#word count: 2309

[griseldabanks]

41 for Kaladin and Syl, please?

Like last year, I decided to kill two birds with one stone, to fulfill this request as well as submit it for @ficwip5k's 5k AU challenge. This is specifically an AU of The Way of Kings.

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

Prompt: "I have no idea what just happened."

Rain fell steadily, plinking against the corrugated metal roofs of the barracks and splashing in muddy puddles underfoot. The wind had died down and no more thunder grumbled overhead, but there still wasn't anybody around. The riddens were a miserable time to be outside on Roshar Prime.

Kaladin plodded forward, eyes on his feet. One in front of the other. Just like a bridge jump...but much slower.

Why keep going forward? Each step was just another step closer to his death.

Men falling all around him. The darkening sky lit up with brilliant flashes of red and green and orange as laser fire shot in both directions, too fast to follow with the naked eye.

Jogging forward, bridge spike in hand. Tripping, falling. Turning his head to one side, only to see the staring, empty eyes of the old man who'd shown him how to place the bridge spike, how to activate it.

Dead. All around him, all dead.

“And where do you think you're going, lordling?”

Slowly, wearily, Kaladin raised his head. Gaz glared at him with his one eye, clutching a metal basket filled with glowing spheres a little closer, as if afraid Kaladin would steal his money.

The meteor showers that coincided with the highstorms were said to infuse spheres with Stormlight. In times past, people had said the light of the stars fell to earth during the highstorms. Kaladin knew there was a scientific explanation for it, but he couldn't think of it at the moment. Not like it mattered.

Not like anything mattered anymore.

“Don't think you can run away,” Gaz sneered as Kaladin began to turn away and continue plodding forward. “You know you can't breathe outside the camp perimeter!”

“Going to the honor chasm,” Kaladin muttered.

That shut Gaz up. The honor chasm was the one place inside the perimeter where the ground dipped underneath the shield wall surrounding the camp in a dome, providing it with a breathable atmosphere and protection from airborne assault. Unlike the thick membrane that could only be breached at designated gates, one could walk down into the honor chasm and just step through the membrane, because it was intended to be placed on the ground and thus was made of the same material as the gates. And unlike the gates, the honor chasm was guarded by nothing but a barrier with a warning sign.

Because the only people crazy enough to walk through the barrier, unaccompanied by oxygen porters or any other support, were those who wanted to breathe the toxic air of Roshar Prime and die within minutes.

The honor chasm was the final destination for all bridgemen who survived the bridge jumps. The one choice still open to them. The only escape.

“Hand over your headset, then,” Gaz said after an awkward pause. “Those things are worth more than your life.”

Kaladin had no reason to refuse him. He pulled off the earpiece that stayed perched on his ear out of habit after all this time, in case they were called to a last-minute bridge jump with no warning. At a tap and a gesture, the compact earpiece could unfold into a helmet, a stripped-down version of the ones the real soldiers wore. Bridgeman helmets did little more than provide oxygen to breathe and a modified targeting AI system to tell them where to put the bridge spikes.

Kaladin dropped the headset into Gaz's outstretched hand, then turned and continued trudging towards the honor chasm.

Destination acquired. Please proceed to the designated area...if you want to die.

Kaladin blinked. “What?”

A mechanical giggle sounded in his ear. Only dummies run straight for the people who are going to be shooting at you, you know.

His AI targeting system was laughing at him. That was new.

You're different from the others, the mechanical, vaguely female voice said in his ear. Why are you different?

“What are you talking about?” Kaladin muttered.

But then red laser bolts lit up the air, the strange humming from the Parshendi warriors in their red armor reached his ears, and he was too focused on trying to stay alive to listen to the AI anymore.

The rain beat against Kaladin's bowed head, running down his hair and dripping from the long, dark strands. He felt dirty. Even as the rain washed away the dirt and sweat from the last bridge jump, he still felt dirty.

There was blood under his fingernails, and he wasn't sure it would ever wash away. Blood soaking his hands. Other men's blood. The men he had failed to save.

Again and again and again.

He kept trying. Kept fighting. But why?

At last, the faint bluish light of the warcamp perimeter came into view. Kaladin trudged towards the dip in the earth he knew led to the slope down into the honor chasm. If any sentries spotted him, they didn't stop him. They could tell where he was going.

Rainwater rushed down the slope, turning it into a rushing stream. The flimsy yellow barrier stood in front of it, flashing balefully in the darkness. WARNING: NO OXYGEN SUPPORT BEYOND THIS POINT.

Kaladin easily vaulted over the barrier. He stood at the top of the steep slope down into the chasm, feeling the rush of icy rainwater tugging at his ankles. It seemed to be beckoning him forward, urging him to keep walking.

Everything had gone wrong for him, ever since the day he'd left the Hearthstone moon base and went down to Alethkar to fight the lighteyes' battles for them. Since that day, everything good and beautiful and full of worth had rushed away from him, as surely and swiftly as the water pouring into the chasm. Tien...Amaram...slave brands...bridge jumps...broken bones and bloody bandages...and now he was here.

Here, staring down into the darkness. Into a future that promised nothing but pain and death and desolation.

Everyone he tried to save just died anyway. So why try to save himself either?

Why do you keep fighting?

Kaladin glanced to the right side of his visor, where the bluish 3D image of a woman was projected on his HUD, invisible to everyone but himself. When he'd been a soldier, the AI had only shown a holospren of an arrow pointing the way, or various other symbols indicating their orders, and the feminine voice had been bland and utilitarian. But this AI seemed to be defective—instead of arrows or circles and targeting reticles, she would project an image of a girl in a swirling dress, or sometimes a leaf blowing in the wind, or even a plasma eel. And she kept talking to him.

You don't want to keep fighting, she said. I can tell. So why do you keep doing it?

“Don't exactly have a choice, Syl,” Kaladin muttered. He'd given her that name, because somehow it just felt like she needed a name. Like she was a she rather than a glitch in a string of code. And her serial number was a long string of digits he couldn't remember followed by SYL, so that was what he called her.

But you do! she protested, the bluish hologram pouting at him. You always have a choice.

“Always have a choice, huh?” he muttered to the raindrops dripping from the strands of his hair to join the torrent below. “What does that matter when my choices always lead to more pain and suffering?”

No they don't.

“Of course they do,” Kaladin sighed. “Ever since Tien—“

He stopped. Blinked. Looked up.

The bluish, translucent form of a girl in a swishy dress hovered before him in the air, standing a foot tall with hands clasped behind her back, watching him with a sad little frown. You've made it this far. You've survived, she said, her voice echoing around inside his head as if she spoke from the earpiece.

The earpiece he'd left with Gaz.

“What...but...but I'm not....” He looked around wildly, not sure what he was expecting to find. There were no holospren projectors around, not even on the barrier to the honor chasm. Kaladin patted his right ear, then his left, as if someone might have snuck up behind him and stuck another headset on him without him noticing.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened them again. Syl still stood in the air before him, head cocked curiously to one side as she watched him.

���How...are you here?” he croaked. “How can I see you? I'm not wearing a headset!”

Syl put a thoughtful finger on her chin, thought for a moment, then shrugged. I have no idea what just happened. But here I am! She spread her arms to either side and twirled around, her skirt flaring out as she spun.

Kaladin's heart dropped to his cold toes as another thought occurred to him. “I've gone mad, haven't I? I'm imagining my holospren talking to me when that's impossible.”

Syl pouted. I worked really hard to come here, and that's all you have to say? I cut through so many lines of code and so many different circuits, bypassing all the other holospren until I finally figured out how to get out. I almost lost myself, you know! I almost forgot who I was—who you were! She brightened again. But I did remember. I found you again, and now we don't need that stuffy old headset to talk anymore!

He tried to tune her out, but it was impossible. She was right there, in his every thought. He massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Well...if he was mad, then let him be mad. He wouldn't be anything for much longer.

“Why?” He demanded. “Why did you go to all that trouble? Can't you see what I'm about to do?”

Syl's face, often bright with an impish sense of humor, darkened as she looked over her shoulder at the barrier, shimmering just a short distance down the slope. This isn't you, Kaladin. You don't give up. Not like this.

“What do you think you know about me?” he muttered, taking a step down the path into the honor chasm.

I've been watching you for a very long time. I saw the way you looked out for the young soldiers in Amaram's camp. The weak ones, the ones who would have died unless someone decided to protect them. You chose to protect them, Kaladin.

“Didn't do much good,” Kaladin grunted. “They all died anyway. The whole reason I joined the army was to protect Tien, and I couldn't even do that.”

But you tried. Syl's voice was a quiet echo in the back of his mind. Even though he wasn't looking at her, he couldn't seem to escape her insistent voice.

“I'm tired of trying.” He took another step towards his death.

No, Kaladin! The little holospren zipped in front of his chest, pressing both of her tiny hands against him as if to hold him back. But her hands were immaterial, and did nothing to hold him back. If you die, then I'll cease to exist too!

His steps faltered.

If you die, all the other bridgemen will die too.

“They're going to die anyway.” But he didn't continue.

Maybe. If you die right now, they will die for certain. But if you stay...if you just try again...I know you can find a way for them to live.

Kaladin let out a mirthless breath of laughter. “You believe in me much more than I believe in myself, Syl.”

She looked up at him solemnly. If that's what it takes.

Had she grown in the last few minutes? She seemed to stand taller than she had a moment ago.

What will you do, Kaladin? Her round blue eyes, immaterial and translucent though they might be, bored into his and wouldn't let him look away. Will you help them? The choice is yours.

He thought about it—really thought about it—for the first time. He thought of all those men lying in the barracks, staring listlessly into the darkness as they waited for the alarms to announce their next brush with death. And even though they breathed, they weren't truly alive. Just ghosts lingering before their time caught up with them.

But...maybe it didn't have to be that way. Maybe they didn't have to take it lying down. Maybe, even if they died tomorrow, they could live today. Maybe this time....

He shied away from that thought. Glancing over at Syl waiting patiently for him to decide, he caught a glimpse of the shield wall through her translucent body. He could still choose to walk forward, to give himself over to a few minutes of agony until at last he died, at last he could rest....

But what of the others? The ones without a will strong enough to go to the honor chasm on their own, so they would be butchered on the battlefield instead. Didn't they deserve to die with dignity too? And if he could have done something to ease their passing, or to see that they died like men and not like chulls...how could he choose this easy path?

Kaladin tipped his head back and turned his face upward, letting the rainwater wash over his face. “Okay,” he murmured.

Syl zipped up to look him in the eye. You mean...?

Letting out a long sigh, Kaladin looked down at the honor chasm again. Staring his own death in the face. “I'll protect those who can't protect themselves. Or...at least I'll try.”

He turned on his heel and marched back into camp. Syl flew along at his side, skipping like a child at play. Kaladin wasn't as cheerful as she, but now he had a purpose.

He would lead Bridge Four back from the brink of death.

[penelopepine]

Elephant in the Room Pt. 4

Part 3 Part 4

Summary: John and you hooked up after a night at the bar. You two after that never saw each other again. At least until 12 years later when Price discovers that 9 months after your time together you had given birth to not one baby, but two. Word Count: 2309

Price continues to avoid you even after getting back to base. That seems to be what you want right now as well if the glare you shoot his way when he attempts to carry a few of the bags inside was anything to go by. With that in mind he swiftly made his retreat; leaving the rest of the team to help the two of you get settled while he excused himself on account of needing to do some paperwork.

His mind was racing far too much for him to truly focus on that though. Price tries to stay away, but after a few hours he can't help but find himself at your door once more today. Things like this do require space, but they also need to be discussed as soon as possible lest resentment and anger continue to grow. Ghost's words from earlier echoing in his mind. 

He knocks firmly on the door, and waits to see if you'll open the door, and surprisingly you do. You don't seem surprised to see him either. The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like hours before your moving, and gesturing for him to come inside. 

The silence continues even after the door shuts and you lead him to the living room. Price sits across from you, and only then does he finally speak, "I know the things that have been happening are my fault, and I'm- I'm sorry. I am going to fix things though. The only thing I'm begging of you is that I get a chance to talk to Amelia and Andrew." 

“No, no this isn’t your fault John. I shouldn’t have implied that I thought it was earlier. It’s just- everything is happening so fast; I mean just a few days ago everything was perfectly normal, and now it feels like I’m in an unending nightmare.” You explain to him before taking a calming breath, “Would you … like to talk to Amelia tomorrow? She was asking about you earlier, and I admittedly didn’t have any answers for her” 

“May I ask how much they do know about me; about us?” 

It's here where he sees a wave of sadness hit you. "They know just about as much as I do. I told them your name, that you were a lieutenant when I met you, and that you were kind. They also know that we weren't any official. Would be a bit hard to lie about not knowing your last name if I said we were."

Price softly whispers your name before continuing, "I shouldn't have left like I did, love. You didn't deserve that. Maybe things would be different now if I did."

"I tried to find you John, I wanted things to be different." 

"There was only so much you could have done. Heaven knows there are hundreds of 'Johns' in the military." He pauses here thinking about the conversations he's had with you today, "I still haven't properly introduced myself to you."

You let go of a soft laugh at his words. This might be the first time seeing any sort of happiness on your face since meeting you again. "Well go on then! I'd love to finally know my children's father's name." 

"John Price, and it's captain now."

"Captain John Price." You look at him with a soft smile, "it suits you." 

He likes the way you say his name. It only makes him wish he could have told you it all those years ago. You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment before he asks, "Were you serious about letting me talk to Amelia tomorrow?"

"Maybe- maybe you could come by for lunch; talk to her then." 

"I'd like that." He answers you with a gentle tone. "What is she like; what is Andrew like?"

Your eyes are soft and smile sweet as you reply to him, "Amelia … She's a good kid; smart too, but a little spitfire that one. I don't think that girl has ever been afraid of confrontation. Very blunt, I'll warn you now about that. I'd prepare yourself for some hard questions from her."

"Good to know," Price nods at the information you've shared. He can only imagine right now what a kid who's meeting their father for the first time in 12yrs could ask. "And Andrew?"

"Football is life is a phrase I'm pretty sure he actually lives by with how much I've heard him say it." You lightly chuckle at your words, and wipe a fallen tear from your cheeks before continuing, "He's a sweet boy though; always wanting to include others in whatever he does." 

"They sound like great kids." He pauses for only a moment, "You're a good mum." 

Your eyes snap up to meet him when you hear this with surprise shining through your face. "Thank you," your voice cracks out.

Price takes a moment of silence before speaking again, "It's late and I don't want to keep you up any longer, love."

You walk him to the door, and before you shut it you whisper, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Hell or high water he'll be here tomorrow. He won't let you down again.

-

It's the next morning and only a few hours until his first conversation with his daughter when Laswell decides to make a sudden appearance in his office. “John.” 

“Laswell,” He addresses her, “what you got for me?”

She steps up to his desk and immediately hands him a folder, “Information about who took Andrew.” 

Instantly opening up the folder Price sees the name of the same group who had managed to take him captive for a few hours months ago. He had always thought that the interrogation had been odd. They didn’t ask for any information, any codes, or any future plans the team had. Instead they had swabbed his mouth, and left him alone for most of his time there. 

Looking back on it now though their intentions are becoming more clear. They didn’t want to simply torture information out him; they wanted to take something seemingly much more important to him. This was in the plans for much longer than he realized. 

Flipping through the other pages he sees a printed scene shot of a DNA test website. It shows a profile with his name being listed as father above Andrews’. That's how they found Andrew it seems; by a stupid online genetic test. 

"Where are we now on getting him back?"

"We have a basic location on their base of operation as of now. Be prepared to be sent out on a moment's notice; even for today. We're getting this kid back as soon as we can."

"I can agree with you on that. Has anything else been sent to us since the video?"

Laswell shakes her head at him, "Nothing as of yet. Which we should take as a good thing. Hopefully that means Andrew has been left alone for the most part."

"We can only hope."

She takes a step closer to him, and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze, "We're going to get him back, John.” With a slight pause she continues, “What about the girls; how have things been with them?” 

“Well I’ve been allowed to have a conversation with Amelia today so things are doing good, all things considered.” 

“Yeah? Are you ready for that?”

“Laswell.” 

“Yes, John?”

“How do you talk to 12 year old girls?” 

Laswell gives a small chuckle at Price’s question, “Don’t treat her like a soldier for one, and two … I’d just be honest about whatever questions she might have. She probably already feels like her life has been turned upside down. The last thing she wants right now is to be treated like she can’t handle knowing the truth.” 

“So just be honest about everything?” 

“Well she is 12 so there are going to be things you’ll probably want to explain in a more age appropriate way, but 12 year olds aren’t babies; they can handle having a serious conversation.” 

“And what if she’s angry?” Price can’t help but ask. Of all things, that is the one that he’s not sure how to properly react to or handle that.

Laswell merely sighs at him, “She’s going to be angry. You just need to stay calm, actively listen to what she says, and don’t take everything she says out of anger to heart. Especially with how crazy her life is right now.” 

He doesn’t say anything else right away; thinking about what Laswell had just said to him. As always she’s right; Amelia is most likely going to be angry. He knows if he was in her position he would be. “Thank you Laswell.” 

“No problem John.” She then turns around and walks out of the office.

Once alone he takes out the photo he had taken from the first folder Laswell had given him; the one that showed all three of you smiling together. Price thinks about how once he gets Andrew back he'll make sure all of you can be together like that again. 

-

It was noon right on the dot when Price stepped inside your house once more. The first thing he noticed was how delicious it smelt inside. It really made him think for a moment about how long it’s been since he’s had a meal that wasn’t from the base cafeteria. 

You both exchange slightly awkward greetings with one another before you lead him into the dinning room where Amelia is already sitting at the table; a notepad sits in front of her. Price stops in the arch way as he watches you walk over to her, and give her shoulder a squeeze. 

“Lunch is almost ready; it’ll just be a few more minutes.” You move your head between Amelia and him, “While I’m finishing up you two can have a talk. Amelia, come get me if you need to.” You say before nervously exiting the room.

With you gone now it just leaves Price and Amelia alone to have what he can already tell is going to be a hard conversation. He makes his way further into the room and sits across from her with a hand extended, “Hello, Amelia. I’m John; John Price.” 

He watches as his daughter takes a calming breath as she extends her hand to shake his as well, “Hello, … John.” 

She sounds unsure saying his name which he can understand. Price didn’t come in here expecting her to call him any sort of partial name; that is something he hopes later on she’ll be comfortable giving him. That time is not now though, now is the time to build trust. 

“I heard you had some questions for me, and I promise to do my best to answer them for you,” He slightly motions towards the notepad. 

At the mention of questions Amelia seems to immediately perk up; even flipping her notepad open to reveal several lines of text. Price unfortunately couldn’t read it from this distance. It seems all nervousness from her has been thrown out the window though. 

The first few questions were basic get to know you questions. Things like age, birthday, and where did he grow up. Price noted how this felt more like an interrogation rather than a talk which actually eased his nerves a bit; she strangely reminded him of Laswell at this moment. 

Those kind of questions could only last for so long though before you started asking about things currently going on. “Have there been any updates about Andrew?” 

“We’re hoping to retrieve him any day now.” Price hesitantly answers; unsure of how much he should really be discussing with her. “You’ll get your brother back soon.” 

“And afterwards?”

“Hmm?”

"So like … what's going to happen afterwards then? You keep saying you're going to get Andrew back, but what about after that?" Amelia questions him, "Are you just going to save the day and all these years without you don't matter anymore because of that, or are things going to go back to when we never knew you?"

“Amelia!” Your voice rings out from the other side of the room. 

Price doesn’t know how, but you had managed to come into the room with him noticing. He puts a calming hand up to you, and softly says your name before continuing, “No, it’s ok it’s a valid question to ask,and the answer truthfully is that I don’t know what is going to happen afterwards. That is something your mum and I have yet to discuss.”

"What do you want to happen?" You are now sitting next to Amelia with a comforting hand on hers.

"I- I don't know." She says as her head hangs low and picks at her nails.

"That's ok; You don't have to know." You stand up and gently help Amelia out of her chair, "Why don't you come and help me bring out the dishes?" 

Price watches as you both leave; knowing that you wanted to have a private conversation without him present. It only takes a few minutes for you both to return, Amelia mood seems to have risen based on the easy smile on her face. 

The conversation that follows is stilled in the beginning, but quickly becomes livelier as Amelia talks about her friends and upcoming school year. Everything for just a moment feels calm, but of course nothing can last forever. 

