#and if he streams with Olli I WILL cry because that would mean he’s been with him for almost a week already 🤧🥺

[sparfloxacin]

hello hiiii don't mind me I'm here just to manifest the twitch stream we've been promised 🤧 ✨🤞🕯💖✨🤞🕯💖

...perhaps even with this cutie somehow included if we're really lucky 😩🤞🙏🥺

that's all byeeeeee have a fun Saturday I hope this will work 🥺

aah look at this cutie (and his boyfriend)!! 🥺💞

manifesting 🤞🏻🕯️✨ manifesting 🤞🏻🕯️✨ manifesting 🤞🏻🕯️✨

have a lovely Saturday as well 💖

[ro-writesstuff]

Ummmmm well, maybe this time will be angst. Y/n can't take any more of the hate that Ollie's fans give her. They always say that Y/n is jinxing Ollie bcs he has been getting bad race results lately. There was even someone who said it directly in front of her face when she came to watch Ollie's race at Monza and Ollie also accidentally heard it and maybe started to get a little angry and protective bcs Y/n doesn't deserve any kind of hatred at all.

Then she finally decided to ask Ollie to break up bcs she started to believe that she is bringing bad luck to Ollie and she doesn't want that to happen to him as she knows how passionate Ollie about racing. But of course that's impossible to happen.

Ollie had already fallen too deep for Y/n. Y/n was his childhood friend who knew almost everything about him, she's so lowkey which makes him love her even more, the one who cheered him since he went karting, the one who always understood him, who always believed in him no matter what. She was everything to Ollie and mean more than racing or championship.

Maybe you can make him a little desperate (Idk why but I'd like to see him crying😭dramatic ass) when Y/n asks him for a break up like he was probably once having a thought about how his life without racing but never imagined his life without Y/n. And maybe he's lil furious that Y/n believed in those nonsenses and even now thinking of leaving him. And the rest are yours, Queen🧚🏼‍♀️

Some proooompts:

— "I just don't love you anymore."

"What?" .... "Look me in the eyes and say you don't love me anymore."

— "You need to focus on racing, not me."

— "I need you more than a fucking championship! I will call Rene right now and tell him that I quit."

— "You don't understand, you are performing less because of m-"

"No. You are the one who don't understand. Don't you dare to say you are the cause of my bad performances."

Ollie Bearman- Choices

a/n: OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT  ANON!!!!! I made ollie such a simp for y/n oh my lord… anyway this is somewhat of a continuation of this post… also i kinda got lazy at the end my bad 

pairing: oliver bearman x childhoodfriend!reader

summary: you and ollie have a talk about your relationship that leads your relationship downhill. 

warnings: cursing, tears, stressed y/n and stressed ollie 

word count: 1,781

not my gif!

~

“Hey, can we talk?” You both knew you needed to have this conversation, but both of you avoided it like the plague. 

When you accidentally went public with Ollie, everyone liked you. They thought you were a little on the quiet side but still sweet, and thought you and Ollie were a good match. You appeared in some of Ollie’s streams, adding funny commentary here and there and just hanging out with him. For the past year or so though, you’ve been getting more hateful comments and people have been ruder towards you.

You were never one to back down and stop what you were doing because someone was hating on you. You weren’t raised that way. If you were passionate about something, you did it all the way, not letting anything stop you. This time though, it was getting harder to ignore the bad stuff. People were constantly finding things to nitpick you for, saying how you “loved” Ollie and how you were just in it for the exposure and benefits, which was absolutely not the case. Though you expected interviewers asking about your private life, you never thought it would be this intrusive. Ollie had noticed the more hateful comments were getting to you and even put out a statement, but nothing worked. He’d been too busy racing and traveling to alleviate some of the anxiety you were feeling, so you thought this to be the best option:

Ending your relationship. 

“Um, sure.” He said, hesitantly. The outcome of this conversation was not one he’d like. He couldn’t risk losing you. You were the one person that truly understood everything he did. He truly fell harder for you than you could ever possibly fathom, and even he himself couldn’t explain into words how special you were to him. 

“I think we need to take a break.” The words came out slow and shaky, fear crawling its way through your words. 

“W- what?”

“I just, I- I don’t have feelings for you anymore.” You cringed to yourself. You were completely lying to his face. And he could see it. 

“Bullshit. Is this about what that article said the other day? I swear to God, I’ll find whoever wrote it and-”

“Ollie, stop.” Your voice was stern, scaring him a little bit. 

It was about the article, but you didn’t want to cause any drama or bad press around him, having the media calling him a hothead and other terrible names they could come up with. So you opted to tell him that you didn’t love him anymore. That you “lost feelings” when you felt the complete opposite. You wanted nothing less than waking up next to him and his unruly hair, softly waking him up as you combed through his curls.

Which was exactly how Ollie was feeling, too. He never understood how much your daily checkups and silent support really meant to him, you asking him if he was alright when he was at his darkest, and being there for him during the height of his career. You were always there, a constant in his ever changing life. 

“Don’t make this harder than it already is. Please. I just don’t love you anymore.” You fidgeted with your hands as you went to find your phone. You wanted this conversation to be cut and dry, but it wouldn’t turn out that way. He rushed in front of you and lifted your chin with his finger. You kept your gaze anywhere else but him. 

“Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

The room was quiet, so tense that you could hear both of your shallow breaths. His eyes never left yours as you contemplated your answer. 

“Ollie, your fans hate me. So does your team. It seems like you’re the only one that doesn’t.” You remembered one conversation where some woman came up to you and told it to your face.

“Hi. You’re Y/N, Ollie’s girlfriend, right?” Some lady asked when you were watching a few drivers qualify on the TV screens in Ollie’s garage. “I am, yeah.” “Let’s hope you leave before he starts qualifying.” She laughed lightly.  “Excuse me?” “You’ve seen his quali position versus his starting one when you’re here, right? Oliver’s place always goes down a few positions.” “Oh, well I don’t-”  “I think then I’m the problem, ma’am. My girlfriend’s not the one driving the car.” Ollie came up from behind you, putting his arm around you.  “Oh well. My apologies, then. Have a good one, Ollie.” The woman turned around and walked away. “The hell was that about?” “Dunno. She just came up to me and started talking.” “If someone else says something like that to you, tell me and I’ll-” “Ollie. Just focus on racing right now, okay?”

He threw his hands in the air. “Love, what are you-”

“Think about it. Ever since we got together, you’ve had bad race results. Your car’s been breaking down more often. For fuck’s sake, you almost died, Ollie! When we were just friends that never happened! And now,” You took a breath. “I’m just a distraction, okay? I-”

“How dare you fucking say that. You are not the cause of my bad performances, Y/N! I am!” 

Tears started to form in his eyes. How could you say that about yourself? How could you ever think that? Not for a second did he think you were a distraction. All you ever did for him was make sure he was at his best. Sure, he was getting bad results recently, but you certainly weren’t the cause of it. Hell, you were keeping him focused on not crashing if anything.

“You need to focus on your championship and I need to focus on school.” You shoved past him, grabbing your keys from the counter. 

“That’s what you’re worried about? A fucking championship, Y/N?!” 

“Ollie, that’s your dream! You’ve wanted that since you were a kid! Why are you letting me get in the way of it?” 

“I need you more than I want that stupid championship.”

Shaky breaths erupted from both of you. You knew he was right. He had told you that his priorities had changed. Then it hit you. Was that the reason he was performing so badly at races? Was he racing badly so he’d lose his contract and he’d finally be able to spend time with you? 

After a few minutes you decided to leave. There was no way in hell that you were going to be the reason he lost his contract. Walking towards the door, you mentally checked if you had everything to stay the night elsewhere. 

Ollie caught onto you, following after you. “No. No. Don’t leave. Please.” He grabbed onto your wrist, his eyes pleading you to stay. You’d never left after a fight, always wanting to work it out before you guys went to do something else. This time though, you felt like you had to.

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll be back.” Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were going to. You turned around, reaching for the doorknob, but Ollie was quick enough to slide in front of it.

“I will… I will call Rene right now and tell him that I quit, okay?” He pulled out his phone, hands shaking, and started to search for Rene’s number. “Just don’t…please stay.” Desperation was clear in his voice. As he found it, you scooted past him and slipped out the front door, speed-walking to your car. 

“Baby, no. Please. Where are you going?” You heard him shout as you got into your car. You had left and he was unsure, for the first time, that you might not come back.

~

4 missed calls from ollie 🐻 💗

2 voicemails from ollie🐻 💗

Hi Y/N. Look, I need to… Just, just please call me back please. I want to work this out, okay? I love you. 

Babe, please call me back. I’m getting worried. Just let me know you’re okay. Please. I love you. 

You shut off your phone and sighed, laying back down on the bed, groaning. 

“Still haven’t told him where you are?” Arthur’s voice made you jump, reminding you that you weren’t alone. 

You shook your head. “No.” Arthur laid down next to you on your -his- bed. You had crashed at his house for the night, telling him what happened through broken sobs and tears.

“I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but I think you should tell Ollie where you are. Or just text him. The guy’s been worried sick, Y/N. He can’t sleep, eat. Even Jak can’t get him out of bed,” Arthur said.

Fuck, you thought. 

~

You unlocked you and Ollie’s door for the first time in what felt like months. As you shut the door close, your eyes met Ollie’s brown ones. He was standing a few feet away from the door, his eyes wide open as he tried to figure out if you were actually standing in front of him. Tension in the room was off the charts. 

Arthur was right, he looked terrible. Nothing in the apartment had changed since you left, with the exception of a few blankets strewn around the floor. Ollie rushed towards you, dropping whatever he was holding, it clattering to the floor as his arms snaked around your waist tightly. He was afraid if he let go of you a second time, you wouldn’t come back for certain. You felt his entire body relax against yours, as yours did the same. He burrowed his head into your neck, softly placing kisses on your skin. 

“You came back.” His voice was deep and relieved. 

“Momentarily.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna move out, Ollie.”

“What? No, you- you can’t.”

You got out of his grasp and hurried towards your room, and started to pack your things through your blurred vision. 

“What’re you doing? Just stop.” He started to unpack the things you started to.

“This isn’t your decision to make, Ollie. Okay?!” 

The room went quiet, the silence so deafening you swore you were alone. You pinched the bridge of your nose; you knew he didn’t deserve this. He was the one you always saw yourself with in the end. What happened? 

Ollie walked over to you; he towered over you like he always did. “You’re really going then?” 

You nodded. “I’ll have Arthur pick up the rest of my stuff.” You scratched the back of your neck. You didn’t know what else to say. You saw a tear drip to the floor as he nodded. 

You picked up your stuff and led yourself out, Ollie following closely behind. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Ollie.”

[theflyingfeeling]

because I'm bored and due to the lack of content from the tour & on Aleksi's twitch (didn't he say he filmed material worth of at least 4 bonus videos? or does my memory fail me 🤔), I made a compilation / list of all the cute Olli/Allu moments from Aleksi's twitch streams, (because what else would I be doing with my time off 🤡) because I for one didn't expect the streams to be such a goldmine for Olli/Allu content right from the beginning 🤲 I mean, I knew they were special to each other, but to find out they're this special... 🥺💕

(and yeeeeesssss I knoooow we've been over all of these so many times already, but unfortunately I'm still thinking about these moments alright, so bear with me will you 😇 at least I'm putting it behind a read-more for y'all's scrolling pleasure, which I couldn't have done in @sparfloxacin's askbox where I originally wanted to dump all this 🤧)

already on the first stream we had Aleksi texting Olli about his bass tracks being played on the stream and Olli answering immediately (because of course he answers his bf immediately <3) and Olli telling Aleksi how good his stream looks (because of course he went to look at it immediately <3) and communicating with the stream / the viewers via Aleksi by asking if they wanted a bass tutorial (because of course he'd want to contribute to his bf's new hobby <3) and then later Aleksi making a duet with said tutorial (I'm still not over how cute that was 😭)

Aleksi for some reason answering a question about Olli's gag reflex?? of all the questions he could pick from the chat, this is the once he chooses to comment on?? 👁️👄👁️ (fair enough, he probably just saw Olli's name and started reading the comment before he could help it because Olliiiiiiii 🥰💕💞)

Aleksi revealing he had texted Olli about a cool shirt he had seen 🤲

Aleksi texting Olli about merch and looking sad bored when he didn't answer, but once he did, the biggest smile spread on Aleksi's face 🥹 (and then he immediately changed the subject because he probably realised he let his crush show a little too much 😭), and wasn't this the one where Olli gave him a call mid-stream? because I guess Olli didn't have anything better to do than discuss merch ideas with his bf and that's just what they do apparently, just spontanously call each other whenever aaaaaaaa boyfrieeeeeeeendssss 💞💖💕💗

Aleksi talking about Olli's socks that "somehow" ended up in his suitcase? uh-huh yeah sure, how to say I'm fucking my bandmate without saying I'm fucking my bandmate 😌

then there was the spooky stream which I'm also still not over, tragically 😩 I'm just so weak about the fact Olli was Aleksi's first option to ask about ghost stories for his stream in the dead of night, and that Olli really had nothing else to do but join in his bf's spooky shenaningans and putting actual effort in it too (in general I'm trying soooooo hard not to overthink the fact they both chose to be texting each other about silly stuff rather than, idk, sleeping next to their girlfriends or whatever, but I guess this is completely normal behaviour for them and should not be over-analyzed)

not to mention how happy Aleksi was about Olli replying to his texts in the middle of the night, just HOW in love could they be?!? 😭

the bonus video about the remix Aleksi made in which he used Olli's guitar loop and had also named the project file after Olli 💖 (he totally didn't listen to that guitar loop over and over again thinking about Olli and how much he loves him and maybe drinking some red wine and missing him a lot and perhaps even crying a little 😭)

the amount of Olli included in that mini vlog 🥰 because they just can't stay too apart from each other <3

just in general name-dropping Olli so so often 🥺💞

did I forget something crucial? 🤔 in any case, even without shippy glasses on I dare you to argue they aren't a little bit special to each other, because how many times had Aleksi mentioned / interacted with Olli on these streams in comparison to all his other bandmates, INCLUDING the ones that live in the same city as him and with whom he thus gets to spend time even off-tour / when they're not actively making music/recording? yeah, that's right 😌

[imaginedxlan]

Pike (George Weasley)

a/n: i have an addiction. i’m sorry. take this platform away from me. anyway ENEMIES TO LOVER BITCHES.

You’ve always hated George Weasley. You can’t quite explain why, but the two of you have had bad blood since the moment you met freshman year. it’s nothing either of you said or did, just the general presence of the other always set something off in the two of you. however, you weren’t going to give up partying at his frat just because you hated the red haired boy.

warnings: alcohol & cussing, unconsensual touching but it isn’t graphic(not by george obv), mentions of sex and assault/sexual violence, violence and fratboy!georgie

i’m very serious when i say do not read this if you’re easily triggered or impacted by the theme of sexual assault. there is nothing graphic in this fic but i know it is very easy to be triggered by even the smallest mention. if you ever and i mean EVER need someone to talk to about anything pertaining to the topic, my messages are always open. dealing with sexual assault in any form is one of the most traumatising things a person can go through. please never hesistate to reach out if you’re struggling. i love you guys so much, i never want to go suffer in silence.

if you or someone you know if struggling with a rape or sexual assault, you can call 800.656.HOPE (4673) to be connected to a sexual assault service provider in your area. all my hugs and kisses to you all, i love you with all my heart❤️

saturday nights on campus are nothing short of lively for you and your friends. whether you’re testing your fake ids at every bar on the main street or dancing in a sweaty frat basement, there’s never been a dull weekend.

pike has always been your favorite fraternity to attend . you’d become close with some of the pledges on your floor your freshman year and have become obsessed with shutting down every function they hold at the house. there is one part of pi kappa alpha, however, that you could do without. george weasley.

the six three, red haired monster has been getting under your skin for an entire year now. since you met in your first semester of freshman year, you and george had never been on good terms. between the constant teasing from him or your drunk screaming matches that you’ve initiated almost every weekend, it’s safe to say that you two need to be kept as far away from each other as possible.

your friends have never understood the feud. they’ve always described george as one of the nicest guys they’ve ever met. he takes their coats at the door of every pike party to hide in his room to keep them safe from the drunk kleptomaniacs or vomit that inevitably spews from the mouth of a freshman girl. he’s always kept an eye out for your friends, but when it comes to you he swears if murder was legal you’d be six feet under by now.

as you and your friends got ready in your shared apartment for the night ahead of you, the annual pike’s peak ski themed party, you loathe the fact that you’ll be forced to see him again. you wish more than anything that he wasn’t so close with your friends, but alas, he is.

“y/n, can you please promise me something?” Angelina pleads, making you pause your makeup routine to look at her as if to say ‘go on.’ “no fighting with george tonight, we all need one night when the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats.”

if only it were that easy. there have been times in the past when angie and katie have convinced you to play nice with the boy, but he always ends up starting some type of fight with you.

“angie i’ve told you, i have no problem ignoring him for the good of the group,” you reiterate the countless times you’ve tried to prove to the girls that you’re the bigger person. “it’s him you should be talking to, he always starts it.”

katie sighs, already imagining the screaming match that will ensue tonight. “well if he starts something just walk away, easy as that.”

you mull it over for a minute. as much as ignoring him will make it seem like you’ve run out of insults, your vocal chords could use the rest this weekend. you agree to try and keep your mouth shut around george.

the three of you zip up your obnoxiously bright ski jackets over the black sports bras and jeans you’re wearing. you loved pikes peak, you could put in virtually no effort and still look like you spent hours getting ready.

the pike house is already buzzing with the bass of whatever mix oliver wood put together for the party. it’s not a pike party without ollie behind the dj booth. the high that you’re on as you walk past the pledges fades as your faced with george weasley.

just ignore him.

“look at my most beautiful groupies,” he says with a smile, scanning over angie and katie. “and...whatever that is.”

you can already feel your cheeks heat up with rage and your fists tighten. you take a deep breath and repeat katie’s words just an hour ago, ‘walk away.’ you roll your eyes at the boy and move your way through the party, eventually taking your spot next to ollie behind the dj stand.

“well hey there miss y/n,” ollie greets you, resting his headphone around his neck and pulling you into a hug. “half expected you to be beating weasley to a pulp by now.”

you laugh at his honesty, everyone expects some huge blow up between you and george within the first few minutes of a party. “trying something new, ignoring him for the night. can’t tire myself too much.”

ollie just smiles and goes back to the music. you’re adding songs to the queue and laughing along with him. you almost forgot how much you missed spending time with him, most of your interactions with the boy group ending with a fight with weasley without even being able to talk with the other boys.

across the room, george is watching you actually enjoy yourself and is fuming. he’s so used to being able to get under your skin, so you blowing him off was a major knock to his ego. he thrives on your reactions to his teasing, feeling like he doesn’t even have a purpose at this party now that you’re ignoring him.

you eventually leave oliver behind the booth and find angelina and katie, luckily they’re now where near george, rather dancing with his twin. you’ve always liked fred, but your constant arguing with his brother makes it hard for you to have any sort of friendship with him. this is the first pike party you’ve been to all year that you’re genuinely enjoying yourself. dancing with your friends, drinking without a care. the night is actually starting to look up.

you tell angie and katie that you’re off to the bathroom, the beers and seltzers finally catching up to your bladder. as you make your way through the crowd of people, you finally make it to the bathroom which is in the furthest corner of the house. before you can reach for the handle, someone is grabbing at your wrist.

