#i also dreamt of the house of the woman who was my mother's best friend when i was a kid

[thesmokinpossum]

it's genuinely insane to me how vivid my dreams have been lately and i can't remember if that's how they actually were before I started smoking or if it's a new phenomenon

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 34: Suburban Home

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, blood and gore, animal death, slightly steamy ❧ Word Count: 6.8k

❧ In This Chapter: You make yourself at home in Alexandria, and meet a new friend. Aaron attempts to get to know Daryl, but ends up in a bit of a pickle. Deanna unveils your new house to you, and dinner with Aaron proves to be quite amusing.

❧ A/N: I hope you guys don't mind these longer chapters... sometimes I just get going and I can't stop, especially with all the Reader/Daryl cuteness! We also get to see some bonding between Daryl and Aaron, which is super fun. I love seeing the parallels between Reader and Aaron, and how they're clearly so much alike. Oh, and don't get me started on the pasta eating scene... Jesus Christ, I never wanted spaghetti more in my life.

When the morning came, Daryl woke you to let you know that he, Rick, and Carol were going to go out to the woods for a bit, under the guise of taking Carol out for shooting practice.

They were having meetings, the three of them. Discussing what to do in case things went south, however that might happen.

Though you didn’t think it was totally necessary, you were glad for their preparedness.

You didn’t have much to do, so you took your time showering and getting dressed in the clothes the Alexandrians had left for you all.

“Let’s see…” you said to yourself as you scanned the closet, holding the bath towel that wrapped around your body.

It was a lot of suburban mom style clothes, and you supposed you shouldn’t care because you were lucky to have access to any clean clothes at all. Still, you sighed a bit in disappointment. You couldn’t even count how many times you dreamt about having a closet full of your style of clothes. When you woke up from those dreams, you felt like crying because it wasn’t real.

To you, fashion and clothing were a reflection of one’s self. When you had to wear whatever you could get your hands on, which was what you had been doing lately, you didn’t feel like you were completely embodying who you were. It was a silly concept, but that’s how you felt.

As you continued to rifle through your options, you froze when you saw a lone dress hanging at the other end of the closet. It was a soft baby pink with a knee-length a-line skirt and short puff sleeves. It was cinched at the waist with a matching pink band, and it had clover-shaped mother of pearl buttons running all the way down the front. There was a small pink bow hanging from the wide circular neckline.

You audibly gasped as you took it off the hanger and held it in front of you. It was a relatively plain dress compared to some of the others you used to wear, but it was the prettiest one you had seen in ages. Plus, it was one of your favorite colors. You always looked best in soft hues of pinks and purples, at least in your opinion.

What you liked about it most of all was how it seemed very you.

You were lucky enough to snag some short white heels that fit you pretty comfortably, though you would have to get used to the feeling again. After rifling through the jewelry box on the dresser, you picked out a pair of mother of pearl earrings, which you thought matched your buttons nicely.

You were to keep on your amethyst necklace, as well. You kept your promise to Daryl: you’d never taken it off.

You fixed your hair, combing through it and fluffing it up the way you liked. It was nice to have it down without worrying it would get pulled on by a walker.

When you felt sufficiently put-together to mingle with the Alexandrians, you began heading out the door to get to know the community a bit more. Opening the front door, you were greeted by a woman who seemed to be startled by your sudden appearance.

“Oh, hello,” she said, her voice bubbly and almost sing-songy. You looked down in her hands to see she was holding a stack of books. “Um, is (Y/N) around?”

“I’m (Y/N),” you said with a smile.

She beamed at you. “Oh, perfect! I’m Beverly, one of the teachers.” She nudged her head towards the house which held the classroom. “Deanna asked me to bring you some copies of our textbooks.”

You opened the door wider to allow her to step inside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” she said, walking in with a huff. “These books are heavy!”

She set them down on the kitchen counter with a thud. “Phew,” she said, wiping her brow.

You stood by the bar across from her and examined the books. There were four textbooks—one for science, math, literature, and history, each made for younger students.

“These are what we’ve been using. Each of our students has one of each, too. These are the teacher’s copies.”

You held up the math book and began to flip through its pages. Shit, I suck at math.

“Thank you,” you said. “When do I start?”

“Well, whenever you want. I have a schedule already drawn up for you. It’s only five hours three days a week, and your group is small, only seven kids.”

Thank god. I can handle seven.

“Your first day would actually be tomorrow if that works for you,” she continued.

You nodded. “That works just fine.”

After exchanging brief small talk with Beverly, a woman who was exhaustingly peppy, but seemed quite nice, you went for a walk around the town.

It was peaceful, yet lively and full of vibrant colors and sounds. You passed by a small lake where an old man was sitting and reading and a young couple were having a picnic. They waved to you as you walked by, and you thought for sure you were in Heaven or some kind of dreamworld.

In a daze, you didn’t see Maggie and Deanna walking up to you.

“(Y/N),” Maggie grabbed your arm and brought you back to reality.

“Maggie, hi,” you said. “Deanna.” You nodded your head to her.

“We have some good news,” Maggie announced.

Your eyes widened. “I’d love to hear it.”

“We’ve got yours and Daryl’s house ready,” Deanna said. “It’s fully stocked and ready to move in whenever you want.”

You looked at her in shock, still processing the phrase “yours and Daryl’s house.”

“It’s right next to ours,” Maggie said, smiling widely. “Come on.” She grabbed your hand and led you to a small two-story home with pale blue siding and white window shutters. It had a covered porch with a swinging bench and a pink rose bush in front. It was much smaller than Rick’s house, but it was all you needed.

“Here it is,” said Deanna. “All yours.”

You smiled in disbelief. “Seriously?”

She laughed. “Seriously.”

Maggie wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “It’s like you always wanted.”

You looked at her with tears streaming down your face. Wiping them away quickly, you tried to compose yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you sobbed.

You could not compose yourself.

“Let’s go inside,” Maggie said.

Deanna left the two of you to roam your new house. Opening the door, you were greeted by the base of the staircase. Alongside it was an archway which led to the kitchen and dining room, bright and airy. The living room was smaller than Deanna’s but cozier in your opinion. It had a fireplace and built-in bookshelves all around it, just waiting to be filled.

“Oh my god,” you said, then turned to look at Maggie again. “Are you sure this is real?”

She smiled at your disbelief. “Real as it can be.”

You circled the living room, admiring the sparse furniture. There was only an olive green couch and a matching set of chairs, as well as a rich mahogany coffee table, but you liked it that way. It gave you the chance to make it a real home, you and Daryl.

Getting excited now, you began to envision every little detail and what you would put where, once you found it, that is.

“It needs a rug,” you said, then turned to look at the bookcase again. “And lots of books. And art on the walls…”

Maggie laughed. “You’ve been thinkin’ about this haven’t you?”

You smiled. “Back when we were on the road, before the prison, I used to see things in the windows of the old shops. Little trinkets, stupid things you wouldn’t ever need. I thought about how nice it would be to have something that was useless, just for decoration. That’s what I’m gonna do with this place.”

You wandered around the room some more in silence. “You think Daryl will like it?” Maggie asked.

You sighed. “I hope so. These days I think he’d rather live out in the woods than in a house with me.”

Maggie stepped towards you and rested her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, that ain’t true. He loves you. He wants you to be happy, and this is what’s gonna make you happy. He’ll deal with it, and he’ll be happy about it.”

Maggie left a little while later to let you explore on your own. She had a position helping out Deanna with policy making, so her job was pretty important and required a lot of time spent with Alexandria’s leadership.

You headed upstairs with a spring in your step, excited to see your own bedroom.

There were three of them, more than you could even hope for. The biggest, of course, was the master, which you would share with Daryl (if he ever agreed to sleep in a bed, that is). It had a large queen-sized bed and an en-suite bathroom—with the most glorious claw foot tub you had ever seen.

I haven’t taken a bubble bath in centuries.

The other two bedrooms were quite small, but very promising. Neither of them had any furniture, so you expected you would just fill them up yourself, though you had no idea what to put in them.

You always wanted your own study, so maybe Daryl would let you do that with one of the rooms. The other, however, you weren’t sure. You supposed you’d let Daryl do with that room what he wanted. He could have the basement and the garage too. That seemed like his kind of thing.

Now, you just waited for Daryl to come back. You weren’t sure how he would react to the house, but you were prepared for the worst. Daryl was a simple man in some ways, but in many ways he was the most complicated person you had ever met. He was hard to read, and his moods were known to shift easily. You were the best at taming him, but even you had to admit when you couldn’t quite get a hold of him.

The fact that he was outside the walls now was a testament to that.

When Carol, Rick, and Daryl split off, Daryl decided to spend a little time alone in the woods to hunt. He slowed in his tracks when he felt a presence following him.

“Come out, now!” he said, his crossbow held high and ready to fire.

Emerging from the trees was Aaron, his hands held in the air in surrender. Daryl lowered his bow and instead shot him with a vitriolic glare.

“You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?” Aaron asked. He didn’t answer, just narrowed his eyes. “Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn’t seem to be an expert at that.”

“Ain’t much of a difference no more,” Daryl replied.

“That how you feel about your people?”

Daryl inched closer to him, angry with his line of questioning. “Why are you followin’ me?”

Aaron looked around in confusion. “Didn’t know I was. I came out to hunt rabbits… but, don’t tell (Y/N) that. She loves rabbits. You probably already know that, though,” he laughed awkwardly. When Daryl didn’t ease up, he cleared his throat and became serious again. “I know why you’re out here. Mind if I join?”

Daryl considered it for a moment. He couldn’t in good consciousness leave your brother out in the woods alone. Turning to leave, he said over his shoulder, “Keep up.” Aaron began following him. “And keep quiet.”

That was one difference between you and Aaron—you could keep quiet, he couldn’t.

“How long you been a hunter?”

Daryl ignored him as he scanned the leaf-covered ground for tracks. “Okay,” Aaron said under his breath. He’d be lying if he wasn’t trying to use this opportunity to get to know Daryl. The closest thing to a conversation Aaron had with Daryl so far hadn't gone how Aaron had hoped, as it ended in Daryl uttering the phrase, "Nobody gives a shit."

“What did you do before all this?” he prodded.

Daryl stopped in his tracks, remembering when you asked him that same question. He huffed. “Don’t matter.”

Aaron scoffed. “Just making conversation.”

“Told ya to be quiet.”

He shrugged. “Don’t like the quiet. It’s too… quiet. That’s why I usually don’t go out alone, that and it’s dangerous.

Daryl turned to look at him. “Why’d you come out alone this time?”

“Eric, my partner, his ankle’s still healing. I usually go out with him.”

Daryl nodded, then turned to begin walking again, the dried leaves crinkling under his heavy feet with each step.

“Deanna’s getting you and (Y/N) your own house, you know.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve seen it, it’s a good one. Made sure of it. I think you’ll really like it there. (Y/N) will.”

He kept walking, quickening his pace as if to lose Aaron. “I know it’s hard, getting used to Alexandria. You all have been out here so long, it’s hard to remember what it was like living in a community. But I want you to know, it’s worth it.”

Daryl stopped in his tracks when he saw a black horse in a grassy clearing just ahead.

Aaron caught up with him and stood next to him in awe of the creature as it grazed. The two men walked forward a bit. “I’ve been trying to catch him for months,” said Aaron quietly. “Bring him inside. His name’s Buttons.”

Daryl gave him a look, to which Aaron shrugged. “One of the kids saw him run by the gate a while back, thought he looked like a Buttons.” He huffed. “Haven’t seen him for a while. I was afraid it was too late.”

Aaron dropped his pack and began rummaging for a rope. “Every time Eric or I come close he gets spooked.”

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and took the rope from Aaron’s hands. He looked at him in surprise. “Have you done this before?”

“My group did,” Daryl said. “But they weren’t out there that long. The longer they’re out there, the more they become what they really are.”

Daryl looped up the rope and dangled it over his shoulder before beginning to approach the horse slowly. Aaron followed not too far behind.

“I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” Daryl spoke to the horse. “All right?” He took slow and steady steps and held out the looped and knotted end of the rope. “Come on, boy.” The ebony horse leaned its head down to eat again. “Yeah, just keep on eatin’,” Daryl said. “Yeah, you used to be somebody’s, huh? Now you’re just yours.” When he got close enough to catch the horse, it raised its head and neighed at the walkers approaching. “Shit!” yelled Daryl.

The horse neighed furiously and bucked up into the air before sprinting away.

“Come on, they’re comin’!” Daryl yelled to Aaron.

Aaron raised his silenced rifle and began shooting a few of the walkers in the head. Daryl used the end of his crossbow to bludgeon the walkers in front of him. To conserve ammo, Aaron unsheathed his machete and slashed another one across the face. Daryl used his knife to put down the last couple.

“Come on,” he said to Aaron.

When the chaos died down, the two men walked in silence for a while, until it became too much for Aaron again. “You ride horses?”

Daryl sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to silence him. “I ride bikes.”

Aaron laughed. “I take it you don’t mean ten-speeds.”

Daryl didn’t laugh, or say anything at all.

“It’s not your fault, you know. That you feel like an outsider,” he continued. “Eric and I, we’re still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We’ve heard our fair share of well-meaning but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women.” He shrugged. “People are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain.”

“They’re scared of you and me for different reasons,” Aaron began again. “They’re less scared of me because they know me. It’s less and less everyday. So, let ‘em get to know you. You should go to Deanna’s party tonight, you and (Y/N).”

Daryl sighed, remembering what you had told him about trying to get the Alexandrians to like him. “I got nothin’ to prove. We met a lot of bad people out here, doin’ a lot of bad shit. An’ they weren’t afraid of nothin’.”

“Yeah, they were.”

The snarls of walkers got closer and closer as Daryl and Aaron continued on. They stumbled upon another clearing where the horse was running around trying to dodge the walkers.

“Gotta move quick,” said Daryl. “He’s pinned in with ‘em.”

Daryl began running forward. “I got the far ones,” he said.

He shot a few with his bow, and Aaron began running, too, holding his rifle up high to fire. Before he could, he was brought down to the ground by a walker.

It held on tightly to his calf. Aaron sat up and reached for his machete, chopping the thing’s hand clean off his leg. The next thing he saw was Daryl’s boot caving in the walker’s head.

Aaron got up to his feet quickly. “Thanks,” he said.

When Aaron caught a glimpse of a walker stumbling towards Daryl, his back facing it as he leaned over to pick up his crossbow, Aaron cocked his gun and shot it directly in the head.

“Thanks,” Daryl huffed.

The two men started towards the horse, but the other walkers got to it first. They took it down to the ground, and they feasted on it like a pack of rabid dogs, flinging the poor creature’s organs around as they dangled from their mouths.

The horse was still alive, whinnying out in fear and pain.

“I got the one on the right,” Daryl said, approaching the bloodbath with Aaron following closely behind.

The two of them wiped them all out, but the horse was still alive.

“Go ahead,” said Daryl, gesturing to Aaron to put the horse down.

He did so, trying to hold back tears all the while. “He always ran,” he said afterwards.

Daryl was silent for a moment, looking down at the mutilated corpse of the once majestic creature. “You were trying to help him.”

When the two men made it back to Alexandria that evening, Aaron walked Daryl to your new house. He stood outside it for a while, scanning it up and down and trying to find something off about it. He couldn’t—it was perfect. Through the kitchen window, he saw you opening cupboards and organizing everything you could get your hands on. He immediately noticed your pink dress, and it brought a smile to his face.

He hated to admit it, since he teased you so much about it in the beginning, but he loved when you wore dresses. He hadn’t seen you in one since the prison, but he always thought of you when he saw one on a mannequin or a walker.

Wiping his feet on the welcome mat, he opened the door cautiously so as not to frighten you. He ended up opening it way too quietly, so when he rested his hands on your hips like he usually did, you jumped and yelped in shock.

“Daryl!” you sighed, holding your hand over your heart. “You scared the shit out of me,” you laughed.

“Sorry,” he said.

You waved your hand at him. “Don’t worry about it.” You took his crossbow from his shoulder and set it down under the accent table with your axe by the door. “You can put this here,” you said. “That way it won’t take up any room.”

He looked around at the spotless home. It was the cleanest place he’d seen in a while. No walker blood, no rats, no nothing.

“You like it?” you asked as you approached him again. “Maggie and Glenn have the one next door. It’s pretty much the same inside, but I think ours is a little nicer.”

He walked into the living room, and you followed him, eagerly waiting for his verdict. “It’s nice,” he said, turning to face you.

You smiled and lunged towards him, engulfing him in your arms and kissing him sweetly. He held you in surprise, and tightened his arms around you when you kissed him. You whimpered a little at his touch. It had been so long since you could really kiss him. You missed his lips so much.

Pulling back, you cupped his face in your hands. “I love you so much,” you said, unable to contain your smile. “This is our home, Daryl. Can you believe it?”

He looked around again. “Nah, still don’t seem real.”

“Well, it is. It’s ours and it’s perfect.” You squished his face and brought him for another kiss.

He rested his hands on your hips and pulled you closer into his body. The kiss started off innocently enough, but he devoured your lips with such passion and want that you opened your mouth for him and let his tongue explore to his heart’s content. He twisted his tongue around yours, then pulled back a little to lick your lips.

You moaned deeply into his mouth, trying desperately not to lose all composure as he slipped his hands under the skirt of your dress and began massaging your ass with his strong hands.

