#i get not wanting to overstep your lane but even just like. mentioning there are magical creatures from cultures would have worked

[libraryleopard]

Adult standalone urban fantasy novel

In an alternate version of present-day Vancouver inhabited by the reincarnated Knights of the Round Table and other figures from myth and folklore, a college student from an Arthurian family and a valkyrie both become entangled in a murder investigation

Gay autistic main character with anxiety; bi ace main character; M/M + F/F romances; Chinese Canadian trans girl side character

[coldflasher]

17, 18, and 29 for the ao3 asks, please! 🧡

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

You know, I think it might actually have been Joe? I've not written much Joe POV but it's always so fun to do, particularly in scenes with Len, cos Joe is always so done and ready to fight at all times lmao. I have a half-written one shot I really wanna finish where Joe finds out about coldwestallen and almost has a heart attack and it was SO fun to write, I'm cackling just thinking about it

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

i feel like the obvious answer is len. i've seen a lot of people saying that and for good reason, he's so difficult to get right. particularly when it comes to dialogue. i loooove writing dialogue, it's my fave, but when i'm editing i find myself revisiting so much of his dialogue and deleting, tweaking, rewriting, SO much of it ends up on the proverbial cutting-room floor because when it comes to len, i take the old edict "he would not fucking say that" so seriously. it's always in my mind. but the problem with len is that there's so MUCH he would not fucking say. and it makes it very difficult when there are things i NEED him to say for the plot but it just doesn't ring as authentic.

there's this post that i saw once that talks about the ways people say things without saying them, specifically when it comes to expressing love. like they say "fasten your seatbelt" or "text me when you get home safe", but what they're actually saying is "i love you, i care about you", and that's the balance i'm basically always trying to strike with len. it's like, how can i have him say things without saying it. so i spend a LOT of time agonizing over that

that being said i think the character who's challenged me the most this year has actually been iris. because i've been reading and thinking a little more critically about like. fandom racism. and how characters of colour, but especially Black characters, are treated by fandoms and by the narrative, and so i've been trying to be a lot more intentional about how i write iris and particularly how i'm describing her, and not wanting to perpetuate harm in my portrayal and potentially create an unsafe space for Black folks in fandom, and also thinking about what candice patton herself has said about the fact that iris was never really written as Black, especially in the early seasons. like. this is a white character who they happened to cast a Black woman to play. so that's also something that's been going around in my head, like her race is important and would affect her whole perspective and worldview, and so i don't want to forget that, but then i don't want to overstep and write things that are outside my lane... there have been times where i've really got in my head about it, which is good, i think i'd rather be thinking too hard about it than being careless in my approach, but it's defo been at the forefront of my mind as she takes a bigger role in the fics i'm writing, especially as i have a few iris-centric longfic ideas that i'd LOVE to work on in future but that's defo something i'll have to be even more aware of if i do that, so yeah.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

You know, frustratingly I think my fave thing I've written this year is something I can't share because it's a huuuuge DNDB spoiler 😭 so I'll settle for sharing a steamy lil snippet from the westallen "don't worry, darling" AU i mentioned because it's a super romantic scene and i loooove it

it hasn't been edited so still kinda rough around the edges but im obsessed with like. its general essence!

Turning towards him, she stood on her toes to reach more easily and Barry tightened his arm around her waist, grabbed her thigh with the other and hoisted her up onto the chest of drawers in front of the window, knocking over a lamp which thunked to the floor and sent all the light in the room crazy, filling it with weird shadows and changing the angles of their faces. Barry pressed her against the window pane and Iris jumped, making a startled little sound at the coldness of the glass that caused her to arch into him even more, wrapping her legs around his waist for leverage. He leaned hungrily into her, bracing one palm against the window, and before long the glass had fogged around his palm and haloed around her like a pale aura, the moonlight outside smudging her edges while they kissed and kissed like they’d never stop.

Thank you!

[polar-bears-making-pancakes]

i think communication is a lot of practising and im really bad at it myself so idk how helpful this tip is but: other ppl are just like you, theyre scared and all have different emotional scars. but irl isnt like the internet and people will not hate and block you if you offend them for saying a wrong thing. and if they do and cant forgive you despite your good intentions then theyre not worth hanging around anyway. so the tip is to remember that people irl are forgiving and nuanced. they are adults, not children anymore who see things in black and white.

(side tangent: where im from its culturally the case that people do not ask others about themselves and its very inappropriate to point out obvious things, maybe its the same thing for you. its not rlly the case that germans are direct, its that if they say sth about a specific topic about themselves, its an indirect invitation for you to do the same thing, but you cant ask them directly, thats very rude. it could seem to some like the autistic dream but i swear its awful and i find it impossible to ask my german autistic friend anything personal (eg. i fear if i ask about her dog she's going to tell me that he died and i'll think i made her feel bad for mentioning it). im trying to unlearn it because not only is it culturally different in the uk, but its also impossible to make friends that way.) (((sorry if i slander germany again its a bit immoral but its how i tell myself im morally superior to my family who thinks i shouldnt live in the uk. )))

so my tip is: get a feel for what you can ask them about. listen to them and what they like, and then ask them about it. it will make them feel loved and appreciated. tell them what you want them to know because they will feel that you trust them and then they can do the same thing for you. its a way of showing them that you love them.

i love you and im asking you how your degree and thesis are going? you were saying that you struggled with it and i know you are very busy atm. i wish you good luck with it <3 you got this bro

hiiii thank you so much for this message and I'm sorry it took me so long to answer

that's the problem, i see consequences of my actions in very much black and white way. as I learnt from my counselor it's because of trauma. and I know I need to unlearn it because most people, as you said, are more forgiving than I am to myself and they are adults. but I still deep down fear that they are going to leave me like when my friends left when we were kids.

ooooh that's very interesting!! I get how you feel, I think, because I often blurt stuff out even without wanting to, that would be really rude, it seems, in that culture. I feel like polish people are really defensive and we are expected to be though. so it's like, if you'd point out someone's flaw, they would, on average, take it as an attack and attack you back. but also our way of shielding our insecurities is to bargain who has it worse. I feel like that's where the stereotype of main trait of polish people being complaining comes from. so I kind feel like I should stay in my lane and not get into people's lives as long as they don't invite me to. I don't want to overstep because I know that if I get involved I want to with my whole being. again, i dislike doing something halfway, it needs to be 1 or 0, black or white :/

thank you so much for the advice 🥹 I love you too

I'll try making myself ask questions, even if I feel like I'm not allowed to ask anyone for anything ever. nad I try get the feel to not ask questions that may make someone uncomfortable, another fear of mine

[deafdogaitathrowaway]

Yo 👋 There weren't many INFO votes, but I figured I might as well make a post addressing a few points that came up.

First, yes, I did post this to both A Poll a Day and @am-i-the-asshole-official, about 1 week apart. Did not expect them to end up getting posted on the same day, but I noticed over the past few days that it was probably going to line up that way lol 🥴

Second, for anyone who didn't see this in the replies: I want to sincerely apologize for the small text. I used it to keep my asides a bit more aside, and make a long post a little less long, but I didn't think about how it would would be difficult for some to read, and honestly didn't realize (until reading the replies on another AITA post the other day) that it's no good for screen readers. That was plain ignorance on my part, I'm really sorry.

Third, I called LG a collie, but I think he is specifically a border collie (or maybe a mix), and a rather large one at that; he stands at about thigh-height next to FB. So, considering that combined with the deafness, I do understand why she struggles to handle him well. My issue is that she doesn't really seem to try, and if she isn't willing to try, then I don't think she should have taken in a dog with particular needs.

Regarding specific comments: • You should have recorded it and/or reported it to authorities. Yup, if I'd had my phone on me I would have tried to take a video. I know from previous experience that reporting animal abuse or neglect without video evidence is pointless, Bylaw Enforcement won't do anything and the SPCA/Humane Society both direct you back to Bylaw.

• There might not be any better way to keep the dog safe (e.g. from cars, etc.). This is fair...ish, because it definitely isn't clear in my post, but to BE clear, this happened at the far end of our backyard (where she takes the dogs to poop), which is behind our building, which is already well set back from the road. LG was nowhere near any cars, and there's a fence between our yard and the house next door's yard, so he and their dog couldn't have hurt each other either. I will say on FB's behalf that she acquired a sort of belt? harness? that she wears when she is walking LG - or GD's massive German Shepherd, K - near/across the road, so she can use her whole body to hold them back. Don't get me started on them keeping 2 large dogs in a 900 sq. ft. apartment though. I'm trying to mind my own business …

• GD "tattled" to your mom because you didn't answer the door when FB knocked. This is definitely fair. I also should have mentioned in the ask that GD wasn't around when this all went down; he only gets home from work shortly before my mom usually does. So I guess at the time, I was thinking he should have just come up to talk to me, since things had had time to cool off by then. But yeah, he probably did assume I wouldn't answer. I still say that answering FB's knock wouldn't have been wise; I feel I would have said something inadvisable.

• People are too focused on staying in their own lane / your mom's a coward. Mm, it's definitely seen as overstepping here to comment on how someone else handles their animals. It's not the first time I've been taken to task for it. ("Then you should have known what would happen" yes well as I said, I didn't think, I just wanted her to leave the dog alone.) As for my mom … she really hates conflict and typically prefers to stay silent rather than speak up, even on her own behalf. I'm really not like that, if anything I've been told I'm too opinionated. She and I grew up in different eras and environments, so I don't really hold it against her. Admittedly I was hurt that she wasn't more on my side, but she's my mom and I love her, so in the end, I just wanted to keep her from being stressed out.

• Report this to the landlord / you shouldn't get evicted over someone else abusing a dog. Our landlord is … how can I put this politely … kind of a tool. If I'm being generous I could say he is "hands off" when it comes to our building. If I'm being honest: he doesn't give a shit. My mom and I and our other neighbors and our past neighbors have all tried reporting stuff to him, he just … doesn't do anything. There would have been very little point, imo, in reporting this to him, especially as he's shown bias toward GD in the past (because GD mows the lawn approximately 2.67 times a year and Landlord uses that as an excuse not to hire anyone else to do yardwork so he can save a buck 🙃) As for getting evicted, honestly I don't think he could legally evict me over this one incident, but my mom is terrified of either of us getting on Landlord's bad side and being thrown out on the street.

• "You shouldn't have apologized, because now she definitely wont learn from her behavior" Mm … well, again, I wanted to keep the peace with my mom, and not turn this into a major incident, as much as I do care about the dog. Imo, FB wouldn't have learned a damn thing regardless. _____ That's all I have to say, I think. Thanks to everyone who voted and commented, I genuinely appreciate the perspective (yes even the YTA and ESH votes, y'all keeping me humble 👉👉). Hopefully nothing like this happens again but it's somewhat comforting to know that most people don't think I was out of line for speaking up, and that most would want to do something if it weren't for anxiety. To be honest, I have very severe anxiety myself, but I love animals with all my heart, and trying to help or protect them is one of the few things that can override anxiety for me. This was all very interesting! (And to anyone who glimpsed my real URL when I accidentally replied with it, pretend you saw nothing 😊) Okay bye 👻

AITA for "attacking" my neighbor's girlfriend? 🗣️🐶👻

Potentially relevant background: I (35F) live in a small apartment building with a very large shared back yard. My mom lives in the same building. We're both close with one of our neighbors and on pleasant terms with the other occupants, but we've also both had various problems with the guy who lives below my apartment ever since he arrived. Details aren't really relevant, he's just one of those people who have clearly never lived in an apartment building before. A couple months ago, his girlfriend moved in along with her young, very excitable, deaf collie. She has almost no control over this dog and can barely even walk him. In the past she used a regular collar for him, which meant she was pulling the dog back by the neck whenever she tried - not very successfully - to control him, but thankfully, she did recently start using a harness instead. (The other people in the building have commented on this as well, I swear I'm not nosy - or at least I'm not the only one who is.)

So anyway, a few weeks ago I was in the back room and when I looked out the window, I saw the girlfriend (FB, 30sF) in the yard with the dog (LG). He was being his usual hyperactive self, and she was as usual being pretty ineffective in handling him. I guess FB got tired of LG haring off away from her as she stood in one place, because she shortened the lead and started pulling him back to her side with a hard yank anytime he got more than a foot or so away from her. At some point, the people who live in the house next to our building must have let their dog out as well, because LG went absolutely nuts trying to get over to the fence and pulled FB a few steps forward with him. She hauled back on the lead with both hands, hard enough that LG yelped, which actually lifted him off his front paws with his back paws barely touching the ground, then shook him roughly and shouted angrily in his face (I could hear her even from inside, and while I couldn't understand her since she speaks in French to the dog, her tone was angry).

Without even thinking about it I immediately opened the door, took a single step onto the deck, and yelled "HEY, stop it!" at her. I wasn't yelling with aggression, I just had to raise my voice for her to hear me across the yard. FB dropped LG and looked up at me and she seemed confused, so I pointed at the dog and shook my head and said "Don't shake him like that, and don't yank him back like that, you're gonna hurt him!" She shook her head back at me and was like "What is 'yank', I don't know, I'm not hurting him." I mimed the way she'd pulled on his lead and said something like "Pulling on him like that and shaking him so hard could hurt him." She was like, "He is deaf, I have to pull him to make him understand." I said, "You don't need to pull him that hard!" FB goes, "Well, he pulls me?" I'm like, "Well, he's a dog? You're a human, you can do better?" Finally she just waved me off and walked back toward the front of the building, so I went back inside, annoyed. After a little bit, she stomped up the stairs, then knocked - as quiet as a mouse - on my door. I didn't bother answering because I didn't have anything else to say to her (or at least nothing polite).

