak logs. Manic-depressive ravings on signs proclaim the path as the road to Logstedshire. Piglins try to knock them off to no avail, and ghasts blow up the bridge behind them as they run. On the other side of the Logstedshire portal is... actually not a hellscape, as Grian and Xisuma have come to expect, but a little village encampment. Nothing is blown up, nothing is amiss, except Tommy himself. And, of course, the figure they spot after they catch Tommy staring at it.

It’s Dream. The up-and-coming famous speedrunner who Grian faintly recalls killing once in MCC, which was apparently a big deal. The man approaches, and Grian realizes where he recognizes the mask from. It’s the same one that Tommy wears.

“Tommy,” Dream says conversationally, “items in the pit.”

Tommy’s hand wavers, reaches up to unclasp his chestplate, but Xisuma’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“No,” Tommy says.

“No?” Dream parrots incredulously. “You know the rules. It’s for your own good. Armor in the pit. Tools in the pit. Friends in the pit.”

They all gasp, though for different reasons. Tommy’s eyes narrow. “Friends in the pit? You’ve never said that one before.”

Dream’s head twitches. “Friends in the pit. Friends. In the pit.”

The man’s voice is deeper than Tommy remembers. Something seems to resolve within Dream’s behavior, yet he keeps twitching. “You’re in exile, Tommy, you don’t need. Friends. I’m all you need. You were doing so good. I thought you learned to behave. I’m all you need. You don’t need friends.”

What happened to the eloquent poison that used to drip from Dream’s tongue like honey? He sounds like a broken record. All at once, Tommy staggers under the weight of the realization that this isn’t Dream. Somewhere underneath that horrible man that abused him is the real Dream, trapped in his own body and watching the dreamon that possessed him hurt his friends.

Xisuma’s gun makes an appearance again, but Tommy holds up a hand in a silent request for the admin to hold his fire. Tommy grabs Dream by the shoulders, removes Dream’s mask and then his own so that he can look the man in the eyes. “I know you’re in there, Dream. When I get out of this nightmare, I’ll save you. I swear it on my discs.”

Dream’s face twitches erratically. The movement spreads to his whole head, neck jerking. He raises straight up into the air, higher and higher, then explodes into a shower of items and no body. A white portal shimmers into existence.

“What the hell was that?!” Grian demands.

Tommy grins, taking the man’s hand and leading him to the portal. “I’ve got a friend to save.”

Grian snarls. “Tommy, he abused you. He’s not your friend.”

“That wasn’t Dream. It was a--”

“Dreamon,” Xisuma breathes.

Tommy nods. They walk through the portal together, and when they wake, holding each other close, they know they’ve got a mission. They can do it.

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cuuno-moved · 4 years ago

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FROM THE DIARY OF KARL JACOBS:

Your name is Karl Jacobs.

That is very important. You cannot forget that.

You have two husbands, named Alex and Sapnap Jacobs.

Alex goes by Quackity, or Q, sometimes. He calls you mi amor (my love) and mi vida (my life). You call him darling and sunshine. He’s the smaller one, with the messy dark hair and brown skin. He wears a hat all the time, and has an eyepatch.

Sapnap calls you froggy, and sugar. You call him panda and cupcake. He’s the big one, with the shoulder length hair (usually in a man-bun), earrings and eyebrow slit. He looks a little bit mean, but he’s the sweetest guy on earth.

You live in a big house, with a red door.

If Sapnap brings home a cat, let him keep it.

If either finds a spider, you’ll have to kill it.

DO NOT TOUCH QUACKITY WITHOUT WARNING ESPECIALLY ON THE HIPS OR SHOULDERS.

Remember to water the plants.

You wash the dishes on Fridays.

If Quackity has a panic attack, sit beside him, hug him, and rub his back.

If Sapnap has a panic attack, move away, sit with your back to the opposite wall and talk to him.

If you have a panic attack, don’t let them know, press your hands to your chest and count the breaths. Sometimes it helps to list things you can see in your head.

The code to the security system is 1144.

You sleep in the middle, with Alex on the left and Sapnap on the right. If Sapnap snores, try to roll him on his back. If Quackity starts sleep talking, record it to laugh about later.

You always wear bright colors. Do not try to wear black or grey, they will get worried. Do not wear white, they will be confused.

If you have a headache, you’re probably having caffeine withdrawal, get a Monster energy from the fridge. You like the white ones most.

Take your meds. You have two, one for adhd and one for anxiety. Take one of each in the morning. Sapnap has meds too, remind him to take them.

Quackity puts cheese in his hot chocolate. Feel free to call it gross, because it is.

If he calls you ‘honey buns’, respond with ‘baby birdie’.

If Sapnap makes jokes about being stupid, tell him to stop. He’s really really smart.

The popcorn is in the cabinet with the seasonings.

Sapnap smokes. Don’t let him know that you know.

Ranboo comes over sometimes, let him have your usual chair. He likes to listen, do not try to pull him into the conversation.

Sapnap’s kale salad is really bad, don’t eat it.

THINGS NOT TO MENTION OR SAY:

Do not call Quackity sweetcheeks. Do not comment on his appearance, especially his ass. Do not yell. Do not drink, or talk about drinking. Do not bring up Schlatt. Do not try to quiet him when he’s excited about something. Do not talk about hearts, or cannibalism, or raw meat.

Don’t say “Come here” to Sapnap. Do not talk about Dream. Do not try to corner him. Do not go near ravines. Do not sing that stupid doo doo doo song that Dream listens to. Do not say “Oh come on” or try and get him to do things he doesn’t want to.

DO NOT LET THEM FIND OUT ABOUT YOUR MEMORY.

DO NOT LET THEM FIND THIS JOURNAL.

Other people: Callahan is the man with antlers. Alyssa is the girl with brown hair. Punz is the one with long white hair and white sweatshirt, their little brother Purpled wears a purple hoodie. Eret is the tall man in the crown with the blank eyes. Ponk is the short South African man with the black sweatshirt. Bad is the demon with the vines growing out of his skin. Ant is the cat. Sam is the green one, with the deep voice and solid black eyes. Vikk and Lazar don’t show up much, but Vikk is the British one, Lazar is the Australian. Connor is the one in the blue hoodie. Techno is the pig (DO NOT TALK TO HIM HE DOESN’T LIKE YOU). Phil is his coworker, the one with the green robes. Tubbo is the thin boy with all the scars. Jack is the one with the missing arm and broken glasses. Foolish is the Totem, he likes you. Charlie is the one with glasses and bad puns. George is the one with white rimmed sunglasses who hangs out with Sapnap a lot. Puffy is the short man with curly hair. Hannah is the one with flowers that grow out of her skin. Ranboo is the half enderman in the suit. Skeppy is the ruby. Niki is the girl with pink hair. Fundy is the fox. HBomb is the one in the flannel, he’s nice. Ghostbur is the ghost. Tommy is dead, do not talk about him.

If Callahan is staring at you, wave and smile. I don’t think he knows. Does he?

For the love of god, do not talk to Corpse. He is really observant, he will notice if you fuck up. IF he corners you, keep a straight face, excuse yourself. DON’T CALL HIM CATBOY. Calling him Crops is okay, he’ll think it’s a dumb nickname.

Fundy doesn’t like it when you bring up the grey in his hair. He’s 18, I don’t know where it came from, but it’s there.

Punz uses they/them, Eret uses all, Ranboo uses he/they/it, Puffy uses she/her

Ranboo is not Charles, or John, or the Butler. Do not make that mistake again. He has paranoia, it will send him into a spiral.

Foolish gets really excited about building. Let him talk. He doesn’t get the chance otherwise.

George is narcoleptic, Quackity makes jokes about it.

Ghostbur and Ranboo also have memory issues, do not bring that up, they will be suspicious. No, Ranboo will be suspicious, I don’t think Ghostbur will remember.

If Punz flirts with you, they’re probably trying to get under Sapnap’s skin. Flirt back if you want, but not too much. Sapnap gets jealous easily, do not be an asshole. Punz doesn’t actually like you romantically, and you obviously don’t actually like them.

If Purpled asks to borrow your stuff, say no, he’s not going to give it back.

Ponk sings sometimes, out of nowhere. Let him. Sing along, maybe, if you can.

Quackity flirts with Bad a lot.

Sapnap flirts with George a lot.

Quackity has wings, he might need help with preening. Just gently run your fingers through the feathers, try to get out any sort of debri or anything.

If your chest starts hurting, stretch your arms up, and out. You are either having a panic attack or you’ve been hunched over for too long.

If you see Puffy rubbing her chest, she needs to take off her binder. Remind her to do that, she will not remember otherwise.

If Tubbo makes you another bracelet, put it on the right, the left arm is for Foolish’ bracelets.

Keep your mind clear, and calm. Smile often, and laugh at Q’s jokes, even if they’re not funny. Try to act normal.

The timeline depends on it.

-KJ

#this is my first time posting my writing on tumblr please give me clout #karl jacobs #quackity #sapnap #karlnapity #dream smp #mcyt #tftsmp #toby writes shit

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unprofessional-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 11 - The Introduction

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: Fluff, smut (just a good ol' handjob in a tub and implied smut) and a lil bit of angst/tense situations + uncomfortable talks/thoughts of pregnancy and trauma.

Summary: Unprepared for the consequences, the reader has to put up with two new arrivals, even though there's something off about them. Something more than just the shock of survival.

Word Count: 6.810

Author's Note: This chapter is set between April and July 2036, I apologise bc the reader is slowly turning into her own character, like Dolly's becoming an OC 😭 but yeah I love you all so much, thank you for reading my series 🥺💗

Enjoy!

"Well, well, what have we here."

The trio halted in their tracks as your voice echoed in the stables, your flashlight shining on them.

"Hey, Dolly," Ellie turned around, dying inside. Beside her was Cat and Jesse, turning around with pursed lips. "What'cha doin'?"

"Oh not much- patrol, you know," You said nonchalantly, walking towards them with threatening steps as you did. "Making sure people don't sneak off in the middle of the night with the horses. Kinda like what you three are doing."

"We weren't sneaking off," Jesse chuckled, but the panic in his voice gave him away easily. "We're just here to... feed the horses?"

"They're being fed regularly, you know that, so cut the crap." You spoke sternly. "Where the hell are you all off to?"

"We were just-" Ellie took over. "We're meeting with Dina. Eugene is there with her."

"What for?" You inquired. "What does Eugene have to do with whatever it is you're planning?"

They were struggling to reveal the truth, but Ellie knew better than to lie. She knew that, as long as it was the truth you wouldn't get angry; it was your thing and Ellie had noticed it from the Boston QZ, so she gave a look to Cat, whom you suspected to be Ellie's girlfriend, and she spoke: "Eugene has weed."

"Ex-cuse me?" Your eyes widened with a long blink at the three words. You weren't against it or anything, but you were just shocked- How and where in hell did Eugene find weed?

"Yeah, shit- Uh, we'll head back," Jesse mumbled.

"No it's-" You quickly recovered and fixed your posture. "How?"

"We were going to find out," Cat offered an apologetic smile.

"Christ," You chuckled. "Oh, Eugene, Eugene..." You quickly look around, a devilish smirk spreading across your face. "You know what? Go."

"Are you serious?" Ellie asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. I'm not gonna rob you bunch from your teenage years," You chuckled. "Under one condition: I'll ride with you all."

"Oh, okay," Cat grinned excitedly and proceeded to climb on a horse, Jesse mirroring her actions after he offered his thanks.

"Okay," You pointed at the rifle you had in your hands after climbing on a horse. "Let's ride quick, I'm probably gonna get in a lot of trouble as it is, so..."

"Thanks, Dolly," Ellie spoke after she settled behind Cat.

If Eugene wasn't there, you wouldn't have let them out and would've proceed to fetch anyone who was already outside. You knew they could handle themselves, but you just didn't want anything to happen to them. It had just finished raining so it was extremely dark outside. After the quiet and fast ride, you saw them off into the partly wrecked building.

"If it's legit, we'll bring you some." Jesse smirked after the girls waved goodbye and walked in.

"Go on, get!" You chuckled and shooed at him, then began riding back the way you came while ignoring the offer, which was actually quite enticing.

It was near dawn when you heard a bunch of horses riding at full speed, nearing your position. The sky was turning a bright shade of blue, and you couldn't deny the beautiful scene in front of you. The air smelled of earth and remnants of rain from a few hours ago and there were the occasional chirping of birds and a squirrel here and there - the peace however was gone the moment the horses appeared. You immediately shot up from your place to see what was going on, shoulder aching a little whenever you gripped your rifle (the bullet which had teared its way into your flesh right before your showdown with Axel, although healed for the most part, still hurt).

You let out a relieved sigh when you recognised Ellie's red hair and Eugene's white ones, then you saw Dina and Jesse, but there were two other people you didn't know riding with them. You blinked a couple of times after you lowered your rifle, then shouted down to Cedric: "Open the gate!"

You made your way down and immediately went over to Eugene and the strangers, hand on your rifle just in case: "Hey, what's going on?"

"Cedric, take them to Kat, have her take a look at their wounds," Eugene instructed and he immediately obliged. After they disappeared and the kids went to put their horses in the stables, he spoke: "We were on our way back here when we heard shouting, found this couple fighting for their lives against a dozen infected in the woods. We took them down easily and offered them help afterwards... They're a bit freaked out, but they'll be okay."

"Okay, I'll let Ma-" You suddenly stopped, realisation dawning on you. "How the hell are we gonna tell Maria?"

Eugene looked deep in thought for half a minute, then spoke: "Tell her it was me and Dina. We were patrolling anyways-"

"What about the couple?"

"We'll ask them to say it was just the two of us, and to decrease the number of infected, problem solved. Relax, will ya?"

You nodded quickly, then walked off after telling him to alert the kids about the plan.

You stopped by the infirmary first. Daisy and a new medic, Angie, were tending to them and Cedric was standing guard while Kat wasn't present. You walked up to your patrol partner and tapped his shoulder: "You can go now, I'll take over from here."

"Sure," He shrugged, yawned, then waved goodbye. You slowly approached the beds the pair were sitting on, opposite each other, the grip on your rifle strong.

"How are you two holding up?" You said awkwardly, making them look between themselves before the woman spoke.

"We'll be okay... Thanks for helping us."

"Right- sure," You sighed quietly. "Could I ask for your names?"

The young woman looked at her partner once more, as if asking for permission, then looked back at you: "I'm Kiki... This is my husband Ward."

You nodded and offered a simple nice to meet you, but didn't give your name to them. Instead, you turned to Daisy: "Let me know when you're finished."

She nodded and proceeded with her stitches before you left the room. You weren't the one to judge people right off the bat, especially in the apocalypse. A lot of newcomers (including you) came here looking bewildered and drained because they were either almost eaten by a pack of infected or murdered by bandits, simple as that.

Ward was a brunette with a dark stubble, thicker than Joel's and had short, black hair. His nose was large but suited the rest of his face just fine, with big, dark brown eyes. A scar ran over the crook of his nose down his cheek and he looked hardened, just like everyone else. Kiki, on the other hand, was also a brunette, but her features weren't as sharp as Ward's, or she was just much younger than him. She had long, black hair and her eyes matched the colour; she was also smaller than Ward, with a petite figure. She was very beautiful, too and looked frightened rather than hardened.

Around ten minutes later, Daisy walked out: "Angie's finishing up, but I'm done. I'm heading over to check on other patients, if you need me I'll be there."

"Okay," You nodded and walked back inside. The couple was neatly patched up and sitting quietly, eyes wide. When you walked in, Kiki jumped, but relaxed the same moment she saw your face. "Must've been through a lot, you two..."

"You could say that-" Kiki murmured, then looked over to Ward, who didn't seem to take notice of he conversation. There was a gash on his chin and he was squeezing the hell out of the bed sheets as Angie worked on the wound. He didn't make a single sound, but the nurse looked a little distressed. "Do you-" Kiki abruptly asked. "Do you run things around here?"

"Uh- No," You turned your head towards her, your grip on your rifle never faltering once. "No, I'm sort of responsible for the security. The boss lady will be here soon."

"Lady?" Kiki looked genuinely confused.

"Yes." You offered a simple nod. "I'm gonna ask something of you both. Don't worry, it's something simple."

Ward immediately intervened before Kiki could open her mouth: "What?"

"Relax," You warned, keeping your eye on him. "Angie, could you give us a minute?"

"Of course, I'm done anyways," She practically threw the equipments onto the small table next to the bed, took off her latex gloves, tossed them into the trash and ran out.

You gave Ward a hardened look, then spoke, walking between their beds, keeping them in your vision: "When the boss comes here, she's going to ask you a few questions... I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about the kids' being there when they found you."

"Why?" Kiki asked, worried.

"Well, they weren't supposed to be outside- Except for the girl with long, black hair and the man who brought you here. It'd save us a lot of trouble if you didn't mention them."

"So, what, you expect us to lie?" Ward huffed.

"No." You spoke coldly, rivaling his hostile tone. "I'm simply asking you to leave out the part where there were 4 kids- There was just one. Besides, she may not even ask about it."

Your staring contest with Ward ended when, as if on cue, Maria, Tommy and Eugene entered the room. You saw the fright in Kiki's eyes, so you spoke calmly: "Hey, it's okay. That's her, the boss lady- and her husband."

"Boss lady?" Tommy chuckled and stood next to you, Maria and Eugene mirroring him.

"It's okay," Maria spoke: "We got this, you can go now."

You nodded once and reluctantly walked out from the room. Stepping outside the infirmary, you came across Cedric waiting by the entrance. You shook your head towards the gates with a simple: "Let's go."

Cedric was almost 15 years younger than you, had even younger features than someone would have in their 30s. He had chin length, dirty blonde hair with hazel eyes fleeing to green. He was a calm and collected person, unlike most people in Jackson. Your tactics and strategical thinking were similar, which made patrol much more effective and easy.

Both of your shifts ended around two hours later, when the sun was up completely and shining down on the streets, calling people to duty; it was, however, your call to hit the bed. After turning over your weapons and heading your separate ways with Cedric, you walked over to your house, a smile spreading across your face at the thought of seeing Joel.

You hadn't seen each other in almost three days due to different shifts but, with the weekend off, you could finally rest in your husband's arms.

You quietly entered the house and tiptoed up the stairs. The bedroom door was closed, he was obviously still asleep. Normally, he'd be awake by 7AM, but lately he'd been really hard on himself with patrols- it was only right he treated himself to a few extra hours of sleep. You really wanted to crawl next to him, or just take a small peak inside the room to see him, but you knew better. He awoke to the slightest creak of the bed when you got up, or simply turned to drink some water. You wanted him to rest though, that came first, so you used the bathroom outside your room to get cleaned up, then moved into the bathtub to treat yourself. It had been a while since you let your muscles rest and relax in the deliciously hot water.

Not even five minutes later after you settled in the warmth, you heard the slow opening of the door. You opened your eyes to find Joel with nothing but his boxer briefs on, heart beating with ecstasy and joy at seeing him in his sleepy state: "Hey," You giggled. "Morning handsome."

"Mornin' baby," He rubbed the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" He smirked as he proceeded to take off his underwear.

"Probably not," You smiled apologetically, he'd quite possibly woken to the sound of the water filling. You extended both of your arms to him, calling him to your embrace while stretching and yawning: "Come here, I missed you."

The words made Joel stop in his tracks for a short moment, heart wearming at them, then walked over to the tub with his naked glory: "Scoot."

You simply leaned back and parted your legs, offering him to lay against you. He obliged, got in and sat, making the water level rise when he laid down against your chest. Your left arm rested on his chest, partly hugging him, while your right hand went through his hair. You gave him a kiss on his neck, a lovely kiss which made him sigh contentedly: "M-hm, I missed you too. Missed this..."

You wanted to stay like that forever: Caressing his hair and the occasional, soft kisses against his jaw, cheek and neck which made his heart melt. You could sense that this small gesture made him very happy, which in turn made you hug him tightly.

"What do you say we..." You purred into his ear. "Ditch the dinner plans for tonight, hm?"

His eyes were closed when he spoke: "Why? Got somethin' else in that pretty little mind of yours?"

"Yeah," You confirmed, running your hand up and down his chest. "We could do something, just the two of us."

"Like...?"

"Hmm, like movie night? Or you can play me something?"

"Only if you sing." He grinned.

"Nope, scratch that," You chuckled and shifted under him a little. "Or we can just... You know, fuck." He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness. "What? You don't want to?"

"I didn't say that," He turned a little and looked up into your eyes with a brilliant smile. "I'd love nothing more, actually, but these are Jesse's parents." You sighed, disappointed, saying I know, I know. "We have two days to ourselves, (Y/N)- You can have me all to yourself, except for a few hours."

"Fine," You growled jokingly, smiled and kissed his lips softly.

What was intended to be a simple kiss now slowly moved in the direction of a filthy make-out session, his tongue parting your lips with ease and meeting yours. Joel grabbed your calf and caressed it slowly, while you took advantage of his distraction and sneaked a hand down his abdomen.

You shifted a little more to the side and took his cock in hand, which made him sigh and drop his head on your shoulder: "(Y/N)..."

"Hmm?" You hummed with a smile when your thumb pressed on his slit, making him hiss and become harder. "Let me take care of you, huh?"

You watched Joel's brows drawing together when you slowly started to pump him. You kissed the pulse on his neck, then moved down to his collarbone. His grip on your leg was more solid the firmer you worked his length, and he jumped ever so slightly when you bit down on his collarbone. His erection grew bigger by the second all the while you sucked and bit a small hickey on his skin.

"Shit..." He shifted in the water, pulling himself upwards so that you didn't have trouble reaching for his shaft.

"You want me to go faster?" You whispered and kissed his shoulder. He nodded but didn't speak and let you work your magic.

You picked up pace, flicking your wrist and focusing on the underside of his head, making him groan broken, unclear profanities. After a while, you felt him tense under your touch, his breathing turning a little laboured.

"(Y/N)..." He sighed through gritted teeth, letting you have your way with him.

"That's it..." You cooed and continued kissing him. Soon, he let out a loud groan and came, making you moan quietly.

Seeing Joel like this -relaxed and euphoric- was always a treat, moments like this where it was just the two of you; no infected, no survival, no bullshit from tha past. You were aware of how it was a luxury to do the things you were able to do: Taking a hot bath, finding someone you loved and marrying them, sleeping on a bed with clean sheets without worrying if infected or bandits were going to jump you.

You were grateful, you were reminded of this everyday, but it took its toll on you, too.

A lot of people, innocent kids were out there, suffering- dying, surviving... You wished you had the power to help them all and rebuild, but you were aware of how dangerous it was out there. It was simply too risky to leave Jackson. You weren't some superhero, after all.

