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littlepeakydevil · 17 days ago

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Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Devastating news from Michael in America leads Tommy and Lily to congregate with ghosts.

Word Count: 6,213

Warnings: Drug use, polyamory, animal death, and references to pregnancy.

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Chapter 1: Gathering Storm

The wind howled over the barren hills, pushing white wisps of mist across the landscape. There was hardly a tree in sight, and what little browned or yellowed grass there was trembled against the cold breeze. The phone booth that stood before them looked terribly out of place, red and man-made and screaming from within as the phone tucked inside its guts rang out.

Wraith’s hooves clomped against the hard ground, snorts and quiet whinnies sounding from his nose. His sides flexed against Lily’s legs with each movement, betraying the powerful muscle encased under his deep black pelt.

Tommy eased him to a stop beside the phone booth and dismounted, handing her the reins. Lily turned her head to look out at the wasteland of dirt and rolling hills around them as he ducked into the booth to pick up the still shrieking phone. Wind tugged lightly at her red hair and kissed icily at her freckled cheeks. Wraith snorted, shifting from foot to foot, dipping his enormous head, black mane twisting in the breeze. Lily gave him a gentle pat to quell his impatience, watching the dark silhouette of Tommy’s body through the glass panes of the phone booth. Condensation beaded on the transparent material, leaving it blurry.

They had been out living on the land for a few days. Sleeping in vardos, eating what they were able to catch or forage, and languishing in the fresh air that was free from the smoke and soot of the city. Lizzie and the kids were with them, as was Johnny Dogs and some of his kin. All of whom were lingering back at the camp while she and Tommy went to take the prearranged phone call. It was nice. A much needed break of the usual insanity of their lives.

Well, it had been nice. All the way up until that business with Dangerous.

Lily swallowed hard, adjusting her grip on Wraith’s reins. Poor, sweet, wild horse. Tommy had been nearly despondent when it became clear they would have to put him down. He had insisted on doing the deed alone, and when he came to her after it was done, there was a shakiness in his hands that only she knew him well enough to notice, and his eyes were unsteady and clouded over with grief and something dark and despairing.

The wind picked up a little, and the walls of the phone booth creaked and rattled. A foreboding death whistle sounded across the hills. Lily shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the lay of her peaked cap on her head, trying to pull it down to protect her ears from the cold.

Tommy emerged from the booth a moment later, eyes sweeping across the muddied hills, taking in the gray clouds gathering in the sky. He looked tired, the face under the shadow of his cap drawn in and layered with stress.

“Everything alright?” she asked when he approached, scooting back in the saddle so that he could climb into the space in front of her on the stallion.

“Yeah. Arthur got a letter from the Angels of Retribution. They said that they hadn’t even heard of us, so I told Finn to send Aberama and Isiah to introduce themselves. But to stay out of it himself.”

“Good.” Isiah and Aberama were two of their soldiers that she trusted the most. Aberama had proven himself to be an invaluable asset. Shaped by experience, calculation, and ruthlessness. And Isiah…well, Isiah had been trained by her personally. “Ready to head back?”

Tommy took hold of the reins, sighing and looking out at the vast landscape around them. They could disappear out here, if they wanted to. Never to be seen again. “Yeah,” he said, in a voice that indicated the exact opposite. Lily wrapped both arms around his waist, pressing her front to his back, holding onto him for both stability and comfort. He lowered one of his big palms to rest on top of hers where they clasped against his stomach, thumb rubbing her knuckles before taking hold of the reins. He snapped them once and drove his heels into Wraith’s sides, and the massive black stallion took off in a ferocious, booming gallop across the field.

They rode back the long way, neither of them saying anything as the wind whipped at their clothes. Lily didn’t mind; she could sense that Tommy needed the time to think.

By the time they picked their way to the ridge overlooking where they had made camp, the wind had died down somewhat. Good thing, too. The cold was making her shoulders begin to ache with the pains that so often plagued them.

Looking down, she could see the little figures of Johnny and his boys moving amongst the wagons. They had dug a huge hole in the time that they’d been gone, a small mountain of dirt piled up next to it. The little lake shimmered in the sunlight. A dog barked.

Tommy brought Wraith to a stop, staring with his eyes fixed not on the hole Johnny and his men had dug, but the body wrapped in canvas next to it. Lily gave him a small squeeze around the middle. Near the wagons, by where a table and chairs had been erected, she could see the tall, elegantly dressed figure of Lizzie looking up at them. Beside her, a smaller figure, hard to make out at this distance, but probably Ruby, turned her head to stare at the ridge.

In front of her, Tommy shifted, reaching into his pocket and procuring a small brown bottle, uncorking it.

“Can I have some?” she asked, after he took a small swig. He passed it back to her silently. The drug burned slightly as it entered her mouth and coated her throat. She was mindful not to drink too much; she was small, and it wouldn’t take a lot to have her flying high as a kite if she wasn’t careful. Handing back the vial to Tommy, he slid the cork back into place and pocketed it.

More and more often, they found themselves swigging from that little bottle.

Tommy nudged Wraith into moving again, and they started to follow the path descending the ridge, heading into the camp.

Once they arrived, Tommy dismounted first to be immediately greeted by Ruby running to him. He stooped, beckoning her to him and scooping her into his arms. Lizzie was right behind her daughter, moving to walk by Tommy’s side as he carried Ruby over to where the wagons were stationed. She gave a thin, barely perceptual smile to Lily as she passed by the horse.

That was how things were these days, for the most part. Lizzie may have begrudgingly given her blessing for Tommy to remain seeing Lily behind closed doors despite his marriage to her, but that did not mean she was particularly happy about it.

It was no secret that Tommy and Lizzie had problems. Lily lived at Arrow House with them; she had a front row seat to all the shouting matches and bitter resentment that had plagued their marriage.

She had done her best not to get involved. Tommy and Lizzie’s relationship was their business, and she doubted that Lizzie would respond well to her meddling in it. But it was hard, with her proclivity to want to fix things for people, to not try to repair their strained union.

Things between her and Lizzie were…tumultuous. They’d had their share of rough patches here and there in the years since she and Tommy got married. Incidents like Lizzie asking Lily to move rooms. It had been shortly after Lizzie and Ruby moved into Arrow House. Lizzie had wanted Ruby to have the room closest to the master bedroom should she need her in the middle of the night. Lily hadn’t minded. Of course, she had assumed that Lizzie would have her moved to one of the unoccupied rooms further down the hall, not to the opposite end of the house. In a drafty, overlooked room. The drafts went unfixed for nearly a month, despite her bringing them up to Lizzie multiple times. It was only after Tommy took notice of them that they were finally dealt with.

Over time she’d grown used to Lizzie’s bursts of jealousy-induced passive aggression, even though it still always stung. Despite her attempts to not let it bother her. In the end, she really felt quite sorry for her, and massively guilty for the role she had undeniably played in amplifying her misery.

She should have put a stop to it all earlier, back when Lizzie was still a prostitute that she and Tommy frequented when looking for a bit of variety in their sex life. And especially after he had made Lizzie his secretary. And yet they still continued to intermediately sleep with her. That had been a mistake, and not just because of the pregnancy. It had led Lizzie on, and that hadn’t been fair.

And then they’d gone and made things even worse when Tommy married Lizzie.

They had not been dishonest about the arrangement that would come with the marriage. Tommy had not married Lizzie for love, but for convenience. Having an illegitimate child could hurt his image as a politician. And he needed a wife. Someone to run the house and care for the children while he was gone. And to help project the image of a traditional family to his constituents. Marrying her was the right, respectable thing for him to do. Lizzie would enjoy all the benefits of being Mrs. Shelby, but Tommy and Lily would be continuing their relationship. They had all been clear on that. Lizzie had said that she was okay with that.

But Lizzie had always been in love with Tommy. Lily had seen it in her eyes, years ago. And their current actions had done nothing but fan the flames of hope that Lizzie carried in her heart that someday, Tommy would love her the way that she wanted him to. Lily sometimes wondered if Lizzie thought that if she wanted it badly enough, she’d be able to change him into the man that she wanted him to be.

Tommy had tried. Sort of. Lily had seen it during the first year of his marriage to Lizzie. He had tried so hard to play the role of if not a loving and attentive husband, than at the very least a present and dutiful one. But as time went on and the mask slipped, he had ultimately given up the charade, resigning himself to a life with a wife who he didn’t love.

And then the bitterness and resentment came. There were days where things were better. Lily could sit by the fire, giggling and playing cards or chess with Lizzie after the kids had gone to bed. But then there were days where even the smallest thing set Lizzie off, spewing cruel words at her or Tommy who, true to his nature, gave just as good as he got.

In all honesty, Arrow House was no longer the refuge that it had once been. She and Tommy were now relegated to quick and brief touches and kisses in the darkest corners of the house or else they risked Lizzie’s ire. Not that work was much different, as anything outside of strictly professional behavior could risk blowing up everything they had worked so hard to build these past few years. There was the apartment they had in London for when they worked too late to justify driving back to Birmingham, but often when they went there they were both too exhausted to do much more than sleep. It was with a bit of a startle that Lily realized that she could not remember the last time they had done anything even remotely romantic outside of quick, almost mindless fucks.

One of Johnny’s boys came over to lead Wraith away by the reins, and Lily remained securely seated in the saddle, resting a hand on the back of the irritable horse’s neck. Even after so many years, he didn’t take too kindly to strangers, and there was always a risk when someone unfamiliar tried to approach him that he would try to bite or kick. But with her still astride him, he behaved himself, letting Johnny’s boy guide him towards one of the wagons.

“I’ll do that,” she said to the man, dismounting with ease and taking the rope he was about to use to tie Wraith to the side of the vardo. He nodded respectfully, handing it over and walking around her to go help Johnny and his men haul the carcass of Dangerous into the grave they’d dug.

She’d just finished looping the rope into place, giving Wraith a companionable pat on the flank when she heard Charlie’s voice raise in an angry cry from where he, Tommy, Lizzie, and Ruby were all gathered at a nearby wagon,

“No! It’s what you do! Shoot horses, shoot people. Everybody says!” He stood, turned, and disappeared back into the wagon, stomping his little feet in a way that was eerily similar to his father.

Tommy winced, shoulders drawing in, expression locking down in a way that Lily recognized as him working very hard not to let the hurt he was feeling show too obviously on his face. Straightening, he fetched a cigarette from his case and went to the hole where Dangerous’s body lay. After a moment’s hesitation, Ruby followed him.

“What happened?” Lily asked in a quiet voice, going to stand by Lizzie, slipping off her gloves to tuck them away in her pocket.

“Charlie heard Johnny say in Rokka that Tommy shot the horse.”

“Oh.”

“He doesn’t understand that it was out of mercy. And he won’t listen to anyone who tries to explain it to him.”

Lily sighed, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “Well, at least we know he’s been paying attention when learning his languages.”

“Maybe you could try talking to him…”

She flicked ash down onto the grass. “He doesn’t really listen to me all that much these days.”

Lizzie looked down and away. Lily thought she might’ve seen a flicker of guilt in her eyes.

There was a time when she and Charlie were close. She had known him since before he was born. And even prior to Grace’s death, she had been a second mother to him. Something both Tommy and Grace encouraged. Her lovers had wanted their son to see her as another parent, and so that was the position she had taken up in his life. Or at least tried to.

But things had shifted in the past few years. Some of it could be chalked up to just the boy growing up and that typical Shelby willfulness finally making itself known. She didn’t think, for all her faults and all the strife between them, that Lizzie had purposefully driven a wedge between her and Charlie. But working with Tommy in London meant that she wasn’t home as much, and with Lizzie always at Arrow House and functioning more often as his mother than Lily was, things had changed. Slowly, they drifted apart. And now he hardly spoke to her. He called Lizzie Mum, but not her. Never her.

Lily could not fault him for growing more partial to Lizzie. After all, she was the one who was always there, to help him with his schoolwork, attend his extracurriculars, mind that he ate his vegetables at dinner, and kiss his scraped knees when he fell playing in the garden. It made sense that he would grow closer to her, and that he would side with her when he saw just how much distress the arrangement between his three parents brought her. In his eyes, Lily had to figure that she appeared to be the primary source of his mother’s pain.

Maybe she was.

Perhaps that was why she gave up so easily without a fight, letting him drift away from her with no protest. A way to try to atone for the agony she had caused Lizzie. She may have Lizzie’s husband, but Lizzie had her child.

She loved Charlie. She only ever wanted what was best for him, and right now, that was Lizzie. She would take care of him, offer him the closest thing to a normal, stable life that was possible for him to have.

It was better for him, this way. He deserved a better mother than the broken fragments that was all Lily had to offer.

Despite her understanding of her boy’s–no, not hers, not anymore–changed emotions towards her, it hurt like a knife to the chest. She had loved him from the moment she first held him, had rocked him to sleep hundreds of times when he was a baby, had watched him grow up into the precocious little boy he was now. He was her baby. Or at least the closest she would ever have to one.

Of Tommy’s two children, Ruby was surprisingly the one who was warmer towards her these days. But then again, Ruby was sweet with everyone.

