#(i live in england so i need it to either be a shop over here or have uk shipping)

[niamhthefae]

i wish there was a place i could get vampire fangs when it's not october. what if i want to be a spooky little dude in april? or december? HUH?

[peachetteprice]

Driving Habits | TF141

Disclaimer: Some of these are UK specific, including the style of car, manoeuvres, terminology, and gearbox. That's what happens when the boys live and work mostly in England! Also, I am almost taking my practical test in September, and I need to rant about certain habits. Sorry in advance to Soap and Ghost. Love you both, boys.

Credit to @soaps-mohawk for giving me the inspiration to explore this headcanon! It began with an exploration into what cars TF141 might drive! You can see the original post that inspired this here.

+ Including interactions when driving with an S/O!

Notorious one-handed driver. The other hand is either on the gearstick - just resting, contemplating - or mediating between the gearstick and your thigh. He loves a good reverse bay park. (He's an absolute beast at it, too. No need for minor adjustments. He just... knows the space. And he will make fun of you when you can't park as perfectly as him). Helps to get the shopping in better, because at least you can get to the boot! Has been known to swerve a little bit for birds in the road, but that's because he's an avid watcher, and the poor things get enough grief as it is - he wants to still be able to watch Robins and Thrushes in the trees on the weekend!

Captain John Price:

He does, however, neglect rabbits, foxes, badgers, squirrels, and rats. And the... occasional deer in Scotland? Not out of malice - not at all - but they're not worth swerving over and potentially causing a collision for. He might, only if you're with him - because you'll squeal if he doesn't and positively become harrowed by its body popping beneath the rear tyre - but it's much safer for a driver to simply ram it into the gravel than to mess around with the safety of himself, other drivers, and - of course - you.

Takes extra care around vehicles with stickers that denote that the occupants of said vehicle - bar the driver or secondary passengers - are animals or children. He will be extra sure to check his mirrors, touch on the brakes if need be, and will actively scan for dangerous drivers that he can shield the car from. His duty is to protect, after all, in whatever capacity.

That being said, in his youth, he was known to drive... a little faster than required. Only on country lanes does he still retain some of his more... reckless habits. He may go a touch too fast around corners, and ignore the chevrons that indicate the severity of a turn (one arrow, two, three), and if the road opens up to a sprawling range, whereby speed control for tight corners and blind junctions is not an issue, he will... perhaps... occasionally - only rarely if you're in the car with him - let her rip.

Begrudgingly drives your shuddering little Fiat 500 or itty bitty Hyundai i20 (hey, what do you mean, tiny, it's perfect for the city, John! Pay no mind if your boys giggle and point when you turn up at the base in it...), though much prefers the Triumph Spitfire, 1979, mint-condition, that he bought in 2008 for three grand and fixed up over a ten-year period (when he wasn't deployed, that was) which is now worth £18,000. That is his profit! But he won't let another soul touch it, drive it, or so much as look at it - unless it's you, on a good day - until the day he dies. It's in stunning condition, but God help you if you reverse into the driveway without him watching like a hawk, wiggling his hand as if it were the paddle of an aeroplane conductor, telling you to move closer to the wall and risk scratching your car just to protect his darling baby. It... oh no... it might be the only thing he loves more than you...

But those roads are his home, that's all!

Always, always, always over-revs the engine to get out of a junction. He can't help it! He's used to manoeuvring through rough terrain with a car the size of a military tank - he's bound to forget to treat a normal car with a normal amount of strength. He comes flying into and out of roundabouts for that exact reason! He has to get on and off them quickly enough - don't you know, they're deathtraps, they are!

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He's also prone to checking his side mirrors and rear view mirror an inordinate amount of times for a twenty-minute pop to the shop. He is convinced that the Kia Sportage behind him is right up his tail - he's sure it's stalking you in the passenger seat, especially with your bumper stickers on the rear, the nasty perverts - no matter how many times you explain to him that the mirrors are convex! They will make everything seem closer than they truly are! Now, however, he does not and will not ever brake-check a car, but he will sure as hell give them the dirtiest stare if they decide to overtake him... or until they back off a few more feet behind you.

The poor man gets impatient at lights. He does. And crossings, too. Train, tram, pedestrian, any and all of them. Despises them all. He'd rather a set of traffic lights for people to cross at, than have those silly zebra, pelican or toucan markings along the road that he has to pray Grandma Doris won't divert her walking cane in its bilateral direction. Oh, and he bounces his leg like there's no tomorrow. Again, he can't help it! He isn't used to waiting in cars. He's used to tumbling down roads in Middle Eastern deserts as the crow flies. None of those silly turns and re-routes into estates because he took the wrong turn at a junction. He wouldn't have messed up had he had time to think! Had there been no traffic! And, oh, Christ, the traffic. Simon does not like traffic. He does illegal U-turns as soon as he sniffs there being a road closure - that's how much he dislikes waiting!

You'll never forget the day that he wrenched the handbrake up way too high, and you had to get your father to re-tighten it. You're sure there aren't any more notches he can lift it to. You're rarely ever on a hill that warrants it. He'll crank it up six times just to stop at the traffic light before the Tesco. It's bloody Tesco! It's not Mount Kilimanjaro!

Never gets the bite point consistently. Never gets the damn bite point. Always too low or too high. He doesn't over-rev it like Ghost does, but the amount of times he stalls the bloody car, thinking he's in another one of those tank-sized vehicles that has a brand-spanking new bite point - or dare he say, an automatic gearbox that doesn't even require a clutch - is incalculable. You'd think the man has only just learnt to drive!

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Notoriously speeds through built-up areas. Often commits to doing 45mph in a 30mph zone. Only when there isn't anyone around, like at nighttime! He consistently zooms past speed cameras in his BMW. His poor 3L engine is just too powerful for those dinky little roads. And, promise, he doesn't do it on purpose! He just routinely forgets to glance at his speedometer (and his mirrors, but that's another issue), and he drives for himself and himself only. In fact, he often hums to himself and forgets you're even there, beside him, clutching onto the internal handle on the roof in case he veers too suddenly to either side. His object permanence doesn't prevail unless he has one hand on your inner thigh, and if he doesn't, well, you can kiss safe driving habits goodbye.

(Oh, and he always sits on the brake. And bite + gas. The handbrake is too cumbersome, and his feet are strong enough, Goddamnit!)

Alright, that isn't to say he's an... unsafe driver. He's only slightly inconsiderate. He brakes too harshly, too late, too suddenly, he coasts on the clutch around corners, he never feeds the steering wheel, and he sometimes forgets to check his mirrors before turning into a junction (but he's never T-boned a cyclist... yet... you can give him a tick for that one). But he hums and whistles a nice tune to himself - he prefers it to the radio, and that's not to say he prefers quiet so he can hear the sound of the engine, no, no... never... not at all - and he always makes an overt point to note every field of cows, sheep (especially horses!) as well as every cat he sees lurking along the pavements. Never dogs. Doesn't like the bastards. Got bit once. That was enough to turn him right off.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Beautiful driver. Test-accurate. He could re-take it today and pass with flying colours. What a brilliant driver. The only bad habit he's picked up is driving with one hand (he tends to bite his fingernails on the other when he drives - helps with the stress of commuting in London), and never feeding the steering wheel through his hands. He does the wipe-on, wipe-off manouvre, mostly because he looks hot when doing it, though he tries not to. Mama Garrick always swats his hand whenever he does it because that's how drivers get into accidents, baby!

Car-shares with his mother, whether it's in her duck-egg blue Kia Picanto or his lime green Ford Fiesta - it has failed its MOT three bloody times, and he's revived that girl from death's vice grip more times than he can count, it has the mileage of a postal worker in the 1700s, nearing 200k - but this gentleman always remembers to bring the seat forward and upright after he's finished using it, so that her feet can touch the pedals, and to, naturally, reduce her back pain. He does the same with the headrest, too, because if there's anything he cares about more than his job, it's the safety of his family and friends!

Tends to drive on the cautious side. The only minor fault he'd get in a test would be hesitance because he simply doesn't trust any other driver but himself. His mother drilled that into him. She said that there's nothing worse than watching a car flash its headlights and signal you to go, with caution, as always, because the flash is not universal for 'go', only to pull in front of you and trigger you to emergency brake. Or, God-forbid, a pedestrian puts their hand up at you before they've even crossed the bloody road, and he has to slam on the brakes like he's Speedy Gonzalez at a traffic light. Lordy Lord.

Never mind the fact that he waits too long at pedestrian crossings because there could be somebody shrouded by that tree on the corner there. Do you see it? Over there! No, behind the sign, love! There could be someone - oh, whatever. He has to wait to make sure it's clear - otherwise, Grandma Doris is getting bumped in the legs and thrown fifty feet along the road! And he cares about the elderly!

Always nervously bites the insides of his cheek at roundabouts. Which is the most bewildering part of all, because he's so good at them! He always signals onto the roundabout. Never cuts lanes. Always follows directions perfectly, and if he doesn't, well, I guess you're taking a different route until you can turn around in a safe place. He always signals off the roundabout, too - even at mini-roundabouts - but he'll scrunch his face up every time, huff, and mutter:

"Yeah... botched that one."

...Regardless of how many times you tell him that he's a gorgeous driver! It's sexy, too, how he abides by the Highway code and gives way to more cars than he really should - no, except he really should stop doing that, actually, they're starting to take advantage of his kindness and he doesn't realise it - and how he's so... so... so fucking smooth with gear transitions. Going from stationary to a comfortable 20mph? He'll pop that sucker so fluidly into third (or second, if it's his mum's car) with such prowess that you barely notice the engine take the gas he's giving it. There's no jolt between first and second. He plays those gears like he's bowing a violin. How delicate his fingers are. How gentle his touch. It's mesmerising to watch.

And, you're about ready to give him your hand in marriage when you notice that every time he comes to a stop - on a hill, at a traffic light, in crawl traffic, waiting to turn into a junction, he puts the handbrake on, then takes his foot off the foot brake, then knocks the gearstick into neutral, then takes his foot off the clutch, and waits patiently like the darling man he is. Unlike someone else, he never sits on the brake...

Gaz even brakes in ample time, and you thought he couldn't be more perfect! That's what really gets you going - he gives the car behind him just the right amount of time to slow down that it's almost a waltz, and he's the conductor of traffic. Though... maybe don't let him get trapped at a stalemate on a mini-roundabout where all cars are turning left and are subsequently blocked by the need to give way to the right... his poor brain will short-circuit! If he does, give him a pat on the thigh and let him wait for someone else to make the first move - he hates decision-making when he's off-duty.

Bonus Round - Road Rage!

Captain John Price:

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Road Rage? You mean, showing a healthy amount of anger and vigour towards a bloody idiot driver? You mean... baring his teeth and swatting a hand at them, occasionally honking the horn past eleven-thirty, even if people are sleeping, or pulling out one of his anger-insurance cigars? That's what road rage is? Well... Christ, he must be terrible for it. Don't tell his boys that... they think he's the most level-headed man on base.

He's slightly oblivious to the technique of cars around him. He drives like he's the only driver in the world, because usually he is - except for those fuckers behind you who won't back off - but if something does happen, and if it isn't too much of an issue, he'll grunt, clench his teeth, grip the steering wheel and let out a muttered 'bastard'. If, however, something really irritates him - especially if another car puts you in danger - he'll honk the horn and flail his hand at the windscreen in the hopes that the driver sees his frustration (even if you're the one driving, he'll reach over and honk the pad for you, even though you've told him not to!)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Well... he certainly knows a lot of Gaelic, doesn't he, your boy? You've hardly a monkey's bottom of what he's saying, but the vitriol in which he says it - he's not known for bottling his anger very well - makes it clear to you that he needs a hug and de-tox before bedtime. If the accused does anything on the defensive or antagonistic, he has been known to pull up beside them on a two-lanes-go-straight-on road marking, even if it isn't the right way to your destination, just to glare at them and give them the... stern finger. Maybe... maybe a word or two about precious cargo.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Gaz is a simple guy when he's off-duty. He will sigh, tut, shake his head, and mumble 'nutter', or a very hushed 'oh, you absolute...' (bonus: he never finishes his sentence!) It's what his mum does! If another car puts you in danger, he may groan and roll his eyes - but he always asks if you're okay as soon as, and apologises for the sudden violence of his attitude! What a sweet man.

| Masterlist |

[onthewaytosomewhere]

💚thanks ever so much for the tags my dears @sophie1973 @theprinceandagcd @henryspearl @myheartalivewrites @sheepywritesfics

@suseagull04 & @taste-thewaste 😘

so after posting that lil fic on Sunday I've moved right back to what I need to be working on ... my fic for the @ficwip dark & cozy event

so i played with a lil art for it and wrote some words last night so it's moving along (even if it has a fair bit to go yet lolz) (even if i really wanna work on the new liam/pez i started last night as well)

putting this all beneath the cut cuz a bit of art (still also WIP) and words shared today 💚

i'm really torn on these i really kinda like the coffee shop sign and not sure if need to work it into the title card or keep it so they just share similar elements and post both with the fic... or if i even really like the title card - i suppose that's why its a wip lolz

and now here's (wonderwall) words from the same fic 💚

“Thanks, Nora swears that I’ve become more of a klutz since the change, and I don’t need any more reasons for her to threaten to spend all my money on new cups for this place.” The smile Henry gives him as he hands the cup and saucer to Alex almost seems shy, and it should appear out of place on someone who’s lived as many lives as he has, but Alex can’t help but think how it makes him want to kiss him. It’s as if some force he can’t explain is pulling him toward Henry. He’s been able to resist the pull for the sake of not wanting to come on too strong, but really, it’s getting harder not to make a fool of himself over Henry. There’s a moment when time seems to freeze between them, and then Alex is brought out of it when Henry speaks, “Well, we can’t have that; you need that money to take me out once you finally work up the courage to ask.” Alex drops the cup in his hand, and once again, Henry catches it before it can hit the floor, this time setting it back on the table. “I’m sorry … what?! … how …” Alex takes a deep breath, begging his mind to stop acting like a computer that has blue-screened, and continues, “So, you’d be up for that?” Henry smiles at him, and Alex’s already fast-beating heart stutters, “Well, as good as your tea is, it’s not the only reason I frequent your shop.” “But, you’ve never said anything. Hell, you barely talk past your order most nights unless I talk to you first.” “To be fair, you never said anything either, but I’m not as brave as this moment would have you believe. I may have spent too much time around Pez lately, and well, if I have to hear him tell me one more time that I should ‘suck it up and say something so I could suck what I really wanted,’ well, it will be one more time too many, truly.” “Huh, so ‘ya vaaant to suck my bluuudd’ do ya?” Alex replies with his worst stereotypical vampire accent. He rakes his eyes over Henry’s body and waits until Henry takes a drink of his tea to continue, “There’s definitely a few things I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth on.” Henry nearly chokes on the tea, and Alex never actually realized that vampires could choke, but apparently, that’s a thing that can happen. Henry looks at him, blue eyes full of mirth, and smirks, “Noted.” Alex nearly falls over when the bell above the door chimes; so much for his Were instincts being strong when he’s lost in flirting with pretty men or … well, vamps. Before turning to the customer entering, he whispers, “We will be coming back to this later.” Henry gives him one of those damn enigmatic smiles of his, and Alex nearly tells the customer to leave so he can stay there flirting with him. However, once he turns and sees who it is, he knows that won’t be happening.

i'm just gonna slap some tags down here so if i miss ya and ya wanna do this consider this ur big ole open tag!!

no-pressure tag ur it! to @adreamareads @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @caterpills @duchessdepolignaca03

@england-would-fall @firenati0n @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @getmehighonmagic

@heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inell @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway

@jmagnabo92 @littlemisskittentoes @mikibwrites @nocoastposts @priincebutt

@softboynick @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow @tailsbeth-writes @thesleepyskipper

@thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite @everwitch-magiks @cricketnationrise

@myheartalivewrites @porcelainmortal @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @captainjunglegym

@cha-melodius @kiwiana-writes @judasofsuburbia @doublecheekedkinard @cricketnationrise

(i realize it's no longer wednesday for some of ya and some of ya may have already done this but - my fingers typed ur name so 'hi' if that's the case lolz)

[katelynnwrites]

Are You Gonna Feel The Way I Feel? (Are You For Real, Joan’s Sister?) | Ona Batlle

warnings: f for fluff

word count: 3231

summary: your friend, joan, introduces you to his sister and now you have two questions. the first, is she going to feel the way you feel? and the second, is she for real?

a/n: i think all of us united fans need some fluff today so here’s the fic that i’ve just finished writing, based off the song, cate’s brother by maisie peters, which i was beyond lucky to have been able to see live. this is also the very belated euros fic i always meant to write…

You’d never watched football before. You’d never quite got the hype surrounding it either.

But when your friend Joan, suggested you come along with him to England, to support his sister who was going to be playing in the Women’s Euro, you couldn’t say no. You’d never been to England before and Joan had promised you a good time. It would be silly for you to say no.

That simple conversation is when you first heard Ona’s name.

That conversation also led to where you were now, standing in the friends and family section of Spain’s first game in the tournament.

When Finland scored, you could sense the unease in the Spanish supporters. But what amazed you was how they didn’t stop cheering. They kept chanting and waving their flags.

Their faith paid off because when the game finished, Spain had scored four goals to Finland’s one.

Joan makes his way down to the barriers as the players begin to greet their family.

One of Spain’s players strikes up a conversation with you and when it’s over, you see the prettiest brunette standing in front of your friend.

‘Did you meet my sister?’ He asks and you answer, ‘No I didn’t.’

As you do so, you can’t help but check her out.

Joan had pointed her out to you earlier, telling you that she wore the number two and played as a defender.

What he had apparently left out was exactly how gorgeous she is. From her many freckles to the tattoos you could see, she’s absolutely beautiful.

‘Hola, I’m Ona.’ She says, when you take too long to answer.

You blush with embarrassment but reach out to shake her hand.

‘It’s nice to meet you.’

Ona smiles at you and later, when you’re not looking, whispers in Catalan to her brother.

‘You didn’t tell me your friend is so hot.’

Joan only shrugs and laughs.

******

You attend all of Ona’s following games. You ignore your friend when he smirks as you loudly cheer every time Ona gets the ball.

Ona eagerly greets you after each game. By the end of the group stage, the brunette fullback had gone from shaking your hand to hugging you and giving you kisses on the cheek.

After she plays and wins against Denmark, she asks if you’re free to have a coffee with her.

Joan snorts but his girlfriend hits him lightly to get him to shut up.

Ona looks at you hopefully and you grin and nod. The Spanish woman’s smile grows even wider and she can’t stop herself from hugging you tightly again.

You hold her slim form against you, not minding how sweaty she is. Being close to Ona gave you butterflies inside and you found yourself liking it more and more.

******

Ona meets you at the coffee shop near her hotel with a bright smile and eager eyes.

‘Hi.’

‘Hey you.’

‘You look amazing.’ Ona murmurs, stepping closer and kissing your cheek gently.

You blush, looking down at your ripped jeans and simple white shirt.

‘You look amazing too Ona.’

Now it’s Ona’s turn to blush and she shrugs lightly.

Seeing her in Spain’s blue hoodie and a pair of black leggings, it only served to confirm what you already knew. That you didn’t only fancy her like crazy when she was in a football kit.

‘Come on.’

Ona tentatively reaches for your hand and she leads you towards the entrance, where she drops your hand for a moment, only so that she can hold the door open for you.

‘Gracias.’

The brunette giggles at your use of her native language and upon hearing the sound of her laugh, you find yourself falling even harder for her.

You sit across the table from Joan’s sister, smiling at her as she sips her coffee a little too eagerly, resulting in her wincing and hurriedly setting down her cup.

She grins sheepishly at you and your heart goes, ‘Love her, she’s the one and we shall wed.’

******

Later that night as you sit alone in your hotel room, your head says, ‘Are you gonna work? Are you gonna hurt? Are you gonna last forever?’

You had always prided yourself on being independent, on being practical but you were developing feelings for Ona faster than you ever thought was possible. Your thoughts tell you that it’s unreasonable but Ona is just so kind and funny and smart. It’s so easy to talk to her and she makes you feel the most comfortable you’ve ever been when you’re with her.

******

You admire her passion for her sport, the way it so obviously shows whenever she’s on the pitch. It shows even when she’s off the pitch, in the way she studies how her opponents play.

Watching how her brow furrows in concentration as she looks intently at the screen where her game film is playing, your heart tells you again that she’s the one for you.

But you’re still scared.

Sitting cross legged on her hotel bed, you keep watching her. Ona had kicked the teammate whom she was rooming with, out for a few hours, telling her that she wanted to spend time with you.

She has such lovely chocolate brown eyes. The brunette is five-foot-five and she’s a little younger than you. She also liked to be fully prepared for her games and if that meant looking through hours of game film to study her opponents, she was willing to do it.

And you were willing to let her. She looks adorable when she’s focusing and you are more than content to just spend time with her. She was playing in one of the most important tournaments of her life and the fact that she wanted to spend time with you even as she did so made your heart swell with affection for her.

Five minutes later and Ona declares, ‘Okay. That’s enough work for tonight.’

Joan’s sister puts her ipad aside, moving closer to you.

She leans her head against your shoulder and softly asks, ‘How was your day hermosa?’

Your heart skips a beat and your cheeks turn red.

Ona hums and after a few moments of silence she lifts her head up hurriedly, ‘Was that okay? You’re not answering and I don’t mean to pry because Joan told me you can be a bit shy and reserved. I’m sorry-’

‘Hey. Don’t be sorry. I’ve had a really good day. It’s just that no one has ever asked me that before.’ You quietly admit.

‘Oh.’ Ona looks at you sadly before gently taking your hand in hers and running her thumb over your palm.

‘I’d like to ask you about your day every day, if you don’t mind of course.’ Ona murmurs, as she keeps soothing you with her thumb.

‘I think I’d like that.’

Ona leans over, setting your hand down so that she can cradle your face in her hands and give you a protective kiss on your forehead.

******

You travel to the stadium in Brighton with Joan and his girlfriend. You’re all nervous but upon seeing the confidence that Ona walks out with, your mind is set at ease. You can tell that it does the same for Joan because he squeezes your hand tightly.

‘She’s got this.’

******

For the next ninety minutes, you watch in awe as Ona plays her heart out for her country.

Her interaction with Beth Mead and the referee has you on the edge of the seat.

‘Come on Ona, don’t lose your head.’ You murmur anxiously.

Joan glances over but you barely notice, far too busy focusing on his sister.

A few minutes later, when Ona is tackled by another English player, you join the Spanish fans in their booing.

Then you remain standing, tiptoeing to look over the heads of the other fans to make sure that you can see with your own eyes that Ona gets up and is okay.

When she does, you release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Joan really turns to look at you then.

‘You care a lot for my sister don’t you?’

With pink tinged cheeks, you’re answering your friend a heartbeat later.

‘I do.’

******

You grab Ona’s hand as soon as she gets close enough to the barriers. The devastation and still fresh tear streaks on her face lets you know that she doesn’t need you to tell her she played well.

Every minute of the one hundred and twenty minutes she had played showed that. It was as clear as day.

So instead, you say, ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Ona shakes her head but you refuse to let her pull out of your embrace.

It had broken your heart when you watched her lie on the grass, her arms coming up to cover her face as she’d cried earlier, as soon as the whistle had blown. All you had wanted to do then was run across the field to her but you hadn’t been able to so you were hoping to make up for it now.

‘I am so proud of you.’ You repeat wholeheartedly, squeezing her gently.

That’s when Ona breaks down completely, sobbing into your shoulder.

‘We were the better team. It’s not fair.’ She chokes out.

‘I know. I know.’ You stroke her hair and she cries even harder.

Joan puts a hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly.

******

You don’t leave Ona alone for a single second. From the moment you hug her at the stadium, to the moment she’s back in her hotel room, you’re by her side.

When Joan and his girlfriend leave to get back to their hotel, you stay with the brunette fullback.

Joan gives you a knowing look as you see him out, squeezing your shoulder and murmuring a quiet, ‘Gracias. I know you’ll take good care of her.’