He pulled away completely for a moment. “Where’s the bed?”

You laughed into his mouth as he kissed you again. “Upstairs.”

He grunted before hoisting you up into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Daryl!” you squealed.

He bolted up the stairs with you in tow. “Which one?” he asked on the landing.

You pointed to the master bedroom, and Daryl kicked the door wide open before lunging towards the bed and plunging you both down onto its downy mattress. With you below him, he resumed kissing you, his tongue attempting to suck up every last bit of your taste as he pawed at your breasts.

He grunted at the feeling of the fabric under his hands, preferring much more to feel the warmth of your bare breasts and the hardness of your aroused nipples. “Take this off,” he said.

You opened your eyes. “I can’t,” you said. “Deanna’s party is starting soon.”

Daryl propped himself up with his arms and looked down at you. “You ain’t goin’ to that thing, are ya?”

You sat up. “Yes, and you are too.”

Daryl scoffed. “Ain’t no way.”

You sighed, then began rubbing his chest up and down with your hands, all the while breaking out your big doe eyes. “Please, honey,” you said sweetly. “We don’t have to stay long, just long enough so people see us.”

“They don’t like me. You see how they look at me?”

You tilted your head. “It’s just because they don’t know you, and you’re… standoffish. If you show interest in the community, they’ll start coming around to you I bet. You need to make an effort, though.”

Daryl grunted and stood up from the bed. “Ain’t goin’. You can go but I got things to do.”

“Like what?” you asked pointedly.

Daryl shrugged, then looked around the sparse bedroom. “Ya know… organize shit.”

You laughed and propped yourself up and off the bed to approach him. “There’s nothing to organize, Daryl. Come with me, please. I don’t want to go alone.”

“Won’t the others be there?”

“Yes,” you said, “but they’re not you.” You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck and touched your forehead to his. “I’ll make it worth your while.” You smirked as you bit your lip and an idea formed in your head. “When we get home…” You lowered your hand to palm at his bulge. “I’ll show you how grateful I am.”

Daryl gulped. He hadn’t felt your touch there for so long, he just wanted to throw you on the bed and take you now. He knew you wanted to go to this party, though, and you looked so pretty in your dress. “We won’t stay long?” he asked.

You nodded, rubbing your hand up and down the front of his jeans to feel his hardening cock. “Mhm.” Leaning in to kiss him, you bit his lip as you pulled away. “Then we’ll stay in bed the rest of the night.”

Daryl smirked. “Sounds good ta me.”

At least the bed part of the plan did. The party part, not so much. Still, he’d do anything to make you happy.

You gave him one last quick kiss on the lips. “Good,” you said. You stepped back to scan his dirty, sweaty body, your hands on your hips and shaking your head. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you take a shower, though.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Told ya, I’m clean.”

You ignored him and headed to the closet to begin picking out some clothes for him. “You’re not clean until I say you’re clean,” you said. “Only way you’re gonna get that dirt off is by taking a shower, Daryl.”

Daryl squinted his eyes at you suspiciously as you pulled out a white button-up shirt and black trousers. “I ain’t wearin’ that.”

You sighed. “Come on, Daryl. Those clothes need washed.” You nudged your head at his usual attire—a black button-up shirt with the sleeves cut off, his angel-winged vest, a pair of ripped black jeans, and his brown steel-toed boots that were still soaked in blood from curb stomping that walker earlier. He had all these clothes for so long, only occasionally changing it up when they inevitably became too raggedy to wear.

“Actually,” you corrected yourself after taking a closer look at his clothes, “we might have to burn them.”

“Like hell we do,” he said.

You sighed. “How about this—you take a shower for me, but you can pick out your clothes. Deal?”

Daryl crossed his arms. “Fine.”

He eyed the shower skeptically as you turned it on for him. You held your hand under the stream and adjusted the knobs until it was warm. “They have generators,” you said. “You have to use the hot water sparingly, though. It runs out.”

You turned around and laughed when you saw he was still in his boxers. “Daryl, take your underwear off.”

Daryl looked down at his black boxers. “You’re gonna throw them away, ain’t ya?”

You smirked. “Maybe…” He frowned at you. “There’s lots of new pairs in the drawers, honey.”

He reluctantly began taking off his underwear. “Just don’t throw away my vest… or the boots.”

You rolled your eyes. “I won’t throw anything away. Except those filthy boxers.” You held your hands out for him to hand the soiled underwear to you. It was filled with holes and somehow also stained with walker blood. That stuff was worse than sand. “Now get in there, and wash your hair.”

You kissed his cheek before leaving him alone to shower.

It was a longer shower than you expected, and you heard him fumbling about and cursing when he dropped the shampoo bottle a few times. You heard a series of loud thuds. “You okay in there, butterfingers?” you yelled out to him.

“Yeah,” Daryl yelled back.

You shook your head and laughed as you put the clothes you had picked out for him back. You hung them up again with care, imagining how handsome Daryl would look in fresh, clean clothes that weren’t ripped or stained. Though you adored Daryl’s rugged look, sometimes it was nice to think of him getting cleaned up. All in all, you wanted Daryl to be comfortable and to be himself, so you didn’t bother trying to change him. He was perfect to you just the way he was.

When he came out of the shower, he smelled like roses. You went up to him and sniffed his wet hair with a smile. “Don’t start,” he said.

You laughed. “You smell lovely.”

The two of you got to the party a little while after it started. Daryl took longer than you thought planning his outfit. He did, in fact, wear some of the new clothes in your closet—a long-sleeve black button-up shirt and a new pair of black jeans, but he kept his vest and his boots (which he cleaned), and you were thankful for that. You always liked his vest, and those boots were the only article of clothing he had left from the day you first met. He always wore them.

You kept your pink dress on, and you didn’t have to do much except spray on some perfume and fix your hair again after Daryl rustled it up. The only thing you were missing was makeup, but you had gone so long without it that you didn’t feel it was too necessary. Still, you found yourself missing your old makeup bag for the first time in years.

“(Y/N), Daryl!” Deanna’s excited voice called out to the two of you as you awkwardly stepped in through the front door. The place was crawling with suburbanites and well-dressed people. Though it was easier for you than Daryl to acclimate to Alexandria, you still found yourself overwhelmed by how much it seemed like a world untouched by the apocalypse.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” she said, looking you up and down in your dress. “You look great.” She turned to Daryl who was nervously looking around the living room. “Both of you.”

You tugged at Daryl’s arm, trying to get him to pay attention to Deanna. “Thank you,” you said. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world, right, honey?”

Daryl looked at you in bewilderment. You mouthed something to him along the lines of “say something.”

“Um, yeah,” he said.

The three of you were silent for a few awkward moments, with the murmurs of the others nearby you engaging in idle conversation and the soft piano elevator music lulling in the background. “Well,” she said, “welcome. Make yourselves at home.”

It was difficult to do that.

Though you and Daryl met up with Glenn and Maggie, several of the Alexandrians were giving Daryl strange looks, and you, too, by association.

When Glenn and Maggie left a half an hour later, you and Daryl were trying to leave too, but Beverly had found you.

“(Y/N)!” she called to you from across the room.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

Daryl reached for his back pocket to make sure he had brought his cigarettes. “I’m gonna wait outside.”

Please don’t leave me with her.

“Okay,” you said before kissing his cheek. “I‘ll be right out.”

Daryl left through the front door, but not without a few more people giving him the eye.

You burned up inside, angry at these so-called “civilians” for looking down at Daryl. You had initially thought Daryl was exaggerating about the looks they were giving him since your group arrived, but now that you saw what he was talking about, you were incensed. It took a whole lot to reach your boiling point, but when it came to Daryl, you were a firecracker.

“Hey! How’s it goin’?” Beverly asked.

You turned to her and smiled. “Oh, good. Just about to head out, actually. Gotta get up early for tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” she said. “Your first day of teaching. I think those kids are gonna like you, you know. You seem like a natural.”

You shrugged. “Well, I don’t know about that.”

“Trust me, I was an elementary teacher back in the day. You’ve got the stuff, I can already tell.”

You fiddled with your thumbs awkwardly, your small talk hitting its limit for the day.

“Was that your boyfriend?” she asked.

She caught you off guard. “Oh, um… yeah, that was Daryl… in fact, he’s out there waiting for me. He’s really tired, you know.” That was a lie. Daryl was hardly ever tired. He only ever needed a few hours of sleep at a time. “We’re going to turn in for the night.”

Beverly nodded. “I see. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Pick you up around nine and walk you over to the classroom, introduce you to the little rascals.”

You smiled. “Sure, that sounds great. Thanks, Beverly.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Call me Bev.”

“Okay, Bev,” you said. “See you tomorrow.”

You practically sprinted out the door.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Beverly, or the others, it was more so that their presence tired you out. It had been so long since you had to engage in social niceties that you had to work on getting the skill back. To make matters worse, you hated some of the looks you and Daryl were getting. It wasn’t all of the Alexandrians, just some of them.

“We made it,” you huffed as you closed the door and met with Daryl on the front porch. He was leaning against the pole and putting out the butt of his cigarette.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Sure am.”

The two of you began walking down the sidewalk in silence towards your new house, the moon high in the sky and shining down on you. Daryl surprised you by grabbing your hand and swinging it between the two of you. You giggled when he leaned over to kiss your cheek, and his scruff tickled you.

“You’re affectionate today,” you said.

Daryl grunted. “Just missed ya.”

You smiled at him sweetly. “I missed you too, cutie pie.”

As you studied his face, you began to think about the stares he was getting, and you wondered if it affected him. “I’m sorry,” you blurted out.

Daryl only gave you a confused look. “What for?”

You swallowed hard. “For making you go to that… I, um… saw the looks we were getting.”

Daryl shook his head. “They’ve been lookin’ at me like that since we got here, told ya. They don’t trust me. Ain’t much we can do ‘bout it.”

You nodded sadly. “I thought they would be less… judgmental, you know? I mean, there’s no reason for them to look at you like that.”

“It’s ‘cause I ain’t all friendly, like you said.”

You sighed. “I suppose. Still, no reason to treat you like an outsider.”

“Don’t matter how they treat me. You’re the only thing that matters. Long as they treat you good, we’re good.”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice you had stopped in front of Aaron’s house. His porch light flicked on, and you were awakened from your rapture by his voice calling out to you.

“(Y/N), Daryl,” he said as he closed his front door with a squeaking of the hinges. “Hey.”

Daryl turned around and let go of your hand. He never liked public displays of affection, and he wasn’t about ready to make out with you in front of your older brother. “Thought you were goin’ to that party over there?” he asked, pointing to Deanna’s house.

“Yeah, we missed you,” you said to him. “Wasn’t a party without you.”

Aaron smirked. “I was never going to go ‘cause of Eric’s ankle, thank God,” he laughed.

Daryl looked at him confused. “Why the hell’d you tell me to go, then?”

Aaron shrugged. “Wanted to see if you’d actually go, and you did. I’m assuming (Y/N) convinced you, though.”

You snorted. “I didn’t know you two were hanging out without me,” you teased.

Aaron gave you a big smile, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder to his front door. “Why don’t you guys come in? Have some dinner?”

Daryl looked at you silently. Honestly, he just wanted to go home, but he was hungry too. You raised your eyebrows at him to ask if he was okay with it.

He looked back to Aaron, then nodded to you with a grunt.

“Depends,” you said. “What are you making?”

Aaron nudged his head towards the door. “Come on,” he said simply. “It’s some pretty serious spaghetti.”

You followed him in with Daryl closely behind you. Taking his hand in yours, you pulled him closer. He was very stiff. “Relax,” you whispered to him as the two of you walked up the steps. “Aaron likes you a lot.”

Aaron did, in fact, like Daryl.

Though Aaron was older than you by six years, Daryl was even older than him by a few more years. He couldn't help but look at him as a wise man who had been through so much in his time—it was written on Daryl’s face.

In any case, Daryl was the best boyfriend you ever had. Aaron was around for all of them, and he never approved of any of them. Daryl, however, was so different from any man you’d ever been with, and Aaron liked that about him.

He was always immensely impressed with how much he obviously cared about you. He couldn’t say the same for your past boyfriends, who largely took advantage of you and your love for them.

Sitting down to dinner, you sat yourself next to Aaron, with Daryl on the other side facing him and Eric facing you.

You looked at Aaron’s pot of spaghetti in awe.

“You made this yourself?” you asked.

“Yep,” he said, carefully setting the pasta down on the table. “My own recipe.” He paused for a moment before sitting down. “Oh, it’s not vegetarian, (Y/N).”

You laughed at the panicked look on his face. “Oh, I haven’t been vegetarian for a while now. I’ve eaten more squirrels than you can count.”

He shook his head in disbelief, and also relief. “That’s good to know,” he said as he served himself, then grabbed your plate to serve you. “I hope you never make that tofu stir fry again.”

You shoved him playfully. “You loved it, don’t pretend otherwise.”

Eric laughed at the two of you. “So, (Y/N),” he began, “how are you liking Alexandria so far?”

You finished chewing your first bite of spaghetti. “It’s nice,” you said, then looked at Daryl. “Daryl and I just moved into our house today.”

He looked at you with pursed lips as he chewed his food, his mouth covered with red marinara sauce.

“Exciting,” Eric said, looking over at Daryl. “It’s one of the three bedrooms, right?”

You nodded. “Yes. Way too big for us, actually, but I’m thinking of maybe turning one into a study. Daryl can have the other one to do what he wants with it, I think.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, just kept clanking his fork against the plate as he ate like a wild animal, sucking up the spaghetti with a slurping sound.

Aaron and Eric smiled at each other, and you tried to hold back your laugh.

Aaron cleared his throat. “That sounds like a good plan, (Y/N). I think you’re gonna like that house a lot. The others who have that model are really happy with it.”

You smiled. “I just can’t believe I have my own house, you know? I never thought it would happen.”

You were all silent for a while then, except for Daryl, whose slurps and groans in appreciation continued threatening laughs from the three of you.

“Mmm,” he grunted as he took his last slurp of spaghetti, his plate completely empty. “Thanks.”

His face was even more drenched in marinara sauce, his beard hairs stained red. “Daryl, honey,” you said to him quietly. He looked up at you as you gestured to your own face. “You’ve got a little something.”

Aaron let out a snort, not unlike your own.

You handed him your napkin and he balled it up to wipe it across his face.

Eric turned to Daryl as he seemed to recall something he wanted to say to him. “When you’re out there,” he began, “if you happen to be in a store, or something, Mrs. Neudermeyer’s really looking for a pasta maker.”

Daryl nodded awkwardly as he took a sip of his wine and looked between you and Aaron across the table.

You were confused, but Aaron had a knowing look.

“I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here,” Eric continued, “but she wants to make her own or something. I really just think she wants something to talk about, so…” He trailed off, then spoke again. “If you see one, out on your travels, it would go a long way to…”

Aaron gave Eric a look that you knew meant “shut up” from your own experience with your brother.

“I thought it was done,” Eric said, awkwardly twirling his spaghetti. “You didn’t ask him already?”

Aaron shook his head.

“Ask me what?”

~

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[donutloverxo]

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would’ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

[wisteria-blooms]

** = smut

G E O R G E ❀ W E A S L E Y

one-shots

ferris wheel You, George, and the rest of the Weasley family spend the day at the summer fair. You realize there’s more to be won than just a carnival game; George’s heart is also up for grabs.

today There are only two times George Weasley has left you without him. Little do you know, he has more than a safe return in mind this time.

**on the table (NSFW) The best time for a romp in the sheets? Flitwick's class.

coming home A couple weeks into your relationship, George Weasley calls you after a night out, and it's not what you expect at all.

F R E D ❁ W E A S L E Y

one-shots

fancy you Fred was certain you would be the one he’d go to the Yule Ball with, the Durmstrang boy flirting with you be damned.

tomorrow August 31st, 1996. A day spent savouring the last summer of normalcy with Fred Weasley.

**wildflower (NSFW) Your first time with Fred Weasley is full of surprises - on his end.

cots for christmas After moving out of the upstairs unit of 93 Diagon Alley, you and Fred are ready to embark on life as real married couple.

yesterday (angst) Time is not limitless as Fred Weasley would soon come to realize: what he puts off to tomorrow, he should’ve done yesterday.

miss black (1, 2): As you try to weather through your newfound lineage, Harry's trial, the Order, and growing pains in general, Fred shows you that love can be found even in the coldest of places - within the walls of Grimmauld Place.

series

time after time (7/7) Every summer like clockwork, Fred Weasley is paid a visit by a woman from the future. Every encounter is a chance to learn a little more about himself as he heads into adulthood. She divulges all he wants to know, but leaves one question unanswered: why is she here?

chapter directory: [one] [two] [three] [four] [five] [six] [epilogue]

headcanons

pre-relationship

B I L L ❁ W E A S L E Y

series

long hair & tattoos (fake dating trope) *malfoy!reader* When your father, Lucius, puts down an ultimatum, you’re forced to find a lover for next week’s dinner. With his long hair, tattoos, piercings, and your father’s worst nightmare reincarnated in a man, who better to bring than a much older Bill Weasley?

**strawberry wonderland Unbeknownst to you, you have more of an effect on Bill than you could ever imagine. And he can't stop thinking about all the things he wants to do to you in Nice.