Turning her gaze back over to where Tommy stood by the unfilled grave with his daughter, she examined the lines of sorrow standing out starkly on his face as he gazed at the dead horse in the hole. She dropped her cigarette to the ground, grinding it under her heel, about to go to him when the growl of an approaching engine caught her attention. Her head turned, hand half raising to dip inside her coat to where her revolver sat in its holster tucked securely against her ribs, before she recognized it as Arthur’s car.

By the grave, Tommy had also noticed the car, ushering Ruby over towards Lizzie and moving to meet Arthur when he shut off the engine and jumped out of the driver’s seat. He had a newspaper in his hand.

Lily moved to stand at Tommy’s side, craning her head around his shoulder to peer at the newspaper’s headline when Arthur handed it over.

BILLIONS LOST IN WALL STREET CRASH, it read, in huge black letters. Behind them, she could hear the scrape of shovels and the dull thud of dirt being dumped back into the hole.

Despite the headline, her stomach did not drop with horror. They had known that this was coming. Tommy had already instructed Michael to sell before the numbers of the stocks and shares collapsed, so they would be–generally speaking–unaffected.

It wasn’t until Arthur started speaking, explaining how Michael had ignored their advice in favor of that of a broker and held on, that her guts began to turn with outrage and dismay. Michael had held on. And taken them all down with him.

She exhaled roughly, taking a step back, slowly shaking her head. Oh, no. Oh, fucking no.

How much had they lost? Just trying to do the calculations in her head for a ballpark number made her temples start to hurt.

Oh, she was going to disembowel Michael fucking Gray.

Incompetent, arrogant, backstabbing fool. They should never have forgiven him for that shit he pulled during the vendetta. Banishment had been too kind a punishment for him.

“That idiot,” she seethed, looking to Tommy. “I’m going to kill him.”

The expression on his face said that he may very well let her. He started to tread back and forth, rubbing at his eyes, mumbling in a way she knew was more to himself than to any of them. His teeth were grinding together, jaw jumping under his skin. It did not take long before he was shouting, pacing the ground like an angry jaguar and raging.

“What do I have to do to make people fucking listen to me!?” he screamed into the wind, a hand going to clasp over his mouth as he paced a few more times then stilled, eyes staring with his mind spinning behind them.

And then he was jumping into action, sounding off orders to both Lizzie and Arthur with a snap of his fingers. He did not need to give Lily her directions, she already knew them, reaching into her pocket to procure her leather gloves and slide them over her hands, gesturing to one of Johnny’s men to get Wraith where he was tied up.

“I need to do some thinking,” Tommy announced as he headed towards the horse with Arthur on his heels.

“Oh. Oh, you do that best on your own, don’t you, eh?” Arthur challenged, agitated.

“I won’t be on my own. I’m never on my own.” Tommy pulled himself into the saddle. “Lily,” he said, and she was already there, reaching up to take his outstretched hand, the strength in his arm helping to leverage her up onto Wraith’s back behind him. He gave one last set of instructions to Lizzie, and a final parting word to Arthur, and then he was driving Wraith into a gallop deeper into the hills. This time, they did not head up to the top of the ridge, but instead towards the trees, Wraith’s canter slowing as they entered the dense thicket of foliage, the wilderness seemingly opening up, and swallowing them whole.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Do you want me to kill him?”

They were seated on a log in front of the dancing flames of the fire Tommy had ignited shortly after darkness fell over the forest. Lily had her head on his shoulder, leaning against his side to soak in the warmth that radiated from his body.

“Hm,” Tommy hummed, fingertips stroking where they rested on her upper arm, cheek turning against the top of her head. She had to bite back a smile at the clear consideration in his voice. “Not yet. Not until we know what really happened.”

“He’s a snake.”

“He’s an idiot. But that doesn’t mean this was a purposeful betrayal.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh, adjusting her head on him. Tommy picked at a sprig of mint held in his gloved hands, pulling off a few of the green leaves and popping them into his mouth. Wraith snorted from where he was tied to a nearby tree. “I still don’t trust him.”

Tommy tossed the remainder of the sprig away. “Me neither.”

Before them, the fire popped and crackled. Lily grabbed a few bits of kindling that they’d collected to feed into the flames.

“I hate to add more onto your plate, but I got a message from Ada’s doctor earlier.” Every day since they’d been out in the country, she went to the red phone booth to take messages from Frances, Isiah, and their other various informants. “She’s pregnant.”

Tommy sighed deeply, but didn’t appear surprised. “Younger’s?”

“The doctor didn’t know, but I would assume so. Who else could it be? Not that it affects things all that much. I just thought you should know. So you don’t get blindsided by it later.”

“Thank you.”

They fell into companionable silence again. He had been quiet since they took off into the woods, busy in his head working on all the new problems Michael had just created for them. Lily offered suggestions and insights when prompted, but otherwise just let him be, knowing after so many years together that her presence at his side was all he needed while he strategized.

He shifted, reaching into his pocket to once more procure the little bottle of dope he kept tucked away there. Uncorking it, he handed it over to her first. Lily took it gratefully, the glass cold against her fingers as she brought it to her lips and tilted her head back to take a swig. Almost immediately, she felt her mind begin to loosen, the corners of her eyesight growing fuzzy.

She handed the bottle back to Tommy. There wasn’t much left; and he downed the remainder of the drug, tossing the empty bottle into the fire uncaringly. His arm went around her once more, the solid strength of it holding her to his side. Lily snuggled in close, grateful for the comfort and heat, hoping that she could offer the same to him.

Her eyes closed, and together, they waited for the ghost.

She did not need to open her eyes to know once she had arrived. She could sense the way that the air around them seemed to shift, the weight of another presence appearing across the fire from them heavy despite her lack of a corporeal body.

Tommy spoke to her a little, and she responded in her gentle Irish lilt. Lily could hear the smile on her face. The love in her voice.

Quick as she appeared in front of them, she was suddenly behind them, her arms encircling them. Solid and real, though they shouldn’t have been. Her body was nothing but ash, spreading into the wind, and yet she was there, holding them as though she had never left.

“All this time…” Tommy murmured, reaching to hold onto the ghost tighter.

“I know. Our love still remains,” Grace said. Lily felt tears squeeze from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. Grace’s hand petted the back of her head.

She had been coming to them both more and more often lately. They had each seen her on rare occasions before, but now it was a regular occurrence. Probably because of the dope.

Shared hallucinations, or real? It didn’t really matter. She was there. She was speaking to them and holding them. Things were as they once were, before she and their only real chance at happiness was ripped away from them.

She was gone as quickly as she arrived, leaving nothing but cold air where she once stood over them. Lily snatched at the empty space where her hand had been settled on her dead lover’s waist, lips trembling. Instead she latched onto Tommy, feeling him maneuver her so that her head was in his lap. He hugged her tighter, face bowing to bury in her hair, and there in the dark, she felt through their bond the true heavy weight of his despair crashing down onto them both, and the dampness of his salty tears dripping onto her scalp to seep into her skin.

∗ ∗ ∗

By morning, they had a plan mapped out. Not a particularly desirable or moralistic one, but then again, few of their strategies ever really were.

It would sustain them until the current financial crisis was over, at the very least.

The first meeting on the subject was held at the Shelbys’ office in Birmingham. The long table in the conference room was already occupied by Polly, Ada, Arthur, Linda, Lizzie, and Leon Greene when Lily and Tommy arrived. Lily raised an eyebrow at the tension she felt already crackling in the air and shared a look with Tommy as she sat down in the chair to the right of his.

The meeting went over well enough, despite Linda’s snobbish remarks and attempts to undercut Tommy at every turn. She’d been getting worse, ever since Arthur became chairman of the board. Like she thought that it was her husband who ought to be king, instead of Tommy.

The idea made Lily want to roll her eyes so hard in her head that they were at risk of popping out. She loved Arthur to pieces, she really did. But he was not suited to the position of leading the empire Tommy had built.

Lily did not speak much during the meeting, though she almost jumped across the conference table to throttle Linda at multiple points. Instead, she relegated herself to the sidelines, watching and listening quietly, as she so often did. Examining the faces of those seated around the table as Tommy explained their current financial situation, and his proposal for what they were to do to try to mitigate it.

At the end of the meeting, all of them–except for Linda who had already stormed out–voted unanimously to go forward with Tommy’s plan.

Not that there had ever been any doubt that they would.

The next meeting was for family only. They left Mr. Greene back at the office while the rest of them stepped out into the smoky air of Small Heath, heading for the Garrison. They entered the pub to rapturous cheers and applause, people immediately swarming around Tommy, eager to shake his hand and thank him for the work he’d been doing.

Lily watched him work the room, effortlessly charming each person who approached him. By the time he raised his voice to address the entire population residing in the pub, he had them all in the palm of his hand. He probably could have told them all to walk into the canal and they would have done so without question.

His request that they move into the saloon bar attached to the pub, albeit with the incentive of a promise of free drinks, was met with more cheers, the patrons hurrying towards the doors. Ada, Polly, and Lizzie all went to convene in one of the booths while Tommy leaned his shoulder against a nearby pillar, and Arthur went to sit in a chair at a table next to the booth. Lily moved to close the doors leading into the saloon bar once all the patrons were packed inside, flicking the lock into place. Then she pulled up a chair between Arthur and Tommy, shedding her coat to lay over the back of it before sitting.

The meeting started off with Ada drawing a bullet from the depths of her handbag and setting it down on the table in front of her. Followed by an announcement that not only had Finn disobeyed them about staying out of the hit they’d ordered in Chinatown, and as a result ended up on Ada’s couch with a bullet in his arm, but he’d also completely spilled his guts to her as far as the details of what he’d been doing there.

Fucking kid needed a lesson in how to keep his damn mouth shut.

But the damage had been done, and Ada and Lizzie were both well and truly furious about the whole thing.

“Oh, Tommy, sweetheart,” Lizzie shook her head. Lily raised her eyebrows at the term of endearment. “I listen to you. I listen to you when you tell me no more sport for anyone named Shelby. I listen to you when you make me promises.”

Lily looked down at her hands, unconsciously playing with the plain golden rings that encircled several of her fingers. Guilt twisted inside her like a snake, writhing and squirming. How many of those promises had Tommy broken, in the years since they’d been married?

How many times had it been her fault when he did?

He tried to explain why he’d sent their boys into Chinatown, but that only seemed to fan the flames of Lizzie and Ada’s mounting anger.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy!” Lizzie snarled, slamming her hand down on the leather material lining the bench of the booth.

“I think that you both are overreacting a little here,” Lily decided to finally speak. “It’s not that big of a deal. And it’s not that different from the type of thing we used to do all the bloody time. Finn’s fine, an asshole pimp is dead, and we’re about to make a hefty hunk of cash for carrying out the hit.”

“It was a particular opportunity.” Lily started a little when, of all people, Polly chimed in. Polly, who hated her. Who had never accepted her. And yet, who had just spoken up in agreement with her.

Lizzie’s eyes darted between her, Lily, and Tommy. Something dawned on her face, and then her features hardened into a deadly expression that Lily had become all too familiar with.

“But you told Polly and Lily,” was all she said in response to the additional explanation that Tommy tried to give her, her voice cold as ice. And despite Polly, Arthur, and Tommy all starting to speak with further details and justifications for the whole thing, all it took was one look at Lizzie’s face and Lily knew not a single word was actually getting through to her. She was too focused on that one detail: that her husband had told his lover and his aunt information that she believed herself to be entitled to know instead.

She would be chewing on that for the remainder of the week. Probably even longer.

“Lizzie, you need to understand–” Tommy started, but didn’t get very far.

“That you tell Lily and Polly, but not me.” Her jaw was clenched in a way that Lily knew meant she was fighting very hard to keep the venom she wanted to spit at them from spewing out. Probably the only reason why it hadn’t already was because they were amongst others. If they’d been in private, she’d have told them both exactly what she thought of them.

As if they didn’t know already.

Tommy’s further attempts to smooth things over went about as well as Lily expected. Once Lizzie got into one of her moods, she could be impossible to reason with. It was better to just leave her alone until it passed.

“Lizzie, if Finn had listened to me, you wouldn’t have known. When we go home, I’ll explain,” Tommy tried. Lily cringed, already knowing that was the wrong thing to say even before Lizzie scoffed and started to gather up her things.

She stood, muttering, “I can’t be bothered with this shit,” loud enough for everyone to hear, before storming out the door. Lily rolled her eyes. All this whining and complaining about not being kept in the loop on things, and yet every time she did have the opportunity to be involved, she acted as if it was the last thing she was actually interested in doing.

Fuck, she was not looking forward to dealing with her and the earful she was sure they were due to get when they got home. Maybe it would be better for them to stay away for a few days to let Lizzie cool off. They could sleep over at their apartment in London instead of going home to Arrow House.

It didn’t take long for Ada to follow Lizzie in storming out. Lily watched her go, rubbing at one of her temples to try to stave off the headache she felt coming on. Jesus Christ, what was with all the cunty attitude today?

