#would keep you safe. if anything TOM would keep HIM safe. in fact tom�� himself says who else has taken care of you. literally spells it out.

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Ch II

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

ch.I

Faceclaim: kiki hertz

Tom prided himself in never exposing his soulmark, he let a lot of things out that shouldn't be and his soulmark not being one of those is such an achievement. Mostly because from a very young age, when he started acting, his mother would make sure he covered it up with makeup so that no one, not even those behind the scenes would see it.

"So, you're invited to watch cars drive in circles?"

Meeting Zendaya had been a dream, they both felt the need to be closer to each other whenever possible even before they discovered their identical soulmarks. Both of them working and hanging around each other made it so much difficult to conceal their newfound relationship and eventually the whole world knew that both of them were soulmates, and not just that, everyone was now aware that Tom Holland and Zendaya Coleman were fated to have a third lover, a third soul with them to keep them sane from all the chaos their lives bring in the form of fans and crazy paparazzi.

"How can you say that?" Tom looked back at his girlfriend as he poured himself some tea "you literally met Lewis Hamilton not that long ago!"

Tom was painfully aware of the fact that Zendaya isn't that interested in either of the sports he enjoys: formula 1 and golf.

"Oh yeah, at a fashion show," Zendaya recalls as she moves over to hug tom from behind, resting her chin on his head. "He was nice."

"Do you think we'll meet our darling soon?" Zendaya asked, making Tom leave his drink to hold her hand in reassurance.

"I think so," turning around he let go of one of zendaya's hands to let his palm rest on her cheek "I know that I met you when I kept thinking about my soulmate, so I have a feeling that we'll meet darling soon."

The couple had taken to calling their third soulmate Darling, a nickname that they both agreed to reserve for their missing soul.

"Yeah, I feel so too."

Liked by maxverstappen1, F1wags&faves, verstappentruther and 683,519 others

Kellypiquet: a weekend with her was truly missed.

maxverstappen1: ♥️♥️

username: God, yn verstappen is so pretty

username: I wanna be her soulmate so bad

username: LOOK AT HER CHEEKS! I WANNA BITE THEM!

With his work schedule Tom wasn't able to attend much f1 races, but when he could he did, and most of them were the infamous English track, Silverstone.

But here in Monaco, the races were something else, Tom can feel how the people in this country were raised watching these cars from their homes, cheering for their favorite driver and the preparations for the race throughout the entire country are just mind blowing (he promised himself that he would bring Zendaya here for a vacation, this place is amazing).

"Is something wrong?" The voice of Christian Horner stopped Tom dead in his tracks, the team principle of the red bull formula 1 team making him feel like a little child caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Oh, um, yeah, yes-" clearing his throat Tom couldn't help still looking around, wanting to see the reason of the all too familiar tugging his heart "just looking around, the race is very different from Silverstone, the atmosphere is just so..."

And there it was, the reason his heart is pulling, the person he hoped he would meet as soon as he felt their presence in this specific garage, his darling; their darling.

"Well, Monaco is the heart of motorsport, especially formula 1, you can't live here without being a fan really."

Christian wasn't an idiot, he had eyes and his observational skills were too good. It wouldn't be the first time he witnessed a celebrity looking at yn verstappen, the girl hooking everyone in with her innocent face and charming smile. It would, however, be the first time he saw someone loose their breath over her and he knew what that meant, he knew that expression; he had went through it when he met his wife, he saw it on Max when he met Kelly and now he is going to see it on yn.

He thought he met an angel when he saw Zendaya, he thought that the feeling he would get when meeting their darling wouldn't be as strong, as intense, but seeing her there, standing next to Adrian Newey with a notebook and a pen in her hands, discussing something that seemed so important, made him unaware of anything else. She was all he could see, hear and feel. She was who they had been missing, and god did she make him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

He felt his chest swell up with emotions as he quickly reached for his phone, calling the one person he knew would calm him down.

"Hey baby, how's the race going?"

"Z, she's here," Tom rushed out as he maneuvered between the never ending sea of people to a quite place- well as quite as it can get in Monaco during a formula 1 race.

"What? Who's here?"

"Darling! She's here!"

"Darling is a she?"

Gathering her thoughts Zendaya left the lounge area of her hotel suite, dismissing the makeup artists and stylists with a smile and wave of her hand before entering the bedroom within the suite.

"Okay, okay, calm down baby," Zendaya spoke as she ran her hand through her hair "how about you go talk to her, yeah?"

"I can't, oh my god, what if she doesn't even feel the same pull- it's a stupid way to describe it but you know that's how I felt when I met you and it's the same but so much worse cause you're not here with me and I can't do this-"

"Honey, calm down, it's okay, let's take it step by step, did you check her wrist?" Being met with silence worried the tall girl, she knew how it might come off to him when she was basically asking him to check actual evidence and not take his feelings too seriously "I know your feelings, I get that, I felt the same with you, but it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," shuffling was heard before Tom apologies for, what zendaya assumed, pumping into someone "no, yeah, you're right, stay with me on the line, I'm going to try and see. She's wearing a sleeveless dress so that will make it easier."

Even though she didn't want to spoil it for herself, she wanted to get 100% of the awe and the fondness for herself, Zendaya couldn't help but ask "what does she look like?"

"So beautiful, Z" the way Tom spoke, the breathlessness and amazement in his voice made her want to cry, she wanted to be there, she wanted to be with him when they first saw her, that's how they always envisioned it.

"Okay, so I checked, and oh my god it's there, it's the same Z, what am I supposed to do, oh my god"

"Here's what you're going to do, you're going to tell her right now!"

"There are like 100 people around, how am I supposed to do that!"

"I don't know tom, tell her you wanna speak to her or something, make it up!"

"I can't do this, I can't, I am freaking out!"

"Oh my god, you're an actor, pretend it's a scene"

"Will you be able to pretend?"

"Well no, but I'm not the one that can see her, am I!"

"Okay, okay, deep breaths, I am going to tell her with you on the phone, alright?" Tom said as he started moving towards the blonde, his confidence building up with his taller soulmate cheering him on through the phone

"Holy shit" and there goes the little confidence he had

"What? Tom! Answer me! Is she dating someone, I swear to god if she is-"

"No, no, she's not," looking back at his soulmate "at least I don't think she is. God, there's no way I am telling her shit now."

"Why not?"

"Her brother can literally run me over with his small rocketship of a car! I am not doing anything when he is literally two centimetres away from her!"

What Tom failed to realise was how Christian Horner had joined the pair of siblings, telling Max and Yn of his earlier observations, which made all three of them look at the young brit in sync.

"Um, Z, I think we won't have to worry about me telling her."

CH.III

{taglist: @celesteblack08 @minkyungseokie @woozarts @keii134 @celesteblack08 @sainzluvrr @fangirl125reader}

[thehumblefigtree]

Okay friends, I’ve been having thoughts and I want to know y’all’s opinions.

I’ve seen a few people equate drarry to jegulus and I just… don’t see it. I get that there’s some similarities (the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin thing, playing on opposing quidditch teams, fighting on opposite sides of the war, one’s a Potter and one’s from the Black family, etc) but as far as their personalities and general relationship dynamics go, I really don’t see the connection.

(And, just as a disclaimer, I have read drarry pretty extensively and not jegulus; I’m not against it or anything, I just haven’t gotten into it. So that might be clouding my judgement. Any jegulus fans reading this: please let me know what you like about the ship, maybe I’m missing something.)

Here’s how I see it: Regulus is James’ best friend’s little brother. There might be tension there (they’re in opposing houses, plus Sirius’ strained relationship with his family, conflicting values, etc) but to my knowledge that’s pretty much the extent of it. James is a prankster and the perfect example of a Gryffindor, he’s brave and noble and a bit of a prat but has a heart of gold and would do anything for his friends. Regulus is pretty quiet and reserved but is always two steps ahead of everyone and is definitely someone you wouldn’t want to cross and not just because of his family name. He’s smart, to the point where he outsmarted Voldy when he was just a teenager. Despite the differences in values of their families, they both grew up in wealthy pureblood households.

Meanwhile, Harry is a mix between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He’s brave to the point of recklessness and has no sense of self-preservation, but he also desperately wants to prove himself worthy to his friends, professors, etc. I would argue that this mostly stems from trauma rather than just his personality but he definitely exhibits mixed traits rather than a poster child for Gryffindor. He bottles things up (I.e. not telling his friends about Umbridge’s abuse) and also rages to the point of destruction (I.e. destroying Dumbledore’s office after Sirius’ death). He’s protective of his friends and values his relationship with them but he also struggles to let them in at times. He doesn’t really care about school at all, though that might be due in part to the fact that he’s always fighting for his life. Draco is shown as arrogant and obnoxious and a bit of a drama queen, but he’s definitely seen some shit, especially in the later books. He’s smart, second in their class behind Hermione, and has a mean streak, though he presumably has at least somewhat of a decent relationship with the other Slytherins. I’ve always assumed that even though he uses his father and his name to boost his social status, his relationship with his father is cold at best (but maybe that’s just because of Tom Felton’s facial expressions in the Diagonal Alley scenes in the Chamber of Secrets movie). But you can’t deny that he grew up wealthy and quite spoiled, juxtaposing Harry’s neglect. Harry’s a half-blood who grew up with his abusive muggle relatives, while Draco is the heir to two of the most pureblood families.

But with drarry, it goes deeper than that. They’re thematic parallels. They’re both used as pawns on opposite sides of the war, and they both had their paths cut out for them from birth (Harry by the prophecy, and Draco by his family). They’re both stuck in situations that they don’t want to be in, fighting an adult war as kids while the adults in their lives fail at keeping them safe. And they are canonically obsessed with each other. No matter how you interpret their relationship, they are way more involved in each other’s lives than is normal for two people who aren’t friends and in different houses. Harry thinks of Draco as his nemesis, more so than the guy that’s actually been trying to kill him since birth, and Draco goes out of his way to antagonize Harry as well. And I’m not even gonna get into Sixth Year.

I just don’t see the connection between the two ships beyond surface level similarities. What do y’all think? Am I missing something?

[ghcstpyre]

Imagine being kidnapped by Tom Ludlow.

tom ludlow x f!reader

cw: kidnapping

the most terrifying thing about being kidnapped by tom is the fact he knows his way around the system; knows what kind of place to take you to where the two of you won't be found or disturbed, knows when to text your friends and family from your phone as to not rouse suspicion, knows what to say if anyone were to come sniffing around should they get suspicious.

thanks to his job and connections he already knows almost everything there is to know about you on paper. with a bit of digging he's able to get his hands on the basics - you're not in the LAPD system (of course you're not; sweet, innocent little you) but it's not too much of an issue for him to get the info he wants. he is a veteran detective after all. everything else, the nitty-gritty, the more personal things he'll have plenty of time to find out once he has you.

he knows you'll be frightened, completely terrified of him at first - it's only natural of course, waking up in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar face would instill fear in anyone - but he's sure that with time and a lot of care and patience he can chip away at that, bit by bit.

patience was never his strong suit, but for you he has all the patience in the world.

"sshh baby," tom cooed, his voice a deep rumble as he wiped away the tears rolling down your red, blotchy cheeks. "c'mon now." you sniffled and hiccupped, doing your best to squeeze your eyes shut against any more fat globes of sadness and fear that prickled behind your lids and threatened to fall. tom hadn't outright hurt you since snatching you away from your life, but considering he did snatch you, you wouldn't put it past him. and it's not like you could defend yourself against anything he could possibly do to you. without looking you knew your hands were handcuffed behind you, the cool metal biting at the soft skin of your wrists; not tight enough to be painful, but enough to cause discomfort and make sure you were secure. in a similar fashion your ankles were bound with zip ties to the front legs of the chair in which you woke up in, pinching your skin and surely leaving angry, crimson marks. tom's big, meaty hands cupped the sides of your damp face. "look at me." the tone of his voice was stonier now, a complete juxtaposition to the gentle way in which he caressed your cheeks. you did as you were told and opened your eyes, having to blink away any remaining tears that still clung to your long lashes. through your bleary vision you could just about make out the corners of his plush lips curling upwards into a satisfied smirk. "that's it, atta girl. no need to cry - i ain't gonna hurt you."

of course, tom tells himself it's all to keep you safe and far away from any harm. he's seen what a nasty place the world can be for those who can't fight for themselves. deep down, however, there's a part of him that knows he's only feeding that need for control.

lace divider by @/strangergraphics

[perotovar]

into the beat of the night (ch 1) "transmission"

gif by me, moodboard by the lovely @sp00kymulderr ♥

pairing: frankie morales/nb!oc (they/them) rating: T (for now) chapter warnings: discussions of sexuality/gender (frankie doesn't understand some things and may use language that would be harmful, but it's not intentional), limited knowledge of the military, goth stereotypes abound, mentions of drug addiction/recovery, swearing, cute shit word count: 2.7k dividers by @saradika

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series summary: frankie morales thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

a/n - i can't thank y'all enough for giving my fic a chance! i'm really nervous about posting it since i haven't properly written anything in years, but i've had some lovely cheerleaders (@scenaaario - who is also my lovely beta, i want to kiss you on the mouth for making this fic sound like i wanted it to ♥♥ - @undercoverpena @mrsquill and @kedsandtubesocks i love you guys ♥) along the way that gave me the motivation to post this little story. comments and reblogs are super appreciated! i'd love to hear what y'all think <3

In 1994, the U.S. adopted “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” as the official federal policy on military service by lesbian, gay and bisexual individuals. It was officially repealed in 2011. Seventeen years. For seventeen years, LGBTQ folks, Frankie included, had to hide. At least, he felt he needed to.

He knew he was bisexual when he and his childhood best friend Mateo were in their sophomore year of high school. Frankie and all the other boys started to hit puberty the year before and things were changing: facial hair was slowly growing, voices were dropping.  Mateo started to develop a little faster than Frankie did. Frankie really liked how Mateo was developing. It was a little weird, because they’d been best friends since they were still wearing underoos, but Frankie started to feel things whenever he hung out with Mateo. Things he normally only felt whenever Alana in third period flipped her hair over her shoulder, or whenever Charlotte in fifth period stretched before she started writing and her sweater pulled over her chest a little too much.

Frankie didn’t know what to do with this information or these feelings. He didn’t have a word for any of it, so he just never said anything. He had a couple girlfriends throughout high school, and to anyone who cared to think on it, would see that Frankie was like any other straight, high school boy.

In 1994, Francisco Morales joined the military. He was nineteen. It was never his plan growing up to join, but his dad always wanted him to. When he didn’t have his own plan after high school, he figured it was a safe bet since he had family in the service. While there, he worked his way up in the ranks and eventually met his brothers: Santiago, Benny, Will, and Tom. They would die for each other, had signed up to do so, in fact. He’d grown closest to Santiago, and it was the first time since he was 15 that he got those feelings again. He pushed them to the side, though, because that’s when she came into his life. He didn’t need those feelings getting in the way.

Frankie’s bisexuality really only came into his life a couple of times. His first girlfriend in the military, Layla, was also bisexual and that’s when he learned what the word was and that it also applied to him. She only ever told him since Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was in full swing. Of course he kept her secret, because she also kept his.

The only one of his group of brothers that didn’t know about his sexuality was Tom. He didn’t feel comfortable enough to tell him, and the others agreed it was best to keep it quiet. Santiago was the first one to know, then Will, and finally Benny. Ben was Ben about it when he found out. He immediately hugged Frankie and excitedly suggested they go to a gay bar instead of their usual hang out. It made Frankie laugh and Will smacked Ben on the back of the head. (They did end up going to a couple of gay bars from time to time. Frankie only went home with a guy once and the guys gave him a lot of shit for it, asking for details. Santiago gave him a smile and patted him on the back and said, “I’m glad you’re finally here, hermano.”)

