#and to also give drama between crow and whisper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lunarubra · 5 months ago

Text

Oh my god, this chapter had everything—drama, heartbreak, mystery, and a touch of feral chaos. I don’t even know where to start because my brain is still spinning from all the wild twists and turns!

Okay, let’s kick it off with Arthur and Heaven because, seriously, their bond is pure gold. Arthur’s devotion is so sweet—you can practically see him puffing out his chest like, “Yeah, that’s my girl!” And Heaven in his coat? That image hit so different. There’s something so soft about it, even while everything else in this story feels like it’s on the verge of explosion. Also, the way their scents have blended together to create something uniquely them? That’s such an intimate detail, and I’m obsessed.

And then there’s Tommy. Oh, Tommy. The man is not okay. His panic, his accusations—it’s all peak Tommy energy, but it also gave me chills. The tension between him and Heaven is straight-up combustible. She’s this delicate-looking creature, but her sheer ferocity makes her terrifying in the best way. The line about Arthur holding her back while whispering to calm her down? Ugh, chef’s kiss. She’s like this gorgeous, deadly storm you can’t take your eyes off of, and Arthur’s the only one brave (or dumb?) enough to try to stand in the eye of it.

The church scene? Let me just say, I was not ready. Heaven unleashing her wrath was something else—violent, raw, and so damn satisfying. That moment when she took down Hughes’ accomplice? Absolute final-girl energy. Give this woman a slasher movie; she’d crush it. And the aftermath, with that hollow emptiness settling over her? You nailed it. She’s complicated, and that’s what makes her so fascinating. I want to know everything about her backstory, and I want it now.

Also, let’s not forget Ada. Her final words to Heaven? Gasp-worthy. That entire exchange felt like a slap and a hug at the same time—poetic and haunting in equal measure. Ada’s been in Heaven’s corner from the start, and now seeing her wrestle with this darker side of her? Brilliant.

And can we talk about Michael? His trauma, his feelings—just so perfectly written. You gave him depth and justice, which I feel like he doesn’t always get. Oh, and when Arthur—of all people—started doubting Heaven? That broke me. She’s already so guarded, and to have Arthur question her? Painful. But it made their eventual reconciliation all the sweeter.

Let’s also not overlook the crow! The foreshadowing, the callbacks—it’s all so good. Heaven’s connection to these little supernatural hints is so intriguing. And that final confession? “I am the one they should have really burned.” EXCUSE ME?! The layers here are insane. I need answers, and I need them yesterday.

Shark, you’re killing it. Every chapter feels like a gift wrapped in tension, blood, and heartbreak. This story is straight-up addictive, and I am so here for it. Keep the chaos coming.

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: What is supposed to be a chill afternoon at the grand opening of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children, turns out to be a nightmare: Charles is kidnapped and chaos spreads in the Shelby family. This is when Thomas remembers something you had told him: "You should keep an eye on Charles. You really should.” He suddenly understands: You did it.

Words: 5K

TW: Angst, Child kidnapping, typical canon violence, graphic description of violence, death of secondary characters, murder, a very quick allusion to child abuse, gruesome kills, a lot of blood I guess

Notes:

✞ This chapter is based on the event of S3 Episode 6. Italicized parts are taken from the show. However, it contains many changes from the show's script, especially to accommodate this fanfiction's purposes and the characters' development.

✞ Theme song to listen to on repeat while reading if you want

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS PART || Masterlist || NEXT PART

“Say it Tom, say it to ��em! ” Arthur’s loud voice exclaimed in a joyful tone, calloused hands clapping with strength to encourage his little brother and his speech. The whole crowd, as well as you, followed his example and stood up to applaud the founder of the Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children. Admittedly, you recognized that the idea of opening such an establishment was surprising yet excellent, especially coming from the family’s boss. Quickly glancing at Arthur and his smile, you could not help but melt. The blinded love and trust he had for Tommy had something admirable despite your rocky relationship with little King Shelby.

You sit back and, as you did, Arthur gently put his hand on your thigh and took a look at you, his magnificent blue eyes shining with affection. He did not need to say a single word for you to understand what was going through his mind: he was just proud. Proud of Tommy, obviously, but particularly proud to attend such a significant ceremony with his stunning woman by his side. Even though most of the town knew about Arthur’s mysterious angel, attending the event with you had something official. The butterflies in his stomach flapped their wings when he introduced you to some guests as his sweetheart — you had even overheard him calling you his “future wife”. The way some of the visitors looked at both of you, their traits stretching in surprise as they realized that the sweetest creature they have ever seen was deeply enraptured with him, was enough to fill his heart with pride. A faint smile flattered your juicy lips at such an endearing vision, the joy it brought upon you making the whole crowd disappear for a few seconds as you lost yourself in Arthur’s beauty. Another thunder of applause popped your daydreams and forced you to shift your focus back on what was going on.

In fact, the first lyrics of Immortal Invisible brought you back to reality as it echoed in the room. You were about to join the chorus, Arthur’s fingers discreetly reaching for yours as a silent request to hear you sing with that lovely voice of yours, when you caught sight of Tommy leaving the room with hastened footsteps. The aura of sorrow that emanated from him stirred both your empathy and your worries — even though you did not get along, you could not help but commiserate with him on this difficult day that reminded him of Grace far too much to handle the event properly. Thomas’ beloved wife was everywhere around you, you could sense it. Her presence was so overwhelming that one could have expected to see her walk into the room at one moment or another. The cruel truth was that she was gone for good, and what was left of her slowly pushed Thomas Shelby to the edge of depression. Instinctively, your cold little hand tightened its grip around Arthur. His company kept your mind from drifting too far in the dark waters of your own loss. And by loss, you meant your Dad, hung high on a tree, as well as your Mom and little sister who had burned on the pyre.

The room was filled with chatters and guests, whose discussions blended together in an unintelligible cacophony. Alone in a corner, a glass of champagne in your hand, you swept the room with interest without really taking part in any conversations. Somehow, huge gatherings had never been your cup of tea — you came from a small town lost in the mountains after all, not from the city. Moreover, you were well aware of the curious, sometimes snobbish looks other ladies gave you and you were not sure they would be particularly delighted by your presence. They thought you did not fit the picture with your long and braided white hair, your ivory sun dress, and Arthur’s long and black coat resting on your shoulders. To be true, you could not blame them, you did not fit in but you were also surprisingly fine with it. When your lips grazed the sparkly alcohol, you winced a little bit. As ironic as it sounded for a French girl, you despised the taste of champagne, even though you still took the glass you had been offered out of sheer politeness. Giving up on the idea of drinking it, you just sighed. It did not take long for you to grow bored with analyzing people’s faces — they were more or less the same, and most of them took the shape of women giggling when Thomas walked past them. You soon caught sight of Arthur and John, both talking to their brother.

“Fuck me, Tom. I don’t know how you do it.” Arthur stated, his gruff voice and harsh words contrasting drastically with Thomas’ elegant elocution. He had barely finished his sentence when the latter was once again forced into another formal conversation with aristocratic ladies. He took a quick look at John, who was sipping on a tea, and rolled his eyes, annoyed. Understanding that having a real conversation with Tommy was going to be difficult, he waved off the idea and finally headed back to you. As soon as his eyes fell on your frame, his face relaxed and enlightened with a loving smile.

“Oi. Why are you all alone, Angel?” He inquired, his arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you close to his body for he could not keep his hands off you for too long, “want to go back home?” Arthur laid a tender kiss on your cheek, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against your skin in signs of deep affection. Your smile widened at the sensation of his mustache, to the point you could not hold the light chuckle that escaped from your mouth. He was so worried about your well-being that he went straight to the point: if you wanted to leave you had every right to do so.

“No need to go back home dear, I do enjoy the party. I’m just not really good at social gatherings nor making new friends I guess!”

“Ada told me you can join in her conversations if ye want.” His thumbs caressed your hips in a circular motion.

“I don’t want to bother Ada. She seems rather busy.” You put down your glass on a nearby table, and snuggled in his arms, more than thrilled to have his whole attention for yourself. The slight anxiety you had been feeling vanished into dust at his soothing warmth and his manly perfume. A perfume that had started to blend with yours, hence creating that unique fragrance of your love.

“Hey Arthur, move. You know she likes me hugs the best.” John teased — he had also decided to keep you company rather than waiting on Tommy.

“I’m really going to kick yer ass John, don’t care if I do it in front of all the people of this bloody room.” He growled, pulling you even closer for he refused to let you go. Even if it was with his own brother. Your grin widened, their never-ending sibling arguments never failing to amuse you.

“I would take your brother’s threats with the utmost seriousness if I were you. But at the same time, I really appreciate your dauntless nature. C’m’here.” One of your arms left Arthur’s neck to welcome John in the hug despite the hoarse complaints that followed. John, not hesitating for a slight second, joined in and held you in his arms for a few but indescribably comforting seconds. Each time he would pull you in a bear hug, he would make you feel at home.

“Okay, enough —“ Arthur nudged his little brother in the ribs, the corner of his lips curling up in a sadistic smirk only older siblings knew how to do.

“Why don’t you hug me longer? Afraid to show your sensitive side, Mon amour?” John said, making his best impression of your French accent and the pet name you were always giving to his brother. This time you could not help but genuinely laugh, a part of you astounded by John’s ability to be that annoying. The face Arthur made, contorted with both shock and anger, only cracked you up harder. Still, you softly stroke his neck to keep his spirit quiet and avoid him throwing a tantrum in the middle of the room.

Finally resigning himself not to bounce on John and beat the shit out of him, Arthur looked at you with the most irresistible puppy eyes he could do. Sometimes you had trouble realizing he, who could look like a beaten dog, was the same man that could kill someone with his bare fists out of jealousy and fuck you roughly in the shower still covered with fresh blood right after.

“Lemme smack him, please Angel. Just one little tiny punch in his fookin’ face.” He begged, “Just to shut his bloody mouth, eh.”

You raised a brow, your hand trailing up his neck to fix his hairstyle — Arthur shivered at your touch, his whole body responding with tremors of lust that shook him to the core, “Not here. But you’ll find a good moment to avenge yourself, Mr. Shelby” You said, punctuating your sentence with a knowing wink.

“Woah, calm down Devil. I thought you’d defend me!” John retorted, pretending to be outraged by your betrayal.

“Not my fault if you’re stupid enough to believe that.” Your grin turned into a sharky smile.

“That’s my girl,” Arthur purred when looking at you, “always on her good ol’ Arthur’s side,” He pressed his lips on the side of your head, laying an enamored kiss upon it. How much you liked his way of showering you with love no matter where you were. Nevertheless, the lighthearted conversation did not last long, for an unpleasant gut feeling alerted all your senses. You slightly pulled away from Arthur and frowned, instinctively looking in Thomas’ direction. He was talking with Ada, his face veiled with a deep worry you had never seen him wearing. Something happened, that was the first thought that crossed your mind — and how right you were. At this moment, Thomas walked to you, his piercing blue eyes expressing concern. You saw him coming before his own brothers.

“Heaven, love? Are ya alri—“

“Boys, have you seen Charlie?” Thomas cut him off.

“Eh…” Arthur softly released you from his sweet embrace to focus on Tommy, “I don’t know. He is playing, ain’t he?” His smile faded away as if he had just sensed that something was wrong.

The wind changed for Thomas Shelby, whose legendary self-control broke down at the moment he realized Charles had disappeared. As your mind proceeded with what was happening, he had already started to go from guest to guest asking if they had seen his son. The more he asked, the more his placid tone turned into the painful roars of a wounded lion. All it took was one tiny second for the whole ceremony to dive into chaos.

Deafened by the sound of your own beating heart racing in your chest, you started to look around you in a vain attempt to find Charles maybe playing under a table or behind furniture. That was all you could do, for your feet seemed stuck in invisible roots that were keeping you from moving. You stood there, useless, for you did not know what to do. Maybe Charles was still here, hidden somewhere to prank his nanny? But all Tommy’s hopes and yours crumbled when Ada, so stunning in her elegant outfit, caught everyone’s attention with precious information.

“Tommy. Someone said they saw a nurse take him through the back door.”

Fuck, you thought.

“Fuck.” Arthur swore out loud, grabbing his sister by the wrists before storming out of the room with the other Shelbys.

Boom. Boom.

You brought your hand to your chest, now convinced your heart was about to burst. Something had definitely happened to Charles — as you had sensed weeks ago at the Garrison. Ripping through the lethargy you were embroiled in, you ran up the stairs and rummaged through each room to look for Charlie. Voices, all mixed, came through the opened window. You froze, listening to them.

“Arthur! Somebody saw a woman and a kid getting into a car.”

“Ah, fuck!”

“CHARLIE!”

“Where is he? Tell me.

_Someone took him. Listen to me! They put in in a car. They put him in a car and drove south. We’ve got roadblocks, we’ve got spotters. I’ll set up shop and put every man we’ve got… between here and Maypole.

_ Right. You do that.

_ You gotta go to the office. You gotta sit by the phone. Whoever took him is going to call. Polly! Let’s go, Pol! Stay by that phone. Me and John will cover the roads.”

And that was how the world collapsed on Thomas’ head. Again.

You looked at his car disappearing in the dull horizon, knowing that dark hours were awaiting all of you. Lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the mighty silhouette of the crow that was staring at you from the nearest tree with his dark beady eyes. A dull caw sound tore the silence that had fallen upon the mansion and snatched you from your anxious mind.

Caw. He mocked.

And to think it had warned you!

When Tommy stormed into the office, all of the family already gathering there, the sound of his soles hammering the wooden floor made the whole skies shiver with fear.

“Where’s Heaven?” He asked, blue eyes looking dagger at Arthur because if someone knew about you it was obviously him.

“Coming. She was with Esme.” His gruff voice retorted, trying to remain calm for Tommy’s sake.

“Esme’s waters broke,” John answered right away, “I was just with her. Running around fucking broke the waters.”

“Where’s Finn?” Thomas insisted.

“With the young’uns looking for the Riley. We couldn’t reach him.” Arthur informed before bringing a glass of whisky to his mouth and taking one big gulp. The fire that trailed down his throat almost made him sigh with momentary relief.

“I need to know who spoke. Our enemies know everything. Everything. I need to know who spoke about business outside of the family. I need to know who spoke, who they’ve spoken to.” Tommy was trying hard to remain calm but his erratic breath and the quick pace of his words betrayed the rage that was boiling within him.

“Tommy…

_ Your future wife, Arthur?”

Arthur’s pinched his lips, swallowing the furious urge to yell at his little brother for uttering such an obnoxious accusation. He looked away as he tried to keep his composure.

“I’m gonna tell myself you’re not thinking straight. Your mind’s not clear.”

“I want to see her now, you hear me?”

It was at this moment you entered the room as if you had been summoned by Thomas’ words. You had appeared in the doorframe without a single noise, Arthur’s dark coat contrasting with the unsettling porcelain of your skin and the fair aquamarine of your iris. There you stood, all the family’s eyes staring at you for they had told you it would have been probably better if you did not come. All of them were more or less aware of Tommy's hostility toward you, and they knew he would certainly find a way to blame you in one way or another.

“Speaking of the Devil.” He said with his most collected tone, while his gaze darkened at the sight of your doll face. If Arthur saw an Angel when looking at you, Thomas could only recognize the threatening shadow of death floating around your silhouette, the long coat you were wearing reminding him of the Grim Reaper’s cloak. All that was missing from the picture was a scythe in your hand, “Did you speak?” He asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You simply replied, walking to Arthur. The wooden floor creaked under your heels. You were already exhausted by his accusations you knew that were awaiting you. But still, you came, because all you wanted was to be where you belonged: by Arthur's side, supporting him.

“I know Arthur can’t keep his fucking mouth shut and tells you everything.” He quickly glanced at his brother, who was staring at an invisible dot on the wall to keep calm, and shifted all his focus back to you again. You clenched your jaw at the petty comment, “So I’m gonna reiterate the question and you’re going to answer me, eh. Did you speak?"

“I did not speak, Tommy. I said nothing.”

“Don't lie to me.” He retorted right after you finished your sentence. His hands, pressed against the table, were now trembling with a rage he desperately tried to tame, “I know you’ve got something to do with all this shit. I know that’s you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Arthur was quicker. Grabbing your wrist in case he needed to protect you from his brother, he stepped between the two of you, “Come on Tommy, I know yer angry and anxious, but that ain’t a reason to accuse her. She didn’t do anything.”

“Ah. Arthur Shelby protecting his damn fallen Angel, I was expecting it" His eyes went from him to you several times, "Do you think she didn’t? So, can you explain why did she tell me to keep an eye on Charles weeks ago?” Tommy's words were coated with poison. The quietness of his voice, highlighted by the rumble of his growling soul, only rendered him more impressive. Silence fell over the office at such a revelation no one knew.

Astounded, Arthur turned to you and, with his brows furrowed in confusion, stared at you, “Did ya — Did ya really say that?”

You blinked, stunned by Thomas’ vivid memory and by the gleam of shock in Arthur’s steel blue eyes.

“Hey, listen. I did not plot behind this family’s back nor did I hurt Charlie or anything.”

“Why would you say that to me then?” Tommy took a few steps toward you. He would usually avoid coming to close to you when other people were around, but you were not sure he would do so this time. You wanted to back off but Arthur’s grip tightened around your wrist, for he did not know what to think anymore. “Whose side are you on, uh?” Tommy asked, "Did anyone ever wonder whose side she's on?"

“I saw a crow on my way to the Garrison and I felt it was a bad omen. And then I had a gut feeling after our conversation. That’s all, Thomas! It was just a damn clairvoyant gut feeling!” You defended yourself, before looking at Arthur, “I swear it’s the truth.”

"Yeah, the truth," Arthur repeated, trying to overcome his insecurities.

“Oh my God, keep your witchcraft-coated excuses for someone else, Heaven. You talked at best, you work with Hughes at worst. After all, you knew him before you came into our lives” Tommy tried to come closer again but Polly grabbed him by the arm, keeping him at a safe distance, “No matter the makeup and the jewels you wear they won’t hide the Devil under there.”

“Don’t imply I have something to do with that fucking bastard!” You hissed through your teeth, hatred blooming within at the sole mention of the name. This time, Arthur’s calloused hands grabbed you by your shoulders to keep you still, for you were starting to get agitated. At this point, he was not sure if he did it to protect you from Tommy, or to protect Tommy from you.

“Heaven, calm down…” He said softly, trying to ease the wildfire of your anger.

“He’s accusing me of Charles’ kidnapping, Arthur! I can’t fucking believe it!” You protested, your doll face wearing injustice like the most beautiful jewel ever crafted. Arthur kept you firmly against his chest, his arms locking around you and his hoarse voice whispering “I know love…” in your ear.

“And I can’t believe you think I'm naive enough to believe you talked to a bloody crow and got a bad feeling. Tell me where’s my son, you Devil.” Thomas growled in the background.

Polly pulled his nephew’s arm, for he was starting to be too harsh with you “Why not? She has brought a bird back to life Tommy. I would not be surprised if she saw it coming one way or another.”

“'Scuse me?” He turned around in one vivid movement, his eyes diving into his Aunt’s. He could not believe what she had just said.

Another silence flew over the room as the rest of the Shelby family confirmed Pol’s information with a nod of the head. All the people in this office had witnessed the extent of your power at the last gathering you had organized in your garden — hence the fact they were not particularly surprised by your sharp instincts. John swallowed, recalling the way the bird first twitched in your small hands before flying away, wings flapping with newly breathed energy.

“Pol’s right, Tom,” Ada started, “I usually don’t believe in these kind of things but it’s true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

It was too much for Tommy, who already was on the very edge of his patience. There went his mind, aching at the thought of his sweet son trapped between the monstrous and disgusting claws of that twisted priest. His boy, the last thing that kept Grace’s memory alive, had been snatched from him and here his family was, defending the one that probably did it. Of course, he believed in supernatural forces — he was convinced a curse took Grace away from him — but Tommy needed a more rational explanation. He needed anything that could help to get Charles back. He brought one of his trembling hands to his mouth, gathering all his remaining strength to restrain himself in such a catastrophic situation, “She resurrected a damn bird, and no one told me…” He said to himself, " She resurrected a bird," He repeated, a faint and nervous chuckle escaping from his lips before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Heaven‘s really sensed it, nothing else. You know she would never harm Charles. She felt it coming Tommy. She is… She is gifted. Do you understand how useful she could be?” Polly’s words, coated with both softness and authority, managed to soothe the hurricane of violence that was raging within him. Thomas had stopped talking yet he kept looking at you with anger burning in his ice-cold eyes.

You frowned —still trapped in Arthur’s arms for your own sake—, and looked at Polly.

“Forget it, Pol. He’s not going to change his mind.” You finally said after letting out a long sigh. A part of you was well aware that bargaining with Thomas Shelby was useless. Moving your shoulders, you managed to free yourself from Arthur’s embrace and, to his greatest surprise, made your way to the exit. He almost jumped, catching your hand in his.

“Heaven.”

“No Arthur, this is fucking useless. I am not going to stay here and let him blame me for everything that happens to this family while I did nothing but share my clairvoyant feeling with him. He wants me to prove whose side I’m on? Fine! I’ll do it then! ”

Arthur opened his mouth, thinking about something that could convince you to stay but he knew you were right. He finally lowered his head, jaw clenched and eyes avoiding yours.

“Gonna come with you then,” His gruff voice mumbled.

“No, you stay there.” You said, which made Arthur frown even more and look at you with utter confusion, “Thomas needs you. He’s aching and vulnerable. Stay with him and do what you have to do, Arthur. I'll wait for you.”

“Alright.” He resigned himself, worries making his magnificent eyes shine, “ one last thing.” He said after a few seconds of hesitation.

“Hm?”

“Tell me you have nothing to do with Charles’ kidnapping.” He dared to say, feeling utterly ashamed by the fact he needed reassurance about it. But he had always trusted Tommy more than anyone else and now, he was conflicted between his loyalty to his brother and the maddening love he had for you.

“Arthur… Are you serious?” You asked, your heart hurting at such a demand. A sigh fell from your lips, whose red lipstick made even more hypnotizing. “ I promise I'm not involved in Charles' kidnapping. You have my word.” You finally said as you looked at him right in the eyes, trying to hide the pain.