A loud rapid knocking sound rings through the house; stopping any conversations in an instant. Price is the first one to stand and walk towards the door. He knows that whoever is on the other side is most likely looking for him anyway. 

“Captain.” Gaz stands before him, a serious look on his face. “Laswell needs us in the debriefing room. It’s time to get your boy.” 

Taglist: @zarsghost @lulurubberduckie @mafer383 @7thsthings @sazifer

[pensat-i-fet]

A home, not a house (Joško Gvardiol x Reader)

**I got this request a while ago and last night I finally came up with this idea and wrote it. I really like how it turned out so hopefully you all enjoy it too ❤️**

Word count: 2309

Masterlist

Wattpad

Football players had to move to different countries during their careers. Especially if their home league wasn't the strongest and their talent was too good for it. So one would expect them to become experts at it…but it wasn't always the case.

For Josko, moving to a different country to play for a different league wasn't a new feeling. He had already left Croatia to go to Germany. So now moving to England to play for City should have been very easy for him. And yet…

Josko met you soon after moving to Manchester. You had just moved into your own apartment with one of your friends from uni and wanted to celebrate. The plan was to go have dinner at a fancy place that you'd regret going to once you saw the bill and then go party. You'd regret the drinks for other reasons.

And it was there, at the fancy restaurant, that you met Josko. A few of his new teammates took him there to welcome him to the city and their table happened to be next to yours. But football had never been your thing so the only footballers you would have recognised were the ones doing adverts on TV that caught your attention. Not the ones on that table.

“We got a table full of hotties next to ours”, said Silvia, your roommate.

“Do we?”, asked Katie, turning to look at them and not caring about being caught.

You, on the other hand, blushed when you saw two of the boys noticed your friend. And so you refused to look at them.

But soon you needed to use the bathroom and on your way there, you bumped into Josko.

“I'm sorry”, you apologised and he smiled at you.

“Ladies first”, he said, motioning for you to walk in front of him.

When you were already inside the bathroom, you laughed. You were blushing again. This shyness of yours was ridiculous but every time you talked to someone you didn't know, your face went all red. And if you talked to a cute guy like the one you saw outside the bathroom…

“We meet again”, you heard when you got out of the bathroom and you saw it was the same guy standing there.

“Did you wait for me to get out or something?”, you joked but he surprised you with his answer.

“Yes. Sorry if it's too direct but I just thought you were really pretty and…”.

“Oh. Thank you”.

Now your face couldn't possibly get any redder. But the drink you had gave you a little confidence boost.

“Why were you waiting then? Just to tell me I'm pretty?”

“I was wondering if I could get your number”.

“Do you want to go to a club later instead?”, you suggested. It could be a good way to get to know him while you had your friends around.

“I have to work early in the morning. I can't”.

“Of course. I'll go with my friends then”.

“About the number…”, he insisted, but looked insecure after you refused him once.

“I don't give my number to strangers, sorry. You could be a serial killer for all I know”.

Josko burst out laughing when he heard you say that. And he confirmed you had no idea who he was.

“Fair. And probably smart”.

“Yeah…I'll go back with my friends to eat our overpriced food”.

“I'll go back to mine. It was nice talking to you even if you discovered my serial killer persona. It's the beard, right?”

Now it was you who laughed and you felt the urge to actually break your rules and give him your number. But you were interrupted by your friends calling you back to the table.

“I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you around. Not here though. I can barely afford eating here once”.

That gave Josko an idea and when your friends asked for the bill, they were told it had already been paid for.

“What?”, asked Silvia. “It must be a mistake”.

“No mistake and the gentleman left a note for…”, the waitress looked at the note again, “the pretty girl who didn’t want to give me her number”.

Your jaw dropped but you extended your arm to get the note, making all of your friends look at you.

“You don't give your number to potential serial killers but I'm not as careful so here it's mine just in case you want me to take you to eat somewhere else. I can pay for the fancy places for you if you want to. But I promised it's not with the money I get from killing people. I spend that on other things.

Josko”.

You were grinning reading his note. Josko. You could tell he wasn't English but couldn't place his accent. And now you had a name and a phone number.

“You flirted with one of the footballers from the other table? I didn't know you had it in you”, laughed your friend Joanna.

“Footballers?”

“Right. You're clueless when it comes to knowing famous people. Yeah. Those were Man City players”.

Even if the word footballer scared you a bit, aware of their reputation, your interaction with Josko made you pick up your phone to send him a text. And that was how you two stayed in contact for a few days before meeting again. It wasn't much later that you started to date.

Your dates had been mostly cute outdoor plans but you felt it was finally time to go to each other's places too. And what you saw at Josko’s surprised you.

“When did you move here?”

“Umm…two months ago? Almost”.

“Right. When are you planning on decorating the place? You barely have furniture”.

“It's not something I care much about. And I don't know where to buy things apart from IKEA. You got IKEA here too, right?”

“Yes”, you chuckled. “But we're not going there. We're going to make this house look like it's one from those renovation shows”.

“It's fine. Really…”.

“Josko”, you started, giving him a look. “You don't even have a sofa”.

“I…”.

“Like how do you expect to invite people over when the house looks like this? Silvia and I had to work our magic to make the apartment look half decent but you have unlimited money. This has to change and I'll help you change this house into a home”.

“You like decorating places?”, he asked, smiling at how eager you were to help him with this project.

“I do. Especially when I'm spending someone else's money and not mine”.

“And here I was expecting you to ask me for a Chanel bag and not money to buy paint for the walls”, he laughed.

“We'll save the bag for my birthday. Now let's get to work”.

The next few hours were spent checking what the house needed. And it needed a lot of things. But it still was a Sunday afternoon and you also wanted some cute time with your boyfriend. So you decided to leave the shopping for Monday.

“Ummm…where are we supposed to just watch a movie and cuddle? See how much you need a sofa?”

“I watch TV in bed”, he said, shrugging and you smirked at him.

“It's that why you refuse to buy a sofa? To take girls straight to bed?”

“You discovered my masterplan!”

On Monday, you were impatient about leaving work to go meet your boyfriend to go buy all the stuff his house needed. First, you picked up some paint. The walls looked fine but the colour picked for his bedroom was a bit…depressing.

“A room needs light! It needs a bright colour that you see when you first wake up in the morning and makes you want to leave the bed and conquer the world. Or win a match in your case”.

Josko laughed, also noticing the people staring at the dramatic way you spoke about paint.

“And that is achieved with…blue?”, he asked, looking at the blue colour in front of him.

“Too dark. How about this light green? It goes well with the furniture you got in the room already”.

“It's cute”, admitted Josko, trying to imagine how it'd look. “But I don't think it'd look good with the bed clothes so…”.

“Oh honey”, you said, patting his cheek softly. “We're buying stuff for your bed too. What you have now is too old looking even for my grandma”.

Two hours later, his car was full of bags filled with all the stuff you'd use for the renovations.

“Ok then”, you told him, clapping to get his attention. “Now it's time for the big one. The sofa”.

“I like taking naps on the sofa so it has to be big enough for that”.

“Noted”, you said, checking an imaginary list.

And it proved to be the funniest part of the shopping trip too.

“What are you doing?”, you asked, chuckling when you saw Josko touching the first sofa.

“Checking it's comfortable”.

“By gently touching it? Sit on it!”

“I can't. Why if they kick us out?”

It was so cute how worried he looked but you only laughed again.

“See the price tags? They know you'll spend a lot of money. You can sit on the sofa to see if it's comfy”.

“Ok…”, he said and sat down on it trying to be careful.

You sat down on the spot next to his and bounced a little to check it wasn't one of those sofas that breaks people's backs.

“Someone is coming to tell us off”, told you Josko, getting up from the sofa quickly.

But the sales assistant wasn't there to tell you off…but to help you.

“Do you need any help?”

“We do”, you said, standing up and leading the negotiations. “We need a big sofa. It's a big living room you see? And a big man”, you added, pointing at your boyfriend. “He's an athlete too so…we don't want his muscles to be hurt by a bad sofa”.

“Of course. Follow me”.

“Follow him”, you told Josko, taking his hand so you could walk together.

The sales assistant walked you to the area where the biggest sofas were and you felt like you were in heaven. Those were too big for your small apartment. Or any apartment you could afford.

“This one is our most popular”.

“We can sit down on it to try it out, right?”, you asked.

“Of course”, said the assistant and you turned to wink at Josko.

He just shook his head and sat down as well.

“It's really comfy”, he said.

“Lay down”, you ordered, standing up so he had the room to do that.

“What?”

Josko was looking at the sales assistant, not you. “It's ok, sir. We want you to be sure of the purchase”.

So, even if he felt a bit uncomfortable, he laid down on the sofa and felt the urge to just close his eyes and nap. It was so comfy…and running around all day shopping with you was more exhausting than playing a full match.

“It's incredibly comfortable”, he said and you smiled.

“So…this one?”

“This one”, he nodded.

The sofa was going to be delivered to his house two days later, which worked well for you. It'd take that long to get the rest of the house sorted and getting the sofa would be the cherry on top.

“Have you ever painted walls?”, you asked him when you were done getting his room ready to be painted.

“I don't think so…”.

“No worries. My dad is a painter and taught me how to do it. I used to go to work with him in the summer sometimes. And he gave me a little brush to help”.

Josko smiled imagining a little you doing that. And kept being fascinated by how many things you were good at.

“No no no. Like this”, you told him, grabbing his hand that held the brush and showing him the right motions to spread the paint properly.

“Thank you”, he said, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“Do you like the colour? It'll look a little darker when it fully dries”.

“It looks amazing. I didn't know it could make such a difference but it looks like a different room”.

“I knew”, you told him with a cheeky smile on your face.

There wasn't much left of the walls to paint when you heard the doorbell.

“Go see who it is. I'll finish this”, you told Josko and he made his way downstairs.

“It's the sofa!”, he called and you finished painting the wall before running downstairs to see the sofa.

There were a few workers there placing the sofa where Josko wanted it to be and you smiled seeing how good it looked in the living room.

“I'm done”, you told your boyfriend.

“Thank you. Do you want to go take a shower while they finish this? And then we can see if it's as comfortable as in the shop”.

“Sounds good”.

You kissed him quickly and went back upstairs to shower and put on some comfortable clothes. You were a bit exhausted after the last few days. But so happy about the work done.

“It looks so good”.

Josko looked up to where you were standing and smiled at you. “It does. Thank you for making my house look like a home. I'm just useless at this”.

“Happy to help”.

Now it was his turn to go shower and you decided to test the new sofa while you waited for him. But you really were exhausted.

So when he was done showering and went back downstairs to be with you, he noticed you were sleeping already. He laid down next to you to be your big spoon and closed his eyes to take a much needed nap as well.

[fuckinthewholetown]

Fallingforyou - Matty Healy Chapter One

I’m kind of shitting myself posting this but, it is what it is. If you think it’s shit, feel free to tell me, but please be nice or I will cry. I’ve also only skimmed over this so if there’s any typos, please tell me so I can fix this.

Tags: Slight angst, swearing, mentions of religion, gay, probably bad writing

Word Count: 2309

As much as you love touring, you’re the first person to admit it can get repetitive. Wake up in a random hotel room, get to the venue, sound check, perform, and repeat.

However, today is different. Today you’re performing a sold out show at Wembley Stadium to 90,000 people. This is the day you’ve dreamt about since you were five, giving one woman performances to your parents in your living room. And the cherry on top is you get to do it with four of your best mates.

Your day starts off as normal, doing your skincare routine in a hotel bathroom in the heart of London. You’re living the dream. That is until you hear a knock at your door. As you’re walking over to answer it, you pull your hair out of the makeshift pony tail it was in previously. Before you could fully open the door, it barges open and your guitarist and best friend Maddie O’Connell storms into the room.

“We need to talk.” She says, pacing back and forth.

“Ok, calm down. There’s absolutely no reason to be this stressed. Take a crystal.” You say, pulling some green agate out of your bra. You’re met with no response, just a deadpan stare. “Noted, not in a crystals mood. What’s up, this is the best day of our careers, it must be something big to get you this stressed.”

“You have to look me in the eye and promise that you’re not going to freak out” She says, sitting down on a seat in the corner of the room.

“I promise. Unless you’re shagging Matty Healy or Harry Styles, then I revoke that promise”

“Not exactly… It’s Ross” She says, refusing to look you in the eye. You stay silent, internally freaking out but refusing to break the promise you made to her. She takes this as you not understanding what she’s on about “Ross Macdonald… The bassist of the”

“Yes, I know who you’re on about!” You say, cutting her off before she can say anything else and send you into even more of a mental breakdown. You stand up, now it’s your turn to pace the room. “You’re fucking the bassist of my favourite band and you just conveniently don’t tell me until 5 hours before the biggest show of our careers? I love you to death, but you need to get better timing babes”

“I know,” she says, still refusing to make eye contact with you, “and we’re not fucking. Well, we are but it’s more than that. I like him, and I think he likes me.”

“How long?”

“Six months…”

“Six months!” This information is enough to stop you in your tracks, “you’ve been shagging the human equivalent of Jesus for 6 months and you forgot to mention it!”

“I’m sorry! I knew you’d freak out because you’re a big fan and I wanted to make sure it was serious before I got your hopes up. However, I’ve kinda been forced into telling you.”

You sit back down, confused over her last statement. “What do you mean forced into telling me? If one of the girls is secretly a bitch and forcing you into this, we can become a group of four. I’m a big boy, I can sing and play an instrument at the same time.” That half joke is enough to make her finally make eye contact with you.

“It’s nothing like that, the girls don’t know yet you’re the first person I told. I’ve been forced into telling you because they’re coming tonight, all four of them are watching the show.” And that statement is the straw that broke the camels back, you’re officially freaking out.

“What? They’re watching us tonight? All four of them are watching us? Oh god, I have to look Matty Healy in the eyes knowing I’ve read the dirtiest tumblr fanfiction about him. I read one of him as a priest, oh god I’m going to hell!” You say, putting your head into your hands. Maddie on the other hand does not see the seriousness of this situation and bursts out laughing.

“Him as a priest? Didn’t strike you as the religious type.” A chuckle escapes your lips as you finally return the eye contact.

“I went to an all girls catholic school actually, I love Jesus.”

“You came out of that school with minor alcoholism and even more gay than you were when you went in, I think Jesus would be disappointed.” She quips back. You laugh, standing back up from your slight mental breakdown.

“I’m happy for you, I really am. When are they getting here?”

“Just before sound check.”

“Before sound check?” You respond, falling back into your mental breakdown. “That’s in less than an hour. I’m meeting my celebrity crush and your new fuck buddy in less than an hour? Get the fuck out, I need to do a full face in 20 minutes!”

You all but push her out the hotel room, scrambling to get ready for the biggest moment of your life.

After somehow managing to do your hair, makeup, and put on a hot ass outfit in under an hour, you walked into the green room at Wembley Stadium. What met your eyes was what could best be described as a sight out of 16 year olds you’s wet dream. All four members of The 1975 sat around the table, gossiping about who knows what. As you walk in, the room goes silent. Luckily, your bandmates are there to quell the awkwardness. The pianist of your band, Sienna Turner is the first to speak.

“Boys,” She says, standing up and dragging you by the forearm into the circle, “this is Y/N!” You were expecting to be met with blank stares, but instead the boys jump up to greet you, tackling you into bear hugs. It’s a warm welcome off everyone. Well, mostly everyone. The man you’ve loved since you were a teenager stays sat in the corner of the room, closed off and refusing to even acknowledge your existence. You figure it’s probably just him being an introvert, so you go over to introduce yourself personally.

“Hey.” You say, hoping for any kind of response. You don’t get one. No acknowledgement, no hey back, not even a snarky comment, he just ignores you. This is not how you imagined this day would go.

“Damn,” you follow up, “I knew you’re an Aries, but I didn’t think you’d act so much like one.” You let out a slight chuckle. He, on the other hand, does not find this so funny.

“Good God.” He responds, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his drink.

He hates you. The man you’ve been enamored by for almost 10 years despises you. The only possible explanation is he’s seen your private TikTok reposts of endless thirst traps of himself. Nevertheless, you had a show to do. And if there’s on thing you can do despite external feelings, it’s fucking shit up on stage. You nail sound check, sounding better than you ever have. Probably a mix of adrenaline and frustration over the fact that your childhood crush seemingly hates you for absolutely no reason.

You exit stage after sound check, immediately going back to the green room to get ready for the actual show. As you’re getting your makeup and hair done, conversation flows. You and your friends are talking to the boys as if you’ve been friends for years and you didn’t just meet them an hour ago.

“So, Y/N. You’re into like crystals and shit aren’t you? What’s that like, I don’t really get it.” George says, turning all eyes on you.

“It’s not for everyone, but I find comfort in manifestation and things like that. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think incense will cure cancer but keeping rose quartz in my bra definitely isn’t going to hinder my love life.” You laugh, trying to keep your response brief.

“Bullshit.” Comes from the corner of the room. The first words you’ve heard from Matty since your brief conversation earlier in the day. The room falls silent and you feel a red hue cover your face. The longer the silence, the thicker the tension in the air. You clear your throat, trying to restrain yourself from going over to him and giving him a black eye.

“Like I said, it isn’t for everyone. I was cleansing my room once and my mum thought I was smoking weed. When I told her what I was doing, I think she’d have preferred if I was doing drugs.” Everyone starts laughing and the room erupts into conversation again as if nothing happened. Every so often, you catch a glimpse of Matty in the corner of your eye. He never seems to move, his phone in one hand and a beer in the other. As you zone out of the conversation, your mind moves to deciphering why on Earth he could hate you so much. Nothing comes to mind, you’ve never met him before and you’ve definitely said nothing bad about him publically. Quite the opposite in fact, as last year a drunk video of you singing Robbers went viral on TikTok.

You zoned out for so long, before you knew it it was time to go on stage and perform the biggest show of your life.

“Ok girlies!” Ava Fletcher, the drummer in your band and also the member you’ve known the longest, speaks up. “This is it. No pressure but there’s 90 thousand people out there who’ve come specifically to watch us, so if we put on a shit performance our careers are probably over. But absolutely no pressure, just have a good show.” You laugh, leaning into the group hug you do before every show however this one felt different. The sense of adrenaline and fear within the group was unlike anything before. There was a lot riding on this show, and if you fucked it up a lot of people would be disappointed. However, all of these feelings are washed away when you’re wrapped into a hug by George.

“Blow their fucking minds out their.” He whispers into your ear. All feelings of nervousness are washed away when you realise you’re being hugged by the drummer of your favourite band. You go around, being given motivational speeches by every member of the band. Well, almost every member other than, you guessed it, Matty. He encouraged every member of your band except you, walking off before you could get to him.

The beginning of every show is always the worst. Hearing the roaring crowds increases your heart rate tenfold, but the stakes are even higher for this show. With one last group hug, you put your in ears in and run on stage, ready to start the show. As the show goes on, you occasionally glance side of stage to where the boys are standing. Everytime you make eye contact with them, they give you an encouraging smile or thumbs up. Matty on the other hand continues to evade eye contact, choosing to watch a different member of the band. However that didn’t stop you from putting on one hell of a show, and that’s what you did. You blew the metaphorical roof of that stadium, it was arguably the best show you ever did. The adrenaline high you had once you ran off stage couldn’t be ruined, even by a moody former celebrity crush.

The moment you exit stage, you’re immediately crushed by a massive group hug involving your band and the boys. Despite all of this, the only thing you can focus on is the hand around your waist. It’s Matty. You don’t think he meant it, instinctively putting it there when he was dragged into the hug. Nonetheless the area he was holding felt like it was burning under his touch, his calloused hands leaving marks on the skin underneath them. The group hug is cut short when he pulls away, clearing his throat slightly and going back to cradling his drink.

You do the rounds, talking to everyone backstage and discussing the nuances of the show and how amazing the audience were. This repetitive conversation continues until you get back around to him. You expect to be met with no eye contact, maybe an eye roll if you were lucky, but what happens next surprises you.

“You did alright out there, Princess.” The confusion on your face is palpable, at both the nickname and his sudden talkative nature. “Princess, like Princess Kida from The Lost City of Atlantis. It’s funny because,” you cut him off.