Not a hero...

"What's got you thinkin'?" Joel snapped you out of your thoughts, his fingers ever so gently tracing your cheekbone as you laid on the bed across each other. It was night-time, after dinner with Jesse and his parents and, of course, a round of much needed love making. You both were a little sleepy, definitely content with sweat covering your bodies like a thin layer of blanket.

You looked into his eyes from where your head was -which was on the crook of your elbow, resting on your pillow- and gave him a phantom of a smile, nodding slightly: "Nothing in particular. You?"

"You," He smiled, which made you chuckle. Convincing Joel that you were absolutely, 100% okay was getting trickier as he'd spent just enough time to sense a depressive episode's approach; you didn't want to burden him with your self-doubt and self-loathing, as you hated it when his mood shifted for the worse because of you. "Wonderin' what goes on in that head of yours."

"Wish I knew that myself," You grabbed his hand which was tracing the left side of your face, then turned the back of it for a kiss.

You knew, though. While you and Joel were helping with the dishes in the kitchen, Jesse's mother, Robin had asked if you were planning on having any children. The question you'd been dying to avoid had finally been asked, which made you drop the plate you had in your hand into the sink. It truly was an off-guard moment for you, which startled Joel, but luckily the topic was never brought up again after the plate in question shattered into pieces. You weren't sure if you wanted a child, not after the incident with Miles.

The moment when the contents of his skull splattering onto the ground while he was in your arms- under your supervision haunted you day and night. You never talked about it to anyone, and no one had asked, but it only intensified after your wedding. Because you knew what people had in their minds: Will we be seeing a Joel or Dolly Jr. running around?

You were fucking old, too, and so was Joel. Even if you didn't know whether you'd be able to carry due to that, there was no point in risking it either way, since I clearly suck at watching over kids.

"I think you do," He pushed himself closer to you and sneaked the hand against your mouth onto your waist, propping his arm up and putting his head against the palm of the other. "You just don't wanna talk about it. Which is okay, y'know." You nodded, smile growing a bit wider. "We've been over this before, but If you ever feel like- y'know... you're borin' me or something-"

"I know," You offered a full smile, pushing your thoughts away at the best of your ability. "I see you, Joel Miller," You then put a hand against his chest, where his heart should be: "I know you, you know me... You know what I think?"

He gave you a curious look, but it got replaced with something that hinted excitement when you ever so slowly pushed him on his back with the hand on his chest, then straddled his hips. Joel chuckled: "How is it that you still have this much energy after only four hours of sleep?"

The sleep in question took place after the 'mingling' in the bath. Warm April breeze, even warmer covers and warmest above all, Joel's body pressed against yours, both of your hairs wet and drying on their own as you slept in your lovers arms. He woke up after an hour or so, lingered there for awhile, just enjoying your presence by his side; he then quietly left you to sleep- lord knows you needed it.

"You're just getting old, baby," You giggled and leaned down to kiss him, his hands immediately going to your hips. "Not complaining, though."

An uneventful few weeks passed as Jackson entered the first week of June. Two losses in the town, but no new arrivals after Katie- Kiki and Ward. No raids as well, so overall it was calm.

After reporting in about the week in general, one evening, Maria asked you to stay behind: "It's time for Ward and Katie to go through the test," She declared. "We gotta see if they're fit for patrol or not."

"You got it. When?"

"Tomorrow. I already notified them, we'll meet at the northern training post-"

"We who?" You ran a hand through your hair.

"You and me. Robert and Eugene were supposed to be there originally, but they'll be off hunting." She explained and you nodded. Without further ado, you walked out and made your way back home.

The next morning, Joel accompanied you to the training post. Normally it was your day off with him, but training awaited. The weather was particularly hot for an early morning, so it came to you as a little shock when you saw Kiki, who was wearing a rather thick looking blouse. You didn't question it of course, but it made you think.

"Alright," You cleared your throat, after a quick greeting, stepping into the open training area. Joel and Maria remained inside, arranging the medical needs list while keeping an eye on you three. "I'm gonna put you two through a little test. Maria tells me you decided to stay here in Jackson, so we need to decide which duties you're fit for."

Ward remained incredibly still while Kiki nodded. Her hands were resting between her knees, while Ward had his arms crossed. They were sitting on a bench under the shade: "It's going to get a little physical, but I assure you I'm not going to hurt either of you." You turned around and walked over to the middle of the area: "Right, let's start with you, Kiki."

She gave a panicked look to Ward, but he just nodded with a thoughtful frown, rather than a permitting glare. Over the weeks they had been in Jackson, people sort of got used to their non-verbal interactions, even though some people found it suspicious. She got up and made her way over to you and, by the look on her face, regretted her outfit of choice as she tried to loosen the collar.

"If you want to stop- at any moment, let me know," You reassured her. She nodded, went to roll her sleeves up, but stopped immediately. You acted like you didn't see it, then proceeded to get in stance and lift your hands up: "Okay, let's start with something simple. Show me your stance."

She gave you a blank stare: "My what?"

"Your... stance, you know, fighting stance?"

"I don't have one," She simply shrugged.

"Okay," You sighed quietly. "Then show me how you punch."

She threw what could've been a proper punch but it was weak, you immediately caught her fist in your palm. She panicked and pulled back, and you immediately let go. You glanced at Ward, who seemed to be on high alert.

"Again," You got into stance and she obliged, throwing another weak punch your way. Her stance was there, actually, and her punches came through like she knew what she was doing, but the impact wasn't effective.

It went on a couple more punches, which you caught in your hand each time, until she spoke: "Why do you do that?"

"What?" You lowered your hands.

"You keep holding my hands," It was as if she was more annoyed than confused. "Can you not do that?"

"It's a reflex-" You explained, glanced at Ward again, then looked back at her. "I do it with everyone I train, but if you don't want me to then it's fine."

Not everyone, only the ones with punches as slow, weak and predictable as hers.

"Okay, now let's try some... combos," You added and got in a more secure stance. "Throw one punch after another. Fast and hard. Don't hold back."

"I'm not holding back," She grunted and did a typical boxing combo, which, generally, only people trained in boxing knew- but her punches were still weak. You remained quiet and let her go at it for a few rounds.

You suddenly took a step back, raised your hand up to the same level as your face and spoke: "Kick."

Instead, she went to kick you between your legs. A rush of panic and years of reflexes kicked in and you caught her feet between your knees. You looked up with a what the fuck was that? expression on your face and waved your hand in the air: "I meant here."

"We're fighting, right? We need to be unpredictable," She said with a tone of... irritation? Was she snickering?

"Do I look like a bandit to you?" You let go of her leg, giving her a displeased look.

"You did say you wanted to see what we were capable of."

Where was this sudden confidence coming from all of a sudden?

She was always a little weird with you. Not that you saw her too often but the moments when you two were together, one minute she'd look like she wanted to be your friend (which was when Joel was around), other times she'd remind you of a cruel, rank-wise superior back in the Boston QZ (which was when Joel wasn't around).

You gave her a hard look: "Alright. Let's see how you're gonna do when someone's actually fighting you, then."

Her expression went from somewhat cocky to seriousness as you took a few steps foward and towered over her. Your instructions were simple and clear when you spoke: "I'm gonna put you in a lock. Wriggle out of it."

You slowly grabbed her wrist, giving her time to get ready and process what you were doing. Then, you twisted her arm carefully around her waist and turned her around, pressing her arm on her back, only for her to suddenly squeal: "Okay! Enough!"

You quickly took a step back, startled at her reaction, you weren't even applying the slightest pressure. Ward suddenly shot up from where he was sitting and yelled: "What did you do to her?"

"I didn't do anything!" You frowned.

"It's okay!" Kiki suddenly stepped in front of Ward who was advancing your way. "I panicked, she didn't-"

"Woah there," You suddenly heard Joel and Maria approach the field. Confusion was superior to your anger at that moment: Had you really hurt her?

"Calm down," Maria put her hands on her hips. "She specifically warned you that she wouldn't hurt you under any circumstances. Relax."

You gave Maria a grateful look as he defended you: "I didn't even apply pressure- Look, no one's here to hurt you on purpose."

Ward and Kiki stared into each other's eyes, and by all means it was not a romantic moment, then the bigger of the two finally groaned: "I think she's had enough. For today."

"You think?" You unintentionally slipped it out, but the companions by your side seemed to agree with what you were getting at. "Do you want to stop Kiki?"

"Um," She looked at the three of you, chewing on her bottom lip, then answered quietly after a tense moment of silence: "Yeah, I think I should stop."

"Fine," You said, trying to keep your voice as netural as possible. "Let's continue with you then, Ward." Before anyone could say anything, you and the man you challenged found yourselves back on the middle of the combat area. "Show me your stance and let's begin."

He did as you asked but didn't wait for you to size him up, throwing a punch into your palm as soon as you lifted it, startling your audience. That didn't stop either of you from starting off with a much quicker and a harsher routine, which seemed to have everyone on edge.

You didn't counter once, but it was as if he was forcing you out of the defensive with his strikes, not to mention he was forcing you to step out of the area.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Tommy half jogged over to where the three were standing, watching you two roll from a snowball into an avalanche. Ward was grunting with each hit missed, anger taking over his features, while you kept your cool. It was as if he was riling himself up because he couldn't land a punch - his aim was messy and unstable, which was nothing compared to your years of disciplinary training.

"Okay, I think you've proved your point, Ward." Maria spoke loudly after Tommy's sudden entrance, but he didn't seem to hear her.

"I agree," You grunted and dodged a rather heavy looking punch, rolled over behind him and got up immediately; before you could say anything else, thinking he had stopped, you momentarily let your guard down. Everybody seemed to have thought the same, but what none of you saw coming was the exceptionally hard blow on your nose.

"What the fuck?!" You heard someone, weren't sure who, yell as you saw a blur of people rushing toward you when you stumbled backwards, hands wrapping around your possibly broken nose with a brief shout.

Giving into your anger, before anyone can get a grip of what you were doing, you launched yourself at Ward: "Son of a-" You grabbed the collar of his shirt and headbutted him: "Bitch!"

It was beyond everyone just how fast you had moved, broke his nose with an equally strong strike and had him falling on his arse. Kiki rushed to his husband's side, Maria to yours while Tommy kept Joel from ripping Ward to shreds. You were sure you were going to pass out when Maria got a hold of you, feeling as if you were under water with the blurring of your vision and hearing. The adrenaline rush in your veins kept you from losing consciousness, though.

"(Y/N)?" Maria's voice got clearer each passing second as you chased the lingering faint away from your mind, finally opening your eyes completely to see a displeased face. "(Y/N) are you okay?"

"Yeah," You sighed, whipping your hands in the air around your waist to shake off the droplets of blood from your bleeding nose as best as you could, tears at the corners of your eyes. "Just fine and dandy."

You felt the familiar, calloused hands of Joel gently hold your elbows as Maria turned around to see to Ward: "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Joel," You nodded and wiped the blood on your white t-shirt in a pissed, exhausted manner.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You heard Maria growl at Ward, who was still shaken and sitting on the ground, face looking about the same as yours. "You can't just come up and punch people because you got angry at them! This is Jackson: You're not outside, and she isn't your enemy."

"It's okay- I'm sorry Maria- He's a little, uh," Kiki whined on her knees where she had knelt, but went quiet when he looked behind her to see you and Joel.

"You're not his mother, Katie," The blonde spoke, more calm now but no less strict. "He can speak for himself, and the same goes for you."

There was an intense moment between the three, while Tommy nodded at what Maria had said, his hands on his hips, looking at them disapprovingly: "Alright, c'mon, let's get you to a doc."

Joel in the meanwhile, like a mother duck, studied your nose and held a piece of cloth against the bleeding. He kept you focused on him while Maria and Tommy handled the other couple: "Fuckin' bastard..."

You chuckled at the way he grumbled as he wiped the blood off your nose gently: "Got what he was asking for though, don't go around wanting to kick his ass."

"Yeah, that was a pretty damn good hit..." He spoke, but his voice faded into the background when you curiously looked over to see what was going on, only to come across Kiki's face first things first. What you saw on her face sent a shiver down your spine.

Anger.

Not because you hurt Ward though, no. It was more than that.

It was jealousy.

You knew both because you had spent enough time with her to understand what that look meant, and her expression wasn't hard: It was soft, a certain yearning spread across her features as her eyes went back and forth between you and Joel. You couldn't tell what irked you the most: The way she looked at you, or him. You seemed to add more to her anger, while when she stared at your husband (and stared at him longer), there was longing and confusion.

The moment you made eye contact, she immediately turned around and scurried off, leaving you two and Maria alone.

"Hm? Dolly?" You heard Joel again once you brushed off the odd stare you got from Kiki.

"What?" You gave him a puzzled look.

"I asked if you wanted to have this looked at," He repeated in a soft voice. Most of the time, with small scratches or wounds which didn't need stitches or weren't cut too deep to get an infection or anything, you preferred handling it on your own to not waste the town's medical supplies.

"No, I got it," You nodded quickly and took a step back, feeling your nose while Maria approached you both.

"What the hell was that, (Y/N)?" She had her hands on her hips as well.

"I don't know, Maria," You emphasised each word, making your discomfort and irritation show. "...I have a few ideas though."

You moved inside, away from the burning sun and began discussing your first impression.

"So, what do you think?" Maria asked from behind her desk. Two pairs of eyes watched you quietly as you sat up on your chair, still holding the cloth up to your nose.

"Well, they're definitely not military, I can tell you that much. They don't know the first thing about combat - Kiki doesn't, anyway." Something's not right with them, you wanted to say, but decided to keep it to yourself for the time being and continued: "She's weak, can't even throw a punch. Almost lost her shit when I put her into that lock- I couldn't even put her into the lock, she just screamed."

"Yeah, what was up with that?" Maria asked but didn't demand an answer, it was more like a rhetorical question. You explained how she also went out of the training routine and tried to kick you, but again, it was weak.

"It's actually not that she's weak, but more like she's holding back," You said thoughtfully after a moment of silence.

"How do you mean?" Joel spoke for the first time.

"I mean, you can feel that she's holding back on purpose." Much as you hated your years in FEDRA, your experience with training and being trained came in handy on a daily basis - as much as you hated it, you were also grateful. "While Ward, on the other hand," You shifted in your seat, annoyed, "Fights like a feral beast, and I can tell that wasn't his full potential."

Joel growled quietly and crossed his arms. You then continued with your observation: "I don't want to be too quick on my judgement, but there's something not right with them."

Tommy walked in at that moment: "Well, that was a shit show."

"What happened?"

"They argued the whole way," Tommy sighed and pulled a chair between you and Joel, then sat exactly the same way his brother was sitting. "It was... weird is one way to put it."

"Let's keep them under supervision for awhile," You offered.

"You're volunteering?" Maria raised a brow.

"Hell no, not after that anyway. My existence would just antagonise them."

"What are you suggestin'?" Tommy turned to you.

"Put them through another training session with Walt, he'll know what I'm talking about... And Eugene found them, so maybe he'll be up for the task."

A moment of quiet and glances were exchanged among the family, then Maria cleared her throat: "Fine, we'll see what the other's think of that and vote for it."

"Okay. Now if you'll excuse me..." You murmured and got up, walking out of the room absentmindedly, deep in thought. A headache settled to the front of your head and you felt fatigue take over as soon as you stepped outside, while you left the other Millers confused.

"Hey," You heard Joel's soft voice from behind you not much later, which made you stop in your place and turn around. You gave him a blank stare, the cloth holding hand dropping to your side to reveal the smeared, dried blood around your nose. Without any rush, he walked over to you with a worried look and stood right in front of you.

After gazing into each other's eyes fro a while, Joel no doubt searching yours to understand what was going on and you just finding comfort in his, he slowly took your empty hand in his. With a soft tilt of his head in the direction of your house, you blinked once in acknowledgement and started walking with him.

Your anger and irritation started dissipating the more you walked like that, hand in hand and in silence, but your headache and slowly worsening mood, the taste of blood on your tongue remained. Not many words needed to be said with Joel, he knew what you needed by just one look. You were sure if Kurt saw you like that, he would laugh until his lungs couldn't take it: Look at you! Although the thought made your heart warm, it wasn't enough to lift the corners of your lips. You unconsciously held onto Joel's hand tighter as you walked to your house, and he returned the gesture, a simple gesture- an assurance that let you know he had you.

Once you stepped inside and he closed the door while you stood in the hallway, he walked up to you and held your shoulders and gave you a soft, still concerned look. You looked up at him with a soft sigh through your nose some seconds later, and finally spoke: "I'm gonna... I'm gonna go lay down a little."

"Okay," Joel gave you a reassuring smile and placed a kiss on your forehead. "You let me know if you need anything."

"Of course," You smiled back, a lifeless, small but an equally reassuring smile. Joel watched you climb up the stairs slowly, thinking about how long it would take you to feel better while also thinking of how he could make you feel at ease during the time.

His fears were similar to yours: He didn't want you to feel responsible or upset because of his own self-doubt and self-loathing, and he hated having you show all the effort to make him feel better about himself, about the things he had done. You kept assuring him that that was what being partners was all about, that you do what you do for him gladly and would continue doing it for as long as you were able (which meant as long as you were alive). He was glad to have you by his side, but of course didn't rely on you as if you were a rehabilitation centre, and it went both ways.

While thinking about all of this, with a cup of coffee in hand and sitting on his porch, his ears perked up at the round of laughter coming from behind the house. It was then, when he came up with a plan to make you feel better, even in the slightest.

Ellie.

—————

tags: @spideysimpossiblegirl

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #x reader #smut

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

Text

You’re The One I Want To Go Through Time With

Day one of HWOL is finally here!! So excited to share all I’ve written! For today I chose the prompt Neighbors AU!!! You can read this on ao3 also as part of the collection as well!! Hope y’all like it!!

Word Count: 11,952

Rated: G

It finally happens when he’s 15 years old. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it coming, but Steve gets kicked out.

In the very beginning of a particularly brutal Hawkins summer, he had decided to invite Tommy over to smoke weed in the pool house. He thought nothing of it, but the neighbors complained about the smell, and, coupled with every other act of his deemed irresponsible, immature, disgraceful, by his stuck-up parents, a couple of blunts was apparently the last straw.

They tell him the Harringtons had a reputation, an air of elegance and respect they had to upkeep, so they couldn’t just let him bring drugs onto their property. He thought it was ridiculous, considering that they were allowed as much wine aging in the cellar and expensive whiskey propped up on a hutch as they wanted, but when he’d brought it up he’d gotten nothing but a stern look.

They’d been through this a thousand times over, how worthless and terrible a son he could be, grounding him for bringing too many girls home, taking his car away when he failed a class, so he knew to expect a punishment.

This is obviously the next step, the throwing him out on the street thing, for years he could feel the neglect and tension starting to build up and boil over. Sometimes, they’d even hang threats of it over his head, so now that was told he had to be out of the mansion by the end of next week or there would be consequences, it couldn’t be too much of a shocker.

Though at some point, he’s got to wonder if they ever really thought as far ahead as consequences, or if they just knew they trained their boy well enough that it never got that far. If only he had more of a spine.

Now, as unsurprising as the scenario may be, Steve was still absolutely in no way, by any means ready to be thrown out on the streets before he even had his driver’s license.

In the case of emergency, like the time Stephen Sr. got just a little too rough and popped his wrist out of place, or when they’d left him alone for a month at age 9 and he went three days without food because he didn’t know how to turn the stove on, he had his aunt, the thankfully much more compassionate counterpart to his mother, who lived over in California.

The minute they’re gone, having passive aggressively hurried off somewhere, probably the country club or something, to complain about how disappointing their son was with their rich friends, Steve grabs a suitcase from the closet and gives his Aunt Margaret a call.

Before he knows it she’s got him a flight booked, a written agreement from her sister that proved taking him in was legal, and a set of luggage. Three days later, he was flying first class towards the rest of his life.

~~~~~~~

Touching down in San Francisco has got to be the most surreal thing he’s ever done.

He’d never even left the Midwest before, his farthest ventures being into the three states surrounding his home state, so to be charted off to the west coast? It’s an experience alright.

Aunt Margaret is there waiting for him, her jet black permed hair a few inches above the rest, her brown eyes sparkling with the kindest smile he’s ever seen as she runs up to hug him.

She takes all of his bags, swatting his hands away when he tries to carry even one, and makes him sit in the car while she shoves it all into the trunk.

He wasn’t used to not being the help, since that’s all his parents ever really saw him as anyways, only valuable as their son if they got something out of the time they spent with him. It’s got him feeling weird the whole drive back to the Margos apartment, like he’s in some alternate reality where people are nice to him for a change.

She lives in one of those shared places, a duplex where the house is divided into two halves for two different renters, the very kind his mother would’ve turned her nose up at despite having been raised in one herself. Margaret told him there was a mother and son who lived in the other half, but they’re quiet enough, and polite.

Just pulling up outside of the house, Steve already knows it’s everything he’s ever wanted.

The house itself, painted a pale shade of peeling yellow and missing the majority of the shingles off of the roof, is actually a reasonable size, a direct contrast to the mansion he grew up in, fit for a dozen but occupied by one most days.

Brutal summer heat has dried up the lawn and the garden so they aren’t perfectly tailored, not trimmed by underpaid staff or watered by automatic sprinklers. All across it there’s a scattering of ornaments, like colorful pinwheels in the front garden, and plastic flamingos standing guard by the mailbox.

There’s even a rickety old fence, all mossy and broken up to mark the edges of their property, so different from the white vinyl fence in his backyard at his parents house.

It would seem too that the garage was only big enough for one car, not three like he was used to, and that the makeshift gravel driveway leading up to it was at max capacity with only his aunts Oldsmobile Cutlass Calais, and a dinged up old Karmann Ghia the same color as the house parked in it.

Basically, there were none of the telltale signs that a neglected rich boy lived there, and from that alone he already knew he belonged here.

His aunt hurries him into their section of the house, theirs is the right side, so he can get to resting off the jet lag before he starts unpacking, but he’s far too distracted taking everything in to worry about being a little drowsy.

The rooms are small and the ceilings are low. Where there would’ve been beige and white and other sophisticated tones, there was a rainbow of colors in Margos apartment, from the curtains to the carpet, the Afghan on the back of the couch to the little trinkets in the entertainment center and windowsills.

He notices that, to accommodate for the heavy summer heat, there was a fan spinning in the corner, and all the windows were left wide open. His parents had the windows painted shut back home.

It might’ve been overwhelming, being thrown into a place like this so suddenly, but in his heart he knows this was what he was made for: a cozy life with someone who treated him with the bare minimum of respect.