Frankie had one man he’d consider a “boyfriend” in his life. After he left the military and after DADT was repealed, he went on a bit of a binge. He started hooking up with people more often, despite his introverted nature. He was always careful, safe, and eventually kept to one man for a couple years, before an especially messy breakup.  They were both pilots in the military, but were based in different states; Frankie in Florida, and Jackson in Kentucky. They bonded quickly after meeting at a nightclub in Nashville. Neither one of them remembers why they were there, but they made it a point to see each other frequently, each of them taking turns flying out to see the other.

The breakup happened after Jackson found Frankie’s stash for the last time. The military affected everyone differently. For Frankie, his coke addiction is what got him through the sleepless nights. Jackson had found Frankie one too many times leaned over the back of a toilet and snorting god knows what. Jackson had his own problems with drugs and felt that Frankie ignored them in search of his next fix. Addiction had completely taken over Frankie’s life for the better part of five years. Frankie hated Jackson for leaving him when he most needed him, and lashed out, accusing Jackson of only ever wanting to fuck. That broke Jackson, as he thought about how deeply he loved Frankie. Gay marriage was legalized a year later, and had things panned out differently, they might still be together. He doesn’t blame Jackson for leaving anymore.

Frankie’s daughter, Marisol, changed everything. She was the love of his life, and he would do anything for her. After going back to his days of sleeping around after Jackson left, he met Maya. He kept telling her that he would get clean and go to therapy while she was pregnant, but not until he held his little Marisol in his arms for the first time did he commit to both. He and Maya never planned on being together officially, and decided co-parenting would be their best option. 

He’d been clean and sober for two years by the time Santi told him about the Colombia job. He hadn’t flown, or been allowed to in that time, and was pretty content to never do so again. Every time he got in the pilot’s seat, it would take him to terrible places. But Santi was his best friend, so he took the job. He relapsed when he got home, after Tom. He never blamed Santi for it. He gave Frankie a choice, and where he could’ve said no, he didn’t.

Which brings him to where he is now, two years after Colombia. He’d crossed the street and stood in line for the entrance. He hadn’t been to this nightclub in a while. He looked up at the sign for the club, and raised an eyebrow. The Night Owl. That… isn’t what it was called last time. Was it sold? Apparently, it had recently undergone a rebranding, with new owners, and a slightly… different clientele. 

The best way he could describe it now was that it was a goth club. Frankie had never personally been to this sort of club, not really being a fan of the music or subculture, but never had a negative opinion either. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he entered, the bouncer giving him a once over and chuckling, but letting him in anyway. 

He made his way over to the bar and had a seat, taking in his surroundings and started people watching. He planned on going out tonight, and possibly go home with someone. A club is a club, so he decided to stick around and see what all the fuss was about. 

The walls shook with the heavy bass and beats of the music. It wasn’t like anything he’d heard before. His nostrils filled with the scent of clove cigarettes and hairspray. Everywhere he looked, someone completely decked out in teased hair and black clothing caught his attention. He smiled softly at all the variations in people’s style, wondering how long it took for all of them to get ready in the morning.

The bartender, a large man with heavy eye makeup and a lot of chains and spikes, came up to him and smirked. He felt a presence behind him and when Frankie finally faced forward again, he startled a little, not expecting such an imposing figure to be giving him a staredown.

“What’ll you be havin’, stripes?”

“Stripes?”

The bartender, who had a patch sewed onto his denim vest that read “Viper”, rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely to Frankie’s whole self. “You mean to tell me you’re not military?”

Frankie blinked a couple times and huffed a laugh. “Ex-military, yeah. Is that… okay?”

Viper gave him a long look, eyes slightly narrowed, and pointed to one of the many tattoos on his arm, up high on his shoulder. It was an old one, a little faded, but Frankie recognized it as the stripes given to Sergeant Majors.  “I left after this. Got injured,” he said.

“Sorry to hear that.”

Viper shrugged and reached under the bar, cleaning a glass. “I’m not. So what’re you havin’?”

Frankie thought about it for a second. “I’ll probably regret this, but surprise me.”

An amused look crossed Viper’s features, but he nodded and started mixing a drink for him. Frankie noticed all the ingredients used; lager beer, hard cider, and some kind of syrup. He raised a brow and picked up the glass as Viper slid it across the bar for him. Frankie gave him a look as if to say, ‘Is this safe?’ despite having just watched Viper make it. The bartender chuckled and just gestured for him to give it a try.

Frankie took a deep breath and gulped down a drink. A little foam was stuck to his mustache when he lowered the glass from his face. “Not bad. What is it?” Frankie asked.

“Snakebite. Kind of a staple around here,” Viper hummed, cleaning a different glass.

Frankie chuckled at the name. Of course that’s what it was called. 

Viper was pulled away when a pretty girl with big, teased hair and dark makeup came up to the bar. Frankie took the opportunity to look around the place again.

The music was best described as “dark” and “broody”, unsurprisingly, with slow tempos and even lower vocals. Everyone on the dancefloor was slowly swaying back and forth and, once in a while, would move their arms in ethereal shapes. 

Frankie remembered seeing one of the younger teachers at Marisol’s daycare wearing a t-shirt with a band logo that looked like a bundle of sticks. He tried figuring out what it said once, but was too afraid to ask, so he still doesn’t know. He doesn’t think she’d be at this kind of club.

“You’re new. Bit like a zoo your first time here, I bet.”

Frankie startled, putting his hand over his heart and turned to look at who was talking. Someone had sat next to him and was grinning, taking a sip from their own drink; something dark red and a little cloudy. He blinked a couple times and took in their features; big green eyes rimmed with dark lines, two different nose piercings, and black lipstick. Their hair was long and straight, dark, and with the right side in front of their ear shaved completely. He couldn’t quite figure out if who he was talking to was male or female, the androgyny of their look very clear.

“Uhh, hello?” They waved their hand, full of rings and black nail polish, in front of his face and chuckled quietly. “Oh! Maybe–” They cut themselves off and started making a bunch of symbols and shapes with their fingers and hands.

Frankie blinked and started laughing softly. “I’m not deaf! Sorry,” he grinned. “You just startled me, that's all.”

“Oh!” The stranger laughed, too, putting a hand on his right knee in a friendly gesture. He looked down at the hand and smiled, his heart skipping a beat. Even if he didn’t know very much about them, he couldn’t deny it; they were very pretty.

He removed his cap and ran his fingers through the unruly curls for a second before putting the hat back on. “Sorry,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, it’s my first time here. I didn’t realize the club had changed owners.”

“It did?” They asked, tilting their head to the left slightly. 

“Yeah, it was a– Uh, last time I was here, it was a… different kind of club,” Frankie mumbled. 

The stranger’s eyes twinkled mischievously, the smirk still present on their lips. “What kind of club? Are you secretly into some really heavy BDSM type stuff?” They wiggled their eyebrows.

Frankie had started taking a drink of his Snakebite again and nearly choked on it at the stranger’s teasing. He coughed a couple times, a wide grin on his face. “No! Nothing like that,” he chuckled.

The stranger snapped their ring-clad fingers like they were hoping he’d say otherwise and slumped their shoulders in disappointment. “Damn…”

Frankie’s cheeks warmed at the insinuation, but laughed, convinced they were just joking with him. He cleared his throat and continued, “Y-Yeah, uh, I wasn’t expecting this kind of… group, when I came by. Although, the name of the place probably should’ve warned me.”

“What kind of group?” The stranger grinned, watching his handsome features change from thoughtful to concerned.

Frankie panicked, worried he’d somehow offended them, and cleared his throat again. “N-Not that there’s anything wrong with– Um! I don’t, actually… know,” he tapered off, looking down as he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

The stranger snorted and waved him off. “I’m fucking with you,” they laughed. “I know what you mean. When I heard a new club opened up closer to my apartment, I got pretty excited. No more hour-long drives to the nearest one, y’know?”

Frankie nodded, their low, smooth voice captivating him the longer they spoke.

“Oh! Meant to say this before, but my name’s River,” they smiled and held their hand out to him to shake.

“Frankie,” he answered, holding his own hand out to return the gesture. But River beat him to it, and gripped his long, thick fingers in their own hand and kissed the back of his softly.

Frankie blushed like mad, eyes widening slightly. No one had ever kissed his hand before. He kept his eyes downcast, his hand still securely in River’s grasp.

River tilted their head, brows furrowed in concern before letting go of his hand. “Sorry, was that–?”

“No! N-No, um…” Frankie smiled shyly, tugging at a loose curl behind his ear. “It was fine– Nice, actually.”

River grinned as if they had clocked him immediately. “Well, Frankie, it was very nice meeting you. Will I see you here again?” They asked, looking him up and down.

Frankie found himself nodding before he could say or do anything else. “Y-Yeah, absolutely. Um, how–?”

“My song just came on, and I simply must dance to it. Later,” River winked, stood, and leaned over to kiss Frankie’s cheek as they slipped something into the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

River was gone before Frankie could ask anything else, his eyes following after them as they reached the dancefloor. He watched them dance for a few minutes before he was brought out of it by someone clearing their throat behind him. He spun around and saw Viper, the bartender, leaning toward him and giving him a look.

“You gonna pay for these drinks?” He grumbled, motioning toward Frankie’s Snakebite and whatever River was drinking.

He followed Viper’s tattooed finger and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his wallet out and putting a couple bills on the bar. Viper nodded in thanks and Frankie took that as his cue to leave.

As he stood, he looked toward the dancefloor again in the hopes of seeing River one last time. When he didn’t, he tried to shake himself off and made his way toward the entrance. The bouncer gave him a look and Frankie just shrugged as he exited the club. The cool night air hit his still-warm cheeks, making him feel like he came back to reality. 

“Oh, right,” he mumbled to himself and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a little scrap of paper. A phone number with two cute little devil horns drawn on either side and a little, ‘text me?’ written down beneath it.

Frankie smiled to himself and rubbed the ink on the paper with his thumb.

[unnecessaryheadache]

NOT EXCUSING ANY OF THE THINGS HP!SNAPE DID

A lot of people use the "The Marauders grew out of it" thing to excuse years of pranking and, dare I say, bullying they put Snape through. Yes, it's easier for them to grow out of it and become better people because they weren't the ones who went through what their targets went through.

It isn't just Snape - it has been mentioned that earlier Marauders did the same to many other students.

Why didn't Severus get better?

Well, let's look at it this way. It's hard for bully victims to heal, just like it's hard for victims, in general,, to face their past and embrace the future if they don't have a good environment or reliable support systems. Snape grew up as an odd person, from a very bad background, with only one person to be a trusted support system, and that was Lily.

No child should ever be burdened with the role of another child’s support system. It is the responsibility of adults to step in and prevent situations like these from arising, yet they failed to do so. While Severus had other friends, it’s clear that these individuals set a poor example.

They held strong views about blood purity and often exhibited unkind behavior towards others, which reflected a somewhat exclusive mindset. This demonstrates the potential shortcomings of a support system that lacks inclusivity. When Snape and Lily's friendship came to an end, Snape believed that aligning himself with the Death Eaters would somehow alter his circumstances and rekindle Lily’s affection. This perspective likely stemmed from various influences and beliefs he encountered throughout his upbringing. It's important to remember that children enter Hogwarts at the age of eleven, a critical period when they are particularly impressionable and eager to find their identity and belonging.

Adding...

Harry Potter might have ended up the same way if not for his good reputation and the fact that he was liked, so it was easy to have friends starting from just his first year of school. He was being abused by the Dursleys for years! It's a good thing he was liked. If he had been placed in Slytherin, things would have been painfully different; he could have become the next Voldemort.

Tom Riddle was also abused, by his father, a Muggle (I'm starting to see a trend here...). He had the chance to be a normal kid but as you can see, shit happened. He surrounded himself with bad people (he chose that himself; he wanted to lead, after all). Just imagining how everything would have been if he hadn't been abused makes my head hurt.

So, in short, the people that surround a victim are one of the ways a victim will either turn out healthy or unhealthy.

Thinking

Dumbledore could have done something to keep Severus safe. Take him away from his home, let him live in the castle, and get him some therapy and food. Be a little harder on the Marauders, and tell Severus the alternatives of becoming a dangerous person just for security. ANYTHING.

Anything.

Maybe it was because Snape was a Slytherin? Wasn't it the same thing with Tom? Also, back to what I said about there being a trend here - muggles REALLY love abusing wizarding kids, huh? The Dursleys with Harry, Tom's father with Tom, and Tobias with Severus. Yikes, if Harry was put in Slytherin, things wouldn't have gone very well.

Back to the Marauders!

The Marauders...they had a web of people to keep them safe. Their pranks were excused; they were even seen as charming little guys. It was easy for them to be liked and to grow into mature people because life made it easy for them.

Sirius had the potential to grow into a better person, thanks to his time spent with James and his parents, who provided a positive influence. Similarly, James benefited from the support of his family and the reputation associated with his house, which contributed to his development. Peter, often perceived as innocent and brotherly, gained a sense of belonging and security through his relationships with the Marauders and the values instilled by his house. Remus, who may have faced challenges early in life, also benefited from the strong bonds he formed with his friends. These connections helped him develop a solid reputation and maturity over time.

The Marauders evolved into responsible, better people. Snape, on the other hand, did not. How could he? Who was there to teach him how to become a functioning adult? Certainly not Albus, and definitely not Lucius, who still exhibited his own moments of immaturity.

I want to be clear that I do not excuse the harsh actions and words that Snape has directed toward the students he teaches. However, I believe it's important to share my insights and perspective on this debate. Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts!

[topgun-imagines]

Day 5: Head Above Water

Pairing: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

Synopsis: Iceman may have just lost his one and only reason for keeping his head above water: You.

Warnings: Mentions of drowning, death, thalassophobia, ejection, plane crash, & brief mention of panic attacks.

Word count: 1.2k

Drowning was a funny thing. You always expected that it was one of the most painful ways to go. However, as you floated further and further down in the dark, cold water, you realized just how wrong you were. The first few moments were horrible, your lungs burning as you struggled to return to the surface with your parachute tangled around your legs. Soon, it became too much. Water began to fill your lungs ever so slowly, the pain overwhelming. And then it was gone just as fast. Everything went dark.

Unbeknownst to you, your pilot was only a few meters above you, willing to risk his own life to save yours.

You weren’t even supposed to be here. That was what kept circling Iceman’s mind as he tried relentlessly to get to you. Slider was supposed to be flying with him. Not you. But the RIO was needed on the carrier for something that Ice couldn’t even remember now. Sure, the two of you had flown together before, but it had always been for training or simple missions. Never something as high-profile as this.

It’s not that the two of you didn’t work well together. Quite the opposite, in fact. You and Iceman worked so well together that you were considered a dream team, both in the air and on land. Even though you had only flown a couple of missions together, the two of you were perfect. Hell, even Slider was jealous.

This mission was special, something that could only be pulled off by the best of the best. Everything was going perfectly fine. Right up until the left wing of your jet was taken out with a missile that Ice had tried to avoid. Ultimately, he failed. And now here he was, wading in the frozen waters desperate to find you among the wreckage. He needed you to make it out okay. This mission was supposed to be the one that would send the two of you to Top Gun. Slider had been paired up with another pilot for the spot, meaning that it was one group or the other that got to go.

However, right now, Ice couldn’t find it in himself to care whether he made it to Top Gun or not. All he needed was for you to be okay. As long as you were okay, he would be too. But as the cold water began to set a chill deep into his bones, the hope that had been slowly dying in his chest was snuffed out immediately.

When the missile first struck the jet, the two of you knew exactly what to do. You ejected, followed shortly by Ice. However, your parachute didn’t deploy properly, sending you crashing into the debris-filled water much faster than anything that would be considered safe. Ice had watched, horror-stricken as you dissapeared beneath the surface of the water and never came back up. The seconds felt like hours before he was finally in the cold water, thrashing none too calmly in an attempt to get to you.