“let’s go to my room.” the boy slurs, you turn to see a tall boy, far taller than you. you recognise his face but don’t know his name.

“no than-“

“i wasn’t asking,” he cuts you off and grabs your hip with his other hand. “come on i know you want to.”

“no just get off of me!” you yell trying to push his hands away from you but his death grin on your body doesn’t seem to be loosening. using your free hand you start beating the boys chest and that seems to just make him angrier. “you’re hurting me! just get off, i’m not coming to your room!”

even though you feel like your screaming the loud music seems to drown out the noise from anyone who could come and help you. even though the boy is obviously stronger than you, that doesn’t stop you from continuing to hit him in the hopes that his drunken state will take him off of you. your efforts are to no avail as his mouth connects with your neck, sucking harshly, making you scream out again. your head is thrashing, continuing to attempt to free yourself from his grasp.

“no! stop get off of me, please!” you shriek, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. before you can realize what’s going on the boy is ripped from you and pinned up against the wall. you don’t even look to see what’s happening, just trying the catch your breath.

“she said no!” you immediately recognize the voice. george weasley. he fist connects with the boys jaw, almost knocking him unconscious as he’s still pushed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you pucey! don’t you ever fucking touch her again!”

george still screaming as the boy you know realize is adrian pucey, is wailing in pain as george’s fists continue to meet his body. you don’t want to watch this anymore so you grab george’s hand before he can hit adrian again.

“stop, please.” it’s softer than you wanted it to come out but george still hears you. he drops adrian to the ground and takes a hold of your shoulders. even in the dark he’s examining your face for any sign of adrian’s abuse, his eyes land on the growing bruise on your neck and his fingers lightly trace over the mark. his other hands goes to your face, using his thumb to wipe the stream of tears.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, eyes still trained on the hickey adrian unconsensually left on your neck. “i would’ve killed him.”

“why are you doing this, weasley?” you step back from him, crossing yours arms over your chest. “go on and tell everyone how you had to pull pucey off of me. how i was crying like a little baby. how helpless i was, i know that why you’re here.”

a flash a hurt crosses his face, he shakes his head. “is that really what you think of me?”

“of course it is, you’ve never given me a reason to think anything else,” you reply, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks. “just leave weasley, i can’t take whatever’s going to come out of your mouth, not tonight okay? i could’ve handled this myself.”

“yeah you were doing a great job of handling it before i came it,” he scoffs and goes to walk away, kicking pucey one last time for good measure, but stops himself. “would you just stop arguing and follow me?”

you go to protest but figure you’re not in any mood to argue with him. he reaches his hand out to guide you through the sea of people but your arms stay folded against your chest. he rolls his eyes and leads you up the stairs and into a bedroom. you’d never been in his bedroom before. he goes into his closet to pull out a sweatshirt and tosses it your way.

“i’m not wearing this,” you tell him, throwing it back at him and he groans at your stubborn attitude. “why am i in your room, weasley?”

“does the word thank you not exist in your vocabulary?” he asks with a bitter tone. “i don’t care if you wear it, i’m leaving.”

he slams the door behind him and leaves you by yourself again. you look in the mirror on his wall at the disheveled sight looking back at you. your mascara collected under your eyes from your tears, the dark hickey from pucey on your cheek, bruises forming on your wrist and hip. you thought you had cried all the tears out before but seeing the damage he had done pulls sobs from your lips. you’re shaking at the memory of what happened, the thought of what could have happened. you collapse on george’s floor.

almost immediately the door swings open. you’re hoping maybe george told angie or katie and they were coming to take you home but it’s just george standing there. he never left his door, seeing pucey attack you like that made him fear that it might happen to you again. he quickly shuts the door behind him and crouches next to you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“hey, hey what’s going on you were fine a few second ago,” he tries to read your face but it’s hidden in your hands. “look at me, y/n, please.”

you lift your face to look him in the eyes. your puffy eyes and red cheeks make his heart sink. this is the first time he’s looked at you and felt something other than utter annoyance. you look so sad.

“i-i’m so s-scared,” you stutter through your speech. “if you hadn’t come he could’ve, it would have turned into -”

“don’t talk like that,” he begs you, still staying a bit of a distance from you. “i was there, i stopped it. you’re safe now.”

once you calm down he pleads for you to lay down and get some rest. you finally take the sweatshirt from him and wrap it around your body. he leans down to crouch in front of you, your eyes still welled with tears. he pats your head and goes to leave. in reality he would be posted outside the door for the rest of the night, but he’d never tell you that. As he shuts off the lights and opens the door, you squeak out a plea, “can you stay? please.”

george hesitates, he knows showing any kind of compassion for you in this moment will inevitably put a rift in your strict enemies only relationship. the one he’s been so set on keeping since he started developing feelings for you last semester. the only way he could keep you close while also concealing his feelings was to pick those fights with you every weekend. this would change everything.

however, seeing you curled up in his bed, shaking under his blankets, your eyes wide with fear broke something in him. he let out a deep sigh before closing his door again and locking it behind him. he stands in place for a minute, unsure of what to do from here.

“george,” you call out, voice cracking. you hadn’t called him by his first name in months. “thank you.”

“you haven’t called me george in a while.”

“shut up, weasley,” you immediately reply, making george chuckle. he decides to sit on the edge of his bad facing you, watching you continue to shake as sporadic sobs come from your frail frame. it’s breaking his heart. He eventually comes up to lay beside you, careful not to touch you. partly due to the fact that he knows you’re probably traumatised by pucey’s attack on you and also partly due to him knowing he may not be able to control himself from taking you in arms until you stop your terrible shaking.

it wasn’t george that first moved closer, it was you. you weren’t sure if it was the fact that he just saved you from a potentially life shattering situation or the fact that his room felt like subzero but you wanted to be close to him.

“why is your room so cold?” you ask with a shiver. “i feel like i’m in the arctic.”

“don’t be such a baby it’s not that cold,” he scoffs, giving you the same tone he always has. something in you is disappointed, partly hoping that maybe this changed something. maybe you were overthinking him being so doting on you tonight. of course things wouldn’t be different. why would you want them to be? what he did tonight he would do for any girl in thai party. while you don’t get to see that side of him, angie and katie have always talked about how protective he is, you just never thought it would extend to you.

“why’d you help me?” you ask, staring at him dead in the eyes. his breath hitches, he’s not sure why. he would do it for anyone, no questions asked. he’s never been the guy to look the other way when a girl is hurting, but what was he doing all of this for you. surely he wouldn’t bring just anyone up to his room, he wouldn’t stay if they asked.

“i wasn’t going to let pucey hurt you like that, i wouldn’t let him do it to anyone,” he replies, hoping you’ll be off the topic from now on.

“you would’ve killed him if i hadn’t stopped you.” george thinks back to the moment. how angelina had pleaded for him to find you after you’d been gone for so long. how he heard your cries over the music, you screaming no. how pucey had himself attached to you and the rage bubbled over in him.

“would you come off of it?” he asked sternly, fearing if this conversation moved any further he would be confessing that he’s never actually hated you. “i forgot how annoying you were for a second there, i’m getting out of here.”

your heart sinks at his words. you were already in shambles and he decided to be his same old asshole self. it hurt. you immediately sat up and watched as he grasped the door handle but didn’t turn it.

“classic, something gets hard and you’re running away,” you spit at him. you needed someone there, you needed him there, and he was running off. “go on weasley, be the little bitch you are, run off and tell everyone how big bad george weasley beat up pucey just to leave me up in your room where he could for sure do it again.”

“you just love running that fucking mouth of yours don’t you?” george snaps, his face beginning to heat up. this is always how it starts. his tone is playfully arrogant until it switches completely. “you think i would just leave you in here where anyone could come in? are you really that stupid? i would’ve staid outside the fucking door all night if that’s what it took for you to sleep after ehat happened, i just can’t be in this fucking room with you.”

you roll your eyes at how dramatic he is. as if staying in a room with you for one night would kill him. in his mind, however, it might. seeing you curled up in his bed, in his clothes, begging for him to stay, it’s all too much for him to handle.

“yeah sure you would. you wouldn’t go chasing after your brother the second he called that some girl was asking for you. this is all for show, you’re trying to make me seem like the one you can’t coexist with you,” you shout. “then everyone can blame me for this stupid fucking fight we’ve been having for an entire year. you can be the innocent one, that’s it isn’t it?”

george can’t believe how blind you are. how you’ve failed to notice that every time you get up in his face to yell at him he loses his breath. that you can’t see that teasing you is his only way to keep you coming back to pike. that he almost killed pucey because he likes you. he so painfully likes you.

“you’re an idiot you know that?” he yells, taking his hand off the doorknob. “seriously how dumb can you be? you really think i’m doing all of this for my image?”

“then answer my fucking question, weasley,” you spit at him, becoming angrier every minute that he won’t admit his own obsession with how everyone perceives him. “why. are. you. helping. me.”

every word comes out dripping with the venom of your rage. getting george to admit he’s a self centered, self serving asshole will give you all the evidence you need to show katie and angie that this feud is his fault, not yours. he begins to pace around the room, hands going to his hair as he looks deep in thought. your eyes never leave him, watching as he slowly unwinds in front of you. it’s happening, he’s going to admit it.

“you want to know why? you really want to know why i’m doing all this? why i dedicate my fucking saturday nights to fighting with you? that’s what you really want?”

“that’s what i asked isn’t it?”

“because i fucking like you, okay?” he shouts, making your heart stop. your jaw is practically on the floor, this is not the confession you were expecting. his face softens along with his tone, “i like you.”

he’s quiet, almost inaudible over the muffled bass of the music coming from downstairs. you face hasn’t changed, your brain is empty. your completely unable to move. you begin to shake your head after a minute, repeating the words ‘no’ and ‘you’re lying.’

“fuck this,” george finally speaks up, going back to reach for the door. “have a nice life, y/n, don’t bother coming back here after tonight.”

“george stop!” you yell which makes him stop in his tracks. his first name again. it makes his heart ache. he can’t get involved, he can’t fall into your trap. he continues to make his way to get as far from you as he possibly can. “george i mean it! stop running away from me.”

you’re now off the bed, following close behind him. you’re swimming in his sweatshirt, the material falling just below your knees. you don’t know why you suddenly have the urge to touch him, to be with him but it’s there. him threatening you to never come back made your chest tighten, not because you’ll be missing parties, but you’ll be missing him. memories of your screaming matches flood your brain, the absolute high you’re on as you’re staring up at him after shouting something offensive his way. the way you can never seem to catch your breath when he’s around you. the fact that you continue coming back, knowing he’s going to hurt your feelings in some way or another, because it means you’ll be with him. as toxic and backwards as it seems, you’ve never hated george. you were utterly obsessed with him. when you finally reach him, grabbing his hand to stop him fleeing, his whole body snaps to turn toward you. he looks wild.

“what could you possibly have to say to me?” he shouts, making you step back. his words are fueled by anger and hatred. when he sees you back away from him, he immediately regrets his tone. “come to gloat? to make fun of me? save it, y/n. i don’t want to hear it.”

you don’t say a word. on the crowded staircase of your drunk classmates you do the last thing you could have ever imagined doing with george weasley. you kiss him.

he’s completely taken aback, freezing in his place as soon as he feels your soft lips against his. one hand is wrapped around the back of his neck and the other is holding his cheek. eventually, reality hits the boy and he’s pulling you into him by your hips. you wince in pain from the tender bruise aching on your hip from pucey’s hands and george immediately pulls away to see if you’re alright.

“god, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i didn’t realize he hurt you so bad,” he starts to ramble on, keeping his hands off of you to keep from hurting you. “y/n, i’m — i just — i don’t know what to say.”

your hand is still on his face, your thumb stroking over his cheek bone. you can’t believe you had just kissed the boy you had sworn to hate for the rest of your life. pulling your hands away from your body you take a hold of his that are hovering inches away from your hips. you move they to lay against your waist and move yours to return to his face. you lean yourself back up toward him again, capturing his lips for the second time tonight. he didn’t hesitate this time, pulling you closer to him.

as soon as you pull away from each other, you’re soon walking back to his room hand in hand. he closes the door and flicks on the lights. being with him now feels astronomically different. the tension that once plagued any room you two shared has melted away.

“i didn’t want to pressure you into doing that,” he says softly, his palm resting on your cheek as the two of you sit only inches from each other on his bed. “especially after what pucey did to you, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

you stop him from spiraling any further into a pit of blame. “i feel safe with you georgie, i wouldn’t have stayed in here with you, kissed you, if i didn’t. you know i’d be the last to admit this, but you saved me, i owe you one.”

a small smile tugs on his lips. he can’t help but feel his heart hammering against his ribs like it’s going a thousand miles and hour. “consider the debt repaid,” he replies, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i don’t think i would’ve ever been able to face you after tonight if you hadn’t come running after me.”

your smile mirrors his, unable to contain the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. the two of you just stare at each other for a while, trying to imprint this moment in your memory forever.

“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his lips so close that you can feel his breath against yours. you nod against his forehead, silently begging to feel his warmth again.

kissing george is like nothing you’d ever felt before. you spent your entire life kissing boys that meant nothing to you, this feels like home. his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring every inch of you, memorising how you feel as if you’ll be stolen from him at any second. he’s thought of this exact moment for months, every time you fought, every time he spoke to you, he imagined what it would feel like to have you like this.

“still feels like a tundra in here,” you tell him after you pull away. he takes you by your good wrist and urges you to lay next to him, his arms wrapping tightly around your body wishing he would never have to let go.

“better?”

“better.” you reply, letting you hand rest against his chest, feeling his heart beat. “this is not how i imagined this night going.”

“neither,” he says, running his fingers up and down your side. “never thought i’d get to hold you like this.”

your cheeks heat up, not from your usual rage but from the sudden rush on nerves. you don’t know how to act around him when you’re not about to beat his face in. he gently pulls your face from where it’s hiding in his chest to admire you. he presses his lips softly against yours, then moves to either cheek, then to your forehead.

“what happens now?” you ask, suddenly hit with the realization that you can’t go on with the feud that’s been bubbling between the two of you for the past year. you’ll have to tell your friends that you don’t hate each other anymore, that you did the unthinkable and kissed george weasley.

“i don’t care,” he says simply. “we could continue fighting until my dying breath, i just don’t want to be without you. ever.”

“what a little sap-fest you’ve become,” you tease holding yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at the boy. “who knew the george weasley could be so sentimental.”

“oh shut up,” he nudges your shoulder, pulling his arms from around you to rest behind his head. “you’re the one who kissed me, y/n, you started this.”

you let out a giggle, resting your head against his chest. you talk for hours about everything and nothing at all. eventually you hear the music die from downstairs, your phone buzzing with texts from angie and katie worried sick about where you ran off to. you tell them you’re fine and you’ll explain tomorrow. it’s an unspoken assumption that after all these months of fighting, you’ll be sleeping in george’s bed, cuddled up to him like you have been for the last few hours. you turn from your phone to see him stripping his shirt from his body, going to pull his khakis from his body and your heart stops.

“george i-” you start, not being able to form a coherent sentence. “i’m sorry but i can’t do anything like that, not tonight, not after what happened.”

his face turns down in worry, swiftly pulling a pair of sweats from his drawer to cover his bare legs. “oh my god, no y/n that’s not where i thought this was going at all. i usually sleep without a shirt on but it that makes you uncomfortable i can put one on. i’m so sorry i wasn’t even thinking.”

you sigh in relief, of course he wasn’t going to ask you to do anything like that after what he saw. you can’t believe you assumed that of him.

“no, no i’m sorry i know you would never,” you reply, rubbing your face between your palms. “i’m just on edge.”

he sits next to you, already holding a pair of boxers for you to wear and places them in front of you. he runs his hands up your arms. “don’t apologize to me, you’re allowed to be on edge after that. i should’ve been more conscious of that. i can go to the bathroom while you change if you want, unless you want to stay in your jeans.”

you shake your head, pulling the denim off your legs and replacing them with george’s boxers. you’re safe with him, you remind yourself.

“thank you, george,” you say quietly. “for everything.”

“i’d do it again, a hundred times over if i had to,” he tells you, pulling you into his arms to hold you. “do you want to talk about it?”

you shake your head no and he nods. he lays the two of you back and pulls his blankets other you. your head lays against his bare chest, feeling the most secure you have in your life. george’s breath eventually steadies as he slips into a deep sleep. it’s the easiest he’s ever been able to fall asleep, feeling completely comfortable with you in his arms. you fall asleep soon after him, the arms of george weasley and the walls of pi kappa alpha lulling you into the sweetest dreams.

[xmyshya]

Shoved it: chapter V - Pop Shuvit

summary: You don’t like skaters. They’re unruly, misbehaved and rude. But this one encounter just might change your view. genre: fluff warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (seriously, make a dentist appointment), slow burn, mutual pining betas: @vanille–kiss​ you have no idea how much I love you and how grateful I am for everything that you do for me a/n: Written for ANILYSIUM (former HQHQ) Server Collab with the prompt “Meet Ugly”. Check the event’s masterlist here! This is the last part - honestly it makes me kind of sad... Thank you so much for reading <3 series navi: masterlist | previous wc: 1.7k

“Do you trust me?”

You don’t know what to answer because yes, you do, but is it alright to admit it? You nod anyway and grab his hand, and Suna pulls you up to stand on a skateboard. In theory he keeps it steady with one foot on it, you still have your doubts though. Oh well, word has been said.

“Stand still. And relax.”

Easy to say when he proceeds to stand on the board too, and he’s so close, and he has an arm around your waist, and he looks so good in his ripped jeans and checkered flannel, and he smells so nice, and you can feel his warmth on your back…

“Ready?”

You shake your head but he only chuckles; his body shifts and yours follows due to the grip he has on your waist, and the board rolls slowly. It feels weird, a little bit scary, so you clutch his forearm, making him hold you tighter in response. He’s silent until your muscles relax a little against him.

“I’m gonna speed up a little.”

This time you’re not affected as much. You suppose it must be difficult to maneuver like this, when Suna has to take additional weight and cubature of a passenger into account. But he’s not complaining, and neither are you.

“Let’s try a bit of turning.”

“Okay.”

Somehow it’s not so scary anymore, it’s getting exciting. Every twist and turn of his body pulls you too, every tilt creates a wobbly curved shift. It’s so fun.

Hearing you giggle makes his cheeks flush. Rin tries to convince himself it’s because his passion is liked by one more person, but the truth is… he loves the sound. Just like he loves the scent of your hair, and the warmth of you being so close as he guides you. He loves it so much, too much, that he feels like needs a break.

***

“Okay, your turn.” Nice diversion, Rintarou. “To move forward, you need to push with the backfoot, you brake by placing your backfoot on the ground, and turn by shifting weight from your toes to your heels.”

“Could you uhm… hold my hand?”

The diversion went to hell. He reaches his hand out anyway, his heart doing somersaults when you place yours on top. You look so cute with this wide grin, shiny eyes and a tiny blush. Even more so when you’re focused and determined, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.

