#i also want some odd picks but not ones that would draw too much attention. like having both a european badger and american robin

[lucabyte]

hey do i have any followers who are seasoned xenofiction fans . im trying to figure out an animal cast for something and want to know what the vibes are for "wouldn't raise an eyebrow in a setting" vs "would raise some questions". Like, as a speaking role having creature. So i don't mean a cast entirely comprised of just that species, I mean alongside other animals.

this is entirely vibes based i'm just in like. a decision-making pre-production stage rn

(no need to rb by the way i dont need a very big sample size for this)

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-nine: "The Stray"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt spends his morning alone with the new cat until you return.

Or You say something to Matt that has a bigger impact on him than you even realize.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: This update is also light and fluffy with its own little surprise at the end. It's also entirely in Matt's POV. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly

Matt hunched over his steaming mug of coffee on the kitchen table, one of his hands running along his face as he tried to wake up. He was still dressed in only his boxers, finally crawling out of bed a little after he’d heard you leave the apartment. He knew you’d woken up early, over-eager to pick up the extra odds and ends for the cat that you’d excitedly ordered last night on your phone from the pet store just two blocks over. 

It had admittedly been adorable listening to how thrilled you were just over picking out cat toys last night. A faint smile ghosted over Matt’s lips even now as he remembered the little shriek you’d made, grabbing at his arm beside you on the couch when you’d spotted sushi themed ones. Granted, Matt always thought you were adorable and found your excitement contagious. 

Drawing the mug of coffee to his lips, Matt could hear the soft patter of paws approaching him. He drank down the liquid before lowering the mug back to the table, his attention shifting to where he heard the cat sit down on the floor not too far from his chair. The soft swish of its tail back and forth was fast becoming a familiar sound around the apartment already.

"She's not here right now," Matt told the cat. "So whatever manipulative face you've been giving her to get your way since yesterday? It won't work on me. Because I can't see it."

A tiny mew met Matt’s ears, the cat's tail continuing to rhythmically move back and forth along the floor. 

"Yeah, you won," Matt told him. "Seems like you didn't belong to anyone after all those calls we made yesterday, so you get to stay here." He pointed a finger down towards the cat, his expression stern. "But don't think you get free run of this place destroying things just because she likes you so much. No scratching up the couch. Or knocking dishes off the kitchen shelves– especially the coffee mugs," he told the cat. "She's weirdly attached to a few of them. I don’t want her crying because you broke one."

Another small meow met Matt’s ears and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Pressing his lips firmly together, he fought the smile threatening to slip onto his face.

He'd never had a pet before. His father never could've afforded taking care of one when Matt was young, and there was absolutely no way he'd have ever been allowed to have one at St. Agnes, so he initially assumed having a cat roaming around the apartment would be annoying with his senses. The meows, the multiple paw pads hitting the floor as the cat walked, the incessant purring, and the irritating sound of a cat’s tongue as it groomed itself. Those were all things that immediately came to mind when you’d suggested keeping the cat after he’d rescued it from the dumpster. But surprisingly Matt had discovered he hadn't minded the cat's presence much at all–other than the litter box you'd already bought for it. Though if you or Matt cleaned it immediately, the smell wasn't that bad to him and he was quickly learning to ignore it.

This cat’s meowing wasn't actually loud and grating to his ears like he'd always imagined it would be, either. Instead, it was more of a light, sweet noise, one that he’d come to like each time he'd heard it. And the purring almost had a white noise effect just like the patter of rain on the windows. If he was being honest, he'd actually liked falling asleep with the cat at the foot of the bed last night. He'd focused in on the purring, managing to tune out not only the sounds in the apartment building, but also the noise outside in Hell’s Kitchen. Last night was the fastest Matt had ever fallen asleep since gaining his heightened senses with the sound of the purring and your steady heartbeat in his ears. 

He heard the cat rise to its feet, padding over towards his legs. A second later he felt the cat's head rub against his bare calf and the smile finally made its way onto Matt’s face. The cat's fur, after having been cleaned from his time among the garbage, was silky and smoother than he'd imagined it would be, too. He figured it would be scratchy and irritating to his sensitive skin, because generally that’s how it always felt when he'd pet cats or dogs in the past. But apparently not this cat. 

"You're annoyingly persistent, you know that?" Matt told the cat.

Reaching a hand down, Matt scratched the fur under the cat's chin. Seconds later Matt’s ears picked up on the faint rumble as gradually the still nameless cat began to purr.  Some sense of pride began to stir in Matt’s chest at the sound.

“Thought it was supposed to be hard to gain a cat’s affection,” Matt mused quietly. “Don’t blame you for loving her so easily, but I don’t know what the hell you'd want with me.”

The cat stepped closer to Matt as he spoke, rubbing his side along Matt’s shin. The cat’s tail soon curled itself around his calf, the soft hairs almost tickling Matt. The smile on his face grew just a bit wider.

“I know what you’re doing,” Matt told the cat, withdrawing his hand from the cat’s chin and sitting back in his chair. “It’s not going to work.”

Turning his attention back to his coffee, he left the cat to his own devices. He’d noticed since the both of you had brought him home that he’d often taken residence along the radiator by the window in the living room, curling up on it and watching the pigeons on the rooftop across the street. But as Matt picked his mug back up, about to drink more of his coffee, he felt two paws suddenly land on his knee.

The cup of coffee hovered just before Matt’s mouth, his hand freezing. Head tilting to the side, his brows furrowed. The cat had stretched up on his hind legs apparently, his front feet resting on Matt’s knee. He heard the air shift just a bit as one of the paws reached up, and then Matt felt a furry little paw tap the back of his hand that was holding his coffee mug. Turning his head back towards the cat, he heard another little meow again.

“What?” he asked the cat. “I know I heard her feed you and fill your water bowl already when she woke up. And she’s the one who promised to fatten you up, not me. So don’t think you can trick me into giving you more food.”

The little paw gently tapped the back of Matt’s hand again and Matt’s eyes narrowed as he focused in on the cat. Nothing seemed wrong with him–or at least, as far as he could tell. It’s not like he generally tuned into a cat’s physiology and could really tell if something was off. But the vet you’d both taken him to yesterday–who’d in fact confirmed the nameless cat was indeed a male–had said he’d seemed malnourished but otherwise healthy. And Matt couldn’t pick up on anything different from him since then.

“Do you just…want attention?” Matt asked. “Is that it?”

Of course the cat couldn’t answer, but the other place Matt knew this nameless cat had enjoyed spending time was curled up on the couch. Usually next to you or in your lap. Matt remembered the first time the cat had crawled into your lap and laid down last night. He’d been finishing up taking care of the dishes after dinner, pausing when he heard your heart speed up in your chest. At first he’d thought your pulse increasing had something to do with him–but no. It was the cat. Again. Though, the cute little giggle you’d made when the cat settled down on you was one of the best sounds he’d heard in awhile.

“Fine,” Matt relented. “I’ll sit on the couch and drink my coffee and pet you. But if you so much as scratch me with one of your nails,” he warned the cat as he rose to his feet, “I’m going to throw away all of your cat toys.”

The cat made a noise in its throat, the sound something akin to a grunt of disbelief. The unexpected noise surprised Matt, causing him to chuckle as he navigated his way to the couch, trying to keep an ear out for the cat so he didn’t step on him.

“Okay, you’re right, I won’t do that,” he admitted. “But only because of her, not you. Don’t get that mixed up. She was just…really excited about the little sushi ones. I couldn’t possibly throw them away on her.”

Matt settled down onto the couch, the leather cold and a little scratchy against his skin. With a sigh, he raised his coffee mug up to his mouth for a drink, the warmth of it a pleasant contrast to the fabric on his bare skin. He heard the cat jump up onto the couch next to him as he swallowed the liquid, the soft thump of his paws landing on the cushion next to Matt only a faint noise with how little the cat weighed. Almost instantly he curled into a ball against the side of Matt’s bare thigh, the warmth of his furry little body hard not to notice. 

Relaxing back into the cushions, Matt’s eyes closed as he enjoyed his drink and tried to mentally prepare himself for the day. The warmth of the cat at his side soon became soothing, and admittedly it was nice to not be sitting here alone drinking his morning coffee while you were gone. He focused in on the cat’s faint purring, the noise a comfortable decibel to Matt’s ears. He was so relaxed and tuned into the cat that he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered the apartment building, even managing to startle him when you’d opened the apartment door.

“I’m back, Matty!” 

Matt’s eyes opened at the sound of your voice, the cat at his side stirring as well. Turning his head towards the entryway hall, he heard the telltale sound of your heartbeat pounding its usual rhythm in his ears. A smile spread across his lips. That would always be his favorite sound. 

“You manage to get everything you needed, sweetheart?” he called out to you.

“Yeah, they had everything I ordered,” you answered, the sound of bags rustling in his ears as you set them down to take off your shoes. “But I may have also bought him this little scratching post that’s also a hammock. It is the perfect height for the bedroom window,” you continued on, Matt grinning and shaking his head at the excitement in your voice. “So he can curl up in it and watch the pigeons and the traffic comfortably in our room, you know?”

“You’re spoiling this cat, you know that, right?” he teased.

Matt heard the playful scoff you made as you began to pick up all the bags in your hands again. Soon after, he heard your footsteps continue to make their way down the entryway hall towards him.

“He was found in a dumpster , Matt,” you replied. “I think he deserves some nice things.”

Matt shifted his attention down to the cat still curled up beside him on the couch, running his hand along the cat’s fur. “Yeah, I guess trash cat deserves some nice things,” he agreed.

“Matt!” you chastised.

Matt immediately chuckled at the tone of your voice and the way it had went up a few octaves. Admittedly he kept calling the cat that just because he enjoyed the way you reacted every time he did.

“He’s not a trash cat!” you shot back.

Matt heard you placing the bags down behind the couch before you made your way around it. Though when you had, he heard how you paused and the way your heartbeat sped up. Eyes narrowing, his head canted to the side in interest. What had that been about?

“Well, he was found in garbage,” Matt continued half-heartedly, his ears listening to your body. “And I am saying it affectionately.”

“Then maybe I should start calling you a trash Devil,” you quipped, “since I found you in a dumpster.”

He couldn’t resist the peel of laughter that fell out of him, his focus on your body briefly interrupted. He heard you make your way to the couch before he felt the cushion beside him shift as you sat down.

“Unfortunately that doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as Daredevil,” Matt replied, his laughter subsiding.

“Mmm, no, I suppose not,” you agreed.

Matt focused back on you, still absently petting the cat at his side with his free hand. Your heart had returned to its usual pace now. Matt’s head tilted to the side again, curiosity winning out.

“What was with the change in your heartbeat a moment ago?” he asked. “Just before you sat down?”

“Oh,” you breathed out, nervously laughing lightly as you waved a hand. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

A mischievous grin slipped onto Matt’s face as he shook his head. “Okay, so it was definitely something then. Spill, sweetheart.”

There was a moment of silence before you answered. Matt could hear the way your nails were picking at a string on what he assumed were your shorts.You were fidgeting, something you didn’t do too often around him anymore.

“I just–just wasn’t expecting to see you sitting here practically naked with the cat,” you muttered.

Matt’s bottom lip slipped between his teeth, fighting back a smile. “You see me like this every morning, but me sitting with a cat gets your heart racing like that?” he teased.

The air shifted around you as you shrugged, your hands continuing to fidget in your lap. “I don’t know,” you muttered, your cheeks heating, “it’s just like…coming home to my little family or something now, you know? The two of you here together. Both my boys.”

The teasing smile slowly faded from Matt’s lips, his expression softening as he read the nervousness around your body increasing. A warmth stirred in Matt’s chest at your words, his heart swelling. Because you considered him and this stray cat family. Your family.

You waved a dismissive hand, laughing nervously. “Nevermind, it’s stupid,” you said.

“No,” Matt said softly, shaking his head. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat, a well of emotions trying to rise to the surface. Blinking hard a few times, he tried to push it all back. He wasn’t about to get emotional about that, not right now.

“So uh,” Matt began, clearing his throat, “we should probably start to think of names for this little guy if you don’t want trash cat to stick.”

“Actually,” you said, voice a little hesitant, “I had a thought when I was picking up everything this morning from the pet store.”

“For a name?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “I was thinking…what if we named him something after your dad?”

That lump seemed to abruptly thicken in the back of Matt’s throat. He swallowed a couple of times, a blurry image of his father mentally painting itself in his mind. It was getting harder to fight the tears in his eyes as he blinked them back.

“What–what do you mean?” he asked, hoping you didn’t notice the waver in his voice.

“I just meant it might be like a way to honor him?” you answered nervously. “And I–I was thinking maybe we could call him Mittens?”

Matt could feel the weight of the tears building in his eyes as his tongue nervously slipped out, wetting his lips. His hand stopped along the cat’s back, his fingers burying themselves into the cat’s comforting fur.

“Mittens?” Matt asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said. “Like boxing mitts? Since your father was such a great boxer. And, in your own way, I suppose you are, too. Though you don’t technically wear mittens out at night–but you probably should in winter time because you’re always freezing out there.”

Matt huffed out a laugh just as a single tear slipped out of his eye. Before he had a chance to discreetly try to wipe it away, you’d already noticed it. He heard the way you sucked in a breath, your back straightening on the couch beside him. And then it was your soft fingers on his cheek catching the tear, wiping it away. His eyelids lowered as he leant into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No,” Matt replied quickly. “You didn’t. I uh, I think that’s a great idea, actually.”

“You do?” you asked.

Attempting yet again to swallow that lump in his throat, Matt nodded against your hand. “Yeah, I love it,” he whispered. 

You leaned in towards him, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek where the tear had fallen. Matt’s lips curled upwards in a smile at the feel of them against his skin, so soft and warm. When you pulled away, you placed a sweet kiss to his lips next, lingering against them for a moment. Once again Matt’s heart felt like it was swelling in his chest, a whole well of emotions building within him that he was struggling to keep down.

You focused your attention down onto the cat next, your hands gently stroking the top of the cat’s head. Matt smiled when he heard the soft coo you spoke to the cat with.

“What about you?” you asked him. “Do you like Mittens?”

The resounding purr that began so soon after you’d asked the question seemed to be his response.  

“Sounds like a yes,” Matt whispered.

You giggled, still focused on petting the cat as you enthusiastically continued to chat to him, trying out the new name. Mittens seemed content with the name choice and the attention, purring even louder as he curled up further against Matt’s leg. 

But while you were currently very focused on the cat, Matt was focused on you. That warmth in his chest only seemed to grow even more as he sat there, listening to your cheerful and bright voice as you spoke. He couldn’t fight the smile that gradually returned to his face at what you’d said just a bit ago.

Family. That word meant a lot of things to Matt, but it was something he’d felt like he’d never truly had ever since he’d lost his father. Even if his mother was only a few blocks away at Clinton Church, it wasn’t quite the same thing, not with the history between him and Maggie. Foggy’s family had honestly been the closest thing Matt had ever had to a family, but he’d only met them when he was grown and in college. But still, he’d never truly felt like he’d had a family of his own, one that he belonged to.

Not until now. Because you were right, the three of you were a family.

Matt drew his coffee mug back up to his mouth, his mind suddenly and very surely made up as he took another drink. Monday he’d tell you he was working late on a case so you wouldn’t expect him home at the usual time. And then he’d finally ask Foggy to go help him pick out a ring.

[mothdruid]

I Wish You Would

pairing. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x afab!reader

word count. 3.3k

warnings. ANGST!!

author's note. this is for @laracrofted 1989 writing challenge. my song was I Wish You Would. and a special thanks goes out to @withahappyrefrain, @bobfloydsbabe, and @rae-gar-targaryen for letting me use your OC's as the bride and wedding dates for the daggers in this fic. well, here is some angsty angst for you all. also, the venue i'm writing about is a real place called The Farmhouse Siloam, and this is the dress I wrote the reader in.

The invitation had arrived earlier that year. It didn’t shock you that Jake was actually getting married, but having something tangible telling you was a little odd. Danica and Jake started off on an interesting foot. The way Jake had talked about her in secret wouldn’t have made it obvious, but once you all met Danica everything about the relationship made sense. She was the exact kind of woman that drove Jake crazy, in a good way. That’s one thing you and Bradley had always agreed on. That Hangman would hang the stars for his Venus, something you found out Bradley would have trouble doing for you.

The relationship hadn’t been terrible, honestly, it was the best relationship you had ever had. One that you thought about regularly, even though you continually told everyone you were over it. So, when Jake and Danica gave you the heads up that they were also inviting Bradley, you gave them questioning looks. Why would that even matter? It was their wedding anyways, they could invite whoever they wanted. It’s not like that final not was still something you thought about daily. But how would they had known that? They couldn’t have when you always told them the opposite.

Neither of you were bad people, but that night would have told anyone the opposite. Both of your words were laced with venom, neither one of you knowing how to convey your thoughts properly. It wasn’t like either of you, but things had gotten out of hand quick. One thing lead to another, escalating past the point of control.

An uneven breath passed your lips while you looked in the mirror. The dress you had picked was something simple. A two strap summery dress with a bustier built in. It was covered in a muted pastel floral print. Cielo and Abby had helped you pick it out. You bought it with the thought of being able to wear it again, and not to draw the attention of anyone specific.

Even though you and Bradley ended on poor terms, you still yearned for him. Almost two years later and you still wished for something. But you weren’t just hoping and wishing for him to reach out to you, you were also wishing you could have changed things. Wished you would have never hung up on him. Wished that maybe you wouldn’t have said the things you did. Wished that you would have swallowed your pride and reached out. Too many wishes, but it was all in the past and you couldn’t change it now.

