#evie you lucky bastard

[sneaky-eel]

Don’t let her fool you. Evie is thrilled.

Connor? Not so much.

[evita-shelby]

Plus One

Inspired by @justrainandcoffee Wandering Jew series.

Aka an excuse to write rolfie and teva in the same universe

Gif by @crackshipandcrap

(2019)

“Who won’t text you back?” Eva asked noticing the rather forlorn way he looks at the message.

She knows he’d been seeing someone, and yet while he knows about her disastrous sex life, Eva doesn’t know jack shit about his beyond Grace the Barmaid, Lizzie and several other women Eva may or may not have also fucked.

“None of your business, Smith.” Tommy glared and she pouted.

It had been a bad idea to ask her out again, the drinks had been fine and she thought him a gentleman when he didn’t take her up on her suggestion of staying over at her place.

“I told you about my ex marrying my cousin and my ex who fucked all my friends, c’mon, Tommy tell me who’s the broad who’s place I need to trash.” The brunette reminds him.

They were friends now.

Eva was enjoying being single after her ex decided Franco was who she loved and Tommy had been in a relationship with someone whom he had hardly ever mentioned.

“Not a she, and no, you’re not committing a felony for me, Evie, but thanks anyway.” He said with annoyance and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Ah so we’re more similar than I thought. So your guy broke up with you, then?” the witchy young woman guessed correctly going by the stony look he gets as he orders another drink.

“Yes, and before you ask. It was me not him.” The dark haired man loathed speaking about things like these and yet he willingly shared this with her, progress. “Won’t forgive me and I know you’d agree with him.”

“You got me there. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been there before. At least your ex is still alive to hate you.” Eva regrets her words the moment she said them.

She never told anyone about Leopoldo, nor how him learning about her and Antonia seeing each other behind his back led to the car accident that killed him.

She’d been displayed as his grieving girlfriend. Given flowers, comforted along with his family and crushed by the guilt of knowing she hadn’t truly loved him.

“Lucky me.” He grumbled bitterly and raised his whiskey in a toast. “Here’s to our shit luck, Evie.”

It is spring 2020 when Tommy and Eva elope to Cancun and welcome the pandemic as the newly elected representative of the Birmingham Hall Green.

Their exes remain unnamed and neither Shelby aware of how little the world is.

Its 2023 when two identical invitations arrived addressed to the both of them.

“I didn’t know you knew Alfie as well.” Eva mentions as he played with little Gabriel on the rug.

The look on his face says it all.

Alfie was the guy who dumped him for being a cheating asshole.

Same Alfie who was Aunt Florence’s baby brother.

There had been no malicious intent.

This is what Rose tells herself when Alfie learns she hadn’t removed Tommy Shelby from the guest list.

She had met him in passing once, when she found more than just a nice holiday at the Wandering Jew.

Then she came to know Tommy had been the heartless bastard who’d broken Alfie’s heart. Having disliked him from the start, knowing how awful he was had made her hate him.

Now she was seeing him in the profile picture of Alfie’s ‘niece’ Eva Smith-Riley who had sent her congratulations through Instagram.

Rose had met through zoom calls and FaceTime and once in person when Eva came to give them her good news.

‘Is it okay if I bring my plus one?’

It was then Rose had seen who the man she was married to was.

Then the bride to be did what everyone has done since the invention of social media has done.

She looked at every single photo of him in Eva’s profile, Facebook page, twitter and some tabloids that sprung up under her name.

They’d met at Birmingham U, they dated for approximately five months, married on the first of March in a lovely beach in Mexico and had a baby named Gabriel.

“Are you jealous of Evie, sweetheart?” Alfie Asks seeing the picture of Eva hanging out with some celebrity at a charity thing.

“No. It’s not that. Why didn’t you tell me Tommy’s her husband?” she shows him the next picture, Tommy Shelby smiling through the pain holding his one-year-old son next to Eva.

After the way he fucked things up with Alfie, Tommy resolved himself to be a better man.

“Because I didn’t know about it until she married the fucker and then I didn’t want to ruin things for her. He’s changed, or so it seems.” the burly man admitted knowing the hell that was going to be unleashed.

“For a man in love he looks like he’s in agony.” Rose points out thinking the worst of Thomas Shelby.

“That’s just his face, love, he can’t help it.”

And he had, not once has he strayed and while that took much work on his account, it had rewarded him with a woman he loves and a family he hadn’t thought he could have.

He should’ve told her about his past with Alfie, but he was afraid, not sure of what, but he was afraid.

Eva wouldn’t have judged him about it, not after she told him about Leopoldo, but Alfie was her friend.

And yet here they lay beside each other as the baby slept curled up between them.

“You should’ve told me, Tom.” She’s not angry, there is a hint of disappointment about her, but nothing has changed as he feared he would. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

“He’s your friend, sort of relative too. I don’t want you to miss it on account of me.” He could invent an excuse to stay, claim Gabe is too little for a sitter.

“Alfie is your friend too, we’ll hire a sitter for Gabe and you will come with me. I already told Alfie I’d be bringing you anyways.” She points out reaching to caress his face, a contrast to his words.

December rolls around, and Tommy finds himself fixing the black satin bowtie that matches Eva’s black evening gown exactly.

“Are you ready?” she asks softly, knowing how big of a step this is for him.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be, Mrs. Shelby.”

[imsparky2002]

Rescendants - The Crew

Uma: The captain of the Lost Revenge pirate crew, Uma is a fiercely determined leader who doesn’t take anyone’s shit, though with a soft spot for those that are close to her, like her girlfriend, Freddie, and her best friends, Darcy, Harry and Gil. She has a difficult history with Mal, including heartbreak and betrayal, and an equal, if not more, hostile relationship with her mother. She’s determined to show she can be the best without needing help from her mother’s magic.

Harry: The bastard child of Captain Hook, and Uma's first mate. An aggressive and violent young man with psychopathic tendencies, he's the one who gladly does most of the dirty work when pirating. Physical and verbal abuse from his father and older sister caused him to begin lashing out, even to this day he prefers a punch up instead of peaceful resolutions. He does show a softer and more vunerable side with his shipmates, especially his boyfriend Gil. He has an obsession with hooking things, and is terrified of being alone.

Gil: A big, buff golden retriever of a himbo, Gil is quite possibly one of the sweetest people you will ever meet, affectionate and kind to everyone around him. He uses his strength to assist his crew, but he’s a very gentle boy, especially with his boyfriend Harry and his little sister Gabi. He may be far from the sharpest tool in the shed, often lacking common sense, but he has a high level of emotional intelligence, able to help people work through their feelings surprisingly well, like the good boy he is.

Darcy: Uma’s right-hand woman, and sharing her bone to pick with the daughter of Maleficent, Darcy is unquestionably one of the toughest and most terrifying girls on the island, never afraid to put someone in their place, be that with sharp words or her fists. Darcy is one of the few lucky kids in the Isle to have a good, loving relationship with their villainous parent, and she inherited Oogie’s love of scaring. Though she cares deeply for and will do anything to protect those she cares about, she’s not one to be open about her feelings, though a certain Pumpkin prince may help change that.

Freddie: A smooth and sassy con artist, Freddie has the ability to talk just about anyone into just about anything. But with one the sharpest tongues on the Isle, she can also verbally destroy you if the mood hits her right. Despite this, she has a caring side that comes out especially with her girlfriend Uma, her little sister Celia and her father, Dr. Facilier, who taught her all her voodoo tricks. She may be slick, but she’ll never lie to the people she really cares about.

Evie: The Isle's best cat burglar, and the magical daughter of the Evil Queen. Due to her mother's constant reminders of beauty being an importance, the girl is very self conscious about her looks. Evie used to roll with Uma and her crew. After years of Mal manipulating and abusing the lot of them, she grew jealous of Uma, despite her being mistreated by their leader as well. Mal left her gang for dead, and in her grief, both Evie and Uma blamed each other for the abuse, and went their separate ways. Now she reluctantly works with the group in order to get revenge on Mal and to destroy the barrier.

Jay: The smooth-talking and sticky-fingered son of Jafar, Jay has a real knack for getting himself out of trouble with a few good lies. His theft skills made him a useful asset to anyone on the Isle, but here in Auradon, he’s starting to find his place in more honest pursuits, like Tourney. He has a soft spot for his friends, especially his lifelong best buddy, Carlos, though he rarely lets it show. He also has a knack for charming the ladies, though he finds the tables getting turned on him when he meets the daughter of Mulan.

Carlos: The fast-talking, dog-loving techie who just so happens to be the son of Cruella de Vil. The poor boy is more like an abandoned scruffy pup, berated and abused by his mother. He resorted to stealing to eat, since his mother wouldn't provide care for him. He's a petty thief who's got a motor mouth and a knack for making gadgets based off of junk he finds in the Isle. He's always willing to serve as a distraction, or help Jay with a scheme.

AAAAH PART 1 IS FINISHED! This was such a treat to work on with Weeby, and Artzy's been excited for it! Thank you so much to Weebs for helping make the summaries and for her letting me use her OC, Darcy. Make sure to reblog, reply, post and ask for more. @artzychic27 and @msweebyness

[thefanficmonster]

Caught Red-handed

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Struggling with migraines 

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having suffered from migraines all their life, Y/N knows better than to give them much attention or let them hinder their work too much. However, their boyfriend is a lot more worried than they are and has taken it as his personal duty to ease their pain as much as he possibly can. 

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to get to it, write and post it, but here it finally is and I hope you come across it and read it! I’ve never experienced migraines nor have I known someone who has so if I’ve misrepresented or written any misinformation, anyone who catches it, feel free to let me know either in the comments or in my inbox/messages! Love, Vy ❤

The first time I got a headache was in the middle of math class in eighth grade. I remember it so distinctly because I had never before experienced such sudden and such intense pain. I got to go home early that day and spent a good portion of the day trying to sleep it off but to no avail.

Since then I’ve grown used to having to deal with a pain so strong it renders me unable to function for a whole day about two times a month. Sometimes, I even try to be stubborn with it - I try to push through as much work as I can despite the migraine, but that never works out for a long time considering it ends up crippling me in the end. That’s never kept me from trying over and over again though!

Now, to contrast my nonchalance and even annoyance with these pesky attacks, is my boyfriend Corpse’s concern over them. I’ve tried explaining to him that I’ve grown used to them and that I try not to let them bother me and that he shouldn’t stress over them so much but I may as well be talking to a wall because all he has to do is see me squint my eyes or cringe and he enters concerned-mother mode. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it to no end, I just don’t want him worrying over something so small. Also, a minor convenience: if the migraine doesn’t hinder me from tending to my tasks, Corpse will. He’ll make sure I’m off the task I’m working and transported into bed in an instant.

That’s why I’m now clenching my jaw, struggling to maintain a poker face as I work on an important project I have to send to my boss by the start of next week. I’ve got plenty of time, but I like to stay on top of my work so it doesn’t pile on top of me, you know what I’m saying. Corpse is sitting on the couch next to me, casually glancing at me every now and then while remaining quiet as to not disturb me. So far so good, he hasn’t noticed anything and, if I didn’t know any better I would sigh in relief. There’s nothing to trigger the pain to arise any further - the lights are dim, I’m staying hydrated, and I downed two painkillers in the bathroom about an hour and a half ago - so I’m sure I’ll be in the clear at least until dinner.

“Wanna watch a movie when you’re done?“ Corpse asks, “Unless you’re tired or anything...“

I flash him a grateful smile, giving his knee a squeeze of reassurance, “I’d love to, babe. But I can’t promise that I won’t fall asleep.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I know you’ve got a tendency of doing that.” Giving me a side-glance he adds, “It’s cute.”

I roll my eyes, already sensing a blush creeping up on my cheeks and neck which I hide by turning to face my laptop screen. One thing I can’t hide though is the wide grin that’s spread across my face as I mutter: “Shut up.”

Just then, a particularly sharp jolt of pain courses through my head, testing that ability to maintain a resting face. Thankfully, Corpse is turned in the opposite direction, searching for his phone, so I allow myself a brief cringe at the discomfort. 

Guess the painkillers are dying down on me, I think to myself, a second away from sighing exasperatedly at the thought that I have to down two more. It was wishful of me to think I could enjoy the luxury of a dull ache until dinner, now the migraine is straight up mocking me.

I quietly stand up from the couch and make my way to the bathroom so I can take another dose of aspirin because I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on my work for very long if it keeps hitting me with this intensity. Opening the door to the small cabinet above the sink, I automatically reach out for the bottle of pills but stop when I see a surprise.

Directly in front of the bottle stands a note written in, you guessed it, Corpse’s handwriting.

‘Already losing effect, huh? When are you thinking of coming clean?‘

Well shoot, am I that transparent?

I sheepishly exit the bathroom, walking back into the living room where Corpse greets me with the same stance as a parent greeting their kid who’s gotten home past curfew: legs crossed, arms folded over his chest, one eyebrow raised, the whole nine yards.

“Yeah, they’re already losing effect.“ I admit, a small apologetic smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, my cheeks burning with an embarrassed blush. “And I wasn’t gonna tell you at all.” I hurry to add: “Please don’t be mad though.“

Corpse shifts slightly, his gaze giving me a onceover as he contemplates how to pursue the case. I’ve already got several arguments/defenses ready - the perks of working for a lawyer - but I know he’ll dismiss all of them no matter how strong they might come off as in court. Bottom line: even statements that would fly in court can’t fly with Corpse sometimes. Especially when my health and well-being are the topic of observation.

“What have we said about lying?“ He finally asks, causing me to cringe and ball my fists in guilt.

However, I still have my arguments ready: “You never asked me so I never technically lied.” One might say I have quite the audacity to plead not guilty right now, even though I’ve been caught red-handed, but what can I say, I’m stubborn in nature. And Corpse knows this, he’s just testing me for his own amusement.

“Poor excuse, Y/N.“ He says with disapproval, shaking his head and fully embracing his disappointed parent persona. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. So, as punishment for hiding the truth from me, you are to ditch that project you’ve been bugging yourself over and come cuddle and watch a movie with me. Bonus points for you if you fall asleep.“

I needn’t be told twice - not only will it wipe that look off his features but it’ll also get earn me a movie night with the additional benefit of cuddling with my boyfriend? - how could I refuse?

I can’t help it, I just gotta push my luck here and poke the bear with a stick, “If the punishments are so sweet I might start being dishonest more often.“

Corpse rolls his eyes, scooting on the couch and tapping the space he’s freed up for me, “I said I was feeling generous, don’t bet on it happening often though.”

Alright, enough luck-pushing, I should be grateful for this generosity instead. I should be using it to the max.

So, what’s stopping you from doing just that?

Good question, brain, good question.

Head still pounding just not as intensely, I slip under the thin soft comforter to find myself not only wrapped in it but also in Corpse’s arm, his warm embrace bringing me instant comfort, walking me on the tight-rope of falling asleep right away.

“Sneaky bastard.“ I attempt to mutter, yawning halfway through. 

I feel his lips on the top of my head, placing a quick and gentle kiss in my hair before he says, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Count your lucky stars, Y/N. You’ve got one of the good ones.

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[thebluestbluewords]

Waking Up is Hard to....

Mal having a moment, part of a larger project I'm slowly chugging away on. ~1500 words

*

“Oh gods, ouch.” Mal mutters, mostly to herself. There’s something heavy and sharp resting on her face. Maybe Evie left one of her hair combs in the bed again, and Mal’s somehow rolled over onto it and gotten it stuck in her face. “Geoff, Evie--” Mal mutters, swiping at the thing. It doesn’t shift, and she whacks at it harder, making contact with the top of it--

Mal snaps awake. Shit, shit and crap. That’s feathers she’s whacking, which means Diablo is here, and her mother--

Diablo caws his stupid cackling laugh, and releases a coil of scrap paper from his beak directly into Mal’s eye.

“Get out of here you stupid bird,” Mal tells him, sitting up and shoving the creature off of her face. “Who let you in, you bastard? Did you break open my skylight again?”

The bird cocks his head, looking at her with his beady, all too intelligent eyes. “Caw. Caw.” he croaks out, body still and resting intensely on Mal’s thigh. “Caw.”

Ugh. “I hate you, dumbass.” Mal tells him. “Go look for water in the sink, I’m sure one of the others will get a bowl for you.”

Diablo hops up from Mal’s leg and wings his way up onto her partition. He’s not letting her out of his sight, which is never a good sign.

“I’m reading it, I’m reading it,” Mal yawns, unrolling the paper scrap. It’s soft from use, and covered in her mother’s looped handwriting.

Mal, the note reads. I’ve come across some interesting information about your assignment. Come to the tower at 4am sharp. Do not try to hide from me or Diablo has been instructed to peck your eyes out and bring them to me on a plate. Don’t fail me. -M

Well then. There’s not many functioning clocks left on the isle, but Mal happens to have one of the best engineers on the isle living in-house, so she’s got an actual alarm clock in her bedroom corner. Sure, the letters glow pink instead of a more evil color, and there’s a princess holding a lemon slice sitting on top of it, but it works better than the bells and Maleficent is dangerous when Mal is late for a summoning.

3:26. Half an hour then, to get ready and cross the market territory without waking up the others or getting caught by anyone who’s still up and about and ready to do an unattended young villain harm.

Mal is more worried about what Evie will say if she gets caught than any potential danger from the pirates, if she’s being honest.

Okay. Up, roll quietly off the mattress that she’s spent more pleasant hours on than an alpha bastard like her deserves, and grab clothes off the pile on the floor. Pants are easy, belts are harder, because they click. Can’t go without one, because belts are part of her armor. Her sleep shirt is fine, a thin tank top in black and green that Evie pulled out of the scrap pile and repurposed for her. It’s cheap fabric, and not meant to hold up under attack, but she’s not her jacket for that. The thick layers of leather have served her well so far, and a quick jaunt across the hidden rooftops of the isle might wake up a few sleeping occupants of the buildings under her, but won’t result in anything more than a few yells if she’s lucky, and a bottle or two to dodge if she isn’t.

Mal’s feeling lucky tonight.

Out of her corner, slipping under the curtain so the sound of the rings won’t wake Carlos, who is a notoriously light sleeper, and--

“Mal?”

Caught.

“Hey, furball.” Mal says, turning to face a red-eyed Carlos, who is sitting up on his mattress and watching her a little too closely for someone who just woke up. “My mother’s little message disturb you too?”

