#ada please for the love of god name her properly

[sorikkunn]

JIMMY SHIMMY INCORRECT QUOTE #23

Kimmy: She likes people who have a little class..

Pip: Okay bet

Later on a date

Mesfin: So what do you do—

Pip, standing up: I have to go, I have calculus

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 17: Old Wounds and New Beginnings

It’s getting late. I should be heading back now. The park is no place for a lady at night, no matter what manner of weaponry I’m carrying. It’s funny- I haven’t seen many Peaky Blinders posted around. Was there another meeting?

Back at the Shelby home I see no one is home. Obviously they went somewhere and no one has broken in. I suppose I’ll just make a quick supper and turn in-

“Someone get the door!” Polly shouts from up front.

What in Heaven? I rush over and open the door to see Polly’s wide eyes. “Hello Polly, where- Oh my God!”

Outside stands Polly, a mystery woman, and Ada, who looks like a tick about to pop. Her red face and heavy breathing cause my womanly instincts to kick in. She’s in labor.

“Make way, make way! We need to get her to the bed,” the Polly makes way for the other woman to help Ada inside her bedroom.

“I’ll get towels!” I call and sprint to the storage cupboard. 

When I reach Ada’s room she’s crying out in pain. Water soaks the floor and in the dim light I see streaks of blood. It looks just like what the other women in Brooklyn go through back at home.

“Here, love!” Polly grabs the towels from my hands and tries to sooth Ada. “Keep going, that’s right. Push.”

“I think it might be the other way around,” the stranger observes, examining between Ada’s legs 

Who is this woman? “Are you the midwife?” I ask with stern suspicion.

“Verena, we can trust her,” Polly instructs. “Please go get more hot water.”

I ask no further questions. Polly’s judgment is what brought me here, it’s safe to trust when it comes to Ada’s health. That’s my priority now. I rush to the kitchen and pour heated water into hot water bottles. Hopefully it will ease the pain. Back in the bedroom Ada continues to let out harbored breaths.

“One more push!” the woman instructs.

“Aaahhh!” Ada cries.

I kneel next to the bed and grab her hand- almost getting my own crushed by her forceful grip. As she pushes once more her crying gets drowned out by the whimpering of a newborn babe. I keep a distance to provide privacy and don’t see the child’s face until the woman holds it up.

“It’s a boy!” She announces with a joyful smile.

“A boy…” Ada breathes with relief, no longer in pain.

The cord is cut and the child is brought to its tired but happy mother. The process unwinding before me is a whole new kind of love, the love of a parent.

“He’s adorable! And healthy-looking too.”

“He’s sturdy, just like his father,” Ada sighs as the newborn begins nursing.

I hand her a towel to wrap around him. “And just as spirited as his mother. God bless you both!”

Fate must be aligned because another noise from the hallway catches my attention and we see Freddie walk in. When he sees the child his face melts into a big smile and he sits down gently next to his wife to marvel at the strong lad. Both Polly and I take that as our cue to leave the room, joining the new woman in the kitchen.

“Sorry, in the haste of the moment I didn’t get to meet you properly.” I extend a hand and we shake. “I’m Verena. What’s your name?”

The petite dark-haired woman offers a kind smile. “Esme. I’m also sorry about the rushed introduction. It must be strange to have me here now.”

A frown makes its way onto my face. “Here? What do you-?”

Bang bang!

“Open up! Police!”

Suddenly the front door is busted open and coppers swarm the house, headed straight for Ada’s room.

“You can’t come in here, there’s a baby just been born-!” Esme tries to tug them away, protecting the mother and child.

The cops drag Freddie out by his shirt and all but shove him out the door.

“Don’t hurt him! Please, leave him alone!” Ada cries from her room.

“Leave him be, you bastards!” I give a stiff punch to an officer’s face. This gets their attention and they all try to decide if they should lay a hand on me too. “How do you have the nerve to do this? To part a father from his newborn son?” I point a scolding finger at each of them. “Shame on all of you!”

My words practically dissolve and they give no mind to them, dragging poor Freddie down the dark streets. Meanwhile Polly and Esme are trying to soothe Ada.

“They took him! They took him!” She sobs, causing her son to join her.

“Steady, Ada,” I squeeze her hand. “I’ll go tell Thomas. And when I do I’m going to kill him!”

I storm out and head straight for the first place Thomas might be at this time of night: the Garrison. Sure enough the leader of the Peaky Blinders is heading out the door with a fresh cigarette.

“Thomas Shelby!” I grunt and grab hold of his coat. “You need to get your arse home right now! Them coppers took Freddie ‘nd Ada’s have’n a meltdown!”

“Whoa whoa, slow down. Now, tell me without the Brooklyn accent.”

“Somehow the coppers knew where to find Freddie. They arrested him mere minutes after the birth of his son.”

Thomas’ face shifts to a serious one and he quickens his pace back to the house, where Polly approaches to discuss the matter with Thomas. This is a family matter so I shouldn’t interfere despite the urge to input. Now I understand why Ada’s been distant from the Blinder business. Why would you bring a child into this? After what happened with Finn it’s no secret that this is no place for a youth.

“She’s steady now,” Thomas walks back to me.

“Good. How was the family occasion?” 

Thomas recollects tonight’s events by lighting another cigarette. Somewhere in his muttering I hear ‘lovely wedding.’

My spirits lift. “A wedding? Who’s the lucky couple?”

“John, and his new wife Esme.”

So that’s why she’s here! “I thought John was going to marry Lizzie?”

He shakes his head. “Backed out. So to make an alliance with the Lees I offered John. John needed a wife, the Lee family had a woman who needed a husband.”

My face falls as quick as it lifts. “Oh no, Thomas Shelby you did not! How could you? How could you just spring that on someone, your own brother?”

Is it all a power struggle for him? I was right. His tendency to ignore love is what’s distancing him from what’s really important.

“He’s not complaining,” Thomas sounds optimistic. “He loves her already. Now we have to worry about getting Freddie back.”

John’s new bride almost makes me forget about Freddie. “So you didn’t tip off Campbell?”

Thomas’ face clouds over. “No.”

“Then who did?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

The Peaky Blinder looks down at me, almost seeming to size me up for anything suspicious. Do you think that I know something you don't know? If I don't always promise you the answers, do you see me differently?

The next morning brings little efficiency about Ada’s current standing with Thomas. 

“She’s gone?”

Polly nods and finishes chewing her apple. “Left without a word. She’s furious with all of us. Thinks one of us sold out Freddie. She’s locked herself in her apartment and won’t let me in. I just took her some fresh bread, but there’s a slim chance she’ll accept it.” 

Poor Ada. Only been a mother since last night and she’s already facing trouble. Speaking of trouble-

“Polly, I need to tell you something. Yesterday I went to the Garrison for a drink. Grace mentioned that she has a fear of breaking Thomas’ heart. Maybe it’s just me, but that does not seem like something a normal person would say. Is it wrong of me to be so apprehensive?”

The more I say the more her expression darkens. “It is never wrong to doubt someone, Verena. Faith in the Lord is one thing. Faith in humanity, that’s something else. Have you told Thomas?” 

“No. I don’t want to ruin his chance at a good life.”

“Good or not, I’m going to keep a close eye on this Grace character.” Her face turns to me and she tries to show a smile. “You alright, love? Need something to eat?”

“Actually I am feeling a tad peckish, yes. It’ll do me some good to do some baking later once I have breakfast. Do you have any tasks for me today, Polly? Anything I can do to help?”

The tired woman shakes her head and puffs on a cigarette. “I wish I could say no but we’ve got some catching up to do with the records. I’ll need some help in the office-”

Creak.

The door opens and reveals Thomas. If he has any opinion about the current predicament he’s doing a good job of hiding it.

“Did you talk to her?”

Polly’s eyes burn into him with silent fury. “She didn’t talk back.”

Thomas looks between her and me and tries to calm the storm. “I’ll only say this one more time. It wasn’t me.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Polly’s heels echo as she storms across the room and goes to poke a finger at Thomas. 

“Tommy, I’d ask you to swear on the Bible. But you can’t swear on that, can you? Nothing you hold sacred.”

She huffs in frustration and stomps off to her room. Thomas looks to me for sympathy but I’m torn on giving any to him. It’s not the first time he would have lied for what he considers good intentions. Still… He really does want Ada to be happy. When he sees my hesitation Thomas just grunts and pulls out another cigarette before walking away to the door again.

“Going to repent on your thoughts?”

“Going to run through some things with Grace,” he mutters. “I’ll be back later.”

Back to Grace. Wonderful. I’m back to being alone-

“Verena!”

Or not. Solitude will have to wait.

“Morning, Finn! Here for another lesson, I imagine?”

The young Shelby grabs a roll and nods eagerly. “A quick one. Then I’m playing ball in the park.”

His ambition is just the refreshing drive I need. “Of course. We can walk around the block.”

With my pistol safely in my skirt pocket, we exit the back door and begin strolling into the damp streets. It’s cloudy today, almost copying the dreary mood everyone’s been in.

“How about… Insanity?”

His face scrunches. “Insanity? Why do we need to talk about that?”

“Because you cannot bury the obvious. Back home our asylums lock people away for their safety but do little to help the patients’ mental needs. Perhaps that it’s our world that is insane, and the ones we call mad are actually of sound mind.”

Finn snickers. “Tommy can go pretty mad sometimes.”

“Possibly. It may be possible to have fleeting episodes of insanity. Certain elements in the human brain that twerk now and then. Have you been reading any of the authors I assigned?” He nods. “Good. In Narcotics Anonymous, a guide book for addicts, Albert Einstein states that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Our conversation is drawing the attention of a few pedestrians. Their judgeful stares seep through me but Finn reacts differently.

“Verena, I don’t think this topic is widely popular.”

“Popular or not, it’s still important. Take a moment to enjoy your peace of mind, Finn. In whatever world we live in, God has graced us with the ability to comprehend our surroundings.” We reach the front of the house and I hold the door open for him. “A little food for thought.”

“Thanks, Verena.” Finn’s still stewing over my words but doesn’t reject them. “Maybe someday- Huh?”

We both halt at the end of the hall and peer inside the kitchen. At the table sits an unfamiliar man, who’s being watched by Polly and John like a vulture stalking its prey. Arthur lounges in a nearby chair with a much-less stern demeanor.

“Finish your sandwich and sling your hook,” Polly orders.

“Now who’s this?” I ask, bewildered.

Finn doesn’t answer and wanders over to stand close to the man. He ruffles Finn’s hair and Polly looks as if she could stab his eyes out. John sees me hiding around the corner.

“Steenstra, meet our father. Arthur Shelby Senior.”

Their father? Thomas never mentioned-

“Hello, darling,” the Shelby Senior grins. “Who might you be?”

I take a breath of courage and step into the room. “I’m Finn’s tutor.”

His eyes light up at my accent. “Ah, an American! Where’d you lot pick her up? Girl like you looks too fine to be a tutor. Are you sure you ain’t helping out my boys with other prospects?”

What?! Polly hisses and John moves to grab my arm. Not threateningly, just to quietly ask me to not make a scene. He, Polly, and I are thinking the same thing.

“Sir, I am a proper woman and will not be talked to like that! Excuse me.”

I pull away from John’s grasp and pivot back to the door. The church will provide sanctuary from this outrageous conspiracy-!

“Oh!” Thomas meets me at the door and my pulse startles, but only for a split second. “Thomas, there’s someone in there I will not tolerate.”

His eyes narrow when he sees my disgust and he brushes past. I follow quietly and peek out from behind. The instant Thomas sees his father he doesn’t hesitate. “Get out.”

“Come on, son. I’m a changed man.” How was he before?

“This family needed you ten years ago, and you walked out on us. Get out of this house.”

The man still doesn’t budge. “Tommy, it’s-”

“Shut up!” Thomas seethes. 

I remove the pistol from my skirt and hold it firmly at my side. I don’t care who this man is. Thomas’ judgment of him is good enough for me. The man gathers that our hostility is not receding and finally stands up.

“Well, I shall take my leave then.” He walks past Finn and pats his head. “Goodbye, son.”

I can tell Finn’s disappointed to see his father leave but John pulls him back to erase those thoughts. The man passes me but not before I give him another one of mother’s murderous glares. Once he’s shut the door Polly immediately relaxes.

“He’s our dad,” Arthur tries to lighten the mood.

Thomas sighs. “He’s a selfish bastard.”

“You calling him a selfish bastard? That’s rich, coming from you. Thanks to you we’re already down one bloody sister.”

“You want to see him, Arthur? You go with him.”

And Arthur does just that. He stands up and gives Thomas one last disappointed look, then takes off out the door. Lord, I know my family has its quarrels but never have I seen such mayhem in family matters.

“Sorry about that, love,” Thomas mutters and looks down at the gun in my hand. He knows I don’t pull it out for nothing. “You won’t need that now. What did he do to her, John?”

“Basically called her an American whore,” John growls with hatred.

Thomas stiffens and abruptly walks over to me with a tight jaw. “Verena, if that man ever speaks to you again you have my full permission to shoot his balls off. I- We’re sorry you had to see that. ‘S just… not every part of the Shelby clan is respectable.”

The pistol is returned to its place and I put a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize for your family, Thomas. Neither of you do. I know none of you think I’m… that. One person’s scatterbrained belief doesn’t define everyone’s.” It’s time for me to go. Their family matters are private and I shouldn’t be here-

“You’re more our family than that traitor, Verena.”

I pause at John’s words before I reach my room. Family. With all the hardship this family’s seen, how can they trust me so easily? See me as one of their own? According to Uncle Colon it’s a high honor to be accepted as an outsider into a mob business, especially one as brutal as the Peaky Blinders.

“Thank you very much, all of you. That means a great deal.”

[sapphire-weapon]

I think people tend to ignore Leon fucking up (like with Shen May), because they have the mindset of "oh no, that's my favourite character! So he can't do anything wrong or have any flaws!" It's such a limiting way to think. I mean, I really like Leon too, but I'll openly say that he often gives me the fucking ick, lmao. The Shen May scene had me recoiling. Man's a stereotype of "that creepy guy at the bar" and he exudes that a LOT. I'm glad he was turned down. Even the characters we love need to be humbled when they're full of shit, because it's realistic and interesting. It's okay to think outside of the caveman "he good! no bad!"

Also, tacking on, because despite it being a different topic, I may as well stick to a singular ask. Jilleon is such a weird concept to me, lmao. I think for the most part it's treated pretty lightheartedly, but I'm confused because I couldn't really identify where it came from, other than that they're both attractive. I love Jill, but I don't see her reciprocating any attraction. Like, remotely. They get along fine, but I can't even see a close friendship. Maybe I'm biased though, cause I love her and as much as I enjoy Leon, dear god above he doesn't need another love interest. Also Capcom please just grow your balls and properly address Valenfield. We all know they're either a couple or have been pining for several decades.

I'm not gonna lie, if OG Leon asked me out, I'd have told him I had a boyfriend, too. Or maybe just even told him I wasn't interested in men all together. His approach is so... old-fashioned in a bad way. It's evidence that his development was arrested in 1998; he hasn't matured past that point, so he thinks that it's still a thing to just go up to a cute girl and ask for her number right after getting her name.

So like. I'm not surprised that it's pretty much exclusively early 20s and younger ppl who don't think he's trying to ask her on an actual date, because no one does that shit anymore. That was already out of fashion by the time I was in high school, even, and I entered high school in 2003.

But for any tiny childrens who are reading this: yes this is literally how relationships would start in the 80s and 90s. Out of nowhere and on a whim between complete strangers and just hoping it works.

Re: jilleon

Prior to Death Island, I would have agreed with you. 100% I didn't understand what the basis for it was, and I didn't think she'd be interested in him at all.

Then I watched Death Island. And I'm 85% sure that they've already slept together LMAO Chris dropped the ball between RE5 and DI, and Leon just kind of slid in there and took his shot and actually seems to have made it???

If I'm not mistaken, Jill is the only person other than Remake Ashley in the entire series who actually laughs at Leon's jokes. And she actually gets him to laugh out loud in return -- which is almost unheard of for him.

They just seem very comfortable around each other in general. Jill seems more at ease in his presence than she's been in Chris's since... Lost in Nightmares? And Leon is definitely more comfortable being with her than he is being with Ada or Claire. Like, Jill seems as comfy as a presence for Leon as Chris and Ashley are.

I just really like their dynamic in general. I don't think of them as romantic, but I see them as very, very good friends who just fuck every once in a while.

Like, Chris is still Leon's best friend, but their relationship is a lot more intense. But Jill is the person that Leon first thinks to call when he needs to nerd out about movies or to just bullshit in general. And then every so often, a text message conversation happens like:

"Gonna be in DC for a weekend for BSAA shit. Pick me up from the airport?"

"Sure. What hotel?"

"Staying with a friend actually idk if you know him. Leon Kennedy? In the DSO. Brown hair, blue eyes, giant cock?"

"Never heard of him. Sounds like he's in for a fun weekend though."

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 27

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 27: Ella and Alfie discuss their potential family. At Lizzie’s party, Ella grows exhausted by her brother’s lack of common sense. 

   “Crucified, Ada. Fucking strung up on a bloody cross and shot.” Ella was smoking on the front steps of Midland with her sister. “It’s all going to shit. Tommy’s gone mad.”

           “It’ll be okay.” Ada tried to assure her. She wanted to have faith in their brother. Wanted to believe that he could crush the fascist movement. If there was a man to do it, then Tommy Shelby was the one.

           “Mosley is trying to get to my fucking husband. I swear to God if anything happens to Alfie…”

           Ada hushed her as their sister-in-law came out. “We’re here to take you to the clinic.” She stopped Gina.

           Ella took the woman in. She was beautiful, and no doubt that was what drew Michael to her in the first place. Dressed smartly, she looked like a movie star. “Nice to meet you, sister.” She said and flicked her cigarette to the sidewalk.

           Gina didn’t appear pleased. “I already told Michael, my husband or no one.”

           Ella frowned. The retort put her off almost instantly. “Well, Michael’s not here and we’ve got a car.”

           “There are taxis, even in this fucking city.”

           She scoffed. “This city? Our family owns this city, so you might as well give it some respect.” Sure, Birmingham had some bad memories and maybe Ella preferred London or Margate. But she highly disliked Gina’s tone when talking about Small Heath.

           Ada stepped in before Ella got nasty. “Look, if they don’t hear a heartbeat, they’re going to give you options, none of which are nice.”

           Gina didn’t listen to her appeal. “My husband may do as he told but I don’t.”

           Ella’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should be a little more accommodating to your new family?” She spoke tersely. “We’ve come as support.”

           “I don’t need support,” Gina replied.

           Thoroughly finished with her dismissive attitude, Ella couldn’t hold her tongue even though Ada gave her a warning glance. “Some of us don’t have the privilege of getting pregnant.” Her voice full of venom. “So why don’t you accept the company and stop being so fucking cold?”