**paradise potions! As per Percy’s recommendation to his mother, you’re tasked to house-sit the Burrow while the family is away for the Quidditch World Cup. You’re his closest friend and much like him, you are more than wary of his mischievous twin brothers, Fred and George. But what if their machinations lead you to something you’ve always dreamt of coming true? 

fly away on my zephyr You and Bill make post-graduation plans.

CHARLIE ❁ W E A S L E Y

series

**sunburns and dragons (fake dating trope) *malfoy!reader* Getting your parents off your back proves no easy task, and in typical (Y/N) Malfoy fashion, you get yourself in a predicament with your smart mouth. Now, you have to find a boyfriend in two weeks. With slim pickings, and a first-choice in Bill Weasley out of commission, his younger brother, Charlie Weasley falls into your lap.

LUCIUS MALFOY

like father, like son

[sunflowers-and-mooncakes]

To Dream of an Angel

Part 2 of Dreams of Birds and Angels a series of two one shots written for @pawsitivelymiraculous for the Maribat Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange hosted by @eat0crow!

Ao3

Part 1 can be found here

***

Damian Al Ghul knew only the bare minimum about soulmates. He had been taught by his instructors in the League that they were a phenomenon that no one quite understood. To the members, they were a hindrance and should be terminated promptly. In respect to their targets, they were used as leverage to get information.

After the young boy turned 8 years of age, he dreamt of her. A small girl with wide blue eyes who would draw dresses in bright colors. The next night, his mother would explain in hushed tones what soulmates really meant. A soulmate is someone who is meant to compliment you perfectly, and once you met them you would never want to let them go. She would whisper to him about the man who helped create him, and how desperately she wished he had been the angel meant just for her.

Angel, he thought with a humorless laugh, what a fine name for the soulmate of the Heir to the Demon.

Every night when Damian would close his eyes, he would be greeted with the sight of his blue-eyed Angel. He would watch as she played with her friends. He would laugh in amusement as she spilled flour all over herself while working in a bakery. He would frown when she was pushed around by a blonde-haired bully.

The girl puzzled the young heir greatly. She was a bizarre sort; always smiling even when being knocked around. No matter how much abuse she took from that blonde trollop, his soulmate was always kind to others and give everything she could to help them, all the while asking nothing in return. It frustrated him to see someone so wholly selfless. Didn’t she know that she would be better off trying to profit from her interactions with others?

At the age of 10, Damian’s life rapidly changed. No longer was he revered as the Heir to the League of Assassins. Now, he was in his father’s home, fighting against his father’s wards for attention, and being told to relearn everything he had ever known to be true. It was frustrating, being so out of his element, but the longer he was Damian Wayne instead of Damian Al Ghul. He realized how skewed his world had once been.

While his mother had tried to soulmates explain differently from the Leagues teachings, he had always seen her words as foolish. It seemed futile to him, her longing for something she couldn’t have. However, living in Wayne Manor also allowed the now ex-assassin to see a different side of soulmates. Grayson would often talk about his dreams of his mate Starfire with a dopey grin on his face. Similarly, Drake would mention in passing how his dreams started at an older age due to the elder Superboy having not been created yet.

It was strange, living in a house of people who weren’t constantly ready to fight him. His new siblings were perplexing. Grayson was always trying to rope him into some strange “bonding” activity. With Todd’s return came his aggressive attitude, yet occasional helpfulness. Drake was usually passed out somewhere or so full of caffeine he couldn’t even hold a proper conversation. Cain was the most tolerable, having shared similar experiences and understanding the importance of silence.

The biggest influence on his new lifestyle, however, was Alfred Pennyworth.  His dedication and care for the family was to be admired. The Englishmen had a way with words and always knew just what to say to help Damian through his many sour moods. Most importantly, the butler’s selfless love for his charges helped the young Wayne to understand his soulmate’s behaviors.

As his world changed, so did his dreams of her. He would see her take her drawing from paper and bring them to life with fabric. He would look on as she made new friends. As well as enemies. If Damian had been able to, he would have fought that sly fox himself, but the smug smile on his face when Angel put her in her place.

What was most jarring to see, was her fighting villains in a red and black spotted suit. Magic had never been something he took kindly to; it having more than once put his and his family’s lives in danger. After watching countless battles in his visions, and later finding recordings of them online after much research. He could only conclude that the nature of her powers and villains were indeed magic.

It didn’t take Damian long to figure out that his soulmate was the Parisian heroine Ladybug. However, this still did not allow him to meet her. At the very beginning of her tenure, Ladybug and the government of Paris had barred all Justice League access to the city, keeping him from getting there using the cover of Robin.

His next plan was to go to Paris as a civilian. However, he could find no way under his family’s constant hovering to get there. He couldn’t use the private jet without getting caught, and him buying a plane ticket would be immediately suspicious. The last thing he wanted was for his family to find out about his blue-eyed soulmate and get involved. While he had come to care for them more than he ever imagined, in some manners they were simple too overbearing for him to deal with.

So, Damian, rather begrudgingly, chose to let fate take its course. After much thought, he realized that his Angel may not even want to meet him. She had spent the early years of their bond watching him act as a bloodthirsty killer. She was most likely appalled. Who would want a soulmate like him anyway?

Now 18, the black-haired boy spent most of his days the same. He would take Titus for walks in the park, help his father and Drake at Wayne Enterprises, and fight back the crime of Gotham in the dead of night.

Damian was on one such walk when Titus suddenly pulled his leash out of the boy’s grasp. The dog went racing down the path and out of sight with a loud bark.

“Titus!” he called, jogging forward to see the Great Dane stopped in front of a woman who had bent down to pet him.

“I apologize, miss,” he said, coming forward and lowering himself to be at the same level as Titus and her. He put his hand on the dog’s head to pet him as well, bumping the woman’s hand slightly.

“He usually doesn’t go running off towards strangers…” he looked from the dog to the woman and trailed off. His eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat. He tried hard to control his reaction. Now that he was up close, he recognized that face. It was the face of his Angel.

The woman, noticing his change in demeanor, looked up at him. When their eyes met, her expression quickly turned to surprise as well. Looking at her now. the blurry image of her that he had known before began to fill in.

He had always been attracted to his mate. Once he had assumed it was simply because the strange magic of soulmates dictated it so. But now, seeing her face to face, she was more beautiful than he had ever imagined. She had a small button-shaped nose. Her blue-black hair that had once been pulled into cute little pigtails was now in one long braid over her shoulder. What drew his attention most was her big round bluebell eyes that were so kind, yet held mysteries that even he, who had seen much of her life from afar, didn’t have the answers to.

Damian looked down at his dog who seemed quite smug, almost like he knew who he had brought his owner to. It was then that he noticed the marks. On the back of their hands flew a ladybug being followed by a red-breasted robin.

“Miss?” he called, looking back up at her.

“Yes?” she replied. He would never admit it, but his heart melted a bit at the sound of her voice like tinkling bells.

As they made eye contact once again, he made a small gesture towards where their hands sat atop Titus’ head. He swore her eyes couldn’t get any wider as she looked from the marks back up to him. “It appears we are soulmates,” he said plainly as he stood up from the ground, doing his best to appear less shaken than he was. She stood as well. “It appears so,” She gave him a nervous smile and held her hand out to him. “I’m Marinette,”

The boy hesitated for a moment, having a hard time believing the situation he found himself in was real and not a fantasy.

After a moment he took her hand and shook it. “My name is Damian,”

“Well, Damian,” she smiled brightly at him. “would you like to go on a walk and get to know each other?”

He gave her a soft look back. “I certainly would.”

[cordeliaflyte]

I dreamt that there was this guy who was also me but also wasn't it was complicated. Anyway much like me he was at one point forced to work in a field. Except unlike me he had a magical pet snail/crab hybrid who did all the farming for him when no-one was looking. Everyone wanted to steal the magical pet snail/crab hybrid from him but he guarded it very carefully.

He was also friends with my best friend and her sisters. Once he noticed that they were being affected by biblical level boils and thunderstorms around their confusingly built house and he simply called off the biblical plagues. Because he wasn't omnipotent but he was ummm polypotent??? He could do a lot of things okay.

One of these included composing music he was very good at that. Even though he was experimental and modern he was still good. This was later ok. At the beginning of the dream when he was toiling in a field with his pet snail/crab hybrid (the magical one) he was in his late teens/early twenties. By the time he was composer and conductor he was in his mid 30s and also in the Polish People's Republic.

He was in relatively good standing with the ruling party and thus got to smuggle luxury items from abroad. For some reason though he was in a communal and rather ugly block of flats. His neighbour was this single mother of a young son and they both loved him. As in he begrudgingly befriended the mother (who was much poorer than him) and she fell in love with him. Also he didn't like children but was still very good with them and her son started seeing him as a father figure.

Except that even though he provided them with luxury items like a washing machine and toys for the boy and the woman was very much in love with him and wanted to marry him and for him to become a father to her boy. He did not actually like either of them at all they annoyed him.

[pepperpills]

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Notes: It is a headcanon of Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader. I will be uploading chapters' parts everyday and a new chapter will be out every tuesday. English is not my mother tongue, so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. Please, feel free to enjoy hehe

NSFW content.

Part I – Destiny (1)

It had been a week since the encounter with the creature in the woods surrounding Karl Heisenberg’s lot. It wasn’t the weirdest event you have seen though, of course; you grew up in one of the cabins close to the Village, you, and your people, were way familiar to the rusty metal sounds, the night fogs and the guttural growls living in the forest around the houses. Because of that, one day, when they grew nearer, your people knew the time had come and you too would be absorbed by the Village, being lead – not to say forced – to worship Mother Miranda and her children.

At first, it was odd, the mood was mournful as if your own family had lost the brightness of joy in their irises. Everything there felt uncanny as there was a sweet and mistrusting mist in the air.

You have always known about Miranda and the four lords, but had never laid your own eyes on them. Until your 20s, they have been nothing but whispers in the distance, folk stories to scare the youngsters, so they wouldn’t go too deep in between the trees and their twisted thin branches.

As the months and then the years passed by, your people started making that place feel like home. Luiza, Urias and their own have been very kind and supportive to all of you, they’ve shown you their believes, their rituals and their daily life; in return, the cabin folk shared their knowledge on herbs, flowers and wild animals, which meant hunting instead of raising them. It worked out fine, anyway, you knew you couldn’t stay in the cabins forever, there would be a time when the Village would grow and it did.

To this extent, you felt comfortable, you actually started sharing a feeling of belongness, especially when it came to rituals and festivals. It was astonishing how the Village would gather, sing, dance, bake and eat on special dates – mostly agricultural calendar ones – and helping organizing it, putting up the decorations, the horns distributed in clothes-line, the red fabrics waving as flags on the ceilings, all of these things were very reassuring.

Years passed by and transformed you into a woman, you had your periods every month, the etiquette practices and the daily choirs such as baking and feeding the animals (now you had pigs and chicken to look after). This, however, bothered you, not the baking though, that made you happy, but you would much more appreciate to help your father and brother with the machinery and hunt with the men, which you did, only hidden, for sport maybe, until you improved your stealth and archery abilities so it became a part of you that you liked much more than singing by the lake while doing laundry with the wives, even though that too had its appeal – music always got the best of you, particularly when it came along with dancing.

About the hunt, you would sell it to Duke, the impartial merchant that comes every week. He is the best way to maintain a low-profile about your illegalities, once he also deals with prohibited materials.

Thinking of it, you believe it was fine, definitely bucolic, but you never expected more. And for your mitigation, you had never yet seen all of the lords face-to-face. Miranda came by at least once a month, but mostly spent her precious time with the Village leader. She usually went back to her lot afterwards. The others were… Well, different.

Lady Beneviento was an in-doors person, the only one who had constant contact with her was her groundskeeper who lived closer to her house. Lady Dimitrescu was only seen in her castles’ windows looking way distant and melancholic to anyone that far from her stand. Her daughters too never left the upright protective stone walls, no one knew why, neither bothered to find out. Sometimes girls from the Village would be sent to the castle in order to serve them as handmaiden, some of them came back on special dates, but never spent the night in the Village.

Lord Moreau was the only one who visited more frequently, usually fixing demands for his experiments. He never stayed too long, he probably sensed that the people had less interest on him than they had in the other lords, which kind of made you pity Lord Moreau; however, you never had the courage to speak to him anyway and it didn’t feel very possible to be friends with the lords.

The last one, Lord Heisenberg, you had only heard in the distance when exploring the Altar surroundings, hidden from the others once it wasn’t allowed to be there without a good motive. The villagers told you, sitting around the fire in windy twilights, that he used to wander around more decades ago. Back then most of your friends were kids and nowadays don’t remember him very well, just his temper as he tends to easily lose patience.

They don’t know what made him stay in his factory for so long, but through the time he has been recluse, some said the metal noises have risen as if he has been working to exhaustion on something. When they told you these stories, you hoped never to find out and feared The Harvest.

That was it for your historic with the lords, at least until three months ago when you turned twenty years old and The Harvest took place again. The 20s was a unique age for the villagers, it was when they would know for sure if they had been chosen by Mother Miranda for some position in her family’s choirs. If you were free, as you’d like to say, you should start thinking about your role in the Village, finding a partner and leaving your parents’ place, if not… You would serve, not sure exactly how.

For your absolute pleasure, your 20th birthday was the most beautiful ceremony you had ever attended while living in the Village. It made it easier. It wasn’t made only for you, but for all of the young people who were turning that age in that year, as it was traditional to have The Harvest.

The small town was all dressed in light colours, paper lamps gave the paths a magical blue aura, goat wood sculptures painted white were disposed here and there blessing the birthday boys and girls. Women wore lace Prussian blue dresses below the knees and men were in grey linen tunics. People commemorated in the area around The Maiden of War with gasps and smiles.

You were dazzling. Tradition demanded that the 20s wore white, almost transparent, clothes. It was supposed to show you emerging as a pure being into something else, finally you would be considered a part of the mundane world after two decades of only experimenting it.

The families were responsible for their children’s garment, so each one looked different and unique. In your case, your mother, Ana, made a ravishing job, one that you could only have dreamt of.

Ana sewed you a white mesh ruffle midi dress, almost off shoulder if it wasn’t for the thin straps that held it there. The down skirt’s fabric was tulle and in the breast area you had a lace to tighten it, the ruffle there also worked on hiding your boobs, so you wouldn’t feel completely naked, only your nipples would show due to Fall’s weather.

After celebrating throughout the afternoon with wine, fresh pies, music and the villager’s affection for you and all the 20s being demonstrated, the night fell upon the Village and the oil lamps were lite, they started dancing in your vision like phantasmagorical illusions, inviting you to follow the way they headed. You didn’t fully understand back then, but it probably was Beneviento’s work.

Your heart throbbed immediately, the euphoria peaking your skin, making you feel electric. Maybe you were drugged, maybe a bit drunk, that didn’t matter, once what mattered was that you were absolutely surrendered by the moment. It felt almost like gluttony, the atmosphere made you want more of whatever there was to so deeply desire.

Attending the call, one by one, the 20s started walking towards the ceremony site were their parents, Mother Miranda and the four lords should be waiting for them. That year there were twelve of them, one more than last year, equally divided between men and women.

Even though it was prohibited for any villager, besides Luiza and Urias, to go past the area of the Altar, you knew where you were heading, you have explored every inch of the Village, quietly, never daring to talk about it with someone. On The Harvest, though, you were being guided. A magnificent deer appeared in front of you, it moved slowly, unafraid of your presence, he glanced at you and walked towards the site. You couldn’t help, but following it, somehow you were sure it would lead you to a pleasant event.

Past the gate and there they were, the four lords all together for the first time in your live. Strangely, you felt seduced more than scared, maybe it was the deer spells, maybe something else made you feel welcomed. The night was your wonderwall and nothing bad could happen to you.

[bloomyn]

phonetics ; kagami taiga

pairing: kagami taiga x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

synopsis: there’s something about three syllable sentences that worm their way into your heart.

featuring; minor unrequited love, grammar, other girls that aren’t you, bad characterization, a whole lot of being dumb, and a happy ending

-> i wrote this in two hours during my peer tutoring class please don’t murder me; i saw .5 seconds of him during the netflix trailer and busted the phattest emotional nut

This is how your story begins

You’re five and on the top of a slide, it’s sticky with sweat and electric on your skin but you can’t go down, not yet. There is no way you’re going to give the kid behind you the satisfaction, not until he says please. 

“Say. it.” you demand, your hands gripping the side of the slide tighter. the space between his eyebrows scrunch together, like an inchworm, the type you learned about in class only a few days ago. “just say it. it’s not that hard. only one syllable.”

Your mother would scold you for that sass, but she’s too far away to hear and quite frankly too far to see your current predicament. 

“No. see, that’s one syllable.”

And yes you know that violence is never the way, (that’s also what you learned about at your school, the same day as the inchworms), and that maybe there is a verbal way to resolve this agreement, but the thing is, your five year old brain is tired of using words. and so this is the part where you resort to fists, tiny fingers that gripped the side of the slide ball up slowly and then.

The sky is down. down? and no your hands aren’t on the slide they’re trying to brace your fall from down the slide and all you can see is a muddled red face before you hit the ground crying. 

→ 

Here’s the thing about parks, technically, technically, their public property. So that means, technically, technically, just about anyone can show up and play. It’s terrible. It’s especially terrible when the only person on the playground to play with is also the one that pushed down the slide (quite aggressively! you might add) only a week ago. If there was ever any violent tendencies that lay dormant in those tiny hands of yours they might as well have been awakened. 