Tommy came to sit down in the vacant chair next to Lily, leaning forward as Polly urged him to go easy on Ada on account of her pregnancy. It wasn’t all that surprising that Polly knew. Even if Ada hadn’t told her yet, Polly always knew when someone was pregnant.

In fact, the only one left at that table who didn’t know was Arthur, who almost choked on his whiskey at the revelation.

Polly left not long after that, though not before all but confirming to them that Ben Younger was the father of Ada’s baby. Lily shared another knowing look with Tommy as he stood and slid into the booth, occupying the spot near the window where Polly had been a moment ago. Lily shimmied in next to him, the red leather creaking a little under her as she got situated at his side. Arthur poured three glasses of whiskey, passing two of them across the table to her and Tommy.

Lily sipped quietly at her drink while the brothers examined and discussed the bullet that had been ripped out of Finn’s arm.

“Let me see,” she held out her hand for the bullet when Arthur asked about the writing on it. She squinted at the tiny characters carved into the metal. “Hm. My Chinese isn’t fantastic, but I think this one just says ‘death.’” She handed it back to Arthur.

“Angels of Retribution?” he asked Tommy.

“Yeah,” he kept turning his gaze out the window. Outside, Lily could hear the sounds of horse’s hooves clomping against the cobbles and children chattering. She inched a little closer to him, until their sides just barely brushed. It was only them and Arthur; no need to try too hard to hide their relationship.

“No one fucking listens to me,” Tommy lamented softly, leaning back with his head tilted towards the ceiling. Lily nudged him companionably.

“I do.”

He shot her a soft look, hand smoothing down the back of her head, leaning forward to kiss her hairline. His unspoken gratitude hummed between them warmly. He gave her a gentle tap on the back to let her know it was time to go after taking the bullet from Arthur and pocketing it. Lily slipped out of the booth, going to grab her coat and tug it back on, wincing at a slight twinge in her shoulders as she did.

“See you later, Arthur,” she said in goodbye to the eldest Shelby brother where he was still sat in the booth. Tommy gave him a pat on the shoulder, telling him to let the patrons in the saloon bar come back in if they wanted, and then led the way outside, into the smoke and soot of Small Heath.

Previous Part • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x oc #lily callaghan #lily callaghan x tommy shelby #love me where i'm most ruined #do you love me

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

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sweethearts ~ devon bostick

word count: 1446

request?: yes!

“I’m not sure if you do this but can you do a Devon Bostick imagine where they met on the set of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and they’re still together till this day? Possibly like them being asked about their relationship in a interview or something. Thank you so so much :))”

description: in which they’re teenage sweethearts, and everyone finds this fact absolutely adorable

pairing: devon bostick x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

Landing the role of Jessie Jones in the first Diary of a Wimpy Kid movie was a massive deal for me for many reasons. First, it was my first starring role - I was playing a family friend of the Heffley’s and would be featured heavily in the movie. Then there was the fact that this was a movie adaptation of a very popular book series, a series that I had also been into at the time.

Walking onto set that first day I was shaking with nervousness. There were so many people - cast and crew - and they all looked so professional and used to a film set. I felt so out of place and I wondered if I should’ve been there.

“Hey!”

I looked up to see a boy around my age approaching me. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I found them just becoming heavier with someone actually talking to me.

“Are you our Jessie?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m (Y/N).”

“Devon, I’m playing Rodrick.” He shook my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

I felt so awkward and I was so sure Devon could feel that. I just wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and have the awkwardness be over with.

“Have you been to costume and makeup yet?” he asked. I shook my head. “Well, I have to go to costume now, I can show you where it is.”

I sighed with relief. “That would be great.”

“Follow me.”

He led me from the set to the group of trailers outside. I tried to peer at the signs on the trailer doors to see what they were, but we were walking so quickly I didn’t really have time.

“Is this your first movie?” Devon asked.

“Kind of,” I said. “I’ve had mainly small roles or background work. What about you?”

“A few bigger roles. I’m in the Saw movie that’s coming out this year, actually.”

“That’s awesome! Although I am a massive pussy so I think I’d skip on that one.”

Devon laughed. “I don’t blame you. They’re scary movies. I don’t even know if I’m allowed to watch the movie.”

Our conversation was interrupted when we arrived to the costume trailer. We were both whisked away to get ready. I didn’t see Devon for nearly an hour, but by the time we reunited we were preparing for the first scene of the day.

It didn’t take long for me to lose my nerves. Within a few minutes of shooting I got into the character and almost forgot about the cameras and the crew watching me. At the end of the day I didn’t even want to go home, I just wanted to keep filming.

Devon found me as I was waiting for my ride home. “Hey, great job today rookie.”

I chuckled. “Thanks. It helps to have such great castmates.”

“You seem pretty professional as is, but maybe we could hang out and run lines for tomorrow’s shoot. If...if you want?”

He seemed so shy and awkward, the exact opposite of how he had been all day. It was kind of cute...okay, really cute.

“That’d be great actually,” I said. “Where did you have in mind?”