Right now, Rin doesn’t even mind running for you if it means not letting go of your hand, if it means seeing your face light up like this. His chest swells up with pride, it’s his hobby that brings you joy, it’s him who teaches you, and you’re riding visibly smoother and more confidently with every try.

“Suna?”

“Yeah?”

“When could we have lesson two?”

Oh god. He fell in love. Hard.

Back at home you can’t stop staring at your palm; the ghost of his touch still burns and tickles your skin. It’s incomprehensible why you did that, why you asked him to hold your hand. All you know is that you want to feel it again.

And maybe even more than that. You miss being close to him, the arm secured around your middle, the breath fanning your ear, his warmth, his scent, his voice… him. You miss him so much, despite seeing each other merely 2 hours ago.

Oh god. You fell in love. Hard.

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

“Okay, ladies and gents, today ‘m gonna teach y’all to ollie!”

Atsumu, ever the showman, exclaims with hands on his hips even though it’s only you. You can't help but snort as Osamu facepalms, and Suna only raises a brow. This will be exhilarating.

“So first, ya gotta pop yer board like this, and then slide yer foot up, and then push it forward. Remember - pop and drag. And repeat.”

“On it, sensei!”

The blond is very pleased with your nickname - his grin is wider than ever, and eyes glint with more mischievousness than usual. He’s doing this exercise with you, to both keep you company and to display how it should be done.

“Don’t stroke his ego like that, or he’ll be even more insufferable.”

Osamu huffs, making his twin gasp in offence and roll away. Now you’re here alone with two spectators, great. What makes this situation even worse is their silence, which makes you spiral into thoughts. Are they not saying anything because you’re doing well? Or because it’s so bad? How long are you supposed to keep doing this?

“Now try doin’ it in one swift motion.” The silver haired boy speaks, his twin nowhere to be seen. “A think ya’ve done this enough.”

First few attempts make you lose your balance a little, with no time to stabilise yourself in the middle. But it gets easier with time, each sequence smoother than the last one, until both boys hum in appreciation.

“Oi, oi, oi, what are ya doin’ with ma student?!”

Atsumu is suddenly back, and he’s not pleased with someone taking over his role. His brother is quick to talk back.

“Then maybe ya should take care of her, ya scrub!”

“Well, well, ya seem to be doin’ well!” The blond decides to ignore the response. “Now try to jump.”

“What?”

“Jump, ya know… like this.”

You’re still standing there dumbfounded, not really understanding how this is supposed to work. Osamu tries to weigh in, but Suna stops him and says to just wait and watch. It’s horrible, it’s not working, you can’t even lift off the ground, not to mention land back on the board.

“How can ya not… It’s the simplest thing! Look, like… like this.”

Blond Miya gets irritated, the other two boys nearly fall from the bench from laughter. Osamu finally decides to save the day.

“Move, ya idiot.” He shoves his brother to the side. “Listen, when yer standing like this, ya jump and pop the board while in the air. Yer other foot slides up to level it, and then ya land.”

Oh, this makes so much more sense. You succeed on the second try, making Atsumu groan and others cry from laughing too hard.

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

Rin is right next to you, in a secluded part of the park. The two of you are the only people around, which is both weird, because it’s such a warm day, and desirable, because at least you don’t bother anyone. And no one bothers you.

“Let’s start with the shove, yeah?” You nod. “First place your feet like this, stick your toes out a bit more, good. Now, you push the backfoot straight back, your frontfoot barely lifts off the board - that’s the key. Then the board makes an 180, and you land.”

He watches you try and fail, but it’s not like you make some serious mistakes, you just need to figure things out - how much force to use, how high to jump. So he starts mindlessly shoving his board around, staying close in case you need him.

Honestly he’s impressed with how quickly you’re able to learn, your eagerness and determination being a balm to his heart. He just wants to hug you, hold you close with his eyes shut, and breathe. Nothing more, just breathe.

In the meantime you managed to work out the part he had shown you - maybe it’s not perfect yet, but enough to step up your game. He tells you to do the same, but moving, a small but significant upgrade.

Suna has been watching you closely for a long while now, your skin burning wherever his eyes lingered. The alley you’ve been occupying is hidden in shade, but it does little to soothe the fire. You need a break, even if it’s for just 5 minutes.

Water bottle buried in the ground (not entirely, obviously) is pleasantly cool when you dig it out. You wish you could submerge yourself in it, maybe this would help. Thin streams of the liquid flow down your scorching skin, a contrast of feelings gives you goosebumps. Okay, you cheer yourself mentally, time to continue.

And you do, for the first hour landing on the ground instead of the board, having it upside down (how? It’s a mystery), or rotating it in weird angles. Rintarou is patient, observes your every move and offers suggestions that do help. Three hours later your efforts are deemed worthy of the next level.

“So now you have to combine that pop from the ollie with the shove, and you got it!”

“Easy to say…”

Rin laughs and goes to lie down on a grass, placing his backpack under his head, so he can still see you. You start moving, and call it instinct, call it intuition, one can even call it clairvoyance, but he already knows you’re going to fail.

He sees it all in slow motion, how you come close to where he is, how you flick your ankle and the board spins, but the angle is wrong, the pace of the rotation is wrong, everything seems wrong.

The least he can do is to minimise the harm; you’re right in front of him when you land awkwardly and tumble forward, right into his stretched arms. The impact makes him fall on his back with you on top, his arms secured around you.

“Oh god, Suna, I’m so sorry, I-”

You’re blushing like a tomato, your eyes widen in terror but you’re so damn adorable that his heart clenches painfully. He smiles as he brushes some loose strands off the way.

“You should watch where you’re going, could have hurt someone.”

It’s now or never.

His lips are so soft, you think before you even register why you can feel that. But when you realise… the time comes to a halt. The whole world ceases to exist, it’s just you and him, his arms embracing your figure, and his lips on yours. It only lasts for a few seconds before he pulls away and whispers

“...you punk.”

Taglist: @kageyamas-love @mikasbloodbag @underratedmage

[jombocostello]

narancia with a tomboy s/o

Anonymous asked: Could you write for Narancia and a really tom-boyish s/o?

sure! i hope you enjoy :)

Narancia is, at his core, a giant ball of energy. Most of the gang really isn’t able to meet his level when it comes to enthusiasm, so when you show up, it’s a complete game changer.

Instantly everyone can tell that you’re more of a tomboy. You spend nearly all your time outdoors, whether it’s bike riding through the city or playing a quick round of football with some passing kids on the sidewalk. You also seemingly have an aversion to average “girly” things, which isn’t too surprising considering your occupation.

You have no trouble at all integrating yourself into the group’s dynamic. They all take to your brash, unapologetic attitude, and they’re delighted to see that you’re more than happy to take part in their sometimes juvenile banter. Truly, you’re one of the guys.

And Narancia is utterly smitten.

He’s never met a girl whose personality meshes with his so damn perfectly. After you settle into the gang, he does his very best to make a good and meaningful impression on you - which means he follows you around like a puppy for a little while. You find it funny and endearing, and after you get to know each other a little better your friendship becomes much more natural.

You wind up spending a lot of time with Narancia. He’s such a bright, enthusiastic guy, and you always have fun when you’re with him. You listen to a lot of music together after you find out you have similar tastes, and you spend lots of sleepless nights laying on the floor of his room and just chatting endlessly about anything. You also try your best to protect him from Fugo’s wrath during study sessions, which he’s eternally grateful for.

He decides that he has to tell you about his feelings after a couple months of being inseparable friends. It’s early in the morning when he barges into your room and all but yanks you out the door, yelling excitedly about his great plan for the day. You just laugh and go along with him; you trust him to know how to have fun.

As it turns out, his grand idea is to teach you how to skateboard at the local park. He cruises a few circles around you with the biggest grin on his face, and he laughs uproariously when you push him off the board once you’ve decided he’s just showing off.

You take naturally to athletics, but your balance isn’t the best. Narancia holds your hands, much more gently than you’d expect from him, as you attempt to ride down the sidewalk. Mostly your gaze is focused on the ground, but a couple times you chance a peek at Narancia. He looks at you with an expression that you hadn’t been expecting. He’s just softly smiling, somehow grateful and giving all at once.

It takes an hour or so, but soon you’re able to ride and do a mediocre ollie. Narancia congratulates you endlessly, but of course he also gloats about how great of a teacher he’s proved to be. He’s a little confused when you don’t tease him back, but you can’t; he‘s the reason you had such a lovely time today.

Unfortunately, you've been emboldened by his praise. Your hubris convinces you that you can perform a kick flip, and because Narancia doesn’t have a sensible bone in his body, he agrees. You give it your best shot, but unsurprisingly, you utterly wipe out.

The scrapes on your knees hurt like a bitch, and as you push yourself up, Narancia drops to his knees and helps you.

“I probably should’ve told you not to try that.”

You laugh a little at that, despite the pain.

“Yeah, no shit. It’s alright, though.”

He then asks you if you’re okay about a hundred times. Once you finally convince him that you’re not mortally wounded, he sits down and grabs a few bandaids out of his pocket. He had brought bandaids in case you fell...? You’re shocked and suddenly blushing. It’s a weirdly romantic gesture in your mind, and the way Narancia's eyes dart away from yours tells you that might be what he intended.

He places a bandaid gently over your cut, asking in a low whisper if it hurts. You tell him no, you’re fine, and he nods and takes care of the rest.

Once you’ve been patched up you cross your legs, scooting yourself until you’re seated on the grass. Narancia follows you, then suddenly he takes your hand with both of his.

You look up at him, taken by surprise, and he takes a deep breath. He seems completely out of character.

“I like you. I really, really like you, (Y/N). I never know if it’s the right time to tell you - I dunno if this is even it, but I - you’re the best. You’re fucking awesome.” His face splits into a wide grin, and he keeps talking urgently with what you now realize are nerves. “So I guess I’m asking if you would wanna date me. Today was kind of a date, right? Maybe a test-run of a date? And I think - well I think it went pretty well. So if you would want to, then - uh...” His stream of consciousness has run dry, and he stares at you in a mixture of hope and fear.

God, he’s adorable. You can’t think about anything except for how perfect he is in this moment, and you launch yourself forward into his arms.

He yelps as he catches you, very nearly avoiding a fall into the grass behind him. You lean back, grinning from ear to ear, and almost instantly he returns the gesture. “Yes! Yeah, of course. God, you’re the best.” And you swallow him up in another hug. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re sure his is too, and you can’t stop smiling.

----

No one is surprised by your and Narancia’s relationship. In fact, the first thing Mista does when he finds out is yell at Narancia for taking too damn long to say something. It’s all in jest, though, and everyone’s happy for you and your new boyfriend.

Somehow you manage to spend even more time together. Your stands compliment each other perfectly in battle, and you’re both completely ruthless on the battlefield, so Bruno usually assigns the two of you to the same missions. Fighting alongside Narancia isn’t a distraction - in fact, it’s an incentive to beat the shit out of your enemy so that you can keep spending wonderful time with him.

Days where you aren’t working are always incredible. You both have an affinity for action movies, so you often cuddle up together on the couch and put on the most dramatic, action-packed movie you know. Gladiator and The Matrix are favorites of you two (but not the rest of the group; they’re very annoyed by your and Narancia’s loud cheering after every victorious battle sequence).

You go on lots of walks through the city together, usually near sunset. It’s on these walks that Narancia starts to open up to you about his past, and all of the struggles that he endured to find Bruno Bucciarati and his group. You’re not the best with comforting words, but you always give him the tightest hug and ensure him that you’ll always be there to listen.

On days like those, you’ll sit in the park where you first learned how to ride a skateboard and gaze out at the setting sun. Narancia’s usually a complete goofball, doing things like using his headband to give you a horrible hairstyle or making completely nonsensical jokes until you cry laughing, but on days like these he’s usually silent. With his hand clasped in yours and your head resting on his shoulder, he’s beyond content.

----

When the two of you turn against the organization and everything you’d come to know, Narancia is horrified. He can hardly believe what he’s done - he’s betrayed the people that gave him everything, he’s put a target on his back, he’s left Fugo behind. You sit beside him, your arms wrapped tightly around him, and you shut your eyes. “Are we... (Y/N), are we gonna be okay?” His voice is shaky and he’s still crying hard.

You grimace and then suck in a deep breath. You sit up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, trying to be as calming as you can manage.

“...Yeah. Yeah, we’re gonna be fine.”

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: Aftermath Chapter 4 - Into The Bliss

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drug trip (Bliss). Kate and Wheaty being an adorable couple.

Word count: 3.6k

This is a short follow up series to Kidnapped leading up to the nuclear holcaust, and the beginning of New Dawn. 

Summary: Kate tries to get over John and gets a surprising visitor. Paige still suffers with the symptoms from Jacob Seed’s classical conditioning despite being dead. Faith/Rachel learns the truth and secrets about the Winchester family. 

Guest OCs: Joel Winchester [mentioned], Daenerys Winchester [as a infant in Bliss trip]

Guest Characters: Castiel [Supernatural: mentioned], Jacob Seed [mentioned], John Seed [mentioned, and in Bliss trip].

*****

A few weeks have passed, mid September is finally here, and the search for Joseph Seed continues. The lead Paige found turned out to be false, and was just an abandoned, small village with a bunch of mannequins and some druggie. Goddamn cops. Damn pigs with their false leads. 

Kenny, Mark, Nate, Cody, Adrian and a few other locals are putting up 2 more houses on the property. They've been putting them up for almost a month now. Since both Paige and Kate are pregnant, Mark, Nate, Adrian, Marty, and Cody’s families are coming to live with them. 

So building 2 more houses will help with the expanding family of hunters.

Kate and Wheaty have gotten a lot closer, finally making their relationship official, despite them making out several times already. Him learning some things about his new girlfriend, like her knowing how to ride a skateboard. 

"I didn't know you skate!" he tells her. She laughs softly, "Yeah, I've been skating for years now" she tells him. 

She rides around the driveway of her house, showing him some tricks. Landing a kickflip, an ollie and all other basic skating tricks and techniques. 

"Even though I'm pregnant I can still skate!" she jokes. Stops in front of him, while standing on the board. Wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. He breaks the kiss after a several seconds. 

"So!" he says, "How did you know that I liked you?". 

She chuckles, "It was quite obvious. You were always nervous around me. Very awkward". 

He laughs, "Well isn't that how most people act when they're around someone they like?. You're a psychologist so you should know!". 

She gives him a quick peck on the lips, "It's a very common sign". 

As they're making out like a couple of teenagers. 

The guys are putting the foundation of the houses, cutting up wood to build the walls.

“Paige!!!” Kenny calls out for his wife, as he looks around for his extra tools and other materials. 

“Yeah?!?” she responds, standing by the back door.

“Can you get me a hammer, electric saw and the jar of nails from the shed. Please” he asks.

She looks down at the 9 month old infant in her baby wrap.

“Umm” she points to their infant daughter, “I’m a little preoccupied here!!”. 

“Please. They’re not on the top shelf” he says.

She rolls her eyes, “Okay, I’ll be back”.

“Thank you!!” he responds, measuring the pieces of wood. 

Paige walks to the shed they have in the back of their property.

“The stuff your daddy makes me do” she says to Cristina, “You’re gonna be a big sister!. A brother? A little sister?”.

She opens the shed door, a radio on the metal table making an annoying static sound.

“Damn, old ass radio” she mutters as she looks around the jar of nails, and hammer.

Sighing, as she looks around for the hardware tools, “Okay where are you?!?”.

She finds the hammer in a tool box a few inches above her head. As she reaches for the hammer, and grabs it. She bumps into the metal table with the radio on it. The static goes away, becoming clear and an old nightmare of hers comes back.

Only you can make all this world seem right

Only you can make the darkness bright

Paige gasps loudly, drops the hammer, bumping into the shelves knocking over jars, and boxes of tools, grabbing her head. The song plays distortedly, flashbacks from when she was locked in a cage, being tortured by Jacob and going through his trials. Killing those innocent people. His words replaying over, and over in her head.

TRAIN, HUNT, KILL, SACRIFICE. CULL THE HERD.

Her vision turns red, and black. She starts to hyperventilate. Her screams get trapped in her throat.  

Flashing images of dead carcusses of people and animals. The wolves. The Judges. That stupid music box Jacob had to fuck up his victims minds.

Kenny, Adrian, Mandy, Mark, Nate, Kate, Wheaty and everyone else on the property hear Paige’s panicked screams, and Cristina’s cries. They all run to the shed, and find her on the ground screaming, clenching her head.

Cristina crying, and wailing. Only You playing on the radio.

Kate goes to turn off the radio. 

“Paige!!!” Kenny yells, shaking her shoulders, “Paige!!”. She stops screaming, her voice turning hoarse and raspy. Tears streaming down her face, and hyperventilating. 

He takes Cristina from the wrap, and hands her to Mandy, and takes her inside.

“Hey, are you okay?!” Kenny asks, comforting his wife.

She shakes her head, crying into her husband's chest, “No, No. Jacob may be dead but he still lurks in my head”.  He holds his wife, closely, comforting her. Stroking her hair. He, and Mark help her up, and take her inside the house. Sitting at the kitchen table with her mom, sister and Rachel.

“What happened?!” Kate asks.

Stammers over her words, ���I-I went to go get a hammer, saw and nails for Kenny. I bumped into the table with the old radio. Then I heard “Only You” play, and I had flashbacks from St. Francis, when I was locked in that cage”. 

Crying softly. Thinking of all that would go away when she killed Jacob a month earlier, but apparently it looks like his spirit is sticking around for a while to torment Paige.

“The images from his stupid slideshow, the trials. Me killing those innocent people under his control with that fucking music box”.

Mandy places her hand on her eldest daughter's hand, “It’ll go away. We’ll work on it”.

Kate clears her throat, “Speaking of Jacob. That day when you kill him, and uh- and I killed John, when we were sent on that Bliss trip. What did you see?”.

Looking down at her hands, Paige says, her voice shaken, “The night dad was killed”.

She turns to Kate, “I saw everything, the whole house went up in flames, and I woke up”.

“I saw the same thing” Mandy says, “Then it was the day I lost both of you”.

“What did you see?!” Paige asks Kate.

“It was from that day Morgan and I exorcised the demon out of John”.

Rachel turns to Kate in confusion, “John got possessed by a demon?!?”.

She nods her head, “Yeah, the demon that was possessing him. Saleos. He had John kill me”.

All 3 of their eyes widened, “You were dead?!?” Mandy exclaims.

Nodding her head, “Yeah, I was strangled by “John”. He couldn’t stop him. I was dead for an hour then Castiel brought me-”

“Cas was there!?!?!” Paige interrupts her, “I don’t mean to interrupt but he was there?!?”. 

Kate exhales, “Yeah he was there, he told me I met an untimely death that wasn’t supposed to happen, and that I wasn’t supposed to die. Where I was, was the final stop before getting into Heaven, like a plane of existence. The Other Side is what he called it. Then he brought me back to Earth, and I went back into my body. He wiped John’s memory of being possessed, me being dead and all that shit. But the memory of him being possessed can be restored by me, and only me. If I were to bring it up to him”.

Rachel looks at all three of them, confused and asks “So you said you were dead?!?”.

“Yes” Kate answers.

“Castiel? Like the Angel?!” she asks, trying to keep up with what’s going on.