Later that night, when my mom (64F) got home from work, FB's boyfriend (GD, 38M) was apparently waiting outside for her to report the incident. She came up to my place and asked me what happened, so I explained basically exactly as I did above. Mom tells me that GD told her I "attacked" his girlfriend and really upset her by implying she was hurting her dog. (Why he felt the need to like, tattle to my mother instead of talking to me personally, I do not know. It's fine, I totally love being treated like a wayward child.) I was like, "I didn't 'attack' her, I yelled one time and then spoke normally, from like 30 feet away. But I wasn't implying anything, I TOLD her that what she was doing could hurt the dog." Mom told me it wasn't my business to say anything to FB about how she treats her own dog. I said that if I see someone mistreating an animal I do consider it my business to step in. She told me I was rude and what I did was wrong, and then asked what I thought I was going to do if GD complained to the landlord and got me evicted. I was pretty irritated, but eventually - more to appease my mom than because I actually felt sorry - I wrote GD and FB an apology note "admitting" that I was "wrong" for letting my concern for an animal make me act without thinking and get involved in something that "wasn't my business".

Truth is, I still don't think I was wrong, and I would do it again. I think there must be better ways to discipline your deaf dog, and if you aren't willing to learn them then you shouldn't take in a deaf dog. (Also, if what she was doing was just out of trying to control him and not out of anger, why did she shout in his face like that? Girl he's deaf, he can't hear you???) But, after some reflection, I recognize that my already established dislike of these people may have colored my perspective somewhat. It's all over and done with now, but I just want a wider perspective.

Was I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[fritae]

The Missing Piece: Ch 6

Subtlety.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x female oc, lov

status: ongoing

read this story on ao3

-----

Dabi comes more frequently after that.

I am relieved when I see he looks better - there's a smile on his face and he converses with the team more openly. Dabi even sends someone to grab us coffee and hands them out to us personally.

Jin swings his arms around Dabi's neck and the two banter back and forth for a while. As I watch the chemistry between the team, the original team, I feel a light pang in my heart. This must be what it's like to have real friends. I wish I had found them sooner. Instead of sticking around a man like Mr. Lane.

It was strange at first, hearing Dabi refer to us that way.

Mr. Lane only called us employees. Team sounds much friendlier. More warm.

Even though Dabi isn't always that way.

"You're in a good mood." I comment. I sit back against his desk. Dabi pushes his chair away to give me more space, looking pleased. But that only makes me more curious. "Am I allowed to know why?"

He motions for me to come closer. I give him my ear and he whispers, "I cut a really good deal."

My smile widens. As I pull back to look at him, his eyes shine with pride. "The son of a bitch wouldn't budge for weeks."

"That's good," I giggle. "I suppose that's why you've been able to spend more time with us recently."

The man contemplates that for a moment and shrugs. "You could say that, yeah."

Since he doesn't elaborate, I don't ask more questions. I'm careful about overstepping my bounds. Instead, we talk about current stock trends and various operations within the company.

"Say," Dabi begins later that evening. "Are you free tonight?"

"Me?" I ask as I put away his files. "Yeah of course. Is there something else you'd like me to do?"

"No, not like that." Dabi leans against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest. "You've been here about a month now and all I've done is run you on errands."

There's an apologetic smile on the man's face.

I take a seat across from him. "It doesn't feel that way at all. Besides, you've been busy yourself, sir."

"Again with the sir?" He teases.

"Stop," I get flustered. It does feel a little weird calling Dabi sir given our conversations before I was his secretary. Not to mention the fact that we're the same age. But I get nervous calling him just Dabi as well, now that I work for him. I don't want to do anything that might jeopardize my relationship with him, or get me fired. "I told you I'm still trying to get NNTV out my system."

"Well Ms. Aoki," Dabi says, suddenly extremely formal. I roll my eyes at his act, knowing its in response to my own formality. "Would you care to have dinner tonight?"

The thought brings a playful smile to my face. "Ah, so you finally have time for me?"

It's his turn to get flustered.

"You're my secretary, you know how busy I am!"

But I don't know what you're busy doing... I want to say back.

The distance between me and Dabi seemed more evident once I started working here. I suppose meeting a stranger and connecting with him instantly gives you a certain impression about what your relationship would be like in the future.

But Dabi, who once felt like he could be my friend, now feels increasingly...untouchable. Like he has his own world outside of the company that I knew nothing about.

Part of me is happy for him. Watching Mr. Lane do nothing but think of NNTV all these years made me feel like a CEO was a miserable position. But with Dabi, it doesn't feel that way. He doesn't look as overwhelmed with the company as someone else in his shoes might be.

Which brings me to the other point.

There's something weird about Dabi. There's been several instances where he'd come to the company deep into the night, with bits of blood on his shirt. Occasionally, there will be a strong smell of smoke - and I know it's not from the cigarettes.

There are times when he angrily walks in, ignoring everyone - and calls for Tenko or Atsuhiro to follow him to his office.

Other times, I hear he is in the building, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Whatever it is - there's more to Dabi than the Blaze.

That much I figured out.

But as worried as I get, as long as he comes around sometimes with more than an aloof expression on his face and silence on his tongue, then that's what matters to me.

I become even more grateful that he would choose to spend the little time he has free with me.

"Let's go Dabi," I smile, gaining the courage to drop the sir for now and link my arm with his. "Before you get busy on me again." I explain quickly.

Dabi is surprised by the gesture, glancing between me and our linked arms quizzically.

But he smirks when I pretend it's nothing.

[oh-theres-a-woman]

Blood Doilies; Part Three

A/N: Warnings for mentions of abuse and abusive relationships. Please read at your own discretion. The next chapter will also have the same warning. I understand that such topics can be triggering to some people, this is pure to show what the Female Reader has experienced in married life and her breaking away from that with the aid of the Blinders. Once more thank you for taking the time to read this story, feel free to reblog or comment if you’re enjoying this. 

Taglist: @zodiyack , @itsfrancisneptun , @shelbys-we-get-the-job-done, @amy-booxx​ & @fandom-fucking-shit​

Parts: [ 1 ] , [ 2 ], [ 4 ], [ 5 ], [ 6 ], [ 7 ], [ 8 ], [ 9 ]

Pairing: Thomas Shelby X Female Reader

Word Count: 1923

▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫▫

You set the tea down on the coffee table noticing the children had both fallen asleep on Mister Shelby’s knee. Offering a smile at the sleeping children. Whispering softly that you could take the children to bed, Thomas simply rose to his footing. Carrying both the children upstairs, calmly following him. Showing the beds for each child. Annabeth curled up into a ball with her little dolly looking absolutely smitten and at peace. Leaning down you kissed the little girl’s head, smoothing the messy mop of hair away from her face. Pulling the blankets up to her shoulders, brushing the back of your knuckle lovingly over her cheek.

Repeating the same action for Marcus, knowing that he’d need another feeding in a few hours time. “You’re a good mother, you do so much for your children,” Thomas said observantly from the door watching on with silent awe. Aunt Pol had always warmed someplace in his heart at her mothering but it had been a time since all the Shebly children had ground. Now the mothering seemed like a nagging.

Maybe it was the war that changed him but watching you at that moment. He didn’t see the harshness of his own upbringing. But the solid foundations of nurturing and admiration. Tommy didn’t quite remember the loving gaze of his mother, only her death. It had been the first of many lives that were lost. Charlie Strong had been the replacement when his father walked out of them and Pol took the helm of mothering. Swift in her workings and proved very stern for the young Sheblys’ that were left like orphans before she swooped in.

However, you were a different case. There was something about your maternal instincts that caused Thomas to stop a moment. Admire the qualities of a woman. The way in your wounds and bruises from an abusive husband, no matter the pain. You carried on your task of being a mother never let anything go to chance or mess with you. Easily smoothing a hand over baby Marcus’s locks whose were just like your own. Beautifully soft with a slight wave in the front. Tucking your son in, you watched him for a moment listening to his breathing, the little snores that left his buzzing button nose.

Thomas and yourself wandered back downstairs to the tea. Looking at each other for a moment. The narrow stairs led to you brushing hands in the walk. Causing you steps to falter for one moment. However, the Blinder once more found his seat again. Marking the page he had been reading to the children as if he’d continue that story for them another time. Picking up his teacup, he added some cream and one sugar. Stirring with the provided teaspoon then offering the spoon to you. Carefully, you poured the creamer not adding any sugar. Enjoying the strength of the tea. Lips slightly pursed together, glancing back to Thomas Shelby again. “Thank you for offering my family this safe house for the time until we get our lives back on track,” you said with a warm blush on your cheeks.

“It is alright, Mrs [Y/N],” Thomas said in a swift and noble tone of voice. Leaning back into his chair observing you. “The Peaky Blinders don’t take kindly to men who bash into their women and children.” Thomas’s words sparked a cool murderous rage in him. His eyes were like a cool fire, burning hotter than any red flame you’d seen in your lifetime. Glancing down at the marks that riddled your body and all that was hidden under your clothes. You hadn’t remembered a day where things weren’t thrown or fists were flying. Once upon a time, it was a social norm for a husband to beat his wife.

“I’ve had it happen all my life, my father was a drunk and my mother a prostitute. I don’t really know any better…” You admitted in a defeated manner. Clenching your fists on your legs thinking about the life you led. “But, I want this cycle to end. Because if I let this keep happening, it’ll only happen to my children and they won’t know how to respect each other or their future loved ones.”  Deep down you knew this was the right thing, the sudden separation to make sure no more harm would come to yourself or the children if your husband overstepped his normal range of violence.

“Do you need my help in any way of separating from the man, because once you're divorced of him that debt owed is only on him. I don’t believe in wives cleaning up their husband’s debts when they have a family to protect. By those marks too, I’d believe you’ve been looking over them for some time too.” Mister Shelby said, reaching into his coat pocket, procuring a silver cigarette case. Opening it and offering you one with a slight incline of his arm. Reaching out you picked up one of the expensive tailor-made, always used to the harsh rolling without a filter.

Placing the stick of nicotine in between your lips, that were chapped and broken from a hit. Picking up a matchbook from the table lighting up your cigarette, then leaning out to light Thomas’s. He leant into the flame. The small light of the match burning embers of life at the end of the neatly rolled tobacco. Watching the embers eat at the paper when Tommy puffed. The flame licking at your fingertips were lighting the sharper features of the Shelby before you, causing a feeling of enchantment to pull over you.

Tingling burns at your fingertips, causing you to finally shake the match and drop it into the ashtray. Settling back into your seat letting out a calm inhale and sighing softly. The sitting room clouded with an illusion-like smoke cloud. Giving a new atmosphere to the room. Like it wasn’t heavy in the topics of conversation. The stress had been disbursed in to the air, exhaled with the carbon-dioxide and smoke through lips and nostrils.

“I need to find a way to get divorced from him, I know it’d help my case that we’re living separately from one another. It would be a year’s process at the longest, I’d need to find a way to keep the tea house. My own business… I don’t want to lose it to him. Need some form of income to keep a roof over the wee ones’ heads.” You muttered, flicking the ash into the crystal tray on the table. Wondering in all seriousness how much it cost to buy because it was impeccable. Everything in the Watery Lane home was beautifully charming and way out of your price range.

“I’m hoping to get settled then go back to work, have a friend lookout for the kids.” You said to the man, who seemed to offer a small nod. Knowing the modest little establishment in your ownership. By far considered the loveliest tea shop in Small Heath, it had charm and class to the small little shop. He’d remembered Ada gushing over it opening some years ago, by a beautiful young woman that had the dream to do so. Through the proper means, she opened the shop by herself. Even without her husband’s help. This seemed like an even biggest motivator for Tommy’s little sister feminist ideals.

“Given your current condition, I’d recommend your healing before heading back to work. Keeping a low-profile due to your husband’s likely retaliation to your left with the children. For your safety, I’d advise you take a week at the least, then return to work. I or one of the Blinders will be there to escort you home after.” Thomas took a swift to inhale of his cigarette. He didn’t know why he was so adamant to protect you. Normally the Blinders would help get rid of the trouble and then recoil. Yet, deep down he knew it's because he’d seen what the government and church would do if they caught wind of things happening.

You’d lose your children. Thomas didn’t want to see that happen, because you’d taken responsibility for your husband’s debt and tried to clear it up. Even in such a state that you were in. Trying to protect the little family you’d been in. Keeping those well-behaved children in line, working the long hours that he found out on an investigation prior. Where your morning shift could start as early as four-five o’clock in the morning for the baked goods. Then until closing hours in the evening. A short break in between to take your children home, giving the neighbour a break.

Only to have most of the money earnt wasted on your husband’s addictions and there were plenty of them. Never in a million years did he even expect anyone at that meeting today. But, there you were to shock him. Taking time out of your day, to see him and try to make things right. Surprisingly, it gave Tommy a little bit of hope for some of the women in this day and age. So, the patriarch of the Shelby family sat there and discussed with you into the long hours of the night. Things were arranged for your meeting with a solicitor under the guidance of Polly Gray. Moral support. Plus, everyone seemed to be as scared of her as they were with Tommy. Bonus.

*********** 

The following days passed quickly with everything being prepared. Marks began to fade on your skin and it restored some of your lacking confidence. You felt happier in the safe house. Not because of the fancy layout because your children were happy, they were settling in nicely. The Shelbys’ came to visit enough. John Shelby bought over his children someday and they all played while business and things were attended to. More often than not it meant walking in on the children all snuggled up on each other and napping; after having an argument or fight. Everything was sorted with a simple nap together, then they were as good as rain. It made you often wish that adults were as simple as children.

By the following Monday, you were returning to work. Your workers had been running the ship well and left things in perfect condition. It was nice to see the faces of the customers again. Hours were long like normal, but that’s how you enjoyed working. Things were peaceful and you didn’t feel an ounce of stress because Thomas had promised to come to pick you up after work and walk you home. It was safe… Well, that’s what you thought.

