#is this a linda situation where he just needed a Chance to get what he wanted from the lords and he jumps right in?

[foe-paw]

fanfic fanart (how recursive!) for @starpirateee's fic Into The Black And White- what if someone else goes into the portal PEIP opened, and has the dubious honor of being the trailblazer that instantly folds and pledges to the lords in black?

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 6

Christmas Day, and the final day (supposedly)

Word count: 4.8k (damn that's more than I originally intended to write for this part)

Warnings: unrealistic depictions of winter in Britain (it snows a lot), swearing, Lockwood gets a hug from reader's mum and can't cope, lockwood's lack of sleep is brought up, reader has Feelings and can't cope, Stephanie and Linda are bitches again and get an awful gift for reader, body image issues, lockwood shouts at Steph, mentions of Lockwood's family (and them being dead), Stephanie (she's a warning all on her own tbh), cliffhanger of an ending

the picture doesn't really match the vibes but it's one of the few where he's not wearing a suit 🤡 (but also look how babygirl he looks)

(image credit to lavenderghostco on pinterest)

series master list

Lockwood hadn't slept.

Instead he had spent the night trying to get Y/n to hear him through the locked bathroom door, but then when he'd heard quiet music playing and realised that she'd taken her walkman with her and was sleeping in there he had given up, shifting to lean his back against the door and pull his knees up to his chest.

Then he had used the rest of the night to go over what had been said between the two of them, and how horribly wrong it had all gone.

Why couldn't she have waited another two seconds for him to finish talking?

And why couldn't he figure out how to properly apologise to her?

When the sun had finally risen and slightly blinded Lockwood as it streamed in through the curtains that hadn't been properly closed the night before, he stood up, shaking out his stiff limbs and stretching. He got changed into some fresh, more comfortable clothes, having stayed in his suit from the day before all night, and headed downstairs to make a cup of tea.

"Oh, hello Anthony!" Emma said when he walked in to the kitchen. "Are you... alright?" She was frowning, likely because the dark bags under his eyes were far more prominent from the severe lack of sleep.

"Yes, I'm alright thank you. Just didn't sleep too well last night." He smiled at her.

"Oh dear," Emma replied, putting the kettle on. "Is Y/n alright?"

"She's fine. She did sleep in the bathroom though because she felt a bit sick, but she was out like a light right away." An easy lie to tell about the situation they had found themselves in, and Emma was too distracted making tea to detect any falsehoods.

"As long as the two of you are okay now then that's all that matters. Here's a mug for you, love."

"Thank you." It was strange how easily he got used to being part of this family. He was moving around the kitchen with Emma as though they had been doing it their whole lives, and he suddenly felt a pang of pain as he remembered doing the same things with his own family. Lockwood stopped, staring down into his tea that was now swirling around in the mug and blinking away the tears that threatened to fall.

"Anthony? What is it, dear?"

"It's nothing," he said, wiping at his face quickly and offering up a smile. Emma saw through it, though, and placed a hand on his arm. A similar scene flashed through his mind from last night, and his chest ached even more at the memory of Y/n instinctively comforting him and how he had likely ruined any chance of that happening again.

"Aw, love. I know we don't really... know each other that well, but if you ever want to talk to me about anything you know that you can, right?"

"Yeah, thank you, Emma," he replied. For some reason he felt the need to step forward and wrap his arms around her, but after a few seconds of Emma standing still he awkwardly pulled back, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "S-sorry. I don't know-" he was cut off by her hugging him just as tightly as she had Y/n when they first got to the house, and although he couldn't breathe too well he felt... at home.

"Never apologise, love," she mumbled into his hair, squeezing tightly. "Like I said, if you ever need me, you let me know." she stepped back then to hold him by the arms and look him in the eyes. Lockwood nodded, suddenly feeling five years old again, and dried his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "Alright?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Now, you take this up to Y/n and make sure she's somewhat dressed and downstairs, because I think everyone else is starting to get up now and we'll do presents in a bit."

Lockwood took the mug and picked up his own tea, heading out the room after a quick thanks to Emma. A thought struck him as he carefully carried the mugs upstairs, and he really hoped that Y/n had presents because otherwise they would be in deep shit.

~~~

"Y/n?" Lockwood's voice tentatively called out. She huffed from where she laid in the bathtub wrapped up in blankets. What did he want? "Y/n? I've... I've got tea for you out here. I'm just gonna leave it on the bedside table for you. Uh, your mum also said that we're gonna do presents and stuff in a bit so... come down when you're ready I guess." He paused for a moment, then said "Do you... do you have presents? Because I didn't actually get anything and now I'm starting to feel bad because your parents are actually really nice and so are your siblings and-"

"Lockwood! Shut up! I got presents, alright?!" She shouted, getting out of the bath. She bundled up the duvet and pillow and opened the door to a slightly dishevelled Lockwood, pushing past him to chuck the blankets on the bed and grab some clean clothes from the suitcase. He had clearly been running his hand through his hair from the way it was sticking up at funny angles, and the bags under his eyes were far more prominent. She frowned, wondering if he'd had any sleep at all last night.

"Alright, I uh... I'll just..." he walked into the bathroom, everything about his movements more unsure and nervous than Y/n had ever seen him.

She changed into the clothes she had picked up, and only realised once the jumper was pulled over her head that it wasn't her jumper she had on.

It was Lockwood's.

She didn't have time to change before he unlocked the bathroom door and came back into the bedroom, stopping short in his tracks when he looked up and saw her stood in the middle of the room in his jumper. "I- This wasn't deliberate."

"I know," he said quietly, and she almost scoffed when he looked at her with sadness in his eyes. What right did he have to look that way when he had said those words last night?

"You're right. I won't ever like you in the same way as the others."

They had played over and over as she tried to get to sleep, wondering how he had managed to sink to an even lower depth in causing her pain than he had before.

"Here," she said when the silence grew uncomfortable, bending down to grab the group of wrapped gifts at the bottom of the case and handing a few to Lockwood. "We should head down I suppose."

"Don't forget your tea. I'll uh- I'll see you down there," he offered up a small smile as he left.

As soon as the door shut behind him she heaved a sigh, eyeing the tea on the bedside table sat right where Lockwood had said it would be. There was no point in letting it get cold, so she waited until the mug had been drained before leaving and going downstairs.

~~~

The tea had been a good way to start preparing herself for Christmas Day with her family, but on seeing Lockwood again (despite it only having been about five minutes) she could feel herself drowning at the prospect of having to fake this relationship for another few hours. At least it was only a few hours, since they were catching the only train running on Christmas Day that afternoon.

"And the last one for you, Y/n! Sorry, Anthony, you've only got a couple because we had no idea what you wanted and only found out you were coming a few days ago!"

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything at all, Emma, really," he beamed, and Y/n wondered how he could act so well. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, leaping at the chance to put on an accent for reconnaissance for a case, or coming up with ridiculously fabricated tales of fights with Visitors to boast to Kipps, but that wasn't anything compared to hiding the fact that he had argued with the daughter of the woman he was smiling at, and was pretending to date her and love her regardless.

"I won't ever like you in the same way."

That had hurt the most, and Y/n had spent much of her time awake attempting to figure out why. It wasn't the entire sentence about Lockwood not liking her in the same way as Lucy, George, and Holly, as that hadn't been the part that had been on repeat. No, for some reason it had been his admission that his feelings wouldn't change from the hatred they shared that made her want to rip her heart out every time she saw his smile.

"Nonsense!" her mother said as she sat back in her seat. "Alright everyone, get stuck in!"

The next ten minutes were a frenzy of paper being ripped into and presents being opened, and Lockwood and Y/n were curled up on the loveseat like they had on the first day quietly working their way through their piles. At least they had an excuse for not talking to each other, since their presents were taking up the majority of their attention.

At least they ought to have been.

One of Lockwood's arms was around her waist, hand resting lightly on her thigh while he watched her unwrap her remaining gifts. He had long since finished, having thanked Emma profusely for the box of chocolates and ten pound note that he'd been given. Y/n was finding it difficult to concentrate with Lockwood's warmth behind her, and he was doing that thing where he stroked his fingers over her skin. His hand had moved from her thigh to her stomach, fingers drifting under the fabric of the jumper she had accidentally stolen from him and tracing patterns absentmindedly. It seemed to be something that happened any time they were in this sort of position, and she was frustrated at how much she enjoyed it.

"You alright?" he whispered.

"Yep." She didn't look back at him, instead focusing on the plain envelope she now held in her hands and frowning at it.

"Oh!" Stephanie cried out, and Y/n had forgotten just how annoying her voice was since they had barely interacted the day before. "That's from us! It's... well. Why don't you open it up?" If the smirk on Stephanie and Linda's faces were anything to go by, it wouldn't be Y/n's favourite gift she received this year.

"What is it?" Lockwood asked from behind her, peering over her shoulder at the piece of card that had been inside. "A coupon or a gift card or something?"

"Gym membership, Lockwood. They got me a gym membership." Dammit, her voice was shaking and her eyes were prickling with unshed tears, and worst of all she knew that Lockwood could tell. She hated that she leaned ever so slightly further into his body. She hated that when he brought his free hand around her to properly wrap her in a hug she was painfully aware of Stephanie and Linda watching every movement, and could feel their judgement of her body.

Then she hated that she felt safe and protected in Lockwood's embrace, like nothing could hurt her as long as he was holding her.

There was nothing wrong with how she looked, and it wasn't her fault that Stephanie was a size 2 (probably, Y/n had never bothered to ask) and liked to gloat about it frequently, but the cut ran deep and had done for years. When Y/n stood up and left much like she had on the first day, she wasn't surprised to see the triumphant look on her cousin's face.

~~~

Lockwood was fuming, but this time he couldn't set anything on fire.

To be fair, he hadn't been allowed to set anything on fire the previous times it had happened, and multiple of those accounts of arson were Lucy's fault, not his, but he still wanted to burn something.

How dare they give a fucking gym membership as a Christmas present?! What did they think they would achieve in doing so?! Stephanie and Linda clearly looked proud of themselves, and the sight of their faces made Lockwood feel sick when he remembered how Y/n's body had tensed up and curled into him more at the piece of card in the envelope.

Taking his chance after Y/n left the room, Lockwood stood up, then headed over to Stephanie. "Can we talk?" he asked, although the tone he used made it clear that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. He led her out into the hallway, then into the kitchen for good measure, and his remaining restraint snapped with the sound of the door closing. "Are you out of your mind?" He hadn't shouted, instead keeping his voice as calm as he could, but he knew that his anger was barely contained behind his gritted teeth.

"I don't know what you mean," Stephanie simpered, and Lockwood took a step closer to her.

"A gym membership?!"

Steph shrugged. "She needs it. She's really let herself go the last-"

"No, she hasn't. And I would fucking know, because I live with her. She is perfect the way she is, alright? And you have no right - absolutely none - to give her that sort of thing as a Christmas present. It really just proves that you have no idea who she is, and that you're a fucking terrible person."

"Oh, like you're so honourable!" she spat.

"What's going on?" Emma's voice sounded, and the kitchen door opened to show the rest of Y/n's family that were still in the house. "Why is there shouting?"

"Y/n's little boyfriend here is accusing me of not knowing my own cousin!"

"Because you don't!"

"And you know more about her than me, do you?!"

"It looks like it, yes!"

"Everything was so much better before you turned up, do you know that? Why don't you scurry back to whatever shithole you and your parents live in and we'll carry on with our lives, yeah?" Lockwood flinched.

"Stephanie! Linda, please, can't you do something?!" Emma pleaded. She sent a quiet apology to Lockwood, looking distressed at how quickly Christmas Day had fallen into arguments.

"She's right, Emma. If he wasn't here then everything would be right again. Why don't we keep Y/n here for a few more days, and he can go back to his sad little life with his parents." He flinched again, barely having time to compose himself before Linda was smiling sweetly at him.

"I would, Linda, but I am not leaving my girlfriend here with you."

"Well," Stephanie started. "Why don't you invite your family up here then? I'm sure we'd all love to meet the people that raised such a... lovely... person!"

"Once again, I would," Lockwood said, as nonchalantly as he could, "but I very much doubt that you'd find much to talk to them about."

"Are they deaf or something?" Lockwood saw Y/n through her brothers' bodies, and she was trying to push past them to join him in the kitchen.

"Something like that," he smiled, hoping they couldn't see the sadness in it. Technically his family was deaf, since they were unable to hear anything on account of the fact that they were dead. Y/n stumbled forward, having finally been let through, and she righted herself and walked over to where Lockwood was stood.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice quiet so that only he could hear. "Just heard them mention your family and stuff, and Steph can be really mean about literally everything and I didn't want you to be on your own for that."

"Oh." He blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought that she would care too much since she'd ignored him and hated him thoroughly since last night. "I'm alright; I can deal with it, don't worry." His smile was soft, and for a brief moment he thought he might be breaking through to the Y/n he had come to know over the past two days before everything went wrong, but then the blinds were snapped shut and he was blocked out again.

~~~

Lunch was interesting.

Emma and Ben had slaved for hours to get everything ready, having left the morning celebrations at various points to put things in the ovens, or chop things, or do anything that was needed, and mid-afternoon their hard work was served up on huge plates to the family.

"Thank you, this looks incredible," Lockwood said, and Emma grinned.

"You're very welcome, Anthony!" She sat down in her seat, making sure everybody had food on their plates before taking up her cracker. Y/n's grandparents needed her brothers talking directly into their ears to explain what was happening over the noise of everyone else, and it took a full five minutes to get everybody with crackers in hand and arms crossed over before they could be pulled.

Hats were put on, and pictures taken on the family camera (and then Y/n asked Will to take some on her personal camera too), and finally they could start eating. People read out their jokes and trivia, and while the laughter of various family members was loud, Y/n couldn't help but feel like it was all muffled and distant. She was underwater again, her ears filled with water as she tried swimming up to the surface, but the weight of her cousin's gaze was dragging her down into the depths again.

Then a hand was on her arm, gentle but enough of a pressure that she was being pulled upwards, and Lockwood's voice was in her ear.

"Hey, are you alright? You zoned out for a minute there and I had to rescue your potato from going off the side of your plate."

Sure enough, her fork was pushing the contents of her plate closer to the edge, and she quickly let go of her cutlery to stop it. The knife and fork landed with a clatter, and while conversation didn't stop, it did die down as people looked in her direction. "I'm fine," she replied, knowing she was the opposite. Lockwood appeared to know too, because he was still frowning.

"Are you su-"

"Yes," she said harshly, and he flinched back.