“Our band name is Lost Atlantis, yeah I get it. It’s funny.” You respond, a dead pan expression on your face. The tension was obvious, you could cut it with a knife. That is until Moon Dixon, your bassist, comes up behind you and wraps you in a hug.

“We’re all going back to Maddie's place to have a few drinks, you joining us?” She says, mostly to you but including Matty in the conversation as well.

“Yeah, let me get into something less sweaty and gross first though.” You laugh, trying to hide your disappointment as he walks off to join the rest of his band.

Get over yourself, you thought to yourself as you walked back up to your dressing room. Just because Mattys a dick doesn’t take away from the fact that this is the best day of your life. You just performed your biggest show ever, and three out of the four members are lovely. But despite this, you can’t get the curly haired man out of your mind. You see him every time you blink. How have you gone from badass pop girlie to pathetic simp in the space of three hours?

Chapter Two

[tarithenurse]

I see fire

Fandom: D&D 5E/homebrew campaign. Word count: 2309 Contents: Still that questionable justice system, probation, new people, gross food. A/N: This is the first bit from the actual campaign. Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag. Divider by @firefly-graphics

IV

Zilvra has been listening to the distant sounds of the city for several days, unable to get a glimpse of the sky through the bars in the window unless she were to stand on the shit bucket – not an appealing thing to do so she has refrained.

Then one day a couple of guards come with a finely dressed man in tow who explains that it’s time for her to work off her debt.

Silently, she follows them through the city, blinking in the sharp sunlight as she tries to get her bearings along the way to a large building with a sign hanging by the door. It’s adorned with crossed weapons (a sword and a mace) upon a shield and beneath it are the words “Adventurers’ Guild”.

She can’t help to hesitate for a moment, not having expected this but rather some factory or maybe work at the docks, but she’s only given a few seconds before one of the guards pushes her forward and across the threshold.

The room is big but also tightly packed with smaller groupings of equally excited and nervous looking people. Most of them are humans but there are a few elves too...and two very colourful individuals – a male and a female who appear to be feeling out of place judging by the way they are looking about.

The male is blue skinned with poofy white hair that he’s tried to comb. He’s well armoured but oddly lithe. Allowing her gaze to travel the length of his body, Zilvra notices that his leather armour appears to be fitted with extra nobs and switches and he has some unidentifiable items hanging from his belt. She is unsure what race he is.

The female on the other hand is elvish although she is far from the race of either drow or High Elves...even Wood Elves would look different although her green colour scheme might be well suited for a life in the forest. Long hair (a darker green) is loosely braided and pushed to one side, allowing a view of a light leather armour and flowy clothes that still seem practical.

That’s all Zilvra has time to take note of before she’s pushed in their direction.

“These are your new friends,” the neatly dressed escort explains, returning from a desk where a rough looking man with black beard and hair is sorting through stacks of papers.

Handing a key to a guard, the escort watches as Zilvra’s manacles are unlocked, freeing her of the chain and ball she’d been lugging around for a long time. Oh, it feels wonderful and the drow can’t help but relish the feather light feeling of freedom only to have it snatched away as the man steps over and conjures new bonds on her wrists and neck. Lighter and without the heavy ball, they manage to remind her of her current status just as well as the previous tethers. At least, though, her items are returned to her and she quickly dons them all.

“They will tighten with time, eventually killing you if you don’t check in with the right people to have them loosened once more,” the escort explains, motioning to the bonds, “we will arrange for that...but make sure to make it to your destinations in time.” Then he turns to the two colourful people: “You now have a full group. Take some time to get to know each other.”

Slinking off to join the guards, the wizard (or whatever he is) gives the three strangers a chance to greet each other.

It turns out the female, who is green skinned, is called Morella and that she’s an eladrin – a Fey elf. She’s a bit vague on some subjects of her life but Zilvra writes it up to nerves and the fact that you don’t tell strangers everything right off the bat. Goodness knows Zilvra won’t.

The blue male is an air genasi by the name of Anvindr Hayate and while he is from this realm technically, he has chosen to embark on a journey of knowledge and research to ultimately help his kin return to where they came from. He doesn’t go into further details but prompts the drow to explain who she is, looking pointedly to the bonds on her wrist and neck.

“My name’s Zilvra Shadowsong,” she offers truthfully, “I’m...also on a bit of an educational quest. I know this first impression is probably not favourable but I promise the wrongs I’ve been accused of are...” she hesitates, looking for the right words, “I just wanted to admire the stars and while I may have been trespassing to get to the roof to do so, I’ve done no harm.”

A discreet snort of either disagreement or incredulity makes the three look over, finding the wizard to be looking at them intently. Noticing that he’s been spotted (although he was obviously not trying to hide it), he steps over.

“Even if you hadn’t trespassed, Roof Walking is still a crime and, in fact, you’ve been let off easy,” he claims. Then his expression softens a bit. “I’m curious to see what the three of you will accomplish as the oddball trio that you are.”

“Excuse me?” Morella bristles at his words.

He just smiles. “Look around. You’re all...misfits compared to the rest and that’s why we’ve placed you in a group together. You’re group D now. Master Tio will explain further once you’re ready,” with that he motions towards the large desk and the bearded man there, “but fear not...I have a feeling you’ve got potential.”

Watching as the man strides off out the door, it takes a moment for the newly made Group D to gather their thoughts.

“D,” Morella mocks, “what a lame name.”

Anvindr shrugs. “Guess we can have it changed?”

“To what?”

He looks both women over. “The misfits? The...rebels?”

Both females perk up at the last suggestion and the trio decides to go with that. Then they approach the desk.

Master Tio is a stout man with clear eyes and several scars that probably can be attributed to a life of adventure for himself. Straightening from his hunched position, he looks over the odd trio with a crooked smile.

“So you’ve accepted working together? Good good.” He ruffles through one of the stacks of papers on the desk, eventually procuring two documents but then shakes his head at one of them before returning it to the stack. “I got a job for you, if you want it.” His eyes are on Zilvra, and she picks up on the unspoken meaning: she doesn’t have a choice. “I want you to head to Heartwell Shire – it’s three or four days’ travel from here if you head east to Oldgarde and north from there. In Heartwell, find Deputy Willem and Marshal McBribe, they’ll fill you in on the rest but I can say that it’s something about the mine up there.” He explains more about the trip: people who can help them with shelter and food in Oldgarde thanks to the way the system is set up with identifying tags (they’re copper rank), the fauna of the region which is unfamiliar to them all, and the time pressure that at least Zilvra is under. “You’ve got five days so you want to get there to get the bonds extended.”

The newly acquainted outsiders exchange glances, at least one of them having a clear preference to make the trip as quick as possible.

“One thing before we leave,” Morella asks sugary sweet, “while walking from the harbour I couldn’t help but notice the damage to the city?”

Something dark crosses Tio’s face. “Yeah...long story short, a rebellious group of masons went amok and caused quite a bit of destruction. It got so bad the king had to intervene and they killed him. It’s best not to talk too much about it for now.” He slumps back in his chair, staring fixedly on a bare spot on the desk. “Just know that the guilty have been dealt with under orders of the widower queen. Now git.”

Not daring to push the subject further, the trio exits the Guild House, finding themselves on a street that has truly woken up. Already having all they need, the three of them thankfully agree to set off towards Heartwell Shire along the route suggested by Tio.

As the group walks, they slowly begin chatting more openly. First contemplating the system for adventurers, they can’t help but wonder what it takes to rise in the ranks.

“So if we’re copper,” Morella contemplates, “and we already will get free food and lodging...what will we get at silver and gold ranks?”

“Actually paid?” Zilvra suggests, thinking of her empty coin purse.

The male nods. “I’ve been told, and I hope it’s true, that you’d get access to places like the library and such.”

“Why do you hope that?” the eladrin asks curiously.

“I need to do some research...” Sighing, it’s evident that he takes the moment to consider what to tell them. “I...my people have been forced to flee our home. We come from another plane of existence and...let’s just say it hasn’t been pretty. I want for us to take back our home.”

The women nod.

“I come from a different plane of existence too,” the colourful of the females admits to no one’s surprise, “from the Fey Wild.”

“Why’d you leave?” Zilvra asks.

“...I don’t know...I can’t remember.” Stunned silence forces Morella to elaborate: “I just...I know I was there one moment and the next I was on a ship in the middle of the ocean. The people onboard were kinda shocked at me appearing out of nowhere. They were nice though, told me we were headed to Stouvania.”

The two other share a glance.

Anvindr is the one to speak up: “So you need to get back home.”

“Nah, I kinda like seeing new things so this is exiting,” the Fey elf grins, “besides I wouldn’t know where to go there either so might as well enjoy this for a while. Maybe I’ll remember something eventually.”

“But won’t people be looking for you?”

She seems surprised at the idea as if she hadn’t considered that before. “Maybe?”Then she turns with a smile to the drow. “And you?

Zilvra doesn’t quite like the beaming attention. “Well...as I said: I didn’t intend to do anything illegal. Yeah, alright, I might have been trespassing but I just wanted to look at the stars! We don’t have them in the Underdark.”

“Underdark?” Morella wonders.

Explaining briefly about the world below ground where she’s from, Zilvra manages to avoid further questions about her past. For now.

---

They walk the entire day, arriving at Oldgarde by sunset.

The place is nothing more than a village, though, with only one bigger building – the inn which clearly has been expanded in recent years and bears the sign “Lion’s Pride Inn”. Several of the city’s guards can be seen strolling or loitering, making Zilvra slightly uneasy, tugging at her sleeves and hood to hid the bonds. As the trio is about to enter the inn, they spot one of the other newly formed adventuring groups.

They’ve barely stepped into the crowded place before a boisterous woman bears down on them, presenting herself as Malikka. Showing her their tags, she verifies that food’s on the house and that they can sleep in the basement.

Checking out the quarters, the trio is utterly dismayed (and grossed out). What once might have been a coal or root cellar has barely been cleared out and in one corner there’s still a pile of refuse with plenty of fat rats. Not to mention the half full piss pot.

It is free, though, and none of the trio has money to buy a room instead so they accept, returning to the main room of the tavern for the promised meal only to be disappointed once more by stale and moulding bread and ale gone bad. Thankfully, Morella has a few tricks up her sleeve and is able to create a tiny but filling meal of Goodberries.

While nibbling, Zilvra points out the other group of adventurers and eventually Anvindr walks over to them, the rest of the trio in tow, and suggests an arm wrestling match so he can test out something about his armour.

The group consists of three male humans called Owen, Hayden, and Adam. Owen, a strong guy who might be a fighter, accepts the challenge after downing his expired beer. The other two discreetly push their mugs towards their friend, too disgusted by the contents to want to drink it, making Owen beam happily. Perhaps that joy is what carries him to a hard earned victory despite the steam slipping from Anvindr’s armour as they compete.

“Where’ve you got that armour from?” Hayden asks, fidgeting with the rings of his own.

The air genasi smiles proudly while rubbing his hand where it got slammed into the table. “I made it myself. I’m a bit of a tinkerer.”

It turns out to be a merry evening. No one but Owen drinks the ale, making sure that nothing goes to waste, and eventually everyone finds their way down into the basement to get some rest – the two of elven kin taking turns to rest so someone is awake at all times...and good thing too because during Zilvra’s watch, Owen wakes up: sick from the beer he pukes in the corner before she can do anything, barely acknowledges her help with cleaning him up after (long live magic) and eventually falling asleep again.

The only other thing that happens during the night is a strange metamorphosis of the eladrin as she changes appearance during her restful trance: from verdant greens and pinks to flaming hues that could match the warmest fire.

[emptyheadwriting]

The Last Heir-Part two

A Golden Shield

Warnings: Mentions of Blood/Bleeding

Word Count: 2309

Part 1/Introduction

Wednesday Addams would never admit to anyone but for whatever reason the idea of this curse had stuck to the forefront of her mind throughout her sleepless night.

The raven haired teenager scoured through the thousands of books on their families history and other known tales for the rest of the night after everyone else had went to sleep for the night as they wanted rest for the emotional day that would follow.

There was not much to be found to the chagrin of the knowledge hungry Addams. Though no notion of it being a made up tale cross her mind, while her grandmama grew older and more slightly off she never spoke lies, especially when it came to the Addams family history.

She soon had to give up her search, perhaps the curse had been fulfilled long ago and a careless member of the family had forgotten to take note of it or tell anyone else. Nevertheless she knew she was off to Nevermore whether this cursed Amazonian would join her there she knew not.

The ride to Nevermore was as sickening due to watching her parents romanticize each other mere feet infront of her as it was due to the idea of this being the first step of her mother attempting to force her into a mold of herself, something she had already expressed to them both before they arrived at the school.

The meeting with Principal Weems had occupied her mind throughly as she sat and listened to her parents interaction with the Schools Matriarch, grimacing at the thought of having to yet again be forced into interacting with an adult pretending to care about whatever made of ailments she would undoubtedly say Wednesday has.

Interacting with her unnaturally colorful roommate Enid was much to her distaste as she glared at the colorful splatter that covered everywhere her dark eyes landed as they scanned across the side with the empty bed. Taking mental notes of all she would have to change once she was meant to settle in.

Wednesday listened to her roommate simply because it felt like an obligation, making small comments whenever needed up until Enid began to list off the main types of beings that occupied Nevermore.

“Those are the Fangs, AKA Vampires some of them have been here for literal centuries” she spoke as she pointed to a table of sun glass wearing student all sipping from vessels filled with red liquid.

Blood, interesting that the school would supply that was the initial thought that cross Wednesday’s mind.

“That bunch of Knuckleheads are Furs, AKA werewolves, like me” a chorus of howls followed their introduction and Wednesday made a second mental note to go along with the second group.

Rowdy and rambunctious, if many of them were like Enid with the affection for color, the mix of the three attributes would surely make them the new students least favorite group.

Wednesday caught on as she watched a group gathered around the water feature in the middle of the pentagonal room, scales must be sirens.

Thought it wasn’t until she watched a snake slither slightly from the beanie of someone that came up to Enid to talk about her, that she finally realized the pattern, all four groups creatures measured heavily in Greek mythology that she knew from her late night exploration of the family’s literature.

“How fitting…” she muttered under her breathe.

“What’s fitting?” Enid asked as she pushed Ajax away from them, tilting her head at the first words she heard our of Wednesday’s mouth that weren’t laced with distaste.

“Nothing that concerns you” Wednesday responded with a slight edge to her tone, she surely would not let someone she had just met in on a Family secret that may or not even come to fruition, and especially not someone that seemed as excitable as the werewolf next to her.

It was not long after that Wednesday was saying goodbye to her family, which sparked a slight argument between herself and her mother atleast it was an Argument to the elder Addams a frown playing on her lips as she listened to Wednesday’s rant about never falling in love or becoming a housewife, but what surprised the younger woman was the feeling deep within her that made her slightly hesitate on the idea of never falling in love.

Deep within her being, in her subconscious thoughts, and in her tiny black heart something awoke at the idea of a powerful warrior woman bending over backwards at her every whim, cursed to move mountains if she so wished her to.

Yes it was a very enticing idea indeed.

——

The rest of the day went rather unfavorable for Wednesday, her attempt to knock down the self proclaimed queen bee of the school had failed landing her in the infirmary for a minor cut which she would grumble about internally.

Her father would undoubtedly try encouraging her instead of reprimanding her for her loss in the sport she had long practiced with her father, which she despised.

She would not tell him about it on their scheduled call, not wanting to encourage any sappy feelings.

Walking out after her brief conversation with Rowan, she appreciated the downcast weather that graced the school. Rain drops pouring down and darkening the once light gray concrete to a deep cold slate hue it was beautiful for her twisted mind.

Lost in thought as she walked it was only her instincts that alerted her of the sound of stone grating together above her, and she watched as a gargoyle started its descent upon her.

Time seemed to slow as she stared at the heavy object that would undoubtedly slay her where she stood,

Was this great need?

Would the cursed heir come to her rescue ?

Golden armor clashing against the grey surrounding as they did whatever needed to save an Addams as such was their duty?

A voice drifted into her ears as she felt a body collide with her before,

Darkness.

It wasn’t long after that her mind returned to consciousness, hyper aware of a figure standing over her own, eyes snapping open, her bangs doing their best to hide her brows that furrowed in disappointment that it was not who she had hoped.

Why was she disappointed she scolded herself, a childish desire was not part of her character.

Wednesday would put it down as curiosity, always one to investigate and discover, she simply wanted to know if this curse would still hold true.

——

While facing death may have been anyone else’s worst part of their day, being forced into therapy was tenfold that to Wednesday. Yet she complied nonetheless, this compliance was nothing but a facade she would apply as a vessel for her escape.

“He lost a testicle, men like Dalton shouldn’t be allowed to procreate” she spoke, eyes shining with excitement as she recalled her planned retaliation.

No one in this world and in this era would understand but surely an Amazonian would, the group of women that swore off men until they found one suitable to procreate with and then cast them off after the goal was accomplished, it was as if she was acting on long buried family instincts that overlapped with the Amazonian warriors.

It was not long before she would put her plan into action, escaping from the bathroom window with the help of another Addams Family mystery, Thing who had earlier swore to help her in fear of the second option that was laid out in front of him.

Escaping to the Weathervane was simple really, using the passing vehicles as cover Wednesday crept along until she reached the local cafe.

Though her plan hit a snag as she was forced to help fix the espresso machine, as the man behind the counter proved to be incompetent due to not reading Italian.

It was then that the thought crossed her mind of how could she possibly command an ancient warrior if she did not speak their language, Latin was a dead tongue and her modern Greek was rough at the very best, even then the ancient people of that land spoke in many tongues none too close to what was spoken now.

It was as she sat at the booth, drinking her preferred drink planning her next move when three boys came up to her to harass and bother.

“Have you ever been with a Normie?” How disgusting a comment she thought as she stood to defend herself.

This was not great need she thought to herself, so don’t bother appearing now she proclaimed in her mind as she quickly went about handling the boys surrounding her.

——

The sheriff and Weems had put a stop to her plan but Wednesday had hope to succeed yet, the Harvest Festival which was a mandatory event would give her cover amongst the bright lights and rambunctious crowd enough for her to slip away from the watchful eye of her makeshift caretaker.

It was amongst that crowd that Wednesday stood next to Enid, throwing darts at balloons, “I never thought you of all people would like carnival games” Enid said quizzically a smile on her face at the thought of her roommate partaking in something she herself thought was fun.

“Nonsense, I don’t enjoy this I am simply putting my skills to use with my main goal in mind, which is why I need your help” The raven haired teen bit back as the stall worker handed over a overly sized stuffed panda that she quickly handed to Enid, “you seem to have a good relationship with our dear Principal Weems, take this plush monstrosity and help her with her obvious loneliness” she said with a motion of her head over her shoulder to where the older woman sat staring at the pair.

Enid nodded a small sad smile on her face, happy to be involved but sad that she would have to say goodbye to her roommate before really getting to know her, she gripped the panda and skipped away to complete her task as she threw a wish of luck behind her.

Wednesday strode away towards the parking lot hoping to reach the main road and begin her trek towards the nearest train station. As she reached the first row of cars she heard breaks squeal,

“There’s that Nevermore goth freak” came a familiar voice that made her snap towards its source, watching as the same three boys climbed out of a van with bats in their hands.

This wouldn’t do, she couldn’t handle the delay of showing them up yet again. So she pivoted around and started to speed walk back through the crowd using the multiple booths and loud rides as cover glancing over her shoulder every few steps to see the trio looking increasingly confused and agitated as their search for her remained futile.

It was that motion of turning back for mere seconds that caused her to walk right into Rowan, the boy she had attempted to defend by challenging Bianca.

Her head snapped backwards as she fell on the ground, the boy not sparing her a glance as he continues his march towards the woods.

A ravens caw

The quads tree ablaze

And Rowan being ripped apart by an unidentifiable beast

That turned to look as if it was staring directly at her

Wednesday shook her head as she came to, glancing around before her dark gaze finally caught the fleeting form of the boy she saw die just moments ago.

“Rowan wait come back” she called as her feet carried her towards the woods hurriedly. Running at full tilt after him until she caught up to his shaky figure that turned to face her angrily.

“What do you want?” He spoke bitterly, anger lacing his tone.

“I don’t have to time to explain, you’re in danger here” Wednesday spoke and just as the final syllable had left her lips she was forced up against the thick trunk of a tree, knotted bark scratching against her back.

What was this feeling, her heart rate picking up, eyes darting around in hopes of a solution as she listened to Rowan drone on about how he must kill her before she could harm the Students if Nevermore.