When you turn back to Ona, you see that she’s still curled into a small lump under her blanket.

You sit down on the bed beside her and say nothing else, simply reaching a hand under the blanket.

Ona grasping your hand tightly in hers a second later is more than enough of a response.

You lie beside her, holding her hand throughout the rest of the night.

******

Ona wakes up when the sun rises, a smile forming on her face as she feels your hand, still in hers.

Sometime in the night, you had pushed the blanket off her face so that she could breathe properly. Worrying about Ona was apparently something that you were going to have to get used to now.

The fullback brings your joined hands to her lips and gently, she presses a kiss onto the back of your hand.

You stir awake and are met with soft brown eyes that hold the most affectionate of looks in them.

‘Hi.’ You breathe and in answer, Ona whispers a quiet, ‘Hola.’

‘You okay?’

‘Better now. Thank you for staying.’

You shrug, ‘I was happy to. I’m even more happy to see you smile.’

Ona’s smile widens and she kisses your cheek lightly.

‘D-Do you have anything planned today?’

‘No.’

‘Want to get breakfast?

The nervous expression she’s wearing makes your heart skip a beat.

‘Ona, are you asking me out on a date?’

The Spaniard’s cheeks and ears flush adorably, ‘And if I am?’

‘Then I would say yes. But I would however, insist that I pay. I need to treat my favourite player right.’

Ona sits up then, a soft laugh leaving her.

‘Vale, I am honoured to be your favourite player.’

******

Ona invites you to watch the Euro final with her. She had managed to get two tickets in the German’s friends and family section and she was anxiously hoping you would say yes.

She had gone on a short impromptu trip to Austria with Joan and his girlfriend, her brother’s way of trying to take her mind off the quarter final game.

You found it adorable how much your friend cared about his sister.

You had explored London on your own while your friend and Ona were out of the country.

The brunette had insisted you wait to explore Manchester till she came back though. She was adamant that she be your tour guide in the city she now called home.

Ona didn’t want to rush things, the first date had gone so well and she didn’t want to jinx things by having a second date so soon. But she just wanted to spend time with you. She had missed you so much while she was away, even though it was only for a few days. Texting and calling just wasn’t enough.

The Spaniard didn’t have to worry because as soon as she had asked, you’d said yes. You wanted to spend time with her just as much as she wanted to spend time with you.

And Ona couldn’t stop herself from excitedly kissing your forehead.

You giggle and Ona’s gaze flicks down towards your lips just once before she meets your eyes.

But it’s enough to let you know that the feelings you have for her are reciprocated.

It’s why you don’t hesitate to cup her face in your hands and gently kiss her.

Ona melts, sighing into your mouth and kissing you back.

Her hands reach for your waist, fingers sneaking under your shirt and brushing against your bare skin.

The brunette pulls back slightly, just enough to breathe before pressing her lips back onto yours.

The second time she pulls back, she closes her eyes and leans her forehead against yours.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first met you.’ She whispers.

You laugh softly and tell her, ‘Me too.’

Outside your hotel room is not the most romantic place to share a first kiss with the woman who could potentially be the love of your life but you wouldn’t change a thing about it.

******

Watching Ona jump to her feet, cheering at the top of her lungs for Germany’s players, you can’t help but smile.

Her excitement and joy are contagious.

The cropped white collared shirt and ripped jeans she’s wearing looks so gorgeous on her. The grin on her face makes her even more beautiful.

You were so happy that she was feeling better and that she had mostly stopped reliving the lost game over and over.

And again, your heart goes, ‘Love her, she’s the one and we shall wed.’

******

When a couple of Germany’s players ask Ona if she would like to come to their after party, Ona glances at you, silently asking if you’d want to go.

You give her a nod and the brunette quickly relays the answer to the Germans.

******

In the hours to come, you learn that the Germans really know how to party.

The alcohol and loud music play a large part in you getting the courage to ask Ona to dance with you.

Ona laughs, shaking her head and protesting, ‘I can’t dance. I’m truly awful at it.’

You have a hard time imagining Ona would be bad, let alone awful at anything but nevertheless, you plead, ‘Come on. Please. Just one song for me?’

Joan’s sister hesitates for a split second before setting down her bottle of beer and taking your hand in hers.

‘Just for you. But don’t blame me if I step on your toes.’

******

Laughing and giggling as you stumble down the corridor of your hotel, with Ona’s hand in yours, you feel like you’re floating with happiness.

Although that may mostly be the alcohol.

You’re both more than a little tipsy and you hurriedly tap your key card to open the door.

Ona eagerly follows you into the room and one moment she’s in front of you and the next, she’s letting out an undignified squeak as she trips and lands on top of you, on your bed.

You laugh breathlessly but Ona isn’t at all fazed, simply taking advantage of her new position and kissing you hard.

‘I love kissing you.’ She mumbles, kissing you again and again.

You respond happily, losing yourself in the feeling of Ona making out with you. The feel of her lips on yours is intoxicating.

When the fullback leans back slightly, you look at her with wide beseeching eyes that ask, ‘Why’d you stop?’

Joan’s sister caresses your waist lightly, ‘Lo siento. I just, I wanted to ask…Will you be my girlfriend?’

You freeze, looking at the hopeful expression on her face.

Her chocolate brown eyes are shining but your head is screaming, ‘Are we gonna make it, gonna break it when it’s now or never?’

Ona keeps looking at you, her thumb carefully stroking your hip over and over again.

The thoughts running through your head jump to, ‘If it’s gonna hurt, will it be worth it and will I recover?’

You must be taking way too long to answer because the Spaniard asks gently, ‘Talk to me? What are you thinking about?’

Your inclination to hesitate is overcome by Ona’s reassuring tone and it comes out as a tiny whisper, fraught with insecurities, ‘Are you gonna feel the way I feel?’

‘Are you for real, Joan’s sister?’ Is another thought that’s on the forefront of your mind but you keep that one to yourself.

Ona shifts her hand to your cheek, resuming her reassuring stroking there.

‘Hermosa, if you mean that your heart skips a beat every time I walk into a room, then yes, I feel the same way. I get butterflies in my stomach whenever you look at me.’

‘You do?’

It’s almost too good to be true. Here Joan’s sister is, telling you that she returns the feelings you have for her.

Hearing it from her own lips is everything you’ve dreamt of for the past month.

Your head and heart are telling you the same thing now, ‘Will we ever get together? We’d be perfect for each other. Will we ever get together?’

Ona kisses your cheek affectionately.

‘Listen, I like you so incredibly much. I won’t let you down or lead you on. I’m not like the others, I promise.’

The raw honesty in Ona’s voice is clear and you know that if she’s anything like her brother, she wouldn’t say something like this lightly.

‘How can I know for sure? It’s only been a summer.’

Joan’s sister tries to keep a straight face because even she can hear, from the tone of your voice, that you’ve already made up your mind. And it was in her favour.

‘Get a flight to Spain and you can meet my mother.’ The brunette says easily.

‘Really?’

Ona giggles at the incredulity in your voice. She didn’t know how else to make sure you knew that she’s serious about the depth of her feelings for you.

‘Really. You already know my brother and he loves you. I’m sure my mother and father would too.’

‘Okay. I’d love to be your girlfriend and I’d love to go to Spain with you.’

The big grin on your face is matched by the goofy one on the brunette’s.

‘Yes!’

Ona cheers and leans down to kiss you, conveying all her emotions into the physical gesture. It nearly overwhelms you, the joy you feel. It assures you that you’re making the right choice.

That’s when you became her only girl and now you date Joan’s sister.

Spanish Translations:

gracias - thank you

hermosa - beautiful

hola - hi

vale - okay

lo siento - i’m sorry

[artleaguemdcnorth]

DRAWING CLASS - FINAL ASSIGNMENT Universal Declaration of Human Rights Painting (4/03/2024)

On Weds we will continue working with the figure.

Make sure you have the following materials tomorrow for class:

Bristol paper

Acrylic paints

Brushes

As we get ready to end the semester , this class will have the opportunity to create and submit a work of art for the Universal Declaration of Human Rights exhibit in the Fall.

I will give students their Article number at the end of the class tomorrow when we review this assignment.

FINAL ASSIGNMENT: 

Create a painting that expresses one of the 30 Articles of the International Declaration of Human rights.

There are three videos to watch in preparation for this assignment and revewing the IDHR website below.

One is regarding how children are used in sweat shops around India and the world. 

The second video documents how the cosmetics industry works with slave labor as well.

The third video documents how your favorite chocolate brands are created using child slave labor. From Mars to Hershey's, M&M , Snickers all these brands are brought to you thanks to the use of child labor in Africa.

These children are usually abducted from their homes a three to four years of age only to be put in fields working 15 hour days for years. They are never reunited with their parents or family.

You will watch all videos and then look and review all 30 articles from the link included above  the class blog.

I will assign an article to each student on Weds in class . 

You will then create imagery that expresses the importance of that article.

You will begin brainstorming the idea for work on this assignment starting on Tues after class.

This assignment will be due  Wednesday 4/10 at 09:40am .

We will have a critique on that day and at that time.

Materials:

1) You will need canvas 16 x 20

2) Acrylic paints

When you start reading about these articles consider how these rights affect yourself and your community and the world at large.

One example would be article Article 4 ,

“ No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms. “

When you think about this article , our first thought is maybe the American slavery of African Americans and Native Americans. 

Beyond that historical content, how can we understand this article in present terms?

Think about human trafficking or drug trafficking which brings countless of individuals who are suffering through poverty from third world countries into different parts of the world. 

Think about child labor.

This situation is still happening in parts of the world.

In India children are used in sweatshops for cheap labor.

In Africa child labor is used to mine diamonds and for chocolate plantations.

Watch the video below the talks about how that Hershey’s kiss and our snickers chocolate bar is made through the sweat of child labor. 

These children are abducted from their homes at an early age and kept in servitude until they either scape or can pay their way out.

Below is a newspaper report from a couple of years ago about a truck which had over 39 bodies trafficked for the purpose of force labor in England.

These are two examples of seeing one particular article beyond past historical association.

Article 9  and Article 6 are two circumstances that conjure past and present association. 

We witnessed this during the summer of 2020 here in America with the unjust death of George Floyd and so many other minorities who die at the hands of crooked law enforcement agents.

As you approach this assignment think of your duty as a citizen of the world.

How will you work towards a more just and fair society?

These articles offer us a template to live by.

As artist we have an obligation to engage in art that promotes peace and wellness beyond our boundaries.

Think about this as you create your artistic contribution for these rights.

I will post a link to the document above this post along with the videos to watch for this assignment.

Review them before class this Weds.

Below see examples from previous classes.

  DO NOT USE ANY OF THE IMAGERY SEEN BELOW.

You must come up with your own ideas.

1)

2)

3)

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DUE DATE

THIS ASSIGNMENT IS DUE AT START OF CLASS ON WEDS, APRIL 10TH, 2024 at start of class time. We will have a formal final critique on that day.

Articles assigned to each student:

1) Caylin Acosta No. 14

2) Melissa Betancourt No. 1

3) Daniela Cruz No. 9

4) Wilandra Dawes No. 12

5) Thomas Grau No. 20

6) Ryan Heredia No. 4

7) Milophe Jean No. 3

8) Ryan Perez No. 5

9) Vinicius Pires No. 22

10) Briana Saroza No.17

11) GG ?

[wheretheresaway-theresawilliam]

Chapter 32: A Monster's Grief

Word Count: 909

TWs: Themes of grief, death mentions

⛤⛤⛤

He spent the rest of that day, as well as the next, in a complete haze. He only came to reality when he woke up next to Norman on the second morning since Elizabeth’s passing.

“How’re you feeling?” Norman’s voice was cracked. He looked as if he had been crying for as long as William had been mentally absent.

“Bloody fucked, is what,” he answered, his own voice hardly better. “My final heir. My only daughter. Gone, because I can’t have one good thing going for me.”

“I-I took care of the restaurant, by the way… I didn’t want it to be something for you to worry about right now. The police wanted to get a good look at Circus Baby, but you know, they’ve got ash for brains so there was no way they were going to be able to open her up without help from somebody who actually knows what they’re doing. I shooed them away until you start feeling better. And I’ve been thinking about a cover-up.”

“And that is?”

“A gas leak. Especially considering the authorities can’t say anything about Circus Baby yet, so nobody’ll be the wiser. You pay a few bribes and things’ll stay shut up. I… I’m afraid this’ll probably spell the end of your business days, though, Will.”

He sighed heavily. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll take it into consideration. You’ll do me a favour, won't you?”

“What is it?”

“Do some digging on that Mike Schmidtt fellow I hired for Freddy’s… if he hasn’t kicked the bucket, too.”

“Yes sir.” Norman didn’t move. William didn’t, either.

“Where have I been, since…?”

“What…? Oh. You don’t remember?”

“Nothing.”

“I was told to keep you company. We didn’t do much yesterday, just sat in the quiet, really. This is the first time you’ve spoken since Circus Baby’s closed for the day, you just kept repeating the usual things you’d expect a man in shock to say while you were being looked at by the health professionals.”

“I see.”

Another pause. “You should probably take a shower. You never changed into pyjamas. I tried to suggest it to you last night but…”

William nodded slowly. “Yes… I’ll do that.” He sat up and felt his age settle into him. He buried his face in his aching hands. He sat like that for a good ten minutes, while Norman continued to lay beside him.

“I’m here for you…”

He squeezed his hand, finally leaving the bed. He stripped himself of his shirt. “Where’s my tie…?”

“Oh, somewhere.”

“Huh. Iron these for me,” he draped the shirt over a chair and started with his belt.

“Yes sir.”

On the opposite side of town, Michael was in a similar state. He’d listened to William’s cut-off voicemail when he got back from his fifth night at Freddy’s. He knew nothing more than that his sister was dead. Had William done it? Was he going to confess to everything over the phone? Frankly, the cut felt too close to home. Charlie was likely as close as he wanted to get. Elizabeth’s death had to be a true, genuine accident. Even more truthful than Evan’s. This meant he was William’s last living blood relative, much to each other’s discontent. He had never met his paternal grandparents. They reportedly returned to England after William moved out, and died there around the time Michael had been born. William did not bother to attend their funeral. Michael considered himself lucky. William was already a contender for shittiest parent of the decade, he didn’t need to know what Grandfather Winston and Grandmother Sarah had been like.

“Elizabeth’s dead,” Michael stated bluntly when he returned to Freddy’s on Monday. There was no weekend shift, so he could keep his actually well-paying job at the mechanic’s shop. He’d be up for a promotion to manager at this point if it weren’t for Freddy’s. The Marionette bristled.

“Did he do it?” Charlie’s voice buzzed with vehement static.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t heard anything since he told me over the phone… seemed like he was pulled away before he could tell me more. I don’t think he would’ve, honestly. He loved her, even if he had an unconventional way of showing it… probably the only one he loved out of us three.” He sighed, wiping his palms on his t-shirt anxiously.

“We need to stop him--” Charlie suddenly cut herself off with a short gasp. Both of them froze, clearly hearing a key turning in the lock on the front doors.

“There’s no fucking way,” Michael hissed, turning quickly. The Marionette slipped back into its box, hiding as he went to investigate. He couldn’t make out the figure beyond the glass, shrouded in the dark of the twilight, until the door opened and his flashlight blasted them in the face.

“Goddamn--!! Easy there, soldier!” Norman’s voice immediately manifested in a cold sweat on Michael’s back. With him briefly blinded, Michael took his chance- without hesitation, he clocked him over the head with the heavy flashlight. Norman thudded to the floor, knocked unconscious… for the moment. This is bad. This is really bad. With no better ideas in mind, Michael dragged Norman to the breakroom and locked him inside with a skeleton key he had found in the security office. He wished he had tried it on the backroom door before breaking off the handle, but what was done was done. He had bigger fish to fry, now.

[stories-of-the-strange]

Too Deep

Story submitted by Ryan Butler on December 4th, 2004.

I do not know what happened. I do not know what I saw. I´m not even sure where to start. But I have to start somewhere.

It happened on the 20th of July, 2004. I had been visiting my cousin Jake Shaw in London for a week. Even before I landed in England, he had been begging me to join him for some urban exploration. Now, I was only going to be in England for a week, and didn´t fancy getting into trouble with the authorities during it. Though he had assured me that it could be perfectly legal as long as we were careful and didn´t damage or steal anything, I had to raise an eyebrow at the „could“ part of his statement, to which he simply gave me a smug grin and a shrug.

I, by my standards politely, refused his offers, which I had to do at every opportunity. On my third day in England I even started actively pretending to be doing something at all times so I wouldn´t seem bored, to prevent him from trying to pull me into a manhole or closed-down shop of one kind or another. But, after touring the more famous and well-respected sites to be found in London, I was running out of alternatives. And I was scheduled to leave on the 22nd, so it was inevitable that he would eventually succeed.

The inevitable came at about 8 PM, at the Auld Shillelagh. I need to preface everything I will say from now on with this: Neither of us were drunk. Sure, we had a few drinks, but both of us could handle them. And, even in the worst possible scenario, there is no way I was drunk enough to imagine all of what I saw and not trip and fall in the underground. So no, we weren´t sober, but neither of us was drunk either.

So, after a few drinks and rounds of darts, Jake made a bet with me. If he scores better than me in the next five rounds, we are going to the Stockwell tube station, and if he doesn´t, drinks are on him for the rest of the night. Now, though I wasn´t particularly enthused with urban exploration I didn´t see it as the worst possible end to the night, especially after a few drinks to change my mind a bit, and I was willing to risk it for a night of free alcohol and making my cousin mad.

Suffice it to say that by three rounds I was already putting on my jacket, and cursing myself under my breath. We went by car, and got to the station at about 9:10 if I remember correctly.

I asked him what it was he wanted to show me, and he told me that there was an air raid shelter under the station. And that he knew a way into it. I told him to show me the way, but I was only told to wait for the metro. I half-sarcastically laughed at the idea of the metro simply taking us there, but he seemed to ignore it. Soon after the metro arrived, and neither of us got on. It left and I was just about to ask him what the point of this was when he broke into a sprint down the tunnel after it and yelled at me to follow.

I was obviously confused, but ran after him if only to drag him back after I caught him. I only caught up after he took a turn and stopped. I was starting to berate him for his risking of both our lives hoping a train wouldn´t run us over, but he remained uncharacteristically calm and started walking down the tracks, telling me that from now on I didn´t have to worry. That this place isn´t on any map, and that no trains actually go here. I inspected the tracks under flashlight slightly and his words appeared to ring true. The metal was obviously old and the wood was broken and moldy. That place couldn´t have been used or maintained in years.

I begrudgingly I asked him to show me the way, and, as smugly as ever, he obliged my request with an exaggarated bow. I told him exactly where he could stick his sass, and followed him down the wide, dark corridor of the metro.

Eventually, by my estimate maybe 600 feet down the tunnel, he came to an abrupt stop and shined his flashlight over to the left-hand wall. It was a hole. A curved metal hatch that had obviously been removed by force laid next to it. Inside there was the beginning of a metal ladder, stretching downwards.

I was about to return his sass and ask him to go down when he moved the light slightly upwards, and told me to look. There was text, crudely scrawled on with white chalk. „The tunnels are full.“ He said that hadn´t been there before, and to be careful since we may not be alone down there.

I was about to suggest turning around and leaving, but the tone of his voice as he asked me what I was waiting for assured me that there was no way he was coming with me. So if there was something to worry about, I would be abandoning him to it. I wasn´t abandoning my little cousin to get shanked by some thug in the London underground, so I climbed down after him. The tunnels in the shelter were similar to the underground, though in better condition and wider. Though I didn´t have very high expectations, and what happened later still haunts my dreams sometimes, I must admit. There was something special and almost hauntingly beautiful about that shelter.

We walked along, careful to keep our voices only at a whispering level so as to not provoke any potential unwanted attention beyond the any we would have purely by keeping the flashlights on, and eventually came across a set of what appeared to be bunk bedframes, knocked onto the floor.

Jake immediately ran over to inspect them, and excitedly waved me over to look at something. It was another hole. But this one wasn´t cleanly built, nor did it ever have a door. The metal supporting the tunnel was bent and torn away from the center of the hole, and the ground in front of it was covered in metal and concrete debris. It was huge. Easily big enough to fit a human comfortably. And the strangest thing about it was that it lead somewhere. Another tunnel. This one wasn´t anywhere near as wide as the one we were in, and had angular sides. It wasn´t so much a tunnel as a hallway now that I think about it.

Of course Jake was inside before I could protest, and of course, I had to follow him. This time I did say something, however I am not sure he even considered it before calling me a buzzkill and a coward. To put it in more gentlemanly words.

So, on we marched. The hallway went on for maybe 150 feet before coming to an abrupt turn. It was there that I noticed something. The walls were progressively getting rougher, and more beige in colour compared to the concrete grey of the beginning. But there was something Jake noticed that I hadn´t. The upper corners of the walls seemed to have some sort of symbols carved into them.

Neither of us could make any of them out properly, but they were there, and clearly very, very old. They almost seemed to be older than the shelter. But how? The metro was older, sure, but there was no reason either of us could think of for why there would be a smaller tunnel so deep below it. And the „entrance“ to it… it almost looked like a bomb went off. I started getting very, very worried. I mean, what if there were terrorists down there? We started arguing about these questions, and soon enough forgot to keep our voice down to a whisper. At that point he just told me to shut up, since if there were any terrorists down there, there was no way they hadn´t noticed us waving flashlights and borderline shouting at eachother by now.

He seemed just about convinced that we should leave, when something down the hallway caught his attention. Light. Orange and slightly flickering. And I felt physical pain knowing he wanted to go see it. So we made a deal. We were going to go outside, and wait for 5 minutes. If nobody came to check for us, we would continue. If somebody did, we at least had a chance of making it out alive.

The minutes passed painfully slowly in that place. I was more on edge than I had been in my entire life. Waiting for footsteps. The static of a walkie-talkie. A voice. Anything. And prepared to run for my life if anything came. But nothing did. I hated the fact I didn´t just push more and get out of that place. But I made a bet, and lost. Again. I could have lived my entire life not knowing about that thing, but no, I had to make a stupid bet.

So we continued on down the hallway. It was exceedingly long, almost a mile by my guess. A mile-long, straight hallway, with no turns. The walls kept getting less and less concrete like, and the light kept getting closer. Until I eventually realized something. It was sandstone. We checked the corners and it wasn´t blocks of sandstone either. We were inside a massive sandstone monolith.

The symbols also became clearer. Neither of us could read them, but who couldn´t recognize Egyptian hieroglyphs when they see them? I have never believed in ghost stories. Even when I was down there, inside of a massive, 70-years-old, sandstone structure under god-damn London of all places, I was convinced that there was some sort of explanation. I had no idea what that explanation was, but I was determined that everything here was natural. Not normal, but natural.

Isn´t it funny how far your brain will sometimes go to deceive itself into thinking you have any amount of control?

We were very close to the end, so I took a good, long swig of whiskey to steel my nerves and keep me from thinking about it too much, and pressed on. As we approached the light, we realized it was a room, with something in the center of it. We stepped inside. The room wasn´t too large, maybe 12 by 15 feet, and illuminated by countless candles at the bases of the walls.

But most importantly, the thing in the center was a solid block of sandstone, with a person laying on it. They appeared horribly malnourished except for their gut, which was swollen and bulbous. Upon closer inspection we realized they were a woman. Or maybe, had been, a woman, once. Her head wasn´t human. It was like one of those shrunken heads you see, but, from a dog or a crocodile, it was hard to tell, that had been sown onto where her head had once been. Both of us were now convinced we wanted to leave, and started backing away.

And then she began to moan. Her, or, it´s mouth didn´t open, but it moaned all the same. Not in pain mind you. It almost sounded like singing. Her stick-thin limbs began to thrash around and I could see it´s bloated stomach begin to… churn or squirm. I have no idea how else to describe it. We both started screaming at eachother to do something, and were just about to run when she… began to give birth.

A rolling tide of hundreds of tiny, black bodies, iridescent in the candlelight poured out of her. And I ran faster than I believed possible. I was out of breath by the time we reached the ladder, and, as much as I hate to admit it, I didn´t even check if Jake was with me before I started to climb. I made it up, and to my relief, he was right behind me.