"Okay, sorry." He turned back to his own food, and they didn't speak for most of the rest of the meal.

~~~

"Book!"

"Play?"

"It's a book, you idiot!"

"John, don't call Sam an idiot!"

"Mum, you can't talk when doing a charade," Will said, and he received a glare in response.

"How do you reckon the others are getting on with their holidays?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood was surprised at her question.

"I imagine they're all having wonderful times," he replied, revelling in the smile that graced Y/n's face. It was a shame that the cause of the smile wasn't him, but he only had himself to blame for that.

"That's good. At least most of the company is enjoying Christmas."

Somewhere in the house, a phone started ringing. Ben got up to answer.

"I'm enjoying it," Lockwood said, and Y/n swivelled in her seat a little to look at him. "Besides the obvious, of course."

"Me?"

"No," he huffed. "Why do you keep thinking that you're the last person I want to spend Christmas with?"

"Because you literally said that you wouldn't enjoy a second of it?"

"Well that was a lie, wasn't it? Honestly, do you not remember anything I told you last night about me having a nice time here instead of the usual shitty Christmases since I was six?" That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Y/n froze up and stopped smiling.

"I remember last night, yeah," she mumbled, turning her back to him again. Shit.

"Thinking about it," he said, attempting to salvage the situation, "I haven't seen any baby photos of you yet."

"Be my guest." Her tone was bland, and Lockwood started internally cursing himself for bringing up the night before.

"Y/n, I'm sorry for what I said, alright? I was a dick and I should have explained myself better. Would you-"

"THE BIBLE! IT'S THE BIBLE!"

"YES!"

"WHAT?! THE BIBLE? THAT'S A CHARADE?!"

"Would you hear me out? Please? When we get a moment later," he asked, trying to mask the amount of desperation in his voice.

"You better have a good excuse, Anthony, because you really hurt me, and if you fuck up again I'm leaving."

"Leaving? What, like leaving the house?"

"Leaving the company."

Lockwood thought his heart might give out. "Wh- wha- what do you mean, leave the company?"

"I can't keep doing this, okay? I can't get up every morning just to be verbally abused by you all the time. It's not healthy for me, at all. I have to look out for myself, alright?"

"...Right. Yeah, no, that's... that makes sense." He was still reeling from her confession, so when Y/n's grandmother Jean tapped him on the shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin. Y/n hadn't noticed, instead joining in with the ongoing game of charades.

"Why don't you take this, dear," she said, giving him a wink and handing over a sprig of some sort of plant.

"Uh... thank you?"

"Mistletoe. You know, it was originally a sign of peace, and if people met underneath it then they had to stop fighting, no matter what. Sounds like you two might need it," she smiled, but unlike Stephanie or Linda there was only love behind it. Lockwood stared down at the plant he held in his hand, but when he went to thank Jean for the gift she had already gone back to whatever conversation she was having with Tom, her previous chat long forgotten.

"I've got some news," Y/n's father Ben exclaimed as he walked back into the room, and everybody turned to look at him.

"What is it? Why do you sound so worried?"

"Nobody is going to be able to travel anywhere for about a week. I just got a phone call from Ted at the office." Lockwood felt Y/n tense beside him, and he tried not to do the same.

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"Snow warning. Weather officials are saying that a snow storm is going to hit us today and we'll all be snowed in. All trains are cancelled for the next week, and then after that it's unclear."

"What? So we're stuck here for another week?" Y/n asked, and Lockwood heard the panic creeping into her voice. This wasn't good at all, especially since he and Y/n now had to continue faking it for an extra seven days when they were back to hating each other. He needed to fix things and fast, or this holiday would continue to derail and end in flames.

"Sorry, love. I know you wanted to get back before the New Year."

"Yeah," she whispered, looking down at the ground. "Shit."

~~~

"Can we... can we talk?" Lockwood asked once they had a moment to breathe. After the news that they would be here for another week Y/n had excused herself and headed upstairs, and Lockwood had apparently followed.

"What is there to talk about, Lockwood?"

"Well don't we need to rethink? Originally we were only here for three days, and that was manageable. Now we're here for an extra week minimum? I don't know, call me crazy but I really do think we need to figure out how we're going to do this." He was running his hand through his hair again (what was in his other one, was that mistletoe?), but he stopped when Y/n looked him dead in the eyes and answered him.

"You're crazy." She didn't even know why he had the plant, unless he was planning on kissing her again and then ripping her heart out afterwards. Y/n went over to the windows to pull open the blinds the rest of the way to ignore the memory of his mouth on hers. They hadn't been properly closed the night before, and with how the sun rose directly through the windows Lockwood had probably been blinded by it that morning and woken up. He looked far too sleep deprived for him to have woken up at half seven in the morning though.

"Ok, well at the very least can we talk about last night?"

Y/n had stopped by the windows, staring out at the landscape and ignoring Lockwood's question.

"Y/n?"

"Holy shit." Where normally the view was the lake nearby and the forest in the distance, rolling fields spreading out in the foreground, now it had been coated in a blanket of white as far as the eye could see.

"What is it?"

"Just... just come and look." He did, hesitantly coming over to stand beside her and drawing in a breath at the landscape.

"Holy shit."

"That's what I said. Fuck. I was hoping it wouldn't be that bad and we could still find a way to get home."

"Yeah, we're not going anywhere in this. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she frowned, turning her head to look at him. "You're not the snow god who deliberately penned us in my family home for an extra week."

"No, I'm not." Lockwood went quiet, staring out the window but not actually seeing anything, his eyes unfocused as he got wrapped up in his head. "Can we talk about last night? Please?" Y/n looked out the window again.

"What for? I think you said everything I needed to hear."

"I didn't, though. You didn't let me finish saying what I was going to say before you went and shut yourself in the bathroom." His tone was desperate, and Y/n half thought he might start getting on his knees and begging. A memory came back to her of her doing the same thing only a few days ago when she begged him to come with her on this mad venture. He'd been laughing then.

"Well I don't know that I want to know what I missed."

"I was going to say that I won't ever like you in the same way as the others, because I can't. I don't think I realised that until it was too late, but I can't like you in the same way I like George, or Lucy, or Holly, because I think that I'm-"

"Right!" Stephanie shouted, shoving open the door. She stopped short at the sight of Y/n and Lockwood stood so close together, and then again at the pain on Lockwood's face. Y/n hadn't realised that as Lockwood had been talking, he had been inching closer in his attempt to get her to listen to him. They were practically touching now, and Stephanie glanced between them both until they stepped back a little. "You two," she said, jabbing a finger in their direction once she'd remembered what she was there for, "have ruined my Christmas, I hope you know that!" Y/n shared a look with Lockwood. "So watch out, alright? Because I'm coming for you both!" she shrieked, and slammed the door on her way out.

Y/n and Lockwood stood staring at the door for a while before Lockwood spoke up. "Did she seem okay to you?"

"I think she's having some sort of breakdown."

"I thought so too."

"Sort of looked like a banshee or something."

"Especially with the hair all crazy like that, did you see?"

"She'll definitely have a breakdown when she sees that birds are nesting in it, for sure." It felt easy all of a sudden, and conversing with Lockwood wasn't as hard as it had been a couple of hours ago. There was hope, she realised. Hope that he really did have something nice to say. He wouldn't have looked quite so ridiculously desperate for her attention otherwise. She ignored the way that butterflies started fluttering in her stomach at the thought of Lockwood craving her attention so badly. Before this whole ordeal she would have simply felt smug about having the upper hand.

"I really didn't mean it in a hurtful way, Y/n. Although I can see how it came across like that."

"Well what did you mean, Lockwood? Because you did hurt me. And now we're fucking snowed in for a week longer than we planned and Steph is on a rampage. And when Steph is on a rampage she will absolutely have what it takes to uncover this whole fake relationship thing, despite having, like, zero brain cells the rest of the time."

He sighed, clenching his jaw in frustration. "I can't feel the same way because I'm pretty sure I've-" he paused, then took a breath. Why was he taking so long to say something that could make their entire situation easier? He looked uncertain again, and Y/n started feeling nervous.

Lockwood was never uncertain. He was Anthony bloody Lockwood.

Then when he spoke, she realised why.

part 7

Tag list (there are so many people that if I forgot to add you then please let me know and I'll do that right away!): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

[rosetyler42]

Ok, I lied. One more since people seem to like and want more of Ericka + Dennis.

I thought this would be a fun way to get the contrast out between Ericka and Mavis, with Dennis worrying about what would happen if his aunt amd Uncle never got fangs since mom was saying humans couldn't be happy at the hotel.

While Mavis desperately wanted Dennis to be human so he could fit in and not he "weird", Ericka has more of a pull to monstrosity. Plus, this place is her home. This is her family. To Ericka, fangs or not, there was no question her kids would grow up here. (Not that she'd have anyplace else to go, to be fair. Unlike Johnny, she didn't grow up immersed in normal human culture.) The fiercely loyal and family-oriented Ericka never did like the fact Mavis basically pushed humanity on the boy and nearly moved him away from the only family he's ever known to a place hurling Vampire microaggressions and thinking being picked on toughened kids up just because of Mike and Linda and her desire to give humanity a chance. ("Great-Grandpa and I HATED monsters, and we put more thought into creating a welcoming environment on our DEATH CRUISE than these two put in their WHOLE 'Welcome to the Neighborhood' party! Now, I get them not knowing these things like we would but the internet exists! And monsters were out of hiding almost 6 YEARS by then! Did NO ONE in this family bother to do their research or ask questions while putting together this 'Come live with us' party to make sure the guest of honor ACTUALLY felt WELCOME there!? That's not just basic manners, that's event planning 101!!") And Sure, Drac screwed up by sinking into Vlad's sink or swim attitude, but she gets why it happened. And she'll take sink-or-swim attitudes that need to be unlearned over being bullied and forced to live up to expectations any day.

Ontop of this, Ericka's also far less overprotective than Mavis or Drac too. She grew up in an environment where she was expected to handle danger, high pressure situations, and learn to protect herself. Life is risk, after all. And freaking out over every little thing a kid could possibly get into is silly and does little to help the situation. Of course, she wants them to be safe and feel loved and doesn't really likebthe way she was raised either. But she teaches them prevention, wants to give them freedom, and doesn't swaddle them in bubble wrap or push her own ideals on the twins.

Basically: She tries to find the middle ground between helicopter parenting and "Sink or Swim." Monster AND Human.

@lovelylivelyv @black-ak9 @hotelt-resurrection @serial-serializednovelreader @deathfangirl9 @wingingfromthezing @heartsong1994 @kittyball23 @ebevkisk

[hawkins-losers]

52 and 16 with robin please?!?!?!?

(“Don’t leave me.” + “It breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry.”)

A/N: The scene where this gif is from broke my heart. My heart hurt so much for her

-

After bringing the boxes to the helping center, Robin, Dustin and Steve decided to stay and offer their help as volunteers. Dustin had been assigned to serve cups of water, and Steve and Robin were on clothes sorting duty. 

Naturally, Steve began telling her about his love life. Only, this time, it wasn’t about Heidi or Linda or sex, it involved his ex-lover Nancy Wheeler.

‘’Now that Jonathan’s here, all my chances at rekindling with Nancy have gone with the wind. I almost had her. We got so close these past days, but the guy shows up in his pizza delivery van and-’’

Steve’s voice turned into an echo as Robin's attention derived, catching something- someone in the distance, butterflied filling her stomach. The shirts she was holding fell on the kids table and a smile bloomed on her lips, seeing you in the distance sitting on a camp bed. 

''Robin? Robin, are you listen-'' Steve looked up, realizing Robin was no longer listening, and followed his friend's vision field. A smile formed on his lips when he saw you. 

Since the whole Vecna thing began, she had been thinking about you, worrying about you. What if Y/N becomes Vecna's next victim? She is seeing Mrs. Kelly too, you know. If she rises in the air, no one will know what to do and how to save her. Even if they did know, would they know her favorite song? I do, it's Heroes by David Bowie.

After they got back from the Upside Down, after the gates merged, Robin told Steve that, next time she would see you, she's gonna make a move and ask you out. It was probably some words in the air after almost dying, but Steve wanted her to keep her words, having a feeling that the outcome would be positive.

‘’What are you gonna do, Robin? Just stand here and gawk at her?’’

‘’Shut up.’’  

She stepped around the table and walked over to the rapid care area where the beds were - where you were. 

As she got closer, Robin noticed a cut above your eyebrow and a bandage around your arm. You must’ve gotten hurt during the ‘earthquake’. 

‘’You’re hurt.’’

You flicked your eyes up at the raspy voice, meeting Robin’s familiar face. ‘’Yeah… My house sort of…split in half?’’ you explained, still having difficulty believing and processing what happened. ‘’Crazy earthquake, uh?’’ You forced a laugh. 

‘’What happened to your arm?’’

‘’I fell. I was looking for Berlioz during the earthquake and I lost balance.’’

‘’Berlioz? Like the gray kitten in The Aristocats?’’

A smile spread on your lips. ‘’Yes! No one ever gets the reference.’’

‘’They must’ve had a boring childhood, then.’’ 

You nodded. ‘’Totally.’’ 

A nurse came up with a few sterilized gauze and bandages for you to take ‘home’ and dismissed you. Robin watched as you put them in your bag, which was already filled to the brim.

‘’Is there anything you need? Beside gauze and bandages. Since your house has been destroyed,’’ Robin asked kindly, wanting to help you in any possible ways. ‘’Clothes? Blankets? A place to stay?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’No. My parents, Berlioz and I have been relocated temporarily. Temporarily.'' You scoffed, trying to make a laugh of your situation. ‘’There's a massive crack going through the house. What did they mean by temporarily? We can’t go back there - ever.’’ 

Your vision began to blur with tears, thinking about everything you had lost. They may all be material belongings, but it sucked to lose your house and everything that’s in it. Compared to some families, your loss was small, yet here you were, healthy with a few scraps, crying about your house.

A sob escaped your lips and Robin started to panic. 

“Hey hey, don’t cry,’’ she begged after seeing the first tears fall, taking a seat next to you on the small camp bed. It creaked under her weight, not really made for two people. 

Using the sleeve of your shirt, you wiped your tears. ‘’I'm sorry. I think my brain is a little frazzled with everything.’’

Robin covered your other hand with hers. ‘’It's okay. I didn’t mean it in a ‘don’t cry’ crying is pathetic way. I meant ‘don’t cry’ because it breaks my fucking heart to hear you cry. I also don’t really know how to comfort a crying person so forgive me if I say something I shouldn’t.” She removed her hand, realizing what she did. ‘’I’m sorry for that. I...I should get back to helping Steve with the clothes-’’

She stood abruptly, about to leave but you grabbed her wrist. “Don’t leave me.”

From the clothes sorting table, Steve watched with a fond smile, seeing his best friend finally getting what she deserved. 

-

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x  

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[bambi-kinos]

excerpt from the McLennon Discord Server

What follows is a conversation between myself and @skylikeaflame from last week where we discussed, among other things, Yoko’s superiority over Paul, how John beheaded the Four Headed Monster, and why Paul McCartney :: Yoko Ono. I have restructured the order of our conversation for better coherency due to Discord’s “reply” feature making it hard to follow if you’re not in the program itself.

***

namaste — 06/28/2022 John could have married Yoko before he actually did and only did so, as we know, in reaction to Paul and Linda’s wedding. He gave it a chance by waiting but Paul at that point wanted kids and had a perfect situation.

I don’t doubt for a minute John revealed something in India (other than his 🎤), nor that Paul was opened to a family structure involving John providing it appeared traditional.

Ultimately, Yoko was not the right choice for that and John needed greater freedom which Yoko as a liberated individual and creative thinker encouraged unreservedly.

All Paul had to do was to ask Yoko nicely to, at a time of her convenience, allow them to discuss an album, anything. He could schmooze like the best of them. John was scared of being alone with Paul but Paul could have engineered privacy. He was mentally exhausted and one does not want to underestimate how affected he was by John’s latest drug addiction.

***

Maddingway — 06/25/2022 What I always find interesting about the Paul/Yoko thing is that in the end I think Yoko was stronger than Paul because she was willing to introduce consequences to John which Paul wasn't really willing to do. Like when John cheated on her within earshot of her in 1973, she didn't just sit there and take it like Paul did, she let John know she was unhappy and she acted on that. Like in the May Pang documentary May says that she and John spontaneously left for the airport and I think that's true...but only to a degree. I know that Yoko made her displeasure known to John so he knew that there was consequences for his actions. I think they left for the airport bc Yoko forced them out.

And the thing is I don't think Paul really did that or he didn't do it consistently. I always go back to the trepanning conversation where John tried to get Paul to convince the others that they should get holes drilled into their heads. Paul demurred which I think was the right call in the moment ("you get it done and if you like it then we'll all get it done") but its degrading and terrorizing to have your partner tell you that he thinks you should do something that lethal together because he's too high to know the difference. And there's no sign that Paul had a follow up conversation with John about it. And this was a pattern with them, Paul would let John get away with this shit. He would passively resist like when he refused to take the LSD but otherwise he was so conflict averse that he refused to introduce consequences to John for disrespecting him.