“Yeah, the Angel” Paige answers. 

“I also want to mention that same day when demon John killed me, and I was in The Other Side. I finally met dad” she says, her voice going soft.

Mandy and Paige look at each other, then back at Kate.

“You- you met dad?!?” Paige asks in disbelief. 

Kate nods, shedding a single tear, “Yeah, Cas brought him there. I saw that exact same thing when I was on my bliss trip at St. Francis”. 

Paige narrows her eyes at her, and looks around in disbelief, “Wait, so on your Bliss trip. You saw demon John killing you via strangulation, then you were taken to The Other Side or Limbo basically, where you saw yourself talk to our dead dad?! And Castiel was there?”.

Trying to process all that she said, “Yeah, pretty much” she chuckles. 

“Bliss-ception” Paige jokes, “Or death-ception”.

“So what did you and your dad talk about?!” Mandy asks.

Trying to hold back her tears, “I asked him what happened to me, what happened that night when he was killed. Azazel killed him, and that same demon did it to our cousin's mom, Mary, several years earlier in the same way, and that's how most of us Winchester’s go out. I told him that I never got to know him, and he said in these exact words, “I know you didn’t. That’s why you’re here, it was a chance for you to finally meet me”.”

Mandy starts to tear up. Holding her head up with her fists placed underneath her chin.

“Then he asked me “How’s your mother and Paige?”, and the final words he said to me before he disappeared. They still play in my head to this day, they were “I’m always watching over you”.”

All of them crying, softly sobbing uncontrollably. Rachel started to get teary eyed just by hearing all of this. 

“So. So all of you have died, and came back?!?” she asks.

All three of them nod, “I’ve died 9 times” Paige says.

“I’ve died 4 times” Kate says, lifting her hand up a bit. 

“3 times” Mandy says.

Learning about what this family does for a living. Traveling across the country, killing monsters. 

**********

Later that night, Rachel is in her room, sitting on her bed reading.

She gets a knock at her door, “Yes?” she responds.

The door opens, and Kate steps inside, “Hey”, she says.

“Hi” she responds looking up from her book.

“You okay?” she asks, concern in her voice. 

Rachel nods her head, “Yeah, I’m fine”

Nodding her head, “Okay, good. Because umm you looked a bit shaken up from what we were talking about earlier” Kate says, sitting down on a chair by the bed.

Rachel closes her book, setting it down on her nightstand.

“Have you ever met God?” she asks.

Kate nods her head, “Chuck is his name. He’s a writer”

She sits up in her bed, “So when Paige said “We’re all just a part of his story” that wasn’t a metaphor, or anything?”.

She shakes her head, “No. It wasn’t a metaphor or anything. We’re all just a book. We’re all a part of his story”.

Rachel looks down at the floor for a few moments. Kate clears her throat, and says.

“I know Paige, and pretty much everyone living here would be completely against this, but is there anyway, or a chance you can get a hold of some Bliss?!” 

She looks at her with a head tilt, “I may have a vial. Why?”.

Embarrassed, and ashamed to even think about why she wants it. She takes a deep breath, and says.

“Because I, and I hate to admit it, but I want to see John again. Even if it’s an old memory of us happy together”.

Kate starts to tear up, “I don’t know why he still has this affect on me!!. It’s like I can’t let him go. Like he’s entwined with me, a part of me. That day when he died, he looked me in the eye before taking his last breath. I’m with Wheaty now, I can’t be having these feelings for an ex partner of mine that is dead!!”.

“He took your virginity, didn’t he?” she asks, looking at her with soft puppy like eyes. 

Nodding her head while tears stream down her cheeks. 

“Yeah, yeah he was my first time. I wanted to lose it to someone who was worthy enough to take it. John, at the time was worthy enough, to me, to take it, but now I'm starting to think I wished someone else took it". 

Rachel places her hand on Kate’s hand. 

“That’s why. He took something from you that you can never get back, and he left his spawn inside you. Growing”.

Kate’s breathing turns shakey, that ball in her throat making it hard for her to speak.

“I think maybe, seeing him again, maybe it’ll help me get him out of my head” she was able to speak up.

Rachel gets up from her bed, and goes to her closet. Going through one of her bags, and pulls out a small vial of the pale green drug.

“Here” she says, handing her the small vial, “If you concentrate hard enough. You will be able to communicate with John even if he’s dead”.

She looks at the vial, examining it. “So do I drink it? Or?”

“You can drink a little bit of it, or you can inhale it” she answers. 

“Okay, thank you” she says, getting up from the chair, and leaves her room.

*********

An hour later everyone is asleep, Kate is getting ready for bed. She looks over at the vial of bliss Rachel gave her an hour ago. Contemplating whether or not to take a sip, or sniff of it, or just not use it at all.

She locks her bedroom door, grabs the vial, opens it, and takes a long, deep inhale of the hallucinogenic drug. Quickly closing the bottle, setting it down on her desk.

Concentrating hard on seeing John again, and maybe tell him to get out of her head. She’s ashamed to say to herself. Let alone think of it. Her vision starts to get blurry, white, green, red, and disoriented. Everything is tripping out.

Sparks flying, she falls back on her bed. Letting the drug do it’s thing. After a few minutes have passed, feeling like she’s falling. Feeling light as a feather.

*Into the Bliss*

She wakes up in a white, and green wonderland.

The sky green, the clouds a whitish pale green. The sun shining down on her, warming her up.

“Holy fuck" she whispers, “That shit worked”.

A jackalope rabbit sitting at her feet. It hops away when she moves, and sits up.

Her clothes are different from what she was wearing earlier. 

A plain white, knee length flannel dress, and no shoes on. Her hair in a clean well done braid. 

A princess cut diamond ring on her left ring finger.

She looks around, and sees that she’s laying in a field by a huge tree with a tire swing attached to it. 

"What the fuck?!?!" she mutters to herself. 

She continues to look around the blissed out wasteland. 

“Kate!?!” a distorted male voice echos. 

She looks behind her, and sees a figure approaching her through the cloud of bliss 30 feet away. The clouds of bliss as the figure approaches her give off a wing like shape behind them. She stands up, and slowly approaches them.

“Kate!?!” the voice says again slightly clearer but still distorted. 

“John?” she mutters confused, as she slowly approaches the other person. 

“Kate!?” they say again.

It takes her a moment to realize it’s John’s voice. 

“John!?!” she yells out. Slight hope in her voice.

The figure gets closer, and she is immediately brought to shameful tears when she sees that it’s really John.

“John?!” she says again, tears streaming down her face. A huge smile on her face. Just by seeing him she forgets why she wanted the drug in the first place. To tell his ass off. 

“I’m here darlin” he says, smiling, his voice echoing throughout the hallucination.

Those perfect blue eyes staring back at her. Placing his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him. She places her hands on his shoulders. They stare at each other for what felt like years. Decades. Centuries. A Millennium. Their foreheads touching. 

He looks down at her stomach, his hands placed where her baby bump would be.

“She’s gonna be so beautiful” he tells her.

Confused, Kate looks down, and sees that her stomach had grown bigger. Telling herself it's all part of the hallucination, and that she doesn’t have to go in panic mode.

John kneels down, and kisses her baby bump. 

Feeling the baby kick. Tears running down her cheeks, this is what she wanted, but she knows she'll never have it. This is the closest she’ll ever get to having a family with John. He stands up, and kisses Kate on the lips. Holding her close in his arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck. 

One of his hands on her lower back, the other holding the back of her head. 

He lifts her up, his arms wrapped around her lower half. He slowly spins in a circle with the love of his life in his arms. Kissing her. 

Even though this is all a hallucination and John is most likely buried 6 feet underground. Everything felt so real. Kate buries her face in the crook of his neck as he slowly spins her around. 

It doesn't dawn on her that she wanted to tell John to leave her alone and get out of her head because she's with someone else. Looking like a total clown. 

The sound of a baby cooing, catches her attention. She looks over to her right, and sees a white crib in the middle of the field.  John puts her down, taking her hand in his, and they walk towards the crib.

Looking down at her stomach, seeing it had shrunk back to its normal size from before.

"Okay this trip is getting way too personal" she thinks to herself, "And I hate it!". 

They approach the crib, and see a baby girl who looks about 6 months old in a pink, and white onesie. 

Black hair like Kate’s, and blue eyes like John. 

The name above her on the headboard of the crib says “Daenerys A.B. Seed”.

John picks her up from the crib, cradling her in his arms. Smiling down at his infant daughter.

“She looks just like you” he says, turning to Kate. 

“She has your eyes” she says to him, holding her tiny foot. 

He hands her to Kate. Baby Daenerys looks so much like her with John’s blue eyes. Cradling her in her arms, they look down at their beautiful little girl. Trying her best not to cry again. 

She puts her back in the crib, and turns to John. Cupping his cheeks, and kisses him. Embracing her tightly. She closes her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder. 

He rocks her slowly in his arms. Hoping for this to never ever end. If she could stay here forever with him, and their daughter she would. She would have no problem with that. 

“Kate!!” another voice speaks out from behind her. She pulls away from John and looks behind her. Looking around and seeing no one, just the hallucinations of the Bliss, and it's weird, mutant animals. Thinking it's her father since he was there in her Bliss trip back at St. Francis. 

She turns back to face him and sees another man's face looking back at her. Holding her. 

“Hello sweet-cheeks!!!” Gabriel greets her with a huge smile.

She can literally hear a record scratch in her head as he says this. Eyes widened, mouth falling slightly open.

“Gabriel?!? What are you doing here?!?” she exclaims, trying to release herself from his hold.

“You shouldn’t be here” he tells her, “You need to get out". 

Confused to why her guardian Archangel is here. In her Bliss hallucination, “What?!? Why?!?”. 

“You need to leave, and forget about John” he tells her, “He’s no good and you know that. I'd tell you, but you'll find out in the weeks to come". 

Still confused, and stumped “I-I don’t. What? Tell me what?!!?". 

“It’s important that you get out of here!” he tells her. Cupping her cheeks. 

Shaking her head, “This isn’t real. This isn’t real, you’re a hallucination!!” she yells out.

"You're a hallucination!" he sasses her. 

“Where’s John?!?” she orders him to tell her.

“He was never here. It was all me. I’m more real than your psychedelic drug trip” the Archangel tells her, “I’m real. This isn’t. You need to leave. John is dead. That's it, you can't save him!”.  

Before she could protest against him, Gabriel snaps his fingers and makes a cloud-like portal appear behind her. She looks back, sees the cloud rift portal, and turns back to him. 

"You might hate me for this" he tells her and aggressively pushes her through the rift portal back to her universe.

Kate wakes up in a cold sweat, confused. Not sure how long she was out, she looks out her window and sees the sun rising up from behind the mountains. 

Her hallucination happened throughout the whole night? Even though it felt like it was 10 minutes. Trickster making himself known by pretending to be John and telling her to get over him, move on with her life. What the actual fuck Gabriel?!?.

[olliestcne]

TITLE: CALAMITOUS LOVE AND INSURMOUNTABLE GRIEF. SETTING: John and Sharon Stone’s residence aka Oliver’s childhood home. DATE: August 27th, 2020. PREMISE: John Stone has something important to tell his three children and his wife. TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH AND CANCER.

Death has never been a thing Oliver has fully comprehended. Everyone in his family was present and beaming, oozing a kind of everlasting life that most would beg for. Sure, his grandfather died when he was young, but that to him always seemed inevitable. When you’re old, you pass. You go somewhere nice as you’ve lived a full, happy existence. That’s as far as Oliver’s brain can manage the concept of death or loss. It was simple. Simple but naive.

He gets a text from his father early in the morning. Something about a family meeting. Urgent. Oliver takes it with a grain of salt, as do his siblings, as usually it’s about where they were going to go next as a family and what they were going to get mom for Christmas because she was a kind but picky woman.

Oliver shows up at around 5pm.

“I already got mom the little Pandora bracelet last year. I can get more charms. She likes those, right?” Oliver says upon arrival, plopping down onto the armchair in the living room. It smelled like his father and always has. This entire home smelled like his childhood. Like his mother’s favorite vanilla lotion, like the smell of popcorn on family movie nights. He would feel empty without this space, that much was certain.

Charlotte, John and Sharon’s youngest, barks out a laugh. “No way. We need to step it up this year. Maybe some diamond earrings.” Charlotte had just given birth three months ago, her husband was home with the baby. A new little bundle of joy welcomed into the Stone family. They couldn’t be happier. 

Thomas, John and Sharon’s oldest, arrives right after Oliver, tossing his coat on the back of the couch. He circles into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself before sitting down beside Charlotte. “Dad already got her diamond earrings for a birthday one year. That’s weak, Char.” He says, unscrewing the cap to his water and taking a generous sip.

“Where are they? Are they late to their own family meeting?” Oliver says, leaning over the arm of the chair into the hallway just behind him. “Hello! Your children are here!” Oliver, forever suffering from middle child syndrome, was always dramatic. Looking for attention. Hence the theatrics.

Sharon walks in nervously then, her expression fallen. This alone was jarring, especially since they were the most chipper family known to man. Yet, Oliver tries not to jump to conclusions. His mother was always the harder of the two, coming from a bad childhood and a family who basically disowned her. She was a survivor, a warrior. There was nothing to worry about.

But, then comes John, seeming tired and, of course, nervous. Just as Sharon. The living room goes a little silent, none of them expecting such a strange and unsettling entrance from their parents. Charlotte’s brows furrow, watching as her parents sit on the other couch located beside the fireplace. “What’s...going on?” She asks, knowing Oliver and Thomas were thinking the same thing.

Oliver suddenly feels the rhythm of his heart increase. He has to swallow hard to contain himself. He was already dealing with a plethora of problems within his marriage, he didn’t need more. What could this be? Were they just messing with them?

“You’re getting divorced, aren’t you? Is that it?” Oliver says on the brink of tears already, nervously balling his hands into fists. “Oh my God, you’re getting divorced. Oh my God...I guess one of you can stay with me and Eli for a while and I-” Always dramatic, this one. 

Sharon shakes her head, reaching her hands out, “No, baby, no.” She says, interrupting him before he falls into the deep end. “We’re not, never.”

Thomas, always the more noble of his siblings, sits back, preparing for what’s about to happen. They all know it’s not good but it’s as if Thomas was in the front of the trenches, protecting his siblings from impending doom. 

“Your father has something to tell us. I don’t even know, actually...” Sharon says, earning  a strange sound to come from Charlotte. It’s a noise of shock and confusion, all four of them now looking to John. 

A few moments pass. Nothing comes. Nothing comes until it does.

“I have lung cancer. Stage four.” John rips the bandage off and creates a new wound. The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop. It earns a ringing to sound in Oliver’s ears. His eyes dart back and forth between his mother and his father. John’s expression remains still. Tired, sad. And Sharon looks shocked into silence, just as her children.

“You —” Thomas says, being the first one brave enough to break the silence that blankets them. “When did you —” He’s holding back, Oliver and Charlotte can tell. It was odd to see their older brother struck like this. Usually, he was their protector, someone they can go to when things were tough. But, they were all in this together now, sprung into a state of confusion and hurt.

It’s then Oliver realizes he’s started crying, hot tears silently streaming down his face. This can’t be happening, is the first thought that pops into his head, this can’t be fucking happening.

“We — Well, we have to get treatment. We have the money, we can —”

“No,” John says, interrupting his wife. Sharon is instantly taken back by this, eyebrows knitting together in a way Oliver has never, ever seen before. 

But then he registers what his father just said. No. No? He wasn’t getting treatment? This can’t fucking be happening.

“What do you mean no?” Oliver says, or perhaps spews, out. He doesn’t mean to sound harsh but it all comes spilling out of him. It doesn’t pair well with the state of his face, decorated with tears still streaming from his blue eyes. Charlotte’s begun to cry too, silently, just like Oliver. Her breath hitches for a moment before her face is buried in her hands. This was something she did even as a child, a way to calm herself when she became anxious. Their mother would usually rub her back then or sing to her when this happened. But, now, Sharon couldn’t do a damn thing but stare into the face of her husband. 

“I don’t want you guys to see me like that. Losing my hair, throwing up. I want to go as I am now. As a man who loves his family.” John, understandably, gets choked up as he speaks. John Stone doesn’t want to die, but he doesn’t want his dignity stripped from him either. Oliver wasn’t aware that his father was such a prideful man until now. Something about that earns pain to surge throughout his body. 

That same silence blankets them once more, each of them too rattled to say a damn thing. Oliver feels as though a scream is perched just under his chin, a combination of sorrow and anger beginning to brew inside his stomach. 

With that, something inside him swerves, like a car on ice. He loses track of his emotions and they go flying around his mind, everything all at once. “What the fuck?” He finally says, moving to stand, “You’re gonna just — you’re gonna just...die?” It’s not what he wants to say, not at all, but he can’t find the right words anymore. It earns a sob out of Charlotte, her head still in her hands. Thomas reaches over to touch her back. 

“Ollie, this is what I want. I know it’s hard, but...” John says, looking up at his son with glossy eyes. Oliver was still crying himself, his bottom lip quivering as he opens his mouth to speak. Nothing comes out, just a pathetic little breath. Sharon up and leaves the room and her children watch as she does so. Sharon Stone was not a crier. Never has been. She was the strongest and bravest woman Oliver has ever known. If anything was going to break her, it was this, and she still didn’t want the world to see her in that state. Oliver understood that.

Oliver looks to Thomas, who was also sporting glistening eyes, before allowing his gaze to land back on his father. “Can you say something, please? Our father’s lost his fucking mind.” Thomas sighs before speaking after Oliver, “You need to get treatment, dad. You can beat it.” Stage four was a hard thing to beat, they all knew that, but the Stone family has always been endlessly optimistic no matter what the circumstances were. 

John remains quiet.

Charlotte stands, grabbing her things and heading out the front door. It’s slammed behind her as she makes her way to her car, shaking as she shoves the keys into the ignition. Charlotte had never contemplated death either, that much was obvious. 

John’s head moves into his hands, rubbing over his tired face with his palms. Thomas looks down at the carpet, his body and face turning to marble. He was still, like a quiet sea. Meanwhile, Oliver was an ocean with violent waves. 

“I can’t believe this..” Oliver trails off, looking down at his shoes. Then to the carpet that was still the same from when he was a child. Everything was the same. Except for this. This feels like a nightmare in a perfect place that threatens to spoil everything. 

By a sudden stroke of impulse, Oliver inhales sharply and walks out too. He follows the same trail his sister left, slamming the front door behind him as he makes his way to his vehicle. He slams the car door too, looking out towards his childhood home one more time before pulling out of the driveway with tears in his eyes. In truth, he tries not to sob, though the lump in his throat was growing larger by the second. 

His hands tremble violently as they grip the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road as that sheltered sob finally rips through his throat. 

Oliver arrives him at 9pm. He had to stay late at work, he’ll say as an excuse. He kisses his daughter’s head, his son’s cheek, and his husband’s jaw as they sleep. He stays up for the rest of the evening into the morning, staring at the carpet in his living room. This wasn’t happening.