“I— I trust you,” He paused, “I trust you.” He repeated, then he pulled you in a quick hug to soothe his inner turmoil. To be true, he would have probably died if it turned out you had been toying with his heart all along. But Arthur refused to believe Tommy was right, this awful thought almost leading him to the path of madness again, “Take care, love. See you later.”

You replied with a faint, exhausted smile and left the building, disappearing in the fog of Birmingham’s streets.

The fact remained that Tommy did not feel better after you left.

Or Esme getting cash for cocaine, eh, John?

All of a sudden, back in the family, Ada, eh. That’s a surprise. Out of the blue. On whose orders?

And you and your painter…

Down he went, spiraling into a paranoid craze and, to everyone's greatest surprise, you were not the only one that had triggered it.

The sound of Death Knell resonated in the night, its threatening shadow floating over Birmingham houses and souls. Following Tommy’s plan, John and Arthur roamed through the train station with the firm will of spreading calculated chaos at 10 o’clock in a grandiose murderous explosion. You can go with them but it’s better if you let them do the job, that was more or less what Arthur had told him before he left. Despite the orders given, Michael managed to leave the two henchmen behind and reached Hughes’ church without getting caught by another Peaky Blinder. It was not that Tommy’s plan was poor, but he indubitably needed to take care of this business alone. No one around him seemed to understand how deep his pain was entangled with Father Hughes. He had to wipe the priest out by himself — he had promised it to his little self after many sleepless nights recalling his dirty hands wandering on him.

And he did.

Michael was panting, a mix of thick repugnant blood and sweat dripping from his face. Still straddling Father Hugues’ corpse, the young Blinders’ hands were frozen on the knife he had thrust into the priest’s throat. The hot and sticky sensation almost made him throw up when it first poured over his skin. A crimson puddle had already formed under the body, growing bigger and bigger as minutes passed. And when that same puddle reached the floor’s grooves, it filled them with dark red blood and drew patterns on the wood.

Another grunt escaped from Michael’s quivering lips as he slowly realized what he had done. He killed. Again.

All wobbly on his legs, Michael Gray still managed to stand up and took a few steps back, his hand leaning on a bench. His fair eyes did not shift from Father Hughes’ motionless body for he forced himself to look at him— there lied the monster who had terrified him for years. There lied the child eater, his neck opened and his obscene glassy eyes staring blankly at the church’s ceiling.

Coming back to his senses the best he could, Michael stumbled to the heavy door of the room from which Father Hughes came out and opened it. All he wanted was to carry Charles in his arms, telling him everything would be fine, and flee from this cursed place. Yet, his heart missed a beat when he entered the small room and realized Charles was not there.

“Fuck!” Michael blurted out. Panic kicked in again as he tried to come up with a solution, or at least an idea of what to do. He knew he had to think, and he had to think pretty fast because Charles' life was threatened. He needed to find the kid before it was too late. The main reason behind his dedication was not only to show his worth, but also to keep a child from suffering at an Hughes’ hands ever again. However, Michael's thinking process shattered in pieces when he heard the heartbreaking cries of a kid yelling at the top of his lungs. Blood froze in his veins as he recognized Charles’ voice.

Following the screams, there was a thundering noise of something heavy dropped to the floor, and nothing. Nothing except a chilling silence that brought goosebumps to his pale flesh.

Oh no.

Michael stood still in the loud silence, as petrified as an animal in front of the blinding headlights of a car.

No, no, no!

They’ve killed him, he thought. Of course, they did. Father Hughes was probably not alone in that bloody church, even though Tommy said he did not expect them to come. Someone was here and took advantage of the chaos of his fight with Hughes to grab Charles and hurt him. Whoever his accomplice was, they had just ended Charles's life and it was all his fault. If only he had listened to Arthur. If only he had let the two henchmen do their job and handle the situation. Guilt started to beat him.

Michael shook his head, hoping it was not too late, and ran toward the direction the noise and cries came from. His heart raced in his chest as his legs almost automatically moved, winding up his anxiety like a mechanical toy, and led him to a second room he did not see at first.

“HANDS UP YOU BASTARD!” Michael yelled, storming into the room that was directly linked to a backdoor exit: the perfect spot for Hughes’ accomplice to flee with the kid in case of emergency. Or to kill him in case something happened to the priest. Pointing his gun in front of him, Michael was ready to shoot, hatred blazing in his eyes. He winced at the foul and slightly metallic smell of blood that jumped at his face as he entered the place. Michael was a brave boy. He was ready to use violence. He was ready to actively take part in the family business. Hell, he was even ready to die if that was what he had to do, but there was one thing no one prepared him to face and it was what he saw in this place.

“Oh my God!”

He cried out, his breath hitching with panic as his blue eyes, filled with tears, first caught sight of a second corpse lying in a lake of blood. If Hughes' dead body was already gruesome, it was nothing compared to his accomplice's.

The man, who was strong in stature and impressive in height, was staring at him with blank eyes, silently begging for help. His petrified face, splattered with dark blood, was distorted in a terrified expression as if he had seen the Devil itself before dying. Yet the cause of the poor lad’s death was not fright, but rather the dozen stabbing wounds that scattered his body, and the pair of huge scissors that was deeply stuck into his neck. Michael could not help but step back, so disoriented by the macabre spectacle that was in front of his bewildered eyes that he dropped the gun Tommy had given him. The sound it made when it crashed on the floor caused Charles to cry again.

“Shhhh, everything’s fine Charlie. Everything’s fine. Keep your eyes closed.” A soft and enchanting voice raised in the room, like it did the night Arthur wandered aimlessly to church. For a few seconds, Michael was convinced the voice did not come from a human being. It sounded so foreign, so alluring, it could only belong to an angel of justice, whose avenging blade fell on Hughes' associate. Then he saw her, the creature, and his eyes widened even more.

“Bloody fucking hell.“ He really tried to say something else but his brain could not proceed with the sight of Arthur’s woman holding Charles in her arms, her sweet angel face and frail body entirely covered with crimson stains.

“I know.” You simply replied, one of your hands tenderly resting behind Charles’ head to keep him from looking at the butchered dead man that had fallen on the floor when your scissors tore his jugular vein.

Michael stood still, staring at you with utter shock.

"How?" He managed to ask, one sole tear running down his cheek.

"Please Michael, don't ask questions. I just — I just want to go home." You whispered, the far too familiar smell of blood and after-taste of murder making your head spin. You closed your eyes for one second to keep the traumatizing images of your past from flooding your brain and let out a shaky exhale. When you came back to your senses, you walked to Michael and put Charles in his arms, still careful to keep the corpse out of his sight. Then you left the room.

As you passed by Father Hughes, you stopped and looked at him from above, indescribable hatred blazing in your iris.

"See you in Hell, sale fils de pute — You son of a bitch — "

Michael followed, still unable to keep his eyes away from your mesmerizing frame scattered with blood drop like millions of precious rubies. The way you looked at Hughes' corpse resonated with him so much he could not help but talk.

" Did he..." He left his sentence hanging, but you understood what he meant.

"No, he did not. But he still found another way to be the cause of my sorrow," You glanced at Michael from above your shoulder, "I'm glad you killed this bastard. There are people whose souls can't be saved, and he is one of them."

"Yes, he definitely is." Charles had calmed down in his arms, lulled by the soft movements as Michael walked outside the church by your side, "what about the second man?"

"He was about to kill Charlie and then come for you." You replied, trying your best to forget the unpleasant sensation of half coagulated blood on your delicate skin. Michael took a while to process the information and realized you had probably saved his and Charles' life.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His question brought a faint yet terribly melancholic smile to your lips for it reminded you that you had broken the only promise you did to yourself. The promise of not taking another life ever again.

"Are you?" You replied to his interrogation by another one.

"No, I'm not. I feel... Empty."

"So, you already know the answer."

When the door opened and Michael entered the house with Charles sobbing in his arms, Polly and Ada ran towards him and cried in relief as they hugged the child. Polly soon focused on his own son, whose blank expression left no doubt on what he had to do to save Tommy’s kid… He killed, and it changed him forever. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, checking on him with tears in her eyes, knowing she could not do anything to ease Michael's pain anymore -- and what was more awful for a mother than watching his child suffer without being able to do something about it? What snatched her from the sorrowful conclusion she had come to was Ada’s gasp, who had just realized Michael was not alone. You had followed him, a cold expression etched on your face and a myriad of red ink stains soiling your whiteness.

“She helped,” Michael stated with a tired voice before anyone had the time to say something, “She helped me save him.”

Ada looked at you with surprise, trying to discover the mysteries your traits hid so well, but her focus was far too disrupted by the frightening amount of blood that was covering you. Blood everywhere on the stunning, little, murderous creature she never thought you were. Many questions raged in her skull, like a tornado of thoughts and speculations. After what seemed to be a whole eternity, she managed to speak,

“For God’ sake… It could have been dangerous!” She said, blinded to the simple possibility you had just killed someone without batting an eye, "You are wounded! Look at the blood!"

You sighed and remained silent, stealing the silver cigarette case that was on the nearby furniture. The tip of your tongue moistened your juicy lips, whose corner was stained with red lipstick you smeared all over your skin when you had tried to wipe the blood that had splattered on your face.

"It's not mine."

Your hands were still shaking from what you had to do, unpleasantly recalling their past crimes. Then, you slipped one cigarette between your teeth and lit it with the zippo you found in the pocket of Arthur’s coat that was still on your shoulders. Shivering with cold despite the fire burning in the hearth, you nestled a bit more in his coat in a desperate attempt to find a substitute for your man's comforting warmth.

"I beg your pardon? Whose blood is it?" She almost choked with surprise. Then it struck her. "Heaven..."

You did not say a single word and kept smoking in almost religious silence.

"Who the hell are you?" Ada inquired, her shaky voice coated with an odd mix of fear and fascination stirred by the eerie aura that was all around you.

You took a long puff from your cigarette before staring deep at Ada’s beautiful eyes. You looked at her for a while, then shift your focus on the fire burning in the fireplace. You watched the flames dance, the sound of wood cracking sending shivers down your spine. Ada swallowed, waiting for your answer. She, who had defended you in front of Tommy a bit earlier, could not tell anymore if you were the hero they needed or the villain they had to fear.

Saint or sinner? Spell or prayer? Blessing or curse?

Who are you, she asked.

“I am the one they really should have burned.”

A cloud of smoke came from your mouth as if hellfire was burning within you.

And somehow, it was certainly the case.

✞ gif by the talented @alicent-targaryen

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ Normally, each chapter of this series can be read as stand-alone but not this one. It's far more enjoyable if you have read at least the previous chapter.

Tag: @meowtastick @babayaga67 @sired-to-hybridrid @shelbyssins @kxnnxyasdfg @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd

#arthur shelby x heaven #sharkie <3

352 notes · View notes

the-exiled-comic · 3 years ago

Note

What was crowstar's relationship with fallensnow like? What fallensnow thinks of his son?

i'll just give a shorter answer cuz im planning on making a short side comic about fallensnow (im probably going to start it next fall, but it may take a while to finish since it would spoil parts of the main story, and i'll want to have those plot point released first)

his relationship with crowstar was unfortunately always manipulative from her end. i wouldn't call fallensnow naive, but he does struggle thinking for himself and he learns from experience. he did have real feelings for her, or atleast an idealized version, and he was afraid of what she would do if he cut her off. there's also some feelings of guilt from him, wondering if he can change her for the better if he tries harder. but ultimately she takes advantage of his more quiet nature and uses praise to get him where she wants him.

he's a big cat with strong battle skills, so you know what she sees in him. nobody knows what he saw in her though, he's a pretty closed book and both firespots and whisperleaf were very confused by the relationship.

fallensnow doesnt really interact with his son until the last quarter-ish of The Exiled, fallensnow is honestly embarrassed by fallenscar. he's weirded out by crowstar naming their kid after him, despite being responsible for his death. he doesnt want anything bad to happen to fallenscar though. he knows whisperleaf wants them to get to know each other eventually, he's trying to put it off for as long as he can

#asks #fallensnow was originally just this guy #who sometimes killed people and thats why he dated crowstar #and to also give drama between crow and whisper #but overtime he's acquired a proper house within my brain #and i have too many thoughts

16 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 4 years ago

Note

Would you write a Kaz Brekker request where the reader is a bookworm and a crow and basically Kaz asks the reader to read to him as his way of apologizing after a argument that was his fault?

it a/n i did something kinda similar in a 'promise of rain' blurb,, but this concept is so cute to me:)) love it sm i moved it up my request cue lol

also IM IN COLLEGE NOW!! WHAT?? AND IVE BEEN TO A PARTY! AND IM JOINING A SORORITY AND I DID DRAMA AUDITIONS AND AHH !! SO DIFFERENT! I MISS MY MOM AND SISTER AND DOG AND EVEN MY DAD BUT IM HAPPY HERE!!

also im a little worried this might not portray kaz superrrrr accurately bc it's been awhile so just let me know,, feedback leads to improvement:)) also kinda set this up for a part 2 bc...well youll see

They've always said a lot of things about him, and I've always heard them. But I've never quite believed them. Sure, I get why the dark things that have flourished in the poisoned soil that is Ketterdam consider Kaz Brekker the darkest thing of all. I understand the nickname 'Dirtyhands' for the gloved criminal who has fooled each crime boss at least once. I understand each terrible thing they've said about him.

But I've never agreed with them. I've never even considered agreeing with them. Until today.

The thought that maybe everything people say about him is correct in a simple context struck me worse than the silence after our argument. It made me feel like both a fool and hypocrite. Kaz and I have had our fair share of spats over the relatively short time we've known each other, but never like this. Never so badly he stormed out of the room before I could. I squeeze the book in my lap even harder, desperate to focus on the words on the pages.

You didn't hurt him. He walked away because he decided you weren't worth the cost of his expensive time. I repeat those thoughts in my mind over and over again, letting them bitter me further. It's a lot easier to be mad than hurt. A lot easier to fuel your pain than try to understand your mistakes. Besides, tiredness is already dredging around in my chest and if I don't calm down a little I won't be able to fall asleep.

I had escalated the fight more than I should have. Knowing Kaz is like performing in a tightrope act. One must always be aware of where they're going. Watching what's in front of them without ever thinking too much about what's beneath or behind them. Today though, when I needed my balance most I chose to fall. I chose to dive, and apparently there was no net.

"Oh, you're doing that thing."

I roll my eyes at Jesper's voice as I fight down a yawn. I wipe my face with the back of my palm before turning. The burning behind my eyes never resulted in full tears, but I feel better after doing so. "What thing?"

"That terribly noble thing where you find it in yourself to take full blame for every single conflict you and boss man fall into." The slight humor in his voice is enough for me to roll my eyes again. "Between you and me, I'm sure the reason he's so angry now is because you didn't do that for once."

I press my lips together as my chin angles itself upwards slightly. "I never do that." He raises an eyebrow. The slight sympathy that colors the look is more offensive than his accusation. "If I pick and choose my battles, it's for good reason."

"Clearly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs once before further entering my room. I say nothing when he sits at the foot of my bed. "Oh, you know," Jesper stretches back casually, resting his back against the wall and extending his legs, "You and Kaz--Kaz and you."

Has he been drinking? Perhaps he's not here because of my unusual absence from downstairs after my fight with Kaz but because he's already too tipsy to think right. "What?"

At my confused look he grins, flashing all of his teeth with an arrogance that outshines the whiteness of them. He taps the still open book in my lap. "Let me put it in terms you'll understand." Jesper sits up a little further, amusement clear in his features. "You two make a shameful Elizabeth and Darcy--"

"Oh, shut up," I groan, glaring at him, "This isn't Pride and Prejudice. And Kaz and I," Jesper's smugness returns when I can't quite think of what I want to say, "We're barely friends--we're barely anything, let alone what you're implying."

Jesper pulls his legs up and shoves me gently. "Dearest, y/n," he ignores my glare, "You should know better than anyone that 'barely friends, barely anything' with Kaz is more than it is with anyone else?"

"That doesn't mea--"

"You two say goodnight to each other." Once. Kaz and I said good night to each other in front of Jesper once. How dare he assume it happens regularly? He's right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with it. "You play cards with him. Not for money, not for skill--"

"It's for practice." The look Jesper gives me is enough to tell me that my defense didn't land.

Damn him for ever finding Kaz and I on one of those strange nights. One of those nights in which he lurks at the stairwell...the one that divides my room and his attic. One of those nights in which it feels like he's a phantom and I'm the only one that can really see him. A night in which we both silently find each other.

I couldn't quite believe it the first time it happened. I'm not exactly a Crow--I don't feel enough a connection to the Dregs to join them without some kind of guarantee--but I was needed for some obscure job. but I was needed for some obscure job. The Crows needed an insider who could blend into high society, and I needed a place to stay away from my father.

It worked. I worked. And with each passing day I found myself enjoying the Crows more and more. That's why I stayed. That's why I started checking the stairwell practically every night, a set of playing cards in my hand.

The first time had been awkward. I couldn't sleep and my room felt too quiet, but the rambunctious club felt too loud and a little unsafe considering the hour. So I settled for the only space in between. When Kaz found me sitting on the steps and playing a solitary card game I had been so stunned by embarrassment I just offered to deal him in. I had been more shocked when he silently accepted my offer.

"Practice?" Jesper repeats. "You were laughing, I heard you."

"That was one time--how do you know we didn't just happen to play cards together the one time you saw it?"

"Because you laughed about a play you considered 'predictable'."

Sighing, I sit up a little straighter. "I'm not having this conversation. Occasionally saying 'goodnight' to someone who lives in the same space I live in and sometimes playing cards with said person because we both happen to be up at a certain time doesn't mean anything."

"And the way he looked at the contact that was flirting with you?"

Oh...this conversation again. "For the last time, the contact wasn't flirting with me. We had to dance to blend in and when he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear...it was to tell me the intel Kaz just had to have."

"And when he tucked that strand of hair behind your ear?"

"He just wanted to sell our cove--"

"Y/n, he kissed your cheek and I'm fairly certain he would have kissed you if Kaz and I hadn't made it to the corridor at that second."

Why is everyone so obsessed with what would have never happened? The contact had been attractive, tall with fair eyes and hair. But it's not like I feel anything for him, nor would I have been so foolish during a job. A fact that Kaz refuses to believe. I'm tired of this argument...I'm just tired. This job required me to start getting ready early in the morning and lasted long into the night.

"I wouldn't have kissed him and even if I had, the fact that Kaz is so mad about feels...sexist." A stupid argument, considering that Kaz couldn't care less if the person he's working with is female, male, or anything in between because the only thing he cares about is profit. "It's a stupid thing to be mad about, but you hit on anything with a pulse at any time and--"

"I resent that--"

"For the first two weeks I was here I thought you might've been a prostitute."

I can feel him holding in a laugh. "Did you at least think I was a good prostitute?" When I glare again, he finally actually laughs. "Not the point--got it."

"Then what is the point? You're bored and obsessed with gossip so now you're shaking me for information you don't need."

"The point is you're oblivious." Rude...I move my leg in a weak attempt to push him off my bed. Jesper catches my ankle easily, ignoring my attempt at a fight. "You thought the contact was only doing his job and you don't know the real reason that Kaz blew up at you for the first time the way he blows up at everyone."

"Okay, well since you know everything, tell me why he's mad."

He lets out a sigh like he can't believe I even needed to ask that. "It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy."

...Maybe he is drunk? "Don't be so cryptic. I don't like you enough to put up with that."

Jesper half-sighs again before pushing himself off my bed. "I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that."

"Asshole," I mumble instinctually as he walks towards my door. "Are you not telling me because I tried to push you off the bed?"

He turns when he reaches my door in order to lean against my door frame. "It's not not because of that." I should throw my book at his head. "In all seriousness, think about it. If you don't you'll either kill each other or kill me."

Ugh...he's so confusing. This time, I let him go. He leaves he door open, which is beyond annoying. I stand up to close it, promising myself I will focus on my book the second it's in my hands again. As I walk back towards my bed, my eyes land on the deck of cards on my nightstand.

Does it send a signal I don't want to send if I don't go the stairwell tonight? Do I want to send a signal? I don't know...actually, the only thing I know is that I don't want to think about this a second longer. I don't ease as I read, but my eyelids become heavier with each word they cross. I feel the weight of them as my focus slips, farther and farther away until I can no longer focus. When my eyes fall shut I can't bring myself to think or force them open.

I notice my surprised before I register that I've just woken up. Falling asleep feels so far and yet the crick in my neck confirms the obvious. Rubbing the eyes with the back of my hand, I push my book from my lap and sit up. The only indication of how much time has passed is how much my bedside candle has melted.

How long have I been asleep? How did I manage to fall asleep? I thought I was too mad at Kaz to manage anything but pouting in my room. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to talk to him.

I stand even though I haven't decided anything. I should at least change if I want to go to bed. But is leaving this alone for even longer a bad idea? I think Jesper thought so...though my conversation with him is far from clear. It's not the best look that the first time you let him pick a fight with you happens to be about some guy. I'm going to pretend I think you're smart enough to piece things together from that. What does he want me to do with that?

Maybe he was partially intoxicated and felt the need to play the role of a good friend. Or maybe this is his idea of a joke.

Whatever--regardless of Jesper, I have a choice to make. A tiny part of me hopes it's insignificant, but I know Kaz enough to know that nothing is insignificant to him. He holds onto things the way he holds onto his kruge. Perhaps I'll seek out Inej, she seems to be the best at rationalizing. Though she might be asleep by now, or on a job or...I don't even know.

How late is it? Is it late enough to be one of the few hours Kaz claims to reserve for sleep? Maybe my bad luck is still around and he's already in bed for once. Does that mean his anger will extend to tomorrow?

I shouldn't care. It's not like I'm in the wrong. Did I escalate things? Maybe a little...but I won't apologize for defending myself. Even though that makes everything a little easier. I feel stuck, like in some kind of place of half sleep. A single knock at my door is enough to make me want to jump. I rub my eyes a little more firmly in hopes of waking up more before someone sees me.