The fact that the pilot could no longer see your brightly coloured parachute terrified him to his very core. In one last ditch effort to locate where you were, Ice dunked his head under the water. Even though it was dark and the chances were slim, he was hoping he could at least catch a glimpse of you. Only when he was almost out of breath did he finally emerge from the water. All thoughts of his own safety were disregarded as he tried again and again to find you.

Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. The pilot had no idea what he was going to do if he lost you. He couldn’t even fathom returning to the carrier without you. You were his rock. The single most important person in his life. Sure, he had Slider. But you were there for him on nights when he woke up screaming, his mind plaguing him with terrifying images of losing you. Much like he was now. You were the person who made sure he was eating and sleeping instead of working himself to the bone. And he was just supposed to let you go? Not a chance.

One late night, you had showed up at Ice’s dorm in tears. That was the first time he had ever seen you like that and the pilot could still remember the horror he felt. It was eerily similar to how he was feeling now.

The two of you stayed up the whole night, talking about everything and nothing, all at once. That was the night that Ice first learned about your fear of oceans. Your father was in the Navy. It was why you joined in the first place. But it was also why you had the overwhelming fear that you just couldn't shake no matter what you did. You had lost your father in an accident just like this one.

When you were first selected to fly this mission with Iceman, he had confronted you about it. He wanted to be 100% sure that you would be able to handle flying that high-profile of a mission above the ocean. You had assured him that you would be fine and when he questioned you, you told him eight simple words. “I’ll be okay, Ice. Cause I trust you.” Those words seemed to echo around his head, taunting him for his failure to protect you.

Ice wasn’t sure how long he had been swimming back and forth in the water. He wasn’t even aware of how sore his arms had become. The only thing on his mind was you. A little soreness meant nothing to him as long as you were okay.

It could have been 20 minutes, it could have been 2 hours by the time the rescue chopper finally showed up. The men tried to haul Ice out of the frigid water but he wouldn't leave. Not without you. Against his wishes, he was pulled into the helicopter. The pilot was positive that he had never been more heartbroken and angry than when the chopper started to rise from the water. Without you. They were just going to leave you there. How could he stand for that?

Normally, Iceman wasn’t one to become upset easily and if you were to ask him, he would argue that he had a perfectly valid reason for his reaction. The men in that rescue helicopter had never heard such foul language before.

“How could you leave her!?” They tried to calm him down, insisting that there was another chopper right behind them with the sole intention of finding you. Ice didn’t care. He needed to be with you. He needed to know that you were still alive.

Even as the chopper continued back to the carrier, the men refused to tell him whether or not you were okay. He felt sick to his stomach. Usually, you were the one to make that feeling go away. But this time, you were the reason why it was there. His job was to protect you. You trusted him with your life. And he had failed. Needless to say, whether you lived or died, Iceman would never forgive himself.

a/n: thank you for reading! Join the whumptober taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021

[liass-21]

this trailer literally could not have come at a better time bc my benthan obsession has recently crept up again and now it’s like 100x worse

that said, imagine an au where after fallout benji and ethan stop talking. benji is always targeted more bc of his relationship to ethan & ethan realizes that that will never stop no matter what he does & benji’s life will always be in greater danger because of him. he thinks abt rogue nation & london & lane & then lane again & maybe even one more instance where something happens to benji so someone can get to ethan that’s not actually in the movies. & he realizes that the only way to keep benji safe is to distance himself from him. however, at the same time, benji is thinking through these same instances, how he’s always the one captured or used against ethan & thinks it’s because he’s the weak link. he’s not as good of an agent as everyone else & it’s obvious to everyone especially the bad guys.

i cant decide if this is an au where benthan are already dating for a few years (& have already been talking about marriage) & ethan breaks up with benji a few weeks after fallout & gives no explanation & then just stops talking to benji entirely & leaves benji there in the dust wondering what he did wrong. or if it’s where they’re just friends & after fallout ethan just slowly distances himself from benji – he is still polite in the office and acknowledges him & makes small talk, but he stops putting benji on his team during missions, stops talking to and hanging out with him outside of work, stops really being his friend.

but either way, benji eventually puts things together and realizes that ethan had realized the same thing he did after everything that went down – benji isn’t good enough. and ethan’s done dealing with it anymore. benji’s too much of a risk factor, he’s not good enough to be on ethan’s team, not good enough to be his friend/boyfriend, & ethan’s too polite to tell him that but it’s clear he doesn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

idk and then somehow sometime later benji confronts him about it, maybe he gets drunk and calls him & ethan goes down to the bar & takes him home & takes care of him (“what’re you doing here?” “you called” “so?”) & then they talk the next morning & ethan comes clean bc he feels terrible & it’s clear that all of this is hurting benji so much more than ethan could ever have imagined. & idk if they would get together then, i think it would take a while for ethan to come to terms with the fact that benji’s life will always be in danger bc of him & is it really better to hurt him this way than the alternative? (& in the case of them dating & ethan flat out dumping him with no warning or explanation, i think it would take a long time for benji to forgive him & get back together). & it’ll take a long time for both of them to heal from everything but at least they’re talking now

and yeah idk i don’t really have an ending & sorry this is slightly incomprehensible, my brain is not working, BUT i had to share bc this is eating me alive

new m:i trailer, benthan obsession reinvigorated, kai in my asks ranting about old men spy yaoi… world is healing 💜

that being said… ur MIND. it would be so angsty but also like so believable idk i can easily see both of them being like ah the only solution is to cut off the ones i love. i need to gnaw on them like a dog chew toy.

i love the idea of it being an ambiguous ending and like? they’re not really happy but at least they don’t hate each other/ignore each other/etc? and it’s slightly hopeful with a bittersweet tang because they both know that ethan will be in danger for the rest of his life because of the job and so benji will be too, but they decide that maybe (just maybe) it’s worth it.

ugh. chewing on them. tom cruise fandom we are so back

[nobodyfamousposts]

If the Dolls somehow made it to bigfatbreak's Viceroy AU, what do you think they would do?

Well, I wouldn't want to deviate too much from @bigfatbreak's au, so given the circumstances of the AU and Adrien's lack of knowledge that Marinette is Ladybug, the wish would either have to have been made pre-Mama's Day and reveal or Adrien lost his memories of Chaton and coparenting with Marinette. Or alternatively the dolls were just messing around and end up in an alternate reality and just decide to fix things as they come across them.

With that said, Chaton and Littlebug wouldn't know what happened or why the world changed, but they would still find their way to their respective parents and their new circumstances.

Chaton would go to the bakery and find Grand Mama is gone and Mama is sad and the butter-lies are everywhere. Grand Papa catches Chaton immediately. Tom for his part is initially wary, but thanks to his use of the Butterfly Miraculous, he can talk with Chaton and sense his emotions. A bit surprised that a doll has emotions, and even more surprised to find out the doll cares so much about Marinette. With the empathy powers of the Butterfly and the information from Nooroo and Chaton himself, Tom realizes Chaton carried over from the previous timeline and was created based on the Chat Noir hero. Much like Nooroo, Tom has Chaton stay with Marinette to keep her company and keep her safe. Chaton is happy about this since it means he can be with Mama still, even if she is different. Marinette is surprised with this, but hey, she's already met Nooroo and knows magic is real. Plus Chaton is too cute to be scared of.

Littlebug goes to Adrien. She is relieved Adrien is okay and Adrien in turn is relieved Littlebug at least is still around in this new crazy world. Littlebug is confused as to the changes. Seeing Adrien's mother is alive when Chaton tells her that Marinette's mother isn't. She finds this change unfavorable especially as she learns more about Emilie and comes to be increasingly disappointed in the mother Adrien had spoken to her so much about. Not helped by the fact that she still very much dislikes Gabriel and becomes even more suspicious of him. She stays hidden as much as possible and doesn't risk letting Gabriel find her, even when she's pretending to be a toy (especially important as Ladybug isn't a thing here in this timeline).

...of course, that's not to say she doesn't mess with him. Gabriel still finds himself the subject of a number of unpleasant happenstances when it's most inconvenient for him.

When Adrien starts regularly going to the bakery and spending time with Marinette, Littlebug goes with him. This naturally leads her to 1) reunite with Chaton and 2) discover Tom has the Butterfly Miraculous. Yes, he finds her just like he found Chaton by sensing her presence with the Butterfly Miraculous, but make no mistake: she finds him first.

She isn't sure what to think about him using the Butterfly Miraculous, but he isn't Hawk Moth, isn't mean to Nooroo, and has not nor intends to hurt Adrien or Marinette. Not to mention that when Tom (being able to sense Littlebug's emotions and her fierce protectiveness) outright informs her of Hawk Moth targeting Marinette and his plans to track him down....yeaaah, Littlebug is ALL on board with that. She agrees to helping him. Uses the time Adrien comes by to visit with Chaton but also plan with Tom and let him know anything she knows or remembers or finds out. She helps him spy on Gabriel in particular, since in her mind if ANYONE is stinky enough to be Hawk Moth, it's him.

Littlebug and Chaton would have full memories of the previous timeline. They would know each other and about Marinette and Adrien being Ladybug and Chat Noir. Sadly, they wouldn't know that Gabriel is Hawk Moth otherwise things would be resolved very quickly as Chaton would tell Tom about him right away and Littlebug would enact ALL. UNHOLY. VENGEANCE upon him before Tom even gets a chance to.

Then there's Chaton. He's a good boy, so he's never far from Marinette and helps her any way he can. It's hard because she's sad and working too much so often, but he does his best! And it's strange being around the not-quite-Butter-lies (Fairies?), but they're nice and friendly so he doesn't eat them, which Nooroo quite appreciates. Despite the changes, Chaton would be happy here.

.....if only the mean whispies would go away.

He can see them. See them and feel them. Dark icky things that twist and coil and attach to Mama. He thinks at first they're what's making her sad. But then they attack his Mama at certain times. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't like it. So he bats the whispies away if he can.

....sometimes that means the whispies hurt him instead.

He doesn't like them.

He. Doesn't. Like. Them.

He can push at them to help Mama breathe, but he can't fight them off. Not entirely. He tries though! He's a good boy! But it's hard. And it hurts. And he gets tired more easily because Mama doesn't have the Pinkling.

Grand Papa is different here. He doesn't know about the whispies but seems to understand when Chaton tries to tell him. All Chaton knows is that the whispies are hurting Mama and were caused by the past Hawk Moth. Grand Papa is trying to find him to make the whispies stop.

Grand Papa is better than Meanie Moth. He listens to Chaton. And Littlebug seems to like him, too! So Chaton will trust Grand Papa to stop Meanie Moth. He will protect Mama in the meantime.

And when Chaton gets tired or is feeling hurt, Mama and the Fairies help him feel better.

But that's okay! He's a good boy and he'll take it so Mama doesn't have to.

...

Ultimately, the dolls try to help the best way they can.

Chaton by protecting Marinette.

Littlebug by finding the one responsible and making him pay.

[7upslut]

7, 8 and 9, please? 🥺

you got it bestie 🤞

7. Thiam #6 After Death: this is gonna be a one shot ghost/cemetery worker AU!! I'm very excited about it and my friends keep yelling at me to finish it lol. Basically, Theo has just died and his ghost is now roaming the cemetery that Liam works at. Liam works at a flower shop on the premises and for some reason can see Theo (and only Theo). And fun fact I actually did side work at a cemetery for a while so the cemetery I'm describing in it is actually real!!

“Okay, sure, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go–” the man walked a bit closer to Liam. It should have freaked him out, but it didn’t.

“Good.”

“– but only if you tell me your name.” Liam was taken aback. That was not at all what he had expected.

“What?” Liam knew it was probably stupid, but he took a small step forward. This was one of the strangest experiences he’d ever had, and it was making him feel a bit off balance. Physically and mentally.

“Your name. It’s what people call you. If you need help, it’s probably on your ID, too.” The condescending tone was back in his voice, and he had a callous smile on his lips. The man was obviously pleased with his stupid jokes and comments.

“Fuck you!” Liam said, as he snapped out of the odd daze he had been in. He took a significant step back and started swiveling his head, looking for Parrish.

“That’s a terrible name. Shame on your parents–”

8. Thiam #11 My Bloody Valentine AU: again this is going to be a one shot AU and this one is going to be based off the movie My Bloody Valentine (specifically the Jensen Ackles version) with Liam as Sarah and Theo as Tom. (I unfortunately don’t have a whole lot written for this so I’m not gonna add anything)

9. Thiam #9 Found in the Dark: straight up this is just gonna be like 4 chapters of like kinda violent smut. If you wanna get deep about it you could say it's about Liam allowing himself to engage in "safe violence" with Theo and be vulnerable like that but also it came about from a bunch of my friends picking out tags and I made a fic from that lol

That seemed to be the better way to think about Theo. Just violence and blood and no weird fluttering in his stomach. Whatever mind games Theo was playing, Liam wouldn’t be tricked by them. He’d stay focused—Theo was the enemy. Even if sometimes he would help the pack, or pull Liam out of the way of something dangerous.

Then Theo glanced at him and Liam felt a hot blush run across his face in embarrassment. He hoped no one was paying attention to him. They should all be too preoccupied with the murder that happened. Liam should also be thinking about it, or at least care, but he couldn’t focus with Theo there. All he could think about was being held down, fingers pressing against his lips, and tasting his own blood mixed with Theo’s cum. He thought about every time he’d touched himself after that night. He’d also started to fantasize about blood and bruises on his skin being soothed over by rough hands.

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 4

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3k

Summary: He has a guitar and a quiet place to play now. Joel is starting to appreciate slowing down a little, but still wants to be useful. Finally off of his crutches, maybe he can be.

Warnings: A little angsty this time. Little bit of pining

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 4: Trust

He hates it. He fucking hates it. Sitting all day. The simple act of walking a few feet exhausting him, but he can’t seem to do much else. Like a lazy house cat. It’s foreign to him— being looked after. He didn’t like feeling so weak. Being so goddamn helpless. It’s simply not who he was. He protected the helpless… or used them if he needed to. But he was never one of them— pathetic and small. 

Joel didn’t like it at all. 

He doesn’t know what to do with all this time. He thinks he’s forgotten how to simply just live anymore. Survival was all there was for so long, and now he could actually take a moment for himself— and it was too much. Like he was suffocating on nothing but the air he could finally stop to breathe.

Then there was you. 

You and that impenetrable cheery attitude. Yet another thing here that was completely alien to him. 

He doesn’t deserve this— Any of it. Being catered to. Staying in the little paradise you’d built. Bleeding out in a field alone for the birds to eat was the death he deserved. So why did you take pity on him? What made him so fucking special to be given yet another second chance? You wouldn’t have taken him in if you knew who he was— what he’d done. He knows that for sure. 

You were a capable woman, smart and kind— but so fucking stupid. 

Everyone he knows would have just left him there. He would have if he were in your position. A stranger beaten to hell in the middle of nowhere, there were too many risks with it. Yet you dragged him right through your front door.

You welcomed him in with open arms. That’s just not how it goes anymore. All your time up here alone must have made you thick in the head. You gave him your bed. You feed him your food and put clothes on his back. Why? For nothing in exchange? He still can’t wrap his head around it. 

Has the world really made him so callous? It’s what’s kept him alive for so long. It’s how you survive another day without being able to ever sleep through the night. He wonders if you had the same problems as him. As everyone else. 

You, in many ways, were an enigma. 

You talked. You talked all the time. To him, to that damn dog, to yourself. After years alone it’s probably all you had. Like that movie with Tom Hanks and the volleyball. You’d been alone for so long, it was only natural… and he wasn’t entirely unhappy to oblige some of your ramblings. Some.

While you did build something amazing here, he still pitied you. Pitted the fact that you had only yourself to share it with. 

Christ, even someone like Bill had Frank to share his little safe haven with. 