~~~~~~~

Eventually Steve does fall asleep, the switch from Eastern Standard to Pacific time just being too great for his body. He doesn’t really mean to, he thought he’d just lay down for a minute while he was putting his clothes away in his new dresser, but he ends up sleeping until it’s almost dark out.

He goes looking for Margo when he realizes the house is empty, an irrational pit of dread growing in his chest at the familiarity of being alone, and finds her out back.

The yard also seems to be shared with the other house, a wispy line of barely showing through grass separating the two where a divider had once been, but had since been ripped up.

His aunt is with another woman, a blonde lady who he assumed was from the next door apartment, were sitting in mismatched lawn chairs, cigarettes glowing as the sun got lower and lower in the sky.

Margaret beckons him over once she notices him, and shows him off to the woman. It’s not at all like his mother would’ve done it, none of the flaunting him to make a good impression. This is more like her wanting to introduce him because she genuinely cares.

In a way, it almost makes Steve more uneasy. He could handle all the fake stuff with only the slightest hint of discomfort at being gawked at, because most of the time he’d never have to see those people again, but this was astronomically different.

“Maria, this is my nephew Steve.” Deep blue eyes seem to take him in, accompanied by a polite smile that makes his stomach drop for no good reason.

He panics, shifts into the role of the perfect little socialite he’d been working on his whole life. Without thinking, he extends his hand for her to and produces the generic response his mother’d trained into him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms..”

She takes his hand, but looks a little surprised about doing it. “Hargrove. But we don’t have to do formalities.”

“Right.” It feels awkward to Steve, but judging from the laid back attitude of the women, it’s not a universal sentiment. That only makes it more embarrassing, to be the only one bothered by it.

His aunt leans back in her chair, tapping the ash of the end of her cigarette and tells him, “Go ahead and grab a chair Stevie.”

He straightens his back out and scans the yard, expecting a chair to already be propped open somewhere. The confusion must be apparent on his face when he finds nothing but grass and more grass, because his aunt specifies, “By the shed, kiddo.”

His parents always told him they weren’t allowed to have lawn furniture except the pool chairs cemented to the ground, because they said it didn’t fit the lifestyle they tried to lead. Even the concept of a shed would’ve been insulting to their tastes.

He's done enough growing up to know now that they were just afraid to look too much like they were people who lived in rural Indiana instead of in true big city luxury. They couldn’t risk seeming too much like they weren’t in the upper middle, it would be a disgrace.

The contrast between that and just sitting out there and not having his guard up is so, grounding. Not having anything at all to do but just, sit and appreciate instead of performing and worrying, it’s a lot to take in at once.

He was so nervous the whole way up, even though it was his aunt and he already knew she was nice, that they wouldn’t get along, since that’s the way things always were with his own mum, and lord knows he hardly ever even spoke to his father.

But it’s really not tense at all, actually, it’s sort of the opposite. For once in his life he feels free of expectations, and takes the moment to just exist. Ruthie and Stephen Sr. had long ago made sure that was a concept he could barely understand.

It’s not too long after that that the screen door to Maria’s side of the house swings open, scaring Steve so bad he almost tips his chair over as he startles.

There’s a boy who he’s guessing is about his age leaning out the door, but from the distance he’s at and with how dark it’s getting, Steve doesn’t see much else about him. “M back momma.”

“Okay baby.” The screen door clicks shut again in the next moment, and Maria offers Steve an apologetic smile “You’ve gotta excuse my Billy. He’s not too good with other kids.”

“No, it’s alright.” He assures her, like a polite social butterfly should.

Maria goes in a little while after that, and Margaret and Steve follow suit, since the sun’s almost all the way down.

But Steve’s curious now. He wants to know more about the boy, Billy, he thinks was what Maria called him. It’s only right to wonder, being that they’re neighbors now and all.

It gets brought up later that night, when they’re watching TV on the couch, a thrifted, feather stuffed thing he thought was simultaneously the most hideous and most comfortable thing he’d ever sat on.

“I didn’t know you had neighbors.” He’d been trying to work himself up to talking about it, sitting in the corner of the couch in a little ball and picking at his nails as he worked up his courage.

It was funny, being so nervous over casual conversation, but he guesses he could blame his parents for that one.

His own mum wouldn’t have even paid him any mind, at most pretending to listen while her eyes stayed trained to the television or magazine or coworker in front of her and hummed a non committal response, but Margo turns her whole body on the couch to face him while she answers him, with a complete sentence even. “Oh, people used to come and go all the time over there.”

“How long have they been here? Maria and her son?”

She thinks for a moment, a little surprised at her nephew's interest in the topic of their neighbors. “I don’t know, probably about a year or so now.”

“What’re they like?” He comes across as maybe a little too eager, and his aunt notices.

“What’s got you so curious?” There’s a teasing bit of reprimanding in her tone, just enough to suggest that she knows he’s being a nib-nose, but doesn’t mind it.

And he feels himself flush, because he is being nosy. To try to save face just a little, he comes up with an excuse that isn’t quite a lie. “Nothin’, just knew all my neighbors back in Hawkins, I guess.”

But she wasn’t upset with him, it wasn’t her intention to get him to shut up, like it would’ve been had he heard the same thing from one Ruthie Harrington, so she answers that question too. “I don’t know, they’re nice, sort of reserved, but I’ve never had any problems with them.”

~~~~~~

The two boys are properly introduced for the first time the next morning, when Steve goes out to fetch the mail for Margret. It feels like the least he can do for bumming off of his aunt.

Stepping out on the porch just shy of 8 in the morning and not seeing dewey grass, or the early sunshine muted behind rolling fog and dreary clouds is something he’s going to have to get used to.

Summers in Hawkins were always muggy, full of thunderstorms and unpredictably dreary days. San Francisco is so bright, so different, and such a relief.

While Steve basks in it, the already warm breeze and the sun shining bright, the neighbors’ door opens up and Billy comes out to do the same, standing on his tip-toes to reach up into the mailbox beside the door, holding a traveler's mug of coffee in the opposite hand.

When he turns around to go back inside, Steve, staying true to wanting to get to know the other boy better, has taken a few steps closer, and has extended a hand for Billy to shake, the same sort of introduction panic he’d felt last night.

But, Billy, seeing that his hands are a bit preoccupied by a stack of bills and a cup of coffee, just offers a sheepish smile.

Steve settles for a formal introduction without a handshake, though it’s still too stiff an interaction to really get to know him beyond the awkward new rich kid in town. “Hi. My name is Steve Harrington. I’m uh, I'm your new neighbor.”

“Pleasure to meet you Steve Harrington. M’Billy” They stand there, neither of them making any move to do anything but just look at one another. Billy clears his throat and shakes the coffee cup towards Steve, sensing that maybe this was the place for hospitality. “You want some? My momma always makes too much.”

“No thanks. I’m uh, allergic to coffee beans.”

“Huh.” He seems amused by that, scrunches his nose up like he doesn’t believe it, and Steve wants to curl up and disappear. “I’ll see you later then, Steve Harrington.”

He watches the other boy turn back to leave after that, and still sort of just stands there before his brain comes back on and he realizes he should say something in return. “Right, uh, bye.”

It’s just a moment's passing, but Steve can’t get the interaction out of his head.

He chalks it up to being nervous that his new neighbors won’t like him, the fear that Aunt Margo will send him back to his parents if he can’t get along here, and that makes logical sense, except, what he’s caught up on is Billy’s crooked smile, and his blond curls that lay just past his ears, messy from just waking up and bleached from the sun, and the spatter of dark freckles across his nose.

First full day in California and he has a crush on the neighbor kid. He can’t believe himself.

There isn’t very much time to mull that fact over though, because, over breakfast, what his aunt calls her ‘special occasion breakfast’ of cinnamon rolls with ice cream, she tells him she’s going to do some errands today.

And that’s alright, he tells her he’ll be fine all by himself, and he is, for the first few hours, but the more time she’s gone, the worse and worse he starts to feel. It’s that worry again, that deep rooted fear that he’ll be left alone forever.

Experience has taught him to try to calm himself down, to catch his breath and try to focus on the fact that he knows he’s being irrational, but those techniques don’t cut it, as they often don’t, and he’s sending himself further into a panic attack trying to think too hard about it

Sitting inside, he gets stir crazy, feels suffocated by everything that had before been inviting to him, so he goes for some fresh air out front. Watching the road for so long, just waiting for the Oldsmobile to pull up, he starts to feel antsy again, so he goes out back where it’s quiet instead.

There’s a glider on the porch back there, an old rusty thing that squeaked every time Steve rocked it forward or back, but the calming motion of it is probably the only thing keeping him from spiraling too far.

He doesn’t really know what time it is anymore, only that he’s hungry, and that the sun’s going down, and that he’s been sort of zoned out back there for a long while. He feels hot and cold at the same time, and he’s lost in his head.

The sound of a screen door gently tapping against the side of the house brings his eyes up from the spot on the ground he’d been staring at with tears in his eyes, but it isn’t his aunt Margaret coming home, it’s just Billy.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, leaning against the wall between the back doors, he says real quiet like, “Momma told me to ask if you wanted some of the dinner she made.”

He shrugs. “I’m alright.”

“I figured.” Billy looks at the floor while he tries to figure out how he wants to approach this. For a long moment, neither of them say a word, no sound between them but distant field crickets, until Billy asks, his voice quiet enough it barely registers in Steve’s mind. “You okay?”

If he’s being entirely honest, Steve doesn’t really know if he’s okay. He trusted his aunt enough to move all the way across the country with her, and yet he can’t manage enough trust to believe her when she said she’d come home from some errands? Doesn’t sound too okay to him.

But he’s not in Hawkins, he’s away from the people he knows for sure wouldn’t be coming back for him unless it was to pull something like they had and treat him like garbage. So in a way, he guesses he’s better than ever.

Unable to think of any words that might convey what he’s thinking, Steve just shrugs again, but Billy seems to get it. He sits down next to Steve on the glider and plants his feet so it won’t move, and so Steve’s attention will be on him.

Knowing he’s got Steve’s focus, since he looks over at him with glossy eyes, Billy tries to reassure him, “Your aunt’s a good lady. She wouldn’t leave you.”

“Who said I thought she would?” It sounds pathetic, wet and stuffy with the remnants of tears he hadn’t known were falling, but there’s a vulnerability he couldn’t hide behind even the toughest of masks that reveals he isn’t being honest.

“The way you watched for her car said enough.” It makes Steve feel exposed, having a total stranger see right through him, but Billy explains himself. “When my momma went out looking for this place, I was sure I’d never see her again.”

“Why did you guys move here?” If he was going to psychoanalyze Steve, he felt it was only fair to ask Billy a pressing question back.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me.” He deflects it back onto Steve in a way that might’ve seemed cocky, but it's obvious he’s just trying to avoid the question.

Steve won’t let him win this one though, maybe just to save his own ego, or pretend like he hadn’t been caught crying by someone he met that morning, or maybe it was just because he had asked first, but he wants Billy to answer, so he tells him, with the slightest hint of a bashful smile playing at his lips, “You first.”

“Stubborn.” He cracks a smile back though, and goes ahead and goes first at the other boys insistence. “My dad’s a real nasty s.o.b. Would get drunk and mean for no good reason, so momma took me and we high-tailed it before he did anything too drastic.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting, why he even felt like it was any of his business, and he doesn’t know what he should say to that.

For lack of a better response, he gives his own little life story summary. “My parents were rich. They didn’t want me, so they have the time of day for me. No matter what I did they punished me for it, grounded me, hit me, sent me to Christian school, until they just got sick of me, I guess.”

“That sounds pretty shitty.” Billy offered.

“Yeah, yours too.”

After a while, Billy, sounding for a moment like he’s a lot wiser than any 14 year old has the right to be, says “What matters is we’re here now.”

Steve feels so touched hearing that. It was so simple a thing for the other boy to say, but coming from Billy after he’d just shared what he did, it means a lot more than just basic condolences.

Hardly anybody had ever been that genuine in anything they said to him. Steve can hardly force a response out of his shocked mouth. As he looks over at Billy’s face, still turned up towards the sky, he sees all that meaning there illuminated by the stars, and he's able to mutter a breathless, “Yeah.” in response.

They both jump when the door flies open, and aunt Margo comes running over to Steve. Frantically she explains that she’d been trying to make sure everything was legal, only to find that some of Steve’s papers were missing, and they had to try to track them all down and get some of them faxed, and it ended up taking way longer than expected.

It feels nice to be understood. Just a few years ago his parents left for what was supposed to be a three day trip to Indianapolis, only they didn’t come back for what was almost two months. Once they were home they didn’t even mention it, just continued going about their business as usual until it was time to leave again. His aunt taking the effort to explain herself was already a vast improvement from that.

He lets her pull him into a big hug, accepts her apology as the air is squeezed out of his lungs, and when he pulls away from her, Billy’s gone.

~~~~~~~

Finish reading on ao3! You can find this posted under the same title by ej_writer or as part of the hwol collection over there! Sorry tumblrs word limits deemed this too long!

#harringrove week of love #billy x steve #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #story by ej!#this is both a neighbors au and a billy lives with his mother au!#and there's no upside down!#you can also maybe probably read this as autistic billy! it wasnt intentional but that happens sometimes #if its a fluffy fic chances are 90% of the time someones going to end up neurodivergent bc my autstic brain can’t help it #disclaimer I think tumble deleted a paragraph or two from this so if it doesn’t make sense just go ahead and find it on ao3 lol #can y'all tell I've never left the midwest and was sorta just guessing what california is like #the closest experience I had to what I wanted the vibes to be like was growing up on my mawmaws property in the country #and thats deffo not even a little bit the same but hey. work with what ya got!#out of all of the prompts I think this'n turned out to be one of my favorites to write #its kind of all over the place but that's okay lol #lord knows I never intended it to be this long either #this is barely edited because i stayed up literally all night to finish this because I procrastinated it too hard haha

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local-paranoid-cryptid · 4 years ago

Text

SBI ft reader part 1

ya’ll didnt think I was gonna post the entire thing right? anyway, the reader is based off of mother nature and in this techno is gonna be a family friend (so no cannon family)

tw: none that I can remember :)

word count in this chapter:1661

status: unedited

It was a warm spring day, Phil scouted the area around the castle. He was the best at spotting and hunting people down, after all he was hand picked by the king himself out of almost 300 men and women.

Phil was a young man, around his early 20s, with sharp eyes and massive wings. He earned himself the nickname "Angel of Death" because of his scarily amazing combat skills and his ability to attack without a sound, but unsuprisingly he had little to no friends or mutuals due to his intimidating reputation and apperence.

Thats when he met a boy, about 9, maybe 10, stealing bread from the local bakery. Phil caught him, of corse, but when he saw the state of the boy, clearly malnourished and tired, he didn't make him return the food, instead Phil paid for it and watched the boy scamper away into alley. He later learned that the boys name was Wilbur and it wasn’t uncommon to see the boy stealing or getting into large street fights for money. Phil had offered him food, and of course he didn’t pass up an offer for food, but by the time Phil opened his mouth to ask him something he was gone.

One day Phil runs into the boy again, but not in a way you’d expect. Phil had finished doing his usual patrols around the castle when he feels something tug at his sleeve. Looking down he sees a small boy in a large dirtied shirt with holes, bright blue eyes, and blonde hair with bits of mud stuck in it. He must have been about 5 or 6 because he spoke in a fast and nervous voice, too fast for Phil to process. Next thing he knew though was that he was being dragged by the sleeve by a dirt swearing child, to see Wilbur thrashing against police hold. “Is there a problem here?” He asks the police, they explain that Wilbur was under arrest for assault and theft. The kid grunts, seeing the blonde boy behind Phil, “Tommy what the fuck?! I told you to run!!” He yells, seeming less angry and more frustrated. “These kids are with me, unless you have a problem with that, mate.” He spreads his wings threateningly, the police knew who he was and let Wilbur off with a warning. And that was how Phil adopted two kids off the street.

3 years had passed, Wilbur was now 12 while Tommy was 8. Phil was happy with the way things were, but eventually there were rumors of a new, powerful material deep in the hellscape they called the nether. The material was said to be a dark ashy black, and so powerful that it doesn’t burn in even the hottest of fires of the nether. That was the reason for its name, Netherite. Phil wanted to set out and look for the metal but we was worried for his kids so he found a babysitter that also happened to be his only friend from work, Captain “Sparkles” Jordan.

“Are you sure there gonna be fine mate?” Phil asks nervously with a backpack of supplies slung over his shoulder. Jordan assured his friend that the children would be fine, and with that Phil headed off to the nether.

To say the nether was hot was an understatement, it was a raging, blistering feeling when entering. The sudden change in temperature causes your head to spin and your body to feel a wave of overwhelming amounts of nausea.

Phil stared out in the horizon of at a group of striders, aww-ing at the babies and how they rode of the parents back. His eye caught on to a large black monument, a bastion.

He flew over the colossal lava ocean and landed softly on the ground. Phil’s eyes scan for any danger, but seeing nothing, and although he was grateful he was also uneasy about the situation. He looks through each chest and managed to find a lodestone, some iron and golden nuggets, and a golden pair of boots. Nothing too interesting, though he did find a disc in one of the chest. Phil decided to take this items and go on his way to find netherite.

A few hours of mining had passed and phil had manage to find 3 scraps. It was a bit disappointing in his opinion, he’s running low on water and his wings began drooping down to maintain coolness. Phil almost heads back to the portal when he sees something pink and black. He decided to take a look around the surrounding blue forest. After a few minutes of looking he spots what looks like a child with matted curly dusty pink hair, blood-red eyes, tusks pointing out the corners of his mouth, pink floppy ears atop his head, a thin build, pink bipedal legs, hooved feet, and a pink boar tail twitching lowly. not to mention the boy was soaked in blood, yet no visible signs of any injuries. Phil hears the boy clicking his teeth, a common warning amongst both piglins and domestic pigs.

There was something about the kid that tells him that the kid was dangerous, but nevertheless he pursued. He takes a step, slowly reaching into his bag. He pulls out a baked potato, one of the many he brought for this expedition. Phil slowly reached his hand out, beckoning the hybrid to take it. It didn’t, and instead left. Phil leaves the vegetable on the floor and walks away, sitting cross legged about 15 feet away. He watched as the hybrid peaked around a blue tree, cautiously sneaking to the vegetable. He picked it up and scurried back to the trees.

This exchange continued for about a week, Phil enters the nether, puts a baked potato on the floor for the boy, sat and watched him from a distance as he grew more and more comfortable with Phil. So Phil was allowed to sit closer and closer, but the hybrid always scurried behind the same blue tree. Phil began talking to him, nothing specific, just what ever was on his mind, and the boy listened.

One day Phil brought the boy a carrot instead of a potato, the boy didn’t eat it or even touch the root. That’s when Phil grew more and more curious about him. He brought a variety of foods for the kid to try, a golden carrot, an apple, and three types of stew.

“He seemed to favor the suspicious soup and the golden carrots.” He spoke out loud as he wrote in his leather-bound journal. His back was turned to the boy as he ate. The boy tilted his head and walked to the man, glancing over his shoulder at what he was writing. There he was a drawn picture of himself. Phil froze as he sees the boys shadow peer over him, but he continued writing, “likes apple, did not like rabbit or mushroom stew.”

Eventully Phil was allowed to sit next to the boy as he ate, giving him paper to write and doodle. that's how Phil found out his name, "technoblade".

One day, the boy just wasn't there, so phil left. after a week, the boy still hadn't turned up. He assumed that he'd left to his family, and left it at that.

Years past and the memories of the boy faded but were never completely gone. It was the first day of SMP earth, so Phil had a lot on his mind, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a man, about Phils height, but more muscular. He had an unreadable expression, peony pink hair, blood-red eyes, tusks poking out the corner of his mouth, scared floppy ears atop his head, bipedal legs, and a pink boar tail twitching lowly. His outfit was plain, a white button up top, black pants, and knee length gray boots. He looked familiar, but now Phil was too distracted by him and his sons parting ways to their own expeditions in conquest.

Technoblade watches the man hug his family, he recognizes him as soon as he saw the green and white striped bucket hat and those massive gray wings.

Techno turned his attention to someone else though, a girl whom he knew little about. There was just something about her that radiates both happiness and fear into people, not him of corse. He was the blood gods vessel! Feared by many, both powerful and powerless! yea..

When techno arrives onto Africa for resources he didn’t expect to see the girl. He’d managed to get a good view of her as she reached out to a trees branch, the tree leaned into their touch, miraculously bearing fruit for them.

The girl wore a long brown corduroy coat, a green knit turtleneck tucked into a long black skirt, several tattered green fabrics layered over her skirt, and a black belt tied around her waist to keep it all in place, and oddly enough, no shoes. she had messy hair with an array of sticks and flowers crafted into some sort of crown. She tucked the fruit away gently into her bag and went on her way. Techno watched her leave into the woods and left without a sound to the volcano.

When Phil stepped out of his boat onto the crunchy snow he assumed there was no one there, until he sees footprints. When his blue eyes followed to trail of foot prints it led to the pink haired man he spotted in the entrance, and a girl he didn’t recognize. Phil flew to a level edge of the mountain, but techno hears the flapping of wings and moves in front of the girl protectively, sword in hand. Their defensive stances were tense until techno lowers his sword and his eyes soften, “Phil..?” Said man looked confused until he realized that he was standing in front of the same hybrid Piglin from years ago. “Technoblade?”

#my writing #my post #sbi fanfic #x reader #but not really #reader insert #philza #philza minecraft #Technoblade #Technoblade fic #Wilbur soot #Tommyinnit #fanfic #dream smp #dream smp au #sbi+reader fic

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mother-shipper · 5 years ago

Text

Save Me (I Can’t Face This Life Alone)

Harringrove for Australia piece for @buildyourwalls. I definitely went over 2k and I can’t tell you how many times I completely overhauled this but it’s here!

Steve had never expected an apology from Billy Hargrove of all people. He expected to end up getting along with the guy even less. Billy was okay when he wanted to be, when he wasn't fixated on usurping a throne Steve no longer wanted anyway. They had things in common. Billy was good at conversation and while he still busted Steve's balls, it didn't have the same bite to it as before.

Surprisingly enough, it had seemed for a moment that Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove might actually be… friends. But then it happened.

Prom.

Steve and Billy had both decided to go stag. Steve didn’t have anyone he liked enough to ask. Billy said there were too many options to limit himself to one bitch for the whole night. And if neither of them had a date, they may as well pregame at Steve’s before heading over to the school gym. Steve had readily agreed and Billy showed up in his powder blue tux with a little something tucked in the inner pocket.