[sunsetsover]

oh oh oh could you please write ben & callum at some point in the future when callum is now comfortable with himself and they go to pride together as boyfriends. headcanons or fic your choice. also hope you feel better :)

ok well your first mistake was saying the word fic to me …. like u should know i can’t control myself….. also i could not stop thinking about this after i got it so thank u for sending me this….

anyway this isn’t quite what you asked for, but i hope you like it all the same 💖💖

new heart (ao3)

“Like a snake, my hearthas shed its skin.I hold it there in my hand,full of honey and wounds.”

– New Heart, Federico García Lorca

It’s Tina that convinces him to go.

Callum hadn’t been expecting the topic to come up, hadn’t been ready for it; they had just been talking over the bar in The Vic, him, Mick and Shirley, catching up after what felt like months of barely seeing each other. He doesn’t even notice Tina show up, but at some point she’s there, leaning next to him, joining the conversation. Not that he minds – he’d missed her. He’d missed them all.

The conversation had been constantly shifting from one thing to the next – Mick’s anxiety, how Ollie’s getting on at school, Shirley and Tina’s trip to Italy last year – so Callum knew it would circle around to him eventually. But he had been expecting simple questions about what he’s been up to, how work was, maybe how things are going with Ben. Not this.

“Pride next week, ain’t it?” Mick asks – completely unprompted – while pouring a pint. He’s trying to be nonchalant about the question, to not make a big deal out of it. It’s not working. “You doing anything?”

“Nah.” Callum tells him, wiping condensation off his glass. The question had thrown him off kilter, but he’s trying to be better about talking about this stuff, to not clam up so much. It’s still hard, but he’s trying. “Ben is though. Going to the Parade in the city, I think.”

Shirley stands up straighter at that, her face pinching. “What, and he’s not taking you with him?”

“No- no it’s not that, it’s- he wants me to go with him, but I just-” Callum’s words trail off, not really sure what to say, how to explain himself, “I dunno.”

It’s just a lot, is all. Callum doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle being at Pride. He thinks it might overwhelm him, especially after everything that’s happened over the past year. After what happened when he went to Pride last year. He just- he isn’t sure. Even with all Ben’s assurances and gentle encouragement, he still isn’t sure he really wants to go. And that’s reason enough for him to not go as far as he’s concerned. He doesn’t want to go, end up hating it, and risk ruining Ben’s day with all of his issues; Ben deserves to have fun and enjoy himself more than anyone. He shouldn’t have spend his day worrying about Callum.

Tina nudges him slightly, lowering her head so she can look him in the eyes almost like she can sense what’s going on in his head. She smiles at him, and when she speaks, it’s full of understanding. “You should go.”

All three of them are looking at Callum now, waiting for him to say something. He laughs nervously, shrugging. “I went last year.”

She nudges him again. “Yeah but it’s different when you’re out.”

“You sound like Ben.”

“Ben knows what he’s talking about.”

Shirley scoffs. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“What I mean is,” Tina continues, shooting Shirley a look, “it’s not the same as last year, is it? Things are different. You’re different. It’ll be like, a whole new experience y’know? You’re not on the outside looking in anymore. It’s like a whole new world.”

“Alright, Aladdin.” Shirley quips, but she’s smiling.

“It’s true! God, especially if you’re going to the Parade. The atmosphere is something else, I tell ya.” She makes a face, her mouth pulling down. “I wish I wasn’t working, I’d love to go.”

“Go, then.” Callum offers, desperate for a way out of this conversation. “I can cover you at The Albert, if you want.”

Tina looks scandalized by the idea. “What and have you missing your first Pride? No chance.”

“I’m not going anyway, so-”

“You should go.”

“There’s always next year.”

“Yeah but-”

“Leave it out, Teen,” Mick interrupts, coming back from serving someone at the other end of the bar, “if he says he don’t wanna go, he don’t wanna go.”

“Yeah,” she says, glaring at Mick, “but like… not going because you don’t feel ready, that’s one thing. But not going because you think you can’t go or you shouldn’t go or- because you’re worried you’re gonna burst into tears in the middle of Trafalgar Square, then that’s something else, ain’t it? That’s just normal Pride stuff, I promise you.” She’s squeezing his arm, looking right at him. “But then you get there and it’s like… I don’t know. I can’t describe it. But it’s good, y’know? It’s important.”

Shirley makes an scoffing noise, then walks off to start serving now the pub is filling up a bit. Tina, though, completely ignores her, and takes Callum’s face between her hands, forcing him to look right at her as she speaks.

“Go to Pride, Callum. Wrap a rainbow flag around your shoulders and let a stranger cover you in glitter. Be overwhelmed. Cry in the middle of Trafalgar Square. Kiss your boyfriend in the street for everyone to see.” She taps his cheek. “Just don’t drink from any open containers and you’ll be alright.”

Her earnestness shines through, despite the joke she tacks on to the end. Callum feels himself falling into it, desperate for some kind of guidance, for someone to tell him how to do this, because he doesn’t know.

“I don’t want to ruin his day.” He confesses, quietly, so no one other than Tina can hear. As soon as the words leave his mouth she laughs, but it’s kind laughter.

“You won’t.” She tells him, just as kindly. “Ben will get it, Callum, he will. He’ll understand. Don’t forget he’s been where you are now.” Her smile widens. “And it’s not just his day, is it? It’s your day now too. A day for you to be proud and have a good time. Don’t forget that, either.”

It’s too much. Callum wishes he could look away, hide the way his eyes are starting to well up but Tina’s hold on him is solid. She just continues to smile at him. Like she gets it.

“Have a good time, yeah?” She tells him, letting him go only to lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek. Then she disappears off somewhere behind him, leaving Callum standing there alone. He feels raw, now; vulnerable. Like everyone can see just what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. But when he looks around the pub, no one is paying him any mind – not even Mick or Shirley,  too distracted with the steady stream of customers at the bar. He’s glad. He’s really glad.

Callum swallows around the lump in his throat, takes a breath. Tries to get himself together.

Makes up his mind.

Ben gets surprisingly emotional when Callum tells him about his conversation with Tina; his eyes intent on Callum as he speaks, quietly listening to his every word. When Callum’s done, Ben pulls him into his arms, gentle but firm, and tells him that he’s sorry.

“What’ve you got to be sorry for?” Callum asks, wrapping his arms around Ben’s waist. It feels good, to hold Ben. To be able to hold Ben.

“For not realizing. I should’ve. I should’ve known you might be feeling like this.”

“How? You’re not psychic, Ben.”

“No but I still should’ve realized.” Ben sighs, one hand rhythmically rubbing up and down Callum’s back. “I’m just sorry, that’s all.” He pulls back just enough to look him in the eye. “And you know if you change your mind between then and now, it’s fine yeah? Or if we go and it gets too much and you need to leave or- take a break or come home we will, alright? No questions asked.”

“But-”

“No buts. Whatever you need, Callum.” Ben says, insistent. “Pride can be overwhelming, even for me. So you need to tell me if it gets too much for you, or… whatever else is going on in there.” He gestures to his head. “Because if you don’t tell me I can’t look after you, can I?”

Callum pulls back a little more, frowning. “I don’t need looking after.”

Ben pulls him back in, not letting him get too far. “I know you’re a big boy and you can look after yourself,” the smile on his face is teasing; Callum can feel himself start to flush, “but that don’t mean I can’t do it anyway, does it?”

Forget Pride – the way Ben’s looking at him now is making him feel overwhelmed; his fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, the two of them swaying together slightly. Callum lowers his eyes, lick his lips.

“I just don’t want to ruin your day.” Ben is quick to correct him. 

“It’s not my day. It’s not the Ben Pride Parade, is it? Although that does have a nice ring to it.” Callum laughs even though it’s a terrible joke, and Ben just smiles at him, his fingers gently playing with one of his ears now. “It’s just as much your day now, Callum.” He tells him, voice quiet and just as earnest as Tina’s had been. “And I want you to enjoy it. Have a good time. I don’t want you stressing out and being uncomfortable but not saying anything because you don’t want to ruin Pride for me. Because I’ve been to loads of Prides, I’ve seen it all before – I’d much rather you be happy and comfortable than be worrying about me.” His hand slips to the back of Callum’s skull, cradling it. “I don’t want you to have bad memories of your first proper Pride, Callum. And if that means we just go and walk around for five minutes and then come home, then that’s what we’ll do, yeah?”

“But-”

“No buts, Callum.”

“But Pride’s important to you.” Callum continues, ignoring him. He feels stupid and childish, having to have everyone reassuring him all the time, to have Ben changing his plans for him. It’s not fair. “I know it is, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”

Ben’s smile turns into a frown. Callum’s stomach drops.

“What exactly would you be taking away from me?” Ben asks, his voice serious now. “The Parade, all the parties – that’s a celebration of Pride. That’s not what Pride is. This,” and he reaches behind his back, pulling Callum’s hands away from him so he can hold them between his own hands, “this is Pride. You coming out to Stuart and your dad knowing full well what kind of blokes they are, that was Pride. Us being here, separately and together, despite everything – that’s what Pride is, Callum.” Ben stares up at him, bright eyes burning with something Callum’s never seen. “So how could you possibly take that away from me?”

At a loss for words, Callum can do nothing but pull Ben back towards him. Their arms immediately wrap back around each other, Ben hand going back to rubbing up and down Callum’s back. He hides his face in Ben’s shoulder, willing himself not to cry again.

“And anyway,” Ben says after a few minutes of their silent, gentle swaying, “whatever happens, it’s not like it could be any worse than last year, is it?”

Callum huffs, the sound of it wet. “Don’t jinx it.”

“Touch wood.” One of Ben’s hands comes up to gently tap against his own head. “But as long as we leave your brother at home, I think we’ll be alright.”

Callum never thought he’d be able to laugh about what happened last year, but here he is, stood in Ben’s arms.

Laughing.

It starts before they even get off the Tube – people get on the train with them, more and more at every station, all clearly out for the same reason they are. Some are completely kitted out with flags and make-up and t-shirts and face paint, while others are quieter about it – a pin, or a wristband, or just the way they’re looking around the carriage in fascinated delight.

Callum wonders if he looks the same.

There’s nothing to give him and Ben away, apart from maybe each other. But they’re not touching; Ben told him that he wouldn’t, not today, not unless Callum initiated it first, and he’s stuck to it ever since they left Walford. Still, he’s a solid, comforting presence next to Callum at all times – even when Ben gets up and moves to stand in front of Callum so he can let a little girl have his seat.

“I like your face paint.” He tells her once she’s sat down. She has two rainbows painted on her face, one on each cheek, and she smiles shyly at the compliment. “Did you do them yourself?”

“Mummy done them for me.” She looks up at a her mum who’s stood close by, watching them. She has matching rainbows.

“She did a very good job.”

“Thank you.” She says, still smiling. “We’re going to the Pride Parade!”

“Are you?” Ben asks, matching her level of enthusiasm. Callum finds himself smiling as he watches him. You’d never think it looking at him, but he’s so good with kids – all kids, too, not just Lexi. “That sounds like fun. Have you been before, or is this your first time?”

And Callum catches it, the fact that he doesn’t say that that’s where they’re going too. Ben could have so easily told this little girl – who clearly isn’t a threat in any way, shape or form – that they were going to the Parade too, but he didn’t. He didn’t out of respect for Callum.

Callum looks down at his lap.

“I’ve been before, but I can’t remember the last time I went because I was only little, so this time my mum has borrowed my granddad’s camera and promised we’ll take loads of pictures so I won’t forget this time!”

“Sorry, she’s very excited.” The girl’s mum says, approaching them with an apologetic smile. “She hasn’t stopped all morning. It’s a miracle she sat still long enough to let me paint those rainbows on her cheeks, honestly.” Ben laughs politely.

“No, it’s no problem; I have a daughter about her age.”

“Ah, you’re used to it then.”

“Yeah, she-”

“Is she going to the Pride Parade too?” The little girl interrupts, looking up at Ben and her mum with big, curious eyes.

“Millie! You can’t just-”

“Not this year, but maybe next year I’ll take her.” Ben he tells her with a smile, unfazed, then turns back to the mum. “I just worry about the crowds. I’d be scared of losing her or something.”

She offers him some advice about how she deals with kids among the crowds, all of which Ben listens to carefully, and they continue to chat, from there – Callum stays quiet, but every so often Ben’s gaze will flick back to him, making sure he’s alright. He is. Listening to the two of them talk about childcare has provided a welcomed distraction.

Millie and her mum get off the train a few stops before Ben and Callum’s stop, the little girl waving goodbye enthusiastically before disappearing from view through the doors. Ben sits back down in his seat, then turns towards Callum.

“Maybe I will bring Lexi next year.” He starts; he looks like he’s thinking, his eyes not really focused on Callum. “I’ve thought about bringing her before, y’know, but Lola thought she was too young- not because it’s Pride, but because she gets funny about crowds. I think it’s rubbing off on me though, ‘cause now I’ve started worrying she’ll end up squashed or hurt or something, with all them people.” His eyes zone in on Callum. He seems embarrassed, suddenly. “That sounds stupid, don’t it?”

“No it doesn’t.” Callum can’t quite keep the smile off his face. “You should bring her, next year. She’s a clever girl, it’s not like she’d wander off or anything. And I’m sure she’d love getting all dressed up and that; seeing everyone else all dressed up.”

“Maybe.” Ben looks up at the Tube map to see where they are. “How are you doing?”

He’s checking up on him. He’s trying to not make a big deal out of it, but he’s definitely checking up on him. Callum would laugh if he didn’t think it was so sweet. “I’m alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” Callum gives him a look. “I’m just making sure.” A beat of silence. “You will tell me if-”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Alright, alright.” Ben holds his hands up, pacifying, but there’s a smile on his face.

There’s one on Callum’s too.

The two of them get off the train a few minutes later, as do most of the other passengers. Callum can feel Ben’s eyes on him as they navigate their way through the station, but other than that there’s nothing. He doesn’t touch him, doesn’t say a word.

They lose each other briefly among the crowds of people; Callum feels panic start to seize him when he realizes he can’t see Ben anywhere, that he’s all alone. But then Ben is back by his side, appearing out of nowhere with a tut and an eye roll. The relief is instant.

“Never mind Lexi; it’s you I should be worried about.” He says as they get onto the escalator, Ben two steps ahead of Callum. He points at him and makes his face comically stern as he says, “No more wandering off, you hear me? Or you’ll have to hold my hand.” Callum tries to laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out right. Ben notices, but he’s forced to look away as they approach the top of the escalator.

You can hear the noise from the street before you even reach street level, and as soon as the two of them reach the top of the escalator, Callum’s floored by how busy and bright the street looks through the open doorways. It’s packed out there. Callum’s body involuntarily starts to stiffen once he realizes he’s really here, that this is really happening. When Ben notices, he wordlessly guides him out of the way of the people behind them, but otherwise makes no other move. He waits for him.

“We can turn around and go back if you want.” He says after a few minutes of Callum just standing there frozen. His face is deathly serious – Callum must look like he’s seen a ghost, judging by the way Ben is looking at him.

“No.” The word is firm and immediate, despite how he feels – it’s not fear but it’s… something. Something Callum can’t quite make sense of. But he doesn’t wait for Ben to check up on him again, to double check then triple check; he just forces himself to move, determined now. He heads for the barriers, trusting Ben will follow, and manages to get through them without fumbling his Oyster Card. But his determination wanes just before he makes it out onto the street, and he stands frozen again, just shy of the threshold. Ben stands at his side, still not saying a word. He waits, yet again.

Callum takes a breath.

“Alright.” He says, turning to Ben, who already has his eyes on him. “Alright.”

Ben looks worried, but he smiles at him anyway – that soft smile that’s just for Callum. “Ready?”

Callum reaches out and slides his hand into Ben’s. He doesn’t know where the bravery comes from, but the need to touch Ben feels urgent and all-consuming; the need to feel his solid, grounding body under his hands. Ben doesn’t hesitate to link their fingers together and squeeze.

“Now I’m ready.”

Ben smiles at him again, easier this time. “Come on then.”

Outside, the street is alight with colours and bodies. A few teenagers run past them, laughing, one with a bisexual pride flag flowing behind them like a cape. There’s music coming from somewhere, cheering coming from somewhere else – from everywhere, all around them. Callum sees baby in a pram holding his own tiny flag, waving the stick sharply up and down; an old lady in a wheelchair, laughing so loud it cuts through the sound of everything else; a guy in heels, head and shoulders above everyone else on the street. And right in front of them are two men, holding hands, just waiting to cross the road. Holding hands, just like Ben and Callum are.

Callum can do nothing but stand there for a moment, watching it all.

“Parade’s that way,” Ben shouts, leaning closer just to be heard over the noise. Callum looks in the direction Ben’s pointing, then looks all around them, everywhere. No one, not one person is looking at him. No one is paying him any attention at all, “or we can go find a bar or something. Or we can- Callum?”

Something inside Callum has broken; burst right open like an overblown balloon. It’s something that had been building inside him for a while now. And the break feels like popping a joint, maybe, or stretching a muscle – for a moment it hurts, but then the relief comes. It feels better now.

Ben snaps into action quickly, huddling Callum closer to the wall and trying to shield him from the street with his own body, to block out whatever it is that upset him. His free hand moves restlessly in the air, like he wants to touch but doesn’t want to make it worse, while his other continues to hold tightly to Callum’s own. “Fuck, Callum, don’t cry.” He begs, his own voice tight. “We haven’t even made it to Trafalgar Square yet.” That startles a laugh out of Callum, his head tipping back. He holds it there, as if gravity will force his tears back into his eyes. The sky is bright blue above them, he realizes. “Do you want to go? We can go right now; we’ll be home in an hour, Cal, I promise-”

“No.” His voice is rough, so he clears his throat, tries again. “No, I don’t want to go.” Ben just stares at him, distressed. Callum tries to smile. “They’re happy tears, I think.”

“You think?”

Callum looks back at the street over Ben’s shoulder. The cheers have got louder, as has the music. The Parade must be going past somewhere nearby. “I’ve just- I’ve been missing out, haven’t I?”

Ben’s whole body softens and sways towards him at that, almost like it tried to get closer to Callum without him having any control over it. Like there’s gravity between them. Callum feels it too, the desire to just fall into Ben’s arms and stay there, but he’s glad Ben has stuck to his promise – if he had tried to hug him now, he really might just burst into tears. And right now it feels like if he started crying, he’d never stop.

“You’re here now,” Ben tells him gently, voice barely audible over the noise, “that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Callum pulls his gaze away from Ben and takes a deep breath; nods to himself, swallows, then nods some more, surer this time. When he smiles, it doesn’t wobble.

“Right then- come on,” Callum says, walking out of the shadow of the building and into the sun, pulling Ben along with him, “lead the way; show me the sights. I’ve got some catching up to do, haven’t I?”

Ben can only stare at him for a moment, his expression undecipherable. He seems rooted to the spot like Callum was before. But then a smile blooms across his face, slowly; one full of disbelief. He almost looks like he could burst into tears of his own, and Callum can’t help but laugh. He feels almost giddy now. Weightless. Untouchable.

And then he suddenly comes to the realization that he doesn’t been Ben to show him the way, to walk him through this. He can do it himself. He doesn’t need to hold anybody’s hand.

He belongs here.

Callum turns and starts walking, one foot in front of the other, his hold on Ben’s hand firm as guides them both through the street.