All you could do now was face the day. Face the fact that you would be seeing him again. Face the emotions that were going to resurface.

You did a small twirl, calming your nerves in the process. If anything you could hide with Mickey, Cielo, Abby, Bob, and Reuben if things became too much. Or at least just Cielo and Abby. No matter what, you would survive. Ignoring the sensation tightening in your chest, you moved to the bathroom to finish your makeup.

-

Bradley stared at himself in the dressing room mirror, ignoring all of those who were fluttering around him. He had known about this day for a long time. Hell, he knew when Jake decided he was going to propose. Jake had immediately sent him and Javy a picture of the ring. Eager. That was all Bradley had thought about it. Bradley had a slightly pessimistic view on love now.

After his last relationship, he took a break from love. It was too painful, the only thing in the world that could hurt everyone. Even those whose walls were so high, heart so guarded. Those like Bradley.

Love had been the most damaging thing in Bradley’s life. The love for his father? Heart breaking. The love for his mother? Life altering. The love he had once felt for Maverick? Trust breaking. The love he had for you? World crumbling. It wasn’t worth it anymore in his mind. He had tried it multiple times, each time ending in pain.

The pain he had felt with you had been different though. It was a shared one, a pain he could tell that you were also experiencing. It wasn’t like when his dad just never returned home, or when his mom took her final breath in the hospital, or when Mav set him back. All of that had been one sided, him being the only one being hurt. But when he saw the tears roll down your cheeks, the way your chest heaved with each breath. That finally click he heard when you hung up. The ache in his chest as he stared at the phone, deciding not to call you back.

Yeah, you had been the one to hang up, but Bradley had been the one who did nothing. He didn’t do anything in that moment except let you slip through his fingers, like sand in an hour glass. He regretted it to this day. Knowing he should have at least reached out but didn’t. It was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. He finally popped his collar up then ran the tie for his suit around it.

He hadn’t been this dressed up, outside of his Navy regalia, in a long time. The last time he remembered was for your cousins wedding. A smile drifted to his lips, but only a small one, as he recalled the way you had tied his tie for him. Your face was so calm and focused, threading the material through the knot and tightening it up for him. His own hands followed the same pattern that yours once did. He was never able to capture it completely, but he always preferred how you had tied his ties.

“Crazy, huh?” Javy said while grabbing Bradley’s shoulder and pulling him close.

“That’s one word for it,” Bradley let out a little chuckle.

The two of them sat there for a moment, silence over taking them. Javy's bright smile faded a little when he met Bradley’s gaze in the mirror. Javy wasn’t oblivious to what today meant for Bradley, Jake neither. Jake had told Bradley immediately when Danica sent out invitations. Bradley was happy you would be there, seeing the union of two amazing friends. But he couldn’t ignore the anxiety festering in his chest.

“If you need anything, just ask man.”

“Thanks.”

-

Throughout the entire ceremony you had fought the urge to throw up. Which now lead to you in the bathroom, waiting for your nausea to calm down. It was the worst symptom of anxiety you got, that and the tightness in your chest. You didn’t think that seeing Bradley would do this to you. You had been preparing and hyping yourself up all morning, only for him to crack it all with one look. A look he didn’t even return.

You moved to the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror. That’s when you noticed something that you didn’t catch prior. Well, you had ‘caught’ it, but didn’t realize the full extent of your choice in lipstick. It was Bradley’s favorite shade. It was a soft neutral, one you wore cause it went with everything. Bradley had loved it because, “It just makes you glow”, or at least that was what he had told you. Your fingertips almost brushed your lips, but you stopped yourself and simple smiled.

The reception was gorgeous, the entire thing had been gorgeous. It was an outdoor venue, a boho-esque farm house that had been transitioned into a wedding venue. People were swarming everywhere, waiting to the newly weds and wedding party to show up for things to officially start. You made your way up the steps of the outdoor pavilion, looking around only to find familiar faces staring back at you. Danica and Jake had been kind enough to put all their good friends at the same table. Bob and Mickey both noticed you at the same time, alerting everyone else at the table of your presence.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Reuben said as he stood to pull your chair out for you.

“As if I wouldn’t miss this,” you replied while sitting down.

“That’s right, can’t stay away from us,” Mickey said with a big grin.

The night had moved fast. Dinner had been an event, Javy making his way over to your guys table to greet everyone. Jake and Danica eventually came over too, only after making sure to say hello to all the extended family, which Mickey was claiming you all were a part of. You, Cielo, Abby, and Natasha had talked about the struggles of finding the perfect guest dresses. Bob chiming in to say that you all looked phenomenal, only to turn red when you all complimented him back while Abby pressed a kiss to his cheek. The only person that was missing from your group was Bradley.

Your anxiety about the situation had subsided when the wedding party walked in. Bradley had actually looked at you, even gave you a small smile. The butterflies you had felt weren’t brand new, but they weren’t something you had felt in a long time. They were a regular thing Bradley used to give you, no matter how comfortable you had become with him. Butterflies on your one year anniversary, two year, and even three year.

Your gazes didn’t stop meeting throughout the entirety of dinner. He calmly sat at the wedding party table, disappearing at some point. The thought about finding him had crossed your mind, but you decided to stay seated, a small amount of anxiety winning that battle. It was a good thing though, the first dance starting only a few minutes after you made the decision.

All of you sat there mesmerized by the gorgeous couple dancing. They looked so seamless together, making your heart swell with fondness for the both of them. After the first dance was the dances they had with their parents. Danica with her father, Jake with his mother. All of it, everything was making something inside of you sad. Not for the people around you, but for the fact that you could have had this.

The night continued though. About forty-five minutes had passed since the music and dancing had started. You were sitting at your assigned table while sipping your wine. It had been your second glass. Even though you wanted to get really drunk, you decided not to. It wasn’t the time nor place, and seeing Bradley didn’t fully constitute it. But there was a still a part of you, one that was becoming a little overwhelming, was yearning for him.

A slow song had started to play, many people dispersing from the dance floor. It wasn’t the first slow song and it wouldn’t be that last. During the first slow song, Reuben had asked if you wanted to dance at one point after seeing the saddened look on your face. You had politely declined though, and Reuben confirmed that he understood. The two of you instead had sat at the table and watched all the varying couples on the floor. Jake and Danica, Javy and Natasha, Bob and Abby, Mickey and Cielo. The first time you didn’t take notice to Bradley’s presence, trying to ignore the silent plea inside of you.

Your heart was screaming at you, telling you to just walk over. It was wishing that you would simply go up and talk to him. Wishing that he would come talk to you. Wishing for so much that would probably never happen.

But this time you did notice his presence.

That’s because he wasn’t there, completely absent from the pavilion.

-

The day was going better than Bradley had anticipated.

So what if his chest was filled to the brim with regret and anxiety. He could get over that. What he couldn’t get over was how beautiful everything was. The venue looked like something from out of a movie, Danica truly looked like Venus, and it was perfect. Including you. Before he even walked down the dirt path they called the aisle, his eyes were locked on you.

How could they not be?

After countless days and nights he had spent with you. The very image of you was seared into his soul, being able to immediately pick you out before even seeing your face. You looked as beautiful as ever. It made his heart race, now being faced with the reality that he was only a mere twenty feet away from you. So, he made sure not to make eye contact throughout the entire ceremony. It was harder than he thought it would be. All he wanted to do was look at you, but he forced himself not to.

That was until the reception started. When he walked up the steps of the pavilion his heart was hammering. The DJ announced his name and he walked through, eyes finally meeting yours. It was brief, but it was enough to make his mind spin. He immediately noticed the color of your lips. It was his color, the one he had always loved on you. The one that made you look radiant, complimenting you in all the best ways. It had always grabbed his attention. It wasn’t an extravagant color, but you made it extravagant.

And you continued to keep his attention all night. His eyes followed you, adverting away fast enough for you not to notice when you looked his direction. It was borderline painful watching you with all of his friends. They were your friends too, but the two of you hadn’t been around all of them at the same time in forever. Not actual forever, but that’s what it felt like to Bradley. More like a lifetime.

All he kept thinking was about how foolish he had been. Wishing all over again that he would have done just something. Called you back, sent a text, or simply just not disappear out of your life. But at the time he thought that was the best thing. Only after did he realize how dumb he actually had been. He had to leave the pavilion for a moment, getting fresh air to relieve himself. He returned only a few minutes later.

Then when Jake and Danica started the first dance he started to feel sick. If he would have been better, that could have been the two of you. He could have seen you in one of those gorgeous white gowns. All he saw when he pictured it was you as an ethereal being. This all had to be karma, finally coming around to bite him in the ass. And it didn’t stop either. Watching everyone take their partner, arms wrapped lovingly around them.

Watching how Bob softly moved a stray strand of hair from Abby’s face. The bright smile that Mickey brought to Cielo. Even the way Natasha was laughing at Javy's dumb jokes. He wished that he could have been like that with you. Whisking you around the floor, whispering in your ear about how lucky he was to have you. But it was simply a wish, nothing more.

So Bradley left.

He didn’t want to sit with the regret and pain anymore. The memories of how foolish he had been to let you slip through his hands. He made his way out of the pavilion, dress shoes hitting the grass quickly as he walked a little bit away from the pavilion. Warm deep breaths filled his lungs as he stared out at the sky. Hues of orange and pink were starting to blend in with the clouds.

Not even a minute later did he hear someone coming down the pavilion steps. He waited for a moment, hoping he would hear the steps hit the stone path, but they didn’t. The small sound of shifting grass was creeping closer to him, making hm let out a sigh. He was whole heartedly expecting to see Javy, maybe even Nat in tow. But when he turned around he was much more surprised.

-

“Hi,” you said barely above a whisper.

“I.. Hi,” Bradley greeted back.

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at one another. Bradley’s eyes had brightened, a soft smile pulling at his lips. Which you mimicked, offering your own small smile at him. Neither of you knew exactly what to say. It didn’t feel awkward, but it wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable either. You looked up, seeing the gorgeous colors of the sky. Bradley looked up to see a little more pink had settled in the sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you said.

“It really is,” Bradley replied.

There were a few beats of silence before you spoke again.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” you didn’t look at him, keeping your gaze towards the sky.

Bradley looked at you though, wondering why you would ask that question. You had never bothered him ever, he just sucked at showing how much he cared about you. Sucked so much he couldn’t even properly show it to you.

“You never have,” Bradley decided it was a now or never thing.

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow to act like you had no idea what he was implying. A breathy half laugh passed your lips as you stared at him now. You waited for a moment, hoping he might retract it or something. That never came though, so you dropped the slightly confused expression from your face.

“Bradley, I didn’t mean it like that,” your smile was gone now.

Bradley nodded, “I know, but there was a lot I wanted to say and never did.”

Those bubbles of anxiety were floating back into your chest, threatening to pop at any moment. But there were things that you had never said either. It was now or never, say your peace or forever hold it.

“There’s a lot I never said either,” you started to fiddle with your hands, a nervous habit you had always had.

“First, I want to say I’m sorry, genuinely,” Bradley’s eyes were sincere as he spoke, “you didn’t deserve anything that happened or that I said. I was stupid then, the emotionally capacity of a peanut.” You both let out a chuckle after that one. “And I don’t expect everything to be magically okay, but I just wanted to apologize and say”, he paused briefly, “that I miss you.”

It felt like your heart had broken into two. Everything you had ever seen in the media was telling you to ditch him, tell him to fuck off. But you couldn’t, because you completely understood what he was saying. You felt the exact same way. Ever since he left it was like you were missing something, double checking every time you left your apartment.

“Bradley, I’m miss you too,” you grabbed his hand as you spoke.

His hand encapsulated yours. The warmth was something familiar yet distant. He had always ran a bit warmer than you, something you had always appreciated. A soft smile appeared on his face once more. He rubbed his thumb lightly on the back of your hand. Neither of you were sure how much time had truly passed since you found him, but another slow song started to play in the distance. Bradley let out a small huff that caught your attention.

“What?” You asked.

“I just… I’ve been meaning to ask you all night,” Bradley started, “would you like to dance?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you stayed there in the grass. Bradley kept you close to him, hands resting on your waist. You rested your head on his chest while your arms where wrapped around his neck. It was peaceful, anxiety melting off the both of you. It wasn’t completely perfect, but it was something the both of you had wished for.

[imagine--if]

banda protecting quiet reader during jack of hearts?

A/N: This was the second most voted after Chishiya, so ya, enjoy 😁 I did some headcanons because I felt like an imagine would be too long and complicated haha 🖤 also there's a bit of Chishiya x reader near the end 😏

♡ Banda Being Protective Includes... ♡

💜• Banda probably noticed you being your quiet self, once everyone's gathered together and he's assessing the players around him in his head. Like, the Jack intrigued him since he already had an air of superiority and independence about him, and Banda picks up on those things about a person with mild interest as he waits to see what they'll do and if they're worth his time. So when he sees you watching everyone starts to exclaim at the game's strange rules and how they could be trapped in it forever, and then you just sitting quietly by yourself, his grey-blue gaze lingers, and he stalks over to you.

💜• We know what he's like at this point - basically antagonising the person with some backhanded compliment that could be considered an insult, before he follows it up with an offer of alliance or friendship. So with you, you'll get something like, "Being this quiet will only make people want to kill you more. They'll think you're up to something." And as you stare at him uneasily, his serious expression suddenly morphs into a smirk, as he comments, "I hope you are. I'll help."

💜• Yeah, he's an odd guy 😅 but at least you're not one of his targets or anything. For the first couple of rounds, he won't do much in terms of communication and protection, not just yet. Banda wants to see if you can survive on your own, if you're smart enough. And when it's proved that you are, it only makes you more of a pretty curiosity, and that's when he'll start shadowing you and speaking for you when you don't want to.

💜• It's a little similar to that woman who Jack secretly communicated with and the other psycho if you know what I mean 😂 but less servant-master vibes, and more partner vibes. For example, if someone's asking you too many questions, or if the bouncy manipulator girl tries getting into your head with a sweet smile, he'll make a remark from sitting behind you or something. One remark, but its what he says and the way he says it that's all they need to get the picture and back up with a confused and uncomfortable look on their face.

💜• Banda's way of protecting you comes through telling you the truth about what card symbol is on your collar, basically following you around wherever you go, speaking for you when you prefer to stay silent and simply look, and whispering things to you for you to whisper back in your naturally hushed tone when its something private or important about the game.

💜• I'm gonna throw in some Chishiya here because I can't help it 😉 you'll come to realise that Banda's protective nature over a mysteriously quiet and observant person can be borderline possessive when the game's drawing to a close and he's become more attached and obsessive. So, when there are only a few of you left, and Chishiya's lost his partner, naturally coming over to you to try to convince you not to ally yourself with Banda because he's a murderer... 😵

💜• Suddenly Banda himself steps from behind you with a dangerous glint in his eyes you've never seen before, and whispers something in Chishiya's ear that you can't hear. When Banda pulls away with a self-satisfied smirk, and takes your hand to pull you away, Chishiya's left watching after him blankly, his usually amused features slightly caught off guard by whatever threat Banda breathed into his ear. It doesn't stop Chishiya from trying to figure you out though - if anything, it intreguies him, though he'll be more sneaky in the ways he does it so as not to catch Banda's attention.

💜• If you ask Banda what he said, he'll only shrug and give you a half-smile, tracing a finger down your cheek to hook impossibly softly under your chin with "Don't you like me protecting you, baby?"

💜• And you're just like 😶

💜• So when the game finishes, and Banda and the other guy go after Jack, Banda manages to get a hold of some sort of tracker and makes you keep it on you. "I've got some things to do for us," he'll tell you with a casual smile, "but I'll come back from you. I'll be watching. Always. Can't let anything happen to this pretty face, can I?"

💜• And he won't. But meanwhile, Chshiya's observing the scene hidden behind a wall somehwere in interest.

okay maybe i should follow this storyline up with an imagine now cus im loving it bahaha

[inbarfink]

You know, considering both Invader-Zim-the-show's reputation for not giving a crap about storylines or continuity and Invader-Zim-the-character’s reputation for being absolutely terrible with infiltration and disguises - there seems to have been actually a surprising amount of Thought put into the continuity of one of Zim’s human disguises. Namely this one -

This old man disguise is the first not-Skoolboy earth disguise we’ve seen Zim wear, in the episode ‘Walk of Doom’. At first it was kinda Weird to me. Why there was a whole new disguise just for this episode? And then it hit me…

Zim’s usual disguise is that of a 12 year old child - and being a child running around unattended and unaccompanied in the middle of the Big City might draw unneeded attention. Especially if this is happening on a Skoolday. (Which, judging from the lack of child extras in the episode, it could very well be.)

And so Zim created a new disguise that unambiguously looks like some sort of an adult (an old man in this case) to make sure there would be no questions or issues about him wandering the city on his own.

That same logic also applies to that disguise’s second appearance in ‘Attack of the Saucer Morons’. This one also has Zim venturing farther away from his regular neighborhood and it explicitly takes place on a Skoolday judging from the bus seen in the final chase scene.

And since it was night when the Voot crashed and Zim wanted it back ASAP, I think this episode takes place very early in the morning and this Skoolbus is bringing kids to school and not driving them back home.

But it would still be kind of odd to see an elementary schooler running around on his own at 6AM on a Skoolday. Or I mean, it would be odd if any not-Dib-adjacent-human in this show was capable of processing what’s happening around them - but Zim has always been a lot more careful than he really needed to be. Like, that's the whole gag of that episode

And also, after this episode this costume is never seen again. Which also makes sense when you remember that in ‘Attack of the Saucer Morons’ this disguise was publicly compromised.