How did someone like you end up all alone here? Someone beautiful and kind and with valuable skills— someone who should never be alone. The story was probably a sad one. Sad stories were all there seemed to be anymore. He saw it in your eyes sometimes, despite the smile underneath them. That deep pain no one can really hide. Eyes that have seen horrible things. He’s sure his eyes looked the same. 

You turned that pain into this place. Pouring your soul into everything here. He turned his pain into… something else. 

He’s ashamed to admit he was obsessing over what your angle could possibly be, why you would keep him here. What you could gain from him. 

What changed his mind was so stupid. You brought him that cup of coffee and eggs and he could just see it in you. He’s not sure what was so different about you that time. You weren’t pitifully leaving food next to the bed. He didn’t ask for anything. Just a kind gesture to say you were thinking of him as more than a hurt man. A cup of stale coffee in some faded old Garfield mug. Then it was just so obvious—there was no angle here. This is just who you were. 

A good woman. A loving woman. The rarest thing in the world now. 

Or maybe Joel just really missed coffee. 

You’d made something truly beautiful. Not only surviving but thriving all alone. You’d left the property vastly under-protected, but in a way you worked smarter rather than harder. You camouflage yourself rather than make something conspicuous that needs constant maintenance like Bill’s stupid giant gate. The house was almost completely eaten up with overgrown vines sprawling all over every inch of it. Instead of a wall, you planted flowers. Ridiculous… but effective. He’d taken a short walk on the outside of the property the other day and once he got a good few yards away it was just another mass of overgrowth in the forest. 

It couldn’t be sustainable. Nothing these days was. It would all have to be abandoned one day. Just another memory. Yet you put the effort in to make it a nice place to live. Not just a passive temporary shelter, but an actual home. It’d been so long since he’d been in a room that was actually loved. Bill and Frank’s place was loved but in a different way, like Bill was preserving something. A little time capsule of the past— But you somehow embraced the oddity of your situation. 

Random junk decorated your walls and yard. Old rusted things that had no use in them anymore. Yet you displayed them as if to say this was something once. A reminder maybe. The walls of the cabin were lined with old magazine pages, dried herbs and flowers, and old relics of the past. Even a few candy wrappers hung there like family photos. Proof of humanity. Plants in every corner. You used every inch of space selfishly. 

He noticed a few strings of Christmas lights hung around the house and across the property. They were useless now but he can almost picture you dancing at night with the property lit up and music blasting. You seemed like the kind of woman that’d like to dance. 

I was a cluttered mess, but a beautiful one. Chaos yet everything had its place. Everything had its purpose here— except for him. 

He’d been toying with the guitar on the porch for the last 2 days. At first, it sounded like familiarizing himself— scales and reluctant plucking. Seeing if he could still do it. Then a few licks that could resemble an actual song. You didn’t recognize most of them, but it was still nice to have something new to listen to. It was nice to have something to listen to at all.

He was skilled with it. Not a rockstar but well enough to hold his own— Not that you could really tell. You were a little tempted to start shouting song requests once it sounds like he’s got the hang of it again. 

Art had one or two song books lying around— Mostly consisting of classic rock and country. Still, Joel mulled them over all the same. You hadn’t found any chores for him to do while remaining mostly immobile. You gave him a basket of beans to shuck and he had them finished in less than an hour. So you dubbed him the title of radio instead. He didn’t seem amused by it, but it didn’t stop you from leaning into the nickname. 

“Next station!” You playfully shout from the garden. He’d been driving himself half mad for the last 20 minutes trying to get a particular riff just right. 

 “The station changes when I say it changes!” He shouts back, frustration pricking his words. He attempts the riff one more time and stumbles over his own fingers yet again. He mumbles something under his breath and flips to a new page in the country songbook. You hide a smile. 

“Freebird!” You enthusiastically request for roughly the billionth time since he started playing that thing. 

“If you say that one more time, I swear I’m leaving,” He grumbles, coming to a new page. He scans it briefly, recognition flashing in his eyes. “I know this one.” He mumbles, positioning his fingers.

A few practice picks and he starts a slow and clunky melody you didn’t recognize but was still overall pleasant. All of his slow playing was. You glance over and notice him mouthing some words in rhythm with his plucking. He’s putting a song together.

Is he going to sing? You wonder. Now that’d be a show. 

For once since he got here you decided to just keep your mouth shut and enjoy the moment. He was finally relaxing. Comfortable with the situation. It took over a week but you finally didn’t feel like you were walking on eggshells around him. You hope he felt the same towards you. 

You have lunch together— A fresh salad with a boiled egg and some rabbit jerky. You have most of your meals together now. For the first time in a while, you were enjoying mealtimes. It was just something passive you had to do to just fuel yourself. It was a chance for you to slow down too— and learn a little bit more about each other. 

“You said you’re from Texas, right?”

“Austin,” He clarifies, pushing around the greens on his plate, “Came up here when it all started. Been here ever since.”

You nod, your eyes looking back down at your own plate. You didn’t want to push anything, he obviously didn’t like to talk much but neither of you liked sitting in silence. You were both trying.

“Saw a Generator back there,” He breaks the latest awkward silence that brewed, “Looks like it still works?”

“Barely useful,” You grumble, “Gas powered. Only have so much juice left for it. I only turn it on for emergencies or… special occasions.”

“Special occasions?”

“Holidays. My birthday. Or just… bad days” You feel almost embarrassed to admit it, “I use the stereo or watch a movie. It’s like a… treat.”

“A treat,” You catch a glimpse of a smile on his lips. He’s amused at the idea of your little parties. It was a little silly, yes, but it’s certainly kept you sane a few times. 

Entertainment like that was a rarity these days, so whenever you had it you felt like the richest person in the world. Art didn’t have the best selection of music and movies for your taste but it was still something. You’ve unwillingly become a big fan of The Eagles and a lot of Clint Eastwood movies.

You both finish lunch in silence and move on to the next item on the docket. You see his face drop when you come back out with your medical bag.

“Bandage change already?” he asks. You’d been changing his bandages daily right before bed.

“Not yet actually,” You take a seat on the floor in front of him. “Today you get to come out of crutch jail. Can I see your foot?”

He scoots closer to you and gently places his wrapped foot on your lap. He’s eager. You can tell just how much he hated being so immobile. The image of him making a run for it as soon as you take the stabilizers out flashes through your mind. It’s a little cartoonish and funny but from what little you know about him he’ll be leaving as soon as he can walk a straight line halfway decently— Then it’ll be just you and Gus again.

“You sure the pain’s gotten better?” you ask one final time, “Nothing feels… off?”

“I know what broken bones feel like,” he assures you with a small eye roll. Well, without an X-ray machine, his intuition was the next best thing you had. What could go wrong?

“Okay,” you nod and begin the process.

He winces as you unwind the bandages and slip out the makeshift braces. The swelling has gone down considerably but there’s still a little stress on the skin. You gently roll his ankle through a series of movements to assess the damage. He gives an answer for each position through gritted teeth. Overall, it’s not too bad and likely not broken. The time for resting was over. Now he had to move if he wanted to speed up his recovery.

“Do those stretches twice a day. Feel free to walk around as much as you’d like, just don’t stress it too much. Use a walking stick if you need,” You instruct him as you gently roll the compression bandages around your hand and place them back in the bag, “You can put your boots on, just tie them loose. Move it around whenever you’re sitting, keep the blood flowing. Movement is your friend now.”

“Goody,” He groans as he leans down to roll his sock over his now only moderately swollen foot. “Alright, what do you need help with?”

Already back on the grind. 

“I don’t–” you cut yourself off and actually think. He needs to move around. He’s healing up amazingly. Sitting around won’t help him anymore. You haven’t had the option to have help in so long that you don’t actually know what you need. There had to be something for him though, “What are ya good, Joel Miller?”

“Lately, just sitting around and lookin’ pretty.” You pause in shock before a laugh slips out more like a raspberry. It’s the first honest-to-good joke he’s told since he got here. He smiles at your reaction and you notice how the lines on his face change when he does. The dimples in his cheeks. The creases around his soft brown eyes. He was rather pretty… you suppose. 

“I’m good at huntin’, I suppose,” he finally answers. “Noticed we went through those pheasants and rabbit you had.”

“We did,” You confirm. 

“You have any traps set up?”

“I do not,” You confirm again, “Never learned that one.”

“Then I’ll set up some traps nearby,” He stands up with a grunt, taking a moment to regain balance. You hop up and offer your elbow for support but he waves you off, leaning on the railing instead. He wants to do it himself. That’s fine.

You’re a little worried about him going off on his own but he wouldn’t have offered if he wasn’t going to come back…right?

“I’ll go with you.” You offer.

“You have plenty to do here. I can manage if you at least point me in the right direction of some rabbit trails.”

“I can do that. Gus’ll probably go with you. He’ll show you all the good spots and the way back, hopefully.” You look at the lazy dog sitting on the doorstep. His ears perk up at the mention of his name and strolls over to you, “Whadda need for supplies?”

“Rope and wire if you have it. A hammer would be nice.” He takes an experimental step. It’s clumsy but manageable. The next few days are gonna be rough for him but it’ll be what’s best for his ankle in the long run.

You lead him over to the Buck Shack, where you kept most of your miscellaneous supplies. He’s slow but steady, still getting the hang of it. You fill a bag with rope, some rusting wire, a hunting knife, and a hammer. 

“I’ll tie a few here and I’ll head out and place ‘em,” he says, walking over to the workbench.

“Whatever you gotta do,” you say, turning to leave him to his work. You pause at the door. This could be an opportunity to get to know him more. For him to actually show you something. You’re debating your next words, but they still come before you can stop yourself, “Will you show me?”

“What?” his brows knit together.

“Show me… how to make a trap.” You let the request sit a moment before you start to regret it, “Actually, you don’t have to—”

“Okay,” He nods, gesturing you over to him, “Come over here.”

You skittishly walk to his side as he takes the spool of thin wire out of the bag. He cuts a length of it and spins a loop around his fist. 

“For just a simple snare there’s not much to it, actually. Just a noose really. Most traps start the same, it just depends on how you set ‘em up that’s different,” Joel says as he ties a loose knot at the top of the loop, wrapping the wire around itself several times. You watch his large hands work with intensity. Callous, worked hands doing such small delicate movements— His knuckles still a little bruised from whatever fight he had been in. Your imagination runs a little wild at the sight of such strong things doing such small, purposeful movements.

“Just like this,” he holds up the small noose and pulls the loop tighter around his fingers, “This is for a still snare, good for rabbits and squirrels. Tie this up for them to run through on the ground and that’s about it. Nothing fancy. You try.”

You silently cut yourself a length of wire and copy his movements, wrapping it around your fist to make a loop and then twisting the wire around itself loosely at the top. He was right, it wasn’t anything fancy but you can’t help but feel like yours is inferior to his. 

“Like this?” You hold up the completed trap. 

He slides two fingers through the loop and pulls it taut. His eyes burn into yours as he does so— slowly. You immediately feel your cheeks start to heat up as he curls his fingers and gives a small tug. It wasn’t forceful but you can’t help but take a step closer to him.

“Perfect, darlin’.”

[shads-shipposts]

Another week, another chapter! We pick up right where we left off, and things go downhill pretty quick. But, it's lore accurate to my own fighting style! :D 

CW: Graphic canon-atypical violence, mild descriptiveness of brewing panic attacks. 

Ao3 Version

Masterlist

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"Fact is, boss," Allan said, speaking up and trying to keep his voice uninterested. "Even if the kid is loony." He ignored the offended look Shadow sent his way. "She knows too much to be let go."

Both about the current hunt and about Scarlett.

"I say we take her on board, just make sure she doesn't decide to slip away and warn anyone."

"You mean to bring her aboard the ship? That is no place for a woman to step foot," Sakharine scoffed.

"I'll show you where I'd like to place my foot," Shadow muttered.

"Tell me then, boss," Allan said, ignoring Shadow. "What would you suggest? Kidnappin' holds quite a lighter sentence compared to murder."

"You always result to baser urges, but why should I be surprised?" Sakharine retorted, earning himself a fierce glare from Shadow.

That's it. Drive her right to me. Dig yourself deeper in this hole.

"We discussed this earlier, boss," Allan said, letting his voice harden. "Shadow's not for the crew to pass around. Thought I made that clear."

See, kid? You can trust me. You want to trust me. I'll keep you safe. I'm the better option. Not him. Me.

"What other reason would you want a young woman on the ship?"

Allan asked with a lazy gesture at Shadow. "You plan to just let her run free?"

Sakharine shook his head in disgust. "Of course not. She would remain here, we have rooms to lock her away in."

Allan glanced at the broken window in unison with Shadow and Tom. "Sure, sure. But don't really think you want to leave Nestor alone with Shadow 'ere. Kid packs a punch, and those teeth are wickedly sharp."

Sakharine raised a brow. "And who, pray tell, would manage her on the ship?"

Allan gestured to his crewmate. "Tom. She's sweet on 'im anyway, kept lettin' 'im off light during the brawl this morning."

"And what if she sabotages the ship?" Sakharine demanded.

"She's wild, not insane," Allan replied. "Only a fool would destroy a ship while they're on it in the middle of the Atlantic with no help for miles." He slipped into a persuasive tone. "Think about it. She can't call for help, and she'll be under guard at all times so she won't be able to damage anything. Bringing her aboard is the best course of action."

Sakharine narrowed his eyes, then moved away to ponder the suggestion.

As he turned his back, Shadow shot Allan a questioning look as her head tilted ever so slightly. There was still anger there, but a new dose of worry and mistrust.

The "committed" comment from his boss must have gotten to her.

I won't toss you in there, kid. I want you right here where I can get that knowledge out of your head.

Besides, throwing someone in an asylum to be committed rested at the very bottom of his list for punishments toward his enemies. He'd seen the inside of those hellholes.

Animals sold for slaughter received better treatment.

Keeping his face neutral lest Sakharine turned around and caught him, Allan gave Shadow a quick wink.

Her brows lifted before furrowing once more, this time in thought.

He gestured subtly for her to remain calm, hand relaxed and palm parallel with the floor. "Relax," he mouthed.

She scanned him again, but he saw her ears twitch before she looked back at Sakharine.

I'll take that as you understand what I'm doing.

Allan shot a glance at Tom, making sure the man wasn't close to passing out from shock. He stood near Shadow, but leaned on a table with his brows furrows and eyes shifting rapidly from side to side as they often did when he struggled to process something.

Allan moved to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. Tom jumped under it, but just nodded without making eye contact and rested his hand over Allan's.

Shadow had been watching Sakharine mutter to himself by the window, irritation in those blue eyes, but now she looked between Allan and Tom with concern.

Why do you have a soft spot for Tom?

And why do I have a weird feeling it's related to Scarlett?

Venturing closer, Shadow nudged Tom's leg. "You ok?" she asked softly.

Tom nodded, offering a weak smile before staring at the ground again.

Shadow didn't look convinced, turning to Allan for reassurance with a quizzical, worried furrow on her brow.

Allan just gave her a subtle nod.

He's fine.

Some of the worry left Shadow's face, but she still watched Tom carefully for any signs of collapse.

"You said you knew this... movie script by heart?" Sakharine called from the window.

Shadow huffed. "Need hearin' aids, old man? Aye."

Sakharine shot her a hateful glare but returned to his ponderings.

Shadow rolled her eyes ,but her expression softened once more when it returned to Tom. Her hand moved, starting to reach out, but uncertainty flooded her face and she dropped it back to her side.

Fighting with words and fists and feet and teeth is in your comfort zone, but comforting someone requires stepping outside that bubble?

No matter, he could use her uncertainty to his advantage. He needed to show she could look to him to lead if she found herself on uneven ground. And the best way to encourage that was to reward it with support when she stumbled.

He shifted behind her and nudged her closer to Tom.

Shadow glanced at him but stepped to Tom's side. Waiting, she leaned on the table next to him and pressed her leg against his.

Tom patted her leg without looking. "I'm fine."