I approach the door without worry. Maybe it's not as late as I assumed. Or maybe it's really early? I open the door while still fighting against my slight disorientation. I'm so focused on acting normal, I almost don’t register the person standing at my door.

I don’t know who I expected, or what--maybe Jesper, much more tipsy than he was before, slumped against the doorframe, only knocking because he’s too tired to push the door open. Maybe even Inej, on her way here to deliver some kind of job or notice of dismissal. But it’s nothing I could expect. It’s...Kaz.

The Dirtyhands stands at my door, expression as hard as ever yet something behind his eyes that burns the sleep away from me. “Uh--hi.” I bite my tongue to avoid cringing at that very awkward beginning. “Are you here to kick me out yourself?” The only response I get is the slightest shift of his gaze off of my face. “No? Well then I think I’m going to bed. It’s late.”

My tone and words are clear. Get out of my doorway, I’m in no mood to go back to arguing. When he still doesn’t say anything, I’m emboldened by my nerves. I push the door between us without breaking eye contact.

Before the wood can meet the doorframe, he moves his cane, wedging it between us. “Y/n.” I don’t understand the way he says my name, but I’m certain he’s never said it like that. “I...” When he’s not prompted by the uncomfortableness of silence, I raise an eyebrow, my grip on the door tightening. “What I said shouldn’t have been said.” Wait--is he admitting fault? I’m so thrown I almost melt entirely. “Not to you.”

The addition leaves him so lowly a part of me wonders if I’ve imagined it. I’m so thrown by it I don’t even think to reply until a long second has passed. “You seemed to believe the opposite a few hours ago.”

His lips press together for a moment. “You didn’t ask me to play cards tonight.” He took that as intentional? At least that got me some kind of apology? I keep my mouth shut, greed making me want more information. I guess he must sense my silent tugging because he head inclines slightly. “Don’t push.”

I fight down a grin. “Push what?” His only response to stiffen further. “I’m going to tell you something as a peace offering.” That seems to intrigue him in some way. I can’t tell if it’s a good kind of interested, but I note the slight raise of his eyebrows and his intentional silence. “I didn’t chose not to ask you to play cards.” He gives me no indication of anything, which is fair...considering my vagueness. “I was mad, obviously, and in the middle of deciding on a course of action...and then I fell asleep.”

A long pause of silence. “You fell asleep?”

I’m not sure if his incredulous tone should offend me or not. If I wanted to lie, I’d like to think he knows me well enough to know that I’d have thought of a better excuse than that. Or at least a less embarrassing one. “Yes, it’s not that difficult to believe. Today had been long and all I wanted to do was read, but then Jesper came in to say the oddest things and then leave me to...”

Oh--oh. I guess there’s a reason people say to ‘sleep on’ something. Because now, actively remembering Jesper’s words for the first time since I fell asleep...I understand what Jesper was implying in the oddest way possible. He meant that Kaz and I...that perhaps there is a Kaz and I in a context that’s more than just grammatical. Wow. I really had to realize this with Kaz right in front of me.

My face feels warmer than it did before, an irrational bout of anxiety forcing me to consider that me might be able to read impossible, embarrassing thoughts from my expression alone.

“What did Jesper say?” I’m too lost in my own spiral of confusion and panic and some feeling I can’t recognize to register how Kaz asks his question. There’s an edge to it, an odd one, but that could easily just be Kaz.

This is most definitely the last conversation we need to be having. I’m still mad at him for his earlier dramatics. So I just shake my head, feigning an exhaustion I could lose myself in. “Nothing and everything all at once.” I resist the urge to rub my eyes again. “I’m pretty sure he was drinking, and I wasn’t really listening. I was just trying to read.”

Kaz’s expression hardens briefly as he takes in my words, and then he exhales, nodding once with the breath. “What were you reading?”

My lips part instinctually, ready to spew off details about the latest novel that’s captured my attention. But before I can let myself take off, the reality of the situation strikes me directly in the chest. This is not Nina, or Inej, or even Jesper after what he considers a ‘good night’. This is Kaz Brekker, the man believed to not have a soul. I’ve spoken to him before about casual things, though most of the nights in which we end up playing cards or just sitting near each other are spent in silence. But he’s never prompted me before. Not in the one topic he knows is guaranteed to turn me into an overenthusiastic, gushing fountain of poor summaries and character analysis.

I guess this is his peace offering. This shouldn’t warm the way it does. He was still unbelievably dramatic and treated me like I’m some kind of unreliable fool. “It’s late, and you know how I can be. I’d hate to keep you for nothing more than a poor summary and honestly, an embarrassing rant about plot or characters, because there’s just nothing as frustrating as when two people so clearly care about each other and both are too stubborn and oblivious to acknowledge it.”

Kaz’s eyebrows draw together just enough for me to be able to make out a shift of expression in the poor light. Perhaps his lingering irritation is preparing to rear its ugly head. The corner of his mouth seems to threaten to tilt upwards as Kaz angles his head to the side slightly. “I can’t imagine that position.”

No kidding. I bite my tongue to keep the sarcastic comment and awkward laugh that would sure follow it away. “Who can? That’s like half the point of reading.”

How can interaction feel so over and just at its beginning all at once? I press my lips together to avoid filling the silence with things I’d no doubt instantly regret. It’s easy to be mad at Kaz in the moment. Too easy. But to stay mad at him when his temper has passed and he returns with some kind of begrudging and admittedly awkward and uncertain truce is another task entirely.

“I’ve never understood your attachment to written words.”

“It’s not about understanding, it’s about everything else.”

“And you say I’m cryptic.” Is he...kinda almost joking? I straighten my spine, too tired to fight and too wounded to forgive. “There’s understanding in everything, nothing can survive on sentiment alone.”

“If you read the way I did, you’d understand.”

His lips press together as his expression remains unwavering in its hardness. “Read to me.”

...Interacting with Kaz in any way often leaves me feeling like I’m wandering through unknown territory. But this, this is undeniably different. So different I can’t even think of a way to react. I watch his expression as cautiously as possible. He’s purely reserved, no distinction from the look he wears during business propositions. Except there’s a tightness I can’t quite understand.

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe it’s because exhaustion is leaving me partially delirious. Or maybe it’s the weird feeling in my chest that I can’t quite place. That I don’t want to place. “Okay.” I shift carefully. “If for no other reason then to prove you wrong.”

Never did I think I’d end up in the position of sitting in my bed, book in hand, with Kaz Brekker sitting next to me. But here we are. I’m so tired, I almost let out a nervous laugh when he first walked in. So brooding and tall, gripping the head of his head cane as he sits at the foot of my bed, on my pastel quilt.

I’m glad for the excuse to keep my gaze away from him and on the words in front of me. I read out loud, feeling more and more comfortable with each page I finish. But as my inhibitions slip away, so dos my hold on consciousness. My eyelids seem to grow heavier with each word that I read.

“You’re falling asleep.”

I straighten my spine on instinct. “Am not.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to deny something so simple.

“You’re impossible.”

From him, that statement is laugh worthy. “I’m impossible? Do you not remember earlier today?”

From the way his jaw locks, I realize that he’s in no mood to be light about this topic. I don’t understand why. It’s not like I’m the one that wronged him. “I remember your lack of focus.”

Keeping my hands at my side to avoid rubbing my eyes, I frown. “If you want to have this argument again, fine. Jesper is more ‘distracted’ than me half the time and you’re much more lenient on him. It’s not like I was flirting with someone or gambling or doing anything but having a two second conversation. One that I needed to have to get information that you wanted.”

The last time we fought, I had more energy to restrain myself. This could be atomic. I hold my breath, waiting for Kaz’s retaliation. He exhales, eyes not meeting mine. “Arguing with you when you’re present is exhausting enough. It’s not worth it when you’re half asleep.”

This angers me further. I hate that he’s right. “I’m not half asleep.” He leaves it at that. I glare even harder at him, slumping further into my bed. “But for the sake of argument, I’ll drop it. Something you’re incapable of doing.”

At that, his eyes meet mine. I try to hold his gaze, but the harder I think about not seeming tired the more exhaustion slips in. A yawn escapes me before he looks away. Great. “I know when to lie in the grass in wait.”

Rolling my eyes, I shift back slightly. He’s incapable of being less dramatic than this. Still, I can’t imagine the effort it’s taking on his part to not start an argument. Maybe this is why Jesper spent so long implying that there may be a Kaz and I in any capacity beyond a vague kind of friendship. “I’ll admit you’re tactful.”

“Resourceful people recognize that trait in other people.”

Blinking twice, I lower my book slightly. Am I truly exhausted, or did he just compliment me in a way? “Careful, I may start to think you find me tolerable.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.” Okay, now I know I’m exhausted because I think he might have just attempted a joke. Rolling my eyes, I decide not to acknowledge this lightness in fear that I’ll scare it away. “Y/n?”

I press my lips together, worried about the destruction of our peace. “Yes?”

“What did Jesper say to you? Earlier?” I pause, slightly unsure why we’re moving backwards.

We’re in a decent place now, and I’d hate to ruin it. I’m too half asleep to lie eloquently. And it’s not like he’s an easily convinced man. “Oh, he said it so cryptically it took me longer than it should have to understand. And it didn’t help that it was something so...well, you might find it funny. As funny as you find anything, anyways.” Wow...I’ve spent such a long time talking. Rubbing the back of my eyes, I avoid his gaze. Exhaustion and awkwardness mix in my stomach oddly. “It seemed like he was trying to imply that you and I...me and you...” Why is this a difficult thing to say? It’s not like I was implying it and Jesper’s known for his oddness. “I think Jesper was implying that there was a you and I, or at least that there could be.” I’m too lost in a haze of almost sleep to watch his reaction. I let my head rest against my headboard even further. “Isn’t that odd?”

He’s quiet for a long second, and then he finally speaks again. “Odd, even for Jesper.” The response doesn’t satiate me...what’s that about? I exhale, deciding that feeling is tomorrow’s problem. When I blink, I decide to let my eyes stay closed. Just for a moment. The sound of something shifting is what makes my eyes squint open. Kaz is standing, his expression unreadable as he straightens. “Goodnight, y/n.”

At that, I sit up slightly, ignoring the exhaustion behind my eyes. “I haven’t finished the chapter.”

“You’ve convinced me of enough.” A concession? How exhausted do I seem? My lips press together as I think of my next argument. Before I can get it out, Kaz leans forward. He grabs the quilt at the end of my bed and tosses it onto my legs casually. “Goodnight, y/n.” The meaning of his repetition is clear. His word is final.

I find enough energy to manage a glare, but I pull the quilt over my legs anyways. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone imagines #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows show #shadow and bone show #six of crows netflix

394 notes · View notes

comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

Text

IUI - The Way I Love You

bear with me here folks

I know the Idiots are usually soft af. but my lovely spouse/fiance/soon-to-be-fiance and beta @dani-dandelino hit me with an idea and I added a dash handful of angst bc i couldn’t help it

Warnings: feelings of inadequacy, fear of breakup (no actual breakup I promise), miscommunication, drunk af Geralt, past shitty relationships, happy ending tho I promise, there’s tears but they’re happy I swear.

______________________________________

Geralt only ever got sloppy drunk when Jaskier was the DD. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust anyone else, it was that he didn’t trust his drunk boyfriend not to goad him into something stupid.

The last time they’d both gotten fucked up outside of their apartment they woke up with three traffic cones and a “Speed Hump” sign in their living room. When they asked Triss what happened she sent them a video of them giggling as they tried to fit the sign into her trunk.

After hanging the sign in their apartment, they decided it may be best to take turns.

This particular instance, they’d dropped Triss and Yen off and were on their way home, Geralt’s head lolling against the window as he fought to stay awake.

“I’m not carrying your perky ass upstairs,” Jaskier laughed, snapping his fingers near Geralt’s ear.

Geralt grumbled but sat up straight and leaned into Jaskier’s outstretched hand, “Radio.”

Affectionately rolling his eyes, Jaskier pulled his hand away and flipped on the radio. Geralt immediately gasped and started singing along off key and slurred. The first time Jaskier heard Geralt scream along to Taylor Swift he’d been shocked, if extremely endeared.

“BUT I MISS SCREAMIN’ AND FIGHTIN AND KISSIN IN THE RAIN! IT’S TWO AM AND I’M CURSIN’ YOUR NAME! SO IN LOVE THAT WE ACTED INSANE, AND THAT’S THE WAY I LOVED YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Jaskier turned the volume down to a reasonable level when Geralt cranked it so loud his ears might start ringing. He rolled his eyes when Geralt started singing it to him, taking the shortcut home and trying to ignore the little pit forming in his stomach.

When the song ended Geralt turned the radio down and picked up his hand not gripping the steering wheel, “Jask?”

“Mhm?”

Even in the car, Geralt glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, “I have a secret.”

Fear flared in Jaskier’s chest but he took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself who he was talking to. His boyfriend thought secrets were fun. Mostly because Geralt’s version of a secret was keeping what he made for dinner a surprise until Jaskier got home. He’d even felt guilty not telling Jaskier he was seeing a therapist when they’d started dating. For all his gruff exterior and suspicion, Geralt really was an open book with those he loved and trusted. Jaskier had a very different idea of what secrets in a relationship meant.

“What’s that, love?”

Geralt giggled as he traced the edges of a magnolia on the back of Jaskier’s wrist, “That is the way I love you.”

Luckily for Jaskier’s car, they were rolling up to a stop sign. He had time to loose his breath for a moment and fight back the initial feeling of shame and anger with himself before he pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel as he punched the gas.

Through gritted teeth, he said the gentlest thing he could think of, “We don’t kiss in the rain.”

Geralt frowned, almost pouted at him, “I still love you.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to scream at Geralt, another part wanted to pull over and make him walk home, thankfully the loudest part reminded him the idiot was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying and he thought he was being sweet. There was also a good possibility he would cry himself to sleep in the passenger seat if Jaskier yelled at him and last time he tried to carry Geralt to bed his back hurt for a week.

“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed as he pulled into their parking spot.

He didn’t sleep well that night. Not because his sweaty, smelly, and fidgety boyfriend clung to him in his sleep, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the ride home.

Jaskier had lived in relationships like that for most of his adult life. Hell, even in his teens. They were nothing but all consuming passion with no connection to support it and left both parties jaded and lost. When he left his mentor he’d sat in Yen’s chair for hours and hours, until his arm had gone numb, and the only thing he could think was ‘never again’.

And now Geralt thought he was being cute. The ridiculously meticulous and serious man was only ever sappy when he got drunk and now instead of reveling in it like he’d like, Jaskier was staring at the clock on his nightstand calculating how exhausted he’d be in the morning as the minutes ticked by.

Turns out, he was at least in the land of the living by the time Geralt shuffled into the kitchen with his hands in his hair and a pained expression.

“Feel like shit.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement as he sipped his morning tea and shifted in his seat to see better out the window.

After popping a few anti-inflammatories and nibbling on a cracker before giving up on food, Geralt lumbered up behind Jaskier and draped his arms over his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I’m just being… touchy.”

Geralt pressed a light kiss over the hellebore tattoo on Jaskier’s neck, “I doubt it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Jaskier laid his hand over Geralt’s arm across his chest, “I don’t want to lose this.”

“Why…? What makes you think you would?” Geralt was a little slower on the draw hungover, but he knelt next to Jaskier’s chair and rested a hand on his knee as he waited for a response. He only ever looked so worried when Roach had an abscess and it broke Jaskier’s heart. He didn’t want to say it and ruin everything.

After a deep breath in, he mumbled out his answer, “Do you really love me like that song?”

“What song?” Geralt breathed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s knee.

“The uh, Way I Loved You one.”

Geralt searched his face for a beat, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening, “Of course I do.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he forced all the air from his lungs in the hopes it would do something to stop the tears from falling. When it was clear he would lose the battle he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

“You… don’t want me to?” Geralt sounded close to tears himself, but he didn’t take his hand off Jaskier’s thigh.

“No- yes! No?” Jaskier sniffed and wiped at his face but didn’t lean back to look at Geralt, “I- Geralt I can’t just fill a hollow relationship with lust. We ha- I thought we had more? But if you want the- the fights and the hate fucking- I don’t- Geralt I don’t want that. Not with anyone but not with you. Ne-”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s arm, gathering him to his chest when the brunette melted into sobs, “I don’t want that. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I let you think that.” He cradled Jaskier’s head to his shoulder, pressing kisses into his hair between softly spoken apologies and reassurances. They stayed there until Jaskier’s tea went cold and his sobs were closer to little gasps.

Eventually, Jaskier lifted his head and met Geralt’s eyes, “H-how do you love me?”

Geralt licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not- It’s not hollow.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, “Please?”

One of Geralt’s hands came up to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he took a deep breath, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you… I never wanted to be romantic with anyone until you. You… You make me feel… safe. I’m never bored of you or numb or sick of you. This is the first relationship I’ve had where I bother to fight, Jask. I love you so much it makes me do things I never thought to do and I’m glad and I never want to change anything about us. Never.”

A shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine as relief flooded his whole body. His throat ached from crying and his shoulders were sore from holding all that tension in a way they hadn’t for years, but he’d never felt so good. Geralt loved him. Him. Not some tumultuous relationship or the sex or the drama of it all. Someone finally loved him for him.

It hadn’t really hit Jaskier till then. They’d said ‘I love you’, sure, but he hadn’t really believed Geralt, just like he’d stopped believing the string of selfish lovers before him.

“Thank Mellitelle,” Jaskier laughed, just on this side of hysterical as he tightened his grip around Geralt’s shoulders, “I fucking love how boring we are. And you. Fuck I really really do love you.”

“Even when I smell like my regulars?” Geralt teased, intentionally huffing a little extra and dosing Jaskier in his horrendous hangover morning breath.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose but smiled and kissed him anyway, “Of course.”

“Mhh,” Geralt pulled away for a moment, brushing his thumb over Jaskier’s crows feet in a silent request for him to open his eyes, “Can we go back to bed?”

“The crying does it for you, huh?” Jaskier chuckled, his voice was still weak but his laugh was genuine.

“I’m so dizzy, Jask,” squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slightly, Geralt plopped back onto his heels. If Jaskier hadn’t witnessed just how much he drank he’d say he was lying, but Jaskier was truly surprised he’d even climbed out of bed this morning.

“Mkay, up. Back to bed then.”

They settled under the blankets and tangled themselves back together. Geralt hummed, closing his eyes and squeezing Jaskier a little tighter.

New, happier tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he pushed them down, opting to trace the corner of Geralt’s buttercup tattoo peeking out of his shirt, “I love you.”

Geralt took a deep breath in before he sighed out a rumbling, “I know.”

“No, Geralt. Really,” Jaskier laid his hand over the yellow and green ink, “I’ve said these words more times than I can count but I don’t think I ever really understood them until you.”

“Jaski-”

“I love you,” Jaskier’s interruption was far smaller and far more fragile than he had intended. His words just continued to spill out, “You’re steady and calm and I’ve never had that. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like and I’m constantly scared I’m gonna fuck it up…”

Comforting fingers ran through his hair as Geralt murmured his reply, “Me too,” Jaskier just squeezed his shoulder in a bit of solidarity and a bit of selfish comfort, “But I think we’re doing alright…”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Geralt started, shifting so he was practically engulfing Jaskier, “we both still love each other, and...” his boyfriend pinched him when he trailed off, pretending to fall asleep in a way that always mad Jaskier giggle, “Ow- and you use the hooks by the front door.”

“I do, don’t I?” Jaskier sniffled, “And you used your words.”

“I’d use all the words for you.”

“All of them?”

Geralt really was drifting away this time, his words coming slowly as his arms relaxed and Jaskier felt their full weight over him, “Not well, but I would...”

182 notes · View notes

rollingthunderthighs · 5 years ago

Text

Daredevil - Haikyuu x Reader

Summary: Tanaka (y/n), younger sister of Tanaka Ryunosuke! You’ve been watching your brother play volleyball since you both we just kids. You found your own passion, which you quickly gave up on due to... reasons. It happened halfway through your last year of middle school, then having to go to Ryu’s practices after school to wait to walk home with him. After spending your last year along side him and the team, you’ve come to cherish your time with Karasuno’s Volleyball Club. Now that you’re entering high school, you decided you wouldn’t go back to the past and stick with your new found interest; to help Kiyoko with managing the team of lovely crows! However, these other first years are something else; will you be able to handle them? Will you be able to handle your over protective brother? Most importantly, can you find your own wings while helping the others fly high? The past can’t stayed buried forever after all.

Pairings: Karasuno First Years x Reader; Kei Tsukkishima x Reader; Tadashi Yamaguchi x Reader; Tobio Kageyama x Reader; Shoyo Hinata x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

MASTERLIST

-----

Chapter 1 - First Day Back

-----

“Oni-chan,” you sigh, irritated at your brother as he put his jacket on, “Can you hurry up?”

Your brother simply waved you off, glancing at you with sleep still prominent in his eyes. You sigh again, louder just so he could hear it.

You love Ryu, you do, but having to deal with him in the morning was nothing short of a pain; he was always half asleep, always slow. Half of the time you would start to walk without him, having to contain an eye roll as he’d run to catch up with you. Even though he was a year older than you, he had insisted on being a good big brother and walking you to Oujitsu Middle. However, now that was all different, you were finally attending Karasuno along with him so he didn’t have to worry about taking you to school and running to his own.

Once he finally decided to move his lazy ass, you both left the house with silent goodbye to your sleeping elder sister. You smooth your skirt, glaring at him from the corner of your eye.

“Oni-chan, it’s my first day you know, you could’ve tried to put in a little more effort to leave early so we wouldn’t be late.”

“Ah, sorry (y/n)-chan. It’s just hard to wake up in the mornings, yanno?” He yawns loudly, arms raised high as he stretches.

“Maybe you should go to bed sooner, instead of kissing photos of Kiyoko-senpai all night long-”

“Hah, shut up punk I do not!”

He threw his arms around you, trapping you against his chest as he brought a hand up to give you a noogie.

“RYU YOU JERK, LET ME GO!”

“THEN DON’T MAKE OF YOUR AWESOME BIG BROTHER!”

You swat his hands away as he laughs at the mess of your hair.