But instead of fighting, or attempting to fight, someone who looks like they could be the kids mother ushers said kid in your direction. 

and instead of a “No.” being spit in your direction you get an, 

“I’m sorry. Three syllables, see. I said it.”

and a hesitant hug, awkward and gangly.

And so it begins. 

→ 

“If you’re going to be stupid like this I’m going to stop showing up.” you sigh, taking a seat on the bench, cringing at the scent of sweat and rubber. Beside you, a messy bundle of red hair lays splayed on the hard metal, a rough hand wiping the sweat out of his face. “Hello, is Kagami home? Or do I really have to stop showing up till you remember you need me. ”

A groan leaves his chapped lips and an arm extends across your lap. “ Did you bring it at least?”

You surrender the plastic bag, watching the steam rising from his body melt the ice. It’s disgustingly sensual and for a split second you can almost imagine what the girls interested in him think. Unfortunately they’ve never seen him like you have, bloody noses and sweat, black stains from the court staining his dirty clothes, and just going through middle school in general. It sends shivers up your arms. Gross. He pushes himself backwards, lifting his head up onto the hem of your skirt.

“You’re just so sweaty, all the time.” you sigh, wiping a handkerchief across his forehead.

The sight of the two of you is one to behold. 

It’s always been to Kagami at least, which is a surprise considering that the only things he really cares to look at anymore is game highlights and illicit magazines that he really only gets away with buying because of his height. To be fair it’s not like he really reads the magazines anyway, not without getting distracted, not without the guilt that comes with thinking of you, during, ah, certain periods of time. He’s gross, he knows, and here you are, walking a mile in the summer heat because his ankle was too dead to get ice and there’s no one to watch #2 if he leaves. (fucking Kuroko he swears)

He can see the soft outline of your jaw like this, laying down. He can see the way your tongue casually glosses over your lips and and the way it seems like you're blinking in slow motion, he can see your lashes gently brush your face when you blink. It’s a goddamn sickness. 

Now usually, when this happens, when this wave of amorous nausea fills his head he does what he’s best at, absolutely destroying the court. But in the few steam filled moments between his attempt to get up and realizing he has to get up or he might vomit hearts all over the floor, you’ve already pressed the palm of your hand into his shoulder.

“Don’t think you can get up, stupid. Your ankle looks like a purple yam for goodness sakes. Gross. ”

He’ll hold onto the spare bit of affection in your words till you give him more, which you will, because you’re like this. Stubborn and loving, and always seemingly annoyed with him. He won’t mind, he never does. 

→ 

It’s not until the end of third year that he realizes he does, he does mind. He minds all the damn time now. 

“Don’t complain now that I’m not giving you all my attention,” you had scolded, “You’re the one with a girlfriend Ka-chan.”

“You don’t even bring me ice anymore!”

A shitty retort indeed but, true nonetheless.

“Kagami,” you had warned, “It might not be a great idea for me to bring you stuff anymore. Think about your girlfriend! How is she going to feel, another woman bringing her boyfriend what he needs.”

There was no response back this time. In his defense, Lisa hated the smell of basketball, “it sticks to you!”

Which he thought she might’ve considered before confessing but, semantics. There was nothing wrong with Lisa, she might’ve been everything he looked for in a woman. Hot, decently smart, very, very good looking on his arm, and she loved the attention too. Except her lips were too sticky, and she hated the smell of the gym, and he could go on and on making up petty excuses because she wasn’t the one who demanded that he say “please” on the playground. 

(He’s just picky!) His brain argues!

It takes three more girls until he realizes they’re not you. 

→ 

There is a brief moment in time where you fall for Kagami Taiga. There is a moment so small it slivers past you in the form of iced plastic bags and steaming windows in the gym. But the moment isn’t so small that no one around you notices. It isn’t so small when your best friend goes through three different girlfriends in a moment that doesn’t even make it through a set of nails. Not one nail chips.

It’s an odd moment. Only, at the end of this moment, there is no return to normalcy, there is no getting over it, there is another one waiting for you to leave those chipped nails and iced plastic bags behind.

It starts with praise and glimmer pop of jealousy.

→

“Absolutely not.”

“ You can’t argue an opinion you can’t even have, Taiga.” It comes out nastier than you want and you kick yourself for it. He catches it, the grimace waiting on your face and the quiver in your eye. The two of you are waning, stuck to your respective places in his living room, movie paused. There is a chance you will cry, but a more realistic chance that this will end in useless fight, that the aching silence between the two of you will become your shield against a barrage of his angry glares. 

This might be the only chance you ever feel what it’s like when he’s in the zone, except you're not a five man team (with subs) , you’re a teenage girl with goddamn feelings. It’s the playground all over again, but this time you won’t be pushed.

“He’s a fucking player.” his voice raises at the end and the tense in your calf sharpens. “He’s a disgusting shitty haired player, how are you being so stupid right now?”

By the time he’s done he’s yelling. The two of you have argued sure, but never... not like this. 

“I’m allowed to be dumb sometimes!” you breathe, “ Look at you Taiga, how you are not the same as him? It takes you weeks, days, to get a new girl. How in the world are you even qualified to be talking to me about this.”

It takes half a second for his eyes to narrow, sharper than his looks and for a moment you stagger back. It takes even less time for you to grab your bag and leave. 

You’re not angry, not for the right reason. This boyfriend is going to end in heartbreak, it’s a given, even Kagami knows this. But you can’t help yourself, this might only be a blip in time, it won’t matter in a year right? It won’t matter when Kagami finds himself wrapped around another girl, too busy to even remember what day of the week it is. 

And it kills you. 

You’re killing him. 

There is never a moment where everything is clear, unless he’s playing one on one, but this isn’t him versus you. This is him versus himself, a freaky nightmare he only dreamt about in middle school; and you’re not someone he wins by dunking on. It’s the type of win where he has to lose a little bit of something too. The type of win that he’s been avoiding. 

→ 

Your house has been the same for years, flower boxes on the front porch, a few twigs on the lawn, less than a thousand steps from his own place, somewhere he could sleep walk to. It’s never bothered you, he was your best friend, how could you complain about living so close?

Well, you’re complaining now. 

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes are drilling into the ground, fingers fidgeting like a boy, like a child who’s never had to say sorry before. Even so, you love him, so you relent, allowing yourself to lean on the doorway, absolutely oozing casually (ty?) (ness?) You can’t think.

“Three syllables. Thanks.”

The visible sigh of relief warms your achy breaky heart and absolutely tears into your soul. The grip on your heart he holds falls loose, unveiling the mismatched pieces that you’ve been forcing together for years. And for a moment you feel weak to it. 

“ You should,” he starts, gnawing on his bottom lips this time, “be with who you want. So, I’m sorry.”

It’s exasperating, but even if it is, Kagami Taiga is the most stubborn man you know so these words no doubt are being pulled out like teeth and you love him all the same. 

→

To Kagami’s surprise (and disappointment), a year later you are still quite in love with the man you call your boyfriend. But to his own sick delight, the two of you are fighting (again).  

“So you’re here.”

You nod, pushing the door to his bedroom open and slipping yourself under his covers. If he was anyone but himself he might’ve looked down, seen what was going on and promptly collapsed onto his knees. But, willpower is a strong suite of his (thank god), so he takes a seat on the foot of the bed.

“ Kagami, you can say it.” you mumble from beneath his covers. At your words his eyebrows scrunch and his knuckles tighten around the blanket. You’re not provoking him, just asking for the honesty he carries on his shoulders. 

“Ah, well.”

You shift the blanket off, propping yourself against the headboard. It’s only then that he can see the old tear tracks down your face.

“ I’m glad you’re here ya know. With me. Here.”

The last part is a whisper, one you catch. 

One you can only sigh with.

“ You can’t say that Kagami.”

“It’s true.”

It feels like a lifetime has passed by the time you gather the courage to look up at him, up at those deep red eyes that give away every emotion that passes through him. You don’t think can hurt you, not anymore than he has. Not with the hands that have held you up and stuck bandages on your knees and not with the heart that cared for you so deeply. He wouldn’t dare. 

But the sun is setting between the two of you, and the radiant glow only illuminates your features. You have to remember that he is only man, only human, and humans are easily seduced into stupid things by the sun.

“ I love you.” 

The delicate words aren’t voluntary, nor are they forced. It’s the space inbetween that pushes someone in the right direction, whether they know it or not. 

“ Three syllables Taiga.”

He watches you untangle yourself from the bed and take your place beside him. Carefully, he drops his hand in your lap, palms up and clammy. Slowly, you place your hand in his, taking up the space between his fingers. 

“Four syllables. That’s what you get.” you shake, squeezing his fingers. 

It takes him about two seconds to understand what you mean.

And he does.

→ 

[smokedstorybara]

I have so many bnha fanfic ideas, they’ve just been popping into my head every few days for weeks now

So I’m just gonna share them all on this one post instead of making a million new fandom posts out of nowhere (ok, it’s closer to, like, ten - but still!)

If any of y’all want me to actually write any of them, don’t hesitate to say so - or if you just want to ask questions and talk about the ideas I’d be totally down for that too

Also, if any of them inspire you to write or draw something, please send me a link when you’re done!

(under a readmore cause it’s long and also there’s spoilers)

Fae courts AU

Nedzu - Spring King

U.A. / The Spring Court - also known as the Court of Lost Children, all members of the Court were once human children or children of one of the other Courts and they view it as their duty to care for the lost, neglected, and abused children of the world (one of two child stealing Courts)

All Might - Summer King

All For One - Winter King

Objectively, the Summer and Winter Courts are not as different as they like to believe - a Summer fae is just as likely to trick or turn on you as a Winter fae, they just prefer to play at benevolence while Winter fae make no secret of their nature

Shie Hassaikai / The Autumn Court - used to be more like a lesser version of the Summer and Winter Courts, until Overhaul put the King to sleep and made his research into humanity the Court’s focus - they’re now the second child stealing Court

Eraserhead was once human but has made enough deals over the years - most notably with Nezu himself - that he’s practically fae now

Deku and Kachan are human children who were taken in by the Spring Court, though Deku only after catching the attention of All Might

Endeavor - High Fae in the Summer Court - wants to become Summer King but knows he’s not powerful enough to overthrow All Might, married a High Winter Fae in hopes that combining their powers would make one of their kids powerful enough

Dabi fakes his death and eventually becomes a High Fae in the Winter Court

Shouto seeks sanctuary in the Spring Court’s halls

(I don’t actually have a plot for it, but I’m enjoying figuring out the world and stuff)

Evil All Might AU

The underworld knows that young Yagi Toshinori is a con-artist, and a very good one

The kid’s quirkless, and from a bad neighborhood, so of course he gets involved in shady dealings to get by

But he never ever gets caught

See, he’s mastered the eager, innocent, “I know I’m quirkless, but it’s my dream to be a hero! To fight crime! To be someone people can look up to, put their faith in! To be a… a symbol!” act, he’s been running that con any time he’s found in the wrong place at the wrong time since he first started walking - no one with even a single good bone in their body ever questions it

He gets involved with AFO, who’s like “I could give you one of my lesser quirks in exchange for your loyalty, or you could do a long undercover mission for me and get one of the most powerful quirks in existence out of it”

His mission: pulling his signature con on Shimura Nana, being given One for All, becoming a hero, becoming the Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace and the singular pillar holding up hero society, maintaining that status for long enough that everyone grows a little complacent, finding a weak and manipulable child to pass One for All on to, setting them up to fail, and then retiring

(I’d either have this one be All Might-focused and end with the reveal, or have it be Izuku-focused and give it a happy ending where All Might totally chose the wrong kid, cause nothing about Izuku is weak)

Commission analyst Izuku au

Member of the commission overhears him muttering/catches a glance at his notebook while watching a hero fight, strikes up a conversation

The commission tracks him down, shows up at his home with a similar offer to the one they gave Hawks - but instead of a hero they want him to be an analyst for them

Like Hawks, they take away his name, only calling him something like Eagle Eye or something (I’d go with Hawkeye but Hawks already exists so it might be weird?)

(Basically this fic idea is just an excuse to have Izuku and Hawks as the ultimate team, and helping each other get out from under the commission’s thumb - maybe revolutionizing hero society along the way)

Canon rewrite w/ Monoma as main character, somehow

All I have for this one so far is just:

Monoma copies afo, uses copied afo to steal afo, AFO is now defeated

After getting better at controlling her quirk, Eri rewinds Kurogiri back into Shirakumo Oboro

But he’s the age he was when he died

So he joins the current class 2-A

As in Izuku’s class

Basically it’s just his old best friends having to teach him and him making friends with all Aizawa’s problem children

Time travel

(I have multiple cause I really like time travel)

Aizawa-centric time loop fic

Loop stretching from day before Oboro’s death to towards the end of the liberation war (diverging from canon in at least the first loop cause he fucking dies during the fight)

At first he thinks maybe he just, like, dreamt up those 14(?) years

But then things are happening the same way and so he starts changing things and he dies and wakes up the day before Oboro’s death again

He experiments a lot with the loops, figuring out that they’re definitely not time based - unless it’d loop back at the end of the liberation war even if he survives? Requires further testing

Details he changes throughout the loops (culminating in a loop in which he successfully changes all of them):

Oboro’s death

Shimura Tenko being taken in by All for One, All Might’s injury(?), Izuku accepting One for All, and more I haven’t fully decided on

Time travel fic where Pro Hero Deku accidentally time travels back to just before Aizawa’s first year as a student at ua and somehow gets hired as a teacher

Gonna be a two-parter

Part one: Izuku has to teach teen versions of his old high school teachers, channels their future selves a little

Part two: Aizawa, Yamada, and Kayama have to teach the teen version of their old favorite high school teacher, and end up channeling his future self - in different ways

(I’ve come across a couple different “Izuku gets accidentally sent back in time to when his teachers were students” fanfics and they keep making me think about how Aizawa & co would react to meeting him in canon timeline after meeting him in high school and then I took the natural step forward from there to “let’s parallel their nostalgia, make him their high school teacher so it can really hit hard”)

Izuku is related to rooftop trio aus

(I’ve come across a bunch of “Izuku is the biological son of at least one member of the rooftop trio” aus but only one acknowledges that in canon he’s only 15 years younger than them and that one has a very angsty explanation, so I wanted some that fit with canon and also aren’t too heavy - cause like, sure you could go with the complex extremely angsty trauma reason or you could go with the “these 13-16-year-olds(idk Inko’s canon age and as long as I never look it up I can pretend I’m not going against canon by making her only 2-ish years older than them) did what teenagers do and went to a party and made some relatively innocent mistakes and ended up with a pregnancy”)

Dadoro

Oboro and Inko have been neighbors and best friends their whole childhood, despite being a couple years separated in age

The fall before Oboro starts high school, Inko takes him along to a party with her high school friends

They get drunk and sleep together

Inko gets pregnant

They talk it through with each other and their families and agree to keep the baby (they’re both actually pretty excited to be parents) and raise it together platonically

Some months into first year (maybe second), Oboro tells his friends about his kid

Spends the rest of his life gushing about Izuku to all his friends (sorry for the word choice fjdhshshx)

Oboro dies and his friends make pact to help Inko take care of Izuku once they have steady income and stuff

But Inko’s family has moved and she’s married and they can’t find her

They keep searching, for roughly 14 years

And then Midoriya Izuku enrolls in UA’s hero course and his big green eyes and curly green hair match the pictures Oboro used to show them and his smile is identical to their old friend’s

And his mom’s name is Inko

But they’re not sure (His quirk doesn’t match Oboro’s nor his Inko’s after all)

Not until after the first term and the summer training disaster camp and Kamino, when All Might and Aizawa go house to house talking to parents about the dorms and All Might tries to insist on visiting the Midoriyas alone but Aizawa insists right back cause this is the closest he’s come to confirmation

and then he’s face to face with a woman he’s only ever seen in photographs

And then they talk about everything or something idk I haven’t got that far

Dadzawa and Dadmic (trans!aizawa)

A year and a half before he starts high school(I know I changed the timeline a whole year here but shush, how’s he supposed to get into U.A.’s hero course while pregnant?), Aizawa’s middle school and one or two others have a Joint Event, at which he meets a loud but cute blonde who keeps flirting with him

They hook up

He gets pregnant

His dad insists he get an abortion but he doesn’t want to and his mom supports his decision, they convince his dad to let him go through with the pregnancy on the condition that he gives the baby up for adoption immediately

He has twins, both boys (one with green eyes like the blonde’s(but darker) and the other with purple like Shouta’s mother’s)(that’s right, Shinsou is also their son in this, you’re welcome), and he gives them up for adoption to separate families

But with conditions

No one from his blood family is allowed to initiate contact with either boy without the kid’s knowing consent (he’s terrified of his father changing his mind, tracking them down, and hurting them)

With the one exception being that he’s allowed to send each one a birthday present and card every year

Which he does

Then he starts at UA and then gets into the hero course and there he is… the blonde… the father of Shouta’s children… who does not recognize him now that he’s started transitioning

This time Shouta’s the one who flirts - or tries to, the kid’s a little too oblivious

Of course they do eventually get together, and even end up married! (Haven’t decided if they get together during high school or after they start teaching there or what(probably the latter, for plot reasons))

The first time Midoriya Inko contacts Shouta is after Izuku is diagnosed quirkless - she knows the young man loves her son as much as she does and might be able to reassure him where she already failed