We slammed the door behind us and caught our breaths. I remember Jake burst out laughing. After a few seconds I did too. We both laid there on those abandoned traintracks and laughed our asses off. Tears ran down my face as I did. Not sure about him.

We didn´t speak much after that. I left on schedule and got back home. Soon after he started texting me again. Saying that he thought we should go back. To figure out what happened. I told him very clearly and impolitely I had no interest in knowing any more about what happened than I already did. But then he started saying that he had went without me. Every time he updated me on his latest „expedition“ I tried to convince him to quit. But he never did. Eventually I stopped responding to him. If he wanted to get himself killed it was no longer my problem. On the 25th of August he texted me a single sentence.

„Do as you will, I have found Him.“

Two days later his mother called me. Apparently he had gone missing. Still is. I am not coming back to England.

[historyartthings]

This isn’t the point of this post at all, but I would just like to add something about this bit here:

Only because, I think the demarcation of the freedom of the nuns against other women is too sharply drawn imo?

I'll stick to married women since that's the point here lol. they had some important ways of expressing agency and independence. Women were expected to have influence over household finances and its material culture, for instance. Take this extract from advice to artisans regarding which qualities make a good wife:

'....preserving, maintaining, and paying attention to this [household] income, and finally advantageous, thrifty, careful, and intelligent use and spending...The wives of artisans in particular must also help in the shop or craft of their husband, either by working alongside of him or learning how to sell his goods properly.'

They held sway over the servants (where applicable ofc) and general operation of the household too, which was both a social and economic space. Women also worked a great deal, and earned money, both from within the home and without - including manual labour in the fields, although this was mostly during the harvest.

There’s also plenty of examples of women’s sociability and community, and spaces they had for themselves. You can see an exclusivity around childbirth social rituals, but they also led very connected lives more broadly. From court records, for instance, you read stories set in markets, in doorways whilst working, on streets/roads/pathways, in fields and commons, gatherings in all sorts of places! Including in alehouses - it’s not like the Victorian segregation of men and women at all. There's also various sorts of visual records which point to the same thing, different places and means by which women gathered and expressed themselves independently.

women are also in the courts a lot - EM england was a highly litigious society, and they were no exception to that. although iirc there were restrictions for this post-marriage upon women - you'd need your husband's permission. but id have to double check which courts and for what purposes this applied to. there were restraints upon bringing cases in your own name as i remember.

on that note, I should say, I’m not trying to paint too rosy a picture. I've only talked very briefly about some ways in which they could express agency, rather than ways they couldn't. All of this is variable, across space and time in the period. it’s ofc still a highly patriarchal society. England at this point was also highly regionalised, so I'm hesitant to generalise too broadly.

But yeah, this is a lot of waffle to say that married (and also unmarried and widowed) women could lead active lives, with agency and responsibility. I think I’m right in saying that there’s an example of Italian ambassadors being surprised at the level of freedom English women had. Apart from that, getting into the cloistered life at all could itself be very expensive, and not always as accessible as is sometimes supposed. I’ve read examples of women desperately trying to save/raise money to be able to enter a convent

Thomas and his view of bastards placed into religious vows/holy orders is very interesting. Because his first thought is to assume that now, as adults who choose to stay in said orders, they hate it, or that they don't take it seriously. Which at first, is an understandable misconception. But sometimes, he lets his own personal view of religion overshadow the fact that maybe, just maybe, they are happy in positions that have given them power, status and family. This is about both Dorthea and Stephen, and his relationship to them.

Thomas can count a total of two bastards on his fingers forced into the religious life that he's pissed off. and i put the rest under the cut.

He did it first to Stephen, where in the book he mentions that Stephen was basically forced into being a priest even though he didn't want to. He talks about how Stephen loathes being a priest, how it’s this shameful, things that he is embarrassed by (in addition to being well, a bastard). However, being a priest gave Stephen immense amount of power, and he ends up becoming the Bishop of Winchester. There is nothing that states, at his big age, Stephen actually hates being a priest/Bishop. 

He also brings up sex with Stephen, basically asking if Stephen has been sleeping with women. Aside from being gay, Stephen takes his vows of celibacy very seriously, and that was something that shocked Thomas. UNDERSTANDABLY, because aside from Stephen, almost all the clergymen Thomas knows are fucking and have kids running around the place. Stephen however, doesn't, and there is that cognitive dissonance from Thomas because he is probably thinking, "why do you take a position you were forced into so seriously, especially when no one else does?" and it's because yes, he was forced into it, but that was the only place he was accepted. he is a family embarrassment, but the clergy became his family.

Next is Dorthea, whom like Stephen also had no choice in taking religious vows, but as we see in both the show and the book, she doesn’t hate it. In the show she states she wasn’t there by choice, and she might be forced to leave, not by her own choice. She brings up her sisters, and worries for them, especially when Thomas doesn’t. Thomas comes to her thinking that she hates her life, that she wants to leave, that she detests being a nun - but that simply isn’t true. He offers marriage to her as an escape, but doesn’t even realize that is a cage. At that time, nuns had far more freedom to live their lives than married women. They didn’t listen to a man, they were not governed by a husband, they could make their own money, they could teach, etc. Because Thomas assumed that Dorthea hated her life, he never actually asked her if she liked being a nun. She loves her sisters, and even though she had little, to no choice, the life she as given is the life she accepted. She found a family, she found happiness even if she was shunned. And again, she has far more freedom that many women around her. 

The lack of awareness is also quite interesting to me. because Thomas doesn’t realize that the *only* reason she’d be attempting to “escape” being a nun, is because her monastery is going to be destroyed. It’s not so much ‘ I hate this life, I wanna marry you’ as much as it is ‘because of YOU, this life that I have learned to love is over - so I am going to either go to the street or be forced into a marriage.”

ANYWAY back to the concept of bastards and religions. Back then, being in holy orders or religious vows was one of the few things that saved bastards and gave them family, status, power, etc. Especially when their own families were either ashamed of them, or didn’t want them. Which is the case of the two bastards in question. Thomas does a lot of projection on his own view of Catholicism, holy orders, and religious vows. And with that, there is also this idea of entitlement, which I already talked about in another post.

Anywayz...

tl: dr - Dorthea is a fully-fledged lesbian, and if they were on better terms, Stephen would have let Thomas fuck him if he asked. He would have absolutely bent over for that man.

[mountswhore]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 — mason mount

if you guys have any requests, just ask and you shall receive ! <3

aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Mason knows you enjoy your time to breathe, and relax after god knows how long of fun. He presses a small kiss to your cheek, thanks you, and helps you put your clothes back on. You’d be on the balcony of his bedroom, letting the wind hit your face, feeling a pair of arms wrap around you and a drink of water appear in front of you. Mason always takes the best care of you, by letting you relax and softly assisting you in whatever you needed.

body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Mason feels as if it’s a bit shallow to have a favourite body part, but if he had to choose, it’d he his arms. He knows you love them, so he loves them too. They hold you down during sex, wrap around your body with ease, making you drool as the veins appear. You get a great view of them holding your legs as he goes down on you.

If he could choose everything about you, he would. But his absolute favourite body part would be your lips. He’d watch you talk to him about whatever, and see how they curve, how bite-able they were. Seeing them wrapped around his cock does a number on him, it’s a sight he wish he could see at any point of the day.

cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Mason knows you enjoy it when he cums inside you, but he loves seeing it all over your face. Seeing those pretty lips at work, then minutes later covered in his cum. What a sight. Or in your mouth. It’s pleasure within itself to watch your eyes roll to the back of your head, as he fills your mouth up and forces you to swallow.

dirty secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Mason is dominant as fuck. He loves the whole ‘daddy’ thing, it really gets him going. Just seeing you so soft and innocent underneath him was a sight for sore eyes. It wasn’t an every-time-you-have-sex thing, more of a long-awaited session thing. There are times Mason wants to be soft with you, but this is what turns him on the most.

experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

You and Mason met when you were pretty young and inexperienced, which made an awkward first time. But now you look back on it and laugh, because Mason knows exactly how to get you there, and you know how to get him there too.

favourite position (This goes without saying)

During one of your rougher sessions, he’d prefer doggy all the way. It’s the perfect position to hit the spot for you and him. And the view is incredible. But in general, you being on top is his favourite. He gets to see it all, and doesn’t have to move his head. He can see your boobs bouncing as you ride him, your face contort as you moan from the pleasure, and the feeling was immaculate.

goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

When you’d both been on a night out, getting home and all over each other, it’d be a lot of giggly sex. Mason tripping on his trouser leg as he tried to walk and take them off, it was hilarious to drunk you. But you’d be hushed very quickly as his lips met back with yours, pushing you onto the bed before the pair of you were laughing again.

But in moments of missing him for a few weeks at a time, or if Mason is sexually frustrated from being on a sex ban because of football, he’s stone cold. He wants you, he needs you. And you let him. He gets down to business immediately and knows exactly what he’s doing, he wants to hear you moan and feel you around him.

hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Mason likes to keep it clean, not hairless, but trimmed. To you, it didn’t matter. But for him, it’s his personal preference.

intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Making you feel good, getting you to your high, that was all that mattered to Mason. He knows you like to be wooed, not just get straight into it. So he always rubs you down gently, his fingers gently drifting to places he couldn’t wait to get to. All while telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you. Kissing every inch of your body, moving your hair from your face and complimenting you. Every beautiful thing you could say to your lover, is said.

jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn’t do it a lot. When training for a game, he’s put on a two-week sex ban. So there are times when he gets home and needs to see you in one of your nice lingerie, touching himself to the look of you. But whenever he can spend his time fucking you over and over, it’s time we’ll spent.

kink (One or more of their kinks)

Aside from the daddy kink, he has a corruption kink. Knowing he was your first, he’d slowly plagued your innocent mind with dirty thoughts. Taught you what he liked, learnt what you liked. Seeing you become more confident sexually, because of him, it turned him on.

location (Favorite places to do the do)

Mason has a few favourite places:

The kitchen counter; seeing you bent over and begging for more of him, bruises most likely forming from the constant drilling into the counter. In a house as big as his, you could be as loud as you wanted. And he loved hearing the nice echoes of your moans.

Sun beds; when you were both on holiday, mason was taking advantage of the time he was allowed to have sex. He wanted to enjoy the sun, and you. So in the comfort of your private Villa, you were all his in front of the sweltering sun and gorgeous view.

Car; it was a tight squeeze, sure, but it was all the more sexy. Mase had a legal amount of tint to his windows, meaning nobody was seeing into his car. So he could have you going down on him as he waited in traffic, making all kinds of faces and noises for only you to see and hear.

motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

After your massive shopping sprees, you’d arrive home with a myriad of bags and clothes. You’d make Mason sit on the couch, parading your body around in front of him, with all kinds of complimenting clothing. It wasn’t long before you were both tangled together on the couch, Mason hitting you from behind.

Or when he gets home from training, all sweaty and grunting from moving around for hours, and he’d see you bent over the counter casually scrolling your phone. Mason would be bringing you up to the shower with him.

no (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wasn’t big on tying you up, even if you tell him it doesn’t hurt, he wouldn’t dare do it in case he actually did hurt you. Or spitting in your mouth, it just didn’t turn him on like it did other people.

As far as turn offs go, there’s nothing you do that turns him off.

oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Mason was god-like at giving head, he does it for his own pleasure. But he prefers receiving. Call him selfish, sure. But the look on your face as you’re taking all of him, it’s a sight he wouldn’t exchange for the world.

pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Mason likes to do it rough, he knows it turns you on more than anything, and it ties in perfectly with his kinks. But for more romantic evenings, like your anniversary, he’s holding you gently and slowly thrusting into you, your lips connected the whole time.

quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You only have quickies when you have events to attend to. One of your families barbecues? Quickie either in the car or their bathroom. A wedding party? Quickie in the toilets or he’d be fingering you under on of the tables. Let’s just say Mason lives on quickies.

risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

I wouldn’t call it risky, more experimentation. But when you suggested buying whipped cream, ice, and chocolate sauce. He thought you were making ice creams, not having experimental sex with food. But he bought in nonetheless and tried it, rubbing your nipples with ice cubes. Seeing your back arch and hearing your moans erupt from your mouth, it was enough to know he was going to enjoy you bringing a bag of ice home.

stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Being an athlete, you’d think Mason can last a while. And you’d be right. But sometimes, when he’s had a long few months of training, as well as the god-awful sex ban, just seeing you in a bra would make him cum.

toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Anything that pleasures you, he has it. Vibrators, beads, gag, whip, paddle. You name it. In the bottom of his bedside table, that’s where you’ll find the goodies. After learning how many tools there were to help you reach a good orgasm, Mason was feeling a few hundred quid lighter.

unfair (How much they like to tease)

If football doesn’t work out, Mason could have a career in teasing. He does it in places he knows you can’t do anything about it. At a barbecue, he’ll ‘excuse himself’ past you and grab at your hips tightly, feeling his dick against your ass. Looking back at you with a smirk, you know what he’s in for later.

volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Mason had mastered the art of silence, when he’d be sharing a room with another England teammate, and you’d be sending him nudes nonstop. He had a gallery full, and yet here you were, adding a few more and making him hard. But he loved to be loud, knowing it was only you two in the house, he could do as he pleased, grunting as he slammed into you.

wild card (A random headcanon)

He loves being in a cocky mood with you, not to piss you off, but to sexually frustrate you. As you hoover under his feet, he’d whisper a few dirty thoughts into your ear as he got up. Or if you hand him a drink whilst he’s playing on his pc, he rewards you with a slap on the ass.

x-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Mason is hung. The men who don’t brag about their size are the biggest. He knows he doesn’t have a completely chiselled body like other men do, but you never fail to remind him that none of them have ever made you cum like he has. It made him more confident about his fingers, his arms, his legs his chest. It was him that you chose, and it’s him that gets to make you cum every night if he wanted to.

yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Too high for the career he has. He’d quite happily be buried between your legs all day if he could choose to be, or have you gagging on him every night. He just wanted you all day every day, and his job wouldn’t allow it. But it made your sex sessions much better, with all the pent up sexual frustration.

zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Not as quickly as you. Whilst you’re dozing off on his chest, he’s stroking your hair with one hand and dragging his other hand from your cheek all the way down to your hips and back. It’s not long after you’re completely out for him to cuddle into you and drift off himself.

if you guys have any requests, do let me know ! <3

[shadowsinger11]

Inspiration

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Requested by anon: Could you do a Fred Weasley imagine where he falls in love with Harry’s younger sister. (Maybe a after the war where he lives)

Word Count: 3.3k (my hand slipped oops)

Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining etc.

Warnings: Slight innuendo, Fred being cute and hot simultaneously

Tags: @self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples

Message me if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England, July 16, 2000

It was a chilly Sunday evening. The summer air buzzed with excitement and the tender aroma of magnolia as tiny white and pink petals were gracefully falling from the huge cherry trees, carried by the light breeze. Twilight painted the horizon in liquid gold and fiery red, soon followed by mellow shades of dark blue that brought countless sparkling stars.

It was getting the slightest bit colder, but it did not matter; nothing else mattered but the loud cheers and cheerful music, celebrating the official bond between a Potter and a Weasley under the wide night sky.

You couldn't have been happier for your older brother, Harry, who was currently dancing with Ginny, his now wife - now and for the rest of his, hopefully, but not really likely, peaceful life. For the longest time you've been wondering how he'd always manage to get into trouble even as a small First year with no experience in the wizarding world whatsoever. Or, perhaps, that was the exact reason as to why evil-battling and rule-breaking were such common practices when hanging out with him.

However, there was no fighting that day. There was no room for worry and fear when the entire Weasley family and their loved ones were gathered on the clearing in front of the Burrow, chatting, laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, celebrating and living for what seemed to be the first time since Lord Voldemort's fall. Danger was practically nonexistent in that blissful moment which was frozen in time, once having looked agonizingly distant and impossible to hope for. But that dream was no longer just a foolish fantasy to heal wounded hearts. It was there, and it was happening in the most beautiful way imaginable.

And suddenly, all those clichés of a married life weren't even clichés. They were simply humble wishes of people who had witnessed far too many horrors in such a short period of time, and only craved stability among the massive chaos. So when you glanced at Ginny, a twirling blur of flaming red hair and a gorgeous wedding dress, you didn't feel the need to comment on how banal the color white was. You genuinely smiled, admiring the pure, exuberant joy, visible in her eyes and scarlet cheeks. Harry looked just as, if not even happier than his wife, dancing in the ridiculous but wholehearted way that only he could, and old memories of him winning the golden egg, training Dumbledore's Army and kissing Ginny in the common room for the very first time flooded into your mind.

It had truly been a long time since you had seen Harry careless and free like that.

You yourself had spent an ungodly amount of hours preparing the yard for the ceremony all day; rearranging chairs, decorating, making sure everything was going by schedule, only to then dance your tired feet off, and though you wanted to continue having fun with Hermione, Luna and the rest of the girls waiting for you, you really needed a break. And a drink.

Excusing yourself to leave the particularly interesting conversation you were having with distant Weasley relatives, you slipped off your black flats that, despite looking absolutely stunning, hurt your feet terribly after an entire day of fussing over the color of napkins and flower bouquets. Barefoot on the grass, you walked over to a chair next to a table which seemed to have been occupied, but judging by the mostly empty glasses and plates, the guests weren't coming back anytime soon.

You tossed your shoes aside with a sigh and rushed to rub your aching toes, hissing from how sore they were.

How has Ginny been dancing like that for hours?

"Enjoying the party, I see?" a familiar deep, slightly husky voice commented, causing you to look up.

It was none other than Fred Weasley, dear friend from childhood, staring down at you, his ever-present charming smirk resting on features and hands shoved into the pockets of his dragonskin suit. But it was his flaming red hair that made your eyes widen - it was carefully smoothed back, shining under the moonlight like liquid iron.

Fred's eyes still contained their famous, loveable mischief, except now slightly tamer and calmer. His firm biceps had visibly grown in size, stretching out the fabric of his coat just a bit to give you a prominent silhouette that caught you off guard.

It had been two years; he had changed so much.

And you were afraid to admit you had too.

You blinked in surprise, processing his uncharacteristically sophisticated appearance before realizing what he had asked you.

"Would've enjoyed it far more if my legs weren't killing me," you groaned half-heartedly and leaned back on your chair. "What's with your hair?"

"What's with your feet?"

"I asked you first," you cut him off. "I bet Ginny is responsible for this."

"Actually…" Fred trailed off, and, whether on purpose or not, ran a hand through the ginger locks to keep them in place, unaware of how you suddenly wished the hand doing the graceful motion wasn't his. "Mum insisted that I looked my best. What can I say, it's not like George and I usually listen to her, but we thought we'd make an exception this time; our sister doesn't get married every day. But honestly, Ginny couldn't care less about how we looked as long we showed up."

"So like usual, you mean?" you giggled. "Showing up is an achievement for you even if you're underdressed?"

Fred beamed, pearly white smile complementing his formal outfit. You wondered if he used that exact smile to effortlessly allure costumers and business partners at work.

He rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward.

"Come on now, darling. I know you find my messy hair irresistible either way."

His cockiness only caused you to laugh, though Fred was quick to spot the flash of nervousness in your eyes; it brought him immense pride to know he was the one to turn you from confident to adorably bashful and flustered in the matter of seconds.

He was looking at you intensely, expectantly waiting for you to deny his flirty accusation despite your shyness.

"Nah, Weasley. It only reminds me that even at twenty-two you still do not know how to use a comb."

Fred's eyebrows shot straight up to his hairline, mouth agape. For the first time, he actually needed a second to form a reply.

"Didn't see that coming, I give you that. Courageous one, you are."

Your heart fluttered with joy and you openly grinned, shrugging in half-hearted humbleness.

"Perhaps I am."

Speaking to him felt unusually energizing, as though you had jumped headfirst into a chilly lake. It was unfamiliar and it set your nerves on fire, causing your stomach to twist and turn with sensations that left you dizzy, but unbelievably thrilled. And you wanted more of it, you wanted more of him.

"Fancy a drink?" Fred offered, already pouring champagne into a glass before handing it to you, and you keenly took it.

"Thanks, I've been thirsty with all the preparations I was doing."

"Is that why your legs are killing you?"

"Exactly, I've been running around all day, making sure everything was in order… you know, a lot of organizing and the like."

"It must hurt quite a bit then," Fred commented with a pained grimace. "But I absolutely get you, Georgie and I are just like that when it comes to the shop. It's a lot of accounting if I'm being honest, though I admit he's way better at it. We need to be completely precise; we can't allow any mistakes."

"Woah," you laughed. "Control freak much?"

He wettened his lips, never breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps I am."

You tilted your head to the side, gaze piercing into his in hopes of finding out what those gorgeous brown eyes were hiding. The tiny playful flames in them were eloquent.

Shifting slightly in your seat, you smoothed out your bridesmaid dress and raised your glass, the ghost of a smirk playing on your lips.

"Cheers to us control freaks then."

Fred mirrored your smug expression and your glasses met with a clink. The bubbly liquid tingled your throat, undoubtedly refreshing you and cooling you off. You glanced at the people dancing in the centre of the clearing and giggled - Ginny had apparently thrown away her white shoes long ago, bare feet stepping elegantly on the grass.

"You see, I'd like to chat a bit more with you, but I'm afraid it's a bit too loud here. What about we go to the pond across the field?" Fred suggested, pointing at the woods behind his back. You had visited them countless times when staying with Harry at the Burrow during holidays years ago; the tall trees and the glistening waters had never ceased to bring you comfort.

The noise started to become bothersome, and you felt it even more necessary to continue your conversation somewhere private, the unknown causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Fred's presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, or the sensation of anticipating a tidal wave to crash into you in less than a second. It was wild and the tiniest bit terrifying, but oh so tempting as it pulled you in.

"I'd love that, but… you know," you grinned and playfully swang your sore feet. "Can't really walk."

But this didn't at all seem like a problem to Fred Weasley who only shrugged and stood up, "You don't have to. I'll carry you."

"Merlin, no! Please, it's not necessary."

Fred frowned, but his confused expression was soon replaced by an amused one.

"You said it yourself that your feet hurt like hell. And even if carrying you around isn't necessary, it doesn't mean I don't want to."

You attempted to tame the butterflies.

"No, no! You seriously don't have to, I promise," you frantically protested as you held up your hands in front of you to reassure him, but he only gave you a weird look. "I can walk on my own. I'll be too heavy for you."

"There's only one way to find out."

Fred walked over to you and leaned down, one hand sneaking around your waist and the other slipping under your knees. You shrieked in terror, arms flying to clutch at his shoulders, and heat rose to your cheeks from the abrupt contact. Your chests were pressed together, and you were afraid he'd be able to feel your racing heart. His skin was warmer than you had thought, and it successfully fought off the night summer chill.

"Are we going?" Fred whispered down at you, lips so close to yours that you recognized the nuance of champagne in his breath, mixing unbelievably well with the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood of his cologne.

Not only is he sinfully attractive, but he smells heavenly too?

"Yes," you breathed and let Fred effortlessly walk across the meadow with you in his arms. They brought this new, odd, yet familiar sense of security, and you allowed your head to rest against his chest, nervous gaze wandering off into the distance in hopes of not meeting his. Nevertheless, curiosity eventually took the best of you, and your eyes would occasionally flicker to his, which were now completely black under the night sky. They could swallow you whole, you swore.

Minutes later, you found yourselves in the company of old, enormous willows which surrounded the pond you so vividly remembered from your teenage years. You thanked Fred as he carefully let you down, and took a few steps forward to look around and drench in the misty moonlight that enveloped the area. The waters were crystal clear and completely still, reflecting the moon and its majestic silver glow. The bushes had grown significantly over the time you were away, and you fondly looked back at the moments when you would pick up colorful wildflowers in the summer before your fourth year.

"Shall we sit?" Fred asked quietly from right behind your shoulder, and you followed him with a nod. You found a comfortable spot on the fresh grass to sit, a few feet away from where the water met the soil and moved back and forth ever so slightly.