"Can you cease your mutterings? I am trying to think," Sakharine snapped at them, gaze trained on the window.

Satisfaction ran through Allan at Shadow's venomous look, although the low growl from her caused a bit of concern for two reasons.

A, humans did not make noises like that. Not normal ones at least.

B... it reminded him way too much of Scarlett.

Tom seemed to think the same, glancing at Shadow with slight surprise before looking at Allan over her head. "You hear that?" he mouthed, indicating Shadow with his eyes.

Allan nodded.

Tom glanced again at Shadow, a thoughtful look on his face now.

Shadow... really had a lot of parallels to Scarlett.

An androgynous, freckled face with blue eyes that varied between more green and more blue depending on her mood.

A sharp tongue and wit that always had a creative flare.

Odd little behavioral quirks more animal than human.

Reliance on biting and kicking in fights.

Disdain for authority and those who threw their weight around.

Brash and reckless actions spurned by strong emotions.

And...

A willingness to help Allan and his men rid themselves of an occupying force.

Something weird was going on here.

"Hmm," Sakharine mused finally, snapping Allan's attention back to the present. "She would certainly be a liability."

Did Shadow wince?

A new wave of apprehension that had nothing to do with Scarlett rose in Allan's throat.

Physical setbacks were one thing, behavioral quirks were one thing, emotional insecurities were one thing... but emotional scarring? Far harder to plan for, and therefore harder to control. People with trauma in their past, even those with the most steadfast personalities, could turn in an instant if you hit a sore spot. Older men may be able to keep a lid on the boiling water, but as young as Shadow was...

He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. Shadow at first glared at the hand, shifting away slightly, but she relaxed somewhat when he added pressure.

Sakharine continued, voice grating out through clenched teeth, "But as much as it pains... me to admit it, Allan, you are correct."

Oh, I hope it eats you alive having to step down off your high horse to give me any sort of credit.

Sakharine turned to face them again, a grimace on his face like he just smelled something unpleasant. "Perhaps spending time with your men would teach her some manners."

Shadow looked less than impressed about the comment, one brow raised as her nose wrinkled in disdain. Tom also looked irked, scoffing quietly with a shake of his head.

As for Allan, it took everything not to laugh as he knew damn well his men would only make Shadow worse, not better.

A rough around the edges lot with a laundry list of crimes ranging from petty theft to gruesome premeditated murder of the first degree, they certainly wouldn't be used as shining beacons of morality any time soon.

"Very well," Sakharine said firmly, strolling back to them. "Get her aboard by any means necessary. Should she struggle or resist, remind her of her position in this."

Careful, boss, Allan thought, catching sight of the anger sparking to life in Shadow's eyes as she pulled from his grasp. She just might have a go at you, and I won't be pulling her off your bony carcass. Not right away at least.

He still needed the self-important geezer.

For now.

"Do not look at me like that," Sakharine said with mock remorse as he stepped closer to Shadow, who again stepped forward to meet the challenge.

Allan grabbed the back of Tom's belt as the man quickly stood, just in case the man dove headlong into the resulting fray. Tom shot him an annoyed look as Allan pulled him back, but the first mate shook his head in warning.

Don't get involved, you'll make things worse.

"I offered you civility first," Sakharine continued. "But I'm afraid you've proven yourself unworthy of such grace."

Shadow narrowed her eyes, a snarl revealing her teeth. "Fuckin' bite me."

Yeah, the boys are going to love you.

"Such foul language. But I'm sure, in time." Sakharine tilted her chin up with his left hand, forcing Allan to tighten his grip on Tom's belt. "You will see the error of your ways."

Bad idea.

Shadow's eyes drifted down. "Ya know," she drawled, voice unnervingly calm in a manner that sent alarm bells ringing in Allan's head. "In karate, they didn't teach me to make the first move." Her gaze lifted, eyes colder than ice. "They taught me to make the last."

CRUNCH.

Allan knew she'd bite him, and bite hard, but he didn't expect her to bite clear through his thumb!

Fucking hell!

The older man shrieked in agony, snatching his hand to his chest as thick, dark blood seeped from between his fingers. He leveled an enraged glare at Shadow. "You savage bitch!"

Shadow spat the severed thumb onto the red-splattered tile floor. "You talked to me like a dog," she snarled, a wild look entering her eyes as she bared her teeth in a borderline psychotic grin. "So I bit you like one!"

The gears spun in Allan's head as he grabbed Tom's arm and dug his heels in to hold the shorter but stronger man back.

Shadow was more or less at ease with Allan and his men, joking with them even during the fights. She hadn't struck with intent to seriously harm when fighting Allan or his men, even when a gun and a knife got involved. She let Allan and his men more or less manhandle her, with only mild retaliation if she reacted at all.

She barely tolerated Sakharine before this, detestation in her gaze now as she glared at him. She took off a finger just now with Sakharine, just because the man talked down to her and touched her face. That single touch from Sakharine was enough to earn a very painful wound.

Shadow wasn't after the treasure, nor after Sakharine's money and power. There was no loyalty there, no respect. Nothing to win her to the aristocrat.

But Allan...

That was another story entirely.

He finally let go of Tom, quickly stepping in between Sakharine and Shadow to prevent any more attacks. Predictably, Tom immediately went to Shadow and stood protectively by her side with an arm held out in front of her, barring Sakharine from her with a fierce glare usually reserved for men on Tom's hit list.

Tom, it's not Shadow's health you need to be worried about. She's got murder in her eyes and I don't really feel like finding out tonight if she's got the stomach to actually commit.

"You have overstepped, and this will not... go unpunished," Sakharine hissed, tears streaming from his eyes as more blood pooled on the black and white tile flooring. His words came in broken segments, chest heaving. "Rabid strays... like you deserve nothing more than to be put down... like the animals you are!"

Allan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and quickly wrapped it tightly around the injured hand. "I'll deal with her, boss," he grunted, somewhat concerned about how much red stained his own hands.

He's goin' to need to go to the ER with this!

Allan looked at Shadow, anger seeping through. He said she could bite him, not amputate a finger! What was she thinking? Had she thought at all?

Her gaze stopped him from yelling, however.

Those blue eyes held rage and hatred, yes, but also... confusion. They drifted to the thumb on the floor then to Sakharine's bloodied hand. Her mouth moved as she tasted the blood dripping from it, a slightly haunted look briefly passing over her face before she shook herself and glared at Sakharine again with a low growl.

Still think this is a dream?

"See that you teach that... wench some manners," Sakharine seethed, gritting his teeth against the pain as he pushed Allan away. "Because if you won't... I'll see to it that... my men do."

The louder, angrier growl that came from Shadow just barely classified as human, and she ducked around Tom's arm and headed for Sakharine again. Tom did nothing, a morbid and savage sort of eagerness in his dark eyes.

Damn you, Thomas! Keep her out of this before she digs herself deeper!

Clamping a hand on Shadow's shoulder to halt her, leaving a crimson handprint on her grey shirt, Allan barked, "Enough!"

Shadow's wild eyes didn't leave Sakharine, reddened teeth still bared, but she also didn't snap at Allan's hand despite being well within range. Nor did her hands grab his wrist. Nor did her leg move to nail him south of the belt.

Allan tested the waters, slowly pushing her back towards Tom. It took some pressure, but she did eventually step back.

"Tom," he ordered, pushing her one last time before letting go. "Get 'er back to the car."

"Can I find a sink first?" Shadow asked, spitting out more blood. "I don't wanna catch whatever STD that fuckwit is carrying."

"Should have thought about that before you bit his finger off!" Allan retorted, but nodded to Tom.

She yielded more easily with him, shooting one last glare at Sakharine before following Tom as he pulled her by her upper arm out of the room.

Allan turned to Sakharine. "You need to get that checked by a doc, boss," he said, trying to tend to the man's hand again.

The bastard was no use to him if he bled to death.

Sakharine sent a venomous glare after Shadow as he pushed Allan away. "I should have... that mongrel arrested for assault!"

"She could also have the lot of us arrested for kidnapping and extortion," Allan reminded him.

"Then we will... have to find another punishment fitting... for that savage animal. Perhaps a muzzle, since she wants to be so..." He sucked in a pained breath. "Rabid. Or a night in that cage."

Not if I can help it. Treat someone like a beast and don't be shocked when they decide to prove you right.

"Take away her teeth and you may find she has other methods of ruinin' your day," Allan remarked. "But I'll handle her. You really should go to a doc for that injury, human spit is notorious for causin' infections."

"At a public hospital? The last thing I need to do is give that FBI agent a trail to sniff out," Sakharine spat. "No, I have connections. He will attend to me here."

"Suit yourself, boss," Allan said with a shrug as the man staggered out of the room, screaming for his butler.

"Sir."

Allan jumped with a curse, shocked to find Nestor standing nearby.

He didn't particularly care for the man, but also didn't feel any hostility either. Nestor had enough sense to keep his mouth closed and not question the strange visitors his master had, which Allan could certainly respect.

What Allan didn't respect, however, was how easily the man snuck up on him. It'd been years since someone crept up on him so easily. Worse... Allan could have sworn the man wasn't even in the room until... just now.

"Shouldn't you be attending to your master?" Allan demanded.

Nestor, unnervingly, didn't comment but just kept staring at him.

"What is it?" Allan growled, heart still racing.

"Do keep an eye on the young lady." Despite his age and sleepy look, Nestor's eyes glinted as sharply as a steel blade. "Her headstrong nature may lead her to make a rash decision. It would be unwise to leave her unattended."

"Keep her away from Sakharine and don't let the man catch her alone."

Allan turned to leave. "Don't concern yourself. My men won't let 'er outta their sights."

"It would be best." Nestor paused. "She trusts you."

Allan stopped and faced him. "What of it?"

"Take care not to lose it."

Did... his eyes just go green?

"She would be a very dangerous enemy."

Yes, his eyes were definitely green now.

"Even Scarlett would look harmless next to her."

What!?

The green faded, but the chill in Allan's bones remained. It only worsened when Nestor gave him a confused look.

"Everything alright, sir?"

"What did you just say?"

Nestor frowned. "It would be best not to let her out of your sight?"

Not that, the other thing!

But Nestor wasn't the sort to play games, so Allan had no doubt the man genuinely did not recall...

Whatever just happened.

"Right," Allan muttered, heading for the door so Nestor didn't spot the look of alarm spreading across his face.

He didn't care for that spooky incident.

Not one bit.

That was the first time he'd heard Scarlett's name from anyone outside his men aside from Shadow but she didn't exactly count given her god-like knowledge.

Nestor knew nothing, nothing about Scarlett. Allan never mentioned her to Sakharine, and none of the crew that Scarlett interacted with had spoken to Sakharine without Allan nearby.

No one knew of Scarlett.

Except for Shadow and...

Trevor.

Who also had green eyes.

Allan stopped dead in his tracks, an odd combination of horror and confusion swelling in his chest.

He'd been certain the man was an Alphian thanks to his lightning attack from earlier, but now?

Alphians, at least what little he knew of them, didn't possess people. Scarlett could stalk people's dreams and take them out, but only when the other person was asleep!

At least... Allan thought Scarlett had that ability.

He swore he knew more about Alphians when Scarlett was around, but now he could recall less and less with each passing day. Whole chunks of information, vital information, just... gone. What little remained was almost too hazy or foggy to be of any use.

He did remember one thing, however.

Scarlett was a force that ordinary people were ill-equipped to deal with. Especially if you had no idea what an Alphian was.

Trevor had to be an Alphian, but the possible possession suggested he had another species in him. Alphians weren't the only aliens running around, Allan knew, and if Alphians could interbreed with humans then another species could interbreed with Alphians too.

The question now, of course, was what species? Were they just as powerful as Alphians? Or perhaps even more so?

Congrats, Shadow. You just became even more important.

No more. No more would he allow her to dance around this subject. The issue of Scarlett had dragged out long enough; Allan would get his answers before they left Marlinspike.

But, for now...

He had to deal with the fallout of the mess he just allowed.

Anger.

Fury.

Shock.

Confusion.

Worry.

Dread.

Fear.

Panic.

All emotions coursing through me, shifting more rapidly than some concert strobe light.

It didn't take long for the heat of the moment to cool and fade, leaving horror to take its place as the reality of what just happened sank in. I'd managed to hold it off while I was stuck in that room, but unfortunately... fighting to keep anxiety spirals at bay only makes them worse...

And now mine returned with a vengeance.

I'd... I'd just bitten a man's finger off.

It'd been easy, as easy as biting a carrot in half, but it wasn't as easy as it should have been.

Wasn't as clean as it should have been.

Wasn't... as abstract as it should have been.

His thumb should have been like biting smoke or fog. It should have evaporated under my teeth.

I could never taste in dreams.

Never smell.

I shouldn't have felt bone and tendon, felt them sever and shear beneath my teeth. Shouldn't have felt the skin break, felt the blood vessels pop and explode under the pressure. Shouldn't have felt hot, thick blood fill my mouth and trickle down the back of my tongue into my throat.

It felt so very, very real.

The sharp tang of copper and the pungent smell adjacent to spoiled milk continued to override my senses, damn near choking me. If the overpowering taste of blood wasn't enough, I felt the tell-tale signs of a rising panic attack; a ringing in my ears, the rapid pace of my heart, an ache in my lungs that threatened to worsen, and an overwhelming urge to flee.

It didn't matter where.

How.

When.

I just needed to run.

Get out of here.

Escape this place.

I halted, an acidic burn crawling its way up my throat. My hand covered my mouth, eyes wide as I fought to keep whatever it was down.

"Shit," Tom gasped, yanking me inside a suite where he dragged me past the dark four-poster bed and into the connected bathroom of dark brown jungle wallpaper and checkered tiles.

I barely made it before retching over the open toilet. Nothing came out aside from blood and spit, and my nausea only worsened as I stared at the mess swirling amongst the murky water. At some point Tom turned the light on, but I'd rather him have kept it off.

The last thing I needed right now was that damn buzzing from the cloudy, incandescent bulbs.

Tom looped my arm over his shoulders and pulled me to my feet with a strong, warm hand around my waist for support. He guided me to the sink, murmuring soft words of comfort as he helped me lean against it.

I didn't have the energy to thank him, hyper-focused on getting the damn taste out of my mouth. The water bore an iron-y flavor, but I didn't know if that was just rust or remnants of blood. Only when the water finally washed clear did I mumble a "thanks" to the man.

"Here, sit down," he urged, pulling me back into the dim and dusty bedroom where he helped me sit on the dropcloth-covered couch in front of the bed.

Smells in here...

"I'll get a light-"

I grabbed his wrist, voice coarser than sandpaper. "No."

"Oh, ok." Tom knelt beside me on one knee, a hand on my shoulder. "You alright?"

"Ash." My eyes, unfocused and vacant, rested on the floor. "It should have been ash."

He sounded really concerned now. "Ash?"

I dragged my eyes to his. Pale blue stared back, alarm mingled with worry. "That was flesh and bone," I rasped. "Dreams don't... it should have just... it shouldn't have been so real."

Tom didn't seem to know what to make of that, resting a clumsy but comforting hand on my leg. "Shadow-"

"There you lot are," Allan barked, stalking through the door. "You and I need to have a chat, missy."

I jumped to my feet, nervous energy pulsing through me again.

Oh shit.

Think! What do we have? What do we have? No chairs, no bats, no wooden legs, no knives... no nothing! No nothing!

"What the bloody hellwere you thinkin'?" he demanded.

I snatched Tom's arm as the sailor stood too, and he winced as I gripped it like my life depended on it.

If this... if this was real... it very well might.

This wasn't Dream!Allan, I wasn't safe here. I'd bitten his boss, taken a finger off even. He was probably coming in now to off me.

I prayed it'd be quick, but I doubted it.

Movie Allan laughed when Sakharine ordered him to break every bone in Tintin's body. Threatened to gut Tintin and "swab the deck with his innards". Tried shooting Tintin numerous times. Tried to throw Haddock to his death.