So yeah, it makes sense Zim would never wear it again. That ‘green old man’ was already revealed as an alien in disguise. Instead, the Old Man Disguise is basically replaced with the ‘Fluffy Guy’ one which he wears for basically the same purpose. 

When he wants to be seen as an adult and not attract too much attention to himself cause he’s away from home or Skool

Or when he doesn’t want to be identified as the local green Skoolboy Zim.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I think all the logic about why Zim pick his disguises does absolutely check out, so…

[pondslime]

what have I done (to deserve this)

bo sinclair x afab!reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4k

Bo POV. It’s the day before Valentine’s. Bo goes shopping at a bargain outlet. In true romcom fashion, you’re there too. 

Chance encounter meet-cute. Except it’s with the worst man this side of Baton Rouge. Sucks! But you get to make out with him! Hope that’s worth the incoming pain and misery, bestie!

Crossposted on AO3 here. 

Very self-indulgent and GOOFY. A heaping dose of humor and general dumbassery. Big warning for Bo being Bo. We’re in his head and he is, as always, so stupid. Reader does not have a car for porn reasons. That’s it. She’s a public transportation whore for roadhead purposes. She’s also kind of annoying. And a bratty bimbo. 

The title of this fic comes from the song “What Have I Done to Deserve This” by Pet Shop Boys. It’s just a jazzy lil 80′s track that I could 100% picture playing in a bargain outlet over shitty speakers. Bo’s on his Gen X shit.

I just wanted to write about Bo encountering a chick who immediately wanted to hoover him down. Ambiguous ending with some unsettling implications.

This fic is a birthday gift for @raccoonspooky​! 🦝💝👻 MWAH!!! I LUV U!!! HAPPY BDAY!!!! HAPPY BIRF!!! DAY!!!! HERE’S STUPID!!!! 4 U!!!

The bargain outlet stretches out in front of him, large yellow signs hanging from the warehouse ceiling. Sales down every aisle, 25% off on all kitchenware. Music blares out of loudspeakers, spitting out a song that Bo hasn’t heard since high school.

He’s thinking of his mother again.

Packed into the family car, bumping down the road to the department store. Just the two of them. Mama would tell him that it was because he couldn’t be left alone, that he wasn’t trusted like Vincent was—up at the big old house, drawing his pictures and staying out of the way.

Time seemed to drag on days like that, plodding along ungainly as Trudy slowly perused shelves. It always felt like he would be stuck there indefinitely, rotting away in front of the floral baking sets and printed potholders. When people congregated around the racks, Bo would reach up and grab her hand. Surrounded with onlookers, she’d let him hold onto it.

Sometimes they’d pass by the toy aisles, but she never gave them more than a passing glance. These trips weren’t for him, after all. Despite that, he looked forward to them with an odd giddiness.

Bo couldn’t be alone, but Vincent couldn’t get this.

Vincent didn’t get to watch himself reflected in the shining glass of the displays that their mother stopped at, tutting over bottles of perfume. He didn’t get to see the chrome and glossy mirrors, the array of beautiful women with long nails behind the counter tops. It wasn’t for him.

Bo would return home smug, carrying Mama’s bags. He always made sure to catch his brother’s eye.

Look. Pay attention. This is mine, it’s all mine. It isn’t yours.

He got in trouble one day. He couldn’t remember for what. Whatever it was, she got angry, and the trips stopped.

That department store had long since been razed. There weren’t a lot of things that stayed the same. Tradition was lost and paved over, turned into this.

Picking up a basket, he makes his way to the back of the store.

The hardware section is pitiful. It always is.

Tools are strewn everywhere, each one emblazoned with illegible clearance stickers. They never have the shit that he needs here. He sifts through the pile of haphazardly stacked tools, pulling a wrench out. It’s a twelve-inch, decent weight. He wraps his hand around it and knocks it against his palm. It’ll do.

On his way out of the aisle, he snatches up two rolls of duct tape and a pack of braided nylon rope.

There are some things you can never have too much of.

He cuts through the clothing department.

A store display looms overhead, announcing another sale. A woman pouts out of the ad, the heaving curve of her breasts spilling out of black lace. He feels something under his foot. Bending down, he plucks a bra off the ground. There’s a boot print across the front, dirt smeared across the polka dots.

���Good afternoon, shoppers!” A voice crackles over the intercom. “Two-for-one deals comin’ in hot this holiday season—”

Trudy would hate this place, with its messily stacked piles of clothes and the incessant beeping of the registers. That’s part of the reason he’s here.

“Um. Excuse me.”

“Huh?” He blinks, jerking his head up.

“Sorry, I just…” You look at him quizzically, your lips pursed. You’re holding a bra that looks identical to the one in his hands, sans dirt. “Need to get…uh. Behind you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He shuffles to the side. “Go on.”

He flicks through the rack, shoving the ruined bra unceremoniously to the back.

“You buying a bra?”

“Yeah.” He says absently. “For my sister.”

“…You’re buying your sister a bra?”

He turns to look at you. Wrenched away from the padded curve of the bras, he finally has a chance to assess you. Cute.

“Sister-in-law.” He amends.

Your brow scrunches in confusion and you nod slowly, fidgeting with the bra in your hands.

“I’m just messin’ with you.” He smiles.

“Okay.” You huff out a perplexed laugh.

He’s rummaging through the detergent when he sees you again.

“We just keep running into each other.” You remark.

“Seems like it.” Gesturing at the duct tape and utility gloves in his basket, he flashes you a smile. “Gotta get some stuff for work.”  

“You a plumber?”

“Uh, no.” He’s unable to hide the flicker of indignation that twitches his lip up into a sneer. “Mechanic.”

Your lips curves into an open-mouthed O and he glances down at your left hand. Finding your ring finger conspicuously bare, he files that away for later. It’s not like he gives a shit, but less collateral is less collateral.

“I run a station not far from here.”

“That’s cool.” You pick up a lint roller. “Well, nice to meet you.”

Bo finds you in the Valentine’s aisle. Or you find him. He can’t really tell.

“Are you followin’ me ‘round here, girl?” He shoots you a bemused smile. “You gonna tell me your name, stalkin’ me like this?”

“Maybe. What’s yours?”

“Bo.”

“You buying that for your sister-in-law too?” You nod towards the box of conversation hearts he’s holding. “Can’t imagine your brother likes that much.”

“Now, that’s where you’re wrong. We share everythin’.”

“Oh yeah?” You grab a box of chocolates off the shelf, placing it in your cart. “Seems messy.”

“She’s a lucky girl.”

“That depends.” You quip. “What’s your brother look like?”

He angles toward you, resting his hand on the shelf.

“We’re twins.”

Your eyebrows raise.

Couple months ago, he had one downstairs that kind of looked like you. Same hair color. He has a lock of it in one of the gas station drawers. Her ID’s in there too, but he doesn’t remember her name. He couldn’t place it at first, but that’s who you remind him of. Another version of you, maybe. You’ve got the prettier mouth, though.

“Surprised this one didn’t sell.” You pluck a card off the wire rack. A goose peers off of the paper, surrounded by hot pink lettering.

VALENTINE, WON’T YOU LET ME GET A GANDER…

You flip the card open. With a sigh, you hold it up so he can read it.

…AT THEM HONKERS.

“That’s a good one.” He nods appreciatively.

The food court is tucked into the corner of the store, a collection of neon signs and scuffed tables. The whole area smells gray, strings of cheap cheese and the lemony reek of industrial cleaner.

As he appraises the menu, he notices you at the drink fountain. When you turn, your eyes go wide.

“This isn’t what it looks like.” You exclaim.

“Huh.” He sighs. “Darlin’, you keep this up and I’ll have to call the cops.”

You open your mouth once, close it.

“You hungry?” He gestures toward the menu.

“You’re not from ‘round here, are ya’?”

“I’m just passing through.”

“Hmm.” He murmurs out his acknowledgment. “You should stick ‘round for a bit. Nothin’ like Mardi Gras in Baton Rouge. Family vacation?”

“No, it’s just me.”

He hides his laugh around a forced cough. Pinching at the bridge of his nose, he clears his throat.

“Sorry. Cigarettes.” He smiles at you. “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout quittin’.”

You chew idly at your slice of pizza, your eyes drifting over his face. He arches a brow.

“You like what ya’ see?”

“I’m not sure.” Your lips twist into a smile. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

You have a lot of damn nerve.

“You do this a lot?” He fixes you with a pointed look.

“What? Go shopping?” There’s something so hopelessly dumb about your expression. You’re blank and brainless, an assortment of curves and painted-on prettiness in front of him.

He imagines paddles whacking the careening Ping Pong ball of your thoughts across your brain. A thought misses the paddle, ricocheting off the side of the board. Game over. Fiddle with some buttons, start over. Another one comes to take its place, bopping uselessly in your skull.

He’s met enough of your type that it shouldn’t surprise him, but somehow it always does. Someone this stupid shouldn’t be allowed to wander too far. And yet, here you are, all by yourself. Just you and your flimsy hold on rational thinking, wandering around his state.

If he hadn’t have met you here, lord knows what trouble you would’ve gotten into. You’d probably have wandered out into the bayou. Blinking all pretty, getting stuck in the muck. Wrenching open a gator’s mouth and stepping into it just because you were curious how many teeth it had.

He’d pay good money to watch that.

“Don’tchu act all shy ‘bout this. You know what I’m askin’.” He tears the straw wrapper into tiny pieces, his gaze trailing down your neck and onto your breasts. “Ya’ make a habit of goin’ ‘round and propositionin’ men in stores?”

You choke out a laugh, your eyes going wide.

“I’m not propositioning you!”

“Whatchu doin’ eatin’ my pizza, then?”

“What am I…doing…” Your eyes twinkle with barely contained glee. You muffle a laugh around another bite of pizza. “…Eating…your pizza?”

“Yeah.” He leans back in the chair. “Ya’ seem pretty happy to be sittin’ right there. Eatin’ my pizza.”

“You’re very cute.” You wipe your mouth off with a napkin, staring pointedly at his hands.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Grabbing a slice of pizza, he takes a bite.

It’s awful. Grimacing, he manages to swallow it down. Glancing down at it in disgust, he lets it fall limply back into the box. It takes him a moment before he remembers to readjust his face into one of tranquility, winking over at you.

“You know what.” You deliberate for a second, your eyes darting to his lips. “I think I am propositioning you.”

“There’s a theater next to my shop.” He smirks. “You wanna catch a movie?”

“I don’t wanna interrupt your work.”

“I got all the time in the world, honey.” He winks. “Truck’s outside.”

“You’re not gonna kill me, are you?” You rest your chin against your palm.

“Not yet.” He shakes his head. “Hardly know ya’ yet. That’d be jumpin’ the gun.”

“Alright. Fuck it.” You grin. “Let’s go.”

Standing in line at the register, he reaches into your cart and snatches out the box of chocolates.

“Hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “What are you…”

“Ya’ think I’m gonna make a girl buy her own chocolate? What I look like to you?”

You move to say something, your eyes glittering.

“If ya’ say plumber—” He gives you with a sharp look, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll tan your hide.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” You stage-whisper, loading up the belt with items.

“Goddamnit, girl. Let’s get you outta this fuckin’ store.”

Pulling down a side road, he parks the truck.

“Hand me that, would ya’, baby?”

Rustling in the bag, he pulls out the box of chocolates. Ripping the plastic off, he tugs the lid open. He takes a bite of one. Cheap, shitty chocolate. Puts it back in its slot. Picks up another one and takes another bite. Caramel, but it’s still—

“You wanna give me my chocolate back?” You tap on his arm.

“Sorry, darlin’. I bought it. It’s mine.” He smirks at you. “Maybe if ya’ ask all pretty, I’ll give ya’ one.”

Your mouth falls open in shock and you let out a frustrated huff.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaim. “You lied.”

“Lyin’? Nah. Just omittin’ some details, sugar. It’s how we do it down here in Louisi—”

You clamor into his lap, making a grab at the chocolate. Popping one in your mouth, you bug your eyes out at him.

“Bad girl.” He tosses the box onto the dashboard. Reaching up, he grabs your chin, pulling you closer.

You taste like chocolate when he kisses you, his hand slipping down your jaw to tighten around your neck. You hum happily into his mouth, your hands on his shoulders. He can feel your breath under his fingers, the pulsing hammer of your heartbeat against his palm.

You’re always so close to death, to all that red and heat underneath, and you don’t even notice. He could press down a little more, constrict your airflow. Make it hurt. You need that, don’t you? You don’t have any fuckin’ structure. Leave you with your throat burning, your eyes swollen with tears. Make you thank him for that.

“I don’t really do this.” You murmur against his lips.

“Whatchu doin’ right now, then?”

You laugh, a breathless little noise. He reaches back and gathers your hair together at the back of your head. When he tugs your head back, you gasp.

“How bad ya’ want it?”

“I—” Discomfort flashes over your face. “Wait, um. Hold on. This is really awkward, but—”

You readjust yourself in his lap and he drops his hand, watching as you reach under your shirt. Biting down on your bottom lip, the strap of your bra slips down your shoulder. Working it through the sleeves of your shirt, you blow out a huff of relief. Stretching your arms to extricate the loops, you tug it free, tossing it onto the floor of his truck.

You turn back to him with a bashful smile.

“Movin’ fast, girl.” 

"The wire's been digging into me all day.” You shake your head, glancing over your shoulder at your discarded bra. “I needed to get a new one, but—I got kinda distracted."

"And whose fault is that?"

You look at him curiously, as if his question is strange. You lean forward and flick at the brim of his cap, smiling.

"Well, yours, technically."

“Don’t see how that tracks.” He leans back onto the headrest. 

“You distracted me.” Your voice goes high-pitched and melodic, a sing-song lilt that makes his hand tighten into a fist at his side. 

He exhales, snorting out a laugh. 

“You know what?” 

“What?” You tilt your head, raising your brows.

“I changed my mind. I’m killin’ ya’.”

You blow a raspberry at him, rolling your eyes. 

“Not yet, c’mon.” You whine, dropping kisses down the bridge of his nose. “It’s like you said. We haven’t even gotten to know each other yet!”

“You’re tryin’ my fuckin’ patience, girl.” 

“Good.”

You’re a bratty fuckin’ thing. Untrained, not an ounce of discipline in you. You rock your hips against him, wetting your bottom lip. Tart and wild, a stubbornness coasting under your skin.  He wonders how long you’ll be able to hold onto all that sass. What he’ll have to do to make sure you lose it. He can’t wait to see you cry—you’ll taste sweeter then, curled up inside yourself.

What kind of fuckin’ coincidence. 

“Look at’chu.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“What’d you say? Take a picture, it’ll last longer?”

“Oh, don’tchu worry, baby. I will.” He grins. “Gotta get you all warmed up first, though.” 

Slipping his hand between your legs, he rubs at you through your jeans.

“You’re not fucking me in your truck.” With a giggle, you still his hand, tugging it back onto your hip.

“You gonna try to stop me?”

“Um, yeah.” A shriek of laughter spills out of your mouth and the movement rocks your body against his lap. “Anybody could see us!”

“Ya’ gonna tell me that’s what you’re worried about?” He squints at you, squashing down the glare that threatens to darken his features. Not yet. “After grindin’ on my lap like that?”

“Look, I’ve got a better idea.” Shimmying off his lap and onto the passenger seat, you grin at him. “When’s the movie?”

“The movie?” It takes a moment before the realization hits him. Scrubbing a hand over his mouth, he clears his throat. “Oh, uh—an hour.”

“And how far away is it?”

“Uh, twenty, thirty minutes.”

“Well. I don’t wanna miss it.” You tilt your head, raising a brow. “What if there’s a line?”

“There ain’t gonna be a line.” He says definitively, a wave of exhaustion settling over him. 

“You don’t know that.” You laugh. “Anyway. I think…you should drive us there. Now. So we have time.”

He’s barely started the truck back up when he feels your hands at his belt, undoing the loop.

“The fuck you doin’?”

“Trust me.” You unzip his fly, pulling him out of his boxers.

You could be sweet if you wanted. All sugar. It’s easier that way, but you won’t want it easy. You’ll make him fight you for it.

You work your hand over his cock with a sigh of contentment. Your thumb teases over the slit, rubbing precum over the head of his cock. He feels a spike of irritation at you for wasting even an ounce of his spunk on your hands. As if to apologize, you bow your head, running your tongue up the underside of his cock. You’ll have to do better than that. Licking up the sensitive skin of his frenulum, you tease your mouth around him, letting him twitch against your tongue.

“Ya’ gonna suck it or not?” He snaps, keeping his eyes locked on the road. He doesn’t need to look down to know that you’re smiling.

“Don’t be grumpy.” Your voice floats up from his lap. “I’m just taking my time. You’re just so pretty.”

Pretty? Anger rushes through him. Calling him that—thinking you can, thinking that there wouldn’t be any consequences. Who raised you? For all your pathetic staring, you haven’t even seen what’s in front of you. 

The lack of respect is sickening, making his balls feel heavy and tight. He needs to be down your throat, if only to shut you up. Give you something else to focus on. Every moment you’re near him, you’re signing yourself away. Doubling back, going over the contract in bubbly cursive.

You’re entirely unaware of how many marks you’re tallying up. Every swirl of your tongue sinks you deeper in debt. He wonders if you’d laugh if you knew just how many apologies you’re setting yourself up for.

With a hum, you take him into your mouth, swallowing your lips around his cock.

“Take it deep. Don’t you stop.”

A noise erupts from your mouth, but it’s garbled around his cock. He can’t tell, but he could have sworn that was a laugh.