"It's more beautiful than I remember," you noted, lips curled up in a barely visible smile. Fred hummed in agreement.

"That's why I always make sure to come here every chance I get when I return. But, unfortunately, that's very rare in my case."

For a moment, there was only the chirping of crickets and the soft bubbling of water.

Fred turned to you.

"Remember when mum used to call for us to de-gnome the garden and we'd hide here? We could stay in the bushes for hours before we eventually came back," he recalled, seeming deep in thought. It was an extraordinary sight; for once the playful spark in his eyes was more mellow, there was no cockiness seeping into the way he was holding himself. He was just Fred, the man who was currently thinking with so much adoration and love about his childhood, the most significant memories of it being marked by you.

You wondered, given you ever had the chance to spend with Fred as much time as your older brother did, if the charismatic prankster would have fallen for you like you had done. You wondered, given the chance you had let Fred get to know you better all those summers ago, if his heart would have belonged to you by now just like yours did to him.

Had you possibly missed your chance?

"Oh, I do," you sighed, the tension in your chest vanishing as warm nostalgia crept in like an old friend. "I also remember when I got this really bad nightmare that night. I was so terrified that you took me on a ride with your broom in the middle of the night to cheer me up."

"That's true! My parents don't know about it to this day," he replied smugly. "I can still hear you screaming like a lunatic."

You jokingly smacked his arm, "I was twelve!"

Fred's grin grew wider.

"Excuses…"

This only caused you to stare at him in disbelief and cross your arms, managing your most serious expression, but Fred was aware you were on the verge of failing to keep your stern facade. He squinted his eyes as a teasing attempt to provoke you, smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Alright then, that's enough about me," you announced, and Fred nodded in mock agreement as he studied your playful pretence. "If you're so much better than me, Mr Darcy, what else do you do aside from stealing ladies away?"

"Stealing their hearts," he said confidently, flashing you a seductive smirk, reserved only for special girls back in your Hogwarts days. You giggled, finding his antic utterly ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it still turned your blood into liquid fire. Fred apparently saw right through you, because when your eyes landed on his, they appeared completely dark once again, but, you suspected, for a reason other than the lack of light.

Your throat went dry, and you found it hard to swallow down the lump that cut your breath short.

He ran a hand through his ginger hair as he began to explain, "I'm kidding, you know. But to answer your question, George and I have been working on this potion that should be able to change the color of the eyes and hair. Fun for those who enjoy experimenting with their appearance, but it can also be useful to the Ministry. They're actually going to send a team of a couple of aurors to visit us next month so we can update them on our progress and negotiate the details."

"Wow! That's certainly exciting!"

"Is it? I mean, it probably is, but I've been having second thoughts lately if I'm being honest." He scratched the back of his neck, and you realised you had only witnessed him being anxious when it came to his greatest passion. "I'm afraid we might not be done on time, there's still plenty left to improve."

You put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, and said, "I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually. Keep working as you normally do, try not to stress too much over the deadline, and even if things go wrong at some point, don't go too hard on yourself. It wouldn't take away any progress you've made so far."

Fred's body relaxed just a bit and he looked down at you. He couldn't deny the sense of serenity that he felt only when he was with you. Even as a careless young boy, he was able to pinpoint the way his midriff would clench every time you'd laugh at his jokes or ask him to play with you, without knowing what it all meant.

But now, as a grown man, he had a word to describe the bittersweet fire within.

"You know what?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "I could really benefit from having someone like you around to give me motivation."

"Motivation, huh?" you raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. Fred sneaked a hand around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Yes, motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

"Marketing strategies, work projects…" he shrugged nonchalantly, "...among other things."

You quickly caught on, suddenly becoming way too self-aware of the way you were practically cuddled into Fred's side, hand resting on his shoulder while his were wrapped around your waist. But his shining confidence seemed to rub off on you, because you asked.

"What's with you offering me a job all of a sudden?"

His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he took his sweet time devouring you with his darkened gaze. You didn't know whether you wanted to hide from it, or expose yourself even further to the way it burned its way straight to your core.

"Well…" Fred dragged out in his low, hoarse voice, and caressed your cheek with his thumb before slipping it under your chin to guide it towards his face. You could nearly taste the remaining flavour of champagne on his lips. "I've certainly been feeling…"

Fred went quiet as he got lost in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms; you had always meant to be there, he realised. His mouth crashed into yours, hands tightly gripping your waist, and you let out a gasp. Fred's lips were soft, although slightly chapped, and they moved gently but firmly against yours, turning you into their slave. Your palms naturally slid up his chest and he closed any remaining distance between your bodies by placing you to straddle his lap. The kiss was a dance of pushing forward and pulling back, two lovers having finally found their rhythm after years of living in fearful desire. You were positively drunk on his taste, on him, and you wished to never become sober.

When your need for air overcame the one for physical contact, you pulled away. Your chests were heaving with rapid, shallow breaths, hearts beating in synch like they had always done. You let a finger tenderly trace his cheekbone down to his jawline, then it came back up to draw different affectionate patterns on his face.

"What were you saying?" you asked, clearly out of breath. "How were you feeling?"

He fondly took your hand that was caressing his skin, and lifted it up to press feather-light kisses on your knuckles. His lips retraced their path until they reached the tips of your fingers, and he kissed those with the gentlest of touch.

You heart ached pleasurably from the way he was handling you with such care, much more than you ever believed he was capable of.

After minutes of worshipping you by the moonlit lake, Fred looked back at you as though you were his entire world. And replied with a smile.

"Inspired."

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist

[helnjk]

A Change of Scenery - C.W.

Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Requested: yes!

omg hi! I just saw the fanart of the oldest Weasley brothers(🥵🥵🥵) and was hoping you could do a Charlie x reader thing? Maybe the reader is a healer at the sanctuary and Charlie doesn't mind getting hurt because he gets to see her but she literally has no idea he adores her till he spells it out. With promt 42 of your list maybe? Totally cool if you want to leave it out 😁 love you and your work! -🍄

“what the hell were you thinking?”

Word count: 3.1k 

Summary: moving to romania for your absolute dream job, you did not expect to meet a cheeky, flirty redhead along the way. 

Warnings: mentions of injuries, food, & drinks. charlie is a dragon tamer, reader is a healer, of course he’s going to end up with a few cuts and bruises. 

A/N: god i love charlie weasley with all of my heart. that is all. 

prompt is in bold

-

Being connected to and living somewhere very in tune with the earth had always been a dream of yours. It just so happened that your new job had you transferred to the perfect place: Romania. 

Sure, it was quite far from England and had quite a different culture, but the beauty of the mountains and the picturesque scenery made up for it. The fact that you were also working in one of the best medical wings in the country, on a dragon reserve on top of that, was basically your dream come true. 

“Alright, and this right here is your station,” announced the head healer, who insisted you call him Gerry, gesturing to a decently sized office space. “You can decorate it anyway you like, as long as it’s appropriate. Most of the folks around here aren’t locals either, so we’ve got loads of photos up and lots of owls coming in and out everyday.” 

“It’s perfect,” you grinned. 

Gerry left you alone to get settled, and you didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but the first thing you did once he was out of earshot was to squeal excitedly and do a little happy dance. 

It was just all too exciting, really. Dream job, dream location, dream view even. After your burst of excitement, you spent a bit of time just staring out of the window, taking in everything. In the distance, you could even see the silhouette of a dragon peeking over the canopy of trees. The fact that this was going to be a regular occurrence just spurred even more delight in your heart. 

Later in the day, after most of the introductions were made and tours were finished, you could be found familiarizing yourself with the medical wing of the sanctuary. 

“C’mon Gerry, I’m completely fine!” you heard a gruff voice complain. It was coming from the hallway outside, but the accompanying footsteps sounded as if they were on the way to the wing. 

“You know it’s protocol, Weasley,” a very amused Gerry replied as they rounded the corner. 

Beside your boss was one of the most gorgeous men you had ever laid eyes on. With wind ruffled hair the color of sunsets and lightly tanned skin, you almost didn’t notice the small, almost inconspicuous limp he was sporting. It also took you a few seconds to realize that he was probably one of the dragon tamers of the reserve, the first one you were going to meet and treat, it seemed. 

“Ah, Healer L/N, perfect!” Gerry called out to you, “This is Charlie Weasley, one of our on-site dragon tamers.”

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled, holding out his hand for you to shake. 

“You too,” you said in reply, trying not to think about how warm and calloused his hand was in yours. 

“His leg got swiped by the tail of a Chinese Fireball,” Gerry explained as he motioned to the leg that Charlie wasn’t putting much of his weight on.

You could see the redhead roll his eyes, “Honestly, I’ll be fine! This has happened more times than you know.” 

Despite his best efforts, both you and Gerry managed to get Charlie to take a seat on one of the beds that lined the wall. With a sigh, he rolled up his trousers just enough for you to see the area of the wound. 

“Lucky for you, treating this doesn’t take much time,” you smiled. Swiftly, you took your wand out and muttered the correct incantation, “There. Good as new!” 

“If I get to be under the care of Ms. L/N here, I wouldn’t mind getting injured more often,” he flirted, sending you a cheeky wink. 

Gerry just guffawed a loud belly laugh, patting Charlie on the shoulder fondly, “Don’t you go running off with one of my best healers now, Weasley. We just got her!” 

“Don’t worry, Gerry,” you smiled, “I think this one’s too injury-prone to run anywhere.” 

–

As the last work day of your first week at the reserve was coming to an end, you were surprised to see Charlie Weasley knocking on the open door to your office. 

“Hey,” you said, sending him a small smile.

“Hey,” he parroted, stepping inside. 

“Anything I can help you with?” you asked over your shoulder while putting away the last of your files and slipping out of your healer robes, “You’re not injured again are you?” 

Behind you, Charlie gulped as he saw the little sundress you wore underneath. His head spun at the sight of your exposed legs and he nearly forgot what he was about to say. 

“Nah I’ve got a better track record than that, thankfully,” he chuckled. Doing his best to keep the calm facade he had going on, he leant against the doorframe as he asked, “Got any plans tonight? I was wondering if you’d fancy getting a bite to eat.” 

You were caught off guard by how nonchalant and straightforward his invitation was.

“Is this your way of asking me on a date?” you asked, finally turning around to face him once again. 

He raised an eyebrow, “Do you want it to be? Because I just wanted to be a nice person and show you around Romania, but if you’re looking for a date…” 

“Oh shut it, Weasley,” you groaned, “The tab is on you tonight, then.” 

Charlie sent you a grin as you strode out of your office. Despite your faux-annoyance, you were happy to have someone show you around. Being a healer was your dream job, but it did have some setbacks. Obviously, you were needed at the medical wing of the reserve for the majority of the week and that didn’t give you much time to familiarize yourself with the town and the people. 

Because of how remote the reserve was, most staff and employees lived on site. There was a designated area for the many different cabins and living quarters. To give you more of a tour of the little Romanian town nearest the reserve, Charlie offered to side-along apparate you. 

You could feel heat creep up your neck and spread along your cheeks as you gripped firmly on to his muscular arm. 

The sun was just about to set and cast gorgeous hues of orange and pink across the sky as the two of you landed just outside the town. Charlie led you along, showing you where the most important areas were; you saw the town square, the little street bazaars, and the most popular eating places. 

By the time the pair of you got to one of his favorite restaurants, a quaint little place in one of the sidestreets, your cheeks were sore from laughing too much. After the initial awkwardness as you tried to navigate topics that interested the both of you, you found yourselves chatting away animatedly. 

“Yeah, Fred and George were an absolute nightmare when they were little,” he chuckled, fondly recalling the many times he and his older brother Bill were left to babysit their younger siblings, “But they’re great. They’ve got a shop in Diagon Alley now, selling prank products of all things. It’s wild.”

“Your family sounds absolutely lovely,” you said. It warmed your heart seeing how his eyes lit up talking about them. “It must be so hard being so far away from everyone.” 

He nodded slightly before taking a sip of his drink, “Definitely. My first year here was such a big transition. I’m lucky I get to go home every so often.” 

There was a lull in the conversation as you dug into your food, but it was far from the awkward silence you were expecting. 

Maybe working in Romania wasn’t going to be so bad after all. 

–

“Why is it that when you get hurt, I’m always the healer on call?” you sighed playfully as Charlie walked through the door of the medical wing. 

It was the fourth week in a row he had to come and get something patched up. They weren’t major injuries, thankfully, but you had come to learn that the dragon tamers were required to know how to perform the basic healing spells. The things Charlie would come in for were almost always resolved with a quick episkey. 

“You know me,” he joked, taking a seat on one of the empty beds, “Always so accident prone.” 

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes. 

Still, with your wand in hand, you gestured for him to show you where the injury was. 

“I’ve got two things today,” he began. You raised your eyebrows in response. “This is the first.” 

 Charlie quickly rolled the sleeve of his top, his toned arm flexing at the movement. In all the time you had worked at the reserve, which wasn’t that long at all, you still hadn’t gotten used to how fit he was. A quick intake of breath had you re-centering and focusing on the task at hand. There was a small burn on his forearm, not enough to cause too much concern. 

You cast the charm quickly so as not to be distracted further, “There, all done.” 

“There’s still one more place that’s hurt Y/N.” 

By the way Charlie spoke, you knew he was up to something. Inwardly you sighed, “Alright, let’s get to it then.” 

Your heart seemed to stop as he began to unbutton the first few buttons of his top. 

“What’re you doing, Weasley?” you asked, trying your hardest to keep your composure as you got a peek of his very toned chest. 

With a dramatic sigh, Charlie leant back and pointed to an area above his chest, “My heart hurts, Y/N.” 

For a moment you just stared at him, looking absolutely ridiculous in the position he chose to don, eyes blinking owlishly. Truthfully, you didn’t know whether to laugh or to send the strongest stinging hex in his direction. 

“Charlie Weasley, you thank Merlin and Morgana right now that I’m not hexing your balls off,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“I’m being serious, Y/N!” he continued, “I don’t know if I’ll survive this!” 

“Pity, does that mean I’m losing my ticket to free weekly meals?” she joked, already turning on her heel to get back to what she had been doing before he entered the wing. 

There were sounds of shuffling as if Charlie had gotten back up on his feet again and then, “Definitely not! I’m banking on those meals, one of these days you’re going to be begging me for an actual date. You’ll see.”

“Keep dreaming, Weasley.” 

You sent the redheaded dragon tamer a sarcastic smile, but he just sent you a flirty wink in reply. 

–

“Code white. Need extra hands in the medical wing ASAP.” 

The shimmering white bloodhound soon dissolved into nothing as it delivered its message to you, early one morning. You had just gotten to work, not even in your healer's robes yet, when Gerry’s patronus appeared. 

As you rushed to the medical wing, another patronus made an appearance and rattled off what had happened and who was hurt. Your heart dropped the moment you heard who you were going to be treating. 

“Oh Merlin,” you whispered to yourself the moment you saw the state Charlie was in, “What did you get yourself into?”

In all the time you had been working at the reserve and as a healer in general, it was not unusual for you to treat severe injuries. In fact, you liked to think that when you were faced with someone’s life or quality of life in your hands, you worked even harder and smarter. However, seeing Charlie more battered and bruised than you had ever seen him made your heart pound loudly in your chest. 

“Healer L/N, you’re right on time,” Gerry spoke to you clearly, rapidly explaining the situation and what you needed to do. 

In a flash, you had your wand out and were muttering all the healing spells that came to mind alongside your head healer. You didn’t notice how you were holding your breath and clenching your wandless hand until you let out a sigh of relief when Charlie began to stir. 

“He’s stable,” Gerry announced and released a breath. 

You felt a soft pat on your shoulder as he left you to deal with the patient, deeming it alright for him to step out and get back to his other responsibilities. Carefully, you walked towards the redhead whose eyes were fluttering open. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Weasley?” you murmured softly, your wand sweeping over him one last time to check is vitals. A soft hand reached out to push the stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face and you felt him lean into your touch. 

“Y/N?” Charlie mumbled, his eyes still half-closed. 

“I’m right here,” you said in reply. 

“What happened?” he asked, trying to prop himself up but groaning in pain. 

“What happened,” you began, going to help him get to the seated position he wanted to be in. He smiled up at you and you could barely remember what you were trying to say. With a small shake of your head and clearing of your throat you continued, “What happened was that you were being an absolute idiot who absolutely did not call for backup when a nesting mother was going on a rampage.” 

Despite his obvious discomfort, Charlie had the audacity to chuckle slightly, “Sounds about right.” 

“Don’t you dare do that to me again, Weasley,” you admonished, pulling back and shooting him the dirtiest stare you could muster. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. When I got Gerry’s patronus, all I could think about was–” 

As if an electric jolt shocked you, you cut yourself off before anything else escaped your lips. 

“Was what, Y/N?” he asked softly. 

His eyes were shining with something you couldn’t quite name, but the sincerity in his face gave you pause. 

You shook your head, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” 

Instead of continuing to reprimand him for his foolishness, you busied yourself making sure he was comfortable and that everything was alright. The potions he needed to take later in the day and the different salves to be applied to his skin were placed on the bedside table. Pillows were summoned, fluffed, and placed behind him. 

As you shuffled around the room, purposely ignoring the redhead, his eyes were trained on you. 

The moment his eyes opened and he felt your hand brush gently across his face, he thought he had to have been dreaming. If it weren’t for the ache in his muscles and the sting of his burns, he would’ve believed that he was in some alternate reality wherein he woke up next to you every morning. 

He was tired of waiting for his fantasies to come true, he decided. 

“Y/N.” 

The way he said your name sent shivers down your spine. Your whole body froze for a microsecond before you turned to face him. 

“Yeah, Charlie?” 

“Look at me please,” he begged. 

With a deep breath, your eyes locked with his and you were almost blown away with the look on his face. 

Sincerity pooled in his eyes as they scanned your face, trying to see if your own expression gave anything away. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unable to move or look away from him. 

“Tell me what you were thinking,” he whispered gently. 

It was now or never.

“All I could think about was how,” you gulped, taking a steadying breath, “How you could’ve died or gotten so hurt, when I hadn’t even had the chance to tell you how I felt about you.” 

You could hear Charlie’s sharp intake of breath and you had to look away, unable to face the rejection you were ultimately going to hear. 

“Y/N–” 

“And, and I know that you don’t feel the same–”

“Y/N–”

“But, just seeing you lying there–”

“Y/N!”

Charlie’s voice rang through the whole wing, a sharp contrast to the otherwise silent space. You sucked in a deep breath, surprised. 

“Y/N you have to know I’m absolutely mad for you,” he said clearly. 

You blinked furiously at him. 

“You-I, what?” 

Charlie tried to reposition himself so that he could face you properly, but you could see that he was still in a bit of pain. Instead of letting him maneuver himself uncomfortably, you placed a soft hand on his shoulder before taking a seat by his legs. 

Immediately, he went to take your hand in his. “I think you’re absolutely breathtaking, and talented, and passionate. I just haven’t had the balls to ask you out on a real date.” 

“Then what are you waiting for, Weasley?” You offered him a small smile, glancing back down at your intertwined hands. 

The smile he sent you left you breathless. 

–

“You ready to go?” Charlie asked, leaning against the doorframe with his legs crossed just like when he had visited your office that first week. 

A small grin inched its way on to your face at the sight of your boyfriend. His hair was just a tad bit windswept, adding to the rugged look he insisted he could pull off (and he definitely did, you just didn’t like feeding his ego too much). 

“Just about,” you smiled. “Let me get out of these stuffy robes first.” 

And, just like the first time he had knocked on the door to your office, you turned to shrug off your uniform and hang it up in one of the hooks beside your desk. Instead of keeping his thoughts to himself, Charlie grinned widely and whistled at the sight of you in your dress. 

Just as you were about to chide him for being inappropriate, strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards. A small ‘oof’ escaped your lips as your back made contact with Charlie’s strong chest. 

“Charlie!” you slapped his arm lightly, “C’mon, I’m still at work!” 

“What so I can’t show my girlfriend some appreciation for being absolutely drop dead gorgeous?” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses on the joint where your neck met your shoulders. 

You rolled your eyes, “You know I love a good compliment. I would just rather you do it outside my place of work.” 

With a chuckle, Charlie released his grip on your waist. “Alright, alright.” 

“Just for that, the tab’s on you tonight, Weasley.” 

“Ah so the usual, love?” 

“Of course.” 

Charlie held his hand out for you to take, and unlike the first time he took you out, you allowed yourself to blush, take his calloused hand in yours, and press a soft kiss on his lips. 

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes @cruciostyles @writingsomewrongs

Charlie taglist: @pinkypurplemagic @lifeofkaze @oldschoolkiddo

[landinoandco]

|Shutter Speed|

Chapter three : A hunger for comfort and affection

{Lando Norris x reader}

Summary: A photographer. A pair of F1 drivers. Triangles. A sticky situation of morals and fighting fate. What could go wrong?

Warnings: a hint to mature themes but only of you squint

Word count: 2.5 k

A/n: Here is chapter three of Shutter Speed, like last chapter if you would like to be added in the taglist drop me a message or comment :) enjoy

Previous chapters: Chapter one, Chapter two

“Oh Maisie.” Georgie cried, “It was the most embarrassed I think I’ve been in my entire life.” She took a long sip of her wine as she slouched into the sofa, the tv playing the medal ceremony of the England vs Italy game - Italy taking the victory. 

Maisie wrapped her arm around Georgie’s shoulders, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” She said softly. 

“Not that bad.” Georgie screeched, her wine splashing slightly over Maisie’s legs. Hastily, Georgie tried to wipe it off, Maisie chuckled and pushed her hands away. “What I mean to say is, I’m sure Lando didn’t think anything of it.” Maisie corrected herself, shaking her head at Georgie’s apologetic glance. 

“Maisie, I stood there like a fish.” She imitated a fish opening and closing its mouth. 

“Take me through what happened again-”

“I’m Lando Norris. I drive for McLaren. As it turns out, you and I are about to attend the same meeting.” 

Georgie stopped in her tracks, “You mean to say, we are now colleagues.” 

Lando’s face dulled and he furrowed his eyebrows. “I suppose we are. Yes.” The pair stood awkwardly, Lando’s hand placed behind his neck looking up at the sky whilst Georgie had found something very interesting on the floor. 

“Well I suppose I should-” Lando started as Georgie braved to look up. 

“Yes, yeah, wouldn’t want to be late” She forced a chuckle, going to walk forward when they remembered - they were heading in the same direction. 

Maisie cringed as her best friend recounted the story. “So what happened after that?” 

“That’s when I bumped into you…” 

Lando had given up trying to make small talk about 5 minutes ago - whatever he thought was there was now gone; for some reason he just couldn’t break the awkward air that seemed to be stuck to them. He looked over to her, face furiously red and her expression hardened. He swung his arms by his side and kissed his teeth - she made no reaction. Georgie was trapped in a battle of her own thoughts, she was sure there was a connection between the two of them; something she had wanted to act on but now… She looked behind her, in hopes of finding it strewn on the ground. 

“There you are, Georgie.” A voice called out, immediately the girl’s face snapped up and she seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Hurt flashed Lando’s face but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Her words trailed off as she motioned towards Lando. 

“Maisie, meet Lando - he drives for McLaren.” Georgie introduced Lando, stepping closer to him. Lando raised his hand up in acknowledgement, smiling warmly at Maisie. “Lando, meet Maisie - she’s my business partner.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” Maisie said, opening up her arms to go to hug him. Lando accepted, wrapping his arms awkwardly around Maisie. Once she had returned to where she was standing before, she said: “Suppose it won’t be the last time we see you either.” She winked at Georgie. 

Maisie clicked her fingers, “Oh yes, I remember now. So that’s why it felt so awkward walking up to you.” Maisie set her wine down and moved to face Georgie, a pained expression still painted onto her face. “Did you at least get his number?”

“As a matter of fact-” 

Max Fewtrell looked at his watch for the fifth time in the space of 30 seconds. They were going to be late for the football match. He shook his head, scoffing at the irony of Lando priding himself in his punctuality. It wasn’t until he looked up that he realised Lando was only a few feet away from him, ambling slowly and staring at something in his hands. “Lando, mate. We’re going to be late” Max called out, however this wasn’t enough to break Lando out of his trance. 