           Gina’s mouth popped up in disbelief. But Ada spoke up again to try and stop the situation from becoming hostile. “C’mon, let’s all just start over again.” She said gently. “We genuinely want to be here for you and Michael.”

           Gina held her purse close to her body and took a deep breath.” Fine.” She agreed and continued down the steps toward the car.

           “Relax,” Ada whispered to her sister before she followed Gina.

           “If she’s going to take an attitude with me…”

           “Just leave it.” Ella’s older sister warned. “This isn’t the time to create rifts in the family.”

           “She’s not family,” Ella muttered under her breath but held her tongue for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~

           “Special delivery.” Alfie came into the sitting room and handed Ella an envelope.

           “Hm, I don’t remember the postman being so lovely.” She teased and drew him close for a kiss.

           He chuckled against her lips. “Cheeky girl.”

           After he pulled away, Ella carefully tore open the thick envelope. “Let’s see…” She pulled out the cream-colored invitation with careful penmanship. “It’s an invitation to Lizzie’s party.” She’d been expecting it ever since her brother mentioned the occasion.

           “Right, penned it my diary.” Alfie agreed and settled into his armchair with a heavy sigh. “Just a dinner, right?”

           Ella frowned. “No.”

           “No?”

           “There’s going to be a ballet. A ballet?” She read over the words a few more times in disbelief. “A ballet at Arrow House? How on Earth…”

           “Now hang on, I didn’t agree to go to a ballet.” Alfie protested, a look of grief crossing his face.

           “Well, I didn’t either!” Ella exclaimed and tossed the invitation to the table. “Bollocks.”

           He chuckled. “What? I thought you’d like a ballet.”

           “Why would you think that?”

           The man shrugged and cracked his knuckles. “You’re a woman.”

           His wife scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him almost in a challenge. “So, I should automatically enjoy ballets?”

           Alfie knew when he was beat. He’d made the mistake of underestimating his wife before, so he decided to admit defeat. “I supposed an abhorrence for ballet can be universal.”

           Ella grimaced at the invitation as if it was leering at her from the table. Typical of Tommy to try and get his family to obey the social laws of Britain’s elite. He wanted so desperately for the Shelby family to fit into the social standing. They weren’t made of old money. None of them had inherited a cent. Instead, they made their way, something that most of Britain’s old money would never understand. What was the use in trying to pretend they were one in the same with people who were born in estates and never went hungry? In Ella’s eyes, they were weak and weren’t cut out for the real world like the Shelbys were. They could play both cards, mingling at a social function and wouldn’t be afraid to walk home through every dark alley. The streets were more afraid of them.

           “I need to walk.” Ella stood up. “I don’t want to think about this.”

           “Do you want some company?” Alfie offered.

           She nodded. “If your hip isn’t giving you too much trouble.”

           He heaved himself up out of his chair and whistled for Cyril and Anthea. “Of course not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After bundling up properly and getting the dogs on leads, Ella and Alfie left their flat. Arm in arm, the two were a familiar sight in Camden. The couple frequently took walks together either during Alfie’s lunch break or in the evening when he returned home. Passersby tipped their caps and gave a polite greeting. Sometimes they stopped to chat with neighbors they were close with. It was a familiar landscape and Ella appreciated that. Camden had been her home for so long that she didn’t feel like an outsider as she used to. She wasn’t Jewish but the community had accepted her best they could. Whether it was out of their good graces or fear of backlash from Alfie, Ella wasn’t too sure. But that didn’t matter anymore.

           Passing through Camden Gardens, they arrived at the canal. The dogs tugged on their leads, barking at the ducks that swam past them.            

           “Tommy asked whether we would ever consider adoption,” Ella told Alfie.

           “We’ve already got two dogs, ain’t got enough space for another one.” He replied his mind clearly elsewhere.

           “Not adopting dogs, silly, adopting a child.” She prodded his arm.

           That snapped Alfie out of his daze. He glanced over at her in surprise. “Adoption…what’d you say?”

           “Well, I said we hadn’t thought about it much.” She replied with a shrug. “We haven’t talked much about children at all.”

           Alfie chewed on the inside of his cheek. He had thought about children after the miscarriage. He thought frequently about the things they’d lost and how their children would be nearly three years old had they survived. He tried to imagine how different their lives would be. Chaotic, perhaps, with two toddlers and two dogs. But how lovely it would’ve been. Other than ruminating over what could have been, Alfie hadn’t considered the future of having a family. The doctors pretty much assured Ella that she wouldn’t be able to have children after the shooting. So, they could mourn, but Alfie hadn’t considered the option of adopting. Maybe he’d been caught up on the idea that he wanted children that were his own blood. Was it selfish? Maybe, but it was something he often thought of.

           “I didn’t want to upset you.”

           Ella nodded in understanding. “It’s been a while though.” She reminded him. “Maybe we should talk about it.”

           He met her eyes and considered the possibility. "We can talk about it.”

           There was a silence between them as they stood by the canal. Anthea sat between them, her ears perking up every so often with passing sounds of cars and other people walking.

           “I would like children.” Ella broke the silence. “And wouldn’t it be nice that we could give a child a good home?”

           It did appeal to Alfie’s altruistic side. The man that would take home any pup he found discarded in the street. And to make his wife happy, well there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. “Right…but m’fraid that once we adopt one, we won’t stop. Soon it’ll be ten kids all running ‘round the flat because we couldn’t turn them away.” He grinned.

           Ella smiled and touched his chest. “Well, we’ll start with one, how ‘bout that?”

           He nodded and kissed her forehead. “Tommy’ll help us out then?”

           “Well, he owns several orphanages so I’m sure he would.”

           Alfie smiled and hugged his wife close. “I want you to be happy. You being happy makes me fucking happy as can be. You want ten kids; we’ll adopt ten kids.”  

           She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think you just want a big Jewish family.” She teased.

           “Well, it were destined, weren’t it? ‘Ccording to me mum at least.”

           “You’ll be the perfect father,” Ella confirmed. “Any child would be lucky to have you as a father.”