I think that's why the break up hit john like it did, because for the first time in his life Paul actually smacked John on the nose with that newspaper. John was stunned by it because Paul had never really done that before, IMO.

so I think in a way John respected Yoko more because she didn't let him do things like that. She didn't let him disrespect her. She'd make him eat his dinner out of a dog dish if he tried that with her.

Artistically and emotionally Paul was certainly the better fit -- he could encourage John, challenge John, etc. He was able to bring out John's best qualities and polish them to a shine. There's a phrase I keep remembering from Emma Bull's Finder that goes something like "Tick-Tick polished me on her sleeve until I could tell the real flaws from the tarnish." And I think in a lot of ways that's what Paul did for John.

Yoko didn't do that. She's just not very good at what she does, her political commentary is instantly dated and she doesn't have South Park's brilliance (yes I'm really drawing this comparison) because she takes it too seriously and wants to be taken seriously too much. The desperation leaks through. So I'm not surprised that John's work wasn't well received while he was with her and that he just stopped producing after a while. There was a lot that went into it -- I think John legitimately needed a break -- but I simply don't see any evidence that Yoko was able to make John a better artist the way that Paul did. That's not how she challenged him.

But otoh she was stronger than Paul. We know she was because she got John in the divorce. And that I think is the vital difference and its the ur-motive behind John staying with her. He simply respected her more because he knew she would make him eat out of that dog dish if he misbehaved and John always respected overt strength. I'm not sure that John ever fully appreciated Paul's stiff spine and ability to weather storms for what it was so he didn't understand what exactly Paul was doing. He just knew Paul wasn't fighting for him the way Yoko did. 

when it comes to John's...everything, Paul was better for him in that regard because John didn't go out of control because of him, but I think that's more because John was trying to honor Paul in their weird marriage. (which is always the part that makes me think "well if they were in a secret relationship then surely it couldn't have blown up the way it did so they must not have been doing that..." probably wishful thinking but who knows.) I think that the 1960s were John keeping himself in check to a degree because he didn't want to scare or hurt Paul too badly -- he had his outbursts but he knew that Paul could weather those and he did. I think John tried, up until the very end, to be the partner Paul needed him to be and so the "keeping in check" thing was John desperately trying to keep himself together because he saw himself as Paul's husband, his help-mate, etc. and a good spouse does not put their wife in a position where they have to start making hard choices.

but the thing is that John was only human and he was under an inhumane amount of pressure. It was really the heroin that did it, I think that John started taking it after Yoko introduced him to it because he was trying to self medicate his outbursts and feelings. The thing about heroin is that when you're using it, nothing matters and you can kind of glide through tough times emotionally with relative ease. so I think that john must have been attracted to that.

I think John must have been very crushed when he realized that he was frankly a terrible spouse to Paul -- there's a lot of baggage there but ultimately I think John really did consider himself married to Paul and it's humiliating and horrific to realize that your marriage is failing and you're the cause. Notably John took the same route with Paul that he did with Cynthia: he used Yoko as a wedge to force Cyn and Paul to leave him because he was too spineless to do it himself.

Yoko and John certainly had a lot in common -- they both used substances to get away from their problems, they were both shitty parents (Yoko was insanely neglectful to Kyoko which is one of the reasons why her ex-husband got custody of her) and I think that they bonded over feeling awful. Yoko is a lot more narcissistic and John was a lot more hysterical but they saw a lot of themselves in each other. John mistakenly believed that meant he could recreate the Lennon-McCartney effect with her because he had one mirror image and it worked out why not again...

But the actual effect was a "crabs in a bucket" thing. John leaving May to go back to Yoko was because Yoko didn't want him to get better. She was blatantly using him for money of course but I think she also couldn't stand the fact that he was actively improving and she needed to drag him back. So she broke him down with narcotics and honestly she probably negged him PUA style into oblivion.

So...Paul/Yoko. Paul and Yoko is the same and I think John was attracted to both of them for the same reasons. Like if you want to know what a female Paul is like, look at Yoko Ono and you have your answer. including the bit where she had to be a lot more ruthless and hard nosed on account of being a female in patriarchal societies.

But when it mattered most Paul folded and Yoko didn't and so John lost his 30s to an emotionally abusive relationship where they brought out the worst in one another.

namaste — 06/28/2022 Wall of text alert.

Apologies for the delay. Finally returning to these compelling posts I wanted to discuss against a context I know well, that of systems theory and organisational structures where two peers control all processes and outcomes, and problems require new solutions.

“What I always find interesting about the Paul/Yoko thing is that in the end I think Yoko was stronger than Paul because she was willing to introduce consequences to John which Paul wasn't really willing to do.”

Absolutely. A key strength of Yoko linked to both good and malice is psychological and contextual manipulation. It is she who shrewdly rebranded John’s year and a half of hall passes authorised by her as a “Lost Weekend”, thus minimising its significance through a reshaping of public perception – something they cared inordinately about. As you demonstrated with the airport anecdote, Yoko retained full control of the ‘product’ they conceptualised (John&Yoko) and of a patent they ‘owned’, May, which she controlled via John as head of Bag One, their shared enterprise. In this paradigm, John was effectively Jonathan Paul Ive, the creative engineer, to one Steve Paul Jobs, the visionary leader and only person who could and would by any means impose his decisions even if Jonathan vetoed them.

With Paul, a fundamental difficulty stems from emotional scar tissue attached to the exercise and relinquishment of individual agency on his and John’s part at different junctures, which you already excellently argued. Another aspect which may also explain the irresistible pull of Yoko, beyond consequences applied to John’s more ill-advised actions, and in the end a pull superior to Paul’s, is that between John and Paul these executive roles and functions were reversed.

John is rightfully Steve, a singular brand ambassador operating in the sine qua non realm of Vision, “Toppermost of the Poppermost”. And Paul is rightfully Jonathan, a unique talent operating at the highest level in the equally vital realm of Mission, the one who ensures abstract ideas turn into reality through sheer willpower and his understanding of John’s mind. When Geoff Emerick on his first day with the Beatles was thrown by John’s “I want my voice to sound like the Dalai Lama chanting from a mountaintop, miles away”, Paul without needing to consult John immediately translated the request into layman's terms.

A simple example – there are so many – by Hunter Davies who witnessed their writing sessions for “With A Little Help From My Friends”:

“John picked up the phone. After a lot of playing around, he finally got through, but it was engaged. ‘If I hold on, does that mean I eventually get through?’ (Vision: modern telephony) 

‘No, you have to hang up,’ said Paul.” (Mission: results delivery)

One cannot exist without the other and it is taxing to carry both functions. Paul’s strengths are not maximised in a job role requiring willingness to stand in the line of fire and being prepared to take the first bullet, but he is the embodiment of execution, read getting the job done. Acting as chairperson and CEO long-term demands exceptionally well-rounded individuals. One would argue from experience that it often leads, in fields where abstract semantics, interpretation, and concreteness synergise closely, to diminished results or less forward-looking solutions. Music and mathematical modelling need eccentricity and an ability to visualise field patterns from peripheral coastlines. Expected and invaluable abilities in chairpersons, rather bewildering for teams when dominant in CEOs.

Simply put, any progress implies innovative ideas are materialised and ideally, those guiding production at ground level have a visionary counterpart who validates course and represents. Arguably the most consistent source of power, often deemed the real power, is where most evident doing occurs, something Paul rapidly excelled at beyond expectations. Hence threats perceived by John amplified by addiction and mental health factors, the latter dangerously conducive to brilliance when on the right side of spikes and troughs. Vision leaders have to be ultra-visible and always willing to be exposed and heard. To rightfully be in that role like John and later on not always self-possessed makes for too much adventure in finding new solutions. In my field, we could not work while intoxicated or if shying away from accountability and problems. In music, Mick confirmed as much when he explained that he soon realised as a frontman and as the head of his organisation that it is preferable to be under control, i.e., sober. Especially if forced to carry for a long time Vision and Mission.

Without resiliency when inspiration falters, without a lithium prescription as you pointed out, Paul’s ascendance, what most “Big Bosses” dream of in their CEO, introduced randomness. The Beatles are among the most fascinating system failures of our times. A systems thinking thesis analysing them using chaos theory and neural networks to model survivability is begging for a “mad scientist”. (Unfortunately, STEM faculties still freeze when daring multidisciplinary research projects they ask for knock on their door.) If many industrial complex adaptive systems, e.g., automation systems, are maintained on the edge of chaos where dynamic balance exists between order and total turbulence (to optimise flow rates for instance), unlike the Beatles, we have anti-butterfly effect measures in place. One malfunctioning sensor network should never affect overall performance.

So, John did the unthinkable when he felt unfulfilled and fell out of love with the Beatles/Paul: he silently abdicated his position and acted like a session musician while confusing Paul by pulling randomly at strings under his remit. Hence, he beheaded the organisation while retaining all symbolic power in Paul’s eyes and doubled down with self-preserving behaviours of yore when moving on from relationships. Provoke the heart, in this case one of the two loves of his life, into collapse through disrespectful and cruel behaviour. Paul’s initial reaction in line with his innate sense of duty and passive-aggressive tendencies was to redouble focus on minutiae and process, and shy away for a long time from critical incident analysis in hopes of delivering organisational survival, the opposite approach to harnessing butterfly effects. Interestingly as you noted, Paul pivoted not unlike Cynthia but with the power only true peers hold and stunned John. Unfortunately, he also stunned himself in the process.

"You can check-out any time you like” "But you can never leave!"

Had this been purely a business matter, e.g., Keith’s decades long addiction which required Mick’s combination of world-class business leadership skills and clear-mindedness as regards Keith and drugs, Paul might have succeeded in managing change, be it finding a manager all Beatles agreed on and redefining his creative partnership with John. Mick summed up the business aspect of John and Paul’s troubles as follows: “Leaders should sort of agree what your roles are. Whereas John and Paul felt they were too strong, and they wanted to be in charge. If there are 10 things, they both wanted to be in charge of nine of them. You’re not gonna make a relationship like that work, are you?” Conversely, when John dropped all things but a few, it couldn’t work for much longer given unresolved romantic feelings also stood in the way of what they set out to do and of the person whose strength it was to get them there.

As the flowerpot conversation in GB showed, Paul correctly saw John as ‘Big Boss’ however incorrectly assumed John understood their roles had remained unalterable. This regardless of evolving business practice and of a lack of positive reinforcement by Paul with the central figure in his life, who he knew needed regular affirmations from him, the first person John chose as his partner and trusted to tell him the truth (and who eventually got affirmations and select truths from Yoko). John did not know how to ask outside abstraction and Paul did not know how to give outside tangible safe actions, typically reflective of SMART objectives (specific, measurable, achievable, realistic, and time-bound). 

John couldn’t see Paul would remain committed to teenage pacts even if major violations occurred, such as debasement by John of their partnership under the guise of “John said that no one ever hurt him the way Paul hurt him. But it’s in the past. It’s gone.” Whatever this is, it reaches beyond business, within self-medicating oneself into oblivion, and where introducing meaninglessness into what was once everything to them and still was to Paul felt warranted to John. Glastonbury stands as another vivid indicator that business issues are not enough to cause breakups this loaded.

At an instinctual level, Paul knew not to let Yoko into his life. It is only later that he could apply his intellect to “What happened?” and understood enough to be regretful, which he manages quite well given impossibilities. But it’s safe regret isn’t it when you have full control of who and what you once wanted, feared most, and can no longer have through no fault of your own? It is a tragic paradox that such a Mission orientated individual is now clinging to Vision. 

Hence, Yoko is also braver and operates with more freedom of thought and action than Paul who chose, firstly, not to reciprocate when reciprocating meant more than writing love songs to John. It was there, often speechless, and he caught glimpses of it in 1963-64 and on 25 June 2022. As much as choosing the conventional family way given limitations of his time, expectations from his upbringing, a need for legitimation and for the public image he is comfortable with made it a choice for Paul who also always has to have someone with him. And secondly, Paul opted to distance himself when John needed him most. Heart-breaking from such a close friend who likely only ever proposed what worked perfectly for him despite John’s known worldview and political self. He was at least worthy of a meeting of the minds on the topic “A deeper love there that neither of us could admit to.” And finally, Paul decided when faced with intolerable happenings including Yoko in a bed at the studio to crawl into his shell and not impress upon John that it is not acceptable to defect and hold on to power. Fifteen-year-old Paul whose confident behaviour I have once described as “that of a CEO with a full diary. Offered to join, it’s ‘I’ll think about it’” is how John’s respect was earned and the core of iron he responded to. Yoko seized upon that.

Something similar occurred with the Rolling Stones over business decisions once it was clear Keith had overcome heroin addiction for good and got squashed hard by Mick. Keith was informed that by vanishing for 10+ years, he had effectively demoted himself and lost leverage as a peer. Whilst he describes Mick as a control freak to this day, Mick saved the band. An amiable disposition helps and Keith took ownership, reluctantly accepted consequences, and regained the only veto rights as regards Mick’s leadership. A huge difference of course, is Keith was off hard drugs, a more stable individual from the start, and less insecure. Another huge difference is even when they did not talk, Mick could always be counted on by Keith.

Had Paul found it within himself to adopt a harder stance, the Beatles would probably have broken up earlier but his relationship with John might have suffered less because indeed, “John always respected overt strength”. It would be sensible for Paul to have drawn a line too, yet we hit the same issue. Yoko left John in no doubt and Paul by all appearances was silently at a loss in his own mental prison and perhaps only understood his real feelings after John’s death.

Maddingway — 06/28/2022 Explaining it in terms of organizational structure really crystallized this for me, damn. I honestly didn't understand the subtext of what was happening in the flower pot conversation until you put this down

namaste — 06/28/2022 Aaah that’s awesome to read. I suddenly had ideas Saturday after reading the conversation and all I could do was park in a service lane(!) to leave myself a reminder.

Accidental essay. We think about this stuff every day. John and Paul are maddening. You couldn’t have better skillsets for their respective roles, but human factors are where it leads to failure.

It is a shame Mick was not yet seen as a peer. If only Paul had been able to open up to him a little. Exceptional leadership skills. Well-rounded and perfect in a band not dependent on much visualisation or innovation, but rather anchored in traditional music genres. John post-1970 consulted him on all manners of business concerns until he retreated home.

Maddingway — 06/28/2022 I was going to say. When I think of Mick Jagger I don't immediately think of leadership skills but the fact that the Stones have stayed for as long as they have and with very, very few changes to their line up (usually someone has to die before Mick replaces them) really puts the bow on that, doesn't it. My father was talking about this the other day when I was asking him questions about how he felt regarding old bands touring again (this was in the context of the Grateful Dead who my dad quietly detests lol) and he remarked that he can still listen to the Stones because they've been together for so long and there has been so little change in their line up. And that he found this interesting compared to their contemporaries who have had to do a lot of shuffling because of deaths, behavioral issues, drug problems, or people just retiring and not wanting to be a part of the scene anymore. Neither of us made the connection to Mick but that really is what it takes, huh.

I think what's so horribly sad about Paul's side of it is that he had to be so hardheaded but that it was being hardheaded about driving himself straight into the dirt because he couldn't name the bad thing.

Ultimately I guess that's why Beatles fans tend to be softer on John: his suffering was so overt, it's easy to see why he wasn't able to handle the pressure even if his individual actions can (and should be) criticized. John visibly fell apart and his personality is such that he was very upfront about it. Paul, not so much. It's still a mystery to this day why he wasn't able to name the bad thing. (Or maybe it's just that the depth of cowardice and folly he displayed is just difficult for modern 21st century people to come to grips with. It makes me shudder, honestly. I try to be honest with the people I'm close to even if I don't always succeed.)