Storming up to him, it was only when Max was about to poke him that Max stopped and stared as well. In Lando’s hand appeared to be a business card. 

“Why have you got a-” Max squinted at the cursive name at the top. “The little moments- what-” Confused was one word to describe how Max was feeling, so much so he almost forgot why he was so urgent for them to leave. 

“I - uh - I met a girl.” Lando stammered, still staring at the card, his forehead furrowed. 

“And that’s why you have a business card? Lando, football!” Max prompted, rolling his eyes and made to move forward when Lando added: “I think this was her trying to give me her number.” 

Max turned back to face Lando, his face lit up, “What?” He chortled. Whatever trance Lando was in, he seemed to snap out of it and pocketed the card. 

“You’re right, let’s get going.” Lando walked past Max, who was standing staring after Lando, completely dumbfounded. 

“But - what!” Max followed hurriedly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Was she pretty?” 

“Very.” Lando said. 

“You gave him your business card?” Maisie doubled over in laughter, Georgie stared at her unamused. 

“Well, if it wasn’t for you I would have given it to him like a normal person but you insisted on dragging me out of the Marquee.” Georgie quipped sharply. 

“In my defence, we were going to be late for the-” 

The pair looked at Georgie’s phone as it lit up and began to shriek the theme tune of ‘Downton Abbey.’ After Maisie’s incredulous look, Georgie went to pick it up, muttering under her breath: “I can’t work out how to change it back - don’t give me that look.” 

The number wasn’t one she recognised, she picked up anyway, scrunching up her face. “Hello.”

“Hi.” A breathless voice replied, Georgie recognised the voice but she couldn’t quite place who. She must have stayed silent for longer than she intended because the caller added, “It’s Lando. Lando Norris.” 

“Lando? Hey.” She stood up, her voice instantly softening. “How are you?” There was a beat of silence. 

“I’m sorry I don’t know why I called-” Lando stuttered apologetically, Georgie felt her heart sink. She repeated herself, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. “Are you alright?” 

“I - no. I just - I needed to - There was an incident and I’m on my own but-” Georgie cut him off, “Lando, where are you.” Her tone was now serious, Maise mouthed ‘what’s wrong.’ She replied by holding up her finger as if to indicate ‘one minute.’ 

“I’m at my house.” He replied simply, he sounded tired and in shock.

“Do you want me to come over?” Georgie asked, her heart in her throat - it was only a moment ago he apologised for calling her. Maisie stood up, throwing her hands in the air, mouthing: “what are you doing?” There was another beat of silence, she could hear his breathing, he was trying to steady it. 

“Yes. Please. I’ll text you the address.” He swallowed thickly, just like Georgie, he wasn’t sure what made him call her or - even more - say yes to her coming over. It was like there was someone speaking for him, controlling all of his actions concerning her. He didn’t understand it. Lando had only learnt her name that afternoon but it felt like he had known her for months - their little coffee shop sighting felt like years ago. 

After he hung up, he ran his hands through his hair. His heart was still beating as though he was about to race. He had already called Charlotte and explained everything that had just gone down after the match, he had told her that he wasn’t alone and that he had good company. Technically he wasn’t lying because good company was about to arrive. Lando wasn’t sure how long he sat in that position for, the silence of his house felt deafening until the doorbell broke his thoughts. He opened it to an anxious looking Georgie, holding the unopened bottle that her and Maisie were about to start on. “I brought us a bottle.” Lando cracked a smile, opening the door wider so she could come through. 

“I’m not normally allowed but I think Jon will let me off.” He muttered, closing the door behind her. Before he could say another word, she had wrapped her arms around his neck - “You looked like you needed a hug.” He could just about make out. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer into him. In that moment of vulnerability he told her what had happened at Wembley and she responded by placing her hands on either side of his face: “You’re definitely in need of that drink then.” 

It was some time later and they were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa in his living room, bottles of different sorts of wine sat empty on the glass table and Georgie was having to hold onto his shoulder to stop herself from falling over. Lando had just recounted a rather funny story - in hindsight it was probably only funny because of the amount of alcohol that they had consumed. Georgie had gotten drunk before, she was the type of drunk that never stopped talking but with Lando, all she wanted was to be close to him; as demonstrated by her holding onto his shoulder as soon as he said anything remotely funny, leaning across his body to reach for the wine. What she wasn’t aware of was the effect this was then having on Lando. He was completely in awe of Georgie, her ability to come in and sweep him off of his feet - he felt as though he could completely relax in her presence, as though nothing else mattered when she was there. He craved the warmth she was offering him, she wasn’t like all of the other girls Jon scolded him for meeting. Georgie was just as nervous and naive as he was - they both loved and craved the idea of comfort and affection from another human that wasn’t platonic but neither of them had any clue how. Perhaps it was more the fact that neither of them had met anyone yet that silently understood the troubles and tribulations that had led them to his point. 

They were at peace with their thoughts, the alcohol fogging any sort of rationality. Lando looked over at Georgie, a content and easy smile sat effortlessly on her lips and a tinge of pink flushed on her cheeks. He shuffled closer to her so their shoulders were pressed against each other, “I’m glad I called you.” It was almost like the words shocked him as they came out of his mouth, as though he was airing his thoughts for the first time. The smile on her face only grew, Georgie moved her face closer to his so she could see every freckle and dimple and blemish. It was the first time she realised how beautiful he was - from the way his curls fell lopsided onto his forehead to his constant licking of his lips in an attempt not to shy away. She brought her thumb to his face, brushing it delicately. 

“Eyelash.” She explained, his gaze transfixed on hers, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and blew the eyelash away. “Did you make a wish?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I did.” Lando answered, his hand still wrapped around her wrist, his touch burning Georgie’s skin. He inched his face closer to hers, his breath fanning across her face. She braved a look at his lips, tearing away from the battle they had once again found themselves in. “What did you wish for?” She asked, her lips brushing his. 

“If I told you - ” He began, releasing her wrist from his touch and instead tucking a loose strand of her back behind her ear. “It wouldn’t come true.” 

Their lips still hadn’t touched, millimeters separated them, their noses brushing as though they were the first to give in. It was like they were daring each other to make the first move, who was going to be the first one to break. Every nerve in Georgie’s body was telling her to close the distance - it felt right. It would certainly make up for that afternoon’s display. She knew that he had no obligations to kiss her and she knew that the hand now resting on her cheek was inviting her - almost taunting her. 

“Lando-” She pulled her head away, his hand falling limply to his side. Georgie squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself instantly. 

“I know.” He whispered, looking down at the floor. 

There were many reasons why Georgie pulled away. The main fear that both of them had mutually agreed on was that if she had closed the distance and if she had kissed him - all self control on either side was gone and there was no stopping the inevitability of all mature relationships. It was something that - whilst both were desperate for - now wasn’t the time and it would lead to a series of unfortunate events neither of them wanted. 

“It’s getting late.” Lando grumbled, getting up from the floor. He wasn’t mad at Georgie because he knew it was the right thing - he felt it himself but he was also aware of the large part of him that wanted to indulge, to forget about any consequences and enjoy the raw connection that they had found. 

“Yes, you’re right.” Georgie felt a pang of guilt in her chest, as he refused to meet her eye. She stood there frozen, unsure where to go or what to do. “I’ll go call an uber.” She muttered, excusing herself. 

“Wait-” Lando called out to her, “Stay.” 

Georgie looked at him, confusion etched on her face. Lando took a step towards her, his jaw tightened. He knew come morning he was probably going to regret what he was about to do, it was like he was teasing himself - setting himself up for another heartbreak. But this time it had to be different. It had to be. 

“Please, I don’t think I want to be alone.” It was raw emotion talking and a new side to Lando that Georgie didn’t think she would ever see. She knew come morning she was going to regret what she was about to say, it was like she was leading herself down a hole that in the end she wasn’t going to be able to get out of. 

“Ok.” She gave a half smile and reached for Lando’s hand. 

That night they stayed in each other's arms. Relishing in the comfort they gave to one another, both wishing that tomorrow would never come. 

Taglist:

@mjuikoli​ @httplayer​ @phatyak​

[chudleycanonficfest]

The Switch

Day 10, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: The Switch

Author: adenei

Pairing: George Weasley/Angelina Johnson

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Mentions of character death

***********

The shop is quiet as George locks the door to his office. It’s been a month since the grand re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the steady thrum of customers has put the business back on track to where it was before the untimely closure due to the war. Things are different, of course, with Fred not being there, but George’s family and friends have stepped up and offered more support than George knows what to do with—not that he wanted it in the first place.

  In retrospect, he is thankful for his family and friends, Ron and Angelina in particular. They helped him put down the bottle and get his life back on track. 

  “Fred wouldn’t want this.” Angelina had told him late one night while she and Lee were staying over in his flat that smelled of days-old Firewhisky and hadn’t been cleaned since before they’d gone into hiding at Aunt Muriel’s.

  “How would Fred feel if you let everything the two of you worked for go to shit? How would you feel if the tables were turned and if it was—” Ron had yelled as he snatched the half-full bottle away from his brother and dumped it down the drain. The emotion was raw as the words caught in his throat, the end of the phrase hanging between them like the weight of a bludger pulling them down and grounding them.

  At first, he’d been pissed, but they were right. Fred wouldn’t have wanted George to resort to any of that. And even though he’d been begrudging in accepting help to begin with, George knew he wouldn’t have gotten the shop up and running as swiftly as he did without everyone’s help. The hole in his heart still ached, and not a moment went by where he didn’t miss his brother, but finding a new stride in this post-war life is exactly the push George needed to not only move on but also honor and make Fred proud.

  As George makes his way onto the main floor of the shop, a figure standing behind the counter makes him pause. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, the unrequited crush from his Hogwarts days now thrust back in his life, as if to taunt him of just another thing he’ll never have.

  “You’re still here?” The exhaustion is apparent in George’s voice after a ten-hour day.

  “Yeah, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stay on and try to do all the inventory yourself again like last week.” Angelina runs her fingers over the various displays of fireworks that are locked away behind the checkout area as she lightly teases George.

  “Nah, I learned from that mistake. Besides, don’t you have your regular job that you need to get back to? Now that things are running smoothly again, we’ll be able to manage without the extra help. Especially once things die down after the first.”

  “I don’t mind spending a few hours here after work, you know that. Things’ll start to pick up again soon once the Quidditch season gets underway, I’m sure, but right now, my corresponding duties are light. Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed spending more time with you lately. Almost makes me feel like we’re back in Hogwarts, you know? When real life and responsibilities seemed so far away.”

  A chuckle escapes George’s lips. It was true, all this time they’d been spending together, especially with Lee and sometimes Alicia, almost made everything feel right again.

  “Well, we can hang out in other places, too. I swear I don’t live at Wheeze’s.”

  “George, you live upstairs.”

“Ah, bugger off.”

  “I’m only teasing.”

  “And all I’m saying is if you want to do something outside these walls, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Are you hungry, then?”

  A genuine laugh bubbles up into George’s throat at Angelina’s brazenness. “Bloody hell, woman! Impatient much?”

  His outburst brings a smile to Angelina’s face, brightening the dark circles under her eyes from the extra hours spent helping out. 

  “You’re the one who said to ask. So, what do you say? Fancy a drink and a meal down the street? It’s late enough that the Leaky shouldn’t be too busy.”

  “I s’pose it couldn’t hurt. Beats making something for myself, that’s for sure.”

  “Great, let’s go.” 

  Angelina walks around the counter and reaches out to take George’s hand in hers. An electric shock shoots up his arm from the point of contact, and George has to stop himself from pulling away from the surprise of it all. A memory flashes through his mind of twinkling lights amongst a silver backdrop in the Great Hall all those years ago. He sees two figures dancing and twirling to the music of the Weird Sisters, one with flaming red hair much like his own and the other whose sapphire gown swished against the travertine floor. The memory brings a reminiscent smile to his lips as Angelina tugs him out the door.

  When they reach the Leaky, the pair settles into a quiet booth in the back of the establishment, away from curious eyes. It’s late in the evening for a meal, which is made evident by the empty tables and chairs scattered throughout the pub. Only a handful of patrons litter the bar, allowing Tom to be attentive to their needs. 

  George takes a large swig when the barkeep returns with Butterbeers, and they place their orders.

  “No shot of Firewhisky tonight then?” 

  George shakes his head. “I told you, Ange, I was serious about stopping. I can’t use the bottle as a crutch for grief anymore.”

  Angelina nods as she observes him intently. George can feel the heat of her gaze trailing over him as he takes another sip from his drink. 

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Oh? And here I was thinking I was mesmerizing you with my dashing good looks,” George quips. 

  Angelina smiles, and for a moment, George thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks before she recovers.  For all the time they spent together during Hogwarts, and more recently in the months following the war, George finds it odd that they’re struggling with conversation now.

  “Knut for your thoughts?” asks George.

  “Just that it’s been nice reconnecting with you. And Lee. Circumstances are shit, of course, but with my hectic schedule during Quidditch season, I don’t get much time for socializing and friends. I even had to drop my registration for the semi-pro league I was hoping to play for.”

  George nods, and his stomach twists as he processes her words. That would mean she’d be leaving soon once things got busy. He’s overcome with the urge to see if her job is something she’s passionate about.

  “Do you love it? Your job, I mean.”

  “Well, yeah, if I can’t play professionally, the next best thing is writing and commentating. Plus, I’ve gotten to see the world all on the Ministry’s dime. Can’t complain there…”

  “But is it something you see yourself doing for a long time?” George presses. He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he needs to know if it’s even worth it to pursue.

  “Well, after graduation, it seemed like the right fit. The opening was there, my parents were encouraging me to see the world, and I didn’t have anything tying me down. Honestly, I think my parents thought it was safer for me to travel, especially with the war on...”

  And what about now? 

  George is nodding his head up and down while the question ricochets in his mind. He opens his mouth, gathering the courage to allow the four words to escape his mouth when Angelina interrupts him.

  “Well, there are some openings that would allow me to stay in London that have just come up. They’re looking for commentators and stats writers for the matches played in the Kensington stadium. So, if you needed an extra hand at the shop, I could stay—”

  “—I don’t want you to stay for the shop. If you want to travel the world, you should. I doubt you’ve seen all the world has to offer in two seasons.”

  No! What are you thinking! 

  George can almost hear Fred chastising him for his rash response. It doesn’t come out the way he meant it to sound, and he knows he messed up given the crestfallen look on Ange’s face.

  “I only meant—”

  “I-I’ve actually already put in for the London job, George. And I promise it’s not because of the shop. Lee promised to help me with commentating, and this way I can play again. I start training next week. You know how much I missed playing Quidditch, and now that England is safer, I can stay and have the best of both worlds.” 

  The longer she goes on, it feels like she’s rambling and going on with a laundry list of pre-prepared reasons, which doesn’t sound like the Angelina he knows. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself that those are the reasons she’s staying, and not for anything else.

  “Oh.”

  Ange rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know you and Fred always used to think you two were the center of the universe, but I promise I didn’t choose to stay just for you.”

  Her voice is light, and she’s smiling, but George can’t help but sense something else lingering beneath the surface. Disappointment, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just reading into things too much. Hoping something might be between them that really isn’t. He forces himself to stop overthinking and simply enjoy her company instead.

  “Well, I, for one, am happy you’re staying. We’ll be able to get together more often, and it’ll almost feel like our Hogwarts days. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince you and Alicia to test new products again.”

  Angelina nearly spits out her Butterbeer at George’s joke as Tom approaches with their meal. He knows he’s not fooling either of them; the irony is that the girls were always two steps ahead of him and his brother. They were the only two in their year who managed to avoid becoming test subjects to all of their prototypes.

  The two fall into more reminiscing as they tuck into their fish and chips. George doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating, and he’s even more grateful for Ange’s suggestion now.

  As they are polishing off the remainder of their baskets, the topic of conversation falls on the Yule Ball, as Ange remembers how Fred had tossed the wad of paper at her.

  “It was romantic, wasn’t it?” George jokes as he remembers his brother’s ridiculous attempt at asking a girl out. “Still don’t know why you said yes to that tosser.”

  To this day, he’d always resented his brother for drawing his wand first and asking Ange to the ball. Of course, George knew it was all meant to be a bluff. It was Fred’s attempt to get his brother to buck up the courage and ask Angelina for himself. 

  George remembers it vividly. “Just ask her. What’s the worst she’ll say? No? Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.”

  When Fred had gotten Ange’s attention, George had no idea what to expect. They were usually well in tune with each other, and George could anticipate Fred’s moves, but when his brother had asked Angelina himself, it took George by surprise.

  “We were getting down to the wire, weren’t we?” Angelina interrupts George’s thoughts. “No one else had asked me, so I figured it was better to go with one twin than none at all.”

  George chooses the wrong moment to polish off the last of his chips. The fried potato catches in his throat, and he coughs it up, all while reaching for the last dredges of his Butterbeer to clear things out.

  Did she just say it was better to go with one twin than none at all? But then that would mean… 

  “Ange, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to ask you.”

  She shrugs and averts her eyes from his gaze. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you’d asked, let’s put it that way.”

  After this revelation, George burst into laughter. To anyone else in the near vicinity, it probably sounded like he should be admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward. He hasn’t laughed this hard since he and Fred were able to pull off a prank on Muriel shortly after arriving at her Manor at the end of March.

  “You—Fred—I—me—” He can’t seem to formulate a coherent string of thoughts until Angelina goes from amused to offended.

  “Honestly, George, I didn’t realize it was that funny. Forget I said anything.” She checks her watch and gathers her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. It’s getting late, and clearly the thought of the two of us together appalls—”

  She’s in the process of standing up when George sobers from the onslaught of irony and reaches out to grab her wrist.

  “Ange, wait. I’m not laughing at that. Just—just give me a chance to explain, yeah?” He pulls her into the bench beside him, where she lands on her bottom harder than she needed to as she lets out a loud huff of indignation.

  “Fred never intended to go with you when he asked.”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have raised so high on her face that George is surprised they haven’t gotten lost in her braids.

  “No, what I mean is, he’d been pestering me to ask you since the ball was announced. He knew I had a thing for you—obviously—and was being supportive.”

  It felt weird for George to admit that he fancied Angelina in school now, after so many years of keeping it close to his chest. Fred and Lee were the only two who ever knew.

  “So, what are you trying to say, then?”

  “When Fred asked you...I was shocked, too. I didn’t realize he’d already devised a plan that I didn’t cotton on to right away.”

  The look on Angelina’s face transformed from defensive to shock to comprehension, all in the span of a few seconds. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Being an identical twin has—er, had—its benefits.”

  “So.. are you trying to tell me that I didn’t go to the ball with Fred?”

  “Nope.”

  “And at the end of the night, when I kissed Fred in an attempt to make you jealous, I was actually kissing you all along?”

  “Sorry if it was disappointing.” The wisecrack escapes George’s lips before he can stop it.

  Half of him is expecting Angelina to slap him for the ‘switcheroo’ that he and Fred pulled, and in fairness, they deserved it. What if Ange actually had fancied Fred, and they’d pulled one over on her?

  But to his surprise, Angelina does the opposite. She leans in and kisses George right then and there. The same shock he felt when holding her hand earlier ignites within him once more as he lets his body take control. He allows himself to get lost in the feel of her lips, realizing that it’s the first time he’s truly felt like himself since Fred’s passing. He even dares to let himself think he’s found happiness again.

  Eventually, George pulls away as his lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. They remain close, foreheads touching as he offers a weak smile. 

  “Y’know, I was going to tell you it was me at the end of the night, but how could I when I thought I was going to break your heart when you thought you’d kissed Fred?”

  “You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

  “Yeah, but you can’t argue with sixteen-year-old George’s logic, can you?”

  Ange rolls her eyes and leans back. George misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” Ange raises her eyebrows in question as if tempting him to follow when she scoots out from the bench a second time.

  George pulls enough money to cover their meals out of his wallet and leaves it on the table before scooching out behind her. He pays no mind to the remaining customers as he pulls Angelina back into him and whispers in her ear,

  “I’d say we’ve wasted five years of pointless pining to wait any longer.”

[the-himawari-otome]

[Piofiore: Episodio 1926] Character Drama CD Vol. 3 Orlok Translation

Track 1:  Aller Anfang ist schwer.

Summary: Orlok and Lili have started their new life in England and encounter something unexpected on their way home one day...

Translated by ear so it might not be 100% accurate. But I tried my best! All for you, Orlok 。゜゜(´□｀。)°゜。

･ﾟ･:,｡★ translation under the cut ★,｡･:･ﾟ

*sfx: bell on door rings, customers chatter about*

Good afternoon. Excuse me, I came to pick her up… where is she…?

Ahh, no, I don’t need any tea today—.

Ah, sorry to bother you. Thank you as always.

*sfx: footsteps run towards Orlok*

Good job with your work. It’s time to go home now, right? That’s great.

Alright then… um… thank you for your work today.

*sfx: bell on door rings, rain falls outside*

I brought an umbrella with me since it’s still raining.

*sfx: opens umbrella*

Ah, come a bit closer. Your shoulder will get wet.

*sfx: rain falls against umbrella*

It was sunny this morning, but the rain kept falling since it hit afternoon.

The rain has mostly thinned out though.

How was today? There weren’t any difficult customers or anything else strange, was there?

I see. I’m relieved nothing happened.

When I first heard you were going to work too, I was honestly a bit worried. But I’m glad you found a nice shop.

I can’t take you along with me to my jobs, and it’s safer than staying home alone after all.

Yeah, I like the atmosphere at the pub too.

It’s lively and something about it makes you feel warm.

Despite the fact it’s actually more crowded at night, they hired you on the condition you would only work during the day.

I’m grateful for that alone. But it looks like they have a bunch of friendly regulars there. And there are quite a few immigrants in that area, so we don’t stick out even if we don’t speak that much English.

Plus, the people at the shop are kind too.

The madam welcomes me with a smile whenever I come pick you up.

The tea they serve as I’m waiting while you’re tied up with work also tastes great every time.

Ah, they told me that the panna cotta recipe you taught them was a huge hit.

The shop workers complimented you when I came to pick you up the other day, and it made me happy too.

They said Italians are good with their hands, so we tend to run pubs and barbershops. I wonder if that’s true.

Also—ahh, hold on.

There’s dust on your eyelashes. Close your eyes.

*Sharp Inhale*.

Eh? Ah, no, it’s nothing. I got it, see?

*Sigh*, that was close.

Err, well… I… was just about to kiss you.

I mean... we can’t do that outside, can we?

Ah, but no one will be able see if we hide using the umbrella.

Can I kiss you just once?

*sfx: kiss*

*Sigh*. It really might’ve been better to hold back after all. Now I want to kiss you more.

—Oh, it looks like the rain will let up soon.

Look. The light’s coming out through the clouds.

The weather in London changes on a whim. It’s a little surprising, isn’t it?

It’s totally different from Italy.

It’s already been half a year since we came here, but I’m still not used to it.

It’s nice that it’s not that cold even if it rains a lot. But to be honest, I think I would like it better if it was sunny every day.

Maybe I actually don’t like rain very much.

I prefer being able to see the stars at night. And not to mention... my chest feels tight on rainy days.

*Deep breath*.

I guess it’s because a lot of memories come flooding back.

“Meow”

Hm? What’s wrong?

Eh? Um, yeah, I heard that too. The cry… was soft and muffled by the rain though.

“Meow, meow”

I think… it came from over here?

*sfx: footsteps walk around*

“Meow”

Ah, a cat. It’s really tiny.

Is a parent cat nearby… hm, it doesn’t look like it.

Maybe they wandered off?

“Meow”

This kitten doesn’t look like it’s in very good shape. It’s probably not good leaving them here like this.

“Meow”

Eh, you want to bring them home with us?

No, I don’t mind. I didn’t want to leave them either.

But… I wonder if it’ll be alright?

-pause-

*sfx: door opens and closes*

U-uh, what should I do?

Ah, we should prepare food for them, right? Something that’ll give them energy… like meat or something?