Somewhere, people have begun cheering again. He walks towards the sound of it.

[flashthescalesian-art]

Shaky Hands

Overview: Clone cadet CT-6545 is recovering from a training accident that left him blinded in his right eye and struggling with his coordination and balance. 

———

CT-6545 was trying to hold his blaster steady like the other cadets. He stuck his tongue out and scrunched his face up, trying to aim at the target. His injured eye ached when he scrunched up his face, but he needed to focus. Just hit the target. If I can just HIT it, I’ll be happy. “Come on, cadet, we don’t have all day!” the supervisor barked impatiently. CT-6545 flinched at the shout, then yelped when the blaster kicked back as a bolt flew into the air and hit halfway up the wall, nowhere near the target. “CT-6545!! What was that?!” “I-I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-“ “Do you realize what could happen if a wild shot goes off on the battlefield?!” “Y-Yes, sir, of course, I-“ “Go back to the barracks! You and I will talk later,” the supervisor growled. 

He had just been dismissed. Effectively kicked out of his first training session since his injury. Mustering what dignity he could, he turned and walked from the room, waiting until the door closed behind him before running down the hall, tears blurring his vision. A few voices called out to him, but he kept running, skidding around a corner and crashing headfirst into an armored body. The impact sent him sprawling with a cry of surprise and pain, his nose gushing blood as tears began pooling faster in his good eye and running down his face in a steady stream. “Woah! I’m sorry, kiddo!” The grown trooper crouched next to him and put a cloth under his nose to catch the blood. “Hey, don’t cry, kid. Here, let me take a look.” Sniffling and hiccuping, CT-6545 let the older clone tilt his head toward him. “It’s not broken, bud, you’ll be okay. Where were you going in such a hurry?”

”N-nowhere...” “What did you do to your eye? I didn’t hurt it worse did I?” The trooper put his hand on CT-6545’s shoulder. CT-6545 shook his head, staring down at the floor. He refused to lift his hands from where they were pressed to the metal because if he did, they would start shaking again. “Okay, kiddo. Do you want to go to the doctors and get your nose looked at?” CT-6545 shook his head again. The older clone’s hand squeezed his shoulder kindly. “Alright, why don’t I walk you back to your barracks? Can you tell me what one you’re in?” “Number f-four.” 

“That’s the one I was in when I was a cadet!” The trooper remarked with a grin. “Here, hold this to your nose, bud.” 

CT-6545 felt his heart rate pick up. If he sees my hands shaking, he probably won’t want to talk to me anymore. I’m broken, why would he want to be friends with a broken clone like me? Not wanting to get yelled at again, he reached up to take the cloth, but was stopped by a large hand leaving his shoulder and gently grasping his smaller one. “Kriff, kiddo, you’re shaking like you spent six hours outside in a rainstorm. I don’t think you should be walking around like this. Umm... here, do you think you can hold this to your nose? I’d do it for you, but I need both of my hands.” CT-6545 was going to ask why as he took the cloth, but the older clone scooped him up, making him yelp in surprise. “My name’s Jumpstart, by the way, but you can call me Jump. You got a name yet?” ”No. Just a number still,” CT-6545 mumbled miserably around the cloth as Jump stood up, cradling him like a baby. His hands were both shaking horribly now that he didn’t have anything to press them against or grab onto. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about. I didn’t get my name until I joined a squad,” Jump reassured him, glancing down with a warm smile. The smile morphed into a frown when he saw how badly CT-6545’s hands were shaking. “Maybe I should take you to the doctors, kiddo...” CT-6545 shook his head. “No, I d-don’t need to g-go to the doctors.” Sympathy mingled with the concern on Jump’s face. “I can stay with you while you’re there, if you want. That way, you’ve got a friendly face with you, right?” “They don’t like me,” CT-6545 whimpered. I’m pathetic and broken. They don’t like me. I’m not perfect and never will be, so they hate me. Ever since he woke up in a medical bed with a splitting headache and a bacta patch over his right eye, the Kaminoan doctors had acted extremely cold and resentful toward him, more so than they did toward other clones. The only kind face he saw while he spent a week in that room was Jedi General Shaak Ti. The Jedi helped him learn to navigate through the facility with his unsteady legs, teetering balance, and utter lack of coordination of his hands. It seemed like she never went far from his room while he was healing. He was jolted from his thoughts by the older clone speaking. 

“Well, they don’t know what they’re missing, then,” Jump replied confidently. “Trooper, is something wrong with that cadet?” General Shaak Ti’s voice asked, making Jump stop and turn around. Before Jump could respond, General Ti made eye contact with CT-6545. “Little one, what happened?” 

CT-6545 opened his mouth to tell the kind Togruta Jedi what happened, but only a pathetic squeak escaped before he started sobbing. Jump’s body tensed in concern, then CT-6545 felt a soft hand touch his face, which only made him cry harder. “Shhh... What happened?” General Ti repeated softly. Feeling a sense of calm that definitely wasn’t originating from him, CT-6545 calmed down enough to speak. “I c-can’t even hold a blaster... H-how can I b-be a soldier when I can’t safely hold or f-fire a blaster?” He tentatively pulled the cloth away from his nose, hoping it was done bleeding.

“...I see...” General Ti murmured. “Perhaps you don’t need to be a soldier. At least, not a standard trooper, no offense, Jumpstart.” 

“None taken, General,” Jump responded with a shrug. “How would you feel about training to be a medic?” General Ti suggested. CT-6545 sniffled and stared up at her. “I’m allowed to do that?” 

The Jedi smiled kindly. “I think we can make an exception in your case, little one. You would like to train as a medic, then?” “Yes, ma’am, if that’s okay.” 

General Ti nodded. “Why don’t you and I go find a class of medics to join? Can you walk now?” “I think so...” CT-6545 replied hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how his balance would be after getting so upset, but he didn’t want to make Jump carry him around the rest of the day. His hands were still shaking, so he knew his coordination would still be awful.  

Jump slowly set him on his feet, holding onto him in case he lost his balance or simply fell. The trooper tightened his grip a bit when CT-6545 wobbled unsteadily for a few seconds, grabbing at the strong arm around his chest to hold himself upright. “Steady, kiddo, I won’t let go until you’ve got yourself balanced.” After a bit of a struggle, he got himself balanced enough to step away from the older clone. “There ya go, bud. Good luck with medic training,” Jump said, smiling when CT-6545 turned to look at him. He doesn’t think I’m broken or a failure. He doesn’t think my shaky hands are weird. CT-6545 threw himself against Jump, hugging him. “Thank you,” he murmured so quietly that he wasn’t sure if Jump heard him. 

Returning the hug, Jump squeezed him gently. “Aw, don’t mention it, kiddo. I’m just glad you’re okay. Now go on. I’m sure I’ll see you around at some point.” With that, he nudged CT-6545 along. Taking one last look at Jump, CT-6545 turned and walked alongside General Ti, staying close like he had while regaining some semblance of balance. ”Thank you, General,” he said quietly. 

“You are quite welcome, little one,” the Jedi replied warmly. CT-6545 stood awkwardly next to General Ti as she explained his situation to one of the medical instructors. The instructor glanced down at him, smiled, then nodded at General Ti. “Yes, I believe we could accommodate him. I have one open spot in my class.” The instructor looked thoughtful. “Perhaps we can find a medication to calm the nerves in his hands to help with the shaking. It would be worth a shot, at least.” 

Medication to fix my hands? To stop them from shaking? Really?! He didn’t hear General Ti’s response, but he felt her hand nudging him forward. “Go ahead, little one. Get settled in. You know how to find me if you need me.” He didn’t know what to say to the cadets in his new class. The instructor, Sergeant Ysari, had taken him for some one-on-one teaching to help him get caught up to what the class was learning, which thankfully wasn’t horribly complex yet. Then he’d left him in the barracks with the rest of his new classmates, simply introducing him by his number, then leaving to let him settle in. Except he couldn’t settle in when he had no idea what to say to the seven other cadets. Apparently, the others didn’t know what to say to him either. Unless they just don’t like me... That thought brought the tremors back to his hands. I just barely got them to settle! I hate this! He looked down at the floor in embarrassment, his face getting hot. 

Footsteps made him look up to see a cadet standing in front of him grinning happily. The cadet’s hair was a complete disaster, sticking up all over the place as though he’d just rolled out of bed. “Hi! My name’s Volt! Those six moof-milkers are Dek, Ollie, Nexus, Helix, Red, and Winder.” The cadets waved awkwardly as their names were said. “Don’t worry, they aren’t actually this stand-offish. Come on, you can join in our game!” Volt grabbed CT-6545’s hands and practically dragged him over to the group. 

“Do you have a name yet?” The cadet named Helix asked, tilting his head curiously. Helix had short, chocolate brown hair instead of the usual black, and his nose was slightly crooked. CT-6545 shook his head after sitting unsteadily on the floor. “No, just my number.” 

“Well, you need a name,” Red remarked from where he was sprawled across his bunk. As his name suggested, Red had dark red hair that reached his ears. It was hard to tell if his hair was dyed or not. “Would you rather name yourself or can we give you ideas?” Helix questioned. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought of a name for myself,” CT-6545 replied. The cadet named Dek spoke up from his spot on the floor. “Let Volt go first, he’s good with names.” Volt snorted. “Sure, put me on the spot, why don’t you.” He bounced his knee up and down as he sat cross-legged between CT-6545 and Winder, who had odd greenish-brown eyes instead of amber. “Umm... How about Patch? I mean, because of the-“ “My eye?” CT-6545 offered quietly. Great. Now they’re going to pick on me. “I get it if you don’t like that one. I can come up with other ideas, that was just the first thing to come to mind. I tend to go through a lot of names before the right one happens,” Volt said quickly. “No, wait!” Nexus stopped him from his bunk. “Not Patch because of his eye, but Patch because he filled the gap in our class! We were the only class without eight members, but he’s our eighth member!” 

“I like that,” Dek stated. “Me too,” Helix agreed. 

“It’s still totally up to you, though,” Volt reminded CT-6545. “It’s your name, so you should like it more than any of us.” After thinking for a moment, he smiled slightly. “No, I like Patch.” The cadets cheered happily, Ollie whooping loudly from the bunk above Nexus. 

“Welcome to the class, Patch!” Volt grinned. Warmth filled his chest as he smiled. For the first time since his injury, Patch felt like he fit in. 

[finding-jericho-blog]

I’m Still Me

characters: Connor (dbh) x OC (Ollie), others play a minor role.

warning(s): Angst, injury, character death... and then some comfort and fluff

word count: 2,447 words

A/N: @deviantramblings and I were talking the other day about this idea and I told her not to touch it and this is why! Sorry I got a little carried away, I think it’s just my personality at this point. >_>

Can I have Bree back now???? :D Ollie belongs to Lauren! I just puppeteer her when I get the chance. <3

It was over; after all this time, all of the desperate fighting and the fear that they would never make it out of this in one piece, they were finally at the end of it all. Together, they had won the freedom of the androids, and Ollie watched the snow fall around them with a brimming sense of pride. Not pride for what she had done; in her opinion, what she had done was very little in the grand scheme of things, but she was.. proud of them. Proud of the androids for reaching out and taking the freedom she knew they deserved, proud of Markus for having the tenacity to lead them.. and proud of Connor, for choosing for himself who he wanted to be.

Bree stood at Markus’ side, and even as Markus addressed his people, his hand rested at the small of her back; the small gesture was enough to make Ollie smile fondly to herself. They were so in love. Of course, she had known that when she had first met Bree; the way she had talked about him with stars in her eyes, and the absolutely vicious desperation in which he had fought to reach her and rescue her from the hands of their enemies. They were perfect for each other, and merely thinking about the way they loved one another prompted Ollie to peer up towards the android at her side that she, herself, had fallen so deeply in love with.

When her amber eyes flitted over to Connor’s features, she was surprised to find that his eyes were already on her, a small smile gracing the corners of his lips in a way that never failed to make her heart race; her face, suddenly too hot, and the sudden spike in her heart-rate must have revealed her embarrassment, because his smile widened just a fraction as he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers together and giving a gentle squeeze; a silent ‘I love you’. Pursing her lips in some attempt to suppress the full blown grin threatening to overtake her features, the ginger turned back to the crowd, her eyes flitting across the seemingly endless sea of androids, all listening with rapt attention as Markus spoke to them, telling them that it was time for them that the time had come to let the humans know who they really were.

A sudden tightening of Connor’s hand around hers prompted her to glance up at him once more, but he.. wasn’t looking at her. His attention was trained straight ahead of him, but he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular. Brows knitting together in concern, Ollie tried to slip her hand out of Connor’s grip, but it held steadfast, and.. it kind of hurt, to be frank. A wave of fear washed over her as she attempted to discretely draw his attention. “Connor,” she whispered breathlessly. “is everything okay?”

There was no response.

Markus called for a future based on tolerance and respect, and no sooner had the words had left his lips, the gun she hadn’t even realized that Connor even had was lifted, the barrel pointed directly at the back of Markus’ cranium. And Ollie, frozen in her shock, wasn’t the only one to notice; North uttered Markus’ name in warning, but not soon enough.

The gunshot rang so loudly in her ears that any sound that came after it was muffled and distorted; Markus’s body fell lifelessly by the wayside, and before Bree even had a chance, a second bullet exited the chamber and she followed him to the ground, still, silent.. dead. A pool of cobalt and a pool of crimson began to form underneath them, and Ollie’s hand was suddenly released. Still in shock, Ollie crumpled to the floor, her eyes unable to tear away from the unmoving forms of her friends, even as Connor continued his onslaught; North, Simon, Josh..

Connor was dead too, wasn’t he?

How naive she had been to hope that they would finally get their happy ending. This wasn’t a fairy tale, this was a war, and it was a war that CyberLife was keen to win by any means necessary. And they had done it; what left was there to fight for, now that the figureheads of the rebellion were all dead? What hope could any of them possibly have to fight against the perfect machine that CyberLife had created, when he had so effortless wiped out their entire leadership in one fell swoop? Ollie knew she had no hope in hell; she had been helpless to him from the moment they had met.

When the shock of it all had finally wore off, if only just a little, her russet eyes slowly drifted up the form of CyberLife’s most perfect prototype to find that his eyes were already on her. But they were cold, and dark, and held not an ounce of the light and love that she once found there; he was a hollow shell, an empty vessel possessed by his creators.

What a cruel thing to do, Ollie thought, staring down the barrel of the gun. to cloak death itself in such a sweet looking face.

The final gunshot startled her awake, so much so that she shot upwards with a horrified shriek, and quite nearly banged her head against Connor’s, who had been leaning over her with an expression of absolute terror, his LED circling a bright, crimson red. “Ollie!” He reached out for her, and was startled when she smacked his hands away with a cry of fear and scrambled sideways, off the edge of the bed. She hit the floor with an audible gasp, clambering backwards when Connor followed after her, and held her hands out when her back met the wall of their bedroom.

“Stay back!” she sobbed, and Connor immediately froze; his dove brown eyes were wide, unblinking as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Tears streamed hot trails down her freckled cheeks as a sob wracked her body, and Connor so desperately wanted to comfort her, to draw her up into his arms and tell her that everything was alright, but.. she told him to stay back, and if that’s what she really wanted, that’s what he would do.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto his knees, and held his hands up where she could see them. He couldn’t possibly know what she thought he was going to do, but he wanted her to see that he meant her no harm; he never meant her any harm. “Ollie..” he breathed her name once more; the tone of his voice combined with the heartbroken expression he wore seemed to draw Ollie out of whatever state of panic she had been in, realization washing over her as she came to realize… she hadn’t really just watched him murder her friends. He hadn’t just shot her. She was home, safe, and Connor was here, and he was.. himself. It’d all been a horrible, twisted nightmare conjured up by her terrified mind.

Without warning, she threw herself towards the android, quite nearly tackling him to the floor. He remained upright, however, and wrapped his arms around her without hesitation as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing so uncontrollably that he feared that if he did not calm her, she may begin hyperventilating. “It’s alright, now..” he whispered into her hair, his soft hands caressing the tense muscles of her back as she wept, soaking the collar of his shirt with salty tears. “It was just.. a bad dream, it’s over now.” He could never understand what it was like to wake up from a dream, or a nightmare for that matter. The way Ollie had described dreams to him, it was like, slipping into another reality for just a short time. Sometimes, that reality was nice, sometimes it was really strange, sometimes it was sad, and sometimes.. it was terrifying.

What had brought on this night terror? It didn’t take long for Connor to piece together what had potentially caused it; earlier that evening, he had explained what he had been too afraid to admit to her before; how CyberLife had nearly reclaimed him just moments after they had assumed their victory, how they would have had him kill Markus and everyone else had he not remembered Elijah Kamski’s warning that he always left a back door in his programming.

“I was so afraid!” Ollie sobbed into his shoulder, her voice muffled, but still crystal clear to him. Every faux muscle in his body went as still as a statue, and he wondered vaguely how he could have wrought her so much suffering when he claimed that he loved her; he had felt so much guilt about hiding what had happened from her that he finally had broken down and told her, and because of his selfish desire to ease his conscience, Ollie was plagued with terror, and it was his fault. Connor didn’t voice these concerns; instead, his jaw clenched and held her tighter, whispering comforting words to her over and over in hopes of soothing her grief. It took time, but soon, the sobs gave way to quiet hiccups and sniffles, and her body relaxed against his, molding into his chest in a way that felt too perfect, too right to have been merely happenstance that they met. The RK800 patiently waited for some sign that she was ready to talk about what had happened, and that moment came when she pulled back just a fraction so that she could see his face, her swollen lips parting to speak.

“I… I’m so sorry, Connor, I didn’t mean to-- to hit you like that…” Ollie’s voice was weak, and he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that the first thing she would do was apologize for that, even though she knew she couldn’t possibly have hurt him. Before he could inevitably tell her that it was alright, she quickly continued. “That nightmare was so.. vivid.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Connor lifted a hand, brushing away the remaining tears that still clung to her rosy cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I should be the one apologizing. I should have never told you about what CyberLife tried to do.. It doesn’t matter what they tried to do, it failed, and I’m.. still me. I would never…”

Ollie’s amber eyes blinked a couple of times as she processed what he said; at this point, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he was able to so easily work out what was bothering her, but it still shocked her at times when he was able to pin-point it with such ease. Sometimes, she felt that he knew her better than she even really knew herself. Shaking her head, Ollie’s hands lifted upwards to rest on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Hey..” she breathed. “I don’t want you ever holding back from telling me something that’s bothering you because you think I’ll have a bad reaction.” Ollie knew her words were contrary to what had just happened; he’d told her something that had been bothering him, and.. well, she had a bad reaction. But that didn’t mean she wanted him bottling things up for fear of that. “I know… that.. you don’t want to upset me, but your own feelings and fears are just as important and valid, and I want you to be able to talk about them, even if I… overreact a little.”