           Alfie rested his chin on top of her head as she cuddled into him. He wasn’t quite sure about that. But it didn’t diminish the desire to have a family with Ella.

~~~~~~~~

           The idea of a ballet was nauseating for both Ella and Alfie. But Shelby family events weren’t to be missed unless you were dying in a hospital or going into labor. Since the couple was neither dying nor delivering a baby, they had to attend. Alfie, at least, had the joy of seeing his wife all dressed up like a member of the royal family.

           “Happy birthday, Lizzie.” Ella kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek. “Hope you’re well.”

           “So glad you could make it.” She replied and greeted Alfie. “I hope the drive wasn’t too much of a bother.”

           “Not at all.”

           “Where’s Tommy then?” Alfie looked around the room of elite members of British society.

           “I saw him going into the big room to talk to Mosley,” Polly answered after hugging her niece.

           Ella bristled. “He invited that man?” She snapped. “On what grounds?”

           “On the grounds that he wants to get closer to him,” Lizzie replied with a less than pleased expression on her face.

           Ella looked to Alfie but he just shrugged. She took his arm with a sigh. “Just don’t leave my side.” She mumbled to him. The last thing she wanted was to be caught alone with the MP.

           “Of course.” He replied softly. But secretly, he was hoping to get time alone with the man. Time alone to warn him that if Alfie ever caught him sniffing around Ella, he’d end up buried alive. “Oh look, there’s Michael.” It had been a while since Alfie had gotten a chance to harass the young man.

           “Ella, stay behind for a moment.” Polly requested.

           Reluctantly, Ella let Alfie slip away from her on the promise that he wouldn’t venture too far for too long. “Yes?” She asked her aunt.

           “There’s a woman here asking after your husband.” She directed her niece’s attention toward the blonde woman standing by the fireplace.

           Ella almost would’ve laughed at the absurdity. “Oh yes, we’ve met.”

           Polly frowned. “Who is she?”

           “Why don’t you ask Tommy and his best friend?” She stopped a waiter and grabbed a flute of champagne. “She apparently wants to conduct business with Alfie. She was sent by Tommy but she works for Mosley.”

           “What do you make of it?”

           Ella downed the champagne and made a face. “All I know is he better stop.” She snarled. “This isn’t about Alfie.”

           Polly sighed and kissed her niece’s temple. “Well, you look beautiful. Just try to keep your chin up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie kept his promise and stayed by his wife. He stayed by her when Tommy waved them both over.

           Ella’s grip tightened on her husband’s hand when she saw Oswald Mosley standing beside her brother and sister-in-law.

           “Am I gonna hafta hold you back, love?” Alfie teased. But inside, his blood was boiling. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to take this poor excuse for a man out back and blow his brains out.

           She gritted her teeth. “Perhaps.”

            Tommy cleared his throat as the two approached. “Alfie, I’d like you to meet Oswald Mosley. Mr. Mosley, this is my sister’s husband, Alfie Solomons.”

           The MP put on a nice smile but there was a hint of smugness behind it. As if he knew he already won. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Solomons.”

           “Does it? Well, I s’pose people talk, don’t they?” Alfie was on edge but didn’t show it. He could walk into the belly of the beast with a self-assured smile on his face and a laid-back demeanor. It’s how he called the bluff of so many men who wanted to destroy him. “But this night is about me sister-in-law. Mazel Tov, Lizzie.”

           The Hebrew seemed to cause an involuntary twitch in Mosley’s face. But he recovered quickly. “Yes, the birthday girl. In an effort of being honest with each other, I believe it was a bottle of champagne and an evening well spent.”

           Ella’s jaw dropped. “You little-”

           Lizzie stopped her from going off on the man. She reached into her purse and pulled out a coin. “Actually, it was an evening wasted.” She plopped the coin into Mosley’s drink. “For the champagne and brandy you bought me. I appear to recall it was the booze that put you to sleep prematurely.”

           Tommy, Polly, and Ella all hid their smiles in their drinks. Alfie, on the other hand, wasn’t as good as holding back. He burst out laughing and clinked his glass with Lizzie’s. “I tell ya, Mosley, you ain’t never known a strong woman ‘til you’ve married into the Shelby family. Mazel Tov, Lizzie. Happy birthday, love.”

           Before tempers flared, Tommy stepped in. “The dance will be beginning soon.” He explained and began to direct them towards the back door.

           Ella pointedly looked a Mosley before leaning in to kiss Alfie. “I love you.” She murmured adoringly.  

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was close to falling asleep. He wasn’t quite out cold like Arthur was, but he was dozing off. Ella was a bit more attentive but wasn’t completely taken by the ballet. If anything, she was a bit concerned, she didn’t think humans could be so flexible. It was quite alarming.  

           Bored, she glanced over to see her aunt had disappeared. At the same time, Tommy was trying to get Arthur’s attention.

           Ella kicked her eldest brother awake. “Psst.” She pointed over to Tommy once Arthur stirred. She noticed a pair of headlights flooding over the lawn and became a bit unnerved. It was unlikely to be a late guest.

           Alfie grumbled under his breath when he felt his wife shift in her seat. “El, where’ya going? Is it over?”

           “No, stay here.” She whispered and quietly slipped out of her seat and out of the tent. She tried to catch up with her brother but his strides were much longer than hers. Halfway across the lawn, she paused to try and see who was standing in front of the headlights. Before her eyes

could adjust to the blinding light, she heard a loud gunshot crack across the dark night. Instinct brought her to the ground. Curling into herself and protecting her stomach.

           Everything went quiet for a moment. In the distance, she could hear the music from the ballet as it came to a bloody conclusion.

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[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Sixteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Time Will Take It’s Toll

Inhaling a breath had her coughing into her arm for a few moments and clearing her throat. The explosion had knocked the wind out of her, and her lungs were still complaining about it. Her leg was starting to ache from all the running and how she’d fallen, too.

She’d managed to slip away from the men shortly after they realised the explosion hadn’t killed her, scattering to try and find where she’d gone. She’d just sat there for a little while, regaining control of her breathing, of her pounding heart, then got up and run.

He’s been looking for me.

Sniffing and lifting her head, Ada let Mags walk idly down the main and only street of Van Horn. It was, as always, quiet. A couple of men sat on the porch outside a shop, talking and smoking. A man lay by the water, sat up against a rock, asleep.

Sadie waved to her from outside the bar, her mustard coloured shirt acting like a beacon amongst the dark and dinginess of the town, and Ada raised her hand in greeting.

“You okay?” the older woman asked as she approached, gently pulling Mags to a stop.

“Yeah. Some idiot thought playing with dynamite would be fun, though.”

“Yeah, I heard. Was gonna come back to see if you were alive but I thought you’d be fine.”

Ada laughed, inclining her head. “Yeah, well, I seem to be. Think I’ve got some dust in my chest but what’s new.”

Sadie nodded her head in the direction of the saloon doors. “Want to get a drink?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Here, are you kidding me?”

Sadie smiled as she pushed her hat onto her head and mounted her horse. “Thought you might say that.”

 “Hey, hey, wait a second!”

The two women turned to the calling voice, Ada stiffening, Sadie arching an eyebrow. A man narrowed his eyes at them, his hands on his hips as he stood from the bench where he’d been talking with another man.

“Yeah?” Sadie answered.

“That’s my horse!”

Ada answered this time, relieved. “No, it isn’t.”

“Yeah, it is,” the man insisted, his voice cracking. “That’s Louisa!”

“No, it ain’t,” Sadie drawled.

“Yes, it is, now you give her back, you damn wh—”

The women settled their hands on their guns.

The man froze, glanced at the weapons, then smiled quickly.

“Y-yeah, I guess not, sorry, my eyes ain’t so good,” he laughed nervously, lowering back down onto the bench.

“That’s all right, friend, no harm done,” Ada called cheerily, realising faintly that Arthur had said nearly those exact words several times.

Well, look at me.

Sadie chuckled as they rode out of the tiny town, shaking her head. “I love people sometimes.”

Ada snorted. “All right, I feel a little bad.”

“Don’t. He called her Louisa, that’s reason enough for him not to have her.”

“What do you have against the name Louisa?”

“Nothin’, just a dumb name for a horse.”

—

Charles came back for them all an hour or so after she and Sadie returned, safe and fine, and he reassured her so was Arthur.

Ada dismounted Mags, stroking the horse’s neck gently as her eyes scanned their new home. Well... The new camp would have to do, no matter what she thought, and she thought it wasn’t much of a home anymore. She’d arrived a little behind the others, just in case they’d been followed, so they’d had some time to set up but... It seemed no one had taken the care they used to in doing so. Tents and tables were set up but nothing more, the wagons hadn’t been unpacked properly and she couldn’t place that down to lack of time or people as everyone was either sat or lying down.

They expect to move on soon, she realised, very soon.

Her gaze found Arthur’s as she approached where he had been talking with Dutch, and he moved towards her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling at the sight of him. He’d shaved, thank God.

“Not much, is it?” He’d clearly had the same thoughts.

“It’ll do, I suppose.” Her arms wrapped around his waist as his went around her, holding her close.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, her fingers stroking his back.

“Yeah. You were righ’, they’re strange folks, those Murfrees.” 

She snorted. “You’re damn right.”

A corner of his mouth twisted up before he lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss she knew they both needed. It lingered, deepening as his arms tightened around her. She smiled against his lips, half-heartedly trying to draw her head back.

“Arthur...”

“Lot of caves down there, lots of secret passages...”

She arched an eyebrow as his lips went to her cheek, unable to stop a smile. “If you think I’m gonna be able to relax in those caves after what Charles told me...”

“I can make you forget all that, though...”

“Stop it...” she laughed, trying to turn her head away from his sinful lips even as her stomach tightened at the thought. It had been so long since they’d been alone, all she’d had when he was away was thoughts and memories and—

“Hey.”

They both stiffened, their heads lifting as Arthur automatically half-turned his back to shield her.

Molly, Christ, Molly, came stumbling down the path. If she hadn’t clearly been drunk Ada would have thought she'd spent the last few weeks living in luxury with her skin and clothes being clean and neat and her hair perfect.

“So, Dutch!” she called out, “Did ye miss me?!” She stumbled closer to them, Dutch only a few feet away. Ada glanced at him, finding his features stony.

“I found her, drunk in Saint Denis,” Uncle was explaining somewhat apologetically, trying to keep up with her.

“You’re back. How jolly, Miss O’Shea,” Dutch retorted sarcastically, stepping closer.

“It’s ‘Molly’, you sack of shit!” she cried, rage pouring out of her.

“Back and drunk.”

“Who made you the master, the Lord Almighty!”

“Molly, calm down,” he demanded as she waved her arms around.

The gang had gathered now, everyone staring and not knowing what to do, Ada included. She felt Arthur beside her, silent and tense.

“I won’t be ignored, Dutch van der Linde! I hear all ye conversations! I hear all ye whisperin’! But I won’t be ignored! I aren’t him!” She pointed at Bill. “Thick as shit but would probably turn ye over in a heartbeat!” She turned, swaying, and pointed at Mary-Beth who looked so distraught. “I ain’t her! Ye’re little whore!” Then, she turned to Ada, pointing at her. “And I ain’t her, ye bloody O’Driscoll, thinkin’ ye’re holy than thou!” 

Ada felt her heart drop into her stomach as she stared at her, a terrified coldness sweeping over her body. Molly just turned to Dutch. “I ain’t any of your stooges!”

“Calm yourself, miss!” Dutch was angry now, truly angry.

“You don’t owe me nothin’!” She was squaring up to him now. “I don’t owe you nothin’! Nothin’! Even though I did all ye’re dirty work!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, suddenly trying to calm her as much as himself, probably.

She wasn’t having it as she turned away. “I’d spit in yer eye!” Then, she turned back, pointing at him and looking as if something just suddenly came to her. “I did! I told them!” she shouted.

The mood shifted very sharply.

“I’m sorry?” Dutch hissed, staring at her.

“Yeah, I told ‘em! And I’d tell ‘em again! Now I’ve got God’s ear!”

“You told who what?” he demanded, thunderous.

“Mr Milton and Mr Ross,” she practically trilled, waving her hand, “about the bank robbery, and I wanted them to kill ye!” She thrust her finger at him.

Something inside Ada twisted sharply.

It wasn’t her fault. Because of Molly, Lenny and Hosea had died and John had been captured... She wanted to yell at her, to kick and scratch and scream, but... she just couldn’t bring herself to hate her. She pitied her too much.

Dutch, though...

“You did what?!” He drew his gun with an anger she had never seen before, and aimed it at Molly.

“I loved you, you God damn bastard!” she shouted, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Go on, shoot me!”

Ada heard Arthur murmuring to Dutch, a hand on his shoulder, but she couldn’t look, couldn’t look away from Molly.

“She’s crazy,” Arthur was saying quietly, trying to push Dutch’s gun down, “She ain’t worth it.”

“You told on me?! You betrayed me?!” Dutch was shouting but Molly was barely listening, staring at him and talking over him, elated, “Oh, you’re not so big now, are ye?”

“Quiet!” Arthur commanded her before murmuring to Dutch, “Just calm down.”

Dutch’s gaze darted to him.

“She’s a fool,” Arthur continued, nodding slightly, “Get her outta here.”

Dutch stared at him, then thundered, to him or Molly she didn’t know, “You know the rules.”

“Oh, not so big now!” Molly was still going on, nearly screaming, “Are we, your majesty?!”

“You—”

A gunshot rang out, a bullet tearing through Molly’s stomach.

"Damn!” Bill cried as people gasped and Ada’s hands flew up to cover her mouth, holding in her cry as they all watched a dark redness blossom across Molly’s white blouse.

Susan stepped forward, gripping a shotgun, as Molly collapsed, dead, and Ada could hear Mary-Beth sobbing.

Oh my God.

“She knew the rules, Arthur,” Susan hissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?” She turned sharply. “Mr Pearson, Mr Williamson, get this body outta here and get it burnt! Now get back to work, all of ya!”

As they all moved instantly, startled into it, in her peripheral vision she saw Dutch turn to her, so slowly it was almost like a dream. Lowering her hands, knowing they were shaking, she met his gaze.

He looked at her.

   Oh, God, Molly, I’m so sorry.

"She never liked me,” she heard herself saying. She had no idea how she kept her composure, how her voice didn’t shake, how she sounded so sad and calm and casual at the same time.

Maybe because her life was on the fucking line.

She stared at him as he looked at her.

A lifetime seemed to pass, then he nodded and turned away, moving towards his tent. Arthur was looking at her, but he didn’t say anything, just turned sharply on his heel and strode after Dutch, spitting out curses.

She felt sick. She felt cold and hot and angry and sad and helpless and useless.

Folding her arms, her hands gripping her biceps to hide her shaking hands, Ada watched as Bill and Pearson carried Molly’s body away. They were going to burn her. She felt tears stinging at her eyes. Because of her they’d died. And she’d called her an O’Driscoll? Where the fuck had that come from? Her mind should have been racing, she should have been relieved Molly hadn’t been made to elaborate, but...

Despite what she’d done, she couldn’t hate her, she couldn’t...

Molly, I’m so sorry.

 “Hey, honey.”

She stiffened. Micah, who had been so quiet these past couple of months, who had barely said a word to her, who had seemed so disinterested, smiled as he approached her.

“What do you want.”

He laughed, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “So abrupt. I can’t just say hello?”

“What do you want, Micah.”

“Nothin’.” His smile lingered. “Just wanted to ask how your day was goin’, that’s all.”

“It was fine.” She didn’t like that he continued to smile, even as he followed the direction of her gaze, watching Bill and Pearson.

“Yeah, big mess, ain’t it.”

She didn’t say a word.

“Well.” His hands clapping together made her jump, her nails digging into her biceps. “I expect things will sort themselves out soon.” He grinned. “Hope your day gets better, darlin’.”

He wandered away, humming to himself as he headed for the main fire, Charles and Uncle sat before it, silent, staring into the flames. Her gaze lifted from them and... she saw Karen, looking at her, her brow furrowed slightly. She quickly looked away as Ada met her gaze. Starting to tremble, Ada turned and saw Tilly... sat against a tree, crying, looking at her. She, too, looked away.

Oh, my God... It’s in their minds... Whether they believe it or not, it’s in their minds...

She felt like she was going to faint. Lifting her gaze again, she found Arthur striding towards her, his features tight. Lowering her arms as he approached, she didn’t have a chance to speak as his hand settled on her back and pushed her into a walk with him.

“C’mon, we’re goin’ out.”

“Where?” she asked, so relieved, moving towards Mags.

“I don’t know, huntin’ or somethin’,” he muttered, mounting Ophelia. “Need some God damn space from here.”

She pulled herself up into Mags’s saddle, and met Javier’s gaze. He just looked at her. He didn’t look away. Turning Mags around, she pressed her lips together as she and Arthur rode out of camp, clicking her tongue to urge Mags into a trot so she could take the lead.

“I know a place.”

Arthur just grunted in response, and she let silence fall, letting him work through what he needed to, and, God, she just couldn’t talk anymore. They pressed on into a canter, both eager to get away from what had once been home.

— 

The crumbling sign on the wooden archway had faintly read ‘Willard’s Rest’.

Arthur could see no Willard, though.

And he was damn fucking happy for it.

The cabin was empty, though furniture still remained in the three rooms that made it up; a bed in two of the rooms, one large, one small, a table and chairs in the main room along with empty cabinets. It was fairly clean, a slight layer of dust, but otherwise fine. It was probably too far out for most travellers, and maybe too hidden, too, the trees giving good coverage at the front, the cliff at the back.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked, removing his gloves and dropping them on to the table as he returned from his perusing of the rooms to see if they were clear.

“Sadie and I came here once when we went out hunting, when we were hiding at Lakay.” Ada hissed softly as she rose, her leg stiff, having just about managed to light a fire in the hearth opposite the table. A light rain had started as they’d arrived and she was absolutely not going to spend the night in a freezing cabin.

 “Mmh. This is quite a way from there.” Arthur took a seat as she stood by the fire, warming her hands.

“We just started riding and didn’t stop.” She smiled slightly. “Think we just wanted space, too.”

He nodded, stretching his legs out as his gaze roamed the room again. “This is nice. Seems like someone just moved out.”

“That’s what Sadie and I thought.”

He looked to her as she rubbed her arms and leaned against the wall. “You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured.

He could see she was shaking, and he didn’t think it was from the rain. 

Inhaling a breath, Ada shrugged. “I don’t... I don’t know. I haven’t been... able to feel anything for the last few weeks and I’m afraid if I do, I... And what just happened, it...” She exhaled a faint, shaking laugh.

“I get it,” he murmured, guilt twisting at his heart again.

Silence lingered as she took another trembling breath, exhaled it, then paused again. Finally, she smiled slightly, her gaze holding his. “I’m so glad you came back. I’m so happy, very happy.”

He couldn’t help but match her smile even as the knife of guilt continued to twist. “Me, too.”

She licked her lips. “It... It was very hard without you, for me.”

She could feel the tears forming again, clouding her vision slightly, but she tried so hard to suppress them. If she started, she didn’t know if she would ever be able to stop.

Arthur saw it, though, and he couldn’t bear it. Rising, he moved towards her. “Hey, c’mere.”

She released another quiet, useless laugh as she straightened. “Oh no, please don’t, I don’t think I can...”

His hands went to her waist, pulling her into his embrace, and his arms wrapped around her. He felt her stiffen slightly, her arms at her sides.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair, his cheek resting atop her head.

After a few, silent moments, her hands lifted, gripping his jacket at his back. He felt it, then, her silent sobs as she held on to him, her tears wetting his shirt.

“It’s okay...” he murmured again, just holding her as she cried.

He didn’t care to recognise how long he held her for, how long she cried. He’d have done it forever, if that’s what she needed. It tore at his heart, her sobs, the burdens and fears and anxieties she was releasing with every jagged breath. He knew it would have done no good to tell her that he should have been there, he shouldn’t have left, that they should have left, run away, gone west, gone north, gone anywhere away from all of this, this crumbling society. He knew no apologies would atone for any of it. So, finally, after a lifetime, as her cries softened, he whispered one of the two things he had faith in.

“I ain’t goin’ away again, darlin’, not without you.”

“You can’t promise me that, Arthur,” she murmured, the words muffled against his chest.

“I know.” His hands caressed her back gently. “But I’m gonna do my damn best.”

Her shoulders shuddered and he thought she might dissolve into sobs again, but she inhaled a quiet breath and lifted her head. She looked at him then, holding his gaze, as if she could find the real answer, the truth, within his eyes. He didn’t know what she found but she raised her hands and wiped at her face, her palms resting over her eyes as she released a long breath. Then, her features seemed to crumble again.

“Oh, God, Molly...”

The tears came again as he held her, his heart breaking again.

“I just can’t believe she just... And how did she know...”

“She could have been lyin’,” he murmured, “Seemed to me she was just sayin’ shit about people, wanted to hurt ‘em.”

He felt her shaking her head, managing to speak through her tears as she raised her head to look at him. “I don’t think so, Arthur... Hosea knew.”

“What?”

She sniffed, taking a breath. “When Sadie and I went back to Shady Belle, a week or two after it all happened, she let me check all the rooms just in case any of you had come by and left something. I checked Hosea’s room and by his bed in a drawer was a newspaper.” She swallowed hard. “The newspaper that had me in it, the description of me and the article about my uncle looking for me.” Fresh tears began to fall. “He was an intelligent man. There’s no way he wouldn’t have figured it all out and...” Her voice broke as she continued, “and he didn’t say anything. He gave no... no indication, no hint that he knew, he just... carried on treating me the same. God’s sake...” She closed her eyes, weeping. “I wish I’d told everyone now. Not at the beginning but at some point.” She looked up at him. “Whatever had to happen would have happened. I’d like to think I would have been able to argue my case and I’d have been left alone, accepted.”

Arthur exhaled a breath as he wiped her tears away. Truthfully, he had no idea what would have happened... but...

"I’d have had your back,” he murmured, “and Sadie, Sean, Lenny, John, Abigail, and Hosea, and the girls... we know what kind of person you are.”