R-right, you know way more about food than me. I’ll leave it to you then.

Is there anything else I can help with?

*sfx: hands towel to Orlok*

Huh? A towel? Ah, I see. I have to dry them.

*sfx: footsteps walk away*

Um, w-where should I start?

Ah, hold on—don’t run away. I’m trying my best, so—.

Ngh. Um, listen. If you stay wet, then your body temperature will drop.

You’re especially tiny, so I think it could be fatal if your body keeps cooling at this rate.

So… let me wipe you?

Ah… they’re even smaller than I thought.

I have to be careful not to crush them.

So then, gently…

*sfx: towel ruffles*

H-how’s that? Are you all dry now?

“Meow”

Ah, that’s a relief. It didn’t look like it hurt. And it doesn’t look like they’re angry either.

Come to think of it, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard their cry since we got home.

Hm, they’re jet black. Beautiful.

You’re just like colour of the night, you know?

“Meow, meow”

Ah, hold on. No moving all of a sudden!

*sfx: footsteps approach*

Ah, is it ready? Thank you.

*sfx: places dish*

Come on, we’ve prepared food for you. Eat up.

“Meow”

*sfx: kitten laps up food*

Ohh, they’re really digging in. They must’ve been hungry, huh?

Taking in nutrients is the basis of preserving life.

I’m glad they’re able to eat on their own.

I’m relieved you came back. I have no clue what to do on my own.

“Meow”

Eh? W-what is it?

“Meow”

Did I say something weird?

Eh? You… want to jump onto my lap?

“Meow”

You can’t. It’s dangero—

“Meow”

Uh…

“Meow, meow”

What do I do?

N-no, it’s not that I don’t like cats.

“Meow”

Ah… they’re clinging to me.

Could it be they still feel cold?

There won’t be any problems if I hold them? They won’t break?

Are you sure it’ll be alright?

Mm… I got it.

"Meow”

Hah… I did it.

I’ll stay here like this, so you prepare a bed for them.

Use lots of blankets.

*sfx: footsteps walk away*

*Sigh*. They’re so small… and warm.

But they’re soft, helpless... and it seems like they’ll die if you just leave them on their own.

*Sigh*. I hope you get your energy back quickly.

“Meow”

It doesn’t look like you’re hurt… but it’d be better to take you to see a doctor, wouldn’t it?

We also have to find someone to take you in.

We don’t really know anyone here, so I wonder if we’ll be able find somebody.

The pub would be… difficult, huh? Keeping an animal in a place that serves food would be—.

“Meow”

Mm?

*sfx: licks*

Hehe, that tickles.

“Meow”

Relax. I won’t drop you. Don’t worry about a thing.

“Meow”

---

[DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY WORK W/O PERMISSION, THANK YOU]

[nineteenninety-six]

It’s What We Make It

Just a warning, this is technically based in S2 but at the same time it’s not. It contains scenes from seasons I like but it doesn’t follow the show’s timeline. Also, a lot of time skips because I’m lazy.

This took me two weeks to write and though I wish it could be better, I’m done with it. It was meant to be a request fulfil but it’s so far gone from that lol. Also this better appear in the bloody tags otherwise I’ll fight someone

Word Count: 14,827

The night (Y/N) escaped from her family's home would be a night she would never forget.

She disappeared in the middle of the night and triggered the plan she had spent almost a year planning. Due to what her family did for a living, she worked alone in case she got caught.

Her family had enough money to the point where they wouldn't notice a small amount going missing, which is exactly what she did. She took enough to ensure she left the country quickly and safely. She also stashed a few jewels and other expensive items to sell once she reached her destination.

She planned to go to England. She didn’t know where in England she would go but England was far away enough from her home country that she should be able to live comfortably and without fear.

(Y/N) didn’t know what her family would think about her disappearance, maybe they’d think that a rival gang had kidnapped her, but she knew that they wouldn’t let it simply go and they would send people to look for her. 

.•° ✿ °•.

Once (Y/N) arrived in England, she took a random train to Birmingham and then another to Small Heath. She had no clue where she was going or what these places were like but she did not let that stop her and if it was not the place for her, then she would move on. 

When she arrived it was late in the day but the streets were not quiet and (Y/N) could see a pub at the end of the street that was filled with people to the point that people spilled out onto the street outside and the faint sound of people talking and singing spilled out alongside them. 

(Y/N) gave the pub one last glance before she made her way into the small hotel and paid for a room. She would spend a few days at the hotel and discovering the place before she decided if Small Heath was a place where she was to stay long term.

(Y/N) garnered a few stares of curiosity as she walked around Small Heath which wasn’t surprising since she was clearly an outsider. The town was clearly one that wasn’t used to new people but they seemed merely curious at best. 

She wandered around the main road where all the shops rested, making mental notes of them and she passed by the pub that was alive with people the night before stopped by a small cafe for lunch. The sweet owner easily answered any questions she had, seemingly not having an issue with the fact that she wasn’t from around there and even though she had only been in Small Heath for less than two days, (Y/N) was pretty sure this was the place she wanted to stay. 

She asked the cafe owner about any job openings in town and was informed of the Garrison, the pub she saw earlier, was looking for a barmaid.

(Y/N) had never worked a day in her life but she wouldn’t be able to survive for long on the money she got from selling the stuff she had brought with her. She didn’t have the skills or the experience to become a barmaid or for any job for that matter, as she never had a reason to. Her family had drilled into her at a young age that once she was old enough, she would be married to another gang family. Either as a gift to thank a family that had been long loyal or to a rival to calm rising tensions and to gain allies.

She had been coddled for her entire life. Her parents gave her the best tutors in the country but she had barely left their manor at all through her childhood, which gave no social skills or friends but that was all about to change.

When she entered the pub, there was only one man in there and he was sweeping the floor but he looked up when she walked in.

“I heard that you were looking for a barmaid?” (Y/N) spoke first, when the man did not.

The man looked her up and down with a disbelieving stare, “You? A barmaid? Don’t make me laugh”

“Please,” (Y/N) took a step forward, “I’m desperate”

“Look, the people around here aren’t nice. Especially when they are drunk. You just look a bit too delicate to work here”

“I can hold my own”

She could. It wasn’t uncommon for her father to hold parties or dinners where he and his allies would drink until the sun rose and he’d always make her stay the entire night, most likely to show off how dutiful she was.  After all, the men in that type of business weren’t looking for a headstrong and independent woman, they’re looking for a meek woman that would obey their instructions and carry their children to continue the family name and (Y/N) wasn’t that type of woman. 

The man still didn’t look like he believed her but he must have seen the desperation in her eyes as he let out a resigned sigh, “Trial run tonight. If you do well, you get the job.”

(Y/N) bobs her head with a pleased smile, “Thank you.”

“Harry” The man held out his hand.

(Y/N) shook it, giving him her name.

“Seven pm on the dot tonight.”

“Thank you, Harry, I’ll be there”

.•° ✿ °•.

At seven pm, the pub only had a few customers but she dealt with those easily. Harry had taught her how to pour a pint and create a few other drinks and luckily for her, the people of Small Heath were simple when it came to their drinks.

By nine pm, the Garrison was filled to the brim with people. A portion of the pub was loudly singing along to the song that the woman at the piano was playing and the rest of the patrons were talking with their friends, almost shouting to be heard above the singing.

The atmosphere was unlike anything (Y/N) had ever experienced before but she found herself enjoying it. She didn’t think she stopped moving for a moment as she spun around the bar, fulfilling orders until a small window at the corner of the bar, something she hadn’t noticed until that moment had opened up, causing her to pause in her steps. It was more out of surprise than anything else at first but the man at the other side of the window with his bright blue eyes had also caught her attention.

With Harry busy, (Y/N) made her way to the small window, “...May I help you?”

The man’s eyes flickered up to her and he seemed speechless for a moment before he orders, “Two bottles of dark rum and four glasses”

(Y/N) nods and turns around only to smack straight into Harry’s chest.

“I’ll get that for you, Tommy. (Y/N) there are some people down at the end who want some ale”

(Y/N) looks up at Harry, confused on why he suddenly butt in and took over the order but just as she was going to silently nod and do as she was told but ‘Tommy’, spoke up before she could.

“Let her do it, Harry. She looks perfectly capable” 

Harry looked like he would argue, but he quickly nodded and allowed (Y/N) to get the drinks but he quickly followed behind her. 

“Anything that he or the other members of the Shelby family is free of charge.”

(Y/N) frowned and turned to ask him why but he had already disappeared to fulfil the orders of the other patrons. 

She picked up the two bottles of rum and placed them by the window before she went off to collect the glasses. 

“Harry says everything is on the house,” She says as he places the glasses down next to the bottles of rum, hoping that he could explain why.

“Hmm,” The man simply hummed as he picked up the drinks and placed them on the table in the snug behind him.

He turned around but stopped midway before he turned back to face her, looking at her up and down. “You’re not from around here”

“What gave it away?” (Y/N) responded sarcastically, knowing that her accent stood out.

“What’s your name?” Tommy’s interest had been piqued and he leant forward on the bartop

“What’s yours?” (YN) threw back.

Tommy squinted his eyes and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. She had been raised amongst egotistical and big-headed men and she knew how to deal with them.

“Tommy Shelby” 

“(Y/N)”

“I’ll see you again, (Y/N)”

“I’ll make sure of it, Mr Shelby”

Tommy gave her one last nod before he disappeared into the snug and closed the window doors behind him.

(Y/N) was swept up with the rest of the customers the rest of the night and only got a break when they had closed up for the night and she was cleaning up. 

“Listen, (Y/N), it’s best if you try to keep away from the Shelby’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just promise me that you’ll stay away from them?”

“Only if I have the job”

Harry was silent for a moment before he sighed and nodded “Alright, you have the job. You did good tonight anyway.”

“Thank you, Harry”

(Y/N) had spent the rest of the night looking at places to rent in the newspaper, marking down which one suited her needs, making notes to call the landlords in the morning. With a secure job, she could now start to settle down in Small Heath.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) found a small flat that was perfect for her, she had paid a deposit and the first month of rent before moving herself and her singular suitcase into her new place. It was the opposite of what she grew up with but she found that it didn’t affect her as much as she thought it would. Her old bedroom was at least four times as big as her dingy little flat but she found the little room appropriate enough and she was determined to perservere and not give up. 

Once she had finished settling in, she took another walk around Small Heath before she had to go in to work that evening.

She had found herself by the cut and she stood right by the edge with the tips of her shoes just over the edge as she thought about her life. She knew it wouldn’t be long before her family somehow narrow where she had run off too, no doubt they had already sent men to America, Australia and England already but she hoped that Small Heath was a small enough place that she’d have at least a few years before she had to move on.

“Hullo”

(Y/N) swung around, not hearing whoever it was come up behind her but her momentum had caused her to trip over her feet and fall backwards, falling into the canal with a loud splash. Her thick coat and her shoes had weighed her down as she struggled to resurface. 

Tommy raced over to the edge and kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat and cap before he dived in after her. He swam down until he could see her and reached out and grabbed her arm before he started to swim to the surface, pulling her along.

When they both reached the surface, they gasped for air and (Y/N) coughed and sputtered out the water that she had accidentally swallowed. Tommy swam to edge, still tugging her along before he pulled himself out of the water before helping her out.

(Y/N) coughed a few more times before falling back so that she was flat on her back as she stared up at the sky. 

Tommy walked over to her and looked down at her, “You alright?”

(Y/N) glared at him as she took his offered hand and stood up, “Do you creep up behind every woman you know?”

“Only the ones that fascinate me”

His words caused (Y/N)’s glare to falter, “I suppose I should feel flattered then ?”

Tommy ignored her question as he turned on his heel and began to walk away before he called out to her over his shoulder, “C’mon, follow me”

(Y/N) grimaced as she moved to follow after him, her stocking covered feet squelched in her heels as she walked behind him. The rest of her clothes clung to her uncomfortably and her hair stuck to her face and neck. 

She didn’t know where Tommy was going and she didn’t exactly know why she was following him either but she supposed he fascinated her as she did him.

He took her to Watery Lane and into one of the houses, and she still squeaked uncomfortably behind him as she followed him into the kitchen. 

“Sit”

Tommy pointed to a random seat before he shuffled around the kitchen putting a full kettle on the stovetop and letting it boil while (Y/N) sat down as he instructed. 

(Y/N) looked at the kitchen around her in curiosity. The walls had been knocked down to let it be more open and just to the side of her there was a large green double door which she guessed led to the property next door but she had no clue why. She could hear the faint sounds of people talking through it but it was too muffled to hear anything clearly.

Just as she snapped out of her mind, Tommy had placed a cup down in front of her.

(Y/N) looked down at the cup in curiosity, “What’s this?”

Tommy sat down on the other side of the table, across from her with his own cup.

“Tea. To warm you up”

“What type of ‘tea’?” (Y/N) asked, “Anyway, I think getting out of my wet clothes will help more than a cup of hot..tea”

“Tea, tea. Have you never seen tea before?”

“I have never heard the word tea before. In my native language, we call this something else.” (Y/N) carelessly reveals, “Are you meant to drink it straight”

Tommy files away her first sentence away in his mind, making a mental note to find out where she was from before he leant across the table and pulled the teacup closer to him.

“You can if you want. Most add milk and sugar”

“How much-” (Y/N) asked, “How do you do yours?”

“Splash of milk, two teaspoons of sugar”

(Y/N) nods, “Okay, I’ll try it the way you like.”

Tommy nodded and did the tea for her. Never at all did he think that he would be making a cup of tea for a woman the second time he had ever met her but he supposed he did feel a little guilty for her falling into the cut and almost drowning.

(Y/N) took a sip and let a pleased hum, “This is...nice.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I enjoy your...tea”

Tommy’s lip quirked at her words but the smile that nearly graces his lips quickly vanishes when Polly walks through the green doors, 

“Thomas, have you-oh” Polly freezes in her steps at the sight of the stranger sitting at the table.

“Polly,” Tommy cleared his throat as he stood up, “This is (Y/N), the new barmaid at the Garrison”

(Y/N) stood up and shook the hand of Polly and tried not the feel exposed as the woman raked her eyes across her.

“Why are the two of you wet?”

“I fell into the cut and Tommy helped me” (Y/N) quickly spoke before Tommy could speak.

Polly looked at Tommy as if she couldn’t believe what (Y/N) was saying was true. (Y/N) finished off her cup of tea before he cleared her throat, catching their attention, “Thank you for the tea, Tommy but it’s probably best I get home. Staying in wet clothes will only make me sick”

Tommy nodded and seemed perfectly fine with just walking her to the door but Polly spoke up for him, “Tommy walk her home”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue but the look Tommy sent her told her that it was better to not argue. 

They walked back to her flat in silence and it made (Y/N) realise how weird her day was. In what was meant to be a normal day exploring, ended up with her almost dying and then being treated with a cup of tea by a man whose mere presence prompted question marks. 

 .•° ✿ °•.

That evening (Y/N) was back at the Garrison, pulling pints and serving customers. It was never not busy and (Y/N) wondered how she didn’t end up with a headache every night but she enjoyed the work.  

When the pub quietened suddenly, it caused (Y/N) to look up from her work and she saw Tommy, Polly along with three other men who she had never seen before entering. Polly and the men entered the little snug whilst Tommy made his way up to the bar and with Harry overwhelmed, (Y/N) made her way over to him after she finished with her current customer.

“How may I help you, Mr Shelby?” She asked as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Bucket of mild and four mugs and one whiskey”

(Y/N) nodded and went to go fulfil his order when Harry called out to her, 

“We’re out of the mild! I’m gonna go get a new barrel.”

(Y/N) turned around and gave Tommy a sorry smile, “I’ll bring it to you when Harry’s done”

Tommy gave her a nod before he disappeared in the snug. (Y/N) watched him for a moment before she turned to the next patron with a kind smile.

.•° ✿ °•.

Tommy joined his family in the snug and sat in his usual seat, paying half attention to the conversation around until it suddenly turned to him.

“Oi, Tom, who’s the new barmaid?” John asked, “And where are our fucking drinks?”

“A new hire by Harry” Tommy said as he lit up a cigarette, “Needed a new barrel, it’ll be here soon.”

Just then (Y/N) walked into the snug, bucket and mugs in hand.

“Sorry for the wait,” She said as she placed them on the table and quickly disappeared back out of the snug.

Once she left, John and Arthur let out low whistles.

“She’s a looker ain’t she” John commented

Polly rolled her eyes at her nephew’s behaviour while Michael noticed something else about the woman.

“Where is she from? Her accent is not from England”

Tommy shrugged, “Haven’t a clue”

Polly raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know? Usually, you’d know everything about her, especially since she works at the pub”

Tommy ignored her for a moment as he began to scoop up a mug of ale, his brothers following suit before he answered her.

“There’s something she’s hiding and I don’t think any call I make will clue me into it”

.•° ✿ °•.

That night as (Y/N) and Harry closed up, (Y/N) finally asked Harry about something that had been itching her about Tommy Shelby.

“Harry, when you warned me about Mr Shelby, what did you mean? What do the Shelby’s do?”

Harry sighed as he dropped his rag down on the bar, “They’re bad men. They’re a gang, they fix races, kill people, blackmail, threaten, you know all of it. If they want it, they get it.”

(Y/N) settled in silence at his words, her mind racing. Did she just escape from the gang at home just to run into a new gang? Was her luck that shitty?

She remained silent for the rest of the night but vowed that she’d try her best to avoid Tommy Shelby.

.•° ✿ °•.

Avoiding Tommy was easier said than done, he was somehow everywhere yet at the same time it was like he was a ghost. Whenever she saw him on the streets of Small Heath, she ducked into the many side streets and alleyways of the town. Whenever he entered the Garrison, she took his order swiftly and avoided eye contact.

Tommy had noticed her behaviour. 

A few weeks later he found her once again by the cut but this time she was sitting on the edge with her feet hanging over the edge. Tommy walked over to her but didn’t sit down next to her.

“You’ve been hiding from me”

(Y/N) didn’t even look up at him when she replied, “Have I? It seems that you’ve found me”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

Tommy hummed, “I suppose I don’t. Not really.”

“But you do though, don’t you? You care”

“I do” 

“Why?”

“You fascinate me.”

“...I’ve heard about the things you do Tommy.” (Y/N) decided to tell him why she had been avoiding him. 

“Yeah?” Tommy asked as he took a seat next to her, knowing that this wasn’t going to be a short conversation.

“I do...I do not understand why” 

“Growing up around here you have to know how to fight otherwise you won't survive. You have to adapt and grow. Fixing races or scamming the rich to get some money was the only way that we were able to feed our family at times.” Tommy offered her a cigarette which she accepted. “After the war, whilst we were at war, fighting for our lives and country, the men at the top simply sat at home and continued getting richer.”

(Y/N) had a frown on her face as she took a couple of drags of her cigarette, “But you murder people?”

“I’ve killed a few people”

“And that doesn’t affect you?”

“In the war, I killed about a hundred men who were just following orders like me. I used to beat myself up about taking a life but now, killing the people who profited off the war in some fashion barely gets me to blink”

“...So you only target the rich?”

Tommy nods, “You ask anyone and they’d probably say that we’re a pain in the arse but we’re their pain in the arse. We pump the money back through the town, making sure everyone has jobs and that they can support their families”

(Y/N)’s heart eased at his clarification. 

“My fa-” (Y/N) cut herself off realising that she was about to spill too much information about herself, “Back home, the gangs there targeted everybody. The poorer people suffered the most since they couldn’t pay ransoms or blackmail...every week a body would be discovered. Politicians and the most powerful men in the country were being controlled by these gangs, being played like marionettes. Not to mention the constant wars between rival gangs…”

(Y/N) hadn’t spoken about how life was back home and it felt good to finally speak to someone about it. She knew she had it good considering she rarely left the family manor and had anything and everything she could have asked for and nothing that her family did had negatively affected her in any way.

“Is that why you left your country?”

(Y/N) nodded, “I was scared that I left one gang and fell into the grasp of another”

Tommy took one last drag of his cigarette before he chucked it in the cut and (Y/N) followed suit. 

Tommy took her chin in his hands and pulled her face so that she was facing him, “You won’t be hurt here. You’re safe”

(Y/N)’s placed her hand over his that was still on her face but she didn’t try to remove it, “I’m am not safe, they will find me”

“Who will?”

(Y/N) gave him a soft smile as she finally pulled his hand away, “Never you mind. I’ve already said too much”

(Y/N) stood up and brushed off the dust and dirt from her before she offered him her hand, “Walk me to work?”

Tommy grabbed her hand and pulled himself up, “Of course”

The walk back was silent but (Y/N) felt at ease now that she knew the truth behind Tommy and the gang’s motives.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) no longer hid whenever she saw Tommy in the streets but instead gave him smiles. He wouldn’t always return them but (Y/N) felt a warmth bloom in her chest whenever he gave her a nod or a tiny smile in answer.

One day, in the early afternoon, Tommy and his brother, Arthur had entered the Garrison, so she went over to take their order.

“What can I get you two?”

“Go get Harry for us” 

(Y/N) got Harry and moved further down the bar but still close enough to listen to their conversation.

“What can I get you, boys?”

“Harry,” Tommy gave him a smile that wasn’t sincere in the slightest, “We want to buy your pub”

(Y/N)’s mouth dropped and so did Harry’s.

“Uhhh, it’s not for sale I’m afraid”

“It wasn’t a request, Harry.”

Harry instantly deflated as he knew he couldn’t exactly say no to the Peaky Blinders unless he wanted his eyes cut.

“Alri-”

“You can’t just do that!” (Y/N) stepped in, throwing Tommy a glare, “Harry said it wasn’t for sale, that’s your answer and you should accept it”

“Harry was just about to agree-”

“Through coercion” Once again, (Y/N) cut in.

Harry’s eyes were wide as he tugged on (Y/N)’s arm, telling her to stop but she didn’t listen.

“I didn’t make any threats. Did you hear me make a threat, Arthur?”

“Nah, I didn’t hear you make any threats brother” Arthur backed his brother up

“The implication was there. ‘Do as I ask or get your eyes cut’.” 

Harry pulled on her arm again but (Y/N) shrugged him off.

Tommy sighed, he patience wearing thin, “Listen, we’re just offering a considerable amount to buy the pub, nothing more”

“Since you have so much money, build a bloody pub yourselves, or better yet shove it up your-”

Harry finally pulled her hard enough that she had to move unless she wanted to fall flat on her face,

“(Y/N) go in the back. I’ll deal with it.” Harry pushed her away, “Go”

(Y/N) threw one last glare over her shoulder before she disappeared in the back. She paced around in Harry’s office waiting for him, she knew that he’d more than likely accept the Shelby’s offer but a part of her hoped that he didn’t.

When he returned there was a roll of money in his hand which caused (Y/N) to release a frustrated sigh. 

“I don’t want to end up in the cut” Harry tried to explain

“I know, I know. I’m not blaming you, I’m just annoyed at those Shelby men.”

“Listen, I know your stubborn but don’t go creating fights with those men”

“I can’t promise you anything” (Y/N) walked towards the exit, “I’ll go back to the bar”

(Y/N) was in such a bad mood for the rest of the day that the patrons simply made an order and then quickly scurry off once they got their drink, not wanting to be on the receiving end of her if they’d pushed her.

She was still in a mood once she had finished for the day and stormed home but once she collapsed on her bed, she felt a bit of tension drain out of her shoulders.

Despite how much she wanted to stay in bed, she knew couldn’t do it with the day's clothing still on her. She kicked her shoes off in the corner of her flat and chucked her coat on the small couch before pouring herself a glass of whiskey. 

She sipped on the whiskey as she wiped down her face with a damp cloth and changed into her nightdress before taking a seat near the window with the rest of her drink, the bottle next to her on the side table. Usually, she read a bit before she slept but it was raining that night and the sound of it hitting the window always calmed her, so she simply looked out of the window, watching the last few stragglers of Small Heath wander through the streets.

She had been at peace before loud knocking disrupted her and she huffed as she made her way over to her door, only opening it enough to fit her head through. 

“What do you want?” Tommy was on the other side.