His next birthday, Izuku’s mystery card says he can be a hero even without a quirk; it makes Izuku’s year

Hitoshi’s parents also contact Shouta that year, the boy struggling to make and keep friends ever since his quirk came in; Shouta’s birthday card to him isn’t much different from Izuku’s, really

The Shinsous get in an accident and Hitoshi is placed in foster care and suddenly Shouta can’t send him his yearly gift and card anymore cause nobody will tell him where the boy is now because of the contact portion of the adoption contract

They also won’t tell Hitoshi that he was adopted and his birth father is out there looking for him, so Shouta’s pretty sure they’re trying to hide that he’s being mistreated wherever he is

Inko continues to contact Shouta now and then whenever she thinks Izuku will need extra encouragement come his birthday (she never tells Izuku about being adopted - even after he enters his teen years - cause after his diagnosis, everyone but her left him and she doesn’t want him to internalize the idea that his birth parents didn’t want him - Shouta’s not happy with the decision, but he understands)

Then one year he sends Izuku a Present Mic figurine and she writes him to share how excited the boy was and how Present Mic is one of his favorite heroes and he listens to his radio show all the time and Shouta simultaneously melts and has a minor breakdown at the realization that he hasn’t told his husband that they have sons, he can’t tell Hizashi that their son listens to his radio show regularly when Hizashi doesn’t know Izuku even exists

So of course, being the rational man he is, he finally tells Hizashi about Izuku and Hitoshi

Hizashi freaks, of course (in a good way(mostly))

And then, one of the worst days of Shouta’s life

He’s on patrol and sees a figure on a rooftop and rushes to get there - just in case it’s a jumper - and it’s his son, his Izuku

They talk(it doesn’t breach the adoption contract, he didn’t know it was Izuku when he approached and the kid spoke first) and Izuku tells him “everything” about his encounter with All Might, Shouta tells him to tell his parents - they’re there to support him - and also that All Might’s full of shit and a quirkless hero is totally possible with the right training and enough willpower

Then after they leave the rooftop his kid gets in trouble again, rushing in to save a classmate from the same sludge villain that attacked him earlier that day

Of course Shouta swoops in and pulls the kids out of danger before All Might arrives to “save the day”

This time Shouta insists on walking Izuku home to make sure he actually gets there safely

But then All Might shows up again wanting to talk to his kid privately and he wants to tell the man to fuck off but he’s not legally allowed, really, so when Izuku says it’s fine he reluctantly leaves

Inko asks to meet him just days later

She tells him that Izuku told her everything about what happened that day - including what Shouta told him - and she tells him that she’s realized she needs to properly support her son in pursuing his dream

She understands that Shouta wouldn’t feel comfortable training him one-on-one with the kid not knowing who they are to each other, and she’s still not ready to tell him yet, so she asks for a list, for him to help her get in touch with people who can train Izuku or ways for Izuku to train on his own, ways for her to help

He puts her in contact with seven pro heroes (Midnight, Gunhead, the Wild Wild Pussycats, and - somehow - Sir Nighteye) and a vigilante team (the Naruhata Crawler and his team), all of whom he talks into helping - and has to tell about his connection to this boy they’ll be teaching

(Each have something important to teach him: Midnight - using words and body language to throw off opponents, Gunhead - martial arts, Wild Wild Pussycats - stamina, teamwork and use of your environment when out in nature, Sir Nighteye - analysis and planning, the Naruhata Vigilantes - use of gadgets and weapons, use of your environment when in the city, having the heart of a hero, and - most importantly - that quirkless people can be fucking strong and skilled and terrifying and certainly aren’t weak or useless (they were trained by a quirkless vigilante after all, they’re bound to have a different perspective on the idea of a quirkless hero than anyone else, a perspective Izuku could really benefit from))

Ten months later, Izuku passes UA’s entrance exam and is placed in Shouta’s class (he’s pretty sure Nezu did that on purpose)

When the school year starts, he and Hizashi discover that Izuku isn’t the only one in one of their classes - Hitoshi is in Hizashi’s homeroom

They are, of course, fucking extatic

They just need to, y’know, figure out how to tell him that they’re his parents and maybe possibly would love custody of him if he wants

(Again I haven’t gotten any further than that yet)

(Also, if you can’t tell, in this au Izuku turns down All Might’s offer of One for All, cause Eraserhead said he could be a hero without a quirk and was honestly a lot kinder and more responsible (like, making sure the kid got home safely instead of leaving him on a roof) and stuff than All Might and honestly might be his new favorite hero)

[amysteryspot]

Better With You - Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Request: If you can could you please do one about Tommy having a sort of possessive claim over you (not in an abusive way of course) even though you’ve never looked at him in that way, and when Michael comes into the family again you two get close, which makes Tommy extremely jealous.

Requested by: Anonymous

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: Thomas has known (Y/N) for all of her life and loved her for most part of his, always disguising his claim on her as friendly protectiveness. What happens when Michael makes his way back into the family and starts to get a little too close to her for Tommy’s liking?

Warnings: swearing, mentions of war, mild smut (?).

Word Count: 3526

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this. Hope you all have fun reading it too. An especial thank to @the-friendly-editor​ for helping me edit this, it meant a lot to me. Tags are at the end of the post, if you want to be add send me a message. I would love to hear what you think of it, your feedback is always appreciated.

 Things you should consider before reading this:

1. I named the Shelby’s mother Anastasia because I felt like I needed to do that. Also, I know that there is a lot of discussion about Finn and the rest of the Shelbys having the same mother or not. I just assumed that they all have the same mother and she died a little after giving birth to Finn. It is not something groundbreaking for the fic but I wanted to clarify just in case.

2. The boys went to war right at the beginning of it; I just ignored the information given to us by “The Ballad of Tommy Shelby”.

3. I probably forgot to warn you about something, I’m sorry.

 (Y/N) = Your Name | (Y/N/N) = Your Nickname | (Y/L/N) = Your Last Name | (Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color

If you asked Tommy how long he had known (Y/N) (Y/L/N), he wouldn’t know how to answer—fuck, it seemed like the woman had been in his life forever.

He remembered the day his mother had brought him to the (Y/L/N)’s house for them to meet the new baby. Four-year-old Tommy had complained all the way to their neighbor’s house, much to his older brother’s amusement, until their mother had given him a scolding. (Y/N)’s birth had been the talk of Watery Lane. They finally had a sweet little girl for the neighborhood to dote on.

With two sons, Anastasia was more than happy to welcome the little girl into their lives, not so secretly longing to have a daughter, and that was the reason for Tommy to be fussing over going to see the newborn—jealousy.

However, nothing could have prepared little Tommy for what was about to happen when his mother sat him down on the couch and Mrs. (Y/L/N) put the bundle of covers in his arms—his icy blue eyes stared down at baby (Y/N), who stopped crying instantly when she looked up at him with bright (Y/E/C) eyes of her own. From that moment on, Tommy knew that he would always love her.

And love her he did, since that day and throughout all of their lives. He would raise hell at home for his mother to bring him to the (Y/L/N)’s home so he could see (Y/N), and the three adults would all be astonished at how easily the baby would stop crying when she was in his arms. It wasn’t really a surprise that the first word she babbled was “Tom” or that when she started walking, on wobbly feet, it was Tommy she was seeking.

As they grew up, they grew closer, until it became almost impossible to have one without the other. When Ada was born, Tommy was worried about the possibility that (Y/N) would forget about him, that she would be too enchanted by having another girl around. Instead, as the time passed, he discovered that his little sister was one more reason for (Y/N) to spend more time at the Shelby home.

Even when he started messing around with the boys on the street, and she befriended other girls at school, they would still seek each other out whenever they could. They stuck together when their teenage years came, when Tommy started fooling around with girls from school and secretly scaring down most of the boys that showed any interest in (Y/N).

At least, he did until the day she came crying to him about not being good enough or pretty enough for anybody, not like the girls he would go out with, and breaking his heart; that certainly wasn’t what he had in mind when chasing down the boys. All he had wanted was to protect her, to make sure that she wouldn’t exchange him for some other boy. He wanted to ensure that she was his and his only.

That was actually the reason that led to their first kiss—her first kiss—(Y/N/N) had asked him, pleaded with him, through all the tears to just kiss her and get it done. Fifteen-year-old (Y/N) was sure that nobody would ever want her, and she wanted to experience it at least once. She told Tommy he was the only one she trusted with the task.

“It will mean nothing to you, Tom. You have kissed a million other girls already—I will just be another one for you—but it’s important to me. Please, Tom? Please, please.”

Her pleas had won him over, but (Y/N)’s words couldn’t have been further from the truth—the kiss had meant something for him. It had meant more than he predicted when he gave in to her begging, because the moment their lips touched, Tommy realized he was in love with his best friend and the worst part was that she didn’t had a fucking clue about it.

Then Tommy did what he did best; he pretended that it never happened, pushing it away and never talking to anyone about the kiss or his feelings. He stopped chasing down the boys who would show interest in (Y/N) and watched as she eventually started going out with some of them, laughing with him about how stupid she was to think that no one would ever like her.

When her first boyfriend got too handsy and she broke up with him—not before giving him a good left hook that left him with a very black eye, just like Tommy had taught her—(Y/N) had gone straight to the Shelby home, looking for comfort in his arms. Tommy pretended that the gnawing feeling in his chest was nothing but brotherly protectiveness instead of anger, jealousy and possessiveness—a destructive combination, especially on a Shelby boy.

(Y/N) had stayed with him that night, and the both of them slept together like they used to when they were kids. First thing in the morning the next day, right after he left her at her own house, he found her now ex-boyfriend and beat him up. Arthur and Freddie had to get him off of the guy, afraid of what he would end up doing if they didn’t stop him.

After that, Tommy had focused on channeling his frustrations into going out with every girl in town that wasn’t her. It wasn’t difficult, he was good looking and charming and he was very aware of it; that’s how he met Greta, and thought that he could get over his feelings for his best friend with her.

Greta’s parents were against their involvement at first, but he charmed them, so they started dating. His heart broke down when (Y/N) found out and showed genuine happiness for him having finally found somebody to settle down with.

Tommy’s plan was to end things between them. However, Greta fell ill and he didn’t have the heart to break up with her, so he stayed by her side until she passed. (Y/N) gave him support in the only way she knew how: by loving him.

Just not in the way he wanted her to.

When they thought that things would go back to normal, the War exploded and Tommy did the only thing he considered right in his eyes: he enlisted alongside his brothers. Their first fight had taken place on the night he told her he was leaving for France in two weeks. (Y/N) had hit and screamed at him until he was able to take a hold on her and then, then she cried in his arms the whole night, afraid that she would lose him forever.

They did the best they could with those two weeks. Once more, nothing could have prepared Tommy for (Y/N)’s appeal the night before he was shipping to France. She had come to him right after dinner. Her father was preparing himself to leave, too, and both of the (Y/L/N) women were enjoying whatever time they had left with him before he was gone.

As they both laid there in his bed, resting in each other’s arms and staring at the ceiling, (Y/N) made the decision that would seal his fate if he could survive the war.

“Make love to me.”

It wasn’t a question, nor a request—she was simply telling him to make love to her like this was the most logical thing in the world. His breath caught in his throat, preventing him from answering at first, and (Y/N/N) took that as a cue to reassure him.

“It will be like my first kiss, Tommy, just something I have to get over with. I want it to be you. I trust you. Let me give you at least one last good memory of me before you go.”

Again, he caved in, not needing much more convincing than the certainty in her eyes as she looked down at him, propped up on one elbow. Her hand rested unintentionally above his heart. Granting her wishes, he let himself dive into his own desires, touching her the way he had wanted since they had kissed for the first time.

He worked her body like a delicate instrument and pulled at her strings smoothly, engraving every beautiful sound that he coaxed out of her and the feel of her under his fingertips in his memory. When morning came, they were still a mess of limbs intertwined together, trying to hold on to a last thread of hope and imprint the last few hours on their memories.

In a way, (Y/N) was right. The boy that entered that train in 1914 wasn’t the same that got out of it in 1918. Yet, his love for her never faltered; it just became a tad more… dangerous.

Thomas lost count of how many letters they had exchanged during the past four years. He lost count of how many times he dreamt of her, of coming back home and telling her how he felt. However, any courage he had gathered vanished the moment he saw her waiting for him at the train station. He couldn’t condemn her to a life by his side, he had already taken enough from her.

Polly had told him in her letters how (Y/N/N) had helped her with the business, with the house, with Finn, and with any other thing she could. Especially after her mother, who had given up on life after Mr. (Y/L/N) was killed in combat, passed. A part of him felt guilty for not being there for her as much as she was for him when his mother passed and his father left.

“She’s a Shelby now.”

That’s what Polly had said when he asked her if (Y/N) had any remaining family.

Not much changed when they returned. (Y/N/N) still worked with them. She spent more time at the Shelby home and the gambling den than at her own place. The two of them still sought each other out, not talking much, but enjoying each other’s company. It was in those quiet moments with her that Tommy had a little peace.

Thomas drowned himself in work to forget it all, wanting to expand the business, unleashing his ambitions so long smothered by the war. They found the guns, in a strike of luck, he thought. Both Polly and (Y/N) advised him to let it go, but he just couldn’t. It was too good of an opportunity.

Campbell had come because of it, and with him, Grace. At the time, he didn’t know who she really was. He thought that the beautiful, blonde barmaid was just that: beautiful and innocent, everything he and his family were not. So he fooled himself, fell for her, and then she betrayed him and left for America.

Again, (Y/N) was there for him, and again, he found himself sinking into his love for her. The only good thing that came from all this mess was that the business was never better. He thought that it was time to start planning for an expansion, and with that came another thing that he hadn’t quite predicted—Michael.

He had planned to find Polly’s children for her. She had been suffering quite a lot lately. Even if people thought that his heart was as good as gone, he wanted his family to be okay. He wanted them to be happy.

Thomas found the boy and he came to Polly, making his way into the family and the business quickly. That included starting to get close to (Y/N) – too fucking close for his liking.

It was supposed to be natural, he knew that. (Y/N) kept the books at the shop. She was better with numbers than most of them, so it was natural that she would be the one to help Michael when he assumed the position of accounts clerk.

After they came back, he learned that (Y/N) had become very good at sneaking around without getting caught. It was rare to see her with any men whose last name wasn’t Shelby, or wasn’t closely related to the Peaky Blinders. That didn’t mean she didn’t have men swooning over her all the time, or that he was finally okay with that—much like when they were teenagers, he wanted to chase them all down—the only difference was now he was more deadly.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

It was Michael’s voice that brought him back to reality, and his gaze fell immediately on the boy. They were all gathered on the snug in the Garrison. (Y/N) was sitting between him and Michael, Tommy’s arm casually rested on her shoulders.

(Y/N) said, “Oh, no, you would totally get it... after a few more weeks.”

Everyone burst out laughing at her remark, but the only thing he could think about was the hand Michael rested on (Y/N)’s thigh. His own hand clenched around his glass before he downed the rest of its contents.

He didn’t notice Polly’s gaze on him. Despite what most people believed, Tommy had never been a good liar. He could get away with omitting information to people and redirecting the conversation, most of the time, but a direct confrontation was a completely different thing. Polly was always able to read him first, to know the things he wasn’t willing to share.

“Maybe we should just hire you instead of Michael, then.” He ignored the look (Y/N) gave him, taking another drag of his cigarette and looking away.

However, he couldn’t miss the lingering touches, or how (Y/N/N) leaned into Michael when he talked to her, and how she was just so comfortable with him. It made his blood boil.

When (Y/N/N) said she wanted to get home he offered to walk her, and was fairly surprised at how she didn’t say a word to him until they reached her front door.

Then she turned to face him, features painted with anger, and asked, “What the hell was that, Tom?”

He actually rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

(Y/N) huffed, turning around to unlock the door before entering the house, leaving it open for him to follow. She went straight to the dressing room, shedding her coat and throwing it at the table with her purse as he followed her closely.

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

She was taking her shoes off, and Tommy took advantage of the moment to let his eyes follow her movements. God, was he in love with that woman.

“I’m talking about your attitude with Michael at the Garrison. That was completely unnecessary,” She said.

“Someone had to put that boy in his place,” Tommy said.

(Y/N) turned to him then, and he would be worried with that look if he hadn’t been at the receiving end of her anger for so many years.

“Oh, please enlighten me, Thomas. What is his place?” (Y/N) asked.

“For fucks sake, (Y/N/N), he was all over you!”

She rolled her eyes. “He is a boy, Thomas, a boy. He’s family…”

Tommy never thought that what would make him snap would be hearing her say that Michael was family, but apparently it was.

“He’s family, huh?” Thomas said. “He is fucking family! Then he should know better and stay away from you.”

She stared at him for a moment, brow furrowed, as she seemed to put the puzzle together in her head. “Why would he stay away from me, Tom?”

He turned around to face away from her for a moment, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, no. You won’t make me feel guilty for that.”

“Make you feel guilty for what, Tommy?”

He recognized the hint of annoyance on her tone and couldn’t ignore it anymore, the alcohol giving him the courage that he had lost that day on the train station, as he turned around and shouted, “For loving you!”

She held her breath, eyes widening as she stared back at him.

Tommy continued, “Michael should stay away from you because you’re fucking mine and I love you.”

“Tommy, I’m not your property, and you know that I love you…”

“No, you don’t,” he interrupted her, making her look at him with confusion, “You don’t love me the way I love you. The way I’ve loved you since the fucking day you asked me to kiss you when you were fifteen!”