He stops the truck abruptly, the movement thrusting him deeper into your mouth. You gag around him, a disgustingly wet noise at the back of your throat. With a wet pop, you pull your mouth off of his cock. The sudden loss of sensation draws a frustrated growl from his lips.

“Be careful.” Your lips are back on him. Mouthing kisses down his length, your nose bumps against his skin. “Don’t crash the car.”

“I’ve been drivin’ this truck for longer than—” You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and the sentence falters in his mouth.

He pictures you standing in the theater lobby. Confusion in your eyes, a slackness to your jaw. It’s odd and you’ll know it, right away. But you won’t do anything about it. You’ll second guess yourself. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? With that sweet little twist of your lips, batting your eyelashes at him, resting your hands on his shoulders. He wonders how long it’ll take for the confusion to lift. The realization settling over you, chilling you to the core.

You’ll look back at him and you’ll know.

A lifetime of mistakes all falling into place, your scream lost under the palm of his hand.

You should be fucked there. That’s how it should go.

He can’t wait. Not for anything, ever. Mama was always saying that. And with the wet clasp of your mouth around his cock, patience isn’t manageable. How could it be? You’ve taken up all of it, trapped it in your smile. He doesn’t have any more to give.

You bob your head up and down, resting your hands on his thigh. 

“Good girl.” He mutters. You moan and he clenches his jaw, tightening his hold in your hair. “Just like that, c’mon.”

You raise your head off his cock again and murmur out his name, and his grip on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white.

You better be enjoying saying it. Let it live in that slutty mouth of yours for a while. It’ll be off limits soon.

There’ll be other things to call him. Later. He can see several of them in his head, stacked fifty feet high in neon. He probably won’t even have to tell you which one he wants, you’ll come up with it on your own. It’ll bubble up in your little head and you’ll drool it out helplessly, stuffed full with cock. Makeup smeared down your cheeks, caked under your eyes. He’d like to see you when you’re trying to fold into yourself. When you’re trying desperately to be anything but pretty for him.

He’s ready to take the shiny veneer of this personality off. It’s slipping now, he can feel it. 

“Ain’tchu glad you met me?” He grunts out, his breaths coming out shallow.

You’re going to hate him soon enough, and he’ll be able to remind you that you didn’t before. That you can’t fool him into believing you don’t love his cock down your throat, that you don’t want his hands on you—he knows better, and you do too.

You moan your agreement against his cock. Glad, you’re fuckin’ glad. You’d better be.

He bucks up into your mouth when he cums, smacking his hand down on the steering wheel. You’re choking around him, making desperate little huffs through your nose. For your credit, you keep him in your mouth, tightening your lips around the base. He eases his foot off the accelerator, wetting his lips. 

The truck slows to a crawl as he pants, leaning into the steering wheel. He shudders when he feels your lips tug off his cock, swirling your tongue around the oversensitive head.

“We there yet?” You cough a bit, carefully tucking him back into his boxers.

“Christ, girl.” He whistles through his teeth, glancing over at you. “Actin’ like I didn’t just fuck ya’ throat.”

“You didn’t fuck me. I fucked you. And no one saw.” Wiping your mouth off with the back of your hand, you giggle.

“Little cocksucker.”

“You loved it.” You chirp smugly, winking at him. It takes everything in his resolve not to grab you by your hair and slam your forehead into the dashboard. He can’t get blood in his truck again. Shit’s unprofessional. And he’s nothing if not a stickler for appearances. There’s a way to do these things, and you’ve forced him to rewrite his script halfway through the scene. He’s almost impressed with your lack of morals.

He can only imagine how wet you must be, soaking through your jeans. With the way you were moaning around his cock, your pussy must be aching for it.

He should lay a fuckin’ towel down. Protect the goddamn seats—he can’t get your blood on the upholstery, and you know that. 

Tryin’ to leave your mark some other way, ain’tcha?

“Is this it?” You ask brightly, peering out the window.

“Yup.” He parks, turning to you. “Think you can do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Just gotta check on somethin’ with the truck. You wanna run into the shop and put this on the counter?” He grabs the chocolate box off the dashboard and stuffs it into the plastic bag. “Wouldn’t want it meltin’.”

“Sure.”

You hop out of the truck, looking at him expectantly.

“Go on, pretty thing. I’ll be right behind ya’.” 

As you push the door of his shop open, he stuffs your bra in the glove compartment. It’s cute. You won’t be needing it.

[crystalelemental]

My wife moderates a fanfiction forum, and informed me that is it Femslash February. We have no idea if this is something specific to a particular fandom, but I'm interpreting it as a general "post yuri." Can do, boss. I hope to have a few for the month, though admittedly life circumstances as they are, fewer have made any progress than I'd like. But, I did finish some. Starting with one for Little Goody Two Shoes, because at the end of the day, I just think Elise/Lebkuchen is cute.

I've mentioned before that, in the broad scope of the game, I think the sacrifice endings are more thematically resonant, while the happy endings can feel a bit off. These posts are a good summary of my general stance on the endings, and why they don't feel like they land as well. I do think the story does best with the sacrifice ending, and really sets up that this is what Elise would do.

That said, I'm currently in a state of enjoying the fluffy stuff, and I really like Lebkuchen, so I make a bit of an exception for Bells of Dawn. Not because I think it's doing anything better than the other two happy endings, it's purely personal preference. But I do think it's a bit...abrupt, and kinda too neat and tidy? I feel like Elise's life isn't going to change all that much, especially at first. Traveling costs money these girls do not have, and Elise's work history as it is, she's likely going to fall into the same odd jobs as before. Her decision to pick Leb over wealth, while a fluffy emotionally happy outcome, means she's still poor and breaking her back for minimal pay, and likely a bit miserable. I don't get into it as much, but Leb's kinda similar. Her whole deal is being kinda frustrated at how much the villagers take advantage, demanding her attention and support at all hours of the day while Father Hans is overly critical of everything she does that isn't perfect. But while she's leaving to escape that, Leb's also open about how she knows she's working herself sick for these people even as she hates it, and isn't making much effort to get away. As far as the canon ending goes, Leb's still at the church where Elise expected to find her; she'll stay where she hates being without intervention. Running off may eventually break that hold, but the first thing she's likely to encounter is that she's going to be quick to help people and burns herself out doing it because she won't directly push back. I don't think either start their journey happy.

So while I'm all for a satisfying ending, and wanted to write something I thought was cute for the two of them, I did want to give the impression that it's not all ideal. That both aren't entirely happy in their situation at first, but the difference is having each other. The main draw here is that Elise would put Lebkuchen's safety first to reach the good ending. It's not so much "I can forego the desire for riches," but rather "I can't put Leb in danger for it." If it wasn't for Leb's presence, I doubt she'd bat an eye about a demon contract for wealth.

This was also an attempt to be a little more...purposeful in what I'm writing? I dunno how it turned out, but I like to think it went okay. Hopefully you enjoy it, too.

[chainsofaether]

Does your character like their appearance/does it fill them with a sense of pride? Do they take full ownership over their body and engage in things like hair dye, body piercings, tattoos, etc? Or are they shier, whether due to outside expectations or their own dysmorphia?

A very basic picture for reference.

Nyxathe is pretty aware she is generally attractive and she makes effort to enhance that where she can. She uses makeup rather often, partly to draw attention to certain features but also to add a bit of color to her otherwise extremely pale skin. She's a bit of an oddity for someone that lives in Ul'dah though.

Very tall for a woman in Ul'dah considering most are Lalafel or Hyur. She also doesn't tan at all. She just burns if she spend to much time in the sun. Her eyes are pretty, if mismatched. Full lips, often painted in a pale red to add more color.

But without getting in to more detail as we trail down past her shoulders, yes she's proud. Though she might not admit it. Bragging isn't really her thing. But even without the admission it's easy enough to see that she spends time on her appearance, picks out clothes that flatter her shape rather then hide it. All that leads the suggestion of pride.

Of course few people are entirely narcissistic about their appearance. Does she really find her eyes attractive? After all the right is rather odd. That's closer to something she's learned to accept then outright have pride in. It's a unique aspect if nothing else though.

A small hit to her pride though is her memory of her mother. A small part of her thinks she doesn't quite live up to her beauty. While Nyx knows she's nothing to be ashamed off she does wish she was a bit more. Nyx forgets though that she hasn't actually seen her mother in more then half her life. Her memory is less reality and more a figment. Plus, just maybe, if she ate more she'd get what she wants. Put a little weight on girl. Stop hyperfocusing on experiments and enjoy a cupcake or something.

As for the second question, Not really. One she likes her stark white hair. Not that she doesn't look good in other colors and styles. Plus the white makes taking on any color extremely easy.

But have you ear tired to dye your foot plus long ears without getting the dye in them? It's something of a nightmare. She can do it but it's extremely time consuming. Plus she has another problem. Thanks to her messed up aether her hair grows at rapid rate. So any dye job would be obvious if she didn't reapply almost daily. Which also means long hair styles are a must if she doesn't want questions.

So dying her hair is largely off the table. The ears present another problem though. They are extremely sensitive. She does not like random people touching them. She really doesn't like the degree of pain they experience. So ear piercings aren't really her thing.

The rest of her body is untouched too though not for any particular reason beyond she's content with her appearance. She could probably be convinced to try some piercing elsewhere. Or one day she'll find a piece of jewelry she'd really like to wear.

Tattoo are another topic entirely though. Nyxathe has some skill in Alchemy so she can make her own grimoire. But this has put the thought in her head of applying magical symbols to her skin. She knows some tradition of magic go that route and she's curious of the benefits. She's been considering a nontoxic, but highly conductive ink she could use. A lot of grimoire ink isn't really appropriate for the body though all of it is Aetherically conductive.

So one day she'll turn herself in to a canvas. One that she gets someone to stain with geometric patterns.

But no, not shy. She's comfortable up to just straight up striping down in front of people if it's more expedient, the situation is more important then modesty. They can look if they want, just no touching without asking.

Thank you Sea for the ask! I hadn't really thought about piercings that much in regards to Nyx. Give her magic ones and she'll put get pierced immediately though. Now I have to sit here and think what she thinks about piercings and tattoos on other people. First thought, hot. Well see if that's really her thought though.

[thelemoncoffee]

space fae au shit? what ho?

yeah i got bored and kinda played with Shuichi's species a bit for funsies. it's not much different than it was originally, but there are some changes to the guy. i also got kinda better-ish at drawing skeletons (not really- don't take that as anatomically correct it's so bad please)

anywho here's some stuff about his species' anatomy

they're from a Desert-Savannah-like planet, and thus they evolved to have snowshoe-like flat feet to better handle standing atop loose sand and stones 24/7. the flatness also helps with sensing small vibrations beneath the sand

their claws are designed primarily to dig, as their primary food source is bugs that burrow beneath the sands and stones. they aren't as hard as Terran animal claws are thought, rather they're flexible enough to curl almost like fingers (more restricted but sill flexible)

The species is primarily bipedal, but are fully capable of walking on all fours thanks to their actually smooth transition to bipedalisim (unlike humans). as pups they start out as quadrupedal instead of crawling around due to this, and learn to stand up later in life

they have two tails- kinda. their Primary tail does exactly what tails are suppose to do- assist with balance. their secondary tails or "false tails" are actually more like if an arm and a tail fused together.

false tails have all the flexibility of a normal tail, but have a hand like appendage at the end that acts like a claw machine claw. the false tail hand is relaxed when closed tight, and opening the claws on it tenses the muscles- much like a sloth. they use the False tail for two things: one- hanging upside down from trees, and two- crushing bugs with extra hard shells. mates also like to intertwine false tails as a form of love expression, and parents sometimes use them like leashes to make sure their pups don't run off like fools and get lost

their necks are very flexible and can twist in some pretty odd ways, they developed like this partially as a way to survey their surroundings (looking around in tight spaces, or while hanging from a tree), and partially to help with wiggling their way into bug nests without having to move their whole body.

whiskers are their weather predictors, they're super sensitive to changes in the atmosphere and temperatures. if it's too hot for the whiskers it's too hot to be outside, and if they feel weird there's probably a storm brewing.

their teeth are mostly flat except for four very sharp canines at the very front, the flat teeth are for grinding bugs and plants, and the canines are for both breaking into hard skinned fruit and self defense. they could defiantly take a chunk out of an attacker if need be with those vampire fangs

tongues are probably the simplest thing here; they have anteater-like tongues, they're super flexible and their spit is kinda sweet to help lure and grab up bugs

their ears are super duper sensitive particularly to feeling, while their hearing is very good, they're even better at picking up small differences in vibrations. it was initially developed to help with bug hunting, but they now use it to tell the difference between emotional tones in their trill language

because they often would dig tunnels both to hunt for bugs and as hidey-holes from predator attacks they evolved their horns to naturally** grow in a way that allows them to tell if a hole it too small. ie: if the horns don't fit, neither will the rest of them- so don't try it. they were also once used for dominance battles, but doing so in modern day is seen as childish and sometimes barbaric.

**while they naturally grow like this, once the species became sapient and started to become obsessed with their appearances, they quickly took to purposefully altering their horns with manipulative molds for purely aesthetic reasons. Shuichi's are so short because he's been conditioned to see them as an attention grabbing accessory and nothing more, and he doesn't want attention on himself so he files them down as far as he can.

yea that's alot more witting than i intended! whoops! there's more about this species, their culture, cities, and biology but this is all the diagram covers and this post does not need to be any longer

[ninlilwinds]

hello! I'm new to your blog so uh yea hi :D

this is my first time doing a request so I'm kinda nervous hehe not to mention I'm very new to Tumblr as well

I really like your writing style and wanted to see how you'd work with my request(if you want to ofc you can just ignore me if you'd like)

so I'm wondering how would the Genshin men react with a child!Koala(from One Piece)-like fem!Reader?(or gn if you're comfier with that)

in case you don't watch One Piece or forgot(because know I did, it's been a while), Koala as a child was enslaved and due to fear she'd smile no matter what even when she's injured

if possible with Diluc, Zhongli, Dainsleif, Alhaitham, Tighnari, Ayato and Thoma? and anyone else you'd want to add? I tried finding your rules or do's and don'ts post but I can't find it sorry if I broke any or if there's too many characters

sorry for the long message ><

Fem!Child!Reader x Genshin Men: Smile Through the Pain

Hello! Thank you so much for choosing me to do this request, I'm honored. I personally have not watched One Piece, but I looked up some more about Koala's personality. It became more of a reader cope with troubles by smiling, I hope you don't mind. Anyways, I am not very familiar with Alhaitham's character, so I decided to take him out (I hope that's not too inconvenient). As well as since this was platonic (given the reader is a child), I placed Ayato and Thoma in the same one (also hope you don't mind)

Characters" Diluc, Dainsleif, Thoma & Ayato, Zhongli, Tighnari

Summary: Fem! Child reader that is like Koala from One Piece (Reader is female and a child)

“Mr. Diluc!” Your bright smile caught the young man’s attention, as it usually would. He would return your smile with a faint one, so as to not offend your little heart. When he studied your body further, his smile faded. 

“(Y/n), where have all these scratches come from?” He knelt down to meet your level, inspecting some bloody scratches you had on your arm. 

Your smile never wavered, your eyes never became glossy, and he found that to be very odd. For someone normal your age, they would’ve been sobbing and complaining about how it hurts. You simply smiled, holding an empty bowl, “I was feeding some kitties. A dog came and scared them, so they scratched and bit me."He noticed the bowl trembling in your hands, it must have spooked you. 

Diluc picked you up, careful to not hurt any of your wounds, “Let’s get those patched up.” He grabbed the bowl he assumed you gave something to the cats with and placed it on his desk. He put you up on the counter and looked for his first aid kit, “Are you sure you’re ok, (Y/n)?” 

You nodded, and smiled. If Diluc didn't know any better, he would say you’re taking this better than he was, but he was perceptive and could tell your obvious discomfort.

As he pressed some disinfectant to the scratches you flinched, your eyes widening slightly at the abrupt pain but then you caught Diluc looking at you and smiled, “Can we play hide and go seek later?” 

“Once we have you all patched up, we can go play hide and seek.” He nodded and finished patching you up. 

You immediately jumped down running to the door and using it open, “You count first!” you ran out into the vineyard to your usual hiding spot, one Diluc pretended he didn’t already find as he slowly counted to 20. 

He knew of your past. All the hate, scorn and hardships you had endured despite your young age. Yet, you always seemed to remain happy and bright. But he knew your smile meant more than just that. He admired your bravery, and wanted to make you smile for real one day. 

Dainslef was walking down a dark cave, trying to track down a lead he had received about a defiled statue. He was on edge, every noise caused him to stop and study it. He heard some footsteps running towards him, and he turned around, about to draw his weapon when he saw your tiny face peak from behind a rock. 

He frowned. What was a child doing in here? He knelt down and beckoned you over, still ready to fight in case this was some sort of trap. You smiled and ran over. 

Dainslef didn’t like how this looked. Your clothes were ripped and dirty, along with your face that had dirt smudged all over. 

Your hair was sticking out in all places and your body was all battered and bruised, “What are you doing here, little one?” he smoothed your hair down with his hand as you shrugged with a smile, “I was taken and left here, I dunno why.” 

He was saddened by this, another abandoned soul in this cruel world. The archons didn’t care about these things, why would they? 

He eased a little and picked you up, “Where are your parents?”

“Dead.” you said, grabbing his shoulder for extra support.

He frowned and decided this was more important than his mission. 

As he took you out he noticed you kept smiling. Even after he had to fight some smiles, or when you tripped and fell, or when you didn’t have any food or drink for several hours before he found shelter, not once did you stop smiling or humming a happy tune. 