“I’m here to talk”

“It’s late. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“I want to talk now” Tommy pushed the door open and forced himself into her flat.

“Thomas! You can’t just force yourself into my flat” (Y/N) hissed at him as she closed the door behind him knowing she wouldn’t be able to physically remove him at this point. 

Tommy looked around the flat checking it out as she took off his coat and hat, throwing next to where (Y/N) left hers.

“Nice little place you got here”

“Why are you really here Tommy?”

Tommy turned around and raised an eyebrow when he saw what she was wearing causing (Y/N) to wrap her arms around her chest as she hurried to her dressing gown and putting it on. 

“What do you want?” (Y/N) repeated herself, “If this is about earlier, then I refuse to speak about it”

“It is about today and you will speak about it”

“Well if you truly want to speak then let it be known that, I will not sit around and let you bully people into doing what you want”

“That’s how it works around here”

“That’s how you force it to work around here. People would rather say yes than end up blind or floating in the cut” (Y/N) corrected him.

She took a deep breath before she topped off her drink and offered him one, “Whiskey?”

“Please”

She gave him a glass before shifting the coats that rested on the couch onto the coat rack and then taking a seat on the now free couch and Tommy soon joined her.

“You say you’re not like the people back home but your actions today say different” (Y/N) took a sip of her drink, “You keep going down this lane and you’ll be like my….”

Tommy turned to her, “Like your who?”

“Never mind.” (Y/N) shook her head, “You’ve never been told ‘no’ in your life have you?”

“I have. Polly tells me about five times every day”

“I don’t mean by your family. You’ve never been told by a woman or by anyone in Small Heath like Harry, have you?”

Tommy shrugged his shoulders, “No, I don’t think so”

“Luckily for you, I’m here to humble you”

“Luckily?”

“Luckily.”

Tommy placed his hand on her thigh which caused her to raise an eyebrow at him but she didn’t say nor do anything.

“I know nothing about you,” Tommy told her

“I could say the same thing about you”

“You know things about me. You know my family and my past.”

(Y/N) snorted, “That’s a bit of a stretch. I know that you fought in the war, that’s it”

“That’s more than I know about you.”

“Okay” (Y/N) holds up two fingers, “You get to know one thing about my past and one about my family”

Tommy sipped his drink as he thought about which questions he would ask her.

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Four older brothers”

“You’re alike our Ada”

(Y/N) had never met the Shelby lady but judging by the little bits she heard from the brothers, it seemed like she, other than their aunt, was one of the only people who could tell Tommy to ‘shut up’ or ‘fuck off’ without consequence.

“In more ways than you may realise”

“Where are you from?”

“Ah!” (Y/N) held up her hand, “I won’t answer that”

“Why not?” Tommy fiddled with the edge of her dressing gown, his hand shifting higher up her thigh

“Because I said so, now, new question”

“How was your life back home?”

“Easy. I never had to worry about if there would be food on the table at the end of the day but I was restricted.”

“How?”

“I was not allowed to leave my house nor have friends, my life was lonely.”

“Was you sick as a child?”

“No. I was a vulnerability” (Y/N) downed the rest of her drink before turning to Tommy, “I’ve said too much. That was more than one thing you pulled from me”

“I’ll make it up”

“I hope so” 

(Y/N) bit her lip as she thought something through as the flat dissolved into silence.

“Are you going to sleep with me or are you going to continue to play with my dressing gown?”

“Are you going to say no?”

“I won’t be tonight”

“Good”

With that, Tommy swooped down and pulled her into a kiss, one that she eagerly returned. They kissed until they pulled apart needing air and Tommy pulled her onto his lap, 

“You sure?”

“Yes”

(Y/N) pulled him into another kiss as Tommy lifted her into his arms as he pushed himself onto his feet and made his way over to her bed where he promptly dropped her though he quickly followed suit. 

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) mindlessly trailed her fingers across Tommy’s ribs as they laid together underneath her blanket. Tommy was sat up against the headboard as he smoked a cigarette while (Y/N) was curled into his side. 

“Next week, I’ll take you down to London,” Tommy announced, breaking the silence.

(Y/N) snorted, “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I don’t do dates.”

“Hmm, I suppose you don’t have to wine and dine them. Somehow your charm does the work”

“‘Somehow’?”

“You’re a miserable bastard Tommy” (Y/N) looked up at him and gave him a smirk

“Next week then?” Tommy ignored her jab

“Yeah, I’ll talk to Harry and get a day off”

“You don’t have to ask Harry. We own the bloody pub, take as many days off you want”

“You may own it but I do not work for you, I work for Harry” (Y/N) looked up and glared at Tommy, before rolling to the other side of the bed and wrapping the blankets around her shoulder, “Anyway, I’m going to sleep now. Stay or leave, I don’t mind.”

Not realising how tired she was, (Y/N) almost immediately fell asleep and Tommy stared at her sleep form. 

He was enamoured with her, her mysterious life aside, he looked forward to every time they would meet and he enjoyed her fiery attitude towards him but he was confused as to what he wanted their relationship to be like. He didn’t date but he wanted something more than a purely sexual dynamic but he didn’t know what she wanted either. He could speak to her but that was outside of his comfort zone.

Tommy did not leave but he did not sleep, he continued to sit and smoke through the rest of his pack as he watched the sky turn light and the sun rose before he finally left. 

.•° ✿ °•.

The next week, Tommy had picked (Y/N) up and together they drove down to London. She had dressed up a bit but nothing in something that would be overdoing it but she had noticed Tommy run his eyes over her appreciatively, something that she enjoyed.

“You know, I’ve never been to London” (Y/N) said as she watched the scenery go.

“Never?”

“No. When I arrived in the country, I came straight to Birmingham on a train and that was that”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “Me too”

(Y/N) filled the rest of the journey with questions, not just about London but about Birmingham and Small Heath as well.

When they arrived in London, (Y/N) got swept up in all of it. She enjoyed the bright lights and people filled the street. It was unlike anything she’s ever experienced and she loved it.

Tommy took her to go see a play, and as she watched the actors perform, (Y/N) thought she should make a list of things that Tommy was introducing her to because she was quickly running out of fingers to count on. 

After dinner, Tommy took her to a bridge that crossed the River Thames and they talked as they looked over the barrier, like they did by the cut in Small Heath. 

“Tonight was great, thank you, Tommy”

Tommy took a step closer to her and took her hand in his, “Look, I don’t know what the future entails or what I exactly want between us but I do want you next to me”

“I’ve never heard of that position before” (Y/N) curled her fingers around his, “I’m not your partner, your fiance, your wife but…”

“You are my person”

“...Your person”

As Tommy leant forward to kiss her, (Y/N) suddenly snapped back, her head swivelling around. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

(Y/N) threw one last look over her shoulder before turning to him with a smile that he was starting to recognise as one she used as a distraction and a cover-up. It worked on him before and he has seen it being used against various members of Small Heath, who, once seeing that smile, had followed her conversation change though (Y/N) also had no problem using her sharp tongue if anyone crossed any lines. 

.•° ✿ °•.

Just as Tommy leant down towards her, (Y/N) heard people speaking the language of her home country causing her to pull away from him. She strained to hear what was being said but the voices were quickly drowned by the chatter of over people on the bridge along with the cars that sped around them.

She looked around trying to see if she recognised anyone but yet again, the bridge was so busy, it was impossible for her. (Y/N) mentally cursed at herself, she was foolish to let her barriers remain down whilst they were in London, as it was more likely her father had men there and if she had been spotted, she wouldn’t know until it was too late. 

When Tommy called for her attention she turned to him with a smile after one last look over her shoulder. While she couldn’t see anyone, she would be on edge for a while.

“So, did you book a hotel room or are we driving back tonight?”

Tommy stood back and offered her his arm, “To the hotel it is”

.•° ✿ °•.

A month after the trip to London, (Y/N) and Tommy were going steady, if that was an appropriate word for their dynamic. They saw each other on a regular business but he hadn’t taken her on a date anywhere as extravagant as the one to London but (Y/N) enjoyed the nights in her flat where they would just drink and talk.

She was less on edge now she was back in Small Heath and nothing had happened to her but she remained vigilant but her new life relatively undisturbed changed that evening.

She had been working at the pub as usual when she felt eyes on her, it was unusual that when a patron got drunk that they would stare at her but they would usually look away once a prostitute or a friend got their attention but this man was different. 

She took quick glances at him as she worked and not once did this man's gaze falter, he had been nursing the same drink he had first ordered and his eyes were clear of any drunkness. (Y/N) knew something was up with him.

Not wanting to be defenceless, (Y/N) went out to the back of the pub and picked up one of the loose bricks that were laying around and put it in her handbag before she returned to the bar, hoping that the man assumed she only took a toilet break. 

Once her shift ended, (Y/N) left Harry to close up and started her way home. The man had left with the other patrons when the pub was closed but (Y/N) knew the man was waiting in the shadows for her.

As she walked back to her flat, she heard his footsteps behind her and her heart raced. If her plan went wrong then she would either be brought back home or dead and out of two, she preferred death.

She sped up and turned into the upcoming alleyway as she took her handbag off of her shoulders and grasped it tightly in her hands and when the man turned into the alleyway, she swung her bag at his head and watched as it successfully connected, causing the man to collapse at her feet. 

She paused waiting to see if he stirred but the man was knocked out. (Y/N) dropped to her knees before she searched the body, looking for a gun or any sort of weapon but when she heard hurried footsteps heading her way she froze before she pulled the brick out of her purse and held it aloft, ready to throw it whoever to turned the corner, fearing that the man had an accomplice that she didn’t see.

.•° ✿ °•.

On his way home from his office, Tommy had spotted (Y/N) on her way home from work but just as he was about to call her name and get her attention, he noticed the man following her. 

He snapped his mouth shut but silently followed after the man but when he and (Y/N) disappeared in an alleyway, he ran after them, pulling his gun out of his holster as he did so. 

He rounded into the alleyway, gun drawn and ready to shoot but froze at the scene he ran into. The man who had been following (Y/N) was unconscious on the floor and (Y/N) was crouched over him, brick in hand ready to throw.

Tommy let his arm drop to his side, “What the fuck is going on?”

(Y/N) who sighed in relief at the sight of him, threw the brick to the side and continued to search through his pockets like she was doing before Tommy interrupted.

 “You have a place where we can drag him, yes?” (Y/N) asked as he pulled out a gun from one of his pockets

“(Y/N)! What the fuck is happening?”

“Yes or no, Thomas!” (Y/N) snapped, “I will tell you but only if you fucking help me”

Tommy tucked his gun back in his holster before he made his way over to the man and hooked his arms underneath his armpits and began dragging him towards one of the many empty buildings in Small Heath.

“Follow me”

(Y/N) quickly snatched up her purse and followed after him but she was constantly checking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following them but once they arrived at the building, most of the tension dropped out of her shoulders.

Once Tommy dropped the man in the middle of the room he turned on his heel and pointed a finger at her, “Right, tell me what the fuck is happening.”

(Y/N) tugged off her scarf and went over to the man and began tying his ankles together,

“You know I haven’t told you anything about my past” (Y/N) grunted as she pulled the knots tight, “Give me your tie”

“You’ve told me a little,” Tommy said as he tugged off his tie before he gave it to her.

As (Y/N) began tying his wrists together, she began to tell Tommy about her life.

“What I told about how gangs run the country wasn’t a lie. Life there is hell for the common people, death is better than living there. But…”

“You left out something…”

(Y/N) sighed as she turned to Tommy, “My family is the biggest criminal organisation in the country. They have politicians and royalty in their pockets. Honestly? It makes your little gang here seem like a joke in comparison”

“...So you ran away from home?”

(Y/N) glared at him, “It was not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me then”

(Y/N) made her way over to him and took a seat on the floor, “I couldn’t get anyone to help me because if we got caught they’d be killed and I couldn’t have that on my conscience. Also, they’re a liability. I had to steal some money and other items from my family so that I could sell them and I had only planned as far as getting out of my country. Everything after that was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Your life was good, why run?”

“It wasn’t ‘good’, it was easy. Besides I was the only daughter and my father would sell me to the highest bidder or to whoever he had been beefing with as a gift”

“Your brothers have no issue with that?”

“They’re men, so they’re more valuable” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and put quotation marks around the word valuable, “They’re all just like my father.”

“Your mother”

“A weak woman. Sold to my dad like how my dad would sell me off. Are you going to ask me about my uncles next?”

This time Tommy rolled his eyes but he took a seat next to her, “So, who is this man?”

“No clue” (Y/N) shrugged, “I’m guessing one of my father’s men or you know, one of the men of my father’s men”

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Tommy asked as he pulled out a couple of cigarettes and lit them, giving on to (Y/N), which she gratefully accepted.

“It depends on what information he knows and what he has shared, but I’ll probably have to kill him”

“Have you ever killed someone before?”

“Nope” (Y/N) sent Tommy a grin, “But you have”

.•° ✿ °•.

The man awoke with a sputtered cough before squirmed on the floor, trying to get up until he realised he had been tied up. He rolled on to his back and craned his head so that he was looking at Tommy and (Y/N)

“Release me!”

(Y/N) stood up and crushed her cigarette underneath her shoe before walking over to the man and stood over him.

“I have questions first”

“Fuck you!” The man cursed the language of (Y/N)’s home country.

“Ah!” (Y/N) grinned, “You speak the language, so I’m guessing my father sent you”

“I’m not the only one he sent” The man spat, “There’s about a hundred in England looking for you. Hundred in America and Australia too. No matter where you go, we’ll find you”

“Of course. I know that but I’m not particularly concerned about that, I’m more curious about you.”

“Me?”

(Y/N) nods, “You.”

Tommy watched the interaction with interest. He had no clue what they were saying but he assumed that (Y/N) was pressing the man for information and truthfully speaking, he found it kind of hot. 

“It was my father who sent you, correct?”

The man nodded, “Whoever finds you and brings you back gets a seat on his council and your hand in marriage”

(Y/N) scoffed and rolled her eyes and then turned to Tommy, “My father is offering a seat on his council and my hand in marriage to whoever finds me and brings me to him. Interested?”

Tommy snorted, “Does the marriage come with a nice house in your country?”

“Hmm, I’d have to ask”

“Does the marriage come with a nice house?”

This time the man actually spat at her causing her to flinch back and wiped her face with her sleeve with a grimace.

“Okay, enough joking around. How did you find me?”

“London! A bunch of us were stationed there but I’m the only one who spotted you” The man had switched to English.

“Did you tell anyone that you were coming here to get me?”

“No. If I did, I would already be dead.” The man shook his head, “You don’t get a joint prize if you join up with someone.”

“So no one knows you’re here?”

“No”

“...Good”

(Y/N) turned away from the man and walked back to Tommy, “I need a favour”

Tommy raised a knowing brow, “What do I get in return?”

“My undying gratitude?”

“Okay,” Tommy nods, “What’s your plan?”

“Luckily, he hasn’t told anyone about Small Heath but if we let him go, he could tell anyone.”

“So we kill him.”

“...We do”

The man started to scream in protest at their words, moving about erratically, trying his hardest to escape from his restraints. 

“Shut up!” (Y/N) shouted at the man

“I’ll get Uncle Charlie to sail down to London and dump his body there, we don't need any unnecessary attention.”

“Your Uncle Charlie would be okay with that?” (Y/N) found that hard to believe.

“No, but he’ll do it anyway.”

“So,” (Y/N) sighed, “How do we get him you wherever your Uncle Charlie is?”

“Knock him out I suppose”

“...I left my brick in the alleyway”

That caused Tommy to snigger. Their current situation wasn’t a laughable one but somehow (Y/N) had managed to make him laugh. He pushed himself up to his feet and pulled his gun out from his holster and made his way over to the frantic man. 

He climbed on to the man, legs on either side of his body and then gripped the gun by its barrel before he raised his hand up and struck down with strength, hitting the man with the butt of his gun and rendering him unconscious.

The man became limp and Tommy climbed off and tucked his gun away, “That should do it”

“Alright”

Tommy hooked his arms underneath the man’s like before and started to drag him out of the building with (Y/N) leading the way to Charlie’s yard. Once they arrived, Tommy dragged the man to the edge of the dock.

“Charlie!” Tommy shouted into the night, “Uncle Charlie!”

Moments later an older man hobbled out into the yard, “Jesus Christ, Tom. The sun hasn’t even fully risen yet”

Realising how much time had passed, (Y/N) looked up at the sky and saw the sun just starting to rise and suddenly, all at once, a wave of tiredness waved over her and she was exhausted.

“I need a favour” 

“What now?” Charlie grumbled

“I need him dumped in London.” Tommy kicked at the man at his feet

Charlie looked down at the body with what could almost be described as negative interest, “He’s dead then is he?”

“Just knocked out.”

“I’m not going to kill him” Charlie protested, “It’ll take four days to get London anyhow and I won’t have a dead rotting body as I go down”

Tommy was silent as he thought about what to do, 

“I’ll go down but I’ll take Curly.”

Charlie nodded, “Alright, I’ll go get him.”

When he left, (Y/N) tugged Tommy to the side and placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him, “You don’t have to do this you know? This is too much for me to ask”

“Hey” Tommy took her chin in his fingers, “Don’t worry, I want to do this.”

“...Thank you” (Y/N) gripped his coat, “Come back to me”

Tommy pressed a soft kiss to her lips, “I will”

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) was on edge for the rest of the week, constantly looking over her shoulder for any suspicious men along with walking around Tommy’s office and Watery Lane for any sight of the man but she didn’t see the man until just over a week since the last time she saw him.

It was late at night when she heard a knock on the door and she scrambled to open it, knowing that it could only possibly be Tommy.

When she opened the door, she threw herself into his arms, arms tight around his neck, “You’re okay”

“Did you think I died?”

“Something like that, now come in”

As Tommy settled himself on her couch, (Y/N) makes them with a drink before she joined him, 

“How did everything go?”

“Quick, easy, no need for concern”

“H-How did you do it?”

“Stuffed him full of alcohol and then pushed him overboard” Tommy filled her in

“Smart, if they find him then they’ll just assume he drunk too much and accidentally fell off a bridge or something”

“...Are you safe now?”

(Y/N) gave him a small smile, “For now. They’ll realise he’s been missing or dead soon enough and there still will be a group of people after me but for now, I am safe.”

Tommy’s hand slipped into hers, “I’ll protect you”

“You don’t need to”

“I want to” 

.•° ✿ °•.

Months passed without any sort of drama from her end though the same could not be said for Tommy. He had been getting involved in all sorts of business and trouble, something that his Aunt Polly deeply disapproved with but Tommy did what Tommy did, which was whatever he wanted.

That morning, Tommy had gone to the funeral of his brother-in-law along with the rest of his family, leaving (Y/N) alone in Small Heath for the day. Tasked with setting up the pub that morning, (Y/N) made her way to the pub but the sight of two women in black pushing baby prams had stopped her in her steps and she watched as they left them by the doors before running away.

Concerned, she made her way towards the prams but before she could get too close, she was thrown back by the blast of the explosion. Her body hit the cobblestone street with a harsh whack, leaving her dazed. 

Once the ringing in her ears had faded and she could open her eyes without immediately wanting to throw up, (Y/N) pushed herself up so that she was sitting up straight and watched as the Garrison burned and tears of heartbreak mixed with her tears of pain.

Soon the streets were filled with policemen and firefighters as they worked together to put out the fire and clear up the area and she watched them as she held a handkerchief that Moss gave her, to the cut on her cheek. Her heart hurt as she looked at what remained of the Garrison, the pub had meant a lot to her and seeing it being reduced to nothing stung, (Y/N) returned back to her flat, unable to take anymore.

Not long after, two cars pulled up the Garrison and the Shelby’s spilt out, Tommy and Polly leading them.

“It happened at, uh, exactly 7 a.m. Only one person saw anything. Our patrols were not in the area.” Moss informed them.

“Who saw it?” Polly asked as she looked at the building.

Moss looked at his notepad, “One of the barmaids, (Y/N). She was also caught up in the blast”

Tommy spun on his heel at the mention of (Y/N)’s name and stalked over to Moss, “What happened to her?”

Moss looked over his shoulder, “She was over there but I guess she must have gone home”

Tommy strode away from the Garrison, ignoring the shouts from Polly as he made his way towards (Y/N)’s flat. He knocked on her door before he walked in, knowing that she rarely locks it during the day.

He found her wrapped in her blankets on her bed, staring mindlessly through her window. Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her leg,

“You alright?”

(Y/N) let out a wet laugh, “Not really”

“Moss said you got hurt”

“Hmm, the blast flung me back but I’ll be fine. My body will ache and I’ll have a killer headache for a few days but I’ll be fine”

“Look at me”

(Y/N) turned to face him, slightly crawling out of her blanket cocoon and Tommy took her face in his hands, his thumb tracing just underneath her cut.

“What happened?”

“There were two women, in black and they were pushing prams and just left them by the door. I went over but they exploded before I could get too close”

“Did your upbringing not teach you to not go looking at things that are suspicious?” Tommy chided

“I thought there were actual kids in the prams and they had been abandoned”

Tommy didn’t say anything but a look of understanding overcame his face, “I guess that makes sense”

“Not one thing made sense about this place since I arrived. Not one”

“I’ll give you that” Tommy agreed with her

“What’s your plan with the Garrison then?”

“Fix it up.” Tommy sighed as he stood up, knowing that he couldn’t stay with her for any longer “I’ll give you some money until you’re able to get back to work”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “Thank you. You going?”

Tommy nodded at her, “Got business.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek before he left and it wasn’t until he was halfway to his location, did he realise that he’s never done something like that before.

 .•° ✿ °•.

The reopening night of the Garrison was a big one and when stepped through the doors, she noted the stark differences with a frown tugging at her lips. The walls were gold and the curtains were red, the chandeliers were grand but it wasn’t the Garrison.

She gave pleasant smiles to those she came across as she made her way towards the back of the bar, the place where she felt the most comfortable. Arthur was also there and she could tell he was on something due to his erratic behaviour but she didn’t mention it to him, only giving him a wave as she wrapped the apron around her waist.

She was quickly swept up with taking orders and making drinks that she didn’t realise that Tommy had reached her until he placed his hand on her hip,

“What do you think aye?” He tried to speak over the loud music

(Y/N) stepped to the side to somewhere slightly quieter and pulled Tommy with her, “It’s certainly something”

Tommy frowned at her, “You don’t like it?”

(Y/N) sighed before she dragged Tommy to a room at the back so they could have complete privacy, “I don’t hate it and obviously I’m very happy to be back at work but the Garrison looks like it belongs in London rather than Small Heath”

“We’re moving up”

“You are but not everyone else in Small Heath is. Obviously, it’s too late to do anything about it now but in the future, remember you’re in Small Heath and not in London.”

Tommy moved so that there were only mere centimetres between them, “Sometimes, I forget who’s the one who grew up here and who’s the one who arrived a year ago between us”

(Y/N) grinned at him, “What can I say, the town of Small Heath is special to me”

“Want to get out of here?” Tommy asked with a raised brow

“I’m sure Arthur can handle the bar by himself” (Y/N) said as she reached for his hand, allowing him to pull her out of the pub.

.•° ✿ °•.

 It wasn’t until a month after the reopening of the pub did (Y/N) realise what her fooling around with Tommy had resulted in. After she had connected the dots herself, she had made her way to Watery Lane to find the person who could confirm it for her along with giving her some solid advice. 

She made her way into the house of Watery Lane first rather than entering the betting den, hoping that Polly was there instead of her office. 

Tommy had told her about the betting den and his illegal business not long after the incident with the man who had followed her and she did not judge, as it would be hypocritical if she did but she understood the reasoning behind what he did for a living but she still hadn’t visited the actual den itself.

Luckily for her, Polly was in the kitchen of the house and (Y/N) slipped into the seat opposite her, 

“I need your...expertise” 

Polly put down her cup of tea and looked her up and down before she reached out and placed her hand on (Y/N)’s stomach before moving up to her breast, “You’re pregnant, I’d say two, maybe three months”

(Y/N) sunk back in her chair and released a huff, she didn’t know what to do.