Hours passed by swiftly and you finished the till counting after hours in the office. The last thing was to do the bins. When you were collecting the bins. Wandering in the dark alley, tossing things into the larger bins outside for landfill. You were so focused on your task that the sound of someone sneaking up on you escaped your knowledge. A rough hand, the smell of hard liquor and cigars filled your nostrils. You knew that scent from anywhere. Your husband. 

He holds a hold on you, smothering your screams of utter terror and pinning your body against the firmness of his body. “It’s not nice to say goodbye in a letter,” he whispered in your ear with vile intent. Holding out in front of you, the wedding band you letter on the letter. Forcefully sliding it back onto your finger as tears fell. 

[xyliane]

AUgust 6: hospital au

PROMPT THE SIXTH: HOSPITAL AU

fun fact! me and @wuzzyletoastermac have a hospital au. so I’m just gonna...dig it out of its shallow grave from a few years back and plop that one over here. only it’s not gon who got hurt this time. killugon, descriptions of bodily injury resulting from a bike accident that absolutely doesn’t come from my worst fears as a bike commuter for 6 years, definitely not.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Killua glares at Leorio through a deep haze of pain and painkillers. “You have the shittiest bedside manner,” he says.

It’s almost certainly his imagination, or the drugs, but Leorio might be prodding the X-rays he stole from Killua’s nurse a little more viciously than he should. “My bedside manner’s not the problem here, kid,” Leorio says. “It’s the clavicle fracture that miraculously didn’t need to be reset, and an oblique fracture in your tibia that might need surgery. Not to mention that half the skin on your arms got burned off when you the concrete, and you definitely have a concussion.”

“Leorio--”

“And you did this, not joyriding in an ambulance like you do every shift--”

“--not joyriding, I’m just damn good at my job--”

“--or drag racing with your sister--”

“--that’s her job! And I taught her!”

“--but biking back from getting dinner!”

Killua wishes he could throw up his hands, and settles for a hoarse growl of frustration. “I know. It’s the stupidest possible way to get this badly hurt. You don’t have to rub it in, Dr. Asshole.”

“Will he be okay?” Gon asks, worry bleeding through his voice. He’s hovering at Killua’s side with one hand on the top of the hospital bed and a death grip on Alluka’s hand, like he’s been since she got here more than an hour ago. Gon had called her as soon as Killua went into the ER, and the two of them have been with him as much as they can. And Leorio managed to appear, bedraggled and exhausted from coming off the end of his own shift, haranguing the orthopedics and arguing over the logistics of surgeries and therapy like he specializes in traumatic injury and not immunology.

Killua can’t help but feel loved. He isn’t sure if he deserves it, but it’s there, given freely from the people Killua loves with all his heart. At least Alluka knows, because she demanded to hear it. But Gon...

Laying in a hospital bed under a questionable amount of painkillers is not the time to be thinking about telling someone I love you for the first time. Too many drugs to make a sensible decision.

Leorio coughs a little, and glances in the direction Killua’s nurses went. “It’s no worse than anything you’ve done, Gon. Several magnitudes better. There’re techs who still talk about your arm dismemberment.”

“But will Killua be okay?”

“Brother’s as fine as he can be,” Alluka says with only a fraction less nerves than Gon. “Right, Doctor?”

“The hospital looks after its own, even adrenaline junkie ambulance drivers.” A strange noise burbles out of Leorio’s mouth, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You weren’t even in a car.”

Killua feels his cheeks burn, a strange sensation when everything else feels like it’s wrapped in several layers of scratchy wool. “It was still a car’s fault,” he says with his best scowl. From how Leorio looks like he swallowed a lemon whole, it’s not very good.

“At least you were wearing a helmet,” Leorio says. 

“The dipshit opened the door right into the bike lane. Ruined our dinner plans.”

It was date night. Of all the nights to get into an accident, it had to be the one night where Gon didn’t have to work tomorrow, and Killua was in the middle of his 72 hours off. They’d been talking about going back to the fusion place for weeks, ever since Palm had tipped them off, and they finally get to relax, and--

Alluka makes a noise that is supposed to be overexaggerated sympathy, but it comes out a little wet, like she’s holding back angry tears. “I’ll bring you spring rolls tomorrow, Brother.”

“And you demanded to argue until your boyfriend showed up looking for you!” The radio around Leorio’s neck squawks, and he grumbles something about not overstepping bounds when family’s involved. “Look, just. Don’t argue with Dr. Gel, she’s doing us both a favor. And don’t try to get out of here before she says whether or not you’re getting surgery. And you don’t try to help him leave early, Gon, you know how collarbones feel.”

Gon’s mouth goes thin, and he says nothing. But Killua can feel how tightly he grips the edge of Killua’s bed, a slight tremble beneath the sheets. He shouldn’t care this much--it was an accident, it could have happened to anyone on a bike at the wrong time with the wrong asshole driver.

Leorio’s radio buzzes again, but he puts his hand over it. “Gon. Promise?”

“...fine,” he mutters, belligerent and angry, because he probably was figuring out how early he could stage a breakout, and Killua feels bizarrely, impossibly loved.

“I’ll go with Leorio,” Alluka says as the doctor begins to stride out of the little room, white coat flapping as he barks an order into his radio. “He doesn’t have to do all the paperwork by himself. Don’t do anything else stupid?”

Killua starts to lift his arm to flip her off, and his collarbone reminds him why that is a terrible idea. “I’m not going anywhere,” he manages.

“That’s not avoiding stupid things.” She presses a soft kiss to Killua’s forehead, not quite missing the new scabs growing where the helmet dug into his skin. But Killua’s good at hiding pain. “Be right back,” she says.

Once they’re both gone, Gon pulls up a stool from the little desk and sits (finally, some part of Killua sighs in relief). With Leorio gone and no longer poking and prodding at the charts, Killua is hit by a wave of exhaustion strong enough that the hospital bed feels almost as good as a cloud, perfect to sleep through some of the drugs and pain.

“I can still get you out if you want,” Gon says.

Despite the light tone, Gon isn’t joking in the least. It makes Killua smile. Gon has a knack for getting out of the hospital before he’s supposed to--it’s why Leorio is usually on his cases, even though he should be in Infectious Diseases, because he can usually manage to make the chronically injured rugby player stick around even a day or two longer. And why they’re letting him stick around after his rotations tonight.

“I’ll be fine. It’ll just suck for awhile.” He flips his hand so that they’re palm-to-palm, fingers laced. “It can’t be worse than that time you got your arm chopped off.”

“But if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have met you,” Gon says. “I’d rather lose an arm than that.”

Killua wants to protest, because Gon did almost lose his arm. But intoxicating warmth and fuzziness floods his veins, a rush of feelings that threatens to choke out what few coherent thoughts he has left. He wants to tell Gon that he doesn’t want Gon to lose another limb, not even a toe, not for Killua. He wants to make sure Gon knows that he’s grateful for the offer to break him out of the hospital even though it’s a terrible idea right now. Mostly, he wants to say that he’s glad Gon is here with him.

Instead, he flops his head over a little, just enough to smile up at his boyfriend. “I love you,” he says, words slipping out easily between the bone-deep weariness and drug-dulled pain, not like it’s been bottled up inside his heart for what seems like ages.

Gon’s eyes widen a fraction, and the grip on Killua’s hand slackens for a long, terrifying moment. But then he tightens again, firm like an anchor weighed against the tide. And Killua doesn’t have to hear it to know that Gon loves him back.

So it might be a dream, or just another part of the haze. But as Killua drifts off, he hears Gon say, voice quiet against the beeping of the hospital machines, “I love you too.”

(AUgust prompts)

[atlaswilliams]

He was far more sentimental than anyone ever gave him credit for. He cared about the little moments and everything they meant. It was why the refrigerator door had become an art gallery composed of every piece of work his children had ever done for him. Granted, Maggie's work were more so scribbles with the occasional mock letter thrown in, but Alex put her everything into every piece and because of that, he'd never get rid of any of it. It was like his camera roll and how every other picture was one of the girls. Whether they were being silly, or showing him something important, or even just being there, he never wanted to miss a single moment.

Her silence left him wondering if perhaps he'd overstepped. Had his own fear of missing things driven him too far? He'd brought up the same concern with Sage and how what he feared most was missing out on moments that others might not have deemed important. For Alex, he'd missed more than he'd liked. Her first steps, her first words, her first goofy smile that matched his own. He'd missed it all because of his own mistakes, none of which he blamed Aslihan for. A breath hitched in his throat per the offer, one that he eagerly wanted to agree to. Of course he wanted to see every memory saved, but what would it do to him emotionally? Would it dare to rip him apart from the inside out, or would seeing those memories help fill the gaps? "Are you sure? I don't wanna take away from the decorating we've gotta do. Can't have her missing a section of streamers because I wanted to go down memory lane."

Her teasing made it easier to ignore the pounding in his chest. Now that she'd mentioned going through things, he couldn't stop thinking about it. "How about this? You can be in charge of the crown. I'll handle the sash." Pausing, he rolled his eyes and offered a small grin in her direction. "Every color is my color." It wasn't, but for the sake of matching her confidence, he'd own it as if it were the gospel. "I think it's about time someone tells that your jokes aren't even that funny. Besides, I'll have a pretty big fan club already. I'll have everyone wanting a piece of the best athlete in the game. Just remember... you wanted this."

It was a double-edged sword, admittedly, over telling him that the greatest gift Atlas could give Alex was being there. After all, as Alex got older and began to question things more, such as wondering where her baba was or why he hadn't been there for her birthday or Purim or Hanukkah or even for the weekly Shabbat, it became harder and harder to tell her daughter that he would hopefully be there for the next one. Of course, Alex was still a child; She loved receiving gifts, getting a new toy or book or something to build. Yet Alex was a Bailey through and through: she loved having her family with her the most. So Atlas being there to celebrate everything now was the greatest gift he could ever give her. Yet Aslihan was worried over how that could make him feel. Would he be happy? Would he be sad? Would he be a mixture?

When it came to the years before moving to Providence Peak, part of Asli struggled with telling him about them. Obviously, she wants to. She wants him to know and to view all the photographs and videos of these memories. But that's the thing: he would view them, but he wouldn't have those memories himself. And it was a painful reminder. That's why his questions froze her for a moment. The brunette played with a toy artist paint pallet, trying to think this careful. He deserved those answers. He always has. She just didn't want him to hurt when he receives them. But it was inevitable at this point, right? Glancing over at him, she looked at her house's stairs then back at the man. Nodding towards them as she said, "My office is upstairs. I saved copies of every single memory of Alex over the past seven years, including my pregnancy and every birthday, onto my computer. If... If you want, we can go look at her birthday photos and videos. Even the ones we've celebrated together are on there."

Chuckling, she smiled softly. "You can have a sash. And a crown, if you want. Please let it be one of those plastic ones with the pink feathers; I firmly believe pink is one of your colours." Asli's smile grew and she shook her head. Setting down the toy before placing her hands in the back pockets of her joggers. "Oh, I think I'm hilarious. And adorable. A winning combination, you know. I suppose it's time, old man. Ready to kick some arse at the recreational sports? Don't worry, I'll try to talk to Sage to see if the girls can come and cheer you on."

[vbee-miya]

[romantic matchup]

╔═ @lovesickcalico ═╝

➺︎ 𝙺𝚊𝚔𝚢𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚔𝚒

You seem like someone very much in his lane.

Quite similar to Holly with the whole idea about being very empathetic and affectionate with others, but yet at the same time neglecting your own health to an extent. 

Which isn’t the most recommended since it’s not a very healthy habit.  

Though who am I to say things like that? I'm just a humble matchmaker :)

He’s not obnoxious whatsoever so there’s no worry in that.

He might overstep your boundaries, totally by accident though.

He’d instantly ask for your forgiveness knowing that he wouldn’t want you becoming cold hearted towards him.  

He’s smart and observant so when you’re in a terrible mood, he’s quick to make sure he won’t bother you. 

Going off the fact that you’re a person who can catch on to things that others can’t, he’d definitely like that side of you. Not to mention the fact that you strive on realistic views and values I feel like he would be able to counter those views with a more out of the box ideas. You know? 

If you’re having a rough day, he’s just be there to comfort you. He’ll be like a second mother 

The way you’re quick to anger over the smallest things is amusing to him, though he won’t say anything or mention it in fear you might get pissed off even more. 

I can see him being affectionate and seeing that the smallest gestures warms his heart so when for you he’ll definitely return the favor and give you those warm meaningful hugs that words truly can not explain. 

Because if you’re able to help him through the hardships in his life he’d like to return that favor you know? 

Just for you he’ll try to see the good in things you know?

He tries to keep a clean mind out of the gutter, but may God help his urges. If you’re dom there’s no saying no for him. (he’s gotta be a bottom that’s a vibe i get from him)

Downside of this relationship is that he’s not really into outdoors stuff like fishing. So don’t expect him getting all hyped to go outdoors.

As elegant as he is, he’s definitely one for the outdoors. 

As elegant as he is, he’s definitely one for the outdoors. 

As elegant as he is, he’s definitely one for the outdoors. 

He’s like the mother of the Pt 5 JoJo gang, he’d have all the patience for you. 

Constantly checking up on you you know? Though when you’re in a bad mood no worries, the man will leave you be. 

His fashion sense is absolutely divine. 

He’s not really the one for fort buildings, but if it makes you happy he’ll try to make it with you. 

When the room is calm and quiet and you start laughing about something you’ve thought of he’ll look up from whatever he was reading and ask what was so funny. 

If you try to explain it he wouldn’t understand, but he’ll give you a gentle smile that’s what. 

He’s very much all for affection, so many back hugs from him as he sways with you from side to side. 

The way he’d hold your hand out in public is absolutely just muwh *chiefs kiss* 

Many formal events with this man despite his love for fishing and living out a simplistic life near the shoreline. 

Imagine just a warm cozy morning in a simple humble house and he’s baking you a little treat or desert. 