“Ne, that’s a good look for you, (y/n)-chan~” He teases.

“You’re worse than nee-chan.”

He shudders at the mention of your guys’ sister, and you take that moment while he’s distracted to strike; you smack the back of Ryu’s shaven head, the sound loud and sharp.

“Ouch, what the hell!?” He whines, rubbing his head tenderly.

“That’s what you get,” you huff, fixing your appearance before sticking your tongue out at him, “not my fault you decided to go bald, jerk-suke!”

“You’re so lame, nerd-(/n),” he grunts, shoving you lightly as the gates appear in your line of sight, “Now get to class before I kick your ass. You want help on where to go, need me to walk you?”

He stops at the gate in hopes you’d accept, but pouts as you continue walking and wave him off.

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks anyway, oni-chan, I’ll see you after school.”

“We’re practicing at the gym right after!” He yells out, sighing as you only wave him off once more.

Tanaka clicks his tongue, a little worried about you, but overall knowing you’d be fine. With what happened after last year, he felt bad that you felt as if you had to stick with him at his own club, but if that’s what you wanted then he wouldn’t push it.

As long as you were happy, he didn’t care; it also helped that he wouldn’t have to worry anymore, knowing you’d be a couple feet away.

After walking away from your brother, you head up to the board to see the class lists posted, trying to find your class. You spot your name on the roster and head towards class four, still a little in shock of how you made it to the college prep class, your exam scores not only shocking you but the rest of your family. Your two older idiot siblings had always managed to just barely scrape together passing scores; well you had to give Saeko some credit, she was in college after all-even if she really didn’t care about her core classes.

You got to your class with no problems, but were somewhat dreading the idea of walking in since you expected it to be somewhat full with classes starting soon. You weren’t late, per say, but you were by no means early.

‘Thanks oni-chan.’ You think bitterly, sighing as you slide the doors open.

To your frustration, your assumption was correct; the classroom was already full of first years, and you had to hold back an irritated groan as all the good spots were taken. Glancing around, you spot a seat that was going to have to be the next best thing for now; it was somewhat towards the back of the class, the next seat over from the window-the seat you truly wanted. Slipping off your bag from your shoulder, you hang it on the hook beneath your proclaimed desk as you sit down with a gentle breath of relief.

Light music catches your attention, moving your head ever-so-slightly to peer at the boy sitting next to you. His headphones were playing loud music, the genre hard to catch as it was muffled just enough to leave the people around him wondering what it could be. You take in his appearance, short blond locks and thin framed glasses that hid his eyes; he was also pretty tall, even though he was sitting down you could tell. He looked as bored as you knew you were going to be as the day progressed-

Hell, you were already bored and the day hasn’t even started yet.

You had intended to turn away right after the initial glance, when his sharp gaze met your own; you had been taken aback by that single look, his face remaining unchanging but those now visible amber eyes overflowing in emotion.

The contrast intrigued you.

You purse your lips, overall unaffected by his stare, before turning to look back towards the front of the classroom. A grunt of distaste fills your ears, and you bite your tongue to hold in a retort. You continue to tell yourself to ignore him, not wanting to get caught up in drama on the first day.

Your eyes unintentionally flutter back over to the boy as his music comes out crisper, his headphones sliding off his head to rest on his shoulders.

It wasn’t like you were trying to stare, it was just the music had caught your attention..

So when his eyes instantly caught your gaze again, eyes now a harsh glare, you knew that you wouldn’t avoid the drama this time.

“What do you want.”

You raise a brow, his voice sounding calm despite the look on his face.

“Nothing?”

“Then, could you stop looking at me.” His tone turned upbeat, a sickly sweet smile on his face.

You wanted to gag at how fake it was.

You click your tongue instead, giving him a once over before staring straight back into his eyes with your own steady gaze. You weren’t going to lose this, whatever it was.

“Then could you keep it down next time? I, and I’m sure anyone else, wouldn’t want to look at you without reason. Thanks.” You shoot him the same fake smile he gave you.

You saw his smile falter, and you just stare, amused at his crumbling facade.

“You must’ve had a good reason then, since this wasn’t the first look, midget.”

“Hah,” you both glare at each other, the tension rising, “you’ve got some nerve-”

“Nerve, smarts, height. Everything you don’t.”

You felt your face contort, knowing your inner Tanaka-special-look was shining through. This guy looked anything but intimidated, looking down at you with amusement instead.

“Seems like I have all the looks too, what an ugly face you’re making there, chibi-chan. Is that why you’ve been staring at me, hm?”

The anger coursed through your body, about to push yourself to stand when a brunette sitting in front of the blond turned around, waving his arms.

“Tsukki, you shouldn’t tease like that,” he glanced at you with a shy smile, “S-sorry about that, please don’t take any offence.”

You raise a brow in question, looking at both boys before sighing out as you settled into your seat again. Your gaze turns from the freckled boy, who looked distressed and exasperated all at once, and towards the blond asshole to your left.

“Tch, make sure you keep your sass to yourself, Tsukki.”

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped, and you only snicker at his frustration.

“Or what? What are you going to do, Tsukki-chan~.”

The sensei walked in right after, cutting off anything he was going to say.

It was always to get the last word in, especially when you got looks like that; amber eyes burning in annoyance.

-----

The rest of class went by without a hitch; the welcoming ceremony was held right after lunch, and you felt yourself snickering as you saw the-painfully obvious-wig atop your vice’s head. However unfortunately, you were forced to stand next to Tsukki, being his desk neighbor and all.

“You laugh at the most idiotic things, chibi-chan. You must only have a few functioning brain cells.” He gave a smug smile.

“Oi, do you ever shut up? Attention wh-”

“Y-you guys might want to quiet it down..” Yamaguchi, as you learned during the lunch period you spent with them, whispered from in front of the both of you.

You had decided to stay in your seat for lunch and, to your dismay, the grumpy blond giant and his friend had the same idea. You didn’t want to hurt your pride by seeming like a coward, so you stayed in your seat and faced him head on instead of getting up and running away.

The entire lunch period was full of insults and fighting between the both of you, to which poor Yamaguchi had tried to defuse. You realized you liked the brunette, he was nice-maybe a little dumb considering he was friends with the asshole, but nice. Although, he did join in on throwing some teases your way, but you thought they were more cute than anything. He had blushed when you said it out loud, and you could only laugh at his flustered expression.

“Ah, sorry Yamaguchi-kun.” You sigh loudly, causing other students to look at the scene.

Yamaguchi flushed at the attention, turning back to the speeches as Tsukkishima huffed another insult under his breath; an insult you gracefully ignored, not wanting to get in trouble on your first day for yelling in the auditorium.

-----

Once the academic school day ended, you felt a slight amount of excitement shoot through your body, knowing your brother had practice and you’d get to see everyone again. As soon as the bell rang you sprung out of your seat, rushing down to the changing rooms and changing into one of your old track suits. You brought it with you because you really didn’t feel like wearing the schools, plus this one was much cuter anyways.

You hadn’t worn it in a while, not since..

You shake your head, pushing those old memories from your mind as you head down to the club room, hoping to find your brother, but spotting someone even better.

“Suga-kun!” You wave excitedly as he comes down the stairs.

His shocked expression quickly turns into a smile as you meet him at the bottom.

“My my, (y/n)-chan,” he laughs while pinching your cheek, “It’s been a while hasn’t it, look at you!”

You blush at his antics, brushing his hand off with a giggle. Sugawara had been kind to you from day one, even though you were just the little sister who sat in the gym while waiting for her brother to finish practice. He, along with the rest of the team, welcomed you with open arms.

You only met them halfway along in the school year, the first part spent at your old club activities in middle school, until that happened.

Ever since that day you had to go wait for your brother at Karasuno, instead of him picking you up from practice, so you quickly had to get used to all the crazy yet wonderful people you met;

Which is why you were finally glad to be back, being surrounded by really amazing people, no one with false intentions.

“Suga-kun, that hurts!”

He laughs again, only to be cut off by a loud whine.

“(y/n), why don’t you ever smile at me like that. I’m your brother, not Suga-san!” Ryu pouts, walking down the steps with the captain, your eyes widening at the sight of him while you ignore your brother.

“Daichi-kun!”

Diachi laughs at Ryu’s deflated look, walking over and placing a hand on your head.

“Long time no see, trouble-maker,” his laughter stops as he looks at you closely, a teasing smile appearing on his face, “Say, have you grown since last time?”

You place your hands on your hips, grinning cheekily.

“You noticed huh, I’ve grown a few cm, now I’m officially 155cm!”

Your happiness was cut short when Suga and Daichi raised a hand to stifle their laughter, and you pushed off the hand resting atop your head.

“Don’t laugh, you asked!”

“Ah poor little sister, you got stuck with the short genes.”

“I’m almost as tall as nee-chan-”

“You’re both short, (y/n).”

“Says the loser who can’t even reach 180cm!”

“Oi-”

“Alright you two, knock it off,” Daichi chuckled, lightly bopping you on the head while being a little more forceful to your brother, “Let’s get going. You ready for your first actual year being a club member, kiddo?”

“Oh yea, now I get to actually actively help instead of being forced to listen to oni-chan yelling with nothing to distract me.”

“Hey-”

“I bet Kiyoko will be thrilled to have you this year too.” Suga smiled, cutting off your brother who just grumbled angrily under his breath.

You all were making your way to the gym when Daichi pulled out a few papers from his club jacket.

“I agree, hopefully the new recruits won’t stop by too late, we have an interesting person joining after all.”

“Oh? Who would that be?” Suga questioned.

“The one kid we saw at the middle school matches, Kageyama Tobio.”

“The first setter of Kitagawa is going to join the team?”

“Huh? But, that guy is totally cocky.” Ryu sneered, thinking back to the matches he saw him in.

You remember the kid briefly, going with your brother and the other two to the games. Kitagawa was a powerhouse middle school, most of those kids ended up going to other powerhouse high schools, which wasn’t Karasuno.

Yet.

“He was pretty good though, from what I could tell,” you chime in, “I’m just surprised someone like him didn’t go to some high-end school in the prefecture. He seemed like he could totally get in.”

“Look at you,” Ryu cooed, trying to bring you into a noogie, “Thinking you know all about volleyball and the skills~”

“I know some things, idiot!”

“Quit it you two.”

“Okay…” You both agreed, knowing how scary the third year captain could be when he wanted to be.

“You better not try to intimidate the Kitagawa kid either, okay Tanaka.” Suga teased, changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

“I-I wouldn’t do something like that.” He grumbled, causing you to snicker.

“Ha, yea oni-chan-”

“You either, (y/n)-chan. You can be just as bad.”

Now it was your turn to pout and grumble while your brother laughed at you.

The gym doors were already open to your surprise, after getting the proper footwear on and heading inside, you spot two kids you haven’t seen before.

“Hello.” The taller male exclaims, and you snap your fingers together as you realize he was the kid you were just talking about.

“It’s him.”

“Oi, oi, oi, who said you could waltz in here-”

Your brother was cut off as Daichi grabbed the back of his jacket, yanking him backwards.

“You’re Kageyama, right?”

“Osu.” Kageyama agrees, standing straight and still as the boys approach him.

You stay behind them, only looking out from the back of your brother. You take in his features, and notice how intimidating he looked up close; he was tall-taller than Daichi even, eyes holding a sharp concentration, and as you glanced at his lips pulled in a taut line, you wondered if he could smile. A flash of orange caught your attention, glancing behind Kageyama to see another student sneaking besides the others. He starts to head over behind your friends, towards you, and doesn’t notice you until he’s standing almost directly beside you. He glances over and jumps, red spreading across his face as he yells out a greeting.

“H-hello!”

The others were too engrossed in their conversation, so you smiled politely back and gave him a small nod in greeting.

“Hello-”

“HELLO!” He shouts again louder, another shy blush spreading across his cheeks as he repeats himself once more. You laugh, catching the attention of the boys and they look at you.

“Huh, who are-OH, YOU!” Ryu shouts and points, causing Hinata to squeak and back away from you.

“M-me?”

“SHORTY NUMBER ONE!”

“You’re the other applicant, Hinata Shoyo.. I’m a little surprised.” Daichi smacks your brothers hand away, giving a welcoming smile to Hinata.

“Uh.. hm?” He bites his lip, confused.

“Oh,” you point at him suddenly, causing the blush to come back as he jumped back even further, “you’re the orange who jumped super high!”

The captain and vice held back snickers at the name, but it just made Hinata grow tongue tied.

“I-I, uh, huh?”

“We saw your match last year.” Suga clarified.

“You’re way short, and sucked pretty bad. But you’ve got guts, yanno?” Tanaka nodded.

“Ah, thanks!” Hinata grinned, beaming at the attention.

“Your jumps were awesome, right (y/n)-chan?”

“Right,” you agree with Suga, an excited gleam in your eye, “it was sooo cool to see! You looked like you were flying!”

“TH-THANKS!”

“But it looks like you haven’t grown so much since then,” Ryu measured out with his hand, “At least he’s taller than you, (y/n).”

“Oi, I’m not that short-”

“I may be little, but I can jump,” Hinata interjected, looking at the three members before looking at you, “I’ll become Karasuno’s ace!”

You flush at the way his eyes stared determinedly stare into your own.

“Ace huh..”

“Oi, oi… The newbie says he’s going to be the ace? Making that declaration to my sister no less, what are you getting at, you’ve got some nerve, boy.” Tanaka’s face twists into something scary, glaring down at the boy who froze up, slowly turning his head to make eye contact with your brother.

“S-s-sister? I-UH, I-I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE, UM, LIKE THAT!” He waves his arms in a panic.

“It’s good to be ambitious, right?” Suga swoops in to save the kid from further embarrassment.

Hinata sighed, agreeing and apologizing at the same time.

“Hey,” Kageyama’s voice pierces the conversation, “If you want to be the ace, I hope you’ve improved. If you goof around, you’ll waste another three years.”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

They began to fight, bickering back and forth about growth and how neither one has been wasting their time. Hinata lost his happy-go-lucky aura and Kageyama’s face was even scarier, each glaring at each other with just as much loathing. You were now standing between your brother and captain, hearing the latter sigh as he tried to diffuse the situation. You gulp down your nerves as they cut him off, watching how Daichi’s smile grew tight and his eyebrows furrowed.

Oh lord, here it comes.

“Oi, Daichi-san is talking to you!”

“Yeah, you should listen to your captain, yanno!” You throw in your two cents after your brother, only to feel annoyed when they both ignored you.

“What’s the commotion, volleyball club?”

You freeze, slowly turning your head to see the vice principal walking inside the gym.

“Yikes, the vice!” You and Ryu gasp.

“Sensei.” Suga hastily corrects you both.

“S-sensei.. Right.”

You purse your lips together, looking down at the court hoping you can this time contain your laughter.

“You’d better not be fighting.”

The duo, who were totally not fighting, had paused momentarily as the vice walked towards the crowd.

“Of course not,” Daichi gave the man a convincing grin, motioning to the two first years, “just a little friendly rivalry, right?”

“Hey, the vice likes to make trouble for us, so keep it down.” Tanaka Hisses, and you nod along while raising your hand to your mouth to mimic your brother.

“You don’t want the club to get in trouble now right?”

Hinata’s brown eyes lock on yours and he nods meekly. You let out a smile, glad he was finally calming down, when Kageyama tsk’s and gives Hinata an ugly look. You sigh, looking over at the taller boy to see a dark look on his face, it was almost scary.

“Server! And I’ll return them all!”

You facepalm as Hinata took the bait, your brother raging at them from beside you, the tension growing thick in the gym. The vice wasn’t amused as they continued fighting, if the sharp glance he gave to Daichi was any indication anyway.

The two idiots went to serve and receive, and you could only watch an awe as Kageyama went to do a jump serve. Sure, this wasn’t the time for such things, but not many people you knew could do a jump serve, it was cool to watch one up close. The force he used to smack the ball was plentiful, jaw dropping as Hinata barely dodges and the sound echoes when the ball makes contact on the floor.

Hinata stands back up, yelling for another when Daichi tells them to knock it off, only to be ignored again. You knew it was coming, hopefully the vice would leave soon so you could watch Daichi blow up on them with front row tickets-

You gasp as the ball, the second attempt that Hinata didn’t dodge, smacked against his arms, flew up into his face, before ricocheting off and hitting the vice square in the face. It was as if time slowed down, the ball hitting the vice’s cheek, his head snapping with enough force to pop his wig into the air. You watched, eyes glued to the head piece that went up and up till it came down, landing straight on-

Your lips part to laugh, thankfully Sugawara noticed and slapped his hand over your mouth to stifle the bellows you wished to release. Everyone stood frozen in shock as the hair piece landed atop the one and only, Daichi.

“He was wearing a wig?” Kageyama muttered, eyes blown open wide.

“You just noticed?” Hinata snickers, amused at the sight.

“You guys,” Ryu was trying to hush his own giggles, “shut up!”

“Tanaka, you shut up too!” Suga scolds, hand still on your mouth as you shake from silenced laughter.

“Sawamura-kun, I’d like a word with you.”

Once they left the gym, Suga let you go only to have you clutch your sides in laughter. Your brother was no better, practically passed out on the floor as tears escaped his eyes. The scene replayed itself over and over in your mind, the lack of oxygen making you woozy. However, as soon as you heard a chuckle coming from Hinata, you Tanaka siblings stopped laughing.

“That was sure stupid of you,” Ryu cracks his knuckles, giving his scary face, “you’re going to regret not listening to Daichi-san.”

Hinata looks to you for help, surprising you, but you just shrug.

“Oni-chan is right, you’ve done it now. Good luck you two.”

“Wait, why am I going to be punished for something he did!?” Kageyama glares at you, and you shudder slightly.

There was no reason to be upset at you, but the way he was looking at you caused you to look away nervously.

“You both were the issue.” Ryu huffs, arms crossing to give his own glare at the taller first year.

“This is all your fault!”

“Huh, me!?”

The boys began to argue, leaving Ryu to shake his head and Suga to rub his temple with an exasperated smile.

What a fun first day back, you can’t wait to see what else was to come.

108 notes · View notes

talltales · 5 years ago

Photo

pair: mark / reader desc: and certain invitations, you learn aren't designed to be refused words: 5.1k rated: 18+ genre: drama/romance notice: major character death, violence, drug use, etc. gifted: to the detective tuan fanclub ♥

VIEW THE MASTERLIST

—WELL IT'S ALL WAITING FOR YOU, AND BOY I KNOW YOU'RE EAGER BUT IT JUST MIGHT DESTROY YOU; DESTROY YOU

“your timing sucks.”

his earpiece crackles to life and a tinny, sarcastic voice speaks over the pop-pop-pop of bullets whizzing past his head, “it might be even worse than mine—you know I nearly had a read on the leader, right? so maybe you can tell me, who fucked this up?”

the question is rhetorical.

he groans, one hand folding into a fist and the other flexing around the grip of his gun. whatever plan she did have—he pulls the trigger, once then again, watching as the bouncer crumbles to the ground with a heavy thud—had gone up in flames long before they’d even stepped in the door. it’s abundantly clear now that they were being lured into a trap.

and that it’s worked.

mark exhales, tried to think past the grumbling in his ear that sounds suspiciously like ‘they don’t pay me enough for this.’

“now isn’t the time, bam.”

from his vantage point on the second-floor balcony, he focuses his attention on picking off the suited guards pinning officers at the entrance with gunfire. semi-automatics are illegal nowadays—but that never stopped anyone from getting their hands on them with enough influence and money.

unfortunately, the sixth syndicate has that in spades.

“just get out of there, then. dispatch is sending more squad cars your way. if we’re lucky, they’ll actually be on your side.” and with half the force taking pay under the table, the odds of that aren’t promising.

he takes his chance then, between the shower of bullets raining down upon the first floor, to dart down the stairs and swing at the nearest warm body around the corner. his foot connects with the man’s gut, sending him to the floor in a mess of limbs. if somewhere along the way, his head catches the edge of an upturned table, mark isn’t too bothered by it.

he doesn’t give the man another look.

instead, his focus is on the back door and what lies beyond it. too easily, mark recalls the feminine figure he’d watched cut through the crowd ten minutes before, as she was led right into the lion’s den—wearing a cunning little smile on her painted lips.

“should’ve never trusted this.” he mutters under his breath, slinging the unguarded door open and skirting the closest corner. a glance around the richly decorated room finds it empty, save for the prone woman slumped against a wall beside the emergency exit, clothed in delicate black silk and draped in pearls.

a pretty thing.

marred only by the trail of crimson making a slow descent down her temple—

fuck.

—

she looks a little feral, mark muses—like a cornered cat, sunk into the armchair while her eyes scan the small office, flicking from face to face. it isn’t apparent what she’s searching for, but he observes her from his peripheral and tries to avoid scalding his tongue on his coffee. though his first sip makes him grimace just the same.

it should be impossible to make coffee taste that awful.

“are you listening, detective?”

“of course,” sliding his hands into his pockets, he tips back onto his heels and examines the ceiling, counting the divots that have only multiplied over the years, “you want me to babysit—”

if he listens closely enough, mark can hear the lieutenant gritting his teeth.

“tuan, are you asking for an insubordination charge? again?”

easily, he slides back into the appropriate role; straightening his back and clearing his throat before he offers the older man a faint—if a little smug—smile, “i’m shocked you’d think that of me, lieutenant.”

“impudent.” comes his retort, muttered as he lifts a hand to rub at his temple. mark takes the moment to stare longingly out the window; outside, the winds whisper harbingers of a storm to come. he focuses on it, though it isn’t easy to forget the woman behind them, watching from her claimed chair with equal parts irritation and trepidation.

“we’ve got a dead body on our hands,” his superior continues, folding his arms across his chest. “and she’s the only one that can possibly link it to the sixes. she’s under your protection now, tuan.”