I know what that's like a little but I like to think I'd do it differently if I were in Paul's position. But hopefully I'll never know.

But then again if Paul's problems really do stem from the theory/the theme then maybe it's not such a mystery as to why he curls up when faced with the possibility of emotional exposure. For someone like Paul, anything that comes within 20 feet of his problems results in a panic attack on his part and then walling the offending factor off and away from himself.

***

Maddingway — 06/28/2022 I think you've noted this before but Paul always had wallflower/shy tendencies especially when confronted with something outside his remit. When he knows how to handle a situation (stage performance, goofing around on Snapchat and TikTok, and it does not escape my notice that these are essentially public facing customer/public relations type shit) then he can really put himself out there and even be bold enough to experiment...but when he's faced with something he doesn't know how to handle then he curls up. Typically this is when he's faced with something emotional. When the two intersect then I think he's legitimately psychologically triggered and he freaks the fuck out. (Like that argument Paul had with his stepsister Ruth about her getting into the music industry that ended with him shouting at her to be a gold digger and marry a rich Arab, the way he freaked out when Linda was in discussions to get a biography written because he couldn't take the thought of her communicating her story independent of him. These are not the actions of a rational man who has a well adjusted relationship with his career field.)

Maddingway — 06/28/2022 And it's not actually weird that Paul tends to shrink when he can't figure out what to do in a given situation, we've all experienced that to one degree or another, it's just that what makes Paul (and his relationship with John) baffling is that he reacts this way in the face of what seems to us as very basic relationship problems that could have been cleared up if he was willing to weather some fiery squabbles and John giving him the cold shoulder for a week or two. But he couldn't.

So I wonder if John's thing was that he too was confused and baffled and maybe even frightened by it? John was manipulative and tended to sublimate his desires into subconscious actions (like that one song he had where he said something like that "I thought if I ran then you would chase me but I was in for a rough surprise huh"). Like we can tell that John was trying to deliberately provoke Paul by bringing in Yoko and we can suppose that he was trying to recreate Hamburg where Paul fought Stuart for him. It was a childish impulse on John's end yes, but otoh considering his own mental state at the time, it's not actually that bad of a shit test since he had already wittingly posed it to Paul and Stuart before. (And in the case of Hamburg, John showed Stuart his own preferences when he refused to discipline Paul for inciting the fist fight in the first place.) What if that was John's fear response to Paul's waffling and the fact that he basically stopped talking to John? Like what if the flower pot conversation was the first "real" discussion they had had in a while...

I think Paul is right to point the finger at John a bit for trying to rely on telepathy but it's not like Paul was known for being communicative at that time and if his response to stress is to turtle up then....

What is intriguing in a Big Picture sort of way is how Paul seems to have gotten weaker over time and with exposure to the Beatles machine. 16 year old Paul could be trusted to shut John down in some way or another I think. Like, if there was some sort of weird time travel incident where a 16 year old Paul went from a Quarry Man rehearsal/19 year old Paul walked out of the Top Ten Club, and he walked into 1969 Twickenham somehow, I think that younger Paul could be trusted to go WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU FUCKING DOING YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE and introduce some sort of consequences to John, even if it was him storming out in a rage because John brought his girlfriend to rehearsal.

But the older, tired, world weary and frightened late 20s Paul Macca couldn't find that strength within him and he just assumed instead, because it was safer. And John, given his struggles at the time, couldn't articulate even when he was truly honestly trying. (I think John was desperately trying to spit it out during the flowerpot convo but couldn't bc he didnt have the strength to send Yoko away even tho he wanted to.)

namaste — 06/28/2022 Much as we know Paul saw something pleasing on buses, at the chippie, and other places we still learn about before they met, and pleasing enough to show up at one of John’s performance also before they met, it’s one thing to be fascinated and for it to become so much more than he could ever imagine. With Paul what to us is a simple relationship discussion equals the admission of something he has yet to and never will admit imo. It secretly panics him and you could see he was a little self-conscious for a second at Glastonbury when a camera intruded on his private moment with John.

It is something I would contend John understood about himself regardless of self-acceptance or not in this case, and Paul. I find Mick’s words helpful for both, that they were simple Northern boys and ‘were uptight about these things’. So even for John who strikes me as more sophisticated in that aspect than Paul who was quite sheltered until he met John, if you speak it, it exists. Come 1967, at that point Mick’s been around a while, I can imagine John hoping for a more open relationship between them and being more at home with all that.

I put a lot of Paul’s inability to assert himself down to real love. Specifically his worse nightmare realised, being in love with another man which went against everything he was supposed to be. He at least much later stated that he is the number one fan of John Lennon and always did love him and still does as we saw.

As for John I do think he struggled less inwardly with loving Paul but was mightily confused by mixed signals from Paul.

I do agree the flowerpot conversation could easily be an exception as regards their communication. It is also a performance due to the number of people present, hence it is more business meeting than John and Paul touching on threatening topics.

Maddingway — 06/28/2022

With Paul what to us is a simple relationship discussion equals the admission of something he has yet and never will admit imo. It secretly panics him and you could see he was a little self-conscious for a second at Glastonbury when a camera intruded on his private moment with John.

Well, there it is.

A lot of John's vulnerability towards MLM is Paul-centric. Because of mixed signals, because he himself couldn't bear to make himself truly vulnerable and couldn't stop testing Paul because he felt insecure in Paul's love, etc. (Even without getting into the fact that Paul couldn't let himself love John as much as he wanted to which eventually drove John away.) He didn't necessarily carry that baggage with his assignation with Bowie and ended up being more comfortable with playing with costumes/interacting with drag performers/etc.

I guess by the 70s John had given up on having a heterosexual marriage "fix" him though he still wasn't quite able to take the next logical step with regards to his sexuality. Paul was certainly a stopper there but John still was trying to learn to love himself too.

Of course Paul still can't bring himself to get out the gate. Too close to home and exposes parts of himself that are controversial even today.

namaste — 06/28/2022 Submissive body language of the two wives he ‘controlled/controls’ most when they were/are aware photographers are around. Especially annoying to me in Nancy given we’re in 2022, she’s very accomplished in her own right, and has no financial need for him whatsoever. Her choice, but you know…

Linda struggled with how controlling Paul is. There are plenty of stories of her confiding about that including a meagre allowance and difficulty accessing money. She really loved him.

The only time I believe Paul loved more than he was loved is in relation to John. With what you describe which I completely agree with, this is by far scarier to him than being the object of someone’s love. To this species of control freak, being loved and reciprocating just enough is a much more desirable state than being in love which threatened to expose him.

Maddingway — 06/28/2022 Christ wept.

Is there a personality disorder for that?

Respecting Jane Asher even more now because she consistently gave him hell and then scalped him on live television

***

Maddingway — 06/28/2022 brainwave that just came to me: John and Paul also suffered from "magical thinking" and were convinced that everything would work itself out just like it always did, so they were also less inclined to act for the same reasons they kept Magic Alex around even though he was a clear charlatan. just a terrible inability to face the truth.

It's funny how it always comes back to that. They could not face the truth about themselves and therefore could not face the truth about the world around them.

namaste — 06/28/2022 A million percent... On top of it, the Beatles becoming such a phenomenon only reinforced any belief they had in magical thinking which everything suggests was significant. Their dreams came true tenfold.

Going back to Mick again, he did express that it was not a pleasant thing at all to fire Brian Jones. Ultimately, his taking and actioning hard decisions is why they are still around. There’s no question Keith agreed, but no way it gets done by Keith.

[letarasstuff]

Doesn't she love me anymore?

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it as much as I do!

Summary: Spencer's daughter starts to question why her mother left the small family early on

Warnings: Mentions/undertones of bullying, an absent parent and descreptions of the concequences for the child, So. Much. Angsty. Feelings.

Wordcount: 2.5k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________

“Daddy?” Spencer turns around from the frying pan to look at his daughter. Against common belief, he is quite the cook. But this only started when he became a father, after he realized a child won’t be able to live off of a diet consisting of coffee and anxiety, just like he did at the time. “Yes, Sweetheart?”

She looks down to the piece of paper on the kitchen counter in front of her. “Why did Mommy leave us?”

The spatula falls to the ground. It’s a question the father did not expect on a Tuesday morning before school. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? She saw me the first time and didn’t want me anymore. It’s my fault Mommy left us, left you, just like Linda said.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

“No no no”, her father is quick to turn off the heat and walks around the island to hug his daughter. “None of this is your fault. I don’t know what this Linda said, but it is not true. Your mother had her own reasons to stay out of our lives, but it has nothing to do with you.”

This doesn’t calm her down. “What are her reasons? Why did she leave us? Why did leave me?” Frantically she tries to keep her sobs down in order to speak. Spencer never has seen her this upset.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you are in the right state to talk about it now? Why don’t we calm down and get something for breakfast on our way to school and talk about it after I pick you up this afternoon?” He suggests, hoping the thought of a cup of hot chocolate from their favorite bakery would help her.

(Y/N) looks up at him with bloodshot and glassy eyes. Snot runs down from her nose. Spencer is quick to get her a tissue and make her blow into it, cringing internally about all those germs. “Do you promise to tell me more after school?” Big eyes look up at him and the father hurts. It hurts him, because there are so many things in her future that will break her and all that because of her mother. He can’t shield her from all of it, as much as he wants to he isn’t able. Because there always will be people, people like this Linda, who will make the girl conscious of her absent mother.

“I promise”, he tells her and holds his little finger out for her. (Y/N) smiles while linking hers with his, knowing her father will keep this promise just like any other of his. “Good, and now pack up we got a bakery to visit!” Quickly the girl grabs the piece of paper in front of her only to shove it into her backpack.

A little later she sits at her desk and looks at her teacher expectantly, just like her fellow classmates. “Ok children, today we won’t work further on our addition and subtraction worksheets-” The teacher’s sentence is cut short by the eruption of cheerful shouts. Just (Y/N) looks at the multiplication sheet in front of her.

The teacher is quick to quiet the class again. “Instead we will continue our work on the mother’s card you started doing yesterday. Linda was so kind to tell me that you don’t have the chance to finish them at home, because your moms are there. That is why you do it here and your worksheets at home.”

With a frown on her face (Y/N) pulls out the blank piece of paper that made her feel bad ever since her teacher handed it out to her yesterday. While everybody around her chatters happily with other classmates, she just stares at the paper. It is a reminder of something she doesn’t have, something she lacks and will never get: A real mother. A hug from her mother. Not even the motherly reassurance one gets after a nightmare. Nothing.

“Hey orphan. Ya realizing your mom doesn’t love you and that’s why she left you?” Linda, someone (Y/N) later learns to call a Mean Girl, struts up to the younger one’s desk. A sigh leaves her lips before answering. “You do know for an orphan I need to have neither a mommy nor a daddy. And I do for a fact have a dad, a loving one actually.”

A more light than hard slap on the back of her head makes the girl’s body jolt. “I don’t care, but I know that your mom hates you enough just after looking at you to know she doesn’t want anything to do with you.” After that Linda goes back to her table, leaving (Y/N) feeling more miserable than before.

Some starring on the paper later her teacher passes her table. “Is there something you want to talk about, Sweetheart? You seem very sad.” That is an obvious fact. Finally the girl is able to lift her gaze. “Miss Ramirez, I don’t know what to do.” This is probably the first time ever she said this sentence in school.

“Mother’s day is in a few days, Sweetie, and this is why we all make these cards. It’s a thank you to your mom and a way to show her how much you love her. You love your mom, don’t you?” The shake of her head shocks the teacher. Immediately an alarming signal rings through her head, because this is a red flag. “Why? Did she do something?”

“Miss Ramirez, I don’t have a mommy. She- she left Daddy and me.” Tears fill (Y/N)’s eyes. Her teacher is quick to hug and sush her. “Oh Sweetie, this is not a bad thing. I’m sure your mom loves you very much, even if she is not there with you. Do you wanna go out for a bit to calm down?” Meanwhile she connects the obvious signs of a single dad in her mind. Missed parent teacher conferences, unnecessary hovering over the child and the tendency to be categorized as a helicopter parent. Yes, Dr. Reid ticks all of those boxes.

It’s the second time of the day that an adult asked (Y/N) to calm down, and frankly it doesn’t really help with the situation at hand. “Can I do my homework outside? It’s too loud in here”, she asks between sniffles. Both of them know that the class’ volume is not the real reason for the request. “Of course, Sweetheart. If you need something, just come in and ask me. Alright?” (Y/N) nods and gets her multiplication sheet and a pencil before leaving the classroom.

At the end of the school day, Spencer is there to pick up his daughter. For days like these, where are no cases, Hotch gave him a free pass on (Y/N)’s very first day at school to leave the office earlier to be able to pick her up himself. As a father and someone who works the same high demanding job as him, he knows that little things like these are often the most important. And even if there were a case today, Spencer would have stayed back. He promised his daughter the truth and this is what he is going to tell her.

“Hey Dr. Reid. Do you have a moment?” Her teacher greets him at the classroom door. Concerned about his child’s wellbeing he nods and follows her back out of the room. “I gave the children the assignment of creating a card for their mothers, because mother’s day is rolling around. Today (Y/N) told me her mother left you, is that right?” This is the moment Spencer connects the dots. This is the kick off that made her question her mother’s motives about leaving all of the sudden.

The young doctor clears his throat. “Uhm yes, that is right. Actually, I’m going to talk to her about it right after school on her demand.” Miss Ramirez nods with an understanding nod. “Thank you for your honesty, Dr. Reid. I also want to warn you, in two days we will hold a celebration in honor of mother’s day with the kids’ mothers. You are invited as a father, because this is a special situation. But I also give (Y/N) a free pass for this event. It can be very traumatic for her.”

The dad thanks her, but his thoughts are somewhere else. He is mad. He is mad for his daughter, because she will always be the one with a “special situation”. The odd one, because yeah, it isn’t uncommon for fathers to leave (which isn’t anything less sad and traumatic), but an absent mother hits differently.

But Spencer is also hurt. Hurt, because for her young age, there is already the word “traumatic” thrown around. No, it isn’t enough that her dad works a job with the risk of him not coming home from a case again, or being the target of an enemy. No, she also has to go through the experience of missing a parent, never knowing how her life would be if it wasn’t for someone like her mother.

Even with Spencer trying to fill that role, there will be a time where (Y/N) will ask herself all of the “what ifs”. He can’t stop it from happening, and that is his biggest pain right there. Because he can’t shield her from her own thoughts. At the age of six she already is a bright, brilliant and talented mind. Now in a few years or maybe just months, she will start to think about her mother being the root of her pain, bad experiences and hurt. Her thoughts will lead to a downward spiral of how a person can do something like her mother, who acted like that with the knowledge of which consequences will follow. And Spencer can’t stop this from happening.

“Daddy!” A small thud comes from (Y/N) colliding with his leg. Just by the way she squeezes it he knows that she hasn’t had a good day at school. “Hey Baby. Do you want to go to the office for a bit? I think your Auntie Penelope told me something about a new science set she got for you. Or do you want to go straight home?” Spencer asks after lifting her into his arms. Immediately she hides her face into the crook of his neck. “Home”, she murmurs. Home it is then.

“Aaaaaand here comes the little missy’s hot chocolate!” The father says in a funny voice while carefully putting the cup into his daughter’s hands. She sits covered in a blanket on the sofa, looking expectantly at her father.

Spencer sighs at the lack of reaction. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” (Y/N) nods adamantly. “Ok, but I got to go a bit back for this story

“It was about eight years ago, I worked on a case with your Aunties and Uncles back then. I was the one who had to get the last round of coffee for the night at a small 24/7 diner. As I walked in I thought I died, because I was sure an angel stood right in front of me. Well not-” “Is that Mommy?!” (Y/N) cuts him off excitedly. Spencer smiles slightly. “You need to listen to the story!” The girl shifts in her seat. “Right, sorry.”