He saw her flinch before murmuring his name, trying to gain his attention but he couldn’t stop now. The truth was finally out there and he just had to go on with it, let it all out before he lost his mind.

“You said to me that it would mean nothing, that it would be just another kiss for me, but you were wrong,” Tommy said, his breaths short.

She looked bewildered, and Tommy held onto a strand of hope he didn’t even know still existed.

“That kiss meant fucking everything. From that day on, I’ve never seen you in the same way as before, because I realized I was in love with you and you didn’t feel the same. So I ignored these feelings while I saw you going out with boys, and I’ve thrown myself into fucking every girl that wasn’t you because I knew I couldn’t have you, not the way I wanted.”

Tommy didn’t notice that he was walking to her until they were just a breath apart.

“Then I found Greta, and I thought that I could forget you, but it only reminded me that you are the only one I want. I was going to break up with her, but she fell ill. You stayed by my side, and just when I thought that I would have a chance to tell you everything, the war happened and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t, because there was no way in hell that I was going to risk going to fight in France and die. I couldn’t leave you here to suffer because of me, either because you felt the same or not.”

“Tommy…” (Y/N)’s voice was all but a whisper.

He couldn’t resist anymore, his hands brought her to him, his eyes observing hers from up close, not giving her time to talk or he would lose his courage.

“I was ready to go there and die, and never let you know how I felt. But you had to give me hope that night before I was shipped off to that fucking hell. You had to…”He took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief second, a flood of memories making his heart race faster. “You had to give yourself to me. You had to give me a taste of what I thought I could never have, to make me want to survive the fucking war, to come back to you, and to let you know about all of these stupid feelings.”

Tommy couldn’t wait anymore. He did the one thing he had wanted to since he had returned from France—he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle or patient; no, it was urgent and filled with passion and he didn’t know how to stop, not when she wasn’t pushing him away. He devoured her as a man starved, teeth clashing and hands grabbing at anything they could touch. They were both out of breath when they finally parted.

“You said that you wanted to give me one last good memory and it was that memory that kept me alive during most of the nights when I was stuck in the fucking mud,” Thomas said.

(Y/N)’s fingers were clinging to him like her life depended on it, like she was afraid to lose him to the War again.

Tommy took the moment to let the words spill out. “The memory of you and the feeling of you under my fingers, and all around me, and the way you tasted.”

His lips brushed against hers, fingers clawing at the flesh of her hips like they had done the night before he left for France.

He backed her up against the wall, hands trailing down to the back of her thighs, picking her up and trapping her with his body.

Tommy looked straight to her eyes as he spoke again, “How you writhed under me, all the beautiful sounds you made, and I just wanted to come back to you and make some new memories.”

(Y/N) shivered at his words. She gave him just a brief second to observe the rise and fall of her chest and her expanded pupils before he felt her fingers at the back of his head, forcing him to really look at her as she said, “Then let’s work on those new memories.”

Their lips clashed again, and every doubt that he ever felt vanished for a moment. That night their bodies moved together like old acquaintances, skin sliding against skin, hands gripping at each other, lips kissing every patch of skin while chanting a sinful choir of moans and curses alongside their names.

When Tommy woke up the next day, (Y/N/N) in his arms, he realized that he was finally home.

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @internalmess3

[tbartss]

Well since you asked so nicely, here is everything I wrote so far :’))

There was one memory Lance kept going back to whenever the world around him seemed too real. It was a long time ago, but he remembered it like it was yesterday.

He was back in Cuba, sitting on his surfboard on the mellow waves, his knees on either side as he stared up at the stars. He was 10 years old, and had yet to hear about the phenomenal school that was the Galaxy Garrison that would spark the beginning of his destiny. Now he was just a simple, normal citizen of Cuba, riding the dancing water and tracing the lights in the sky with his Tìo.

His tio, for all his remarkable self, was a strange man, and Lance had always thought so. It wasn’t in the way he spoke or gestures or walked or anything like that. It was in the things he said, sometimes, to seemingly just Lance.

Once he had thrown Lance one look and said, “I have only one debt, and that is to the stars.” What he had been doing to make him say that was the part he didn’t remember, but it wasn’t the important part.

His tio was his mother’s brother, but even she couldn’t make sense to what he was saying. When he had asked Raquel if she had heard him say anything like that, she’d shaken her head and looked at him as if he was crazy.

“You probably just dreamt it.” She’d said, but Lance was sure it hadn’t been his imagination.

“No way! My dreams are nothing like that.”

“You can’t control your dreams, tonto. Besides, Tio hardly ever speaks, and for him to say something like that is just downright loco.”

But Lance wasn’t convinced. He hadn’t really noticed until then that Rachel was right about one things though. His tio hardly ever spoke, but Lance had just chalked that up to adulthood. He had thought that the more you grew up, the less you needed to say. But now that he thought about it, his mother didn’t seem to hold back on any words whatsoever. Not to mention the very expressive way she spoke with her hands, that Lance had inherited. It was hardly believable that they were related.

“The stars are calling you again, eh?” He said now, staring at Lance, who was in turn staring at the stars. It was one of his favourite pass times, and his tio was one of his favourite people to do it with.

He wanted to ask what he meant, but he knew it was no use. Ever since Raquel had come with that comment, he’d begun to see that his tio was a man of few words. Lance had never heard him repeat himself and he knew it was futile to ask him of it now.

He’d said to Lance once, when he’d held a gun for the first time, that a man should think like he only has one bullet left in his holster. “One target. One shot. Once you pull the trigger there is no going back.” He was starting to think he wasn’t only applying that to his shooting.

So, Lance shrugged as an answer to his question. When his tio got like this, usually late into the night, Lance didn’t know what to say to him, most of the time. It was like he expected something from Lance, but Lance had no idea what, much less how to give it to him.

Nevertheless his tio nodded sagely, like Lance’s shrug told him everything he couldn’t say with words. His feet were wading the water under them calmly, causing small ripples that rocked Lance a little, like a soothing lullaby. He asked, “Leandro, how do they make you feel?”

Lance tore his eyes from the constellation his mother had named Orion, tilting his head. “Huh?” But it was useless, he knew, because his tio, instead of repeating himself, turned back to the night sky.

His eyes turned soft, and he breathed deep as if he could smell the galaxy from here if only he breathed deep enough.

Lance, feeling again like his tio was expecting something he didn’t know how to give, poked the water a couple of times. Once there, once here. And before he knew it, he was tracing his finger in the same shape as the constellation. The water rippled until his fingers stilled, and Lance saw that the Orion he had drawn was mirrored in the water.

How did the stars make him feel? How would he know? He was ten.

“What am I supposed to feel?” He asked instead, as he started tracing Andromeda in the water. When the image got too blurry he paused his finger to let the water still before he continued.

“You’ll know when you know, Lancito.” His voice was a soft timber in the quiet of the night, and Lance thought about how his tio was probably the closest he came to a father.

He listened to him breathe for a while, feeling a weird sensation in the crest of his chest, tucked somewhere deep inside that he didn’t know how to name. And lance, when he had added the last star to Andromeda, said, “Tio?”

He hummed in answer, not taking his eyes off of the stars.

“How did you know you wanted to work at the range?”

His tio looked at him in question. Just like how he was a man of few words, he also never said anything unnecessary.

Lance swallowed and looked away, suddenly feeling the need to fiddle with his fingers. “It’s just that at school, they asked us what we wanted to be in the future and I have no idea. Raquel knows she wants to be a teacher, and Marco has that internship and Veronica has been at that flying school a million years. But I have no idea what I want to be. What I want to do.” He looked up at his tio desperately, but he was only looking back as if he was deep in thought. “The only thing I’m sorta good at is shooting and fútbol. Do you think I should work with you, at the range?”

His tio seemed suspended in time, his body so still he caused no ripples in the sea below them. The wind carried his hair; it was dark brown, like Lance’s mother’s, like his father’s. Like his own.

And then slowly, his tio shook his head. The wind carried his voice like it would the single petal of a dandelion. He said, “Your place is not here, mijo. I think you know, deep inside you, where you belong.”

And then he said, “There is a part of you that is still sleeping. Once you wake it, that’s when you’ll know.”

He really hated his mysticism sometimes. He wished he could be a little clearer in what he meant, but then he thought about how he would feel if someone wished he could just understand things in a normal way. Lance had noticed he needed the extra step to understand certain things, elaborations if you will, but he didn’t think that’s the part his tio was talking about.

No, when Lance finally understood what his tio had meant, he’d stood on the frontlines of an intergalactic war.

***

When Lance had first laid eyes on the castle he’d thought, now that’s a house. He envisioned himself laid back with his hands resting behind his head, being fed grapes by the very attractive subjects that served him as he kicked back and relaxed like a king. He thought that the castle was his dream in reality, laid out bare for his very own eyes to see.

The other’s hadn’t been as impressed. More likely, they had been scared shitless. When he looked at Keith he saw only stone cold exterior. He bet himself that Keith was thinking the exact same thing he was. Too bad this was Lance’s dream, and he was going to seize it for himself.

The Blue Lion ship had really helped with his confidence. With that machinery, a weapon answering only to his command, he was basically unstoppable. He had the world at his feet, the stars in his hair. No one, not even Keith, could take that from him.

Shiro had taken charge, but he was okay with that. He knew what he was doing, and honestly, what is a dream without some comrades to die for, right? He had his best friend, his midget of a communications officer, and his rival in the same boat. There was no adventure, if he had no one to share it with.

The others looked around while Lance tinkered with the central controls in the room they were in. He pushed a few buttons and then laid his hand on the handprint, almost missing the hissing machinery that resulted from his improvising.

And boy, did he want to share his dreams.

When he had first laid eyes on Allura, a falling princess, landing in his arms, he’d thought, now that’s a woman. He envisioned them both sitting together, laughing together, standing at the alter as his family cheered him on, and Lance was wearing the biggest smile in the universe, really, NASA could capture it with their satellite. He thought that Allura was his dream come true, a fair maiden falling into his arms.

She was like a memory pulled from his mind.

A strong one, and quite hurtful.

“Ow, ow, ow! Careful, my skin is very delicate!”

The princess did not let up her hold on his ear, and he tried not to hear the snigger he knew was coming from Pidge.

***

“This castle must be ancient.” The hallways were so empty and wide his voice was carried across the distance. He whistled to test out the acoustics. He heard his own tune for another ten seconds before it disappeared further down the hall.

“100.000 years to be exact!” Coran said cheerily behind him. His voice carried far, too.

The first tour around the castle wasn’t very impressive. All of the doors were closed and it looked like no one had walked down these halls forever — which he supposed no one had, now that he thought about it. The control panels and light bulbs beside and above every door, respectively, were covered in dust.

With Allura walking down the hall in front of them though, the light turned on, running like veins horizontically along the wall until the hallway disappeared beyond the eye could see. These hallways were massive. Lance thought it’d be quite lonely for only two people.

“Amazing,” Pidge gushed, staring unblinkingly at the lights that turned on. Allura looked over her shoulder to smile kindly at him.

Hunk squinted at the lights, too, and poked them with his pointer finger. “How exactly does that work? I don’t see any electricity outlets.”

Coran laughed loudly, the sound of his merry filling the entire hallway. Lance thought it sounded a bit like his tio. “Oh, the simple human and their wonders,” he said. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “The castle’s power source, my young earthling, is connected to Allura’s energy. She is the only one who can control this ship and everything in it with her alchemy.”

“Alchemy?” Pidge piped up, sidling alongside Coran. “As in equivalent exchange?”

“Wait, wait, wait. How were we then able to get in with the Lion ship?” Hunk asked, touching the light along the walls.

Honestly, Lance was getting bored with their conversation. Blah, blah, something about Altean magic, and ancient knowledge, whatever. What Lance wanted to know was what was behind all of these doors. There were so many, Lance doubted each of them housed an Altean court person back in the day.

He walked to the nearest door and squinted at the control panel beside it. The inscription was in Altean, which he obviously couldn’t read, but there was also a very big red button. He wondered if…

The doors whooshed open the second he pressed the button on the panel. Inside was what Lance would assume was the Altean equivalent of a broom closet. It was bigger than his house. Like massive. How many bathrooms was the toilet paper in this closet supposed to cover?

He turned around to keep walking, when he stopped in his tracks. Everyone was staring at him.

At the sound of the doors opening, Coran had stopped talking immediately about something or other, Lance wasn’t really paying attention. Allura was also looking at him and the door, seeming in shock.

Lance raised his arms and took two steps away from the door. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t do anything.”

No one said a word, for a while. Shiro was looking between Coran and Allura, probably to try and figure out what they were thinking, or if this had been inappropriate somehow. Keith looked about ready to downright murder Lance.

After some time of staring very intensely at Lance, Coran hummed and stroked his moustache. “The controls must be rustier than I thought. It has been 10.000 years…” he muttered, more to himself than anyone. He must have decided it wasn’t worth mulling over, his wrist flicking like he was swatting the topic away. “Anyway,” he continued walking, “so the crystals in this castle…”

And that was that. Allura and Coran kept walking, and Shiro, sensing there were no consequences happening, started to walk, too, prompting everyone else to follow his lead.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief, and made sure to close the door before he followed with them.

“Stop touching stuff, you’re going to get us in trouble,” Keith hissed beside him. He must have slowed his pace to Lance’s. Just to tell him off? Tch, Lance didn’t think so.

“Relax, Mullet,” he answered and pocketed his hands in his jeans. “These people aren’t going to harm us. I mean, look at how gorgeous— I mean forgiving the princess was.”

“We’re in the middle of space with flying cat ships that are controlled by the very people that could incinerate us in a matter of seconds, or did you forget?” He added, “And it’s not a mullet!”

Lance shrugged. “Ay, stop being so paranoid. If you tighten up any more you’ll probably die a non-heroic death by boredom.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“And that will be your downfall. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

***

*lance and hunk sneaking out of the garrison to go clubbing. Lance stops and stares at the stars. Maybe something happened earlier with Keith.*

“You okay, man?”

“Huh? Yea, was just thinking of something my uncle said once.”

“About space? Whatd he say?”

“I don’t even know, man, he didn’t make a lot of sense. It doesn’t matter, let’s go meet some girls WOO!!”

***

“How do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what? I’m just pressing buttons.”

“Yeah, that open doors that aren’t supposed to open.”

“Maybe the castle just likes me the best.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Enough talk. Let’s swim, mullet! I’ll race ya!”

***

The thing about the Galra is that they are both persistent and resourceful, and when you mix those two things together, they become near unstoppable. It was probably why their reign had lasted for as long as it did.

[cdt12345]

We've been friends many years but I've never thought to ask; Top 10 gay OTPs?

1.) Ian & Mickey (Gallavich) - Shameless us

What can I say about these two that we haven’t already said about them?! They are my absolute all-time favorite couple ever! Gay or straight. They perfectly complement each other, they love each other on a level I feel like I’ve never seen before (and I have watched a lot of tv/movies), they’re like a comedy duo, they support each other, understand each other better than anyone else ever will, they fell in love as kids, they bring out the best in each other, and they’re each other's best friend. I’m a sucker for opposites attract, who are also best friends. Gallavich really fits that bill. I wish they didn’t have to struggle so much to get their happiness, but I’m happy they finally got it. When they got married, it felt like the biggest victory ever! We went through those years of struggle with them, rooted for them, mourned for them when John Wells let Noel go after season 5. So much has tried to keep these two apart, even real-life circumstances tried to keep them apart. The chemistry between these two characters and between Cameron and Noel was so powerful, they were brought back to the show. That kind of thing doesn’t happen very often. When an actor leaves a show, they don’t usually come back as a series regular, let alone two actors who have already left the show. It felt like a miracle! I will never forget getting the news that Noel was coming back from you @luckyshazmrsmonaghansblog I was crying with happiness bc we wanted this for so long and I never believed we would get to see both Cameron and Noel back on the show. Or that they would get their happy ending outside of a jail cell. Especially after Cameron left the show in season 9. With their return we got a wedding, an entire season of them as a married couple, we got to see them dance with each other twice, we got them singing together, we got to see them start a lucrative business together, we got to see them free and happier than we’ve ever seen them before, and we got to see Terry get what he deserved after putting them through hell. We are only halfway through season 11, but I already feel so fulfilled with this extra time with gallavich that we were never supposed to have. JW tried to take that away from us. I will never understand why, but he failed. I am not surprised this is the one I wrote the most about. I can go on and on about gallavich!

2.) David and Patrick - Schitt’s Creek

This was everything I ever wanted to see onscreen, where there was zero homophobia. The pansexual character didn’t need to have a big coming out or tell everyone in the town of his sexual orientation, except his best friend. The gay character had a coming out with parents who loved and accepted him for who he is and was only upset that he felt he couldn’t tell them sooner. I dreamt of a day where I could see this kind of representation onscreen. The casual treatment of their sexuality was so refreshing and something I’ve been waiting for. There is no darkness or huge struggle they had to overcome to be together or a sad ending for them. They were allowed to be together without the major conflicts most LGBTQ characters have to go through. Once David made the first move Patrick was comfortable allowing himself to fall for David and start a relationship with him. He was so sure of his feelings for David after that first kiss, he never looked back and I loved that. They had such an adorable love story. Truly one I have been waiting to see for so long between two LGBTQ characters. They made me smile every time they were on screen. They are another of my OTPs that are exact opposites who complement each other perfectly. Patrick was welcomed into David’s family and blended in with them so well, even when he and David had very different upbringings. Patrick serenading David with Tina Turner and then Mariah Carey at their wedding is one of the most romantic things I have ever seen!