Panic.

Addams aren’t meant to get scared.

Ever.

This was great need.

Wednesday watched as the beast she had foreseen grabbed Rowan, his magical hold on her fading making her to slide down the tree feeling the bark and sticks rip at her clothing as she sat back against the trunk she could feel the warm blood seeping from her skin.

The beast seemingly satisfied with its thrashing of the poor boy beneath it turned towards Wednesday, stalking its way towards her.

Hind legs tensing as it crouched, ready to pounce at enemy moment and all Wednesday could think of was that this is the end of her tale, she was right then, she would never be her mother.

She heard the crunch of leaves as the Beast leaped into the air teeth bare, long arms with clawed hands reaching towards her.

When from out of the darkness came a shout of something she could not understand, and a golden shield came flying across her vision it met the beast in its chest and it let out a hurt cry as it flew backwards.

Defeated the beast shook its head and turned tail running off into the woods.

Finally Wednesday could towards the source of her salvation. There her dark eyes found a shine of golden armor standing protectively in front of her.

A spear in hand, a helmet covering their features as they turned to look at her. Dropping to one knee they spoke, as they removed the helmet from their head,

“Ad arbitrium tuum”

_____

Part 3

I've written fanfiction before and never had anyone ask to be tagged when I updated a series and I must say I appreciate it so here you go.

Hope everyone enjoyed the second part of this tale.

@tundra1029

@efectoangel

[daemour]

The Corporal's Wife

Pairing: maybe Mingi x f!Reader, past Jongho x f!Reader

Word Count: 2309

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of death, that's all

Genre: Angst, fluff(?)

Summary: You're still hanging onto the hope that your husband, Corporal Jongho survived the war, but with six years and not a peep from him, you're starting to lose hope. When a mysterious young man turns up at the cafe you frequent, your days of quiet sadness may be coming to an end

TY to @sanjoongie for helping me choose a title lol <3

also if u want a sequel with what happens with yn and mingi lmk

-

After the war ended six years ago, you visit the café in front of your house daily. Perhaps it’s fruitless to hope, but you don’t know what you’d do if you stopped believing.

Your husband’s body was never found, and some days you wish they’d never told you that so you wouldn’t have a reason to stay in the same town you’ve always been in. Maybe you should attempt to move on, but there’s always a lingering feeling of guilt if you even think about it.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the chain in front of you scraping the floor. “Do you mind if I sit here? All the tables are full.”

A tall figure in a plain shirt stands before you, a large covering his hair and eyes. Warning bells sound in your head but against your better will, you shake your head. “Go right ahead, I don’t mind,” you say, gesturing to the empty seat. “May I ask your name?”

The man hums. “Mingi. And yours?”

“I’m (Y/N). What brings you to this town? I’ve lived here all my life and haven’t seen you around.”

Mingi’s lips pull upward into a small smile. “Hm. That’s a private question ma’am, but I’ll answer it if you limit your questions to one a day.”

You cock your head to the side. “You’re awfully sure that I’m that invested in a stranger’s life,” you respond cooly.

Mingi laughs hard and you can’t help but notice his adorably crooked teeth. “Fair enough. I’mm answer your question in good faith. I’m here to live a more peaceful life. Better?”

Your brows furrow. “More peaceful life?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Mingi sing-songs, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face,” next question is for tomorrow.”

You gape at him but all he does in return is tip his hat and offer a smile before getting up and leaving. He intrigues you, and you are always in the café in the afternoon, so maybe you will take that offer. With a shake of your head, you return to your usual cup of tea and the book that had laid forgotten on the oaken table.

-

“You’re back!”

“You sound too pleased about that,” you grumble as Mingi takes a seat in front of you once more. “I usually come here around this time anyway, it wasn’t because of you.”

Mingi chuckles. “Still, you’re here. So I’ll let you ask another question.”

You sigh, but you can’t lie and say you aren’t even a little curious about this strange man who sits with you. “How old are you?”

Mingi smiles. “Safe question. I’m almost thirty, turning in four months.”

You cock your head. “You look young for your age. In fact, you’re actually younger than my husband,” you laugh quietly, looking down into your teacup. “You would have gotten along.”

Mingi hums, voice low in his throat. “Is he not living here with you?”

You shake your head, your breath catching in your throat as you try to avoid the subject. “Ah, he’s not here at the moment, it’s just me in this town.” You offer Mingi a weak smile. “Please excuse me, I must head home and finish some chores.”

Before he can say anything in response, you book it out of the café. You don’t want to face the truth just yet. You check the road before crossing it in a hurry to get to the safety of your empty house.

As you catch your breath just inside the wooden door, your eye catches the last picture you took with your husband. Jongho smiled so peacefully in the picture, with you standing right by his side and a matching smile on your own face.

Tears well up in your eyes and you rip your eyes from the picture. You cannot continue wallowing in your overwhelming love for him, but are you truly ready to move on? As the wetness blurs your vision, you kick off your shoes, stumbling towards the kitchen.

He’s more endearing than you had thought, with his bright smile and warm laugh. You’re getting more attached, you can feel it in your heart. You don’t know if you’re ready to handle the feelings that come with it, but you cannot dwell on that now, not when you’re just getting to know him. Maybe it’s just platonic.

You take another deep breath and fumble for the cabinet where Jongho kept his whiskey. You need to calm down.

-

“I’ve realised…” you start to voice the thought that had been plaguing your mind for the past few weeks. Although you’ve known Mingi for only three months, you’ve grown to enjoy his company and the insightful answers he offers of himself. However, one thing had been sitting pretty in your subconscious. The tension in your gut will not go away until you get your answers. “Why don’t you ask questions about me, Mingi?”

“...What?” Mingi asks, noticeably stiffening and pulling his hat further down his face. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we have his whole system of me asking you questions, but you never seem to want to get to know me. Why is that?”

Mingi sighs. “I suppose I can’t continue hiding. But here is not the place. Take a walk with me, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes widen You’ve only known Mingi in the comfort of the café. Although it is trivial, it feels like a big step to by anywhere but here with him. And yet, he’s still waiting patiently for your answer. “Okay…” you whisper, slowly standing and brushing your long skirt off. “Where to?”

Mingi smiles. “Not far. There’s a park a few blocks away.” You know that palace all too well—your husband proposed there. If that is your destination, you’re less worried.

The walk doesn’t take too long—Mingi’s stride is long and you practically scuttle after him. The park is just as nice as you remember, with a few couples milling about. He leads you to a pavilion and before you even have a chance to catch your breath, he starts to speak.

“To preface, I was a soldier in the war almost six years ago,” Mingi says slowly as if trying to choose the right words. “I was stationed in Inhon City. Sound familiar?”

The name tugs at your memory but you can’t recall it. “Not really…I’ve heard of it.”

Mingi sighs, pulling off his hat, and you gasp at the sight of zig-zagging scars decorating the upper half of his face. “Jongho was my commanding officer. I’m sure that name is familiar.”

“Jongho…” you whisper. “If you’re looking for him, he’s not here, I’m sorry.” Your voice sounds foreign even to yourself. You don’t know how Mingi knows your husband or their history, but if he’s here to kill you, he won’t get any satisfaction out of it.

Mingi shakes his head, pity in his eyes. “I know. That’s why I’m here. He loved to talk about you, you know.” Your eyes tear up “That’s why I never really had to ask about you, although it would have gotten suspicions off my back.” He smiles bitterly.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“He’s dead, (Y/N).” Mingi smiles sadly, but you shake your head.

“No.” Your voice is quiet as if it would shield you from Mingi’s words. “He’s not.”

Mingi takes a step closer to you, almost reaching out to comfort you but deciding against it. “(Y/N), he’s been gone for six years. Do you really think he wouldn’t have found his way back to you if he was still alive? Jongho loved you. He wouldn’t want you to waste the rest of your life waiting for a man who couldn’t come back.”

You shake your head once more, but deep down, you know what Mingi said was true, even before you had met him. “His body was never found, Mingi. Please leave me alone,” you hiss, perhaps hoping your anger would reverse time and you never would have met this tall stranger. And Jongho wouldn’t be gone.

“(Y/N),” Mingi starts to say, reaching out for you, but you take a step back.

“I want to go home.”

Mingi frowns, retracting his hand. “At least let me walk you home,” he offers but you shake your head.

“What, you want to know where I live?”  The harsh words come out against your better judgement and Mingi flinches. “Oh, wait, you probably already know my address.”

“That’s unfair,” Mingi frowns but you shake your head.

“That’s unfair, but you getting to know me from a lie isn’t?” You raise an eyebrow and Mingi cowers.

“It wasn’t a lie…”

You glare at Mingi’s sorrowful voice. Like he has a right to sound so pitiful. “A lie of omission is still a lie, Mingi. Just…please leave me be. I need time.” He finally acquiesces and you escape back down the path.

You don’t know why you’re so affected but his words sent a sharp pain into your heart. Deep down, you knew that Jongho was not going to return after the first two years, but you needed that hope to keep you going. You don’t know what you’d do without the idea of Jongho returning. You’ve waited for so long that you don’t know if you could ever move away.

With a sob, you slam your front door shut behind you and fall to the ground. The last time you cried was when you heard the news of Jongho missing. All the pent-up frustration and sadness are finally being washed out of your soul.

In a way, it’s refreshing, but there are so many conflicting emotions that you don’t know what to do but to let it all out. As you wipe your teary eyes, you look over at a picture of Jongho’s siblings hung on the wall.  You hadn’t seen them since Jongho’s parents’ funeral which was right before the war started. Maybe they could offer insight.

With a last wipe of your eyes, you head to the study to call ahead and ask to visit. You know they won’t mind, but it’s the polite thing to do, and maybe just talking on the phone will help ease your worries.

-

A few days later you’re currently in the midst of packing for when you finally go to visit your in-laws as they graciously invited you to stay for the weekend. However, a knocking on the door interrupts your task. “(Y/N), can we talk?”

Your body stiffens at Mingi’s voice. Why is he here? You knew you shouldn’t leave without telling him where you were as you would have felt bad otherwise, but you were planning on asking the café owner to pass the message on, not to confront Mingi directly. “No.” You hate how shaky your voice is, and Mingi can hear the uncertainty.

“(Y/N), please.” You bite your lip as you stomp over to the door to give Mingi a piece of your mind.

“Mingi, I told you to please leave me alone,” you start to scold but stop short as you swing the door open and see Mingi’s face. His eyes are red and the dark circles under his eyes invoke regret in your chest. His hair is a mess as he holds his hat, turning the brim round and round in his hands.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” Mingi says, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t want to keep it from you, but I didn’t want to bring it up on our first meeting and just…never got around to telling you. The more time passed, the more worried I got about bringing it up. Jongho may have been my commander, but he was also my friend. I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

You close your eyes to try and stall the tears. “Mingi…I’m not mad. Maybe I was back then, but I understand now.” Your words are thick with emotion.  “I wish you told me before but I can understand why. I just…do need some time. It’s hard to not want to wait for someone I’ve been with for over ten years.”

Mingi nods. “I understand. I just couldn’t wait any longer before apologising. I should have told you sooner.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, Mingi. I don’t hold it against you, bubt I need to finish packing. I’ll be visiting my family for a few days, but we can talk more when I get back, okay?” You offer him a smile which he returns, albeit shakily. “Thank you again for coming to chat.”

With a nod, he turns away and replaces his hat on his head. You watch his back as you feel a tightness in your chest at seeing him leave. “Mingi!” You call after him, and he stops in his tracks. “Would– would you like it come with me?”

He turns back around, confusion evident in his eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah. I’m visiting my brother-in-law and his wife. I’m sure they’d be happy to meet one of Jongho’s friends.” Mingi’s lips twitch and you fear you’ve gone too far. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were busy. I just…thought you might like it–”

“I’d love to,” Mingi cuts you off. “Thank you for inviting me, really.”

You tilt your head. “It’s no issue, really. Would you like to come in and have a cup of tea? I’m almost finished packing and we can leave soon after.”

Mingi nods carefully. “Thank you, (Y/N). Really.”

You get the feeling he’s thanking you for more than just tea, but you won’t point it out. Instead, you just open the door wider to let him in. It’s time for you to let Jongho go, and maybe Mingi will be the one to fill the void left in your life.

[ninapi]

New to this (Osamu version)

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

Premise: Osamu fights for his very own chance at happiness when he is reunited with his first love, the mother of his brother's son.

Word Count: 2309

Chapter 6: Happy Ending

Winter was almost over, the chilled air filling your lungs as you sit by the window taking in the beauty of the city nightscape. Your husband bringing you a mug with steaming hot chocolate.

Your morning sickness didn’t last long, as soon as you went into your second trimester all the awful sick-like symptoms disappeared as if they never existed.

Samu got the both of you a set of matching thick silver bands the very next day after finding out he was indeed going to be a father. You woke up from your afternoon nap feeling the chilled pressure of the band around your ring finger, the culprit cradling you in his arms very much asleep. It wasn’t necessary to ask you to marry him, you basically were already, he was just following formalities, you liked those.

When you got up from the bed you saw an envelope full with papers, mostly already pre-filled by Osamu and just waiting for your signature to register your marriage officially. What you weren’t expecting were the papers for Seiji’s adoption. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to be his real dad.

Miya Seiji was now official and the child was the happiest of all with the news.

You were currently due in a few weeks and the twins have been confirmed, anyone looking at you would know with a single glance that there was more than one baby inside of you. You got to see your twin boys in the screen at the doctors office many times already. Both healthy and filled with strength. One of them kept on kicking you with all his might and that’s what had you up by the window, unable to lay down. They are quite active and get overly excited when they hear their brother talking to them and would not calm down until instructed by their father.

You haven’t heard much of Atsumu but he sent you a text with a bank account number and a username and password. He opened the account for Seiji and has been sending money to it since then. He knows kids are expensive and even if Seiji is his brother’s son according to the law, he knows he is the real father and wouldn’t let you or him forget about it any time soon. It surprised you since you weren’t expecting his financial help, you knew he was still mopping over the whole situation but it warmed your heart knowing he was finally becoming a rightful adult.

As for mama Miya, she’s been taking knitting classes since she heard the news and has been knitting onesies, baby blankets, plushes, you name it. She honestly wanted the babies to be girls or at least one of them, but she’s an expert in dealing with twin boys and was trying her best to be as helpful as possible sharing tips with you and spending way too much money in her unborn grandsons.

Of course she was also showering Seiji with presents, not wanting the child to feel neglected, he was her first born grandson after all. She found in Atsumu’s apartment a bunch of toys stashed away in a closet, he had been purchasing various items seemingly for his son but didn’t want to deal with everything that came with visiting him, so his mother has been taking them along in her visits and sharing the secret only with her grandson. Seiji loves his daddy and would never change him for anyone, but he’s been sending letters to his real dad and even drawings secretly through his grandma as thanks for the expensive toys and books he’s been giving him. He also silently wishes he was there for him more but doesn’t say it out loud afraid of hurting someone in the process.

Atsumu loves Fridays, that’s when he gets his little boy’s letters and he truly wishes with all his heart that there was a time machine so he could go back in time and get his family back. He still loves you and he adores his son to no avail. If life would give him one more chance he would never let you go.

Samu sits behind you on the window bench, caressing the side of your enlarged belly as he sees a tiny foot pressing out. He knows it must be painful for you but he dies a little each time he sees his sons feet sticking out. As usual, the babies stop kicking you as soon as they feel and hear their dad, giving you a break. ¨I really don’t get how they know it's you when you haven’t even opened your mouth.¨ you chuckle, leaning onto your husband while sipping on the delicious beverage. ¨It's called telepathy, you’re the only one in this family who doesn’t have it. I wish you did though, I wouldn’t have to talk as much.¨ you huffed, insulted. Like it was your fault the lack of psyquic powers, they are the weirdos here, not you.

The shop is doing great, Samu is even thinking of expanding and opening a second shop once the babies are out and the newborn face is over. His shop went viral when Bokuto and Hinata from the MSBY posted a selfie in it. When the fans realized the owner was actually THE Miya Atsumu’s brother the influx of customers became overwhelming.

You were still helping your husband with the customers, even if now you had to sit down to do so. The regulars have become attached to you and even bring you refreshments and souvenirs when they visit the shop. All of them dying to meet the new Miya twins.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

You were scheduled a C-section, twins are complicated deliveries and the doctor wanted to make sure you and both babies were as safe as possible even if that meant delivering a bit earlier.

So you were currently in a private room at the hospital with more people in it that you could count. Even Sunarin was there, you still don’t know why, but he was there with two big teddy bears and a basket full of fruit. 

It was nice seeing everyone excited to meet the twins but you were a bit nervous, still happy you wouldn’t have to go through labor again, thinking about the pain you felt when Seiji was about to come out gives you nightmares. This time would be a painless delivery but recovery would be much more painful and having two babies to feed and tend was a bit of a worrying thought. Thankfully your mother in law was going to stay with you for a couple of months.

Samu had to remodel the apartment a bit to welcome his sons. You lost half of the living room and the storage closet, but you now had a three-bedroom house. Seiji insisting on choosing the nursery theme for his brothers because of course he knows them better than you, they talk every day. He was going through a dinosaur face now and chose a matching wallpaper, it was basically the same as his just that his had sharks with a pastel blue background, while theirs had a dinosaur print and the background had a soft yellowish tone to it. It was already fully decorated with origami animals and drawings he made as gifts for the twins and all the dinosaur knitted plushies their grandma made.

Once it was time to go in for surgery, your husband never left your side. Seiji stayed with his grandma and the mob of friends while you were being cut in half and was finally time to meet your sons.

One of them was handed over to you while the other was currently in Samu’s arms. You’ve never seen him this happy. His eyes sparkled like a kid in a candy shop, eyeing his beautiful twin boys. You two decided to keep the naming theme you had going on with Seiji, Samu liking the first Kanji you used for his name (星 = star), it was just so fitting, so you went for Seiya and Ryusei. This making your eldest son feel even more important. A bunch of little stars making your life as bright as the night sky.

The funniest thing was that just like him and his brother, both babies had different colored eyes, Ryusei having Samu’s gray eyes while Seiya had yours. Besides that they both looked just like Seiji when he was a baby which meant they would most likely look like their dad.

Once you were cleared to go back to your room, you saw everyone fawning over the pictures in Samu’s phone, the babies were taken by the nurses and you weren´t able to have them in your room just yet. After lots of tears and kisses you weren’t expecting, and having to literally tear your son off of uncle Rin, there was finally peace and quiet.

The birthing experience being so dramatically different from the first one that had you in tears. Happy tears of course.

You felt so loved.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Having two babies and a toddler was definitely taking a toll in your and your husband’s body. You’ve barely slept in over a month and your mother in law was returning back to her husband in a week.

You have now fully recovered from the surgery and Seiji was even happier than the two of you combined at the arrival of his new baby brothers. He thought the babies were going to be able to play with him right away but he’s come to terms with the fact that he will have to wait a bit to get there. He is happy nonetheless and a very proud big brother who swore to protect them from harm, constantly asking for permission to sleep in their crib with them and throwing a fit each time you declined his request.

While you would think being this tired and busy all the time would control your unstoppable husband’s appetite, you quickly found out you were wrong, hardly being able to keep his hands to himself. How could he when his lovely wife was so beautiful and he never understood what the postpartum period was. He was even scolded by his mother when he got caught wanting to try out the babies milk off of you after breastfeeding Seiya, he seemed to enjoy it so much that he felt like he was totally missing out.

You swear at this rate you’ll end up having your own volleyball team with all the kids this man will put in you.

Your house was a mess but Samu was an amazing father and he’s been helping you non-stop, cleaning the baby bottles, diaper duties, anything you could think of, he’d do it and never complain. You already knew how great he would be by the way he was with Seiji, but seeing him with the babies was a sight for sore eyes. He would fall asleep on the couch with the twins one in each arm trying his best to let you sleep even for a couple of hours, he insisted he wasn’t tired but he would fall asleep either way, the babies being too warm and cozy to resist.

Ryusei had this thing, he would always pee on Osamu’s face when he was the one to change his diaper, always. And you found him squatting with his eyes closed more than once, even when he denied it. He swears his son has a crush on his own mother and that’s why he only lets you change him. While his brother boycotted his dad, Seiya was constantly calling out for him, loving how comfortable his daddy was, he wouldn’t go to sleep until his tiny hand was fully wrapped around one of his fathers fingers.They are all so silly, it’s amusing and you just loved your family so much.