He yawns. “Yeah.”

“Well, if I’m not back by the sixth bell or so, send a search party, okay?”

“Can-do,” Carlos says, and yawns again. “If you’re not back we’ll assume you’re in the dungeon again, yeah?”

Ugh. “Probably.” Mal agrees. “Unless she’s feeling really creative and puts me out on the window ledge.”

“The worst.” Carlos agrees, sleepily. “If you die I want your serrated knife back.”

Mal pulls it out of her belt. It’s a nice-ass knife, long and sharp and with a quick release that got outlawed in Auradon a few years back, leading to a flood of them on the isle. There was a newspaper about it that Doctor Facilier snapped up and paraded about the school for a day, and Mal remembers it because she’d to wrestle two more of the things away from Harmony and Devon before they got any bright ideas about sidekicks owning the fancy stuff.

She’d lost those knives shortly after taking them, one to Uma, as a gift, and one to Jay. She doesn’t miss them, but it would have been a smarter choice to hold on to them a bit longer, instead of gifting the green chromed one on to the first pretty omega girl who caught her eye after taking them. This one, dark grey and with a marbled handle, she got from Carlos after complaining that she missed her old ones one too many times for his liking. Things had still been strange and new between them, and Mal had taken the knife as soon as he’d offered it, without thinking about the potential weight behind the trade.

Too late now for regrets. What’s done is done, and the knife is hers now.

“Here,” Mal says, shaking the knife in Carlos’s direction. “Take it, dumbass. Insurance for getting me back in one piece.”

He squints up at her, not taking it. His face looks strange and grey in the faint light from the windows. “No,” he says. “That’s solid metal. If your mom tries to pull the magic eyes on you again you’ll need it more than I do.”

He’s right, but it feels important that Mal give him something to hold onto while she’s gone. Just in case.

There’s a knife in her boot that’s cheap and made of repurposed cans, but it’s small and quick and one of her favorites. Mal stores the folding knife away in her pocket, and pulls the tin one out instead.

“Here then,” says Mal, and drops the knife on the edge of Carlos’s mattress. “Take it, I’m not kidding. Insurance for me to get back. That one won’t do anything against my mother, not even if I throw it at her from a foot away. It’s too light, and her robes are too heavy to slash through anyway.”

“I get the lightweight knife, I see how it is.” Carlos says, picking it up and flickering it through his fingers. “You think I can’t handle your big bad machete?”

“You weigh about as much as my machete.” Mal shoots back, tugging on her jacket. Evie’s not staying with them tonight, and Carlos is already up, so she doesn’t have to worry so much about noise anymore. “You think they’ll feed us in Auradon?”

“Hope so.”

“Yeah. Don’t be stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’ll try.”

“At least save any big explosions until I come back.” Mal says, only half joking. “If I’m going to come back to you torching the place I think I deserve to see it in action.”

That gets her a flicker of a smile. “Can-do.”

“Okay. Back in a tic.”

Carlos flicks a hand at her. “Run safe,” he says, quiet in the strange moonlit space where they’re not going to live for so much longer. “Come back before dawn.”

“Will-do, furball.” Mal promises, and slips out the door before she can wake anyone else.

The door falls shut behind her. It’s only three, and already it’s getting sticky-hot again. Late summer, ugh. How is a girl supposed to survive in this climate, honestly. Mal much prefers fall, when she can get away with wearing her heavier jacket all the time and not sweat through her undershirt the second she steps outside.

Diablo lands on her head. Stupid bird.

“I’m going to roast you like a chicken,” Mal whispers to him as she’s working her way up through the tangled mess of their outdoor escape and up onto the warehouse roof. “Put a stick through your ass and toast you on the fire, do you hear me? I don’t care what sort of enchantment my mother has you under. I will put you on a spit and stuff your ass with corn, see if I won’t.”

Diablo lifts one wing slowly, unfazed.

“Little asshole,” Mal mutters, mostly to herself. A few rooftops, and then she’s in the clear. Or more accurately, then she’s in the castle with only her mother and any henchmen she’s got hanging around to deal with…

Much better to just say that she’s in the clear.

[lepusrufus]

Here’s a question, when the mold kids start going through puberty do they still experience like periods and stuff? Or do they not because of the mold?

How would Miranda and Mia deal with them in their teenage years, like would they teach them about periods and stuff, or like… give them the ‘talk,’ or do the mold kids already know about that? :/ I’m sorry for the random and weird question, I’m just genuinely curious.

Ohh that's actually an interesting question!

I think a lot of how their bodies work is dependent on what the mold thinks is beneficial for survival and what is not. In all fairness a lot of my speculation is a bit of a reach, but then again it's a fictitious infection so forgive anything that's far from scientifically sound.

To answer your question, I think it's not unlikely that they wouldn't get a period (lucky bastards lol). Periods are at the end of the day part of our reproductive system, whose fundamental purpose is to pass down the individual's genes. The infection renders you effectively immortal so that would be redundant. The Mold also has no interest in reproducing through normal human means, as we can see in RE7 where Evelyn can just puke her guts out and spread the infection like that. Tho yeah yeah Evie can be a bit of an outlier with how The Connections were involved there, tho my point still stands. They would probably be able to infect others through body fluids, at the very least to a milder scale where the Mold would be in the person's system but dormant or something along those lines.

Their genetic makeup is also at the very least half Mold (for Rose, though you can definitely argue it's more since it's likely that Mia is still infected) and just straight up all mold in Eva's case, since she was brought back using only a tissue sample from Rose. The Mold took care of everything else.

They also have other inhuman traits, like how Rose is hella sturdy and Eva can physically control the mold and the shape it takes.

The accelerated aging is a negative mutation of sorts that their infection doesn't even acknowledge, working as if it would in other infected individuals that don't suffer from the aging thing (see the lords, Miranda, etc)

BUT on a psychological level, they develop pretty much like other kids would, at least given their environment. Mia especially makes damn sure to raise them well so as to not get an "Evie 2.0, now double trouble" since the way she was raised in the lab fucked her up beyond belief. Mia is just secretly terrified of that repeating and almost gets a heart attack when Eva one day starts humming the same little tune Evie used to sing during those years at the Bakers.

They definitely go through the usual teenage stuff like mood swings and some rebellion, and you know, trying to ride a vârcolac cause why not. They definitely get the talk™ too

[darthwheezely]

Okay so BY NO MEANS DO YOU HAVE TO WRITE THIS IF YOU AREN'T UP FOR IT!!! BUT- can you write something where Jimmy holds the reader down and just overstimulates them with his fingers and whenever it gets too much he kind of teases them about it (in like a sweet way but still not stopping). IDK- it's a hot thought if you're up for it!!! AGAIN YOU DON'T HAVE TO IF YOU DON'T WANT TO! Thank you and I hope you have a wonderful night/day💗💗

Finger Lickin’ Good - Jimmy Darling x Reader

Jimmy’s way too pent up to let those beautiful hands of his go to waste...

Warnings: NSFW/18+, if you’re a minor plEASE do not interact w this I know you wanna be spicy but sis please do not, okay? cussing probably, soft dom!Jimmy, possibly awful writing, my kink for Jimmy’s hands and heart and body and mind and-

a/n: lindsey, miss ma’am, you literally know i’m a whore for this man and besides, you could request the most whack shit and i would still prolly write it if only to see your reaction ajsjsjs

To say that Jimmy’s balls were blue was an absolute understatement. The man was honestly lucky enough to have balls at the rate (or rather, lack of) things were going. You and Jimmy’s sex life was always - well something neither of you ever needed to worry about, but lately with Elsa running around covering all her legal bases, she had sent everyone in a frenzy.

Unfortunately for you two this meant less than satisfactory time together. It was always something. And to be quite honest, Jimmy didn’t know if he could go another two weeks without touching you. And to make matters worse he knew you weren’t making it any easier.

It started with little things, light touches on his shoulders, something usual in your relationship. Then jaw kisses before going onstage. Then wearing The Dress.

Yes. That dress. The a-line that managed to not only show off a small but still good amount of cleavage, the waistline elastic bow on the back sinking into where your elevated waist hit naturally, and the worst? It was white. Jimmy had a thing for you in white.

That morning he couldn’t take it anymore. I mean, clearly, you wanted to act that dirty with him knowing he couldn’t touch you, right? So what was he gonna do about it? 

He was gonna show you exactly who had the upper hand.

*your POV uwu*

You would never say it out loud, but you only wore The Dress for days exactly like this: to torture your boyfriend. And honestly? You didn’t think you could go a day without imagining those intensely gifted fingers on (or in) you for another goddamn hour. But you also couldn’t say that.

So you had decided that morning to show him instead - he always was a visual learner...

You had been talking to Evie and eating your plate of bacon and hashbrowns when you felt two large, calloused hands collapse on your shoulder blades.

“Evie, mind if I steal the lady away for a second?” He drawled lowly. The way he said it combined with the weight of his hands on your body hit your core instantly.

Eve rolled her eyes, smirking. “If ‘a second’ is all it’ll take.” You smiled tightly at her as you allowed your boyfriend to guide you, albeit rather roughly, back to the van. Immediately as you got inside he pushed you up against the fridge and you winced from the pain.

“Jimmy, what the-” He stopped you with his mouth on yours, open and hungry, his hands working up the back of your thighs, causing a moan to erupt from you on impact into his mouth.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me out there, and you thought it was a fuckin’ okay idea to tease me?” He lowered his mouth to your earlobe and downward, light nibbles on hot skin turning to harsh bites. You could feel his fully hardened cock against your heat and you wanted more than ANYTHING for those jeans to be off his body.

“I-I’m sorry, baby I just thought you’d li- oh fuck, Jimmy” You gasped, as he’d found that place right above your collar bone that (as he came to found out) was one of the most sensitive spots on your torso. Smirking against your skin, he traced the area with open mouthed kisses and began to bite again, leaving you attempting to stifle breathy high pitched whines.

“What was that, babydoll?” His hands picked up your thighs and brought your legs around his waist, pressing you harder against the fridge.

“I said I’m sorry” you gasped, pained by the feeling and the need for him. He smirked, bringing his thumb up to your chin and kneading it lightly.

“Aw, princess, I’m not mad at you. But the way I see it is that I’m gonna split that sweet little pussy of yours open with these-” he dragged his two fore fingers across your bruised collar bone, and looked back up at you.

“-and then you’re going to come so hard you can’t breathe. Sound good, baby?” He smiled softly at you. You bit your lip to hold back a moan and did your best to nod without moving any part of his body out of place. He chuckled watching you, and without a moments notice lifted you with toned tensed biceps and carried you to the bed, an array of heavy kisses being exchanged on the journey.

He dropped you on the bed watching as your breasts moved from the impact and groaned at the sight. He looked into your bright/dark eyes and flipped the lower half up, breath hitching in his throat. God, was he the luckiest fucker this side of the Mississippi. 

“Jesus, baby, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he breathed, a dopey smile plastered on his face as he attacked you with kisses on your face, making you giggle at his soft demeanor.

“For someone so mad a second ago you seem to suddenly be pretty forgiving,” you laughed.

“I can still be mad but have eyes, Y/N, don’t get your panties in a twist” he scoffed, smiling into the crook of your neck.

“Oh, so I still get to keep my panties on by the end of this little argument?” You purred dragging your hands slowly down the back of his white tank top, barely touching him. And just like that, he was back to the state he was before. Instantly, he sat up and unbuckled his jeans, taking the brown belt in his hands he forced your wrists onto the headboard. 

“Now, just when did I say that?” He growled, tightening the hold on the belt. You knew your wrists would be raw as hell after however long this escapade took but strangely enough - that only got you more slick.

“JImmy, please” you whimpered, pleading with his whiskey eyes. He leaned back on his knees and began to slowly creep his tough and warm hands up and down your legs, inching his perfect fingers to your thighs at an agonizingly slow pace. 

“Angel,” he purred “you know I can’t help you if you don’t use your words.” You moaned at the idea of his fingers getting closer to where you needed them, tugging on the belt but forgetting (this bastard-)

“JImmy, please gimme”

“Give you what, baby? Tell me what you need, yeah?” He slid his fingers right outside of your clothed core and gently kneaded the skin there, pushing lightly, sending your back upward as you let out a loud moan.

“Jimmy, please, give me your fingers” you pushed out. He bit his lip at the sight of you, red faced, needy, and ready to be torn apart. His breath hitched as he slid two fingers inside you, not being able to tease you for very much longer. He needed you to come apart, to be unraveled as soon as possible - but not without a price.

“There you go” he whispered roughly, his fingers working against you the way you needed them to. You felt like your core was getting pried apart and hearing his fingers only sink deeper into your heat made you even more wet. He moved his fingers in you faster once he was completely in you, and started to jut his hips toward you involuntarily as he imagined how you would feel around his cock since it’d been so long-

“God, you’re so tight for me, Y/N, fuck” he choked out harshly, ghosting his thumb over your clit, tracing circles where you needed it. “Almost like this pussy was made for me, isn’t it baby?”

The sudden gentleness, however, retreated as fast as it arrived, as he picked up the pace, curling his fore fingers in you at an iron-hot speed. You felt your wrists becoming rawer and rawer by the second as your body strained for release to touch him, to imagine feeling your hands clawing his back and feverishly running your fingers through his coiffed hair. You screamed out harshly as he found your most sensitive point. You felt the white hot tension in your stomach as you approached your release.

“JIm, baby, please I’m-I’m so-” and then you felt him pull his fingers out, whining at the loss of contact. He cocked his head at you, eyeing you up and down biting his lip.

“You always want things, so easy, lovebug,” he said softly. Leaning all the way back so he returned to his knees at the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt off and started to unbutton his pants, his fully erect cock straining against his boxers. You drooled at the sight of him almost completely naked. 

He dipped his head once he knew you were calmed down enough, pressing sloppy kisses on your calves up to the lower part of your thighs. He hitched a leg up on his shoulder, looking up at you first for consent and licking a stripe up your folds. 

“You taste as good as you look, little girl” he growled against you, the vibrations sending your head flying backward a squeak erupting from your lips. 

“Should I taste more of you? I don’t know if you deserve it little girl. You looked like you wanted one of the boys to take a turn with you before me. Or did you act like a whore today all for me?” he bit your inner thigh lightly, sucking on the skin there like it was gold. You cried out hoarsely, desperately pulling on his hair.

“Only for you, Jim, I promise” you feel him smirk against you as he began sucking onto your sensitive bud, your arousal building in your stomach like a fire pit. His fingers continuing to work against you as you felt release inching nearer again.

“Please, Jimmy, please” his tongue curling pressure where you needed him, the weight of him against you pooling what felt like everywhere in your system.

“Go on, honey, go on and come for me and tell me who this pussy belongs to” he pressed your hips to the bed as you cried out his name in release of everything he’d done to you.

“Jimmy, that was-“

“Good? Don’t sound so surprised” he teased softly winking up at you. His hand slid to the back of your dress, dancing along the zipper.

“But you didn’t think you were done here, did you, little girl?”

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Librarians

(Story Post)

After spending another night with Diederich, Nari was back at the library. There was a different guard at the front desk time which meant another hassle to get back in. She asked for both his patron card and ID and things seemed to be going well until she tried to have him leave his phone because ‘smartphones contain silver'. When he argued that there wasn't even half a gram of silver in the average smartphone, she then said it was to enforce their ‘no photography’ policy, something that was never even brought up the last time he entered. At that point, Nari asked for Kobann and had to be escorted inside again. Looking up at all the seemingly infinite rows of bookshelves, Nari sighed and tried to remember where he left off. He decided it might just be better to start with a whole new section and see what he could find. Like before, he'd started around noon, but he figured the sun was going down when he noticed more and more perusers passing by. Some of the vampires climbed the ladders like him but he noticed more and more were able to float from floor to floor, a vampiric ability he wasn't even aware of. It was the floaters that made him most uncomfortable because they made no sound as the went by, eyeing him with curiosity and disapproval, he bet. So, when one vampire floated up next to him on the fourth floor and placed a hand on his shoulder, he was caught completely by surprise. Instinctively, he spun around and went for a neck grab, but the other vampire was quicker and caught his wrist.