“There’s a fast food place not too far from here. We could walk there.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way!”

~~~~~~

10 Years Later

My giant husky, Heimdall, came bounding into the room and onto my lap as I was talking to the talk show host on my laptop. I let out a groan as I felt the air being knocked out of me.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” the talk show host chuckled.

“For you maybe,” I joked. “I don’t quite enjoy my big dog thinking he’s still a puppy or a lap dog, but I can’t really pretend like this is something new for him.”

Heimdall licked at my face as I scratched his head. Devon appeared in the doorway moments later, a guilty look on his face as he tried not to be too much on camera.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize the door was open,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said to him.

Devon whistled for Heimdall to follow him out of the room, which led to the giant dog digging his paws into my stomach as he jumped off of me. I groaned again, playfully glaring after him as he trotted out the door.

“Interesting interlude there,” the host teased. “Was that Devon Bostick we heard in the background there?”

“It was indeed. He took Heimdall out for his daily walk while I’m in the interview. I’ll likely get tackled by the big brute again when I leave the room.”

“How often do the two of you get asked about Diary of a Wimpy Kid and your relationship starting there?”

“Not as often anymore. It’s been nearly 10 years since we started dating and eight since the last movie in the trilogy, which I wasn’t really in. I’ve been asked every now and then about it, but not as often as you would think.”

“Pardon my brief gushing, I just think the two of you are adorable. I mean, you were both teenagers when you met on set and started dating shortly after, and you’re still together all these years later! Most high school sweethearts don’t make it this long as it is, let alone being in the public eye for basically your entire relationship.”

“Well that’s the thing, we haven’t really been in the public eye all that often. We kept pretty lowkey when we first started dating, which wasn’t hard cause neither one of us was all that famous. Once our careers got bigger and we started getting noticed we had basically figured out how to hide from paparazzi and cameras and all. We don’t post about each other on social media all that much either, just a picture every now and again. We’re not sharing our day by day lives with the world basically, which I think is the best way to keep a relationship private and to navigate through being two celebrities dating.”

It had worked thus far in mine and Devon’s relationship. Even after confirming that we were dating just before the release of Rodrick Rules, neither one of us posted the other on social media at all. It wasn’t until the first set of breakup rumors started swirling that we decided to make tiny posts about each other when we felt like it, which was mainly on birthdays and holidays really.

Although, even if we were super public with our relationship, I didn’t think anything would pull us apart. As cheesy as it is to say, I did think Devon was my soulmate. We clicked so quickly after that first time hanging out (which we decided had been our first date years later), and I had never felt so confident that I was meant to be with someone. I wasn’t surprised that we were still together all these years later.

I continued with my interview for a while more before saying goodbye to the talk show host and leaving the video call. I sighed and stretched my back out, feeling the tensed muscles from sitting for so long popping. As I expected, the moment I opened the door, Heimdall came running for me.

“One of these days you’ll realize you’re not such a small dog anymore,” I told him, kneeling down to pet him. He licked at my face in response, which I figured meant he would never realize that.

“Did we derail the interview too much?” Devon asked, coming to join me on the floor.

I shook my head. “Not much. We talked about our relationship a little bit, but we moved on almost immediately after that.”

Devon smiled. “Yeah? What were you talking about?”

“Oh, the usual: meeting on set, keeping our relationship lowkey, when you’re gonna put a ring on it.”

He gave me a playful look. “You say that as if you’re not the one who said you’re more than okay with just being common law married until we’re 30.”

I nudged him. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go take this oversized baby and watch some movies downstairs.”

Devon nodded and leaned forward. I gave him a quick kiss before pulling away and shoving the massive dog towards him. While he was incapacitated, I took the opportunity to run down the stairs. Heimdall was to his feel and chasing after me, Devon following closely on his tail.

I couldn’t imagine a better life than this, with my teenaged sweetheart and our fur baby. The perfect happily ever after if you asked me.

#Devon Bostick #devon bostick imagine #devon bostick x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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pacific-rimbaud · 4 years ago

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Love and Other Historical Accidents

Chapter 12: The Picnic

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hermione Granger

Rated M for swearing and mild sexual content

Tags: romantic comedy, Regency romance, time travel, pining, miscommunication, slow burn, selective obliviousness

WIP 136k+, 12/13 chapters + epilogue

An ear-drum needling, dog-whistle whine emanated from the center of the kitchen table. Hermione’s ears throbbed.

“Steady on, lads!” Martin punched the steering toggle of his powered-down chair with a closed fist, like he meant to burst forward at top speed. “Hold the course! You’re doing real magic now, you boys!”

Stray energy churned through the room, causing every object in the cottage to ripple and wobble as though it was underwater. Books shivered in their clothbound hides, Hermione’s teeth hummed unpleasantly, and the chalk lines Draco and William etched over the surface of the table that morning quivered into woolliness.

Grix ground his teeth. “They’re going to blow the windows out.”

Hermione hated paired incantations. She wasn’t musical, but imagined it was rather like playing an instrument alongside another person, in one of its punishingly precise forms: a piano four hands divertissement rather than an all-comers drum circle in a municipal park. It meant relying on one’s partner to hit all their notes on time while missing none oneself.

It made her extremely cross.

The only person she’d ever actually enjoyed duetting beside was Draco: equally exact, equally sharp, and, for all his affected apathy, equally practised.

He and William stood at opposite ends of the kitchen table, wreathed in neon-yellow hoops of fizzling, improvident magic. Watching them, Hermione almost felt a pang of envy.

Continue reading on AO3

#draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione #dhr #dhr fanfiction #love and other historical accidents

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redorich · 4 years ago

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hey red i was wondering about Tubbo now and how much he suspects ppl, bc truthfully Tubbo is a smart kid, and he definitely knows something is up if his best friend, one of the loudest people he knows, protests about giving him any clue or information about the village bellow the surface. Sooner or later bits and pieces of information should connect, and Tubbo has always been a rule breaker.

"So, uh. The elevator's going up..." Ranboo says hesitantly.

Tubbo's keen eyes track the slow ascent of the elevator up from the depths of the Hermit canyon. "Whatever's in there, it's dangerous."

Ranboo shuffles back and forth, debating whether or not he should tell Tubbo what he saw all that time ago. The creeper-man with the gleaming steel face and red eye, the dog-man who swore to hold his tongue, the gigantic cavern of the Hermits' shopping district.

"Yeah, of course it's dangerous," Ranboo says, "but do we know for sure that it's angry? Maybe it's friendly?"

Tubbo snorts, not taking his eyes off the machine. "Since when are you optimistic?"

Ranboo sweats. "I dunno, I just--"

"Sorry," Tubbo interjects, forcibly untensing his shoulders. "I didn't mean to snap. I'm just... worried, is all. Remember the time Tommy went down there? He was there for days, and came out insisting that the Hermit isn't real. Something happened to him down there, I'm sure of it."

The elevator stops and the doors open. A tall, dark figure steps out, and Tubbo and Ranboo both reach for their weapons. The tall person(?) immediately trips on the edge of the door, pinwheeling their arms wildly to avoid falling on their face. The person, who appears to be a man now that the two teens can see him better, looks up at them and waves his hand.

Ranboo lets go of his weapon, and Tubbo hesitantly waves back. The moustached man waves more eagerly, like a golden retriever whose tail wags at the sight of a friendly human.

"Hello!" The man says, half-shouting to compensate for the distance. "My name's Mumbo, it's nice to meet you!"

"Tubbo," he introduces himself, then points at his partner. "Ranboo."

Mumbo trots closer on lanky legs almost as tall as Ranboo's, dusting a bit of redstone off his shoulder. "I'm new here," he says, "well, not new new, but I've not left the canyon much. Where's a good jungle when you need one, eh? I promised Iskall a parrot and I don't think he'll let me get away with a chicken twice."

Tubbo mumbles out some coordinates, and Mumbo thanks him with a pep in his step and a whistling tune, going on his merry way. He is headed in the exact opposite direction of the jungle.

"That just happened," Ranboo says.

"...Yeah, I don't think the Hermit is dangerous--"

Ranboo nods rapidly. "Yeah, the Hermit probably isn't dangerous--"

"Nice guy, really," Tubbo assents.

#mcyt #hermit canyon au #ranboo #tubbo #mumbo jumbo #me.cpp

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jayeffect · 3 years ago

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I’m genuinely sick and tired of this week and shows coming out. The amount of fandom bullshit and racist dog whistles and the fucking negative takes for attention and clicks and people straight being disingenuous to media rn, has got me JADED to no end. It’s on Reddit it’s one twitter and it’s on this fucking hellsite.You got motherfuckers out here saying how hypocritical or heinous she hulk is for womens empowerment when she just twerks in a fun cameo with Megan the stallion But watch game of thrones where women are frequently raped and murdered, along with showing the bleak reality about them not holding any true positions of power or whatever. You got people complaining about Rings of power for being too woke by adding a diverse cast or just for being apart of Amazon but never come out and support Chris smalls or boycott the other big shows on prime before this. Critical role is too slow or boring or hard to get into, when the pacing has been the EXACT OPPOSITE and the fucking idiots who say this ( LOOKING AT YOU TWITTER CR ) ARE STILL HUNG UP ON ESSEK AND CALEB, THE MIGHTY NEIN ENDING, SHITTING ON THE MIGHT NEIN ENDING, AND HAVENT KEEP UP WITH THE SHOW SINCE THE FIRST EPISODE OR JUST STRAIGHT HATE WATCHES OR HATE LOOKS UP THE CRITICAL WIKI.

#rant tag #rant post #rant #critical role #rop #she hulk

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theniceandaccurategoodomensblog · 4 years ago

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Good Omens and Nineteen Eighty-Four: a comparison

You can read this meta on AO3 here

The final lines of the book Good Omens contain a clear reference to the book Nineteen Eighty-Four: ‘And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot… no, imagine a sneaker.’

As a result, Neil and Terry set up the ending of Good Omens in opposition to the ending of Nineteen Eighty-Four. They tell us: if you want to know what could have been, what was avoided, go read Nineteen Eighty-Four. In doing so, they also hint at exactly how Heaven and Hell might operate i.e. like the Party in Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Although the exact final lines from the book Good Omens are not in the show, the comparison between Good Omens and Nineteen Eighty-Four still stands.

Here are the final words of the book Good Omens:

‘If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot… no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human… Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield… …forever.’

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

And here is the relevant quote in the book Nineteen Eighty-Four:

‘There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. But always— do not forget this, Winston— always there will be the intoxication of power, constantly increasing and constantly growing subtler. Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face— forever.’

Nineteen Eighty-Four: A Novel, George Orwell

A quick summary of Nineteen Eighty-Four

Nineteen Eighty-Four tells the story of Winston Smith. Winston lives in Oceania, a totalitarian and cult-like regime run by the Party and headed by the divine-like figure of Big Brother. The Party maintains power through near-constant surveillance, propaganda, thought control and violence. The control of thought, the propaganda and the re-writing of history is so extreme that it is difficult to be certain what is and is not factually correct in Winston’s world. Oceania is one of three totalitarian regimes in the world, the other two being Eurasia and Eastasia and the three regimes are locked in a perpetual war, though allegiances shift.

The people of Oceania are taught to love Big Brother, though no one ever sees Big Brother directly and we are told that Big Brother cannot die. It is not clear if there is or was ever a real person behind the mythic figure of Big Brother. It is clear that Big Brother functions as a mythic, god-like figure, used by the Party to foster loyalty and obedience.

On the flip side of Big Brother and the Party, we have Goldstein and the Brotherhood. Goldstein is was once a member of the Party, but he is now a traitor and the leader of the Brotherhood, an organisation of rebels who aim to destroy the Party. Goldstein is said to be the author of the book The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism, a book that details how the Party maintains power and how it could be overthrown. However, it is revealed that Goldstein was not the author at all. The book is itself propaganda produced by the Party as a trap for thought criminals and rebels. It is possible that Goldstein himself does not exist, or if he once existed, he is now a mythic figure used by the Party for their own ends.

Winston begins the book with doubts about Big Brother. He works for the Ministry of Truth, erasing and rewriting history. Throughout the book he searches for the means to rebel and he falls in love with a woman named Julia. Winston and Julia risk much to be together. Their very relationship is forbidden by the Party. Although Julia is also a thought criminal who hates Big Brother, she does not have Winston’s thirst for overthrowing the regime. She does not think it possible. Instead, she focusses on the moments of escape that she can forge with Winston.

Ultimately, Winston is captured and tortured. Initially his hatred of Big Brother and his love of Julia help him to resist, but Winston is taken to the dreaded Room 101, a room in which the thought criminal is made to experience their worst fears. He betrays Julia, and everything he knows to be true. In the process, he loses all love for her. We later learn that Julia does the same. In the end, Winston loves Big Brother.

Alright- let’s compare!

Thought control

Thought control and propaganda are core to the Party’s operations. Three thought-stopping slogans feature heavily in Nineteen Eighty-Four: (1) War is peace, (2) freedom is slavery, and (3) ignorance is strength. Compare this to the operation of Heaven in Good Omens. In fact, compare this to Heaven in Good Omens. Heaven is meant to be, well, heaven. Instead it is cold, ruthless and all of the best composers are in Hell. Yet Aziraphale is told, Aziraphale repeats that heaven is heavenly. Evidence that it is not is swept away with the thought-stopping phrases like ‘it’s ineffable.’

It is clear from all that Aziraphale says and does that he has been absolutely pumped with propaganda. Gosh, it takes until Armageddon for him to accept that God isn’t coming to save them, as well as to realise that he can possess people like a demon (and by extension, that angels and demons aren’t so different after all). The thing is, Aziraphale is (1) clever, (2) stationed on Earth and (3) friends with a demon. Of all of the angels, he has had the most opportunity to break through Heaven’s thought control, and he still right up until Armageddon, hadn’t fully managed it. This is absolutely not a criticism of Aziraphale. Rather, it shows us how extreme the thought control is.

The book Nineteen Eighty-Four gave us the concept of doublethink. Doublethink is holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously and accepting both of them. Aziraphale is a master of doublethink. Here’s just some of the contradictory beliefs that he manages to hold at the same time:

(1) Crowley is both a friend and an enemy

(2) Aziraphale is both obedient to Heaven and in an arrangement with a demon

(3) The final victory over Heaven will involve the loss of everything Aziraphale loves: books, food, music and Crowley and yet, it will also be ‘rather lovely’