“To get me through Cyndi Lauper,” he told Steve, rolling his eyes.

Looking back, Steve wasn’t sure how he missed it. They rolled up together in Billy’s Camaro. Every dance request Billy got was shut down in favor of sitting at the table people-watching with Steve. Then Billy had flashed the bag tucked in the inner pocket of his jacket and nodded to the back door. Steve had followed without a thought. They were friends. They were just going out back for a smoke like he and Tommy used to do all the time.

They passed the joint back and forth, talking about the night, the people, the music. He hadn’t noticed Billy shifting closer, hadn’t picked up on the look in his eyes. One second Steve was laughing about Tammy Thompson’s choice of cowgirl boots and the next, Billy’s mouth was on his.

He remembered how warm and soft Billy’s lips were. There was a spark of heat low in his gut and his mind went blank before everything seemed to explode. Billy was kissing him. Billy was kissing him! And he was enjoying it. It was a lot to process and before he could orient himself, Billy was pulling away. The look in his eyes was pure panic. The easy, relaxed confidence was replaced with wide eyes and rigid posture. He looked ready to bolt.

"Billy…," Steve tried. "Hey-"

A hard shove to the chest put Steve's back against the wall, the brick biting into his skin through his shirt. He grabbed onto Billy's wrists and winced but Billy took a quick step back. Recoiled from Steve as if he'd been burned.

"Just… Just stay away from me," Billy snapped. He spun on his heel and was gone, heading for the parking lot at a clip and leaving Steve leaning against the wall, dumbfounded. Before long, he heard the roar of the Camaro. There were squealing tires, a flash of headlights and then Billy was gone. Steve was left leaning against the brick wall, staring after him and wondering what the actual fuck had just happened.

He tried to get Billy's attention at school, tried to talk to him and sort this whole thing out but Billy never gave him the chance. He thought of calling before realizing he didn't have Billy's number. He didn't even know where he lived. Billy always came to him. …Maybe they weren't as good of friends as Steve thought. But Billy didn't give Steve the chance to make that right either.

He never got to talk to Billy before summer came.

Scoops Ahoy was not the job Steve had hoped for. It wasn't hard work but it was draining in its own ways, not the least of which was the toll it took on his self esteem. Most nights, Steve would only have enough left in him to shower, maybe eat something, then crash face first into his mattress. He hasn't been able to even talk to the kids, let alone attempt to make time to visit Billy at the public pool. Even if he did, he didn't think it would help. Not at this point.

He was out of the loop, oblivious to the goings on that had been noticed by the kids. Then he was knee deep in an entirely different loop with Russians and secret codes. It wasn't until this Venn diagram of disaster met in the middle that Steve realized just what had happened to Billy.

How he was still alive, no one could say. Steve believed it was sheer stubbornness. If anyone could live out of spite, it was Billy Hargrove. Knowing what he did now about Billy’s daily life, he could safely say he would have given up long ago. Billy was strong. Stronger than he thought even Billy realized. But this? Being a part of the darkness that lurked beneath Hawkins was too much for any one person to carry alone. He would know.

Steve needed to be there for Billy. He needed to make up for not being there sooner and to see him awake and breathing. Because all he could see when he laid his head down at night was vacant, blue eyes, black blood soaking white cotton, soaking his hands. So much blood. Another nightmare added to the silver screen of his mind.

Steve knew you were supposed to bring something when you visit someone in the hospital. Flowers didn’t seem like Billy’s style. Neither did any of the stuffed animals lining the shelves of the gift shop. He searched through cards but they all seemed so formal. It didn’t feel like he was giving Billy something sincere. He put back a card, his nose wrinkling at the picture of a cat dangling from a tree branch that just said “Hang in There”. None of this seemed like anything Billy would like but he couldn’t show up empty handed. He wouldn’t.

Steve was giving serious consideration to leaving and coming back when he had something good to offer when he saw it.

It was tiny, maybe only about the size of a golf ball, sitting in its little terracotta pot. The green, waxy exterior was barely visible through the army of white needles jutting from it. The spines poked out in all directions leaving nowhere to touch it without getting bloodied in return. In contrast to the sharp barrier, at the very top there sat a tiny, pink blossom. Steve knew this was perfect.

Scooping the pot gently into his hands, Steve went up to the counter and happily paid for the angriest little plant he’d ever seen in his life. He was going to see Billy and they were going to talk. About everything. About that night at prom. How sorry Steve was. How much he wished he had been there for Billy when he needed someone, anyone, to recognize that he wasn't in control. That he wasn't himself.

Steve went to the nurse's station, cradling the tiny cactus in his palms. A kind if tired looking woman glanced up at Steve from a clipboard, her brown hair tied up in a bun and lips painted red.

"Can I help you?"

"Hi. I'm looking for Billy Hargrove's room?"

The nurse nodded, sifting through paperwork before pulling out what must be Billy's chart. She flipped a page, looking at something that made her brow furrow.

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name," the nurse said, voice suddenly cold as she looked Steve over.

"Oh," Steve said, caught off guard by the rapid shift in tone. "It's Steve? Steve Harrington?"

Her lips pursed and she slid the file back onto the shelf, eyes on Steve's. "I'm sorry. He's not accepting visitors right now."

Steve's chest ached as he realized what was happening. There was a list. And Steve was on it. He wasn't going to get to see Billy. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut and he wanted to break down and cry right there. Instead, he swallowed, took a deep breath.

"I understand," he said softly. He stared down at the cactus, at it's tiny, pink flower. "If it's not too much trouble, could you just give him this?" Steve set the pot onto the counter. "I still want him to have it. And… if you could... tell him I'm sorry."

When Steve looked up again, the nurse was watching him curiously. She still seemed wary of him but there was less hostility. Instead, she seemed like she just couldn't figure him out. Steve offered her a smile he didn't really feel and nodded once before turning to leave. Billy didn't want to see him and Steve couldn't blame him.

---------------------

“You have to fix this.”

Steve looked down at Max, eyebrow raised in confusion. He’d opened the door, expecting to find Dustin standing there, trying to get Steve to leave his house again. He didn’t have nearly as many hours at the video store as he did at Scoops so Steve found himself with a lot more downtime these days. To say he hadn’t been using it wisely was an understatement.

“Nice to see you too, Max,” he grumbled, stepping aside for her to come in. She stepped inside and her nose wrinkled instantly at the sight of the place. There were empty pizza boxes and takeout containers scattered everywhere. Steve was still in his pajamas, third day in a row and he hadn’t thought to change them. Not like he was expecting company.

“Boys,” she sighed before turning to Steve. “You have to talk to Billy.”

Steve snorted, walking past Max and into the kitchen. “Wow. Great idea. If only I’d thought of it sooner. Problem solved.”

“Don’t be stupid, Steve,” Max huffed, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. It was something so distinctly Billy it made Steve ache. “You know you want to see him. And he wants to see you.”

“Right.” Steve pulled open the fridge, digging inside for an excuse not to look at her. “That’s why he put me on the ‘keep out’ list at the hospital. I tried, Max. I’ve been trying since school but he wants nothing to do with me.”

“He does so!” Max shouted. “He’s just being dumb! And so are you!”

“Max-”

“No! Don’t give me that ‘you don’t understand’ crap. He’s miserable, Steve.” Max gestured around the messy house. “You’re miserable. And there’s no reason for any of it.”

Steve paused, straightening and looking over his shoulder at her. Max looked near tears, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She was angry and worried and...scared. She was scared. Steve took a deep breath and sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“All I can do is try, Max,” he told her softly. “I can’t promise anything but I can give it one more try.”

Max broke. Her face crumpled and she threw herself at Steve, arms wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in Steve’s chest and sniffled. He hugged her back, wrapping her up tight against him and resting his chin on her head.

---------------------------------------

The house wasn’t a big one. The little one-level, ranch-style place was tucked back near the lake not far from Hop’s old trailer. If it weren’t for the Camaro on blocks out front, Steve would have wondered if he had the right place. Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe. Billy was in there. This was the closest Steve had been to him since that night outside the gym. It made his heart hurt and longing filled his chest. Steve gripped the handle of the sixpack in his hand. This was stupid. He was just going to get his heart broken once and for all. But he promised Max he would try.

Taking a deep breath, Steve knocked on the door and waited. He could hear movement inside, heavy steps coming toward the door. The knob turned and Steve felt a sudden panic grip him. The door flew open and Billy stood there, hand on his hip.

“I told you, old man. I’m not going so you can just…” Billy froze. His blue eyes went wide and he stared at Steve in horror.

Steve glanced over Billy. The scars. God, the scars. There were huge starbursts all over Billy’s torso from where the mind flayer had hooked into him. Smaller spots littered his arms, one sitting just below his eye. The worst was right in the center of his chest. It was an angry, red, gnarled looking thing. Suddenly all Steve could see was blood. It was dark. There was a monstrous scream ripping through the air. White cotton soaked in black. Empty eyes. Heart pounding. Dead. Right in front of him. Gone.

“Harrington!”

Steve dropped the sixpack, snapping back to the present only to realize his whole body was trembling. His face was wet and he met Billy’s eyes. They were bright and sharp, concerned. They were alive.

“You’re here.” Steve choked on a sob. He couldn’t stop himself from moving in closer. He looped his arms carefully around Billy’s waist and buried his face in his shoulder. “I,” he gasped, “I thought- you-” Any coherent words dissolved into desperate bawling.

Billy’s arms curled around his shoulders, hesitant and uncertain but there nonetheless. Steve wasn’t sure how long it took but he eventually ran out of steam. He cried himself out and Billy just held him. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t push Steve away. He sniffed against Billy, not willing to let go yet.

“I thought…” he hiccuped. “I never got to tell you. I thought you were gone and you’d never have known.”

“Known what?” Billy finally asked. Steve pulled back just enough to look at Billy. He wiped at his eyes and nose furiously.

“You ran away,” Steve said. “At prom. You kissed me and I didn’t expect it.”

Billy’s face was hard, closed off the way it had been every time Steve tried to talk to him since. He opened his mouth to say something but Steve cut him off, shaking his head.

“You didn’t give me a chance to realize what was going on.”

Billy snorted. “It isn’t that hard to figure out. You didn’t kiss me back. That’s all I needed to know.”

“We were fucking high, Billy,” Steve snapped. “It took me some time to process, okay? And if you let me get more than two words out-”

“I get it, Steve! You’re not interest-”

Steve cut Billy off, kissing him hard. He poured everything he had into it. All the hurt and fear and longing. He gave Billy everything there was to give and then some. Breathless, he pulled away, pressing his forehead against Billy’s.

“I’m not what now,” he challenged, catching his breath.

Billy tangled a hand in Steve’s hair. “I need to know you mean it,” he growled. “I need to know it’s not just because of…”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve been trying to tell you for almost a year now, idiot. You just wouldn’t let me.”

Billy held Steve tighter, making his heart flutter in his chest. They just stood there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, making up for lost time. Steve soaked in Billy’s warmth and presence. He was here. He was broken and scarred, but he was here. That’s all Steve needed.

It was Billy who finally broke the silence, smiling softly. “Any particular reason you bought me a fucking cactus?”

#harringrove for australia #harringrove #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #post s3 #billy lives #These boys are bad at communication #Also #Billy absolutely kept that cactus and it got him into houseplants #The sun-room of his new place?#Plants #All houseplants #And he named every one of them

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years ago

Text

London Girl- Two.

The second instalment of London Girl. Lets give Arthur Shelby some love!

[1] [2] [3]

Tag list: @power-of-words23 @igottagetmyselftogemina @therightcupoftea @midnattheir @the-makingsofgreatness @deaflikehawkeye @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @lettersshapes @yoheyyosup

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message x

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

Will you ever see Arthur Shelby again?

ARTHURS POV

If it wasn’t for the slight imprint left upon his bed sheets, or the way your perfume lingered faintly within the air, Arthur could have sworn that the previous night was a creation of his drunken imagination. He could still taste you upon his lips, fighting the urge to run his tongue across them, to savour every last trace. He groaned slightly as he sat up, ignoring the way his crotch instinctively stiffened as your perfume stirred around him at the movement of the sheets. His head lightly pounded, as the remains of whiskey fought to escape his system.

Arthur slid off the end of the bed, internally cringing as his feet met the cold floor. The bed sheets laid discarded behind him, as he made his way to the sink in the corner of his room. He turned the tap, cupping his hands underneath, splashing the ice, cold water on his face. Arthur ran his damp fingers through his hair, freezing as his eyes met his reflection in the mirror in front of him. His fingers gently ran down to the purple marks upon his neck, his cheeks turning a faint shade of beetroot red as the memories returned to him.

“Fuck” he mumbled.

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Arthur pulled his collar up around his neck as he made his way downstairs, reaching up to grab his cap from the stand near the kitchen door. He haphazardly placed it upon his head, looking down as he entered the kitchen, where his family sat.

“There he is! Man of the hour!” John laughed, clapping in mock celebration. Arthur frowned slightly, feeling the heat rise slightly upon his skin, as he pulled out a chair to sit upon. Pol pushed a plate of toast towards him, a faint smirk playing upon her lips.

“Now now John. Let him eat in peace” she stated, placing a cigarette in between her pursed lips to light. Arthur reached forward to grab a slice of toast, taking a large bite. He was glad for the distraction, pushing down the memories of last night into the crevices of his mind.

“How was it brother?” John continued to talk, ignoring their aunts instructions. “You both disappeared quite prematurely last night”. Arthur swallowed down the toast, a frown creasing in between his brows.

“We were just talking” Arthur responded, resulting in raucous laughter to escape from his two brothers mouths.

“I’m sure you were” Tommy retorted, breaking his silence with a smirk. “Must have been a fucking interesting conversation. You were gone for hours”.

“She’s a talker Tommy” Arthur stated, wishing his brothers would just shut up. He glanced in the direction of them, raising his eyebrows slightly. “You know how these women are”.

“Please enlighten us” Ada stated, as she made her way into the kitchen. She placed a kettle upon the stove, before folding her arms to look at her brothers.

“Arthur shagged a bird last night” Finn smirked, leaning forward to steal a slice of toast off Arthurs plate.

“That girl from London?” Ada chuckled lightly, bringing the hot kettle to place in the centre of the table. “You struck gold there Arthur”.

“I didn’t shag her” Arthur mumbled lightly, feeling his ears turn a deep shade of red, pulling up his collar a little higher, as he shrunk underneath Ada’s inquisitive gaze.

“What is with those purple marks on your neck then?” Ada asked, as she sat down beside him. Arthur groaned lightly, as his brothers burst into laughter.

“Good on you Arthur. About time you shared your bed with a woman” John smirked, giving his brother a teasing nudge.

“You’ll like my news then Arthur” Tommy stated, leaning back cooly within his chair. “Pack a bag. We’re heading off to London today. Got a meeting with an Alfie Solomons”.

London.

Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew that London was home to far more people than he could count.

Yet if meeting you last night was fate, he hoped it would be on his side again.

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The journey to London took far longer than Arthur desired, his discomfort increasing by the minute. Tommy had insisted on bringing the car, despite Aunt Pol’s advice to take the train. That was typical of his brother, wanting to show off their newly found wealth. It would prove their status, Tommy had argued.

Arthur looked out of the window, noticing how crowds of people parted at the sight of the car, weaving its way down the streets. London was similar to Small Heath- dirty and full of people. He sighed lightly, placing a cigarette in between his lips, attempting to mask the nerves he felt. He often felt like this, during business meetings. Arthur was aware that he was famed for his untameable temper, and often thought his brothers only included him within family meetings as a way of intimidating others into agreeing with them. The car came to a stop, as Arthur inhaled in the cigarette smoke.

“Here we are lads. Let’s go do business” Tommy stated, stepping out of the car.

Arthur pushed open his door, throwing the cigarette upon the floor as he stood outside. The building that stood in front of them was a dark shade of grey, the once red bricks tainted by thick, black smoke. Green paint flaked off the wooden door, the sign above it precariously swinging in the slight breeze. Tommy moved forward, slamming his fist upon the door. The brothers waited briefly, before it swung open.

“You the Peaky Blinders?” a dark-haired man asked, his face framed by messy curls.

“Do you wanna fucking prize?” John spat, raising his eyebrow in distrust. The stranger appeared unphased by his reaction, turning his back to them.

“You’re late. Follow me” he ordered, making his way inside, closely followed by the three brothers. Arthur blinked as he adjusted to the darkness inside the factory. A strong smell of alcohol poisoned the air, as the sound of men shouting mixed with faint explosions, danced in his ears. He followed the group up a set of stairs, the wooden floorboards creaking preciously underneath each step.

“Peaky Blinders are here sir” the stranger shouted, as he pushed open a door. He stepped aside, allowing the three brothers to walk in.

Alfie Solomons sat in front of them, hunched over papers that were strewn across his desk. He did not acknowledge the brothers arrival, as they made their way into the room. Arthur lowered himself onto a wooden chair, grunting slightly as he placed his hands in his pockets, wrapping his fingers around the cool metal handle of his pistol. He couldn’t care less for these sorts of meetings, the formalities that came with developing a new business arrangement. He left these sorts of things to Tommy.

“Hello Mr. Solomons” Tommy greeted the man, as he sat between Arthur and John. Alfie glanced up at them, sitting up slightly as he lowered his glasses.

“I hear ya’ gypsies wanna do business”.

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Even in his waking moments, you haunted Arthurs thoughts. The image of you in your dress, how your smile lit up at the sight of him, hell, how you even listened to him. You were different, he knew that from the very second he laid eyes upon you. It wasn’t just the fact that you were from London, it was the fact that you were interested in him.

The door swung open, crashing against the brick wall. Arthur’s heart stopped, as a familiar sweet smell filled the room. He must be dreaming.

“You left your lunch at home again. Fucking useless you are”.

Your voice sang out around the room. Arthur drew his eyes up to look at you walk towards Alfie, placing a brown, paper bag upon the desk in front of him. Your beauty lit up the room, a significant contrast against the dark backdrop of the factory. You ignored the company within the room, as you leaned down to place a soft kiss upon Alfie’s cheek. Arthur could have swore that the sound of his heart dropping to the floor, could have been heard from all the way back home. It was impossible. You mentioned no lover, there was no ring placed upon your finger when he met you. You couldn’t be. Arthur felt his brothers glance at him, their frowns evident upon their faces.

“What have I told ya’ about bargin’ in when I have meetings?” Alfie grunted, leaning forward to peek into the contents of the paper bag. “Kids. They never listen ‘ey?” Alfie glanced at Tommy, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“No. My son is the same” Tommy chuckled lightly in response.

Arthur swallowed hard, the realisation dawning upon him. You were Alfie fucking Solomons daughter. He watched as you frowned in response to the conversation, throwing a glance in Tommy’s direction, before your eyes met his.

Time stood still, as he looked into your eyes. He ignored the way his heart beat rapidly increased at the sight of you. Arthur watched as your lips parted slightly in shock, your skin beginning to pale, a small frown creasing your beautiful features.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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

YOUR POV

Hangovers were the worst, and this one was absolutely no exception. The fact that you had woken up in Arthur’s bed, brought you little comfort. You had opted to leave early, to avoid the awkward morning conversations with his family. To avoid the morning conversations with him. This was unlike you. You had never jumped into bed with a man so easily before, the only ever sexual experience you had a couple of years previous. Men where too scared of your father, to ever get too close to you. Arthur was different. He had intrigued you, drawing you in. You wanted to know more about him, to know the origins of his mysterious last name.

The cab journey home had somehow increased the intensity of your hangover, the windows providing little respite from the glaring morning sun. You were grateful when the cab had finally pulled up outside your home. You tossed a few coins in the direction of the driver, muttering your thanks, as you stood outside. You ran your hands down your dress, in a fruitless attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. In the daylight it appeared less elegant than it had the previous night. You made your way to the front door, silently turning the key in the lock as you pushed it open, hoping that your father had already left for work. You stepped inside, quietly turning to push the door shut behind you.

You paused by the door briefly, holding your breath for a second. Silence. Thank fuck. You made your way down towards the small bathroom, that you shared with your father.

Twenty-one years ago, Alfie Solomons had opened his front door to a small bundle of cloth on his doorstep, you hidden within the various pieces of fabric. You had always known that you were a result of an affair, your mother passing away shortly after childbirth. Her family had always known of your parental origins, and refused to raise a bastard child, leaving you upon your fathers doorstep. It had been you and him for twenty-one years, and you were absolutely fine with that.

You watched as the bathtub slowly filled with warm water, the steam rising up towards the ceiling. You slipped out of your dress, the fabric pooling carelessly around your feet, as you lowered yourself into the bath, submerging yourself in the water. Arthur danced behind your closed eyelids, his dark grey eyes prominent within your imagination. You remembered the way his stubble lightly scratched against your skin, as his lips fluttered against your flesh.

You remembered the way he made you feel alive with his words. He was the first person you felt truly listened, who completely understood you.

And you didn’t even know his last name.

You sighed slightly in frustration, grabbing a bar of soap to wash away the remains of last night. You were stupid to become fixated upon a man that you knew you would never see again. You roughly scrubbed at your skin, your flesh turning a light shade of pink in response. You and Arthur would never happen, and you were an idiot to entertain the possibility.

You stepped out of the bath, grabbing a towel to wrap around your frame, as you made your way towards your bedroom. You flung open your wardrobe doors, snatching a ruby red dress from the hangers, before slipping into it. The fabric clung to your slightly damp skin, falling just below your knees. You ran a comb through your hair, glaring angrily at your reflection in the mirror in front of you.

You were only a child, barely turned twenty-one years of age. Arthur could have his pick of any woman from Small Heath and London. Why the fuck did he bother with you?

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A pair of sunglasses framed your eyes, barely providing shade from the afternoon sun. The noise of the city rang in your ears as you stepped outside, clutching a brown paper bag, filled with lunch for your father. You were aware that he had a business meeting with the famed Peaky Blinders gang this afternoon, and you were desperate to get a glimpse of the feared Birmingham men.

You rarely visited your father at work, an unspoken ban placed upon the area. You knew that your father preferred keeping his work separate to the life he shared with you, and you knew that he had his reasons for doing so. Your father led a dangerous life, his reputation proceeding the outskirts of London.

You pushed open the door to your fathers factory, grimacing slightly as the stench of burning alcohol filled your nostrils. It was a scent you were somewhat familiar with, the scent often clinging onto your fathers clothes. The men around you fell silent, stopping mid-shout, as they noticed you enter the factory, hurriedly turning their backs away from you. You were their bosses daughter, and even the newest recruit knew to keep both his hands and his eyes off.