“You’re not overreacting.” Connor said this firmly, his arm around her waist tightening, if only a fraction. “Your fears are valid too, Ollie. I know the implications of what I told you are disconcerting. We.. should have talked about it more, I should have put your mind at ease.. I-”

“Connor, this wasn’t your fault, you hear me?” Although her voice was still gentle, she, too, spoke with a rare firmness that demanded his attention, and she clearly had it. “Sometimes the human brain just blows things out of proportion, especially when we sleep. I know that… you’re still you.. and you would never hurt me. And that CyberLife can’t control you anymore. It was just.. a really, really bad dream.” Ollie could still see the blood pooling on the platform, red and blue alike, the cold, lifeless stare of Connor as he pointed the gun at her-

His lips tenderly planting a warm kiss to her forehead drew her mind away from those dark thoughts, and she sighed in relief; her very physical reaction urged Connor to kiss her cheek next, and then her other; finally, he kissed her lips, finding his own solace in the way her heart had finally slowed to its natural pace. Ollie closed her eyes, now, and rested her forehead against Connor’s, concentrating on the way his arms felt around her, and how.. safe she felt there in his embrace; she loved him. She trusted him. And as terrifying as that nightmare had been, that’s all it had been; a nightmare.

After a moment of silence, Connor reluctantly pulled back a fraction, those umber eyes she loved so much flitting across her features. “Are you going to try and go back to sleep?” He inquired gently; almost immediately, Ollie shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so. I need a little bit to.. try and get it all out of my head.” she uttered, averting her gaze somewhat sheepishly. Without another word, Connor scooped her up into his arms and stood up, prompting a pleasantly surprised squeak from the red-head as she peered up at him inquisitively.

“Then, I think I’ll make you some tea. You should put on that weird old crime comedy you and Hank like so much.”

“Excuse you,” Ollie started, pointing a finger at him in an accusatory manner, as though she were deeply offended by what he had said. “Castle is the crowning achievement of television, and you’re weird for not liking it.”

“I like that you enjoy it,” Connor replied easily, smiling down at the ginger in his arms playfully. Ollie felt her cheeks warm at this answer, and stuck her tongue out at him playfully, earning her a quick kiss on the temple as he carried her out of their bedroom; she closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, and for a moment, she wondered how her brain could have ever imagined something so terrible happening when she felt so completely safe and adored with him. She loved him, she trusted him. And he loved her and trusted her, too.

[thoughtlesstales]

Stamina

Title: Stamina  Word Count: 607 Rating: General Relationship: Non to reference  Characters: Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen, Thea Queen, John Diggle, Sara Lance Triggers: -

 was three AM and team Arrow were using the time appropriately. “Come on Sara, line us up another round of shots,” Oliver called from one end of the bar. He and Diggle sat at opposite end to Thea, Sara and Felicity, and between them they were trying to get a ping pong ball into a shot glass; Oliver won every time and Diggle lost only half of the time. Sara followed the orders and soon everyone was crowded around, including the club manager, Thea Queen. “That’s  your last one!” Oliver said firmly before downing his own.

“Awww, don’t be a spoilsport Ollie,” she complained knocking the shot back and setting it on the side. “Hey look, it’s your dad!” Thea pointed to the TV screen playing on the wall behind them. The channel it had been on had taken a break and was now playing a news clip from earlier that day. Detective Lance, Sara’s father, was speaking about the vigilante.

“I’m not condoning what he does, because he is in fact breaking the law, but I’m not saying what he does doesn’t help us,” he said levelly. “The Hood has helped with the drop in crimes in Glades and the city in general and that is something I do condone, so as long as he’s working with us and not against us, for now I don’t see the harm.” Once he had finished Sara turned the TV off and looked at people around her with raised eyebrows, everyone apart from Thea knew who Oliver was by night and that Detective Lance was in fact talking about him.

“I wonder who it is,” Thea pondered aloud a vacant look on her face as she stared at the wall behind the bar.

“I think you’ve had one too many,” Sara chuckled winking at the younger Queen when she snapped out of the haze.

“No I mean, come on have none of you wondered who it is under that hood?” she asked looking round the people who surrounded who were all trying to keep straight faces. “He could be someone we know!” she laughed. “Stupid I know and what would the chances be right?”

“Right,” they said in unison. Oliver sat there awkwardly casting looked towards Felicity who by this point had had a fair few drinks and was now giggling with Sara over the matter. Diggle, well Diggle was as composed as ever and sat to Oliver’s left playing with his shot glass on the bar top.

“I bet he’s like really hot as well,” Thea grinned looking at Felicity and Sara who just froze. Diggle snorted loudly and hid his face, while Oliver just paled. “Everything he does must take real strength, so I bet he works out like everyday, so he’d like have the best abs ever,” she nodded. “And then think of the stamina! I bet he could on for ever, now that’s a guy I’d like....”

“Do not finish that!” Oliver cried standing up from his chair, he looked a white as a sheet of paper and felt pretty sick. By point Felicity and Sara were howling with laughter, Felicity was crying against the bar, the side of her face pressed to it, while tears streamed from her eyes; and Sara was sat on the floor clutching her stomach and making funny noises while she tried gasping for breath. “I need to go,” Oliver turned on his heel and stormed out the club probably heading downstairs to work off what he was thinking.

“What’s his problem?” Thea asked looking at the three left behind, this only caused everyone to laugh even harder.

[elliotlikespuke]

First Collab!

I’m at 470 followers, you know what that means! I’m posting my collab with @oliversdrabbles. Ollie was one of the first people I met in the community, and he’s awesome. Go follow the guy!

We wrote one of our favourite fandoms, Dear Evan Hansen. It gets a little shippy between Evan and Zoe, because we both think they’re adorable.

Warning: puke :) messy puke

Cynthia Murphy was an incredible cook. Growing up with a stressed single mother, Evan hardly had experience eating fancy dishes that had taken all day to prepare. Cynthia always made sure cook with care and prepare something her family would enjoy. Evan adored it.

He didn’t adore it tonight though. His stomach had been unsettled since lunch, and he hadn’t eaten anything, despite Zoe’s urging. He was too nervous to ask anyone for medicine: he’d checked the bathroom cabinets but hadn’t found anything.

They all say at the dinner table, Cynthia, Larry, Zoe, and Evan talking about the day and eating. Cynthia had made duck. Evan didn’t think he’d ever had duck before, much less prepared like this. If he had any cooking prowess, he’d ask her for the recipe. He’d like to be able to eat it and actually enjoy it, instead of forcing it to stay down.

“Evan, is something wrong?” Cynthia interrupted Zoe’s story about band class to ask him. Zoe was miffed. “Do you not like the duck? Here, take some extra salad and potatoes.”

She reached over the table to pile more food onto his plate. Evan tried to stammer out a nonsensical reply, but it just ended up being a stutter that meant nothing. Zoe smirked at him. In a feat Evan would never understand, she found his anxiety endearing. Evan decided to swallow his pride, and excess saliva, and put a bite of salad in his mouth.

The salad was sweet. Or maybe Evan’s tastebuds were off. He wasn’t a fan of the salad, or the duck, or the potatoes, or probably the bread, although he hadn’t had any. He continued to sip on his water, until even the water increased his nausea.

The Murphys continued to chatter around him. He took the opportunity to stare at Zoe. This was nothing new. He’d been staring at Zoe since the beginning of time, it’s just that now he was allowed to. She made him feel better. She was nodding along to something her dad was saying, and thoughtfully chewing a mouthful of potato. Her right cheek was bulged out like a squirrel.

If Evan wasn’t so sure it would lead to his unleashing a torrential flood of vomit over the Murphy’s dinner table, he would have laughed.

“-I just don’t understand how you can show up, say things like that, and still expect people to respect you. I mean, come on!” Larry was finishing a story that it didn’t seem like Evan would have liked anyway. Zoe piped up again.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Today at school, we found out that-” Evan had his teeth gritted together. And his forehead was resting on the table. He was trying his best to take deep, calming breaths. Zoe, sitting to his left, moved his plate to the side so he wouldn’t move and faceplant into a serving of potatoes big enough for three. Cynthia was always telling him he was too skinny and that he should bulk up.

“Evan?” Zoe poked him in the shoulder gently. Evan straightened up, already humiliated. He had just laid down on the Murphy’s incredibly fancy dining room table. His house didn’t even have a dining room. He’d never be invited back again, especially if he ended up puking. Or would it be worse if he didn’t puke, because then it would all be for nothing?

“I’m s-so sorry guys, I just wasn’t - I mean I don’t -” He took a shaky breath, trying to calm his stomach. He did his best to choke down a gag, but sour puke exploded at that back of his mouth anyway. Cynthia was the first to realize what was happening.

“Evan, are you going to be sick?”

Evan jammed one hand over his mouth and nodded with vigour. Zoe backed up from the table. Great, she thought he was disgusting. She’d break up with him over this for sure. It made his stomach turn over again.

As he felt another wave come over him Evan squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t bear to see the reactions of the family around him, and he was not excited to see their reactions as he heaved over the table, just a bit of water coming up and splattering onto the expensive table cloth.

“Evan, honey,” he heard a voice say as he opened his eyes, fighting his body even more, he couldn’t throw up anymore, if that even counted as puking. “Puke into the bowl, okay?” She said as she gently put a bowl under Evans mouth.

“I’m sorry...” was all he could get out before another heave overtook his body, bringing up more liquid followed by half digested snacks he had eaten throughout the day.

He didn’t have the energy to look up at Zoe, and he didn’t want her reaction. He could feel a hand on his back, surely it was Cynthia’s. It was comforting, rubbing in slow circles. A chair pushed back, but Evan was too focused on trying to breathe while his entire being was telling him to gag. He tried to push through it.

A half-sob, half-gag tore his throat and he heaved up another round of puke into the bowl. He took a shuddering breath, beginning through his nose, but stopping when the acidic smell made him sicker. He wanted to whimper or cry, but Zoe was there and so was Larry, and he couldn’t do either in front of them.

When his stomach lulled, he glanced up. There was a wet patch on the tablecloth, extending beyond the bowl. His cheeks grew hotter. Larry was gone, he had probably gone to the kitchen to get another beer. Or anywhere away from Evan.

Zoe was standing beside him with one hand on his shoulder, rubbing gentle circles and squeezing comfortingly. He hadn’t noticed her before. She had a concerned smile on her face, her brown eyebrows drawn together, creating a small dimple on her forehead that Evan would never admit that he swooned over.

Cynthia was on his other side, holding the bowl with one hand on his back. Evan wanted to break down. He might have, in fact, if it weren’t for the sensation gripping his esophagus. He leaned back toward the bowl while his muscles contracted and forced him to bend forward. He retched and splattered vomit across the bowl. It did not stay in the bowl. Some hit the table, staining it with more than water and dribble this time. The white linen was going to have a dark yellow stain across it for some time.

The gag had forced some tears from Evan’s eyes. He wiped them away gingerly. Zoe offered him her water glass, from which he drank greedily.

“Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick again,” Cynthia said to him. Evan took smaller sips. The water cleared the sour taste from his mouth, although it still held an aftertaste. Cynthia left with the bowl and a quick whisper of, “I’ll take care of this.”

Evan looked to Zoe. She had a small pout on her lips, and if Evan wasn’t positive that he’d taste awful, he would have kissed her.

“Do you want some bread?” Zoe offered him the bread basket. It had been untouched by his projectile stream. Evan couldn’t refuse her, and took a small piece. “It’ll soothe your stomach. At least, it usually does for me. Do you want to go sit in the tv room? Mom will clean the table.”

Evan nodded, and Zoe grabbed his hand and his glass of water. He was lightheaded, but she guided him to the sitting room with the overstuffed sofas and the big windows. It was flooded with evening light. The soft pink dusted the room and Evan’s cheeks.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach and resisted the urge to weep.

“Is your mom home tonight?” Zoe asked him, turning on the tv.

“No.” Evan’s voice shook. “She works the overnight shift tonight.”

Zoe waited a moment. “You could always sleep here.” She paused before continuing, “And I love you, Evan. Everyone gets sick, babe, don’t worry about puking in front of me… You’re human, I’m human, it’s alright.”

Evan nodded. He was reluctant to vomit here again, and would much rather be at home, but if Zoe asked him to stay he would never turn her down.

“You can nap if you want.” The smile was back in Zoe’s voice. Evan smiled too, despite his current misfortune. He leaned his head on her shoulder. “I think you have a fever.” Zoe said quietly. Evan shrugged.

“Feel better.” Zoe kissed his forehead.

[peaky-yamyam]

Twenty-One: Part Twelve

Part One | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | 

“I got scared!” I moan after repeating and confirming what's just happened four times to Florrie.

“You got scared?”

“I got scared and I panicked, yes.”

“You got scared because Alfie fucking Solomons, notorious gangster of Camden Town, shouted at someone who works for him?” she's sat opposite me at my desk hands clasped around a teacup. “What did you expect he'd do, give the lad a biscuit, pat him on the head and tell him everything's alright? That's not how it works!”

“Don't be a bitch about it-”

“I can't help it, I am a bitch.”

“You're not…” I mumble, knowing it's not Florrie fault I feel embarrassed.

“How did you feel until then?”

“Good… I mean I couldn't breath properly and my skin felt like it was on fire - in a good way.”

“Yeah, I'm a bit wet just hearing you retell it-”

“Florrie!”

“Sorry. Anyway,” her face turns serious and she takes one of my hand in hers, “I think you need to take a few days to think about what you want. Alfie getting angry and killing people is always going to happen, because that's Alfie. You’ve got to accept that. Although from what you said, you're the only reason two people are still alive…”

“Great, so if I call things off loads of people are going to end up dead. Thanks for pointing that out Florence.”

“That's not what I meant. I meant that maybe you're good for Alfie. And darl, I don't think he'd ever do anything to hurt you. I know you're having doubts but I don't think Alfie’s having anything of the sort, he's smitten. Ollie says-”

Now that's interesting.

“Ollie? Ollie as in Alfie’s right hand lad Ollie? Ollie the gangster who helps Alfie with all his gangstery business, the same business you wanted nothing to do with?” I lay it on thick, thankful for something to tease her about after the last few days.

She smiles but carries on talking like I haven't said anything. “Ollie says he's never seen Alfie like this, apparently all he's doing is trying to think of ways to woo you.”

It is nice to hear that and I know Florrie has a point, she always does, but I can't get over the fact she's been speaking with Ollie.

“You're right,” I say, finishing off my tea, “I’ll think about it for a few days and decide what I want to do. And in the meantime you can tell me everything that's going on with Ollie!”

For once Florrie says very little, which either means she's not really interested in him or she's incredibly interested and doesn't want to jinx anything. But her smile and pink cheeks tell me it's the later, so I let the topic drop - she'll talk to me when she's ready.

Despite spending every waking second thinking about Alfie, by saturday I still haven't decided. I have however, organised my entire office, written up another pros and cons list, tried to write down exactly what's making me nervous and how I can fix it and drank roughly two million cups of tea. Luckily no-one has needed me for anything business related because I've been thoroughly distracted.

That is until Saturday afternoon.

The club is packed, which is strange in itself, we have no special entertainment on until later and it’s still light outside, but nevertheless the club is full, mostly with people I don't recognise. It unnerves me, so I head downstairs to help pull some pints downstairs when I hear it; a cry in a language I don't understand, the rumblings of other men and then a full blown fight. I collide with Florrie as I fly down the last few stairs from my office.

“Emilia, I think it's Sabini’s men,” she says dragging me behind the bar so I can see what's happening.

I spot a few regulars and few people who have been in before, but it seems the attack is between two groups; one is unmistakably Sabini’s men and as a few of the others whip off their peaked caps and slash at the Italians faces, I know exactly who they are.

“DO NOT CALL ALFIE!” I scream behind me at the bar staff, all huddled in the back room.

“Emilia,” Florrie whispers, panicked as she grips my arm. “We might need him.”

“We don't… The Peaky Blinders,” I point to a few of the less well dressed men, splattered with blood but mostly okay. “They're on our side - Alfie’s side. And Sabini definitely isn't, the last thing we need is to make it worse.”

I watch for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. It wrenches my heart to watch the club be destroyed, but the Peaky Blinders seem to be at an advantage, there's more of them and they fight viciously. I clock one man who seems to be giving the orders and I assume he's the boss, although he doesn't look like Alfie’s description of Thomas Shelby. For some reason my feet decide to take me over to him, adrenaline coursing through me but I manage to slip through the crowd with little more than a few bumps and knocks.

“What's going on?” I shout at the man as he watches the Blinders finish off.

“You Miss Cohen?”

“What's going on?” I repeat, not too keen on giving my name up just yet.

“Some trouble with the Wops. Tommy asked us to step in. Sorry about the mess,” he says with a sickening smile on his face.

As I turn around I see that now the Blinders just seem to trying to destroy as much of the club as possible, throwing Sabini’s men into tables, breaking chairs across their backs and smashing glasses against their faces, and I snap.

I run back to the bar, only this time I don't have as much luck avoiding the flying fists and debris; I'm not sure exactly what hits me, but it's hard and I feel my nose crunch. Searing pain floods my vision and for a moment I think I'm going to be sick, but after a few seconds it passes, and when it does I carry on, sliding under the bar and grabbing the gun we keep under the counter.

Florrie looks at me with wide eyes as I climb atop the bar, make sure the gun is ready to fire and point it towards the ceiling.

“Not the chandelier darl,” she whispers, tapping my leg. I scowl down at her but shift over slightly, making sure I'll miss the glass.

At least, I hope I will. Despite knowing vaguely how to use one, I've never fired a gun before. I squeeze the trigger and the first shot goes off. It's loud. Louder than I expected and the recoil catches me by surprise.

The bar quietens but doesn't still so I fire again, this time knowing what to expect.

“ENOUGH!” I bellow, aiming the gun now at the last few men standing. They all freeze, eyes on me as their chests heave.

My brain takes a second to catch up and I realise I haven't thought this far ahead. I wasn't exactly sure what I was hoping would happen, maybe that they'd hear the gun and bolt. But then I remember who these people are, guns are nothing to them. In fact most of them are probably carrying themselves.

Shit.

“Alfie’s on his way,” I hear one of them male bar staff whisper behind me.

“He's fucking what!” I shout, whirling around, gun still outstretched.

“I called Alfie... “

“What was the first thing is said! Jesus christ. Right-”

A vague plan starts to materialise in my head and I turn back around to face the main floor of the bar.

“I think you've all made your point! So well done. Now, take your injured and…” I hover over the word as I look around, there's no way some of these men are still alive, not with the amount of blood that stains the floor. I take a breath and try to conjure back the confidence to my voice “... dead men and get the fuck out. NOW!”

It's not instant, but the man I spoke to earlier and one impeccably dressed gentleman on the other side of the club both give a small nod and the rest begin to move, dragging bodies from the floor. As my own body begins to calm I notice that a steady stream of blood has been dripping from my nose and onto my blouse and the bar, and when I raise my hand I find it still gushing from both nostrils.

“I'll get something for that,” Florrie mumbles having stood close to me the entire time. As she helps me off the bar I hear a shot and for a second I wonder if I've pulled the trigger again accidently, but when another one sounds I realise it's coming from across the dance floor.

Chaos erupts again as the Peaky Blinders pounce on those Italians not bright enough to run and I realise it's the boss who's been shot, deep crimson staining the suit that was so perfect mere moments ago.

“Sorry bab. We are actually finished now, cross my heart!” the main Peaky Blinder calls out, making his way towards me.