Her chin was trembling. “But Dutch—”

“I can’t speak for Dutch, but...” He cupped her cheek. “... we’d have been there for you.”

“I don’t know, Arthur...” She shook her head. “... I saw some of them looking at me as we left, I... I don’t know.”

“Whether they believe it or not, they know what kind of a person you are,” he repeated gently. “You did so much for ‘em while we were away. They know that. They’ll just be upset and their minds scrambled ‘cause of Molly.”

“And what a fucking mess,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I just feel so sorry for her.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know...” And he couldn’t think what else to say. He was just as sad, just as enraged. No matter the rules that wasn’t how it should have gone down. She had been drunk, out of her mind, and while he couldn’t think why she would lie about being the one to betray them, she’d seemed to have revelled in revealing it, actually, she still should have been allowed to sober up, say her piece, say why, and then they could have decided what to do... and he hoped it wouldn’t have been to fucking kill her. Molly was Molly, lazy, entitled, sour, but... she hadn’t deserved an end like that, despite what she’d done.

Then again, a small, angry, exhausted, desperately sad part of him whispered that she had. Hosea, one of the greatest men he’d ever known, the man who had practically raised him, had died in a street, bleeding out in the gutter. Lenny, the future of the gang, a kind, funny, lively boy, had died running from a situation he shouldn’t have even been in.

He just held her tighter in his embrace, knowing they both needed it. She held on to him, taking in quiet, ragged breaths as the last of her sobs faded away.

Gentle rain pattered against the roof, and he faintly hoped there wouldn’t be any leaks.

“I’ll cook us somethin’, all righ’?” he murmured, against her hair a few minutes later, his thumbs gently stroking her back. “There’s some tins of somethin’ in my saddlebag, that should do.”

She nodded, and drew her head back as she exhaled a breath, the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips. “That sounds good.”

“Good.” 

His heart ached and he couldn’t release her just yet so he bowed his head and kissed her. It was soft, gentle, meant to comfort her and silently reinforce his vow of staying with her. Her hands slid up his back, though, gripping at him again but in a decidedly more urgent manner, and he relinquished to her as she deepened the kiss.

I’ll go in a minute, he thought as an arm tightened around her waist and his other hand settled on the back of her neck. In a minute.

Then she moaned quietly against his lips, her tongue brushing against them.

He knew, he knew if it didn’t stop now then it wouldn’t later.

Her hands were at his jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders and he helped her, throwing it to the side and immediately returning his hands to her, holding her by the waist and pulling her closer.

They needed each other.

Her fingers undid the bandanna she’d returned to him from around his neck, moving to unbutton his shirt before it had even touched the ground. Knowing they both needed a breath, he pulled his lips from hers and brought them to her neck, kissing a trail down the soft column of her throat and back up, teasing along her jawline. She exhaled a moan, her fingers splaying across his bare chest as his shirt fell open, her head tipping back, her eyes closed.

One hand pulled her blouse free from where it was tucked into her trousers, his fingers tracing along her stomach and she gasped softly, probably would have jerked away involuntarily if his arm around her lower back hadn’t kept her tight against him.

Ada could feel his cock hardening against her thigh and she pushed against him, drawing a groan from him that had her shoving his shirt off of his shoulders and down his arms. He helped her again, his hands off of her for the briefest of moments before they were returning, gripping at her back and ass, pulling her as tight against him as possible. She was kissing along his shoulder, kissing at where his scar was, her teeth grazing over his skin with every one, and it drove him insane.

God, he wanted to feel her everywhere.

“Bedroom...” she breathed against his neck, as if hearing his thoughts, “... One with the bigger bed.”

“Obviously...” he groaned into her jaw, biting at it gently as she nipped at his skin in return with a moaned, “Shut up...”

Grunting with impatience, he turned them, pushing her backwards towards the bedroom with his arms remaining tight around her. If either of them stumbled a little they barely registered it, and his arm only moved from her to dart out and grip at the doorjamb so she wouldn’t knock into it. He was surprised he’d reacted in time, her fingers dancing along the waistband of his trousers and unbuttoning them thoroughly distracting.

Stumbling into the room, her back did knock against a chest of drawers, making her hiss in surprise, but it was swiftly replaced by a gasp as he turned her and her back now collided with a wall. Leaning her head back against it so she could see what she was doing, she went to push her hand into his open trousers when his knee pushed between her legs, his thigh pressing against her covered cunt. Inhaling a sharp breath, her hands gripped at his biceps as he braced a hand against the wall.

“Fuck...” he groaned as she rocked against his thigh, her eyes closed and her lips parted. “... I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yes...” she breathed, her hand moving to the back of his neck. Opening her eyes, her tongue darted out over her lips. “Touch me, Arthur, please...”

His hand instantly dropped from her hip and tugged the buttons of her trousers undone. Then his hand was inside, his fingers sliding over her cunt and spreading her wet lips. She couldn’t and didn’t care to stop herself from crying out, her nails digging into the back of his neck.

“Oh, Christ, Arthur...” She had to trail off with a breathy moan as his middle finger glided up her slit and circled her sensitive bud, making her hips buck.

She was wet already for him, enough so that he could press two fingers into her easily. His lips went to her neck as he instantly began to pump them, his other hand pulling her shirt open a little wider, hearing a button or two collide with the wooden floor but neither of them cared. His half-biting, open-mouthed kisses moved down to her throat and chest, and he growled against her skin as her slick walls fluttered around his fingers and her beautiful moans sounded against his ear.

“Fuck, Arthur...” she breathed out, and he could feel her nearing her release already, so wound up and ready for him, ready for the bliss he could give her.

“Come for me,” he commanded, kissing under her jaw so he could gravel into her ear, “Get my hand wet, sweetheart, let me feel you...”

Just his words alone had her clenching around his fingers, and his thumb pressed against her aching clit, rubbing in a firm circle. He wanted to see her face but he couldn’t tear his mouth from her skin, so the only warning he had was her sharp inhale, a very short silence, and then she was crying out through gritted teeth as her nails sank into his skin. He could feel her wetness around his fingers, beads of it sliding down his palm and his cock was so, so painfully hard.

As she rode the last waves of her pleasure, barely coming down, he pulled his hand away and slid his arm around her back, pulling her away from the wall. Her eyes snapping open, the next thing she knew, he’d turned them and was pushing her backwards once more. Her calves met the iron frame of the bed and she fell back, him following, her back colliding now with the soft mattress. Neither cared about the state of the bedsheets, a little musty but better than the blankets they’d had at Lakay, and their lips met instantly. It was a fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue and harsh breaths. His body covered hers and she couldn’t stop herself from focusing on his cock pressing down against her.

“I want you inside me...” she breathed against his lips before she could stop herself, rocking her hips up against him. “... I want to feel you inside me...”

And he paused. Lifting his head, he met her gaze, both their lips parted, chests rising and falling swiftly.

She thought he was going to say no or pull away, thought she’d pushed her luck... when he nodded, his thumb on her waist where her blouse had ridden up caressing gently.

“Yes,” he gravelled, then his lips were back on her but at her neck this time, biting and sucking a path down and her cry of relief was lost in her moan of delight as he licked at her nipple through her blouse and thin, cotton corset.

“Off, get it off...” she heard herself demanding breathlessly, and then his hands were pulling her blouse off, pulling it apart, actually, buttons dropping onto the mattress but she didn’t care.

Arching her back and moving her arms to help him remove it, she then kept it arched as his hands went underneath her, trying to unlace the corset.

It was nowhere near as complicated as the corset she had worn for the Mayor’s party but he still hissed out curses in frustration. Her lips twitching, she was about to tease him when he rose up on his knees, gripped her waist, and turned her over swiftly.

Exhaling a sharp breath as she suddenly found herself on her front, her hands gripping the sheets, she barely had time to react as his hand aggressively tugged at the fastenings and his other pushed her hair aside so he could mouth at her neck and shoulder. Her eyes fell shut as she hummed at the delicious sensation, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, and, with his straining cock digging into her ass, she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back against him.

He growled and swatted at her ass lightly, drawing a gasp from her.

“Can’t concentrate if you do that, woman...” he muttered into her neck and she gave a wide, breathless smirk.

“Can’t do two things at once? Poor baby...”

“You know I can, sweetheart.” 

The fastenings finally undone, he tugged the corset apart and pushed her over onto her back again. Arching an eyebrow at him, even as a flush spread across her cheeks and neck, she huffed out, “Are you going to keep throwing me around?”

A corner of his mouth rose higher than the other. “Only if you keep likin’ it. Arms above your head.”

She obeyed immediately, her teeth biting at her lower lip again to try and hide a smile, unsuccessfully, though, if his own smirk was anything to go by. He pushed the corset up and over her head, letting it drop to the floor, and then he was on her again, kissing at her jaw, throat, going down, down, down, until he was at her nipples, bare for him now and hard. He sucked and licked at one, and as she moaned, the sound low in her throat, she was about to sink her fingers into his hair when his were suddenly lacing with hers, keeping them above her head. All she could do was arch her back and roll her hips, mewls and soft curses falling from her lips as he did as he pleased, moving from one breast to the other.

She was about to curse at him, her already very intense need growing, when he released her hands and moved down her body, trailing kisses down her stomach like a starving man until he was shifting off of the bed, lowering to his knees on the floor. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her curls sliding over her shoulders, not wanting to take her eyes off of him, and watched him pull her boots off before his hands were at the waistband of her trousers, tugging them down. Ada raised her hips to help him, and even as he was still pulling them down her calves his lips were on her thighs, placing gentle, hungry kisses along them, pausing only to press a gentle, lingering one to the new, pink scar. Tossing the trousers aside once they were off, his hands curved around her knees, pulling them wider apart as his mouth moved up to her wet cunt.

She barely had time to take in a breath before he was licking and sucking at her soaking folds. Her mouth dropping open, her head tipped back and a low moan escaped her.

“Holy God...” she breathed, one of her hands moving to his hair, finally able to tangle her fingers in.

It was a little longer now, so she could easily sink them in and pull and tug, her nails gliding against his scalp. He groaned against her pussy with every tug she gave, his hands sliding over her hips, settling on her stomach. Dragging her teeth over her lower lip as hummed moans left her, she opened her eyes looked down at him, instantly meeting his gaze. He released a sound akin to a growl as their eyes locked and the flat of his tongue slid up her slit, watching her brow dip as she moaned loudly.

“Taste so fuckin’ good...” he groaned against her, and the vibration of his voice had her hips bucking, his hands on her stomach instantly pressing down.

One of them then slid up to pull and roll her nipple, and her elbow supporting her gave out as her other hand flew to his hair at his tongue circling her clit.

Her breaths were becoming shorter and sharper and she wanted to roll her hips but he wasn’t having it, his arm lying across her stomach now. He was driving her insane, his tongue dipping into her before coming back to lap at her clit and it was both perfect and not enough.

The sound she released, close to a whine, had him arching an eyebrow, and she could feel his smirk.

“Somethin’ you want, Ada?”

Her breathing hitched at both feeling his voice again, and his tone. “Come on, Arthur...”

“Oh, I don’t know what to do, sweetheart...” he rumbled as he drew his head back, his hand moving down from her nipple. “... wanna keep tastin’ you, been dreamin’ about this, but also wanna feel you come again...”

Her response, whatever it would be, even she didn’t know, died on her tongue as he slid two fingers inside her and stroked them. Crying out, her head tipped back and she pulled at his hair, pushing her hips against him.

“Oh, fuck, God, Arthur, oh, fuck...” She was almost babbling, so close, so fucking close to the edge again and and his words and fingers had only driven her there further.

He could feel her slick walls starting to flutter around him, and he groaned, kissing and sucking at her clit. “... Think I’ll be nice and make you come again...”

She breathed out a sound of relief, her gaze darting down to him as her moans became louder and higher. She tried to keep her eyes on his, but as his fingers and tongue stroked at her, only a few moments later she threw her head back and cried out, her hips rising off the bed.

“That’s it, that’s it, let me taste you...” he mumbled, scissoring his fingers slightly against her tightening walls.

She was almost pushing against his head, pushing him further against her, and he wasn’t about to complain. Lapping her up, he slid his fingers out so he could collect all of her wetness on his tongue, gliding it up her slit. When he reached her clit, her hips jerked, sensitive, and she then started to push his head away.

Chuckling lowly, he obeyed and softly kissed along her thigh as her hands fell to her sides, her eyes closed. Breathing hard, small, hummed moans left her every few moments, and when he reached her knee, he then gently lowered her legs and pushed himself up.

The sound of his boots coming off made her eyelids flutter open, and she gazed up at him, meeting his gaze. Then, a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and he was about to return it when she pushed herself up and settled her hands on his hips. Her legs widened so he was essentially standing between them, and she gazed up at him as she pressed a soft kiss above the trail of hair on his lower stomach.

A slightly hissed breath escaped him, and one of her hands slid to the open front of his trousers.

“Can I touch you?” she murmured against his skin, pressing another kiss, and he realised she was giving him the option to stop this.

And then he realised he could let her touch him now.

Because he’d said yes.

And he wanted this, wanted her.

“Yes,” he answered, his voice almost hoarse with need.

The slow smile that spread across her lips had him wanting to taste her yet again, but he restrained himself as her hand slid into his trousers and her fingers wrapped around his hard, straining cock. His eyes fell shut with a groan as she pulled him out, and she’d remembered what he’d said because her hand left him briefly and when it returned it was wet and, God, it was heaven...

His hand found the side of her neck, cupping it, and his thumb brushed against her jaw gently as she moved her hand up and down his length.

Then her tongue was on the weeping head of his cock.

Clenching his jaw tightly as she gave small, light licks, he knew he couldn’t open his eyes because he’d just come right there.

Ada gazed up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw move, feeling his fingers flex and tighten against her neck, though she didn’t mind at all. Her other hand pulled his trousers down a little further, and the feel of her nails against his thigh seemed to bring him back into the room as his eyes snapped open.

She was about to murmur something coy when he gently pushed her hands away and shoved his trousers down to the floor, kicking the garment aside.

“Lie back,” he murmured, and she did so instantly, shifting backwards and lying on the bed.

He placed a knee on the bed and leaned over her, supporting himself with a hand by her head. He was about to speak, to tell her how beautiful she looked, when her hands cupped his face and drew him down, claiming his lips in a firm kiss. His whole body lowered against her, an arm sliding under her as the other settled above her head. He could feel all of her, all of her soft skin against him, feel how wet she was against his thigh.

“Ada...” he mumbled against her lips, and she hummed in reply, hooking a leg over his hip, opening up to him.

Christ...

Breaking the kiss gently, he drew his head back and gazed down at her. Her eyes opened a moment later, and she smiled softly, slightly breathlessly.

“What is it?” she murmured as her fingers caressed his hair.

Licking his lips, his thumb above her head stroked at one of her curls. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked quietly, now giving her the opportunity to stop.

The backs of her fingers brushed against his cheek as she nodded without hesitation, her teeth grazing over her plump lower lip. “I am.”

He nodded, and lust surged within him once more because she wanted him and there was his fire in her eyes and so he kissed her fiercely.

She reacted instantly, her arms wrapping around his neck as she released a soft sound against his lips. Shifting between her legs slightly, his arm moved out from under her and he gripped his cock, guiding the tip to her entrance.

Fuck, feeling how wet she was...

“I ain’t gonna last long,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss and meeting her gaze. “Been some time.”

She nodded and swallowed lightly. “That’s okay.”

“It might... It’s gonna hurt a little, so I’ll go slow.”

Ada nodded again, her fingertips pressing into his shoulders. “Okay.”

He nodded, licked his dry lips, then pushed the head of his cock into her.

Oh, fuck...

Oh, Christ, he wasn’t going to last long at all.

Even with just the tip he could feel how warm and tight she was.

He had to force himself to keep his eyes open because he wanted to watch her reactions, wanted to see if he might be causing any really bad pain.

And, oh, fuck, looking at her...

She was holding his gaze, her lips parted, her skin flushed, a gentle sound coming from the back of her throat. He pushed in a little further and she winced just slightly but it was accompanied by a small moan. So he kept pushing, gently, slowly, watching her and trying not to think about how fucking good she felt.

After what felt like a thousand lifetimes, he finally sheathed himself inside her.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from closing.

Lowering his face, it pressed into the crook of her neck as he hissed out breaths through his teeth. He could feel her nails digging into his skin and he focused on that because, fuck, he wasn’t going to come yet.

Ada, in turn, was staring at the ceiling, her lips still parted, every breath leaving her almost a moan... and she was trying so hard to not move because she knew, from how damn tense he was, he was trying to do the same.

It had hurt a little, but after a few moments, after she’d adjusted, it felt... incredible. The long, hard length of him fit her perfectly, and being filled by him, being stretched... A new wave of warmth settled in her lower stomach and he must have felt it in some way because he hissed out a short breath, his hands gripping at the sheets.

How long had it been for him? she thought, her fingertips brushing against his skin in the lightest of touches.

Licking her lips as he stiffened, she then tilted her head down a fraction and brushed her lips against his skin as her hips gave the smallest of rolls.

His hand darted down and gripped her hip, but not firm enough to stop her, so she did it again, then again, then again until she was rocking up against him. She could feel each of his breaths on her skin, laboured and short.

He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to. He wanted to be buried inside her forever, and he didn’t want to come because then it would be over and—

She moaned against his ear.

It was the softest of sounds, and it broke something inside of him.

Gritting his teeth, his hand slid from her hip to her thigh, and he held her leg in position around him. Then, he started to move his hips, drawing them back and thrusting inside her in a slow, drawn out movement.

He could feel all of her, every inch of her warm wetness, and she could feel every inch of him, her head tipping back as she cried out softly.

Each sound she made only spurred him on, making his movements quicken until he was thrusting hard and fast and she was moaning and gripping at him and he wasn’t going to last, he wasn’t going to last...

She heard him grunt something out, and it took her a moment to respond herself, one hand gripping at his hair.

“Hm?”

“... Gonna come...” came the tight reply, and it sent the most delicious of thrills through her.

He was going to withdraw, was going to spill his seed on her stomach, when her legs tightened around him, holding him against her, and he let her, all thought of consequences leaving his mind. Breathing hard into her neck, one hand gripped her thigh tightly as his other tangled in the sheets above her head, and he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt each time, and she was so warm and wet and tight and she was moaning his name and—

Gritting his teeth, his hips drew back, then he thrust into her once more, burying himself deep within her, and his body went taut as he froze and his release finally came. 

Low, breathless groans fell from his lips as his hips jerked, and her mouth dropped open as a rush of breath escaped her, her arms tight around him, feeling him release inside her. Her slick walls fluttered around him in response and it just prolonged his heaven-sent pleasure, and he couldn’t think, all he could do was feel, his mind blank.

He didn’t know how long he lay there on top of her, still, his face pressed against her neck, softening cock buried inside her, exhaling harsh, short breaths. It took him a little while to realise her finger tips were gently stroking against his back, and it wasn’t until she shifted just slightly that he realised he must be crushing her, and so he lifted his head and pushed himself up with a mumbled, “Shit, sorry...”

She was smiling, though, as he met her gaze, the most tender of smiles he’d ever seen. Exhaling another breath, a smile pulled at his own lips and he cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin.

He bowed his head and claimed that smile, kissing her softly. Her hand settled on the back of his head as she returned the kiss with a quiet hum.

“Sorry, it’ll be better next time...” he murmured when the kiss broke, still a little breathless.

“That wasn’t good?” she answered, arching an eyebrow as her smile returned.

“No, no, I mean for you, it’ll be better—”

Her kiss silenced him, her arms wrapping around his neck and drawing him back down against her. He gave in, an arm sliding underneath her and holding her tight against him.

“Shut up, Arthur Morgan,” she murmured against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied just as quietly, his lips brushing over hers.

Her smile was there again when he drew his head back. “... Next time, did you say?”

“In-satiable...”

She laughed as he pushed himself up with a shake of his head, the sound drawing off with a slight hiss and a wince as he slowly pulled out of her. Licking her lips, her hands went to her stomach as he moved off of her and settled on his back with a contented sigh. Then, before she knew it, his arm was going around her and pulling her against him. Turning on her side, one of her legs draped over his as she curled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

Gazing up at him, she found his eyes had closed, but his fingers traced light and lazy patterns on her arm. A soft smile danced across her lips... but something had resurfaced in her mind; a question that had been playing on her mind since he’d left.