Literally the cutest thing ever. 

This isn’t canon or anything so please anyone reading don’t take this to heart or just ignore this please :) but thoughts on Bucciarati being chatolic? 

I mean sure he’s part of the mafia, but if my memory serves me well I recall him stating that after he’d become the new mafia leader or just quite it he’d probably want to start a new life. That had more meaning right? And what better way than to try out a new religion? Or just be more one with yourself (for others who aren't religious) 

Downside of this relationship is that there’s none and I’m in a pretty good mood and plus Bruno is the definition of perfection.

➺︎ 𝙶𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚘

Definitely a no here, he’s very insensitive and wouldn’t take things into consideration. 

Mayhaps he’d blurt words out most hurtfully or not really for the faint of the heart.

He’s also most definitely not going to apologize. 

He’s also very obnoxious and definitely not the most patient being. 

Brightside? That must a joke

Another really fun request. Sorry if I might’ve left some blanks. Or if the characters aren’t who you’d hope to get.

══════

For those who are still waiting feel free to dm if your request has been pending for about a month now

𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝙼𝚢 𝙽𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝙿𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝) 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚄𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜

[shawnssongs]

Where Were You In The Morning

an: sorry, this is bad. It was originally longer, but I wasn’t sure where to go with it. Feel free to send asks and requests!

warnings: tiny bit of language, and very mediocre writing.

Masterlist!

“Bri, that’s her.” Shawn was in complete shock.

“What? Who?”

“Remember like, two years ago when I told you about that girl I met? And we-“

“The one you wrote where were you in the morning about? Yeah.”

“That’s her.” Shawn widened his eyes in urgency, pointing to you from across the arcade. You were with who Shawn assumed were your friends, not that he’d know. You had a huge smile on your face while you were sipping your drink though a straw, presumably waiting for a bowling lane to clear up just as Shawn and Brian were.

It was crowded, but most of the people here were either too young to care who Shawn was, too interested in having fun with their friends, or old enough not to care about a 21 year old pop star. He had only been recognized a couple times so far.

“Shawn, how can you even tell? That was two years ago and you only knew her for one day.”

“Trust me. I know.”

Shawn thought back to the night you met. It was one of the greatest nights he had ever had. He was definitely not one to sleep with someone on the first date, let alone the day they met, but you were different. He immediately felt this connection with you. He thought you were absolutely stunning, and after talking with you for just a couple hours, he knew he wanted to get to know you better. He wanted to spend days on end just talking to you. That’s why out of nowhere he asked if you wanted to come back to his place for a drink. Well, one drink turned into more than either of you could count, and that turned into a lot more than talking.

Luckily, it wasn’t enough to leave Shawn clueless. He knew what he was doing, and he loved it. You were absolutely mind blowing, and to his surprise, when it was over, you wanted to stay. He was sure he didn’t imagine hearing your voice that night, asking to cuddle with him. He was sure he didn’t imagine hearing you praise him for the amazing time you just had. But if he hadn’t imagined it, then why did you leave him the next morning?

He had always wondered why you left without a trace. He went from blaming himself for inevitably doing something wrong, to blaming you for being so heartless. He knew neither were true, but he still had no idea why you left. Maybe now he’d be able to find out.

“Then go talk to her.” Brian’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“No. She probably doesn��t even remember me.”

“If that really is her, I’m sure there’s no way she doesn’t remember. Go talk to her.”

Before Shawn could respond, he was caught. He noticed your eyes widen when you noticed his gaze.

“Shit.” Shawn mumbled to Brian before giving you an awkward smile. He was surprised when you started walking over after telling something to your friends.

“Brian, what do I do?” Shawn questioned worriedly, patting down his shirt.

“I don’t know, man! You’re the one that fucked her!”

Pretty soon after, you were standing right there in front of Shawn for the first time in two years.

“Hi...” you spoke awkwardly.

“Hey, Y/n.”

“You remember?” You asked, making small talk.

“Of course I remember.” Shawn chuckled sadly.

“So, didn’t think to tell me you’re a famous singer?”

“It didn’t come up.” He countered.

You looked at him accusingly, and he knew he should’ve said something. He just wanted to feel normal for a night.

“Is that why you left?”

You didn’t answer. “Did you write that song about me?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

Shawn didn’t notice Brian had gone to get them both new drinks until the awkward silence that developed between the two of you.

“Answer this one.” Shawn spoke. “When we met... when I invited you back to my house, did you know it was going to be a one night stand? Was that your intention?”

“No.” You spoke calmly and truthfully.

“Then why’d you leave? Why didn’t you at least leave a note?”

“I uh, something important came up. I had to leave.” There were a lot of reasons, and you didn’t realize until after you were already gone that you had made a mistake.

"That doesn’t answer either of my questions.” He looked so upset, and you didn’t realize it had affected him this much. “Look, can we go outside? It’s loud in here.”

You nodded and walked towards the door, Shawn following with his hand on your back as if he expected you to run away.

“So, what was it?” He asked when the two of you were outside. He crossed his arms, and you couldn’t help but notice through the way his tee shirt stretched that he had gotten even bigger since the night you met.

“A lot of things.”

“Okay, what things?”

“Well, for one, I noticed how nice your apartment was.” You felt bad for mentioning it, but compared to your one bedroom, broom closet, shit-hole of an apartment, Shawn’s was like a mansion.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You ignored his question and kept explaining. “I noticed all the guitars, the awards. That’s when I realized who you were. I put two and two together.” You spoke quickly before he could interrupt. “It scared me, and that’s the reason I didn’t leave my number. I figured to you it might’ve just been a one night stand.“

“It wasn’t. I could ne-" Shawn tried to defend, but you cut him off, not done with your explanation.

“Yeah, I realize that now. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry. I left because I was scared because I got so attached in just one night and my friends texted and asked if I wanted to go get breakfast with them, so I left. I figured I was doing you a favor. Then, a couple months later, I heard your song.” You couldn’t guess how Shawn was feeling at the moment. After all, you didn’t know him very well.

“I wish you said something.”

“Me too.” You chuckled. “My friends are upset that I didn’t tell them I knew Shawn Mendes.” You spoke, trying to diffuse the tension.

Luckily, Shawn laughed. “Yeah, you probably shouldn’t brag about being the girl from that song.”

“Probably not.” You responded, smiling.

“So...” Shawn trailed off.

“So.”

“Do you think I could have your number now?” He looked so nervous. As if you were ever going to walk away from Shawn Mendes without giving him anything he wanted ever again.

“Of course.”

He pulled out his phone and let you type your number in.

You handed him the phone back, giggling.

“Wait.” He spoke through soft chuckles. “Let me make sure you didn’t give me a wrong number.”

He called the number, and sure enough, your phone started ringing in your purse.

“Hello?” You answered the phone, smiling.

Shawn took a step closer to you. “Hi.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

Another step.

“I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

Another.

“Wondering if you’ll let me kiss you.”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

Shawn hung up the phone before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You sure?” He asked. He didn’t want to overstep.

You just sighed, rolling your eyes at his timidness before pulling him into a soft kiss. He reciprocated immediately.

You weren’t sure how long it had lasted when you heard Brian’s voice.

“Hey, lane’s ready. They joining us?”

You were surprised he was offering for your whole group to tag along.

“Uh, yeah. If they want.” Shawn answered before turning back to you. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, yours clinging to his chest.

“I think they’d be very happy about that.” You smiled.

“Would you be happy about that?”

“Maybe a little.” As you answered, Shawn leaned in, his perfect smile meeting yours in another kiss.

Now that he finally found you, he was going to do everything in his power to keep you from leaving again. Luckily, you didn’t want to.

— Feel free to send feedback! —

- actually, PLEASE send feedback... thanks -

[uglypastels]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a ✏️ for me please? I love preforming arts yet I hate to do public speaking and everything like that (if that makes any sense). I guess you can title it “Why” but if you want to change it that’s totally fine just make a note that it was originally called Why please. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

+ Oh and for the character for Why, could it be Peter or Tom please? Thank you!

Okay, this is probably the last thing anyone with a normal mind would think of when given this title, but I am far from normal (as I hope anyone knows by now) so here it is. I hope it makes sense. 😅

probably should warn - some mention of smut… but just a little. 

Why // Tom Holland 

“Why.” (Y/N) groaned. Tom watched his girlfriend walk here and fro around the room. Her arms crossed, holding herself tightly.

“Why what, love?” he had been enjoying a large coffee before she got up out of nowhere and started to walk across from one side of the dressing room to the other. She stopped abruptly, looking him up and down as he was still sitting quite relaxed on the large sofa. Her teeth grazed her lip before she explained: “Why did I agree to do this? What was I thinking to agree to this, Tom? I can’t do it. Nope. I can’t! I-I’ll just leave through the back door.” Her legs started to move again and she was headed for the door. Tom gut up and caught her by the waist, embracing her tightly. Not making it possible for her to escape.

“Sorry, love. Unfortunately, I can’t let you do that.” He placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. Then another one on her neck, before brushing his lips against her cheek. This usually calmed her down, brought her back to her senses, but today was not usual. Her shoulders tensed every time he touched her and her arms were resisting his hold.

“Tom. I’m serious. Let me go.” He did as she wanted. Scared that he was hurting her somehow.

“I’m sorry, love, but why the sudden change of heart, I thought you said it was going to be fun.” He tried to sound enthusiastic, alongside a big smile. He reached out for her hand and was glad to see she didn’t pull away at the touch.

“I don’t know it’s just anxiety, I guess.” she bit her lip again and Tom could swear that there was nothing hotter than that. He just wanted to kiss her right then but had to hold it together. She was stressed and if a hug was already bothering her, then he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries with the kiss.

“Why are you nervous, love? There’s nothing worth the stress about.” He reached out for her other hand and pulled her closer to him. She scoffed through a smile.

“Maybe for you. I, however, am not exactly used to snogging someone in front of millions of people.”

“First of all, you’re not going to be snogging just anyone, but me. Secondly, not millions of people.” she raised an eyebrow at him, “okay, fine, like two mil at the most. But c’mon, it’s just one snog on camera. Nothing we haven’t done before - minus the camera, then.” he cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Why do you even want to do this. I mean, as sexy as it will be, it’s not really you, is it?”

“You mean that I am not sexy?” he smirked. Pulling her even closer, so they were chest to chest and pressed a  light kiss against the corner of her mouth.

“Oh you are, definitely. It’s just usually on tv, you’re so cute and sweet. Not- whatever it is that you want to do in a moment when they knock on that door.” She let go of his one hand to point back at the door. He looked at it. The blue door fitted well with the rest of the room. It must be another five minutes before that knock would be heard and Tom would have to open it, just to be greeted with a camera in his face that pretended to be James Corden.

“I don’t know why. I just thought it would be different. As you said, everyone always portrays me as this goofy bloke that can’t properly walk, so let them see some range.” He looked into her eyes, she looked more relaxed the more he talked. “Besides, it will drive the fans crazy. Harrison will never be able to get them back into his lane.” She hid her face in his chest at the comment as she started to laugh hysterically. Tom absolutely adored that laugh. He could listen to it all day and never get bored.

“Why is this even a thing between you two? It’s ridiculous.”

“I know, it’s just a stupid joke. Especially that there is only one girl that I need in my lane.” he nudged his forehead against hers until their noses were touching slightly.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure Jennifer Aniston is all yours.” she joked.

“You know what,” he pulled away from their little cute moment, “anytime you mention her, I regret ever telling you.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s cute and I get it. If I was a hormonal teenage boy, I would also be totally crushing on Rachel Green.” she stuck her tongue out mockingly. Tom wanted to respond but there was a knock on the door. They both knew what was supposed to happen. Without another word, (Y/N) pressed herself against him, crashing their lips together. Tom thought he was going to melt right there.

Her hand went up to his hair, brushing through it, getting it all messed up. Just like he knew she loved. Tom lead her towards the door. The kiss continued and (Y/N)’s hand, the one that wasn’t tugging at his curls, undid the first button of his shirt. Tom smirked at the addition to their little scene.

There was a second knock on the door and Tom knew he had to open it now. Still kissing (Y/N), he searched for the handle and pushed it down, the door opened. Tom did everything in his power to continue the kiss, but clearly (Y/N) had more control over herself than he did. The moment the door was open wide enough that the camera in front of it had a proper shot of what was going on between them, she pulled away. The hand that was so casual in his hair lovingly traced down his arm as she walked away from him, disappearing from the camera view, but still just visible for Tom.

He did his best to concentrate on what was going on in front of him, he smiled casually at the camera as if he had not just made out with his girlfriend in front of the whole world to see. Next, to the large camera, there was a smaller screen on which he could see James. He was clearly flustered by what he just witnessed. Fanning himself with his cue cards.

“You’re alright mate?” Tom smiled at the camera, glancing at (Y/N), who was standing right next to him. Close, but just a bit too far too touch. He buttoned up his shirt again.

“Wow,” James laughed nervously, “I did… I did not expect that.” The hosts’ hands went to his hips as he just looked in front of him, a bit shocked. Tom chuckled,  leaned against the doorframe and put his own hand through his hair, trying to restore the damage.

“Yeah, sorry. Got a bit carried away there.” He looked back inside. (Y/N) was still standing there. She blew him a kiss and Tom couldn’t help it but wink at her. From the screen next to the camera, he heard a high pitched gasp.

“If you could keep it PG, Tom. Thanks, that would be great.”

“You got it, mate.” He smiled. Then he felt her cold fingers against his. He looked down. She was still out of shot, just her arm showing to the camera. He looked back up. “Is that all? It’s just that I-we were kind of in the middle of something.”

.” A gasp of shock left James. Still confused at what was actually going on, he looked at his audience: “Tom Holland everyone!” There were some second-hand cheers that he could hear. With his free hand, Tom did his signature peace sign, then pulled (Y/N) back to him and as the people continued to cheer on, pressed their lips together and closed the door.  Their kiss lasted for what Tom hoped was forever until they pulled apart to catch a breath.