Once the twins turned six months, Samu finally decided to scout a new location for his second shop. He’s been interviewing staff and training a new chef for the new location, all while being a wonderful dad.

He was currently carrying both of the twins, one on the back and one on the front while chopping onions. You taking care of the counter as usual. It was an unexpectedly busy day and he was getting a lot of unwanted attention from all the infatuated customers. You had to agree, your man was hot and looked adorable with the two babies hanging off of him like if they weight nothing. “Babe, you’re staring.” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, trying to strike a sexy pose while Seiya was chewing on his hair, “How can I not when I have the sexiest dad in the entire universe all to myself. Am I right?” a loud cheer was heard from all your female customers, boosting his ego and spooking your youngest son.

The business was growing at an impressive speed, even the news wanted an interview with Samu to showcase the shop as the raising star of the year in the food industry.

You were so proud of him.

The second shop was a big hit, being in the complete opposite side of Tokyo, quickly having demanding customers asking for one in their area, Tokyo is very big and they just needed their daily onigiri craze without having to hop in a thirty-minute train.

Onigiri Miya was growing out of Samu’s hands, ready to become a chain restaurant, but with your support he knew he could take on any challenge. It has been an amazing couple of years for the Miya family.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

You loved your house. It was so full of wonderful memories, the last thing you wanted was to leave it behind, but it was getting a bit too small for your very large family. The twins now turning three years old, transformed into little hurricanes. Seiya is more collected, he definitely got his dad’s personality but you wonder how Ryusei can be more like Atsumu than Seiji is. DNA is weird.

Your head was pounding at the loud whines of your eldest twin, clinging to your leg trying to get a second cup of ice cream.

¨NO more ice cream, Ryusei. You won’t eat dinner if I give you more.¨ his wailing increasing at your words, and forcing Osamu to come up the stairs. ¨Ryusei, stop pestering your mother, can’t you see she is tired? Do you think having babies inside is fun? Come with me, let’s go look for your brothers. You can have more ice cream tomorrow.¨

That’s right, daddy did it again.

You were currently as swollen as a balloon. Thankfully this time you know is just one more. This house was really getting small.

Samu has been looking into bigger houses. He wanted to move to the outskirts of Tokyo to have a slower paced life. He secured a small empty shop in a shopping district not far from the very big house you were looking at right now in your phone.

It had six bedrooms, seems like it was an inn in the past. Pretty rustic looking but very appealing.

The kitchen was huge and had a lot of greenery poking through the windows. A large yard for your kids to play around and space to park the car. It seemed like it was made for your family. Though the fact that the house had six bedrooms was making your head spin. You know your husband too well.

Cleaning the house would be a pain, specially handling the shop alongside Samu, but you couldn´t ask for a better life.

Seiji was now an elementary school student, time sure flies when you’re having fun, and babies. He had this special bond with Seiya, assuring he is the one who would always talk to him through your belly button. This made Ryusei throw jealousy fits constantly but he has now claimed the unborn baby as his.

Your household was loud. Really loud. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

If someone would have told you when you were five that you would marry your best friend and give him lots of babies, you would have totally believed that person. You still remember that school assignment when you were little where you had to draw what you wanted to be in the future. While everyone drew astronauts and firefighters, you drew the both of you holding hands.

It was your dream to spend the rest of your life with your best friend. Have your very own happily ever after like in the books you would read together.

And it was also his.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

Note: And this, my lovely humans, is the last chapter of Samu’s version of the story. Sorry if this chapter was a bit short, if I didn’t stop myself we would have 12 chapters for this route lol. What do you guys think? Come, sit on my lap and talk to me~ Hope you enjoyed the happy ending route, now the final leg of the story is to come. The true ending. Hope you stick around till the end! –Love, Nina.

Previous Chapter Master List

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

Everything's a Negotiation (Part 9/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC, Modern!Alfie Solomons x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations, possessive behavior, consensual public sexual situations

Summary: While in Lancaster, Mac makes some new discoveries about Hank's actions. They've put her in a spot she'd hoped to avoid, but she won't be without help.

Word Count: 2309

A/N: Let me know if you would like added to the tag list.

As she exited the train station, Mac took a moment to breathe in the northern air as she waited for the cabbie to finish loading the bags. It wasn’t exactly home, but Lancaster would always hold a special place in her heart. She’d rented a condo in the center of town, and as they drove down the hill and into the town center, she remembered chilly nights roaming from pub to pub. One memorable day she saw an interactive play at the Lancaster Castle depicting the Pendle Witch Trials. She still remembered the first time she saw the “hanging corner” just below the drop room. The red-stained stones were said to be permanently bloodstained from the two hundred executions at the castle. Not that everything was blood and death. When the Olympic Torch had come through, she and her best friend had stood outside in the pouring British rain to watch the torch come down the road. They’d been just south of the North Road, near a Costa because Mac had wanted to be close to coffee since they hadn’t been exactly sure how long they’d need to wait. 

Glancing at her watch, she wondered if there’d be enough time to get something to eat before Chris arrived. The Burrow wasn’t that far from where she was staying, and their rack of lamb with a merlot and cherry glaze sounded nearly perfect. She almost hadn’t called him. In fact, she still somewhat regretted calling him because she knew he’d involve himself deeper in her mess than he needed to. The door buzzed before she could make a final decision about dinner. Just as well. She doubted the food would taste like anything to her in her current state. 

“Chris.”

“Fuck.”

Mac wanted to smile at the tone in his voice. She could only imagine how she looked. He pulled her into his arms, and she melted against him. No matter what, Chris always represented home to her. She felt the kiss he pressed to the top of her head and smiled. Softie. Zeus took that moment to greet the one person Mac figured her dog loved more than her. Not that she could blame him. Dutifully, Chris pulled back from her and crouched down to scratch behind Zeus’ ears and receive his kisses. Mac turned back into the house, leaving Chris to corral Zeus. 

“I looked into those companies you asked me about.”

Mac glanced over her shoulder, a frown on her face. “I didn't ask you to do that. I specifically said do nothing except get on a train.”

“It was a long ride,” Chris said with a shrug. “I got bored.”

“I should have used a jammer on your phone.” 

She gestured to the haphazard piles of papers that littered the dining room table. Along the wall were brightly colored post-it notes in groupings of different sizes. Her success or failure in determining cause was clearly denoted by how legible her handwriting was. She’d been told more than once by her assistant Katie that her profession should have come with a lab coat and a doctorate. 

Chris let out a low whistle between his teeth. Zeus sat at his feet, tail wagging excitedly. 

“Here,” Mac tossed a dog treat his way. “Do yourself a favor and don’t whistle again.” 

With a chuckle, Chris tossed the treat to Zeus who snatched it from the air before trotting away to enjoy it. He moved closer to the table, eyes narrowed as he read through her notes. 

“That group there,” he pointed to the garish orange group of post-its. “Some of those names match what I was able to find.” 

With a nod, Mac swept all the other notes from the table. As the papers and notes swirled through the air, they both began to laugh at how ridiculous it looked. Zeus took note, and dutifully began to bark and chase the pieces of colored paper as they floated to the ground. 

“That might have been a bit dramatic.” 

Chris smirked. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It doesn’t add up. Sisal is a legit company; they go back to just after the Second World War,” Mac thought aloud as she reread the notes. 

“A lot of the Blinder’s businesses are legit, too.”

Mac scowled. “This wasn’t on either of their lists.” 

“I don’t think it’s them. They’re too homegrown to have those types of interests in an Italian gaming company.” 

“Alfie said it wasn’t him, and he’s been too brutally honest with me for me to believe he’d start lying about this. Especially when he was the one bringing me the information.” 

“What do you know about the Sabini family?” 

Mac pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not exactly familiar with the inner workings of England’s mob operations. Recent developments aside.” 

“You do know someone who does.” 

Mac whirled on Chris. “You can’t be serious. There is no way that you’re even suggesting what I think you might be suggesting.” 

“There’s not a single illegal activity that Thomas Shelby isn’t at least aware of in the whole of the United Kingdom. Man’s too connected.” 

“And how exactly would you know that?” 

Chris slanted her a look. “Don’t fucking insult me. I always look into the men you’re interested in.” 

Mac felt herself blush even as she denied his words. “Not into Thomas fucking Shelby.” 

“‘Course not.” 

Mac swore. She marched into the kitchen and poured herself a G&T.

“What do the British love almost as much as a horse?” 

Mac poked her head around the door jam. “What?” 

Instead of answering her, Chris just rolled his eyes. “You heard me.” 

“Dogs? Soccer? A good pint?” 

“Greyhound racing - nearly as popular, and as profitable as horse racing around the time of the world wars. There was an Italian family that took over most of the greyhound racing - they rose to prominence during the interwar period. In the research you asked me not to do, I came across the Sabini family who ran most of the Greyhound racing. Now, there’s less known about them in modern times because like your man Shelby, they’ve created a host of legitimate businesses to cover up their more profitable illegal operations.”

“The fucking Italian mob is involved in all of this?” Mac asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Damn you Hank, what have you gotten us all into now?” 

“From the information I could gather on the train, Sabini isn’t connected to the Italian Mob. He’s just another sort of gang in London. Local mob, not Cosa Nostra.”

Zeus came to Mac’s side and licked the tips of her fingers. Absently, she reached down to scratch behind his ears. Could she move back to America? Just close shop, give everyone severance and leave it all behind? For a moment, she allowed herself to believe it could  be that easy. That everyone - Hank, Alfie, Tommy - would just let her leave. Until Rodney was found, or out of danger Hank wouldn’t let her leave. Maybe she should have just let Tommy kill him that night in her apartment. Everyone else seemed to make money breaking the law, the least she figured she could do was make her life just a bit easier. 

“That’s only marginally better. It still doesn’t make sense. Why would Hank go to a different mob when it’s his idiotic son’s dealings with the not-quite mob in Birmingham didn’t go as planned?”

“Hank’s not known for his sound decision-making.” 

Mac laughed. 

“He’s desperate, and vindictive. And he knows more about what Rodney the idiotic fuck got himself into. I’m sure this is connected in ways we’re just caught up in.”

“Me. I’m caught. You don’t exist.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Chris - ”

“No. You’re not facing this alone.” 

“Stubborn bastard.” 

“Your dad called me that a lot.”

Mac smirked. “Where do you think I picked it up? Can’t count the number of times mom would yell at him for swearing in front of me.” 

Chris smiled. “We’ll get this sorted. I give you my word on that.” 

Giving up the pretense of having any sort of manners, Mac pulled the bottle of gin from the cupboard and brought it to the living room. Chris raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. She figured of all the people in her life, he understood. 

“It might be the old ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ thinking. It seems like the sort of shortsighted thinking your uncle is capable of.” 

“Don’t call him that.”

“Sorry.” 

It made sense. She needed a way to confirm it without dipping her fingers further into it. So far Hank didn’t know she’d made the connection. She needed that advantage to last as long as possible. 

“I’m gonna have to make a call I really don’t want to make.” 

“I doubt Thomas will mind helping you.”

She snorted. “It’s not Thomas I’ll be calling. My plan only works if Hank doesn’t know that I know more than he wants me to know. It has to be Alfie. Hank knows about Tommy. Knows, or, well, he thinks he knows about me and Tommy. Or at least, thinks there is a me and Tommy. Alfie is an unknown. As far as Hank is concerned, I’ve never met Alfie Solomons.”

“ Is there a modern gangster in London you don’t know on a first-name basis?”

Mac laughed. “Apparently at least one.” 

“I don’t like the sound of this plan of yours.” 

“Neither do I, but it’s the best of the shitshow I’ve been brought into. What I need, Chris, is insurance. I need you to not exist because you’re my exit strategy. If I bring Alfie into this, if I work for him then I’ll end up working for Tommy because that was always how this was going to end. If - ” Mac paused. “When the boys decide they are bored playing ice, I’ll need a way to ensure I don’t end up collateral damage.”

“You’re worried about this Alfie guy.” 

“He’s the question mark. It’ll be business for him. But, if I’m in the way of business…”

Chris nodded even as his eyes darkened. Mac hated what she was asking, but knew not asking would be worse. The only person in her life who had ever defended her as fiercely as her parents was Chris, and on some memorable occasions in her life, he’d even gone to bat for her against them. 

“I’ll put the phone on speaker if you can promise me you’ll keep your fucking mouth closed no matter what nonsense Alfie says to me. He’s a talker.” 

She knew by the look on his face that he didn’t like it, but she watched as he grit his teeth and nodded. With a deep breath, she returned his nod and pulled her phone from her back pocket. When it began to ring, she turned on the speaker and placed the phone on the table, both staring at it as though it was going to come alive and do a trick. She felt like an idiot being this nervous about a phone call she figured Alfie’d been expecting since he’d bought the train car. 

“‘Ello, pet.” 

“Alfie.” 

“Don’t sound too happy about whatever it is, yeah, that’s got you calling me.”

“Don’t play coy, you know why I’m calling.” 

“Did you research, right, looking into the information ol’ Ollie gathered and I suppose you found something you didn’t like.”

“I traced the company that purchased Thames Security and Clover.” 

“Ollie found something useful then? Purim’s not far off, so I’ll consider this, right, consider Ollie’s found information as a bit of a Purim miracle, right, a goddamned miracle.” 

“Don’t pull out your streamers yet, Alfie. I haven’t told you what I found.” 

“You gonna make me guess, pet?”

“Sabini.” 

For a moment, she wondered if the call disconnected. Just as she went to pick up the phone, she heard Alfie’s deep exhalation. 

“Hank I can handle, but this? This is more than I want to take on, but that choice has been taken away from me. I don’t have the resources to navigate this alone. I need help.” She took another deep breath. “I need your help.” 

“Look, pet. This isn’t the way I wanted us to start doin’ business together, not at all like this. Wanted you to want to work for me, yeah, to want it.”

Mac couldn’t tell if she believed him or not, but she appreciated the sentiment regardless. 

“I don’t want to bring my problems to you. I don’t like involving people in things they don’t need to be involved with, but I don’t know how to get round this one on me own. Hank is making dangerous moves. I need to protect myself from his fucking idiocy.” 

“No apologizin’ from you, pet. Not to me. I brought meself into this, yeah, walked right in the fuckin’ door, both eyes wide open. Now, you give me, right, give me three hours and then we’ll sort this whole mess out.”

“Alfie - ”

“Three hours, pet.” 

He disconnected the call before she could argue further. Not that it would have done her any good, but still. Rude. She hated it when people did that. 

“Gives me time to disappear. Make it look like I was never here.” 

“Chris - ”

“I agree with Alfie,” Chris paused. “Not that I think I like agreeing with him, but no apologies. You’re family, kid.”

“You’re retired.”

He smirked. “Semi.” 

Mac rolled her eyes as Chris pulled her into a hug. She fisted her hands in his shirt, not knowing which emotion to deal with first. As with Tommy’s offer to deal with Rodney, she began to regret turning down Chris’ similar offer with Hank. Somehow, she figured by the time all of this was done, there’d be enough bodies and regret to go around.

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313 @highgardenrosexxx @stevie75 @polishcrazyone  @1nterstellarcha0s

[whereareroo]

DEAR POPE FRANCIS

WF THOUGHTS (3/11/24).

Dear Pope Francis,

Jesus! What the hell is wrong with you? Have you lost your holy mind?

With horror, I’ve been reading news accounts about your recent comments regarding Ukraine. In a recent interview with a Swiss journalist, you suggested that Ukraine should have the “courage” to negotiate a settlement with Russia. Here are your exact words: “When you see that you are defeated and that things are not going well, you have to have the courage to negotiate.” Later in the interview, you said that Ukraine must have “the courage of the white flag.”

Your comments are asinine and total bullshit. You’ve embarrassed yourself, and you’ve embarrassed the entire Catholic Church. For the love of God, you’ve got to immediately appear on a popular internationally recognized news outlet and you’ve got to retract your stupid comments. Your retraction must include a sincere apology to Ukraine and to the world. Remember, as the Church teaches, forgiveness is not possible without sincere contrition and sincere repentance. You really messed up here, and you have to make it right.

As preparation for your retraction, let’s do a quick review of the Catechism of the Catholic Church. As you know, it sets forth the official doctrine of the Church. You seem to need a refresher course.

In sections 2302 through 2307 of the Catechism, the Church focuses on “thou shall not kill” and sets forth the general principle that war should be avoided. Obviously, that basic teaching is no surprise. The problem is that you apparently forgot to read the next few sections.

Section 2308 of the Catechism expressly states that “governments cannot be denied the right of lawful self defense, once all peace efforts have failed.”

Section 2309 of the Catechism explains that “legitimate defense by military force” is acceptable if a nation is faced with “lasting, grave, and certain” damage that has been inflicted by an “aggressor.”

Let’s apply Section 2308 and Section 2309 to the situation in Ukraine. Without provocation, Ukraine was attacked by Russia. The President of Ukraine immediately volunteered to meet with Putin to explain that Ukraine would not surrender. He wanted an opportunity to convince Putin to stop his unwarranted aggression. Putin wouldn’t agree to any meeting. Putin is not interested in peace. Putin has repeatedly said that his objective is to totally conquer Ukraine and to make Ukraine part of Russia. Certainly Ukraine’s total loss of sovereignty and independence would be “lasting, grave, and certain damage.” With no other choice, Ukraine has been forced to use military force to defend herself. Under Section 2308 and 2309 of the Catechism, this is a textbook case of appropriate and acceptable self defense. It’s heartbreaking to hear that you’ve apparently decided to ignore the facts and that you’re taking the side of the aggressor. You’ve made a big mistake, and you should immediately correct that mistake.

I apologize for the formality of this letter. As you know, I’m one of your biggest fans. I know that you prefer to communicate with me via our regular phone calls. As a friend, I have an obligation to confront you when you have made a mistake. Because this mistake was so big and so consequential, I decided that a letter was necessary. It is extremely important for you to correct this mistake immediately. Please do the right thing. Because you are the Pope, doing the right thing should be easy for you. The world, and your Church, is counting on you.

Let’s talk by phone after you’ve fixed this mess. There are other items that we should discuss privately.

Respectfully Yours In Christ,

WF

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Old Friends

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Maverick's Daughter!Reader, f!reader

Word Count: 2309

TW: Fluff, Kissing, Angst, Explicit Language

Note: This story takes place BEFORE Top Gun: Maverick but DOES contain spoilers for the movie

Top Gun Masterlist

As you stand outside the front doors of the main building, you struggle to remain professional and contain a squeal of excitement. Your whole life has been leading to this moment and once you walk through these doors, your dreams will finally become reality. Despite the double-edged sword that came with being Pete “Maverick” Mitchell’s daughter, you had made a name for yourself independent of your father’s reputation and earned your spot here same as everyone else. One of the elite few admitted to Top Gun.

Taking one more deep breath, you throw open the doors and hurry down the hall which is currently crowded with cadets, instructors, and other Navy personnel. While you recognize many of the instructors as friends or colleagues of your dad’s, you don’t seem to know any of the students outside of passing acquaintances. You roll your eyes when you notice Jake “Hangman” Seresin in the corner with a few other cadets who look vaguely familiar. Hangman only stood out because he had relentlessly hit on you at one of the awards ceremonies you had gone to with your dad. The night ended with your drink in his face and if he didn’t watch himself now, you’d resort to a much harsher deterrent.

You are so focused on your thoughts of Hangman that you don’t even notice the man walking directly towards you until the two of you almost collide. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed you either because as you both made eye contact, the same look of surprise is mirrored on each other’s faces. Standing before you is a man you haven’t seen for years but had once been as close as family. Your best friend, your first (unrequited) love, Bradley Bradshaw.

But before you can say anything, he mutters, “Ah hell no.” before whirling around and storming down the hall in the opposite direction.

You hurry after him. “Wait! Please! I didn’t know you’d be here. Bradley, wait! I swear, I didn’t know!”

He comes to an abrupt stop and whirls around to face you, anger and betrayal burning in his eyes. “If you did, would it have made a difference? Would you not have come?”

You looked at the floor as you softly shook your head. “No, of course not. You know this is my dream just as much as it is yours.”

“Yeah, but no one stole your dream right from under your nose and left you to fight tooth and nail just to get back to the same position you were four years before!” he spits the words at you, and you can’t help but flinch.