“I refuse.”

a muffled snort comes from his left, and mark spares a glance at his partner—who promptly turns his head and feigns a cough, “I don’t do protective services,” he bites the words out with clear disdain, “lieutenant.”

jinyoung seems to recover quickly enough, brow raising as his eyes flick between them, “mark—"

“I know that you’re accustomed to other kinds of assignments, but this is not a request.”

his tone leaves no room for argument. mark reaches for the abandoned coffee mug sitting on the edge of the desk and takes a long drink, “well, since you’ve so graciously asked me, I guess I have no choice but to oblige.”

the lieutenant steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, though there is no hiding the pleased glint in his eye as he nods toward the largely ignored figure still eyeing them with distrust, “tuan, meet your charge. you’ll be responsible for her safety until we can conclude our investigation.”

the tell-tale shuffling of papers falls upon his ears, and mark knows the matter is officially settled.

whether he likes the conclusion or not.

in what he feels is a rather gracious move, mark turns and holds out his free hand toward her, “pleased to make your acquaintance, miss.”

jinyoung scoffs behind him, and he can clearly imagine the man rolling his eyes.

but his attention stays on her and the way she examines his hand, skeptically perhaps. after a moment, she pushes herself up from the seat and makes her way for the door, “this is a joke.”

with a hum, mark lowers his hand back to his side and trails after her. he lifts his mug to his lips and drains the remainder of the foul liquid, “so it is.”

his ready agreement only makes her tense. he watches her shoulders roll and her fingers flex.

she glances over her shoulder but says nothing, jaw setting and—if he looks closely enough—lips pursing together so tightly they flush a bright red. she’d be pretty, if all the ire that one look wasn’t aimed squarely between his eyes.

“stay in sight,” he orders, with no expectation that she’ll obey.

though her steps slow, she continues on her weaving path toward the exit.

“how do you want to approach this?” jinyoung asks, after clearing his throat. he falls into step easily, crossing his arms lightly over his chest, “we don’t have any… secure safehouses.”

his partner's voice levels until it is little more than a whisper, offered as he surveys the room with thinly veiled consternation. the precinct is busier than a thoroughfare, this time of night. though it isn’t the cuffed men being paraded through that catch his eye. with a quarter of their force on the syndicate payroll, his wariness isn’t unfounded.

“we’ll play it by ear,” he answers, with a dismissive wave of his hand. his other sets the empty mug at the edge of his desk and plucks his jacket from where it hangs on the chair—“I’ll keep her with me for the time being, if you’ll case out some of the hotels nearby.”

the sharpness in jinyoung’s gaze gives way to exasperation, “you mean you want me to do the legwork, while you kick your feet up at home.”

mark smiles.

“you always were the smart one.”

—

some things make more sense than others.

it had made sense at the time to find the nearest cop and beg—plead—to be taken to the station, but the relief of being among the uniformed protectors of the city had quickly given way to apprehension.

that half the force was just as involved in illegal dealings as the next criminal was an open secret.

so she insists on speaking to the highest authority in the precinct. he is a rather compact man, short and at an age where she can easily see the crow’s feet adorning his eyes. comfortingly, he also has numerous smile lines.

perhaps it isn’t her wisest choice, but she trusts him almost immediately.

after she relates her tale to him, his countenance becomes contemplative. he is silent for a long moment, regarding her with an odd sort of pity that settles wrong in her gut. then he picks up his phone and she misses the majority of the exchange but a minute later—

the detectives that he summons to his office don’t earn her trust quite so easily.

they offer matching nods and the lieutenant introduces them in a passing sort of way. detective park and detective tuan—they’re not unattractive men, though they have vastly different manners. jinyoung is upright. his eyes are clear, and he stands at attention in a way that almost makes her uncomfortable to look at. she suspects it’s because of his present company.

mark is his opposite; he keeps his hands in his pockets and his stance casual. he drawls instead of speaking, with a distinct sort of accent that hints at an upbringing in the underbelly of the city. his posture insinuates laziness, but the look that he gives her indicates that there is something razor-sharp lying just beneath the surface.

he makes her hair stand on end.

and so she watches him with a healthy dose of caution and attempts to merge with the armchair until she can be alone again.

if she camps out in the lieutenant’s office for a minute, maybe this will all die down with time.

but things hardly work that way.

having been placed into their indifferent care, the temptation to run is stronger than ever. just when she thinks of slipping through the open doors, a hand wraps loosely around her upper arm and she is confronted with an inquisitive stare.

“didn’t the lieutenant explain to you what protective custody is?” mark questions, tone light but gaze intently fixed upon her face—scanning, though for what she doesn’t know, “you’re not supposed to be going anywhere without one of us with you.”

she glances over her shoulder and finds that it’s just the two of them; jinyoung has disappeared into some corner of the precinct where he is out of sight.

it’s just her and the man whose presence itches like a bad bee sting.

“right,” she murmurs, turning her attention forward; unable to meet his discerning stare, “where are we going, then?”

“for the time being?” from the corner of her eye, she watches him scratch his chin thoughtfully like he doesn’t already have the answer for her question, “until we find another secure location, we’re going to my apartment.”

she doesn’t like the sound of that.

—

anywhere else in the colonies, it’d be considered a hole in the wall. here—in the dingiest city this side of mars, the detective’s apartment might as well be a penthouse.

albeit a small one.

even with a ten-foot ceiling and windows just as tall, the space is dark—filled to the brim with old mahogany bookcases and a suspiciously comfortable looking leather couch. she gravitates toward it before she can check herself at the door. though the place is empty, and if the good detective intended to kill her—

well, he could’ve given her a helpful nudge off the nearest bridge and washed his hands of the entire thing.

“nice place,” she offers, feeling charitable as circles his small coffee table and surveys the remainder of the space. the living space flows into the kitchen; an open space lined in appliances older than she is.

she wonders what the rent is.

“thanks—”

“is there a refrigerator under those take-out flyers or…” trailing off, she occupies her hands with gathering her hair into a messy ponytail, “will I be eating garbage for the foreseeable future?”

if her line of questioning irritates him, the detective—mark, she reminds herself—doesn’t show it. he shrugs out of his coat and hangs it beside the door. his holster stays on, and she isn’t sure if it’s a comfort or a cause for concern.

he pivots, turning to face her with an idle tilt of his head, “it’s not that bad. still,”

mark lifts his hands, palms up. his eyes slip into a half-lidded stare, focused on her in a way that says you.

it lasts a second too long. she bites her tongue.

“if you want to risk using the stove, be my guest. but I don’t intend on keeping you here that long.”

then he’s off, slipping down a darkened hallway where she assumes the bedroom and bathroom are.

quietly, she makes her way for the nearest window to peer down at the rain-slicked streets below. the pane feels icy under her fingertips—biting, even in the first weeks of spring.

the atmospheric systems need to be recalibrated; her neighbor would say.

it was widely believed that the best substitute for the decaying earth would exist in close proximity to the planet itself—thus, the first post-lunar colonies were built on the red planet and the minds behind the science of atmospheric replication were lauded as geniuses.

and while the wealthiest families soon moved onward to the perfected metropolises on callisto and europa, the rest of the world was soon left to languish under the shelter of outdated technology that would fail them sooner rather than later.

maybe they’d all deserve it.

“you’ll be taking the bed tonight.”

her attention shifts back to the hall where mark emerges, dressed in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tank top. his gun holster remains securely strapped against his ribcage. he moves about the space as if it isn’t there; digging through a laundry basket tucked into the corner of the room before he pulls out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

she catches them in an outstretched hand and considers the message scrawled across the front.

to the ends of the earth.

“only one bed?” watching as he lifts his arms and stretches them over his head, she rolls her makeshift pajamas into a ball under her arm and rests her hand on her hip. “you were really blindsided by all this, huh?”

mark hums vaguely, silent for a long minute. when he speaks, it’s punctuated with a soft yawn. “some murders just happen at the most inconvenient times.”

“i imagine any time is inconvenient if you’re the victim.”

“touché,” he says, with a humored quirk of his lips.

when the conversation lulls, she makes her way down the hall and slips into the bathroom. the sight of herself in the mirror staring back is enough to sober even the clumsiest drunk. as the door clicks shut behind her, she turns fully to face her clouded reflection. the woman boasts little more than the dusting of shadows beneath her eyes and specks of red dotting the left side of her side, from temple to cheekbone.

she must've turned away, at the last second.

they flake away under her touch, and the smell of copper comes flooding back; the deafening click-bang and warm something on her face. she chokes on her next breath.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

the bile comes rushing up before she can control it; acidic and sour, it lingers at the back of her throat as she rushes to the toilet and cradles it between shaking hands until there is nothing left but the taste of sickness on her tongue.

“you alright?” comes the muffled voice on the other side of the door, and she can imagine him bracing his weight on the frame—biting back a sigh.

she says nothing.

then she hears him sigh, “at least say something if you’re conscious, or i’m breaking in.”

“i’m alright,” she sniffles, reaches for the box of tissues beside the faucet and wipes her mouth. her head lifts, gaze flicking across the rest of the counter before she turns her head to the door, “do you have a spare toothbrush?”

—

when he can hear the shower turn on, mark feels confident enough to step away from the door.

in hindsight, he should’ve anticipated her reaction. it was a natural one that he’d seen—experienced—more times than he cared to count and letting himself be fooled by her easy banter was a rookie mistake.

he dispels the unease with a shake of his head and sets about straightening the apartment into something semi-presentable; gathering the take-out boxes and beer bottles scattered throughout the kitchen and living room.

let it never be said that he was a neat man; his work demanded enough mentally that he found himself exhausted most days. ordering his dinner and sinking into bed was a temptation he never resisted.

though cleaning is strangely cathartic. when he’s finished, the apartment looks as it did the first time he’d walked in the door.

come on. we’ll get you fixed up and then i’m feeding you—don’t argue with me, tuan.

the memory is an innocent one, but also a reminder of things lost to the dark.

and it is best not to think of it.

he considers the merits of putting in an order for his new charge but discards it immediately. she’d hardly be able to keep it down. instead, he pulls a baking sheet from a drawer he’s never opened before and tosses two slices of bread on it.

by the time she emerges from the bathroom—looking clean and fractionally less like a stray cat—her food is plated and sitting on the bar, residual heat curling into air invitingly.

“come eat your dinner,” he commands, and leans against the counter with his arms loosely crossed.

“it’s toast.”

“and it’s homecooked, so count your blessings.”

mark watches as her brow twitches upward; though the only indication that the expression is amusement is the accompanying tilt of her mouth. otherwise, she is inscrutable. not for the first time, he wonders what might’ve fostered that ability in such a delicate looking thing.

“can’t argue with that,” with that, she slides onto the barstool and bites into the corner.

i don’t do protective services, he thinks. and he has never meant it more.

—

he watches her while she eats, in a way that she supposes is meant to imply idle interest. but there is no denying the calculating glint in his eyes; one which again contradicts his relaxed posture and hints at a sharp intellect hidden behind the guise of indolence.

she contemplates the image of him working in interrogation—using that carefully careless demeanor to unsettle lesser men. there is little question that it would be an effective tactic, if the unease settling deep in her gut is any indication.

“you don’t have to watch me eat,” she comments, in hopes of diverting his attention.

it doesn’t work quite the way she pictured.

he shrugs in response, picking up his phone—“i’m waiting for word on what our next course of action is. but our options are limited in any case.” the explanation is concise, and though she appreciates that—

her stomach sinks at the thought of not knowing what comes next.

“and what are those options?” she asks, contemplating the last bit of bread held between her fingers. when she looks up, mark is still watching her. the phone is cradled between his ear and his shoulder, and his free hand taps lightly on the counter; a staccato beat that matches the anxious fluttering in her chest.

“either we find a secure hotel where you’ll be registered another a fake name or—” he pauses, eyes leveling on the wall beside the front door. “jinyoung, did you find anything?”

though muffled, his response is audible and carries a distinct air of disappointment.

not really. half of these places are hotbeds for dealers and the most reputable place in town—well, i was propositioned by two high-class escorts on my way to the front desk.

“i’m sure that’s just your charm and good looks.”

shut up.

the exchange almost warrants a laugh, in any other circumstance. she watches mark’s lips quirk in an absent sort of way as he listens to jinyoung relate the details of his findings. when he hangs up, she can guess what comes next. it’s the safest option, at least, and she finds she isn’t too opposed to it after the hours spent in his company.

“looks like you’re stuck with me for a while, princess.”

she stares, and he clucks before reaching out and nudging the back of her hand—

“finish your dinner.”

—

wrong place, wrong time.

anywhere else, the turn of phrase was something innocuous, like walking into the wrong class or coming home and finding her roommates making out on the couch. innocent. but on mars, being somewhere you weren’t supposed to be too often became a matter of life and death.

it was why the average citizen skirted the areas of town where the place was always wrong; why dusk, whenever it happened to fall, was a signal to most—

pack up and go home.

maybe she’d gotten a little presumptuous, ignoring how low the sun fell on the horizon.

“where are you?” she whispers, lacing her fingers together and breathing into them—the night is unforgiving for more than a single reason—to warm them. it is the only sound she hears, aside from the hushed, tinny summarizations of the films playing in the theater behind her.

it had been the plan to watch one of them, dissect them with an old classmate she lost touch with years ago. the girl had dropped out, yes. she’d gotten involved with things that put her on a different path.

it would’ve been a lie to say she wasn’t relieved on some level, to have her mother dragging her away from those particularly dark parts of the world.

you are an earthling, she’d said—and that is martian business. of course, mom wasn’t around anymore and things…

things changed.

miyoung was a good person. just one that occasionally did things that most would consider illegal. her call had been out of the blue, but a welcome distraction from the monotony that had become her daily life.

work, home, work, bar, home, work, work, work.

not a soul walks the street at this hour, and the booth attendant has long slipped inside to clean the popcorn machine. she sniffs, adjusts the scarf on her shoulders to cover her neck. the hem climbs to brush the tip of her nose instead, obscuring all but her eyes.

she watches the play of red, yellow, and green on the pavement at the intersection closest to her. after more cycles than she cares to count, she pushes away from the building and begins the long journey home.

so much for reconnecting.

she gets three blocks before she hears it.

the soft sound of sobbing and faint whispers catch her ear as she passes a darkened alleyway between an empty law office and a corner store where the lights are dim—though if the passing of figures by the window is any indication, the store isn’t dark because it is closed.

at first, she assumes that the woman—the source of those soft cries—is in there.

but the sound fades when she makes for the door. instead, she turns and stares into the darkness of that narrow alley, watching the city rodents cut a certain path through on the rain-slicked concrete.

“please—” she hears, barely audible over the pressure building behind her ears—the dull thumping of her pulse reminding her that this is dangerous. this is exactly the sort of martian business that her mother tried so hard to shield her from.

she is an earthling; one of the last to be born on the dying planet, and this—the things that happen on mars are brutal and ugly. the red planet, they say, is stained crimson for a variety of reasons these days.

but if dread pushes her back, conviction drives her forward. somewhere there, cloaked in shadow, is someone begging for help.

or for mercy, she realizes, when there is an answering male sigh.

“don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” he says, in a strangely melodic tone that reminds her of the singers that take up residence in softly lit bars—delighting the local drunks with stories of missed chances and love lost.

in the following silence, she hears the distinctive click of a gun safety being disengaged.

one doesn’t live in this city without hearing that sound at least once.

“i won’t tell—” the woman breathes out, and she registers that she is close enough to hear it; to hear the answering exhalation and see him shake his head—a delicate gesture at odds with the rest of his stance. he stands before her, staring down at her kneeling figure with something akin to pity shining brightly in his eyes.

in any other situation, she’d find him stunning to look at. but she recognizes the woman at his feet, clasping her hands together in supplication.

her mother always said that miyoung’s choices would catch up to her, one day.

“you’ve already told, miyoung,” he says with an air of finality. the barrel of the gun is pressed to her forehead, and the steel black against her pale skin does little but make her stomach turn. “you know by now that the information you were given was false—individualized just enough to point the finger directly at the leak.”

she watches, paralyzed as a tear slides down miyoung’s cheek. her gasp bares the truth in his words, and again, he sighs.

“i told you being an informant was dangerous. i told you not to get caught.” his voice raises in those last words, though the sound still comes out as a hiss absorbed by the beginnings of a thunderstorm. lightning flashes in the distance.

she feels the pelting of water drops upon her shoulder, icy cold. they soak into the scarf still sitting over the bridge of her nose. still, her eyes—fluttering under the sudden onslaught of bad weather, remain fixed on the scene before her.

“just let me run—” miyoung starts, but she doesn’t have the chance to finish before there is a violent crack in the air and a hole between her eyes.

her body crumples to the ground and begins to bleed. the viscous fluid swirls with the forming puddle of water beneath her head. miyoung is gone.

there is scattered warmth dusted across her own cheeks and eyes; her forehead. she doesn't think about it.

and the man stands over her motionless figure. the hand not holding his gun—finger off the trigger, now—raises to his face to rub his eyes. he tilts his head back and stares into the sky. and it opens on him without mercy, washing away the droplets of red that lay across his cheeks.

now, the stranger is stunning for a different reason altogether.

she isn’t aware of the gasp that slips into the night air until his head turns toward her, lightning quick.

“who’s there?” he asks, and she watches his grip on the gun shift.

that is the last thing she sees before she runs.

—

he’s awoken by the muffled sound of footsteps in the hallway outside of his room. instinct has him reaching for the gun under his pillow and slipping the safety off before he’s fully awake.

the footsteps go silent, and he rushes to the cracked door as quietly as he can manage. his hand is on the handle before he hears the quick, panicked gasps of the person on the other side. soft, feminine.

his charge.

the events of the day come flooding back like an old montage, leaping wildly from one conversation to the next as he opens his door the rest of the way.

“hey,” mark says, to the shivering woman frozen mid-step outside his bedroom, as if he hadn’t been prepared to do something hopelessly irreversible just a moment ago, “what are you doing up?”

she doesn’t appear to hear him; her only response is to stare at the gun held firmly at his side.

the terror in her eyes is unmistakable; an expression that he remembers seeing in his own reflection, for a time. automatically, he clicks the safety back into place and moves his hand half behind his back. as soon as the gun is out of her sight, she seems to snap to attention—meeting his eyes in the dark.

“i couldn’t sleep,” she says, and she sounds a million miles away.

he nods, laying a tentative hand on her shoulder before he nudges her in the direction of the living room. idly, he takes note of the pack of cigarettes clutched in a fist by her side.

her knuckles are white.

“let me get you a drink,” mark offers, not knowing if it should be something stronger than water. he decides against it; if she didn’t already have that bad habit under her belt, he wasn’t going to introduce it.

as he makes his way to the kitchen, he hears her—a whisper against the sounds of the night; the droning of cars on the highway three blocks over; closer, the muted sound of raindrops hitting the rooftop.

the climate system must be on the fritz, with how often it rains now.

“can i smoke?” she asks.

he gestures wordlessly to the window, and she unlocks it before pulling it open with a firm jerk. the pane swings outward just enough for her to settle there, straddling the ledge separating the warmth of his apartment from the chilled spring rain on her shoulder.

“did you have a nightmare?”

mark isn’t sure why he asks, or why the answer matters. something in him, he supposes, recognizes the haunted look in her eyes and the way she clings to the cigarette perched between her fingers like it’s a lifetime.

he pours two glasses of water and crosses the space between them with quiet steps. the floor is dreadfully cold beneath his feet, “here.”

she takes the offered glass but doesn’t drink.

“yeah,” her answer comes on an exhale, distorted by the wisps of smoke that escape her parted lips, “yeah, i did.”

#label: xii #mark tuan fic #mark tuan au #got7 fanfic #got7 au

46 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! Wat are your opinion on Dany fertility? When rhaego was born some says it is same as rhaenyra but it involves blood magic. Do you think next she becomes pregnant there are chances of Shadow baby? Also do you think jon possibly sterile after Resurrection?

I don’t think Jon will be sterile after the resurrection. We don’t know how he will be resurrected, etc etc. I am no kind of expert on the subject, though. It’s merely my certainty that Jon is destined to be a father.

I also don’t think Dany is sterile so much as she has trouble carrying a pregnancy to term so shortly after a traumatic birth at a young age. It’s heavily implied (though perhaps it’s a misdirection) that she had a miscarriage in connection to her affliction with dysentery while wandering the grasslands in her final ADWD chapter.

Am I dying? Then she saw the pale crescent moon, floating high above the grass, and it came to her that this was no more than her moon blood. If she had not been so sick and scared, that might have come as a relief. Instead she began to shiver violently. She rubbed her fingers through the dirt, and grabbed a handful of grass to wipe between her legs. The dragon does not weep. She was bleeding, but it was only woman’s blood. The moon is still a crescent, though. How can that be? She tried to remember the last time she had bled. The last full moon? The one before? The one before that? No, it cannot have been so long as that. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she told the grass, aloud. Once, the grass whispered back, until you chained your dragons in the dark. “Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. “I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons.” Aye, the grass said, but you turned against your children. Her belly was empty, her feet sore and blistered, and it seemed to her that the cramping had grown worse. Her guts were full of writhing snakes biting at her bowels. She scooped up a handful of mud and water in trembling hands. By midday the water would be tepid, but in the chill of dawn it was almost cool and helped her keep her eyes open. As she splashed her face, she saw fresh blood on her thighs. The ragged hem of her undertunic was stained with it. The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it’s only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow. Could it be the water? If it was the water, she was doomed. She had to drink or die of thirst. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

It’s clear Dany is struggling herself with the idea that this might be a miscarriage.

There is no way to be certain whether or not Dany even has fertility issues at all, considering that - IF she is miscarrying - a bout of the bloody flux would easily explain it. For all we know Dany has no fertility issues at all. If she has them, there are plentiful “normal” explanations for them. Dany is so focused on the curse, on being barren, that I am pretty sure she isn’t. Or that’s just what GRRM wants me to think. Right?

Reading all this and considering her history of pregnancy --> failed poison attempt --> birth/miscarriage during dramatic conflict --> Waking the Dragon, it is easy to suspect her eventual descent into full-on murderous and violent destruction (and her death) will be tied to pregnancy as well.

I just always wondered how that was supposed to work.

“When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before." (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

That’s pretty specific. Her womb quickens again. Bear a living child. But if Dany bears a living child, that’d probably be the one thing to STOP her from going all inferno on everyone. And a miscariage would contradict this condition. Dying IN childbirth with a living child would just be lame. I mean, the drama comes from Dany choosing to be a monster, not from Dany dying in childbirth and her dragons going nuts.