Double think is a core aspect of thought control in Nineteen Eighty-Four because it is what prevents the erroneous ideas being challenged by reality. Aziraphale’s capacity for doublethink is why it takes Armageddon for him to start fully breaking his programming.

A perpetual war

Within Nineteen Eighty-Four the Party uses perpetual war as a strategy to maintain power. It uses up resources, maintaining high rates of production and constant work without improving the standard of living and it provides a direction for everyone’s anger (so it doesn’t come back on the Party).

Now, what if the perpetual war between Heaven and Hell has exactly the same function? What if it is a means to control angels and demons? A means to keep angels and demons busy and direct their anger, preventing any true revolution or change in their conditions? If that is its function, well then it certainly fulfils that function rather well!

Constant surveillance

Constant surveillance is used by the Party to control the people. In the book Good Omens we never really know the level of surveillance. In the show, we do have some idea. The fact that God is always watching is made clear by the fact that she is the narrator. Of course, she doesn’t use this to control anyone. But she isn’t the only one watching. The existence of the Earth observation files shows that Heaven operates with a level of constant surveillance. No, they aren’t literally watching every moment. But they do have every moment recorded, and when suspicions have been aroused, they can check up on you. It is little wonder that Aziraphale feared getting caught.

Big Brother and God

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the Party forbids religion, but the figure of Big Brother is divine-like. Big Brother is infallible and all-powerful. It is also said that he can never die. And yet, at no point in the book does anyone actually see Big Brother himself in the flesh. What we see is the mythic of Big Brother, used by others for the purposes of control. Was there originally a real person behind the myth? Is there still? If so, is his agenda the same as all that is attributed to him? Probably not. The original Big Brother may have been a good intentioned leader. He may be in a prison somewhere, in fact, or dead. We simply do not know.

All of this parallels nicely with God in Good Omens. Heaven, and even Hell, use the mythic figure of God to control the angels and the demons, invoking God’s Great Plan. God is infallible and all-powerful and, ultimately, responsible for everything through her Great Plan, or so it is said.

Yet, do we see the real God, the original being behind the mythic figure? In the book, we don’t get to see for ourselves who God really is. Like Big Brother, he could be a real being behind the myth, truly controlling Heaven or he could be imprisoned or even dead. We simply do not know.

In the show, however, God narrates. So we, the audience, know that she still exists. Yet, she remains elusive to the characters. She does not appear, not even with the imminent destruction of the world, not even when Satan appears and as Crowley says she’s ‘not talking to any of us.’ We know that she did communicate with Aziraphale at the Beginning. But it sounds like she’s been silent for a long time. Yet, we, the audience, know she isn’t fully removed. She is watching. What is her agenda? That is left unclear. What exactly does she have in common with the mythic figure of herself? Is she ultimately guiding everyone? Does she have a Great Plan and is it what they think it is? Is she benevolent? Or is she merely watching? All we know is, from her own account, it is all an ineffable game of her own devising.

The mythic of Goldstein and the creation of Hell

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, the Party uses the mythic of Goldstein, a former Party member and traitor who is now the leader of the rebellion to reveal thought criminals and purge their ranks of disloyalty. Former party leader turned traitor and the leader of the rebellion… Sound like anyone?

I think we should seriously consider the possibility that the war in Heaven, the rebellion, and the creation of Hell served exactly the same purpose in Good Omens: to reveal the thought criminals and to purge Heaven’s ranks of disloyalty. By allowing the disloyal angels to ‘rebel’ and giving them a pre-scripted role as rebels still fighting a perpetual war, well, it is a pretty clever way to ensure that there will be no genuine revolution isn’t it? And, after all, for all their rhetoric about war, Heaven and Hell still have entrances in the same damn building as well as back channels of communication. Hell is still trying to bring about the Great Plan. It makes sense that ultimately, Hell exists to keep Heaven in power, just as the Brotherhood exists to keep the Party in power.

Of course, we know that Lucifer/Satan exists in Good Omens. He is not a mere mythic figure. But I suspect that Lucifer/Satan, the fallen angel behind the myth, is in on the scheme. He may well have truly been a traitor, a traitor who was offered leadership of Hell and who took up this offer to further his own power. Or perhaps Lucifer/Satan isn’t a traitor at all but the most remarkable double agent.

Incidentally, this all means that Crowley truly did fall for questioning. He fell for thought crime.

Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship vs Winston and Julia’s relationship

Like Winston and Julia, Aziraphale and Crowley must go to great lengths to be together. Their relationship is forbidden, and for it they risk much. Also like Julia and Winston, although one of them (Winston, Crowley), has a hunger for rebellion and change, and the other (Aziraphale, Julia) believes that change is impossible and focusses, instead, on finding the moments that they can together.

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, Winston betrays Julia and Julia betrays Winston. They lose their love for each other. Love, we are told, is crushed by the Party. In contrast, the message in Good Omens is much more optimistic. For Aziraphale and Crowley, love wins out. Neither betray the other in the ultimate sense and any smaller betrayals along the way are easily forgiven. Love is not lost. Love leads them both to freedom. In Good Omens, love is stronger than power and control.

What exactly was prevented when Armageddon was stopped?

Nineteen Eighty-Four tells us exactly what was prevented when Armageddon was foiled. A world after Armageddon would have been all ‘the intoxication of power’ and at every moment ‘the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless’. But whose victory? Heaven’s or Hell’s? It really doesn’t matter. What matters is power and control. Aziraphale himself eludes to this in the book when he appears briefly within the body of an American televangelist. He explains that Heaven is not necessarily going to win. In fact, he suggests that it could easily go either way. And, he says, neither side is going to be too worried about how many humans are destroyed along the way.

How is Armageddon prevented?

In Nineteen Eighty-Four Winston says that what might achieve victory over the Party is the spirit of Man. He is shown to be wrong.

But, in Good Omens, the ‘spirit of Man’ is triumphant and we are told exactly what ‘the ‘spirit of Man’ means.

A loyal Party member (an angel) cannot triumph. Neither can a member of the Brotherhood (a demon). Instead, we need someone all too human. The solution is cannot be found in any form of power and control, not in top-down authoritarian control or in violent revolution and mob rule.

It is found in the embracing of humanity. It is found in embracing the world as it is, with all its faults and failings: kicking pebbles, throwing a stick to a dog, whistling tunelessly. The solution is not perfect. It is messy. It is not found in power and control. It is not found in chaos and reactionary anger. Rather, it is also a strange kind of centre, a balance point between those two opposing instincts, between rigid authoritarian control and chaos . It is a middle way. It is freedom and it is love.

Or as the final lines of the Good Omens book have it:

‘imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human…

Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield… …forever’

#Good Omens #Good Omens meta #Good Omens analysis #ineffable husbands meta #ineffable husbands analysis #Nineteen Eighty Four #1984 #orwell 1984 #Heaven is a cult #Good Omens book #Good Omens show

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years ago

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Unraveling at the Alter

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Fluff.

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Thank you @agniavateira for helping me with this :) It is massively appreciated.

Henry Cavill Master List

This was it.

Years of waiting.

Years of heartache, joy, and more love than he knew was possible.

Henry sighed and rubbed his hands against his slacks, licking his lips nervously, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Oh god. Oh god! He bent forward, fighting the urge to vomit. Why the fuck was he so nervous? It's not like this was anything new. He'd been madly in love with her for years, even when they weren't together he had held some sort of twisted hope for this very day.

Not to be that man, but Henry had been somewhat in love with her from the first week he'd met her. All of those years ago, some days it felt like an entirely different life.

“Dad,” Ivan laid his hand on Henry's arm.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay? Do I need to get Uncle Charlie?” His blue eyes watched his father with great concern.

All morning the house had been consumed in chaos. Henry had taken up residence in the office, at the opposite end of the house from where Nell had been getting ready upstairs. His brothers – and Nell's, fathers, mothers, Ivan, and Kal had been in and out of the room a hundred and one times. Until his mother had the sense to ask them all to get out. With the exception of his best man and his dog.

Henry was thankful for the bit of silence, before the actual ceremony. Evidently he wasn't hiding his nerves as well as he had hoped to.

“No, wild boy, I'm fine. Thank you.” Henry forced a smile to ease his son's worries. “Have you seen your mum?” Henry hadn't set eyes on her since this morning, when he was woken by Ivan jumping on their bed and urging his dad to hurry downstairs.

Ivan smirked, his eyes sparkling as he nodded eagerly. He had never seen her look so pretty, he may have even cried a little. “Dad, she looks like a princess! But without all the stupid frills and no singing mice.”

Henry laughed at Ivan's details. Leave it to Ivan.

With some tradition, Henry had yet to see the dress that Nell had picked. His only hint had been that it wasn't a traditional wedding dress, although she was confident he would love it all the same. She was head over heels for her dress. The delicate blue and white beading at the top gave way to a flowing emerald satin skirt. She'd found it while looking for bride's maid dresses.

Since they were getting married in their own garden, Nell felt that a relaxed look would be acceptable. Besides, she had no interest in putting on a big poofy, over the top dress, only to take it off an hour later and never wear it again.

Unconfirmed, Henry had a sneaky suspicion that her dress in some way matched the attire she had found for him. Nell had convinced him to go with a dark green waistcoat and slacks, who was Henry to argue. She had been dressing him long enough to know what he would look good in. Ivan looked adorable in his matching attire.

A soft knock on the door, with something mumbled through from the hall, indicated that it was time for Henry, his best man, and his dog to take post in the garden.

“Coming,” Ivan called back, smiling like the cat who'd found the canary.

“Kal,” Henry whistled, the big dog lifting his head and huffing. Slowly standing with a yawn, Kal licked his lips and sauntered over to big Henry shaking his head. This silly blue bow tie that they had put on him was beginning to get in the way of a good nap. “Come on, bear. It's time to roll.”

“Dad,” Ivan walked beside Henry, his hands in his pockets.

“Yes?”

“Are you happy to be marrying mum?”

“I have no words to tell you how happy I am, wild boy.” Henry beamed. “Are you happy about this?”

“I guess,” Ivan shrugged and smiled. “If it makes you and mum happy. Why not?”

“Always the supportive one,” Henry rolled his eyes, chuckling at Ivan's passive demeanor.

The groomsmen looked smart, well put together, and turned out better than Henry could have imagined. Ivan stood straight, his hair styled to match his dad's, with Kal at his side. One bride's maid, then two, a third, then fourth, by the fifth Henry was again feeling like he was going to vomit. Deep breaths. Hands sweaty, he wished he'd asked to see Nell before hand. He would have been able to tell her how spectacular she looked while crying like a baby, in private.

No use wishing for that now.

As the music began, he could feel his hands shake. Kal whimpered beside Ivan and nudged his nose into Ivan's side, moving him closer to Henry. Smiling at his dad, Ivan reached out, taking his hand.

Nell had spent the morning fretting over every tiny detail of her day. Was her hair the right way, her make up as she had sampled? Did her dress fit and fall the exact way it had the moment she'd fell in love with it? Would Henry be pleased? Would he be as shaky as her? Crying and trying to catch breath.

More than once, Nell had felt like she was being sat on by an elephant. Only to be filled with sudden excitement and wanting to scream in pure delight. Her sister and mother had barely left her side since she'd woken. Ivan had come barreling into the room before dawn, jumping on the bed and shouting for Henry to get out. Leave it to their son.

Her father had assured her that Henry looked every bit dashing and handsome as she had wished. Perhaps more, now that she saw him in his perfect wedding suit. They couldn't have planned this better. The weather was amazing, for a mid November day. Nell had worked hard on her garden, since they'd moved in a few months ago, making sure it was perfect for the day.

“How is your dad?” She'd asked Ivan a few hours ago.

A mischievous grin, the wild boy shrugged. “He looks like a prince, but without the stupid Disney animation.”

Cheeky. Like his father.

Taking her father's arm, Nell inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her hands trying to steady the bouquet that she held in her left hand. Around her the music began to play, when asked about music for the ceremony Nell had casually mentioned how cool it would be to have an instrumental version to one of her favourite songs. What she hadn't been expecting was Henry to deliver. One bride's maid...two...She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry before she got down the aisle.

“Deep breath, Nelly.” Walt winked gently patting her hand. Nell nodded and smiled. “You're going to knock him dead, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, dad.” Her voice barely cracked above a whisper.

“Ready?” Walt looked at his youngest, smiling wide.

A slight nod, Nell took her first step forward, humming to the music to soothe her. The distance from the back door of the house to where Henry waited in the garden was exactly 152 steps, at the pace she would be going. She had practiced a time or two, while she had been home alone – using Kal as a stand in for Henry. In the garden a few chairs were placed, along with a delicate arrangement of lights. Who would have thought she'd be able to pull this all together in less than four full months.

60 people, all who were close and meaningful, around the garden to share in the day. Nell could feel the tears welling. At the end of the meticulous stone walkway, Henry stood with Ivan clutching his hand. Neither one of them did a very good job at keeping the tears at bay. Ivan reached up, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. Henry swallowed the lump in his throat trying not to sob loudly.

Ivan had been right when he'd said Princess. Nell was somehow more spectacular than Henry had imagined. Walter stopped, giving Nell a kiss on the cheek and Ivan a quick wink. Stepping forward to meet his bride, Henry let out a breath and a low whistle.

“Thank you,” He gave his father in law to be a quick nod.

Muttering back a quick congratulations, Walt took his seat in the front next to his waiting wife. Kal leapt forward a little greeting Nell with an affectionate “boof!”.

“Kal, sit.” Ivan quickly hushed the big dog.

Giving the couple a quick moment to sort themselves, Michael smiled and patiently stood. Henry had asked him to marry them, off the cuff, since he and Nell couldn't agree on anyone else to do the job. A soft laugh from the crowd when Kal tried to wiggle free from Ivan, again.

Ignoring the bit of commotion around him, Henry was lost in the sight before him. The soft, gentleness was Nell through and through.

“Oh, my darling.” Henry cooed, holding her hand tightly. Kissing the back of her hand, he smiled warmly. “You look,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You,” he sniffled. “Janelle, my darling.”

“Dad,” Ivan nudged him with his elbow in the back, Kal contained by his uncle beside him. “Tell her she's pretty! Don't just stand around and cry.”

A camera flashed and a few chuckles filled the air, from those close enough to hear Ivan's commentary. Rolling his eyes, Ivan sighed and gently shook his head. Adults.

“Shush, you.” Henry chuckled at Ivan, tears on his cheeks. “Nelly, you are...wow. Absolutely wow!”

“I love you,” Nell smiled, kissing his cheek. “And you, wild boy” she peeked at Ivan, “stop teasing him.”