Comics Allan was even worse.

Constantly beat the shit out of his crew at the slightest inconvenience in the Crab with the Golden Claws. Kidnapped anyone who got a bit too nosy. Planned to tie lead to Tintin's, a minor's, feet and drown him. Was heavily implied to have tortured Haddock to get information on Tintin while in that cellar. In the later comics, even if he was in a good mood, he dealt in human trafficking. Beat Sküt unconscious when he didn't go along with abandoning Tintin and Haddock when the ship caught fire. Conned revolutionaries into doing his dirty work, all the while planning to blow them sky high. Fully intended to drag people out to sea in an airplane and sink them, leaving them to drown.

A sociopath in the purest sense of the word.

"You're breaking my heart."

The last thing I ever wanted was to be on the wrong side of that cruel taunt.

Gun. Tom's got a gun, right?

You want to land us in more trouble?!

Find it! Don't have to use it, but find it!

Allan stopped a few paces away. "Do you have any idea what kind of man Sakharine is? That man will have shit done to you that you're too moral to imagine!"

Find it! Don't have to use it, but find it!

"Al! Quit yellin' at 'er!" Tom protested.

There, at his hip, near the spine. Left side. In the waistband. Concealed. Awkward to grab, but no price was too great for life.

"I have every right to yell at 'er!" he snapped, gesturing at me with an open hand. "She bit Sakharine's thumb off!"

"You said I could bite him!" I protested, hand slipping down Tom's arm towards his hip as I shifted closer.

Allan showed me the blood on his hands. "I didn't know you'd take his damn finger off!"

"Fuck around and find out!"

"That phrase goes both ways, kid," Allan hissed. "You better come through with that future knowledge of yours, or he will turn you to fish food!"

Stop yelling stop yelling stop yelling!

Tears already burned the back of my throat, and my stomach twisted at the thought of crying in front of Allan. But I was nearing the end of my rope, and a breakdown loomed closer with every shout.

"I didn't know what else to do!" I protested, desperate to get him to stop screaming at me. "I've never had anyone talk to me like that!" I shook my head, retreating in on myself as I shifted closer to Tom. This time in search of comfort rather than a weapon. "Like I'm... not even worth anything. Like I'm not even human." I faced Allan again, frustration flashing through me. "How am I supposed to react to that?!"

Anger still clouded Allan's face, but understanding flickered in his eyes. He inhaled deeply before he turned, a muffled scream following as he covered his face with his hands. The force of it tipped his head back, and when he finished his shoulders slumped and his hands dropped back to his side.

Better than a slap in the face.

He turned back to me. "You have no idea the position you just put me in, kid," he said through clenched teeth. "I don't want to hurt you, but if he decides to withhold money from my crew unless I carry out his order to do so, I'll be in a very bad spot. You understand that?"

I said nothing, but nodded.

At least he stopped yelling.

I'm still straight up not having a good time.

"The only reason he didn't order me to kill you on the spot was the value you hold. Do not push your luck, or you'll find yourself in a hole I can't help you out of."

I looked away, focusing on a stain on the carpet. I cursed silently when it blurred, then cursed aloud when a tear dripped on my arm. I frantically wiped it away, frustration and anger mingling with the already toxic cocktail of emotion swirling inside me.

Why did my body have to release stress through tears?

Why couldn't my frustration show through dry anger?

Through some other, less compromising method?

A method that didn't make me look weak in front of a hungry shark?

Too late now.

This drug smuggler had just been gifted the secret to make me break and no doubt planned to store that little nugget of information away to use against me at the worst moment.

"Are... you cryin'?"

I found enough anger in me to glare at Allan. "No fuckin' shit, bright eyes," I spat, wiping my eyes again. "Happy now? Finally got the proof you need to toss me into the loony bin? I'm sure Sakharine would love that."

Tom pulled his arm from my grip and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. "I think ya did good," he assured me, voice soft and encouraging.

I leaned gratefully into his warmth, hugging myself as he rubbed my shoulder. Typically I'd hate being touched but... how could I say no to comfort from my comfort character? Especially when his heavy arm and strong hand provided much needed grounding as I threatened to spiral out of control into a full on meltdown.

Allan's eyes drifted to my hands, tightly gripping my shoulders with nails digging into my skin. To my immense relief, some of the anger faded from his face and his shoulders relaxed.

"Did you mean to take his thumb off?"

"Didn't... didn't think it'd be like that," I replied honestly, voice catching in my throat. "Thought... ash." I shook my head helplessly, leaning further into Tom. "Should have been ash."

"You still think you're dreamin'?"

"I..." My voice shrank, any remaining ember of confidence snuffed out. "I don't know."

Allan continued to stare for a moment before he groaned. "At least I have solace knowin' you wouldn't have done it if you thought it was real."

He started to walk closer but immediately halted when a growl burst from my throat and I bared my teeth as I pulled Tom in front of me again.

The sailor turned to face Allan, an arm half behind him to shield me even more. "Al, don't. She was just scared," he said, a hard edge to his voice. "That prick had it comin'."

"I know that." Allan raised his hands. "I'm not goin' to off 'er."

"Not sure I believe that," I muttered.

"You really think me stupid enough to slaughter the golden goose?" he scoffed.

Is that all I am to you?

What else could you ever be to Allan Thompson?

Deadweight.

An obstacle.

An inconvenience.

A burden.

A target.

Of the latter two, I didn't really know which was worse.

One would kill me mentally, the other would kill me physically.

Both would be slow, so agonizingly slow.

But the end would be the same; a withered corpse with no light in her eyes.

At least... for the time being, he had made his view of me clear; until the scrolls were in hand, I was worth far more alive. For now. It remained to be seen if he'd be so friendly once my use expired.

Perhaps he'd just send me on my way.

Or perhaps some worse fate awaited me.

No matter the way you sliced it, my life expectancy was on a timer and Allan controlled the countdown.

And I'd just have to live with that. 

[totally-a-different-person]

Could you do future tomxtordxedd?

Sure why not, also I'm only just realizing this now that I've finished it but I should stop writing smuts that take place in red leader's office, I don't know why it's like my brain's go to every time he's mentioned (nsft past this point proceed at your own risk)

Edd scoffed, leaning back "you're kidding." It was an accusation, not a guess. "Why in the world would I ever want to stay with you?" "Because it's that or prison, Edd."

He sounded frustrated, and desperate "I just- I don't understand why we even have to have this debate" the norsk opened his hands, but Edd just rolled his eyes "You're too dangerous to let go, you know that, but please don't make me lock you up. You could rule with me, by my side, imagine the power you'd have, don't you want that?"

"No, Tord... I don't" He looked away, crossing his arms tight over his chest. He didn't even want to make eye contact with Tom. Edd thought he had been killed when he was captured, but he was just like his secretary or something?? Is that what Tord wanted him to do too?

He just didn't understand why Tom wouldn't try to find a way to contact him, or escape, just anything. Tord sighed, putting his hands together again and sitting back in his seat. "Please don't be like this, what can I do to convince you? You can have all the cola you want, you don't have to participate in any of the army stuff if you don't want to"

Edd glared at the ground, no longer really crossing his arms but hugging himself now. Tord was obviously beginning to get frustrated looking at Tom as if asking if he knew what to do. So finally, the tallest of the three did speak up "Ringo can come, and she'll be kept completely safe" "of course! I would never let anything happen to her-"

"I don't want her anywhere near you! She's not coming, and neither am I." Tord threw his arms up "you would rather go to prison than have to work with me!? Even if it meant you could live like a king, you don't care??" Edd felt tears starting to well up in his eyes, quickly squeezing them shut and shaking his head.

Tom seemed to wilt slightly at this, frowning softly and taking a few steps toward Edd and gently putting a hand on his shoulder "hey-" "I just- I don't understand how you can expect me to after everything" his voice cracked slightly. Even after all this time it still felt the exact same to be comforted by Tom as it always had, and for a moment Edd totally forgot he was upset with him too.

"I know it's a lot, and I'm really sorry it has to be like this, Tord's been trying to keep you from getting hurt since he started all of this though, and you keep almost dying because you won't stop fighting back. I told him I wouldn't let him lock you up- but if it's between that or you getting killed I don't have much of a choice" he spoke softly, his voice was a little more horse than it used to be but it was always a bit raspy.

Edd huffed and leaned away from him "You never should have joined him in the first place, I wouldn't be in so much danger all the time if I wasn't alone" he retorted, sort of snapping, but he still just looked sad, and Tom couldn't bring himself to be angry.

"Edd I'm so sorry" he hugged him, which was sort of a surprise, Edd had known the other since sixth grade and could count the number of proper willing hugs from him on one hand. That could have been part of why he was so quick to melt into it, hugging back and burying his face in Tom's shoulder as he sniffled. That or the fact that it was one the first actual conversations they'd had since he left.

Tord watched in silence for another few seconds while Tom squeezed the little brit, letting him cry. "You understand that we just don't want anything bad to happen to you, will you please come with us?" He went out of his way to include Tom that time, since Edd seemed to want him back so bad.

The demon moved away from the hug only by a step so he could speak "I... I don't know..." He seemed very hesitant, but that was still much better than before, and now Tord had an idea.

He got up and came around the desk and Tom took another step back from him so he was just looking at Tord.

"Come here, how about this, ok?" He sort of guided him to stand next to his desk. Edd seemed confused, and even slightly hesitant to let Tord touch him when the man gently grabbed his arm.

At least he used his human one, Edd couldn't help but be relieved. He still wasn't used to the robot one. While he was in thought about that though, Tord simply leaned down to kiss him like it was totally normal and something they had done a million times before. It wasn't though, so obviously Edd was startled and quickly leaned back, but effectively pinned himself between Tord and the desk when the leader just took a step closer as well.

The artist's face was bright red, staring up at him confused and considerably shaken up "what are you doing??" He asked, voice cracking slightly. "Ah, perhaps I should have been more clear"

He said that, but in truth his actions were all very intentional. "If you stayed with us, you could act as our husband, and you wouldn't have to worry about anything else. That would be your job, and I'd do everything in my power, which is just about everything" there was a sort of sick twist to his grin as he said that part "to make you happy here and get you whatever you want"

He leaned in again, not kissing him but getting very close. Edd seemed very very taken back by this. He looked from Tord to Tom, who didn't seem phased. His whole face was bright red and he looked away from them. This was weird... Wrong. He shouldn't be actually considering this, not after everything.

He was just tired, that had to be it. He was so exhausted, the idea of giving in was starting to appeal to him. "You wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore, we'd take care of everything. Wouldn't it be nice to relax?" It was as if Tord had read his mind, gently taking Edd's chin and making him look into his eyes. The shorter blushed deeper, playing with his hands a bit.

"I-I mean... Of course, but I'm not sure..." He mumbled, averting his eyes. Tord smirked a bit "that's fine Edd, how about I show you what it'll be like, and then you can decide?" He placed the robot hand on Edd's hip and glanced back at Tom who nodded.

The brunette seemed a little surprised, cheeks burning deep scarlet "ah... I guess" he spoke softly and Tord grinned "fantastic" he kissed Edd again, moving his hand to cup the boys cheek which was slightly more affectionate than holding his chin.

Edd still seemed sort of hesitant, at first he did at least, though soon slowly melted into it. His lips were so soft, they tasted like cola and cherry chapstick, it was adorable and honestly Tord already wanted to bite and bruise them, but he had to be very careful with how he went about this. So he would wait.

The kiss slowly became heated, Tord pushing his tongue into the boy's mouth and tilting his head slightly as Edd grabbed the desk behind him with one hand, the other holding onto Red Leader's jacket. He was admittedly a little taken back, having thought it would be a simple kiss. He wasn't surprised though, it was Tord after all, he shouldn't have expected anything less. He was more surprised by how good he was, really, the sweet kiss almost left him light headed.

After just another moment Edd would have to pull away, taking a few shaking breaths as he looked away, face bright red. It was embarrassing how much he enjoyed that, the metal hand holding him only slightly tighter as Tord looked to Tom, nodding to the other side of the desk then turned his attention back to Edd, mumbling "come here" as he scooped him up, much to his surprise.

"Hey!-" "Relax." He set him on the desk "Just thought this would be easier if you were a little closer in height, you haven't exactly grown much since I last saw you" the norsk teased with a dark chuckle, pushing some of the papers off of his desk.

Edd blushed a bit and glared at him "well you haven't either, you just started wearing platform boots" he spat back and it actually seemed to strike a bit of a nerve, Tom trying to stifle his own laughter as he gently helped Edd slip his overcoat off.

Tord sighed, his expression of mild annoyance fading as ran his hands up under Edd's sweater, the boy flinching at the cold metal against his soft warm flesh, causing him to shiver a bit, getting goosebumps. Tom leaned in to gently kiss his neck, letting his teeth graze the skin as Edd gasped softly. He hadn't expected it but seemed absolutely fine with it, leaning back slightly to press against him a little better.

Tord watched with a little smirk, the brunette helping a bit as Tord took his sweater off as well as his shirt, just letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. As Edd was focused on the fact that Tord was letting the robot hand fall lower, down to between his legs. But Tom took advantage of his guard being down and bit into his neck with his abnormally sharp teeth, earning a gorgeous noise that was somewhere between a squeal and a moan.

He was quick to cover his mouth, whole face bright red. Tord laughed and gently moved his hand away, Edd whining a bit. "no no" the taller spoke softly, smirking as he switched the vibrating function in his hand on, which honestly seemed to startle both the other two. He grinned proudly.

"Pretty cool yeah?" Chuckling as he rubbed and palmed Edd's number through his pants, watching him fall apart so quickly, desperately grabbing onto Tom's arms while the man continued kissing and nibbling his neck, licking the fresh bite marks as the sub gave a high pitched moan.

"Wha-what is-" he choked, looking at Tord in confusion and the man just hummed, using his other hand to unzip the boy's pants so he didn't have to stop rubbing him "yeah, made this thing myself and thought it might come in handy" he said it like it was the most simple thing in the world, slipping it into his pants to stroke his member directly, as well as turning the vibrating higher.

Edd gave a loud, broken moan and hid his face in Tord's shoulder. Tom rubbed his sides in a comforting manner as he completely slipped his bottoms off, letting them fall as well leaving the brunette naked. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself though, spreading his legs some and trying to rock his hips into Tord's hand as he panted and moaned.

"That's a good boy~" the younger coed as he continued to pleasure his friend, looking down at him lovingly before his eye flicked up to Tom as the man opened up his drawer, getting one of the small bottles of lube the leader kept.

Tord hummed softly and looked back to Edd "hey, I need you to tilt your hips up a bit for me kjæreste" he whispered, watching as the artist took his face from his shoulder, clearly trying to not make as much noise as he had been but Tord wasn't exactly giving him a break. He did as he was told, making it much easier for Tom to access his hole, said man opening the bottle of lubricant as they spoke. "Like that...?"

Tord nodded and kissed his head "yes that's perfect, such a good boy for me" he purred giving his member a little squeeze and turning the intensity of the vibrating up again for a good few seconds as he rubbed the tip with his thumb as a reward for being so obedient.

Edd moaned out loudly as he did, leaning back into Tom and nuzzling into his neck with a whine. He was starting to get close to his first orgasm.

Tom chuckled softly, his eye lights mostly focused on the sweet little brunette's face as it contorted in bliss while he gently pushed two of his now lubed up fingers inside of him, pressing against his walls as he slowly pumped them in and out. The cola lover gave a light gasp before biting his lip to muffle a sweet moan.

Edd was making nonstop noises, slowly increasing in volume and pitch as he continued receiving so much attention, his hips occasionally bucking or twitching, Tom adding another finger. Tord realized he was getting close, and honestly part of him was very very tempted to stop, make him beg for the right to cum, but he had to be patient. Play the long game.