“Whoa! Sorry if I scared you,” the stranger said grinning. He was tall, he had dark hair like Diederich's, and he looked rather smug with his uncomfortably intense eyes. “What do you want?” Nari growled, yanking his arm back. “I don't like to be disturbed.” “I just noticed you're new around here, that's all,” the stranger said. He had some kind of British accent. “Maybe, I could help you out.” “I'm not looking for help,” Nari said. The strange vampire tilted his head. “Oh? Most vampires come to the library because they're looking for help with something. Whether it's learning about their own immortality, or discovering new powers, or…” He glanced at the book in Nari's hand. “…starting a family?” Nari blinked and closed his book. “Who are you? Do you work here?” “Ooh, I got it right, didn't I?” The stranger was quite pleased with himself. “No, I don't work here, but I might as well with how long I've been here.” He offered a hand. “Everett.” “Nari.” He took the hand to shake it but was quickly pulled close to the stranger's chest. “H-Hey!” “I could help you, you know,” Everett said, smiling down at him. “With the whole baby thing.” Nari curled his lip in a sneer. “Let go of me. I have a partner.” Everett let go and grinned as he pat Nari on the head. “Don't get so worked up, I'm only joking! I too am taken.” He leaned back, looking up towards the upper levels of the bookshelf they were currently standing on. “Wes! Come down here for a moment!” Another vampire floated down, this time with sandy curls and bushy brows, and he held a finger to his mouth. “Shhhh! We're in a library, remember?” “Wes, my dearest!” Everett went in for a kiss, but the other vamp blocked him with his hand. “Who are you harassing today?” he asked. Nari noticed this new vampire preferred to remain afloat whereas Everett had alighted on the floor beside him. “Ah, this is…Norris?” Everett guessed, patting Nari's back a bit roughly. “Nari,” Nari correctly, glaring at him. “Stop touching me!” “Nari, I'm Wesley,” the other vampire said, offering his hand. “I'm really sorry about my partner. He's a menace to society.” Nari just looked at the hand and wrinkled his nose. Wesley sighed and grabbed Everett by the ear. “What did you do? He won't even shake my hand!” “Isn't that a thing in their culture?” Everett asked. Nari just put his book back and started climbing down the ladder. “I'm done… I give up.” Wesley gave Everett's ear a good yank. “You racist shit, look what you've done! Apologise!” “Shh, we're in a library, my love!” “Apologise.” Everett dove down to meet Nari on the next level upside down. “Nari, I'm sorry if I offended you. I was just trying to make friends.” “I was not.” Nari got off the ladder and prodded Everett in the forehead. “Just leave me alone.” “Hold on, hear me out for a moment,” Everett said righting himself so he could stand with Nari. “I really could help you find whatever you're looking for with this baby business. Wes and I have been coming to the library almost every day for decades. We know the books. The one you had out was not going to help you, but I could tell why you might think it would.” Nari frowned. “You've read all the books?” “Oh no, it would take a millennium to read everything in here,” Everett said. “I'm only just hitting my 180s. But I have read my fair share and more. I know the system they've got here. I know what books are practical and which are just hogwash.” Nari exhaled through his nose. “…So, since you seem to know everything, what do you think I'm looking for?” Everett smiled. “You want to know how to increase your chances of having a viable pregnancy with your partner.” Nari blinked. “How did you figure that?” “The book you had out,” Everett said. “It was about some Russian vampire queen with fifty children; it's a go to for a lot of vamps like you. But it's completely fabricated.” “And you know that how?” Nari asked. Everett shrugged. “It was just classic sexism. They thought she was a vampire because she appeared youthful for many years and was able to produce children well into her fifties. Men just like to call women monsters when they do anything they thinking isn't normal for a woman. That's all.” Nari put his hands on his hips. “So, what do you actually know about vampire pregnancy?” “One moment.” Everett held up a finger and then floated away to a far-off shelf several rows down and several levels up. Nari just opted to climb back up to look for a different book. He forgot however that the other vampire was still there. Wesley smiled sheepishly. “You really do have to forgive Everett; he can be an asshole sometimes. But he means well.” Nari sort of ignored him because he was trying to pinpoint what was giving him a vibe that this vampire was different. Then it clicked. “You're American.” “That's right, pardon my accent,” Wesley said, bashfully rubbing his neck. “I'm surprised I still got it with how long I've lived with Evie.” “I've never met an American vampire,” Nari said, although he hadn't met a lot of vampires in general. Wesley nodded. “Yep, they really like to keep it in and among the Europeans, I've found out. I got lucky, I guess.” Nari wrinkled his nose. “Lucky? This is a curse.” Wesley continued nodding. “Yeah, I felt that way for a long time… But, Everett saved my life.” “…He turned you?” Nari asked. Wesley put his hands in his pockets. “Yep. WWII, nazi I thought was down picked up his gun, shot me right in the back. I would've died that day if Evie didn't turn me.” Everett came back with a couple books in hand. “He still blames me for robbing him of his hero’s death, though.” Wesley grinned and wrapped an arm around Everett's neck. “Yeah! You just had to be the hero in that situation, huh? Bitey bastard…” “I thought only ancient vampires could turn people,” Nari said. “Really, really old ones.” “The natural ability to do it did peter out a few hundred years ago,” Everett said. “But like a lot of vampiric abilities, turning can be learned by any vampire. I frequented the library many years before joining the military. I'd never turned anyone before though.” “Why'd you learn it then?” Nari asked. “It's a bit embarrassing…” Everett admitted. “He had a wife before,” Wesley said. “He wanted to turn her so they could be together forever. But she got pregnant while he was in basic training. Postman. You know, the classics.” “Ah…” Nari eyed the books Everett had. “So, these are supposed to help me?” “Yes, I can't remember which, but one or more of these talks about birth chance I think,” Everett said. “What do you think, Wes? Take ‘em back to the house for a study session?” “Yeah… We've only been here a bit, but I'm already getting tired,” Wesley said. “I found what I needed.” “You can't take the books out of the library,” Nari said. “Not with that attitude,” Everett said. “Come. Follow us.” “What?” They both started to float down to the main floor. Nari tried to climb down after them, but it took him a lot more time. Everett came back and met him halfway up. “I could carry you down.” “No, thank you,” Nari huffed. “Are you sure? I've got strong arms. I've carried Wesley around quite a bit.” “I'm perfectly capable of climbing down on my own,” Nari said. “I don't even know why I'm following you…thieves.” “We're borrowers, not thieves,” Everett said, setting foot down on the ground just as Nari made it to the first floor. “We’re strong believers that library books are meant to be borrowed. Come on, Wes can't hold out much longer.” “Don't rush me,” Nari said. They led him through the labyrinth of shelves all the way to a little fire exit guarded by what looked to be another familiar. “The library had to put in a fire escape a couple years back to bring the building up to code,” Wesley said. “But it's clearly guarded,” Nari complained. “Hey, Ozren!” Everett went up and patted the guard on the chest and Nari noticed him slip something into his chest pocket. “You have a good shift, buddy!” The guard just acted like he didn't see them at all as they slipped past and through door. Despite a warning on display saying an alarm would sound, everything remained silent. Once they were in the hall beyond the door, they stopped for a moment. It was a narrow passage leading to another exit door, but Nari noticed there was also a wheelchair folded up against the wall. Wesley floated to it eagerly and unfolded it, before taking a seat. He sighed happily and hung back his head. “Oh my god, floating is so exhausting!” Nari stared at him for a moment. “…Can you not walk?” “Nope.” Wesley used his hands to pull his legs up onto the footrests of his wheelchair. “Already told you, I was shot in the back. Hit my spine.” Nari blinked. “But you can float. Why don't you do that all the time?” Wesley frowned and tilted his head. “Did you not just hear me say how exhausting that is? I only learned it so I could use the library. I much prefer my chair. This place has zero accessibility. It's a nightmare.” “Oh.” Nari blinked some more. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise…” Wesley rolled over to him and patted his back. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get out of here.” “Right.” Nari looked at Everett. “What'd you give that guard?” “Cash, obviously,” Everett answered. “He’s a familiar. They don't pay him anything. It's so easy to bribe a familiar.” “Got it...” Nari said. “I still don't know where you're taking me...” “Just to our house,” Everett said going down the hall and opening the door for them. “You can meet the others!” Wesley said excitedly as he went outside. Nari followed them out nervously. “Others?” “You’ll see.” “You’ll like them.”

[ithebookhoarder]

Chapter 10:  Four Years Later.  (The Gangster’s Daughter)

Masterlist:

Also available on AO3: 

Warnings: Original Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Parent Tommy Shelby, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent.

1919

-------

Time had never gone by so slowly. Ever. Of that, Evie was sure.

Never before, had a second felt so much like a minute, nor a minute felt so much like an hour. It was driving her insane as she sat at the kitchen table, eyes fixed firmly on the clock hanging by the door. The peeler in her hand had long since stopped, as had the two black hands dangling teasingly on the clock face.

“Come on,” Evie whispered. Somehow, she hoped willing it would be enough to hurry time up. To push the hands further round and towards the hour. The hour she’d been waiting so long for. Hell, even Finn and Ada sat beside her, completing their chores in an attempt to distract themselves.

Waiting was not a Shelby strong suit.

Ada yawned, visibly uninterested in the task at hand. She had also given up on her task of de-podding peas. Then again, it wasn’t just impatience to blame for her lack of productivity. The exhaustion was all too clear in Ada’s eyes. She probably had only got back a few hours ago from Freddie’s. Since he’d returned from the war a couple weeks ago they’d been all over each other.

Before the war, they’d been bad enough, beginning to scurry about the streets together on secret dalliances. However, separated by the sea, Ada had been writing him, slipping him letters in the wedge she delivered to the post office on behalf of all of them. Polly, Finn, Evie, Martha and Ada had all written to their family, telling them tales of life in Birmingham without them.

It had felt like a world away from Small Heath. The closest they’d got were the letters frequently dropped to and from France, detailing and describing the carnage and chaos abroad. True, Ada had passionately decided to become a nurse only a few months into the war, to travel and join the fighting in France. However, less than one lesson later, the plan had disintegrated.

It was unfair. Or so Evie had griped. Why couldn’t she train as a nurse even if Ada didn’t want to? Why couldn’t she drop out of school and go help her father and uncles? What use was arithmetic anyway at a time like this?

“You’re still a child,” Polly had explained, trying and failing to pacify her. “War is no place for children.”

“Tell that to the boys my age enlisting, pretending they’re older!”

Polly had sighed, wiping her hands on her apron and lighting another cigarette. “If I could, I would.  I’d like to shake some sense into every bloody man who wants to join this blood soaked shit show. However, I swore I’d look after you and this family until the others come home. You are my responsibility and I will not allow anyone else from this house to risk their lives!”

And that had been that. Evie hadn’t dared raise it again, and luckily for Polly, this whole mess had ended just shy of her being legally old enough to volunteer herself. Otherwise, there would have been a whole other war raging, this time in Small Heath.

However, Polly’s best intentions hadn’t been enough to keep everyone in Small Heath safe until the others returned.

It had only been a matter of months after John had left that Martha had gone into labour with their latest child. He’d been excited by the prospect before he’d gone off to war, boasting about the stories he’d have to tell their child when he returned - and soon, considering the way the government said things were going. It’d be over by Christmas. That was what they said.

In a way it had been; the life they’d all known before had ended and all too abruptly.

It had been less than twenty four hours after giving birth to a beautiful baby boy that Martha began to feel unwell. What had at first been a minor fever and headache had quickly turned into something far more sinister.

In a matter of a week she had succumbed to what was later realised to be a sudden wave of fever in the city, leaving her three children parentless and in the care of the remaining Shelbys. Of course, John was informed via letter and the funeral held swiftly.

Evie didn’t know what to think. It had been enough to rattle them all. So much so, there had been an uneasy truce in the house ever since. No one upset the others, knowing that they only had each other to care for them. They had to stick together. Not just then but always. Who knew if the others were coming back, after all.

All they could count on were the people in that house on Watery Lane and the community that flocked around them in their time of need. For example, Evie lost track of the people who offered to watch her cousins or brought them food they’d made. Most of them had been women who’d come to take their husband’s place at the betting shop.

Together, they had muddled through, their own little community.  

Years had passed since then and life had carried on. Until a mere month ago, when the announcement had been made. The war was over. The boys would be coming home.

Now the day was finally here and Evie felt like she could explode with anxiety and anticipation. It was why, as soon as the clock hit the designated hour she was gone.

She didn’t look back, despite hearing the sound her name bellowing behind her as she burst out the door and into the street. Ada, Finn and Polly could stay and prepare lunch if they wanted, but Evie couldn’t wait a damn second more as she sprinted through the street like a wild stallion.

Her eyes remained fixed firmly on the horizon, aiming for the giant brickwork building ahead. The rising plumes of steam and roar of voices were all a blur to her, a blur confirming she was in the right place as she barged past porters and taxis.

Birmingham Train station.

Weeks they’d been stuck in France, waiting for a ride home but they were here now. Arriving on the morning train, just as her father had promised they would be.

So close. They were so close.

Evie didn’t stop until she was on the very platform, eyes focused on the shining train that had drawn to a halt.

A great whine of gears. The brakes hissed. Then the doors opened.

Four years she’d waited for this. Four agonising years, filled with agony that no letter or prayer could fill. Until she saw them there, in person, for herself, she wouldn’t believe it was true - the war was finally over.

Doors began to open and men in uniforms descended in droves, bags and hats flying. The tears, cheers, and fears erupted in a mass symphony of life as people began to run, merging passengers and onlookers in one ocean of bodies.

Evie didn’t know which way was up. She’d never been the tallest of people and she was once again regretting her shorter stature as she jumped up and down on her tiptoes. Her eyes kept darting frantically around the place.

They had to be here somewhere. She could feel it in her bones…

Then she saw them. Well, she saw Arthur to be precise, jumping down from one of the carriages before making way for John. He’d always been hard to miss, more so with his overgrown moustache and loud cheers of relief to be back on Birmingham soil.

“Uncle Arthur! John!” she screamed, hurrying frantically toward them. They barely had time to turn before she was on them, flinging her arms about their necks and peppering their cheeks with kisses. To hell with the Shelby aversion to public displays, Evie was too damned overwhelmed to care. The laughs and hugs she received in return proved they didn’t care either.

“God damn, you grew,” Arthur scoffed, spinning her round and laughing as he took her in. Four years was indeed a long time for anybody, and Evie’s teenage body definitely betrayed the separation, almost like the lines on his forehead did him. “Just get a look at you. Some welcome wagon. Aren’t we lucky bastards.”

“The others are back home waiting. They can’t wait to see you all, the famed heroes.”

“I bet they are,” John grinned, taking his own turn to hug his niece. “I’d kill for a slice of Pol’s gin cake right about now. I’ve only had a bleeding sandwich all day.”

“Hopefully, John you’ll never have to kill for anything again.”

That was the voice that shattered any composure Evie had been holding on to as she turned.

“Dad?” she whispered. “Is it… is it you?”

He nodded. “I promised I’d come back, ey?”

The tears were strong as she staggered into his arms. Her legs threatened to go from beneath her as she tried to control the tidal wave of emotion that flooded through her. She simply let him cradle her to his chest, the itchy wool of his uniform pressed against her cheek.

She didn’t even care. It was merely more proof that this moment was real. It wasn’t a dream or some fantasy. It was real and solid and here. It was everything she’d hoped it would be and more. After all, she hadn’t dared hope they’d all look so in tact, so healthy compared to the previous train loads of injured and sick soldiers that had been pouring into the city for months now.

Yet, here they stood. Barely a scratch on them - just like their letters had said.  

“I told you,” her father breathed, as if sensing her thoughts. “I keep my promises.”

“I know,” Evie sobbed. “I knew you would. You all would. I just… it’s been so long waiting for this moment and now that you’re all here I… I…”

“We know,” John muttered sympathetically. The thin sheen in his eyes told them he knew exactly how she was feeling.

It all felt too good to be true. Any moment she felt as if she’d wake up and this would fade away like sand slipping between her fingers. It was why she was reluctant to release her grip on him, on her father, and let him grab the remainder of his belongings.

“Come on,” Arthur coaxed, clearing his throat in an attempt to prevent himself from being caught further in the emotional reunion. It wouldn’t do for Arthur Shelby to be seen weeping in public now. He may have been in France, but he still had a reputation to uphold. “Let’s get moving, eh? I need a fucking drink.”

“You and me both, brother,” Tommy laughed. “You and me both.”

-----------

The rest of the day passed in a wondrous blur.

From the moment they’d stepped foot back into Watery Lane it was as if the whole world had brightened. The sun escaped the cloud cover that had been masking it all day and the smiles on peoples faces were effervescent as they greeted the returning heroes.

Finn, Ada, John’s children, and Polly were all quick to throw their arms around the boys and sob with relief.

“You’re home. You’re really home,” Polly choked, kissing each over and over again until they were thoroughly smothered in her lip rouge. “Thank God.”

“We’re home and here to stay,” John grinned, scooping up his newest child into his arms. Only three, he was the very spitting image of his father. “Isn’t that right, son? Your old man’s home.”

The toddler whined but seemed to understand, pawing at John’s face as if sensing the tears John was doing very well to hide. It broke Evie’s heart, knowing how much Martha would have wanted to see this moment, as delayed as it was. Still, she hoped Martha was watching, wherever she was.

“Come on then, you’re probably famished,” Polly cooed, wiping her own eyes. Arthur had taken one look at the awaiting feast laid out on the kitchen table and cheered. It was only Polly that prevented them from tucking in right away. Instead, they’d all hurried upstairs to wash up, change, and join them back downstairs in time for lunch as per their aunt’s orders.

“You’re no longer in France,” Polly had chuckled. “I’m your commanding officer now. What I say goes.”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Arthur scoffed, saluting her. Still, he knew better than to argue. It would be shit luck to have survived a war, only to come home and be murdered by Polly Gray. It was why he tried alternative tactics. Tactics that involved opening a bottle of champagne and hurling toasts left, right, and centre.

For all her posturing, Polly eased with every sip of champagne. Everyone was too happy to care about anything other than each other and rejoicing at the domestic scene. For example, no one said anything as Evie had a second glass of champagne, cheering as she watched the room. The laughter was like nothing she’d heard since the day they’d all left, accompanied by the soft hum of the gramophone.

Whatever song was playing though, was drowned out beneath the voices and a particularly bawdy song coming from John. Finn was joining in, much to his delight. Where he’d learned the lyrics, Evie couldn’t be sure. Had Polly been sober she probably would have. She’d most likely have put a stop to it too, rather than joining in.

Before long, the party had decide to migrate elsewhere.

“To the Garrison boys!” Arthur bellowed, met with a raucous cheer of approval.

“Come on,” Tommy smirked, offering Evie his arm as she rose from the table. “I think we can celebrate for one night. Even Pol can forget about a bedtime on a day like this.”

Considering she was already half way out the door, Evie suspected her dad could be right. And so it was, they spent the evening surrounded by an ocean of smiling drunken faces.

Evie danced with anyone who asked, laughing all the while as she twirled, letting the world dissolve into a jubilant haze. She felt euphoric - and that had nothing to do with the several large champagnes she’d thrown back.

It had more to do with the realisation that this was real, and not one of the many dreams she’d woken from, heartbroken, the last four years. Every face, once familiar but now a surprise, were real. She could reach out and touch them and they wouldn’t disappear in a puff of smoke.

Maybe that was why she jumped as she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. A hand she’d recognise anywhere as her father grinned down at her.

“Dance for your old man?”

Evie laughed, eyebrows raising. “I thought you didn’t dance?”

“On the rare occasion I make an exception - mi’ lady.”

The sight of Tommy Shelby lowering in a mock bow, hand extended was enough to make tears of laughter prick at the corner of Evie’s eyes.

“Sir,” she smirked, struggling not to laugh as he pulled her into a rather good interpretation of a hold. Almost immediately they were swaying around the floor, laughing as they trod on each other’s toes and span about to the lively music. It was as if they were one of the couples she’d seen at the pictures, the whole world revolving around them.

Once upon a time, she’d been small enough that she’d stood on his toes when doing this. He’d held her against his chest, her grinning upwards. Now, though, she was tall enough to almost meet his eye. She could stand on her own two feet. She could dance just as well as he, even if she allowed him to lead.

Four years really was a long time. If she’d asked, Tommy would have told her such. As, for every new line or crease she saw on her father’s face, he saw an equally grown woman where a child had once stood.

For a moment as he’d got off that train, he’d thought Rebecca herself had come to greet him…

“Come on.”

“Tommy Shelby. No.”