“I love you all, and I hate to rush this moment, because you look fantastic.” Michael shook his head, trying to stop his own flood of tears, his baby sister looked absolutely stunning. “But...” He gestured to the crowd.

Nell giggled and Henry laughed. “Of course, of course.”

“I love you,” Nell mouthed quickly to her big brother.

Reciting vows that they had written for one another, exchanging their rings, and listening as Michael recited some words about love and marriage – no doubt something he had found when he went online to become ordained, Nell couldn't help herself as she became lost watching Henry. A time or two she had heard their guest chuckle, which prompted her to giggle along. Words lost to her, as she admired the man before her.

The crinkles on his eyes, the soft dimples when he smiled, or the smoothness of his voice when he read her the vows he'd written. God she had been so lucky.

“You are now husband and wife.” Michael happily announced, “Henry, I know she's my sister, but...this once I'll encourage you to kiss her.” he teased, slapping Henry's shoulder. Everyone sharing in their happiness.

Rolling his eyes, in typical Cavill fashion, Ivan groaned as his parents stood in front of everyone kissing like a couple of teenagers. His uncle shielding his eyes, Ivan giggled loudly. Thanking him for the help. He was bound to have nightmares over that kiss. Gross!

Kal wiggled and bounced on his leash, trying to convince whoever had a hold of him that he could be a good boy. He had spotted a squirrel earlier, on the east side of the house, in his duty of wedding dog, he didn't have a chance to properly investigate.

Around them people clapped, cheering the happy couple as they turned to face their guests, for the first time, as husband and wife. Nell wiped a few more tears away, sniffling. Henry smiled softly, his swiping his thumbs across her cheeks.

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan broke their moment, gently tugging at Nell's arm.

“Yes?”

“I love you. And I think you look really pretty. I told dad you looked like a princess, but I don't think he believed me.”

“I didn't say that.” Henry rolled his eyes, taking Nell's hand to step forward to join the guests waiting to mingle and personally congratulate the couple.

“You two are something else.” Laughing, Nell snagged Ivan gently pulling him into a hug. Kissing the top of his head, he was nearly as tall as her. Catching her mother's eye, she smiled, “I think they're waiting for us.”

“Do we have to take photos?” Ivan groaned, walking beside his parents, glancing around to see where Kal had gone off to. As best man his duty was to see his dad didn't freak out and to keep Kal out of trouble.

“Only a few, then we're having lunch and you are free to do whatever you want, for the day.” Nell instructed. “It won't be that bad. We're taking some photos here, so we don't even have to leave.”

She had opted to do as much as she could at their house, the property allowed for space to set up and still have room to wander off a little. If one didn't want to be directly in the crowd, they were welcome to take a walk around the few paddocks and wander down the small lane.

This was certainly not the lavish and large wedding that one would expect from a well known celebrity. Henry had snorted and groaned when Nell had informed him, a few days ago, that people were speculating about their upcoming wedding. The only people who mattered were those invited, as far as Henry was concerned. They had made a proper announcement about their engagement a few weeks ago, although their family and friends had known days after they had initially discussed it.

“Don't forget, tomorrow morning Bridie and Joe are coming round to take you for the afternoon.” Henry chose now to remind his son of his former Nanny's visit. “And you owe Sophie a dance.”

“I won't forget.” Ivan had been waiting weeks to see his friends from his former life in Ireland. He had marked off the days on a calendar in his room, even. He was excited not only for a party, but to see those he missed and didn't often see with his parents' work schedule.

“And you, Mrs. Cavill.” Henry winked, “Need to be ready by noon, tomorrow.”

“I will be, but I wish you'd tell me where we were going.” Nell pouted.

Henry had set up a four day escape to Rome, since they would be traveling for The Witcher press in a couple of weeks the honeymoon would be short. They had agreed to take Ivan along for the press tour, spending a few weeks together as a family. Between interviews and appearances. Easier said than done. But Henry wanted them with him, it would be nice to retire to a hotel room and have his family.

“Sorry, no can do. But I have things packed for you, Sadie helped me. I will tell you this, you're going to love it.” He kissed the back of her hand.

“Fine,” Nell sighed. “Since you're not going to tell me, shall we go around to the front and find the photographer? Before our mothers come over here.”

More than once, she had spotted their mothers watching, allowing them a few moments alone as husband and wife. Yet, keeping track of time.

“You're right, let's go around.”

The Cavill and Stewart clan were vast. Multiple siblings, spouses, and children. Trying to wrangle everyone, Kal included, into one or two large group photos had been a task. Nell was glad that the photographer was gracious and understanding. Attempting to get that many people in a space and all looking the same direction, succeeding in the second try – miracle or possibly witch craft. Nell wasn't sure, but she was in awe.

Henry's favourite photos would no doubt be the ones of his own little family. The three – four with Kal – of them together, happy and content. Nell sighed and shook her head, when Henry and Ivan went about their usual antics. Nobody else was bound to have a photo of their husband with their son thrown over his shoulder, while their giant dog jumped up trying to get in on the playfulness.

After photos and lunch, as promised, Nell gave Ivan the go ahead to do as he pleased. As long as he didn't retreat to the den and spend all day playing video games with his cousins. He had to still be around, if needed for more wedding activities. Like watching people Ooh and Awe over silly things. Did that many people need to cry over his parents dancing? His dad often looked like a wounded duck, although it never stopped him. Ivan could watch his parents dance to that nauseating Thomas Rhett song any time. His dad said it perfectly described how he felt about his life.

Whatever. After his dance with Sophie, who he was gaining height on, he disappeared with a couple of Henry's nephews and Kal. As long as they didn't set anything on fire, they were allowed to roam and play on the property.

After a dance or two, Henry and Nell agreed to split ways for the moment. Mingling and enjoying their guests. It would be rude of them not to engage. Taking a little break, Nell stood at the back of the garden, enjoying the last bit of warmth from the day before the cool evening set in. She'd hugged, kissed, and thanked so many people that her head was beginning to swim a little.

“Has anyone told you that you look an absolute vision,” Nell's older sister, Sadie, approached extending her arms and embracing her little sister, kissing her cheek.

“I have heard that a time or two, but I think they were only saying it to be polite.” Nell winked and laughed. Gently fanning herself with her hand, it was far from warm outside, but the commotion was enough to make anyone sweat a little. Fanning herself, she blew out a breath, her cheeks hurting from all of the smiling. How could she not? If there was ever a day to walk around with a perma-smile, it was today.

“Let me guess, Hen can't stop complimenting you.” Sadie teased.

“He's said it a few times, too.” Winking, Nell beamed.

“You know, Nelly, I'm just happy that you are happy. Cliche, yes, but as your big sister that is my job.” Squeezing her sister's hand, Sadie smiled fondly “It hasn't been easy, but what good romance is?”

“Looking back, I think we had to grow and excuse the corny, if it's yours then you need to let it go.” Nell shrugged, stealing a quick glance at Henry across the garden. Standing with one of their guests, chatting happily. “Had we not been apart, I don't think I would have realized or appreciated how much I need him. Or how much I love him.”

Henry had asked her to marry him several times in the past, getting shot down each and every one. Looking back, had she agreed, surely they would have been facing divorce by now. At the very least angry and bitter with one another, trapped in a loveless marriage with kids they resented as much as they did one another.

Life worked out for a reason.

“Sweetie,” Sadie hugged her sister, holding her tightly. “I'm so glad this worked out, because honestly, I can't think of anyone better for you. He loves you, so much.”

Hugging her sister tightly, Nell sniffled, trying to hold back another flood of emotions. Thankful, when she heard Henry gently clearing his throat, asking to steal his bride away for a moment. Hugging him as tightly as she did Nell; Sadie smiled waving them along.

“So, Mr. Cavill, what's the urgent task?” Nell linked her arm in his, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Don't be mad,” Henry smirked, glancing around, nobody seemed to notice them escaping. “I wanted to have a moment with my wife, nobody else around.” He chuckled when Nell looked up, she'd been following his footsteps allowing him to lead her.

Around the other side of the garden, she giggled and hugged his arm tightly. “You rascal. Leading me astray, well I'll be.” She joked.

“I love you,” He whispered, kissing her temple.

“I love you, too.” Nell smiled, leaning into him. “So, this is it huh? Married life?”

“It looks like,” Henry beamed.

“I'm glad you accepted my proposal. Despite how awkward it was.”

“I would have been crazy not to, my darling.” Kissing her softly, Henry sighed happily. “I feel as though we've barely seen one another today. Would it be rude to say good night and sneak upstairs?”

An advantage and disadvantage to spending their wedding night at home. They could call it an evening anytime they wanted, but then it felt forced and rude. As if demanding guests to leave, which is not what they had intended. Nell had made it very clear that she wanted people to stay and enjoy, having car service to take people wherever they needed to go after.

“It's only 7pm.” Nell smiled, leaning into Henry, shivering slightly. “Do you really want to go in?”

Smiling mischievously, Henry wrinkled his nose. “Maybe? Is it wrong that this is our wedding night, but all I can think about is going to bed and snuggling with you?”

“Snuggling?”

“Among doing other things.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Glancing around, Nell furrowed her brow. A few spots had fresh dirt and Kal tracks. “Have you seen Kal lately?”

“He was with mum and Simon.”

“Hmm, well before we do anything tomorrow. We need to fix these flower beds. Someone found another squirrel it seems.”

Laughing, Henry looked at Nell for a moment, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “You are something else, my darling wife.”

“What? The dog tore apart my garden, I can't leave here with them looking like...”

“Nell, we can worry about that tomorrow. I can have Ivan and dad fix them, if you want. Or we can hire someone. I can't allow you to spend the morning of your honeymoon gardening. Which, by the way, I think we should discuss.”

“That top secret honeymoon? Are you going to tell me where we're going?”

Henry shook his head. “No, but I will tell you that it's been a while since we've been there, together,” Nell frowned. That could be just about anywhere. “We land and check in, then I have dinner reservations. The next morning, late morning, because I intend to keep you in the room as long as possible.” He bit hit bottom lip, “I have made us a booking for a couple's massages and then...”

“You have this all planned don't you?” Henry nodded, Nell winked, “what if I don't want a massage? What if I want to stay in our hotel the entire time and...”

“But we did that last time, this time...” Henry paused, eyes wide. Shit.

“Are you taking me to Rome?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to. I think you gave it away pretty well. The only other place we've stayed in a hotel the entire time was the second trip to Jersey. Unless we're honeymooning in Jersey. Which if we are, I am fine with that, but Rome? Oh my god, Henry! Ugh, I love you! I love you. I love you! That is the perfect honeymoon.” Nell bounced eagerly, and she wondered where Ivan got it.

“I suppose you would have found out at the airport, anyway.” He teased, “So? You really like it?”

“Oh my god, of course! Henry! This is amazing. I could not have picked a better place.” She flung her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. “You are a fantastic husband. Have I told you that, today?”

“I don't know that I am as fantastic as my wife, but I certainly try.”

Take Us Home – Alan Doyle, is the song I had in mind for Nell’s entrance

Blessed - Thomas Rhett is their first dance

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavil x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #unraveling at the alter

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aspiringauthorintraining · 4 years ago

Text

Well-Kept Secret

Atsumu had caught you just before you entered the practice area, saying he had something important to tell you after your match. He made sure to add that it was a secret, and that you would only get to find out, if you won.

You rolled your eyes at his offer, but gave him a nod nevertheless, agreeing.

Osamu, who was privy to the whole exchange, shot you a knowing wink before pushing his brother away to the where rest of the Inarizaki boys’ volleyball team stood.

And before you could dwell further on the setter’s words, your captain called you over to the practice area where everyone else was getting ready to warm up.

_________

The Date Tech girls’ volleyball team was definitely a force to be reckoned with, even on the second set of the match. But it wasn’t your first time at the Spring High Nationals, nor would it be your last. And you sure as hell weren’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.

With just one more point, your team would take the second set and there would be no need to go into a third. So you didn’t think of anything other than saving the ball, as you dove in right after the Date Tech’s setter quickly dumped the ball over the net. You were able to hit the ball upwards for your setter to quickly set it to one of the other spikers on the opposite end. And as you held your breath at the ball hitting the floor on Date Tech’s side, it wasn’t until you heard the sound of the two consecutive whistles that you breathed a sigh of relief.

The girls rushed over to you, pulling you up to make a congratulatory group huddle. But as you made the move to stand, a sharp pain arose in your ankle causing you to fall back onto the floor. In your haste to save the ball, you hadn’t realized that you had sprained your ankle in the process.

Your captain helped you get up, telling the others she would take you to the infirmary. Seeing all their down faces, you told them it was just a sprained ankle and reminded them of the team’s victory. And you waved off the others trying to help, saying the captain was enough, and the two of you walked out of the court slowly.

Atsumu met you at the court entrance with a worrying look. You tried to tell him it wasn’t anything serious, waving him off only for him to insist on carrying you to the infirmary. But before you could reject, your captain accepted the offer on your behalf, giving you a wink from behind. You rolled your eyes at her, knowing what she was doing, and told her to go back to the team for the finishing part of the match.

The walk to the infirmary was awkward to say the least. Any other day, Atsumu probably would have smirked and made jokes at you the whole way, but with being too preoccupied on your injury he just continued to ask if you were uncomfortable in his hold.

Once you reached the room, the doctor was no where to be seen, probably stepping out for a second. Atsumu seemed like he was going to keep holding you until the doctor came back, so you pointed to one of the beds for him to let you down on.

“I’m okay ‘Tsumu.” you assured him.

He said nothing, just cradling your ankle and using his other hand to hold tightly onto your hand.

“By the way, what did you want to tell me?” you tried to get him to talk, remembering his previous deal.

“It’s not important right now.” is all he said, continuing to stare at your bruised ankle.

You playfully hit his shoulder. “Hey, a deal’s a deal. I made sure to win the game so you would tell me.”

“I wouldn’t have made the deal, if I knew this would’ve happened.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his cheeks to look at you.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Miya. Even if you hadn’t said anything, I was still going to try to save the ball. You telling me your secret was just an added bonus.”

He scoffed at you, shaking his head. A second later, he gave a sigh a looked straight at you with determined eyes.

“I like you.”

You made a face at his confession. “Is that really the secret I sprained my ankle for?”

“Hey, you said it wasn’t my fault!” he whined, pouting his lower lip at you. “And I just confessed to you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“It’s not really a secret if the whole school knows about it.”

“You knew?!”

You gave him a shrug. “I’m not in the top of our class for nothing.”

But honestly, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Miya Atsumu had a crush on you.

Atsumu ran a hand through his hair, huffing. He had thought he kept his feelings well hidden until now. “Well then, do you like me?”