3.) Holt and Kevin - Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Captain Holt and Kevin are strange men on their own but together they are the perfect pair. They get each other in a way no one else does. The best part is their adorable fur baby, Cheddar! They seriously make the cutest family! I was so nervous when they went through a rough patch for a while because I didn’t want them to split up. Thankfully, they made it through and are still going strong!

4.) Will and Vince - Will & Grace

On the show's first run, Will and Vince were in a serious relationship and Vince was Will’s longest relationship on the show. They broke up a few times but were together by the series finale. The two reunite during the funeral of Will's father. There was a time jump on the series finale. Though I didn’t love everything about the last episode, I did love the fact that Will and Vince had been together for 20 years and raised a son together, who was conceived through in vitro fertilization with a surrogate. After the time jump, nearly twenty years later, their son goes to college and meets Grace's daughter, whom he would eventually marry. Though I wasn’t happy with the fact that Will and Grace didn’t stay close over the years, it did allow for their kids to one day meet, fall in love, and get married. I did like that outcome out of the finale. My family and I used to watch the original show, but we refused to accept or watch the 2017 revival because they completely changed everything from the original series finale. The second I found out they were changing everything; I knew I couldn’t watch it. They even wiped the existence of their kids from the first series finale. The revival was an attempt to cash in on the reboot craze and I wasn’t happy about that already, but even more so when they were going to break up one of my OTPs for easy money. Bobby Cannavale, who played Vince, has become even more famous since starring in Will & Grace. So, I already figured he wouldn’t be back for the show as a regular, but I know he did guest star. I won’t accept the revival and to me, Will and Vince stayed together, and their son married Grace’s daughter. THE END!

5.) Albert and Armand - The Birdcage

Miss Albert and Armand were the earliest gay couple I remember ever watching onscreen when I was eight years old. I have watched this movie more than I can count over the years. It is a family favorite that we quote often. Their son is planning to marry a girl whose father is in politics and is very conservative. They have to hide the fact that he has two gay fathers for one night, but everything goes awry, and comedy ensues. Nathan Lane and Robin Williams give a wonderful performance without resorting to using the stereotypes that are often used on gay characters, especially back then. It’s a classic!

6.) Stefon and Seth - Saturday Night Live

Okay, hear me out on this one! They’re not the most conventional OTPs on my list, but I really do love them so much! Stefon started doing a correspondent segment on Weekend Update on SNL. The first time Stefon came on, he flirted with Seth Meyers. The second he did I was like ooh they would make a cute couple! Stefon the wild party guy and Seth the serious news anchor. It was a match made in heaven for me. Before Seth Meyers left SNL to do Late Night with Seth Meyers, Bill Hader came back to play Stefon for Seth’s last episode. I didn’t expect what happened next to happen at all! They gave Seth and Stefon the ending that I haven’t even gotten from some actual scripted shows. I never expected Stefon and Seth to have this big ending, but I could not be happier that they did. I’m posting the link to the six-minute skit/ending and I hope it works. It’s worth watching. Though the video says it’s Stefon’s farewell it was really Seth’s farewell episode.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rj-wYWMdWNk

7.) Mr. Simmons and Peter - Hey Arnold!

Anyone who grew up watching this show already knew that Mr. Simmons, Arnold’s teacher, was probably gay. It was hinted at in the Thanksgiving episode. Arnold and Helga visit Mr. Simmons on Thanksgiving at his house and his family and “friend” Peter are there. Mr. Simmons mother says she didn’t know Peter was coming to dinner and Peter responds with the infamous line “There’s a lot of things you don’t know.” When Mr. Simmons mom tries to get him to take a woman friend to the ballet, he says he loves the ballet and Peter gives him a disapproving look and Mr. Simmons immediately declines. Those were enough hints for us fans to decide Peter was his boyfriend. Years later, the show's creator Craig Bartlett finally confirmed Mr. Simmons is gay and had them together in the 2017 Hey Arnold: The Jungle Movie. It was so exciting to finally get the confirmation years later, even though I was already certain of it for many years. I was happy that the cartoon no longer had to settle with vague hints about it.

8.) Callie and Arizona - Grey’s Anatomy

I was very happy to see a lesbian couple on prime time tv and I really liked both characters. I was excited to root for them but sadly as most couples on this show, their relationship took a turn, and I wasn’t thrilled about it. I was disappointed that it came to an end. By then I was already getting tired of watching the show. It was starting to feel like a chore to watch it every week. I tried to stick it out because I don’t like to give up on shows in the middle of it, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’m glad I did though because the shocking events with Derek Shepard, is something I’m glad I wasn’t around for. Anyway, I heard things between Callie and Arizona got even worse, so I was even happier I left when I did.

9.) Sherwin and Jonathan - In a Heartbeat

This was one of the cutest things I have ever seen! I wish this got the full-length movie treatment instead of a short film. But it was still a step in the right direction for the LGBTQ community. Gay characters in cartoons always bring me such joy and that was the focus of this short. A boy with a crush on another boy with a cute ending. What is not to love?!

10.) Mitch and Cam - Modern Family

Another show I had to give up on in the middle of the series. The show began to be less funny and more annoying to me. Another reason, that really has nothing to do with the show itself, that used to annoy me was that this show repeatedly beat out Parks and Recreation during award season. Parks and Recreation is a superior show when compared to Modern Family. This show won almost every year for years and it got really annoying especially when the quality of the show started slipping and they kept winning. After a few years, they finally stopped winning all the time. But before all that, I was a fan of Cam and Mitch. They were a great couple who I loved watching on the show. They were the best part of the show most of the time. But sadly, my annoyance of the show no longer being as funny as it used to be, was enough for me to stop watching.

[strigital]

Do tell about Nim, I couldn’t find much info about her through your blog and I am dying to know more about this werewolf lady

well grab a pint and sit yo booty down, cause our bard of the evening tonight is Nim and she's drunk as all hell and ready to weave some outrageous stories!! 🍻

in all seriousness, thank you for asking! 😭💗 she came about back in ye oldie days of hype over the 11th of november 2011, and since then refuses to give up the title of my fav oc!!

now, a Paarthurnax would say: lets-a go!

a quick recap of the events in Skyrim:

Naali Saryn was born sometime in 4E 130 on mainland Morrowind as a result of a quick fling between an unknown Dunmer girl and Lucien Lachance and Kassandra Saryn's (The Hero of Kvatch's) son.

Sometime in that year, the baby was found aboard a ship bound for Raven Rock and when no one came forth to claim her a couple of elderly and childless ash yam farmers decided to take her in until her family was found.

The family, of course, was never found, and so they raised her as their own for the next sixteen years. They called the girl Nim - short, sweet, meaningless, and easy to shout out into the fields where the little brat is out adventuring when the house chores are yet to be done.

Nim grew up alongside her best friend Teldryn (don't believe his tales about his past, there's a reason why he wears a helmet in his hometown). For years the kids dreamt of leaving Raven Rock behind and making it big in the big city. And idea which really annoyed Nim's ol' Nana, who believed that everything needed for a simple happy life was right here on Solstheim.

After one particularly nasty fight with Nana about the ordeal, Nim gathered a bag of things and slipped out in the dead of night to catch an early morning ship with Teldryn.

They stuck together for a while then went on their separate merry ways. He - to Blacklight, she - to Leyawiin. Once in the wild, Nim had to quickly figure out her place in the pecking order. The romantic life of crime seemed to be the most attractive for her, but getting on top could never be easy. Especially for a young, inexperienced, and naive girlie. So she ended up running with the wrong kind of crew. Ended up in some truly dark places. Barely got out alive. Learned from her mistakes. Wore the scars of abuse like armor and made sure that since that day no one in this world or any other would play her for a fool, use her or put a finger on her without her permission.

By the time she turned fifty, Nim was well known amongst certain circles as the kind of scoundrel, thief, bard, and wench one should not trifle with. But her luck had to eventually run out, and so it did on the night of the fabled Umbacano Mansion heist, which failed so badly Nim had to either leave Cyrodiil or end up in a Thalmor owned torture chamber.

Skyrim seemed like a perfect place. After all, in a kingdom torn apart by the civil war, no one would even notice yet another greyskin refugee, right? Well, the Thalmor did. And so she ended up on a cart bound for Helgen to have a date with an executioner. But then Alduin showed up to crash the party before he himself got rudely interrupted by another dragon, who swooped in to save the Last Dragonborn.

After the narrow escape, Nim concluded her duty to warn Balgruuf of the dragon threat and went on to start a new career as a merc with the Companions. She and Aela became fast friends and when the prospect of joining the Circle came up she gladly accepted a sip of her new sister's blood. To never again be helpless and weak? To rip apart any fool who'd take her for just another elf wench who can't put up a fight? Well of course it was worth giving up the ability to sleep and having to get used to all smells suddenly becoming ten times worse!

After that Mirmulnir showed up and ended up as another ornament above the throne in the Dragonsreach. And Nim got stuck with a title which she would wear with great discontent for years to come.

Eventually, she ceased trying to run away and hide from her destiny, accepted her role as the Last Dragonborn, and begrudgingly began her quest to save the world. On her journey, she met and became tight friends with Yollokmir and Alasil who taught her how to speak, fight and fly like a dragon. With their help she inherited Konahrik's legacy: his mask embued with his soul, his citadel far up in the mountains - the NebenLok Zeikangaar - and the right to revive and lead the order of dragon riders sworn to defeat Alduin - DovahDein.

As she gained power and the word of her great many deeds spread across Skyrim, she managed to get quite the following of fellow men, mer, and Dov, willing to follow her into Sovngarde and beat the hell out of Alduin. Alas, she failed. Twice.

At that point, Alasil informed her of a special someone who might be of help in their quest against Alduin and who might prove difficult to convince to join her cause. That was the first time in fifty years that Nim got to visit her home. Unfortunately, Solstheim had changed. And upon arrival, she learned that her Pa passed onto the realm of Azura soon after her departure, and her Nana... well, she wasn't young anymore and suffered greatly due to all the ash ruining her lungs... and when the islanders got called to the All-Maker stones night after night by a mysterious spell, she just worked herself to death. That was the only thing Nim wouldn't forgive Miraak for, not until he swallowed his pride and sincerely apologized for being responsible for his potential mother-in-law's death.

And with Miraak's help, they finally sent Alduin back to his Maker, enjoyed a few peaceful years until High King Ulfric became a bit drunk on his power and needed a good ass whooping as well. Then Miraak suddenly found himself as the new king and Nim... she just did her own thing. As always. The end?

Oh and all the while running about, gathering forces, growing her Dragonborn powers, hunting Dragon Priests and Alduin's henchmen, she also meddled with the Thieves Guild, put Karliah in charge and became her right hand, managed to become an advisor on all things dragon at the Mage's College, ended up teaching lute and songwriting at the Bard's College (she's taking a break since Viarmo can't seem to handle her teaching tactics), earned the title of Thane in every hold and became a good friend to the Dawnguard fellas (Isran is more than happy to teach her kids the ropes of monster hunting) after kicking Harkon's ass into Oblivion. In what little free time she has Nim also manages the Lakeview Manor and leases the ash yam farm back in Raven Rock for some extra cash. All in all, a busy woman!

and some tidbits about the dovahmom:

Although Nim is perfectly aware of her real name, she chooses to use the one given to her by Nana. Both as a sign of respect and because, frankly, she dislikes both the Sarynes and the Lachances, who are, in her humble opinion, just a bunch of pricks. Somehow, the ghost of her murdered grandad finds this opinion of hers kinda funny.

Her friends sometimes describe her as "cyrodiilic brandy in a cup of tea": she's this small elf girl with pretty blue eyes and a smile on her face and you think that she'll be very pleasant and cute and shy and then... then you realize she drinks like a sailor, swears like one too, can beat anyone into the dirt (thanks, Hircine) and doesn't take shit from nobody. She openly speaks her mind and doesn't give a shit about what someone might think of her. She does what she considers the right thing to do, never plays nice with those she dislikes, never pretends to be someone she isn't. She's feisty, sassy, brassy, and, quite honestly, just doesn't give a fuck.

Nim is in almost complete control over her inner beast, partly thanks to her draconic blood, partly - to the ring she got when she and Sinding had that little party on a moonlit night in that grotto. She only loses control over herself when both moons are full and thusly will travel deep into the wilds a few days before the magical night. This way the only people that might get hurt are bandits, necromancers, hags, and the like. She and Aela also managed to get a small werewolf pack going, named the Whitemane Pack after the old man himself and dedicated to those who wish to take control over their inner beast, hunt with honor, and cause the Silver Hand as much grief as possible.

Nim is raising Blaise and Sofie as her own since they both were just wee lil' war orphans (the babes are in their teens now). She never quite really knew why... Nim was never a wifey nor a baby momma kind of woman. In fact, she can't even have children in the first place and, honestly, always thought of this as a blessing - never having to worry about contraception like all those other girls and just having fun without a care in the world! Her friends sometimes joke around, saying that she might've finally "ripened" for the motherhood, but she doesn't care. She loves Blaise, Sofie, and Sissel (thanks, Miraak, you're so good at kidnapping children!) and is content with being their famous Dragonborn mom. Post-Alduin Miraak, however, is secretly annoyed for not being able to get her pregnant. Oh well, the man can dream...

Oh yeah! Nim plays the lute and sings too! It's a skill she picked up across taverns all over the continent when she realized that bards get free drinks and a bed, as well as ample opportunity to sniff out and seduce prey. And even though her days of hunting for good-looking rich fools are long behind her, she still performs in inns and taverns across Skyrim. Firstly, it brings in a fair amount of money, and secondly, it's good for her Voice! And also just plain and simple fun.

Also, people get terribly surprised when she, a Dunmer, doesn't act like one at all! Nim might've grown up in Raven Rock, a Dunmer settlement, but she spent the rest of her life traveling the continent and then living in Skyrim. She's more Nord-ish than some Nords! And the Nords actually really love it! It's so so easy to just get plastered with the homegirl, punch some faces and pass out on a heap of hay behind the inn, just happy to be alive on this fine snowy day. The only truly Dunmer thing about her is the occasional "n'wah!" which escapes her potty mouth. I mean, she doesn't even like sujamma all that much and would rather have a pint of mead! Whatever Ancestors she has must be spinning in their graves fast enough to generate electricity.

uuuhhh I think that's all the important stuff? i might've forgotten, in which case, I'll add it later... meanwhile, have some more Nim content:

^^^ the fanfic is slow, but it's moving... at a snail's pace. my advice: don't expect updates, so that when they do come, you'll be pleasantly surprised!

[pettyprocrastination]

I don't even know what I am asking for but can we get some headcannons for Stitches? Maybe some NSFW ones or possibly just some cute fluff showing the family dynamics with everyone? 🥺🥺

Thank you for gracing us with all your amazing work, it's honestly just, mwah - ✨

aaaa thank you so much!!! so I know this says nsfw but i also want to talk about stitches as a general gal (aka you) so were gonna delve into that a lil bit. (also sprinkle in a lil sumsum well see more of in future chapters)

@captainsamwlsn @cinewhore @ficsilike-reblogged (idk if i should tag those on the taglist for the fic because these are just short headcanons so uhh????)

You never went to college. Never felt the need to really. You worked from a young age for your father, even if you never thought of it as working. Sweeping up the shop when you got off from school as a child, sorting fabrics and clothes. He always told you he didnt want you to help “that’s why i have employees, little bee.” but you’d just smile wide and tell him you liked helping him. 

At a young age you loudly told him you demanded he teach you how to sew. Because you wanted to grow up to be just like him. He began to teach you during breaks at work and everyday after you came home from school, it was a quick hobby for you to pick up. If you weren’t sewing, you were watching him sew, and taking mental note of how calm he was and how fluid he’d move his hands to adjust the fabric and so forth. Any scraps were quickly snatched up by your tiny hands and taken off to your own sewing machine where you’d fashion it into whatever little project you were working on. 

Your father did actually want you to go to college. You were a smart kid, intuitive and stubborn, if you wanted something you would work until your bones ached to get you one step closer to it. He knew you were destined for more than this old shop, but everyday after finishing your homework you’d be by his side, listening intently as he taught you how to hem a dress and then excitedly showing him the latest shirt or stuffed animal you made. 

Even well into highschool, he talked to you about nearby universities and even some out of state. Sure the money would be a tight squeeze but he’d do it, for you. You were his everything. 

You gave in, told him you planned on taking a few economics classes at a local community college. “So i can help keep the shop running.” you told him with a proud smile. 

He didn’t want you to run the shop. The place was doing well but he knew one day itd run into the ground. A mall was opening up nearby, he knew that would put them out of business for good. He just hoped it’d be by the time you were gone, in college and pursuing a good job, a stable career. He wanted to make you proud, and he did that more than enough when you were young. He didn't want to shatter your image of your old man as a business owner by letting you know the shop was going to die. 

It wasn’t until the night of your junior prom that he finally gave in. When he saw you bounce down the stairs in a magnificent gown. Something that looked like it could be seen on a runway, something that surely could cost hundreds. 

But he knew. From the way you giggled and twirled, that you had made it yourself. 