So if the cycle is to be repeated, either a living child is killed or there is a twist that makes it all work.

The shadow baby might be a huge twist.

“Yes. Beneath. But we can go no farther. The portcullis goes all the way to the bottom. And the bars are too closely spaced for even a child to squeeze through.” There was no answer but a soft rustling. And then a light bloomed amidst the darkness. Davos raised a hand to shield his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. Melisandre had thrown back her cowl and shrugged out of the smothering robe. Beneath, she was naked, and huge with child. Swollen breasts hung heavy against her chest, and her belly bulged as if near to bursting. “Gods preserve us,” he whispered, and heard her answering laugh, deep and throaty. Her eyes were hot coals, and the sweat that dappled her skin seemed to glow with a light of its own. Melisandre shone. Panting, she squatted and spread her legs. Blood ran down her thighs, black as ink. Her cry might have been agony or ecstasy or both. And Davos saw the crown of the child’s head push its way out of her. Two arms wriggled free, grasping, black fingers coiling around Melisandre’s straining thighs, pushing, until the whole of the shadow slid out into the world and rose taller than Davos, tall as the tunnel, towering above the boat. He had only an instant to look at it before it was gone, twisting between the bars of the portcullis and racing across the surface of the water, but that instant was long enough. He knew that shadow. As he knew the man who’d cast it. (ACOK, Davos II)

Next chapter: Jon.

This doesn’t sound very like a living child. It sounds like a monster. Like Dany’s dragon children. Like Drogon, who keeps being described as a shadow.

(It also sounds like a metaphor for Jon’s birth. The mother, whose body is not ready (possibly to narrow in the hips) for childbirth, the massive shadow (i.e. power) cast by the child that comes forth. Jon’s shadow. The shadow that is destined to stabbity stab someone.)

But back to Shadow Baby Targ.

Considering all the lovely speculation surrounding Dany and Euron lately, (read everything by @shieldofrohan !), as well as Euron’s massive magical aspect, as well as this plans for Dany, methinks he would be central to that:

"And who are you, child?" "Falia Flowers, Lord Hewett's natural daughter. I am to be King Euron's salt wife. You and I will be kin, then." Aeron Damphair raised his eyes to hers. His scabbed lips were crusted with wet porridge. "Woman." His chains clinked when he moved. "Run. He will hurt you. He will kill you." She laughed. "Silly, he won't. I'm his love, his lady. He gives me gifts, so many gifts. Silks and furs and jewels. Rags and rocks, he calls them." The Crow's Eye puts no value in such things. That was one of the things that drew men to his service. Most captains kept the lion's share of their plunder but Euron took almost nothing for himself. "He gives me any gown I want," the girl was prattling happily. "My sisters used to make me wait on them at table, but Euron made them serve the whole hall naked! Why should he do that, except for love of me?" She put a hand on her belly and smoothed down the fabric of her gown. "I'm going to give him sons. So many sons..." "He has sons." "Baseborn boys and mongrels, Euron says. My sons will come before them, he has sworn, sworn by your own Drowned God!" Aeron would've wept for her. Tears of blood, he thought. "You must bear a message to my brother. Not Euron, but Victarion, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet. Do you know the man I mean?" Falia sat back from him. "Yes," she said. "But I couldn't bring him any messages. He's gone." "Gone?" That was the cruelest blow of all. "Gone where?" "East," she said, "with all his ships. He's to bring the Dragon queen to Westeros. I'm to be Euron's salt wife, but he must have a rock wife too, a queen to rule all Westeros at his side. They say she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she has dragons. The two of us will be as close as sisters!"

(…)

"Brother," he said, "you look forlorn. I have a gift for you." He beckoned, and two of his bastard sons dragged the woman forward and bound her to the prow on the other side of the figurehead. Naked as the mouthless maiden, her smooth belly just beginning to swell with the child she was carrying, her cheeks red with tears, she did not struggle as the boys tightened her bonds. Her hair hung down in front of her face, but Aeron knew her all the same.

(TWOW, The Forsaken)

But Euron doesn’t care about heirs, methinks.

Falia is his “Lady”, i.e. a sacrifice on the command of an Evil monarch like Lady the direwolf? And she and Dany will be close as sister? Like, share a fate kind of close?

Balon was mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is maddest of them all. Victarion was turning to go when the Crow’s Eye said, “A king must have a wife, to give him heirs. Brother, I have need of you. Will you go to Slaver’s Bay and bring my love to me?” I had a love once too. Victarion’s hands coiled into fists, and a drop of blood fell to patter on the floor. I should beat you raw and red and feed you to the crabs, the same as I did her. “You have sons,” he told his brother. “Baseborn mongrels, born of whores and weepers.” “They are of your body.” “So are the contents of my chamber pot. None is fit to sit the Seastone Chair, much less the Iron Throne. No, to make an heir that’s worthy of him, I need a different woman. When the kraken weds the dragon, brother, let all the world beware.” “What dragon?” said Victarion, frowning. “The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world. Her hair is silvergold, and her eyes are amethysts … but you need not take my word for it, brother. Go to Slaver’s Bay, behold her beauty, and bring her back to me.” “Why should I?” Victarion demanded. “For love. For duty. Because your king commands it.” Euron chuckled. “And for the Seastone Chair. It is yours, once I claim the Iron Throne. You shall follow me as I followed Balon … and your own trueborn sons shall one day follow you.” My own sons. But to have a trueborn son a man must first have a wife. Victarion had no luck with wives. Euron’s gifts are poisoned, he reminded himself, but still … “The choice is yours, brother. Live a thrall or die a king. Do you dare to fly? Unless you take the leap, you’ll never know.” (AFFC, The Reaver)

Euron manipulates Victarion beautifully. Victarion is the one who cares about wives and heirs. Euron considers his progeny to be excrement. He wants Dany, but hardly in order to make trueborn drakens to inherit an uncomfortable chair.

I think IF Shadow Baby Targ is going to be a thing with Dany and the twist around the “Living Baby” clause, I think Euron will be involved in that, and the whole nightmare potential of that is scaring me already. It may not even matter if she is truly infertile or not if that level of dark magic is involved. Or Euron just wants to sacrifice a baby, Craster-style.

If Jon is involved, I really don’t think it would be a willing participation. Yikes.

Brr.

Seriously, that stuff gives me the absolute creeps.

#daenerys targaryen #jon snow #euron greyjoy #asoiaf

21 notes · View notes

recentanimenews · 5 years ago

Text

OPINION: How I Discovered Haikyu!! (And Myself), Thoughts From a First-Time Viewer

Haikyu!!'s final season just began, and for years I have been meaning to start watching. Now seems like a great time to rectify that, so I've finally caught up and am eagerly awaiting the next arc to see how the Karasuno Crows fare.

I decided to track my thoughts on everything that happened — something of a time capsule from before the main cast joined together all the way to them competing in Nationals.

As a baseline, here is everything I knew about Haikyu!! before watching Episode 1:

It's a popular sports anime about volleyball

The main character is the orange-haired kid, Hinata

They're going to go to Nationals. Not sure about the details, but I know they’ll make it into the tournament

I actually watched this with someone who has seen it before. She didn't spoil anything but occasionally gave insight I may not have otherwise realized at the moment.

Episodes 1-6: Joining the Team

For the first part of the show, we largely follow Hinata's perspective. As I assumed going in, he's our generally underachieving but unfailingly energetic sports boy who hadn't met anyone who loves his sport as much as him until now. Specifically, he meets Kageyama, one of the best setters in the prefecture.

I started to notice that the storytelling’s actually pretty good when the newly assembled Crows get a practice game with the 4th ranked school in the prefecture. It gives them someone challenging so the main cast can see what they’re up against but also gives them a team close enough to their level that they have a real chance of winning and also keeps the truly powerful foes hidden for later arcs.

I also really appreciate that during the games, the characters try out new things, but are never truly sure that anything will work. It adds some experimentation and uncertainty to every game.

Episodes 7-10: Crows, Assemble

The rest of the main cast joins up with the existing group, forming the core rotation of players and major characters in the show.

One of the new characters, Asahi, showcases one of the show’s strong points for me. He's the team’s ace, but both he and Hinata grapple with performance anxiety. As my watch-along partner put it, Hinata’s anxiety comes in waves, mostly during games, while Asahi’s is more of a constant background hum.

As someone who has struggled with anxiety most of my life, I heavily identify with Asahi’s backstory, even down to not going for the spike in the final play of his flashback game due to thinking about how pointless it was since he wouldn't get it through.

Episodes 11-13: Crows versus Cats

Karasuno gets its practice game against their rival school, Nekoma. Both teams have fallen from grace in recent years, so this is the Crows’ chance to prove they can crawl their way back to the top and test out their teamwork and strategies from the previous arcs.

At this point, the mind games aspect of each match starts coming through. Both teams try to figure out how their opponents think so they can react faster, while also trying to hide their own tells to keep their opponents guessing.

When Hinata first started closing his eyes to make his special fast attacks with Kageyama, I joked that his power-up was going to be just ... opening his eyes. It turned out I wasn’t far from the truth. It doesn’t work immediately, but all of the Crows start polishing their weaknesses to make for a more well-rounded team.

Episodes 14-16: Preliminaries Round 1

As the boys go into the Interhigh Tournament, people whisper about the “Flightless Crows.” They proceed to absolutely crush their first opponents.

The show follows the girls’ volleyball team for a bit, too, amping up the emotions at the end of the first round by cutting between the girls losing while the boys breeze through their sets.

It’s a bit unfortunate the girls are beaten so badly just to show that the boys have grown, especially since they don’t end up getting much screentime for the rest of the show outside of being in the stands or otherwise supporting the boys.

Episodes 17-26: Daito and Aoba Jousai

After getting through the first part of the tournament easily, Karasuno is up against two powerhouse teams. First: Daito, a school with defense so amazing it’s called “The Iron Wall of Daito.” Second, Aoba Jousai, the school that many of Kageyama’s peers, including the setter he looks up to, enrolled in.

They manage to steal a win from Daito, but ultimately lose to Aoba Jousai.

The ending of this arc was when I realized I was truly invested in the show. For one, my watch-along partner and I were silent during many of the plays instead of joking about anime tropes like we had been in earlier arcs. Second, during one of the final scenes of the season, the entire team went out to eat after the game and we just silently watched everyone slowly start eating and then mutually begin crying.

Episodes 27-36: Season 2

As we start Season 2, there is a very clear and welcome difference almost immediately — the animation and camerawork are a lot better. Neither were bad in Season 1, but now they’re on an entirely different level. As my watch-along partner put it, there is some very naturalistic movement in some of the scenes.

Also, this is when the team got a second manager, Yachi. I seriously cannot think of a character I have more personally related to in an anime than Yachi. She is a nervous wreck that is constantly apologizing and gets spooked by every little thing, even as small as someone talking to her. She outright views herself as “Townsperson B,” from when she played that role in drama club. I turned to my watch-along partner and said, “I’m in this picture, and I don’t like it.”

Meanwhile, in the actual plot, my watch-along partner pointed out that while the team started developing specialized skills at their summer camp, the majority of their training seems to be devoted to getting down the fundamentals of every part of the game, then practicing them constantly. Like how Nishinoya is normally the libero and is almost exclusively receiving, but after seeing an opponent’s strategy, wants to learn to toss so he can replicate something he previously lost against.

Episodes 37-44: Prelims

The show uses the prelims as an opportunity to shine in two new ways. First, if a player is injured, they're checked to see if it's serious, then given a proper medical exam off the court. No powering through a concussion.

Second, since main characters are no longer guaranteed to be on the court for the entire game, the cast expands to include other members we previously haven't focused on.

My watch-along partner mentioned Ennoshita, Daichi's relief player, a few times throughout the show, so I knew he was going to be important eventually. But to give an idea of how little he impacted things until this point, when he was called in, I exclaimed that they were putting Steve McBlandman in the game. Despite that, he really does get to shine on the court. He’s a nervous wreck at first (join the club), but he’s also most likely to take over as captain once Daichi graduates and proves himself to be a reliable teammate by the time Daichi returns.

Episodes 45-50: Rematch

In terms of storytelling, there’s not much to add for this game. The two teams are established factions and we know the stakes, so it’s more of a puzzle to see who can find new strategies during the game and outthink the other team, which is made harder by the rivals bringing in a totally new player referred to as "Mad Dog."

Eventually, Karasuno wins, ending Season 2 with a promise that the finals of the qualifiers for Nationals will be the start of Season 3. Due to knowing a few details ahead of time, I already know a single game will be the entirety of the season.

Episodes 51-57: Final, Part 1

As both teams step onto the court and warm up, we are reminded that our heroes are pretty much all nervous wrecks, with most of the team in various stages of being curled up on the ground or asking for nausea medication. And, honestly, I was too. By the time the game hits set four, I wanted to grab my inhaler.

The Crows are up against Shiratorizawa, a team with Ushiwaka, a player so strong that early in the game, it took three blockers and a libero just to return his attack, and later on he managed to dislocate a blocker’s finger with a spike.

Episodes 57-60: Final, Part 2

Full Disclosure: I was so invested in this game and the following season I actually forgot to take notes, so everything from here on is a second watch!

In my opinion, everyone gets to shine by the end of the game. Nishinoya sets up a full team synchro attack with his libero toss, Tsukishima is the only person whose blocks come close to keeping up with Ushiwaka, and so on.

Episodes 61-65: Winter Training

The first half of the season starts with some of Karasuno’s players being invited to special training camps. Hinata, being too impatient to accept that he hadn’t been invited, infiltrates one.

Since he wasn’t invited, he’s not allowed to play, leading to him needing to watch the players and game instead of the ball for once. As a result, he starts learning to read peoples' tells and building an intuition of how to move, rather than just relying on instinct.

Or, as I said to my watch-along partner the first time around, Hinata has reached his ultimate powerup: thinking.

Episodes 66-70: Downtime

In the interstitial time between arcs, the team has a practice game against Date Tech again so the Crows can get used to playing together after being apart. We get some character moments, like all the third years going to a shrine on New Year’s, and when the team arrives in Tokyo we finally get a bit of Kiyoko’s backstory.

It’s hard to pin down what exactly about it worked, but it felt really nice to see the third years all going to a shrine together in their final months before the end of high school.

And with that, the Spring Tournament, a.k.a. Nationals, begins.

After going through over 70 episodes of Haikyu!!, I can say with absolute certainty I’m sticking around until the end. I skimmed over a lot of details so every section wasn’t a page long (and even then the first draft of this was over 4,000 words), but every game is filled with strategy, mind games, and experimentation.

Outside of the games, the show does a great job of building up the cast so the rivals are well-realized characters in their own right. Not the most complex in anime, but more than a wall for the main characters to climb over.

All in all, the show is absolutely worth the watch. It'll take a while to get through, but it's also easy to pick back up if you need to stop partway through.

What are some of your favorite moments in Haikyu!!? Are you watching the second half of the newest season with me? Who is best boy? Let me know in the comments!

Kevin Matyi is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. He's been watching anime for as long as he can remember, and his favorite shows tend to be shonen and other action series.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

2 notes · View notes

atreefullofmonkiesonnitrous · 5 years ago

Text

Double Blind

Day 10 - Silver and Gold Newt was clattering away in the kitchen, getting Christmas dinner ready for a party of 13. They were eating rather later than normal with all the teenage guests, and one preteen, showing up for their second Christmas dinner in one day. Truthfully he was glad of the extra time to cook, as this was a far cry from his usual cooking for two. He could hear his wife on the phone in the next room as she was finishing up the decorations.

"Yes, I'm sure. It will be fine."

"He is going to love it."A longer pause.

"No, we've been over this. It's perfect. I don't care if gold is more traditional, he always wears silver, and when has he given a toss about tradition?"

"Now you are just being ridiculous."

"The book stopped at Armageddon, you are on your own, but don't worry."

"If he's stuck around for 6,000 years already I am fairly sure you are stuck with him."

"Yes."

"I won't."

"I will."

"Look I have another call, it will be FINE."

Newt was at least 75% sure he knew who the new call would be. It stood to reason really, which was about the only thing about this that did.

"Yeah?"

"I was just talking to him."

"I'm absolutely sure he has no idea."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I am NOT saying he won't be interested."

"I can not over state how sure I am that it will go well."

"No."

"Drama Queen."

"Shut up, you love me."

"Unhun, fires of eternity, got it. So you don't want my help anymore?"

"That's what I thought."

"Okay, that is definitely not going to be the problem."

"First of all, can you really imagine him being that materialistic? Secondly, gold is not boring, it's traditional. He adores traditions."

"I know the plan."

"Yes."

"It's already in place."

"Just get yourselves here in one piece."

"Okay, bye."

Newt came out of the kitchen and handed Anathema a glass of sherry that she tossed back in one go. "Were those two conversations what I think they were?" He asked.

"Most likely, you're a clever fellow." She smiled at him.

"I can't figure out if knowing Heaven and Hell are real, and full of such absolute idiots is comforting or terrifying," he said.

"Let me know when you figure it out." Anathema laughed. "I can't tell either, especially since, from what I've heard they are pretty competent, comparatively."

"Terrifying. Definitely terrifying."

Christmas dinner was a genial and raucous affair. The Them had not settled at all despite having attained the lofty status of teenagers. Pepper's seven year old sister tended to be an instigator of mischief, mostly to keep from being ignored. Adam and Warlock were whispering in a corner, which never boded well for anything. The former Mrs. Dowling, now Ms. Carpenter, was keeping an eye on them, in the vain hope of getting in the way of anything too disastrous. Marjorie was telling a heavily edited story from her days as Madame Tracy, while Shadwell was snoring in his chair having eaten nearly his weight in dinner.

Crowley and Aziraphale were both distracted and fidgety, and were the only ones in the room not to notice how nervous the other was. Anathema was also fidgety, and they were both shooting her warning glares by turn. It was nearly killing her to not start giggling like mad. Eventually, the last of the mince pie was eaten and the brewing disaster in the corner was headed off by poppers and promises of presents. Crowley was even prevailed upon, by virtue of Aziraphale's pouty face, to wear his paper crown, but only after the bright blue had been traded for red.

Anathema declared herself "Father Christmas" and passed the gifts out to their intended recipients. The children got theirs first and were thus distracted with new electronics while the adults did their exchange. Warlock stayed while Crowley and Aziraphale opened a hand drawn book about a snake and a rabbit that raised a baby crow, that brought tears to both their eyes. When there were only a few gifts left Newt dragged out a large box in front of Aziraphale and Anathema brought a large flat box to Crowley.

"Crowley, you go first," she said.

Crowley tore the brightly colored paper and gaped. All anyone else could see was the wooden outline of a frame.

"How on earth did you find this? I thought it had been lost!" His voice was almost a whisper."

A cousin of mine is an art historian. He mentioned it to me. Apparently it's a highly debated piece, because it looks like a Da Vinci, but there is no signature, so no one can be sure if it's his or a student's."

At Da Vinci's name Aziraphale's head snapped up. He looked over at Crowley. "Is that…?"

Crowley nodded. "It's a real Da Vinci, I remember sitting for it." He turned the painting around. It was two smaller paintings framed together, though it was clear they were meant to be seen as a pair. Anyone who knew them would recognize Crowley and Azirapahle, Crowley holding an apple and Aziraphale holding a scroll. Each of them had their hand on half of a book that transitioned between the two paintings. Aziraphale's eyes were misty again.

"I remember as well. It is truly remarkable that you found it." Before they could start tripping over themselves with thanks Anathema chivied Aziraphale to his own present. Inside that paper was a box holding ten identical books. Aziraphale lifted one out. "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch - 2nd Edition - Annotated." He looked in astonishment at Anathema.

"We reconstituted it from the family collections of index cards. It's all there along with family guesses about various prophecies and notations when they happened. These ten, plus one for the family, are all that we printed." She grinned. "You now own the rarest books of completely useless prophecy in the world."

"My dear, this is a priceless gift! It's far too generous both of these! Now for your gift! Come here and give me your hands." She did, looking confused. Crowley got up and came over laying his hands on Aziraphle's shoulders. "My gift to you, Anathema, and Newt will benefit by it too, is my blessing, for the very best of health for these next eight months. Nothing will harm you and everything will be as easy as possible. Though I do advise leaving the sherry go for a bit, even so." She stood looking at him confused for a minute until the implications of his words sunk in, then she pulled her hands to her mouth to cover her happy shriek and turned to Newt who had also just caught on and swept her up and spun her around. When they calmed down a bit Crowley spoke up.

"And I promise that you will have without a doubt the most experienced midwife on the planet. Always felt guilty about the whole business, so I've gotten very good at it." He came over and gave her a hug before going back to his seat. Everyone else had to give their hugs and congratulations to both the parents to be as well.

"Oh! There are still two gifts left!" Anathema went and took two small boxes from under the tree, and handed one to Aziraphale and the other to Crowley. They each gave her a LOOK but she just smiled at each of them. They each unwrapped the small box.

"Anathema, I think you got them backwards."

"Oh dear, this one isn't for me."

Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other, both hesitating, but Crowley moves first, crossing the room and holding out the box. "Aziraphale, this is for you," as soon as he gets close he drops to one knee.

"You are the light of my world, my angel. We have been through everything together, and together is the way I want to continue. The worst thing that ever happened to me, is the thing that led me to you, and I would Fall again, to be able to be with you. I know it's a human thing, but we've decided that humanity is our side, so Aziraphale, will you marry me?"

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley, the box in his hand held a golden ring shaped like a snake swallowing its own tail. Its eyes were sapphires and tiny chips of clear stones studded its length. He shot a glance at Anathema, then he also knelt down, even with Crowley and rather than taking the box, held out his own.

"Crowley, beloved, you have been my guide and guard for longer than I ever realized. You have shown me what it truly means to love unconditionally, for you have always been to me, patient, kind, generous, humble, selfless, forgiving, and possessing a faith in me that I can only hope to be worthy of. There is nothing I want more in this world than to have the singular honor of calling you my husband."

He took from his box a ring of moonlit silver etched in the shape of a feather. The tip was curled around a deep red ruby and the shaft was inlaid with onyx. They each slid their rings on to the other's finger, then leaned in for as deep a kiss as the present company would allow. Everyone was laughing and clapping.