You laughed before responding, “Like I said ‘Tsumu, the whole school knows about it.”

___________________

Osamu made a face at his brother fretting over your every move. Throwing a popcorn kernel at his twin’s head, he grabs Atsumu’s attention.

“She just sprained her ankle. Yer acting like she’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

“Yeah ‘Tsumu, even the doctor recommended to practice walking a bit now.” You really thought it was sweet of him to offer his help, but it was getting too much. He would trail behind you wherever you went, if he wasn’t carrying you in the first place. And he would offer to feed you your food, saying you needed to focus all your strength and energy on healing your ankle.

Even now as you were about to head to the bathroom, which was just down the hall, he perked up from his seat, arms already in a carrying position.

You could walk by yourself, albeit slowly, but with your boyfriend looking at you with puppy dog eyes every time you rejected his help, you couldn’t help but give in every time as well.

You sighed as he gave you the same look you knew was going to make your decision waver. “Fine, you can carry me to the bathroom.”

His face lit up instantly at your words, proceeding to gently carry you in his arms princess-style down the hall. When he let you down onto the bathroom floor and just looked at you waiting, you pushed him to the door.

“You are not staying in here while I pee.”

“But what if you need help getting up?” he whined giving you another cute look.

You let out a deep sigh. You would need to get used to the look soon so he couldn’t use it against you anymore.

*(A/N): The gif is the exact face he would make to let him carry you lol.

#haikyuu!!#Haikyu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagine #atsumu x you #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #miya atsumu x reader #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki x you #no beta we die like daichi lol

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denkishair · 4 years ago

Text

Kiddo - Drabble

pairing: hawks x future!wife

word count: 442

genre: family, friendship

a/n: heavily inspired by @lavander-cherry‘s “reacting to their future kids” post. I thought it was far too cute to resist! Hawks’ kid is called Ayumi in this and she has the same quirk as him! I accept requests!

Ayumi halted. Her eyes fixed on a small hole in the wall. It was a dingy cafe, bins overflowing, grime clinging to the walls and mysterious liquids staining the pavement. Still, it was surprisingly busy. A small queue had started to form and customers hung about, chatting to each other, gripping their steaming cups like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“What you looking at, kiddo?” Hawks tipped his head, half smiling.

That seemed to snap Ayumi out of her thoughts. Blinking, she glanced over at him before her eyes widened and she suddenly smirked, “Nothing, just mum.”

Hawks’ wings shot up in surprise and fluttered excitedly. Ayumi raised an eyebrow, her sly smile growing at her father’s anticipation. There were so many women, it was impossible to tell who the mother of his child could be.

Hawks’ wings twitched, “What did you say she looked like again?”

Ayumi folded her arms, biting her lip, “I never said.”

“Uh huh,” Hawks nodded, his eyes never straying from the cafe, “I’m sure you did. Like her hair colour. You definitely told me her hair colour, kid.” Could it be the pretty blonde paying for her coffee? God, he hoped it was the blonde. She was exactly his type.

His daughter laughed, “Nope. Not telling.” She turned, continuing on their walk. So far, their “ten minute patrol” had turned into an hour long escapade; first the dog, then the autographs and now this. She loved the power she wielded over Hawks’ curiosity by simply existing but, by God, she was hungry.

She stopped abruptly, Hawks hanging upside down in front of her. “Come on, kid,” He whined, “I raised you better than that.”

“Nope,” Ayumi rolled her eyes, taking a running jump before joining her father in the air. She circled him, flying backwards, “That’s the exact opposite of what you taught me. Besides,” She lifted a shoulder and winked, “I learnt from the best.”

Hawks whistled, “I won’t take that attitude, squirt.”

Ayumi hummed and flew forward, “Try telling that to Mum.” She looked back over her shoulder at the small cafe. Her mother had taken her there on multiple occasions, always to meet up with retired pro heroes or old classmates. Dad had actually met Mum there, but this Hawks didn’t need to know that yet.

Hawks groaned and flew faster to match her pace, “What’s her name?”

“Not telling.”

“Not even her last name?”

“Takami.” Ayumi replied, grinning.

Hawks let out a sound of frustration and flew upside down, going from her left side to her right. “I mean her maiden name.”

Ayumi snorted, “Suddenly, I can’t remember.”

“Kid!”

#bnha fic #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha kid #hawks #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks imagine #bnha

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pacific-rimbaud · 4 years ago

Note

I don't want to sound pushy but... dying to know if there's any L&oha update scheduled🧐😅🧐😅 Hope you have a great week ahead!!!

Thank you for asking, I'm sorry I don't have an update schedule for you! My family and my health deserved my focus in July (we're all doing well). Unfortunately this isn't what I do for a living, and I can't always justify spending long stretches in front of a computer, asking to not be disturbed. But I'm getting back into it, and have made some decent headway this week.

Chapter 12 opening below the cut, if you'd like! Massive spoiler if you haven't read L&OHA yet, totally unedited, rough draft, you have been warned, etc.

An ear-drum needling, dog-whistle whine emanated from the center of the kitchen table.

Hermione’s ears throbbed.

“Steady on, lads!” Martin punched the steering toggle of his powered-down chair with a closed fist like he meant to burst into the fray. “Hold the course! You’re doing real magic now, you boys!”

Stray energy roiled through the room, causing every object in the cottage to ripple and wobble as though it was underwater. Books shivered in their clothbound hides, Hermione’s teeth hummed unpleasantly, and the chalk lines Draco and William scratched over the table’s surface that morning quivered into woolliness.

“They’re going to blow the windows out.” Grix folded his arms and ground his teeth.

Hermione hated paired incantations. She wasn’t musical, but imagined it was rather like playing an instrument alongside another person, in one of its more punishingly precise forms: a piano four hands divertissement rather than a hazy, all-comers drum circle in a municipal park. It meant relying on one’s partner to hit their notes while missing none oneself.

It made her extremely cross.

Now that she thought of it, the only person she’d ever actually enjoyed duetting beside was Draco: equally exact, equally sharp, and, for all his affected apathy, equally practised.

He and William stood at opposite ends of the kitchen table, wreathed in neon-yellow hoops of fizzling, improvident magic. Watching them, Hermione almost felt a pang of envy.

William more than held his own. Sweat beaded his brow and his exposed arms beneath sleeves bunched high on his biceps, his opened shirt translucent from exertion as he swiped his wand through the prickling air.

One-third through the spell, every candle in the cottage had blown itself out in a fit of melodrama. In the evening dark, the snuff box sat in the innermost chalk ring centered on the table, glowing like a bioluminescent deep-ocean predator.

Hermione had proofread their work, and knew they were coming up on the end. She chewed her lip as citrine streaks of unmoored energy flickered from Draco’s wand tip, down his hand, and up his arm, grounding themselves in his ribs. Perspiration saturated his hair and formed a sheen across his skin, pouring forth from sustained effort and the heat building inside the cottage.

Grix and Hermione flanked Martin beside the door, bubbled inside Martin’s pink protective shield.

Draco and William had drummed up a month’s supply of magic, tamped it down inside the wretched snuff box, and now moved to seal it in. William started, drawing firework-bright runes into the air before him with his wand tip, then Draco joined. They circumnavigated the table deliberately, fencing in the magic, condensing it inward and down, then clamping it shut until some poor mark came along and tried to summon it with a well-meaning Accio.

The squealing grew louder, then louder still, until it became so intolerable that Hermione flattened her hands over her ears.

Tension was written across William and Draco’s faces, but they continued, making one last lap around the table’s edge before the final stanza.

The snuff box popped about on its stumpy folded legs, eyes two brimming bowls of incendiary rage, unable to escape its chalk circle but giving it the old college try. It began to spin in a horizontal circle as it grew red-hot, then white, spewing a fountain of sparks from its nostrils so that the table below it blackened and singed, and a smoke plume curled up to the ceiling.

Grix’s teeth creaked.

#Love and Other Historial Accidents #L&OHA #LaOHA #L&OHA spoilers #You asked I answered

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lovely-necromancy · 4 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia CH.5

A scream shocks you out of your fuzzy thoughts. You look around and notice Connor sitting alert and looking like he wants to run down the hallway this very instant.

“Connor?” the head snaps to you immediately and before you can even question his presence in your home he jumps up and barks then walks in circles near the door.

Great a dog who has no sense of horror movie tropes. Since the scream did come from inside your house you should go find the person who made it and see what's wrong. Also maybe get clarification on why they're in your home. You aren't dead and are still in the same clothes so you figure you're alright around them. You follow Connor to where Toby is, in your kitchen staring out the window standing at a very odd angle. Like he caught himself before he fell backwards but hadn't bothered to get up.

“What's up....oh.” is all you can say as you see Chonk's head whip towards you and Connor before he books it for the tree line. Damn that fat raccoon can run fast, good to know if he ever wants to chase you down in the future. Which he might if you don't leave his slice of pizza out today.

“'oh' 'oh', that's all yo-you've got to say about a giant fuck-ing ra-mrrow- raccoon!?!” maybe thinking this guy was composed and unphased was a misconception, if seeing Chonk has put his world views in question.

“I mean he probably just eats a lot of pizza.” to put it simply you never gave much thought to the fat little trash thief, he was just fat and he existed. Visiting your home for the slice he deemed his every other week. Probably had other homes in Kepler he terrorized for the same reasons. God knows Leo would never put up with a raccoon trashing his store for his pizza. Or even his home for that matter.

“He's nearly half the size of Connor!” looking down towards Connor you tilt your head.

“Are we talking about with his legs or just his torso?” you could maybe see the size comparison with the dog's body but with his height it was a different matter all together.

Toby rolls his eyes before going and sitting down at the small breakfast table where he seemed to have found your fidget cube and had been well fidgeting with it. You take the seat opposite of him, it's weird having a guest over especially when you didn't invite them in. Well now that removes the chances of him being a vampire you suppose.

Perfect not a kidnapper, nor a vampire, and he's helped you out twice now. The two of you might well be on your way to becoming best friends. That is if he could get past this episode of yours.

“I still don't know what happened last night, but I'm done with the freak out.” you say as you idly pet Connor.

“...What?” he's squinting at you trying to get a read on how anyone bounces back from something like that so calmly in a matter of hours. Especially when he'd been checking up on you and Connor only to see you still staring off into space.

“Oh, uh... I have Autism. Isn't good for much but helps me rationalize events quicker and move past emotional and mental breakdowns pretty quick too.”

“Is that an Autism thing?” you shrug at his question as he jerks his shoulders forwards a few times.

“Probably more of a me thing, but I've read the trait tends to be more common in those of us who are neurodivergent.”

You hear a murmur of telling someone later later. Filing that away to take note of another day you stare at Toby who in turn stares back. This goes on for a bit, you couldn't even classify it as a staring contest since you are both still blinking occasionally. You aren't really sure if you should say 'thank you' first and then ask the man what he's doing in your home or wait for him to break the silence. But as you stare at Toby, into his eyes, you get the feeling this man is more of a zombie than anything else. The type to drag along and go at a snails pace rather than get into the messy bits in one go...ironic choice for comparison.

“Thank you for driving me home...but why are you still here?” you hear a huff of laughter?

“You weren't really in a position...” knuckles pop “to be left alone. What if you got back into your car again?” his eyes cut and there's a bit of bite to his words...it wasn't directed towards you, you can feel that much.

“Fair enough.” you glance at the stove and see the clock shine a little before six. “Would you like some breakfast” his neck snaps to the left triggering your own to snap as well, “or a ride home?” you finish asking.

“Can you make something for Connor too? Don't trust you behind the wheel yet.”

“Oh sure! What does he normally eat?” Perking up at the thought of the dog being off duty, that means actual pets!

“He-mrrow- normally gets oatmeal with some fruit or veg and anything raw I can find.” He finishes with a whistle for Connor's attention, and then a pointed finger flipping down in front of him. The dog trots over and sits down, while Toby takes off the vest you look through your cupboards to find the rolled oats you'd gotten as incentive to eat in the mornings before realizing you only liked them on certain days.

“So what does Tobias normally eat?” you call out as you look for some honey you know you threw in the cupboards.

“Anything really. I don't do slimy textures or anything watery.”

“Watery? Like soups?” Found a can of pumpkin, it's still in date too, perfect.

“Watery like...when you put too much water in oatmeal.” He nods when you silently show him the can of pumpkin asking if that'd be fine for his boy, who is sitting down drooling from his smiling face as Toby tussles his ears.

“Ahhh, thin watery got it.” You hear movement and a few grunts from Toby as you assume he tics, trying to ignore them so they won't trigger your own you look through the fridge. You suddenly take a deep breath, while looking for a meat in your fridge, and let out a shrill trill. Kinda sounds like a Togepi's cry from the cartoon. Shaking your head your eyes catch the eggs and turkey sausages you have.

“Will turkey sausage and eggs work for you two?”

“Never had turkey sausage but it should be fine.” he's leaning forward resting his head in his arms on the table as Connor lays by his bouncing feet.

You set the eye to medium heat and put the sausages on first, leaving three out for Connor. He is a big dog after all. You turned your focus on preparing Connor's oatmeal while the sausages cooked. It was kinda nice having company over even though the circumstances weren't the best. Your neck jerks to the side three times before pulling back. There's more on the way your neck didn't crack and your body doesn't let up until it does.

“So what disorder do you have?” You turn to give Toby a confused look you hope he can read through your mask.

“...I have a few..you want the list?”

“No, the tics. Lower level Tourettes or what?”

“Oh, they stem from my” head jerking twice to the side before cracking “there we go.” “Sorry, they stem from my Autism, at least that's the best I can gather without seeing a specialist. Virginia doctors suck big time.”

“Tell me about it.” that perks you right up, you knew you caught a transatlantic accent, it's pretty much the lack of an accent that gives Virginians away so easily. You already have two guesses on where Toby came from.

“I knew it, you're from Halifax aren't you?!” Since you've turned around to face him you see the exact moment his face drops. Eyes shocked wide open.

“How...did”

“Oh it's easy once you know what to listen for, in fact it was the total lack of any distinguishing accent or use of slang that gave you a way. A lot of people don't notice what they take from their communities linguistically speaking. And for us Virginians it's what we don't take. It's such a bland neutral midpoint it's why it had been so coveted during the radio era and while we might've lost the in-fluctuations as time went by, no longer needing them for our voices to be heard over various frequencies....am I talking too much you can tell me to shut up, really you won't hurt my feelings.” you give Toby a minute to process everything you've just said.

“Special interest?”

“mmm, more a...an interesting factoid.” you hope he registers your smile, hell you hope he doesn't think you're weird. You know how much you can be sometimes, especially when you info dump or overshare information. He manages to nod along with you before finding his voice again.