As I was saying: well in front, because she sat at the bar waiting for her order. I nervously ordered the coffees and had to begin three times, because I kept messing up, mesmerized by her sole atmosphere. As the waiter went to put the coffee pot on, the woman turned towards me and introduced herself. After that she asked me what I was doing late at night in a small town like that and we somehow forgot everything around us by just talking. After that we stayed in touch. Six months later we became a couple, she moved to DC in order for me to still be able to do my job here.

“Two years later your Mom got pregnant with you, and it was quite a surprise to us. But we felt ready at that time and so she moved in with me and we had you. The first few months were great, we couldn’t be happier. BUt then you continuously became ill. At first just a cold, then the pocks and so on. I think it was the third night in a row where you held us up all night. I took a year off from work to care for you with your Mom. I carried you through our apartment the whole night, giving you a bottle, singing, reading, doing anything.

“Then I saw her standing in the doorway. Even though there was baby vomit on her sweatpants and I had never seen her eye bags being this dark, she was the most beautiful woman to me. I approached her with a smile, but her frown only deepened. I thought it was because she worried about you and your health. Instead she told me she can’t do it. She can’t be a mother, that she wasn’t cut for this job.” Her exact words still resonate in Spencer’s ears to this day. He knows exactly what she said, word for word, and they never stopped to sting any less.

“So Mommy left us because I was too much trouble?” (Y/N)’s voice sounds even sadder than before. “No, it never was because of you. She knew exactly what it meant to have a child. Your mother knew what kind of work it takes and what the future brought. You have absolutely nothing to do with it. Some people are just not made to be parents and it’s better when they realize it themselves and leave the situation.”

(Y/N) nods, her mind running wild. All of that makes plenty of sense but at the same time not. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t change the fact that I love you and I will never leave you. You are my everything and I’m so happy to be a dad to such a wonderful little girl like you. I want you to remember that your Mom may not be here with us, but she still loves you. And I’m here for you, for anything you need, want or don’t want. Do you understand me?”

She nods again and curls up into her father’s lap. “Can we watch something?” She asks after a bit of silence, where both of them indulged their own thoughts. Quickly the TV turned on and some kids movie plays. The rest of the day the small family spends all the time cuddled on the couch, because at the moment they need to feel the other there with them.

The next two days Spencer calls (Y/N) in sick at school and himself at work, because together they fly to Vegas. Just because her own mother wasn’t ready for the job, doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate the work her grandmother did as a mother. That and you never know how much time you have left with the people who are dear to you.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos @jswessie187 @kneelforloki

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962 @ellyhotchner

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I’ve got an idea! How about a Police reader who arrests Felix for drunk driving before the kids die?

Finally a good ending we deserve-

.........

Being a police officer who worked late shifts meant that some nights were quiet, while others were...tense. But even slightly tense situations could turn deadly if you weren't quick and careful with your response to them.

It's truly a matter of life or death, not only for you but also for those surrounding you. So you had to be on your guard even if nothing remarkable was happening.

Sure, the roads along Saint Juana's forest were quiet especially at this time of night, though from experience you knew it didn't always stay that way..

Such as right now for instance, when a sleek black car was barreling down the road. It practically flew by your own car, swerving in a way that was all too familiar to you.

In a way that a distracted or drunk driver would.

Welp, time for you to go to work.

"So much for a peaceful night.." You sighed to yourself, turning on your lights and sirens before you began following the car.

'Please cooperate and make my life easier.'

...........

"Uncle Felix? That cop's following us, slow down."

"I know, Eddie. Just...damnit, why now? I just wanna go home and...and sleep." Felix slurred as he gripped the wheel, his vision growing hazier by the second. He was anxious about getting caught, and for a moment he thought about speeding up to lose the officer.

He had no idea there was even one on these roads.

"C-Can you stop, please?" Molly pleaded, hugging Rocket as she looked back at the blue and red lights. "You should always stop for the police."

Although his drunkenness clouded a majority of his judgement, he managed to have enough sense to listen to her. He reluctantly pulled over and stopped, groaning as he rested his head on the wheel.

Maybe the kids were right. Maybe he drank a bit more than usual. He forgot how much he even had, but it wasn't his fault that the school had a "drinking zone" established.

Regardless, he was glad he stopped driving for the time being. Now he can just take a nap and forget the world.

Forget the divorce..and Ja-

Tap tap

The sounds startled Felix wide awake, though he saw it was you--the officer--at the window. He rolled it down and smiled up at you. "Evenin' officer."

"Evening." You greeted, noting that his breath practically reeked of alcohol. "You were speeding quite a lot. You nearly took out my side mirror."

"Oh...Oh fuck..I'm sorry 'bout that. I'm just trying to get my friend's kids home. I'm supposed to get 'em back by nine." Despite his attempts to act sober, he was clearly failing.

Ed and Molly remained silent in the backseat, not wanting to snitch and accidentally anger their uncle again.

"I understand, but may I see some license and registration?"

For a few good moments, he seemed to forget where he put those. He was even struggling to get his ID out of his own wallet, which made you fully convinced he was drunk driving.

"Ah, Felix Kranken?" You hummed as you looked at the card. The name was familiar. You've seen it show up in advertisements for a new restaurant that would be opening soon, alongside the other founder's name.

"Y-Yeah, the one and only." He chuckled.

"Do you mind stepping out of the car for me?" You asked politely, returning the ID to him. "I have reasons to believe you're under the influence and...possibly endangering those kids." As you spoke, you peered into the window to see the two clearly worried kids. "So I need to run some tests."

Felix's heart sank into his stomach, realizing just how screwed he was. Absolutely everything went wrong with his life today.

Not only did Linda divorce him, but Jack couldn't be bothered to ask if he was doing okay, instead making him be a "taxi service" to his two youngest children.

And the fact you were probably going to arrest him, which would ruin his chances to help Jack open the business he worked so hard to bring to life, became the last straw.

He choked out a drunken sob, shaking his head. "I-I'm sorry, I'm..I'm just so tired. I just got divorced and..I-I'll admit it..I got serious problems. Do you have to arrest me? Is there anything I can do??"

"If you're admitting that you're drunk, then..unfortunately I have to arrest you, Mr. Kranken." Honestly, you felt bad for the guy. But you needed to consider the possibly of him trying to use his position and personal problems as an excuse.

No matter who he was, or what was going on in his life, he wasn't above the law.

"M-My life is over. Oh god..wh-what am I gonna tell Jack?!" Felix began crying, but he complied in stepping out of the car, although he abruptly collapsed to his knees. He didn't even try to get up.

Your heart broke a little as you heard Molly trying to console him, telling him "everything is going to be okay."

For young children, they were so calm and understanding as you explained why you were arresting their uncle--reassuring that neither of them were in trouble--and got their dad's contact information, which was conveniently written on their bunny plushie's tag.

You were glad you stopped the car when you did..or god knows what could've happened to them.

On the other hand Felix was acting like the child, sobbing and hiccupping when you handcuffed him and led him into your car. He seemed more terrified of his business partner finding out than the fact he could've killed Ed and Molly.

Either way, it was better than him being an angry drunk. You've come across quite a few of those uncooperative jerks who denied they were drinking, even trying to run away from you while handcuffed.

But even so...seeing his tearful face as he apologized over and over was a difficult sight.

You were just doing your duty. And you've possibly saved all three of their lives tonight.

That was all that mattered.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there. 

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

[omarscurls]

Simon X Vaccines

Inspired by Omar’s old tweet about being able to take the COVID vaccine without his mom, featuring my old fear of shots, and lots of Wilmon fluff :))

A bit Simon-centred, at least in the beginning

TWs: Shots, sort of hospital environment? Anxiety, probably swearing

A/Ns looks like this

Enjoy!

• Simon is not scared.

• Sure his hand is shaking a little, so his hides it underneath the table. But he’s not scared.

• The school nurse stops talking and starts handing out papers that your guardians need to sign, if you’re getting the vaccine.

• The lesson goes on and everyone seems to have forgotten about the papers. Totally Simon too. Maybe not really.

• It takes Wilhelm gently touching his arm and asking a question about whatever they were working on for him to calm down.

• The week of the vaccines are ages away anyways, it’s fine.

• The thing is, Simon does not like getting shots. He has hated it ever since he was little.

• Which is why Linda sends him a concerned look when he asks her to sign the paper.

• He tells her that he’ll be fine. It’s stupid to still be scared of shots.

• His mom decides to drop it and hands him back the paper.

•He hates the feeling in his stomach when he puts the paper in his backpack.

What am I writing again?

• A couple of weeks later, and Simon had just woken up before school.

• Oh yeah and he’s a bit late, but if he skips breakfast and just runs to the bus there’s a chance he might still be on time.

Don’t mind where Sara is, she’s sick or smth. It’s not relevant and complicates things haha

• So when Simon arrives to the first lesson a bit out of breath he doesn’t realise what week and day it is.

• It feels like someone poured a bucket of cold water over him when the teacher starts reading the list of people that can start going to the school nurse, and she says his name.

• The people that were called starts moving, and that’s when Simon notices that Wilhelm is going with him. The Prince seems unbothered about all this, and talks about how it’s nice to miss some of the lesson.

• Simon just nods along, but he can feel the knot in his stomach coming back, and he tries to not start to cry.

• Wille seems to notice that something is up, so when Simon really does get tears in his eyes, he pulls him in behind a corner and lets the rest of the group walk ahead.

• He gently pulls Simon in for a hug, while asking what’s wrong. Simon mumbles a “nothing, I’m fine” at first and hides his face further in Wilhelm’s neck.

• A minute or so later, Simon continues “... it’s just... like...I don’t like shots. I thought I would be ok, but I don’t know, I had forgotten about it, and then I was just like not ready when we had to leave”.

• Wille smiles a little despite it all, his beautiful brave boyfriend, who is never scared of anything and always the one comforting people in situations like this, is scared of shots.

• Simon also looks very adorable in his big hoodie and still gently holding on to his boyfriend.

• Eventually he has calmed down enough that they decide to continue to the nurse’s room.

• Wilhelm holds his hand all the way through the corridor, and he doesn’t seem to care about the fact that some people are staring at them and whispering.

• There’s only one person left of their group when they arrive at the waiting area.

• They thankfully don’t pay much attention to Simon and Wilhelm and pretty soon the nurse opens the door, another student walks out and the last student walks in, so now they’re alone.

• Wilhelm puts an arm gently around Simon, and tells him again that it’ll be okay.

• The nurse comes out to get the next person a couple of minutes later. But when she asks them who wants to go first, Wilhelm asks if they can go together instead.

• She seems to consider it for a second, but notices that Simon has been crying and that he’s still subtly clinging a little to Wilhelm.

• They are both allowed inside, and Simon tenses just seeing the chair standing in the middle of the room.

• He absolutely hates the way these rooms look. All the sterile equipment laying around and the white yellowish walls.

• Simon pointedly does not look at all the ready shots laying in a plastic box on a table.

• The nurse asks for their names, even though you could see her clearly recognising the crown Prince.

• Then she asks who wants to go first, and you can see the fear in Simon’s eyes. But before he even manages to get eye contact with Wille, had his boyfriend already said “I’ll go first” and squeezed Simon’s hand gently.

It’s too late to give the nurse a name now, I just have to work with it

• If Wilhelm is nervous, Simon really can’t see it (and it is kind of his thing to notice what the boy was really feeling underneath all of the princely stuff)

• Wilhelm doesn’t say anything when Simon squeezes his hand even harder as he gets the vaccine.

• The nurse turns around to prepare for Simon, so Wilhelm gives Simon a quick hug as they switch places on the chair.

• He wants to pull away when he sees that the nurse is ready. But Simon just holds on to Wilhelm’s hand even harder and looks quickly into his boyfriends eyes. The comfort Wille’s eyes bring him makes him relax a little bit.

• Enough so that when the nurse asks if he’s ready, he nods and focuses of the feeling of Wilhelm’s hand in his.

• It’s over in a few seconds and Simon is surprised over how little it actually hurt, even though his arm is starting to feel a bit sore.

• She makes them sit in the waiting area for a few minutes just to make sure they are okay and not getting any weird reactions to the vaccine.

• Wilhelm is kissing Simon’s face all over and telling him just how brave he was.

Reference to when Simon calls Wille brave in episode 6

• Simon seems very relieved and just giggles when Wilhelm kisses his cheek and pulls him closer to him.

• Eventually they go back to class.

• And it all made Simon’s fear of shots way way better, but even years later he still brings Wilhelm along almost every time he needs to get a shot.

Ok so I thank you for reading! I feel like this was a mess to write haha

And just so you know I based this of my experience with how we do this in Sweden, so please ask if it doesn’t make sense to you. The vaccine in the story isn’t or doesn’t have to be the COVID vaccine, idk I choose not to label it.

[moral-turpitudes]

Reap What You Sow:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Sight Mentions of Blood/Gore, Fluff.

Word Count: 3,273

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Y/N is accused of stealing a check from the company, resulting in her being fired. But only after a tense situation, does her boss and longtime crush Thomas find out the truth.

It was nearing midnight as Y/N walked through the shop, her heels clicking on the uneven wooden floors as Linda finished the nights paperwork, a nervous look on her face as she shuffled them away.

Y/N paid no mind as she sat down at her desk near Thomas’ office. Tapping her pen nervously as she glanced at her wristwatch. They were supposed to be here by now. All of the Shelby brothers were supposed to be shouting and running through the shops still high on their victory against one of the other gangs in town. They were supposed to be sighing in relief and pouring the boys drinks, but only silence ensued as Linda crept towards the company safe which she’d sneakily found the combination to while going through Y/N’s desk one night. With a quick movement, she unlocked the heavy door, yanking it open and rifling through the stack of blank checks and tearing off a slip.

“Are you alright Linda? Do you need help?” Y/N asked as she saw her walk quickly back to her seat.

“I’m fine, just had to move around the shop a bit. Nerves right?” She said while fiddling with the slip of paper hidden in her hand, out of sight from her curious coworker.

“Yeah, I understand. They should be back by now. I don’t know where they are, but I’m sure Arthur will go straight to you when he arrives though.” She said with a small smile.

Linda nodded and quickly wrote the check out, shoving it in her purse before giving Y/N a small stack of papers.

“I’m going to run a letter to the mail, I’ll be back.” She said, walking out the door before Y/N could speak.

“Weird.” She mumbled to herself as she went back to going through the papers Linda handed her, all ones Thomas needed to sign-off on in the morning.

The cold air crept through Linda’s dress as she walked with her arms clutched around her to keep warm, the mailbox just in her sights as she remembered what she had to do.

“I’ll pay you if you keep quite about us alright love? It’ll only upset Arthur if he finds out. It could ruin our chances of being together if he’s not dealt with.” She’d said to her lover the night before Thomas’ plan went into effect. Tonight they were planning to take down a troublesome gang that strolled into town, but they were none the wiser to who she’d been fooling around with right under Arthur’s nose. The man was one of the gangs hit men, with the precise instruction from Linda to take Arthur out so she could run off with him instead.

The car nearby sent a shiver down Linda’s spine as she dropped the check into the mailbox, hoping it would all be over soon with no one suspecting her. She even used a blank check thinking no one could trace it, but little did she know just how well Shelby Company Limited kept their finances. As the car neared, she hoped Arthur wasn’t inside, meaning her plan had worked and her payment would be sent. But only time would tell.

With quick steps she went back into the shop, seeing Y/N walking out of Thomas’ office as she’d placed the remaining paperwork on his desk.