“Oh, I just can’t wait to get this done with and go back to the hotel, babe.” He smirked.

“Why?” she asked oh-so-innocently.

“Because,” he kissed her lips quickly, but passionately, “we aren’t done with this little act just yet.”

The End 

> follower celebration 

> masterlist 

[ceilinggirl]

2. Out of line - part 1

“It’s your own fault, Hannah,” daddy said. “You know you need to keep in line. You can’t go running in someone else’s line.”

Mom held a note from the competition inspector in her hand. She had run a race and had come in first. She often competed in races and very often came in first. She could run really fast, like all her colleagues from work, but she just ran a tad faster.

“Maybe I don’t like to run as much as the other girls”, mom would often react. “I actually hate it. That’s why I run so fast, so it would be over sooner.”

And so she got lots of cups and medals, because they tend to give those to people who run around in circles, so I’ve noticed.  But a few days after she had received her latest cup, she got this note. From the competition inspector. That is a kind of police inspector who inspects whether you really followed every rule. He even has a gun too, but he is only allowed to shoot at the clouds. Which is good for mom, cause I think he would often want to shoot at my mom’s cloud too. That was very obvious in his note:

Mrs. Becker,

I will have to disqualify you again because you overstepped your lines again. You know you are not allowed to do so. That has been the fourth time already this year. I will have to consider this very naughty and I am seriously contemplating asking the Runner’s Union to suspend you indefinitely and a few days. You are a disgrace to our profession. 

Pray, change your behavior or I will be obliged to tell you I dislike you and other words in that vein. 

Sincerely yours

Paul Wibbledybob 

Police Competion inspector

P.S. Hope to see you on the race on Sunday? Counting on you!

Or something like that, I don’t really remember it that well. I am sure it mentioned the word ‘disqualify’ though, because I heard that four times earlier. Each time dad had to explain it meant that mom had cheated.

“Cheated? How?”, mom asked.

“You have left your lane, hon. That is not allowed.”

“Why? Why isn’t that allowed?”

“Because you could take a short cut.”

“But I didn’t take a short cut. I always run off by the outside lane. I take long cuts. That’s even harder!”

Dad sighed. “Darling, it doesn’t matter that you ran more than the others. What matters is that you might as well have run off on the inside…”|

“But I didn’t…”

“You can’t. It’s dangerous.”|

“Dangerous? Me? As if you were always such a goody two shoes”, mom shot at dad. Apparently it hit him between the eyes because he dropped his knife and fork and stared silently at his food. 

I always eat in silence, but now I tried to munch in an deeper silence. It is rude to talk when someone else is speaking, but sometimes it’s even ruder to talk when no-one is speaking, because people then usually say what they really mean. 

Mom did. She decided to sigh as well and looked up at me. Mom and dad are about the only people who look at me from time to time. I guess they didn’t always feel like looking at eachother and sometimes there’s nothing better to look at. 

“And you, lovely”, she asked. “Do you find it matters on which side you are out of line?” Eh… I didn’t find anything. It never occurred to me I was expected to be searching. And you only have to do what is expected of you, right? Right?

Dad had lifted his head by then and I saw my eyes reflected in his. And in mom’s. Drowning in those deep pools in their eyes. Mom. Dad. Dad. Mom. What was I supposed to do? I had no answer to mom’s question. I never was or ran out of line. You get punished when you do that. I’ve seen that happen a lot. 

Last week Nadeema got punished for talking during a test. You can’t do that of course. But the only thing she did was giving a pen to Michael when his was broken and adding “you’re welcome”. And thus she was punished. You can’t say a word during a test and “you’re welcome” are three words if you spell it right. It’s as simple as that. Right? Right?

Mom and dad didn’t seem to know either. Did I really have to say something now? How could I tell? How should I tell?

I bulged my cheeks. I am very good at that. They should have contests for that.

I would win those without a sweat. I can bulge them so hard I start looking like a balloon that could rise any moment…

Usually people stop staring then and turn away, but mom and dad kept looking. Both of them. So I tried raising my shoulders. That did the trick. Mom shook her head.

I figured that was the signal for me to unbulge my cheeks.

[seasaltpaper]

Right Side

Inspired by a line in a beautiful work of art by one of my favourite writers ever. You know who you are. I hope this isn’t absolutely terrible and we can still* be friends. 

(*assuming we are already, if not, can we?)

Something about first time sleeping over...

“Yeh could stay the night” he had said that Tuesday night with rushed words and a generous pinch of nerves, plus gleaming eyes and fingers playing with one another in clear sign of shyness. Just that look had you very weak at the knees then. Those butterflies flew in a sea of nerves and felt very much like the ones you get right before your first kiss. The offer was tempting, specially because it was already ‘very late’, and you were ‘very tired’ and it was ‘very much raining outside’ and also because he worried. Very much so. His words, not yours, but he did have a point. Still you refused, noticing the small hint of sadness mixed with embarrassment in his eyes, – he worried and beat himself up in his mind that he’d been too eager to ask and this was not the moment for this. Maybe he was moving too fast? Maybe it had scared you off? Did you think he just wanted sex? Because he didn’t mean it like that – as you picked up your things and prepared to leave Harry’s house. 

Thinking back to it, your reasons for denying the deal were obvious. The weight of the question made you nervous which immediately had you scared and ready to say no. You weren’t prepared to spend the night and you had never spent the night at a boyfriend’s house before. Add that to the fact that while you and Harry had been dating seriously for a little less than a year, you had never slept with him. Yes, neither of the two definitions of “sleep”.

Sure you’d both fallen asleep countless times during movie nights on his or your couch where you shared the small space in the tightest of embraces – with you basically on top of him, just how you liked – and on rare occasions Harry had taken short naps after long studio weeks in your bed at your place while you babbled on the phone with some client or your boss, and you had taken naps in his bed when a friendly get together at his house drained you cause it was running a little late and you excused yourself from the small party consisting of his closest friends, to go rest up in his room until he came and woke you up to take you home. 

But in reality, not once had you both slept together on a bed and much less the whole night through. Waking up next to you was just a dream Harry had yet to see come true.

But as you left his place after rejecting the notion, something inside you – be it the love you had for that curly haired dork, or the excitement of having this very cute intimate thing with him – made you turn around and promise him “Saturday” “Huh?” “I’ll... We can... I can sleep over on Saturday?” just saying the words made chills run down your spine, the butterflies were there again flying in nerves and some thrill as well. The slowly deepening dimple on his cheek sang how much he’d like that. Pressing a kiss to your forehead and sending you on your way, –under promise to write him as soon as you were safe and sound in your humble abode – Harry was left giddy with the thought of you sharing the night with him. 

Which leads us to Saturday. Today. Your bags were ready, and you had that feeling of anticipation, those small anxiety chills were awake and moving. No time had been established but you just showed up at standard ‘come over’ time – meaning around 5pm, when the both you usually showed up or called for the other to come over to their house on a casual Saturday – and Harry opened the door with a flourish. He didn’t know how to address the whole situation. Should he have cooked a five star meal? Was this like a date? Should he have an elaborate plan? Was there a protocol? Was he even to mention the whole thing? And how could he go about it without insinuating sex? He definitely could wait until you were 150% ready, and he was sure that was not what tonight was for. He was letting his nerves consume him and all he was going to do was sleep on his own bed next to his girl for one night. Simple as that.

The whole ordeal felt so incredibly off. It was so much more awkward than your first encounter, not even the first date was this weird. You were acting like teenage kids who had crushes on each other and had been left alone in a spacious living room to play seven minutes in heaven. Everything was a lot more interesting than looking at each other in the face or talking. Clearly this was your first time sleeping over at a boyfriend’s house and Harry’s first time hosting a girlfriend for the night. 

“Oy, I can’t do this” he said after a small groan. “yeh’re sitting on the other side o’the couch. Feels like yeh’re countries away” he whined like a little boy pausing the movie. And he was right to whine. The whole purpose of this was to share some quality time with you and cuddle you and give you all of the cheeky kisses, not for the both of you to be giddy out of your minds to the point where holding hands feels like too much. He made grabby hands at you and the dorky mannerism made you laugh and ease up. Coming closer to him on the comfortable couch felt very relieving, something you didn’t think was going to happen tonight with how tense you were. His heart tightens at the thought that he’s made you agree to this under pressure, that he’s somewhat influenced you to do this, and he cannot take it. No matter how innocent the whole ordeal is, he would hate himself if you weren’t without an ounce of doubt on board.

“Do yeh wanna go home?” The words are considerably painful to spew. If you want to go home he understands, and will never bring this topic to light again for as long as you feel comfortable with. He doesn’t care about a bruised ego, it pains him more that he’s overstepped some line with you. It pains him more if you have a sour time, that’s what he wouldn’t forgive himself. But for his heart’s sake, you’re quick on your words. “What? No” your eyes are squinted in confusion at what he’s saying, what he might be insinuating even. That’s not at all what you want. You’re just... afraid, feeling very exposed. “Why?” “Well...” he clears his throat “I don’t want t’push yeh if yeh don’t wanta’ sleep ovah” the words come soft, like a small buttery whisper of reassurance that it’s ok whatever happens, you call the shots. “But.. I-I do. I want to sleep over. With you” There’s immediate heat to your cheeks, and truly it’s not because you’re lying or because you’re not fully comfortable now, – which you aren’t, in the best sense of the word. Just how no one is fully comfortable when experiencing whatever ‘first’ in life.– but because you feel so exposed admitting that you do want to sleep next to your boyfriend. You want cuddles and giddy kisses more than you’ve ever wanted them in your life. There’s a smile forming on his face considering he knows you well, he knows why you’re blushing and he also wants just that.  “Then I suggest we forget the whole thing... An’ just... hang out, and when it’s time t’sleep, we jus’... Sleep... Ok?” Large warm hands come to rub your arms in soothing motions, calming your nerves as you sit face to face, foreheads touching and legs tangling with each other. You whisper a small ok and allow yourself to melt into his embrace as you settle into a small cuddle and talk about your weeks. 

And just like Harry promised, when it was time to sleep, you just decided to go to sleep. Between awkward stances and nervous giggles you both worked through the whole bedtime routine. After dinner and binging some random tv show, Harry took a short shower as you brushed your teeth in your pj’s, careful not to stare at each others bodies through the tinted glass – you wore cute pink shorts and he was... naked. Enough said – and as you brushed your hair into a comfortable sleep-ready do, Harry settled into his sleepwear, thankfully donning a shirt for your sake.

Ironically enough, the shirt you picked up was an old one he once let you borrow after hanging by the pool one summer afternoon, and just like back then, it made him very happy to see you wear it, his stare and smug smile giving you instant butterflies and making you giggle shyly. Harry had seen that shy smile a thousand times today and it only served to settle it as his favourite thing you do. The innocence that radiates off you when you do it is enough to make him fawn over you, and he loves how you have no control over it, and he thinks about how you’re beautifully unaware of just how cute you are.

Coming together to the edge of the bed feels like some sort of life-or-death event is about to happen. Suddenly the bed seems too big and like you’re both going to drown in it. The white sheets look uncharacteristically intimidating and weirdly cold. Before you spiral down Overthinking Lane, you take deep breaths and turn to Harry, realising he’s doing just the same. The look on your faces is enough to have you explode in laughter. How silly is this whole thing? It’s just sleep. It’s just a bed. It’s just you two being very normal.  “What side do you want” You find yourselves saying at the same time, causing a second wave of laughs and cute snorts. And not too late after a third wave breaks through when you find yourselves saying “right side” at the same time. Harry takes this as a perfect moment to ease the nerves. “Too bad” he starts “I can’t sleep unless it’s the right side” pushing you out of the way so he can lay on the side he normally sleeps on.

You mock shock and push him back before he can sit down and claim it. With a chuckle he stops in his tracks and holds you at arms length. “Excuse you” “Yes?” “This is the part where you’re a gentleman and give me the right side” With fake confusion he tilts his head up, as if wondering whether or not you’re right about that statement. Should he let you have it? He decides you could use more fun and he’s not giving up his side of the bed – He’s made a perfect indent on it through the months, no way he’s sleeping on the uncomfortable side – and so he pokes at your sides making you squirm out of his grasp “Nope! My side!” he chants over and over as you squeal and jump around his room trying to escape his moving fingers and the tingles.  “Not fair, not fair, not fair” you repeat between giggles, trying to reach out your own hands to tickle him back. 

For a good minute or so you’re engrossed in a tickle fight, clearing all the tension in your guts and strain in the air. “Ok stop stop!” Harry’s quick to say when in the middle of the battle he’s thought up the best solution to the situation at hand. Picking you up in his arms –not without you letting out a short shriek first – he walks your bodies over to the bed where he lets himself fall on the right side with you right on top. “We’ll share it” he whispers to your ear giving you shivers. Two bodies trying to share a third of the bed is the funniest thing when you picture it in your brain but it is indeed the perfect fix to the problem. “It’s so little space” you giggle and he shrugs caressing your back under his shirt you’re wearing. “we’ve shared smaller” and you have. His couch is possibly a whole foot smaller than the space you’re sharing on the bed right now, and since you’re used to laying on top of him when you take naps there, your next move surprises him in the most pleasurable of ways. Scooting your body up on his until you’re laid perfectly on top has him wide eyed in surprise but quickly that’s replaced with a happy lazy smile on his soft features. Surely his body is more comfortable than his bed will ever be and right there and then you’re as cozy as ever. “There” comes out of your lips in a whisper and there’s nothing Harry can do but close the very short distance between your faces and plant his lips on yours in an attentive kiss, with lips soft as clouds and tongue warm as you know it, he presses a hand to your face to keep you in place as his other continues to rub circles on your bare back where his shirt has hiked up. 