“Arthur...?”

“Mmh...” His eyes remained closed for a moment longer before he looked down at her, arching an eyebrow.

Licking her lips again, she took a slight breath. “... Why were you so reluctant to do this with me?”

His gaze held hers, his jaw moving just slightly. “I ain’t... I ain’t been with someone in some time.”

“So... you were nervous?” she asked gently, her hand resting on his chest.

“No, I, well, a little, but it weren’t about that, I...” He cleared his throat after a moment as he sat up carefully, giving her room to shift from under his arm, and he leaned back against the headboard.

She stayed silent, watching him as she leaned up onto her elbow.

He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb across one and cleared his throat again before looking up at her. “Ada, I... There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you for a while. I’m sorry I ain’t said it sooner, but... I had a kid.”

Her lips parted as her eyebrows rose. “What?”

He took a breath, his mouth moving slightly. “... Years ago, when I was younger, there was a woman called Eliza, and we... we liked each other a lot and slept together and... And Isaac came along. I couldn’t stay with ‘em, not with this life, but I sent money and would visit whenever I could.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “He was a good kid. And, then, ah...” The smile vanished as soon as it had come. “... Then I went to visit one time and when I got there... house was empty, two graves outside. They’d been robbed and shot. It was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through in my life and I just stopped... feelin’. Hardened me.” He glanced up at her. “I think you can understand that.”

A corner of her mouth lifted, her eyes shining.

He swallowed, exhaled a breath. “Then I met Mary and I started to feel again, but, it weren’t righ’. That’s why it was so hard for me to really let her go. I thought she was my only chance at somethin’ really good.” He looked at her again. “I ended it with her, you know. Called it all to an end when I went and saw her that day.”

“You did?” she said quietly, her chest tightening slightly.

“Yeah. Was time for one of us to do it. I didn’t love her that way anymore, either, I need you to know that.”

She opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t need to tell her, but he preempted it and raised his hand slightly, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Wait a second, let me finish... I hadn’t really loved her for some time, not properly. I’ll always be fond of her, she was an important part of my life but, I didn’t, I don’t think I ever did, actually, love her.” He paused, then murmured the second thing he had absolute faith in. “... I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone like I love you.”

Her heart stopped. 

Gazing at him, her lips parted, she could feel tears starting to prick at her eyes again. “... You love me?”

“Yeah.” A corner of his mouth twisted up. “Done what I can to stop it, but... it’s just as stubborn as you are.”

Her eyes shining again, she pressed her lips together to stop her lower one from trembling. Swallowing hard, after a few moments, moments that seemed like an eternity to him, she nodded and smiled softly.

“Well... I love you, too, Arthur Morgan.”

His eyebrows lifted, his chest tightening slightly. “You do?”

She nodded, a tear dripping down her cheek as she blinked, her smile lingering. “Yeah. Tried to stop it, too, but... just keeps following me around, wherever I go, like you.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound of it slightly thick from the emotion settling in his throat. “Well... that’s good, then.”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, she sniffed then pushed herself up and moved towards him, and he leaned towards her and his hands cupped her face as hers settled on his chest and they kissed, lingering and tender.

I love you.

When he finally released her, her head settled on his shoulder and his arms went around her, fingers lightly stroking her skin.

They lay in silence, allowing their words to linger in the air.

Her eyes were closed, a smile on her lips, her heart beating a little faster.

I love you.

It had felt like the most natural thing in the world to say. No ceremony, no floods of tears, no hesitation, just saying it and meaning it.

I love you.

She felt him shift slightly, adjusting his shoulders against the headboard. Whatever was going to happen tomorrow, the day after, the rest of her life, she was going to be with him, loved and safe, and she was going to do anything to keep it that way.

She had a hundred questions to ask, about Isaac, about Eliza, about his life back then but... They could wait. Despite the years that stretched between now and those events, she could sense there was a rawness still there, a grief that hadn’t ended, and she could understand it all too well.

“Mmh, anythin’ happen with the O’Driscoll camp, by the way?” he murmured after a few more quiet minutes.

“Oh, yeah...” She shifted a little, her eyes remaining closed. “Rounded a few up, asked them about Thomas and they all went quiet, so I think they knew something.”

“Righ’.”

She inhaled a breath, her eyebrows rising a little. “But maybe not, they didn’t seem particularly bright. One lit a stick of dynamite and threw it without even looking, it exploded near me and his friends.”

“There was an explosion?!” He looked down at her as his hands stilled, staring. “Jesus, woman, can you prioritise the things you tell me and when?”

Her lips twitched as her gaze slid up to him. “Well, there was an ambush t—”

“Ambush?!”

“Well, the explosion came from the ambush—”

“God damn it, woman, you are just...” He exhaled a heavy breath as he shook his head. “... Are you okay?”

She smiled, almost in amusement. “I’m fine, Arthur.” The smile faded after a few moments, though, and he knew something else was on her mind.

Licking her lips, she curled up against him. “I heard one of the men say that Colm’s been looking for me. I just don’t know why. I can’t work out if it’s just a game for him or whether there’s an actual reason.”

Arthur had resumed stroking her skin gently, soothingly, and he released a low hum. “Well, he ain’t got you yet, though, and I won’t let him.”

Her lips twitched faintly as she arched an eyebrow. “You’ll have to get in line because I won’t let him either.”

“I would gladly get behind you...”

She laughed softly as his lips went to her forehead and cheeks, kissing sloppily.

“Stop it, my heart’s only just calmed down.”

"You sure? Lemme just check that you’re really okay...”

She laughed louder as her arms went around him as he shifted them so she lay underneath him, and he kissed and caressed every inch of her body, except where she wanted him the most.

“Insatiable, Mr Morgan...” she murmured with a breathless smile as his nose brushed against her stomach, and he pressed a kiss there, his lips trailing down.

—

He dozed off afterwards and she let him, knowing she should probably get some sleep, too, but it hadn’t come. She could barely close her eyes without wanting to scream with joy.

He loved her. She was loved, for all that she was, good and bad.

She would never be able to convey how happy she was.

Tonight had been the last barrier. The act and their words had told her he was hers and she was his, for all that they were, mind, body and soul. 

On her side, her hand tucked under her chin, she gazed at him, her eyes tracing the lines of his nose, his mouth, his eyelashes, the hair that curled slightly at the nape of his neck, the sparse, light freckles on his skin, the—

He shifted as he inhaled a slow breath. Her eyes moving back up, they met his.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice a little hoarse.

“Hey,” she whispered, a soft smile lifting her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

Rubbing at his face with a hand, he then arched an eyebrow as it dropped to his chest. “How long you been starin’ at me?”

Her smile widened. “Hours.”

He snorted. “I don’t sleep hours. You should sleep, though.”

“I will.”

He gazed at her as she didn’t move, just looking at him, her smile lingering.

She had to say it. Had to make sure it was still real.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan,” she murmured softly.

His features softened instantly, his arm sliding around her. “I love you, too, Ada.”

Lifting her chin, her lips met his in a tender kiss.

It was still real.

—

He awoke in the morning, after a peaceful, unbroken sleep, to find her head on his chest, her fingers tracing light patterns, her stomach rumbling, and aching and sore in the best way.

“I’ll cook us that meal,” he mumbled against her lips once he’d finally found the strength to stop kissing her.

She hummed and rolled onto her back as he pushed himself up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Watching him run a hand through his hair, she played with her ring, twisting it around and around, because as blissful as last night was, every second of it... the light of the morning sun brought with it an unspoken question that hung in the air.

He cleared his throat, his elbows on his knees. After a few moments, he then looked to her.

“We have to go back.” The words were quiet, expected, and she nodded.

“I know.”

Watching him dress, she didn’t allow herself to feel resigned, hopeless or afraid.

They would go back, and she would plan a way for them to leave this life behind.

—

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Tagged: @belfry-bat​​​​​​​​​​​, @sistasarah-sallysaidso​​​​​​​, @ntlmundy​

[psycheswritings]

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Eight

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, violence (it's canon violence thought, not really detailed. I think, so be warned), a poor atempt at romance, some bad researched things about weddings, domestic Alfie (because I was in the mood and I think you should be warned about it) and some fluff.

Word Count: 5137 (yeah, I know. Someone please stop me)

Author's Note: Helloooooo. Back with the update. And I apologize in advance because it seems like I have forgotten how to write romance. Don't know what to say today, really. Maybe I can make the suggestion that you hear the music “Fear on Fire” by Ruelle for the, let's say, first part of the chapter. It kinda sets the mood for the wedding and, well, what happens there. Talking about music, I kinda made a playslist for the fic, for inspiration and everything. Would you like if I shared it? Let me know. Thanks for everyone that liked and commented the last chapter (and the whole fic, in general). It's what keeps me writing (and posting, specially).

As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter and tags are on the bottom. If you want to be tagged, let me know. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated. Happy reading.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Summary: The big day has come - Jane and Charles are getting married and there is a lot of unresolved tension hanging in the air. Daphne is doying her best at her job of maid of honor, trying to not get distracted by one certain guest. Tommy surprises Daphne with his dancing skills and makes decides to make a move to win her over. After that, he receives the file with informations about Daphne and gets a little unsure about things, deciding to make a call to sort out his feelings. Arthur goes to Camden Town celebrate Seder with Alfie and the turn of the events it's not that promising for the Shelby brother.

Masterlist

Eight

She haven’t seen or heard of Tommy in the following days from their encounter at Ada’s house. Daphne busied herself helping Jane with the rest of things that needed to be sorted before the ceremony and her increasing workload at the bakery but not even her hectic schedule seemed to be able to take her thoughts out of him. Constantly she caught herself wondering about how gentle was his touch when he held her close, or the way he looked at her with so much passion in his eyes, but mostly about the way he addressed this growing feeling between them.

The water had already turned cold when she got out of the tube, drying herself and putting on a robe. She sat down in front of the vanity and looked at the reflex in the mirror, sighing, before starting to brush her hair and pinning it up. Then she picked the locket that was resting on the vanity, not opening it, her fingers playing with the object like she had done a thousand times before. What would Benjamin think about all of this? Well, if he were still alive things would be a lot different, probably. It was in days like this that she missed him the most - the one person that knew what she was thinking even before herself sometimes. She put the necklace on before dressing herself to go and picking the things she needed, putting on her shoes and heading for the stairs.

“Fucking hell, lass, you’re a fucking vision.” Alfie was in the middle of the room, westriling with his tie. She smiled at him, slapping his hand away from the tie hanging from his neck and straightening his collar to tie the knot while he murmured. “I hate this stuff. Don’t know how Thomas can use it all the damn time.” She tried to hide it with a shy smile, but he saw the way she bit her lower lip at the mention of the Brummie’s name.

“Can you help me?” She turned around pointing at the strap that needed to be fastened at the base of her neck and he quickly tied it and then she turned back to look at him, his hands holding hers. “Thanks.”

“Fucking beautiful.”

“Stop it or I will think that you’re going soft.” She mocked him and the gangster just rolled his eyes.

“It’s true, though. Doubt that there is going to be a woman more beautiful.”

“Don’t let Jane hear that, she is supposed to be the most beautiful woman of the party today.”

“Well, she was the one who invited you for her maid of honor and chose you that dress, I’m only stating the obvious.” Daphne smiled at him, standing on her tiptoes and placing a kiss on his cheek, choosing to ignore the faint blush that crept onto his face.

“I’m going to the Weston’s house to help Jane get ready. I’ll meet you at the reception?” He just nodded at her, observing as she left and thinking to himself if this was gonna be the last moment of peace they would had for the following weeks.

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

“You look beautiful.” Was the first thing William said to her as her opened the door of his family’s home for her to enter.

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” She smiled, hugging him and then stepping inside the house. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Charles?”

“I’m on my way.” He kissed her cheek before taking his coat from the rack. “Jane is in her room with my mother and her friends. Make yourself at home.” Then he was out through the door and she made her way upstairs. She knocked on Jane’s bedroom door and let herself in to see the group of women walking from one side to the other of the room, doing different things. Immediately, she searched for the bride, finding her near the window looking a little overwhelmed. When her eyes found Daphne’s she cleared her throat, asking for the other women to give them some time.

“Thank God you’re here. I thought they were going to make me crazy.” They hugged each other and Daphne took a step back to look at the young woman properly.

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you now.” They smiled at each other and Daphne hushed her friend to the vanity to help her with her hair and makeup.

“You look beautiful. I’m really glad I chose a different color for you.” Daphne just smiled to her through the reflex in the mirror.

“Thank you my lady, but I guess this doesn’t matter that much because all eyes will be on you today.”

“Not all of them, I hope.” There was a mixture of insecurity and mischief in her tone and all that Daphne could do was give her friend a disapproving look when Mrs. Weston entered the room. They dressed Jane and then went to the church all together. She was waiting in the car with Jane, noticing that the younger woman was fidgeting, she took one of her hands on her own.

“Nervous?”

“A little.” The blonde let out a heavy breath after the confession. “It doesn’t make sense, right. I love him, I shouldn’t be this nervous!”

“Well, you’re about to start a new life with him. Everything will be different, I think I would be nervous to.” Jane looked at her for a second before saying.

“You would make a wonderful sister.” Daphne knew that it wasn’t her intention but she felt the pang in her chest anyways, Jane immediately recognized her mistake. “I’m so sorry, Daph. I didn’t meant it like that.”

“I know. And I’m honored, really.” The conversation was cut short by Mr. Weston, coming to let Daphne know that it was time for her to make her entrance. “Let’s get you married, huh?” Daphne said as she straightened Jane’s veil one last time, smiling at the bride before getting out of the car and climbing the steps of the church. She walked down the aisle alone, as she should, giving a reassuring smile at a very nervous Charles at the altar, before the band started to play the song for Jane to enter.

The youngest Weston seemed like an angel in all white, arm in arm with her father, a very delicate bouquet of white and blue flowers on her hands and a smile so bright it could light up an entire room. As it was expected, Charles shed some tears when he saw her. When she reached the altar, Jane handed the bouquet over to her maid of honor and it was in that moment that Daphne’s hazel eyes met Tommy’s in the crowd. It took a moment for her to register his presence, standing beside Ada, close to the front doors of the church. She averted her gaze quickly, concentrating in her tasks but during all the ceremony Daphne could feel his eyes on her.

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

It wasn’t like she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life - Thomas was sure that there were a lot of women that could rival her in beauty. However, it wasn’t her physical appearance that attracted him, at least it wasn't just that. Because there was no denying that she looked, indeed, stunning, standing at the altar, dress of a pale blue, almost matching the color of the sky at the blue hour, hair delicately tied up, a touch of light makeup and the undeniable shade of blood red coating her lips that could be recognized even from the distance.

Their eyes met for a brief moment when she picked the bouquet from the bride’s hands but she was quick to avert his gaze. No, he was falling for her because of her alluring presence, her witty answers, the way she treated his family like they were hers, because she seemed to understand him and the business better than anyone. Ada got him out of his daze by elbowing him because they were supposed to sit now. For the rest of the ceremony he observed her, giving little attention to the rest.

He watched the newlyweds walking down the aisle, all smiles to each other, followed closely by William and Daphne, arm in arm, looking like the next couple in line for a wedding as they shared a friendly smile towards each other. Tommy knew that if he was a good man - a really, truly good man - he would back away and let her have a chance to be with someone that suited her better, someone like William. But he was no good man.

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

The reception was held on the Weston’s manor, as it was expected. The ballroom was richly decorated with flowers and candles, giving the place a cozy atmosphere. Foods and drinks of very expensive tastes were being served, people chatting all around the place. As a part of the wedding party, Daphne was with William, helping to receive the guests before the newlyweds made their entrance.

“If I ever decide to get married remember me of opting for a small reception.” Daphne murmured to William, making him laugh, in one of the few moments of calmness they had in the last half an hour.

“I will, because you can’t expect me to go through all of this again.”

“What, you want to be my maid of honour?” She mocked him, a playful smile on her lips.

“I was hoping so. Don’t you think I would look ravishing holding your bouquet at the altar?” Daphne had to hold herself back not to laugh out loud but the moment was cut short when they had to greet the next people in line. When her eyes focused on the pair in front of her she had to take a deep breathe to calm her nerves.

“Congratulations on your sister’s wedding, Mr. Weston.” Tommy extended his hand for best man that promptly shook it.

“Thanks, Mr. Shelby. And calm me William, please. Mr. Weston makes me sound like my father.”

“Then you may call me Thomas.” They nodded at each other. “This is my sister, Ada.”

“Pleased to meet you, Daphne talks a lot about you.” The Shelby sister said as William kissed her knuckles, smiling.

“Pleasure is all mine. Hope she left out the bad parts.”

“Of course not, where’s the fun in that.” Daphne objected, making them laugh.

“Ah, it’s unfair of you to be this beautiful.” Ada exclaimed hugging the other woman.

“You are quite the sight too.” And she was, indeed. Her short hair curled and left loose, bringing out the blue of her eyes, the dress of a deep green, making her look all classy. When they parted, Daphne prepared herself for the inevitable. “Thomas.”

“Daphne.” He mimicked William’s gesture towards his sister, kissing Daphne’s knuckles.

“Charles will be happy that you came. I think they had seated you in the same table as Alfie.” William said, looking at Daphne for confirmation.

“Yeah, that’s right. Good thing for you that he is in a good mood.”

“We must get going. See you two later.” Ada said smiling and pulling her brother along with her at the same time that Mrs. Weston came to them to let them know that they all would make her entrance now, before Charles and Jane. All the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined themselves up, them both Charles and Jane’s parents.

They were left for last, waiting for them all to walk into the ballroom. As it was tradition, Daphne was seated at the top table, with the newlywed couple and their parents along with the best man. Unfortunately, she and William were in opposite sides ends of the table, so she mostly observed the people around and tried to make small talk with Charles's mother on occasion until it was time for Will to make his speech.

“Well, I never thought I would be doing the best man’s speech at my little sister’s wedding.” Everybody laughed at William’s statement before he continued. “I have known Charles for the most part of our lives and Jane for all of hers and I know, despite having fought against it at the beginning, that they are probably the closest thing of a perfect match that we all have ever seen. Of course that I needed a little convincing accepting that my little sister, the one that was always following me around, was dating my best friend, but  figured that there was no better person to put up with her. But I won’t elongate this too much because I know that everyone is more interested in the food than in hearing me. I just want to say that, from the bottom of my heart, I wish you too a very happy life together because everybody should experience the joy of loving and being loved in return at least one time on their lives.” Everybody clapped their hands as one teary eyed Jane launched herself into her brother’s arms and then Charles and William hugged each other, exchanging pats on their backs.

The food was served, everybody ate and drank happily and it was time for Mr. and Mrs. Johnson to share their first dance. Daphne had seen a fair share of couples in her life to know how to notice the differences when two people really loved each other or not and it was more than safe to say that these two were absolutely entranced with one another. After the first dance, the bride danced with her father and the groom with his mother, then Daphne danced with Charles and Jane with William, so the parents could dance two. And then she and William had to share a dance.

“I still can’t believe that my little sister just got married.” He sighed as they moved across the dance floor.

“To your best friend, of all people.” She mocked him and he just shook his head before laughing with her.

“You are absolutely mean, Miss Scott.”

“After all these years of coexistence with you I had to learn something.” William just narrowed his eyes at her in pretended offense as he swirled her around.

“You never thought about it?” Daphne looked at him, confused.

“What? Getting married?” He nodded. “Not really. You?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment of silence and when people started to enter the dance floor and then she tried to lighten up the mood.

“Well, you are a good men. You will find someone soon. I think at least half of the ladies in this ballroom want me dead just because I am dancing with you now.” He just laughed at her statement before asking.

“Do you want to go talk to Alfie?” She nodded so he took her hand and they both headed to the table.