Dainslef knew this went deeper than just a plain smile. 

As he got to know you better during your travels (he wasn’t about to leave a poor defenseless kid alone), he started to find out the why’s of your smiling and positive attitude, and he found himself emphasizing with you a bit. You actually brought joy to his life, and he wished he had done the same. 

You flinched as a boy around your age threw a g

lass of hot tea at you, “You freak! Stop smiling! You're so creepy!” 

You continued to smile as you grabbed a napkin and cleaned yourself up, “That hurt a little, please don’t throw something that hot around, it’s dangerous.” 

Thoma had been cleaning the entrance when he heard the boy yell at you. He dropped his broom and ran towards the voices.

A few months ago, his master, Ayato, had found you wandering around Inazuma with no home or shelter. He decided he had plenty of space and allowed you to stay  with them. Ever since then, Thoma and Ayato had been working together to help raise you. Your smile always warmed their heart, and they tried their best to never upset you (although they’d find it hard to distinguish against. 

When Thoma arrived he saw Ayato was already making his way towards the commotion. 

Ayato tapped the kid’s shoulder as Thoma picked youtube inspecting the severity of your burns. 

“Little kid, I suggest you don’t mess with Miss (Y/n) again. She is a permanent guest of mine in this residence and you work under me. I’m aware your training is not over yet, so let me give you a small lesson, don’t be rude to guests.” The kid was trembling as the two men looked at him. 

“Are you ok (Y/n)?” Thoma asked, carrying you towards the kitchen to run the burn under cold water, 

“I’m ok!” You smiled and let him work on the burns. 

Ayato entered the room shortly after and checked teh wounds himself and apologized on his staff's behalf, “Their young age is no excuse for this.” 

You smiled and hugged them both, “I’m fine, really. Anyways I have to get back to training with Ayaka!” you hopped down and ran off. 

Ayato and Thoma looked at each other. It’s not that they agreed with the kid about your smile being creepy or unnerving, but it was certainly unusual. They didn’t press about your past and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it seemed they’d have to sit you down for a talk soon to be able to help you. 

“Good work, (Y/n).” Zhongli praised your work. He was teaching you calligraphy and noted that Your brush strokes had improved greatly. Your smile widened and you continued to carefully copy the sentence that he had written down for you to practice. 

Zhongli still remembered the first day he found you. It had been a cloudy day as you stepped in, with a small pouch filled with some mora and a few fake wooden coins. You placed the money on the counter, “I need one funeral, please.” 

Zhongli found this quite distressing. Why was this young child smiling up at him asking for a funeral? Who had died? How had they died? 

He leaned over, “And who is this funeral for?” 

“A squirrel I made friends with got shot by a hunter.” You said, your smile never leaving. At first Zhongli found this to be quite disturbing. 

As he continued to study you, he noticed your clothes were worn out and tattered and you had small little scars decorating your skin. He frowned, “I see. Well we will give you a first customer discount, it’s on the house.” He slid the pouch of money back towards you and you picked it up again. 

“Really?” Your smile widened, “Yay!” 

During the small funeral ceremony Zhongli held with you, He noticed you never stopped smiling, not once. Even when the body was buried and you said goodbye. 

As time went on, Zhongli noticed it was a bad habit of yours to simply smile. Your ordinary smile soon became what anyone would consider a normal facial expression, but Zhongli knew it hid a world of pain. 

You had been in the forest rangers for a while (as an unofficial apprentice) and worked alongside Tighnari. Due to all the time you spent together, he considered you something akin to family. 

You worked alongside him and your smiles and overall joyful nature always reenergized him when he was feeling overwhelmed with work. 

“Here, try this.” Tignari held up a new juice concoction towards you. He had been learning how to make different flavors and try to find your favorite one as a sort of pass time.

You brought the vail to your lips and took a sip and then laughed, “It’s too bitter, ‘nari!” 

He frowned, “But i only used sweet ingredients.” he frowned and tried it himself and shuddered. It was very bitter. He thought it was due to the activating chemical he used to enhance the flavors. 

“You’re right it is very bitter.” He dumped the contents into a safe container to be disposed of properly later. You smiled and as you looked at him work, “You can go outside and play. I’m sure this must be quite boring.”

You shook your head, “I want to stay here.” you had found comfort in Tighnari, feeling safe with him around. Your smile was a little more genuine when around him. 

Tighnari finished his formula and began working, giving you orders on what he needed you to do as he went on to include you during the process. 

“Done. Try it now.” He handed you the vail after making sure it wasn’t poisonous. 

You took a sip and nodded, “Perfect!” 

He tried it himself and smiled, “I agree.” 

Tighnari had researched your past, and he had noted how your smile never wavered and how hard you worked. He had introduced you to Collie, knowing your pasts were just a bit similar, and made sure to always have your needs met. He was going to make sure you never had to go through something like that during your life again. He’d make sure to keep you smiling. 

[tuttle-4077]

Greetings! So....the PBAs seemed a little off this year. I find it strange how Abracadabra managed to pull in TEN of them while several other authors whom entered multiple pieces won nothing whatsoever. I find that rather odd, especially when half of the awards were gold. Never seen that before in my many years in this fandom. A few of my friends (all of whom won multiple awards) agree with me that the contest seemed a bit...shall we say, rigged....in her favor. I have nothing against her personally, of course. This isn't an attack. And I don't write or draw, myself, so I have no skin in this game. And I have nothing against her personally either. Yet I thought it would be best to bring this matter to the comittee's attention, in the hopes that the contest remain fair for everyone.

Hi. Thanks for reaching out with your concerns.

First, let me explain a little about how the PBAs work in general, and then I'll address your more specific concerns about Abracadebra's wins.

Over the years, several committees have hosted the PBAs. I have been on the committee since 2018 (with a break in 2019 because I just had a baby!) . The rules for the Awards have evolved over the years for many reasons: the number and types of stories written, the voice of the people (ie, slash being included in the main story categories), ideas brought forward by new members of the committee, etc. And changes have come simply as a result of the committee learning how to run such a big project. (The PBAs aren't necessarily difficult to host, but it is a big undertaking!) Categories have also been added or dropped based on the number of stories that were eligible, as well as the amount of work a particular committee wanted to put it (I, personally, hated gathering and tallying all the quotes and asked to end the category.)

One of the rules that was implemented several years ago was that a story had to receive at least two nominations in order to move forward to the voting round. The reason for that was to whittle down the amount of stories a voter had to read. This rule is especially important for years when there is a big crop of stories. A lot of people skip the nomination round simply because there are so many stories and it's daunting! Usually 70-90% (sometimes even 100%) of stories receive at least 1 nomination. When there are 200 stories in a year that's still 140-180 stories in the voting round. With the 2+ nomination rule, the percentage of stories that make it through to the voting round is between 50-60% (although in some categories, it can be higher). This makes it a lot easier on the voters to read the stories and cast their ballots.

Another rule (which I believe has held for many, many years) is that, in order to nominate a story for THE BEST STORY OF THE YEAR, it also had to appear elsewhere in the story category nominations. The reasoning behind this is that, if it truly is the best story, then it should, logically, at least appear in one other category. The rule also applies to the voting round. I've voice my opinion on the subject here (tl;dr I like the rule for nomination round, but not particularly the voting round.)

One other thing we changed (although it is not necessarily a rule), is that we no longer automatically include stories from AO3. That platform is not as straightforward with when a story is complete, or whether it's complete at all! It was too much work for the committee to comb through the whole site, trying to pick out completed stories for the year and determine whether they were crossovers, slash, responses to challenges, etc. So, this year (and I believe last) we asked that AO3 writers submit their own stories for consideration in the PBAs.

Now, as to your specific concern about Abracadebra's wins.

First, consider the nomination round. The nomination round determines which stories make it through to the voting round. We advertise the nomination round on FFN, tumblr, and AO3, but the majority of the nominators are from FFN (remember, the PBAs were FFN specific until a few years ago, so our stalwart participants are there). Why would this affect who gets nominated? A couple of reasons:

A lot of folks on FFN are pretty loyal to the platform, particularly in the HH fandom. AO3 is a little more wild. And even though the stories on AO3 are posted as competitors, we cannot provide convenient links on the FFN forums. It's one thing to post one link on the FFN forums, with the weird spacing and parenthesis, like we do in order to direct people to the PBA website (where all the stories are linked), it's another to do it for each participating AO3 story (it's frustrating to the person posting it, and the person who has to copy it). So, a lot of people just don't visit those stories. Is that fair? Maybe not, but it's just the way it is. So why does this matter? Well, FFNers reluctance to venture to AO3 mean that a lot of the stories on that platform don't receive even 1 nomination, let alone the 2 needed to advance to the voting round.

FFNers tend to have their favourite authors and will read pretty much anything that author puts out the moment it's put out. So, if a nominator is short on time, they may just refer back to a story they've previously read when it first came out, rather than scramble to read everything that is eligible.

So that's why an author from FFN in general may receive more nominations, as opposed to an author from AO3. As to Abracadebra specifically, well,

Abracadebra is very active on the forums. She posts general items, but she also hosts Reviewathons and other events for the fandom to participate in.

Abracadebra is an avid reviewer. The kind of reviewer who is encouraging, but also honest.

Abracadebra is a beta reader for many new HH authors as well as the seasoned ones.

Why does that matter? Well, fair or not, sometimes the PBAs boil down to a popularity contest. All elections do. If you have a connection with someone, or have developed a friendship or warm feelings towards someone, you're more likely to view their work favourably. If you have two equally good works and you can only choose one, how are you going to decide which one to choose? For me, personally, I tend to go with the work created by a person I am more familiar with. Again, is that fair? Maybe not, but, again, that's just human nature. We're not objective creatures.

But, there are reasons why someone (even not an FFN denizen) may nominate (and vote for) one of Abracadebra's works.

Abracadebra is just a good writer. She is, after all, a journalist in real life. A seasoned journalist. You don't last long in that game if you can't write.

Abracadebra's stories tend to focus on the more popular characters. Let's face it, Newkirk is, by far, the most popular character for a lot of people. Some readers just aren't interested in reading a story that doesn't feature Newkirk. Or, again, if they're in a time crunch, they'll focus their reading energies on a Newkirk story, rather than a story that focuses on someone else.

So, there are some reasons why Abracadebra's works moved on to the nomination round and perhaps why some other works didn't.

The same reasonings above apply to the voting round, but to be more specific on that round,

This year, 60 stories made it through to the voting round. 5 were Abracadebra's (8.33% of the total stories in the voting round.) That doesn't seem like a big percentage, but it is more than any other author had in the voting round, so automatically that increases her chances of winning.

Two of her stories were nominated as THE BEST STORY OF 2023. If someone wanted to vote for her story as THE BEST OF, they also had to vote for it elsewhere on their ballot. This isn't usually a problem- most people just do that automatically because, again, if a story is good enough to be on THE BEST OF list, it's probably good enough to earn their vote in another category even without the rule. I think only two people had to correct their ballot because they voted for a BEST OF story that didn't appear elsewhere. One favoured Abracadebra's story, and the other dropped her story from their THE BEST OF vote entirely because they didn't want to change their other votes. (Again, I have my own thoughts on this rule for the voting round, but it is what it is).

As to the high number of gold wins, remember, three of those five wins were ties. And, the other gold wins (where there were no ties) were won by a tiny sliver. It was a tight race, but the chips fall where they fall.

Now, you said you had never seen one person win so many gold awards before. Well, because I am a crazy person who likes data and numbers, I went through all the PBA gold winners for all the years the PBAs have been running. First I tallied how many gold awards each person won. Then I counted how many theoretical golds there were supposed to be (basically assumed that each category would have 1 gold award) and then I counted how many actual gold awards there were (considering ties within categories). Here is what I found:

In 2003 EJ McFall won 30% of the 'theoretical' gold awards, and 18.5% of the actual gold awards

In 2004 Patti and Marg won 33% of the gold awards (there were no ties)

In 2004 EM Siefert also won 33% of the gold awards

In 2005 Patti and Marg won 36% of the theoretical and 31% of the actual gold awards

In 2006 Jeff Evans won 33% of the gold awards

In 2007 Jeff Evans won 41% of the theoretical and 29 of the actual gold awards

In 2008 Tuttle4077 (yours truly) won 54% of the theoretical and 50% of the actual gold awards (note, this was my first year in the fandom and I didn't even nominate or vote in the PBAs, never mind being on the committee!)

In 2009 Jennaya won 28% of the theoretical and 26% of the actual gold awards

In 2010 snooky won 33% of the theoretical and 31% of the actual gold awards

In 2011 dust on the wind won 30% of the theoretical and 26% of the actual gold awards

In 2012 Sgt. Moffit won 30% of the theoretical and 28% of the actual gold awards

In 2013 Sgt. Moffit won 38% of the theoretical and 32% of the actual gold awards

In 2019 Abracadebra won 38% of the theoretical and 33% of the actual gold awards

In 2020 Abracadebra won 32% of the theoretical and 24% of the actual gold awards

In 2021 Abracadebra won 36% of the theoretical and 25% of the actual awards

And in 2024 (the year you have misgivings over) Abracadebra won 35% of the theoretical and 28% of the actual awards

(Omitted years didn't have great disparities between gold winners)

Note, I don't think Abracadebra was on the committee the first year she won an award and that was her highest win percentage.

So, what do all these numbers tell me? Well, it tells me that it's not unusual for a gold winner to receive ~30% of the the gold awards, like Abracadebra did this year. When a story is popular, it's popular. When an author is popular, they're popular.

I want to add that Abracadebra is an amazing person to have in our fandom. She never votes for her own works. She always tries to encourage new writers and is amazing at leaving reviews. People like her. People like her stories. And, all added up, it doesn't strike me as odd that she wins plenty of Papa Bear Awards, gold or otherwise.

I hope all this has helped clear up your concerns and misgivings. As long as I have been on the PBA committee, I have observed a stellar effort to be impartial and objective. We often bend over backwards to make things as fair (but also as manageable for the committee and the voters) as possible. It feels great to win an award, but I have never seen anyone on the committee try to rig things in their favour. We rejoice over any and all of the winners, whether we personally voted for their stories or not. We love that our fandom is robust and diverse. The PBAs is a great fandom tradition and I, personally, would never do anything to jeopardize it; so if I saw something sketchy, I would say something. I think you only have to look towards the efforts that Abracadebra and I have put towards the fandom in general to know that's true.

One more thing to wrap this up:

The committee is open to everyone. We extend invitations to everyone to get involved. However, it usually falls on The Same 'Ten' People to keep it going. If someone were to pop up and say "hey, I want to run the PBAs this year!" before PBA season started, any of the current committee members would say "Great! We'll stay on board if you'd like, but if you want to be the lead, go for it and we're happy to just offer advice and guidance!" But that never happens. When the year is fast approaching its close, no one new takes up the baton. Perhaps one day the STP may decide they don't want to go through the effort and the PBAs will fade away.

If my explanations here have done nothing to quell your suspicions, perhaps you, Anonymous, would like to join the committee next year. Post on the FFN forum (FFN still being the home of the PBAs) that you would like to join/lead the charge. We'd love to have you.

Cheers to you, Anonymous. And if anyone else has any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to ask. I'll try to address them the best I can.

[crossdressingdeath]

at a certain point some of the companions must have caught on to the fact quiz may not be working with the inquisition of their own volition. like some of them had to be hoping for the disbanding of the inquisition when the exalted council was called so that their friend/lover could get a break.

also, I wonder if that would change any of the relationships between the companions and Cullen/Lelianna/Cassandra. it’d certainly give varric more reasons to be antagonistic towards her, is he’s at high approval

Varric is an odd one, given he and Solas are there from the start and so are present for Cassandra locking Quiz up and then forcing them to help her; if anyone's going to know that Quiz isn't there willingly, it's the two of them! I guess Varric was also a prisoner when he arrived at Haven and Solas is an apostate, so they might be trying to somewhat keep their heads down to avoid drawing Cassandra and the advisors' attention to them being very open about the much-vaunted Herald of Andraste being a glorified prisoner, but like... Varric knows exactly how you got into this situation to begin with, and then apparently decides that he's going to keep his mouth shut about this of all things? Even though he doesn't particularly like any of the people responsible for getting you into this and has zero reason to help them? Really?

But yeah, given there are points where you can pretty openly tell your companions that you don't want to be here (the option to nominate yourself as a potential Inquisitor to Bull solely on the grounds that you're there whether you like it or not is especially blatant), the way no one seems to really acknowledge that you're not there willingly bothers me. Why even give the player the option of telling their companions that they don't want to be stuck working with the Inquisition if none of them are going to show any sign of caring?! If nothing else, I'd love there to be some additional/altered banters where if you tell a given companion about Cassandra threatening you into joining the Inquisition after reaching a reasonably high approval rating they are noticeably colder towards her in banter, because she threatened their friend/lover into a deeply unpleasant situation and by all accounts is still doing so. Possibly some messenger conversations implying that at least some of the companions have a bit of a bone to pick with the advisors about it.

Especially with the romances! Blackwall's got the lady and knight energy to his romance that would lead to him taking his lover being threatened Very Badly, Sera hates people being pushed around by people with more power than them, Bull's whole deal is doing everything in his power to make Quiz feel safe and supported, Dorian's main hesitation in his romance quest is that too many people ask too much of Quiz as it is, Solas is against people being forced to serve others on general principle even when he doesn't give a shit about the individual personally... I don't buy for a second that any of them would hear Quiz say they were forced into the Inquisition and don't want to be there and respond with anything less than fury. But instead none of them say shit about it. Let the LIs be protective towards their protagonist!