“I’ve got you.”

“No. You’ll drop me,” Evie laughed, holding on for dear life as her father dipped her backwards, tilting her toward the floor before hauling her back upright in a well rehearsed motion.  

Tommy just grinned. “See? I’ll never drop you.”

“One more drink and you would have!”

“Never,” he dismissed, laughing with her as the song came to an end. It was swiftly replaced with another. Most people didn’t even notice as they carried on dancing. “Another?”

“Why not?” Evie shrugged, already resuming their hold as she started to dance to the beat. It would take an act of God to interrupt her stride. “Otherwise Arthur’ll ask me again and I’m still recovering from the last dance.”

“I’m sure you are!”

----------

There was nothing overly spectacular about that party that night, not in comparison to the hundreds of other parties occurring across the country. Yet, it raged deep into the night and deep into the hearts of everyone there. For years after, they’d refer to this night with fond remembrance … well, those sober enough to remember it. Not everyone was in great condition come morning.

Evie herself had staggered into a chair at some point during the early morning, struggling to fight the oncoming exhaustion. Dancing all night had done her in. One yawn and she felt herself curl into the edge of the booth she’d chosen, letting sleep wash over her in waves.

She didn’t even realise she’d fallen asleep, not until she felt herself being scooped into someone’s arms some time later.

“Come on, let’s have you.”

She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know her father was responsible as he began to carry her towards the door and the early morning beyond it.

“You’ll be comfier at home, and Pol will gut me if I leave you on that chair any longer,” he continued softly, chuckling as he did. She could feel the way his chest vibrated with it; happiness.

“I’m glad you’re back, Gather,” Evie muttered, but she knew he’d heard her attempt.

“Me too, Chavi. Me too.” She hardly heard him speak in the ‘gypsy tongue’, or so Polly often called it when she was reading tea leaves or cursing about something. It was a soft sound, one that made her smile. “You’re almost too big for this now. It’s like carrying Arthur.”

Evie sniggered but yawned, choosing not to protest. She was just too damn happy to even try. Her family was back together again in one piece, and she knew when she awoke later that nothing could change that.

The Shelbys were home.

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Did my eyes and ears deceive me, or did we have two decent episodes of Holby City in a row?

Like, I would still refrain from saying the show is great at the moment. Holby’s better offerings this year are still nowhere close to the quality of Casualty’s better offerings. But?? Two decent episodes?? In a row?? It’s a miracle! I genuinely enjoyed watching Holby tonight and I genuinely can’t wait for next week and it’s nice to be able to say that again.

Right, let’s talk about Henruss first, because obviously they are my priority with this show. (...Sorry, Ollie, I really do love you and you are still one of my faves, but I love Henrik, and by extension Russ, more.) HOW gay was that last scene?!?! Henrik telling Russ to come to his office and “talk about the clinical lead job” and “celebrate” with some drinks. ...Except Ollie also got good news (well, what Henrik thought was good news, but Ollie knows he’s not fit to be working at all at the moment, let alone performing surgery) and Henrik didn’t invite him to his office. Henrik was also giving Russ some very flirtatious looks indeed.

As I said on Twitter: I get the impression Henrik wants to do much more with Russ in that office than just talking to him about the clinical lead job, if you know what I mean.

Anyway. We didn’t get much Henrik tonight, but we did get quite a lot of Russ, and god, I LOVE him more and more with every episode. For anyone saying that Russ was “suspicious”, I think tonight has safely settled that. He is a good, nice, caring bloke at the end of the day. He’s a bit up himself and a bit of a bastard but he really does care about his colleagues and want to support them.

He’s the perfect Chaotic Gay to Henrik’s Disaster Bisexual, actually. (And god, tonight really showed why Henrik is into Russ, didn’t it? He’s actually not all that dissimilar from Henrik himself - slightly morally grey queer man who can be a bit of a jerk but ultimately does care about people. There are also definitely shades of Gaskell to him, but like, a nice Gaskell, but still. I love having my years-long theory about Henrik being into bad boys canonically validated, lmaooo. And I’m also starting to think Henrik has a thing for people with bright blue eyes. Maja, John, now Russ. Does Carole have blue eyes too or did I imagine that? I’ll have to go back and check once I’ve posted this.)

Elsewhere. Lucky’s left. Okay then. It was a decent exit, I suppose? Also liked Max blowing her a kiss before she left, a win for the MaxLucky shippers if I do say so myself.

In general, Lucky was a bit of a waste of what could have potentially been an interesting character. Vineeta Rishi is a good actress when given good enough material. But she was hardly ever given that material, unfortunately.

Also, why was Lucky taken to Holby to be treated by people she knows? Why not St. James’s? (I know the answer, the answer is plot convenience. But still.)

Phoebe French was great as Evie tonight, also. You could really see this sort of... restlessness and anxiety in Evie as a result of her trauma and it was very well played. So kudos to her for that.

Speaking of great actresses, how incredible was Rosie Marcel tonight?! She is a truly amazing actress, she’s so good.

I am worried about Jac though. Amelia is very obviously set to die, but I wouldn’t put it past Holby to kill both Amelia and Jac. I really hope they don’t. Please let Jac live, Holby.

We got an actual patient storyline for once, and it was great. Did I nearly cry at the cute old lesbians? Yes I did, because I’m a sap.

Also absolutely ADORED Ollie Valentine, disabled icon, calling out over-medication in care homes. Dylan Keogh would be proud of him for that, I think. (I know Ollie really shouldn’t be being a doctor right now but I am hit with the sudden need to see Ollie and Dylan interact? They could vent about abled people together lol. I’d like that, actually.)

Ollie still shouldn’t be ignoring the fact that he isn’t well enough to be working and definitely not in any state to plausibly be a surgeon again, though. What are you doing, Ollie.

Josh’s storyline is still very good, although when they’re actually going to show stuff related to his eating disorder, I wish they’d have a warning beforehand. Trieve Blackwood-Cambridge was excellent tonight, as was Davood Ghadami in the scene where Eli explained that he needed to be there for Amelia, and Josh had to open up to Ange. Both Trieve and also Dawn Steele were very good in the last scene, too. I’m glad Ange knows about Josh’s illness now and can be there to support him, even if it’s going to be a difficult road for them both.

[thero0ks]

A Rose From Starrick’s Garden

I debated if I should post this oneshot. It is completely self indulgent, I couldn’t pick a plot line, and well I just wanted A LOT out of one fic. It’s complete trash, but hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did. 

Also, I am aware this fic is not cannon compliant at all, but just enjoy the dumpster fire of a fic I created :) 

The research Evie had trusted her with, had lead to another dead end. Defeated, she had shuffled through the train car in search of Evie to relay the bad news. Evie's voice indicated she was in the den, but another soft voice had Y/N pressing herself against the wall. 

Shame flooded her for a second, eavesdropping was rude, but her curiosity won over in the end. A small smile played at her lips at the bashful exchange between the two. The subtle flirting had her feeling giddy inside. In her mind Evie and Henry were a match made in heaven, and she'd been watching the romance blossom between the two. 

"Spying are we?" 

That smooth voice, tickling the shell of her ear made her jump. Her cheeks flamed red at being caught. It didn't help that the person who caught her had to be Jacob Frye of all people. The smug bastard would hold this over her head for weeks to come. 

"It's not what you think…"  

She knew it was a lame excuse, and by the quirk of his brow he conveyed that it was exactly what he thought. 

"I wonder how my dear ol' sis will take it when she finds out her best friend has taken up match making?" He pressed his gauntlet against the wall as he leaned close to her. "And when she finds out she's the main target."

The complete arrogance he conveyed had her shrinking against the wall. He was aware that he was in complete control of the conversation, and it amused him to no end to watch her squirm. 

"There aren't two people more perfect for each other…" She dared a glance up at him. Her statement seemed to briefly catch him off guard. He straightened, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. His next words were muttered under his breath. If her hearing wasn't so keen she would have missed it. 

"I can think of two people more deserving."

Before she could inquire further he had already made his presence known in the next room. Y/N could already feel the tension in the next room grow. Evie's obvious annoyance at her younger twin interrupting a shared moment with Henry.

"Careful Greenie, my sister seems to be having another fit again." 

"A fit you say?" 

Y/N made her way into the room to find Evie ready to explode. 

"You nearly wrecked England's economy!" She cried.

"Nearly Evie, key word." He said lounging on the sofa. 

"Nearly? If fath-" Y/N was quick to intercede. 

"Jacob was just about to brief me on a party Starrick will be attending." She said shooting a pointed glance at Jacob. 

Mirth danced in his eyes at the sight of Evie being worked up once again by his antics. "Yes, I was. A party your dear friend offered to go to in your place." 

Evie's shoulders relaxed a bit, "no rib crushing contraption for me then?" 

"Precisely." Y/N said with a nod. "Starrick is unaware of my involvement with the brotherhood, so it is possible that I may be able to glean some information from him."

Evie's eyes ran over her figure a moment, "with a bit of cleaning up I suppose you're exactly the type of woman Starrick would take an interest in."

"Yes, but how far are you willing to go for information?" Henry asked thoughtfully. "The most you could carry is a knife, which you would only have access to if you were…" Henry coughed, rubbing a hand up his neck. 

"I believe the word you're looking for is undressed Henry." Jacob chimed in. His voice was taut as he shifted into a sitting position on the couch. "Which at that point Starrick will put two and two together, and her throat will be slit faster than either of us can blink." 

"Then I'll go unarmed." Y/N said simply. 

"You expect us to let you walk in there unarmed and alone, right into Starricks arms?" Jacob inquired.

"I think the plan is bloody brilliant!" Evie said excitedly. "Think about it, if he decides he likes you he may start inviting you to other places as well." 

"A double agent infiltrating Templar ranks?" Henry interrupted, catching onto Evie's plan.

Jacob scoffed, "do you even realize what you're asking?" He said standing up, "you're asking your best friend to not only court the Templar Grandmaster, but warm his bed as well?" He cried, exasperated at Evie's schemes. "He could break her neck like a twig if he got the slightest hint that she's an assassin."

Evie rolled her eyes, "don't act like Y/N can't protect herself. She's a trained killer." 

"So is Starrick!" Jacob cried, throwing his hands up. "When she's caught in a Templar den, surrounded by a bunch of highly trained Templars her odds of survival drop to zero!"

"Oh just admit it Jacob, you can't stand the thought of another man touching her." Evie said brushing him off. 

Jacob froze, and Evie's shoulder's stiffened the moment she realized what she had said. "Jake, I didn't mean...it slipped." She said softly, as if she were trying to approach a startled deer. 

Jacob brushed past her, slamming the car door behind him. Y/N's jaw had gone slack as her eyes darted between Henry and Evie. 

Evie looked shameful, her hand covering her mouth as she sat down at the desk. She was still in shock over the secret she'd accidentally let slip.

"Evie..." Y/N began.

"You should get ready for the party." Evie's voice sounded hollow. "We've been waiting to infiltrate the Templars ranks for years. We can't waste this opportunity." Evie's crystal gaze seemed miles away. 

Y/N's eyes darted between Evie and Henry. He only offered her a shrug, as if this was another feud between the Fryes he'd rather not get involved in. With a sigh she left the two to scheme up their next plan. 

She could expect very little help from Evie with getting ready, which left her with only one option. Find a Rook willing to stuff her into a gown. 

She was lucky enough to find a few female Rooks occupying the bar car who agreed to assist.

White knuckles gripped the table as the lacings were pulled tight. "How tight do you want it ma'am?"

"As tight as it'll go." She gritted. She had concluded that Starrick's suspicions would be laid to rest if she appeared overtly vain. No assassin would dare to waltz into a ball in a contraption they couldn't breath in...right? 

The deep red satin skirt hung heavy on her hips, and the shoulder sleeves left her feeling bare and exposed. After inspecting her reflection in the mirror she concluded that she could appeal to any man with minimal effort. "I"ll be right surprised if Mr. Starrick leaves your side at all tonight." One of the Rooks concluded. 

Y/N offered her a kind smile, "thank you Emma." 

She grabbed the shawl wrapping it around her shoulders before making her way off the train. She was able to exit at (train station). Her next objective was to find a carriage.

•

••

•

Jacob watched the swish of a red dress disappearing into a carriage. A frown pulled at his lips. It was just like Evie to get her way. The mission was the only thing that mattered to her. When he had returned to the train car to plead his case once more she had quoted their father at him, "don't let personal feelings compromise the mission."

It had mattered very little that the mission involved her best friend. She could be extremely shrewd at times, and there was little he could do or say that would change her mind. 

The carriage was easy to catch. In a flash he'd opened the door and seated himself across from her. A look of shock was plain on her face, and a bit of fear once she realized she was unarmed. A scowl quickly appeared on her face as soon as she recognized him. "Jacob Frye! How dare you scare me like that!" She hissed slapping him with her fan. 

"Oi, I was only checking in love." He said, and a blush dusted her cheeks at the word "love." The unresolved tension from earlier hung in the air. 

Y/N was the first to look away, giving Jacob the chance to take her in. She was stunning. The dress complimented her soft skin, and the low neckline of the dress created a beautiful decolletage. He'd never seen so much skin on the assassin, and greedily his eyes hungered for more. He had to avert his hazel eyes, "you won't have any issues catching Starrick's eye in that."

(E/c) eyes flickered down at the ensemble. "Evie will be thrilled." She muttered. 

Jacob leaned forward capturing her chin in his hand tilting her gaze up into his hazel pools. "I'll be on the rooftops, if there are any issues signal me and I'll get you out of there." 

To his surprise she threw her arms around him engulfing him in a hug. "Thank you Jacob." She pulled away quickly, "perhaps I'm more nervous than I thought." 

Jacob quirked a smile, "I'll be there if you need me love." With a soft kiss to the back of her hand, he disappeared out of the carriage and into the night. 

•

••

•

She steadied her breathing as the carriage pulled up to the stone mansion. The carriage driver assisted her out the carriage. Her sides were already aching as she made her way up the steps of the house. She fanned herself in hopes that it would draw more oxygen into her lungs, but it was no use. Many eyes were drawn her way when she stepped into the gardens. Satisfaction grew inside when she noticed even the Grandmaster had paused mid sentence to stare. She threw him a small smirk before heading towards the dance floor.

The bait was laid, and all she had to do was wait for him to bite. Her eyes were about to dart to the rooftops when she felt a hand press into the small of her back. "I don't believe I have made your acquaintance."

His voice was elegant, and refined. One would suppose it was due to good breeding, and coming from a proper upbringing. "I very much doubt it Sir, I just arrived in London not three days ago." She turned to face him, but found herself even closer to him as he guided her closer with his hands. 

"Dance with me." It wasn't a request, he was a man who was used to being in control.

"I take it you always get your way?" She inquired as he lead her to the center of the dance floor.

"I'm a man who knows what he wants, and you look like a woman who knows what she wants."

Her lips quirked up, "I confess my strong will has lead me into trouble at times."

"A rose among the weeds, beautiful to look at, but painful for those who cannot handle the thorns." His palm felt solid on her waist, and she caught his eyes drinking in her figure that was on display. 

"Have you handled many roses then?" 

She found herself chest to chest with him. His eyes were hypnotic, and his body radiated power and control. A shiver went down her spine as his fingers trailed up her back. "Never one so sweet."

His lips were dangerously close, and propriety was insisting she pull away. She was unsure if it was the corset making her pant, or her heart that pounded dangerously inside her chest. 

A smoke bomb went off, and the shuffling of feet could be heard. She felt hands pulling her from behind. Crawford's arms felt like a steel cage as they tightened around her. She was being pulled in both directions. "Let go of her." That snarl could only belong to one man. 

"This has made the game more interesting Jacob." The smoke had started to clear and Starrick's expression was predatory. Cold steel pressed against her throat, and Jacob immediately froze. "What would Jacob Frye do to save a rose?"

"Let her go, this is between you and me Starrick." 

Starrick touted, "I suspect she is an assassin. More's the pity,  she would have looked absolutely divine spread across my desk." Gloved fingers tightened around her esophagus. She fought desperately to pry his fingers off. "I wish this had been under more sensual circumstances." His low voice tickled the shell of her ear.

Panic flooded Jacob's eyes, until a lucky blow found its mark. Y/N could feel the hard impact of bone against her elbow. It was enough for him to loosen his grip. Jacob sprung to action pulling her to him and grappling to the nearest rooftop. He took off across the rooftops. Y/N doing her best to find any speed quicker than a brisk walk. Jacob realizing she wasn't close behind, stopped to find her picking her way across the roof. "Why did you lace that thing so bloody tight?!" He cried.

"Why did you decide to ruin the mission?!" She countered. 

"I rescued you from that man's skeevy arms!" 

A roll of her (e/c) eyes was all she replied, "just find us a carriage. I can't run in this!"

Jacob was quick to zipline them to the ground. He found a small carriage and unceremoniously stuffed her in. She hadn't even seated herself when the carriage jolted forward, throwing her into the leather seat. "Can this thing go any faster?" She cried finding several blighters on their tail. 

"I'm sorry your highness, did you want to drive?" Jacob quipped back. 

A gunshot echoed behind them. "Glad to know I got dressed up for my funeral." She shouted angrily.

"Oh, Y/N I've been in worse spats than this. We are perfectly fine." He said simply. It wasn't a second later when another carriage slammed into the left side of theirs. Y/N wished she hadn't gazed out the window. It all seemed to happen too quickly. Jacob had taken a sharp turn onto the bridge when the blighter carriage had slammed into theirs. The world was upside down a moment, and Y/N knew she was headed right for the Thames. 

Jacob had been thrown out of his seat when the carriage tipped over. He braced himself for the cold water. When he surfaced he found the carriage slipping below the water's surface. It was then that it dawned on him that Y/N would be stuck. He dove under searching blindly for the carriage. The murky Thames making visibility poor. He found a window and began to smash through it. He pulled her body through the window, but found the dress was stuck. His hidden blade set to work shredding any material he could get his hands on. When the dress finally loosened, he pulled her free and pulled them up to the surface.

The shore wasn't far and she was barely breathing. As soon as they reached shore he cut the lacings. She coughed up water, gulps full of air burning her lungs. She was freezing, and the white shift sticking to her skin made her realize how exposed she was. "J-j-j-a-a-cob Fr-r-rye," her teeth clattered as shivers wracked her body. 