Breaking the kiss you’re left to sigh in complete happiness. This wasn’t so bad. In fact this was beyond perfect. Harry’s warm chest vibrated with each word he said and it soothed your soul very much like how honey felt going down your throat when you battle a cold. “Are yeh comfortable?” He mutters against your lips and you nod your head, mouth too busy biting down on your bottom lip in shyness to try and say the actual word. “Well yeh’re on top dear...” he says casually, groping one of your thighs with his hand that’s not under your shirt on your back – as if the sentence wouldn’t give you shivers – and letting his head fall on his pillow, “‘S your job to pull the sheets over us” Harry smiles, cheeky green eyed boy as usual, and you roll your eyes at him sitting up on his pelvis – as if that’s not going to give him shivers – and reaching for the silky now-not-so-intimidating fabric and pulling it to cover your bodies. With the hand that’s on your back he reaches out to turn off his side lamp, enclosing you in almost total darkness.

Laying on his chest, sheets over the both of you, and head tucked in his neck, taking in his scent that you’re engulfed in, you feel the most at ease you’ve ever felt. Whatever reason you had to say no the first time he opted you stayed over felt like the silliest thing. You deprived yourself of this for almost a week, and neither of you were sure if it would be possible to sleep without this... The only word to describe it was peace. Warm, gentle, perfect peace. Harry had dreamed of seeing your face waking up next to him, but what he didn’t know is that the best part of everything was this right now. The slow breaths and feeling of bodies purely melting onto each other, the thudding yet calm heartbeats. He was confused as to how the weight of you on top of him somehow made it strangely easy to breathe. You wondered how just the ghost feeling of his hand on your back made you feel so free, but it did. It was perfect peace. “Good night Harry” you whispered pressing a kiss to his jaw and sighing as you wiggled your body into comfort. With a smile Harry returned the action kissing your forehead before sighing contently. “Best night” he whispered before letting himself go to sleep, thinking over and over how perfectly complete he felt. 

This is not proof-read. Wrote it in a heat while I should have been working on my thesis. Whoops. Sorry for typos I’ll edit them out later. 

[sherrybaby14]

The Past Gives A Present

This is for @multi-villain-imagines challenge

I took the prompt: Catching up: We all have that one person, from the past we rather not meet again. But what happens if we do?

I did not go very heavy on the AU, really the only thing different is Negan’s past and we are in A/B/O territory.

Words: 3k Part 1 of 2 Warnings: Swearing, abuse, A/B/O Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323 @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan--is--god @kellyn1604 @i-am-negan-trash @roschelesworld @taintedgenre @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @purplemuse89 @blondesouthsquad @enchantingoblivion @jmackie1983 @jasoncrouse @theonethatgotaway213 @negans-network

A/N: I really wanted to do this in one! But I felt like this was a good place to stop.  I’ve never seen Uncaged, but felt like this prompt fit what I know about the movie and I’ve always wanted to write a story on this Gif:

“This better be good.”  Negan held Lucille over his shoulder as he followed Simon through the Sanctuary.

“I don’t know if it’s good.” Simon shrugged. “I told you it was weird.  Some guy showed up at the gate demanding to speak to who was in charge.”

“And you don’t recognize him?” Negan glanced behind as his number two shook his head. “And you didn’t kill him?”  

“He doesn’t seem dangerous.” Simon stepped in front of Negan and pushed the door open. “He’s a Beta and you said all new recruits are filtered through you now, but I don’t think he wants to stay.”

“You know the rules, you know where the Sanctuary is, you either assimilate or we decimate.” Negan grinned at his rhyme.

It was a pity the guy was a Beta. Alphas were harder to keep in line, but once they settled they were a hell of a lot better warriors. Negan needed his army large and strong if the Saviors were going to keep on saving.  

They strode in silence towards the fence. Negan wished he grabbed a pair of sunglasses as the sun blinded him.  

“Well boys, who do we have here?” Negan twirled Lucille in front of him.  

“Sharkey?”

The name made Negan freeze.  

“Sharkey is that you?”  The man at the gate walked towards Negan, his guards letting him go by.

“Holy fuck of fucks, Reggie?”  Negan opened his arms and gave his old friend a hug.  

“What’s it been 20 years?” Reggie pulled back.  

“At least?” Negan thought he would never see anyone from that part of his life again.  “What are you doing on the east coast?”

“What am I doing? What the hell are you doing Sharkey? This place is gigantic! And you’re in charge?” Reggie laughed. “I got to say you always did know how to keep the whores in line better than anyone.”

Negan gave a nervous laugh and looked around, the only one in earshot was Simon who gave him an accusatory smile.

“It’s Negan now.”

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck you like man.”  Reggie pointed towards the main building. “You have to have a sweet set up here. Bet you have tons of food, guns, women?”  

“You always did go straight for the grift Reggie.” Negan scratched his head, the excitement of seeing someone from his old-old life fading. “Whatever con your planning, don’t bother.  We may go way back but that doesn’t mean I won’t bash your brains in to protect my people.”

“Your people?”  Reggie laughed. “I remember one time that hoe Janice started talking back and you…”

“That’s not my game anymore.” Negan held his hand out, silencing the man. “I didn’t enjoy it back then and I certainly wouldn’t enjoy it now.  Let’s skip the trip down memory lane. How the fuck did you find this place and why the hell are you here?”

“Spotted a car, followed it. These colonies are popping up all over the place.” Reggie brushed his shoulders. “I’m still in sales baby.”

“If you came here trying to push drugs maybe I will have to bash your head in.” Negan was losing his patience.  

“Hell no! Who the fuck wants to get high in this bullshit life?” Reggie held up both his hands. “The dead walking around trying to eat you?  The last thing anyone wants is a bump.”

“Well then what are you selling?” Negan put Lucille back over his shoulder, really tempted to swing her just to shut Reggie up.  

“Something you are going to go crazy for.”  Reggie grinned.

Negan was about to say fuck it and hit him, when the next word slipped from his mouth and changed everything. ~~~  

It was dark and hot in the trailer.  So hot.  You crumpled on the ground, not even with enough energy to lift your head. If they didn’t give you water soon you were going to die, but after the last week that didn’t sound like such a bad option.  

“Holy shit does it reek.” The back of the trailer opened and you struggled to open your eyes.

“We have to keep them surrounded by garbage.” You cringed at your captor’s voice. “The damn things smell so sweet they attract Walkers, probably why so few of them are alive.”

“Shit are you sure she’s alive?” The strange voice was almost booming.

“Yeah. Meg here is just taking a nap.”  Reggie grabbed your head and tilted your neck.  A bottle was brought to your lips and warm water filled your mouth.  

Any inclination to avoid the water vanished and you started chugging, knowing it was the only sip he was going to give you for at least another day, probably more.

“When I first picked her up she was a real fighter.”  Arms went under your legs and you were hoisted in the air. “I don’t like to waste supplies on the merchandise either.”  

“How long has she been in here?”

Your skin was on fire and even through shut eyes the sun felt like flames.  You leaned into Reggie for protection from the rays.  

“Grabbed Meg up about a week ago.”  Reggie dropped his arm and your legs fell.

You were too tired to support yourself and collapsed on the dirt floor.

“Jesus Christ Reggie.” A hand bent down and touched your forehead. “She’s burning up.”

You winced away, fell backwards, then turned and curled into a ball.

“Maybe her heat is coming on? Good for you Mr. Alpha.”  Reggie’s voice was like nails on a chalk board.

The man was a moron if he thought this was a heat fever.

“More like she’s about to die.” There was anger in his voice.

“You want her or not?” Now Reggie sounded annoyed. “Because we’d like to sell her before she dies.  If you’re not interested, we will get another buyer.”

“Simon, pick her up and take her straight to Carson. The rest of you start unloading Reggie’s supplies.”  Hands were under you lifting you into the air again.  

They didn’t feel like Reggie’s, but you were too out of it to care at the moment, wanting nothing more than sleep.  

“Remember we get fifteen guns, fifteen boxes of ammo, two month’s supply of food and three month’s supply of water.” Reggie’s voice trailed off as you were carried away. ~~~ “Ughh.” Your body was stiff, but your head no longer felt heavy.  You shifted in the bed and turned to your side.

“You’re awake.”  A chair rolled across the room. Your eyes shot open.  You were in a strange looking room, cabinets and medical supplies.  It was not your attic, but more importantly it wasn’t the back of Reggie’s trailer.  Before you sat up all the way a man in scrubs was in front of your face, flashing a light before your eyes.  You smacked his hands and sat up in the bed, pulling your legs to your chest in the process.

“Sorry.” The man held his hands in surrender. “I’m not familiar with Omegas. Was I overstepping? I know you can be a nervous bunch.”

Frustration rolled through you.

“How would you act if you were kidnapped and held in darkness without any food or water?” You sneered at the man, unable to understand the stereotypes. “Where the fuck am I?”

The last thing you remembered was wanting to die on the floor of the trailer.  

“Fair enough.”  He dropped his hands. “My name is Dr. Carson. You’re Meg?”

You shook your head in disbelief and leaned it down on your knee.

“That’s what Reggie called all of us.  As in Omega.  Get it?”  If it was just the Doctor getting out of this place might not be so hard.  

“Oh.” He shrugged. “You came in with a bacterial infection.  I put you on antibiotics.  Your fever broke about twelve hours ago.  I think you should follow up with pills for a few days.”  

“Suppressants?” Your ears perked up at the mention of pills.

“That is something you will have to take up with Negan.” The doc shook his head.

“Who the hell is Neg?”

“NO.”  

Your head snapped to the voice in the doorway.  An Alpha looked down at you before walking the rest of the way into the room.  His eyes alone were enough to give away his makeup and you looked away, not wanting your biology to kick in.

“How’s the patient Carson?”  Negan stood next to your bed.

“Should make a full recovery.  Observation for the next few hours, antibiotics twice a day taken with food for the next ten days.”  Carson placed a bottle in Negan’s hand.

“That’s good news.” Negan tucked the bottle into his pocket, you wouldn’t look up. “Why don’t you go and treat yourself to some extra dessert? They’re about to start dinner.”

The Doctor stood up.  Now the only thing in your eyesight was an empty chair.  Negan wasted no time sitting down.  You kept your chin tucked, not wanting to deal with Alpha bullshit. The door to the room shut and you struggled not to bring your hands to your shoulders.

“What’s your name Doll?”  He leaned forward, trying to get a look at your face.

“Fuck you.”  He could look all he wanted, but you would not deal with the Alpha intimidation.

“Hmmm, your parents must have been strange to pick that one.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sandwich.  Your stomach grumbled at the sight. “Alright if I use FU for short?”

He held the food out and you snatched it away.  There was time for pride and a time for survival.  You wasted no time taking a giant bite. As if the man had a magic bag he pulled out a bottle of water.  You weren’t that thirsty, but grabbed it out of his hands too.  Undoing the lid and taking a chug.

“Carson hooked you up to an IV.  You’re filled with fluids, so take it easy.” You glanced at him to see a huge grin and your anger flared. “Maybe a thank you is in order?”

“Why would I thank someone who bought me like a piece of cattle?”  You wiped your mouth, still not daring to glare at him.

“I didn’t buy anyone Doll, you fell into my lap from the sky.” Negan laughed.

Fifteen guns. Fifteen boxes of ammo. The memories of your sale came back. You had to grit your teeth to keep from throwing up in repulsion.  

“Omegas are people too.  We were making great progress before…”

“Before the world went to hell and all of your kind died?”  Negan tried to turn his head, begging you to look at him. “Spare me on the Omega rights history.  It’s a new world now.  Tell me, are there any of your kind left?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. “I was alone. Reggie said there were three before me.  He hunted them one at a time.”

“But your scent attracted the dead?” Negan sounded interested.

“Everything attracts the dead.” You couldn’t help but glare at the man.  He did not try to hold your gaze and you relaxed a bit. “We don’t turn. We just die. I heard the government tried to round all the Omegas up for experiments. Find a cure.”

You took another swig of the water.

“But that’s a bunch of bullshit.  There is no government.  Nobody is trying to find a cure.” Once you broke eye contact with the man you realized he was using his Alpha presence on you, the fucker was just skilled enough to not make it so obvious.

“I would say you’re correct.” Negan laughed.

“Fuck you.” You turned your head to the wall and took another bite of your sandwich, vowing never to look into the man’s eyes again.

“Clever Omega.” Negan reached out and touched your leg, causing you to flinch.

“Asshole Alpha.” Your retort was the best you could come up with.

It did not have the affect you wanted as Negan burst out laughing and started to clap his hands.  

“Aren’t Omegas damsels in distress?” He scratched his head. “You break the mold Doll.”

“Omegas are people, not a stereotype.”  You took the last bite of the sandwich. “If you didn’t buy me, then let me go home.”

“Don’t bother. Never going to happen.” Negan reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of pills.  He set one on the bed. “If you don’t take that I will shove it down your throat FU.”

Long past wishing for death you didn’t hesitate to pop the pill.  

“Come on.” Negan stood up. “I want to take you to your room while everyone is at dinner.”

Everyone.  That could mean five or twenty people.  You swung your legs over the bed and realized you were in scrubs.

“You were changed and bathed.  You smelled like shit.”  Negan didn’t look behind. “Don’t worry. Some Beta females. But babydoll, your scent is coming back full force.  If I let you stay here any longer I’m going to end up killing some of my people. I don’t think either of us want that.”

Negan held open the door.  You kept your head low and stepped into the hall.  Your mouth fell open. Even the one hallway looked huge.  Any ideas of twenty people vanished.

“This way.”  Negan didn’t try to make eye contact as he moved through the hall. “Try and run.  Someone will grab you and it will not be pleasant.  You seem like a smart girl.”  