“Did ya find it okay? I thought you’d left for the night.” Y/N said.

“Everything is fine Y/N. Were you able to get those papers sorted?” She asked, changing the subject as the boys walked through door looking worse for wear.

“Yes.” Y/N answered quickly as she followed Linda’s wide-eyed gaze to the front door.

“Y/N go get the first aid kit. Now!” Thomas demanded as he sat Arthur down in a nearby chair, John helping unbutton his shirt as Finn grabbed the whiskey from Thomas’ office.

“Drink up brother this is going to hurt.” Finn said, holding the bottle to his lips as he chugged the brown liquid.

“My god what happened?” Y/N heard Linda ask as she gathered the first aid kit with shaking hands.

“Those fuckers shot me, one of the fellows almost shot me in the head damn near.” Arthur said through gritted teeth as Thomas looked at the gunshot wound to his abdomen.

“Here Tom.” Y/N said quickly, handing him the kit and crouching near Arthur to hold his hand that Linda was surprisingly not holding.

“It’ll be alright, deep breaths.” Y/N said squeezing his hand a bit to take his mind off Thomas extracting the bullet.

The room filled with Arthur’s shouts of agony as Thomas worked to dislodge it, his blood spurting out every so often from the movements of the tools.

“Linda are you alright?” John asked as he saw her face turn pale. He was holding Arthur back and helpless at the point.

“Yeah. Arthur? Love? It’s me. I want to stay but I’ll be no use on the floor. I’ll go home to be get things ready for you. Stay strong love.” She said quickly, her face sparkling with sweat as she fought back nausea from the sight of her almost ex-husbands blood. A panicked feeling shooting through her veins as she realized her plan was falling apart.

“Oh alright, just go!” He shouted drunkenly as he grew frustrated at the situation. His mind trying to piece together why he was targeted out of all of them as Thomas stopped the bleeding and stitched him up.

“I don’t know Tom, I don’t know why they aimed at me....why he aimed at me I don’t know....” He said, drifting off as he grew tired from the ordeal.

“It’s alright we’ll figure it out in the morning.” Thomas said, helping his brother up as John got the door and helped him into the car.

“Where’s John taking him?” Y/N asked, wiping her hands on her dress as she stared at the bloody mess on the floor.

“Home. He can rest there more than here. Thank you for looking after the shop with Linda.” He said, going to clean up the mess.

“It’s no problem Tommy. Here I can clean that...if you need a moment to rest.” She said, grabbing a cloth near her and dousing it in some of the whiskey.

Thomas stepped back as she wiped the rest of the blood away, her hair falling out of its loose bun as she ringed the last of the blood off the towel and into the small pail that contained the bullet.

“Are you hurt or anything?” She asked, her heart racing as she realized he’d been staring.

“Just a few scratches. Don’t worry about it love.” He said, lighting a cigarette and staring into her eyes. Y/N could feel her cheeks heating up as she looked back towards her desk, the old butterflies she’d had tucked away for the man resurfacing as of late.

“Well if everything’s done here, am I free to go?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” He said, walking towards his office as she gathered her things. His mind racing with why his brother was shot out of all of them. If anything he thought he would’ve been the first on their hit list.

“I’ve left the paperwork from today on your desk if you feel like signing them. Goodnight Tommy.” She said giving him a small smile.

“Thank you, good night love.” He said, his lips turning up slightly as he watched her walking out the door.

The next morning, Michael had came into his office urgently, with a stack of checks in his hand.

“One of them are missing Tom. Wasn’t me but it was recent. I can tell because we just wrote one today and the one before it is gone. See.” He said showing him the checkbook and where the sequence of numbers hadn’t lined up.

“Well who the fuck stole a company check then aye? Only three people know the code and that’s you, Polly, and Y/N.” He said, his heart aching at the thought of her doing something like that when he already paid her more than she’d expected.

“You want me to call a meeting?” Michael asked, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

“Yeah. Whoever did that probably knows about Arthur.” He said, his suspicion growing from last nights events.

“What’s wrong?” Polly asked as they all sat around the large table in the betting room.

“I have reasons to suspect someone has stolen a check from the company. Maybe used it to pay off someone perhaps.” He said, his eyes darting to everyone. Linda looked tired and Arthur sat near her with a pained expression.

“Would any one of you happen to know who it was? It was recent.” He said, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filling the room almost as heavily as the tension.

“It wasn’t Michael or I.” Polly said, shaking her head.

“Y/N...do you know anything about this?” Thomas asked, his eyes much more serious than last night. They were frightening in the way they bore into her soul despite her not knowing what was going on.

“No. I haven’t got a clue Tommy.” She said, holding his gaze as her heart raced.

“Linda...you were also here last night. Do you know?” He asked looking at her with the same calculating eyes.

“No. All I remember is I stepped out for a moment to send off one of your letters and to catch some air before you all arrived.” She said.

“And Y/N was the only one at the shop during that time?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said, her eyes squinting slightly at the poor woman who hadn’t done a thing wrong the whole time she’d been there.

“Look, Tommy I-“ Y/N started to say before he interrupted her in a harsh tone.

“I don’t know why you stole it, but somehow my brother was shot the same night and you were the last person I saw in the shop. You were also the only person there while Linda was away. I have no other choice but to fire you, Y/N. Get your things and go.” He said. Y/N’s face paled and her eyes brimmed with tears as she silently left the room. She averted her gaze from everyone, instead looking at the floor as she packed her things and went out the door, thinking she’d never return to the shop again.

She tried to defend herself somewhat, knowing she didn’t have anything to do with what happened. But none of her words would speak sense into him right now. He was too quick to make judgements, but she wasn’t prepared for him to hurt her like he just did. She felt her body trembling and growing warmer as she slammed her car door shut, the sheer embarrassment and anger rising in her as she made her way home.

As the day drug on, Thomas searched with Michael for the check, calling post offices and banks to see where it could have been sent and who had written it.

“It was picked up this morning Mr. Shelby. Doesn’t look like your handwriting though. I’ll have it sent to you. You caught it just in time.” The woman said, glancing at the writing on the envelope.

“Alright, thank you ma’am.” He said before hanging up.

“What’d they say aye?” Arthur asked, wincing as he moved about in his chair.

“They’re sending it back. It was almost sent out so we caught it just in time. She mentioned it wasn’t my handwriting.” He said, lighting a cigarette.

“Christ. What’d Linda say aye? Did her letter get sent out? She said it was for a charity.” Arthur asked, remembering she mentioned a letter.

“I’ve never written one to any charities, not recently.” Thomas said as his eyes narrowed.

“What...do you think...Linda stole the check?” Arthur asked quietly, knowing she was right around the corner.

“It’s possible. I know she’s your wife and all but she hasn’t exactly been helpful around here lately. Also it’s not adding up.” He said, his mind racing as he thought about the meeting.

“Christ....so you think she wrote the letter and the check then? They would’ve found the letter.” Arthur said.

“Aye, I think the letter was a ruse. The woman from the post office never found a letter from us. Just the check.” He said.

“Well let’s fookin’ ask her then. I can’t sleep at night knowing me wife’s trying to kill me.” Arthur said, a bit of panic in his voice as he realized she may have put a hit on him.

Over the next hour Thomas and him discussed the possibility of it being her, or it being Y/N. But now all signs were pointing to the short-haired blonde woman who not only had a knack for stealing hearts, but for stealing checks as well as, the mailman handed Thomas the envelope that had cursive handwriting on it. Inside contained a check and a terribly forged signature, along with her distinctive handwriting. Thomas couldn’t help but look out into the evening sky as he realized he’d made the wrong decision once again.

Linda heard her name being called as Thomas stood out his office door after retrieving the mail, the tension in the air seeming to rise as she reluctantly made her way to him.

“I have something to discuss with you and Arthur.” He said, ushering her into his office.

He locked the door behind her and stood in front of it as Linda sat by her husband. His tone more hostile than it had been at the family meeting earlier.

“So Linda...I’ll ask this once again. Did you steal the check?”

Linda looked around the room nervously as Arthur carefully got up and moved towards the door, officially wary of the woman.

Seeing as she had no way out, she sighed. Kissing the dream of running off with her lover goodbye as she knew how this interrogation could go.

“Y-yes I stole the combination from Y/N and snuck in the safe. The check was...to a man.” She said.

“Well it wasn’t to me. Who the fuck was it made out to?” Arthur asked, clinching his fists.

Linda stared at him blankly as a tear fell down her cheek.

“A man named Isaac. He was in-in that gang. I....I’ve been seeing him.” She said, wiping the tears from her eyes as he stalked forward.

“You fookin’ what?.... No...You don’t just put a hit out on a Shelby. Especially not on your own fucking husband.” He said angrily as Thomas put a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I did though, Arthur. I wanted to run off with him. I wanted you gone so it would be easier for me to leave. But I can’t do that now.” She said.

“So you knew I’d be walking into a death trap aye? You could’ve gotten more than me killed.” He spat, leaning against the door.

Linda nodded as she tore her gaze from the man she once thought she loved, guilt and anger taking over as she stood up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Thomas said, watching her reach for the gun on his desk.

“I just want to leave this place.” She said looking at the gun in her hand as she raised it at Thomas.

“If you shoot us, it’ll make it harder to leave. Put the gun down.” He said sternly.

With a sigh, she lowered the gun and placed it on the table. Wiping her tears away with shaking hands as she walked to the door and stared at Arthur angrily. His hurt expression at her confession barely phasing her.

“Arthur...” She said, trying to grab his hand from the doorknob. With a quick movement he gripped her wrist tightly before speaking.

“Fuck you Linda. I’m glad you failed.” He said with a slightly evil smirk.

“What do you mean? He got the check.” She said, not noticing the post had sent it back.

“We got the check and saw it was in your handwriting...we also killed him after he shot me. He won’t need you where he’s going. On the bright side...now you can suffer alone.” He said, as Linda looked angrily at him. Tears streaming down her face silently as he let go of her wrist.

“Linda.” Thomas said, causing her to rip her gaze from her now ex-husband.

“You should get your things together. You’re fired.” He said.

“You can’t do that! What will I do about money? The house?” She asked.

“You should’ve thought about that before you tried to hire someone to kill my brother. Now go.” He said lighting a cigarette and pointing her out the door.

With one last glance, she ran out of the office. The commotion of her gathering all her things making the rest of the company look around nervously as she did a walk of shame out the door with her stuff. Shoving it all in her car and vowing to never come back.

As the company got back to work for the evening, Thomas quickly ran out too, barely uttering a goodbye to Polly before leaving.

“Where are you going at this hour?” She asked, looking up from her papers.

“I made a mistake Pol.” He said.

“I’m not surprised.” She said.

“Excuse me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“At least get the balls to tell her you’re sorry and that ya like her. Maybe bring her some flowers. We could all see it you know.” She said as he rubbed the back of his neck impatiently.

“Anything else to add Pol?” He asked.

“Don’t fire her again. She’s the one good thing that’s happened to this goddamned company.” She said as he nodded and went towards her flat.

When he arrived with flowers in hand, he didn’t expect to see her in such a state. Her eyes were red and puffy like she’d been crying. And her hair was unkept as she held a bottle of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Why the fuck are you here aye?” She asked, slightly slurring her words.

“It was Linda....Y/N. All along it was her. She didn’t mail a letter, she mailed a check. And that check almost got Arthur killed. I’m uh...sorry for all I did back there.” He said.

“What...did you bring me flowers to cheer me up? Fuck off.” She said before trying to shut the door.

“Wait.” He said, holding his free hand out to hold the door.

“I came here for three reasons alright?” He said.

“Well get to talking because it’s cold.” She said, throwing her cigarette over the steps into the damp ground.

“Alright...I wanted to apologize because I know what I did and you didn’t deserve that. And I wanted to offer you your job back.” He said.

“What’s the third aye? I may be tipsy but I can still count.” She said.

“That I like you. I know I’ve been a real bastard recently but I swear I do.” He said.

“What do you say aye?” He asked, holding the flowers out to her.

“Next time buy me roses. And...I’ll accept your offer, but it’s only because I like you too. Now are we going to stand around here all night or are you coming in?” She asked with a slight smirk.

He smiled for what seemed like the first time in forever, taking his cap off as she grabbed the flowers from him. Leading him inside where they would later spend the rest of the night and many other nights to come.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore @xxbeckybeexx-blog

If you’d like to be added/removed just send me an ask/message! :)

[the-other-art-blog]

I have so many mix feelings about that deleted scene from Hawkeye, the one about his childhood. And, I’m not that angry that they cut it out, in fact, I think it was the right decision.

For starters, it’s a very different backstory from the comics. I guess you can say Edith fled from an abusive relationship with Harold. However, this flashback didn’t put her in the best light. I get that she was desperate and she needed to take care of Clint, she was too young, probably didn’t have a chance to go to college to get a good job. But asking your child to shot a person, even if it’s just to hurt him and get away???? And then getting mad because at him because he didn’t??? Come on! That’s bad. That can mess up a kid.

It reminded me of Judy’s situation in Dead to Me, which is funny since Linda Cardellini plays that character.

I think I’m ok with Clint’s mom being super flawed. None of this take away the fact that she could have been a victim of domestic abuse. It’s just that moms in the MCU tend to be saints. The fathers are usually the ones who did something wrong, like Howard, Odin, Hank, Alexei, Ego, Thanos. So seeing one of them who is not so great and not that much of a role model is a nice change. i was so surprised. They could have made her a waitress in a dinner and struggling but still honest. And they didn’t.

It’s interesting that Nat and Clint had not so great mothers, thinking about Melina.

But the reason why I think it was good that they cut it out is because it would only add another loose end to the series.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the only scene they had planned about Clint’s backstory. And if so, then it doesn’t serves much to the story. They tried to plant seeds of how Clint was ok with being an assassin for SHIELD and then Ronin, which connects with the plot but it’s not enough. There are too many question left unanswered:

Why are they living in a car?

Where is Barney? Did he stayed with Harold? Does he even exist in the MCU?

What about the circus?

How does Clint get introduced into archery?

who trains him? It’s not Swordsman, clearly.

Did Edith got out of jail?

Did he go into the system?

Did Edith forgive him?

Did they ever saw each other again?

Is she still alive?

What kind of relationship do they have or had?

If they were gonna put that scene, then they needed at least another 3 or 4 scenes explaining what followed. And not only about their childhood, but his past influenced his views on marriage and fatherhood. If they made Fury young for a whole movie, they could have done that for Linda and Jeremy. Instead, we got Larpers and a disappointing use Jacques Ducquense’s name.

[zaharadessert]

The Roommate (1/11)

Summary: Two pacts between friends, one Wedding, a change of plans and a Best Man who is not what Emma was expecting.

In other words, what happens when you make a marriage pact with your roommate, and he falls in love with your best friend when she brings over the wedding dress you bought together nearly ten years ago.

Rating: Mature (things do get saucy)

Notes: Huge huge thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper for the prompt for this fic. We ended up with a more cake situation, and when she starts posting I'm going to link to her fic (I need to get it betaed already hahaha) because we all know everyone wants all of the cake! Another thank you to @ultraluckycatnd for being my beta once again, you do such an amazing job! Without you my commas would be so all over the place it isn't even funny! All art by me! I tried to keep it fluffy but I'm unable to contain the angst... sorry?

Tagging: @jrob64 @xhookswenchx @kmomof4​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @teamhook​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @tiganasummertree @onceratheart18​ @snowbellewells​ @karlyfr13s​ @itsfabianadocarmo @ouatpost​ @winterbaby89​ @thepirateandhisson​ @xarandomdreamx

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Also on AO3

- - - - -

Typically bad music filtered out of the tinny old speakers above them as Emma and Elsa meandered their way through the last thrift shop of the day. College was expensive, and neither woman had much cash to spare, but thrift shops had many hidden gems that only needed a good wash and a dart or two to make them fit properly. Elsa was always better at pulling their finds apart and putting them back together, but Emma had definitely picked up a few tips and tricks since their first year at college when they’d been assigned the same dorm room.