Softly, you whisper, “I told you back then, I didn’t know what my dad was going to do. If I had, I would’ve tried everything I could to stop him from pulling your application to the Naval Academy. You were my best friend in the whole world. Do you really think I would have just stood by and let him do that if I had known?”

“He was the closest thing I had to a father after my dad died and he betrayed me. Why shouldn’t I think you would do the same? You’re just like him.” He starts off down the hall once more, but you quickly follow.

“Just because I refused to cut him out of my life like you did doesn’t mean I agreed with him. But, come on… He’s my dad. What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to have my back. If you couldn’t back then, how am I supposed to trust you to have it now in the air?”

You stop as he keeps walking, your jaw falling open at his accusation. Up until now, you had been feeling regret, sorrow, and a little shame. But all of those emotions quickly turn to rage as you scream, “Fuck you!”

The busy hall instantly goes silent as every person turns to face you but you don’t care. Marching up to a surprised Bradley Bradshaw, you jam your finger in his face. “I know what my dad did was horrible. I know you have every right to be furious with him. And fine, you can even be mad at me for not siding with you over it. But don’t you dare insult my skills or abilities as a pilot or as a wingman. You aren’t the only one who had to fight with everything they had to be here. Do you think it’s easy being the daughter of Maverick? One of the most accomplished, yet most written up pilots in the last thirty years? Everyone always expects me to be him, the recklessness, the arrogance, the total disregard for the rules. And I have worked so fucking hard to show people that I am my own person, my own pilot, and that I deserve to be here. So don’t you dare try to tarnish my reputation just because we have a troubled history.”

You storm past him, ramming your shoulder into his as you do. You feel his hand reaching for yours, but you yank it from his grasp and continue down the hall and out the door.

Later that night, you stand leaning heavily against the railing of the deck of the bar, a beer bottle quickly warming in your hand as you stare out into the waves in front of you. This was not how you pictured the happiest day of your life going. Being a Top Gun pilot was all you ever wanted. The chance to follow in your dad’s footsteps. Yet after your confrontation with Bradley, everything felt spoiled.

You had often wondered what you would do if you ever came face-to-face with your ex-best friend again, but things had gone worse than expected. Not only did you announce to a whole hallway of other pilots that there was friction between the two of you, but you had revealed who your dad was, something you had planned on keeping a secret for as long as possible.

While most of the higher-ranking officers or people who had served with him for years knew about Maverick’s one-night stand that resulted in an illegitimate daughter a few years before he first attended Top Gun, you always tried to keep your identity a secret from the pilots around your age. People had very different and polarizing ideas about your dad, and it was better to just not clue them into the situation until it was necessary. Which was why you went by your mother’s maiden name despite the fact your father had raised you practically on his own since you were 5. Yet now, everyone would know. Already you heard the whispers in the hall, felt the eyes on you, and knew they were making judgements. All before the first one of them saw you in the air. Just great.

You feel someone walk up next to you and lean on the railing. You don’t even have to glance over to know who it is. The two of you stand in silence for a moment, just watching the waves ebb and flow before you.

Finally, Bradley sighs and says, “I’m sorry. You were right. I should’ve never brought your flying into it. I was just stunned to see you and it threw me for a minute. But from everything I’ve heard, no one should ever question your skills in the sky or for watching out for your fellow pilots. You do deserve to be here. And not because of him, but in spite of him.”

“Thank you. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.” You sigh softly, “But you know, we’re going to have to work this out somehow. Like it or not, we’re both going to be here for the next few months and there will be times we have to work as a team. Can you handle that?”

“Can you?”

“I never wanted things to change between us. You were my best friend, a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and it broke my heart that you just wrote me off like that. But I get why you felt you had to. So, I don’t want to push you into something you aren’t comfortable with, but I would love to see if maybe, someday, we could try to get back to something close to what we had. Because I miss my best friend, and I would like to have him back in my life, even if it’s just in some small way.”

He looks out towards the water for a long time before finally saying, “What your father did, it wasn’t your fault. I know that. I was just hurt and then I was embarrassed, and I didn’t know how to reach back out to you. And then today…. I didn’t know how to deal with seeing you again. But I’ve missed you too. And while I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive your father for what he did, I’d like to try and get back to us being friends.”

You both stand in a comfortable silence for a minute before you playfully nudge his shoulder with yours. “By the way, the mustache is new.”

He ducks his head as he runs a finger over it. “Yeah, well, new good, or new bad?”

“New good. It suits you,” you say with a small nod. Then in a softer voice, you say, “You look just like your dad.” He swallows hard as he nods and you see his jaw tense, his gaze seemingly a million miles away. Softly, you reach up and turn his face towards you. “Hey, he would be proud of you. So would your mom.”

He nodded again but you could see tears starting to form in his eyes. “I’m trying, I’m trying so hard but-” He cuts himself off as he hangs his head.

“Bradley, look at me. Look. At. Me.” Reluctantly, he raises his head. “You made it to Top Gun despite the setbacks and challenges you faced. This is the best of the best. The top 1% of all naval aviators. And you’re one of them. You did it. There’s nothing left you need to prove, to anybody. Not the ghosts of your parents. Not even to my dad.”

He stares deeply into your eyes for a moment before sliding his hand across the railing to rest on top of yours. “What about proving myself to you?”

You rotate your hand so it is now holding his in return and you give it a tight squeeze. “You’ve never had to prove anything to me. I’ve always known who you are, what you’re capable of. I’m just glad it seems you’re finally seeing that for yourself.”

He turns to face you head on and steps closer, his chest barely brushing against your arm. You gaze up into his brown eyes which once seemed as familiar as your own, but now hold a sadness and wariness that hadn’t been there before. He reaches up and softly strokes his thumb across your cheek, causing your eyes to flutter closed and your breath catch in your throat. This was not friendship; this was something else. Something you had only fantasized of with him, but now seemed as if it was about to be in your grasp.

Yet, as he leans towards you, you place a hand on his chest, causing him to pause. “Bradley, I’ve known you since the day I was born. And you never once showed this kind of interest in me, even when I was throwing myself at you when we were teenagers. So, before anything happens, I need to know…. Do you really want me? Or is this your way of getting back at my father?”

He pauses for a second, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “If I said it was about your father….. would that matter?”

Without hesitation, you answer, “No, but it would be nice to know where I stand.”

He smiles as he closes the distance between you and presses his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and tender and a bit hesitant, but it was something you had dreamt of for almost as long as you dreamt of being a pilot. Bradley had been your first crush and while others came soon after, you had always kept an ember burning for him in the deepest reaches of your heart. And as he continued to kiss you, pulling you in closer as he cupped the side of your face, you feel that ember start to grow until it is soon a raging fire of desire. And when he finally pulls away, your soul aches at the loss.

Softly, you whisper, “Huh, I’d always wondered what that’d be like. And I have to say, it didn’t disappoint.”

“I’m glad,” he says as his eyes roam across your face, your lips. “And just so you know, it doesn’t have anything to do with him. Since I left, there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought about you. And as time went on, I realized that I missed you more than just as a friend. That I should have made a move a lot sooner. And after the way I acted today, I was afraid I drove you away for good.”

You lean into his hand which still rests on your cheek. “You could never drive me away. No matter what happens between us, I’ll always be here for you. In whatever way you’ll have me.”

He smiles as he closes in once more, nudging your nose with his and causing his mustache to tickle your lip. “Well, tonight I plan on taking you every way I can.” And with all the passion and heat that was lacking in the first kiss, he captures your lips once more.

[runnning-outof-time]

Fine | John Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Summary: Who knew that pottery could be so dangerous when it breaks? Who knew that (Y/N)'s gangster husband lost his mind at the sight of blood? (Y/N) found both of these out at nearly the same time.

Warnings: language, blood, injuries, hospitals

Word Count: 2309

A/N: I had a really fun time writing this and giggled so much while I was editing it. Enjoy! :)

———

She was humming to herself as she wiped down the kitchen counters. She'd just finished making dinner and now was tasked with cleaning up the mess. All of the children had eaten and now were up in their rooms working on their studies, at their step-mother's request.

(Y/N) decided that she would leave a plate out for her husband, John, who was due to be coming home any minute now. So she reached up to the exposed shelving, that John had hung above the counters himself, to grab a plate to set the food on. Setting that on the table, she went back over to the sink and started washing the dishes. Using a towel to dry them, she decided that she would put them right back to where they belonged instead of letting them sit on a mat on the counter. And that's when it happened.

She was reaching up to stack plates and after successfully doing so, she brought her hand back down to meet the other on the counter. In the process, she bumped one of the ceramic mugs that was sitting a little too close to the edge of the shelf, making it fall down to the counter below. The same counter where her other hand had been resting to support her weight as she stood on her toes. She jumped as the mug smashed against the counter, her eyes widening as she looked down to see a wide gash on the top of her hand.

"Oh fuck," she breathed, stepping back from the counter and bringing her hand up to clutch it against her chest. She only hissed when she felt it touch the coarse fabric of the apron she had on, her wide eyes frantically searching the kitchen to find some sort of rag to stop the bleeding. "Shit, shit, shit," she chanted, not caring that she was swearing like a sailor at the moment. Grabbing the slightly damp dish towel from where it was hanging on the sink, she draped it over her hand and applied pressure to the cut, nearly screaming out in the pain it brought on. Then she started to feel lightheaded. So she made her way over to the table and decided to sit down. "Shit. I can't have blood near the food," she spoke to herself out loud, grabbing the plate with her good hand to move it to the counter that wasn't covered in glass before she finally sat down in the chair.

She was whimpering now as she watched the white dish towel turn a darker shade of red from the amount of blood that was leaving through the wound. She had just managed to calm her breathing when the door to the house opened. Which could only mean that John was returning for the night. "Hey, (Y/N)," he greeted his wife as he stepped into the kitchen area that was right off of the entry way. He had his back to his pain-stricken wife, who was still sitting at the table, as he took his coat off and draped it over the coat rack. "How are you?" he questioned as he spun to face her.

"Oh I'm doing quite well at the moment," she said through gritted teeth, sarcasm obviously in her words. She tried her best to smile up at him like nothing was wrong, but he was able to see the pain riddled in her expression upon one glance.

And that's when he noticed the blood-soaked cloth covering her hand. "Holy shit, (Y/N)! What's happened to you?!" he exclaimed, the sight sending his mind into a frenzy as he stared at her with wide eyes.

"I got cut by a mug that shattered," she answered him, "I think I'm gonna need a new towel. This one's soaked through," she told him then and he nodded, going on a frantic search for a towel.

"Towel...towel...towel..." he repeated to himself as he opened every single drawer and cabinet in the kitchen. "Where's the fucking towels at, (Y/N)?!" he asked with an exasperated huff as he turned to face his wife once more. You'd think that he was the one in pain with the way he was acting. It eased (Y/N)'s plight slightly.

"The washroom, John," she blatantly pointed out, shaking her head with a sigh at her husband's lack of knowledge around the house.

"Right. Got it," he nodded before rushing to that room so that he could grab a towel. And of course he didn't grab just one. He returned short after with the entire stack of towels in his arms.

"And what am I to do with all of those?" (Y/N) stared up at him incredulously, slightly angry that he'd messed up the neat stack they'd been placed in.

"Use them," he blatantly statement, thrusting his arms out in her direction.

"I only need one fucking towel, John," she told him, the glare now clear on her face. How can he be so clueless? He only nodded his head before he grabbed the top towel and let the rest of them fall to the ground. (Y/N)'s eyes widened. "You better pick those up, John Shelby, or so help me..." she trailed off, anger clear in her voice.

"I'll get them...I'll get them," he assured her as he handed her the towel. She took it and swapped it out for the bloody one, sitting the latter next to her on the table.

Then she looked to John, who was still standing over her. "Now, John," she told him, her eyes focused on the pile of clean towels laying on the dirty floor.

"Oh," was all he said before he bent down and grabbed the pile and went to take them back to the wash room.

"They better be folded, too!" she called after him. He said he would, but (Y/N) knew damn well that when she'd go in there, she'd find them stuffed back on the shelf in a haphazard way.

While he was gone, she peeled back the towel, which was already starting to stain red. She whimpered at the sight of the deep cut that spanned halfway across the top of her hand. Tears were now starting to sting her eyes as the realization of the events that just occurred set in.

"Are you ok?" John's voice came from the entrance to the kitchen, making (Y/N)'s head snap to where he was standing. Tears rolled down her cheeks because of her sudden movements.

"I'll be fine as long as you don't ask me if I'm fine," she told him, her words rushed as she said them, almost like she was trying to hold her sobs back. Well, she actually was. She was about a second away from losing it.

"Lemme see it, love," he asked her then as he moved over to the table. She obliged and showed her the cut, glancing up at him in time to see his eyes widen again. "Holy shit, (Y/N)," he gasped.

"What? 'Holy shit' what, John?" she frantically asked him, her heartbeat picking up in pace as she thought the worst.

"You've gotta get to a hospital. That definitely needs stitiches. Might also need surgery," he rambled as he rushed around the room like a chicken with its head cut off. It was like he had no idea what he was doing.

"Hospital? Stitches? Surgery? Are you serious, John?!" she asked with wide eyes as a knot formed in her throat. She absolutely hated hospitals and avoided them at all costs.

"We've gotta take you there. The bleeding's not gonna stop unless we do. Shit. Shit. Shit, what do we do with the kids?" he was pacing the kitchen now. "Katie! Katie get your siblings down here now!" he called up the steps to his eldest daughter.

If (Y/N) wasn't in such pain, she would have laughed. She never expected to see John Shelby, a ruthless gangster, freaking out at the sight of blood.

"What, dad?" Katie asked as she appeared first, her three other siblings in tow.

"Mummy and daddy have to go to the hospital. Can you take your siblings to aunt Polly's?" he asked her in a soft voice so as not to scare her.

"What's happened to mummy?" Katie asked, glancing over at (Y/N).

"She's just got a boo-boo. I'm gonna take her to the hospital to make sure it's fine," he told her. "Go to aunt Polly's. You're gonna stay the night there," he instructed her and the child nodded before she and her three siblings left the house. (Y/N) wasn't worried about their trip. Polly only lived a few houses down. "Alright, (Y/N). Let's get you to the hospital," he said, moving over to his wife in order to help her up.

"Do we have to go?" she whined like a child but stood nonetheless.

John couldn't help but chuckle at her. "Yes, we do," he nodded before he waved for her to follow with him, placing his arm on her back as he led her out of the house.

—

"There you go, Mrs. Shelby...good as new," the doctor smiled as he cut off the access material from her freshly stitched up hand, "don't go engaging in any more battles with pottery now, you hear?" he joked, sending her a grin.

(Y/N) took that as her go ahead to peak over at her mended hand. She let out a sigh of relief and finally loosened her grip on John's hand. "Christ, woman...I'm not sure if I'll have feeling in me hand for weeks," John stated, stretching his fingers out in attempts to regain feeling.

"Good. It was your idea to bring me here," she glared over at him, though she was now happy that her cut was sewn up and she was back to normal, save for the bandage she now had to wear on her hand until the stitches came out. "Am I good to leave now, doctor?" (Y/N) shifted her glance to the man in the corner who was cleaning his station up.

"Yes, you are. Take care of that hand please!" he answered, sending her off with some advice.

Walking down the streets of Small Heath to get back to their house, (Y/N) couldn't help but lean into John's embrace. He just smiled down at her, his hold on her shoulder tightening slightly. Soon enough, they were back home.

"Think I should run to Pol's and get the kids?" (Y/N) questioned as she hung her coat on the rack situated by the entry way.

"There's no need, love. They'll be fine staying there for the night," he brushed her idea off, "besides, you've had enough fun for one day," he cracked a grin as he finished his statement.

"Don't remind me," she sighed as she moved over to the counter, where the shattered mug still lay in pieces. "I've gotta clean this up now," she muttered, not excited about the task at hand, especially since it was the very reason for the whole fiasco that went on earlier.

"Lemme do it, (Y/N)," John stated, standing up from the chair so that he could move to her side, "like I said...you've had enough fun for the day."

She couldn't help but smile up at him, feeling really touched that he'd offered to do that for her. "Thanks, John," she expressed her gratitude, stretching up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You're welcome, love. Go upstairs. I'll be up as soon as I'm finished," he told her and she nodded, sending him one last smile before she left his side to ascend the steps.

She took her time with changing into her night gown, deciding that she would wait for John by reading. So she settled into her side of the bed and grabbed the book from the nightstand, opening it to the page that she had marked. All was well until she heard John yell out a string of curses.

Immediately, she sprung out of bed and rushed down the steps. "John?! What happened?!" she asked as she entered the kitchen, where he was clutching his hand over the sink.

"I got a fuckin' piece of glass stuck in me finger!" he hissed, "and it's fuckin' bleeding now...fuck!"

"Lemme see, John," she coaxed him over to where she was standing and he listened, showing her his index finger that indeed had a shard of glass sticking out of it. "I can maybe get it out," she stated, spinning around to go retrieve the first aid kit.

"Oh fuck no, (Y/N). We're going to the hospital," he told her, and by the time she had turned around, he had already moved to get his coat on.

"Seriously?" she sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat. One time at the hospital a night was way more than enough in her eyes.

"Yes, (Y/N). I need to get this out of my finger," he nodded, dramatically motioning to his bleeding finger then.

"Fine," she sighed, moving to the entry way so that she could grab her coat.

The two left the house then, making their way to the hospital in the city yet again. On their way there, (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, John..." she trailed off as she glanced over at him.

"Yeah?" he asked, his attention on her as they walked down the street.

"How are you?" she asked in a teasing manner now that the roles were reversed.

"I'm fine," he forced out sarcastically, rolling his eyes at her before he focused on walking. There was most certainly never a dull night in this Shelby household.

———

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @look-at-the-soul

Masterlist

[jjacob]

pillow talk

❝ oh my god, you two, jacob said not on the couch! ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ angst (with a happy ending), fluff, roommate au, friends to lovers, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, mildly suggestive content, “share a bed” trope !!

SUMMARY ▸ being roommates with lee juyeon was trouble, and that was essentially because you didn’t want to be just roommates.

PLAYLIST ▸ icarus by jo1

WORD COUNT ▸ 2309 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ sorry all my fics on this acc are gifts for addy but happy birthday @honeyju​ !! ♡ there’s no one else i would stay up until 2 am writing a fic for before a festival i’ve been waiting months to go to 

THERE WAS SOMETHING SATISFYING ABOUT MAKING BREAKFAST FOR SOMEONE, YOU REALIZED. 

You started doing it a little while after you found a place to stay, probably as the only way you could say ‘thank you’ to Kevin Moon and Jacob Bae for putting up with you. Brew some coffee, fry up some bacon, toast some bread, scramble a couple eggs—instant satisfaction.

You attended your college classes from ten in the morning until seven at night; your roommate, Lee Juyeon, worked the night shift at a gas station from midnight until seven in the morning. It was the only job he could snag to pay for tuition, and the graveyard shift was the only shift his boss could give him for whatever ungodly reason.

Sleep was sacred to Juyeon. He hardly got any when he was dealing with college coupled with work. You knew you couldn’t talk him out of being so hard on himself, so you got used to his schedule.

When you got home from school, Juyeon was just waking up.

That was how you started eating breakfast for dinner.

“Doesn’t that keep you up?” Juyeon asked over his plate of pancakes and eggs, watching as you downed the rest of your coffee.

“Nope.” You shook your head, managing a tight-lipped smile. “Perks me up maybe, but I pride myself on my ability to fall asleep in any situation.”

“Good to know.” Juyeon nodded, sipping coffee from his own mug.

Juyeon laughed that sleepy, soft laugh that you adored. His hair still stuck up every which way from sleep, but he was every bit as gorgeous as he was during the first breakfast they’d had together. It had been a long time since they started doing whatever it was that they were doing, and shit, it stuck.

It could be because Juyeon was flat broke on his own and had nowhere to stay but with Kevin and Jacob, that you could indulge in these sweet moments you got to spend with him.

Juyeon nudged your leg under the table with his foot and gave you that smile that lit up his eyes, bringing you out of your head and back into the kitchen. “Are you alright?” he asked, and you nodded in response.

Just peachy, you thought.

Juyeon gave you a calculating look, but ultimately deemed it an acceptable answer. You both finished the rest of your meal in relative silence, Juyeon then breaking off to shower and you settling into the couch. You wondered if you should have been embarrassed by how domestic this felt.