But I do love the image of the companions hearing about the Exalted Council and their first thought being "Oh thank the Maker, Quiz might finally get to rest". It would be so good if consistently picking the reluctant or unhappy options re being the Inquisitor and being part of the Inquisition led to if nothing else dialogue changes in Trespasser where the companions show some happiness on your behalf at the opportunity to just let the Inquisition end. I would also like it if consistently picking the "I don't want to be here" options led to changes in Quiz's dialogue where instead of getting pissy at people for daring to be mad about the Inquisition squatting on their land, Quiz got angry because they've wanted to disband the Inquisition basically from day one and they were blocked from doing so and now everyone's acting like it's their fault!

[mi4011mariaperera]

Scene 1 - Completed

26/05/2024

Hi everyone, today early morning I completed all the frames required for scene 1.

I've actually made a bit of a change to the final frames compared to the story board frame. I was thinking, since I want Nakamura to be the center of attention, it would be best not to show the couple's face. These 2 characters are completely irrelevant to the story. They have been placed there by me for a cool transition effect and also to show the idea of a crowd in the park where Nakamura's sketching.

I've also made a change to clothing for the time saving factor. The lady in the story board has a pleated skirt and the gentleman is wearing a strip office shirt. I decided to draw the skirt without pleated because the leg movements for the lady looked quite odd...So I made the design into a long body-hugging skirt. I got rid of the stripes for the gentleman because it was taking up too much time to do. I had to be quick with this one.

For the whole purpose of having the audience only focus on Nakamura and also for the time saving factor for drawing, I find this decision suitable.

Now, let's discuss the work in progress

I made use of this story board artwork for coloring the couple

Like I've mentioned in one of my previous posts, I studied screen shots of a video I recorded and drew all of this on Krita. I color picked from the story board frame and added it to the official frame drawings.

These are the frames for scene 1 I completed on Krita

These are the final frames I created on Photoshop

I used all the frames in scene 2 for the background to add some subtle animation in the background and it also easily creates a flow to the scene 2 transition.

My initial thought process was to use 'frame 1' from scene 2 as the entire background.

But it'll look awkward when she suddenly moves in the next scene...

So, I decided to one by one add in all the frames to make the animation look smoother.

That's al for this post. I'll be posting my 'scene 7' frames and then.... IT'S TIME TO EDITTTT!!!!!! I've been dying to start editing! So, I'm excited and a little nervous as well. Hope the end result will look amazing <3

[enigmaincrimson]

Hm...

Considering how often she gets passed around, she's likely staying with one of her aunts. Said aunt is always working, so Evelyn has way too much free time to herself.

If the school had a magical girl club, Evelyn would be in it. Odds are that she'd probably connect with Hiiragi Utena first for that reason.

However, her interest in Magical girls is more... technical, like a scientist observing a wild animal and wondering how they work. She's definitely stalking the local magical girls and taking notes.

If someone were to visit her apartment, they'd find her room is full of drawings, models, and other things she made as references for her research. There's a clear assortment of detailed statuettes she made of various magical girls she's seen on display. Maybe a little too detailed.

While how she made such a thing is unclear (Although if the rumors about her family are true, it would explain things.), she mostly made AMP as a sort of ongoing project, both to mask her true nature, and allow her to build a working study.

Considering how AMP performs magical girl transformations, Magia Rouge might as well be an entirely different person. Although what she'd call herself while "untransformed" in that form is still WIP.

Magia Rouge's default appearance and uniform are based on the Tres Magia uniforms, but with intentional differences. Although you probably would have to have seen her a few times and be paying attention to notice. (Evelyn also has a few models of Magia Rouge in her room.)

I'm still debating what Magia Rouge's La Verita form looks like... even if Magia Rouge's design is based on the concept of aggressive camouflage.

While she usually prefers to aid civilians and fight any monsters that pop up and quickly leaves the seen once the job is done, any magical girl that intentionally crosses Magia Rouge's path would find she has something of an instinct to "test" anyone that catches her interest. Also, she can pretty much send back anything they can dish out at her.

If anyone was keeping track, they'd probably notice that Magia Rouge seems to be evolving... with her being more capable with every encounter... and in some cases... during an encounter. (To be fair, there's more going on, but that might be a long while before that comes up.)

She does have a sadistic streak, but it's more... analytical... She likes to push her opponents, seeing how far they are willing to go and what their potential might be. Of course, she can go wild if she's enjoying the looks of fear and panic as her target's world collapses all around them.

A detail that will likely come up rather quickly if they get to know her more personally... is that she's illusion blind. She can sense that something is supposed to be there, but well... Trans-Magia looks rather different to her than it would anyone else as the Recognition Inhibition doesn't do anything with her. Admittedly, considering what it's actually like living with that ability, she tends to keep that to herself.

As for why "Violagia" exists... There's a few reasons off the top of my head. One, she felt like she needed a mascot to be more like the other magical girls she's seen. Two, it masks who is really in charge by putting the blame on someone else. Three, it would be easier to recruit more potential people into her squad if they really thought her operation was like the other magical girl teams. Forth, it also works as a way to make the point to other factions that she's already been "recruited" among other reasons.

The transformation items spawned by AMP are diamond shaped, to compliment the Heart and Star shaped transformation items used by Tres Magia and Enormeeta.

Grey was picked out for Violagia because well... she wanted to leave some hints that she's a neutral party, but she personally feels like it looks more like a funny beige. (I haven't exactly settled on what the mascot interface looks like... outside of them not being white, black, and having diamond patterns where the hearts/stars would be)

If Evelyn did start recruiting for AMP, the magical girls running under the system would quickly overtake the territory lost from the Lord's Legion's magical girl hunts... as AMP users are much, much harder to kill. Like... they just kind of respawn if you kill them as it's not actually their real body.

But I'm going off topic here.

Knowing Evelyn, she'd likely befriend Utena Hiiragi first over a mutual interest in magical girls... she might even make her a few figurines as a present. If she meets the others in Utena's little group, it's probably through Utena.

Evelyn is definitely on both Vatz and Venalatia's social media accounts. She was probably stalking Venalatia hoping to collect some data on mascots when Utena was recruited. (She hadn't observed the recruitment process before and wasn't entirely sure if she wasn't seeing things, so Utena's misfortune was Evelyn's breakthrough. She'd likely apologize to her over not saying anything later.)

While she had been observing the Tres-Magia since she transferred to the school, she didn't get a legitimate confirmation that her observations were correct until Magia Baiser's debut. Also, it should be noted that she filmed the entire thing... but like everything else she does, she likely won't point that out unless she trusts them enough to share the info. (I mean, without proper evidence, even if she could see the truth, they might as well be cosplayers.)

Let's just say... the trio's sore butts the following school day kind of confirmed she wasn't seeing things. Although she'd keep that to herself until she feels like it. Admittedly, she was feeling like watching Tres Magia fight was getting kind of boring, so it was a fresh change.

Odds are that she might "adopt" Korisu later... I mean not actual adoption, more like Evelyn doesn't have any siblings of her own and they're more alike than you'd think.

To be fair, I wouldn't be surprised if Kiwi and Evelyn don't get along well at first. Although I'm not entirely sure if it's because Magia Rouge will more than eagerly open fire if fired upon.

and... I've kind of ran out of steam.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hey 👋 I’m not too sure if your doing requests( if not completely ignore this it’s fine:)) but I was requesting a peaky blinders one-shot where reader is like an orphan and lives in an orphanage and tommy the philanthropist he is goes down to the orphanage with Polly,John,Arthur,and Ada and whoever else you want and they see reader going at it with on of the sisters. You could choose the conflict or their argument but yeah, if you could draw the reader as someone who’s quick and sarcastic with their words like a speak before thinking type of person you know. Also can this be like a tommy Shelby x daughter!reader kinda like a found family kind of trope. Sweet kisses love your stories❤️

Dear Anon,

I hope this does it justice!! I changed a few things because I felt like it fit the story better (I hope that's alright) but there is lots of family stuff. And lots of Lizzie and Tommy - not something I have ever written before so hopefully that's also alright. Sweet kisses back to you love, thank you for this wonderful idea!!!

Warnings: peaky type stuff, religious language? Implied that a priest was going to assault the reader, bad words, not descriptive death of parents, mentioned death of a baby, grief, so much sweetness and hurt comfort and hopefully laughs. I promise it's not as dark or sad as it sounds. Also some Grace bashing / group hate.

Word count: 6606 - may have gotten carried away...

Part 2

Tommy watched Lizzie closely as they approached the large building. According to his sources it housed around a hundred and fifty children, the building was large but it didn't seem that large. 

It was gray and rainy, much like every day. The dark dampness didn’t bother him as it had seeped into his bones and made a home long ago. At this point, he was convinced that the sunlight would simply cause him to turn to ashes if it ever reached his skin. 

Lizzie looked nervous but that was expected, he felt beyond nervous. Suddenly hoping she would change her mind altogether. Children were overrated, he would know having raised Finn and half of John's kids. But after her she lost the baby, he would do anything to bring some happiness to her. He knew he wasn't the best husband, but he was trying to do better every day. 

Walking up the steps a voice in his mind started to remind him that he would only be bringing this baby into a world of danger and horror. Only going to ruin them so no God would allow them refuge. He pushed them down as best he could, reaching out to hold Lizzie’s hand. She looked taken back at the gesture, another thing wrong with them. Wrong with the situation. 

They were escorted in to look at the babies. They were just as expected, plump, cute, and small. Tommy tried not to look at them too close, no point in getting attached. Lizzie would pick a baby, and he would attempt to be a good father. 

He hated that he knew what it felt like to reach out for parents that were not there to hold you. He was sulking when a commotion caught his attention. 

“For Fucks sakes woman! ” A girl shouted. 

“You listen here. Father Stryker is a noble member of this community and organization. You will do what he asks of you.” A woman responded in a cold tone. 

“We both know that’s not what God would want you old bat.” The girl snapped back and he held back a smile. 

“Now you listen here, we do not know what God wants, that’s not our place. He has a way -” 

“No, he sure as hell doesn't. God would NEVER.” The girl demanded. “I thought God was in all of us, and GOD doesn't want me to be alone with him. In fact, I would say he’s overcome with passion about the issue. It would be a sin for me to ignore his protests.” 

“I will not tolerate such language, you foul girl!” The sound of a slap was dealt out. Tommy felt an odd feeling of unease about the situation. 

“You let this happen! You. And you will BURN FOR IT. Mark my words, you will suffer an eternity for his sins. There are no amount of crosses under the sun for Jesus to croak on that would make up for your grotesque choices you evil witch.” The girl's voice was pure venom, and Tommy was overcome with an urge to protect the girl. What type of place were they running here? 

“I want her,” Lizzie said clearly standing next to him looking at the Sister that was showing them around. 

“Sorry Mrs. Shelby ?” She asked looking for clarification. 

“The girl in the hall.” He looked at Lizzie landing her eyes on a girl that must have been about 15 standing off with the nun in the hallway. Her face was beet red, making her blue eyes seem extraordinarily bright in contrast,  her fists clenched ready for a fight of any size. That girl did not care what happened, she wasn't going to back down. 

“Ah, are you sure? She’s quite temperamental.” She responded looking embarrassed. 

“Excellent, I’ve never seen anyone look so much like my husband,” Lizzie said with a smirk on her face.  

“We’ll take her. And I’d like a word with management.” He asserted firmly. This was not the sort of thing he could look the other way on, plus it would only further the family image. Win-win. 

______________________________

Another sister came into the hallway. 

“Sister Margret, she has been requested by a family.” She said quickly. 

You were positive this must be some type of trap. But a tall angular woman moved into the hallway. She looked like someone from a painting, impossibly pretty, elegant, clothes worth a small fortune. This was impossible. 

The sister grabbed your arm and pulled you away from that bitch. Far away from the classroom you were terrified of. 

The lady looked you up and down and removed the sister's hand from your arm. She shot her a warning look and the sister apologized. Whoever this woman was, she meant business. 

“I’m Lizzie, Lizzie Shelby.” She said in a voice that belonged on a stage. You introduced yourself feeling embarrassed. 

“We’d like to take you home if you're alright with that.” She asked holding her arm out. Normally you didn’t like being touched for any reason, but being escorted out of the place was a good enough reason for you to make an exception. 

You looped your arm in hers and she strode out of the place with her head held high. 

“The Paperwork -” The sister called out 

“Get my husband to deal with it.” She called back, her voice dripping with power. You accompanied her into a very expensive car. You sat in the back seat beside her and watched her take in your appearance as if it had changed being in the natural light. 

“Do you read?”  She asked you lighting a cigarette.

“I had a tutor before my parents died.” 

“How did they pass?” 

“Car accident.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” 

“We’ll expect you to go to school.” 

“You’d be a shit parent if you didn't.” You mentally kicked yourself. “Sorry I -didn't” You were stumbling over an apology as the door opened and a man got into the driver's seat. 

“That’s my husband. Thomas.” 

“Hello,” You said feeling completely deflated. “It’s nice to meet you, both of you, It’s nice.” You couldn't remember a time being so embarrassed. You wished that they would just run you over with their expensive tires. There were just too many emotions in such a short period. 

An hour ago a priest was forcing himself on you, telling you God would never allow you to get adopted, and here you were making a fool out of yourself with your new parents. 

That phrase stung so bad you visually imagined pushing it from your mind.

“Did you sort the paperwork?” Lizzie asked in a frosty tone that made you wonder what their relationship problems were like. 

“That and a few other things.” He responded in a tone you assumed only ghosts were capable of. 

“Like what?” She said looking out the window with resentment. 

“Taking the place over.” He responded easily. As if it was no big deal, like spending money on petrol for the car. 

“What do you mean?” This caught her off guard and you watched a bit of hopefulness come to life in her eyes. 

“Saw things.” He hesitated, obviously aware of your presence in the car. “That I didn’t think God would approve of.” You caught a slight smirk on his face in the mirror. His eyes told you it was easier to poke fun at the situation. 

Lizzie hummed in approval, and even though you’d only known them a few minutes it felt like progress. 

_______

They wanted to give you a few days to settle in before introducing you to the whole family. Something you saw as a bit of a red flag. The house was massive, but it was clean and quiet. Both a blessing and a curse. You were too shy to ask for something to do or go explore. Your bedroom was unbelievably beautiful, and warm. 

There was a knock on the door that caused you to jump. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I come in?” Lizzie’s voice rang through the door. 

“Of course” You responded stiffly. She came in and smiled at you, she pointed to your bed but you didn't understand what she was looking at. Should you not have been laying on it during the day? 

“Is it alright if I sit?” She asked you and you realized that’s what she meant. 

“Yes!” You sat up straight feeling like an idiot once again. You’d had to sit through two dinners each equally painful due to your rambling. 

“How are you settling in?” She asked kindly. 

“Um, fine. It’s nice. I love my room.” 

“What do you get up to in here?” She looked around with a frown. 

“Mostly sitting and thinking.” You responded blandly. 

“Are you sure I can’t take you shopping for anything?” She’d asked at least three times, and you felt horrible imposing on them further. 

“I don't want to bother you.” You finally broke. She let out a strange laugh. 

“Bother me. All the time. Big stuff little stuff, doesn't matter.” She picked a piece of lint off of your bedspread. “Plus kids cost money you know. That’s no one's fault, so don’t carry it like a burden.” 

Your eyes stung with tears. That was not the narrative you had grown up with parents or none. You’d always been acutely aware of the burden your existence placed on people. Her words made you feel like you were special, not something your parents could give you. This brought on a very large mix of feelings. 

“Don’t cry, really all this is-”  Her face appeared displeased with your reaction and it only made your hurt more. 

“Normal. Not for me, it’s not. If you wanted a kid that was used to this you should have had one yourself.” the words flew out of your mouth and she was up and out of the room before you could try to apologize. You felt so much worse, you wanted to pull out all your hair trying to make it stop. 

You stopped trying to hold the tears back and got up off your bed to apologize. An embarrassing apology was better than them shipping you back. 

You followed the sound of her soft crying sounds. Through a door that was slightly ajar. It was a beautiful nursery. They had tried to have their little spoilt children, the guilt only became worse. 

You locked eyes with her and decided the truth was always best. 

“You treat me better than my parents. But they're dead and it hurts. I don't want to bother you both, it's already some kind of miracle that I got adopted at this age, I don't want to push my luck. Or live through you getting bored of me and then tossing me aside.” 

For a moment you thought she was going to shout at you. But she just nodded in understanding. You both were crying, so why not try to risk a hug. You got down on the sheep skin rug next to her and hugged her. 

Her grief wrapped around you with her slender arms. She pushed your face against her chest and kissed the top of your head. You didn't understand, but the hurt in her felt a lot like the hurt inside of you. So you leaned into the feeling crying just as hard. 

“I lost her. She was born and - nothing anyone could do about it.” She said after a long while. The thought made your heart break all over again. “They told me I couldn't have kids. Spent years avoiding it like it was the plague and now, God it hurts.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“I’m sorry for you too. My dad left before I was born, mother passed when I was 13. Prostitute till I was twenty.” She let out a sad laugh. “This life.” She motioned to the house with her arm. “Is not the life I came from and my husband doesn't have much. But he has money, so don’t ever feel bad for spending it.” You looked up at her in shock. There was no way she was telling the truth. She looked like she belonged in a palace like you wanted to trust her with the whole world. So elegant, kind eyes. 

“We’re the same then” you whispered. 

“Absolutely not!  If you become a prostitute I will have officially become the worst mother in history.” She said causing you both to laugh. 