“Made by yours truly! All the girls are gonna be so jealous! They're gonna wish they had come to us for their dresses!”

He knew then and there, you were gonna continue to bloom and create all your life. That he’d have to keep the business running for you to take over and watch it bloom

After prom, many girls came to you for your sewing services, often coming to you to make cheap copies of the latest brands and swarming you for dresses for graduation and future dances. 

You began to take classes at the community college your senior year, doubling your workload. your father often found you snoozing at the dinner table, textbook open and smushed against your face. 

He couldn’t have been more proud of you.

More about your father. 

His name is edmund, but goes by Eddie!

This man has so many friends. He's the type of guy who smiles and the clouds part. He makes friends literally anywhere he goes. 

Which in turn means that you had a metric shitton of adult friends growing up. Just random grown ups who'd come by for every holiday, pat you on the head and ask how school was. 

It was odd at times, realizing how much of a large unconventional family you had. But at some moments it was comforting. 

Like the two days you spent in the hospital after your father’s car crash. Many came and went, offering their comfort to you as you hoped and prayed for his survival and strength. 

They offered their comfort once more at the funeral but you were less receiving then. 

One of the closest men in your non-blood related family was Rodrigo. A portly man who owned a 24 hour restaurant just down the street from your sewing shop. 

In your early twenties, you and his son Benjamin dated for a few months. You laughed and traveled and did all the stupid shit you were supposed to do in your twenties together, but ultimately decided you were better as friends. 

But his father would always fondly call you the one that got away because his “dumbass of a son couldn't man up and make you his daughter-in-law.”

You never met your mother. Your father didn't have any pictures of her in the house either. 

You would ask about her constantly as a child, he always gave you the same response.

“Your mama and I had a fleeting relationship little bee, it just wasn't in the cards for us to stick it out together.” He would always get this wistful smile though. 

“But i'm okay with that. Because she gave me you. And you're the best damn thing that could've happened to me.”

In his last moments, your father had a smile on his face and realization in his eyes as if he saw somebody before him. Some nurses said he saw an angel, ready to lead him to heaven. 

You always wondered if he saw your mother. 

Though you had never seen the woman, you dreamt of her often. But they were always vague. A warm smile, a gentle caress to your cheek and a sweet voice speaking to you. 

You never knew what she was saying, but you always felt safe with her. 

if you couldn’t tell im back on my maxwell bullshit so if yall want some asks or headcanons feed ME BABEYYY

[365days365movies]

February 19, 2021: The Phantom of the Opera (2004) (Part 1)

I love musicals.

Hands down, when talking cinematic adaptations of musicals, my favorite is Little Shop of Horrors. I’ve seen it MANY times, and will see it many, MANY more. And I’m not the only one. I mean, obviously, but in this case, I’m referring to my girlfriend. She’s chosen to represent herself with a GIF from her favorite musical, Hairspray. So, here she is:

Ravishing. Now, because it’s currently our anniversary, I let her pick today’s movie from my list. And so, she chose a musical that neither she nor I have seen: 2004′s The Phantom of the Opera. And some of you may now be saying, “What, this guy said he liked movie musicals, and he hasn’t seen TPotS? That’s like saying you haven’t seen Grease, or Singin’’ in the Rain, or, PFFT, West Side Story!”

...About that...

Yeah, yeah, I know! It’s insane, and I’m a hypocrite. I’ll be getting to the rest of those eventually, and one of them’ll be coming in the next couple of days, I promise. You can probably guess which one. Anyway, fact of the matter is that we’re gonna watch it tonight, and I’m looking forward to it. 

However, there’s another factor to this, and that’s the fact that this film...doesn’t have the best reputation amongst fans of the original musical. And, yeah, this should ideally be the Michael Crawford version, but the Butler version is the one I have access to, so we’re going for it. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/2)

Paris, 1919, back when the whole city was in black-and-white for a year. They lost the budget for color after World War I. Anyway, at an old opera house, an auction is taking place, and items found within the theater are for sale. One of these is a music box with a monkey on it, an item which sponsors a bidding war between an older woman, and an older man in a wheelchair. I’m sure we’ll find out who they are eventually.

Anyway, a broken chandelier is also up for option, and was involved in the mysterious disaster of the “Phantom of the Opera” fiasco. They turn it on with electric light, and as they raise it to the ceiling, the organist goes fuckin’ NUTS. The song’s so loud that it REVERSES TIME, and we’re now in color, in the year 1870 at the same opera house.

The theatre, managed by the soon-to-retire Monsieur Lefèvre (James Fleet), has just been purchased by Richard Firmin (Ciaran Hinds) and Gilles André (Simon Callow), who are there to observe. On stage, a rehearsal for the opera Hannibal is taking place, and the costume’s are already...like, a LOT, not gonna lie. The headliner for the show is soprano (and drama queen supreme) Carlotta Giudicelli (Minnie Driver), and is being funded by patron Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny (Patrick Wilson). 

The background dancers are instructed by Madame Giry (Miranda Richardson), and include her daughter, Meg (Jennifer Ellison), and her adopted daughter, Christine Daaé (Emmy Rossum). As the rehearsal takes place, an accident happens on stage, almost injuring Carlotta. Enraged, she leaves, and refuses to perform.

Meanwhile, Madame Giry finds a letter from the Phantom, who demands his normal monthly salary of 20,000 francs, as for Box 5 to be left open. While the new owners think that this is ridiculous, they also note that it’s pointless without a lead singer for their show. 

However, Christine is volunteered, and shows that she is indeed a talented singer. The show goes on, and Christine is a smash, much to Carlotta’s dismay. At this point, Raoul also discovers that this is his long lost childhood friend (and possibly long lost love) Christine, which she also noticed earlier.

But this is because of a mysterious teacher, who sings to her from the walls of the theatre. Meg comes in to congratulate her (through song), and asks who her tutor is. Meg responds...in song (”Angel of Music”).

Afterwards, Madame Giry also congratulates her, and tells her that the Phantom is pleased with her. Right after, Raoul also pays her a visit, and the two reconnect on shared memories of times in an attic in the summer. She tells Raoul that she is visited by an Angel of Music, and cannot go to the dinner that night with him. And the Phantom agrees, as he locks Christine in her room. YIKES. 

And as literally every person in the theatre except Christine leaves, the Phantom serenades her, angered by Raoul’s presence, and Christine’s potential dalliance with him (”Mirror”). And through the mirror, he takes her to a mysterious crypt beneath the theatre. And as they sing their strange duet in the form of the title song (”The Phantom of the Opera”)...I try to resist talking about Gerard Butler until later. And it’s hard. It’s SO hard, guys.

But, OK, he takes her away on a...sewer horse...how the FUCK did he get that horse down there? And wait, WAIT, does he put her on that horse to walk her, like, 20 feet to the gondola? Like...WHY DO YOU HAVE THE HORSE? That is...monumentally wasteful. Where do you keep the horse? Does he feed the horse? How much? How often? With what? Does the horse eat the sewer rats? Is there naturally growing sewer hay? Does the Phantom’s salary go towards buying food for the horse, or buying new horses when the original ones DIE OF STARVATION - WHAT THE FUCK IS WITH THIS HORSE?!?!? WHOMSTVE THE FUCK

And yes, I love this fuckin’ song (not the singers, but we’ll get there), but this is distracting me alongside the statues of naked men in the sewer, because...well, Joel Schumacher. What can I say, it’s kind of his aesthetic. Anyway, we get officially introduced to the Phantom of the Opera (Gerard Butler), a very handsome-looking man who likes wearing a half-mask.

I say handsome, because the Phantom in this movie, looks...fine. HE LOOKS OK. HE LOOKS LIKE A DUDE WEARING A MASK. What, did somebody throw a hot candle at his face once, and he freaked out over it and ran into the sewers forever...WITH A HORSE? NOT OVER THE HORSE SHIT.

Look, the Phantom is supposed to be HIDEOUSLY scarred. Famously, in one of the film adaptations of Phantom, actor Lon Chaney Jr. purposely distorted his own face using adhesive face in order to play the role of the hideously disfigured character. Now, other versions have just given him severe, and I mean SEVERE burn scars. But behind the mask, Butler looks...fine. HE LOOKS FINE GODDAMMIT. He looks like he’s wearing the mask because it looks edgy and shit.

But OK, what’s happening in the movie? Oh, right, more serenading (”Music of the Night”), with another song that I like quite a bit. This and the previous song were songs Id heard before, and that I’d already had on my playlist. They’re great, what can I say? Now is Butler doing it justice? Ehhhhhhh, we’ll talk about that in the Review.

During this song he kinda seduces her, or attempts to, and also shows her a wedding dress. She sees herself in it and IMMEDIATELY faints, Jesus!  Curtain falls on Christine while she’s in a bed, and we go back to her room, where Meg is looking for her. She finds the mirror, and is about to go back there, but her mother finds and stops her.

Meanwhile, stagehand Joseph Buquet (Kevin McNally) tells the chorus girls of the legend of the Phantom, and describes a physical description that doesn’t match him...even a little. We cut back to Christine, who wakes up in what my girlfriend refers to as a “bomb-ass HQ.” Which is fair, let’s be honest. Anyway, she heads over and tries to unmask her new masked lover (?).

He’s not the biggest fan of this, and he emos all over the screen (”Stranger Than You Dreamt It”). And then, as he puts his mask on, we suddenly (and I mean suddenly) jump to 1919, where the old woman, Madame Giry, bids farewell to...wait, that’s Raoul? HOW DOES HE LOOK SO MUCH OLDER THAN HER, WHAT???

Back in the past, inexplicably, the theatre owners and manager sing about the theatre and the Phantom’s demands ("Notes..."), and are soon joined by Raoul, who brings them a separate note, saying not to look for Christina any further. THEN, Carlotta joins them, delivering a letter of her own from the Phantom, warning her not to return to the theatre.

In his letters, he details how his theatre is to be run, threatening a disaster if Christine is not cast in the lead role, and if Carlotta is not cast in a silent role. However, the theatre owners and Carlotta refuse to obey, and Carlotta is cast in the role, as the owners try to appease her (”Prima Donna”).

That night, during a performance of Il Muto, Carlotta’s singing the lead role. Additionally, Box Five is full, and the Phantom is PISSED. So, like a Phantom do, it’s time for some good old fashioned petty revenge! He switches her throat spray, causing her to lose her voice on stage, and causing the audience to laugh when the show ends abruptly. They quickly and publicly recast the role, giving it to Christine instead. Well, mission accomplished by the Phantom! Guess we’re good without retribution. And then he hangs the stagehand.

Well...fuck, man. Realizing that the Phantom is EXTREMELY dangerous, Christine goes to save Raoul, who she...is in a relationship with now? Wait...wait, hold up, the fuck did I miss? I mean, yeah, he probably is gonna kill Raoul, but there is, like, NO lead-up to their connection before this point.

Anyway, as Christine explains that there is a Phantom when Raoul says he doesn’t exist...wait, WHAT? MOTHER FUCKER BUQUET JUST NOT MURDERED IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY WHAT IN THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN????? YOU LITERALLY HEARD THE...you know what? Break. BREAK. This is...this one’s tough.

See you in Part 2!

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

Bi(e)tter Life - Part Six

My Masterlist ✨

Requests are open.

Bi(e)tter Life - Chapter Three

Steve Rogers x enhanced!Reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Summary: Steve Rogers is determined to take down all the HYDRA agents still operating. Among them, he knows there is his childhood best friend, Bucky, but he still doesn’t know he isn’t the only person from his past coming back to life.

You dreamt of being once again where everything began. In that forest which gave you powers. In that country that at the moment you hated so much. You dreamt of how beautiful it would have been meeting again your family; your beloved mother, the father who had always forbidden you a scholastic education. And then your thoughts went to your friends, Bucky and Steve, the only two children in your block who liked to play with you, to spend time with you.

All of a sudden you saw Steve in your dream, but he wasn’t like you remembered. It was a version of him you had never seen before. His iconic blue eyes and his blonde hair, which you remembered being very soft to the touch, however his body wasn’t thin and pointy. No. It was a built body, you had the perception you had touched his arm and it wasn’t skinny as it used to be. It was so hard and big that you couldn’t close your hand around it. You turned your head and saw a house in fire.

Your house.

You got up and tried to run towards the burning house, but there was something holding you in place and, when you tried your best to escape, you still couldn’t make a move. It was like you were a puppet and whoever was guiding you didn’t want you to be free. You looked at your hands and feet, but they weren’t tied to anything.

What was happening to you?

As you opened your mouth to scream, you found it hard even to breath and your right hand went to your throat, which was filled with tubes. You wide opened your eyes and searched around the room for anything to help you. You realized you weren’t in your old flat anymore; at the moment you were in which seemed being a hospital room and you couldn’t move; you realized being forced on a bed, literally tied to it, and you couldn’t breathe independently.

You repeatedly twitched on the mattress, but at the same time you did your best to keep calm so that the tubes couldn’t hurt your organs. You were panicking when a young, thin woman entered the room and paled when noticed you were awake and struggling.

Doctor Price had heard some strange noises coming from your room and decided to leave her office to check on you, her only patient. Once she had entered the patient room, she saw you were alert and immediately called for the other nurses to help her to extubate you and check your vitals. While they did that, the doctor called Mr. Stark to inform him that you were finally able to talk with him.

The voice of your awaking ran fast through the halls of the Avengers Compound, so fast that even before Tony Stark could get out of his office to reach you, Steve -who was training in the gym- ran away and arrived at the floor you were being checked over and over again.

“Your vitals are excellent, Ms.?” he heard one of the nurses asking and he figured out that it was you who were asked the question.

Steve kept staring at the door of your room -not even him knew why- and waited patiently until the doctor and all the nurses had left you before slowly breathing in and taking courage to enter.

“Whoever you are I hope you’re not here to fight me, otherwis-“ you were more than determined to end whoever had the courage to pass through that door. But surely you weren’t ready to see Steve Rogers coming in.

Steven Grant Rogers.

Also known at you as Stevie. Your Stevie.

That was how you called him, and he looked up at you, smiling. “You didn’t forget it”, Steve was unsure if you would have appreciated him getting closer to you, so he moved a chair next to the bed you were still lying on and sat down, “You’re awake, finally”.

“How much have I been asleep?” you weren’t connected to any machine anymore, so you had the liberty of moving your arms and legs as you wished; you sat up better and checked that there weren’t scars on your skin. As you knew, your body healed form the injuries very quickly, “Did I lose blood?”

You looked scared at Steve’s eyes and he couldn’t understand why. He didn’t remember you being afraid of wounds or blood, you were very brave -probably the bravest he had ever known, “We had to induce you into the coma, you had been asleep for a week”.

Those words didn’t calm you down, indeed, you asked your last question once again, looking straight at him, “Answer me, please”.

“No. They need your consent to run tests on your blood”, Steve noticed you were nervous, that you kept searching for something he couldn’t understand, “Y/N, why are you so scared?- Hey!” he waved a hand in front of your eyes and you raised your head towards him, “Answer me”.

“Before, assure me that no one has taken samples of my blood, neither did anyone touched my blood”, your eyes were full of tear, which menaced to pour out if Steve had told you otherwise.

The big man in front of you looked you dead straight into your eyes and said: “No one took samples of your blood, Y/N”. After some seconds of silence, during which Steve patiently waited for you to explain him the reason why you were so troubled, he asked his question: “What is going on, Y/N?”

Tony Stark was in Miami when he was notified of your awaking in New York. Happy postponed all the appointments he had that day and alerted the heliport of their forthcoming departure. They arrived at the Avengers Compound less than three hours later and went straight to the wing of the building where he knew he could find the doctor Cho, you and, well, Steve Rogers, too.

Firstly, he decided to visit Helen and gather some information directly from her mouth. She was in her office, highly probably waiting for him to arrive; in fact, he knocked on the door and without waiting for anyone to invite him in, he surpassed the door.

“Good morning, Helen”, he sat down in front of the young lady with jet-black hair, “We both why I’m here. What can you tell me about her?”

“She’s stationary”, Doctor Cho took a moment to pass him the dossier about you, “Actually, I have to say that I’ve never seen anyone healing any faster and any better than her. I’ve already told you that all her wounds had healed way before she entered the surgery room and less than twelve hours later also her scars had gone”.

“So, you’re telling me that she heals better than Steve Rogers, aren’t you?”

The lady in the white coat nodded, “The Captain takes longer to heal”.

A few moments of silence followed that statement. Both the brilliant brains were trying to figure out what they were dealing with and Cho, more than Stark, couldn’t find any reasonable cause. The man concluded that she had to be some kind of female version of Steve.

It had to be that, otherwise he didn’t know what to expect from you.

“I’d like to participate when you’ll ran tests on her blood”, Stark stood up ready to leave the room when Helen got up from her chair and showed him a piece of paper.

“She doesn’t want us to run any kind of tests. She hasn’t signed the consent form.”

Not to say, surely Tony wasn’t happy to hear that; he looked very irritated by those few words, so much that he prayed Helen had took some samples before you could wake up. Fortunately for him, she did it. “Good job, Helen. Keep them here, away from everybody else, and if someone asks you, we don’t have them. Is it clear?”

Doctor Cho nodded and started thinking of a place where to hide those the three phials of red liquid which she had on her desk. Once they had agreed on how to proceed, Tony got out from her office and visited your room, but he found you asleep, so he went away.

After all he had everything he needed to search about you.

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