Emma had been hesitant to let the other blonde in, but Elsa was calm and collected and a solid presence in Emma’s life that she had eventually let in. Someone whom she had told about her cheating high school boyfriend and her reason for moving across the damn country to get away from her small town life. The next three and a half years had been a blast, from sharing clothes to helping each other with their mutual courses. They didn’t have many, with Emma intending to go into art therapy, and Elsa studying architecture. Somehow, the structure of buildings helped Elsa work out how to structure clothing too; quite how Emma wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to complain.

But, when the end of the school year hit, Elsa was going to be heading for Norway, where her mother’s family were from, to an internship and master’s program at the family business which would see her with a master’s in architecture and a full time job at the company at the end of it, provided she got a high enough grade. There was no way Elsa wasn’t going to do her absolute best and prove that she hadn’t gotten this chance just because she was family. Emma would be remaining in California to intern with the Children’s Charity she’d started volunteering for in her first year at college.

They weren’t going to see each other in person for years, and both of them wanted to make the most of the time they had with their best friend. They were excited about where their lives were going, but Emma didn’t know what she was going to do without her best friend in the next room.

Getting a new roommate was the last thing she wanted to do, but the first thing she needed to do.

She was humming along to the 80s pop she’d grown up listening to, she and Elsa working their way along the rails from opposite ends, neither focusing much on size, knowing that as long as something wasn’t too small, Elsa could make it work. Colour and fabric were the important distinctions; Emma was going to have to go home over the summer and face the fact that her ex was marrying the girl he’d cheated on her with. Being a small town, her whole family was invited, because everyone was, but she needed to look effortlessly stunning just for her own peace of mind.

Honestly, if Emma never went back to Storybrooke it would be too soon. She loved her parents, but her father had both wanted Emma to follow in his footsteps and not, and her mother had always hinted that she’d make a wonderful teacher. But Emma just couldn’t stomach the small-town life, not when everyone else had known her business before she had, and no one had said a thing. Her parents weren’t able to help much with her tuition, so like a lot of other people, Emma got a loan, and her parents were planning to help her pay it off a little quicker when they could. Luckily for her, she had a best friend who had vowed that she was going to make Emma look like a million dollars for a fraction of the price.

They moved to the dress rail having found nothing else and started to work their way along it. She saw Elsa out of the corner of her eye, pulling a couple of things off the rail to take a closer look at and hooking the hangers on her arm. But part way through her own perusal of the rail, Emma stilled and stared at the garment bag in front of her. For a long moment she didn’t breathe.

“Surely not,” she whispered, and her hand started to shake as she reached for the zip on the front. All other noise seemed to cease as she drew it down and revealed a mountain of organza that threatened to explode out of the bag.

“Oh my God,” Elsa whispered, coming up behind her.

“It would be utterly terrible to go in a wedding dress, right?” Emma joked, looking over her shoulder at Elsa with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Yeah, and people might start to get the idea that you aren’t over it,” Elsa added with a wry smile. “Still, that’s an insane dress.”

“It’s a Vera Wang Ballgown!” Emma hissed in excitement, turning back to the dress with wide eyed wonder. She couldn’t believe it. This was exactly the kind of gown she had dreamed of when she was a little girl, looking through her parents' wedding album. Dropped waist, tight bodice, huge skirt and miles of train.

“Really?” Elsa asked, ducking into Emma’s space to check the label. “Damn… A hundred dollars?”

Emma’s heart ached, for the little girl whose dreams had been abandoned when she’d realised that your first love wasn’t necessarily the love of your life like her parents had been. Though, she suspected her mother hadn’t been entirely honest about that. There was a guy the next town over who claimed he’d married her mother when they were five. But it was a claim that always made her father laugh. But Emma had stopped dreaming about a fairytale wedding when she was seventeen and she’d seen first hand exactly what Neal was doing behind her back. She’d waited to let him know that she knew, until she’d secured her place at a college across the country.

“That’s my entire budget for this wedding outfit, and we’ve already decided I can’t turn up in a wedding dress, because you’re right, that’s not a sight he deserves to see,” she said firmly.

“Well…” Elsa said, with a conspiratorial smile. “What if we split the cost, and we both wear it…”

Emma straightened up and looked at her friend in shock, not sure if she thought this was the best idea she’d ever had, or if she was crazy.

“We swap clothes all the time already, we’re basically the same size, similar body shape. Whoever gets married first, I’ll be careful in the adjustments to make sure we can put it back for the other one…” she said with a shrug. “Think about how much stress and money we’ll save ourselves by buying this now. Not to mention knowing my Maid of Honor approves of the dress…” she added with a smile.

Emma’s hesitancy broke into a grin.

“Well, I’m unlikely to get married because fuck that patriarchal insanity, but that saves a hell of a lot of bother, knowing mine likes it too,” she said and held out her hand to shake Elsa’s.

Elsa laughed and with a grin, Elsa shook it and they turned to do their best getting the voluminous ball gown back into the bag.

“Right, and I’ve got these for you to try on to see what we can make to blow your ex out of the water,” Elsa said, holding them out for Emma to take and ushering her towards the dressing room to try on the other dresses, leaving her hands free so that she could take the Vera Wang off the rail to make sure no one else took it. “And I’ll buy you a pair of shoes as an early birthday present!” she called as Emma headed for the changing room and shot a grin over her shoulder.

Not for the first time in the last few years, Emma was certain that she had the best friend in the entire world. When she took a look at the dresses Elsa had picked out for her to try, she knew they’d really hit the jackpot today and she was going to look like a million dollars at Neal and Tamara’s wedding, just like advertised.

[longlivelindanny]

Linda heard her phone buzzing in her purse. She looked at the name- Frank. Her heart started to pound. Frank only called during the day like this if something was wrong. Specifically, if something was wrong with her husband. “Hello?”

“I don’t want to alarm you- but a detective from Danny’s squad has been shot.”

She licked her lips, “o-okay… it’s not… you would tell me right away if- if it was Danny, right? Because beating around the bush is cruel and I can’t hold my breath that long, and I’d just much rather know right away than waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Frank was about to answer when she started ranting again. He heard the fear in her voice.

“Maybe- maybe that’s not what I want, you know? I think I’d like more of a built up, y’know, to prepare me. Oh gosh, what if it’s Danny? I can’t- I don’t think- that is, I wouldn’t—“

“Linda!” Frank interrupted her worried ranting. “I’m just giving you a heads up. No one knows what has happened yet.”

She nodded, “okay, okay.” She let go of a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Okay. I’m- I’m sure he’ll call me any minute now.”

“I should go now.”

And before she had a chance to say goodbye, he hung up. She dropped her phone into her purse and started pacing. She told herself she was pacing because it was a cold night. She hugged herself, praying that her husband was okay.

Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay. Please, please, please let him be okay.

Linda watched her breath freeze as she turned to watch the boys practice. She couldn’t care less about football, but she needed a distraction. She needed to keep her mind from thinking of what if situations, and what she would have to go through if the unthinkable happened.

The boys’ practice was almost over, and she still hadn’t heard from Frank or Danny, or even Gormley and Garrett. She was about to start praying- more like begging- again, when her phone rang. She yanked it out of her purse without even bothering to look at it.

“Danny?”

“I’m okay, babe. I’m okay.”

“Thank heavens!” She breathed out, finally able to breathe. “Where the hell are you? Why didn’t you call me right away?”

“I only now found out about it! But I’m okay, we’re far out from there.” Danny frowned, hearing Linda sniffle on the other end. His voice softened, “hey, I’m okay. It’s alright. You can breathe now.”

She took in a slow breath, “I know, I know. I love you.”

He smiled, “I love you most. I’m fine- no, actually I’m pissed off, but physically I’m fine.”

“Danny? Be careful. I wanna see you when I wake up tomorrow morning.”

“You will. Promise. I really gotta go now, baby.”

“Okay, I love you.”

“Love you most. Bye.”

“Bye.” She hung up and let out another breath. She looked to the field- the boys were just finishing up. She needed to call everyone quickly.

********

Linda stretched the next morning, her eyes still closed. They fluttered open, and she smiled when she saw her husband. Knowing him, Gormley probably sent him home to get some sleep. She knew that her husband wouldn’t stay long, but she was glad he kept his promise.

[deadinside-butstill-horny]

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered. 

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart. 

Part One   -  Part Two 

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish. 

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked. 

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet. 

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand. 

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you. 

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile. 

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones. 

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.  

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you. 

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious. 

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language. 

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!” 

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español … para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...” 

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim. 

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!” 

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....” 

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life. 

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold. 

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room.  The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia. 

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used. 

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.  

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted.  Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform. 

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line. 

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English.  You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly.  He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.  

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair. 

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?”  She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister. 

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.  

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room. 

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual. 

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way. 

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause. 

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it.  He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody.  Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors. 

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours. 

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt. 

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA.  As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil. 

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted. 

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. . 

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.” 

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you. 

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise. 

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch. 

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression. 

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes.  “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes. 

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.” 

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?” 

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission. 

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one  hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue. 

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared.  Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh. 

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck. 

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met.  He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away. 

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you. 

“So, what’d I miss?”  Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy. 

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath. 

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment. 

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier. 

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning. 

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober. 

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything. 

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it.  The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand.  “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it.  It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”  

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it. 

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier. 

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth. 

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally,  your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi.  “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated. 

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!” 

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.” 

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face. 

“Thankyou, Javi.” 

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him. 

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.”  After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye. 

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it. 

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth. 

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born. 

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned. 

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away. 

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still. 

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…” You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered. 

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever. 

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

                                                       “You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat. 

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger. 

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter. 

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing. 

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers. 

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence. 

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you. 

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy. 

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you. 

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit.  The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair. 

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes.  You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole. 

“So fucking tight,  Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard. 

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on. 

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth. 

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh. 

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious. 

 His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies. 

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss.  He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own. 

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard. 

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock. 

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly. 

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him. 

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs. 

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths. 

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.  

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you. 

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway  @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all. 

[lennonknowsmysins]

could you do the gangster au but the “turning point” in their relationship?? i love your work so much 🥰

pt. 3 to gangster!George

tw: mobster gets a little too handsy, mild violence, arguing

-

You and George had been married for a month and you’d had maybe five conversations with him. He was a reserved man but you weren’t sure what else you expected from a gangster. Truthfully, you weren’t sure you minded. Since your conversation with Cynthia, Linda and Maureen, he didn’t put you on edge every time he was in the room but he still intimated you. George was practically always working, spending all day in his study (which you still had yet to see) and coming to bed late. He never tried to wake you up but you still liked to wait for him, pretending to be asleep.

Realistically, you figured you shouldn’t be too upset with him for not making much of an effort to get to know you considering hadn’t attempted to reach out to him either. Still, when the only time you really saw him was dinner and he spent most of the time talking to his mates, you couldn’t deny that you felt ignored. It wasn’t like you were thrilled to be married either.

The real struggle was trying to find something to do with yourself. Normally, you’d be busy with school but part of your father cutting off your freedom including forcing you to drop out of university. Now nothing seemed to hold your interest.

Linda, who you learned was a journalist (making her and Paul’s relationship taboo in the mob world), had begun enlisting you to spell check her articles. You spent a good amount of time with Cynthia as she’d invited you to help her paint the baby nursery. She was a lovely woman and you enjoyed her company but even as you painting those little blue birds and bounced baby names off one another, you couldn’t help the looming feeling of loneliness. You were just disconnected from the rest of them. Cynthia, Linda and Maureen were involved with each others lives while you...well, you were just there.

You were manifesting that your first public outing with George - some sort of annual gathering for allied mobs - would do something to help the disconnect between the two of you.

-

Upon entering the mansion, you pressed yourself closer to George. You may have not felt entirely comfortable with him but since Cynthia and Linda hadn’t been able to come (Cynthia because she was pregnant, Linda because of her profession) and Maureen was very much looking forward to having a date night with Ringo, George was your lifeline for the night.

The hall was full of men in fancy suits with dark looks in their eyes, most of them appearing to be twice your age. One by one, they came up to George, asking him about business deals and his father before eventually landing on you, at which point, George thankfully steered you away.

“Sorry about all of them.” George apologized, finding a seat on a couch in the corner of the room, “They’re swingers, the whole lot. ‘s why my da stopped coming to these events.”

You snorted as you sat down, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am. They’ve been dropping hints that they’re interested in an orgy ever since we got married. Quite frankly, I’m not sure how to tell them no.” George said, shooting you a look. You burst into laughter, making George smile.

“Wait here, I have to talk to someone but I’ll be right back.” George told you, squeezing your shoulder before standing and beckoning to Paul. Paul smiled at you apologetically, following George and leaving you all alone in the corner. You watched Maureen dance with Ringo. You wished Linda and Cyn were here, if George wouldn’t dance with you, you were sure they would. At least, you wouldn’t be lonely.

Your bottom lip trembled but before you could feel too sorry for yourself, you felt the couch dip. A handsome blond man with the most dazzling blue eyes you’d ever seen had sat next to you. He wore a suit of velvet purple and had a martini glass in one hand and a curious grin on his face. A feeling of dread immediately crept into your gut.

“Now, why would a lovely lady such as yourself be sitting here all by herself?” He hummed in a confident tone. Unsure of how to react to the situation, you turned your eyes to your drink, swishing the clear liquid around.

“Waiting for someone.” You murmured back. You could’ve sworn that as soon as you’d said that, he scooted closer to you.

“You can call me Yates.” He said, although you hadn’t asked, “I don’t believe I caught your’s?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I’m not sure I feel comfortable telling you that.”

“Aw, why not? Is it because I’m a big, scary gangster?” Yates chuckled, definitely scooting closer this time. He continued when you didn’t respond, “That’s fine baby, I’ll come up with one for you. It’s just important you know mine so you know what to scream later.”

Your face twisted in disgust and you would’ve attempted to get up had it not been for his hand curling around your thigh. The sudden grip made you freeze, giving Yates a chance to press himself against you.

“Let go of me. I’m here with my...my h-husband.” You stammered, trying to sound tough.

“Come on now, you don’t sound so sure of that. I doubt that George is that much of a husband anyhow.” He leered, tapping your cheek. Just as you were about to retort, Yates was being dragged off of you.

An angry George stood before you, clutching Yates’ collar in his fist. Everyone around you had stopped what they were doing to watch you.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch my wife.”

With that simple warning, he dropped the creep and grabbed your wrist, pulling you from your seat. As he brought you to the exit, the crowd resumed the party as though nothing had happened. You assumed this sort of thing happened often at mob events.

Once you were outside, George let go of you to light a cigarette, not bothering to look at you as he took a drag. John and Paul burst through the door after you.

“What the fuck just happened mate?” John asked.

“Yates had his hands all over (y/n).” George spat bitterly. The two men turned to you, shivering in your dress.

The alarm on Paul’s face dropped to concerned, “Are you alright, love?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit freaked out.” You shrugged, still trying to process the event. You hadn’t seen George this angry before.  

“Yer cryin’.” John pointed out bluntly. You blinked, touching your cheek. Huh. You hadn’t realized.

George tilted his head towards you with an unreadable expression. He placed the cigarette between his lips, shrugging off his suit jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“‘m taking her home.” He decided, putting an arm around you, “Paul, can you take John, Rich and Mo in your car?”