“I’m not good with people.” You joked along. Tommy pushed the door open and you stiffened slightly. No matter how you tried to calm down, he made you uneasy. Like he would be impossible to please or get to know.

“It’s not a whore house?” He said with a confused look having caught the end of the conversation. You’d never seen a man look more confused as the both of you were tear-soaked holding each other on the floor. 

“Not anymore it's not.” Lizzie quipped causing him to almost smile. You wondered what made him so stuck up.

“Good lord, how did you guys make all this money again?” You asked cheekily, causing Lizzie to laugh. 

“Just you wait.” She said lightly, but you couldn't help but know already that it was not God’s work that placed them here.

“Come down for lunch?” he asked you both, still slightly put off by the situation. 

“Yes” she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, you watched her walls of composure surround her once again. 

“Come on. Let’s see how much trouble we can get in before supper.” She said helping you up. 

_____________________________

You stopped by to pick up people on the way to the shops. 

“We’ll get Esme first. She’s John’s wife. Tommy’s younger brother - he made a deal with the Lee family - a bunch of gypsies - Tommy needed men, and she needed a husband. Technically I almost married John. It was a complicated time. But they both get along like a house on fire. She holds him down pretty good, probably the only reason he’s still alive.” You listened as she drove you through the countryside. “Then we’ll get Polly. She’s Tommy’s Aunt. She probably goes up against him the most. She’s some kind of Gypsy royalty, a very peculiar woman, but she means well. Hated Tommy’s first wife Grace. Well, we all hated Grace. Us women tend to stick together. We have to put up a good front against the boys or they raise hell like nothing else.” 

“You’re all gangsters then?” You asked her catching her slightly off guard. 

“Technically he’s a gangster turned politician. But trust me having been on the receiving end of both there really isn't a difference.” 

You blushed at her words and tried to hold your tongue. 

“I shouldn't have said that last part.” She flicked her cigarette case open and lit one up. “Forget I said that.” but you started laughing. You pulled up to a country-style house, chickens squawking loudly at the car engine. 

“Oi! That is not a baby!” A woman with wild curly hair approached the car. She slid into the backseat and you felt awkward sitting in the front. You looked at her looking you over. “Total babe, but not a baby.” She said with wide eyes in disbelief.

“She’s fifteen,” Lizzie responded looking at you like you were a brand new car. 

“Good lord. Going to have to beat the boys off of her. She’s pretty like you.” 

You blushed heavily at her words unsure of what to do with the attention. 

“Eh, as long as we keep her close I think we’ll manage just fine.” Lizzie smiled and turned the car around. 

“I’m Esme, I’m sure Lizzie caught you up to speed.” She lit a cigarette and smiled at you as you introduced yourself. She asked you lots of questions, about how you liked the place. 

“It’s cold. You can say it, love.” Esme blurted out. “It’s a monument to Grace. Should have been burnt down the second she left us.” You could tell this was a part of the stormy ocean of problems that rested between your adopted parents. You put that piece of knowledge into your back pocket. You pulled up to a stylish-looking complex and a woman in a black suit and sunglasses approached the car. 

“I was going to offer to babysit for you when you need a rest - but by the looks of it I’ll be asking you for help, love.” 

“How many kids do you have?” You asked while you waited. 

“Too fuckin’ many,” Polly responded climbing into the back seat. “I thought you asked Tommy for a baby, not a miniature replica of yourself?” 

“Come off it Pol,” Lizzie said starting the car. 

“I’m serious, I thought I was seein’ a bloody ghost. I’ve known you since you were the size of a potato, when I say she looks just like ya, I fuckin’ mean it.” 

You looked at Lizzie and wished you looked even a fraction of how beautiful she was. 

“How's he managing with this then? He was always good with the kids when they were little but I can’t imagine he’d know what to do with her.” Polly said stealing Esme’s cigarette. 

“Eh, like everything else, he’s adjusting.” Everyone seemed to find this funny. 

“You look at me, that boy gives you any trouble you call me alright. I’ll set him straight.” She was strong like Thomas but soft like Lizzie, and something distinctly her own. You could tell she was in charge. 

“Thank you.” You said sheepishly unsure of what else to say. 

“You're welcome, love,” She said kindly. 

Shopping was a lot. You cried on the way home and they had a unique way of comforting you while also making fun of you, making you laugh. Once you started laughing with them it seemed impossible to stop. You assumed that you would all pile into the sitting room, but instead, you piled into the kitchen, which quickly became your favorite space in the house. A large wooden table surrounded by something that felt so perfectly warm. Grace clearly didn’t touch this space much. 

They poured you cranberry juice and set into a bottle of whiskey. The jokes got worse as the night progressed and for once your sharp tongue and misplaced comments brought a great deal of joy. 

“Where did you find this girl!” Esme said between laughs 

“Fighting off a Nun in a hallway,” Lizzie replied still laughing from the joke before. Tommy and you assumed his brothers appeared in the doorway.

“Wow, Looks like you Lizzie, but with Tom’s eyes” John said, or you thought it was him because he went to stand behind Esme and she looked up at him in a way you hadn't seen before. 

“And his mouth.” Esme quipped and you hoped it was a compliment. He reached across the table to shake your hand. 

“John” 

“It’s nice to meet you” You introduced your self. Arthur came and gave you a crushing hug. 

“They got you out numbered now brother.” He joked letting you go to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

Tommy gave you a tense look, like he was worried about something. He took the seat next to you puting space between you and the boys. 

“Might be enough women to put some life back into this place.” Polly said with twinkling eyes. 

“I’ll try my best.” You responded quickly seeing that Tommy didn’t seem happy. 

He stuck close to your side, sliding glasses of Whiskey away from you as the boys started drinking. His youngest brother was only a few years older than you, and he showed up with a bunch more men that introduced themselves politely before joining into the savagery. 

You scooted your self along the bench to sit closer to Tommy not knowing the others well enough to want to sit as close. 

“Thank you, Lord, for blessing us with such a wonderful girl! May she shine bright for us in these dark times. To the newest Shelby!” Arthur’s voice boomed and your face turned bright red. Everyone finished a drink, but you caught Lizzie and Tommy sharing a look. 

Tommy put his arm around and you were grateful to have something to lean into with all the commotion. They were the loudest and rudest, most funny group of people you’d ever seen. 

“Think it’s time for bed, eh?” He asked you quietly and you nodded. 

“Alright! Clear out you lot. She’s got to get to bed. We can have a proper dinner tomorrow night!” Tommy called out causing a few groans. 

“But we just got here!” Finn mumbled.

Everyone said their goodbyes and goodnights to you moving out of the kitchen. Polly placed a kiss to your forehead. She said something in a different language, to which Tommy responded with a sharp nodd. 

Once everyone had piled out the front door, they took you up to your room. You hit the bed feeling more tired than you could ever remember.

_________________________________________

You slowly became more at ease around Tommy. Sitting alone at the table didn’t frighten you nearly as much. You heard him shout at people occasionally and that made you determined to keep your distance. 

It wasn't until Lizzie stayed away for a night getting stuck at Esme’s due to a storm. You assured her that you ate dinner and that everything was fine. In reality, you'd been sitting by the front window praying for her to come back. You hated storms and you’d just trusted that she’d be there and know what to do about it. 

Eventually you decided to retreat to your room to avoid any conflict. 

“Goodnight.” You poked your head into his study. 

“Night, love.” He responded kindly looking up from his papers. You thought about bothering him for a moment, telling him that you were scared. You decided to slip up to your bedroom instead. Girls your age didn't get scared of these types of things. 

Without Lizzie, there was an impending sense of doom about the place. Like there was pressure pushing down on you. Listening to things creak and shift, you had an idea that maybe without Lizzie here Grace’s ghost would try to snatch you up. 

Laying there listening to the storm and the house, your mind cooked up a story of revenge. Grace would kill you to get back at Lizzie for stealing her mourning husband. Maybe that’s why Lizzie’s baby wasn't born right. Your heart started to race as your stomach twisted.

There must have been some deeper story, Lizzie always seemed like she was very hurt by Grace, despite having come into Tommy’s life after. But Polly’s known Lizzie since she was a baby….

Questions were swirling in your mind non stop trying to make sense of it all. Your door made a horrid sscreeching sound and you let out a scream in response, pulling the blankets up above your head. 

“LEAVE ME ALONE GRACE.” You shouted hoping that it was enough that you could see it was her this whole time. She’d be deterred by your cleverness and the quilt Polly had made you. 

The quilt was tugged away from your face and you balled your fists ready to fight her off. However you looked up at Tommy’s horrified face instead. 

“I don’t do well with storms” You blurted out hoping that would make it better. You both looked at eachother for a moment.

“Let’s make some tea.” He said firmly. You knew that you’d fucked up and the last thing you wanted to do was have tea over the situation. You got up and he pulled your quilt around you, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you moved down the stair case. 

You watched him light a fire in the kitchen and grab two glasses and fill them with whiskey. 

He passed one to you and sat across from you, he took off his glasses and placed them on the table.

“Why do you think my first wife is out to get you?” He cut right to the chase.

“I got scared of the storm, and Lizzie is trapped, Grace- it’d be the perfect opportunity to get revenge on Lizzie for stealing her mourning husband.” You rushed the words out wishing you were dead. Tommy actually chuckled.

“That’s the story you’d been told then?” 

“No, just the one that made sense.” 

“How so?” He took a sip of whiskey. 

“Everyone says this place is some kind of shrine for her, Lizzie hates it. Hates her, why exactly,  I’m not sure but I know it’s because she’s hurt.” 

“Lizzie is hurt by Grace?” He asked with a wrinkled brow, you didn't think he was capable of such emotions. 

“That’s obvious.” You said sadly. He made a humming noise.

“I didn’t intend to marry Lizzie. She got pregnant and I married her.” He answered easily, suddenly you were very angry at him. Happy he did right by her and married her but - 

“Doesn’t mean she hasn’t always loved you.” You argued. 

“Is that so?” 

“Obviously. Have you ever looked at her? This place, the family, everything, me. Obviously.” You were dumbfounded. How on earth could someone so smart and sharp be so daft. “She puts up with a lot of shit around here. Not once has she ever mentioned leaving or hating you.” 

“Perhaps I should talk to her about it.” 

“You’d better. Everywhere we go men look at her.” You said trying to scare him into doing the right thing. 

“I’m sure they do, she’s a pretty woman.” He answered tensly. Suddenly you started to worry that maybe he wont ever love her, and if that was the case he would certainly never learn to love you. Panic started to wash over you.

“Do you want to watch the storm then?” 

“How?” You answered even more uneasy. He got up and you followed him through to the dark sitting room. He pulled the curtains open adding the slitghtest bit of light to the room. You helped him turn the couch around to face the big window. 

You watched him pour more wiskey and sit down motioning for you to do the same. Wrapped in Polly’s quilt you sat next to him and he put his arm around your shoulders.

“The only way to stop being scared is to face the thing that scares you.” He explained easily. He held you close to his side as you watched the dark figures of trees swaying violently. The lightening causing you to jump. Eventually things calmed down but you found yourself wishing that it would continue on so you could spend more time sitting like this. He just sat with you tucked into his side sipping his whiskey. 

“ I do care for you and Lizzie. More than anything.” He kissed the top of your head. “Things in the past weren't always easy or safe. Keeping her at arm's length seemed like the best way to keep her from ending up like Grace.” 

You listened to his voice in the dark, feelingthe pain in his words. 

“However, I would hate for her to leave me for a man at the shops.” He said lightly and you snorted. 

“Sorry for overstepping - I didn’t mean that she looked back at them” 

“S��alright.” He answered easily. Suddenly you saw headlights coming up the drive. You felt his body tense. “Hide behind the desk,” he said seriously. He grabbed a gun hidden in the paneling on the wall. You could hear the door open and to your relief, you heard Lizzie’s voice. 

“Fuck sake, Thomas! A gun! Scared the bloody life out of me!” She started to scold him but suddenly she stopped. “Are you alright? Where is she?! I knew something was wrong! Where-” her voice was muffled and you assumed it was because he was holding her.

“She’s fine, in the sitting room” He answered calmly.

“The sitting room at this hour!” 

You got up and moved back to the couch hoping that they might sit with you a while longer before going up to bed. 

“Why is the couch the wrong way?” She asked sitting down pulling you against her. “Miss me enough to sit up at the window like a couple of dogs.” 

“Something like that.” You said enjoying the way she held you tightly. Tommy came to sit down on the other side of you. His arm came across your shoulders pulling Lizzie towards you slightly. 

“Did you give her whiskey? She smells like distillery.”

“One glass to calm her nerves, won’t hurt her any.” You felt him reach over you to kiss the top of her head. 

“Alright. But don’t you go turning into your father.” She said sternly causing you to laugh. 

You sat for a while with the them till eventually the gray sky started to brighten with the sun of the next day. 

“Let’s get to bed. We can all get in a nap before the day starts.” Tommy said. Lizzie followed you through to your room to help you into bed and make sure you were okay. After you were settled you heard them talking down the hall and hoped that he was ready to face his fears. 

The next day you all had breakfast around noon in the kitchen. Lizzie and Tommy seemed in better spirits, might have had something to do with the marks on her neck, but you hoped he’d talked to her about the situation. 

After that night things were noticeably different. You went to school and tried to get along with the other kids, your marks were not great, leading to long nights in the kitchen studying extra with various family members. Esme was the best person to sit with, having learned maths and reading from her mother. She knew how to encourage you without stressing you out. 

Tommy on the other hand would look over the material and already look stressed. He always tried to keep his temper in check, but it was unbearable feeling him be frustrated with you. Eventually he caught on that you did worse with him there because of the added pressure, he learned to just sit next to you and work on his problems and offer you help when you needed it. 

It took a lot of struggling but eventually you were caught up and getting good marks. 

Things were going well till some old business needed to be handled. Tommy was to go away for two weeks, something that seemed to crush Lizzie. 

To her surprise he called her everynight. You’d watch her sitting on kitchen counter talking and occasionally laughing. Then he’d talk to you about school and the weather, telling you that he missed you. That was when you realised that something must be very wrong. He was clearly in a great deal of danger where ever he was. Polly came to stay at the house with Arthur, you enjoyed having them around but it only confirmed your suspicion. Everyone seemd it was best to keep you in the dark on the whole thing. 

 When he came back he was very different. Somebody, or some people, were most certainly dead. A great relief fell over the family and something was different about him. He had a smile on his face when she rushed to the door to greet him. You watched how they held eachother and thought back to when you’d first met them. Things were very different. You eventually butted into the hug feeling left out. 

______________

Extra Blurb. 

Eventually the unthinkable happened. The boy you had your eye on at school asked you out. Not knowing what to do or what the rules are you decided to get some more information on him make sure he was worth the risk of asking. 

Finn laughed at you.

“Not from the best family. But not a rival either, Tommy’s sure to have a fit, and Lizzie, I’m not sure. All in all, I don't mind the guy, you might be better off not telling them.” He said looking out the stained glass window of the Garrison. “If he gives you a hard time, come see me yeah? Don’t let him take you out of Small Heath” He looked at you seriously. 

“Sure thing.” You said getting up. You shouted a thank you over your shoulder rushing out of the pub. 

You thought long and hard about the situation. He made you laugh, didnt seem to care to much about your last name or who your dad was. Didn’t care that you were adopted. He was very polite, but enjoyed your peculiar sense of humor and misplaced words. 

You thought about turning him down. It was too complicated and anything that would upset your parents was too much of a burden. Thinking of what you would say to him, your heart gave a painful wrench. 

You went downstairs towards Tommy’s study. God this boy better be worth it or you’d put him in the ground. 

You poked your head in to see him writing and Lizzie sitting on the sofa reading a magazine. 

“Erm - So.” You started and watched them both look up at you. 

“What are you wearing?” Lizzie said smiling at your dress. 

“Go upstairs and change” Tommy cut you off before you could respond.

“Theres a boy -” You watched his face fall into his hands. “And he’s picking me up in a half hour if that’s allowed.” You fumbled with your words, wanting them to say yes badly.

“What boy” They said at the same time, giving eachother a glare. 

“Noah Solomons. I met him at school.” you responded expecting an explosion. 

“No. absolutley not. No way on earth am I sending you anywhere with him.” 

“Finn said he’s alright.” You started by stopped once he let out a sigh. 

“Finn! Fucking bastard.” He pinnched the bridge of his nose. 

“Where is he taking you then?” Lizzie asked

“Just around Small Heath for dinner. I told him that I can’t be out late.” Your face got red and you looked out the window.

“Put on a longer dress. The purple one, and put your hair up -” 

“Tommy! Don’t make her wear the purple one” Lizzie started to argue but stopped once she saw the look on his face. Her eyes narrowed back at him. 

“How bout I wear the red one -” 

“The black one is fine” They both answered suddently. 

“Just put on a cardigan,” Lizzie said getting up. “I have a nice one upstairs.” You followed her up to her bedroom. She pulled out a nice cardigan and some less opaque stockings. After you’d changed you looked yourself over, more modest, but that wasn't a bad thing. Especially if it got Tommy’s blood pressure back down. Lizzie got your hair up and you were grateful for her help. 

“Do you think dad will let me go?” You asked as she fixed your make up. 

“Dont think he can stop you. But, we’ve done business with his father. I think he’s worried this is apart of some elaborate plan.” 

“I don’t think so, but I’ll keep an eye on him” You were even more nervous now. Lizzie gave you lots of advice and you felt bad making her this worried. When you walked down stairs you could see Tommy talking to Noah at the door. 

You loved the way his face lit up when his eyes landed on you, he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. You watched the front door swing shut, keeping him on the other side. 