This was about giving Edd exactly what he wanted and making him want to stay. So once he was more comfortable, he could indulge the part of Edd that loved being controlled and dominated, but so much had changed and even if he knew that was still what Edd wanted deep down, he didn't want to try too soon and scare him off.

So he settled for something safer and just as effective in terms of melting the sub's brain. He leaned in to kiss his cheek before nibbling his on his ear a bit, electing a soft shaking breath from Edd, then whispered "go on vakker, I know your close, be a good boy and cum for me~" the leader spoke very sweetly.

He wondered briefly in the back of his mind how many orgasms Edd could take, as well as how many it would take for him to break and want to stay. Hopefully he could find the answers to both very soon.

His words had the exact effect on Edd that he hoped they would, the boy giving a broken whine, shutting his eyes tight and melting into Tom. Tom let him, rubbing his hip sweetly while his other hand pressed into the brit's prostate with three fingers causing him to jolt and cry out as he came on Tord's hand, panting and mewling softly before being kissed again by red.

This time there was no hesitation in kissing back, holding onto his shit tighter he did, feeling the metal hand switch off and let him go. Edd panted softly as the kiss broke, again leaning back against Tom. "You ready dove?" Tom asked softly, eye lights gazing down at him as he nodded pretty quickly.

He kissed the brunette's cheek as he took his fingers back, having him spread his legs as Tord took his belt off. He dropped it and slipped his own jacket off before unzipping his black jeans and taking his already hard dick into his hand, pressing it gently against Edd's hole, watching the sub flush bright red. "Let me know if you need me to stop or slow down, ok?" He whispered softly, Edd nodding in response.

It was sort of embarrassing how quickly he'd fallen victim to their advances, he hadn't meant to at all. It had just... Been a long time since someone else had touched him, he was... Sensitive. It felt so nice, he was ashamed thinking about it, but he couldn't deny that he really really wanted this.

Tord was honestly a little bigger than Edd would've guessed, having to bite his lip a little as it was pushed inside of him, wincing quietly and trying his best to relax. It felt so good to be filled through, even with the slight stretch, he was panting and whining as it pushed deeper.

Tord didn't waste a second, he did initially push inside pretty slow but didn't even slip the whole thing in before pulling back and starting to thrust in and out of Edd, who was now moaning loudly. He would give sweet, very content sounding moans every time it was shoved back inside of him.

Tord wasn't going too fast, but was still thrusting hard, setting a nice rhythm and giving a breathy chuckle as he watched the brunette. "Awe, you like that?~" he punctuated his words with an especially hard thrust causing Edd's voice to break as he quickly nodded, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

"I told you you would," Tord grinned, going faster now as he pounded the shorter "and just look at you, such a good boy, taking it so well~" Edd gasped feeling the leader's human hand take and gently started stroking his weeping cock. He gave a broken moan, cute little dick twitching at the attention, he could feel a second climax building.

"Do you want more baby?~" the norsk purred, glancing at Tom as he did. Edd followed his look and quickly nodded, giving the soldier a pleading look. He seems hesitant though, not sure it was a good idea "I... Don't know, are you sure he can take that much?" His eye lights flicked from Tord down to Edd as he spoke.

Said man huffed softly "I can take it, please Tom?" He begged softly, and Tord was ecstatic.

This was perfect, it literally possibly couldn't be going better. He kept his overwhelming joy to himself, but was very proud of himself and his plan. Tom's face went pink as Edd spoke, the man giving him puppy dog eyes as he leaned into him a bit more. "I guess it'll be alright" he spoke sort of softly, the lights now looking to the side.

"Fantastic" Tord smiled and started thrust again without any kind of warning, making Edd nearly jump out of his skin, surprised moan getting caught in his throat.

Edd could feel his climax rapidly approaching a second time, moaning and whimpering loudly as he was fucked. He could hear Tom fiddling with his jeans behind him as he got his dick out. "I-I'm-" was all he managed to mumble before he came, whining and squeezing his eyes shut tight. Tord didn't give him a break to catch his breath, if anything it felt like he was purposely pushing it deeper.

That wasn't going to be allowed at all once Edd agreed to stay, cumming without permission, but there was time for that later. You have to earn something before you can be in charge of it after all.

Now lubed up Tom grabbed Edd by the hips and positioned himself to start slowly pushing in. Tord did stop to let him, the shortest of the three panting heavily. Tom was even bigger than Tord was, both of them at once left him dizzy as it slowly pressed inside.

It honestly hurt a lot, Edd sort of wiggled as he tried to adjust. Tom very sweetly and gently kissed their sub's neck as he pushed deeper, he whispered "stay still for me Eddie..." The way the brunette squeezed around him was so fantastic.

Finally they were both completely inside of him and it felt so fantastic, it was by far the most he had ever taken at once and it definitely kind of hurt, but he felt so unbelievably stuffed and Tom was pressed right into his prostate. He couldn't even think, just whimpering and panting, giving quiet moans.

Once he was adjusted enough Tord started moving and Tom followed. It was a really weird sensation at first because it was almost impossible to get used to, Tord went right back to plowing him, even harder than before even. Tom on the other hand started fairly slowly, giving long thrusts to give Edd lots of time to adjust to his length.

The artist let his head fall back as he cried out, moaning loudly and arching his back slightly. Tord pushed his legs a bit further, holding the underside of his thighs as he pounded the shorter man who was sobbing at this point just giving little strings of incoherent nonsense and please for more. Tord had been close before but had to stop to let Tom in safely, it only took moments for his climax to build back up, panting as he thrusted, watching Edd melt for them.

It was perfect, he leaned a bit with a wide smirk on his face "you could... feel this good whenever you want," it was a little hard for him to keep a steady voice as he spoke "We'd take such good care of you, just say you wanna stay~" he instructed sweetly, Edd giving a desperate little whine.

"That's a good boy, go ahead and say it. You wanna stay here and be our cute little husband to fuck and use?~" Edd nodded quickly, mumbling "m-mhm!~ I do!~" he moaned sweetly, it was all he could muster.

"Good boy~" Tord grinned, pushing as deep as he could before cumming inside of him, Edd screaming as he was filled, Tom getting hard and faster all the while, he was getting closer to another orgasm himself by the second.

Tom felt a little weird about Tord getting Edd to agree to stay like this, he very obviously wasn't thinking clearly, but he didn't say anything. They could talk about it later.

Edd came again, starting to feel the overstimulation as they continued, starting to feel the dull pain in his hips. They pumped a few more rounds into him, just going until he said he couldn't take any more.

So, Tord had Tom help clean him up, being very gentle with him before calling somebody to come clean up the office. In the meantime they took Edd to their room. Tord has his own bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen that was connected to his office. Tom had his own room that was much nicer than the other soldiers' rooms but it was only a bedroom, and he spent most of his time in Tord's anyway.

They all got comfortable and cuddled up in the large comfortable bed in Tord's room, Edd passing out almost immediately in the warm comfortable embrace of his wonderful lovers, the other two soon to follow.

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (trepidation)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

"̷A̢̡͆A̷̛̽̈́́Ą̶̅ͧ̕Ą̓̔͘͡Hͦͫ͢͢͏H̸̢̀H͝H̴͇͜H̶̡̰͍̀H̶̸̬̝̕H͙̘͜͞͝!̡͎̼̀͠"҉̯́

Thomas: "Holy shit, he just keeps going; it's been an hour! Mark, are you seein' this shit? Glad I'm not in there!"

Mark: "He's not going to last much longer."

(Thomas gawks at the comment. This isn't the Mark he knows. This one's too serious, too glum.) "Woah, now hang on. What's going on with you?"

Mark: "Nothing."

Thomas: "You've been acting funny lately. You're not having second thoughts or anything like that, are you?"

(Mark sighs.) "They're killing him and I just... I have a bad feeling I can't shake. I can't explain it right now."

Thomas: (nervously) "Ooo-kay... I mean, what's going to happen is looking like this guy's gonna die any moment now. Unless you know something I don't know, and if you do, please tell me."

(Mark turns away.) "It's fine, Tom. Really."

Thomas: "You should probably go sit down, yeah? Don't worry, I'll keep watch."

(Mark mutters something under his breath about putting in his resignation. Thomas looks on. Honestly, he should be glad he's not in there with the rest; they've got it handled. It's nice and safe over here. Less noisy... but now, he's feeling uneasy. Not a feeling one should have when they're the first line of defense...)

Jordan: "Kickout at three minutes; showing PVCs. Still close to initial vitals."

"̛A̧̡͛H̴̡̄H̵̎͠H҉H͏̸̲!͏̛̼"͏̳͘

Bernard: "Good night, how can he be still screaming like this? Fuck, I'm starting to get tired holding him down like this!"

(Charles pays no mind to Bernard's cursing and John's screams of pain, as he's known to do. Instead, there's a growing problem that's only going to get worse.)

(John's HF is deteriorating faster than he anticipated; there's clear damage done to his heart from fighting the toxins for an extended time. Not only that, his heart rate has not dropped down past 100 except for the times of initial injections. Even then, it doesn't last long.

That damn werewolf is killing himself in effort to live. How ironic.

Charles can see the organ beginning to struggle. At this rate, even if they stop, there's no telling if John would live long after even with youth on his side.)

(Charles looks up at Daniel from beneath his eyes. He can't admit the fact that he was right in his assumption. If he hasn't by now, he's certainly putting two and two together. There has to be something can do to keep this going.

Ah. He has an idea. A vote. Yes.)

(Jordan will most likely side with Daniel on the account that they're partners... however, they have the ability to ground Daniel better than anyone else and they can be persuasive when they want to. For now, they're a wild card.)

(Bernard on the other hand... now, there's someone who will stand their ground, even if he appears to be neutral. He's not one to mince his words either. He is dedicated and will see this through... as he's complaining all the way.

It does help that Bernard and Daniel are often passionate on their disagreements.)

(John's cries of pain is strangled.)

Daniel: "Charles, this isn't working."

Bernard: "Maybe if you would just shut up for a goddamn minute and let wolf boy tire himself out or would you rather just up and go?"

Daniel: "What did you say?"

// Next ⏭️

[hprambles-blog]

Did he? He sent Nagini to danger as well even though she literally contained his soul which makes her very precious. Did you forget about the Bathilda Bagshot scene? He intended to use his diary to infiltrate Hogwarts, which is why he put in Lucius's care in the first place, even though it had his soul in it, making it very precious too. He's not stupid. He uses a good weapon where it's needed and though he doesn't care about all Death Eaters, he cares about Bellatrix who is more than capable of protecting herself, and when she doesn't (not through incompetence but through arrogance), he always comes to her rescue. DoM. Her death.

While he did use Nagini, he still kept her far closer to himself than anyone else, while keeping the Horcruxes hidden. He never hid or tried to keep his Death Eaters safe. He also almost killed Lucius and Bellatrix in Deathly Hallows, and the fact that they were his most trusted Death Eaters means he must have sent them on many dangerous and life-threatening missions. Also, Bellatrix was right next to him in the Department of Mysteries, you could say he would have done the same for any other Death Eater if they were that close and it wouldn’t change anything, since we don't know his motives for that. And he could have saved Bellatrix in Deathly Hallows, but he didn’t.

This is what's canon:

Has Voldemort or Tom Riddle ever cared for or loved anyone?

Rowling: Now, that’s a cracking question to end with—very good. No, never.

This quote is from here - https://www.therowlinglibrary.com/2016/11/07/2004-j-k-rowling-at-the-edinburgh-book-festival/

And another fact:

Did Voldemort ever love a girl?

J.K. Rowling: No, he loved only power, and himself. He valued people whom he could use to advance his own objectives.

And you can find this here - https://www.hp-lexicon.org/source/interviews/blc/

So, canon Voldemort never loved or cared for anybody else but himself, and that is an indisputable fact. You can ship this guy with anyone and make him develop love in fanfiction, but can you stop claiming things that aren’t real? Otherwise, you can start holding hands with the "we don't care about canon" corner of this fandom.

🍊

[aneurinallday]

Green Eyes

Chapter 26: Confession

Thomas had no choice but to join Clara at the lunch table, listening to her merry chatter and smiling along, while glancing repeatedly at the clock that hung on the wall. He tried to calculate how long Alec’s journey to Birmingham should’ve taken, and how long it would take until he heard tyres on the gravel; but it was too early to start fretting, and there was no guarantee that Alec wouldn’t extend his trip with some shopping.

As he always did during times of emotional upheaval, Thomas withdrew, seeking refuge in the silence and solitude of his library. He poured himself a whiskey and drank it by the window, but he’d barely begun to relax when the telephone let out another shrill ring. He snatched the telephone from its holder.

“Where is he?” he demanded without preamble.

“Calm down, Tom. We saw your driver pick him up in Broad Street, and we followed the car as far as Warwick. He’s fine. He’ll be with you soon.”

“Good,” Thomas exhaled heavily. “…Any idea what he was doing at Broad Street?”

“No idea. When we tracked him down, he was in a café, eating lunch by himself. Then he got in the car. Whatever business he had in Birmingham, it was already wrapped up.”

“Alright. Thanks. Any word on Bragg?”

“Still alive. Well, we haven’t heard that he’s dead, so we assume he’s alive.”

“Keep me posted.”

Hanging up the phone, Thomas felt like he could finally breathe again. He downed the rest of his whiskey and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.

A painful possibility occurred to him: that Alec had been unsuccessful in securing a job interview, and had lied about it to impress Thomas. That he had, in fact, spent hours sitting alone in a café, stewing in his misery and insecurity.

The very idea hurt - that even after years of being loved, Alec was still plagued by a baseless sense of inadequacy and a desperate need to prove himself. That no matter how hard he tried, and no matter how much he was loved, the damage done by Cobb and his clientele would never be undone.

But for now, none of that mattered. Thomas just wanted to see him come home again.

His library window afforded him a view of the driveway, so he saw when the car pulled into view. By the time Alec had reached the front door, Thomas was already descending to greet him. Seeing Thomas, Alec’s face filled with surprise and dismay; but he quickly masked his reaction behind a weak smile.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he said, “It took longer than I expected.”

He was noticeably meeker than when he’d left. Perhaps the lonely car journey had given him plenty of time to think about their relationship, because the anger that had consumed him for the past week seemed to have fled.

“How did it go?” Thomas asked, “Don’t worry - if it went poorly, I won’t say anything.”

“It was fine. But I’m not sure if I’d be a good fit for the place - the hours weren’t ideal. I might try elsewhere.”

Thomas could tell instantly that he was lying, but didn’t press him on it. If the interview had been a humiliating disaster, it was best not to speak of it.

“Are you going to keep looking in Birmingham?” he queried, “You could try Warwick or Coventry…they’re closer. Less time driving, more time with Clara…”

“I did think about it, but Birmingham is where I grew up. It’s familiar and…well, not safe exactly, but predictable. So I figured I’d start there.”

“Fair enough.”

Thomas refrained from further enquiry, knowing that this was the wrong time to be nosy. They’d just had a cordial exchange, and he didn’t want to resurrect previous hostilities.

“How’s Clara?” Alec asked as he took off his coat.

“She’s fine.”

“And you?”

“Fine too.”

Thomas hesitated, wondering whether or not to tell him about Bragg. Bragg’s name, like Cobb’s, was synonymous with the Arcadia - with a lifetime of exploitation - and any mention of it would only bring back grim memories of that gilded hell and all the degradation he’d suffered there. Such things were best left in the past.

Besides, Alec had no involvement in the Peaky Blinders’ business, and there was no reason for him to know…And yet, didn’t he deserve to know that one of his abusers had been shot? Wouldn’t it bring him some form of satisfaction?

“So…” Thomas began cautiously, “I got a strange telephone call from my brother. Apparently there was a big commotion earlier.”

Alec didn’t answer. Unexpectedly, he reached for Thomas and pulled him into a long hug. His dark curls smelled of perfume and coffee and nervous sweat. Thomas put his arms around him, relieved.