"That was the gayest thing I have ever seen," Adam said. Pepper shot him a horrified glare. "What? Double proposals are peak queer culture!" That sparked another round of general laughter.

Crowley stood and helped Aziraphale up as well. He kept his arm around his fiance(!) as he looked at Anathema."You knew, this entire time, didn't you!"

"It was so hard not to say anything," she wailed. "You each had almost the exact same plan! And you were both such nervous wrecks over it. The wedding really is going to just be a formality, you two are already the most married beings I have ever met!"

They couldn't even deny it.

For @drawlight‘s 31 days of Ineffables Day 10, Silver and Gold

Thanks to @waywren for the ideas for Warlocks gift to them and Anathema’s gift to Crowley. For those who don’t recognize it, it’s the painting from the Ineffable edition a description of which can be found here

#@drawlight #31 days of ineffables #silver and gold #Good Omens #good omens fic #my fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #crowley (good omens)#aziraphale #proposal #double proposal #ineffable idiots #good omens fluff #tooth rotting fluff #gifts #anathema device #newt pulsifer #warlock dowling

23 notes · View notes

angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

Text

let us cling together {Roger Taylor}

aka: we only see each other at weddings and funerals

A/N: aydtd 'verse. my grandfather died on Friday and yesterday was his funeral, and this came to me. I just want to appreciate the concept of family, not all family, because sometimes family is shitty and terrible, but sometimes they're pretty alright. Anyways. death and funeral tw !!

1. Douglas Clarke

Ash isn't invited to her father's second wedding, not that he would know where to send the invite. Her parents had split in the early 80s, polarised by the fight between Minnie and Ellie, their youngest twin daughters. What followed was a messy divorce, both parents sinking deeper into their alcoholism, and, according to a disgusted Minnie, their father dating a slue of co-eds from the college where he taught. By the time he has one stick around long enough to marry, the only family member Ash is speaking to is Minnie, and Minnie's close to not even going herself.

"Mum's right furious Oscar was invited, but she's also right furious she wasn't," Minnie tells Ash over coffee. Ash, thirty-two and secretly high, nods, before taking a long sip of her hot chocolate, "honestly the woman plays jump rope with her indignance, she'd be insufferable either way." Minnie sighs dramatically, swirling her own mostly finished drink.

Their father's new fiance is the same age as Minnie, only twenty-four, and it's one thing on the considerable laundry list of reasons most of the family is considering boycotting the wedding. Minnie has her own personal reasons, mostly relating to her twin sister marrying her ex and bringing him, and their children, to the wedding, but Ash just nods sympathetically, and tries not to act as out of it as she feels. She hasn't been legally disowned, but for all intents and purposes, she was no longer a Clarke.

Minnie rants and rambles about the family Ash has forsaken, and Ash finds herself grateful that she doesn't have to deal with any of the drama anymore.

A few weeks after the wedding, Ash and Minnie go for coffee, and Minnie brings a photo of the wedding party.

Ellie's had twins. Their older brother, Oz, is clearly going through a divorce. August was their father's best man, and the new bride looks smug.

Ash is glad she dodged that bullet of an event.

The marriage doesn't last long in the grand scheme of things, but it doesn't end how Ash had expected it to. At thirty-five, she's touring with Queen again, with Roger again, and the last thing she expects is a call from her sister to say her father died in his sleep.

It's not as if she's celebrating, she's not heartless, she's just... not sure where she fits into the picture. Minnie invites her to the funeral.

She doesn't give an address. She watches, blank faced, as his wife chokes on her eulogy, and Ellie, there to support her, reads for her despite her own tears. They read off the names of his family, his relatives, and Ash's name at the end sounds almost begrudging as it leaves Ellie's lips. It's here that Ash finally learns his wife's name, Lynn, and she contemplates how strange it is that she'd never learnt it before.

It's here Ash learns a lot of things. Unsure of her emotions as she sits alone at the wake, not crying, not doing... anything. She's not even high but everything feels like static in her mind.

"Ashley?" Everyone calls her Ashley here, it makes her skin crawl. Her only goal is to not get in a shouting match, and so far she's managed to avoid her mother, and August, so she's doing pretty well.

It's Lynn, who hugs her like she's family, and introduces Ash to the little brother she didn't know she had.

Douglas Jr is two. He doesn't have Lynn's eyes, but Ash can't remember what her father's looked like.

"I bet that pissed Oz off to no end." Ash says without thinking, and Lynn's face reflexively scrunches. Ash hasn't even spoken to Oz, she's barely spoken to anyone apart from Minnie, who still wasn't speaking to Ellie or their mother.

Lynn doesn't know what to say, and leaves before Ash can say anything to the kid with Lynn's blonde hair and painfully familiar bright green eyes.

The next person to sit with her is a ginger teen trying to hide the fact that he's eating a brownie.

"Hi," Ash, frowning a little, greets the boy with flat confusion. He looks familiar, but so does everyone, Ash is just as likely to be related to any of the gingers present as she isn't.

"Huh?" Mouth full of brownie, the kid looks surprised that she even acknowledged him.

"Who are you related to?" Ash asks, because is Ash knew anything, it was that her father barely tolerated his own children as children, and no child would come to a wake of their own accord. Maybe Ash should pay more attention. She doesn't want to be here.

"Os-" the kid swallows his food before starting again, "Oscar Clarke; Doug was my grandad." He explains, and Ash can feel her voice freeze in her throat. She looks at the kid, really looks at him, and sees her brother in his eyes, his cheekbones, his lanky frame.

"You're," she hesitates, frowns, tries to remember what Minnie told her, "you're Allen?"

"Who are you?" The kid scowls, and quickly takes another bite of his obviously stolen snack.

"I'm Ash... ley. I'm Ashley." She says, and it sounds strange, it's the first time she's used that name in over a decade.

"Oh." Allen seems a little confused, and he shoves the rest of the cake just as a young girl hollers his name.

"Allen you're a thief and a rotten feckin' -"

"Jackie!"

Ash, even after all this time, knows that voice. It's been sixteen years since she'd seen her brother in person, and he's changed so much overall, but the longer she looks, the more she recognises him.

And he's coming towards her.

"Mind your language Jacks," Oscar tells the girl who yelled, and who was now, sulkily accompanying him to where Ash and Allen were sitting, "we'll get you more brownie, biscuit." He assures, before fixing Allen with an exasperated look. "You could've just asked Nan for another-"

"Nan would rather feed me Pop's rotting left foot-"

"You're so gross," Jackie wrinkles her nose, and Ash actually laughs. Oscar finally, finally looks at her.

"Hi, sorry, I'm -" he offers his hand, but falters, brow creasing in a frown.

"It's been a while, Oz," Ash swallows hard, and Oscar, gentle, tall Oscar, who had already spent a considerable amount of time with his eyes tear stained, notices his vision clouding at the sight of his little sister.

"Ashley."

He looks at her like he can't believe she's real, and for the first time all day, Ash cries. He's different, now almost forty, with wrinkles, crows feet and laugh lines, and so many freckles. His hair is shorter than she remember it, but he still keeps his beard to stubble.

It still feels the same when he hugs her.

She's stiff, conflicted, in her mind there's a disconnect; she's missed him so much, but she still hears him, all those years ago, calling her a homewrecking who're. She doesn't hug him back.

"Who's she?" Jackie whispers loudly to Allen, who shrugs. Oscar's smiling gently as he pulls back, and he wipes at his eyes.

"Jackie, Allen, this is your Aunt, Ashley." He explains, and something catches in Ash's throat.

"Auntie 'Ashley-Who-We-Don't-Talk-About'?" Jackie asks, matter-of-factly, and Ash actually laughs a little at that, though Oscar looks a little guilty.

"Ashl-" he chokes on her name, "Ace, these are my kids, Allen and Jaquelyn."

Ash greets the children, smiles and shakes their hands, and a strange little silence falls over them. No-one knows quite what to say.

"So," Ash finally breaks the silence with a sly smile, "Douglas Junior is a thing." Oscar laughs, loud and bright and so familiar.

"I'm just glad I dodged that bullet."

2. Mikayla McGreggor [nee. Clarke]

Minnie marries a highschool history teacher named Oliver, and Ellie's not invited.

Ash knows from being on the peripheries of Minnie's planning that the family is being a pain to organise, between Ellie being banned, Lynn not wanting to come if their mother was coming, and their mother kicking up a stink about everything and nothing every five minutes. Ash, for her part, is easy comparatively, and just works diligently away where she agreed to alter the wedding dress.

The most stressful part of the situation is that Ash is heavily pregnant, and most of her family don't even know. Though she exchanges letters with Oscar now, and he knows she's engaged, she won't give up her connection to Queen for the lingering fear that it might be used against her somehow. Old habits die hard, after all.

Ash isn't part of the wedding party, not out of malice, but of consideration; neither Minnie nor Oliver wanted go put her under any sort of stress. So Ash happily sits in one of the back rows of the church, Roger by her side, watching proudly as her sister gets married.

The wedding itself was fairly dry, though the reception was quite the party. Oscar's the first to find Ash after everyone had finished eating and the band had begun playing. He's halfway through introducing himself to Roger before he finally looks at him, looks at Roger's charming smile and how he'd extended his hand to meet Oscar's, and his voice dies in his throat, eyes going wide.

"Roger," he introduces himself easily, "a pleasure to meet you."

Oscar regains his composure easily, though Ash still thinks she should have warned him. Or Roger, maybe. Though Roger knew what he was getting into, he actually thought it was rather funny.

The reception is a ridiculous family affair; Ash's mother corners her in the bathroom to slur her way through calling Ash a whore for being pregnant and unmarried. It appears their family's painfully traditional values did not die with their father. Much to both Ash and her mother's surprise, Ash isn't actually bothered. Ellie crashes the party about an hour and a half in, in the middle of the maid of honor's speech, to give a tearful apology, to which Minnie bursts into tears and accepts on the spot.

"I like your family," Roger says with the barest amusement.

"That makes one of us," Ash grimaces, taking another sip of soda, though it is sweet to see Ellie and Minnie spinning around the dance floor like they did when they were kids. Minnie's new husband looks so damn endeared by the sight. Roger's smile only widens.

"Your nephew has my poster on his wall," He actually sounds proud, and Ash can't help but press a smile to his shoulder.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he got them off of Oz," Ash snickers, leaning into Roger who had his arm around her. "Thank you for coming to this with me, Rog," Ash's voice turns gentle, as does her smile when his gaze meets hers. He kisses her softly instead of answering, his hand coming to rest on her round belly, and Ash, for the first time in her memory, feels content while surrounded by family.

3. Ash Taylor [nee. Clarke Mercury]

Ash doesn't invite her mother to her own wedding. She doesn't invite Lynn either. All her siblings (and their spouses and their children) are invited, and her mum's right furious, even moreso when she learns that Freddie's mother is going to be giving Ash away.

Freddie himself is gaunt and sickly, but he stands proudly as Ash's best man, tears welling in his eyes as he smiles brightly at his surrogate sister as she walks down the aisle. Minnie is Ash's only bridesmaid, while Brian and John stand, beaming, behind Roger.

Astrid, Ash and Roger's first daughter, all of four years old, chaotically and haphazardly throws her flower petals like grenades where she leads the procession down the aisle, and wears her empty basket like a helmet for the duration of the ceremony. Meanwhile, the newborn Cate was carried by John's eldest, who also took responsibility.

The wedding, as well as the reception, is a star studded affair, and Ash's little and painfully Scottish family is more than a little overwhelmed. They all know in a roundabout way that Ash is well connected, but they'd never really realised the extent.

She's midway through a conversation with Oscar when Bernie Taupman kisses both of her cheeks and thanks her wryly for keeping John Reid off the guest list.

"That was for Freddie's benefit as much as it was Elton's," she answers, and Bernie snorts a laugh, while Oscar's gone starry-eyed. Oscar had recently come out to the family, which almost made Ash cry. He'd been so worried that she was angry or disappointed, until she quickly blurted that she was bisexual. She knows the look in her brother's eyes all too well, and he apparently had the same taste in men as Ash. Even if Bernie wasn't interested in men like that, it was still polite to introduce the two of them.

"Bern, this is my older brother, Oscar." She introduces fondly, and Oscar's expression fades to a grin as he holds out his hand.

When Doc McGhee passes on best wishes from Tommy Lee 'well, all of Motley Crue, but especially Tommy', Ash laughs lightly, thanking him, while Minnie and Jackie take a moment to fangirl once he leaves.

"I didn't take either of you for Motley fans," Ash admitted. Minnie shrugs, says she likes all sorts of music, and Jackie explains that Allen's going through a metal phase, and so she was to, by virtue of him always blasts his music loud enough for the whole house to hear. Ash had noticed that; he'd recently shaved his head, pierced his nose, and put a safety pin through his ear, though Ash quite liked the look on him.

Speaking of Allen, he was deep in conversation with Rob Reiner, just as starry-eyed as his father as he picked the director's brains.

"So how did you meet Ash and Roger?" The kid finally asks, and the renowned director smiles a little.

"I asked Ash to work on Spinal Tap with me-"

"No way! Ash worked on Spinal Tap?" Allen almost gasped, and Reiner nodded, endeared by the excitable teen.

It's here that the family comes to realise that for all they have gotten to know her since she'd allowed them back into her life, they don't know what she does beyond a vague mention of 'costumes'.

Ash doesn't notice her family's growing respect the more they integrate themselves with the other guests, she's too wrapped up in enjoying the night with Roger.

4. Oscar Clarke

Like almost all deaths in Ash's life, her brother's comes as a shock. Freddie passed almost a year and a half ago, and her son was born barely a month ago, and at three in the morning on a Sunday, she receives a distraught call from Ellie.

She'd known Oscar was sick, but he never liked talking about that sort of thing. Perhaps he was trying to protect her, but she hadn't even known he was in hospital.

Jackie bawls at the funeral, and won't let go of Allen. Their mother, Oscar's ex-wife, was kind-faced and gentle as she hugged each of Oscar's sisters in turn. Their mother was nowhere to be seen, a bigot to the last.

Ash and Roger sit in the front row, reserved for family, and Minnie is holding Ash's and Ellie's hands so tight it's painful, weeping silently. It doesn't feel real, it feels like she's moving in suspended animation, like moving through honey, nothing makes sense. Jackie is audibly sobbing where she clings to her brother's arm while he delivers a choked up speech about his father's life. Allen looks so much like Oscar.

Astrid and Cate don't quite know what's going on, but they know to be quiet, and baby Barney, barely a month old, starts screaming halfway through the eulogy, and Ash feels it deep in her bones. Roger offers to take him outside, but Ash shakes her head, standing and walking him outside. Ash holds Barney close as she rocks him. And that's how her sisters find her, crying quietly, clutching her son as his own cries subside.

The three women sit in the grass and take quiet solace in each other, their family having gotten just that bit smaller.

#bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #queen #queen imagine #ash x roger #the angry lizard writes #death tw #funeral tw #borhap

24 notes · View notes

ifyoucouldholdme · 6 years ago

Text

Movie Nights with Trashmouth

Chapter 1

Words: 1376

Pairing: Bichie

Rating: Explicit

Read on AO3

Bill couldn’t believe his eyes as Richie led him through the maze of DVDs. The whole scenario was oddly an experience out of time. His friend had dragged him halfway across town to a still running video rental store, probably the last of its kind as far as Derry was concerned. “You gotta see this place!” Richie had crowed, “They’ve got movies you can’t find anywhere else.”

The shelves upon shelves proved him right. Bill wanted to carefully scan through each title, making a mental list of which to rent first. He passed period dramas, sci-fi epics, films from around the globe. “R-Richie, w-wait up. I’d l-like to actually look at s-some of these,” he whined. Richie kept pulling him forward.

“You can see those later, Big Bill,” he chided, “I’ve got something that’ll give you a raging cinema boner. Hell, it’ll probably give you a real boner.”

“C-can you p-p-please stop t-talking about m-my dick?!” Bill sputtered.

“Whatever blows your skirt up, sweetheart. Just be glad you didn’t wear gym shorts today.” He sent a salacious wink, sending such a heart burning through Bill’s gut that he was indeed relieved he wore his rigid jeans instead of his flimsy shorts after all. If only Richie knew that his jokes were a bit too accurate. Bill pined as he watched the goofball’s dangling curls bounce as he skipped through the store. Ok, maybe he was also entranced by the bounce of Richie’s perfectly rounded bubble butt too.

Before they rounded the next corner, he suddenly turned and shoved his hand against Bill’s chest to stop him. “Alright, BIlliam,” he whispered into the now blushing boy’s ear. The warmth of Richie’s bony palm spread through his chest and mixed with the chills from the trashmouth’s breath dancing across his ear sent Bill into a paralyzed stupor. Yes, Richie was a touchy-feely person, but this felt different. This felt intimate and intentional. This awkward, brash, and gangly boy that haunted his nighttime fantasies was now mere inches from his wide-eyed face. Bill instinctively leaned forward, gradually closing the gap between—

“Around this corner is the most beautiful sight you’ll ever see, aside from my precious dimpled smile, of course. Like, for real Bill, you’re gonna cream your jeans. I know I sure as hell did the first time I saw it.”

“B-b-beep, R-r-r-r—” the poor frazzled boy tried, but Richie had already disappeared into the next room. The mere thought of his friend climaxing looped through his head taunting him as Bill tried in vain to cover his now full-blown erection and hobbled through the archway.

His shame was forgotten, however, when he laid eyes on the room before him. Each wall was lined in hundreds of bizarre and terrifying titles and box art. He recognized classics of horror like the Exorcist as well as some just plain weird movies, Meet the Feebles being one he was embarrassed to admit he somewhat enjoyed. Some shelves were alphabetized, others were categorized by director or subgenre. Stylized posters plastered the remaining spaces just beneath the ceiling, their artistry mesmerizing him. Above it all shone a neon marquee that simply read, “Cult Corner.”

“Welcome to paradise, Billy-Boy!” Richie beamed with arms raised in a grand gesture.

“Holy s-s-shit!” Bill proclaimed a bit louder than intended. “They’ve g-got everything.”

“Right?” With that, he eagerly led Bill around the room in his worst tour guide impersonation. “Thank you for choosing Tozier Tours Unlimited. We’re glad to have you aboard this afternoon. If you look out the window to your left, you’ll find the world’s larges collection of the spinetingling, the hair raising, and the grotesquely gory. But please, ladies and gentlemen, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. There’s lots more to see.”

Bill chuckled despite himself. As often as he wanted to strangle the brash jokester for taking a laugh one step too far, he no less than adored Richie. Underneath that layer of jovial frivolity was a sweet boy just as lonely and as unsure as he was. If he ever needed a true friend or someone to listen to his uncertainties, Richie always did whatever necessary to help him, albeit with a few chucks thrown in to keep the mood from turning too sour. It also didn’t hurt that Richie’s smile did in fact give him the most adorable dimples.

Thankfully he didn’t notice Bill’s infatuated stares as he continued. “To your right you will see the weird, the bizarre, the flat-out what-the-fuckery of the aisle of cult movies. We got your Rocky Horror, your Pink Flamingoes. You want blood, guts, quips, and tits? There’s a little something here for everyone!” he crooned gradually sounding more and more like a carnival barker.

Bill felt lightheaded, overwhelmed by such a collection to choose from. “I d-don’t even know w-where to start.”

“Well then, monsieur Denbrough,” Richie switched again, this time to what he called his Frenchie Dressing voice, “allow moi to direct vous to la piece du resistance.”

“Alright, M-Marcel, c-chill. You only w-went to Q-Quebec for a w-weekend,” he teased, but the smirk flew off his face wen Richie bent over, sticking his glorious ass in the air as if presenting it for Bill’s approval. Bill absentmindedly reached out a hand, just to ‘accidentally’ brush the enthralling derriere, then, remembering his tightening pants, snapped his hand back to cover himself. Once again, Richie seemed not to notice. He was more concerned with the DVD cases he thrust towards Bill. The shaking redheaded boy blankly gazed at the covers, glad for any distraction from his embarrassing issue. At first, he was confused. The boxes were adorned with several men and women in unusual poses.

“These,” Richie whispered in a curiously huskier tone, his face instantly as close to Bill’s as before, “are for extra special movie nights.” The pieces finally fell together in Bill’s mind.

“This is p-p-p-p—”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘porn’, Big Bill,” Richie winked. Crimson flooded over Bill’s cheeks. This pushed his tension over the edge, and he sputtered and shivered with embarrassment. The frenzy subsided a touch as Richie placed a reassuring grip on his shoulder. “Whoa there, Sister Mary Agnes. I’m putting them back. Nothing to get all antsy about, it’s just some dicks and tits. We’ve all got ‘em.” Bill, slightly calmer, quirked a teasing eyebrow at him. “Well, we’ve all got one or the other.” They gazed at each other for a moment, filled with some unspoken thing felt between them. Then they each burst into a hearty laugh.

“Alright, alright,” Richie gasped, “Go ahead and pick a couple out for a date night. It’s on me.” Bill dropped the cases, letting them clatter against his Converse sneakers. He stared, frozen in place, at Richie who also seemed to notice his choice of words and avoided eye contact himself.

“D-d-d-date n-night?” Bill managed through a clenched throat.

Richie brought a hand to his neck, trying to hide a rosy patch his had sprouted on his cheek. “I mean, yeah, I guess,” he said, voice uncharacteristically wavering. “We totally don’t have to. It’s weird. We can’t just get our own movies. Your taste in horror is more on the classy side anyway, you wouldn’t like any of my—”

Bill socked his arm, leaving a nice red mark which would eventually bruise later that day. “B-beep beep, d-d-dumbass.” He then worked his fingers through Richie’s, noticing the other boy’s nervous sweating palm and his own racing pulse. He swallowed his anxiety and excitement as Richie tightened his grip. “D-date night sounds f-f-fun.”

“Well,” Richie stalled, trying to will away red face. Bill could’ve sworn that his bottle thick glasses began to steam over. “Let’s pick out some flicks then. Say, two apiece?”