“Miss?!” Ollie ran towards you, panic evident in his voice. You smiled warmly at your fathers right hand man, as you continued to make your way through the factory, Ollie closely following at your side.

“Hello Ollie. Father forgot his lunch” you explained, slightly lifting up the bag to show him.

“He’s in the middle of a meeting though miss. I’m afraid you can’t go up there”

“And I’m afraid Ollie, that I am choosing to ignore that” you stated, making your way up the stairs to your fathers office. You paused briefly outside the door, turning to face him, guilt softly spinning in your stomach. You didn’t want him to get into trouble with your father, for your actions.

“I’ll tell him I ignored you” you flashed a quick smile, before pushing open the door. It slammed against the brick wall, loudly announcing your arrival, as you made your way into the room.

“You left your lunch at home again. Fucking useless you are” you chuckled lightly, ignoring the men who sat in front of your father, as you placed the paper bag in front of him, lightly placing a kiss upon his cheek.

“What have I told ya’ about bargin’ in when I have meetings?” Alfie grunted, leaning forward to peek into the contents of the paper bag. “Kids. They never listen ‘ey?”

You frowned slightly at your fathers words, glancing towards the men who sat in front of him, your skin slightly flushed in embarrassment.

Grey eyes locked with yours, your skin paling as you met with those you never thought you’d see again. Arthur sat in front of you, shock painted just as evidently upon his face, as it was on yours. Your heart raced at the sight of him, the hands which had lovingly caressed your skin not even a few hours ago, were clasped tightly upon his lap. You swallowed hard, painfully tearing your gaze away from his.

“You’re such a fucking asshole” you laughed lightly, hoping your father hadn’t noticed the nerves that tainted the sound. “I’ll see you when you get home”.

You didn’t look back at Arthur, as you made your way out of the office.

You both had some explaining to do.

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The sun was starting to lower in the sky, by the time the factory door opened again. Your head shot up at the sound, swallowing nervously as you watched Arthur and his two brothers exit the building. You anxiously smoothed down your dress, as you made your way forward from where you had been sat, waiting for him.

“Arthur?” you softly called out, watching him stop in his tracks and turn to face you. “Can we…can we talk?”.

“She’s a fucking Solomons Arthur. You can’t” John hissed, loud enough for you to hear. You chewed nervously on the inside of your cheek.

“Wait in the car” Arthur grunted, dismissing his brothers with a wave of the hand. He made his way towards you, placing his hand on your arm as he guided you out of ear shot. “You never told me, that he is your fucking dad”.

Sadness rang in Arthurs voice, his hand not moving from your arm. You ignored the way your skin had ignited at his touch, how your cheeks had flushed a light shade of pink.

“You never told me, that you’re a fucking Shelby” you whispered, swallowing hard. Arthur chuckled bitterly, shaking his head slightly.

“Who would have thought that last names would have been such an issue?” he spat, his eyes meeting yours. His grey orbs were tinged with a silent sorrow, your own reflected within his.

“They don’t have to be” you whispered lightly, slipping your arm out of his grip, and placing a small slip of paper within the palm of his hand. “Meet me here later. When the clock strikes midnight”.

Arthurs forehead creased in confusion, briefly glancing down at the paper within his hand, before meeting your eyes once more. Silence settled uncomfortably between the pair of you, the tension evident.

“I’ll understand if-“ you had begun to talk, before you were silenced by Arthur hungrily pressed his lips up against your own. His fingers entangled in your hair, as you pressed your chest up against his, his heartbeat dancing with your own.

You were both breathless as you reluctantly pulled away. Arthur lightly pressed his forehead against yours, sighing gently.

“You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me”.

#Peaky Blinders #by order of the peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #Arthur Shelby #arthur shelby imagine #Arthur Shelby x oc #arthur shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby imagine #Alfie Solomons #shelby x solomons

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jay-me-says · 4 years ago

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Things Were Different Back Then

CHAPTER THREE: Tension

Masterpost w/ more info on the fic | Note: all SBI-related relationships here are platonic!

Tubbo wakes with the sun. He hadn’t shut his curtains last night, and the window opposite his bed casts a bright, amber light over him. Despite being tired, and annoyed by the interruption to his sleep, he finds it in him to appreciate how the early morning sun turns his bedspread to flame. He turns his fingers around in the patch of light. It’s like he’s dipping them in magic. The red bandanna Tommy gave him has been sitting on his headboard for weeks, a small comfort in the time his friend was gone. The orange sunlight makes it look especially warm and vibrant.

After lying in bed for a few minutes more, staring at the square of orange light on his covers and skin, Tubbo forces himself out of bed and to his wardrobe. He dresses at a snail’s pace in black dress pants, a pastel green button-up, and a vest in such a dark shade of green one could mistake it for black from a distance. With a black tie in hand, Tubbo sleepily walks out to the living room so he can put on his tie in front of the mirror. The consequences of staying at the bench with Tommy so late last night are catching up to him. Worth it, he thinks.

In the middle of fidgeting with his tie, trying to get it just right, someone opens the door, startling the boy. A brief shot of adrenaline rushes through him as he whips around to look at the front door. His surprise turns to relief and then confusion when he sees Tommy coming through the door. He thought his friend was still asleep in bed- he certainly should be after last night. “Jeez, Tommy. You scared the hell out of me. Where were you so early?”

Walter pads over the couch and hops up, head resting on the arm nearest the mirror. Tubbo doesn’t mind. He reaches out to pet the dog’s big, white head. Tommy plops down on the couch next to Walter as he speaks. “I went for a walk,” he says, then yawns. Henry II squawks from his shoulder in protest of all the sudden movement. Tommy pets his little, green head apologetically. “Sorry, mate,” he murmurs.

“Well, are you up to going to that meeting with Fundy and Niki today?” Tubbo asks, turning back to the mirror to work on his tie. “We’re planning out the next few rebuilding projects. You don’t have to go, but I figured it would be nice for you to come along. Might help ease you back into things.”

There’s silence for a moment as Tommy thinks it over, then, “Yeah. Yeah, that might be good. When is it though? I think I’ll take a nap if I have the time.

He must’ve been out really early this morning, Tubbo thinks. “It’s at nine o’clock, at Fundy’s again. So you have a few hours.”

“Right, then. See you in a few hours.” Tommy trudges off to his room with Henry II still on his shoulder. Walter remains on the couch. Tubbo gives the dog one last pat, then heads into the kitchen. He’ll make some soup, he decides. He can reheat some for Tommy after his nap.

Tubbo sets about cooking, glad to have something to do to fill some of the extra time brought on by his early start to the day.

The sound of knocking rolls through the house. Fundy gets up to answer the door, knowing it must be the other council members arriving for the meeting, but his grandfather beats him to it.

When he sees Tommy at the door with the others, the fox is a little surprised. He had only expected Tubbo and Niki, especially after yesterday’s conversation. He supposes it makes some sense, though. Tommy should know what they’ve been up to before reclaiming his seat on the council.

After Gramps has warmly greeted Tubbo and Niki and given Tommy a big hug, Fundy leads them to the kitchen. For the second day in a row, they sit at the table and talk.

Niki places a book on the table in front of her and opens it to a recent page of handwritten notes. Loopy brown font scrolls across the creamy pages. The margins are packed with little symbols and arrows connecting extra notes to lines of text. Fundy wonders if the book would quite make sense to anyone but her.

Readjusting in her seat, she says, “I jotted down some things with Quackity yesterday while we were walking around. We saw a lot, but I want to highlight a few of the things we thought were most pressing.

“First, the water level in the crater is starting to rise with each bout of rain. It is shallow so far, but once it fills up more, we’ll get Drowned spawning. It would be easy for us to fight them off when need be, but it would be safer and more convenient to light the area up before they get the chance to spawn.”

Fundy feels sort of sick at the mention of the destruction his father had caused, but pushes it away and tries to focus on the discussion.

“We could chain up some lanterns,” Tubbo suggests.

“Or use sea pickles,” says Fundy. “It might be easier than dealing with scaffolding and screwing in hooks for chains.”

“You’re right, nice thinking. I’m pretty sure I have some tucked away somewhere, but we could ask for people to chip in anyways.”

Niki marks a little circle next to a line of writing in her book. “I can send out some letters after the meeting asking for help.”

She tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear and continues, “Next, there’s a strip of open land near Party Island. It’s in a spot that would be easy to connect to the paths, so it’s a good place to add something. Quackity and I were throwing around ideas yesterday and our favorite was turning it into a community garden. We could plant flowers and trees and set up some benches. And there could be a designated spot to grow a few crops, like berries and potatoes. Everyone has been good about getting their own food, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep an extra source around.”

“That would be good.” Tubbo shifts in his chair and leans forwards a little. “We could put a chest near the crops and stock it with bonemeal. But that might require us to build a skeleton farm.”

The four of them go around like that for a while, planning out and prioritizing new projects. Niki and Tubbo do most of the talking, but Fundy and Tommy contribute where they find it useful. Once they’ve gone through Niki’s list, they help her write out notes to the citizens of L’manburg, calling for help and sea pickles, as well as a few letters asking specific people for help with projects.

When they’re all done, Niki closes her book and stands from the table. “That’s everything taken care of for today. I’ll hand these letters off to Ponk to be delivered as soon as possible.” Tubbo and Tommy say bye to Fundy, then leave the kitchen, heading for the front door.

Niki hangs back for a moment, though. She reaches into her book and hands Fundy some loose papers she pulls out. Her promise rings from Puffy sparkles brilliantly in the daylight streaming in from a nearby window. “Will you read over these for me? It’s a few drafts for some of the laws we spoke about last time. I’d give them to Tommy and Tubbo, but you’re better with words than any of us. Figured I would use your skills while we still have you on the council.”

Fundy nods as he takes the papers, glad to have something useful to do. “Yeah, I can do that. Of course.”

Niki thanks him with a smile, then follows Tubbo and Tommy to the door.

Fundy feels good about the meeting. Being on the council had never been something he wanted to do, but it came with certain perks. Like the satisfaction that came as the reward of a productive meeting.

Still, he’ll be relieved when Tommy takes his post back. The only reason he’d agreed to this in the first place was that Tommy and Tubbo asked him to. “No person I would rather have fill my spot while I’m gone. I trust you,” Tommy had said. So, of course, Fundy had said yes.

Although he knew if Tubbo wasn’t already on the council Tommy would’ve gone to the brunette first, it still felt nice to be trusted. He’d been worried he would have trouble earning back trust after the war. For a while, Fundy had posed as a Schlatt supporter, gathering information about the dictator to smuggle back to Pogtopia at the right time. No one else had known he was faking. Much to his relief, he’d been able to slide back into his spot as a citizen of L’manburg easily after the Second Revolution. He was sure a few people had their doubts at first, but as hard as he had worked as a council member this past month, he doubted anyone could question his loyalty anymore. Or he hoped, at least.

Just as Fundy stands to go to his room, planning to start reading over Niki’s papers, Wilbur appears in the doorway again, like he did yesterday. He wears a gray shirt and eyebags.

The tall man is silent for a beat too long to make it not awkward, and Fundy is considering asking him what’s up when he finally speaks. “You could speak up a little more in meetings, you know. Tommy and Tubbo asked for you to fill in because they trust you and value your opinion.”

The critique annoys the fox. His dad is sort of right, but it feels like the only thing he talks to him about anymore is the council. Fundy knows he was never born to lead, and that’s one of the reasons he’ll be glad when Tommy takes his post back. The other is that Wilbur will finally stop talking to him about it.

Maybe it’s his attempt at bonding, the little pieces of advice. Wilbur was a leader once, too. Maybe his father wants to draw a connection between them because of that. But Fundy doesn’t want his father’s advice on improving his leadership skills, he wants his father to have a normal conversation with him. They never talk anymore. Throughout his life, Fundy had always been able to talk to Wilbur about whatever- nonsense, any questions that came to mind. They’d lost that somewhere. Now it was all stiff limbs and awkward comments back and forth.

“I could. I say what I think would be helpful. When I think of more ideas and helpful things to say, I will say them.” Fundy allows his annoyance to seep into his voice, then instantly regrets it. As frustrated as he is with him, the sting on his father’s face makes him want to pluck the words back out of the air and stuff them into the garbage.

Wordlessly, Wilbur walks out of the kitchen and down the hall. A few seconds later, Fundy hears his father’s bedroom door gently close behind him.

Another successful conversation for the books.

Tommy had been relieved this morning when Tubbo hadn’t asked where he’d been. He truly didn’t want to explain to his friend that he hadn’t gone to bed. He feels relieved again that their present conversation is staying away from the topic.

It’s just them two now, Niki having gone back home after they left Philza’s. They walk the paths of L’manburg, chatting about the meeting. Which projects they’re most excited for, how soon they think others will be done, what they want to tackle next.

Tubbo is rambling about some ideas he has for the community garden when Tommy realizes where they’re heading. The docks. Tommy thinks about last night and how long he had stood there, letting the waves spray his arms. He hadn’t realized how late he had been out until he’d noticed the horizon turning pink, drawing his attention to his knees, which were stiff from being in the same position for hours. They still ache a little.

Tubbo must realize he’s gone a bit quiet, because he stops talking and follows Tommy’s gaze, then smiles brightly. “I haven’t been here in ages!” he yells.

The brunette takes off for the edge of the docks at a jog. The almost childlike excitement makes Tommy smile and he sets off after Tubbo.

When he catches up, he leans against one of the logs like he’d done last night. He takes one of his pointer fingers and absently rubs patterns across the rough surface. Tubbo is talking, and Tommy tries to pay attention, but continuously finds himself zoning out. He’s still tired, and he can’t seem to push his brothers out of his thoughts. It makes him a little angry. Damn Wilbur for taking up so much space in my head.

Like always, despite Tommy’s best attempts to hide it, Tubbo notices how his friend has shut down. The shorter boy places a gentle hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You look a bit drained. Do you want to head back to my place? I have to visit with Big Q, but you could stay in and rest for a while.”

Tommy nods, grateful for the out. The pair head back to Tubbo’s. When they get in the door, the brunette half-jokingly orders Tommy off to the guest room before leaving again. Tommy obeys, finding Walter already occupying most of the mattress. He shoves the wall of white fluff over a little, then climbs in next to him and buries his face in his dog’s coat.

Curled up at a weird angle to accommodate Walter, Tommy lets himself feel all the bad stuff. The guilt, the sadness, the anger. He lets it all overflow inside of him, making his heart ache and his eyes glisten. Eventually, the comfort of the bed and the residual strains of exhaustion from a sleepless night take over, pulling him in and out of dreamless sleep.

It wasn’t really a lie when Tubbo told Tommy he had to talk to Quackity. He does need to fill in the secretary of state about how the meeting today went and what they’d decided to do. But it could’ve waited, or he could’ve sent a carrier parrot.

Mostly, it was an excuse. He’d wanted time alone to think and to worry. Tommy kept slipping away from him. First at the mention of Wilbur, then at the docks. He would just recede into his own head and that would be it for the conversation. It’s properly worrying Tubbo now, but he doesn’t know what to do for his friend.

The president walks vaguely in the direction of Quackity’s house as he mulls over the Tommy Thing. It feels like no time has passed at all when he realizes that he’s nearly walked right by his destination.

Tubbo backtracks a few steps and goes up to Quackity’s door, then knocks.

The sound of footsteps approaching comes from the other side of the heavy spruce, then the door swings inward to reveal the secretary of state, dressed casually in a hoodie and his signature beanie. A grin cracks his face at the sight of Tubbo. “Hey, man! How’s it going? Come in!”

A small smile tugs on the president’s lips as he greets his friend. Big Q’s energy is infectious, and there’s always so much of it that one could almost reach a hand into the air and grab a fistful of it. It fills Tubbo’s stomach with a certain lightness that floats up into his chest.

Quackity steps to the side to let him by and Tubbo enters the house. A short hallway ends in a living room, with open doorways on either side of the space leading off to other areas of the house. The secretary of state steps past Tubbo and flops down on the couch, gesturing for Tubbo to take a seat. The president makes himself comfortable on the armchair across from him.

“So, how’d the meeting today go? Did Niki tell you about the community garden idea?” Quackity asks.

“Yeah, we all thought it was a good plan. We were discussing keeping some chests of bonemeal by a designated crop area, but we’ll need a skeleton farm for that.” Tubbo goes on to explain the more important details of the meeting to Quackity, getting cut off when he mentions that Tommy was there.

“Wait, I thought Niki said he wasn’t going to get back into council stuff yet,” he says, absently fidgeting with one of the strings on his blue hoodie while he speaks. One of his legs is up on the couch, tucked into his chest with his chin sitting on top of his knee.

“He isn’t- well, not really. Fundy is still officially filling in for him for another week. But we thought it would be a good idea for him to come with us to council meetings. Just to ease him back into things before taking on the full responsibilities again.”

Quackity is silent for a few seconds. The hoodie string lies limp in his now-still hand. His eyes flit up and down Tubbo’s face, studying his expression. Nerves flutter in the president’s stomach, wondering what the other boy is thinking. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Quackity finally speaks. “Something’s up, man. What’s going on?”

Tubbo sighs and leans back into the chair a little, caught. He doesn’t even consider whether or not to tell Big Q. The secretary of state had been a good friend to him, always willing to help or lend an ear, and they’d grown closer this past month. Tubbo felt safe talking to him about it.

“It’s Tommy. He’s been sort of off since he’s been back. I’m getting kind of worried.”

Quackity cocks his head to the side. “Off how?”

“He’s been zoning out a lot. Like, one minute he’s talking just fine and the next he’s dropped the conversation completely.”

The other boy is quiet for a moment, readjusting his beanie while he thinks on his response. “I’m sure he just needs more time to get settled. He only got back a few days ago and there must be a lot of memories here for him to deal with. Give him some time to process. And if it’s really bothering you, talk to him. He’ll open up to you if you ask.”

Tubbo thinks about that for a moment, absorbing the advice. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks, Big Q, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Tubbo.” After a pause, he says, “Honestly, I’m kind of surprised you aren’t the same way Tommy is. You were there through everything, too. All the wars, the explosions. And you were close to Techno and Wilbur, too.”

The president hadn’t really considered that before. He felt he had grieved his losses already, but he suspected there would always be a sharp ache in his chest when he thought of Techno. What he wouldn’t give to horribly fail at practice fights against him again.

Quackity and Tubbo return to the topic of the council meeting, then simply chat about whatever comes to mind for another hour or so. When Tubbo leaves, his stomach hurts from laughing and he feels a bit better. The brunette walks home in the bright late afternoon sunlight, thinking about the advice Quackity had given him. He should talk to Tommy. If only he could gather the courage.

For once, Wilbur decided to go to bed at a semi-acceptable hour. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters in the last month, reading his books well past sundown, but his dad had forced him to bed earlier than normal last night and it had disturbed his unusual sleep schedule.

As he’s about to enter his room, he notices a shaft of light poking out of his son’s room from down the hall. Wondering what he’s doing up so late, Wilbur goes to check on him.

He finds Fundy sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking through a stack of papers atop the cyan sheets. He seems tired. His ears dip ever so slightly and his eyes, peering at the writing, are half-closed.

“What’re you up to?”

Fundy glances up at his father, then looks back down to his papers. “Niki asked me to read over some things for her. Figured I would get to it now since we’ll be out helping for a while tomorrow.” The fox stifles a yawn.

Wilbur had received a note from a carrier parrot earlier, like he assumed the rest of L’manburg had. The note stated that the council was in need of volunteers and sea pickles to help do some mob-proofing under the Stilted Sector, as the section of L’manburg built over the crater had been nicknamed. Wilbur, Fundy, and Philza would all be pitching in. Though, Wilbur’s stomach filled with a certain dread at the thought of being that close to the destruction he had caused.

“Exactly why you should get some sleep soon. It’ll be a lot of work tomorrow,” he says.

“Yeah, okay, Dad.”

Wilbur could’ve sliced through the tension in the room with a sword. He can hardly remember the last time he’d managed to get through a real conversation with his son. He always managed to mess up somehow. But he supposed he deserved it for everything he’d put Fundy, and so many others, through.

Unable to see a way to salvage this pathetic attempt at an exchange, Wilbur awkwardly mumbles a goodnight and heads off to his own bedroom. He forgoes any sort of prep and dives straight for the comfort of the cozy bed and his favorite blankets.

‘

You can also read this on Ao3! | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! <3

#tommyinnit and tubbo fanfic #tommyinnit fanfic #tubbo fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp fanfic #sbi mcyt #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc fanfiction #tubbo and tommy fanfic #jay-me-writes

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tessimagines · 6 years ago

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Wash Me Clean // Thomas Shelby - Part Four

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: (Y/N)’s nursing skills come in handy when Martha Shelby’s conditions worsen.

Series masterlist is linked in my bio.

Warnings: angst, death, sickness, swearing and shouting. Overall, a pretty heavy part.

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Hey guys! I’ve had plenty of messages asking when this part was going to be out so I hope you all enjoy it after your anticipation. It’s a pretty heavy one, so beware, but I am pretty happy with how it’s turned out. I’d love to hear what you guys think!

The knocking comes at midnight.

It’s frantic, each one rapidly following the other, clear desperateness on the other side of the door. Your thin white dressing gown clings to your skin as you open it, the brown eyes of an unfamiliar woman greeting you. She’s breathless and cuts off any sort of question before they can pass your lips.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” She breathes, her husky voice matching the stern look of her face. “I’m Polly Gray, Tommy’s Aunt. You're needed.”

“Why? What am I needed for?”

“We don’t have time, I need you to come now.” She grabs your wrist in earnestness. You can tell by the look on her face that there is no refusing. Her word is final.

“Just let me get changed.”

“I told you, there is no time.” She notices the burgundy overcoat strung up on the coat hanger by the door and yanks it off. “Just put this on and shoes, we need to leave now.”

You’re too startled to say anything and take the coat from her hands. You slip your shoes on and follow her out the door, Polly’s hand gripping your wrist and tugging you behind her.

Making your way through the streets of Small Heath are a blur. The street is almost quiet in the dark of the night, but some figures still emerge from out of the fog. Drunken men, most of them. Each one of them darts in and out of the streets, a bottle of whisky in their hands and some old song from their childhood on their lips. None of them dare to touch Polly, and her grip on you seems to keep their prying hands off your own body too.

By the time she pulls you into an unfamiliar house, you seem to have come out of your haze. It’s small and similar to the Shelby family home, parallel in the decor stationed around the room. Yet it somehow lacks the warmth you felt upon entering the Shelby family home for the first time.

“Polly?” You hear him call. It sounds as though Thomas Shelby is half dead and alive, and when he descends the stairs, you see he looks it too.