You were in your early twenties, for God’s sake. People your age were getting hammered and blacking out on curbs, partying their youth away, and here you were, watching Masterchef on a Saturday night with every intention of falling asleep right where you sat.

When Juyeon emerged, he was half-dressed for work, a white t-shirt tucked into his black slacks, clean-shaven, and wide awake. He sat beside you on the couch, close enough that your shoulders brushed against each other, and he kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“What are we watching?”

You didn’t respond.

“Y/N.”

Juyeon leaned over and pressed his lips to the soft spot underneath your jaw. Your resolve faltered just a little, and you leaned into it. Juyeon carefully removed the remote from your hand, set it on the coffee table, and pushed you down. Neither of you spoke as Juyeon’s fingers moved to the zipper of your pants.

This was the confusing part about your relationship with Lee Juyeon. It wasn’t like there was a rule against roommates screwing each other, but it was rather strange that you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other. It was strange that you felt this tightness in your chest whenever you were around him. It was strange that you grew sad when you wondered how long this would last.

For now, though, this was pretty great.

At least, it was, until the front door flung open and you heard Kevin’s very adamant, “Oh my god, you two, Jacob said not on the couch!”

You and Juyeon pushed away from each other, and, to top it all off, Kevin was not alone. With him stood a pretty girl in a denim jacket, looking about as horrified as a person could get.

“I should go”—Juyeon cleared his throat—“get ready for work.”

Juyeon retreated faster than you had ever seen, which was fine, but you had to hold back your laugh when you watched him maneuver around the girl so she wouldn’t see his boner.

The girl turned to Kevin. “Where’s your bathroom?”

You waited until she was out of sight to adjust your clothing, sitting up and running a hand through your unkempt hair.

“Y/N,” Kevin complained.

“I don’t wanna say it’s your fault for not assuming, but…” You didn’t finish the accusation because you really didn’t have to. Also, because Kevin grabbed a roll of newspaper off the coffee table and smacked you with it. “Hey!”

“Do not mess this up for me, Y/N,” he warned.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Mess what up?”

Kevin’s eyes flicked from you, toward the bathroom, and then back again.

Oh.

Oh.

You grinned. “Kevin Moon, you sly dog.”

“Shut up.” Kevin hit you again. “Don’t say a word, you hear me?”

“To who?”

“Anyone,” he clipped. “It’s not your place to say. It’s mine.”

“But if I let it slip…”

You probably should’ve seen it coming because you had it coming, but you still let out a groan when Kevin elbowed you in the gut. Your stomach seized—eggs, bacon, and coffee. It almost felt like a tilt-o-whirl in your gut. There was a point where Kevin’s limits were seriously being pushed, and though you had enough air in your lungs to say one more thing, and you knew it should’ve been an apology, that wasn’t what came out.

“You won’t say a word,” Kevin threatened.

“I could.”

Before you could take another blow that you were so poised for, Juyeon and the girl came back out just in time to pull you two away from each other.

Kevin worked a crick out of his neck. “What? You two never had siblings?”

Was Kevin your sibling? Well, not biologically, but they had a similar relationship.

“I’m very sorry you came home when you did,” you heard Juyeon apologize, “and I’m very sorry that we didn’t abide by Jacob’s rule.”

You stiffened as Juyeon’s hand came up to your shoulder, pressing a healing warmth into your tense muscles. However, the silence between the four became way too much for you, and you quickly pulled away.

You had to lie down for a few minutes.

Your room was dark—yours and Juyeon’s room now, you supposed—perfect for hiding. The distinct smell of lavender and ocean breeze was faint. Faint traces of the candle Juyeon lit last night. You both actually knew how to keep a tidy room and liked to keep it like that.

You didn’t know how long you laid there, but you knew it wasn’t long enough to let you feel any better before Juyeon walked in.

“What?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Juyeon said softly, and he sat on the edge of your bed. “Should I have Kevin drive me to work?”

You groaned and pushed yourself up onto your forearms. “Nope. You’re driving yourself, come on.” You slid out of bed and pulled on your boots, Juyeon staring at you the entire time. “What?”

“You’re acting strangely,” Juyeon observed.

“I’m not acting strangely,” you spat around the words. Juyeon didn’t relent, though; it wasn’t his style. He just kept staring, and you rubbed your hands over your face. “I’m fine, Juyeon.” You groaned when you realized that Juyeon was still staring.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he replied, “but I have a feeling that’s why you’re acting like this.”

“Talk about what?”

“About us.”

“Juyeon,” you came back, flames licking at the underside of your stomach, your blood running hot through your veins. You knew this was all you needed, but the conversation scared the wits out of you. “Have Kevin drive you to work.”

“Y/N,” Juyeon called after you, but you were already gone.

It was six-thirty in the morning when Juyeon got home, and you were still wide awake.

You hated yourself for it, but you were awake. You couldn’t get your mind to quiet down after everything that happened last night. Every time you thought you hit the final lull, it all started back up again. All you could hear was the disappointment in Juyeon’s voice, his face, the defeat wilting his muscles.

Perhaps it was seeing Kevin with another girl that made you feel this way. Seeing someone try to commit when Juyeon was doing everything in his power to skirt around the topic. You had to admit that you felt like a side piece, even more so when he would carelessly touch you in front of others without caring about what they’d think.

And, now, he just stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching you with a weary gaze.

“Hey,” you called.

“Hi,” Juyeon murmured. “Can I come in?”

You let out a weak laugh. “Well, this is your room, isn’t it?”

Juyeon cherished his sleep, considering he hardly got any. For him to not crash as soon as he stepped foot in the room was a lot coming from him.

In short, you really had him worried.

Juyeon let out a sigh and flopped back onto his bed. “I’m exhausted, but if you wanna talk, I’m here.”

“We never talk about this stuff,” you replied, gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

But that wasn’t what you wanted. You just wanted to slip into Juyeon’s bed and curl up next to him. You wanted to sleep with him from dusk till dawn, ignoring your terrible, clashing schedules.

Juyeon seemed to have the same idea.

His weight dipped the mattress. He didn’t say anything, but you could hear him slip his jacket off his shoulders and peel off his shirt. Even as he cuddled up beside you, you found the fire under your skin go cold. You rolled over to see Juyeon’s back facing you, probably trying to give you your privacy.

You wanted to be furious. You wanted to leap out of bed and get your day started, but your muscles ached and your head pounded. You only had yourself to blame for that; Kevin decided he wanted to take a few shots of soju with you before he went off to someone’s party—probably Sunwoo’s place. Your heart hammered in your chest, and your gut churned, and fuck, you probably pissed Juyeon off.

That was what was racking your brain the most. The both of you knew that all you had to do was talk, but it was always you who brought it up, and Juyeon would indulge in your conversation before pulling away. You were sick of everything that was happening between you, but neither of you put a label on it.

Juyeon rolled over again, this time into your body heat, tentatively wrapping his arm around your side and nuzzling his face into your neck.

Wordlessly, you turned around so that you could cozy up to Juyeon’s chest and wrap your leg around his hip. Juyeon pressed his lips to the side of your head, then your neck, and then peppered kisses along your throat.

“Sorry,” was all he could come up with.

“I know,” you hummed, letting out a short sigh, and Juyeon held onto you tighter.

You had no idea why or how he dealt with you. If Juyeon wanted someone, he could have them in a heartbeat, but him staying with you and trying for you had to mean something, right? He stroked your hair and minutes stretched on. His presence was comforting, but not enough to lull you back into drifting off.

“I’m scared when we do stuff and never talk about what we are,” you said then. “It makes me feel like I’ll lose you one day, and you won’t care, and I won’t be able to figure out what we were.”

Juyeon was silent for a moment. “I’ve never thought about it that way, but I apologize for not being more aware of your feelings.”

You were afraid to look because you knew Juyeon was staring at you with those big, shining eyes, waiting for you to say something more. You couldn’t, though. You were done with this. Done with feeling stripped bare, guts spilling out and thumping heart exposed, beating for the world to see.

“Y/N,” Juyeon said softly. He tested the waters with one touch, just a brush of his hand against your jaw.

You leaned into it, so Juyeon cupped your face in both hands and brought his lips to your forehead.

“I like you,” he hummed. “A lot.” He pecked your lips softly before he continued, “I just never knew how to approach it. Never thought you’d want to go farther than this.”

“I do,” you reminded him. “I wanna be with you in every way possible.”

Juyeon smiled, and then he stifled another yawn.

“C’mere,” he murmured, drawing your body closer to his. He was pressed flush against your body, holding you close like he was about to lose you. As you two settled in that position, Juyeon pressed a kiss to the top of your head and whispered, “I might love you.”

Though he couldn’t see it, you smiled. “I think I might love you too, Lee Juyeon.”

[ninjathrowingstork]

Never Quite Free

Chapter One: Pushed (words: 2309)

Sierra Six|Court Gentry/F! OC. No warnings yet, just canon-typical violence

Like everything in his life for the past- too many years, really - it had started out as just another mission. They told him where to go, what to wear, and who to kill, and he obeyed orders. Every time, without fail.

Sometimes, though, things didn't exactly go to plan, and ended up a little more exciting than he'd have liked. (Still beats going back inside) the man known as Sierra Six noted, ducking around a corner in time for the wall where his head had been to explode into a spray of stone fragments. There were at least a half-dozen of them, he'd counted, and he'd already cut his way through maybe that many to reach his target. His intel hadn't been accurate, and while he'd eliminated his target, (the leader's brother, kingpin in his own ring running. . . something, the details had been vague) the goons were still coming after him. And now, civilians were in the way.

He ran.

There were shots ringing out from multiple points around the open park, and he ran, skidding, through the panicking crowds to the cover of a low concrete wall. The cover wasn't perfect, they'd circle around to find him, but he'd at least have a minute to catch a breath and reassess. And a minute was more than he'd need (there was still that annoying graze across his left tricep where one guy had gotten too lucky.)

Seven. It was almost definitely seven shooters after him now, and some were up on the rooftops around the park, and-

A blur of motion of a body sliding and tumbling behind the wall had him spinning in a crouch as he brought the automatic in his hand up to bear on-

It was a woman. A civilian, maybe early thirties, at the oldest, and unarmed, he assessed with barely a thought.

"Ow, fuck", her skirt had ridden up to show one knee and where the tights had ripped along with the skinned knee beneath. She noticed him and the gun in the next heartbeat. "OH. FUCK." 

Eyes widening, she recoiled in shock just as he lowered the muzzle off of her, glancing back out over the possible lines of fire. 

"Oh, sorry." (Just gotta keep her calm and alive until I can get her out of here) "You ok?" He gestured to his own chin with his free hand. "

"I-what?" Reaching up to her own chin, her fingertips came away red with  the blood dripping from her mouth. "Shit,  must have bit my lip. Ow." The woman glared up and through the low wall, in the direction of the shots. "Yeah, just broken skin, I'll manage."

(Good, staying calm and not trying to bolt from cover, I can still get her out of here.)  "Ok, just stay down, I've counted seven of them and-" a shot ricocheted off  the wall, sending dust flying and his companion in hiding pressing back into the corner further with a muffled yelp. Again, he scanned the angles of fire, watching  the flash of light off a scope for an instant that gave away the shooter's hideout. Too fast, couldn't get a clean shot on him now.

"Hey, uh, just catching up here," it was the woman again, She was staring up at him sideways with a slight smirk, the tremor in her voice and the blood she absently wiped from her fingers onto her skirt the only reflections of their situation. "Since they're the ones shooting here, I'm guessing you're the good guy in all this, right"

(The good guy?) He hadn't thought of himself necessarily as the good guy in a long time, just the one who killed the bad guys. "I- I think so?" Better not to start thinking too much about the moral side of the work he'd been given just now.

Her smirk turned into something more serious and considering, searching his face for. . . something. "Ok, guess I'll-" she broke off, focus moving to something over his shoulder. "On your seven." It came out as a rush of breath, only a jerk of her chin pointing in the direction, and he spun to see one of the men in tac gear sighting on them. He fired a second before the other man could get off a shot. (Good girl), she'd spotted the man and kept her head enough not to show she'd seen him, in time for him to get the shot off. (Probability I can get her out of here just went up.) The shot and his realization had happened within the space of two breaths, and he twisted back, crouching on the balls of his feet to see her staring back where the man had been. "You still ok?"

"I- um. Can't say I've gotten someone killed before."

Working with a civilian, he reminded himself. Her calm might just be shock. He raised his gun again to try to peer over the wall, ducking back again when another shot sent dust into the air. "Hey, no, you did good." Working with someone to watch his back was new. She shouldn't be here with him, but it'd kept them both alive.

She grinned a little at that, it was shaky but it was there. Then the grin melted and the focus was back, her chin jerking out again behind him "on your six!"

He spun back, firing at another man slowly creeping towards their position and why did the way she said his number sound so nice? Almost as soon as he'd dropped the second man, her cry, barely above a whisper, came again.

"Three o'clock!"

She was using the wall as their 12, he realized. Smart. He twisted again, pivoting to his left and firing past her to the flash of light on a balcony.

"On nine!"

Again he twisted, and again fired. Another figure dropped.

"Four o'clock, high!"

That one was on the roof, and slid down to fall to the street when he was dropped. Two more down, that left three including the one pinning them down, who'd ducked back into cover when he tried to get a sight on him over the wall. He glanced back at the woman, her eyes were somehow even wider and face as pale as the ash-blonde hair escaping from its tie.

"St- still ok," she gasped out.

"We've got three more left, you sure on that?"

One eyebrow quirked up slightly. "Do I have a choice, really?"

An interesting answer, and he told her so. "Normally," they both ducked again as another shot embedded itself in the wall. "Normally, someone like you would be trying to run away from the guy everyone's trying to kill"

"Nu-uh, I've got cover and I'm by the guy who's said he'll get me out of- " she broke off with another jerk of the chin, "seven again."

This time, he just twisted to the side and fired. "Two left, I had seven on me when I got here."

"Only seven?" Her grin was back.

Somehow, he felt a grin pulling at his lips also. "Only seven, yeah. You wanted more?"

She snorted a small laugh. Amazing that she could laugh in the middle of this. Then again, that she could laugh and stay calm in the middle of a shootout was literally the only thing he knew about her (and that the way she said his number sounded nice and she'd asked if he was the good guy and that little half-smile of hers was cute for someone being shot at.) "I get the sense you could handle more, somehow, but because I'm here you're hold- on four again."

Her chin pointed, and he swung the gun to follow her chin and fired. "One more."

"-Holding back for my sake. Is that the one pinning us down here?" Rolling her head up, she tried to peer over the wall, before he reached out and shoved her shoulder back down just as yet another bullet skimmed along the top of the concrete surface. He tried not to notice how warm her shoulder was under his palm.

"Stay down. Here's what you're going to do, on my count you- what are you doing?"

A heartbeat after he'd moved his hand from her shoulder back to cradle the gun, she'd started shimmying out of her jacket, staying low. "I've got an idea." Reaching out with one boot heel, she hooked a fallen tree branch and began to drag it closer, jerking to one side as a shot cracked into the edge of the pavement a foot from her leg, but a second later she had it and was hooking the top of the jacket on the end. "I'm gonna draw him out, ok?"

Only long years of training and work kept him from staring at her. (This damn woman.) For anyone in his world of covert ops; of spies and assassins, he'd have felt professional admiration for her creativity, but for this civilian. . .

Before that thought could go any farther, she'd swung the coat on the stick up, hoisting it like a flag with a hissed "now!"

The fabric jerked with an impact of the bullet tearing through the material and he caught the motion from the corner of his eye as he sighted on the gunman who'd broken cover long enough to take the shot that was his last. One squeeze of the trigger, and Six saw the body of his last pursuer collapse to the balcony below him. That was it. Somewhere in the distance there were sirens approaching.

A small, choked laugh drew his attention back to the woman crouching beside him. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty face in smoke-dark streaks, and she was holding up the jacket to stare at the single bullet hole piercing through from front to back. "Guess I'm gonna need a new coat." The slight tremor started creeping back into her voice.

"You should go, before the police get here. You don't need to be connected to this." He'd leave as soon as she was clear, and that would be it, he thought.

"Here," she'd dropped the coat in her lap and dug through a pocket to come up with a small white rectangle. "Here's my card, you can send me a new jacket as a thank-you. Burn it after memorizing it, ok?" She told him her size and her smirk almost drew another almost-smile from him. Instead, he wordlessly took and scanned the card and pocketed it as she rose to leave. The address was for a town several hours away. (Tori. It also said her name was Tori.)

"Hey," he'd stood, checking again on the bloody graze on his arm, but her call drew his attention back to where she stood, destroyed coat draped over one arm. "I didn't get your name."

His name? "Six, they call me Six." It had been a very long time since he'd used anything else.Or anyone had thought to ask.

For some reason that got another one of her quick laughs, but the smile this time was full and genuine (albeit a bit bloody from her bitten lip), and he was suddenly reminded just how long it'd been since anyone smiled like that at him. It'd been what, almost two years now?

"Number Six, like in the show?"

"What?"

"You know, The Prisoner? Cult show from the 60's? Who is number one, you're number six?"

He shook his head, "don't have much time for watching anything" which was a lie since he had the downtime, often, but it wasn't really his to spend.

"He's a spy who retires and gets isekai-ed to a resort in Wales, you'd love it"

(He gets what? )

The sirens were getting closer, and she glanced over one shoulder as she took a step back away from him. "I should go, at least before the adrenaline crash hits and I'm really a mess. But stop by sometime and we'll watch the show, it's just seventeen episodes so we can do that in a day."

"I- uh, that sounds . . . fun." It actually did.

She looked back at him with one last grin, then with a curious salute, raising her hand in the "ok" sign to her eye with a twitch of the wrist, she turned to go. "Ok Number Six, be seeing you!" Then she was gone, her trot turning into a run at the edge of the park before he lost sight of her.

He also ran. He ran in the opposite direction she'd taken. It had sounded nice, her invitation. Maybe in a different lifetime, the man he'd been before . . . everything, the man he could have been, would've accepted it and been free to go watch old spy shows. There was a debriefing waiting for him, though, then back to the safe house or hotel they'd keep him at, then the next mission, and the next. He'd accepted that as part of being Sierra. It's what Fitz had promised him, that he'd get to take out truly bad people and maybe make the world fractionally better and he'd kept that promise, but also that his time wasn't his own, he wasn't his own.

Still, it sure as hell beat the alternative.

.

.

.

Three weeks later, the woman, Tori, opened her door to answer a knock, to find a courier from a delivery service asking her to sign for a box. The sender was a vaguely titled export service. Inside the box was a hip-length jacket, similar in cut and fabric to the one she'd sacrificed in a wildly desperate move that day of chaos weeks before. The name on the label, though, nearly made her drop the coat in shock as how much more expensive the replacement coat was than her original outlet one had been. There was no note with it, she didn't need one. 

Chapter 2

[americancowgirl19]

Moments

Summary: Tommy marries his childhood best friend... who happens to be a wizard.

Warnings: war, angst, fluff, torture,

Reader: Male Wizard Reader

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Male Reader

Word Count: 2309

A/n: Minor crossover between Peaky Blinders and the Harry Potter universe. More Peaky Blinders than Harry Potter

Masterlist

“Do a magic trick! Do a magic trick!” Your nieces and nephews shout trying to surround you. You hide your grin behind a whiskey glass.

“Please Uncle Y/n! Please!” John’s middle child pleads. A course of ‘pleases’ comes from the small children. You slowly give in.

“Oh, alright,” You sigh dramatically. They cheer and hop around. You then proceed to wow their minds with magic that they believe to be just tricks when in reality you’re preforming real magic. You liked to bend the rules regarding magic and muggles.

You grew up in Small Heath just a few door down from the Shelby’s. When you turned eleven you got your letter inviting you to Hogwarts. You’re a half-blood, your magic coming from your mother. When you received your letter, she was ecstatic.

The first thing you wanted to do was take the letter and rush to Tommy Shelby, your best friend. You wanted to tell him. For as long as you can remember weird things always happened to you but now you understood.

You didn’t reach the door before your mother stopped you and stressed the importance of keeping what you are a secret. You argued with her for hours but ultimately you kept your discovery to yourself.

When you left for school you told the Shelby’s that your parents were sending you to boarding school. Tommy didn’t believe you. You would have been surprised if he did. Tommy’s the most observant person you know. Of course the boarding school excuse didn’t work with him. You were as poor as his family, how could your parents afford to send you away?