"Shh love," he said softly as his eyes ran down her, inspecting her for any damage. Self consciously she covered her chest. The shift was extremely see-through while wet, and she was mortified the younger Frye twin had practically seen everything at this point. To her surprise there was no trace of smugness in his eyes. Only concern, and possible guilt. 

"Let's get you back to the train before you freeze." He said simply. 

"I cant walk around London like this." She said gazing down at her stockings that were caked with sand.

Jacob looked her up and down, "I think this is the best you've looked yet." Hazel eyes flickered down at sopping linen that was barely hanging onto her body. 

"My eyes are up here Mr. Frye." She dead panned. She immediately got to her feet. "Well I suppose if I'm to be a trollop, I shall be the best trollop London has ever seen." She set off towards the train tracks, shoulders back and head held high.

Jacob's head cocked to the side, how he loved a woman with spunk. However, he was just starting to realize just how see through that shift was. If there was anything Jacob Frye considered himself to be, a gentleman was one of them. He was quick to remove his over coat and soon engulfed her in it. A shiver ran down her spine when the dripping coat hit her shoulders. He scooped her up in his arms, and he was surprised to find out how light she was in his arms. "Jacob!" She squeaked in surprise. 

"Now come love, a gentleman wouldn't let a lady stroll about the streets in her undergarments."

"A gentleman wouldn't have made me go for a swim either." She grumbled. 

His chest rumbled with a chuckle. "I am taking you for a moonlight stroll, and what's more romantic than that?" He inquired. "All in all, I would say this was a successful date." 

She sputtered, "a successful date?" 

"Fancy clothes, a carriage ride, an evening swim, a moonlit stroll, and you're almost completely naked. What more could I have done to make it a success?" 

A blush stained her cheeks, "pray, what gave you the notion that we are on a date?" 

A smirk spread across his lips, "you never denied that we were on a date, besides there are some positively wicked things I've wanted to do to you all evening."

"I think this whole night started, because your jealousy got the best of you Jacob." 

His grip tightened on her, "what do I have to be jealous about love? My hands are the ones touching your arse not Starrick's." His breath tickled her ear as it lowered an octave, "and what a lovely arse it is." 

"Why haven't you said anything?" Her voice sounded small. Unsure if this was a conversation the two should have. 

He sighed, "I never thought you'd give a bloke like me a second glance." He said with a simple shrug. 

"Jacob, you literally stuffed me ass first into a carriage, then proceeded to wreck said carriage in the Thames. I should be pissed, but honestly it's a little endearing. I know you mean well." Her hand came up to cup his face, and a small blush appeared on his cheeks.

"What in the bloody hell did you do Jacob?" Evie's voice snapped the two at attention. 

"The mission was a success Evie!" Jacob said with a grin. 

"Starrick’s men are all over London looking for you two! You wrecked a carriage off the bridge, and Y/N where on earth are your clothes?" 

"The bottom of the Thames…" she said sheepishly. 

"The mission was an utter disaster!" Evie cried. 

"That is where you are wrong. Your mission was a disaster, mine was an utter success." Jacob said proudly. "Now if you don't mind dear sis, I would recommend staying far away from my train car for the rest of the evening." He leaned closer to his sister, "I have plucked a rose from Starrick's garden that I plan to worship thoroughly."  

@marshmallow--3

[ladyinbooks]

So, in the spirit of ‘ficlet Fridays’, this little scenario wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m not really sure if it’s IB canon or not (in the sense I may eventually write it a little differently), but here, have some Hird/Venn fluff:

Title: The Queen of Fuck-Ups Marries the King of Mistakes Pairing: Hird/Venndred Warnings: Bad language, fluff

It's a strange feeling, being a free agent.

Archon Ssafyr has signed off on Hird's service; the Banshee is now officially registered under her name, and her crew have resigned en masse from the Air Force.

It's also a strange feeling, knowing she's the only one who can fuck it up now.

And she has no fucking clue what to do first.

“Elysium,” Steve says firmly, when Hird asks him. “Let's touch ground for a while, Kate. We can decide what to do from there.”

“And you're choosing Elysium – because?”

“Because if we dock in Idalion the fees are cheaper, and we can all crash in Kathikas.”

Hird rubs a hand across her jaw, considering. “You mean we can terrorise Lane and Samiel, until they let us stay in their property for free.”

Steve shrugs. “That too.”

“Those two idiots are going to be in their honeymoon phase,” Hird says dubiously. “I don't think they want to be descended on by twenty homeless troopers with nowhere else to go.”

“Then we'll find somewhere else,” Steve says firmly. “But the port fees are still cheaper, so we're going to Idalion.”

“And this is why I love you,” Hird says, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet up onto a console as she watches him. “You always know how to cut costs.”

He rolls his eyes, but he also pats her ankle, which is Steve-speak for I love you too. “I'll just punch in the coordinates, shall I?”

“Please do.”

“And tell Subtle there's been a change of plans?”

“Steve, as soon as you punch in the coordinates he's going to know anyway.”

Steve shrugs. “But if I tell him, it gives him a chance to complain about it.”

“He'll do that anyway,” Hird says cheerfully. “But he won't complain too much, because at least you're doing the piloting and not Con.”

Steve mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, That's because Con couldn't pilot his way out of a paper bag. Hird graciously chooses to ignore him.

“Elysium,” she says instead. “Then we'll work out what the fuck to do.”

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

From what Hird can see out of the window, Idalion is bustling, dirty, and pretty much like any other port she's docked in during her extensive career.

“It's off the main track,” Steve points out, his hands flying over the consoles as he finalises the docking procedures. “Slightly less illustrious than some of the ones we've visited.”

“Still better than others.” Hird swings her feet down off the console and leans forward, squinting. “Oh look, they have casinos.”

“In the port?”

“As opposed to where?”

Steve considers this for a moment. “Fair point.”

Hird grins. “What do you think?” she asks, flexing her fingers at him. “Think we could get lucky and win our fortunes?”

“It depends on how fast you want to lose the Banshee.” At her look, Steve grins. “You've got a terrible poker-face, boss. We'd be ship-less inside an hour.”

“Fuck you!” Hird gasps in mock outrage. “I'm a fucking genius at cards.”

“And literally nothing else.”

There's a dull thud as the last of the docking clamps slots into place, and Steve slumps back in his chair with a heavy sigh. He flicks on the comms and announces, “Docking completed.”

There's a ragged cheer from the control room. Hird would lay good odds on it being Martell, Con or Subtle – or an unholy combination of all three. She grins at Steve and stands, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Good job.”

“Well, we're here in one piece.” He flicks another switch, and the soft hiss of decompression punctuates his movements. “You can go stretch your legs if you like. I'll be around for another couple of hours, before we have to work out what to do next.”

“Steve, you're a saint. What would I do without you?”

“Get lost on a regular basis,” he says dryly. “And end up in prison.”

He's not wrong. But, “I could bribe my way out of charges.”

“Not now you couldn't, boss.” He nudges her hip with his shoulder. “Go on, get out of my cockpit. I've lowered the ramp; go and sample some local cuisine. And don't,” he adds, as she turns to leave, “go near the casinos.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hird waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. “No gambling away our only means of living. Got it.”

There's no one else in the main command area as she wanders through. That means the rest of her team are either busy with their own duties, or they've already disembarked and are causing havoc around Idalion.

Hird sends up a quick prayer that Subtle, at least, will be able to reign Con in long enough for them to stay without getting a hit put on them. But she's not holding out much hope.

She punches in her access code. When the airlock slides open, she takes her first deep breath of Idalion.

It's fuel-filled, slightly smoggy, and she fucking loves it. There are spices on the air – the scent of Alloi food wafting from the nearest food stand – and it's enough to make her stomach rumble.

The crowds in the port are chaotic – people running for the nearest transport links, others just making their way home – and the noise is half deafening.

It's a place to get lost in; to wander. It could swallow her whole and she'd never be found.

She knows all about Elysium; about the darker side of its society, and the shadows that haunt it. But here, there is life. Here, there is sound and chaos, and everyone just rubbing elbows because they have to. It makes her grin.

The chaos is everywhere, and it eases the nagging worry under her ribs about how she's going to feed her fucking crew. Where there are so many people, someone will need something.

She takes her first steps down the docking ramp, then stops.

There's incessant movement, except in one small corner by the edge of the Banshee's ramp.

He's in a little pool of quiet on his own, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He's rocking back on his heels, his hair falling in his eyes as he grins at her. He's wearing human clothing – she has no fucking clue why – and looks like he should be buried in some mouldy old library, just going by the shirt he has on.

She takes five huge strides down the ramp, and he slides his hands out of his pockets in time to catch her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Hird asks, and Venndred laughs.

He wraps his arms around her waist, crushing her so hard she can barely fucking breathe. His fingers dig into her sides, and he drops a kiss against her cheekbone, the curve of her ear, the line of her jaw.

“Evi,” he says, breathless. “Evi, it's been four months – ”

“I know, you fucking idiot,” she says, heart slamming against her ribs. “You think I don't know that?” She's holding him just as hard. “I mean why here? How the fuck did you – ”

It sinks in, then.

“Steve, the meddling fucking bastard.”

“It's my fault,” Venndred murmurs. “I asked him to bring you. I wanted to see you, and I promised Freya I'd – ”

“Sprout?” Hird rears back, craning to get a look over his shoulder. “Sprout's here? Where is she?”

“No, Evi, she's at home. I just promised I'd – ” He breaks off as she looks at him. The tips of his ears are turning pink.

“You promised what?” she asks, then pulls back further as the blush reaches his cheeks and throat. “What's going on?”

Venndred clears his throat. “This is coming out wrong.”

“It isn't coming out at all,” Hird points out.

“I know,” he says. “I know.” He lets go of her completely and takes a step back. He scrubs a hand over his mouth, looking slightly panicked.

A slow, sinking feeling of unease starts to unfold in Hird's stomach. “What is it? Has something happened?”

“No, I mean – yes, but –”

“Are you alright?” Hird grips his forearm. “Is Freya alright? Has anyone been hurt? What's –”

“Everyone's fine!” Venndred says. “I promise, it's nothing like – ” He breaks off, chewing on his lower lip. “I had a plan,” he says glumly, “and it really wasn't meant to go like this.”

“Venndred,” Hird says slowly, and her patience is beginning to fracture. “Start explaining yourself. Now.”

“Right.” He takes a deep breath, then another. “Explaining myself. Now. Right.”

Hird's heart is still thundering in her chest, but there are the first stirrings of annoyance underneath. He's come all this way, and he's not making any sense. She loves him, she does, but sometimes he can be such an –

He moves, ungraceful and awkward, and he's dropping to his knees in front of her.

“What the fuck –”

“I'm an idiot,” he says, because of course he can read her fucking mind. “I'm nothing special, but I'm just too stubborn to know when to give up. I don't deserve you, and I never will – ”

“That's not fucking true.”

He ignores her. “But I'll never be able to live without you.” He looks up at her, and his expression is achingly sincere. “You're my victory, Evi. My only one. I've never needed another, when I've been able to say that I have you.”

And oh, she's out of her depth here, swinging wildly between confusion, annoyance and a strange stirring of hope. This doesn't make sense. Shouldn't. But –

“Are you,” she says, then has to stop and clear her throat. “Are you actually fucking asking me to – ”

“I love you,” Venndred says simply. “I'm always going to. You nearly killed me, and you took every piece of my soul when you did.” He's got something in his hands – too large to be a ring; too small to be a necklace. It gleams, gold, between his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” Hird says blankly.

“Marry me?” Venndred asks.

For a moment, Hird gapes. She can't help it; shock and a kind of unholy terror at the sight of him, on his knees for her, asking this. Asking –

He wants to marry her.

He wants to fucking marry her.

Her. The Queen of fucking up every single thing in her life. The woman who fucking shot him, and he's forgiven her for it, and loves her anyway.

And now he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.

And even though she's known for a long time that he's it for her – that there's never going to be another like him – he could do so much better than a retired Wing Commander, with a bad attitude and a whole fucking heap of baggage.

“Evi,” Venndred says, and she flinches. “Please.”

It's the tone that does it: soft, terrified hope, and it cuts into her the way only he can.

She crashes to her knees in front of him, ignoring the way he startles as she cradles his stupid, wonderful face in her hands.

“For fuck's sake,” she says. “Yes, of course, yes.”

“Oh,” he breathes out. “Good, because I already booked the slot at the court, and I don't really know what I would have done if – ”

She cuts him off with a kiss, swift and hard. Then, when she draws back and he opens his mouth to keep talking, she kisses him again.

There are so many things to sort out; so much she is going to have to plan, and consider. She hadn't anticipated this. He's still the Psyke; still vital to Lenia, in ways she doesn't fully understand. He has his duty to his planet and his people, and once upon a time she would have said that was what he had dedicated himself to.

Except she knows better now, she does. Because in all the ways that matter, he belongs to her.

'Wing Commander' is a title. 'Psyke' is a title.

But 'husband' and 'wife' are going to be so much fucking better.

[boogiewrites]

No. 9 The Body Ch. 8

Characters: Diego Hargreeves & OFC Eve Corpuz

Summary:  Eve learns more about her powers while on a real date with Diego.

Warnings/Tags: Flirting. Sexism. Threats of violence. Canon Typical. Date. Diego Protecc. 

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT! If you’d like added to the tags, just let me know. This is a multi-chapter fic.

The day had started strong for Eve. She was being interviewed by a local women’s club for her transformation from using their services to becoming a respected doctor with a winning reputation. It’d been flattering and put a little perk in Eve’s step admittedly.

She was headed from a conference room, a much easier place to get to for a non-employee than her small office. But the ease for the interviewer was something she quickly wished she’d not cared so much about as she felt eyes on her, walking alone back towards her wing. She didn’t typically have to be around the board member hallways, it was a place most women avoided.

“Evie?” A familiar voice that immediately made her nose wrinkle came from behind her. “Long time no see.” Bryon Gray, a son of a bitch who happened to be a son of a chief of staff. They’d gone through residency together and every woman that had ever met him had quickly learned to avoid him. “What brings you over to this side of the hospital.” He gives her arm a faux friendly smack of greeting and she grimaces.

“I had an interview.” She answers flatly, his cross-fitted, legacy-name body blocked her path as he manspread across the hall and put his hands on his hips as if everything he said were to be stopped and observed most intently.

“Now I know everything going on around here.” He winks and taps his temple. “And I haven’t heard about you interviewing for anything.”

This may come as a shock to you Bryon but you don’t know everything, which is what she preferred to say. But instead, “It wasn’t for a job. I was interviewed for a magazine.” She says with a low brow.

“Oh! Which one? I mean, which ones are even in print anymore?” He laughs. “We talking the big NEJM?” He laughs. ”Oh wait, that was me.” He brags.

“No. It’s called Ms.” she begins to lean to initiate an exit.

“Mrs.? It like a wedding thing?” He asks with narrowed eyes. “I thought you were single.”

“It’s M. S. A feminist magazine started by Gloria Steinman in the 70s.” She wanted to slap herself for trying to defend it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Yeah that’s hot right now, isn’t it? What was it for?”

She sniffs and twitches her nose trying to not have such a knee-jerk reaction to this... jerk. "My work.”

“You are all work aren’t you Evie? Always have been.”

“Well, you know me.”

“I know Dads noticed the numbers you've been managing. Makes sense word would be getting around about an ex-stripper turned doctor who has the least amount of deaths of patients by a landslide would be a feel-good piece.”

She wanted to defend herself. To slap him and tell him to kiss her ass but she knew it would be fruitless. “Next thing you know they’ll be making a Barbie of me for all the things I’m great at.” She decides to retort with praise instead of defense. ”Stripper heels and a stethoscope would be a hell of a combination for accessories, huh?”

He gives her a look up and down. “You sure you aren’t dancing anymore? You’re looking... great by the way. Very… tight.” He motions a squeeze with his hands. More like how old male plastic surgeons do when they explain implants to young girls.

“I’ve been working out.” Another flat response as she clears her throat and begins to move far past him to continue back on her path. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Keep up the good work there Evie. Both professionally and personally.” She didn’t need to turn to look at him to know what look he had on his face. It was one every woman had had to suffer at some point in her life.

——————-

Eve was determined not to let some silver-spooned dumbass ruin her day. She had much more important things to put her energy on. Like going out with Diego that night. Oh, and saving people. Can’t forget that.

For early spring the air felt heavy and it didn’t help the sour mood that had followed her that day. She had stood too long in the shower, getting pruney, debating on whether to shave above the knee or not. She wasn’t gonna fuck him on the first date. No, she didn’t do that stuff anymore. But was it a first date? She’d known him for months now. Maybe best to not shave to deter her from making any rash decisions.

She’d been particularly mean to herself while trying to find an outfit to wear. She didn’t think she should be so easily frustrated with something like this but she realizes it’s been a long time since she cared about her outfit. Much less fussing over what to wear for a date. As always she played it cool, even when she wasn’t. She was relieved by the few pairs of stretchy denim she had still fit. She wrapped herself up in a black jacket and made her way to the gym in shoes that were nowhere near as comfortable as her usual sneakers. She figured boots with a heel were more low key than pumps. She rolls her eyes and swings her head to shake out the non-productive stream of thought.

“Hey Eve.” Diego’s voice breaks her out of the intrusive thoughts and she gives a smile that doesn’t give away that she’s been in a mood all day.

“Hey, Diego.” She answers in a relieved exhale.

They exchange pleasantries before heading off on foot in the direction of the bar. Her hands kept to the strap of her purse that was across her body. She hadn’t hugged him when she’d greeted him, but should she have? Should she… try to hold his hand? Was that too much? How do you date again? She chews the inside of her cheek.

“You worked today right?” He asked partly to kill the dead air but mostly because he was curious.

“You know I did.” She rolls her eyes and smiles.

“Overnight shift, huh? Have to pull anything out of anybody’s butt?”

He gives a wide boyish smile and she laughs in response. “Not tonight no.” she shakes her head. “What about you?”

“I luckily have not had to pull anything out of anyone’s butt.”

She laughs and gives him and below that knocks him slightly and as he returns to her side he stands closer than before. “Smartass.”

He smiles closed-lipped but proudly.

“Everyone’s always asking me about gross stuff. There are other things to ask a doctor…to ask ME about.”

“Like what?”

“Anything besides butt stuff.” She chuckles at her answer.