“There are they. We were just talking about you two.” It was Harriet who saw them first, talking for the other people on the table.

“Well, what’s so interesting about us?” Daphne asked as William pushed a chair for her to sit, beside Ada, before setting himself on the one next to her.

“The fact that almost every single woman in this room is giving you death glares for stealing away one of the most desired bachelors in all London.” Daphne laughed out loud, looking at William who was rolling his eyes.

“I told you.” She said to him and he waved his hand.

“Shut up.”

“And after that speech, mate, I think that you will have a line of admirers on your doorstep.” Alfie jokes, obviously not losing the opportunity of mocking his friend.

“Oh, fuck off you all.” There was a hint of a smile in his face and even Tommy had to give in and curve his lips up a little.

“If they only knew the pain in the ass he can be, they would think twice before running after him.”

“Mean, Scott, you’re mean.”

“I can only agree with her, you know. Think all this women should be more envious of the way this one looks, don’t you agree boys.” Harriet pointed at Daphne and then looked at Alfie and Thomas, pressing the both men for validation.

“Fucking vision, already said that to her, yeah.” Daphne threw a napkin at him, which he caught easily, laughing with everyone on the table. After the laughter died down, Daphne gave Harriet a sideways glance, which the courtesan promptly ignored, looking expectantly at Tommy. There was an air of tension around the table, the Brummie opened his mouth to speak, never really having the chance.

“Come on, girls. It’s time for the bride toss the bouquet.” It was Jane’s mother calling all the single women of the reception to go to the dance floor and try their luck at picking the bouquet and, allegedly, be the next one to tie the knot. Daphne audibly sighed, holding her face in between her hands.

“Don’t even think of skipping it.” Harriet got up from her seat and took Daphne by the hand, pulling her up. “We all are going.”

“I hate this stuff.” Daphne mumbled as Ada followed the two of them, giggling. The Shelby sister tried to cheer her friend.

“Don’t be like that. What are the odds of one of us getting that thing, anyways?” Apparently, the chances of one of them picking up the bouquet was very high, because the damned thing landed right on Daphne’s hands, even in the middle of a sea of other women that really wanted it. Jane looked at her, smiling brightly, and in a moment of pure and simple panic, the maid of honor tossed the bouquet for the crowd of desperate women and took a step back towards a very shocked bride. The blonde ended up laughing and hugging Daphne from behind, while they both looked as two of the guests fought for the object. After the end of the commotion the trio walked back to the table.

“You really refuse to settle down, don’t you?” Alfie more states than questions while Daphne sat down again.

“I don’t have time for this sort of thing and I definitely don’t need to be owned by a man.” Harriet and Ada expressed their agreements to the statement. “Let’s change the subject, please. I’m done with all this teasing.”

“Maybe I can help with that.” Tommy got up from his seat and walked to Daphne, standing his hand in front of her. “May I have this dance, Miss Scott?” The woman looked up at him, hazel eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and shock.

“I’m accompanied tonight, Mr. Shelby.” She nodded her head at William’s direction. They both knew that this had more to do with her trying to escape him than her really being asking for permission to do something.

“It’s okay, go with him.” They both looked at William as he got up from his own seat, buttoning his jacket. “Maybe I can persuade Mrs. Thorne in dancing with me?” Ada looked at little surprised by the question directed at her, but she mustered a little ‘sure’, before William walked to her, taking her hand and walking with her to the dance floor, leaving Daphne with no option but do the same, letting Tommy guide her through the tables.

They found a spot not so crowded and both fell easily into the upbeat tempo. She was more than surprised to discover that he was actually quite a decent dancing partner, swirling her around with ease and preventing them from colliding with other more enthusiastic couples. They didn’t shared a single word until the music changed to a slower tune and Tommy brought her closer. Unlike William, who had the discretion of maintaining his hand at the limit of the fabric of her dress, since it had a low cut in the back, Tommy’s hand rested delicately over her skin.

“How’s the arm?” She decided to break the silence, her hand was resting carefully over the place where the wound was.

“It’s healing alright, I had a good doctor stitching it up.” He smiled at her while she looked away.

“Not a doctor.”

“Sure as hell could be one.” The woman looked at him for a moment before saying.

“Didn’t wanted to. Not after…” She trailed off and he decided to take a bold guess.

“France?” She nodded and they fell into silence again. “I never got to answer the question, you know?” Her hazel eyes stared at him in question. “About how you look.”

“Thomas…”

“It was a good thing because I don’t know what Alfie would do if I said what was on my mind.” His blue eyes sparkled with something that she couldn’t quite recognize and Daphne had to remind herself how to breathe. “Because I couldn’t concentrate in anything but you during the ceremony. You and how you looked absolutely magnificent in this dress, standing at the altar and holding that fucking bouquet, smiling with these damned red painted lips.”

“Thomas…”

“And how I wanted to…” Daphne stopped, abruptly, but nobody gave much mind to it because the music was changing again.

“Please, don’t do this.” Tommy looked at her, confusion painted all over his face.

“Do what?”

“Make me want things I can’t have.” She walked off, disappearing over the other couples and leaving a very astonished Tommy in the middle of the dance floor. Daphne just had to get away from him and clear her head because she didn’t know what to do right now. Tommy, still standing in the same place she left him, shook his head, heading for the bar and asking for a whiskey, taking it in one gulp.

“She is probably on the library.” Tommy turned to the side to see William leaning into the counter, looking straight ahead.

“Excuse me?”

“Daphne. I saw her leaving.” The man took a sip of his drink and turned to look athe the gangster.

“The library?” William nodded. “And you’re telling me this why?” The doctor took a deep breath, downing the rest of the alcohol on his glass, ignoring the question.

“Out from that door, second to the left.”

“Why are you trying to help me?” It was more than clear that he liked Daphne too, so it didn’t make sense that he was trying to help. William turned to look at him before answering.

“I’m not doing this for you.” He walked away, leaving Tommy to ponder on what to do. The gangster decided to take a leap of faith, so he followed William’s lead and headed towards the door and what was supposed to be the library. He found her looking out of the window, arms crossed in front of her, distracted by her own thoughts. She turned to look his way when she heard the sound of the door closing and observed as he approached, stopping right in front of her.

She didn’t complained when he took a step closer, uncrossing her arms and sliping a hand to her waist and then to the lower of her back, invading her personal space and joining their foreheads. Instead she rested her hands on his chest, closing her eyes for a moment as he observed her, letting him hold her. He moved his other hand, the back of it ghosting over her arm until he rested his palm on the side of her face, inching her head up, urging her to look at him. Daphne slowly opened her eyes, holding his gaze for a moment before he leaned in and sealed their lips.

It was just a light touch, at the beginning. Tommy just kept their lips together for a second until he was sure that she wasn’t going to back away, so he licked her lips as if asking for permission to deepen the kiss and she let him. His fingers trailing over to the base of her neck, entangling themselves onto her brown locks while his other hand tried to bring her even closer, as he kissed her with a passion he hadn’t experienced in a while. That was when she melted against him, delicate fingers holding tight at the lapels of his jacket.

They parted from each other for a brief moment, catching their breaths and looking each other in the eyes before they kissed again. Tommy gently guided her a step back, pressing her to the window, hands travelling through her body to touch the exposed skin on her back, bringing goosebumps to her skin, trying to remind himself of where they were and not to think about how she must not the using a lip or a brasserie underneath that dress. Despite how he wanted her, it was Daphne and she deserved better than that.

This was the moment, in the middle of the library of the Weston’s house, hiding from the party roaring at the ballroom, her body pressed to him and the taste of her on his tongue, when Tommy accepted the fact that he was in love with Daphne Scott.

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

Tommy was distracted, filling some papers on his office, not noticing when John came in, juste realizing he wasn’t alone when his younger brother threw the file onto his desk. He looked up at hm, questionaly, before picking up the folder - it was from the War Office.

“It seems like you fucking that posh horse trainer had earned some benefits after all. Her connections from the War Office gave us Daphne’s file. Still don’t know what you need this for, but it’s there.”

“Did you read it?”

“No.” John watched his brother for a moment, noticing that he had made no move to open the file. “What you plan to do with that?”

“Don’t know yet.” It was true, he didn’t know what to do with the information. Specially considering what had happened after the wedding and how he couldn’t take his mind off of her - and how she tasted, how she squirmed under his touch, how she looked at him like he was something more than he thought he was. His younger brother nodded, turning to leave. Before he was out the door, John turned to look at Tommy again.

“She is a good woman, Tom. Far better than Grace.” There it was, that damn comparison that he’d been trying to avoid at all costs but it seemed to be impossible to escape from. He picked the folder from the desk, looking at it for a moment before locking it away on the drawer from where he picked an envelope. A letter that Grace had sent him - the only one he hadn’t burned. Before taking things further with Daphne he had to be sure of one thing, so he picked up the phone to make a call.

“Ritz Hotel. London, Picadilly.”

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

“The Passover started off way out there in the Far East, out in the sand, out in the desert, where my forefathers come from, the Jews, the brews, whatever you want to call them. It started out as a little speck on the horizon…” The eldest Shelby turned his head to look behind him, as two of Alfie’s man closed the doors of the bakery and Billy was quick to get closer to him saying.

“Arthur, this ain't right!”

“Billy...” Arthur started but was interrupted by Alfie.

“Billy, don’t worry mate. If you want, you can leave. If you need to go to the little boy's room, you can leave.”

“He's all right. He’s all right, Billy Boy.” Arthur said, trying to calm down the spirits.

“Do you want to leave?” The Jew asked.

“No, you I’m all right.” He didn’t sounded so sure, 

“You want to stay?” Alfie pressed, holding himself back from smiling - Billy didn’t imagined how right he was. He never really liked the man, anyway. Nor the way he looked at himself and Daphne.

“I'll stay.” The man answered, holding Alfie’s gaze.

“You stay there, then, treacle. OK. So, the Pharaoh, have you heard of him? He kept my people, the Jewish people, in slavery for thousands and thousands of years.”

“Persecuted race.” Said Arthur, trying to show sympathy.

“He did, he persecuted my race. The killing of the innocent, right? Seder, this feast what we is having here, right? Seder is basically the day when the Jewish angels decided, you know, that the evil fucking Egyptians had pushed their fucking luck.”

“Right.”

“It's part of our tradition, to do with Seder, right, that in order to make it good with God to kill a king, we have to carry out the Korban Pesach.”

“Right.”

“That is the ritual sacrifice of the Passover goat.” One of the employers entered with the goat, holding it in place for the sacrifice.

“It's a goat!” Arthur said, surprised, sitting straight on his chair to take a better look at the animal.

“Yeah, and we are going to sacrifice it. Tonight. That is part of the reason why we have to shut the doors as well. But this year we thought we'd give the fucking goat a name.”

“You've named it?” The eldest Shelby smiled, a little amazed.

“We fucking did. Yeah.”

“They named the fucking goat.” Arthur said to Billy, who still looked worried about the whole situation but didn’t said another word about it.

“After the evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh.”

“The fucking enemy!” The Shelby brother cheered.

“That's right! You know what we called him?”

“What did you call him?”

“Tommy Shelby.” After that, all hell break loose. The man holding the goat cut its throat, another shot Billy Kimber, and another two held Arthur back by placing a cloth around his neck, bringing him to one of the pillars and holding him there.

“Fuck you!” Alfie kneed Arthur, stepping closer to the man.

“That's right, let's take the load off.” The Jew held Arthur head between his hands. “So, then the evil Egyptian scum was finally cleansed by the blood of the Passover goat.” Alfie passed the cloth soaked in the goat’s blood between Arthur eyebrows and on his lips, kissing him on both cheeks and murmuring into his ear. “That's from Sabini.” They knocked Arthur out, the blinder fell to the floor and Alfie rearranged things to make it look like it was the Shelby brother who had shoot Billy Kitchen. Then he nodded to his men open the doors and the police came in to take Arthur. “The fucking animal. He come in here, right, with a fucking gun and a razor, he shot him in the face. My lads, they restrained him. Look at him. He is dead. Is he dead? He is fucking dead! He wants arresting or something, right? Surely.” It was done, there was no going back now. All Alfie could do was hope that he had made the right choice.

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771​

[khoicesbyk]

The Good Captain.

Author’s Note: This is my version of what book 2 of Distant Shores should be like. Y’know the book 2 that we readers of Distant Shores rightfully deserved! One more thing: in this fanfic, the MC’s last name has been changed to Bennett but; in the game it’s Carter. I decided to change it from Carter to Bennett; because Bennett sounds better to me. Also; her original occupation has been changed as well.

***Rated: Mature 18+. Contains sexual content, nudity, some violence and strong language.

***Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters.

***Characters: Captain Edward Mortemer (LI), Kyra Bennett (MC), Robert Finnegan (Main Antagonist), Charlie, Ginny, Jonas, Maggie, Samuel, Octavia, Henry, Axton, Adelia, Kendrick and Oliver Cochrane (Side Characters)

***Disclaimer: All character names (except MC) and some dialogues belong to Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 2,830 words.

Chapter 1: The Return: Part 1.

Ten weeks…

That’s how long it had been.

Ten long weeks since…Kyra Bennett was sent back to her own time.

Ten weeks since…she had felt ocean spray hit her face or felt the sea breeze in her hair.

Ten weeks since…she heard the pirate songs and tales.

Ten weeks since…she was taken from the most lovable band of pirate misfits.

Ten weeks since…she had the adventure of her or anyone’s life or lifetime for that matter.

It had been ten weeks since…she was ripped away from the arms of HER Captain. A GOOD Captain. A FIERCE Captain. A Captain who’s name is known across the seas…

Captain Edward Mortemer.

She missed the crew so much. But; she missed him most of all.

She often thought of him and the adventure they had together. The stolen looks and smiles they gave one another. And she DEFINITELY thinks about; the kisses and the one incredible night of raw passion, that they shared. She thinks about the night he captured her heart.

“I’m yours, Kyra…Until the end of time…”

“Now…I want the future we saw together. The adventure. The laughter.”

“Aye, especially the family.”

“Then I’ll savor every moment of this night. And I’ll wait for you.”

“Fate brought us together once. And I don’t believe this is where our story ends.”

“No. I told you, Kyra…you’ve taught me how to dream.”

His words…his promises…have played back in her head every day since; she was sent back to her time. Especially when she’s alone.

He was HER captain.

And the sex? Who knew an 18th century pirate could fuck like him? That was stuck in her head as well. The way he touched her, the way kissed her, the way he pleased her and especially what he said to her.

“I’ve thought of all the ways I could have you. All the ways I could take you.”

“I’ve been dying to taste you.”

Every time she thought back to those two statements; she couldn’t help but miss him all over again. And at night, when she sometimes lays awake; that’s when she finds herself wanting him. Needing him. Desperately craving him. There have been times where she’s waken up in a cold sweat, with her heart thundering in her chest because; she dreamt that she felt him.

She could still hear his voice in her ear. She could still feel his fingers on her skin. And; she could especially still taste his lips on hers. She wanted him. She deserved him. She craved him. She needed him. She was his as much as he was hers.

But he’s gone. He’s back in the past. And she; along with her heart and feelings are in the present. It wasn’t fair. When she closed the portal; she’d hoped that she would’ve been able to stay. Especially after seeing what was supposed to be her future with him. In her heart and in her soul; she wanted to stay with him and his crazy, lovable crew.

Why couldn’t she stay with him?

That was a question that lingered on her heart.

Ten weeks…

It has been that long since she last seen him.

Her captain. Her Edward.

This sexy beast was everything she wanted in a man.

He was fierce, protective, FIERCELY loyal, sorta funny (although she didn’t always laugh at his brand of “comedy”), commanding yet fair minded, smart, adaptive to changing situations, strong (in EVERY sense and definition of the word), snarky (whether he knew it or not; is another story) but mostly; he was drop dead gorgeous.

She never could understand why, he didn’t have a wife. All the single maidens in his home the island of Tiburon, swooned whenever he walked by.

So why didn’t he choose one of them?

Because once again; Edward was drop dead gorgeous! And for a black man in those days; that was a helluva gift.

He had to be 6’3ish although she was never quite sure (they didn’t exactly measure height in those days). He was blessed with the chiseled physique of a Greek God. His 18th century British tinged baritone, always managed to turn her into a puddle. His brown eyes were intense and always smoldering. Hell, there were times where she could’ve sworn; she was being undressed, by those very beautiful eyes of his. He has a devilishly charming smile and smirk that always stopped her cold in her tracks.

He’s also an excellent marksman and even better swordsman.

His hair was in long, beautifully flowing dreadlocks, that he always kept pulled back. And Lord knows; the man‘s got a cannon between his legs! If she had to guesstimate what his actual size was, she’d guess he had to be 8 1/2-9 inches from base to tip. And as she discovered; he knew what to do with it. His hands, like his arms and his back were strong.

That is Captain Edward Mortemer. She has so many memories of him; and that misfit crew of his. They became something of a family to her.

She will never forget the sword fight that she got into with Edward. Even though she lost; she had impressed him with how adept she was. That; and well she was a bit distracted. It was also the first time she’d ever seen him with his shirt off.

She will never forget; choosing to man the cannons with Jonas and Ginny (Ginny Girl as she was affectionately called). Learning sails with Kendrick or how to tie proper knots with Maggie. Fighting and defeating the backstabbing mutineers Octavia and Samuel (although his role in the mutiny came as a shock to everyone) on The Poseidon’s Revenge. Plundering her very first ship. Meeting the twins Adelia and Axton (Ada and Ax as they like to be called); and recruiting them to join the crew. There’s also learning how to properly shoot a pistol with Charlie. She didn’t really have that many memories with Henry; outside of his not so tasty cooking.

She’ll never forget; throwing wine in the face of Admiral Cochrane after telling him off. She even has the memory of learning that the mysterious Oliver (whom she met the night, the navy invaded Tiburon) is not only Lieutenant Oliver but he’s Admiral Cochrane’s son (not that she cared to know that tidbit of information). Then; there’s dancing with Edward at the Governor’s Ball and sneaking into the governor’s bedroom with Charlie.

Then; there’s her favorite memory of them all. Touching the pirate medallion and seeing the future; she thought she was supposed to have with Edward.

And what a glorious future it was! They had gotten married and settled down on Tiburon. Where she became pregnant with and gave birth to their son. She remembers standing on the hill and watching the sunset over the ocean. She remembers Edward coming up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and watching the sunset with her.

In that moment she was happy. That was supposed to be her absolute paradise. Her dream come true. She would have the man she fell in love with, and all would be right with the world.

But unfortunately; that happiness, that absolute paradise, that dream…would never come true. Because not only she see her dream come true but; she also saw her nightmarish reality. She was returned to future and Edward was nothing more than a lonely legend. And it became an all too painful reality; once they finally reached the center of Queen Magdalena’s temple.

All because; of what the inscription on the stone at the base of the portal told.

My heart is empty…

Time and space rent asunder…

The ancient artifact…

From my hand was plundered…

Return the compass…

And the fabric will be mended…

Peace restored…

All wounds rescinded…

The golden compass had to be returned to its rightful place; in order for time to be restored and the portal to be closed.

She knew what she had to do but that doesn’t mean she liked it; or even wanted to do it at all for that matter. But as she soon found out; sometimes life forces your hand.

A great battle soon ensued between The Captain and The Admiral. The two enemies locked horns and swords with each other.

Edward would eventually get the upper hand by; using his sword to pluck the golden compass out of The Admirals grasp. But it didn’t take the old bastard long to regain the upper hand once again.

For you see, in order to get to the heart of the temple; Kyra and Edward had to go through a series of booby traps.

Because what’s an ancient, very creepy and seemingly haunted temple without a few booby traps?

They able to dodge an axe that swung out of the ceiling. As well as the floor suddenly crumbling beneath their feet. But they weren’t able to dodge poisoned flying darts. Or at least Edward wasn’t able to dodge them. In an attempt to shield her from danger, his jacket was pierced by a dart. And what he thought was nothing but a scratch; turned out to be something much, much worse. He was slowly being poisoned and didn’t realize it, until he collapsed before they entered the heart of the temple.

She couldn’t let him die. She had to save him. And the only way to do that, was by restoring the compass to its rightful place. And so she did; she put the compass back where it belonged. And by doing so; she briefly gained the amazing power to reverse time itself. She used her power to get rid of the old bastard once and for all, reverse Edward’s wound and buy herself a few more hours in the past with Edward.

And once that was all done; she was sent back to the future. Back to the modern world and her modern life. Back to her job as a historian; at Smithsonian Museum of Natural History in Washington D.C.

She was tasked with researching for a new exhibit opening up about the golden age of piracy. And booyyy did she ever do her research! When she first started; she wanted to research and learn about, who the greatest black pirates was during the golden age. And all she could find was, the two conflicting legends of Black Caesar.

That was until one day when she got to work; there was a mysterious box just sitting on her desk. It contained an array of pirate artifacts. Including maps, letters, a diary of some sort, a few medallions, various coins, a sword and a compass. A golden compass.