“Yes, I’ve got her.”

His hair and clothes are an unruly mess and his forehead is soaked with sweat. His eyes frantically look into your own, desperateness deep within them.

“(Y/N),” It comes out in a rush, each sound of the word soaked in relief. He reaches out and grabs your arm, his emotions taking hold. He snaps his eyes down to where his touch meets yours and pulls his hand back. “Follow me.”

“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” You ask, frustrated. Thomas doesn’t answer until your on the next floor, standing outside a closed door.

“My sister-in-law, Martha. John’s wife. She’s gotten really sick and we don’t know what to do.” He pulls a hand through his hair, his shirt now off-white with the colouring of sweat.

“Is she through there?” You nod towards the door in front of you. Thomas only nods in response, a large release of breath coming out.

You take a step towards the door, placing a hand on it’s worn golden handle. You allow a last deep breath to settle in your lungs before opening it up and stepping inside, the sound of Thomas’ steps behind you.

You are instantly met with the trademark smell of human pestilence, the sickly sweet smell of sweat rife in the air. A woman with hair of strawberry blonde lays weak on the bed. You can tell that her hair would once have been immensely bright, but in her weakened state, it has been made dull, lifeless and limp. The pillow she lays her head upon is stained with patches of blood, her body nothing but a delicate pile of bones wrapped in the sallowest of skin.

“Is this her?” A man from beside the woman gets up, John Shelby. He has the same blue eyes as his brother and sister, but these are framed by dark, dreary shadows. He doesn’t know you, and you can tell he hates the idea of a stranger so close to his sick and vulnerable wife.

Thomas only nods as you walk around the double bed, kneeling down beside Martha. You reach a hand up to her forehead. Before you even touch her skin you can feel the heat radiating off of it. Then she gives a shake, the stark difference of your cold fingertips on her skin chilling her right through to the bone.

“How long has she been coughing for?” You ask, taking the woman’s thin, fragile wrist in your hand. Her pulse is rapid, unmaintainable.

“A few weeks, at least,” John says, very clearly on edge. “And she’s been coughing up blood too.”

TB. Tuberculosis. Consumption. They have many names for it, but once it gets this far, it always ends the same. Martha Shelby won’t make it through the night.

Thomas meets your eyes and you can see the question in them. But behind the question, you can see he already knows the answer. You nod and watch his jaw clench, his hand reaching up to his head.

You suck the air out of your mouth and look at the flame of the burning candle on Martha’s bedside table. You cannot cry. This is not the time to get emotional.

By the time you open your mouth and speak again, your voice is the only stable thing in an otherwise chaotic room. “Open the window up halfway.”

Thomas immediately starts to walk towards it until John’s anguished voice erupts from behind you. “It’s fucking winter! She’ll freeze to death!”

“She needs fresh air!” You respond. “You need it too if you don’t want to get sick!” Thomas had already opened the small window across from the bed. The frigid air ruffles the champagne curtains as it wafts into the room.

“Tommy, get Polly to fetch some lukewarm water and a sponge. John, I need you to help me strip her down.” Thomas had already disappeared by the time John had helped you pull Martha into a sitting position. She wears a yellow-stained white shift, the lace-frilled collar holding splattered patches of blood.

In the dim candlelight of the room, the sweat on her body glistens like stars in a pitch-black sky. Thomas had returned with Polly, brandishing a copper bowl filled with warm water and a sponge. She immediately passes it to you and steps back.

You let your eyes met Tommy’s for a final moment before plunging the sponge into the warm water. You twisted it, letting go of the excess water before pressing it into Martha’s forehead and trailing it across her face.

She lets rip a violent cough, thick white phlegm mixed with blood splattering on her bare chest. John holds her back, his face almost as white as hers in distress. You pull her hair back and rub a thumb along her right temple. “It’s alright, Martha, you're doing fine. My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I’m a nurse, okay? I’m a friend of Tommy’s.”

Martha seems to calm at your touch, some of her muscles loosening as you press the warm, wet sponge to her skin. Every breath is flimsy, a wheeze coating every inch of it. But she meets your eyes for the first time, tired green meeting a bright (e/c), and she nods.

You continue to sponge her skin as she falls asleep in John’s arms.

John paces the second-floor landing, arms flying. “I don’t fucking understand!” He shouts, specks of spit flying out with every word. “You’re a nurse! You're supposed to heal her, bring her back! Not just wait around for her to fucking die!”

“John, she’s done the best that she can, as much as any doctor could do,” Thomas speaks to his younger brother. He is standing as close to you as he ever has before, his arm only an atoms width away from your side. You try not to think about it, and instead focus on the pacing Shelby in front of you.

“John, I know this is hard. But I’ve treated enough patients with consumption to know that Martha isn’t going to make it. It’s too severe, it’s weakened her too much.”

John opens his mouth to shout again, but finds no words come out. In his falter, he pulls his hands to his head and crouches down on the floor in front of you.

“Oh, fuck. The kids.” Was all he could get out. It was clear he was trying to hold back violent sobs.

“It’s time for them to say goodbye to their mother. I’ve ventilated the room, so it should be safe for them to enter.” He was still crouched in the dim light of the second floor. “And John, I think you should say goodbye too.”

He says nothing as he gets up off the floor and walks over to another one of the doors on the landing. He hesitates in opening it, and instead violently pounds his fist against the oak timber. The shrill sound of frightened children sounds from inside and Tommy makes his way over to his brother, gripping his neck and pulling his face close to his own.

“Pull your fucking head in.” He mutters. You feel as though you should turn away and give them privacy, but your eyes are glued to their huddling forms. “I know this is hard, the hardest thing you have probably had to go through but this isn’t just about you. You’ve got kids in there who are going to lose a mother just as much as you are going to lose a wife. Now pull yourself together and let them say goodbye, John. They deserve that, eh?”

John’s jaw is clenched tight and the muscles in his face are stiff. He doesn’t say anything as Thomas lets go of him, but turns to open the door of his children’s bedrooms. He disappears behind it as Thomas turns back to you.

You don’t speak for a moment, silence clinging to the air like a waiting storm. Tommy has his hands on his hips, half of his shirt untucked and hanging past his pinstripe grey trousers. It is only then that his eyes settle on your body and he notices for the first time that night that you were only in your dressing gown, a burgundy coat hastily thrown over the top.

“You’re in your dressing gown.”

You take a glance down at yourself and remember the hurriedness that had seized Polly’s voice as she had dragged you from your house. “Polly was adamant there was no time to change.”

Thomas nods and another moment of silence passes between the two of you. When he speaks again his voice is sincere and light.

“Thank you.”

He is looking right at you with those piercing blue eyes. It was only then that you felt he could see every inch of you, pass the solid exterior that you forced yourself to hold up. And for some reason, the thought didn’t scare you. You want him to see you, all of you, for what you really are.

“It’s my job.” You say as he takes a step closer to you.

“Still. Thank you.”

He is only an inch away from you, his closeness prickling the hairs on your skin. They stand upright, alert, as you reach for his hand dangling by his side. He lets you pick it up and enclose it in your own, a comforting gesture in a house currently turning to shit. And you want to hold him, have him hold you too, until the sound of a bedroom door opening quickly pushes you apart.

John walks out with the youngest of his children, a boy no older than two and a half, sitting in his arms. The other three children walk out behind him, all their faces pale with fright. They’re confused, having just been told it is time to say goodbye to their mother. But for what? Where is she going?

You nod at him, watching as he leads them across the landing and into the other bedroom. Polly hugs him on her way out, closing the door behind them, allowing them the privacy of their last few moments with their mother they will ever have.

“I’ll take them to our place after they say goodbye.” Her voice is husky. It is hard to tell if it is generally like that or only because of the current situation. “(Y/N), are you going to go home? I’m sure Tommy can walk you.”

“It’s alright,” you quickly respond. “I should stay here, to check on her in the night. She might need to be sponged down again.”

Polly nods, turning to look at her nephew. “And you?”

“I’ll stay here too.” When he sees her raised eyebrows, he quickly adds, “for John.”

“Sure you will,” Polly says, descending the stairs beside you. “Thank you for what you’ve done, (Y/N).”

Tommy pours the tea into two porcelain teacups, the bitter aroma of the English Breakfast tea filling up the small, compact kitchen. He places the delicate silver spoon into each of them, mixing the sugar until all of it dissolves. With an air of intent concentration, he picks up both of the floral-painted teacups by their saucers and carries them over to the small table where you sit, taking a seat across from you.

“I’m not an expert tea maker, so I apologize before you drink it,” he says, a tired smile on his lips. The stress of the night had left dark bags under his eyes and his skin increasingly sallow. You supposed that your appearance mirrored his, fatigue visible in every pore of your skin.

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad,” you say, lifting the teacup and bringing it to your lips. It only needs to sit on your tongue for a fraction of a second before your face involuntarily scrunches up at the overpowering bitterness.

“Do you take it back now?” He adds, noting the expression on your face. You laugh before a snort erupts from your nose, instantly widening the smile on his face. Then you’re both laughing, eyes glistening in the light from the gas lantern between you.

“It’s... bitter.” Tommy takes a sip of his own before he turns back to you, his eyes crinkling at the unpleasant sharpness of the tea. He swallows it and nods.

“I see what you mean.”

The two of you just sit there, smiling at each other, taking refuge in this small pleasant moment against the other not-so-pleasant ones tonight. But then his face changes, and he lets something slip from his lips that he hasn’t spoken about since he left France.

“I watched so many men die of consumption in the war, so many mates.” His eyes are on the red tea in his cup, watching the wisps of steam float up into the air. “I thought I would grow used to it. But that smell that always comes with it... every time it brings it all back.”

He looks up from his tea to your face once again, noting the understanding in it. “I’ve tended enough patients with it, but yet that smell always gets me.”

Tommy notices your hand resting on the table and reaches out to grab it. His touch is delicate and soft, hardly the demanding man that everyone seems to know. You turn your hand in his, gripping it, letting him know that the touch is welcome.

“There is something you put in that first letter you sent me,” you say, holding his hand. His eyes move up to your face and he waits for you to continue. “You said that I probably wouldn’t remember you, that you were just another soldier to me. You were wrong. As soon as my landlady handed me that letter and said it was from a man named Thomas Shelby, I remembered. I couldn’t get out of that room quick enough to open it.”

He’s silent, motionless. You want him to say something but it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to respond. So you continue, eyes still focused on his face. “You see, I could never forget those blue eyes.”

This time, he smiles. It’s faint but still there, no matter how hard he tries to suppress it. You feel a lightness spark in your chest when you catch it and then your hand grips his just a little bit tighter. If it wasn’t for the table keeping you apart, you might not have helped leaning over and kissing him.

“Come on, I’ll get you a blanket and you can sleep on the sofa.” He stands up, lifting his hand up out of yours and placing them on his hips. He hasn’t bothered to tuck his shirt in and it still hangs half in and out. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, exposing the skin of his forearms.

You nod, following after him as he walks out of the room. He walks over to a cabinet, opens it up and pulls out an old patchwork quilt. It smells faintly musky but you hardly mind, taking it from his arms. He pulls a second, thinner blanket out, this one plain white and leads you over to the drawing-room.

You roll your blanket out on the settee before taking your coat off and hanging it over the end. You hesitate before untying the rope of your dressing gown, not sure if it would be appropriate to stand before him only in your nightshirt. But by this time, surely all formality has been thrown out the window.

After taking it off, you turn to him again. You notice him look at your nightshirt before quickly forcing his eyes back up to your face again. He has laid the blanket out on the floor next to the settee, his make-shift bed looking anything but comfortable.

“You can’t sleep on the floor,” you state, crossing your arms over your chest. He shrugs, pulling a spare cushion from the sofa and placing it down on the foot of the blanket.

“I don’t have much choice. I doubt the both of us would fit on that sofa, eh?”

You get under the quilt on the sofa, watching as he does the same on his make-shift bed. He doesn’t bother changing his clothes and instead just hops in with his dirty shirt and trousers on.

A moment passes in the dark of the room, only a single slit of moonlight trickles in from the gap in the blinds across from you. You hear another cough come from upstairs, followed by a scuffle of footsteps.

When he speaks, it’s almost a whisper. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You can make out the outline of his face so close to your own. He cannot be comfortable, laying there on the floor, you think. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

And you shut your eyes, waiting for the sleep that you know will never come.

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penwieldingdreamer · 5 years ago

Text

My best friend, naughty lover and partner for life

Part 1

Part 2

Oh my thank you guys for all the likes and reblogs, I never would have thought that I’d get this reaction. In this part we finally get to meet Keanu and I hope you will like it, too. Let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged let me know and I’ll put you in the queue. Have fun!

Warnings: none

Words: 1141

You had worked at Arch Motorcycle for three weeks and to be honest it was the best decision you had made in the last twenty four months since you moved from the outskirts of Salem, Massachusetts. How you ever ended up with Tommy was beyond you now, thinking back to the time he asked you out on Halloween.

Giggling to yourself as you conjured up the picture you two made. He in a military uniform and you as modern Salem witch, every article you wore was black. People actually thought you were a witch, asking you what they should do to get the ones they had crushes on.

But now, you missed all of that. Your family mostly who still lived there, while you were miles away in a different state. Looking down at your still small belly which mostly resembled the belly pouch you had after getting stuffed during Christmas holidays. “You know, thinking back on it, Tommy never really was father material. He's still a child himself so I get it that he doesn't want you, but no matter what I'm going to love you.”

A throat clearing behind you made you sit up hastily. “Ugh, I can come back later if you're busy with, ugh whatever you're doing.”

The voice sent shivers down your spine and you turned around to come face to face with the second half of the Arch Motorcycle founders. On the day Laura, Cindy's aunt had taken you with her to meet with the Chief of Staff, you both ran into Gard Hollinger. When you told him off your pregnancy he was a bit standoffish about it, but calmed down when his wife Sharon told him to take the stick out of his butt and give you a chance. He instantly took a liking to your work ethic and friendly aura.

“Oh, um, no.” you stumbled slightly getting out of your chair, but thankfully the hand of your brown eyed rescuer shot out to help you. Straightening and pulling your top down you looked up at the handsome face of your second boss. When Laura told you who was the co-founder of Arch Motorcycle you did your best to not faint, and no it wasn't because you were starstruck, but you couldn't believe working for someone that millions of women would die for being just five seconds in his presence. Up until today you had seen nothing of him, as Keanu was in Post-Production of his upcoming movie 47 Ronin and mostly at Hawthorne when you were gone for the day. “Sorry for that.” you mumbled, picking at a thread on the bottom of your top before crossing your hands over your chest embarrassed at the display or lack of gracefulness .

The dark haired actor gave you a soft smile, the small lines around his eyes getting deeper with it, making him even more attractive. “It's okay, glad I could help.” He pulled his left hand through his dark brown tresses while he held his helmet in the other. “I guess we haven't been properly introduced before. I'm Keanu.”

“Y/N, nice to meet you.” you shook his hand, shifting your eyes around your room, not sure what to say or do. Keanu swallowed audibly, putting his helmet down on Laura's desk he rubbed his hands together, feeling slightly nervous being there. You didn't know why as he was the celebrity and you just a 'normal' person, but he probably had his reasons.

You were startled when he finally decided to speak up again, finding your eyes with his brown ones. “So” he cleared his throat. “how do you like it?”

“Oh, it's, it's nice here. Better then at the diner I worked before with Laura's niece Cindy.”

Nodding his head, Keanu relaxed a bit and leaned himself back against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest making the fabric of his jacket bulge around his arms. You could feel the tension leave your body, too, the knots in your stomach loosening up again. Thank god or you couldn't guarantee that he'd leave with clean clothes.

“That's nice to hear. Gard told me a bit about you and what you're doing here. I'm sorry I couldn't be around before but we'll probably see each other a bit more now.”

Biting your lip you looked him over, starting from his dark brown hair and down to the boots he wore. You turned back up to face him, feeling the heat rush to your face, not sure what Mr. Hollinger told him. “And what did he say, if I may ask?”

Chuckling the actor send you a smile. “Just that you were looking for a different job and that your work has by far been better than the ones we had before. You're the first to come and the last to go, don't you have someone waiting for you?”

“Not anymore, to be honest and well, my family doesn't live here, so it's just me.” Feeling a bit lightheaded you sat down at your desk, not sure if it was the pregnancy, his presence and the way he acted or the fact that you missed your family. Keanu copied you, sitting in Laura's desk chair, looking every bit the CEO he was, well more like the laid back and relaxed version, not the usual New York business style. “And where exactly do you come from? I detected some Bostonian accent.”

Giggling at his rendition of his supposed Boston accent, you gave him a quick nod. “Salem actually, a bit on the outskirts.”

“Salem, really?” You nodded. “That's amazing.” He leaned forward and shot you an inquiring look. “Do you really jump naked from the roof on Halloween?”

Loud laughter echoed in the office when you heard his question. He was nearing his fifties and asked questions like a small child. You snorted softly behind your hand before shaking your head. “No, we don't do that, but most people are dressing up as witches and wizards, some as werewolves or vampires, but mostly it's witches.”

“And you? Witch or Vampire?”

You smiled cheekily. “What do you think?”

He tapped his beard covered chin, before a grin spread over his lips. “Vampire.”

Pursing your lips, you softly shook your head and held your hands up. “Sorry, but no. I'm a witchy kinda gal. We're watching all sorts of witchy movies on Halloween and got Midnight Margaritas just like Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman in Practical Magic.”

“So the whole nine yards, eh?”

You nodded your head and repeated after him, earning a wider grin from the actor. Cindy had been right about your bosses, they were easily satisfied, totally chill and laid back. You couldn't have found a better place to work at. Hopefully it would stay that way.

Part 3

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#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #reader #fanfiction #story

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raywritesthings · 5 years ago

Text

Bird in a Storm 5/17

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Tommy Merlyn, John Diggle, Joanna de la Vega, Ted Grant, Raisa, Hank, Emily Nocenti, Female OCs, Male OCs Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: The confrontation between the Hood and SWAT on the roof of the Winick Building goes differently, altering the course of Laurel’s career, relationships and efforts to save her city forever, the shockwaves of such an altered path making themselves felt throughout her family and friends. *Can be read on my AO3, link is in bio*

She’d boxed up everything that would be going with her. In the end, it wasn’t really that much. Joanna had offered to hold on to her law books — “For the near future,” her friend had declared, convinced this was only going to be a short hiatus for Laurel from the practice. The bulk of her things were clothes, old photos and albums, and Sara’s stuff. She hadn’t had the heart to throw it away, even with the smaller space she’d have now.

It took a few trips to get everything downstairs, but she wasn’t worried about leaving her stuff. Hank, her first ever client, was sitting with it outside in her car.

He’d sought her services all those years ago for his son when he’d been falsely accused of a mugging. Now that same son was in need of a cheap car to get to and from college, and Laurel had been more than happy to have someone to take it off her hands. The insurance was just going to be too much, not to mention her new home didn’t have its own driveway or garage.

She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door.

“That everything?” Hank asked.

“Yep. Time to go. Thanks for giving me a lift over.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. This all is a real shame.”

Laurel nodded, leaning back against the headrest as she watched her old building glide away past the window. No turning back now.

They left downtown and entered the Glades. They were streets she was somewhat familiar with, at least the ones she took to and from work, but it seemed different now knowing this was to be her neighborhood. She spotted the corner store she’d researched online for where she would be getting her groceries.

As they turned onto her new street, dodging around a trash can that had fallen over into the road, she sat up. There was a whole group of people standing around by the front walk of the little townhouse she was to call her own. Hank honked the horn, and it was at that point she realized she recognized most of them.

“There she is. Welcome to the neighborhood!” Mrs. Ross called out as she got out of the car.

“What is all this?”

“I might have mentioned I was helping you move to a few people,” Hank admitted sheepishly. He had already taken one of the bigger boxes from the car, so Laurel headed up the walk to unlock her front door. She remained on the stoop as Hank went in, looking around at the people who had turned out.

One stood out in particular.

“Raisa?”

The Queen’s cook and housekeeper smiled at her. “I heard Mr. Oliver and Miss Thea discussing your move. You were always such a sweet girl with a good heart, and now we’ve become something of neighbors.”

“I didn’t know you lived in the Glades.” She would have thought the Queens paid her more than that.

“I do. My sister’s family, my son and I. We all share. A few streets away from here.” She waved a hand vaguely in one direction. Then she returned it to holding a tupperware bowl. “Now, I found time to bake some cookies. Your favorite, if I recall.”

Laurel thought she could feel her stomach growl at just the mention. “I’m sure they are. Thank you so much, Raisa.”

The woman patted her arm, and then headed in after Hank.

She wasn’t alone in bringing food. Mrs. Ross was carrying a large casserole dish covered with tinfoil. “You can serve this up over a week, maybe two. Did the job work out?”

“I talked to her over the phone, and she asked me to come in tomorrow to start.”

“Good, that’s good. But listen, don’t stand on ceremony with her. She’s just Pam.”

Laurel took note of that with a nod, and Mrs. Ross continued into the house.

A couple both about five years her senior approached her next. The woman reached her hand out first; she had brown skin and long dark hair in a sleek pontytail. “Hi, I’m Anita. This is my husband, Jerome. We’re right next door from you.”

Laurel shook both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you.”

“No, thank you for moving in. There’s been kids smoking on the stoop and in the back. Makes the whole street stink,” Anita said. Her husband, a Black man, hummed in agreement. “Now they’ll just have to find somewhere else.”

“Well, glad I could help then,” she replied with a wry grin.

Anita turned her head to the side and said, “Bebê, you wanna grab a couple boxes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she started, but Jerome had already walked towards the car.

“Oh, don’t worry. He carries heavier stuff than that at the docks,” Anita told her. “Jerome’s got work unloading the cargo ships that come by there.”

“This is like a feather,” he agreed as he returned with one box under each arm. Laurel had to admit he didn’t look to be breaking a sweat. He was probably taller than both Oliver and John, and maybe even her father. His hair was cropped short, though not as close as John’s military regulation.

Emily Nocenti was behind them in the makeshift line that had formed. “Laurel, I couldn’t believe it when I heard this was happening. If it weren’t for you and Joanna at CNRI — well, they’re losing a good person.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’m glad I was able to close your case first.” There were other cases she had been looking at before everything had gone wrong. Cases she would never be allowed to touch, whether or not they would have been winnable. It hurt.

Last of the group, Joanna emerged with a big smile. “I had to come and see the place, didn’t I?”

Laurel gladly accepted her friend’s hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Joanna took out an envelope and passed it to her. “This is from Peter Declan. He’s at a recital for his daughter and couldn’t make it, but they both wanted you to have it. Something to help you out.”