His voice carried an equal balance of honesty and threat. You fought down the tiny sense of pride that came with an Alpha’s compliment and followed his footsteps.  Of course you were barefoot, finding shoes would be a necessity.  

“I’m going to have to sequester you for a while.”  Negan stopped in front of an elevator and hit the button it came to life with a ding.

“What the…”. You lifted your head and noticed there was electricity everywhere.  The last few days made you oblivious to the wonders going on around here.

“The Sanctuary is fully functional.  We have gardens, clean drinking water, hot water, working showers, it’s the Ritz.” Negan stepped into the elevators as the door opened.  

You walked inside, your head feeling heavy.  You lifted a hand and braced yourself against the wall as the door shut, still feeling the after effects of the fever.

“I would have liked to let you recover longer, but the infirmary is no place for an unclaimed Omega.” Negan did not try and touch you.  

“Unclaimed now?” You took a breath. “So you buy me and then plan to mate me? How does it feel to be a human trafficker?”

“I didn’t traffic anyone.  And like I said, I didn’t buy you.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Hypocrite.”  Your arm started to shake. “Tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night.”

Negan ignored you and pulled out a key.  He hit the top floor and turned the small object before the light came on.  The two of you rode up in silence, your eyes getting heavier as you rose.  When the ding came your feet moved, but you tripped and started to fall.  Before the floor came arms were around you, cradling you in the air.  

“Someday you will look back at this and realize how much shit I put up with for you.” Negan walked out, his footsteps echoing.

As weak as you felt you lifted your head. There were too many points to be made to ignore at the moment. “Try and mate me and I will claw your eyes out after I bite off your dick and shove it down your throat.”  A small smile spread across your face.

“If only you had any idea how much you were turning me on FU.” Negan smiled. “But I’m not going to mate you. Not tonight. Not until you’re ready.”

“I will never be ready.” Now you smiled triumphantly.

“Alright.  That is your choice.” Negan’s smile didn’t drop. “There are fourteen Alphas under me.  When your heat hits you can decide.  Take me, or I will toss you in a pit of them.  See who survives.”

Fear hit your veins.  After the past week you went through the stages of grief.  Tonight you were more interested in defiance.  But now you were afraid.   “You’re a monster.”  There was a sharpness in your voice even you didn’t expect.

“Maybe.” Negan was not phased. “Or Maybe my past caught up to me tonight and I’m trying to make it right.”

“By buying a woman and then threatening to rape her or have her gang raped?” You didn’t understand his logic, anymore than you understood why you weren’t fighting to get out of his arms.

“If it was rape I would take you right now. Lord knows I want to.” Negan chuckled. “Twenty year old me would have.  He would have put a smart like yours in it’s place, but times change and people change.  Everyone who arrives at the Sanctuary gets the same choice as you Doll, assimilate or decimate.” He stopped at set you down on a bed, before sitting on the edge.  You lifted your head and tried to look around. It was a gigantic open space.  Almost like an office building that never got around to putting the walls up.  Then you looked down.  It was a king sized bed, covered with pillows and a brand new fluffy blanket.  There was no scent attached to anything up here.

“I’ll be back in the morning with some breakfast.”  Negan stood up.  He didn’t try and look at you. “Get some rest Omega.”

“Fuck you.” The pillows were so cuddly you couldn’t help but grab one.

“My apologies.” Negan laughed. “Get some rest Fuck You.”

A smile crossed your face. You didn’t want it too, but between the exhaustion and the comfort you cozied into the bed and let out a sigh of relief.  At least you weren’t in that trailer any longer.      

[etoilesdephan]

Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? (Chapter 21: Quod verum tutum)

Chapter masterpost

Chapter words: 3k

Overall words: 54.4k

Read it on ao3!

A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter! I am posting it early because I'm absent for the weekend and I hope that you will find answers to any questions that you had after reading the previous chapter!

Trigger warning: Mentions of sexual harassment, some self harm and physical violence.

======

The metal bars were all around him again, but he was at peace.

Hands not bound this time, he sat there, like he was willing to accept whatever was to come, for he was not sorry at all about what he did. All he knew was that he felt like a little justice was served in the midst of the mess that this day had quickly become.

The hearing had started out alright, the general questions making him ease up a little, though a voice in the back of his head had been whispering that it would only get worse.

And it did get worse very quickly.

“What prompted the fight between you two?” The question was spoken in such a monotone that it made him feel like he'd swallowed a handful of chalk, his mouth so dry that his face began to ache, the feeling as if extending to his sinuses and suffocating.

“I-- The--” He struggled before the words finally made a coherent sentence in his brain and found their way to his lips “It started before that already.”

There was a mild surprise and a request to explain, to which he did.

To recall the encounters, from the first time that he had stumbled into Stanley in the cafeteria all the way till the last moments he'd seen that squared face was painful. Long pauses found their way into Dan's speech and his back hunched more and more, feeling the eyes on him and slowly - that feeling returned.

That he was being judged. That they didn't want to believe him. That they were trying to find a way to blame him in the circumstances rather than hearing out his story and accepting it as, if not their then at least Dan's, truth.

His nails dug into the delicate skin on his hips where his sweater had rode up, and he kept pressing down, his heart overflowing with adrenaline that made him want to tear at his skin more viciously. Every rustle of papers was adding to the fire and he was trying hard to keep his voice as steady as possible.

“So when he arrived to your workstation, you decided to fight back due to the absence of his usual accomplices?”

His skin felt too hot and full of prickling, and he squirmed when the pain was becoming unbearable beneath where his nails trailed.

“No,” He merely breathed out and fell silent, unable to elaborate on the story just yet. Instead he shivered when the ghost of a touch returned and he felt sick at the mere thought of it. He'd been reminded of it so many times, but the full trip down the memory lane had made it so much more real again. He even leaned forward a little when the back of the chair turned into something else in his memory.

“Water?” The policeman reminded Dan about the cup on the table that he hadn't touched once.

That didn't change.

His mind was in a battle with itself.

Dan had heard a lot about this, the survivor's guilt. That fear of telling people about what had happened or had nearly happened, thinking that they would not believe it or would see it as a lot smaller thing than it was. About the instability of whether it was the victim's fault that it happened or was it outside their control. About how it was to try and take back their life because to blame themselves was the most controlled thing at that moment.

And he didn't want to go ahead and call himself a survivor or a victim. He'd been close to becoming one, but he wasn't one. No matter where it would put him, he wasn't the same. He'd gotten lucky.

It didn't happen.

Or so he kept telling himself all whilst he felt his stomach twisting more viciously with every passing moment of him thinking about the happenings in the prison shower.

Nails dragged across his skin painfully when he suddenly reached out to grab onto the cup, seeking to quench the feeling in his gut with a sip. The water was lukewarm, and as soon as it hit his tongue he felt the twisting increase so he set it back on the table and hid his face in his hands.

It felt like too much and like he was going to hurl.

It was when his fingers touched the hairline, where small curls were forming into a reminiscence of what was his hairdo before, that he finally looked up, took a deep breath and spoke, palms on his legs sweaty, nails shamelessly pushing at the fabric of the jeans again, craving for the violence.

For the violence allowed him to take control of his own thoughts and body.

“He attempted to assault me…. S-sexually,” His voice wavered, failed him but he sat straight, trying to hold his ground though his eyes were locked onto the light switch across the room.

“He didn't succeed,” It was more of a statement than a question and it made him feel sicker, and the memories that he was zoning in on were full of anger and fear. It had taken too much from him to actually say it out loud, and he felt how the words were disregarded even before any consideration was given to them.

“No. Rudy--,” Dan suddenly realised that he'd never learnt the man's family name “The inmate I was on duty with pulled him off me at the last moment.”

Dan expected follow up questions from there on but he was struck by the next words, completely unjust.

“Did you act in any way or form promiscuously to prompt such behaviour?”

“Pardon me?” Dan was surprised by how steady the words came from his mouth at that moment, and he couldn't believe that he had actually been asked that. He noted the way the paper was overturned on his own record as if they were merely discussing the weather rather than questioning something serious.

“It states here that you're in a domestic partnership with Philip Michael Lester, and you have admitted in previous hearings of your own case that the nature was, indeed, romantic.”

“What does this have anything to do with this?!” He didn't expect to be so loud, but he didn't care about it either. Dan couldn't believe what he was hearing and what it implied. It burned through the shock quickly and turned it into a sparking anger.

“Please answer the question, Mister Howell,” When the words left the policeman's mouth, Dan dug his nails into his legs more, holding himself from leaping at the other man in anger.

“Of course fucking not,” The answer felt forced polite though he'd sworn in it, but it was met with a mere notetaking on the policeman's side, going on as if nothing out of place had happened.

“We'll need a detailed explanation of the situation still, once we invite the attorney, if you're willing to testify against him in court, too.”

He didn't even remember when he had agreed and when the questioning had concluded. It was only when he was walking out of the room did he understand that it was over, and he saw Phil's face again, worried but so loveable. Something he was afraid of losing. Something that he had almost lost so many times.

Suddenly, too far for Dan to catch him, Phil fell and Dan's initial anger was invaded by the worry only to quickly change to confusion when Phil began to stutter and scramble away from whoever had ran into him. It was a mess and happened so fast that it didn't even properly occur to Dan until it was over.

He only knew that he suddenly understood.

A sneering face that terrified Phil.

Something that made him try to get away so desperately.

Something that made him beg.

All the anger that had built up exploded and he leaped at the laughing menace, the same way he'd done with Stanley. Hands worked on their own accord and his joints ached but it was a far-away feeling and it was only hurt unloaded that he cared about.

For all that had happened. He wanted to get it all out, to show this devil incarnate what he had caused.

Before Dan knew it, he'd been pulled off, held back while they took the other man away. He could only see the blood dripping from the nose and the way skin was already swelling where his hits had landed.

Dan's fists ached but he couldn't find it in himself to regret his actions at all. It was only when he looked over at Phil, still curled against the wall, that his anger finally settled. The sight of Phil like this hurt his heart as if somebody had attempted to brutally rip it out of his chest but had given up halfway.

“Please, take a good care of him,” The words spilled from his lips desperately and the woman that had crouched next to Phil looked up, regarded Dan for a silent moment and then nodding.

After that Dan found himself in the temporary cell at the station, and thought so much of him hurt, he only sat there, his arms numbly by his sides and the gaze absent.

He felt no regret about what he'd done, only for the fact he hadn't comforted Phil himself when he had needed it the most.

======

His body was pin cushion and the needles were cutting through his skin, the nerve endings alarmed.

His knuckles ached a lot, but it was his heart that ached the most when he was finally released, a mere warning noted to his file. Any other day he would have wondered why he'd gotten through so lightly, but he couldn't care enough about it now. All he could see was the ghostly pale face of Phil as he stood there in the hallway, the tall frame leaning against the wall a little like he was trying not to collapse on the spot, yet still refusing the help from the policewoman that had promised to take care of him.

“I told them, Dan,” Phil spoke weakly, the voice trembling a faint bit, and Dan understood without a further explanation.

Instead of trying to find words to answer, Dan rushed up to Phil, wrapping his arms around to pull Phil's body close to his own, embracing him tightly.

He feared that it would be too much, that Phil would push him away after all that had happened, that it would finally be too much and he wouldn't want to deal with Dan anymore. That finally he had overstepped some line that would set Dan at the same level of everyone else who had hurt him throughout his life.

It scared him, and he was desperate to hold on.

Instead, he felt the grip of Phil's arms around his body, holding just as desperately. Fingers curled tightly into the back on his sweater and a gasping breath rested against his neck, causing goosebumps to rise.

It felt like an eternity of them pressed against one another, clinging like their lives depended.

And in a way, at that moment, - they did.

======

Dan hissed under his breath when the cleaning solution began to bubble on the broken skin on his knuckles, as he tried to treat it carefully.

Even then though, through all the pain that the stinging was causing, he was constantly focusing on the sound of the running water in the shower, alert.

Phil hadn't said anything else after they had left the station, brushing off the offers to call the ambulance and insisting that he was merely tired and would like to head home. The ride home had been silent. Only when they had arrived, Phil had muttered a mere ''Shower,'' before disappearing into the bathroom.

Silence was not uncommon, but there was something about these kinds of silences that was not right.

Dan could hear the water stop, and he shifted to look at the bathroom door, all whilst holding a pack frozen vegetables on his hand. When Phil emerged from the bathroom, he tried to smile.

“Hey,” Dan's tone was soft, and he was greeted by a small smile in return.

“Hey yourself,” Phil's voice was still heavy and worn out, the same way his face seemed to sag and how his limbs would drag with every step that he took, passing Dan with only a heavy and thoughtful silence in the air that surrounded him.

Dan just watched, and the smile was disappeared from his features, unable to remain alive in the heaviness.

He wanted to stop him. To hug him close again. To get behind those walls that were hiding what really was on Phil's mind.

To erase the terrors Dan could only imagine laid in that beautiful mind.

Phil paused with his hand on his bedroom doorknob and turned towards Dan who looked back curious through the tiredness of his own.

“I miss sharing,” Phil admitted quietly.

Dan understood.

They had always had each their own rooms, because no matter how close, they still needed their own creative space. It came in handy when they weren't agreeing on something - too.

And they had been disagreeing on a whole lot without a viable compromise on the horizon, for far too long.

A hand was extended towards Dan and he looked at it for a while before he finally placed the vegetables away and stood up, accepting the invitation. His freezing hand was a stark contrast to Phil's water-warmed skin, but it breathed some life into both, Phil gently tugging Dan to follow, the door left ajar behind them.

Dan's skin prickled and that anxious need to claw at his skin was there, but it was subtler, so he pushed it aside.

This was Phil and there was trust that came with that simple name title. It was that feeling of a familiar palm in his and the sight of that same frame, no matter how much the word had tried to bend and break it.