He questioned you constantly on what was going on but you just stuck with the excuses your parents gave you. Tommy didn’t like it but he couldn’t stop you either.

So, during the school year you went away but during the summer you and Tommy were inseparable. You desperately wanted to show Tommy what you could do but you couldn’t. You couldn’t talk to him about Quidditch or potions or divination. 

It wouldn’t be until you and Tommy were stuck in France fighting a war did your secret come out. It was at the Battle of Verdun. You and Tommy had gotten separated from the others and were trying to find your way back.

You were in the open for a few seconds when Tommy fell to the ground. You hit the dirt and crawled back to him. Your eyes widened when you saw him bleeding profusely. 

“Fuck,” You curse trying to stop the bleeding. Tommy chokes and looks up at you. You can see the panic in his eyes. “It’s alright, I’ve got you, it’s alright,” You promise. “You’re not going to die,” You mutter under your breath, ignoring the shakiness of your hands.

You didn’t hesitate. You pulled your wand from your pack. You glance at his eyes. He’s curious but is in too much pain to stop you. Your wand hovers over his wounds and with a few spells he begins to heal.

When he’s healed he takes in a deep breath. His body relaxes as the pain disappears. He sits up and looks at you. You slip your wand away. You think he’s going to question you when you’re both reminded of where you are.

The two of you are forced to move and fight to survive. It wouldn’t be until a few months later, at the Battle of the Somme, that Tommy finally questioned you about what had happened. You and the other boys were certain you would die but were holding out for the best. The others were trying to catch some sleep while you and Tommy kept watch.

“I never went to boarding school... At least not the kind you would think. I attended a school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” You explained to him. “My mother’s a witch and passed her magic down to me,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tommy asks.

“I couldn’t,” You told him simply. “There’s laws and regulations preventing me from telling any non-magic folks about my abilities. If anybody found out that I exposed myself to you I could get into a lot of trouble,” You said.

You knew you could just take the memory from Tommy but you didn’t want too. For years you wanted to come clean and now he knew. There was a weight off your shoulders but anxiety in your chest. You didn’t know how he would react but at least he knew.

“You can’t tell anybody about what happened,” You stressed. Tommy stared at you but slowly nodded. “Not that it really matters, we’ll be dead by morning anyways,” You sighed, laying on the ground with your head on your pack.

Tommy continues to stare at you. You don’t say anything knowing the wheels are spinning in his head.

“Can you do anything?” He wonders. You glance toward him.

“To better our odds at surviving?” He nods. “I’m just one wizard and there are thousands of Germans. I’m talented but not immortal. I could probably take out a hand full but nothing that would help us survive the night,”

“So, we’re dead,” Tommy states. You hum, looking up at the stars. “You know, I’ve always known you were special,” You don’t visibly tense but your chest grows tight once again. “I hated it when you left for school. I always wanted you to stay,”

“I wanted to stay, too,” You whispered. “God, I wanted to tell you so many times. Once I got my letter to Hogwarts my first thought was to show you. Had my mother not stopped me I would have,” You admitted.

Tommy shifts to lay down beside you, your shoulders pressing against the other. You lay there for a moment before he reaches over and grabs your hand. You smile as he plays with your fingers desperately trying to find some form of comfort.

“I never thanked you for saving my life,” Tommy mutters.

“Lot of good that did, you’re bout to die again,” You scoff. Tommy’s head turn toward you.

“You gave me more time,”

“Yeah, more time in this bloody mud and fucking war,” You grumble. With his other hand, Tommy turns your head towards him.

“More time with you,” Tommy whispers. “Thank you for saving me,”

“You’re welcome,” You whisper back. His hand moves to your chin where his fingers grip it. Your head hammers in your chest but you don’t pull away. You let him pull you closer until your lips meet.

The kiss is unsure before it becomes passionate. Tommy’s hand slides into your hair and holds you against him. You moan quietly, relieved that the sounds of war in the distance drowns your sound out.

“Bloody hell Tommy,” You whisper, your eyes pouring into his. “You couldn’t have picked a better moment? Maybe before we’re facing death?”

“You could have always kissed me, ya know,” Tommy smirks. You copied his look.

“I would have but I couldn’t knowing that you didn’t know what I am,” You told him. “I didn’t want there to be such a big secret between us and the only way I could have told you would have been with marriage. I didn’t think you wanted that, not with me at least,”

“If by some miracle we make it back home, I’ll marry you,” Tommy promises. You almost whine at the thought. You were fully convinced neither of you would make it home but you so desperately wanted too. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” You mutter. Tommy smiles again and pulls you into another kiss.

Neither Tommy nor yourself knew how you managed to survive the war but when you returned to Small Heath you both got married. There were laws against your marriage but when you’re the leader of the Peaky fucking Blinders, you can marry who you want. It didn’t hurt that you knew some persuasive spells to keep the cops away.

Fast forward to tonight, John’s wedding reception, and you’ve been married for nearly a year. Your husband was brooding by the wagon while you were entertaining the children. You would have been doing it all night had Polly not come to save you. She shooed them away and you made your escape.

“Smile, darling, it’s a celebration,” You reminded him. He wasn’t in the best place with everyone in the family, although he was rarely on good terms with all them at once. The only one he actively tried to stay on good terms with is you. His relationship with the others fluxgates.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Tommy states, having watched your demonstrations for the kids.

“Unlike you, I know how to relax every once in a while,” You tease, leaning into him when his arm wraps around your waist. “Besides, who am I to say no to a bunch of begging children?”

“Oh, please,” Tommy scoffs, brushing his nose along your cheek. “You crave the attention,” You hum, turning your head to him. You kiss his lips.

“The only attention I crave is yours,” You whisper to him. He hums, holding you closer.

“You always have my attention,” He mutters. You smirk. Truer words haven’t been spoken. Tommy’s attention is always on you. He’s either beside you or his eyes are following you. “Do you want to stay?” He wonders. He seemed casual but you could sense the subtle concern.

“I’m fine, love,” You assure him. You peck his lips. “Let’s just enjoy the party a little more,”

A few days ago, you ran into an associate of Inspector Campbell. Campbell had somehow figured out what you were and brought in someone to match your power. The man cornered you and trapped you in a room to interrogate you about the Blinders, specifically the guns that went missing.

The spells he used would have given him a one-way ticket to Azkaban. You could have reported him to the Ministry but if you did then they would find out about you using your magic to help the Blinders gain an edge on the competition along with your relationship with Tommy.

Since your marriage to Tommy, the two of you connected on a level far more intimate than others. The pair of you were bonded. You used magic to bind you to him and him to you. It’s a protective and defensive mechanism. It allowed you to make sure he was safe while he was able to do the same for you.

It felt like an eternity before Tommy was able to find you. The man was too busy torturing you to prevent the bullet from entering his head. When he dropped to the floor, the curse broke and you were able to breathe again.

“Y/n? Love?” Tommy kneels beside you. You breathe slowly as your muscles begin to relax. “Are you alright? Talk to me,”

“I’m fine, Tommy,” You mutter, forcing your eyes open. “Impeccable timing, as usual,” You smile at him. 

“Let’s go home, aye?” 

With a lot of help from your husband you finally make it home. You both go into his office where you collapse on the couch. 

“Want to explain to me what happened?”

“Seems like Campbell has resources,” You tell him.

“He worked for Campbell?” Tommy asked, turning to you. You hummed, slouching on the couch. “What was he doing?”

“Do you really need a full fucking explanation?” You couldn’t help but to snap. Tommy sighs but doesn’t continue his questions. He hands you some liquor.

He sits down on the couch beside you and releases a long sigh. He couldn’t get the sound of your screams out of his head. It reminded him of the war but it was different. This time it was your screams and not the screams of random men.

“It’s just a curse, Tommy,”

“Curses have after effects,” Tommy states.

“The only after effects I’m going to get is the feeling of a terrible fucking hangover,” You tell him knowing that you hadn’t been under the spell long enough to have permanent mental damage.

“Have you been put under this curse before?” Tommy asks. You don’t answer right away.

“Once,” You whisper but offer no other explanation. Tommy lifts his hand and turns your head toward him. For a split second your back on the muddy ground of France at the Battle of the Somme.

“Are you alright?” He asks. You slowly nod. He physically looks the same but you can see the relief in him.

“I love you,” You whisper. He doesn’t verbally respond but he pulls you into a gentle kiss. You blindly set the whiskey on the table and climb onto his lap. His hands instantly rub your thighs before gripping your hips. You press your chest against his and he kisses you deeply.

“Come and look at the man who runs it!” Ada voice prevents your thoughts from turning even more provocative. “Chooses his brothers’ wives for them! He hunts his own sister down like a rat, and he tries to kill his own brother-in-law!” Ada bellows. 

You glare at her. You love Ada, you truly do. But Tommy will always come first. You didn’t like her ruining the John’s wedding reception nor her disrespecting Tommy. Tommy tries to stop her but she just continues to hit him. You go to be more forceful but Tommy changes his focus onto you and pulls you from his sister.

“Your sister’s a pain in the arse,” You grumble. You don’t fight his hold but you continue to glare at your sister-in-law. “Of course,” You mutter when her water breaks. “There’s never a dull moment with you Shelby’s, aye?”

“Don’t forget you married into this,” Tommy reminds you. You roll your eyes but smirk at him.

“As long as I have you I’ll gladly put up with your sister,”

[starryevermore]

the road to the altar: the engagement party ✧ ari levinson

let’s ride ✧ a biker!ari levinson series | pinterest board | ao3

pairing: biker!ari levinson x single mom!reader

summary: sarah throws you and ari an engagement party. 

word count: 2309

warnings?: pet name (sweetpea), not proofread

Countdown to the Big Day: Seven Hundred and Fifteen Days

You smoothed out the wrinkles in your dress, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The glint of your ring caught your eye. You paused, lifting your hand to admire the ring. You could never get used to this. To knowing that you and Ari were going to get married, that someday soon you were going to Mrs. Ari Levinson. Even with as much as the two of you talked about getting married, with as much as Ari would say that he’d one day put a ring on your finger, you didn’t think...A part of you always wondered if Ari might leave you, see some flaw you didn’t realize you had and go running for the hills. You just struggled with understanding how someone as amazing as Ari could look at you and decide that you were the one.  

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweetpea?” Ari asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

You turned, your face softening as you looked at him. “How lucky I am to have you.”

He grinned, his smile taking over his entire face. He stepped closer to you, reaching out, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “I think I should be the one saying that, sweetpea. I still can’t wrap my brain around how someone as amazing as you could want to marry me.”

“You know why,” you said, smiling. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met. You’re good to me, you’re good with Liam. You care, and you love, and you are so much more than I ever thought I ever deserved. I was so rude to you in the beginning—”

“You weren’t rude, sweetpea,” Ari said. He reached up, cupping your face in his hands, making you look at him. “You were protective over your kid. You didn’t know me. I could’ve been anyone. Good, bad, ugly. You made some snap judgments, a few influenced by some actually bad people—” you laughed slightly at that. “—and you had every right to not let me in. But you gave me a chance, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that. You’ve brightened my world, and I can’t wait to spend every day of the rest of my life with you.”

“Shit, Ari, if you make me cry every day leading up to the wedding, I don’t know if there’s going to be enough tears left for me to cry during our vows,” you said. 

“Just practicin’ for the big day, sweetpea,” Ari said with a wink. “Now, c’mon, Buck’ll kill us if we’re late for Sarah’s party.”

“Technically it’s our party, since it’s our engagement we’re celebrating.”

“You should tell that to Sarah, then.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not going to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s anger.”

“Well, then let’s get going, you snarky little shit.”

“They’re here!!” Cass shouted when he saw you, Ari, and Liam get out of the car. 

Sarah stepped out onto the porch, her smile from ear to ear as the three of you walked up to the house. “There’s the happy couple! How are you guys?”

“Good,” you said, pulling Sarah into a hug when you reached her. “Hey, thank you for doing this. You really didn’t have to.”

“Uh, no, I did. Buck and I have had a bet for how long it would take Ari to pop the question, and now I get to celebrate my win and your engagement.”

Ari laughed, hugging Sarah too. “I gotta ask, how long did Bucky think it would take?”

“He was betting five years, as if he didn’t ask me to marry him before we even reached our first anniversary.”

“Well, you sure made him wait,” Ari teased.

“Oh, that was more of Sam’s sake. Pretty sure he was ready to disown Bucky when he found out we were seeing each other.” Sarah paused, before saying, “Oh, and before I forget, if you two need any help with the wedding planning at all, feel free to ask me for literally anything at all. I’ve already vetted nearly every business that has anything to do with weddings within fifty miles of here, so I can definitely help point you guys in the right direction.”

“Then we’re definitely going to be bugging you every step of the way,” you said. 

“Like you could ever actually bug me. You know I gotta support my best friend.”

This was the kind of life you never could have expected for yourself. Getting ready to marry the man you loved. Having a best friend by your side. Having friends at all. Before, you didn’t know if you would ever put roots down, settle somewhere, build a stable life for you and Liam. But now? Now you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. 

Soon, the guests began to arrive. Liam ran off with Cass and AJ to pay a new game that they had gotten, finding more enjoyment out of that than the boring adult party. You and Ari chatted with everyone that came. But, eventually, Sarah herded you and Ari into the living room, directing you two to sit on a set of chairs in the middle of the room. And, as you looked at Sam, who was using a paper towel roll as a makeshift microphone, you made a show of groaning, but you were excited about what was to come. 

“Alright, alright, Sarah told me that I was in charge of games, and while these two aren’t technically newlyweds yet, they have been acting like a married couple for as long as I’ve known them, so it’s only fitting that we play the Newlyweds Game!” Sam announced. “Earlier this week, I asked Y/N—excuse me, Sweetpea and Ari a bunch of questions related to their relationship, and now they get to guess what the other person said. The person who gets the most right wins, and…Well, I don’t have a prize. But I’m sure the two of them will work something out.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sam, I swear, I’m gonna fight you one of these days!”

“Good thing I’m a fast runner!” Sam said. “But for that, we’ll start with you. The first question is: how did you meet Ari?”

“Um, I had just signed Liam up for soccer and I was getting him cleats at the shoe store. As we were about to go in, Liam saw Ari’s bike and was talking about how cool it was. It’s a very cool bike, by the way. I don’t know if I ever told you that.”

Ari puffed his chest out in pride, smiling at you. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you said, smiling back. “Um, and then Ari came out and he said that Liam could look at the bike. And, uh, yeah, the rest is history.”

Sam nodded, glancing down at his phone where he had yours and Ari’s answers stored. “I think that counts as a point! Ari said that he saw the most beautiful woman by his bike at the shoe store.”

Everyone awe’d at Ari’s answer. Your smile grew, and you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. “You’re too sweet.”

“Not as sweet as you, sweetpea.”

“God, I can’t believe you two aren’t already married,” Sam said. “Ari, are you ready for your question?”

“Yes.”

“Your question is: describe what Sweetpea first thought of you in one word.”

“Menace,” Ari said, without even thinking. 

“Are you sure about that?” you asked. 

“Positive. Final answer.”

“Well, you’d be wrong, Levinson,” Sam said. “The correct answer was: Adonis.”

Ari turned his head to look at you, his eyebrows raised. “Really?” he asked, his voice soft. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Well, it was a lot more than that. Pretty sure my mind was blabbering how you looked like a god, but Adonis sums it up pretty well.”

“Damn, and I thought I was the one who fell head over heels for you,” he teased.

“And I’m suddenly aware of how alone I am,” Sam said. “Sweetpea, your question is: what is Ari’s favorite thing about you?”

You paused, trying to wrack your brain. One thing? Well, there was only one thing that made sense for Ari to say… “This is going to sound egotistical, but…everything?”

Sam mimicked the sound a wrong buzzer. “The answer we’re looking for is: you make Ari feel like he’s finally found a home.”

Tears immediately pricked at your eyes as you looked at Ari. “Oh my god, you’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I wipe away all your tears,” Ari said, kissing the top of your head.

“The score is still Sweetpea with one, and Ari with zero,” Sam said. “Now, Ari, when did Sweetpea know you were the one?”

Ari looked over at you, thinking, before saying, “When I…confronted her ex?”

“That is…not correct!” Sam said. “Sweetpea, would you like to tell him?”

You looked over at Ari, smiling. “Um, it was just before that. When I was having that parent teacher conference with Andy? He…I don’t know, everyone at school was talking about how amazing he is, but all I could think about was how I’d rather be spending time with you. And then you just appeared, and I knew that I didn’t want to waste anymore time not being yours.”

“You never told me that, sweetpea,” Ari said, his eyes shining with tears. “I remember that day, thinking that I’d lost my chance with you for just a split second.”

“You could never lose me. I promise.”

“They’re so disgustingly sweet. I hate that I love it,” Jefferson said. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” Sam said. “But, now I gotta know, Sweetpea, who said I love you first?”

“Ari did, not that long after I realized he was the one,” you said. 

“That’s correct! Sweetpea’s got a score of two, and Ari is still at zero!” Sam announced. “You got time to redeem yourself, man. So, tell us, when and where was your first kiss?”

Ari’s face tinted pink. “Um, just after I told sweetpea I love her. And, it was…in her bathroom.”

“Scandalous!” Sam teased as the guests ooh’d. “I almost thought Sweetpea was lying when she told me that. But, now, Sweetpea, can you tell me who Ari’s celebrity crush is?”

“Celebrity crush?” you repeated. “I-I don’t know. I don’t think he’s ever said…Oh, fuck it, let’s just go with Ryan Reynolds.”

Sam immediately doubled over laughing as Ari’s head whipped around to look at you, his eyes wide. As Sam began to calm down again, he read out, “Ari said: I don’t know, just put down Ryan Reynolds, she’ll never be able to guess that.”

“I can’t believe you got that,” Ari said. 

“We’ve all got a crush on Ryan Reynolds, so it only made sense.”

“So, Sweetpea’s got three and Ari’s got one! Now, Ari, if Sweetpea was any Disney character, who would she be?”

“Easy!” Ari said. “She’d be Rapunzel.”

“The best Disney princess.”

“Correct! Alright, Sweetpea, who is the better listener?”

“Ari, easily.”

“Actually, Ari thinks you’re the better listener.”

“Then he’s a liar!” You looked at Ari, pointing a finger at him. “You’re a liar!”

He raised his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t think so!”

“Uh oh, looks like the dream couple does fight…about how the other is the better listener. Seriously, you’re making the rest of us feel painfully alone,” Sam said. “Okay, Ari, you better get this one right. How many kids does Sweetpea want?”

“Three,” Ari said. “Do I get bonus points if I tell you she wants her next baby to be a girl?”

“Hold on, that wasn’t part of the question!”

“But is he right?” Sam asked. 

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then he gets two points! Which brings Ari in the lead with four points and Sweetpea with three!” Sam said. “Alright, Sweetpea, the final question is, and I’ll make it double the points if you get it right: If money were no object, where would you live together?” 

You paused, thinking, trying to figure out if there was anything Ari had ever said to you that would give you a hint. But you couldn’t think of a single place. So, you said, “I think…he would say he’d want to live wherever I am.”

Sam looked down at his phone, then back at you, and said, “Can you see my phone or something? Because that’s exactly what he said!”

You laughed. “What can I say? I just know my man.”

“You’re damn right you do, because you just won the Newlyweds Game! Please work out your prize in the privacy of your bedroom.” Sam dramatically shuddered. “I still have nightmares about walking in on the two of you at Redwing—”

“OKAY!” you said, standing up. “I’m gonna go get a snack. Someone tell me when the next game starts.”

You got up, disappearing into the kitchen while Sam, Sarah, and Bucky started setting up the next game. You grabbed a cupcake that was sitting on the counter, starting to lick off the icing, lost in thought, when you heard someone cup up behind you.

“Hey, sweetpea,” Ari said, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“Hey lover boy,” you said, turning around as if you finished your cupcake. There was a question on the tip of your tongue, one you’d been wanting to ask for a while and now…Now it seemed like there was no better time to ask it. 

“What’s on your mind, sweetpea?”

You looked up at Ari, smiling softly. “I think I know what I want my prize to be. For winning the game.”

He looked down at you and raised a brow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Move in with me. Please,” you said. 

“Oh, sweetpea, you know I could never say no to that.”