“Course, but-”

George didn’t wait for Paul to finish, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards his Mercedes. You glanced behind you to see Ringo and Maureen had joined John and Paul, who were explaining the situation to them. You caught Maureen’s sympathetic look before the car door closed.

-

The entire ride was silent, an awkward, bitter silence sitting between you and George. He didn’t even look at you as you walked up to the house, leaving the door for you to close.

“Go to bed.” George ordered gruffly, his back turned to you as he headed toward his office.

You stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He hadn’t really just spoken to you like you were a misbehaving child and not his wife.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

George paused. Then he turned around, his eyebrows set in annoyance. He wasn’t used to people questioning him, “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were joking about telling me to go to bed.” You huffed, rolling your eyes, “You know, just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean you control me.”

He glared at you, his eye twitching as he tried to think of a response. You saved him the trouble,

“For the record, you didn’t have to make such a big scene back there.”

“He had his hands all OVER you!” He spluttered, spit flying from his mouth, “And it wasn’t like you were doing anything to stop him!”

“I was scared, a strange man was invading my space because my husband completely abandoned me at a party where I didn’t know anyone!” You shout, your voice shaking as it echoed through the ridiculously large foyer.

George’s sour expression softened and you notice he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He swallowed thickly, “I had to talk to someone.”

“You still left me all alone.” You whispered angrily, “I know that this isn’t what either of us wanted and if I could, I’d go back and stop my father from getting us in this situation but we don’t have that choice.

You took a shuttering breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before continuing,

“George, I get that we’re from two completely different worlds but I just had mine completely uprooted for your’s. You’ve barely spoken to me since the first two days after the wedding. For god’s sake, we sleep in the same damn bed and I don’t know that we’ve ever had a conversation. Y’know, the only thing I actually know about you is that you’re a mobster? I...I was just really hoping that tonight could fix that.”

George’s face didn’t change throughout the course of your rant but there was something that looked like a mix of surprise and guilt in his brown eyes. Ever the man of few words, he didn’t respond - you didn’t know if he didn’t want to or if he didn’t know how. You shook your head.

“No, no, you know what? I am gonna go to bed. I need some sleep.” You muttered, turning away from him and storming up the stairs without another word.

Linda was waiting for you at the top of the stairs but you brushed by her in silence, too pissed for any intellectual conversation. You slammed the bedroom door shut, not bothering to turn the lights or take your clothes off. You curled up above the covers, looking out the window.

The wind blew softly, gently rustling the leaves of the tree peaking through the glass. A single tear trailed down your cheek as you thought about how you hadn’t even gotten to dance with George. The night had been spoiled from the start.

At some point, you finally managed to fall asleep, missing the lanky, mop toped figure that took your shoes off and tucked you in.

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 1/9

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 1: There is Nothing to Fear

Storybrooke Maine, 2052. The world is slowly dying from a plague, only known as J2, that is spreading across the realms, a disease that has no cure. A faction known as “The Rebellion” have moved underground to search for a cure while avoiding detection from “The Hive”, a dangerous group run by an unidentified man of darkness searching for power. The only thing standing in the way of either group taking power is Mayor Regina Mills, who spends her time protecting the residents of Storybrooke from criminals who might bring the plague to her small town. The most dangerous occupants, those deemed most likely to bring the plague to town, are given a new opportunity, a chance for a new life, without being a danger to society, courtesy of the Gold Collective.

The pain was tortuously blinding as he tried to open his eyes. It was a feeling of waking from an all-night bender he couldn’t even remember attending. Peering through slits, his room came into view, blue neon lit behind the monitor on his wall. “Status Report.” He spoke, a gritty tone leaving his throat.

“Good morning James, it’s 7:53 am, pollution level 63%, you have no appointments today.” The pleasant robotic voice carried throughout the room. Something felt wrong, like a small itch at the back of his brain, a light tick that was calling out to him, telling him to pay attention.

He stood from his bed, the silk sheets falling to the ground behind him as he wandered through the apartment. “Open blinds.” He spoke and the metal slats hummed as they opened fully, revealing the land in front of him, dark smoke clouds on the horizon behind the mountains. Storybrooke, the only home he had ever known. He sighed; he was going to be late. He was halfway to the bathroom before he stopped in his tracks.

What the bloody hell was he about to be late for?

“What time do I have to be at work?” he said loudly.

“You are expected at 8:30am. Shall I prepare transport?”

He groaned, “Sure, but where is my destination?”

“Granny’s Diner, Main Street, Storybrooke.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache taking form at the back of his neck. “Granny’s.” He mumbled. Short memories, like a picture show, formed in his head, an older woman barking orders at him as he cooked burgers in the back of the small diner. He was a cook. He wasn’t sure why that felt odd to him, like something was out of place. He didn’t have time to contemplate the decisions he made in his life. He was going to be late for work.

The quick shower didn’t erase the feelings, images he didn’t recognize were imprinted in his subconscious every time he closed his eyes. A woman with hair, a light pale yellow, eyes green as grass staring at him. He couldn’t place the image, some celebrity perhaps he had seen in a movie. He shut off the water, running the towel through his hair as he tried to rub the sleep from his brain.

He dressed and left his apartment, sliding the locks shut with a slam, cranking the large metal door handle to the right to ensure it was locked. He glanced down the darkened hallway at the few people meandering about, the lot of which always appeared to be lurking, watching for unsuspecting individuals who left their belongings unprotected.

“You’re late.” The woman growled as soon as he entered the back of the diner.

“I’m sorry, Granny. In my defense, I forgot I had…” He thought about his sentence. What did he forget exactly? That he had a job, that he was a cook, why he had even woken up at the time he did, dreaming about a woman he had never met, “to work this early.” He finished.

“I’ve had to tell you the same thing since you started working here, it would do you some good to have your AIM set a damn alarm before you go to bed.”

Killian had alerted his AIM or Artificial Intelligence Monitorto set a 7am alarm, yet it failed to alert him to his shift for the last few weeks. He would need to have it repaired if this continued.

“Yes Ma’am, apologizes.”

“Just get to work, we got people waiting.”

James pushed through his shift, flipping burgers, cracking eggs, and sending out plates of food he had no memory of knowing how to cook. He wondered to himself how he ended up with this life, when had he decided that this was the best job he could find? Each time he tried to imagine another career, something that he might actually enjoy doing, the migraine would hit him out of nowhere, crippling him until the inhibitor was injected into his arm and his breathing returned to normal.

Whatever plagued him, this medical condition that brought him to his knees had always been with him from what he could remember. He assumed that it had begun when he was a child, it was second nature for him to know to inject himself once the pain hit. Yet he couldn’t remember when it began.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment at the end of the day, entering his room and locking it down behind him. “Set alarm for 7am.” He said once he sat his keys on the counter.

“Alarm set. 7am.”

He went about the mundane task of preparing his dinner, watching the Holo TV, news that the plague had spread to the outer banks was on every station. Mayor Mills calmed the crowd during her press conference and on each holo announcement that played every 15 mins.

“People of Storybrooke, I give you my assurance that the plague will not breach our walls. We have taken every measure possible to protect our citizens. We continue to fight back the resistance uprising, and our law enforcement continues to arrest any faction that supports it. There is nothing to fear.”

Mayor Regina Mills stood in the center of the screen, flanked by her officers on either side. She was fierce, strong, and protected the town of Storybrooke with honor.

“Turn off Holo TV.” He announced, setting his dishes in the machine for cleaning.

He crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his hips. “What time is the alarm set for?” He asked, ensuring that everything was still working.

“Alarm is set for 7am, James. Sleep well.”

~*~

Emma woke to the sound of crying. She jumped up from her spot and reached for her son, pulling him against her chest. “Hush now Henry, mommy’s got you.” Pressing her child to her breast she felt the tug against her nipple as her son quieted. She smiled down at the infant in her arms, her heart aching as she watched him so still against her, as if nothing in the world mattered but his own nourishment.

Emma wished her view of the world were as innocent. But she knew better.

She looked around the dark shack she had been hiding in for the last few weeks. She could hear the water on the other end of the door, just on the outskirts of the town line. It would be dangerous if anyone were to find her. She had given up everything to get away from Neal Cassidy. Her safety, comfort, even her future was all gone the instant she escaped the tower that had been her home for the last five years.

Emma knew it was dangerous being outside the protective walls of Storybrooke, those who had been exiled lived on the outskirts, many would not escape the plague once they lost the protections provided behind the walls. Emma knew it all too well, five years ago when the plague first appeared, she had taken ill, she was expected to die quickly, painfully. But after a month, the symptoms subsided, and Emma survived.

Doctors could not explain why she survived, only that she had been very lucky.

And then she met Neal. She thought she had finally found someone to share her life with. She was taken in by his father, Gold, a man obsessed with finding the cure to the plague.

His company, The Gold Collective had invested in experimenting on anyone who had come down with the plague, valiantly searching for a cure, the perfect gene sample that would save humanity, but his efforts had been fruitless as most of his subjects died before he had completed his experiments.

Emma found him to be odd, even a bit intimidating at times. His obsession with the plague caused her to keep her own situation quiet. She had a feeling if he had known that she had somehow lived through the plague that his interest in her might become more than just the father of the man she lived with.

Gold took care of her, as Neal’s girlfriend, he ensured that she had everything she could ever want. And Neal provided her money, food, and a roof over her head. Something she didn’t have before she had met him, back when she was homeless, trying to find her place in Storybrooke. Neal took her in and loved her.

But all of that changed a little over a year ago. Emma wasn’t snooping, she hadn’t meant to be in the office after hours, but Neal had not returned home that evening, and Emma had been worried. So, she left the penthouse suite of Gold Laboratories and headed to Neal’s office. Before she even reached his wing, she heard arguing.

The conversation between Gold and his son was chilling. She knew she needed help. She didn’t want to cause alarm or alert either of the men to the knowledge she had overheard them, had realized who the Gold Collective really was, so instead she waited out her time. A week passed before she found her mark, a police detective whom she had followed for days. He lived a quiet life, devoted to his job, going between his apartment downtown and his job at the station, never deviating from his day. He always arrived at work at 10:02am for a 10:30 shift. He had lunch with his partner at 12:45, he picked up Chinese food at 9:00pm before returning to his apartment. She had watched him assisting his elderly neighbor up the stairs and she knew this was the man she needed to trust.

Officer Killian Jones didn’t know what to make of her when she showed up at his door at midnight one night. Begging to talk to him, asking for discretion as she tried to determine if he trusted her. When he learned of the knowledge she had, he panicked. He sent her home that evening, telling her to wait a week before she reached out to him again.

It took a month, Emma would arrive at his apartment, they would talk about their plans, share intel on what they had each learned, and suddenly, knowing he was the one person she could trust, feeling like for the first time in her life, someone understood and truly cared about her, she fell for the man.

He tried to deny her, not wanting to take advantage of her trust. But they were in love. There was no denying it. The affair was something that neither one of them had the power to stop. Emma would spend her evenings with Killian, staring at the stars talking about what the future held for them once they were able to figure out a way to stop everything that was happening around them.

But she always returned to Neal, she had no choice but to keep up the ruse in order to protect the secret she had. Too many powerful people were involved for her to alert anyone else. Killian didn’t even trust his partner David enough to share the information.

Suddenly Neal became protective of her, asking her where she was going anytime she left the apartment, so Emma had to distance herself from Killian. It had been a month since they had been in contact when Emma received devastating news. She and Neal were having a baby. It broke her heart. When she finally told Killian, he urged her to escape before the child was born. Once Neal had a child, he would never let her leave.

Emma knew he was right, unfortunately by the time she planned her escape, the child was born a prematurely. She was trapped. Killian became concerned for her safety now that a child was involved, and Emma was forced to share her secret with her childhood friend, Will Scarlett. He sprang into action, becoming the go between for Emma and Killian to set their plan in motion for Emma and Henry to escape.

That night, she met Will on the roof, and they made their daring escape, 65 flights of stairs down the back of the building. They waited for hours at the drop off point, but Killian never showed. Emma was devastated, she felt trapped. Will went in search of him, he wasn’t at his apartment, the station, or any of his usual locations. Killian was gone without a trace.

She knew that something bad had happened to him. He would never abandon her. She trusted him. The only solution she could come up with was that Gold or Neal had found out about their plan.

Killian was in danger, unless something bad had already happened to him. She was desperate to find him. Without Killian Jones, the entire town was in danger.

“Are you decent?” Will’s voice rang out from the other side of the door. She pulled her shirt over her breast, setting her sleeping son beside her.

She stood up and looked through the crack in the door. Will was standing nervously on the edge of the water. She clicked the locks, lifting the wooden latch until the door slid open. Will stepped quickly into the shack.

“You ok?”

“Did you find anything?” She asked anxiously.

“Maybe.”

Emma stared at him with pleading eyes. “What do you mean maybe?”

“Look, don’t freak out, ok?”

“You’re scaring me.” She responded nervously.

“I drove by the station again, nothing. David is there but Killian wasn’t around. I didn’t want to go in, because I figure they might start asking questions, but there was this girl sitting outside and I asked who I could talk to about a case of Killian’s, and I used me ole charm and she told me that he never came back to work a few days ago, and that they opened a missing persons case on him.”

“Oh God, Will.”

“I said don’t freak out.”

“This is terrible. They killed him, didn’t they?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t told you everything yet.” He pleaded as she paced the room. “Anyway, I went by his apartment, and it was empty. The neighbor says they haven’t seen him for days.” She started to speak, and he pressed his hand to her mouth. “Emmie, I need you to be quiet, I know that’s hard for you.”

She groaned against his finger and mumbled. “Fine.”

“I got hungry as I usually do about this time and got a craving for a big greasy burger.”

“Seriously, you wanted me to be quiet so you could talk about food? I’m losing my patience, Scarlet.”

“The burger was excellent by the way, but that’s not the point.” He paused. “I went back to my car, and there was a man out back tossing out some trash.”

“Would you get to the damn point!” She yelled.

“It was Killian.”

“What?”

“The guy out back. Spitting image of him.”

“Did you talk to him, ask him what the hell is going on?”

“I talked to him, but he acted like he’d never seen me in his life. Swears his name is James Rogers. Emmie, it was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. But I tried, I even called him Killian Jones and he stared straight through me…” He dropped his head. “And then he thought about it, I could see the wheels turning in his head, and then he started wincing, and that’s when I saw it.”

“Saw what?” Emma asked impatiently, dreading the fact that she could already feel it in her gut, she knew what he was going to tell her, every sensor in her brain was going off that she already knew the truth.

“An inhibitor. The man injected himself with one of Gold’s inhibitors.”

Emma felt the tears forming, she knew it was the truth. It made sense, he would never have abandoned her or Henry. The only explanation was that Gold or Neal had found out what she was planning to do and got to Killian first. “They erased him.” She said sadly, feeling every last bit of hope she had draining from her being.

“Emmie, he’s one of the void. There’s no way back from that.”

“Don’t say that, we don’t know that. It’s all experimental, it’s not even legal. Gold’s been doing it for years on test subjects. Killian can fight it; I know he can. He’s too strong.”

“Emmie, he had no idea, absolutely no idea of who I was.”

“It doesn’t matter, Will. We must keep trying. Maybe the inhibitor just suppresses his memories. We have to get him not to use it.”

“For all we know, not using it could cause his brain to explode. It’s dangerous.”

“I won’t give up on him Will. I can’t lose him.”

He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back in slow circles as she cried. “It’s gonna be ok, we’ll figure it out.”

“What are we going to do, Will? Without Killian, I’ll never get into the station to upload the information.”

“We’ll find a way. That’s what we do right?”

She smiled weakly. She wouldn’t give up on him, he risked so much to try and protect her and another man’s child. He had given her hope when she had none. She would never stop trying to get him back. Even if it killed her, she would save Killian Jones and take down the Gold empire.