It was as if they were in a dream. Face to face on Phil's colourful bed covers, without a word uttered, just gazing at one another in a proximity that was so familiar yet somehow completely new.

There was pain in the silence, extending from beneath their eyes. The two caged behind their minds and unable to break free, to speak the faults nor show them.

Only their fingers remained interlaced, the hands laid on the covers between them, in a quiet hope for stability.

======

Days turned into weeks and life continued on, obligations piled up and reality was demanding action.

And it was so difficult to handle.

“Hey guys!” He heard from Phil's bedroom, only for silence to follow, and then again and again until a frustrated sound that sounded like a tossed pillow echoed through the apartment from behind the closed doors.

And the apartment felt so cold and distant to him, too.

Dan was staring at the letter he'd received in the mail the other day, all whilst stirring his tea that had long since gone cold. There was an identical one sitting on the corner of the table, addressed to Phil, but it had been left unopened, and Dan could see why.

It was a court notice.

Both of them knew why they had gotten one, and the plaguing thoughts were enough of a reminder.

Yet it was a reality that they had to face eventually.

Phil's bedroom door opened and a very defeated Phil emerged. Dan regarded him with sympathy. The mere idea of creating a video had made Dan want to curl up after he had finally had a look at his twitter replies. Though many were nice about the unknown situation, the angry and mean people were louder, more noticeable, they stuck to Dan's brain like thistle to wool.

Many had been curious about more content, but it was too soon. He couldn't do it.

“No luck?” He tried to bring the conversation up gently, a light shadow of humour attempting to break through.

Phil just shook his head, grabbing a mug and preparing some coffee “Headache,” There was only a murmur of a response, the previously joyous tone Phil had tried using for recording completely exhausted.

Dan chewed at his lip whilst the chair scraped at the floor with Phil pulling it out to take a seat, too.

“We need to do something,” Finally, brows furrowed a little, Dan said, and rubbed a hand against the back of his head where the hair felt more natural grown back quite well though he was yet to try and have it re-styled.

“We already are, all the time,” Phil tried to humour but there was dead dryness to the tone and it was torturing to hear that flatness. It was as if all the true joy and liveliness had been sucked out of both, like they were tired out by the world, yet continuing on almost robotically.

Dan still offered a very small chuckle to that, warmth of at least trying attempting to fill what felt like his void existence.

“Phil.”

“Dan?”

There was a silent moment and Dan bit at his lip again, trying to, over and over, remind himself that he had the right of suggesting. The right to speak. The right to try and direct towards actions that would be the better approach.

He was not a nuisance, a speck of dirt trying to organise a parade.

He was an equal human being.

“I think you need to open this,” Finally he spoke, and his fingers reached out for the unopened envelope, sliding it across the wooden surface towards Phil.

“If we want to not waste away,” Though he spoke to Phil, it was a reassurance to himself as well, an attempt to rationalise the idea as it was supposed to be and to try and make himself believe it as well “We need to get through this first.”

And as their eyes met, it was silence again at first, but finally, a trembling hand reached out and Dan released the letter as Phil pulled it closer to him.

“I know,” The answer was so faint that Dan could have missed it within the noise of an opening envelope.

[danithebookaholic-blog]

REVIEWS! - ROMANCE

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Spring has sprung and Romance is in the air! With this weeks reviews you’ll find the following: some swoony, some funny, and some just short of the mark, but all are romances (in some essence of the word.)

So sit back, and take a look at this week’s romantic line-up:

📚Daphne Dubois’ Only the Beginning (2018 Contemporary Romance) 📚Leddy Harper’s The (Half) Truth (2019 New Adult College Romance) 📚Adriana Locke’s Tumble (2019 Romantic Comedy) 📚Elinor Lipman’s Good Riddance (2019 Women’s Fiction Rom-Com)

From one bookaholic to another, I hope I’ve helped you find your next fix. —Dani

Only the Beginning 

By Daphne Dubois

Publication Date: April 25, 2018 Genre: Adult, Women’s Fiction Literature, Contemporary, Romance

Synopsis:

After a heartbreaking betrayal, Melissa Legacy shuns romance. So when her best friend joins the Lovers Oasis website and fears her fiancé will find out, Melissa agrees to meet the anonymous Romeo, prepared to explain her friend’s change of heart—then she sees him.

Failing restaurant entrepreneur, Craig Wheaton hasn’t been home since his mother’s tragic death. Now he’s back to confront his demons and stand beside his brother as best man. Dreading the reunion, he agrees to meet his avatar lover, but at the last moment he reconsiders the arrangement—until he lays eyes on her.

When Craig assumes Melissa is his online consort, she impulsively plays along, resulting in an afternoon of unexpected intimacy. But with Melissa using her friend’s identity and Craig dealing with a family fallout, is a future together impossible, or will they discover that love at first sight is Only the Beginning?

Goodreads

Purchase:

Amazon / B&N / Kobo

Review:

Only the Beginning  is a a cute romance that has just about every known romantic plot in it, including an Oh-sorry-to-have-run-into-you-knocking-you-to-the-ground / Love-at-first-sight-but-we-won’t-realize-it-until-the-end meet-cute. But don’t let these common romance novels antics dissuade you from picking Daphne Dubois book up!

While Only the Beginning may have all of those romance plots in it, Dubois did a wonderful job at making them all new and fresh rather than seeming old and dry. The constant change in perspective of the story line helps keep the reader in a constant state of wonder - reading to the breaking point of a change-of-events, only to have the next chapter begin from the other person’s point-of-view, and a few steps back. This constant flip-flop keeps the reader on their toes, transforming the escapades and tricks from the usual mundane to fun and flirty.

Craig and Melissa essentially meet because of an online messaging forum called Lovers’ Oasis. I feel like not many people are are logging into online forums to anonymously chat and hook-up anymore, so I did find to be a bit old and dated. (But then again, maybe that’s because I’m married, and I’m not experiencing this myself. Please tell me if I’m wrong…) But other than that dated feel to the book, I found Only the Beginning to be a pleasurable and easy romantic read that warmed the heart.

 Dani's Score out of 5: 🍾🍾🍾🍾

The (Half) Truth 

By Leddy Harper

Publication Date: February 19, 2019 Genre: New Adult, Contemporary, College, Romance

Synopsis:

Tatum Alexander is so close to realizing her dream of becoming a sous chef she can taste it, but working at her ex-fiancé’s restaurant with his new girlfriend was never in her career plan. To save face and prove she’s moved on, Tatum cooks up a lie that she’s in a relationship with her best friend’s superhot cousin. There’s just one problem: Jason only recently moved to town, and he has no idea they’re already “dating.”

Jason’s a recovering ladies’ man who shouldn’t be on the menu, but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to Tatum’s quirky charm. Giving her lie a kernel of truth, they decide some no-strings-attached fun between the sheets can’t hurt. But as Tatum’s forced to keep making up stories to cover her original fib, she has a hard time separating what’s real and what’s fake—including her feelings for Jason.

With too many tales spun, Tatum can only watch in horror as her collection of yarns begins to unravel, leaving everyone she cares about feeling betrayed. After so many lies, will it be too late to set the record straight? And more importantly, will she be able to convince Jason there’s truth in their love?

Purchase:

Amazon / B&N / IndieBound

Review:

Leddy Harper’s The (Half) Truth is a great read! It’s fun and quirky, awkward and romantic. By far one of my favorite (fun) romances I’ve read.

Harper has a way with picturing something in her head and making you see it just as clearly in your own mind with her beautiful imagery. Adjectives are great when used in moderation, and Harper shows the curve of a smile, the grass-green sparkle of an eye, and the trail of a finger so perfectly that you can see them; you can feel them.

Tatum Alexander’s extremely awkward way of handling stress gives this love story a breath of fresh air, making all of the serious life lessons something not to stress over but to sigh and laugh at. Add in Jason Watson’s womanizing history and change of heart and you have a recipe for a zesty and flirty rom-com! Fans of the more serious romance novels will enjoy it, too, though, with it’s real life heartache and life-altering decisions. And while it’s not overly done, the sex scenes are quite hot, too!

The (Half) Truth was entertaining and delightful. I found myself staying up until 2 am, and getting up a couple hours earlier just to read before life started. I found ways to squeeze reading it into every crack of my day because I couldn't wait to find out what Tatum would get herself into next and how Jason would help her laugh it off. And I cannot suggest it enough to anyone who needs a little laughter (and spice) added to their life.

 Dani's Score out of 5: 🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾

Tumble (A Dogwood Lane #1) 

By Adriana Locke

Publication Date: February 26, 2019 Genre: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Humor

Synopsis:

After being burned by her dream job in New York City, sports journalist Neely Kimber suddenly finds herself jobless and paying a long-overdue visit to her hometown in Tennessee. Her plan? Relax, reset, and head back up the corporate ladder. There’s just one unexpected step. Neely’s back in Dogwood Lane for barely a day when she sees the man she ran from nine years ago: the bad boy next door who was her first kiss, her first love, and her first heartbreak.

Devoted single dad Dane Madden knows he hurt Neely in the worst way. He’s got a lot to make up for. And as passionate as their reconnection is, it’s a lot to hope for. Having her back in his arms feels so right. But falling in love all over again with a woman who wants to live a world away is bound to go so wrong.

What’s it going to take for Neely to give him—and Dogwood Lane—just one more chance?

Purchase:

Amazon / B&N

Review:

Adriana' Locke’s Tumble is a cute southern romance with a lot of heart. But Neely Kimber and Dane Madden’s relationship reminded me a lot of Melanie and Jake’s relationship from Reese Witherspoon’s rom-com Sweet Home Alabama though.

While Neely and Dane aren’t husband and wife like Melanie and Jake, you still have a girl form NYC returning to her southern home and falling for her ex all over again. Granted Locke’s story involves a child, while Witherspoon’s did not, the similarities between the two stories felt too close for me to really feel like I was reading something new, and that was disappointing. What was even more disappointing for me was the fact that Tumble was so highly anticipated for the romance community, that I became very excited for it, but was let down in the end.

I won’t say that Locke’s story isn’t good, because it is. She writes extremely well and knows how to tell a story with beautiful imagery. Her characters were deeply developed, and played off of one another very well. Overall, the story of Neely and Dane is a good one, I just wish it would have been a little more unique.

 Dani's Score out of 5: 🍾🍾🍾

Good Riddance 

By Elinor Lipman

Publication Date: February 5, 2019 Genre: Women’s Fiction, Romance, Humor

Synopsis:

The delightful new romantic comedy from Elinor Lipman, in which one woman’s trash becomes another woman’s treasure, with deliriously entertaining results.

Daphne Maritch doesn't quite know what to make of the heavily annotated high school yearbook she inherits from her mother, who held this relic dear. Too dear. The late June Winter Maritch was the teacher to whom the class of '68 had dedicated its yearbook, and in turn she went on to attend every reunion, scribbling notes and observations after each one—not always charitably—and noting who overstepped boundaries of many kinds.

In a fit of decluttering (the yearbook did not, Daphne concluded, "spark joy"), she discards it when she moves to a small New York City apartment. But when it's found in the recycling bin by a busybody neighbor/documentary filmmaker, the yearbook's mysteries—not to mention her own family's—take on a whole new urgency, and Daphne finds herself entangled in a series of events both poignant and absurd. 

Good Riddance is a pitch-perfect, whip-smart new novel from an "enchanting, infinitely witty yet serious, exceptionally intelligent, wholly original, and Austen-like stylist" (Washington Post).

Goodreads

Purchase:

Amazon / B&N / BAM / Kobo / Google Play / IndieBound

Review:

Good Riddance is one of those books that I can see being turned into a movie. Mae Whitman would play the part of Daphne, the MC. Rebel Wilson, the part of crazy-neighbor, Geneva. And Lucas Till would play the role of Jeremy? I don’t know, I’m still questioning the male lead role, but the ladies I could see playing these roles as plain as day, as if the parts were written for them. And seeing how (it seems) that author Elinor Lipman is such a big fan of the TV show Riverdale, I can see why she would want to write something that would maybe, eventually make it to the screen.

SIDE RANT: On the Riverdale note, I, too, am a fan of the show. I both liked and disliked the constant mention of the show and it’s characters, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place “Timmy” at all. So, I’ll admit, I did totally IMDB the show, looking for a “Timmy” which does not exist, but please, if you can figure out who “Timmy” is referring to, because it’s totally going to annoy me until I re-watch every single episode until I find him. Then, maybe, I’ll have Jeremy’s actor nailed down! END SIDE RANT.

However, that being said, I don’t think this novel should be made into a movie in the slightest. While I did find myself LOL-ing several times while reading, I often found myself either bored or annoyed. Daphne was too whiny (not a reflection of Mae Whitman, FYI), and I found the dynamic between Daphne and Geneva, and Daphne and Jeremy to be very out there (both of which usually make a good movie.)

On top of that, the story of “the yearbook” in question never really comes completely to fruition, and I felt that someone like Geneva never would have given up as easily (whether if that is to finish what she started or to just badger Daphne about it.)

Last note to make about this book is that while it is classified as a “romance,” I have a very hard time classifying it as such myself. “Humorous Literature?” Yes. But “Romance?” Definitely not. Yes, there is a love interest/relationship, several actually, but not in the “Literature Romance” sense. So if you’re looking for that, this is not your book. If you’re looking for something to LOL to, then this one will give your your chuckles.

 Dani's Score out of 5: 🍾🍾🍾

Pair Them All With: Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc

A fresh, juicy wine with vibrant acidity and plenty of weight and length on the palate. Ripe, tropical fruit flavor with passion fruit, melon, and grapefruit. Classic Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc aromas of lifted citrus, tropical fruit, and crushed herbs. Pairs brilliantly with fresh oysters, asparagus, lobster, or summer salads, and of course these romantic reads!

website / Facebook / Instagram

Have a book you’d like to suggest or one you’d like me to review? Please feel free to leave your comments down below.