“Lemme guess NOVA?”

“Pfft, seriously.” you really need him to at least register the disgust on your face if he hasn't been able to read you before, “Listen the Beach isn't much better but I'd probably off myself if I was from NOVA.”

“A public service really.”

You both stare at each other before breaking into a fit of laughter. It's nothing huge but it does seem to put Toby more at ease you noticed. In the time it took you to make breakfast for all three of you you've found out a little bit more about Toby.

He's uncomfortable talking about his hometown, at least you assume, so instead he mentions that he recently came to town with his friends, Brian and Tim. Talks mostly about Connor and you learn he's to help alert Toby of his Tourettes when driving and he can even detect seizures with Brian. That's amazing, service dogs have sure come a long way! And you love hearing what a silly puppy Connor is off duty, it makes you smile. Toby in turn asks about you, and you are such a well of stories. You tell him about your family back on the coast, about your recent move to Kepler, give him a little info on Kepler to help him adjust to his stay, and even get on the topic of your extensive work with animals.

“Sounds like you were working towards being a trainer, why didn't you?”

Making a sound that sort of sounds like a jumbled 'I dunno', “Sort of don't like people that much. Dogs are fine, less complex and less likely to complain when you do something in a different way. But a trainer doesn't train the dog, they train the people.” You're placing Connor's food in front of him as he sits patiently.

It's quiet for a moment as you place a plate in front of Toby and set yours down as well. Not tense just quiet, it's very calming really. Until Toby ruins it.

“Thanks Connor.”

Like he's a voice actor who is over exaggerating the sound effects of a dog munching away at their bowl. Connor inhales harshly before diving head first into the bowl. The dog is ferociously tearing into his breakfast and you can't help the laughter that spills from you at his enthusiasm. Hands coming up near your face and shaking as you shift from foot to foot. It's a happy stim, cute dogs are of course a trigger, someone can complain later you're happy to see a happy excited pup any day.

Taking your seat and turning your attention to your food, you see Toby hasn't touched his own. He's staring at the plate with a furrowed brow, he glances up to you as you remove your mask. You feel a bit vulnerable to be honest.

“Oh is something wrong? Do you want something else?” He's a guest who's helped you twice now the least you can do is make sure he leaves your home full.

It takes a moment but he gathers his thoughts to explain, “I have a scar...it's pretty bad.” he looks away from you.

You tilt your head not quiet understanding what he means, “Cool story, do you want me to look away?”

He stalls at this, you just keep throwing him for a loop since you met the other day. While he thinks on it you scoop some of your eggs on your spoon and into your mouth. Perfect texture and prefect flavor, today will be good.

Toby seems to have made his decision and without any show he takes his mask off to begin eating. You can see the scar he was talking about, and while the currently red and bleeding'?!' scar on the left corner of his mouth was bad it wasn't much compared to the gaping hole further up that side on his cheek. You can clearly see the even whiter, how this boy is so pale is beyond you, skin around the edges suggesting the wound was older and had started to heal at some point. But you could see most of the teeth on the left side of his mouth. You've never seen these teeth while they were still in the head. A skull or 3D model yea. But never a living breathing person's head. It's fascinating really, you hadn't even noticed that you finished your breakfast as you watched him eat, you were so enthralled.

“You know your lip's bleeding right?” eyes never leaving the boy's teeth as you see them grind down the eggs into the tiniest particles. Neat!

“Rwhatf?” the way he can talk with his mouth full without spilling it from the hole is fucking magic and you won't hear another word on it.

He takes a drink of water, again it doesn't spill. Then you notice the slight tilt of his head...oh he's had practice doing this. Impressive honestly.

“That's what you choose to comment on?” his eyes narrow at you're still gawking form.

“I'm sorry I've just never seen those type of teeth still in head, normally muscle and...and skin cover them. So this is really cool to see them in action!” gosh you're so damn weird. By his stupefied expression Toby seems to think so too.

“Plus the wound looks healed but the lips look fresh,” you get up and grab a few paper towels bringing them over to offer to Toby, “Not to mention it's bleeding and you haven't once wiped it.”

He doesn't reply as he takes the napkins from you and dabs at his scarred lip, looking back and seeing blood just as you said. He was right when he thought he'd been biting himself a few hours ago. He'd totally forgotten to check after getting you home.

“Well I don't feel it so I didn't know actually.” he just resumes eating as if this conversation didn't happen.

“Didn't, didn't, didn't” you get stuck in a loop for a bit before breaking out “you didn't feel it? What do you have congenital insensitivity to pain?” you ask incredulously.

“I haven't heard it called that since I got diagnosed.” still eating he looks at you through his long eyelashes.

This dude could not be a real person. You had to have been imagining your dream friend. Everything you learned about Toby was more interesting than the last...at least for you it was.

“Medical history podcasts are interesting.” you shrug, “should I get the first aid kit?” at his shrug you get up and go to your bathroom to retrieve the kit.

Coming back into the kitchen you catch Toby lowering your plates for Connor to lick clean. You don't see a problem with it but you will wash everything twice since the pup has slobbered on nearly everything anyway. When you don't say anything he lets Connor continue before placing the dishes in your sink.

“Such a big help” you say patting Connor's head as you pass him, “Yea I really am” Toby says as he sits back down. Propping his arm up on the table to rest his head on his knuckles, it was such a fluid and casual motion. As if he's sat at this table everyday of his life, like this was his home and you were his guest. Tied in with how comfy he is man spreading at your kitchen table you'd say he made himself at home just fine.

You smile and scoot your chair next to him first aid kit in between you on the table. Toby looks between you and the kit before leaning in closer for you to work. Grabbing the antiseptic cleaning towels you go to wipe Toby's lip when he flinches away. Probably faking to see your reaction.

“Oh, fuck off you have CIPA.” you laugh grabbing his chin to keep him in place. He rolls his eyes “And you're weird.” The vibrations feel weird against your fingers.

“I know.” you continue cleaning the small bite mark? Well he does have CIPA he wouldn't be able to feel the pain if he was gnawing at his lips. Would he be able to taste the metallic tang of his blood or were taste buds effected by the disorder too? You might need to do another deep dive on this, it just became relevant. Maybe an anxious tic, judging from the larger wound it could be possible. Wearing a mask must help to hide it but not not to stop it getting worse if no one can call you out on it.

“That wasn't an insult...” he says making you look up into his eyes as you dry the wound, “I know.” You smile down at him, knowing this time he can see it on your maskless face.

When you finished cleaning his wounded lips, you drove Toby and Connor back to their home. Which turned out to be the RV at the forgotten entrance of the forest. Toby had been a little wary you knew where he was talking about but seemed to shake it off just as quick when you mentioned hiking a lot and using that entrance because it was the closest to you.

He had put Connor's vest back on and hopped in the back with him. You noticed from the review that Connor's full attention was on you.

“This set up let's him focus on the driver, so he'll tell us if something will impede your driving.” Well that explains Brian's position the first time you four met.

Nodding you sync you phone with the car's bluetooth and pass it to Toby with spotify open.

“Rules of the road, passenger picks music.” you say simply when he questioned it.

He quickly clicked your last playlist. Probably either too lazy to find something or trying to get a better read on you. Music says a lot about a person even if not everyone thinks that way. And unfortunately for you this playlist screams mental illness and a need for therapy. But you have folk punk. So who needs therapy when you can just scream cry these lyrics.

Toby doesn't comment on it, either just totally apathetic or maybe he likes it. He's a bit of an enigma, he's open and honest for the most part but saves his opinions unless directly asked.

Even after making it to the RV without incident Toby tries to distract you for a bit and tempt you out of the car with the possibility of playing with Connor. As fun as the idea sounds and as much as you don't want to be rude, you're very tired and drained. Probably more from “hanging out” with Toby this morning than your actual episode last night. Plus you understand Toby's just trying to be nice and maybe ensure your safety.

“Could I maybe rain-check? I'm actually really tired.” you say with your most polite smile, though he can't see it through the mask you know he sees the crinkle of your eyes.

“Sure, just get home safe.” you feel that's less about you, but you aren't sure what the hanging subject is. So cryptic.

“Yup,” you chirp, “See you later Tobias!” as you start to back out back onto the road you hear Toby say “ Later YN.”

Driving off you can't keep the smile off of your face. Toby's a nice guy, you hope you get to spend more time with him. And this time the thought isn't centered around also hanging out with Connor. Just about enjoying Toby's company.

Getting home and locking your door you strip your jeans and flannel, leaving you only in your muscle tee, and curl up in your unkempt sheets. You'll do laundry later, right now was time for a little nap.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby #ticcitoby #hoodie x reader #masky x reader #timothy wright x reader #brain thomas x reader #reader insert #mask #hoodie #timothy wright x brian thomas #timothy wright #brian thomas #creepypasta fanfic #A cure for insomnia

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musette22 · 5 years ago

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A/N: Guys, I reached a lovely follower milestone today! 🎈 So to thank you all for sticking around and being so wonderful, here’s a soft little Evanstan something for you. This is set at an indeterminate time in the past or the future, for you to decide, no specifics. Just a happy little bubble of domesticity 💗

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

Everything is easy ‘cause of you

The ticking of the round, brass clock behind Chris and the soft click-click-click of their fingers hitting the keyboards of their laptops is the only sound in their kitchen this afternoon. That, and the occasional snore from Dodger, who’s lying in his bed in the corner, sleeping the day away.

No music, no phones, just the two of them taking the day to focus on their respective writing projects.

Chris and Sebastian are sitting opposite each other at the big, wooden dining table, the industrial-style lamps hanging from the ceiling illuminating their workspace. Under the table top, their legs are tangled together, Chris’s bare feet resting on top of Sebastian’s sock-clad ones. They’re both in soft sweats and faded t-shirts: comfort over style, because apart from taking Dodger for a walk in the woods behind the house, neither of them is leaving the house today. Across from Chris, Sebastian is working from notes he’s jotted down in his fancy black leather notebook, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his pink lips, a little furrow of concentration between his eyebrows.

They’ve been working non-stop for a few hours at least when a dull ache in Chris’s lower back finally breaks his concentration. He huffs a quiet laugh to himself. He really isn’t twenty-one anymore. Sitting up straighter, Chris pushes his chair back from the table and stretches his arms out above his head, his spine cracking satisfyingly. Sebastian is so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even look up from his screen, doesn’t notice the way Chris smiles at him, soft and fond.

Chris gets up from the table and walks over to the kitchen, which takes him approximately two large steps. He fills the kettle and turns it on, then opens the cupboard to take out two mugs that clink together cozily when he puts them down on the stone countertop. Whistling softly, he picks out a tea for himself from the selection displayed in the wooden tea box, and prepares a fresh batch of coffee for Sebastian in the small French press they bought at the market together just the other week.

As he waits for the water to boil, Chris leans against the sink, crossing his arms as he looks outside at the field stretching out behind his converted farmhouse. It’s a gloomy day; thick, grey clouds rolling overhead, carrying the promise of rain, or maybe even snow, if they’re lucky. A perfect for staying inside with someone you love, Chris thinks, like the sap he is. At that exact moment, Dodger lets out a low whine as if to say, and what about me? Chris snorts softly, reaching for the tin of dog treats he keeps on the top shelf. Dodger expertly catches the treat Chris tosses his way and happily munches on it while Chris pours out their drinks, before carrying them back to the table, careful not to spill anything.

Putting Sebastian’s mug down next to his laptop, Chris leans down to press a kiss to the top of Sebastian’s head. The only acknowledgement he gets in return is an absentminded hum, while Sebastian’s fingers continue to fly over the keyboard, stringing together sentence after sentence.

For a moment, Chris just watches him work, drinking in the sight of Sebastian in his element. He’s beautiful always, but he’s stunning like this, all wrapped up in something he’s passionate about. Chris can’t help himself. Leaning in again, he buries his nose in Sebastian’s wild, dark hair and breathes him in. His heart still swells when he catches a whiff of the shampoo they share combined with Sebastian’s natural scent, which never fails to cause a spark in his gut.

God, he loves this man. To the moon and back, at the very least.

Finally, after a few more seconds, Sebastian stirs. He lets out a little sigh, blinking out of his trance and rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles that have been stuck in the same position for so long. It seems like it’s only then that he really notices Chris standing beside him, but when he does, a smile breaks across his handsome features, small but happy. Content.

Sebastian turns his face up, his ocean blue eyes blinking up at Chris from beneath dark lashes, silently asking for a kiss. And who is Chris to deny his baby anything, when he asks for it so sweetly?

Chris is smiling too as he captures Sebastian’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Sebastian sighs into it, making Chris hum against his lips, savoring the familiar taste of them. When he breaks away, Sebastian shifts in his chair so he can wrap both his arms around Chris’s waist and press his cheek to Chris’s midriff.

“Hi,” Sebastian mutters, the word a little muffled in the fabric of Chris’s shirt.

“Hi yourself, sweetheart.”

“Time is it?”

Chris shoots a quick glance at the clock. “Almost six.”

“’m hungry.”

Chris huffs a laugh. “I just made you coffee.”

Sebastian spots the mug then, and gives Chris a sheepish smile. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Sure,” Chris rumbles, rubbing Sebastian’s shoulder. “I know how you get without your coffee.”

“Hey.”

Chris lets out an exaggerated oooff at the poke in the solar plexus that earns him. “Though of course it’s nothing compared to how you get when you’re hungry,” he continues, undeterred, “so I guess I better go order us something, huh?”

“I guess you’d better,” Sebastian agrees, fixing him with a fake scowl.

“You wanna let go of me so I can get my phone?”

Sebastian pretends to consider that for a moment. “Hmmno,” he replies with an air of finality, then tightens his arms further around him.

Chris sighs, shaking his head. “Well, guess you’ll just have to go hungry, then.”

Sebastian lips purse into an irresistible pout. “Feed me,” he says pathetically, gazing up at Chris with puppy dog eyes that could rival Dodger’s.

Chris holds his gaze for a long moment. “Okay, how ‘bout a compromise? You let me go, and I’ll bring you cookies to keep you sweet until the pizza gets here.”

“I’m always sweet.”

“That you are,” Chris agrees softly, because there’s really no arguing with that. Lifting a hand to Sebastian’s face, he strokes his hair back off his forehead and marvels once again at the fact that he’s completely whipped and he couldn’t be happier about it. “Whaddaya say, baby? Cookies sound good?”

Sebastian cocks his head thoughtfully. “Throw in another kiss, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr Evans-Stan,” Chris murmurs, already leaning in.

“Learned from the best, Mr Stan-Evans,” Sebastian whispers back, before pulling Chris down the final inch and closing the distance between them.

#evanstan #rpf #my writing #my fic #2500 followers

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