“Oh I didn’t think that was where we were going with this so soon BUTT-“

She scoffs and laughs and shoves him again before he comes back at her and smoothly, she must admit put his arm around her shoulders as they walked. “If it’s not then where IS is going?” She gives a playful pause. “Why’d you decide to ask me out?”

“Why’d you say yes?”

“I asked you first.”

“I respect you playing by grade school rules.” He teases before answering.

“What took this from two super freaks helping each other out to Diego asking Eve out on a date?”

“We’re still super freaks.” He corrects. “What do you wanna hear huh?” He gives a cocky nod. “That you’re… pretty? Smart? Funny?”

“I mean it’s a good start so go on…” she smiles.

“I...y’know. You don’t annoy me... all the time.” He shrugs slightly to play it cool. “It’s… easy with you. You aren’t a dick. Well I mean, a real dick. You’re a DICK don’t get wrong-“

“A dick but not a DICK-dick.” She clarifies.

“See! You get it.” He nods his head her way and she feels the sincerity he’s trying to give her in his way. They walk for a moment, the location in sight now. “You not gonna tell me I’m pretty now?” He jokes and hip knicks her before separating for the door.

“You’re very pretty Diego.” She coos as he holds open the door for her.

“That's better.” He bats his lashes and she walks in first, him close and protective behind her.

———————

Diego looks down at his phone with a sigh. “It’s my brother. I have to call him.”

“The serious little one from the gym?”

“ that’s the one.”

“ he doesn’t seem like a patient kind of guy.” She gives a soft laugh to show no hard feelings. “Go on, it’s fine. I understand.” She gives a nonchalant shrug. “If you have to leave just tell me first. Don’t disappear like you’re so good at.”

He gives a quiet, almost apologetic chuckle in response. “I won’t. I’ll be right back.”

Eve takes out her phone to keep to herself and pass the time. Five seemed like a very intense guy. Especially if he was someone that could get Diego to do something he didn’t want to.

“Hey.” She’d heard it already but kept her expression unmoving. “Hey, Girl.”

After the 4th time, it’s clear the guy sat between two friends who looked like they all fell out of the same legacy fraternities, and was not going to stop trying to get her Attention. she turns to meet his eyes with the most indifferent face she could manage.

“There she is. That guy leaves a hot thing like you alone?”

“No.” She answers flatly.

“He...uh, ya brother or somethin’?”

“No.” Another monotone answer

“Ah so is that lucky bastard ya mans then?”

She slowly blinks and takes her time to answer. “Why do you care?”

“I wouldn’t be letting you be nowhere alone if I was your man sweetheart.”

“Duly noted.” She turns back away.

“Oh, a smart one, fellas. You know I like it when they get feisty. What you do baby? You lookin' good as hell. You one of them dancers? Those freaky European girls over at the school?” He laughs and elbows his cohort. “Those broads talk all kinds of smart.”

“I’m a Doctor.” She continues to look at her phone and not engage. Diego would be back soon. And this guy was an idiot.

“Oh! a fuckin DOCTOR bros!” He mocks. “I might’ve listened to my doc if he had an ass like that.”

She sighs and feels her jaw tighten.

“Hey! I got something I need ya to look at sexy doctor. I bet you’ve never seen one like this before.”

“I’ve diagnosed the clap before so I have seen it.”

The guys with him laugh but he doesn’t.

“Why the ones with the smart mouths always such bitches?” He complains with a childish retort. “I was being nice and you gotta go act like that. You’re lucky your so hot sweetheart. Most men wouldn’t put up that shit.”

“Would you put up with it?”

“Fuck no, I keep my woman in line.” He says proudly

“Ah, good. So you can quit talking to me then. Because I’m just going to use words that further confuse you if you keep it up.” She rolls her eyes and keeps on her phone as Diego walks back to the table. For the moment the guy was silent.

—-

Eve excused herself to go to the bathroom, perhaps the beers had gotten to her. Or all the water she was forcing down her pie hole constantly it seemed. Trying to be properly hydrated was hard.

She was still distracted in thought, wondering how much she’d drank in water tonight to know how much she could pour out when she got home. She’d bought a jug with hourly markers because targeted ads worked and it was black matte and had-

Her train of thought is sharply interrupted by a forearm jutting out in front of her path. She looks to the perpetrator and there stands Chad. She assumed his name was Chad. He looked like one, acted like one. And if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...well you know how that goes.

“I saw you walkin' back here in those tight fuckin jeans and was compelled to continue our conversation from earlier.”

“No thanks, dude. I’d like to get back to my date now.” She answers flatly.

“Ya little man’s left sweetheart.” His other arm comes up and her now to the wall back was tense and defensive. Their bodies blocked the small back hallway and she hoped someone would interrupt them soon.

“Then he’ll be right back.”

“He answered his phone and jetted babe.” He tsks. “Yahate to see it. “ a predatory pout comes across his face as he reaches to caress her forearm. “And to a dime like you.” She tenses and noisily exhales. “His loss my gain yeah?” He laughs and she smells a nauseatingly familiar combination of nacho cheese and cheap beer.

“Excuse me...Chad? Is it Chad? I’d like to get back to my seat if you-“

“I’m right here baby.” He smirks and wiggles his jaw. “Face or my cock girl, I ain’t picky.” His hands move to her waist and pull her against him. She didn’t want to make a scene. To let this asshole ruin her date.

“I’m giving you one chance to get your fucking hands off me bro.” She bucks back, deeper voice and glaring into his eyes.

“Mmm, what are you? Where ya mama from eh? You must be a little Latin mami lookityou.” The slurring was beginning to stand out more. He did loosen his grip and she put as much space as she could between them. Progress.

“It’s none of your business and you’re being rude and you’re drunk. You should go home.”

“Only if I’m taking this back with me mami,” he reaches his hand to her ass and before he’s fully grasped she’s shoved him hard against the wall. “Oh fuck yeah hard to get. I’m gonna hold you down and beat that pussy UP.”

“You couldn’t even get hard you needle dicked dumbass.” She straightens her jacket. “Let me say this so you understand. Leave me alone. I am not going to fuck you, you fuckin rapist. You should be ashamed of yourself. I hope your mother's dead so she doesn’t have to see what a piece of shit she raised.” She moves to walk away.

His glassy eyes look a strange mixture of hurt to mad to confused.

“Everything okay here?” A tone she hadn’t heard from Diego before as he stood with a wide stance in front of Eve but eyes on the walking cliche. “You okay?” He asks softer as he flicks his eyes to hers, a hand lightly on her arm.

“I’m fine. This guy is garbage. Don’t bother he’s not worth it. Just another moron who never got to the cognitive thought stage.” She sighs and pats his hand, heading back to the table.

After doing a poor job of acting interested in Diego explaining something about knives, she kept seeing Chad eye fuck her from across the bar. She could feel his eyes boring into her. He kept looking and acting casual otherwise, eating and running and talking with his beef necked buddies. Eve was no stranger to harassment. She was a woman and a woman who worked in the medical field. She’d been accosted more times than she could count. From old men winking and having their dicks out to young men locking her inside of an exam room and not letting her leave until he got what he thought he was owed.

She wasn’t even mad about him anymore, her rage was fueled by every man that ever made her feel uncomfortable. Every creep ass ex, every older man trying to take advantage of her. She felt like her face should be hot and Diego’s words become background noise.

-

Diego didn’t notice for a while, too excited to talk about a new knife rig he was working on. He looks behind him at the sound of choking and sees the guy that was bothering Eve earlier trying to clear his throat. He notices Eve isn’t responding even when he stands and tries to gasp. He moves to see her still and focused with flickering eyes. Like electricity was behind them. He watched her curiously, eyes set like a lion in the tall grass. He looks back to Chad, now red and holding his throat.

“Eve…” he reaches out to touch her arm and he’s met with a crack of static electricity. She doesn’t even acknowledge him and the guys turning a weird shade of purple. “EVE.” He says harsher and grasps her forearm, feeling the tingle of hair rise on the back of His neck. “EVE! HEY!” he reaches and as Chad's eyes bloodshot he turns her face to him and breaks her focus.

The desperate gasp of air from Chad was immediate.

“Eve… what the hell was that?”

“What?” She blinks rapidly as if she’d just come to.

“He was choking and you were…” he lowers his voice and moves closer to her. Everyone was now preoccupied with Chad. “...using your powers weren’t you?”

Her mouth holds open as her eyes now normal flit back and forth. “I…” she feels it. Something she could identify. A cooling rush in her veins. “I hurt him.” She whispers in shock.

“Yeah, you almost choked him to death. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… I did that.”

“I didn’t know you could do that?”

“Neither did I.”

———-

Diego and Eve sit back in her apartment after a fast exit. She seemed worried, so he tried to hide his concern. He kept having to reach for her wrist to keep her on track and eventually settled on holding her hand. They hadn’t said much on the walk back. She was coming to terms with a lot and once again they’d fallen back into the roles of helping each other through these secret things only they understood and out of the dating pool they’d tiptoed in successfully tonight.

“Look you can control them, alright? You can control healing and you can control hurting. They’re the same thing. You got carried away. And that guy was an asshole and he deserved a scare honestly.”

He rubs her upper arms and she wipes at her face with a tissue. “I’m sorry for...ruining tonight.” She sighs out with eyes now makeup-free.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He grimaces. “We’ve just… got sidetracked. It happens.” He shrugs and tries to be supportive.

“I’ve had such a bad day, Diego.” She laughs to not cry and meets his eyes. “I didn’t want to cancel because of it and let it win. But I’ve been so sensitive today. I don’t know.”

“What happened?.” He moves to pull her to the edge of her bed.

“There’s just this guy, Brian at work and he was shitty to me today-“

“Brian who?” Diego quickly interjects in such a dramatic way it makes her crack a smile while he remained serious.

“You don’t have to beat him up.” She gives a thankful smile and pats the back of his hands. He takes her hands into his and lays them in her lap.

“If someone's makin' you so upset you lose control I'm pretty sure I DO have to kick their ass.”

“Thanks. Your heart is in the right place. I appreciate it. Seriously.” She frees one hand as he holds tight to her others. “I don’t want to be known as the woman who you can’t talk to because her b- her friend might beat them up.”

“Your what might beat them up?” He teases with a smile.

“Friend. My friend. That’s what I said.” She whines playfully and he smirks. “He’s one of the director's sons.” She shrugs.

She’d just given him enough information to easily find the guy. Not like he wouldn’t have gone through every Brian in that hospital. “Why would he be a dick to you?” He takes her hand back into his and it makes her smile as she looks down at them. He held her hands in a clear expression of his want to protect her. She thought it was very sweet of him. But she didn’t know he had full intentions of beating the white off Brian.

“Sexism mostly?” She offers and Diego gives her a look of impatience.

“I ran into him and he said some things about my past in a tone that wasn’t nice and he’s in general very… sleazy and gives uncomfortable compliments. No one says anything because he’s Knox’s son so...he’s a privileged white dude. That should tell you enough.”

“It does.” He accepts her elaboration. She was quickly learning he was stubborn as a mule when it came to wanting something, particularly information.

“Then the guy at the bar.” She rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that asshole.” He sighs. “I would’ve decked him but you seemed like you didn’t want me to.”

“I could r done it myself if I wanted. But I didn’t want to ruin the evening.” She emotes dramatically, saying it didn’t matter in the long run. “He was talking to me while you were gone the first time too.”

“Seriously? Eve. Why didn’t you let me knock his punk ass out?”

“Because Diego I wanted to have a nice date with you. Without involving fighting. We can work it out at training later. I didn’t want to…” she groans.

“Okay, okay. I...get what you’re saying. And I think you’re wrong. But I understand.”

“Thanks. Maybe we’ll get it right next time.” She offers with a tired smile.

“Next time?” His smile gives away his glad reaction to the insinuation.

“Yeah. I figured we could go out on another date. Unless you don’t want to?” He feels her hands begin to pull away and he keeps them close.

“No! I do! I do Uh “ clearing his throat, “I mean I’d like that. It’d be..chill”

She snorts a laugh at his recovery. “I’m excited to go out with you again too. Don’t try to play it cool I already know you. I know you aren’t” she teases.

“That’s cold man.” He deflects and they share a nice pause between them. “We’ll go somewhere where no one can upset you.”

“If you’re with me you could.”

“Normally I’d agree. But I don’t plan on upsetting you... You know. I mean it might happen but like...I don’t wanna hurt you. For real.”

“I think I knew that Diego.” She gives him a warm smile and squeezes his hands. “I don’t wanna hurt you either. I’ve gotten pretty fond of you. As much as I hate to admit.”

“I don’t hate to admit it.” He gives a dopey smile and she pays his cheek.

“Thank you for… everything tonight.”

“Was nothin,” he answers cockily.

“You can be really sweet when you aren’t trying too hard.” She says as they feel their heartbeat flip for a moment as they look into each other’s eyes a bit too long for it to go unnoticed.

“I don’t have to try hard with you.” He answers back softly and he sees his moment. She sees the tell of his eyes moving to her lips, that tilt of his head that made him look like a sweet little pitbull puppy.

She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to thank him for everything he’d done for her. Properly. They could both feel the tension between them now. “Diego… I do-“

“Uh yeah, you’re right. It’s not- yeah-..” he stutters in reaction to what he thought could be rejection.

She smiles and rises to go after him as he puts space between them. “I WANT to, Diego I just don’t think right now is the right moment.” She explains gently with her hands to his chest and she yawns. “I’m exhausted from using my powers tonight. I don’t want to be… not giving you 110% if you get what I’m saying.” She wiggles her eyebrows and it knocks his defenses down as intended.

“Oh. Good. You...you’re right.” He chuckles shyly. “I can go now and I’ll see you at training then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She offers a hug instead of a kiss and he happily takes it. His temple to her temple for a moment and feeling her let out a content sigh in his arms. “Be careful headed home.” She offers as they part. “Despite everything I still had a good time tonight. For the record.”

“I did too.” He offers before ducking out the door with a “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

She knew she would thanks to him.

@jaegeeeeer​ @diegos-butt​ @anglovesthis @likedovesinthewnd

[thebluestbluewords]

I posted 1,744 times in 2021

115 posts created (7%)

1629 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 14.2 posts.

I added 790 tags in 2021

#blue’s queue - 161 posts

#blue's queue - 108 posts

#my fic - 97 posts

#descendants cast - 88 posts

#descendants - 82 posts

#incorrect descendants - 58 posts

#mal bertha - 56 posts

#descendants fic - 50 posts

#not descendants - 49 posts

#evie grimhilde - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#“omg yeah it’s just been so great learning how to be good. we haven’t had to go through a single trial by poison since we’ve been here!!”

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Waking Up is Hard to....

Mal having a moment, part of a larger project I'm slowly chugging away on. ~1500 words

*

“Oh gods, ouch.” Mal mutters, mostly to herself. There’s something heavy and sharp resting on her face. Maybe Evie left one of her hair combs in the bed again, and Mal’s somehow rolled over onto it and gotten it stuck in her face. “Geoff, Evie--” Mal mutters, swiping at the thing. It doesn’t shift, and she whacks at it harder, making contact with the top of it--

Mal snaps awake. Shit, shit and crap. That’s feathers she’s whacking, which means Diablo is here, and her mother--

Diablo caws his stupid cackling laugh, and releases a coil of scrap paper from his beak directly into Mal’s eye.

“Get out of here you stupid bird,” Mal tells him, sitting up and shoving the creature off of her face. “Who let you in, you bastard? Did you break open my skylight again?”

The bird cocks his head, looking at her with his beady, all too intelligent eyes. “Caw. Caw.” he croaks out, body still and resting intensely on Mal’s thigh. “Caw.”

Ugh. “I hate you, dumbass.” Mal tells him. “Go look for water in the sink, I’m sure one of the others will get a bowl for you.”

Diablo hops up from Mal’s leg and wings his way up onto her partition. He’s not letting her out of his sight, which is never a good sign.

“I’m reading it, I’m reading it,” Mal yawns, unrolling the paper scrap. It’s soft from use, and covered in her mother’s looped handwriting.

Mal, the note reads. I’ve come across some interesting information about your assignment. Come to the tower at 4am sharp. Do not try to hide from me or Diablo has been instructed to peck your eyes out and bring them to me on a plate. Don’t fail me. -M

Well then. There’s not many functioning clocks left on the isle, but Mal happens to have one of the best engineers on the isle living in-house, so she’s got an actual alarm clock in her bedroom corner. Sure, the letters glow pink instead of a more evil color, and there’s a princess holding a lemon slice sitting on top of it, but it works better than the bells and Maleficent is dangerous when Mal is late for a summoning.

3:26. Half an hour then, to get ready and cross the market territory without waking up the others or getting caught by anyone who’s still up and about and ready to do an unattended young villain harm.

Mal is more worried about what Evie will say if she gets caught than any potential danger from the pirates, if she’s being honest.

Okay. Up, roll quietly off the mattress that she’s spent more pleasant hours on than an alpha bastard like her deserves, and grab clothes off the pile on the floor. Pants are easy, belts are harder, because they click. Can’t go without one, because belts are part of her armor. Her sleep shirt is fine, a thin tank top in black and green that Evie pulled out of the scrap pile and repurposed for her. It’s cheap fabric, and not meant to hold up under attack, but she’s not her jacket for that. The thick layers of leather have served her well so far, and a quick jaunt across the hidden rooftops of the isle might wake up a few sleeping occupants of the buildings under her, but won’t result in anything more than a few yells if she’s lucky, and a bottle or two to dodge if she isn’t.

Mal’s feeling lucky tonight.

Out of her corner, slipping under the curtain so the sound of the rings won’t wake Carlos, who is a notoriously light sleeper, and--

“Mal?”

Caught.

“Hey, furball.” Mal says, turning to face a red-eyed Carlos, who is sitting up on his mattress and watching her a little too closely for someone who just woke up. “My mother’s little message disturb you too?”

He yawns. “Yeah.”

“Well, if I’m not back by the sixth bell or so, send a search party, okay?”

“Can-do,” Carlos says, and yawns again. “If you’re not back we’ll assume you’re in the dungeon again, yeah?”

Ugh. “Probably.” Mal agrees. “Unless she’s feeling really creative and puts me out on the window ledge.”

“The worst.” Carlos agrees, sleepily. “If you die I want your serrated knife back.”