“Well; what the hell am I supposed to do with all of this?!”, she thought to herself.

She had no idea that what was about to happen to her; would change her life forever.

After she came back from lunch one afternoon; and began writing her notes again, she noticed a strange glow coming from the inside the box with the pirate artifacts. When she opened the box she saw that; it was the compass that was glowing.

“Ooooooooooooookaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy…what the hell? Why is this thing glowing?”, she asked herself.

As she reached for the compass; she saw a face. A very handsome face. The face she saw was his.

“Kyra…I’m waiting for you…come find me…”, he said.

She initially backed away from the glow but; her curiosity won out in the end. She had to know who that handsome stranger was. She had to know what he meant. And so, she gathered up her courage and grabbed the compass. Little did she know that the compass; would be her key to the adventure of her life.

What was weeks in the past; wound being maybe a day in the future, when she got back.

Because she returned to where she was sitting at her desk. The box was still there. And when she looked in the box; everything was there. Even the compass. Only this time it wasn’t glowing. It had gone back to being just a regular compass. Time had truly gone back to the way it was. The only difference was her.

She had the memories of her adventure, of the crew and especially of him.

A few days later; she put her memories to paper. And the exhibit on the greatest black pirate of them all was born. It was an exhibit all about Captain Edward Mortemer and his crew. How they sailed the sea. How they outmatched and outmaneuvered The British Royal Navy. It turned him and the crew from criminals to heroes. It told the story of their trials and tribulations. And at the center was the golden compass and the sword.

She had the exhibit explain how precious they were to him; and the legends that followed his name and adventures. And she couldn’t have been prouder. The exhibit even brought her some form of closure. Or so she thought.

One night while Kyra was in her office working late on another project; there was this terrible glass break.

“What the hell was that?!”, she exclaimed.

When she got to the floor of the exhibit; she couldn’t believe who it was she saw standing there, with the compass in his hand.

It was Robert. He was alive and staring her down.

“Hello Miss Bennett! It’s nice to see you again!”, he said to her with a sinister tone in his voice.

“No fucking way! It’s impossible! You’re supposed to be dead! I watched the Admiral kill you!”, she said. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

”No he did. He indeed killed me. For a second anyway. You see, I would’ve stayed dead; if he hadn’t have shoved me through the portal, before you closed it that is. And as the inscription read: all wounds rescinded. Annnd here I am!”, he replied with a wicked grin.

“This is not happening!”, she told him.

“Ohhh…but is my dear girl! And now that I have the two items that I needed; my crew and I will be off!”, he said with glee in his eyes.

“Crew?! What crew?!“, she asked.

“Ohh…why them of course!”, he replied before gesturing for her to look behind her.

When she turned around; fear instantly gripped her heart and soul. Behind her; a crew of dangerous looking individuals seemingly melted out of the shadows. A crew of 8 men and 4 women stood at the ready.

“Miss Bennett…allow me to introduce my new crew!”, he says to her.

“But! You’re not a captain anymore.”, she replies.

“I am now!”, he replies in a tone that’s both sinister and gleeful.

“Wait! You’re actually going back?!”, she asks.

“Of course I am! Can’t unlock Poseidon’s tomb if I’m here, can I?”, he replies.

“What the hell are you rambling about?!”, she replied clearly confused.

“If you think that Queen Magdalena, was the only source of power in the seas; you clearly haven’t done your research.”, he told her.

“You’re still rambling!”, she replies.

“Here. Let me offer you a free history lesson. You know of Atlantis right?”, he asked.

“Yes, I know about the legends of Atlantis.”, she answered.

“Clearly you don’t girl! Because they’re not legends! They’re true!”, he tells her.

“Atlantis is the tale of Plato. And although he was a great philosopher; he was out of his mind! Atlantis is NOT real! It’s just a legend!”, she answers.

“Perhaps you’d like a demonstration; ohhh Pearson…”, he commands one of the pirates, “Miss Bennett…meet my first mate.”

Pearson, opens his hand to reveal a stone of some sort.

“What the hell is that?!”, she asks.

“This is a fragment of a key. A key to the greatest treasure of the seas”, he says to her.

“Meaning…”, she responds.

“Meaning…I’m about to go back to visit 7 sea lords. And take their key fragments.”, he tells her.

“The 7 lords of the seas is a myth! Robert you’re chasing ghosts!”, she says.

“No, I’m chasing greatness girl!”, he snapped at her, clearly agitated.

Part 2 coming soon! @txemrn @choicesficwriterscreations

K.

[worryinglyinnocent]

So, at 5am this morning in the throes of insomnia, I had an idea for a Bleak House fanfic. As you do. Because man, it’s depressing, and I like making things happy. 

The idea is insanely long and convoluted, much like Bleak House itself, and I shall likely never ever write it, but I wanted to get the idea down anyway. 

So voila! Worry’s Bleak House idea. It is 300% more queer and, unfortunately, 1000% more historically inaccurate. 

Under the cut because it’s so ridiculously long. Apparently, my brain likes to be detailed when I can’t sleep.

So! We begin way way back before the book/ TV series begins. Please note I’m working primarily from the 2005 TV series. 

Honoria Barbary finds out she’s pregnant. James Hawdon is MIA likely dead. The only other person who knows about the pregnancy is her sister Frances, who Does Not Approve. 

Honoria decides, in the wisdom of blind panic, to run away, eventually making her way to Bleak House. The Jarndyce family are acquainted with the Barbarys (John Jarndyce is friends with Frances through Lawrence Boythorn but was never as close to Honoria). 

I’m not sure on canon timelines, but this is all happening circa 20 years prior to canon beginning, going from Esther’s canon age. Anyway, John Jarndyce has yet to inherit Bleak House from his uncle, and the place stands mostly empty, with just a skeleton staff keeping it looked after, since Uncle Jarndyce spends most of his time in London obsessing over the Jarndyce & Jarndyce chancery case. 

The housekeeper takes pity on Honoria - who is passing herself off as a young widow and calling herself Mrs Hawdon - and takes her in, giving her bed and board in exchange for working in the kitchen. This poses something of a problem as a) Honoria is having a difficult pregnancy and isn’t in the best of health having run away, and b) she’s an upper class lady and hasn’t done a day’s work in her life. The housekeeper (let’s call her Mrs Potts), quickly recognises this and reluctantly, Honoria shares her full story. Mrs P, being a kindly soul, agrees to keep the secret. 

Time passes. Esther is born. Frances believes that the disappeared-without-trace Honoria is likely dead by now; since she does not have to care for Esther, she marries Lawrence Boythorn. Uncle Jarndyce commits suicide and John Jarndyce inherits Bleak House, returning there and intending to make it his primary residence. 

Honoria, who knows John and knows he’ll recognise her, has another mad panic moment, but manages to avoid running away since she has a child to look after now. Mrs P attempts to hide her from John as best she can, but ultimately, the truth outs. John is shocked to say the least (he’d been told Honoria had died after a sudden illness), but nonetheless agrees to keep her secret and promises not to tell Frances. 

Time passes. Honoria works her way up through the household and takes over from Mrs P as housekeeper when the latter retires. John pays for Esther’s education with a view to her becoming a governess, but the best laid plans of mice and men and all that, because there are Plot Points at work here. 

Namely, the one (1) scene that we got of Honoria and John interacting in the TV series made me ship them. 

John and Honoria get closer and eventually marry, and a few months later John becomes guardian to Richard and Ada. Esther, now John’s stepdaughter, becomes Ada’s companion and the two ladies begin to fall for each other.

Whilst this is going on, Honoria finds out that James may indeed still be alive after recognising his handwriting on legal documents like in canon. (Tulkinghorn and Kenge both use Snagsby as a stationer so it’s perfectly plausible that James could have copied papers for Kenge which end up with John and Honoria sees them that way, as opposed to copying papers for Tulkinghorn that then go to Sir Leicester that she sees as in canon. I do sometimes think things through properly...) However, unlike in canon, since John knows about her past relationship with James, there’s no subterfuge going on and they set out to see if they can find him, figuring that Esther deserves to know her birth father if nothing else. 

Off they all go to London - Richard’s supposed to be starting to study medicine there anyway - where who should enter the scene but Allan Woodcourt. He helps them find James, thankfully before he carks it this time, and Oh God THE ANGST.

Ahem. 

Richard stays in London and Allan promises to keep an eye on him and be a friend. Naturally, as these things are wont to do and because I generally always end up pairing the spares, Allan ends up as a bit more than a friend. 

Meanwhile, we’re back to Bleak House, where James is being nursed back to health by Honoria, both of them in a rather delicate mental state since each thought the other one dead for nigh-on twenty years, and there’s the small fact that Honoria is married and genuinely loves her husband, but James is the first love she’s never forgotten and the father of her child.

(Ada and Esther are still going strong in the background, by the way. Everyone in the house is pretending they’re just gal pals.)

John offers James a position as his secretary once he’s recovered, and tells Honoria (in slightly more delicate language than me) that if she and James want to have an affair, he’ll turn a blind eye as long as they’re discreet about it. 

Honoria isn’t exactly happy about this because she loves both of them, and in the end, after much angst and many conversations, a tentative but successful polyamorous relationship between the three commences. 

Back to Ada and Esther and Rick and Allan. This being Dickensian times, they’re not exactly on the best footing for having proper relationships, but taking a leaf out of Honoria, John and James’s book, they decide that marriage is the way forward. Ada and Richard marry, as do Esther and Allan, and they end up living very close by to each other, allowing both ‘forbidden’ relationships to continue undisturbed. (Although interestingly, female homosexuality was never technically illegal in Victorian times because Queen Victoria didn’t believe it was possible and scratched out all mention of it in the bill that made male homosexuality illegal.)

And there we have it. It took me over an hour to type that, God help me if I do decide to write the blessed thing...

[artificialqueens]

She Calls Me Your Highness - Sharon/Willam - pureCAMP

A/N - not sure how i managed this because i literally have an exam on monday but in the space of a few hours in the afternoon i wrote this and voila i guess its a fic challenge entry!

i went with sharon/willam for my rarepair (we need more of this wtf) and see if you can spot some of the silly cliches in here! i hope u all enjoy and pls send me lots of love bc i need it, like tinkerbell

(this is so long idk why aaaa)

Willam has an odd relationship with Sharon.

Well. That’s one way of putting it, anyway.

It started, she pondered, the moment they had met, eight years ago at the tender age of thirteen. Sharon was this scruffy thing, tall and skinny and entirely too long to look normal, dressed in ill-fitting scraps with a keen glint in her eyes. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek that Willam’s gaze had fixated on immediately.

The large, stocky man behind her coughed subtly, nudging Sharon with his foot. Willam had waited patiently, her parents stood protectively either side of her.

It was the first time anyone had ever forgotten to curtsey.

A sharp thwack to the back of Sharon’s head soon corrected that wrong, and then she grinned at Willam as if to apologise. Which, whilst charming, was definitely not the correct protocol to address a young princess.

“Sharon.” The handler hissed. “Do you intend on eating tonight? Introduce yourself.”

Willam pursed her lips and remained silent; after all, she had been taught to do so. It was polite to allow non-royal folk a chance to exercise their poor attempts at grace and decorum. As a future ruler, it would make her look kind and down-to-earth, which was a desirable image. Everything was about cultivating the right image, as Willam would come to learn.

Sharon ran a hand - skeletal, with long, knobbly fingers - through her ratty almost-white hair. “Hello.”

Her voice was plain, provincial, with a hint of theatricality behind the emphasis in the way she spoke. There was nothing too offensive about it, but her parents had gasped as though affronted and the handler, who Willam was beginning to dislike, delivered another well-placed slap to the back of Sharon’s head.

She had forgotten to address her properly.

Rubbing the tender spot, she tried again. “Hello, Willam?”

Back then, Willam hadn’t known that she should be taking offense, but all children learn through doing. Surely, logically, judging by the muttered curses of her father and the utter mortification of the now-exasperated handler, she should be highly taken aback. She did her best to mimic their expressions, and to suppress the slight twinge of sympathy she felt when yet another blow struck the young girl.

At that point, it had seemed like Sharon was truly at a loss. Looking back on it, she hadn’t behaved insolent and rude, she had simply behaved like a child who didn’t know any better - or a child who knew better but had evidently forgotten in the face of a brand new situation.

“Princess?” Sharon attempted a third time, the glint in her eyes replaced with a nervous, hopeful shine.

The final blow came out of nowhere, and knocked the unsteady girl to the ground. Her height meant nothing in the absence of adolescent strength, and she hit the floor with the full force of an adult man. The handler placed his foot in the centre of her back, grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched her head upwards so that, as she struggled for breath, her eyes could meet nobody’s except for Willam’s. Her face was directly level with Willam’s feet.

“G-Good to meet you, Your Highness.”

Satisfied, Willam’s parents and the somewhat cruel handler left the room to begin their business discussion, something that Willam was no doubt too young to understand or take part in. She didn’t know why Sharon had been brought to her, or why anything that had happened in the last few minutes had actually happened, but such was the life of a princess learning to be queen. Sharon stayed on the floor, her gaze still level with Willam’s feet, her breaths shaky and uneven.

Everyone said that was simply her place; on the ground, far beneath Willam. A lowly serving girl and nothing more.

It only took a few lessons in grace and status for Willam to learn that it was indeed the truth, and to quietly, complacently accept that girls like Sharon belonged where they were, and were treated how they were treated for good reason. So after that it was okay, she presumed.

–

Then they were fifteen, and Willam’s parents were holding a ball in the palace. It was fantastic news for Willam, who had been dying to meet with her friends for ages only to find them all busy with various courtly duties. Princess Alaska of the neighbouring kingdom had been away in some special school, no doubt nurturing her singing talent, and Willam had missed laughing with her. Princess Courtney hadn’t exactly been busy, per se, but she lived so far that the expenditures for travelling were a little too high, so letters had to suffice.

That meant that Willam’s only real company - discounting the governesses, who didn’t count because they were fucking boring - were the servants. Most of them didn’t really speak to Willam all that much, hyper aware that saying the wrong thing could cost more than their job was worth. Only one ever seemed to have the sheer gall to bite back and engage - and to nobody’s surprise, it was Sharon.

Willam reasoned to herself that she had requested Sharon specifically an hour and a half before the ball began because she was entertaining. Yes, that was it. That was the only reason, of course.

Her entrance was less than graceful, starkly different to that of the other serving girls. She didn’t lightly pad in, delicately opening the door and balancing the teapot and tray in the other arm - oh no, not at all. Sharon, ever the practical one, opted to barge the door open with her hip and charge in with the tea laid out in the tray which she held steadily with two hands.

Practical, yes, but unconventional and unbecoming of a palace servant.

“Hey, it’s my favourite ever princess. Afternoon, Willam.” She settled the tray down on a nearby table and flashed a grin - showing off her hideous gap tooth. It wasn’t hideous, really, and Willam was quite fond of it, but she had been told it wasn’t desirable, so she pretended she found it disgusting.

“You’re not supposed to call me that.” She retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Sharon shrugged. “What, princess?”

She was being pedantic. Sharon was always pedantic, which would’ve been infuriating if Willam wasn’t secretly the same way. Plus, although it was a secret she would never share, Willam was sure that if Sharon wore nicer clothes, tended to her hair and scrubbed off the dirt that appeared habitually on her cheeks, she would be quite pleasing to look at. Only if she made all that effort, though.

“No, Willam. You’re not supposed to call me Willam.”

The argument was pointless. Sharon shrugged a second time.

“It’s your God-given name, isn’t it? Am I not allowed to address you as God would?”

“You’re not God.”

“And thank fuck for that.”

Yeah, that was another thing about Sharon; she swore like a sailor, and it had gotten her in heaps of trouble throughout her time at the palace. Willam, nevertheless, appreciated the refreshing colloquialisms that reminded her that life existed beyond the palace walls.

Sharon picked up the tray again, starting towards the parlour that led off from Willam’s bedchambers. Still laughing, Willam shook her head and flopped onto the bed beside her ballgown, which was laid out ready for the evening.

“Sharon…” She whined, deliberately elongating her name. “Just do it in here, I can’t be bothered to walk all the way into there.”

The fatal mistake came when Willam grabbed Sharon’s forearm, forgetting that her hands were perpetually icy and shocking to the touch. Sharon jerked instinctively, and time seemed to slow down as the tray clattered to the floor, the teapot spilled open, and its entire contents splattered over Willam’s ballgown.

Willam stifled a laugh, which stilled into a chilling silence as she studied Sharon’s face. She had frozen in place, her mouth open ever-so-slightly, her eyes wide and filled with fright. Fragments of the now-shattered teapot littered the floor as evidence of the mistake and the dress… The dress was utterly ruined.

“Sharon, it’s okay-” Willam began, before one of the governesses came to discover the source of the sudden commotion.

“What is- Oh, you useless girl!” She cried out, grabbing Sharon by the wrist and forcing her aside. “Look what you’ve done to that beautiful dress! That cost more than your whole family could earn in ten years!”

The analogy shook Willam a little bit, wondering if it meant that the dress was expensive, Sharon’s family was poor, or an upsetting mixture of the two. More worrying was the attitude and confidence that had drained out of Sharon and puddled on the floor along with the tea.

“I-I know, ma’am, I’m sorry.”

Willam remembered being so annoyed that Sharon was taking the blame. She hadn’t done anything wrong, for crying out loud, and yet she had clammed up uncharacteristically and accepted her responsibility for it.

“Ada, be reasonable.” Willam tried to calm the angry governess. “Look, all that happened was that Sharon was carrying the tea into the parlour and I-”

Sharon cut in swiftly. “I stumbled and dropped the tray, ma’am. I-I truly didn’t mean to, and if you would permit me to express how sorry I am I would like to redeem myself by helping Her Highness prepare for the ball.”

The governess snorted. “Hmph. Insolent girl. You may help the princess, after you have been punished for this silly amateur mishap. Do not let this happen again or the consequences will be much more severe. In the meantime, I will have Governess Nina bring out the spare gown.”

Willam lay on the bed and closed her eyes after they left, humming to try and drown out the sound of the whip cracking through the air and the pained cries that followed each one. She turned over once and then again, her stomach churning with a mixture of guilt and anger that didn’t sit well with her at all. She would never be able to figure out Sharon Needles, she decided, as a particularly agonised scream had her curling in on herself, sure she had caused that pain and simultaneously adamant that she hadn’t, given Sharon’s insistence.

She was fucking confusing, that was for sure.

Still as unwavering as ever, Sharon had appeared nonetheless a short while later, her hair more dishevelled than before and her face adorning a tight smile. Her steps were slow and deliberate and Willam ached to think of the damage the cruel whip had done to her, for no reason. She said nothing as Sharon let herself in, and examined the new dress on the bed.

“Well. If anything, I think this dress is prettier than the first one.” Sharon said dryly.

Willam rose to her feet, incensed. “Why the fuck would you do that? You know damn well that was my fault and she would never have fucking whipped me for it, so why even bother taking the blame? Are you an idiot?”

“No, Willam, I’m a servant. I’m beneath you. It’s my job to take the flack when shit like this happens.”

She had crossed her arms, and Willam’s eyes darted unwittingly to her chest before rising up again, only adding to her flushed cheeks.

“Your job is to serve, not to lie and take the heat for me.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and began to prepare the dress for Willam. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks.” Willam acquiesced, huffing slightly. “I’m not gonna apologise for going off on you, because I meant it and also I don’t apologise, but thanks for doing that. It wasn’t necessary, but it was nice I guess.”

It hit Willam all of a sudden the many times she had broken or ruined something, and the many times she had received no penance for it. Perhaps it wasn’t such a coincidence that Sharon always had dirt on her cheek, a bruise on her arm, a limp in her walk. Surely she hadn’t been taking responsibility for that the whole time?

God, if Sharon could stop and make sense for five minutes, it would make Willam’s life a lot easier. She still couldn’t work out if she actually liked Sharon, or if she didn’t.

“You’re not… you’re not mad at me, right?” Willam breached the topic as she stood before the mirror, Sharon behind her.

Sharon’s fingers were still long and knobbly, but swift and adept at performing most tasks she was asked to do. She fiddled with the laces of the corset and raised an eyebrow in nonchalance.

“Sounding a little insecure there, Willam.”

Infuriating. “No, I just mean - God, you’re an asshole. I mean for taking all the hits for me.”

“I’m not mad.” Sharon replied shortly.

She tugged on the corset strings, and Willam bucked forward, all of the air in her throat exiting in one strangled gasp as Sharon viciously tightened it to suck in her waist.

Oh, she was mad. Yeah, Willam didn’t like her again.

–

Eighteen years old. Another ball. Courtney was somewhere fraternizing with the rest of the foreigners (as Willam affectionately called her family and the rest of them), and Willam would rather die than talk to Vicky, so she started looking around for Alaska. She should’ve known the leggy blonde wasn’t there from the absence of her screechy laugh, but she paced the ballroom for a short while before deciding to step out into the gardens in a fit of anger.

Alaska wasn’t even in the ballroom, and Willam knew she hadn’t skipped out on the event because she had seen her sweeping in with her parents, her petite figure hidden beneath her opulent blue gown.

Where the hell had she got to?