“No.” He said firmly looking at Lizzie.

“Going to have to let her find her own way sometimes.” 

“No I don’t. Not with boys, not dressed like that.” He responded angrily. 

“Look, I told Finn where we are going, he said him and Isaiah would be around to keep an eye out. I’ve known him for the past two school years. I - please” You looked up at him in what you hoped were puppy dog eyes. You saw the conflict rage in his eyes.

“Fine.” He sighed in defeat. “But you don’t like something, anything, you call me from the restaurant and -” You cut him off with a big hug. 

“I won’t be out too late. Love ya” You said flying out the door before he could change his mind. 

__

He kissed you on the cheek on the door step, promising to take you out again next weekend. After saying goodnight you watched as he drove down the drive way before opening the front door.

You were surprised at how quiet it was. You slipped your shoes off and followed the lamp light into the sitting room. Much like the day with the storm, they sat on the sofa turned around to face the large window. You moved towards them to see your dad looking beyond relieved, and mum asleep on his lap. 

“So how was it then?” He asked you handing you the last bit of whiskey in his glass. You sat down next to him, watching him look you over for anything out of place. 

“Felt a bit like the Queen to be honest. More Blinders than people in that restaurant. Not to mention people watching from their windows.” You gave him a look as he started out the window. “But he was nice. I -He is nice, I enjoyed myself”

“Just for food then straight back?” 

“You already know that’s what happened. Can you help me get the pins out of my hair?” You turned away from him and felt him struggle to find them, pulling slightly too hard. 

“What? No, this is my job hands off.” Lizzie said groggily. “What did I miss? Tell me everything.” You felt the two of them shift and Lizzie's expert hands start bringing your hair down. By the time she’d gotten it brushed Polly and Esme had showed up for a full debrief in the kitchen. 

You were giggling like mad for hours with them, hearing their stories about past lovers. Some sweet, other cautionary. Eventually it was time for bed and you stopped into Tommy’s office before going to wash up. 

“Dad.” He gave you a shocked look then you realised what you had said. You didnt feel like apologizing though, too tired to make a big deal of it. You leaned over and gave him a hug. “Thanks for letting me go tonight.” You felt his arms wrap around you tightly. 

“I don't like it, and there will be lots to talk about tomorrow. But I'm happy that you're happy.” You kissed his cheek then headed up to bed. You knew that he’d probably already called Noah’s father, a tense conversation awaited you, but you had no doubt it was because he loved you.

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[chelseeebe]

still don’t know my name. | part 2

summary: at the halloween party, you witness hawkins high king and queen arguing. but then you’re dragged into the middle of it by king steve himself, causing some incredibly confusing feelings. 

this feels so rushed omg i was gonna make it so much more angsty but i couldn’t bring myself to do it </3 BUT i do think i want to do a part 3 where reader is in college and steve’s at home and unhappy so there’s that! 

i’m actually also bri’ish and some of these americanisms mayyy be slightly off 

it had been a few weeks since yours and steve’s little run in. you’d seen him in the corridor and in class but had done a good job at completely blanking him.

unfortunately, you also had gym class with the boy. and even you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at those stupid little green gym shorts. he was attractive, which annoyed you all the more.

‘right, everyone! i want to see high knees!’ coach bellowed across the gym. you didn’t hate gym but my god you hated his voice.

‘miss wheeler, how can i help you?’ your eyes snap across to nancy, who had taken position by the bleachers probably hoping to watch her boyfriend jog around. you don’t blame her.

steve gives nancy a weak smile, ‘can i speak to steve please? i promise i’ll be quick,’ she finally speaks and you watch as steve makes his way over to her, puzzled.

‘if you must, but be quick!’ you make eye contact with steve on his way out of the gym. now curious as to what the blue eyed girl was telling him.

it was at least ten minutes before steve stormed back in, he was staring blankly at the floor, his shoulders slumped over. this was the first time in literally forever you’d seen steve so silent. you can only pray that nancy hadn’t found out about whatever happened between the two of you. 

the rest of the class passes and steve had not smiled once, his lips pressed together, almost frowning. you were curious but under no circumstance were you about to ask steve harrington if he was okay. especially not after last weeks fiasco. 

he’s sat on the bleachers when you exit the locker room, gym was your last class on a thursday and all you wanted to do was get home and sleep.

so when you see him stand up and make his way towards you, your heart stops. there were still students milling around the edge of the gym, who would most definitely question why steve harrington was waiting for you to finish gym.

you walk straight past him, but this boy is insatiable and turns on his heel to walk right beside you. 

‘i’m really not in the mood for whatever bullshit you want to play today.’ you continue striding across the gloss floor, staring straight ahead. 

‘i’m not- there’s no bullshit, okay? i just wanted to tell you that me and nance are done. it’s over.’ 

‘oh, well.. i’m sorry about that. poor you.’ your heart skips a beat. why? why does it do that? it’s not like you’re actually happy about the couple breaking up, but you can’t help but feel some strange buzz about it all. 

‘can you just stop for a minute, please?’ you hadn’t realised but you had picked up your pace, already nearing the school car park. 

‘no. i’m not speaking to you here.’ there was maybe the odd student still hanging around the hallway, no one that would particularly care about you and steve chatting but still, absolutely not worth it. 

steve grabs your wrist, pulling you into the boys bathroom. you screech, shocked not just about the way he had handled you but because you were in the boys bathroom. 

‘this is the boys, if i didn’t want to draw attention to myself out there, i think this may do it.’ he still has ahold of your wrist, stopping you from leaving the putrid smelling bathroom. 

he’s smiling now, and for some stupid reason this makes you smile too. because it really was quite absurd, wasn’t it? 

you bite your lip, remembering the soft feeling of his lips on yours. you wanted him to do it again, but it would against so many of your principles to let him. specifically without an apology and proof that he does in fact know your name. 

he drops your wrist to place his hand on your cheek, the fluttering inside of you only growing.

‘i’m not kissing you again..’ you look up at him, his long eyelashes surrounding his chestnut eyes. there was small part of you willing him to just kiss you, it was fairly obvious you wanted him to. 

‘y/n...’ he did know your name. 

despite that fact, you pull away from him, shaking your head. 

‘i’m still not.. i’m not going to kiss you again. it shouldn’t have ever happened, you had a girlfriend and that’s- it’s just not right.’ 

steve looks annoyed now, he’d done exactly what you’d wanted, so why was it still not enough?

‘i don’t understand, nancy’s not my girlfriend?’ he sounds genuinely sounds confused. 

‘i’m not going to be your little plaything, you can’t just kiss me whenever you and nancy argue, or break up. it doesn’t work like that, you didn’t even know my name last week and now you want me to what? to fuck you in the school bathroom?’ you’re angry now, he’s blatantly toying with you. only wanting someone to touch when nancy wasn’t around. 

steve’s mouth is open, like he wants to reply but he can’t. he hadn’t thought about how this looked to you. maybe it was true, he did want to fuck you right here in this bathroom but it wasn’t to get back at nancy, or was it? 

the door swings open, a small freshman boy stands at the door, gawping at the sight of a girl in the boys bathroom. you took this as your opportunity to leave, pushing past the young boy on the way out. 

slamming your car door, you speed out of the parking lot. you didn’t want to see that boy again, even if your life depended on it.

the drive home gave you the opportunity to truly dwell on what had been happening between you and steve. 

you were sure you didn’t like him, but the ache in your heart was inexplicable. he could’ve chosen any other girl to drag into this. but you were the one that had walked into vickie’s bathroom at the wrong time. you were the one needlessly drug into his and nancy’s messed up relationship. 

sure, plenty of girls just like you had a crush on steve harrington. other girls that ghosted through high school, who no one particularly seemed to know or care about. it wasn’t unheard of. but to actually kiss him, to get between the king and queen of hawkins high was a different story entirely. 

and you knew it would never go in your favour. 

steve was far too obsessed with how other people viewed him to ever be seen publicly with someone like you. and you were never going to be someone’s private play thing. so it has to stop. you needed to get over whatever you were feeling for him before you were the one getting hurt.

- 

the telephone in your bedroom rang for the second time. you had hoped that whoever was calling would give up. not exactly in the mood to speak to anyone. 

‘yes?’ 

‘y/n/n! where the hell have you been?’ it was robin, probably calling to see why her best friend had skipped out on school. 

‘i didn’t feel great this morning.. thought i’d give it a miss.’ that wasn’t entirely a lie, you didn’t feel great when you’d woken up. but you knew the nauseous feeling in your stomach was anxiety rather than an illness. 

‘mm hmm, so it has nothing to do with the fact cindy saw steve harrington leaving gym with you yesterday?’ 

you groan, you hadn’t seen exactly who was loitering around the gym yesterday but you’d never thought it would get back to robin. 

‘no. robin, it’s not.’ you sit up from your bed, your hand rubbing the creases that had formed on your forehead. 

‘okay... so can you enlighten me on why a certain mr harrington came up to me and asked me if i’d seen you?’

‘wait, what?’ your heart flips. there’s no way steve had spoken to robin about you. 

‘yup. at lunch, walked right up to our table and asked where you were.’ robin laughs, she could tell she’d piqued your interest in the conversation. 

‘i told him you were probably at home pretending to be sick, said i’d give him your number if he asked nicely.’ she’s smug, and you can hear it. 

‘oh rob, you didn’t.’ your eyes shut, head rolling back banging against your poster clad wall. 

‘of course i did. i’m not stupid, y/n. i know there’s something going on between you two. and for you to skip school after being seen with him.. it must be serious.’ 

‘i don’t even know what it is that’s happening, he just cornered me yesterday.. told me that him and nancy were finished and then tried to kiss me again.’ 

robin gasps, ‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me! what happened to best friends?’ she pretends to be offended but you know she’s only half joking. 

‘i know, i’m sorry rob.. i’ve been trying to understand it all.. i just..’ you sigh, if you admit to this outloud there is no going back, ‘i think i like him.’ it’s barely a whisper but robin heard it loud and clear. 

‘y/n!’ she screams down the phone to you, causing you to remove the headset from your ear before you were deafened. you’d never really shown interest in anyone before, and with things looking hopeful with vickie, she was getting worried that you’d feel left out. 

‘i fucking knew it! i knew it! look, i’m seeing vickie tonight but tomorrow i’m coming over and we can eat shit and talk all about it, comprende?’ 

you giggle, ‘okay, wait.. you’re seeing vickie?’ 

‘yeah, we’re gonna catch a movie, i would’ve asked you but someone was too “sick” to come to school today.’ you can tell her grin is ear to ear. 

‘yeah, yeah, have fun, don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.’ 

‘well, there’s clearly not a lot these days.’ robin quips back. you laugh and end the phone call, knowing robin she’ll be at your doorstep the second you wake up tomorrow. 

-

the shrill sound of your phone ringing wakes you from your sleep. 

it was more than likely your best friend wanting to immediately update you on her date/not date. 

‘robin, can this not wait until tomorrow?’ you speak gruffly into the receiver, you blink at your alarm clock. 

2:24am.

‘hey..’ that was not robin’s voice. 

‘steve? why the fuck are you calling me at 2am?’ you question back, you were now wide awake, sat up in your pitch black room.

‘i want to speak to you.. but you weren’t in school,’ his voice is slightly slurred. figures, it was a friday night after all. 

you sigh, ‘i’m sick,’ you flick the lamp on, the light burning your eyes.

‘you don’t sound sick,’ drunk steve was very matter-of-fact, seeing straight through your blatant lie. 

‘i was- i am. steve, why are you calling me?’ you were you knew exactly why he was calling, but you needed him to say it. 

it’s his turn to sigh, ‘i- i don’t know. can i come over?’ he hiccups. there it was. you were now his 2am drunk hookup. 

your insides burned, you were the one he’d chosen to try and fuck. in no way would you normally ever get turned on at the thought of steve harrington, but to know that he’d chosen you, it was doing something to you.

‘no, steve. you can’t drive in that state. just speak to me like this..’ you trail off, knowing the excuse was frail, he lived in the neighbourhood over, he could probably walk faster than he’d drive. 

‘i’ll walk, it’s not far..’ your eyes squeeze shut. you weren’t going to fuck him, not while he was intoxicated but you just wanted to see him, to just touch him again.

‘okay.. you better not drive.’

‘i won’t, promise,’ steve hangs up, eager to get to your house. 

you contemplate what the actual fuck you’d just agreed to, inviting a boy to your house at 2am, your mother asleep in the room down the corridor. not just a boy, but steve fucking harrington. the boy you didn’t even know you had feelings for until just yesterday.

‘shit.’ you hop out of bed, brushing your hair quickly, peering at your pajamas, or lack there of in the mirror. you had on an old tattered oversized top and the least sexy pair of black shorts in the world. 

you genuinely debated changing, but it was now already 2:30 and you knew steve had to be close. 

there’s a light bang on your window and you can hear twigs snapping alongside a mumbling of ‘shit’s. 

you walk over and slide your window open to steve’s face staring back at you. he was panting, did he fucking sprint here? 

you usher him inside, catching his body before he trips and wakes your mother. 

he grabs your arms to steady himself, catching your gaze. he looked so good tonight, his normally perfect hair, messy, cascading over his dark eyes. 

‘sit,’ you whisper, walking him over to your bed. sitting down beside him, absolutely reeking of booze and cigarette smoke. 

you break from his stare, suddenly taking interest in the blondie poster that had been on your wall for months.

‘y/n, i’m sorry.. i should’ve just.. called you before but i couldn’t-’ he cuts himself off, still breathless from his marathon journey to yours. 

‘it’s fine,’ refusing to avert your eyes. 

‘i didn’t wanna speak to you sober.. you weren’t in school and i knew it was my fault and i just.. i dunno,’ he’s fidgeting with his hands, wanting to reach over and grasp yours. 

you nod, finally deciding to look at him. this was the softest you’d ever seen steve harrington, he looked truly exhausted. 

‘everything’s just a mess.. i didn’t get into college, nancy doesn’t love me and then, you’re just.. you’re you and you’re suddenly in my life and i don’t quite understand why or when i started feeling like this..’ he exhales loudly, his hand still itching to touch yours. 

‘oh.. yeah that is pretty shitty..’ your eyes fall, the mention of nancy stings for reasons you can’t possibly explain.

his hand finds its way to your knee, a seemingly sensible compromise to your hand. it sends a shock through your body. it’s the first time he’s touched you with such sincerity 

‘i think.. no- i know that i like you, red..’ you look up to him. the nickname suddenly a term of endearment, rather than an annoyance, ‘i just, i needed to tell you.. that i’m not an asshole, i’m just confused..’ 

you smile slightly, jokingly replying ‘i told you to stop calling me that,’ he smiles back at you. 

‘i think i like you too, steve harrington.’ the words struggle to leave your throat but by god, do you feel so much lighter now you’ve actually said it. 

he leans in, his hand sliding off of your knee and into your hand, your fingers intertwining with his. 

his lips collide with yours in a soft kiss, it was different to the two you’d previously shared. there was no lust behind this kiss, it was pure. your favourite kiss yet. you can taste the alcohol on his lips, honoured that steve had needed the dutch courage just to speak to you. 

he pulls away, staring what seemed like into your soul. 

‘i’m sorry.. for not knowing your name n’all...’ what you didn’t know was after the moment you shared with him in the library, he’d become very interested in you. watching you in class, seeing how you’d chuckle when mr mundy would tell one of his stupid maths jokes. noticing the grin and wild wave you’d give robin across the cafeteria at lunch and the way your smile reached your eyes, making them glimmer. he’d certainly learned your name when robin would scream at you to hurry up so you’d give her a ride home. 

‘it’s okay, honestly,’ you smile slightly, it really had hurt you that he couldn’t even take the time to learn your name and truthfully, that was why it was just so complex trying to figure out your feelings for him. 

‘y/n, it’s a beautiful name and i shouldn’t have been such a jerk about it.’ your name sounds almost melodic rolling off of his tongue. this was all you had wanted for weeks now. 

the smile across your face is genuine, the one he’d seen aimed at robin countless times, now a result of his words. 

you lie back on your bed, shuffling under your covers. your alarm clock read 3:04am. steve stands up, giving you full freedom to get comfortable. he wanted to crawl under right next to you but was unsure if it may be a tad bit too soon.

‘please stay.’ you yawn and scoot towards the wall, giving him permission to climb into your bed. 

he nods, ‘i usually just sleep in my boxers, but i’ll jus-’

‘oh my god, just take them off.’ you giggle at him, the lack of sleep playing heavy on your eyelids. 

you weren’t expecting his chest to be quite so hairy, but you weren’t complaining. 

his defined arms pull the covers over you both. you rest your head on his chest as he flicks off the lamp. falling asleep with this fingers tracing patterns on your back. 

-

you wake up with a jolt when you realise there’s something- somebody sat at the end of your bed. 

‘hello sleepyheads,’ it’s robin, grinning like a cheshire cat. how on earth?

steve stirs awake, looking first at you and then to your brazen best friend sat smirking at him. 

‘your mom let me in, told me you were still sleeping and to go and wake you up,’ she laughs, ‘i feel like i’ve missed a chapter, care to fill me in?’ 

-

steve had stayed for breakfast, meeting your mom in possibly the weirdest circumstances ever. you eyed her over the table, promising to explain later. when he’d left he gave you a kiss, much like the one last night, and promised to call you later just at a more reasonable time. 

you knew that whatever was going to come from this, you’d have to work for it. it wasn’t going to be easy, what with nancy and steve’s royal status but you were looking forward to it. and besides, there was only a few months left of school before you never had to see any of these gossipping faces again.