Mal pulls it out of her belt. It’s a nice-ass knife, long and sharp and with a quick release that got outlawed in Auradon a few years back, leading to a flood of them on the isle. There was a newspaper about it that Doctor Facilier snapped up and paraded about the school for a day, and Mal remembers it because she’d to wrestle two more of the things away from Harmony and Devon before they got any bright ideas about sidekicks owning the fancy stuff.

She’d lost those knives shortly after taking them, one to Uma, as a gift, and one to Jay. She doesn’t miss them, but it would have been a smarter choice to hold on to them a bit longer, instead of gifting the green chromed one on to the first pretty omega girl who caught her eye after taking them. This one, dark grey and with a marbled handle, she got from Carlos after complaining that she missed her old ones one too many times for his liking. Things had still been strange and new between them, and Mal had taken the knife as soon as he’d offered it, without thinking about the potential weight behind the trade.

Too late now for regrets. What’s done is done, and the knife is hers now.

“Here,” Mal says, shaking the knife in Carlos’s direction. “Take it, dumbass. Insurance for getting me back in one piece.”

He squints up at her, not taking it. His face looks strange and grey in the faint light from the windows. “No,” he says. “That’s solid metal. If your mom tries to pull the magic eyes on you again you’ll need it more than I do.”

He’s right, but it feels important that Mal give him something to hold onto while she’s gone. Just in case.

There’s a knife in her boot that’s cheap and made of repurposed cans, but it’s small and quick and one of her favorites. Mal stores the folding knife away in her pocket, and pulls the tin one out instead.

“Here then,” says Mal, and drops the knife on the edge of Carlos’s mattress. “Take it, I’m not kidding. Insurance for me to get back. That one won’t do anything against my mother, not even if I throw it at her from a foot away. It’s too light, and her robes are too heavy to slash through anyway.”

“I get the lightweight knife, I see how it is.” Carlos says, picking it up and flickering it through his fingers. “You think I can’t handle your big bad machete?”

“You weigh about as much as my machete.” Mal shoots back, tugging on her jacket. Evie’s not staying with them tonight, and Carlos is already up, so she doesn’t have to worry so much about noise anymore. “You think they’ll feed us in Auradon?”

“Hope so.”

“Yeah. Don’t be stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’ll try.”

“At least save any big explosions until I come back.” Mal says, only half joking. “If I’m going to come back to you torching the place I think I deserve to see it in action.”

That gets her a flicker of a smile. “Can-do.”

“Okay. Back in a tic.”

Carlos flicks a hand at her. “Run safe,” he says, quiet in the strange moonlit space where they’re not going to live for so much longer. “Come back before dawn.”

“Will-do, furball.” Mal promises, and slips out the door before she can wake anyone else.

The door falls shut behind her. It’s only three, and already it’s getting sticky-hot again. Late summer, ugh. How is a girl supposed to survive in this climate, honestly. Mal much prefers fall, when she can get away with wearing her heavier jacket all the time and not sweat through her undershirt the second she steps outside.

Diablo lands on her head. Stupid bird.

“I’m going to roast you like a chicken,” Mal whispers to him as she’s working her way up through the tangled mess of their outdoor escape and up onto the warehouse roof. “Put a stick through your ass and toast you on the fire, do you hear me? I don’t care what sort of enchantment my mother has you under. I will put you on a spit and stuff your ass with corn, see if I won’t.”

Diablo lifts one wing slowly, unfazed.

“Little asshole,” Mal mutters, mostly to herself. A few rooftops, and then she’s in the clear. Or more accurately, then she’s in the castle with only her mother and any henchmen she’s got hanging around to deal with…

Much better to just say that she’s in the clear.

25 notes • Posted 2021-11-10 02:35:17 GMT

#4

“....Mal?” Evie asks slowly. “Is everything okay?”

Mal rubs her arm over her face. She can’t look up at Evie, not right now. She’s not some stupid princessy type. She knows what she’s doing.

She shoves another handful of clothes in her backpack instead of answering. Clothes are always good to barter with. They’ll be useful to have, once she’s back home.

“Mal? Can you talk to me, babe?”

Mal can’t. It’s like there’s a rock in her throat, and she can’t speak around it.

Evie moves closer. Oh no.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Mal bursts out, before Evie can do something like try and touch her. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be this-- person they want me to be. I can’t do it anymore! I want to go home.”

“Mal--”

Evie’s going to do the same thing that the others did, she’s going to tell Mal that she can’t go home, ever, and home sucked actually and she shouldn’t want to go back because even her own stupid feellings are wrong now and she can’t even get this one thing right. She’s going to say that Mal is wrong for wanting this, and Mal is going to do something terrible if she has to hear Evie, her best friend in the whole world, in the whole stupid castle, tell her that she’s wrong again, so the words just keep on spilling out because Mal. Can’t.

She can’t hear it again.

“I can’t!” Mal shouts, before Evie can get the words out. “I don’t care what Ben says, I can’t be the person he wants me to be! I want to go home and I don’t care what the others think about it!”

It hurts to even say the words.  Everyone is going to hate her forever, and it hurts even more because Mal is pretty sure, somewhere in the frozen place where her heart used to live, that Evie is going to hate her for this more than anyone, more than her sort-of-boyfriend already does, and once Mal can get home and let her guard down it’s going to come back, all the feelings that she’s been missing for these awful, terrible months of trying to be good and it’s going to--

Well.

That’s--

Mal’s never been good with feelings, but she’s pretty sure that her breath hitching up like this is one of the bad ones. One of the not so princess-approved ones.

Evie puts a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, sweetheart,” she says, and it’s so soft that Mal doesn’t know how to feel about it, about the fact that Evie doesn’t seem to be mad yet. Evie is supposed to be mad at her just like the boys had been when she’s asked them to come with her, and it’s not fair that she isn’t reacting how she’s supposed to. Mal doesn’t have the energy for this. She can’t-- figuring out people’s reactions used to be something else she was good at, back home on the isle, but she doesn’t have the energy for it now, not when she’s breathing around a lump in her throat so solid it’s threatening to choke her completely.

“I-- I--”

Evie’s hard moves, firm and sweet and just right between Mal’s shoulders. “Breathe, Mali.” she directs.

Mal breathes.

“I’m going home.” she says, once she can speak again. “Everyone here hates me, all the royals and the people and the reporters and-- and our classmates. They all hate me, Eves, I know they do. I’m not good enough for their precious prince and they hate me for it and they’re right. I don’t deserve to be this person they think I am! I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t do it.”

At some point in the last minute, Evie’s hand has moved off of Mal’s back. It’s wrong to miss the touch when she doesn’t deserve it, but Mal wants Evie’s hand back anyway.

Read the whole thing on ao3!

26 notes • Posted 2021-03-20 21:51:40 GMT

#3

it’s not trouble if you don’t get caught

(This is from an ask game! I don’t have a lot of followers but I really liked the prompts so I threw them into a number generator and I’m treating this as a writing exercise!)

🖕 - someone touches your character in a way that's rude or that they just don't like (i.e. shoves past them, etc). what do they do? + Carlos

Unlike Mal or Evie, if somebody touches Carlos in a way he doesn’t like (in this case let’s say….somebody shoves past him and knocks something out of his hand. It may or may not be intentional, short people are easy to overlook and all, but it’s still rude and he’s not here for it) there’s not going to be any immediate retaliation. He’s not the kind of person who hits people outright like Mal does, and while he does make snarky comments, they’re usually under his breath rather than right to somebody’s face and wrapped in a smile like Evie does. If somebody touches Carlos in a way he doesn’t like, they might think they’re getting away with it. He’s easy enough to overlook most of the time, and that’s how he likes it, thanks very much.

But oh. Oh no.

When you’re crying on the floor a week later because somebody yanked the guts out of your deodorant can and replaced them with pepper spray? When you somehow lose all of your pens for two weeks straight and have to use the Giant Pencil Of Shame? When that loose bucket of chalk dust somehow makes its way to the top of the classroom door and also onto somebody’s head?? That’s him. (It’s a valuable lesson. He’s just offering some learning aids. Hands-on experience is always best. That’s it, and no other reasons.)

27 notes • Posted 2021-03-19 17:46:54 GMT

#2

Cultural Enlightenment

(because they’re….gonna steal the wand….making the museum one object lighter…yea I’ll see myself out)

~800 words, core four being themselves and having a time on their first night!

*

“Hall of villains?” Evie wonders out loud, looking at the sign. “What the hell are they keeping in there, when we’re all locked up on the island? If they’re keeping like, old bodies in there, that’s not going to be a very cute look.”

“Do you wanna find out?” Mal asks, leaning past her to look at the map. “It’s… right above us.”

“Aw, are you going to take me on a cute date to see the remains of whatever our parents left here?” Evie coos, leaning in to brush her cheek against Mal’s. “That’s so romantic, babe.”

Mal presses a kiss to her cheek, so fast it’s just a brush of her lips over Evie’s skin. “For you, princess, I’d show you the fresh remains of our parents.”

“So romantic, babe.” Evie coos, before breaking into giggles. “Come on, let’s go see what they think of us here in Auradon.”

+

Unsurprisingly, the answer to Evie’s question is badly. Very, very badly.

“Best known for his crimes against the royal family of Agrabah,” Carlos reads. “Jafar was brought down by his own greed, and remained imprisoned in the very lamp that he coveted for nearly a decade before his exile. This story-- oh, they’re trying to moralize it. This story serves as an example of how pure ambition without the tempering force of goodness can easily tip over into evil, blah blah BLAH, nothing about the insanity?”

“He wasn’t as insane before he got trapped in a lamp for fifteen years.” Jay says, poking around the other side of the room. “Apparently he even got laid sometimes.”

“Gross, don’t make me think about you dad getting laid,” Evie complains. “I’m trying to see if there’s any magic left in these herbs they have on display for my mom.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna know what they have for my mom.” Mal says, poking at the label for Evie’s mom. “Is it like, her dried up eggshell from when she hatched?”

“Ew, Mal!”

“What? She’s a dragon, I’m pretty sure she hatched from an egg.”

“Ugh, does that mean you’d lay eggs too?” Evie wonders out loud, making a face that’s far too close to considering for Mal’s liking.

“Sterile in the egg department, no worries there!” Mal says quickly, slapping an open hand to the flat plane of her stomach. Unlike some people, she wasn’t foolish enough to overeat at dinner, and isn’t quietly trying to nurse a stomach ache as well as her magic-induced headache. “I’m never laying eggs of any kind, and if I did, I’d make you losers eat them.”

Evie shoots her a look. “Gross, babe.”

“Not as gross as this,” Carlos murmurs, eyes flickering back and forth over a plaque faster than Mal can follow. “Listen. The Evil queen used many ingredients in her charms and spells, including the beating heart of animals, whatever, and the essence of an alpha male during his time of quickening.”

“That’s the prissiest way I’ve ever heard someone say semen.” Mal says. “Like, just say come if that’s what you mean, right?”

“Right,” Evie agrees. “It’s not like it’s a big deal. Half the population’s probably swallowed some at one point or another. It’d be grosser if she was like, milking pregnant people for their breastmilk, and before you say anything, it’s different during pregnancy, that’s why I was being specific.”

Ugh. “Gross.” Mal complains. Body fluids are disgusting, and she’s never going to have a kid with anyone.

“Your mom also used chicken feet to cure her own crow’s feet, apparently.” Carlos says, still reading. “Why are they printing this stuff? Some kid is going to come in here and try making their own potions of youth or whatever.”

“No, the innate power of goodness is going to temper them,” Evie says, eyes enormous. “Don’t you know that’s how it works when you’re good?”

“Good children would never throw fireworks into a vat of tar just to see what’ll happen,” Jay adds. “That’s why they have to teach us these things now. We don’t know on our own.”

“I hate you all.” Carlos says, to the room at large.

“We know, baby,” Evie says, throwing an arm over his shoulders. “We know.”

“Like, if I could make a potion that’s just some chicken feet and like, blood or whatever, I don’t even care what it does. I’m trying that shit out.”

“It also takes magic,” Evie says gently. “Which, unless you have the same headache as the rest of us do, I don’t think you have, baby.”

Jay looks mildly alarmed. “Headache? It’s not just there, in the back of your mind?”

Mal whips around to stare at him. “What?” She demands. “What do you mean, sitting there? It’s like a hangover headache. It hurts.”

Jay looks equally alarmed at this information. “The magic, yeah?  I can feel where it’s sitting. It’s in the back of my head, like right where that bump in my skull is. At the back.”

“It’s like a sinus headache,” Evie says, staring at both of them. “We looked it up in the mirror. I told it a rhyme and everything, and it said that the headache is a result of magic that we’ve never felt before, and our bodies are like, adjusting. Like magic is dust in the air.”

32 notes • Posted 2021-12-01 19:07:07 GMT

#1

Sort of Like Papercuts

~400 words of nonsense that‘s not not set in my ongoing ot5 ’verse. (mostly very silly, references to child neglect/abuse)

*

“I wasn’t allowed out of the house as a kid,” says Carlos, struggling to tie a knot in one of the gym ropes. “I think I might’ve missed out on some—important life skills for a while.”

“Oh my gods, get over it, baby.” Evie calls over her shoulder. “I wasn’t allowed to leave my castle for like, six years.”

“Uh. What?” Ben asks. “Also, why are you tying the climbing ropes together?”

“We’re helping set up for class tomorrow.” Evie says immediately. “Also, none of your business.”

Hm. “Just checking” Ben says. “Because it looks like you’re tying the ropes into a giant spiderweb.”

“Helping.” Evie repeats. “It’s for a team building exercise.”

Carlos makes a noise that could conceivably be a cough, if you didn’t know him. “Yeah, how long will it take to untie the ropes”

“You’re not helping,” Evie calls back, and she sounds sweet still, but it’s probably a good idea to just move on from whatever is happening with the climbing ropes. “it’s teamwork skills. Our class needs to work on those.”

“Can we come back to the thing where you both weren’t allowed out of your houses? For years?” Ben asks. “Because that seems like kind of a big thing?”

Carlos drops his tangle of ropes. “I was allowed out. Bad choice of words.” he says, moving over to the next set. He’s not looking up, which could just be dedication to the task. Inconvenience-based mischief is a top priority for him, so it wouldn’t really be out of character if that’s the only reason he won’t look at them.

“Are you sure?” Ben asks anyway, just in case it’s not, and he’s going to need to be the stable, normal one later. It’s best to be prepared for these things.

Evie drops her own ropes, which are tied in neat pairs of knots traveling down the full length, and starts in on the floor tangle that Carlos abandoned. “He wasn’t allowed to leave the house alone until he was eight,” she says. “That right, C?”

“Eight or nine.” Carlos admits, from where he’s seemingly given up on ropes and is instead collecting all of the scooter boards that the high school keeps around for moving heavy equipment with. “I dunno how old exactly.”

So, probably a thing then. Anything that comes back to the gaps in the VK’s history— Carlos’s age, Jay’s mother, Mal’s magic, always turns out to be a sensitive topic.

Well, in for a penny and all that.

“That’s— protective family, huh?” Ben says. “That must’ve sucked.”

“Possessive.” Carlos corrects. “Not protective. She was convinced I’d be stolen.”

“Like—“

He kicks one of the boards to send in slamming into the wall. In the echoey space of the gym, it sounds almost like a gunshot. “Like a pet, yeah.”

39 notes • Posted 2021-03-31 19:40:23 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[bluesfortheredj]

Hitsuzen.

Hitsuzen - A naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible.

Chapter 9.

Neither of you get any more sleep after your 4am wake up and you end up talking in hushed voices until you’re finally discharged at just after 10am. You realise the doctor wasn’t wrong when he said the effects of the gas you inhaled would linger for a while, and as you stand from the bed you quickly fall sideways into Charlie as your head spins.

“Woah there!” he chuckles as he takes a hold of you until you’re steady on your feet, “do you want me to get a wheelchair to take you to the car?”

“I’ll be fine,” you sigh, “you’ll just have to keep your eye on me, and if I start veering off course then just point me in the right direction.”

He narrows his eyes at you before tutting, “I’ll just carry you to the car.”

“Better bloody not!” you laugh, “could you do me a favour though?”

“Anything,” he nods.

“When we get to Sarah and John’s, could you make sure Evelyn doesn’t see me falling about the place? I don’t want to worry her and she’ll pick up on it straight away.”

“Of course. I’ll get you upstairs and in the spare room then she can come and see you. I’ve got to go to the station to sort some paperwork after what happened yesterday but Sarah’s taken today off to look after you.”

“Thanks. I hate a fuss,” you grimace.

“Well tough luck, because we’re all going to fuss over you until I get the bastard who did this.”

He almost spits the last part of the sentence as his rage bubbles to the surface over what had happened to you, and he was determined to find the person who tried to hurt you. His body ached with exhaustion but it was the need to hold you that was overwhelming him at this current moment and he wasn’t sure he could resist the urge much longer as he watched you steady yourself on the bed side table with one hand while you put items into a bag with your other one. He wordlessly steps towards you to place a hand on your back then as you straighten up while you wonder what he’s doing he turns your body to face his, and you gladly lean against his torso with your head turned to the side. Your hand lets go of the table to grip onto his jumper while his arms slide around your body a little tighter, and you feel yourself melt into him as relief floods your veins in such a rush that you almost faint.

“Let’s get you to a nice comfy bed,” he sighs as he begins to loosen his grip.

You loop your arm through his as you finally walk up the familiar path you never thought you’d miss this much and you can already hear Evie’s excited calls of ‘mummy!’ from inside; it’s enough to make you cry. Sarah opens the door as Evie stays in the living room eagerly hopping from one foot to the other, and Charlie rushes you past the doorway and up the stairs before she can catch a glimpse of your wobbles.

“Just need the loo darling!” you call out, “Charlie will bring you up in a minute!”

“Okay mummy!” she almost squeals, unable to contain her excitement.

You pop to the toilet with Charlie standing guard outside then he helps you to the spare bedroom where you quickly get into bed with a relieved sigh and prop the pillows up to get comfy. A quick nod to Charlie is all he needs to fly downstairs and sweep Evie up so she can invade the bed with you and get her much needed cuddles that she missed last night. She’s under the covers with you within seconds, squeezed up against your side as her tiny arms reach as far around your body as they’ll go, and you fight back tears as you wrap your arms around her and dip your head down to inhale her beautiful scent.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper between kissing her hair.

“I had pasta for dinner!”

“You did?! Did you save any for me?”

“I ate it all.”