She opened it to find a thank you card with two fifties folded up inside. Laurel bit her lip as her eyes stung for a moment. Just thinking about all that time the man had spent wrongly imprisoned, only to still be so kind. “You’ll tell him thanks?”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s get you unpacked.”

Together, the two friends entered the house. It was much smaller than her old apartment, and still one level. The sitting room bled into the kitchen with only a counter separating them. A cramped hallway led back to a bathroom with a standup shower and further back was the single bedroom with a tiny closet. Sara’s things would be going up on the high shelf in there just as they had done in her old place.

Everyone had congregated in the main room. Raisa and Mrs. Ross were manning the kitchen while Jerome unpacked her appliances. The only good thing about the brevity of her and Tommy cohabiting a space was that practically everything in it had been hers; it cut down on things she’d needed to buy.

“Think these are clothes,” Hank said as he opened one box on a squat coffee table.

“Joanna and I can take that. Thanks, Hank.”

She picked up the box and led Joanna back through to the bedroom.

“Well,” her friend began. “It could be worse.” She sat on the bed and tested its bounce. Laurel didn’t miss her smile dropping for a moment. “So how safe is this neighborhood, Laurel? I mean really?”

“It’s not the worst,” she hedged. “It was the best I could find in terms of the landlord. There’s some tenement housing where they don’t turn the heating on until the dead of winter, did you know that?”

Joanna shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me, but no. Look, Laurel, are you sure you don’t just want to stay with me and my mom for a while?”

“I couldn’t. Really, it’d be too generous, and I still wouldn’t be able to keep up with my car payments. I’d have no way to get to work.” She finished hanging a few sweaters and turned to take Joanna’s hands. “It’s going to be okay, Jo, I promise.”

Someone clearing their throat caused her to turn and see Anita standing in the doorway. “I found your toiletries. You just want those in the bathroom?”

“Yes, thank you. On the sink is fine. I’ll sort through them all later.” Laurel moved away from Joanna and took out her gray pea coat to hang up next.

“Oh, you sweet thing, that is a beautiful coat.”

“Thank you,” Laurel replied.

“You’re gonna have to get rid of it.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

Anita gave her a rueful grin. “People spot you walking around in something this nice, they’re gonna think you have money. And some of them are gonna want that money.”

Laurel exchanged a nervous look with Joanna. “Um, okay. Do you think your mom would want this?”

“I’ll ask her.” Joanna stood and folded the coat over her arm. Laurel frowned as she looked over her things. She’d thought she had already sold most of her best stuff, but did she give off the image of someone it would be worthwhile to mug? Was that all that some people would see?

Anita set aside the toiletry case and approached her. “I’m not saying you can’t have anything a little nice. But you want to be careful. Those kind of folks can pick out people who don’t belong, don’t know better.”

Laurel nodded. “I understand.”

“If you need some different things, there’s a thrift store four blocks east of here. You can get some nice stuff second hand, too.”

“Laurel, I’ll finish hanging up the clothes. You go sort out the other boxes,” Joanna said. Her friend could clearly see she needed something else to distract herself with, at least for a few moments.

“Yeah, okay.”

When she entered the main room, Emily Nocenti was pulling the photo albums and framed photographs out of one box and setting them aside. She held up one as Laurel approached.

“Is this you and your dad?”

Laurel shook her head. “No, that’s my sister, Sara.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Emily rushed to say, and Laurel remembered with some embarrassment that she had told the other woman the whole history that day they’d bumped into Oliver at the courthouse.

“It’s fine.” She put a smile on to reassure the other woman, then took the photograph and placed it on the narrow bookshelf standing against one wall. “I don’t even know why he bought her that canary. It never shut up, drove us all nuts.” Sara had grown bored with it after a week or so, too, leaving her to either have to remind her sister or simply feed the loud thing herself.

Laurel then stopped by the kitchen. “Is there a pizza place or something near here? I don’t want to send you all home without eating.”

“There’s Joe’s on Fifth and Powell. They’ve got a nice deal on Saturdays,” Jerome told her.

Laurel looked them up and ordered, and soon enough most of her boxes were empty and everyone had regathered in the main room to eat. Anita had had to run next door to grab paper plates, which Laurel wished she’d thought to buy beforehand. She hadn’t really been expecting company so soon, though.

“And there really isn’t some kind of appeal process?” Emily was asking her. “I know the Hood isn’t exactly innocent, but without him Sommers would be walking free. A lot of people think he does good work.”

“Well, he could be doing more,” Mrs. Ross said. Laurel looked over in surprise. The other woman raised both hands. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot still wrong with this town.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to feel safe walking around at night. Usually I just sit around after work waiting for Jerome to be done with his shift and come get me,” Anita agreed. “Lots of guys out there think they can use force to get their way, too.”

“Well, that’s not like anything the Hood’s doing,” Laurel began.

“No, but it’s funny,” Jerome said. “He stopped those bank robbers a few months back. How come he doesn’t do more of that?”

“It would be so nice if he would do something about the gangs that attack the bus routes,” Raisa agreed. “I’m always so afraid to go home. Any day now, they’ll pick the one I’m on, and I’ll lose my wages.”

“There’s gangs hitting the buses?” Joanna asked. Judging by the look on her face, this was the first she was hearing of it, too.

“Well, maybe the Hood just doesn’t know about all of that.”

“What if he did?” Hank asked. He’d been mostly quiet till now, but he was staring directly at Laurel. “Maybe if you told him?”

The others were all watching her expectantly, too. Much as she didn’t want to disappoint them, Laurel knew protecting Oliver’s identity was still important, even among friends.

“It- it doesn’t really work like that. I don’t have the phone to contact him anymore.”

There were nods and glum looks. Mrs. Ross stood and started gathering up empty plates. She patted Laurel’s hand. “Best for you to keep your head down. That’s what we all do to survive.”

The party atmosphere had waned, and slowly everyone started making their way to the door. Laurel thanked them each as they left, then stood in her doorway and watched as Hank drove away with what was no longer her car. The lights were on at Anita and Jerome’s, but other than that the street was quiet.

Laurel shut and locked the door, then put away a few more little things before retiring to her new bedroom. It was hard for her to get to sleep; whether that was due to a first night in a new environment or her thoughts, she wasn’t sure.

What the others had said about the Glades and the Hood, it weighed on her. There was so much more work to do to even come close to saving this city. Laurel just wasn’t sure how she was going to take it on.

---

Pam rose early as she always did and went about her morning routine. Getting ready, watering the plants that needed it, and feeding her cat. She made sure to give him a nice big bowl, otherwise he tended to try going after the basil.

With everything upstairs settled, it was time to head down and open Green Glades for another morning.

She checked the register and went up and down the rows, inspecting her wares. Some of the perennials weren’t looking as good as they had a week ago. She’d have to consider marking them down. There was some other matter of business she needed to tend to today, though it was escaping her what that was specifically. With a shrug, she decided it would dawn on her at the right time.

Pam returned to her counter and had only eased back into her stool for a few minutes before there was a knock at the front door. She looked up. “Now who could that be?”

It wasn’t opening time yet. But as she shuffled to the door, she could make out the outline of a young woman with brown hair and a striped sweater. Ah! Her brand new assistant then. She’d known she was forgetting something.

Pam undid the lock. “Laurel?” Such a pretty name for the girl who was herself rather pretty.

Her new assistant nodded with a small, polite smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Pam.”

“You as well. I’m glad you got here early. We’ll have some time to go over the store.”

She led Laurel on a walking tour up and down aisles, pointing out the organization of the flowers and other plants. “I did them by difficulty. Makes it easier for the beginners.”

“Difficulty?”

“In how to tend them, grow them. Some plants require a skillful touch compared to others. They’re high maintenance. You’ll see in time. What sort of plants have you owned?”

“Um, my mom had a basket...thing, when I was growing up,” Laurel said. Pam waited, but that was apparently to be it.

“Well, you’ll be able to relate well to the beginners, then. Tell you what, today I’ll have you on the register. She’s an old thing, but you learn the right way soon enough. Oh, and I’ve got some mark down stickers that need putting on a few of the perennials.”

“I can do that,” Laurel volunteered with spirit, clearly glad to have something she felt confident enough in doing. Pam fished out the guide she had for customers, dog-eared and stained with mulch in places, setting Laurel to work.

They had their first customers before she’d finished, and Pam was kept busy by the register. It was mostly folks coming in early for seeds and bulbs, a couple of indoor plants here and there. Pam did some bouquets, of course — she knew where the money was — but she was always so happy to sell something living instead.

“Pam? Sorry, where’s the sink?”

Pam turned to find her assistant holding the sticker tape in one hand and her other, dirt-covered hand far away from her clothes. There were already a couple of dark stains on the front of her sweater.

“Oh! I should have got you an apron. I’m sorry, dear.” She ushered Laurel into the back where she found her an old smock to wear in place of the sweater, along with her own apron.

Laurel came up to learn the register, which left Pam a little freer to chat with her neighbors and regulars, like Annie who came in hefting two canvas bags of groceries already. She must have gotten up early to have made the two mile trek to the supermarket and back.

“I’m thinking of trying a little herb garden this year in my window box,” Annie told her. “Wanted to talk to you first about what I might be needing.”

“Absolutely. Now what have you been growing in the window box before this?”

“Just some marigolds. Mom’s favorite, you know. But who’s this?” Annie asked, turning to look at Laurel.

“Hi, I’m Laurel. It’s nice to meet you. This is my first day.”

“Oh, the new assistant!”

“Yes, this is my florist-in-training,” Pam remarked. “She’s a bit green, but she’ll have a green thumb before it’s said and done.”

Laurel looked down at the register keys, a bit of a blush to her cheeks.

“Now, about that window box,” Pam decided to continue to get the attention off the young woman.

She did introduce Laurel to a few more of the usual crowd over the course of the day, and just a couple hours after dark, it was time to close up. In another couple months, it would still be light out come closing time.

They hung up their aprons, and Pam assured her assistant she could bring the smock back tomorrow so she wouldn’t be walking home in a dirty sweater. “Try to find something old you don’t mind getting a little messy for next time.”

“Right.” Laurel turned to walk past the counter and towards the door.

“Wait a minute!” Pam called. Her assistant stopped and watched as she shuffled into the back again, this time coming out with a small, potted African violet.

“Now, this is for you. Call it a hiring bonus.”

Laurel looked at the plant with clear surprise and moved to hand it back over.

“I can’t take it for free.”

“Of course you can. I bring home the troubled ones all the time. Any florist should have a few of their own.”

“I don’t know, Pam. I was never really a plant person. What if it dies?”

The girl was nervous, eager to please. If Pam had to guess, life hadn’t treated her well even before her ouster from CNRI. She only knew the bare basics from what Liza Ross had told her neighbor, and she wasn’t inclined to dig for the details. Sometimes it was best to let those things emerge on their own.

“You take that home. Nurture it. Learn to care for it.”

Laurel wilted, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can do, dear.”

She sent the young woman home and finished locking up the place. Pam wiped her hands on her apron before hanging it back up on the hook on the wall, then climbed the stairs at a slow pace. Her feet and knees hurt far less now that she wasn’t doing so much around the shop, but they still weren’t what they used to be when she’d been a younger woman.

Ah well. Young or old, they all had their struggles.

---

She had a full week under her belt at the shop, and suffice to say Laurel was exhausted. Her whole day was spent on her feet, as Pam only had the one stool and she wasn’t about to deprive the older woman of it. It wouldn’t look great if she was constantly sitting around, either. She’d need to trade her plain flats for some sneakers. Her arches were killing her.

It was her first day off and she’d mostly spent it on the couch, too tired to even think about going out. She’d clicked around on her computer reading this or that article. One of Starling’s elite, Ken Williams, was under scrutiny after revealing the pyramid scheme he’d been a part of. The articles didn’t say, but Laurel suspected the Hood’s involvement in making the man change his ways.

At least Ollie was still getting real work done out there.

It had gotten dark without her notice. Laurel yawned and stretched. Time for an early bed. She pushed up off the couch and crossed the room.

The glass in her front window shattered, and Laurel dropped and rolled away from a rectangular object that landed on her floor. When nothing happened, she peeked out from the protective ball she’d curled into.

It was a brick. She heard some jeering laughter outside, but when she went to the window the culprits were already running off into the night. Just some lousy troublemakers. They probably hadn’t even had a purpose to picking her house. Or they were the teens upset she’d taken away their smoking spot.

Laurel’s forehead dropped to rest against the wall as she waited for her heartbeat to slow. Was she getting paranoid? There wasn’t anything special about her anymore, so why would people be coming to attack her?

It occurred to her that standing around in her socks while there was broken glass on the floor wasn’t the best idea. She picked her way over carefully and stepped into her shoes, then went to fetch her broom and dustpan. The floor was easy enough to start with, but she was going to have to remove all the couch cushions and make sure nothing was hiding underneath.

A knock at her door interrupted her, causing her to tense back up as she listened.

“Laurel? It’s Jerome from next door.”

Her shoulders sagged, and she went to the door. “Hi.”

“Anita sent me to check on you. Thought we heard something crash over here.”

“Yeah, I think it was just some kids. They threw a brick through my window. I’m fine.”

“Kids.” He shook his head. “You need any help cleaning the glass up?”

She waved a hand. “No, I’ve got it.”

“Well, how about I bring a tarp over to cover the window up till the landlord gets around to replacing it. We should have one lying around.”

The practical side of her won out when she considered that they still hadn’t reached spring. “If it’s not any trouble, I’d really appreciate it.”

He smiled. “Sure thing. Be right back.”

Laurel took off the couch cushions and finished sweeping while she waited, then took one end of the tarp to help Jerome tape it up. Hopefully the paint wouldn’t peel later.

Just as they were securing it on all four sides, another crash sounded.

They both ducked back behind the cover of the walls, but after several beats of silence, Jerome poked his head out and glanced around. “Can’t see anything.”

Laurel checked as well, looking each way up the street, then down at the ground.

“Oh,” she gasped.

“Laurel?” Jerome was at her side in two steps.

“No, it’s nothing. Just… my violet.” She went out the door and picked her way over a couple shards of glass to where the shattered pot and a heap of dirt sat, her sad little flower barely sticking up out of it. She’d forgotten it was still sitting on the windowsill, and the tarp must have knocked it over. Laurel scooped it up and carried it back inside.

“I’m so sorry, Laurel.”

She plastered a smile to her face. “It was an accident. Really, Jerome, it’s fine.”

“You got another pot we could put it in?”

Laurel shook her head. “No. Um, I’ll try a tupperware and see if Pam can help me with it tomorrow.”

“You sure you’ll be alright here tonight?”

“Yes. But thank you.”

Her neighbor left and Laurel’s smile instantly fell. She looked at the wilted flower sitting in her hands. What was even the point?

Nevertheless, she found a tupperware and packed the dirt in around the plant’s roots. She sprinkled a little water over it and washed her hands, then sat down heavily at her table.

“Are you okay?”

She gasped but almost instantly calmed; Oliver stood near the back of the room with his hood pushed back. He must have entered through the kitchen door, even if she’d been sure it was locked.

“I’m fine. It was just some kids.” She waved a hand towards the tarp. “My neighbor helped me fix it.”

Oliver frowned and stepped closer. “You’re crying.”

Laurel rubbed at the tear tracks on her cheeks, pointless when he’d already seen them. “It’s not because — I’m okay. Just- my plant. It got knocked over.”

Oliver was eyeing her warily, like he was afraid the slightest word might set her off crying. “Your plant.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not hysterical. It’s just my boss sent it home with me so I could learn more about caring for flowers, so I know she’ll be disappointed if I’ve already killed it.” To her horror, a lump started to rise in her throat as she spoke, making the next words difficult. “And it’s one of the only things I had to make the place feel like a home, so yes, I am mourning it.”

“Laurel, I know how you think your clients would feel if you lied, but wouldn’t they rather you be there to help them?” Frustration was practically leaking from his tone.

“I can’t go back, Ollie. Don’t you see that’s how this starts? Corruption has this city in a chokehold, and no one is immune. If I lie to save my job, what’s to stop me from withholding a piece of evidence that makes my cases harder to win? Or stealing my dad’s files? Where does it end?”

“I’m worried about it ending out here for you,” he replied. “The Glades aren’t safe. That brick could have been an accident, or it could have been something deliberate.”

“Because billionaires hire teenagers to threaten ex-lawyers?” She almost laughed. “Oliver, I don’t have enemies. Those people in the top offices of corporations or the penthouse apartments, I guarantee they’ve forgotten about me already. I’m nobody.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

She couldn’t trust her voice to remain steady enough to reply to that. Instead she asked, “What were you doing here?”

“I was on my way to another person on the List.”

“Really? And you just happened to pass by the very minute someone threw a brick at my window?” She looked him in the eye. “You shouldn’t be watching over me. There are plenty of other people in this city who need your help more.”

“But this is the only way I’m allowed to help you.” His expression was pained. He hadn’t liked agreeing to keep his distance as Oliver Queen, but she hadn’t realized how much it might have hurt him.

Laurel got up from her chair and approached him. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, but they do. And you have to trust me that I’ll ask for help when I need it.”

Oliver closed his eyes but nodded once. “I guess I can’t persuade you to use one of the Manor’s rooms until your window is replaced.”

“No, you can’t. You wouldn’t, not if you were really the person you’re trying to make everyone believe you are. I’ll be fine, Oliver.”

He stiffened for a moment and placed his hand to his ear where the comm to Diggle rested.

“You should get that.” Laurel turned back to her sitting room, busying herself with rearranging the pillows on the couch. When she looked up, he was gone again.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself for a moment, flicking the lights off as she retreated to her bedroom. With all the chaos on top of her exhaustion from work, Laurel readily fell asleep.

It was with only minor surprise that she woke the next morning to a text from Oliver himself.

The window people should be there by ten. If they’re not, let me know

That was so typical of him. She sent off a quick reply.

Why, so you can visit my landlord?

Laurel looked the message over again. It sounded harsh when she hadn’t meant to be. She knew he was just trying to help in whatever way he could.

I’m sure it will be fine. But thank you

I do miss you, she very nearly sent. But Laurel held herself back from hitting that button, erasing the words instead. There was little point to making him feel worse. Even if it was true.

---

Oliver sighed as he read Laurel’s messages. He wished he could do more than guarantee she had all her windows. But his involvement in her life had to be kept mostly a secret these days.

If he’d known his outspoken dislike for his vigilante alter ego would put this kind of restriction on his friendship with Laurel, he would have been more careful about what he said.

Put simply, he was stuck. If he tried to intervene as the Hood — visit CNRI’s benefactors, make them reconsider their hardline stance — Laurel could end up in far worse trouble, this time with the law. Would Lance even hesitate to arrest her? He’d used her as bait once.

About the only assistance he could offer was physical protection, and Laurel didn’t even want that. He knew she had a point about not wasting his nights, a point Diggle would no doubt agree with.

But it was hard to see what the point of all of this was. He would be at this mission forever if he went name by name on the list. He was no closer to figuring out what this Undertaking was or if that had been what his father wanted him to stop all those years ago. His mother had been rattled by his visit to her as the Hood, Tommy was jealous of an imaginary enemy, and Laurel had had to give up everything.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t see the benefit that came to him from her decision. To operate out of the Glades as he did, there was a certain amount of discretion he needed to rely on the residents to have. Laurel vouching for him gave him some legitimacy, some currency with those people he would have otherwise needed to work much harder to earn. He’d already had to change some of his routes coming to and from the base thanks to tips that were phoned in when Laurel had been reported missing.

Even her vote of confidence didn’t sway some people, though. Felicity had threatened to quit her tentative working relationship with the Hood the other night over his decision to target Ken Williams because of his status as a parent. Oliver had wanted to point out all the parents and children Williams’ pyramid scheme was stealing from, but John had talked him around to a more conciliatory approach. As a result, he was now committed to tracking down an art thief who had nothing to do with his father’s mission. Everything was just too much.

He decided to spend a little bit of time with Tommy in the club before their meeting with Felicity at Big Belly Burger.

“Finished moving all my stuff into the new place,” Tommy was telling him, his voice cheerful enough that Oliver knew there was something forced about it. “Still downtown, but it’s a bit smaller.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll settle in,” he said.

“Yeah. Just needs a few touches to start feeling homey. Maybe a girl or two.”

Oliver scrutinized his friend. “You really want to start dating again so soon?”

Tommy shook his head with a grin like he’d said something funny. “Not dating.”

“Tommy.”

“Look, Ollie, I tried it out, right? Turns out relationships are as bad as I always thought they’d be. Some of us just aren’t made for it,” he said, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. It was clear he was counting the both of them as part of this dubious ‘some’, which stung even as Oliver knew he probably deserved to be there.

Digg cleared his throat, and when Oliver looked over he saw why. Laurel was hovering near the back wall, clearly not wanting to approach while Tommy was with him.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a meeting to get to later, so I’m gonna go over the inventory real quick.” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder in return and headed down to the base.

He followed after John who had already led Laurel downstairs. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, the window people took care of it. Thanks again.”

“Okay.” Oliver stopped himself from asking why she had chosen to come here, then. Scaring her off was the last thing he wanted.

“I did some thinking at work today about our situation. How we can’t really be there for each other the way we might want to.”

That was certainly putting things lightly, but he couldn’t deny a warm feeling in his chest at the knowledge it had been bothering her, too.

“So I think I have a solution.”

“Oh?”

“I had the thought that since you seem to like lists, maybe I should make you one.” She took out a piece of paper that had clearly been ripped out of one of her old legal pads. Laurel held it out to him with a little flourish that almost reminded him of the girl who’d once presented him with her photo. The mix of happy and sad that memory represented had to be pushed down before he could refocus.

He scanned it over, catching items like bus route gangs and price gouging on medications. Oliver looked up.

“Laurel, what is this?”

“We both want this city to be better than it is, and since I’ve started living in the Glades I’ve learned so much more about what people are up against, just in their day to day lives,” she explained. “I can’t do anything in the courtroom, but I can pass along what I’ve found out to someone who can do something. And that way, you’re helping me like you want.”

He could get where she was coming from, but as he stared down at the list all he could see was another set of distractions from his father’s mission. One that in itself already felt an impossible task.

“Laurel, I want to help you be safe.”

“And this would help do that.”

“But how much? Do you have any idea how many gangs or dealers are out there? Small crime is never going to be completely stopped, and it’s only a symptom of the larger problems my father was dealing with.”

Her arms crossed. “So the people who are victims of small crime should just suffer?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Oliver? Whenever you talk about being the Hood, it always comes down to your father or the men he wanted you to go after. Is this your mission or his hit list?”