“I wanted to bring you something back,” Alec whispered into Thomas’s shoulder, “But nothing felt like it would be enough. Besides, I’d be buying it with your money anyway.”

“You brought me back a hug. That’s enough.”

Alec held him tighter.

“Can we not talk about this morning, please?” he entreated.

“We should, though. Every time we fight, we pretend it never happened, and then we make the next fight bigger. We can’t keep doing this for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re right. I just hate dragging things out. The longer we dwell on it, the longer it hurts.”

“I know. But it’ll keep hurting, worse and worse, fight after fight, unless we sort ourselves out.”

Alec finally let go, struggling to meet Thomas’s gaze, glancing down awkwardly.

“I love you, and I know I’m lucky. I have you and Clara, and this big house and all these beautiful things. And most days, that’s all I need. Most days, I wake up happy and I go to bed happy. But sometimes I get so bitter and I don’t know why.”

“I do,” said Thomas, “You spent your whole life being treated like dirt. It’s not a feeling you can shake off, no matter how far you come. So every disagreement feels like a rejection, and every quarrel feels like a threat.”

“Is that what it is?” Alec laughed, but it was a strained and unnatural laugh. His body remained tense.

“Relax,” Thomas told him.

“I’ll be relaxed once I take a bath. I forgot how filthy the city is.”

Turning, Alec headed upstairs. He’d already gotten halfway up the stairs when Thomas realised he’d dodged the conversation, and by then it was too late; so Thomas let him go.

As evening fell, Thomas couldn’t help but notice a marked shift in Alec’s behaviour. During dinner, he smiled too much, and his knife and fork clattered too loudly against his plate, drawing attention to the fact that his hands were trembling. Clara regaled him with all the fun things she’d done that day, and Alec listened with seeming interest and delight; but sometimes his eyes shone, and he blinked rapidly as if trying to hold back tears.

Something was nagging at the back of Thomas’s brain. The more he dwelled on it, the more he felt like their heartfelt embrace had been a deliberate distraction. An attempt to stop him from asking questions. And it had worked, too - Thomas had been so glad to be on speaking terms again, that he’d failed to ask the questions he normally would have.

As Thomas prepared for bed by himself, the warmth of their embrace faded, and he was left feeling cold. Cold and alone. He was unfastening his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt, when he heard Alec’s footsteps approach. Every night since their quarrel, they’d prepared for bed separately and in silence; but tonight, Alec came without invitation to the master bedroom, and greeted Thomas with a kiss on the cheek as if nothing had happened.

“It’s getting colder, isn’t it?” he said with forced cheerfulness, “Soon every room will have a lit fireplace.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” said Thomas.

He felt a strange prickle of danger, a chill on the back of his neck and on his arms, making the tiny hairs stand on end; and he sat alert and uneasy on the edge of the bed. As he watched Alec move around the room, he noted his trembling hands and taut expression.

“How’s business lately?” Alec continued as he brushed his hair.

“Normal. Why do you ask?”

“I just wonder if you’re alright,” Alec answered too quickly, “You never talk about your work, so sometimes I worry you might be having a hard day, and I might be making it worse. I want to be there for you when you need me.”

“Work is work. Once you let it into your home, it spreads like mould. It’s best to keep the two separate.”

Putting down his hairbrush, Alec approached the bed, but didn’t sit on it. Instead, he knelt on the rug, and leaned his elbow on the mattress in a seemingly relaxed fashion. It was a submissive and suggestive pose which Thomas knew well.

“Am I welcome in your bed again?” he asked.

“I thought I was the one unwelcome in your bed,” Thomas retorted.

“Never,” said Alec. He put his hand on Thomas’s thigh and tried to smile, but his eyes were damp with tears. “For you, Mister Shelby, I’m always ready.”

“I’ve seen that smile before,” Thomas said coolly. “It’s your Arcadia smile.”

“Pardon?”

“Whenever we’re on the rocks, all your fear and insecurities come flooding back, and you suddenly remember how it feels to go to bed hungry and alone, with an empty belly and a sick baby. You start wondering if I’m going to throw you out in the cold, like before, and you try to secure your position with sweetness and sex.”

Alec’s expression turned to one of worry. He removed his hand from Thomas’s leg.

“You only smile like that when you’ve done something wrong,” Thomas continued relentlessly, “So, what is it?”

“Nothing,” Alec said too quickly. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Whatever it is, it’s best to tell me now, before I find out from someone else.”

Alec rose without a word, walked to the opposite end of the room, and continued undressing. His hands shook as he undid his buttons.

“Fine. Take your time,” Thomas said, “I’ll find out the truth eventually.”

Alec didn’t reply. He checked his reflection in the mirror, patting his curls, trying and failing to smile. Then he returned half-naked to Thomas’s side; but instead of sitting on the floor, sat on the bed next to him, so that they were eye-to-eye.

“Mister Shelby,” he said, “I need to tell you something. But first, I need you to promise you’ll forgive me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then…then promise you won’t get angry.”

“I can’t do that either. But I promise I’ll be reasonable. Now tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Alec’s fingers twisted nervously in his lap, his hands clasping in guilt.

“I did something bad.”

Of course, Thomas thought. Of course this happiness wouldn’t last forever. He’d been stupid to even dream that it would. Nothing that made Thomas Shelby happy ever lasted.

“Who was it?” he asked coldly, “The police? The Italians?”

“What?” Alec’s voice trembled.

“Who were you meeting at that café?”

“The café? I…I wasn’t…I wasn’t meeting anybody.”

“I’m not a fool, Alec. I know you were angry after our fight, I know you went into the city this morning, and I know you came back scared and ashamed. John told me he saw you sitting in a café on Broad Street. So, tell me who you were meeting. Who did you betray me to?”

“Nobody. Nobody! I would never betray you. Not again. Not after Mister Cobb.”

“Then what are you so guilty about?”

Alec glanced towards the door as if considering running away. But he had nowhere to go, and no choice but honesty.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mister Shelby.”

“Why?”

“I shot Mister Bragg.”

“What?” Thomas exclaimed.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“Calm down. What the fuck do you mean, you shot Bragg?”

Alec took a deep breath. His voice was quivering, but he soldiered on, stumbling over his words.

“After we argued, I was angry. I wanted to earn my own money again, so I wouldn’t have to rely on you all the time. So I applied for a job at the Paradise Club. They needed a male singer and I thought…I thought I might be good enough.”

“The Paradise Club? But that’s…”

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Mister Bragg had bought shares in that club. If I’d known, I would never have gone there. Now he might die and I’ve ruined everything. I’m sorry! I was so stupid - ”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. Just tell me what happened.”

Alec gulped for air, and managed to calm himself.

“This morning, I…I went for an audition at the club. It was early, so there were no guests about. The manager and the owner were there, but so was Mister Bragg. He smiled at me and said it had been a long time. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of everyone, so I stayed. I tried to pretend everything was fine. I sang just like I used to at the Arcadia. They were impressed, and they said I’d got the job, but then Mister Bragg invited me backstage to his office. I didn’t want to go, but…but…I shouldn’t have fucking gone. I don’t know why I did.”

“What happened then?”

“We went to his office and sat down. He offered me a drink but I refused. We made small-talk. He said ‘Why are you looking for a job? Is Mister Shelby not taking care of you properly? Did he ditch you again?’. I said it was none of his business. I said I wasn’t a whore any more, and I wanted to perform at a proper club, not a brothel. I wanted to be a real singer. Then he opened his jacket so I could see his holster.”

Without a word, Thomas offered his hand, and Alec gripped it desperately.

“He told me to stand up, and I did. He told me to sing, and I did. Then he told me to get on my knees, ‘just like the old days’, and I refused. He didn’t stop smiling, but I saw something change in his eyes.”

Thomas listened silently, staring at nothing, his thumb brushing over the back of Alec’s hand in a repetitive, soothing caress.

“He asked me how much I wanted the job, and I said, not enough to touch him. He laughed at me and said I’d gotten too big for my britches. He said he was going to put me in my place. Then he…he…I panicked. I took his pistol and shot him.”

“Did anyone hear the shot?”

“I don’t know - I don’t think so. The band was practicing outside. And I had the gun against him like this.” Alec pressed his fingers deep into his stomach, indicating the muffled shot.

“Did you mean to kill him?” Thomas questioned.

“Yes - no. I didn’t mean to do anything. I just wanted him to get away from me, so I shot. He looked surprised, and he sat back down in his chair. He didn’t speak, but he made a noise like...like...And then blood started coming out, and he closed his eyes. I didn’t know what to do, so I fled. I should’ve called a doctor, but I was afraid...”

“Did people see you leave?”

“Yes. I tried to act normally, and I went for lunch because I thought it might give me an alibi. But I could barely eat,” Alec’s voice finally cracked. “Mister Shelby, they know it was me. They must know! They saw me going backstage with him, and they saw me leaving in a hurry. Who else could’ve shot him? Please, Mister Shelby, what do I do? I don’t want to go to prison.”

“You won’t. Nobody’s going to prison.”

“How do you know?” Alec said despairingly.

“Because when men like me have a bone to pick, we sort it out amongst ourselves. This whole thing is between Bragg’s Boys and the Peaky Blinders. Trust me, Moss’s police wouldn’t touch this with a bargepole.”

Alec looked a little comforted. He gave Thomas’s hand a grateful squeeze and finally let go.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

“No. I’ve told you everything. I should’ve told you everything as soon as I got home, but…I was afraid that…”

“It’s fine. You look like you need a drink - shall I fetch some whiskey?” Thomas gestured to the array of bottles on the mantelpiece.

“No, I shouldn’t. Once I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“How about tea, then?”

“No, thank you. I can’t stomach anything right now. I threw up in the car, and again after dinner.”

“I’m sorry.” Thomas placed his hand on Alec’s arm. “Do you want to try and sleep? If not, we can stay up…”

“I am tired,” Alec admitted, “I haven’t slept much since we argued about France…I can’t believe we argued about something so petty.”

“Well, you can sleep as much as you want now. Nobody’s coming, and in the morning your head will be clear.”

Alec nodded, and Thomas rose to turn off the lamps. They both slid under the covers, and Alec held onto him like a life buoy, still sifling sobs.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he lamented, “I shouldn’t have shot him.”

“What else could you have done? He was going to hurt you.”

“You’d think I’d be used to that by now. I wish I’d just let him do it. I wish I’d let him have his fun. Then everything would be fine…”

“Alec, stop.”

“None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone to that club. It was so fucking stupid of me.”

“Stop,” Thomas repeated, “Bragg rolled the dice and lost. If he did it to you, that means he’s done it before, and he would’ve done it again. Sooner or later, he would’ve tried his luck with the wrong person. I’m just sorry it turned out to be you.”

He stroked his fingertips through dark curls, their familiar texture suddenly the most precious thing in the world.

“Besides, even if you hadn’t said a word, he would have. People like him love to boast about their little victories, to make sure everyone knows how bold and clever they are. I would’ve found out, and I would’ve shot him myself.”

Alec didn’t answer, leaving Thomas to wonder if he’d said the wrong thing or not.

They lay waiting for sleep that refused to come. Alec continued to agonise, and the pillow grew wet with his tears.

“What if he dies?” he whispered in the dark, “What if they blame you? What if something happens to you because of me? What if something happens to your family? Or to…to Clara?”

“Nothing will happen.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“No.”

“Not even a little?”

“No.”

“You should be. I’m not a good person.”

“Between the two of us, you’re the only good one.”

Finally, towards three o’clock in the morning, Alec succumbed to exhaustion and closed his eyes. His grip on Thomas eased.

Thomas waited until he was sure that Alec was asleep, then rose quietly and headed downstairs. His thoughts were racing with every possible consequence of Bragg’s shooting, and all the changes it might bring to Birmingham’s criminal landscape. If he died, there would be a power vacuum to fill, with all the risks and opportunities that accompanied it; and if he lived, there would be war.

In his mind, Thomas was already drafting letters and rehearsing phone-calls. Sleep was impossible, so he headed for his study, where his desk and his whiskey awaited him.

[sirsnortsalot]

YOUR TAGS ON THEEEE TOM LOOKING AT GREG ACROSS THE AISLE POST I DSDJKSDJSKJDJKS we shake hands that ep is my entire life for so many reasons i hhhhhhhhhhh. tom's suit being called a gregory. the two of them dressed in black and white when greg says "i do" true to marriage tradition. the fact that when tom sits down in front of greg he literally looks like he's getting on one knee. the way their knees are touching. the way they are sitting so close. the way the two waiters in the background are playfully smacking each other on the ass with towels and both greg and tom look at them wistfully before talking like god i wish that were us. the way greg teases tom a little with the well... keeping him hanging on a little bit. the way greg says "of course". the way their conversation [in that connor asks willa if she really wants this, bc she's kind of giving up her soul wrt money and she says yes i am and i do like the security and wealth but she also likes connor for himself, and connor talks about the age gap!!! and discrepancy in their positions and how they met and came to be and how everyone is always making fun of him/their relationship but she takes him serious and confirms she does want it and then they giggle and laugh it off just like a certain other couple] and body position mirrors connor and willa as well as the cinematography/shots who do actually get married in 4x03 [alone. without the siblings there. almost like a secret ish wedding. hmmm]. the way that nb said 'they wish they were getting married' and the way these mfs act you Know that's actually true and real. the way tom drops the "sporus". the way that after they shake hands, greg's arms twitch out as if to hug tom but then he decides against it bc he's not sure if tom would like that and he doesn't want to ruin this, because everybody else shrinks away from his touch or is disgusted by him but tom opens his arms and greg leaps at the chance, taking tom's shoulders and pulling him in slightly and hugging him tightly, tom literally jostled by the force of the hug.

i Think about the "come with me, sporus" scene a lot.

Oh my god y e s just that one scene felt like peak tomgreg in like 1000 ways 

ESPECIALLY because it’s right after shiv calls tom and tells him about her plan and his IMMEDIATE reaction being “okay, this is my chance to finally hit her where it hurts after her ‘death-by-1000-cuts’-ing me for years, but first i need to make sure greg is safe and on my side” like BEFORE anything else (just checked the script books and greg walks over to him RIGHT after he gets off the phone with shiv, no time to think about anything else) AND THEN ”SPORUS” AND THEN THE MOST ROMANTIC SCENE THAT HAPPENS IN THE (WEDDING) EPISODE AND THEN TOM ‘KILLING’ HIS WIFE I JUST. AUGH THE NERO & SPORUS SHIT MAKES ME GO BATSHIT ISTG HFSKJGHDFKJGHJDFKGHDRKJHY (also while I was in the script books I saw that the hug was unscripted??? It was meant to be just the handshake??? Just like the forehead kiss was unscripted too??? Matthew Mcfadyen is an absolute GODSEND (& nb I guess but yknow) for just ADDING those in UNPROMPTED he’s such a tg truther oml) 

Also can you IMAGINE how greg must've felt at the beginning of the tomshivorce, seeing him and tom going out together to hook up w random models or whatever (i think they were playing it up quite a bit and just wanted to spend time with each other but yknow)  and having the realisation somewhere that “do you wanna come with me, sporus” AND THEN THIS could have been referring to tom wanting to be with greg? Like we know greg knows the story, and we know he knows that tom betrayed shiv and he knows that the tomshivorce is resulting in tom getting a lot closer with him very quickly and he’s not stupid, he can put 2 and 2 together and see himself getting remodelled into the romantic partner for tom that shiv isn’t anymore for him, AND HE DOESN’T SHY AWAY FROM IT! LIKE LOOK AT 4X01, IS THAT THE BODY LANGUAGE AND BEHAVIOURS OF SOMEONE WHO IS AVOIDING THE PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL PRESENCE OF TOM WAMBSGANS FBSKJGHDFJGDFKJY

(i will never shut up about the timeskip <3)

👏 HEART 👏 EYES