I'm too exhausted to argue, perhaps it's the blood loss or the adrenaline, or the realisation that by running a gangster’s bar I was enviably going to encounter issues like this, but I just wave him off and take a seat at one of the few tables left standing.

Florrie rushes over with a medical kit, but her knitted brows tell everyone she has no idea what she's doing.

“Give it here, fixed a few broken noses in my time…” it's the boss Blinder again, and I can tell by his crooked nose, he's probably talking about his own.

He leans down to me on the chair and takes my face in his hands, moving it around as if he's trying to find the right light. “Right, let's have a look, definitely broken so we should-”

He doesn't give any warning and as soon as I feel his hands leave my cheeks he's cracked my nose back the way it should go.

I can't help but scream out in pain and I drop my face into my hands, tears and blood and snot streaming down my face.

I'm too busy crying and sniffing to hear Alfie enter the club, or walk over to where I'm sitting, in fact it's only when I hear him smash one of the Peaky Blinders face into the table next to me that I look up. And I must look an absolute state because I see the flash of fear across Alfie’s face before he grabs another of the Blinders by the front of their jacket and hoists them from the floor.

He's screaming something at them but everything's a little fuzzy when I try to stand to stop him. Florrie rushes over and pushes me back down into the chair.

“You're gunna faint,” she whispers in my ear, cleaning my face with a cool damp cloth.

There's more shouting from Alfie - I can tell that much, then suddenly the world comes back into focus and I realise he's going on a rampage, throwing threats around left, right and centre.

“ALFIE STOP!” I scream and the room goes dead, everyone turning to look at me. “They didn't do anything. Well they did, clearly, but not to me. They were helping,” I say, although I'm not entirely sure any of this could be considered helping.

Alfie has look of rage in his eyes but he nods slowly and rubs a hand across his beard.

“Right, all of you out. Out, go on fuck off, I don't want to see anyone other than her,” he points at me, “in this gaff in the next ten seconds. You hear me?” Everyone seems frozen the spot, all of them looking between Alfie and I. “ONE! TWO!”

With that everyone rushes for the door and when I nod to Florrie she follows, but I notice she makes sure to grab her bag and coat before she does.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of Alfie dragging a chair across the floor to sit in front of me.

“Well, I think we need to have a little chat don't we love?”

Yeah... I’m not all that happy with this chapter, but I had an idea and I wanted to add it in

[starrnobella]

Aim for the Stars - Dear Oliver

A/N: If you have an issue with MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, please skip this story.

First off, I want to say PLEASE don't hate me. This was written for the 31 days of Fanfiction Challenge and the theme for day 12 was Major Character Death and day 13 was hurt/comfort. When I first saw the theme for yesterday, this was the first thing that came to mind.

Beta love to xxDustNight88! Alpha love to SquarePeg72! :)

Title: Dear Oliver Rating: T Pairing: Olicity, Thea & Oliver Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a few lines written on a piece of paper to bring you to your knees. TRIGGER WARNING: Major Character Death

If you are interested in checking out my other works or keeping up with me in general, I have an author's page on Facebook that you can check out (starrnobella Fanfiction) as well as a group (starrnobella Fanfiction Friends & Fans) that I am very active in on a daily basis. I'm also on tumblr (starrnobella) that you can follow along with me as well.

If you enjoy the story, please drop me a review!

Love always,

~starr

Dear Oliver,

I hoped this day would never come. I hoped that you would never have to read this letter, but I knew that I had to write it just in case, especially because of the lives that we lead. Fighting against the darkness that is trying to over take this city is something I never thought I would ever be doing, but I wouldn't change it for the world. It led me to you.

Nothing in life is ever certain. Each new day isn't a guarantee. It is something that we hope, and hope is all that we ever have. Hope is the light shining at the end of the tunnel on every single dark day when we don't think that we are going to see the next one come. Hope is what led me to falling in love with you.

Do not blame yourself for my death, Oliver.

Do you hear me?

Do not blame yourself. Put the blame on whoever it is that killed me. It's not your fault. It has never been your fault.

The death of Tommy is meant to be a dark cloud hanging over the head of Malcolm Merlyn, not over your's. Moira died at the hands of Slade Wilson, you weren't holding the sword that killed her. Moira died to save you and Thea. Laurel's death was caused by Damien Darhk, not by The Green Arrow.

My death was not at your hands. You did everything that you could to save me, but it was my time to go. As I write this, I know I have no idea who is responsible for my death, but I know one thing. I know that you will seek justice against the person who has taken me away from you.

I knew that getting close to you was possibly the most dangerous thing I could have done with my life, but I just couldn't stay away. No matter how many times you told me that you couldn't be with someone you could really care for, I found a way to stay close to you. I don't regret doing so, and you shouldn't regret letting me get close to you. Our relationship, as damaged as it may be, was one of the greatest experiences of my life.

I hate that our story had to end this way. I hate that I never got to say goodbye to you, but that's why I wrote this letter. I had to be able to say goodbye and I had to be able to tell you how I feel about you. I had to do something to tell you that it is okay to miss me and that it is okay to grieve.

You are allowed to grieve. No one has the right to tell you that you aren't allowed to grieve. I know that you think you have to be strong for everyone else, but you don't have to be. You are allowed to be human and to show emotion. The team, more than anyone else in your life, will understand and they will be there to support you. That's what a family does. It comes together in good times to celebrate, and it comes together during the hard times to support each other.

Let them be there for you, Oliver. Even if you don't let everyone in, please let John and Thea be there for you. You have been there to be strong for them, and now it's their turn to be there for you. They love you more than you seem to realize and all they want is for you to be happy.

I never stopped loving you, Oliver. Even when we found ourselves with other people, my heart was still drawn to you. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn't stay away and I know you couldn't stay away from me. You needed me just as much as I needed you.

You brought such a light into my life when things got hard and I never got to thank you for that. You showed me what it felt like to be loved when it seemed like there was no one in the world who would ever love me. You saw me for more than the "blonde in IT." You saw me as the person who was capable of so much more.

Don't give into the darkness and the regret that is trying to consume you. You are strong enough to overcome it.

You'll get the son of a bitch that did this to me. You always do.

I love you, Oliver Queen.

My biggest regret is that I didn't get to kiss you one last time.

Forever yours,

Felicity

. . . . . . . .

He had found it tucked inside of his chest from the Island. She knew him well enough to know that when something bad happened, the first thing he did when he got back to the bunker was to open that chest and take out the bottle of Russian vodka that Anatoly had given him. A bottle that he had shared with John and Roy in the past. One that he had hoped he would never have to drink from again because he was going to give up the vigilante lifestyle.

What had driven her to leaving this here before she left the bunker one evening? Although, now he would never be able to ask her because she was gone. If only he had gotten there a little bit sooner, then maybe...just maybe.

He slammed his fist down on the table, causing the bottle to shake as he let out a sigh before reaching for it. Slowly, he undid the cap and poured some of the clear liquid into a glass. As he started to raise the glass to his lips, he paused and looked down at the glass in his hands.

What was he doing?

This isn't what Felicity would want him to be doing right now. She'd want him to be out there trying to catch Cutter and put her back in Iron Heights, if not in the cell that Slade Wilson had called home on the Island.

The scene kept playing over and over in his head. The gun being held to her head. The finger held so tightly to the trigger. One wrong move and it would be Felicity's blood splattered all over the wall.

Only, it didn't take one wrong move. Cutter pulled the trigger anyways. There was nothing Oliver could do to save her. Her death was his fault. Cutter's words played on repeat in his head, like a soundtrack designed to pull him deeper into the darkness.

"It doesn't have to be this way, lover. I don't have to kill her. Just tell me you love me, lover. Let's be together forever."

Tossing his head back, Oliver pressed the glass to his lips allowing the clear liquid to burn it's way down his throat before slamming the empty glass on the table. He scrubbed his hands over his face as the sound of the gunshot echoed in his head and the image of Felicity's body falling to the ground stood firm in his mind.

The tears started to well up in the corners of his eyes.

He had failed her.

He wasn't able to save the one person who meant the most to him.

Was he really cut out to be the one who saved Star City when he couldn't even save her?

For the first time ever, he allowed the tears to stream down his cheeks and the sadness overtook his body. The sob ripped through him as he reached for the glass off the table and threw it against the wall opposite him. The sound of the shattering glass didn't even register with him as he collapsed to the floor. The pain he felt in his heart was unbearable. He allowed himself to cry because that was the only thing he knew he could do right right now.

. . . . . . . .

When Thea found him, he was curled up in a ball by the table where he kept his chest. It looked as though he'd been crying. That was something she had never seen him do. The longer she thought about it, the more she realized that she had never seen him with tear-stained cheeks. Even when their mother had been killed, he hadn't cried. He felt as though he needed to be strong for both of them.

This time it was her turn to be strong. He needed her to be.

"Ollie," she said gently, kneeling down beside him to sit. She rubbed her hand over his shoulder causing him to turn and look at her. His eyes were bloodshot and raw. Her heart hurt just looking at him.

Slowly, he sat up and brought his knees to his chest, turning to look at her. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward resting his head on his knees and took a deep breath. As he opened his eyes, he found her looking at him. Her face riddled with pain and concern for her big brother. He tried to paint a fake smile on his face for her, but couldn't. It had only brought the tears back and he scrubbed at his face to wipe them away.

"Ollie, it's okay," she whispered, taking his hands in hers and pulling them away from his face. "It's only me. You don't have to be embarrassed to cry in front of me. You're allowed to be human."

A small smile graced her face when she saw his eyes light up when she called him a robot. Taking a deep breath, Oliver's lips turned up to a half smile. "Thanks, Speedy," he mumbled.

"You're welcome," Thea replied. She looked down at the piece of paper beside him and immediately recognized the handwriting. "So you found the letter…" she began.

He nodded in response, lowering his eyes to look at the letter before lifting his eyes to meet hers. However, he didn't find sadness in her eyes. He found something else. "Speedy?" he asked, quirking his brow.

Thea took a deep breath before replying. "We all wrote them and have placed them around the bunker in places we thought you would look when you made it back here. You know, just in case."

"What do you mean?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"We didn't want you to blame yourself if something ever happened to any of us because we know how you are," she explained. "We wanted you to know that you will never be alone, no matter what happens to any of us."

"Thank you," Oliver said, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. It didn't make Felicity's loss any easier, but it was good to know that his team, his family rather, were looking out for him, now and in the afterlife.

[sceawere]

aftermath | alfie solomons

alfie dealing with daisy’s first murder

references events discussed in these snippets (daisy is about 16 here?)

Alfie shuffled downed the hallway towards the glaring light, palm scrunched into one socket. He dropped his hand sluggishly and squinted, knocking his shoulder against the frame surrounding the cracked bathroom door.

“Daisy, it’s my day off. I don’t appreciate being woke up at 4 in the-“

He broke off when he heard her sob between the flow of water and rolled his body, fingers knocking the door ajar. Daisy was bent over the sink, scrubbing at her hands, and sobbing. There were pink droplets flecking the edge of the sink Alfie could see and he surged forward.

“Dad, it won’t come off, it won’t come off, I can’t get it off” she sputtered out, sniffling, and heaving breaths as she rubbed her fingers raw trying to remove the blood stuck under her nails. Alfie reached across her to yank the tap off, covering her hands with his to still them.

He stayed there for a few moments, thumb running over her shaking knuckles. When she’d stilled enough he stepped over to the cabinet and bent to retrieve a bottle tucked behind the washcloths, hidden away until needed. He uncapped it as he walked back and put the plug in, letting a gentle stream of warm water fill the basin.

A cap full of solution went into the water, the bottle clinking against the tiles of the shelf as it was discarded. He took her hands again and plunged them into the water, flattening her palms against the ceramic and holding them there.

“Just need a little soak, Daisy May”

She bent her head and sobbed again at his words, tucking her forehead against his shoulder as best she could in their awkward hold.

“Are mum and Hiram home?”

“No, they’re staying another night. Michael had the baby while they were there after all. In the nick of time. Well, not Michael, because-“

She let out a mimic of a laugh, just enough to calm Alfie’s nerves as he rubbed his chin against the side of her head. He fiddled his fingers about, agitating the water.

“It stings” she whispered.

“It will. Means its working. Gonna tell me what happened?”

“Auntie had the baby?”

Alfie hummed in his throat, noting the dodge. He followed her down the distraction.

“If Michael’s your mum’s cousin…what does that make his kid to you? I know you call them uncle and auntie, but…?” he kept his eyes on the tile as he pondered, Daisy sniffling.

“Ummm…” she hissed when he wiped off her knuckles again “my second cousin…no it’s mum’s second cousin…my…once removed? I don’t know”

He mumbled a comment about how messed up their family was and she head butted his shoulder so weakly it barely landed.

“If you don’t explain it to me, you’ll have to do it to your mother. And I won’t be able to help” he whispered to her.

She stayed still and silent against him so he lifted his hands, pulled the plug, and motioned for her to rinse off the residue.

He stepped aside to grab the towel strewn over the edge of the bathtub and noticed the flecking there for the first time. Settled in the base was a knife, blade coated in blood, the trail and spatter from where it had been thrown in surrounding it.

“Day”

“I know I shouldn’t have brought it back but I didn’t know what to do, dad, I’m sorry” she started sobbing again as she spoke and he grabbed her, pulling her in. He clasped his palm against the back of her head, rocking her, and shushing. He dotted a kiss to her ear and turned, leaning out into the hallway.

“REGGIE! FRONT AND CENTRE, LAD”

“Dad! Don’t fucking shout, please?”

Daisy had her palms clenched over her ears as he turned back, shaking visibly. She looked like how they’d found her when she’d been taken as a child and for a moment all he could see was little Daisy May, all of seven, shaking in a tiny room in the back of a warehouse. She’d screamed when he’d kicked the door in, not knowing it was her father, and slapped him straight across the face when he’d reached for her.

It took him a few moments, a few breathes, to bring himself back.

“You’re upset right now, so I’ll let that slide, but if you swear to me again, Day” he lifted his hand towards her, trying to think of a way to reprimand his scared daughter without upsetting her in her current state.

“Dad, what the fuck?” Reggie’s gruff mumbles interrupted him and Alfie shook his head, eyes rolling over the ceiling in exasperation.

“Should have let Polly take the lot of you while I had the chance” he whispered to himself, more than them. He looked over his shoulder to where was slouched, eyes fully shut, against the doorframe.

“Where were you this whole time?” he motioned towards Reggie, who couldn’t see, and was possibly actually asleep standing. Alfie squinted, reaching out and smacking at his ear, shocking him to attention.

“Yessss…sir” Reggie blinked and shook his head a few times, flaring his eyes, and wiggling his jaw into consciousness. He cleared his throat before speaking again “where was I? Uh…bed. My bed. Sleeping. Alone. If that’s…what you were asking”

“I was not, but I will be in the morning” you nodded towards his son who nodded back, rolling his eyes behind him towards his sister. His face fell into a serious expression and he was alert in an instant.

“Day, what happened?” he moved past Alfie, his palms lifting her cheeks as he checked her face over. Alfie noted the scratch that ran down one side of her face, unseen or covered before. It was pink and angry, jagged across her cheek and onto her neck.

“He came back, Reg. I should have…I should have let you, I’m sorry. You were right, I couldn’t do it, I can’t do this. It’s different and I can’t do it” she shook her head to him, tears rolling.

Reggie steeled his jaw, pulling her tight against him. Alfie sighed and stepped over, lowering himself to the edge of the tub. He bent to retrieve the blade, the sound of it scraping as he lifted it ringing out in a hollow echo. Reggie clocked it, shut his eyes, and scowled to himself.

“You did it, hey-“he leaned back and made sure to meet her eyes “you did it. You can’t take that back, it’s done. You didn’t need me, you took care of it yourself. That’s brave as fuck, Day. Hey, what are we, eh? What did dad always teach us?”

Reggie nodded towards Alfie but he stayed quiet, rubbing the blade down with the discarded towel, letting his children comfort each other. Daisy sniffled a few times, swallowing.

“We’re Solomons. We’re hard as fuck and we don’t give a shit” her voice was rougher from all the crying but Alfie and Reggie smirked anyway, the three of them letting out little breathy laughs.

“Where did you leave him?” Alfie asked, needing to break the moment to get ahead of the damage.

Daisy turned her head back, eyes flicking to the blade as Alfie tucked it into the cloth away from her sight.

“The new warehouse”

“What were you doing there?”

She rolled her eyes about, taking in a shaky breath before she replied.

“I was…meeting Miriam. We were going to go to a party at- it doesn’t matter. I was waiting for her to sneak out and we thought it was best if we didn’t get caught together so I told her to meet me at the warehouse. Terry came round and - turns out it was him whose been stealing the vans by the way – but anyway he saw us and we saw him and I just…when he came at us with the knife I didn’t...I just…” she stuttered over herself, trying to explain the sequence of events.

Alfie flicked his eyes over to Reggie who was leaning his head back against the tiles.

“You knew this was still going on?”

“I…” he sighed, adjusting against the wall “I knew he was back in town. I said to Daisy I’d take care of him but she said it would cause more problems and she didn’t want me-“

“I didn’t want to treat my brother like my personal hitman, dad! This isn’t his fault”

Alfie lifted himself and started walking out of the room. Daisy trailed after him, out onto the landing.

“Where-where are you going? Dad, where are you-“

“I’m going to ring Ollie and tell him to get round here with Miriam and then-“

“No, dad!”

“I’m ringing your mother”

“NO!”

“And then I’m ringing the cleaners, yeah? Before one of our dear departed’s friends goes looking for him”

“Dad, maybe start with the body disposal. Time sensitive?” Reggie looked between them, rubbing a hand over his mess of hair. Both Daisy and Alfie turned to him with a glare but he just shrugged and shuffled past, down the hallway.

“I’ll do it then. No-one else in this family seems bloody capable. Honestly, this place would fall to ruin without me” he mumbled to himself as he went.

“You forgot to put milk on your cereal yesterday?!” Daisy shouted down after him, Reggie waving a non-committed gesture back at her as he descended the stairs.

Alfie shook his head again, wiping a palm over his face before turning to his daughter on the landing.

“Right-“he lifted his hand to motion to her, beginning to explain the plan when Reggie’s voice broke through from downstairs.

“Davey! Mate, how are you, you mad bastard? Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Listen, my sister-Daisy yeah…yeah, no she’s good. Yeah, she’s good. She killed someone tonight though, mate, so if you could-yeah…yeah…well, you know how she is.

Anyway, dad said to ring for the cleaners so…yeah…ahaha yeah, yeah. Well, I’ll tell her that. Yeah. Well…Davey, I would but there’s a body waiting so…yeah. Right…you got a pen handy? Alright, yeah no I’ll wait.

DAVEY’S GOING TO SORT IT FOR US!” he screamed up to them and Alfie closed his eyes, taking a few moments to re-litigate every parenting choice he’d made over the past 18 years.

He peeked over one eye when he heard Daisy���s spluttering laugh, building until she was clenching a hand over her mouth, bending at the waist as she leant against the bannister.

“You think this is funny?” he asked her and she laughed even harder, the tension of the night flowing out of her, the absurdity of the situation breaking through her grief and making her almost delirious.

“The second your mother gets home I’m going on holiday myself, right. I’m going to…Timbuktu. Me and your Uncle Tommy, fucking right off, we are”

-