“I’m guessing it’s Tommy's,” Polly said as she made them both a cup of tea.

“Who else's would it be?” (Y/N) scoffed.

“Do you want to keep it?” Polly asks as she sets down the two teacups on the table.

“Hmm, I think I do but I’ll have to talk to Tommy. If he doesn’t want anything to do with it, I’ll guess I’ll have to leave Small Heath,”

“Listen, I don’t know the in’s and out’s of whatever you have going on between you two but I do know my nephew. He cares about you deeply and he’s not the type of man to abandon his child.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Last I heard, Charlie’s Yard”

(Y/N) stands up with a nod, “Alright, thank you”

As she made her way to Charlie’s Yard, (Y/N) thought of how she could tell Tommy the news. There was no point dragging it out and Tommy was someone who liked to get straight to the information but she was nervous either way. 

She pushed open the gates and made her way to where Charlie and Curly were, “Hello Charlie, Curly.”

Curly stuttered out a greeting and Charlie nodded at her.

“Is Tommy around? I’d heard he was here”

“You just missed him, he went to the Garrison” Charlie informed her.

(Y/N) nodded in thanks and quickly scurried away before she could hear the second sentence.

“But he’s with a woman…” Charlie finished as he watched (Y/N) run away.

(Y/N) hurried to the Garrison, annoyed that she had to run around Small Heath just to find one man and it didn’t help that the news she was carrying was heavy. Finally arriving, she called out his name as she pushed open the door,

“Tommy?! You better be here otherwise-oh” (Y/N) paused at the sight of Tommy with a woman at the bar.

“I thought you weren’t working today?”

“I’m not, I wanted to speak to you and was told I’d find you here but you’re obviously busy, so I’ll leave you alone” 

Tommy nodded in understanding and just as (Y/N) was turning to leave the other woman stood forward and offered her hand, 

“I’m May. May Carleton.”

(Y/N) glanced over to Tommy, taken off guard but he continued drinking his drink so (Y/N) shook May’s hand, “(Y/N). Nice to meet you”

“Just (Y/N)? No last name?”

“I don’t have one.” (Y/N) gave May one last polite smile before she left.

May stared after her for a few more moments before she turned to Tommy, “She’s not serious right? What is her last name?”

Tommy gave may a shrug, “If she has one, she hasn’t told me”

.•° ✿ °•.

“Right, what’s wrong?” Tommy asked as he stepped into her flat later that evening.

“Uhm okay, I’m just going to get it right out”

Tommy watched as she paced in front of him, whatever she had to tell him was clearly weighing heavily on her mind and he didn’t push her over getting it over and done with.

“Tommy,...I’m pregnant”

Tommy stared at her in shock. Out of all the things he guessed she would tell him, that wasn’t one of them.

“I know this isn’t what we planned or anything and I’ll completely understand if you don’t want anything to do with it but I want to keep it” (Y/N) rushed out in one breath.

“(Y/N), I don’t want you to get rid of it and I want to be involved” Tommy pulled (Y/N) into his embrace, “We’ll raise this child together. You and me.”

(Y/N) looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “Really?”

“Really. We’ll do it.”

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Tommy tighters and cried into his shoulder and he let her, rubbing his hand up and down her back in hopes it comforted her.

“I was so scared”

“I know. It’s okay.”

They were wrapped up in each other’s embrace for a while before Tommy moved them over to the couch,

“Have you been to the doctor?” Tommy asked

“I went to Polly. Practically the same thing”

Tommy agreed, there were moments where he trusted Polly’s opinion and help over a doctors.

“What did she say?”

“Two months, maybe three”

“I know you went to Polly but I want you to go to the doctor, just to make sure”

(Y/N) nods in agreement, “I will.”

.•° ✿ °•.

One day, almost two months after (Y/N) found out she was pregnant, Tommy picked her up from her flat and took her for a drive. He wouldn’t tell her where they were going but he reassured her that she would like it.

Recently, they were at odds with each other with Tommy wanting (Y/N) to stop working entirely and (Y/N) being totally against it, so she assumed that perhaps he was trying to butter her up.

“You’re not trying to do something so that I’ll forgive you?” (Y/N) asked him.

“No, you can still be as mad as you want, I’m not going to stop you.”

“So the surprise had nothing to do with it?”

“Nope,” Tommy said as he pulled a tie out of his pocket and gave it to her, “Wrap it around your eyes”

(Y/N) did so without arguing and a minute later they pulled up to a stop and Tommy went over to the passenger side of the car to help her out. He kept his grip on her arm as he leads her forward before they stopped.

“You ready?”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yes”

“You can take off the tie”

(Y/N) gasped at what she stood in front of. It was a house, though that was being generous, it was massive and as (Y/N) looked around her in shock, she also realised that they were surrounded by copious amounts of land. 

“What’s this?” 

“This” Tommy walked towards her, “Is our house”

“Ours? All of it?”

Tommy grinned at her, “All it and all of this land as well. There’s also a stable round back”

“You had to make it worth your while as well, huh?” (Y/N) teased him

“Want to look inside?”

“Can we?”

Tommy offered his arm and (Y/N) took it and allowed him to lead her inside. 

The interior was just as grand as the exterior and (Y/N) had fallen love with the place, it was perfect for them, yet also brought back some memories. 

“You know, this reminds me of my house back home. It was bigger since it had to satisfy my father’s ego but it never felt like home, not like the way my flat does.”

“This will be different, this will be a home where our child will grow up and they won’t grow up as we did”

(Y/N) nodded reassured.

“I know you want to work for as long as you can and I know I can’t stop you but when you’re ready you can move in here”

(Y/N) was grateful that Tommy gave her space and he understood her because she knew she would go crazy just staying at the house and doing nothing whilst she was still pregnant. When the baby arrived, it would be a different story.

.•° ✿ °•.

When (Y/N) could no longer bend down to collect glasses due to her bump, she knew she had to throw in the towel and stop working. Harry had her working on the books for the most part while she occasionally did bar work but she had reached her limit with her feet swollen and her back constantly aching.

Truthfully the reason why she was having such a difficult time leaving her job was that she did not know when she would be able to return. She enjoyed working at the Garrison and interacting with the locals but once she had the child she would have to put that on pause as she raised her child. She could have a nanny but that was how she was raised and she did not like that. 

She made her into Tommy’s office, pausing by Lizzie’s desk to see if he was free before entering. He didn’t look up from his papers when she entered but he did give her a greeting which she returned as she took a seat.

“I’ve decided to hang up my apron” She announces to him.

This makes Tommy look up, “Yeah?”

“I can’t reach the glasses, my ankles are swollen and I have a constant need to go toilet” (Y/N) complained, “If I knew how terrorising pregnancy would be, I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant”

“Want me to call you a driver?”

“Please, I need a nap” Their bed was calling to (Y/N)

Tommy reached for the phone on his desk and called for a driver for her and as (Y/N) watched him, she realised how domesticated it was. Though in many ways, they were too, they lived together, shared a bed and (Y/N) was pregnant with their child but they weren’t in any sort of official relationship of any kind. She would have thought that Tommy would have suggested that they got married for the sake of the child but he hadn’t even brought it up. 

She had thought about talking to him about it but her fears quickly overtook her whenever she built up the courage and though it frustrated her, she had more important things to worry about.

.•° ✿ °•.

Childbirth was an experience unlike any other and (Y/N) had to wonder how her mother did it five times but at the end when she held her daughter in her arms, she had never felt happier. It was, in fact, the best day of her life.

Tommy was sitting next to her on the bed, a similar smile on his face. He had never thought that he would become a parent but now that he was one, he found that all of his love was directly for one tiny human and their mother and he had something to live for. He wasn’t afraid of death but now he wouldn’t go throwing himself into situations where he could die and leave his family behind. 

“What should we name her?” He asked

“I like the name Isla.”

“Isla Mary Shelby”

(Y/N) looked up at him, “Is Mary your mother’s name?”

Tommy nodded and (Y/N) smiled at him, 

“I like that, it suits her. Isla Mary Shelby”

.•° ✿ °•.

Life with a newborn was hard and even though they had nannies on hand to help out, (Y/N) still had reservations on relying on them but slowly she was working towards something that worked for her. 

The rest of the Shelby family were just as enamoured with Isla as her parents were and so Polly and Ada were regular visitors. (Y/N) in particular was very grateful for Polly’s presence, the woman always had the best advice and the woman would practically be the closest thing to a grandparent Isla would have.

As (Y/N) unlearned the behaviours of her own parents, so did Tommy. They did not want to become their parents and it took a lot of reassurance and from each other to make sure that they were doing the right thing, they weren't perfect but there was no such thing.

One day, when Isla was a few months old, Tommy brought up the elephant in the room; their marriage or much rather, their lack of one. They were outside, enjoying the warm weath of the summer, watching the horses in the field when he spoke up.

“One day, we’ll get married” He spoke out of the blue, linking their fingers together, “I’m not just saying that so that Isla is safe incase anything happens to me but I do love you and I do want to get married to you”

(Y/N) squeezed his hand, “Is this you proposing to me?”

“Yeah, it is”

Tommy pulled a ring box from out of his pocket and opened it and in there rested a gorgeous ring. He plucked the ring out of the box and held it out to her, 

“(Y/N), will you marry me?”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled into a bright smile as she nodded, “Of course, I will.”

Tommy slipped the ring on her finger and pulled her into a kiss. (Y/N) gushed over the ring as she pulled Tommy into hug, 

“I know our relationship is unconventional but I know we’re meant for each other” 

“We’re good to each other,” Tommy agreed. 

“I want to do it when she’s older though, so she can be the flower girl” (Y/N) says as she runs her fingers over Isla’s head, smiling at the little girl’s coos. 

“A year or two then”

(Y/N) nods before she brings him into another kiss.

“What is your last name?” Tommy asks

“Does it matter? I am to be a Shelby” (Y/N) replied as she admired her ring.

“I suppose it doesn’t”

.•° ✿ °•.

Just as promised, two years later, Tommy and (Y/N) were getting married. The wedding ceremony would be taking place in a nearby church whilst the reception would be held at their house. 

(Y/N) slipped her wedding dress on with the help of Polly whilst, Ada touched up her makeup. 

“Nervous?” Polly asked as she did the buttons of the back of her dress

“No” (Y/N) said as she watched her daughter through the mirror, “It’s been a long time coming.”

Polly patted her shoulders, “You’re good to go.”

(Y/N) gave her one last smile before she made her way over to her daughter.

“Hi princess, you ready?” (Y/N) asked

Isla was already dressed as she sat on the floor, playing her dolls, with a cute hair clip that matched her dress.

“We see daddy?”

“Uh-huh” (Y/N) nodded, smiling when Isla jumped up and took her hand. 

As she had no family to walk her down the aisle, John had stepped up and offered his arm, which she gratefully took. Isla toddled down first, throwing handfuls of petals out of her little basket down to the floor before she hurried over to wrap her arms around her father’s legs giving him a quick hug before Polly scooped her up.

Then, (Y/N) and John walked down and (Y/N) could not keep her eyes off of Tommy. He had a straight face but that did not fool her in any way, she knew he wanted the wedding as much as she did.

The ceremony sped by and before she knew it, (Y/N) was walking back down the aisle but this time her arm was in Tommy’s and their friends and family were cheering and throwing petals at them as they left the church. 

They stopped at the steps as they waited for the rest of their family to join them and they took the moment to have half a second of alone time.

“I told you we should have gotten married just by ourselves with an officiant.” Tommy muttered underneath his breath.

“I don’t plan on having another wedding, do you? I want this to be a day I remember for the rest of my life” (Y/N) responded, “Now, please don’t frown, you’re worse than Isla.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at the reminder that his daughter took after him in many ways but relaxed his face as the rest of their family joined them and took their places for the picture. 

.•° ✿ °•.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they would do this”

(Y/N) jumped when Tommy suddenly stormed into the room she was in, a newspaper clenched in his hands.

“Huh? What are you on about?”

Tommy gave her the newspaper before he began to angrily pace in front of her. (Y/N) looked down at the newspaper and her stomach dropped at the headline and the picture from their wedding day below it;

‘Thomas Shelby OBE MP marries wife in small wedding in Warwickshire’

“What the fuck…” 

“They must have snuck in with the other photographer” Tommy theorised, “It’s a national paper”

“Oh Tommy,” (Y/N) sighed, “Is this today’s paper?”

Tommy shook his head, “Yesterday’s”

“Then it is too late” (Y/N) whimpered, “They know where I am and they’ll be here to get me”

“It’s been what, three, four years since you ran away, would they still care?”

“It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, they won’t stop until I’m back or dead. I defied them and they’ll never forgive me”

Tommy dropped to his knees in front of her, “They won’t I promise you that.”

“If this is yesterday's paper then they could be here already. It’s too late.”

“I have men here, we can take him”

(Y/N) shook her head in denial, “Not if they get my father or brothers”

“They’ll take a couple of weeks for them to get there, we can plan in that time.”

“No, Tommy” (Y/N) sounded defeated, “No offence, but your Peaky Boys have nothing on my fathers men and we’re isolated out here”

“Have you given up?” Tommy was in disbelief, “Have you given up on living? Given up on your daughter who sleeps upstairs?! That’s not who you are!”

“You don’t know them! They will kill all of us except me if we try to fight back and they will torture me with that fact. If I go to them without a fight, then you can live!”

“No. I refuse.” 

“You refuse?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh

“We go on the run. Escape to America until it’s all blown over”  

“They’ll find us there and it’ll repeat until they get me”

Tommy released a frustrated sigh as he paced to the other side of the room and pour himself a large class of whiskey,

“I refuse to simply allow you to give yourself up to them. Isla needs her mother and I need my wife. You said you didn’t want to be the type of parents yours were but what you have planned, is simply no better.”

“Then what do you suggest?” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet but there was an edge to it.

“We go back to Small Heath, we gather our men and we plan.”

(Y/N) took a deep breath and nodded, “We do not give up”

Tommy pulled her into a hug, “We do not”

.•° ✿ °•.

They had temporarily moved back to Small Heath and Tommy and gathered all of the family but as (Y/N) refused to let anyone get too involved or close, the brunt of the plan laid on her shoulders.

It had almost been a month and nothing had happened which meant that her family was coming or she had managed to get away with it but they were still on edge and weren’t willing to put their guards down. Tommy had Moss keep an eye out along with Alfie Solomons sending information about what was happening in London. According to him, (Y/N)’s father’s men had paid for spies across the city and that they knew they were in Birmingham.

Their intuition was right when one day they had received a call from Moss about two cars heading into Small Heath and (Y/N) knew her family had finally arrived. Not wanting to bring the confrontation to the streets of Small Heath, Tommy and (Y/N) drove to the edge and met them there but they weren’t completely alone, Tommy had gun men placed around the area which gave them a little advantage but there was no knowing what her family had planned. 

If things went south and neither (Y/N) or Tommy survived then Ada was instructed to escape to America with Karl and Isla and (Y/N) could only hope that wouldn’t happen.

They stood in silence as they waited for the family to arrive but when (Y/N) spotted them, she pulled Tommy into a kiss and hug,

“I love you, never forget that.” She whispers to him.

“I won’t”

They pulled apart when the cars pulled to a stop and turned to face the men who stepped out. 

An older man stepped out first, before four younger men climbed out after him. (Y/N) could not help herself as she ran her eyes over her family, looking at what had changed since she last saw them.

“Father. Brothers” She greeted as they stood to a stop opposite her and Tommy.

The youngest brother, the one closest in age to her tipped his head in greeting whilst everyone else glared at her. 

“Daughter. I see you decided to make the correct decision and give yourself up.”

(Y/N) snorted and shook her head, “I have not. I will not”

“Do not be foolish sister,” Her eldest brother takes a step forward, “Don’t you realise how worried we’ve been? We’ve been searching for you for year, only to find out you’ve been here in this...shithole”

Her brother looked around in disgust as he finished his sentence.

“Drop the act. I’m not here to play games.” (Y/N) was tired already, “I’m not leaving with you, so what’s your plan?”

“You don’t have a choice. I set up a marriage between you and my closest man, you know he has spent all these years travelling across the globe looking for you? He deserves a reward”

(Y/N) pulled a face at her fathers words, “First of all, I am not a reward, I am a human being. Second, he must have not been looking very hard considering I ended up being ousted by a newspaper and thirdly, I’m already married and I don’t plan on getting married again”

Her second eldest brother snarled at her, “You’ve grown a backbone sister. We’ll have to beat it out of you”

This caused Tommy to finally step forward and cleared his throat, “I can’t let you to do that”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m her husband” Tommy gestured towards (Y/N) and she could see that he enjoyed it.

“Enough!” (Y/N)’s father stepped forward, “No more arguing, I’ll give you one last chance or we’ll take you by force”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slumped, “Why don’t you leave me alone? Go back and just forget about me”

“No one will take us seriously, if we don’t make an example out of you, then we’ll be seen as a joke.”

“I won't go and you cannot force me to and I’d much rather die than go anywhere with you”

Her father pulled out his gun and her brothers quickly followed which caused Tommy to do the same and the air was thick with tension. 

“No, no, no if she wants to die then I’ll be the one to kill her.” Her father waved at her brothers and they put their guns away.

(Y/N) looked at Tommy and gave him a nod, and Tommy nodded back knowing the meaning behind the look and he put his gun away too. (Y/N) made her way to her father and when she was close enough, he reached out and pulled her towards him and jabbed his gun underneath her jaw.

“This is the end, daughter, you brought this upon yourself” Her father growled

“This is the end, but not for me”

(Y/N) pulled the gun she had been hiding in her waistband of her trousers and pressed it against her father’s chest. She didn’t even give him a moment to realise what was happening before she pulled the trigger, shooting her father in the chest.

He staggered back in shock before (Y/N) pushed him and causing him to fall backwards, landing on the floor with a thump,

“Fuck you!” (Y/N) spat in her native language. 

One of her brothers came running at her and she pointed the gun at him, stopping him in her tracks, “I’ll kill you too, don’t fucking try me”

“Go back to your home and never return.” Tommy stepped forward.

(Y/N)’s brothers looked between each other before (Y/N) spoke again, “Leave. Take his body and go back. Never come back here or try to find me.”

Her eldest brother motioned for the youngest two to take the body of their father while he cursed at her, 

“We’ll never forgive you and you’ll pay for your crimes in the afterworld”

“I’ll meet you there and we can pay for our crimes together”

Her brother growled her one last time before he got into the car and sped off. Once (Y/N) could no longer see them, she turned and collapsed into Tommy’s arms, a massive weight finally lifted off of her.

“You did it!” Tommy pulled away and smiled at her, “You did it, you wonderful woman”

(Y/N) let out a soft, “I did, didn’t I?”

Tommy took her gun and whistled, signalling for the men stationed around they could come down before he began to lead her towards the car, 

“Want a drink?”

“Several but before that I want to see my daughter, go back to Arrow House and take a hot bath”

“Whatever you want”

.•° ✿ °•.

The shouts of children filled the gardens of Arrow House along with the chattering of adults and (Y/N) felt the last of the weight of her shoulders disappear. She had always been worried that her family would find her but now that they were truly gone, she could live without worry.

It was Isla’s third birthday and her and Tommy had decided to throw a party to celebrate it. Her and a group of local children were running around whilst the parents and other adults were sitting around enjoying the warm summer air and cool drinks. 

Tommy crept up behind (Y/N) and wrapped one of his arms around her waist and gave her a kiss on her cheek, “You okay?”

(Y/N) gave him a smile and a nod, “I’m great”

“Mama!” Isla came running up to her, arms raised, “Up pwease!”

(Y/N) did as she was asked and lifted her daughter up, “What’s up princess?”

“Cake?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. What do you think, dad?” (Y/N) turned to Tommy with a smile 

Isla turned to her father and put on her biggest puppy dog eyes, “Pwease dada!”

Tommy put on a show as if he was seriously debating on what to do, “Only if I get a hug from the birthday girl”

(Y/N) almost dropped Isla from how sudden she tried to get out of her arms and into her fathers but she helped her climb over and watched as she gave Tommy a tight hug with an added kiss on the cheek. 

“Cake now?”

“Alright, go get your friends and we’ll go get the cake?” Tommy put her down and watched as she ran off to her friends. 

“She’s growing up too fast” (Y/N) pouted as they walked inside, “In no time she’ll be spending most of her time at school” 

“If she’s anything like her mother, she’ll be fine” Tommy assured her.

(Y/N) sighed, “I know, but I’m still going to be sad. Now let’s get going otherwise our princess will come storming in here demanding to know what’s taking so long”

Tommy pulled (Y/N) to a stop just before they entered the kitchen and cupped her face, “I love you”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “I love you too”

[artleaguemdcnorth]

DRAWING CLASS INSTRUCTIONS FOR FINAL ASSIGNMENT- 11/28/23

This class will be working on their Final Assignment starting this Thurs (11/13) right after class.

Next week, you will use one day of the week to attend a collection for Art Basel week. You are responsible for attending ICA and DeLaCruz Collection in Midtown.

You will document your visit via your threads account with a #Artweek.

You must include a selfie inside the venues suggested.

Today in class, you will continue to work with the figure for a second time.

Make sure you bring Bristol paper and paints to work in class.

FINAL ASSIGNMENT: 

Create a painting that expresses one of the 30 Articles of the International Declaration of Human rights.

There are three videos to watch in preparation for this assignment.

One is regarding how children are used in sweat shops around India and the world. 

The second video documents how the cosmetics industry works with slave labor as well.

The third video documents how your favorite chocolate brands are created using child slave labor. From Mars to Hersheys, M&M , Snickers all these brands are brought to you thanks to the use of child labor in Africa.

These children are usually abducted from their homes a three to four years of age only to be put in fields working 15 hour days for years. They are never reunited with their parents or family.

You will watch all videos and then look and review all 30 articles from the link included above  the class blog.

I will assign an article to each student on Weds in class . 

You will then create imagery that expresses the importance of that article.

You will begin brainstorming the idea for work on this assignment starting on Tues after class.

This assignment will be due  Tuesday 12/12 at 12:20pm .

We will have a critique on that day at that time.

Materials:

1) You will need  canvas board or canvas.

2) Acrylic paints

For the canvas board or canvas you can use any of the following sizes:

12 x 14 or 

16 x 20

When you start reading about these articles consider how these rights affect yourself and your community and the world at large.

One example would be article Article 4 ,

“ No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms. “

When you think about this article , our first thought is maybe the american slavery of African Americans and Native Americans. 

Beyond that historical content, how can we understand this article in present terms?

Think about human trafficking or drug trafficking which brings countless of individuals who are suffering through poverty from third world countries into different parts of the world. 

Think about child labor.

This situation is still happening in parts of the worls.

In India children are used in sweatshops for cheap labor.

In Africa child labor is used to mine diamonds and for chocolate plantations.

Watch the video below the talks about how that Hershey’s kiss and our snikers chocolate bar is made through the sweat of child labor. 

These children are abducted from their homes at an early age and kept in servitude until they either scape or can pay their way out.

Below is a newspaper report from a couple of years ago about a truck which had over 39 bodies trafficked for the purpose of force labor in England.

These are two examples of seeing one particular article beyond past historical association.

Article 9  and Article 6 are two circumstances that conjure past and present association. 

We witnessed this during the summer of 2020 here in america with the unjust death of George Floyd and so many other minorities who die at the hands of crooked law enforcement agents.

As you approach this assignment think of your duty as a citizen of the world.

How will you work towards a more just and fair society?

These articles offer us a template to live by.

As artist we have an obligation to engage in art that promotes peace and wellness beyond our boundaries.

Think about this as you create your artistic contribution for these rights.

I will post a link to the document above this post along with the videos to watch for this assignment.

Review them before class this Weds.

Below see examples from previous classes.

  DO NOT USE ANY OF THE IMAGERY SEEN BELOW.

You must come up with your own ideas.

A

B

C

THERE WILL BE A POST TOMORROW REGARDING ATTENDING ART BASEL NEXT WEEK WITH ADRESS OF VENUES FOR STUDENTS TO ATTEND.

MAKE SURE YOU READ IT AND COMPLY ACCORNDINGLY.