“So it’s in your belly?” you ask as one of your hands tickles her stomach.

“Ah!” she laughs, wriggling around next to you, “mummy! Stop! Charlie! Help!”

A laugh sounds out from the doorway and he shakes his head, ���no one can stop mummy tickles!”

Charlie watches as your smile fades and your eyes flicker open and shut as you fight to stay conscious as another episode washes over your body thanks to the exertion of tickling and laughing, and he’s quick to scoop Evie up before she notices your now pale face.

“Right, why don’t you and Sarah make a tasty get well cake for mummy? I’m thinking lots of chocolate and lots of sweets as decoration, what do you think?” he grins as you give him a thankful nod as your head falls back onto the pillows.

“Yeah! Will you help?”

“I’ve got to go into work but I might be back to help eat all the sweets… I mean, decorate.”

Evelyn laughs and covers her face with her hands before dropping her forehead onto his shoulder and shaking her head from side to side.

“You’re so funny,” she giggles.

“Hear that?” he says, raising his eyebrows at you, “I’m hilarious, a complete catch!”

You form a weak smile and scoff before rolling your eyes playfully.

“Mummy looks tired,” Evie sighs as she turns to face you.

“Hmm, I think she needs a nice nap and then when she wakes there’ll be a huge chocolate cake waiting for her,” Charlie grins.

“Nap kiss for mummy.”

Charlie leans Evie down so she can peck your lips, then they turn towards the bedroom door.

“You forgot mummy’s nap kiss,” Evie frowns up at the man holding her.

“Oh, silly me! How could I forget to give mummy a nap kiss?!”

He walks back over and sits down on the edge of the bed with Evie still attached to his side then he leans in slowly, trying to figure out where would the best place to kiss you would be, and he soon settles on your forehead where he presses his lips to your skin softly. He gives you a warm smile as he sits back up then stand with your little one and the two of them leave in silence, allowing you to shut your eyes and drift off into an uncomfortable sleep.

“I’ll be back soon,” Charlie assures Sarah, “I’ll make sure to bring John with me as well. I sort of said that you’d make (Y/N) a get well cake, I’m sorry. She was looking so washed out and she’d already said she didn’t want Evie seeing her unwell, so I had to get her out of the room with the promise of cake.”

“Don’t worry,” Sarah chuckles, “that’s fine! Thank you for taking such good care of her Charlie, it really means a lot to John and I.”

Charlie shrugs nonchalantly, “no need to thank me, I’m just doing what anyone would do for the ones they love.”

“Oh,” Sarah gasps lightly, her eyes widening at the word ‘love’.

“Life’s too short to play it cool,” he laughs softly, “I haven’t said anything to (Y/N) though, so if you could keep it a secret for now...”

“Of course!” she whispers excitedly, “see you soon!”

Charlie heads out of the door completely unaware that both Evelyn and Betty had been listening in, and the two of them giggle excitedly about it even though they didn’t quite know what it meant apart from the fact that mummies and daddies love each other very much. Evie sneaks past Sarah and clambers up the stairs to find you staring up at the ceiling after only seeing the small cupboard you were trapped in when you closed your eyes, and she gets your attention as she jumps up onto the bed, tugging at the duvet for support.

“What are you doing little lady?” you ask as you slip a protective arm around her.

“Charlie loves you!” she grins happily, “is he my new daddy?”

“Wait a minute… back it up!” you laugh, “how do you know he loves me?”

“He said so!”

“Right...”

“So is he my new daddy?” she asks with pleading eyes.

“Evie,” you sigh, brushing her hair back from her face and squeezing her tightly, “your daddy will always be David, but sometimes people are lucky enough to have another daddy figure in their life; like your real daddy but a bit different.”

“Am I lucky?”

“Of course you are! You’ve got Auntie Sarah and Uncle John, and your best friend Betty!”

“Yeah,” she she exhales contentedly, “but I’d like Charlie as my other daddy.”

“Well, we’ll see what happens… Anyway, I thought you were meant to be making me a cake?!”

She gasps before jumping off the bed and running straight into Sarah who is now standing in the doorway, and she picks her up with a smile before taking her downstairs to begin the baking.

Charlie and John sit opposite one another at the station, looking from the board of suspects to their computer screens anxiously; awaiting the results of fingerprints found on the gas cannisters and tubing to see if there was a match. John was quiet, too quiet, and Charlie knew this was a bad sign as he was usually full of witty remarks and thoughts on the case.

“Do you want a drink Sir?” Charlie asks, finally plucking up the courage to speak.

“No… no I’m fine…” he sighs.

Charlie rises from his seat and slips his jacket on to head down to the canteen, but just as he steps out into the hallway an email comes through and John quickly opens it up to see the results from the forensics team.

“Nelson!” he calls out, “we’ve got a match!”

@lv7867 @lovemarvelousfics @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust @the-baby-bookworm @pink-lemo @chlobo6 @queenslandlover-93 @misslolasworld @killer-queen-87 @drivenbybri @itsametaphorgwil @what-wicked-delights

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 6: A Family of Eggshells

Summary: There’s precious little time remaining, and the city is set to change forever.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

It had all happened so fast for them. One moment they were all enjoying their time on the ship, and then the Host had come in to whisk them away because one of the Suits was coming to attack them. Of course, he hadn’t said that to Dark, but as they were waiting in the hallway the person that came around the corner wasn’t a hitman in a dark suit. It was Chase Brody, without a mask,

“Look Average, get out of the way, one of the Suits is coming down here,” King called out.

“The Host’s brothers and sister are mistaken, that is Clubs,” the Host corrected.

“Nah, can’t be right, he doesn’t actually use real guns, an’ Clubs’s killed like, a lot ‘a people,”[1] Yancy argued.

Illinois moved to start placing magical barriers, because if the Host said that was a Suit, Illinois was going to believe him.

“Illinois,” Brody called out, “did the Host tell yeh[2] why I’m here? I bet he didn’t.”

“Illinois should not listen to Brody,” the Host ordered.

“Why, ‘cause[3] we’re on the same side?” Brody sounded pissed. “Cause yeh’ve been lyin’ to him fer weeks? ‘Cause yeh ne’er cared about Dark.”[4]

“Brody has spoken a bold-faced lie!” the Host shouted. “Brody wants to kill the Madman and the Host is trying to prevent it.”

“He can’t die,” Brody dismissed. “All I’m gonna do is shoot him once an’ let him just fook off. I don’t know why yeh put us through this shite when yeh could’a just left us alone.”[5]

Just then the dome was shaken by the first hit from Logan’s robot. The walls flicked in and out of existence for a second and in that brief moment, Brody slipped through the wall.

He raced through the dining area and pulled a gun on Wilford and pulled the trigger, the magical round strike exactly where the very angry sniper had meant to hit: the left temple. Wil’s magic counteracting most of the blow, a light bruise and some blood from gazed skin would be all he would suffer from this wound.

But the dome cracked one final time and Brody raced for Dark who was braced with magic to attack. The dome snapped back to a smaller size and trapped Dark and the Suit inside.

Illinois took a second to realize what had happened, and raced over. He spared a glance to Wil who was grumbling as he picked himself up and motioned for Illinois to go on. So Illinois raced to the barrier and threw as much magic and physical force at the dome but it held much stronger than when the dome was larger.

“No!” Illinois screamed, trying to force a way in. “Come on, open.”

“Here, let me,” Wil tried to pick himself up and try to break down the dome but it refused to give. “Fiesty little bugger, ain’tcha[6]?”

“There is little point when the Anomaly isn’t done yet,” the Host walked up. “Clubs isn’t going to kill or hurt the Entity. They’re in fact in the single most protected spot in the city, at the moment.”

“Yeah, but we need to get him out,” Illinois told the Host.

The Host frowned, “Of course the Host and his family do but they need enough aura and the Host will have to get Marvin and Nate to help with that. If he could find a couple of the Sides that would help.”

“That was Clubs, what does he actually want?” Illinois demanded. “Bullshit time is over.”

“Clubs . . . he . . . Brody,” the Host began, trying to find a way to calm Illinois without making the situation worse.

“Host, this isn’t the time to be cryptic,” Illinois demanded. “What does he want?”

“Clubs wants Dark to be safe and to have vengeance for the Entity’s sake in equal measure,” Host forced himself to say.

“Well then this seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding then,” Wil huffed out. “Maybe we could talk to him then.”

“Brody is not interested in talking anymore,” the Host said.

Wil shrugged, and pulled out a gun out of thin air, “Oh well, we tried.”

“What does he want with the Ol’[7] Man then?” Yancy asked, and he looked around and saw the beanstalk shooting up into the sky. “The fook[8] is that?”

“Not our concern right now,” Illinois dismissed. “What does he want with Dark?”

“The Host already told Illinois,” the Host tried to evade.

“You’re being vague,” Illinois grumbled. “What does Clubs want and why does he look like Bro Average?”

“Because it is him,” the Host answered quietly.

Illinois glared at the Host in suspicion before looking at the dome, “Why is he so interested in him then?”

“Because in fifteen minutes Illinois and his siblings will lose one father and the other will grow distant in grief, and the Host has been desperately trying to prevent it. After the Madman dies, Brody and the Entity will—”

Illinois stormed off, wanting to get away from the situation, mostly because his mind couldn’t wrap itself around what the Host had told him.

Eric followed him over, Bim close on his heels. The rest of their family followed much slower, at least trying to pretend to give Illinois some privacy of thought.

When Eric and Bim finally caught up to him, Illinois was sitting on a pile of rubble. Eric came to sit down next to him, looking nervous. “Want to talk?”

“I just,” Illinois faltered, taking a deep breath. “I never thought about the possibility of there being another man in his life. They’ve always been together.”

“Maybe the old man got sick of Dad, he’s such a fucking hardass,” Bim thought out loud.

The adventurer turned to glare at his adopted brother, getting back on his feet, “Maybe it had less to do with the fact that Dark somehow betrayed Wil, and more to do with the fact that your dad is a cheating bastard who fucks everything that moves.”

“My dad?” Bim huffed in a rage.

“Now boys, there’s no need to—” Wil tried to cut in, but he was promptly ignored as he was walking up.

“Yes, your dad,” Illinois spat back, starting to get angrier. “Because maybe that fucker’s wrong, or maybe the rest of you actually don’t care because I spent fifteen damn, fucking years reversing whatever shit you managed to do in your first five.”

“Ex-fucking-cuse you?” Bim spat, his eyes going wild with anger, aura curling around him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He never wanted any of us calling him dad, after five years of spending time with you. I kinda get it.” Illinois accused. “You had to have done something!”

“Guys, stop it,” Yan begged.

“Come on, we’s shouldn’t be fightin’,”[9] Yancy pushed his way in-between them.

“Get out of the way, Yanc,” Illinois shouted, pulling his lucky coin out of his pocket.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be placing the blame on me, I was never good enough!” Bim argued back. “He had to replace me with you!”

“I shouldn’t have had to replace you if you were a better fucking person!” Illinois shouted.

“Fuck,” King was just watching, trying to stay quiet before his brothers turned on him.

“Enough!” The Host shouted, his aura yanking Bim and Illinois apart.

“Boys, boys,” Wil moved in. “There’s no need for this, your father and I love all of you the same.”

“Not true, Illinois is the favorite,” Bim spat.

“I’m not the favorite, you are,” Illinois spat back.

“The Host said STOP!” The Host demanded, concentrating. “Now if Bim and Illinois are done airing their family’s dirty laundry where anyone can hear, there’s precious time and the hunters are closing in.”

“Fuck,” Illinois growled and most of the group headed back to the dome while King and Host went to go and find Marvin and Nate to help pop the barrier.

Dark woke up slowly, like being roused from a deep sleep. Groaning, Dark looked around to see he was in a bedroom, in a bed that wasn’t his and a home that wasn’t the Manor. Quickly Dark got out of bed and found he was still in his white suit. Which he found he appreciated a lot more the more he thought about it.

When he got to the door he opened it easily with his aura. There was no lock or barrier of any kind. And there was the sharp smell of bacon coming down from the hallway.

The only other doors he found were off to the side of the bedroom he’d been in that lead to a full walk in closest that contained all types of suits and clothes. In the hallway that was a bedroom with a bunk bed and a mass of clothes and toys strewn about inside. There was a hallway closet, an immaculately kept office that Dark found that he wouldn’t have designed the placement and decorations of any better if he had tried, and a hallway bathroom.

Following the scent of home cooked breakfast and bacon, Dark saw Brody standing in the kitchen. The hitman turned around and smiled at the Entity.

“Finally awake?” Brody smiled. “Good, I was a little worried.”

He separated out food and coffee onto two spots of the table, seated for four. As Dark watched from a cautious distance.

“I figured yeh didn’t trust me enough ta eat anythin’ I made, but I made some fer yeh anyways,”[10] Brody offered. “I got yer[11] coffee, just the way yeh[2] like it.”

“You’re right,” Dark scoffed, looking around. “I’m not going to take or eat anything you give me.”

Chase gave a wry, amused chuckle, sipping on his coffee. “I figured.”

Dark looked at the three shoes by the door, one pair of adult sized boots, and two pairs of black and white child-sized shoes. They were such small shoes, judging by the size the children who wore them couldn’t be any older than three or four. A nostalgic pang hit Dark as he remembered when Bim had been that small. It had been an incredibly difficult time in his life, but he didn’t regret a second of it.

“What do you want?” Dark demanded.

“I already have what I want,” Brody smiled as he sat back in his chair. “Yer in here safe, an’ in about fifteen minutes the barrier will dissipate on its own an’ yeh’ll be free ta go. In fact, I’m not e’en keepin’ yeh here. Host just turned on the Anomaly an’ we’re stuck here until it pops again. So I figured we should kick back an’ relax until it does.”[12]

Dark shielded himself in his aura and looked around the place. It seemed like a cozy home. There was a box full of toys in the living room, more evidence that the children who lived here were on the young and small side. “Who’s house is this?”

“Legally my name’s on all the papers,” Brody told him. “I live here with my family. It’s a nice place, not too big, not too small. The boys love it.”

“Yes, I saw the toys,” Dark tried stalling for time as he spread what aura he could spare from shielding himself to investigate the place. The front door wouldn’t budge, it was like it was a painting on a wall rather than functional . . . as were the windows and the back door. “And the shoes.”

“Oh yeah,” Brody hummed, he was staring at Dark.

Which was weird because there was no malice in the state and he’d taken great pains to make himself as comfortable in the kitchen chair as possible, so if he struck then Dark would have more than enough time to counter.

“Just tell me what you actually want,” Dark huffed out, unused to such singular attention. “Is it information?”

“I just want ta[13] spend time with yeh[2],” Brody frowned, “an’ I already told yeh, I don’t want any money or anythin’ like that.”[14]

Then his smile came back, “Besides, there’s nothin’ about yeh that I don’t already know. I know about Marc an’ about the fact that he an’ his whole family stole e’erythin’ from yeh. I know about what a shitebag yer ex was. I e’en know that there’s this lovely spot behind yer ear that yeh—”[15]

“Enough,” Dark spat, a dark grey-purple blush spreading across his face. “I do not appreciate being made fun of. Why keep me here if you didn’t want something? Everyone wants something.”

Brody waved his hand in dismissal, “That right there is our problem, but soon it won’t be a problem. The barrier will collapse an’ yeh’ll be free ta go about yer day. An’ I’ll be here, waitin’ fer yeh if yeh need anythin’ from me.”[16]

The house seemed to shake as an incessant pounding attacked the door. The protective dome around them shaking. With a couple shakes, the coffee mug intended for Dark rattled and fell off the table, shattering on the floor in a mess of lukewarm coffee and broken ceramic.

“Fook,”[8] Chase grumbled and ran to the door to throw his weight and aura at it to try and keep it closed. “Fook[8] off, Host.”

The house flickered twice and the tentative magic snapped. Brody saw four sources of magic pointed right at him: Nate, Marvin, the Host, and Illinois.

Their combined magic knocked Brody to the side.

“Darky!” Wilford rushed over as Dark saw in the distance the hunters start to converge on their location, finally getting through the destroyed parts of the city.

The Guildmaster and Dark took one look at each other in the chaos of the commotion around them. She took as much magic as she could collect, having saved up as much strength and aid from the myriad of magical items and trinkets she had collected over the weeks and months while the Suits — Spade in particular — had attacked her hunters and fired it at Clubs first but as he was removed Dark was still in the path of destruction. Which wasn’t a trade off she was lamenting.

And then Wilford cut right in front of Dark, trying to see if he was okay.

In an act of panic, born from the months he’d been on edge with the Suits, Dark threw a portal in front of him and Wilford unwittingly stepped through it. The portal took him several feet to the right and the Entity was hit by the full might of the single strongest attack he had ever felt in the hundreds of years of the demon’s existence.

The strike cut through the aura that he tried to gather up to shield himself, it hit Damien first whose soul was in the front. Celine screamed inside their shared mind . . . and the body flickered briefly to the much smaller and weaker being that had once inhabited it before the combined force of the Entity had pushed them out.

Toppling backwards, Dark blacked out and fell to the ground. The body’s form flicking dangerously between all of their appearances as Dark’s souls were starting to crack and break at the seams.

And Dark’s souls weren’t the only ones screaming.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Nah, can’t be right, he doesn’t actually use real guns, and Clubs has killed like, a lot of people,

2. you

3. because

4. Because you’ve been lying to him for weeks? Because you never cared about Dark.

5. All I’m going to do is shoot him once and let him just fuck off. I don’t know why you put us through this shit when you could have just left us alone.

6. aren’t you?

7. Old

8. fuck

9. Come on, we shouldn’t be fighting

10. I figured you didn’t trust me enough to eat anything I made, but I made some for you anyways

11. your

12. You’re in here safe, and in about fifteen minutes the barrier will dissipate on its own and you’ll be free to go. In fact, I’m not even keeping you here. Host just turned on the Anomaly and we’re stuck here until it pops again. So I figured we should kick back and relax until it does.

13. to

14. and I already told you, I don’t want any money or anything like that.

15. Besides, there’s nothing about you that I don’t already know. I know about Marc and about the fact that he and his whole family stole everything from you. I know about what a shitbag your ex was. I even know that there’s this lovely spot behind your ear that you—

16. That right there is our problem, but soon it won’t be a problem. The barrier will collapse and you will be free to go about your day. And I’ll be here, waiting for you if you need anything from me.