He took a step forward. “Hey—”

“What about the people you’re trying to help? Why not listen to what they want?”

“Because I’m not their hero!” He snapped. “Okay? I’m not some guardian angel. I’m a killer, Laurel. Just like my father was.”

She stared at him with wide eyes. He could feel Diggle’s silent gaze on him, too.

“There were three of us who made it to the life raft. Me, my father, and one of the crew. A few days after the boat sank, we were running low on supplies. My father took a gun, shot the crewman and himself, so that I could survive,” he confessed in a shaking voice. “I have to complete this mission, Laurel. Or else it would have been for nothing. I’ve already let too many distractions get in my way.”

Every minute he spent on this Dodger, or got involved in a petty theft, was time he should have expended on the list and its true meaning.

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I’ll let you get on with it.” Oliver looked away as she turned and made for the exit.

“Here,” he heard Digg’s low murmur, and it didn’t surprise him in the least that the man took the paper. Wasn’t he always trying to get Oliver to do this or that thing?

But when he looked at the other man, Diggle had tucked Laurel’s list away somewhere out of sight. Oliver drew in a breath and released it slowly as he heard the door to the steps shut behind her. Gone again. How did he keep doing this?

And after all that, he still had to take on this art thief just to keep their tech support happy.

“Let’s get this over with.”

---

Ted was cooling off with some water when the door opened to admit someone who definitely wasn’t one of his regulars. Didn’t even look like she could be a regular.

“Can I help you?”

She spotted him after he called out to her and walked over. “Yes. I wanted to see what kind of classes you teach and if I could take one.”

Ted didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Yeah, I don’t exactly have all that zumba and spin stuff that’s all the rage with you younger folks.”

Her returning smile was tight and unamused. “Well, good thing I’m not interested in that.”

He shrugged and went over to grab one of his adverts. “You can have a look at that, then.”

He watched her eyes scan over the pages, and as he studied her he couldn’t help thinking there was something familiar about her. Like he’d seen her face before.

“Can a beginnner try boxing, or are your lessons just for people who already know it?”

“I take anybody that can prove they’re committed to learning it. What has you interested?”

She looked up, and it suddenly clicked why he thought she belonged more on TV than in a boxing ring — he had seen her on TV.

“I’ve had self defense training, and now I’m looking for something a little more.”

“Is that because of your Hood friend?” He turned away. “Forget it, I’m not getting involved in the vigilante’s problems.”

“I’m more than somebody’s problem.”

He stopped and looked back. There was something in her eyes — not the desperate, lost look of some of his usuals who needed release from the pain life had dealt them, but a steely determination that belied her painted lips and comfy sweater all the same.

“That’s fair. Alright then, what’s your story?”

She eyed him for a moment. “I lost my job last month, so I’m living in the Glades now. There’s been some rough nights.”

“There always are. Why’d it bring you here?”

“Because I want to be able to handle them on my own.”

That was interesting. “And not the vigilante?”

She shook her head. “He does what he does for the city, not for me.”

She didn’t look to be lying. And the truth was, Ted would be an idiot to gain a reputation for turning down clients. “Alright, I’ll start you on a trial basis, see if you like it. Then we’ll talk regular lessons.”

She nodded. “That’s fair.”

When she turned to leave, it occurred to Ted they hadn’t sorted out one small matter. “Hold up! I didn’t get your name.”

She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I thought you recognized me.”

“Your face. Didn’t remember your name. You get knocked on the head sometimes in the ring,” he added. And on the streets, an old voice whispered in the back of his mind.

The woman smirked. “Laurel.”

“Alright, Laurel. I’ll see you on Tuesday for your lesson.”

“See you, Ted.”

She walked out with her hands resting in her pockets. There was a swagger to her beneath that girl-next-door veneer, a toughness that was coming to the surface the more life wore away at her. Ted felt himself grin.

He could work with this.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #green arrow #black canary #my writing #bird in a storm

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sixxstarrs · 5 years ago

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too fast for love (ch. 1)

Summary: Lina was living her life how she wanted to, she was in a band and she had all of the drugs and alcohol she could want. It seemed to be her ideal until Nikki fell into her life and began rearranging things as fast as he would rearrange a hotel room.

Words: 1,885

Warnings: Drugs, alcohol, swearing

Notes: Hey guys! This is my first fic. Please do give feedback and feel free to request to join the tag list! I also write headcanons and oneshots so you can go to my inbox to request some of those as well. I really hope you all like this, I know I really enjoyed writing it. Also, this story takes place around the 1983 era, just for reference!

Tags: (none atm, feel free to request to be added!)

Alcohol was never Lina’s strong suit. Usually it was three shots of vodka and she was good to go… and by that, it means more than past tipsy. Some may call her a light weight, but to Lina it just meant she got to have fun faster, or at least that’s what she would say. Being in a band helped this, as well. Her and her bandmates were practically swimming in free booze, drugs and hookups (for the guys at least.)

Lina’s brown eyes were set on the shot glasses that were being passed around, making the one that reached her, her fifth for the night and she hadn’t even gone on stage yet.

“I’m so fucking nervous.” She whispered to her guitar player, an equally light weight girl whose family had adopted her from Korea at the age of two. With only one look Julie could tell that Lina was visibly drunk but she knew it was inevitable. “I really might piss myself.” Lina sighed and buried her face into her hands. Julie remained silent, a sort of nervous habit of hers. “Who the fuck lets us open for Motley Crue when we’ve only been a band for a year. They’re gonna shit on us.” The rambling continued and at this point it was obvious that Julie definitely had selective hearing.

“Shut the fuck up Lina.” Jack groaned from across their cramped little dressing room that all four members had to share. “You’re stressing me out, this room is so small I literally feel like I’m absorbing your negative energy.” He had both of his drum sticks clenched into one fist, the blunt ends propping his head up. He only earned a noise of complaint in response from Lina.

Jack’s complaint only earned the room about ten minutes of Lina-less silence, save the rhythmic drumming of his sticks and the mindless picking at Eric’s bass. Julie still sat in silence, choosing to read a magazine over practice her guitar.

“Five minutes.” Their manager said through the door, giving it a few heavy knocks that startled the band out of their spiraling.

“Another shot.” Lina began to pour four more shots, passing them around with frantic hands. Without missing a beat she threw back her sixth one for the night and hissed as it went down. Her eyes wandered, watching her members take their shots and Julie finally spoke up.

“We all look hot as hell, we’ve got this okay?” She gripped Lina’s face in her palms, her shot glass still in one of her hands. “Except for you, Eric, you look like you’re about to kick the bucket, but what else is new.” She teased and gently made her way past Lina, leaving the dressing room. Of course, to avoid being left alone with the boys she padded close behind Julie.

The pair of girls went to line up back stage where they knew to wait, the boys filing in soon after. Before Lina knew it she was being thrust onto stage with a microphone and a glass of vodka on ice in her hand. Y’know, as if the six shots before weren’t enough.

Lina’s usual perfect performance was marred into something new for the girl because of the copious amounts of alcohol in her system. If you were to add a couple of lines of cocaine who knows how it would have turned out. It most definitely wasn’t bad, though… It was… Maybe a new creative genius for the singer.

Honestly she couldn’t tell if she was proud of herself or not because she was more focused on stumbling off stage, running to her band’s shared dressing room and doing the couple lines of coke like she had thought about earlier.

“Wait, shit, you guys were sick!” A male’s voice echoed through the hallway in attempt to catch Lina’s attention, interrupting her in her bee line to the nearest bag of coke. She even stumbled a bit due to how fast she had been walking.

“Thanks man, we-” Eric was suddenly cut off by the blond everyone knew to be Vince Neil who had originally called out to Lina and her group.

“You should come over and party with us after this gig. Just follow the crowd.” Vince grinned as he walked by everyone, a certain lanky Tommy Lee following in his footsteps despite being almost a head taller than the other.

“Yeah… We’ll come.” Eric half heartedly called back, earning a small chorus of laughter from Julie and Jack. Lina had already taken off again to rummage through her belongings.

When the other three caught up to Lina she was already making lines on the ratty coffee table that honestly took up most of the space in their dressing room.

“Lemme get in on this.” Julie finally decided to unhinge considering she tried to limit her alcohol intake before the concert, already cleaning one up with her nose and a twenty before anything could be protested, not like Lina would have anyways. Lina followed suit almost as if it were clock work.

“Hey, if you guys want to-” Tommy Lee poked his head in the door but interrupted himself upon seeing the lines in front of the two girls, his eyebrows raising with excitement. “Yo, dude, I’ll pay you back later at the party.” The shirtless man ran over, drumsticks tucked into the waist band of his thin leather pants.

All the band could do was watch Tommy snort a line, try to explain where to meet after the gig, and then run off to join the rest of the Crue. There was a mutual agreement among Lina’s own band that no one exactly knew what to do which is why no complaints were made.

“You’re probably not gonna get that line back.” Jack said to Lina who was already going down for her second, unconcerned. Hell, it was Tommy Lee, she could have given it to worse people.

Lina wasn’t sure if the party was what she had expected. Sure, her and her band had been on the Rock scene for a little over a year, so they had their fair share of parties, but this, this was different. It took place in a dingy, cramped apartment, half dressed groupies were filling the place, wall to wall, but there was copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. It wasn’t really enough to make up for the amount of girls, but if she was drunk enough, Lina didn’t care.

With that being said, Lina was certainly drunk enough. Jack was no where to be found, probably taking advantage of the immense amount of groupies, Eric was doing the same, but instead of off in someone’s bathroom he had one on each arm. Julie on the other hand was stuck in a corner arguing with some tall guy with black hair that Lina couldn’t quite make out from across the room, and here Lina was, mindlessly chatting with some dark haired groupie who was much more far gone than she was.

“I’ll be right back.” Lina held her hand out and promptly stood up, patting her pocket to make sure she had the one thing she needed. Her bag of cocaine. The last time she had done a line was back stage when Tommy stole one, and of course she hadn’t yet gotten one back.

Lina pushed through the people until she reached the bathroom, opening the door without hesitation. The sight in front of her made her squint her eyes. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was Nikki Sixx, Vince again and two groupies, all waiting while Nikki lined up four ivory slivers. Lina abruptly shut the door and leaned against the wall, her eyes focusing on Nikki’s hands.

“Hey, your drummer stole one from me, so like the proper loan shark I am I’m having to go to friends and family to get paid back.” Lina’s voice cut through the room and the four heads turned to look at her. Vince’s eyes automatically lit up upon seeing the girl.

“Shit I thought y’all didn’t come! Nikki cut her a line.” The blond nudged the bassist who was already pouring some out of the bag, his eyes lingering on the brunette girl.

“We’ve been hiding, pretty sure my guys are taking advantage of the amount of tits that follow your band around.” A small smile curled to the corners of Lina’s rather plump lips, her eyes focusing on Vince. With one glance to Nikki she noticed he was seemingly drilling holes into her forehead. His intense stare was enough to make her glance away before he did.

“And you’re not?” Vince teased her in response, stepping aside to let the two groupies go. At this point Lina had her head laid back against the wall she was propped up on, her eyes barely hanging open.

“I tried, wasn’t as fun as expected.” As she spoke she watched Nikki open the door to the bathroom and urge the two groupies out with a simple nod of his chin. The two girls gave him a small look of offense before trading their own looks between each other and then leaving.

“What the fuck, I was totally trying to fuck the red head.” Vince shot out, doing his line before leaving just as fast as the girls did and of course following their trail. Nikki only closed the door behind the singer, leaning on the opposite wall of Lina. Just as he had done to the two groupies, he gave Lina a small nod of his chin, but this time it was for her to go ahead of him.

“A gentleman.” She teased and bent down, doing her business before returning to her spot. The girl’s dark colored eyes fluttered closed behind her thick, mascara covered lashes, leaving Nikki to his own devices. Despite the drugs it was getting harder and harder for her to keep her eyes open. She was definitely past her limit on the alcohol and she could painfully tell.

The only thing that made her open her eyes was the feeling of pressure between her legs, and when she finally looked she was faced with Nikki who towered over her, his knee pressed between her thighs. Almost instinctively Lina allowed her arms to snake around his neck at their own pace, locking in as he took this as a ‘go.’

His warm lips ghosted his whisky filled breath against the side of her neck, and even though she couldn’t bare to keep her eyes open and her hearing was definitely fading, she thought she heard the door open and close right after, the person swearing when they saw it was ‘occupied.’

“Fuck me, Sixx.” Lina whispered out, the words rather bold even for her, but her voice faded off. The bathroom stayed silent of their voices, until Nikki pulled away to undo his belt buckle and he noticed that Lina’s eyes were seemingly glued shut. Not in a ‘I’m enjoying the moment’ type of way, but as in a ‘I took too many shots and now I need a nap’ type of way.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nikki hissed in a low voice, his arms wrapping themselves around her frame so he could at least drag her to put her somewhere safe.

#motley crue #nikki sixx imagines #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #motley crue imagines #vince neil #mick mars #tommy lee

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fairlylocaldreamer · 5 years ago

Text

Truce (Tommy Conlon one shot)

Warning: mentions of self harm, suicide

Darkness... This one and only word perfectly described his world for last two years. Even though his room was whole white and bright, in his mind everything was dark, full of misery and chaos. They kept saying, that their order and timetable might keep his mind occupied, that he might forget and start over... Again. No, not this time. This time he got too far, he felt the end so close to him. He felt it, just few more seconds and it could all be over. But damn, that stupid annoying nurse had to ruin it all.

It all started with the death of his mother when he was just a little baby. Then the endless argues and fighting with his father, all because he wanted to be different, he wanted to be himself. So he left, not only his father, but also his brother. His brother, who couldn't simply say no to their dad.

"Hello, Tommy," voice interrupted him from thinking, "it is time for your time in the gardens." Nurse in white clothes stood in his room. That damn white colour, that was driving him crazy. He had to chuckle - driving me crazy. He wouldn't even think, it was possible to be more crazy, than he already was.

"I don't want to go outside," Tommy whispered.

"I wasn't asking, Tom. It was an annoucement," she said and literally pulled him out of his bed, put his shoes on and got him out of his room like a little child. Sun burnt to his eyes immediately, he covered his face and went toward the huge tree in the middle of the garden. He sat there everyday, dreaming, how he could hang himself there. He never mentioned it, he's never shared this with his doctor. He had feeling, that he wasn't listening anyway. He looked around, watched another patients. All dressed in white clothes... Damn, that cursed painful white. He realized, that a voice is coming to him from distance.

"Tommy, did you hear, what I told you?" nurse asked, standing next to him.

"No," he closed his eyes and stopped listening again. He hated her annoying face, her eyes watching him, like he was a burden. You shouldn't save me, when you found me that night. In a pool of my own blood... I loved that deep red colour, it was so comforting, so calming as I watched it running out of my veins, killing the white devil around me.

"Why are you smiling?" smooth unfamiliar woman's voice echoed in his ears and goosebumps appeared on his skin. He opened his eyes and looked next to him.

"Hi," woman smiled at him. Pale skin, eyes green and shining, brown long hair messily flying in the soft wind around her face and shoulders.

"Hi," he said quietly and gazed at her.

"Why were you smiling?" she repeated her question.

"I... I don... Did I?" he asked.

"Yes," she chuckled. "It was half crazy, half sobber smile. So I just want to know, what did you think about?"

"Are... Are you real?" Tom asked and covered his face with hands.

"I don't know," she frowned, "you tell me," and she pinched him in his arm.

"Ouch!" he looked at her in disbelief, eyes widely open.

"So, am I?"

"I think you are," he said and smirked.

Sitting next to him, leaning against the tree same way he was... For next few minutes in silence. "This spot is the best in the whole garden," she said looking around.

"Yes, I like it here..." Tommy smiled and tore one daisy from the ground.

"Don't throw it away," she stopped him, when she saw, he wanted to throw it back on ground.

"Do you want it?"

"Yes."

He gave it to her and she put it in her hair.

"How do I look?" she smiled and her eyes sparkled.

"Beautiful," he whispered dreamily, surprised that he still had this word in his vocabulary. "Great," he rolled his eyes, when his nurse appeared.

"It is time to go back, Tommy" she said and he stood up.

"Hmmm, so Tommy," he heard woman's voice repeating his name.

"And you are?" he just whispered almost timidly, maybe because he wasn't absolutely sure, that someone was actually sitting there.

"Alycia," she smiled, "see you tomorrow, Tommy."

Her voice caresssed his broken soul like a warm scarf in the cold winter. "You saw her too.... right?" He asked his nurse anyway.

"Yes, don't worry," she sighed.

Alycia didn't come... He was waiting under the mighty tree, he hoped and he felt betrayed. I wish, you were just in my mind, he thought and his eyes watched garden with all the patients and nurses dressed in that damn burning white clothes. Back at his room, hidden under the blanket, he began to cry, silently so no one knew, no one heard. But suddenly door of his room opened. Oh, come on, leave me be for fuck's sake, you old ugly witch - he thought and hid even more under the blanket.

"I can see you, you know that, right?" velvet voice said, laughing.

"Alycia?" he sat on his bed, watched her surprised.

"Shhh," she put her finger on her lips, "I am here secretly. Move a little, please," she said and sat next to him on his bed. "Hi," she smiled.

"Hey," he frowned and chuckled at the same time.

"What?" she smirked.

"I thought, you won't come, but I certainly didn't expect this," he whispered and his eyes were brighter.

"Well, I had to take care about something during the day. And now I went to main nurse and I asked her, if I can see you, and she was like... No, visitors can see our patients only during visitors hours and that ended two hours ago," she said and Tommy had to laugh, she imitated voice of main nurse perfectly.

"So how did you get here?"

"I waited and when she left, I found number of your room in card file."

"Why?" he suddenly asked serious.

"Because I promised you..." she looked at him with look in her eyes, like there was absolutely no reason to not believe, she would ever break her promises. "Do you want to talk or do you want to sit here in silence?" she leaned against the cold headboard.

"I want to be silent," he said, "but I would like you to tell me something. Anything..."

"Okay, so..." Next hour she spent talking and telling him everything, that came to her mind. Maybe she was all dressed in black, but she had the most colourfull mind from all the peole he has ever met. Wearing black, it was some sort of self - defense. She was hurt few times, mentaly absused and one day she realized, that people are afraid of the black colour. So she began to wear it, everyday. She loved to play to piano and singing, she loved reading and sitting in the meadow full of flowers. She loved listening to the sound of silence, too. Because in the silence her deepest thoughts were appearing and she truly could recognise herself. He listened to her and he found himself in her. He found him in her stories, in her descriptions.

"Shit," her eyes got wide suddenly, when she heard someone coming to his room. She got from his bed and ran to hide herself next to the doorway - so when Tommy's nurse appeared in his room, she stood silently behind it.

"How do you feel, Tommy?" nurse asked him.

"Great," he smiled and her jaw dropped from surprise.

"Uhmmm, what? What did you just say?"

"I said, I feel great," he smiled and took pills from her hand and ate them.

"Okay, you have no idea, how glad I am, that you said something like that," she winked and walked away.

"Oh, do you want me to switch off the lights?" she asked.

"Yes, please," he said.

"I almost began to giggle," Alycia stood there and watched him. Even though there was dark in his room now, he could tell, that her eyes sparkled. Her long dress made her look like a ghost from a horror story - standign in his room, watching him and slowly coming back to him.

"Why ar you even here? I mean... You know..."

"My mom," she said. "She has no idea, that I'm her daughter, she doesn't recognize me anymore. She found my dad lying in a bed, gun in his hand. He shot himself in their bedroom... And she lost her mind, when she was lying there with his corpse for next two days."

"I am so sorry," Tom was breathing heavily. "Who found her?"

"Me," she whispered and that was the last word she told him for long. They didn't sleep, they just layed beside each other and looked in the eyes. "I have to go, before some nurse finds me here," she whispered, when the sun sent its first rays in his room. "I will join you in the garden, okay?"

"Why me?" he asked.

"Because I saw the light in your smile, even thought there was a lot of darkness. And because you didn't run away, when you saw me," she chuckled.

"Alycia," tears suddenly appeared in his eyes, "I don't think we should see each other again. You don't deserve being near someone like me. I can't do this to you. You deserve much better. You saw the light? I was thinking about all the blood that leaked from me, when I tried to killed myself last time. That is why I was smiling, because I was thinking about that feeling, that I had, when the life was slowly leaving my body. I just want to be alone... I should be alone..."

"I deserve you as much you deserve me," she took his hands and put them in hers. She had tiny small hands compared to his big ones, but to him it felt, like she hugged him. "Don't you try to scare me away. Please..."

"But what if I... I don't want you to come here one day and find out, that I..."

"Then don't..." she suddenly pressed her lips to his and kissed him gently. "For me," she whispered and locked her green eyes with his. "Aren't you curious how do I look without make-up? How does my voice sound in the morning? Don't you wanna see me playing the piano, hear singing your favourite song? Don't you wish to hold me naked in your arms, make love to me, kiss my body?" He watched her, hugged her, pushed her closer to him, breathed in her scent. She felt his heartbeat on her chest, his hot breath on her neck. "Let's be alone together. For the rest of rest of our lifes. I am not afraid. I can beat those demons inside you, I can silence them, I can drown them, burn them with my light. Just give me a chance..."

She spent next half year visiting him, creeping secretly into his room. Sometimes they sat in silence, other days they talked for hours. And the day he was leaving the hospital, she was wearing beautiful red dress and red lipstick. Standing in front of the gate, leaning against black car. "That's yours?" Tommy asked with impressed voice and she nodded and came to kiss him. They left hospital and she drove to her flat. And he stayed. Because he was curious, how does her voice sound in the morning, he wanted to find out, how does she look naked, without make-up. He wanted to hear her singing and playing his favourite song. Her fingers moved so fluently, so lightly. Daisy flower behind her ear, he put it there in the morning, when they were lying in the middle of flowery meadow. She was playing his song, singing. He watched her red nail-polish on her pale hands. Covered just in blanket, her shoulders surrounded by her long brown hair.

His demons have never left completely. Sometimes they appeared and tried to break him down. But she always saw it and realized it sooner than him. And she always fought and silenced them. Whenever he had bad feeling, she let him forget by drowning in her green eyes and her whispering voice.

And when she gave a birth to a beautiful girl, he promised, that he will always keep fighting and he will never betray them.

And he kept that promise.

He stayed alive...

For them...

For himself...

#tom hardy #tomhardy #fanfiction #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy conlon #alycia debnam carey #tom hardy one shot #tommy conlon one shot #tommy conlon imagine #tom hardy imagine

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