“S-sounds like a plan.” Bill smiled, lost in Richie’s warmth and the surprising sweetness of the moment. “R-Rich?”

“Yeah, Big Bill?”

“How d-did you even know I’d b-b-be—”

“Well, you’ve been staring at my ass like it’s a buffet, plus I’ve been able to see your hardon since we walked in, so I figured I had at least a fifty-fifty shot.” Bill punched Richie even harder a second time. Trashmouth just cackled in return.

37 notes · View notes

weaselbeaselpants · 6 years ago

Text

Rewriting the svtfoe finale

Oh boi is it mah birthday already?

Yes, yes I do. But first let me give you my thoughts on what needs to be changed aside from the finale. I think the first half of Season 4 is great. Up until Meteora’s Lesson all the episodes are doing something plot related, the give us good characters, they resolve issues from before and better explain stuff like Reynaldo the Bald Pate. Then Cornonation kicks off and it starts to feel kind of rushed in some parts. Episodes that should feel like closers to certain plot threads or breathers feel more like drivel that doesn’t go anywhere and is keeping us from fleshing out the main plot. Either ax some of those episodes or have more in the season to better flesh out the plot. (I’d love a follow up to Cornonation with Globgor that really sets up the escalating tensions that start in the finale).

-The first thing that needs to change is Moon having collaborated with Rhombulus to free Globgor. Moon can still pull a 180 and be using the solarian warriors, but her being involved in a false flag operation affects her character none. Having Rhombulus free Globgor of his own accord makes more sense for his character and can be made into an important conflict later; it shows how much the MHC has crumbled since it’s down to just two members. Them later relying on Rhombulus in a teeth-clenched partnership also builds tension - As is, the whole plot point of Rhombulus being bad and then getting thrown in the slammer but not really feels pointless cause it goes nowhere and has 0 affect on the rest of the season since the MHC were all on his side anyway I guess.

-Give us more of the Magical High Commission. They barely appear in person and when they do they’re made into really weak villains. The MHC’s problem, at least as far as I can tell, is that they’re all about order and think they’re true neutrals like Glossaryk, when they really have more of a ground in Mewni’s government then they’d like to admit. Outside of prejudice, their beef with Eclipsa is because they went out of the way to replace her family for the sake of order, got caught, and are now having to deal with the fact that their decision was a bad one and the kingdom and queen is doing fine without them.

-Moon’s betrayal needs to be hinted at and given more leverage throughout the season. Not that she distrusts monsters, but make it clear that she’s mad at Eclipsa and her decisions. Perhaps at the end of Cornonation, before there’s the big pan out of the stadium, Moon looks up with a look of suspicion and sees Mina’s crow. The thing about freeing Globgor is, Eclipsa gave her kingdom her word that he’d be locked away. They resolve it so quickly in the episode it’s incredible there isn’t some hesitation even by those who like Eclipsa - how truthful is she when she gives her word about anything? Yes, Globgor’s a cool guy but in context this would be pretty tumultuous. Mewni-John Oliver would be having a field day with this.

-Star needs to show more resent towards magic throughout the season. Her using spells so willy nilly kind of stiffens the fact that she needs to poof all of it away. Make it clear that she’s becoming more distrustful of the stuff and self-reliant even without it.

-The finale needed to be longer. It should have been two 22-minute episodes like “Divide” and “Conquer” were. More time to establish what this big decision Star is making means, more time to flesh out the drama and leave in the time to breathe.

-----------------------------------Anyway here’s my rewrite:

The beginning of Cleaved would start with the MHC still partying it up. Then they tune in through Omnitraxus’ crystal ball to the sight of Mina about to throw the monsters off a cliff and they spring into action, realizing that Moon wouldn’t allow such a thing which means Mina must be acting on her own. Rhombulus starts to crystalize Mina only for the crystalization to have no affect - Mina laughs and explains it’s some result of Solaria’s crystal-pulverization spell that protects her warriors from him specifically. Mina then declares the MHC enemies of Mewni and says they should go just like the monsters. To prove her point, she straight up attacks Hekapoo, who poofs away, which is how Omnitraxus and Rhombulus realize it was a duplicate so they poof off the find the real Hekapoo at the tavern.

Star, Marco, Eclipsa, and Moon are all having their back and forth about whether or not killing the magic is a good idea, now interrupted by Omnitraxus and Rhombulus who of course don’t want to die while Hekapoo is still apathetic. This can be interrupted with more back and forth of what’s going on on Mewni with characters we’ve seen throughout the show trying to fight against the Solarian warriors - this is the last episode! We should have a more suitable goodbye cameo to characters like Ludo and the other royal Mewni houses (Spiderbites have their chance at redemption bah) than just a little blip at the end - but to no affect.

Eventually Star and Marco make their decision and jump into the realm of magic anyway. The Tom/Dark Unicorn fight happens but with more Marco spells. As Eclipsa, Meteora and Moon help Star perform the whispering spells alongside the ghosts of the queens, Marco and Tom try to keep the unicorn distracted. It doesn’t work for awhile but finally Hekapoo, Omnitraxus, and Rhombulus step in and help them out one last time as they accept their fate alongside Glossaryk.

The queens perform the whispering spell, saying goodbye to their moms, and Star and Marco’s goodbye goes on without a hitch. That part of the episode is essentially perfect. Same with Star waking up in the aftermath of Mewni, the confrontation with Mina, Eclipsa and Globgor’s last scene together. All good, no change!

Star meets up with Ponyhead and Rich Pigeon recovering from their wounds and they have their little heart-to-heart. While they wonder if Kelly’s safe, Kelly suddenly bursts in riding Jorby and asks what Star and Ponyhead are doing in her dimension. Star runs off to the site of where the Magic sanctuary would be, saying quick goodbyes to show-favorites as she does so. On earth, Marco goes through the same thing but heads towards a strange cave that’s erupted out of Britta’s tacos (and likewise the former magic well). Star and Marco run through the cave and meet each other, realizing what has happened: the many dimensions weren’t separated, they were cleaved together thanks to the magic collapsing - but earth, the dimension that didn’t have any direct magic, is separated from the rest by a pocket-dimension cave - the last portal and possibly remaining magic in the universe.

Happy ending. Star and Marco get to be together with all their friends; Mewni starts a new as it now has a bunch of new territories to it’s name; earth isn’t catastrophically altered or placed on top of Mewni but the one remaining portal means there’s still a bridge between the worlds that occasionally leaks Mewni creatures; magic and all the beings that existed because of it get a proper send off - maybe you can have the mewni/earth cave I talked about be decorated with crystals, flames, celestial bodies, and carvings that resemble Star’s spells - a tiny monument to the times when magic existed.

#star vs. the forces of evil #svtfoe finale #svtfoe

17 notes · View notes

penny4yourthot · 6 years ago

Text

In the Blink of an Eye

Summary: For years, Tig believed that he would spend his life, and his money, finding love with a different woman every night - until he met Erin. She quickly stole his heart and he had never been happier, but all good things have to come to an end eventually, sometimes it's just sooner than you expect.

Thanks to @ithoughtofthisusername for editing and @red-w00dy for just being you and helping me.

It had been a perfectly normal morning for one of Charmings many outlaws, Tig Trager. He let out a low groan as the bright sun trickled its way into his bedroom between the cracks of the black curtains that hung over his window. He went a little too hard at the party last night, finishing half a bottle of jack and a six pack before retiring to his room with his old lady.

The familiar smell of coconut filled his nose as he opened his eyes and smiled seeing her brown hair sprawled out across his chest. He loved the way she slept with an arm lazily across his chest and her head right over his heart.

“Erin, are you awake?” he whispered lightly as he nuzzled his head into her long curly locks. He couldn't help but chuckle when he heard a small tired groan leave her lips.

“Rough night last night doll?” he asked with a laugh. Of course, he already knew that answer. He was completely and totally in love with this woman who was able to keep up with him and his clubs drinking habits. She easily downed shot after shot with him half the night. Then, once they retreated to his dorm, they stayed up another couple hours showing each other just how much they loved one another.

“Yeah, maybe a little too rough,” she replied as she looked up at him giving him a wink that drove him completely crazy. Erin sat up and wiped her tired eyes before looking back over at Tig who was staring at her.

“What?” she asked as she raised her arms over her head stretching the kink out of her back.

“Your gorgeous, I'm not allowed to stare at my old lady?”

“Not with that look you aren't, I'm sore from last night,” she chuckled as she got off the bed and started to strip her pajama shorts and panties off.

“But maybe I'll let you join me in the shower.” She winked once more at him and then laughed when she saw how quickly he shot out of bed and rushed into the bathroom behind her.

She reached into the shower before turning it on, making sure it was turned all the way hot, the way she liked it. As she waited for the water to heat up enough she grabbed her and handed Tig his. She was desperate to get the taste of stale alcohol out of her mouth and she was sure he was too.

Once she was satisfied with the minty taste in her mouth, she returned her toothbrush to its rightful place in the holder next to the sink. She turned around and slipped into the shower, letting the hot water run down the length of her body.

“Jesus Christ, how do you shower with the water so damn hot!” he yelled as he followed her into the shower.

“It’s not that hot Tiggy,” she giggled as she washed her hair.

“It feels like the water is being pumped straight out of hell,” he exclaimed as he reached for the handle to turn the water down a bit.

“Such a drama queen Tig,” she laughed as she reached for the bottle of conditioner, getting ready to put it in her hair. He grabbed the bottle gently out of her hands and poured some into his hand.

He massaged the conditioner into her hair. Knowing that she lets it sit in her hair for a few moments, he pulled her tight against him, her back touching his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I love you so much Erin,” he whispered in her ear. It was true, Tig had never loved anyone the way he loved this woman. She honestly wasn't his type; she didn't have blonde hair or seemingly too large breasts in proportion to the rest of her body. She was also very shy and quiet, but once he got a taste of the attitude that she hid behind the shyness, he was hooked.

“I love you too, Tiggy,” she replied as she turned her neck to place a kiss on his cheek. They stood there for a few minutes just embracing each other and, eventually, washing each other.

Tig lived for mornings like this. After being deployed overseas in the Marines for a few years, he needed this; someone to come home to and to keep him grounded when his mind would easily drift off to the things he had seen in combat.

Tig had been home for two years now and Joined SAMCRO immediately after coming back to the US, finding it hard to fit in with anyone. He found a home with the club, most of them were veterans as well, so they all knew the struggles he was having.

Tig met Erin six months into being a prospect; he was called to tow her car to the shop because it wouldn't start. From the moment he laid eyes on the helpless girl, with big green eyes at the only gas station in Charming clad in jean shorts, a red tank top and a pair of run-down converse, he knew he was in trouble.

Tig was planning on proposing to Erin. He had the ring picked out already and hidden away in his sock drawer. Today was the day he would ask her to be his wife and he couldn't wait for that moment to come. He had planned a whole day together, getting breakfast at their favorite diner, going to the lake to relax and swim, which was Erin’s favorite past time. Finally, he would take her to the same place her car broke down, where he met her, and get down on one knee, right there at the gas station, in the middle of town.

He did not care if the gas station was romantic or not; it was the place where he met the love of his life and it was the place where he was going to ask her to marry him.

A half-hour after they got out of the shower, they were ready to leave. Tig had a backpack that he stuffed Erin’s bikini and his swim trunks with a couple of towels along with the ring that he hid down in the bottom of the bag. She had no idea the plans he had for them today and he intended to keep it that way.

“Where are we going?” Erin asked as she walked out of the clubhouse, putting her sunglasses on quickly to shield her hungover eyes from the bright charming sun. She instinctively grabbed Tigs hand as he walked with her to his bike.

“You’ll see,” Tig smiled as he looked over at Erin. He loved the way her jeans hugged her curves perfectly and the way her long brown hair was draped over her shoulders and down her back like a perfect waterfall. He could not help but think he was the luckiest man in the world.

Tig handed the backpack to Erin to wear so it wouldn't be in the way when she held onto him. After they both had their helmets on they climbed on his bike and took off down the small roads of Charming.

Arriving at the diner, Tig backed his bike up to the curb and threw the kickstand up. He grabbed Erin’s hand as they walked into the diner and sat at their favorite table, the one by the window.

“Coffee?” the over-energetic waitress asked, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun.

“Yes, please,” Tig and Erin said at the same time. Erin couldn't help but notice the way the waitress was looking Tig up and down with a smirk, not even acknowledging her existence.

Tig noticed her roll her eyes as the waitress walked away.

“Why are you rolling your eyes?”

“She was totally checking you out, acting like I wasn't even here,” Erin joked causing Tig to laugh.

“Well that bitch ain't got shit on you, doll,” he assured her, grabbing her hands and holding them across the table. He loved the way Erin still blushed when he complimented her even though they had been together for a year and a half.

“So your not going to tell me what we are doing today?” she asked, trying to pry the info out of Tig. She knew he was bad at keeping secrets from her.

“Nope, my lips are sealed,” he over-dramatically replied with a grin.

“Yeah but maybe mine aren't,” She winked. Erin loved teasing him in public, she knew the effect she had on him.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked with a shit eating grin on his face. He knew exactly what she meant but wanted to hear her say it.

Before Erin could reply, the waitress came back and set their cups of coffee in front of them and pulled the notepad out of her apron, ready to take their orders. They quickly ordered their food and both laughed when the waitress walked away. This time, Tig noticed the looks he was receiving from her and made sure hold Erin’s hands and caress her arms a bit dramatically.

“Remember the first time we came here?” Tig asked with a grin.

“How could I ever forget? I thought you were insane going to the bathroom then texting me to join you in there. In a place full of people!” She laughed, remembering it like it was yesterday.

“There weren't that many people here doll, it was two AM, just a couple of truckers,” a chuckle escaped his lips as he reminisced about that night.

“I had only known you a few weeks, most girls would have run out the door and ditched you.”

“Well you aren't like most girls, that's why I love you. You’re so different compared to all the girls I’ve met.”

“Yeah because you're so used to blonde bimbos throwing themselves at you for riding a motorcycle,” Erin laughed. She knew it was true. A few of the crow eaters took a while to adjust to the fact that Tig was off the market when they first started dating. She had seen the multiple attempts they made to try to get with him, but he always pushed them away.

“Hey now,” he put his hands up in defense, “those girls were only after me because of my bike?” He questioned, jokingly.

“No Tiggy, I'm sure there was more they were after,” Erin elaborated.

Their food arrived quickly and they made small take as they scarfed down their food. The two of them were always hungry for greasy breakfast food the morning after drinking so much. After paying for their food, they walked out of the diner, hand in hand. They climbed on the Bike and took off towards their next destination, the lake. They had to take the highway that left Charming to get there as it was in the next town over.

Tig felt Erin put her head on his shoulder to get a better look of the road ahead of them. He looked over at her for just a second, taking in the beauty of her face.

It was when he turned his head back to look at the road that he noticed a deer darting straight in front of the bike. Tig swerved, sending his bike down in the middle of the road. It was a split second, he felt Erin’s grip being pulled away by the force of the bike hitting the road. Tig could feel blood begin to run down his arm from a bad cut.

He didn't have time to process what happened when he heard a loud scream come from the other side of the road. Tigs head shot up faster than ever as he pulled the bike off of his leg. The pain he was feeling was nothing compared to the worry he felt about her.

“Erin!” he screamed as he jumped up and hobbled as fast as he could to the other side of the road. Her leg had been run over by a car and he could see the blood spilling from her wounds. Her arms were scraped up and there was a giant gash on her forehead.

“No, God no, Erin, I'm right here,” he screamed, the tears falling down his face and onto her chest.

“Call 911,” he yelled at the lady who was getting out of the car.

Tig quickly undid his belt from his jeans and applied it on her thigh in an attempt to stop the bleeding from the injury she sustained below. He then put his hands over the gash on her head and applied pressure, his eyes scanning over the rest of her to make sure there were no more wounds.

As he scanned back up her body he couldn't tell if she was breathing or not. Taking his hands off her head wound momentarily, he placed his, now bloody, hand on her neck checking for a pulse. His heart shattered when he couldn't feel the thump of her heartbeat. His instincts took over as he started CPR on her, counting to ten then giving her two breaths. Something he learned back when he was in the Marines.

“Please baby, d-don't leave me,” he sobbed as he continued compressing her chest.

“I love you, baby,” it was becoming harder for him to breath but he wanted her to hear him. “I need you, I was going to ask you to m-marry me tonight,” he said, his voice faltering with the tightness he felt in his chest. His arms grew tired within minutes of starting CPR, his muscles screaming for more oxygen as it became progressively harder to breathe.

He jumped when he felt an arm around him, looking up it was a paramedic. He was so concentrated on bringing Erin back that he didn't even hear the blaring sirens or see the flashing lights from the ambulance.

“Sir, we’ve got this. Please step back,” the paramedic said as his partner kneeled down on the other side of her lifeless body. Tig could hardly hear the words that the man spoke, it wasn't until the paramedic physically took Tigs arms off Erin that he truly noticed their presence.

He sat back on the pavement and watched as the paramedics continued CPR and put a backboard under her to lift her onto the ambulance.

“There’s another rig on the way here to pick you up sir,” the paramedic's words burned like fire in Tigs mind. He stood up and hobbled over to the ambulance.

“I'm not leaving her side,” he said as he climbed on and took a seat on the bench next to Erin. He held her hand as one of the medics continued to work on her while the other one sped off to the hospital.

It only took a few minutes to arrive at their destination but, to Tig, it felt like days. He could see the color draining out of Erin's face from the blood loss. He knew the possibility of her coming back was slim, but he would not give up hope. By the time Tig hobbled out of the ambulance and into the room where the doctors continued to work on Erin, he saw the whole club standing in the hall. Unser had called them as soon as he arrived on the scene and saw who the victims of the accident were.

Tig stood there in shock as the doctors and nurses kept up the CPR and pushing medications into the IV that the paramedics inserted in the field. He never really believed in God but he was silently praying as he watched the events unfold in front of his eyes. Pleading with whatever god may exist to not take her away.

He was shaking so intensely, he could hardly stand. He knew he was covered in blood; some of Erin’s and some of his own. He also knew his leg was probably broken. None of that mattered now. He pushed away multiple nurses who tried to help him, his focus on the beautiful brunette who lay still on the table.

He thought about all the plans he had for the two of them. He thought about all the time they had spent together and the amount of love and trust they had. Then, the memory of what happened ran through his head like a movie playing right in front of his eyes. Maybe if his vision never left the road, this wouldn't have happened. Tig’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the words of the doctor who was in charge of running the code.

“Time of death, 11:32 am.” The words no one ever wants to hear, the ones that cut through your heart like a knife cuts through butter.

“No, No keep going! You have to save her!” Tig screamed, hardly able to keep standing as he felt a stabbing feeling in his chest.

“Mr. Trager we have done CPR for over thirty minutes, with the amount of blood loss and the trauma of hitting her head, there is nothing more we can do. I am so sorry for your loss,” the doctor replied as if it was a rehearsed statement; something they say to all the families of the lost loved ones.

“Sorry doesn't mean shit,” Tig said as he ran up to Erin and tried to continue the CPR on her.

“Mr. Trager, she was more than likely killed directly on impact, she didn't feel any pain,” the doctor said as Tig felt arms pulling him away from his attempt to revive Erin again. He turned around to see his best friend, Clay, standing there.

“She’s gone man,” he said, looking Tig directly in the eyes. The tears that spilled out of his bright blue orbs burned as they ran through the cuts down his face. He knew she was gone. He didn't want to accept it though. The doctors and nurses all left the room like they were leaving the stage at the end of the shittiest play Tig had ever seen.

“I need some time alone with her,” Tig choked out. Clay hugged him and then walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Tig pulled up a chair next to the bed where she laid lifeless in front of him. The chair next to him held the backpack that Erin had on earlier that he pried off of her back before initiating CPR. He opened the bag and reached down to the bottom, surprised to feel the box that held the ring undamaged from the accident.

He pulled the ring out and slid it on to her finger.

“I love you so much Erin, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” Tig could hardly get the words out over the tears, but this was something he had to do.

“I’m so happy we met. I've l-loved every minute we spent together, and I'm sorry this all happened. we should have taken a different road or your car. It should be me lying there,” he sobbed, the feeling of loss hitting every cell in his body. He looked at her face, covered in dried blood and cuts. The once rosy cheeks that he loved were now pale white and cold. He held her hand and sobbed over her chest.

He didn't know how long he laid over her but he was interrupted by the soft knock on the door from a nurse who had come to check on him. He knew it was time to let her go, the pain he felt from the accident starting to make its way up his body as his adrenaline slowly faded. He placed a soft kiss on her lips and followed the nurse out of the room.

Tig wasn't sure if this was reality or just a fucked up nightmare. He prayed that he would be waking up with Erin still in his arms. With every passing minute, he knew the possibility of this being a dream was less and less. After the nurses and doctors patched him up and cast his broken leg, he was discharged from the hospital.

He immediately retreated into his dorm room, ignoring everyone in the clubhouse. He sat on his bed and when he smelled that coconut shampoo on his pillow he lost it again. It only took a single tear to break the dam that held back all his emotions. He ran to the bathroom and hugged the toilet, vomiting.

How could he go on without the light of his life? The one who made it all okay, even when it wasn't. He grabbed a paper towel and wiped his mouth, then discarded it in the garbage bin, a pink box grabbing his attention as it lay in the bin.

It was a box that previously housed three pregnancy tests. He immediately took the bin and dumped the continents on the floor. He saw three white sticks fall out. He picked them all up and held them in his hand. The two pink lines he saw on each test hit him like two bullets to the chest.

She was pregnant. The thought of having a baby with Erin put a small smile on his face until reality came crashing back to him when he saw the scrapes and bruises on his hand from the accident. She was gone. They were gone. Tig threw the tests against the wall and pulled his hands to his face. His eyes hurt from crying but he couldn't help the tears that fell.

One minute he had everything he needed in life and, in the blink of an eye, it was all taken away from him like a cruel game that he didn’t want to play anymore. He didn't know how to live life without her and he knew he would never forget her beautiful face no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

#tig trag #Soa #clay morrow #TigxOC #Sons of anarchy #Tigger #Alexander trager

78 notes · View notes