Willam grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing servant and began to wander through the garden, stewing in her own frustration. The tightness of her corset wasn’t helping matters, either, as she tried to sit on a bench a few inches from the barn and found the task nearly impossible. Briefly, she thought about the freedom of the birds that fluttered above her in the branches, before dismissing the notion as too cliche and sickeningly cringy. Willam had more freedom than she cared to acknowledge - her only real constraint was fashion.

Still, she kicked a trowel out of her way and began pacing again, irritated at Alaska’s absence. She better have a good explanation for it, or else Willam would have to write to Vicky after the ball and tell her that Alaska was absolutely enchanted with her, and they should meet up as soon as possible to discuss a family alliance. It was cruel, yes, but it was what she deserved for leaving Willam all alone. She sighed, and turned back towards the palace.

The barn light was on.

Why the hell was the barn light on? Nobody was in the barn. There weren’t even any horses in the barn, or whatever else was kept in there (Willam didn’t know, having never been allowed to step foot somewhere so dirty). If some idiot servant had left the candles lit amongst all that hay, there would be hell to pay - that is, if the entire fucking palace didn’t burn down.

She considered fetching Charles, the gardener, but figured that it wasn’t fair to bother him on his night off. Her mind filled her with instances of Sharon - fucking Sharon crossing her mind again, annoying bitch - taking the blame for Willam’s messiness, and she decided perhaps it was her time to help out a forgetful servant.

The door to the barn was heavy, but opened slowly and silently as Willam pushed on it. It allowed her ample time to examine the room before her, taking in nothing but piles of hay and candles lit all around the edges to give the place some light. Empty, it seemed.

Or not. The silence of the door and Willam’s light footsteps gave nothing away as she slowly stepped in, snuffing the two candles either side of the door. It made little difference to the amount of light in the room, but it was a start. Two more steps forwards towards the next candle and Willam suddenly heard a rustling that made her heart stop.

Was it some kind of wild animal? Or a trap, maybe, designed to lure an innocent - allegedly - princess to her grisly end? Okay, maybe not so much the last one, considering the amount of variables that had led to Willam entering the barn in the first place. Still, some kind of crazy raccoon or fox wasn’t really off limits, not yet.

Willam held her breath as she began to tiptoe around the largest mound of hay, which rose up several feet beyond her height. Then, filling her with first fear, then dread, and lastly confusion, she heard a giggle.

“Do that again,” A voice floated out, ever-so quiet, and yet oddly familiar in a way Willam couldn’t place. She stood still and listened.

Another voice replied. “What, this?”

Both voices seemed far too familiar, but in her confusion Willam had no idea who they were. She kept straining to listen, hoping that the more she heard, the sooner she would remember who the voices belonged to. In the meantime, she heard a soft gasp and a satisfied hum.

“If someone saw us right now-” The first voice said, though she didn’t sound worried at all.

“What would you do?” The second asked, and did something that caused the first to giggle again.

“Probably keep kissing you.”

A gasp. “You’re so bad.”

“You’re a bad influence on me, baby. Oh my god!”

Whatever the oh my god was in response to, Willam didn’t care to find out, because the voices suddenly registered in her mind and it was enough to send her reeling. She stepped out from behind the hay to confront to two.

“Okay, what the fuck?!”

Willam wasn’t quite sure what she expected, but this certainly wasn’t it.

Alaska lay against the hay, her beautiful gown still thankfully draped across her but her hair and her lipstick all in disarray. Her eyes were sparkling with what initially seemed like arousal, but something deeper and more tender filled her gaze. Straddled over her hips was Sharon, dressed in a manner than Willam had never seen her in before, her eyes clouded with the same amalgamation of lust, desire and affection as Alaska’s. For starters, she was wearing breeches, which were impossibly tight and brown and clung to every sinful curve of her ass and thighs in a way that was deeply inappropriate for any lady, even a poor one. The off-white blouse she was wearing had long, billowing sleeves that were rolled up to her elbows, and it was half ripped open, presumably by Alaska’s hands, to reveal her breasts. Her chest was heaving up and down and Willam couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Willam!” Alaska screeched, pushing Sharon off of her and shooting to her feet. “I - uh - we were just-”

“Save it.” Willam nearly spat, not sure why she was angry but too incensed to step back and think about it. “I can see what you were doing, it’s clear as fucking crystal. Are you insane?! She’s a servant!”

Alaska babbled helplessly, fussing with her hair and trying her hardest to save face. Sharon, now stood a few feet behind her, was breathing heavily, evidently also angry, but her failure to button up her shirt had Willam going dizzy.

“You’re a princess, and she’s a servant.” She repeated, well aware that this was what was causing Sharon’s fiery glare. “And you’re making out in my fucking barn? Don’t you have any common sense? Aren’t your parents in the midst of planning your fucking marriage?”

Alaska had the decency to look ashamed, but still attempted to defend herself. “Actually, they’re not, Willam. I did what you said and I told them I’m not ready, and they said it was okay and they’ve given me more time.”

“How did you even meet? Is this the first time that you’ve-” The words caught in Willam’s throat, but she didn’t know why. She refused to meet Sharon’s eyes and directed her fury to Alaska.

“I-”

Sharon stepped forwards, and Willam hated how shameless she was with her nudity. “No, Your Highness, this isn’t the first time this has happened. But not here.”

They both fell silent. Neither of them told Willam where they had met, and her wrath only incurred further. Still, Alaska’s eyes were filled with guilty tears, and perhaps it was time she doled out some of her anger on Sharon instead.

“Your mother wants you. Go find her.”

Alaska didn’t need to be told twice, first shooting a pained glance in Sharon’s direction and then lifting her skirt to exit the barn as quickly as she possibly could. Willam redirected her anger to Sharon, who looked exquisite in the softly flickering candlelight.

What?

“Don’t be so harsh on Alaska, this isn’t her fault.” Sharon said roughly.

Willam snorted derisively. “What, so you’re taking the blame for everything she does wrong now, too? Guess I’m not so special after all, huh.”

Sounding a little insecure there, Willam. “Wrong?”

It was only one word, but it was laced with a dangerous tone that sent shivers running down Willam’s spine, and yet… a peculiar feeling pooling in her lower half. What the hell was Sharon doing to her?

“Whatever. Listen to me, Sharon, I want to know -”

“No.” Sharon came closer, and yet again Willam found her eyes somehow mesmerised by her exposed breasts. “No, I wanna talk about why you think it’s so disgusting and wrong for someone like Alaska to be kissing someone like me.”

Willam swallowed angrily. “I didn’t say that.”

“You meant it though, didn’t you? All you fucking royal folk are the same, you think I’m some kind of dirty plaything that everyone wants to look at but won’t touch. I care about Alaska.”

“All of us royal folk? Can you even hear the bullshit you’re spouting right now?” Willam spluttered.

Sharon’s face hardened. “You haven’t stopped staring since you walked in. I know exactly what I fucking mean.”

She sighed heavily. “I met Alaska at the ball six months ago, when I was on serving duty. She was sweet and she started asking me about myself, and I didn’t tell her anything because that’s my fucking job as a lowlife servant, but she kept trying and she was so kind that she wore me down. It wasn’t long after that when she found out about my side-gig and she begged me to show her. This is my fault, not hers.”

Willam’s blood ran cold as she pictured the two of them together in more intimate situations - various states of undress, or perhaps entirely unclothed, kissing hard and fast in sleazy taverns across the kingdom.

“Your… side-gig?” Despite her best efforts, Willam’s voice was wracked with confusion and - regrettably - a hint of fear.

Sharon shook her head, like the assumption offended her. “I’m not a prostitute, Willam, I wasn’t offering her my services. I - There’s a group of us down in the outskirts of the kingdom who grew up poor and working on our scraps of farm land. There used to be a ton of bandits, so we learned how to fight them off and they’re gone now, but there’s this small sparring club where we keep fit and teach others to fight. I’ve been privately sparring with Alaska for the last few months, and… I guess one thing led to another.”

Sparring? That was an improvement from prostitution, sure, but the trust and the intimacy of it didn’t escape her mind. She could see the two of them sweating and panting, Alaska dressed in the same inappropriate garb as Sharon as their limbs connected, blocking and dodging and swerving with some kind of alluring grace that made no sense. She could see Sharon’s muscles flexing in the tight breeches, watch her chest rising and falling with exhaustion as she ripped the shirt open and poured cold water over her head to cool herself.

What was happening to her?

“Teach me.”

The command came out of nowhere, but a command it was.

“Huh?”

“I said, teach me.” Willam repeated. “And I won’t tell anyone about this.”

Sharon laughed mirthlessly. “Are you blackmailing me?”

This time, it was Willam who stepped closer. They were merely inches apart, and if Willam were to do as much as to suck in a deep breath, her dress would be pressed against Sharon’s bare chest. The very thought had her pulse racing.

“Not blackmailing you. I just… want to learn. Embroidery is boring, and… if I tell the governesses I’ve taken up landscape paintings, they’ll send you with me to keep me safe…”

She smiled gently, not sure where her anger had gone but not missing the blazing heat it had inflamed inside her. It didn’t make any sense, and she was glad it had gone. Her tummy fluttered as Sharon grinned, shyly at first, until her face split into her usual amused expression. God, she’s fucking beautiful in this light.

“Alright, Willam. You’ve got yourself a deal.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “I guess I should do up my shirt now, huh.”

Willam eyed the beginnings of a love bite on Sharon’s neck and felt the familiar flames licking at her insides once again. She turned away to leave.

“Should doesn’t always mean you have to. I usually take should as a suggestion, nothing more.”

–

For two years they sparred together, and for two years Willam’s relationship with Sharon seemed to get weirder and weirder. Sparring was just as she’d predicted, hot and heavy, and it was a shock to the system being so physical with someone. Sharon’s boundaries disappeared once they were out in the open, safe from everyone in miles upon miles of green grass that stretched far enough to obscure them from sight.

Most of the time they sparred and talked; sometimes they just sparred; sometimes they just talked. Willam wasn’t as good as Sharon, but she was learning, and most importantly, she was spending time with her.

Not that she was really sure why that made her so happy, but it did.

When Willam arrived at their usual spot, thanking whoever was listening up above for the perfectly cool, fresh weather for training in, she found Sharon alone with a piece of paper held between her hands. She hadn’t noticed Willam’s presence, and didn’t even glance up as she called her name.

Why was she so desperate for Sharon’s attention? She was a fucking princess, everyone paid attention to her.

“Uh, Sharon? Hello?”

Sharon looked up, only for a moment, and then her eyes dropped back down to the paper in front of her. “Yes, I can see you.”

So fucking irritating. Some things would never change, Willam thought to herself. Even as she had grown older, more beautiful, capturing Willam’s attention - she was still a bitch with an attitude far too uncouth for a serving girl. Then again, she supposed, out here Sharon wasn’t a palace servant. She was a sparring teacher and a free woman, a liberty she could seldom enjoy. Willam’s authority didn’t mean shit here.

“Are we sparring today?” Willam tried to tone down the hopefulness in her voice. In truth, she had been looking forwards to it for a fortnight. Her parents had dragged her to another kingdom to sit in on their business relations, in order to get a concept of what she would need to do when it came her time to be queen, but she felt stifled and bored without Sharon to bounce off of. She had declined the offer to come along on the trip, leaving Willam to take some other stuffy maid who lived only to serve, never to laugh or put Willam in her place.

She had thought about Sharon the entire time. Missed her, even. It didn’t make much sense, but she knew that was how she had felt.

“I’m not in the mood.”

Sharon’s words were clipped. Willam sat down beside her, already kitted out in her own breeches so that she didn’t have to worry about grass stains on her clothes, and sighed frustratedly.

“Ugh, thanks. Make me walk all the way out here for nothing, huh?” She complained, wincing at how entitled she sounded. Sometimes being a princess had its downfalls, and this was one of them.

Sharon scowled. “I didn’t have to sit here and wait for you, ungrateful bitch. I came just so you wouldn’t be all freaked out that I ditched you. I just don’t want to fucking spar, that’s all. Go practise with the dummy if you really wanna fight. Work on your precision.”

Willam started pulling grass out of the ground in handfuls, trying and failing to quell the feeling rising in her stomach. What even was it, anyway? Disappointment? Resentment? Anger? Jealousy?

“Too worn out from Alaska, huh?” She remarked petulantly, kicking a clod of mud from the ground and watching it fly through the air.

Sharon folded the letter. “Actually, we split up if you must know. Is it fun being an asshole all the time, or do you ever get bored of it?”

Something stirred inside her, but she didn’t know quite what it was. The concern she felt for her friend - if she could even call Sharon her friend, because she truly had no idea what the relationship between her and her servant would even be called at this point - only appeared afterwards, in the wake of the sudden surge of warmth.

“Shit… God, I’m sorry, Sharon. Is that letter from her?”

Sharon nodded, her mouth set in a hard line. She pulled her knees close to her chest and frowned. “It’s been a long time coming, to be honest. I knew it would arrive at some point, I just didn’t know when. Ever since her coronation she’s been different. She doesn’t want to know me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Willam attempted to comfort her, reaching out a shaky hand to rub Sharon’s back. That was what people did, right? A normal, friendly action. Electric sparks seemed to jump from her fingertips at the slightest bit of contact.

“She’s been stressed, Sharon, it’s a difficult job. I’m sure it’s not that she doesn’t want to see you.”

“She’s changed.” Sharon insisted, her words tinged with bitterness. “I’ll tell you the truth about her, Willam, she’s just fucking ambitious. She’ll stop at nothing to make herself and her kingdom powerful, it’s all she cares about now. When was the last time she wrote to you? Alaska, she… she’s been distant with me for months now. Doesn’t want to train, doesn’t want to meet up, too busy to care that it was my birthday and I waited up all night for her… All she wants is to have power. Last I heard, she’s in the midst of a proposal from Grigolia. She doesn’t love him, of course, but they’re incredibly influential. It’ll be great for her kingdom.”

She sighed, and it was strained with unshed tears. “I’m happy for her. She got over the anxiety she was having over being a queen and now she’s thriving. I just didn’t realize that I had to be out of the picture for that to happen.”

Willam sucked in a breath, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t even known that Alaska was so worried about her future as a ruler, but then she guessed that she had confided in Sharon during their stint as passionate lovers. Not a single letter had arrived from her in the past few months but again, she had just assumed Alaska was busy with her new duties and her old flame.

“I’m not upset.” Sharon added, sounding far more upset than she was trying to play it off as. “I knew this would happen. I’m - This is what’s best for her, and I got over that long before she even broke up with me. It’s this fucking letter that’s got me. Here, see how fucking different she is now.”

Dear Ms Sharon Needles,

It is regrettable that I inform you of the termination of our relationship. Truly I have loved you for a long time and every moment we spent together I shall treasure in my heart and honour in my memory for as long as I live. Still, I find it pertinent that I explain to you my decision and my reasoning, so that you are not left hanging on to a feeble dream of what once was.

When we met, I was a young princess still unsure of my fate, and you were the escape into the wilderness that I had always dreamed about. How fantastically romantic it was, and thrilling to escape with you and to learn skills that no self-respecting princess should know. It was exhilarating and you, dearest, were breathtaking.

However, I know that you are as aware as I am that a relationship between a simple servant and the queen of a kingdom should never exist. A marriage between us would be impossible and thus, I have to put my loyal subjects and the future of my home before a fling with a heathen. I know that you understand this.

Perhaps we will keep in touch, and I may see you once in a while, should I visit Princess Willam’s home. Rest assured I bear no ill will towards you, but that it is only status keeping us apart.

Farewell and best wishes,

Queen Alaska E.J.T,

Glamatronia

“So politely worded.” Sharon muttered, as Willam came to the end of the neatly-written letter. “Such a kind, loving way to tell me that she’s given up on us because I’m poor and my lowly, shit-shovelling status won’t help her progress in life. I honestly - honestly! - don’t care, it’s just…”

She tore the letter from Willam’s grasp and tucked it into the front pocket of her shirt. “We never talked about status. That never mattered. She was a princess and I was a servant but when we were together, none of that meant anything. She was just Alaska and I was just Sharon.”

A pause. “Sorry. Shouldn’t be talking shit about your friend. Off with my head, right?”

Willam shook her head fervently. “Sharon, this is… I’m so sorry. I don’t know why she’s done this. I don’t… who in their right mind would break up with you?”

Sharon’s eyes shot up. “Huh?”

Did I really just say that? To Sharon? What the hell does that even mean?

“I mean, uh… Well, I mean what I said. Really, what reason does she have besides some bullshit about status?”

Sharon smiled, but it lasted only a moment. “You’re sweet, Willam. But I’m not exactly a catch and I knew that when I began this shit with Alaska. I just hate that she had to remind me that I’m nothing.”

“You’re not nothing. Who says you’re not a catch?” Willam had no control over any of the words that left her lips. She needed to move, or leave, or do something, before she ended up saying something that she would regret for the rest of her life.

This time, Sharon let out a proper laugh, and the harsh, barking cackle was like music to Willam’s ears.

“Are you serious? Willam, look at me.” Please, Sharon, I’m having trouble tearing my eyes away from you. “I’m not marriage material, I have nothing to give. I have no dowry, my father is unknown and so I bear my mother’s maiden name purely because it’s the only one there is, and she died six years ago.” I don’t need money. I don’t need anything, you wouldn’t have to give anything to me. “Plus as far as wifely duties go I’m a mess, sure I can serve but I drink and swear like a sailor and absolutely nobody would find that attractive.” I do, I find it incredibly attractive, I think you’re more beautiful than Aphrodite herself. “I don’t even dress properly, for fuck’s sake. I’m either in a servant uniform or these breeches and shirt, neither of which are appropriate.” But my god do they look good on you, does everything look good on you?

What the hell is happening to me?

“Sharon, come on. You’ve never looked in a mirror and once thought that you’re beautiful? You’ve never heard me laughing at your jokes and realized how funny and charming you are?”

Just like that, Sharon’s features softened. She looked up at Willam, and god, her eyes were the prettiest shade of blue. They reminded Willam of the sky at night, dark and inky and shining with flecks of stars, and all at once everything made sense to her. The misplaced anger, the confusion, the rising jealousy…

Sharon had been setting her heart aflame for years and she had been ignoring it for way too long.

“You… you think I’m beautiful? And charming?” Sharon ran a hand through her hair, an action Willam had become accustomed to watching her do when she was nervous. “God, with all the shit I’ve said to you in the palace over the years I should be sat in a dungeon, not being complimented by you. This makes no sense.”

Willam shook her head softly. “Fuck… Sharon, you’ve never made sense to me. I don’t think you ever will.”

Sharon’s hair was as soft as it looked, and her skin was smooth and warm, and somehow they were kissing and Willam’s heart was racing and her pulse was heightened and my god, she had been pining for this for so long and now nothing else in the world mattered. All that mattered was here and now, and if the world erupted into storm and fire around them she wouldn’t have noticed or cared, because she was kissing Sharon and she had wanted to kiss this fucking girl ever since she was fifteen, serving girl or not.

They broke apart moments later, and Sharon’s eyes were wide with surprise and confusion. A torrent of hateful thoughts began to flood her brain and Willam didn’t know what to do other than stare.

“I have to go.” She blurted out, her stomach jolting so horribly that she was sure she was going to vomit. As quick as she could she bolted away, leaving Sharon alone in the grass, certain she had ruined any kind of friendship they had managed to build up over the years. It had always been on tenterhooks and just as Sharon was at her most vulnerable, Willam had ruined everything with a kiss that she didn’t even want and that was it, friendship over, and every day for here out was going to be an utter nightmare all because Willam’s heart wouldn’t stop flipping and somersaulting at the thought of Sharon, all because her hands snaked south when she pictured Sharon as she had done in the barn, her breasts exposed and her skin shining with sweat, lying beneath her in Alaska’s position.

Everything, ruined, because of one stupid kiss.

God. Willam hated Sharon.

–

Twenty one. Six months passed, Willam turned twenty one, and Sharon was pretty much nowhere to be seen. Willam heard from another servant that she was taking some of the dirtier jobs, checking the dungeons and scrubbing the kitchen floors, so she wasn’t tending to Willam and helping her get dressed and making her laugh anymore.

It was official, Willam had ruined everything. The only time she saw Sharon was to spar with her, which they still did, but Sharon was nothing other than a teacher, harsh and ruthless and blunt, but never laughing, never smiling. She was closed off and distant and this, this must’ve been what heartbreak felt like because the pain in Willam’s chest never left. Their sparring conversations were brief but it was something, and Willam would do anything just to bring back their old laughter.

It was still agonising to spend so much time watching Sharon grow sweaty and breathless and to watch her muscles flexing as she demonstrated moves Willam could only hope of learning to do. Willam loved the tightness and the seriousness of her face as much as she loved when it was full of laughter and light, so at least she still had that to fall back on.

Loved. God, she had it bad.

It was January, a freezing cold winter, and Willam was winning a fight. Contrary to what she had expected, this victory didn’t make her feel good whatsoever. Sharon wasn’t even trying, and Willam understood that they weren’t on the best of terms right now, but this was just downright insulting. She didn’t need some stupid fake victory to boost her self-esteem.

“Fucking hell,” She swore, lunging at Sharon and cursing as she dodged poorly and ended up being struck squarely in the shoulder. “You’re seriously out of shape. I’ve barely even broken a sweat and you look like you’re about to pass out.”

She swept her leg in a smooth circle - a move that Sharon had spent weeks teaching her and had perfected the dodge for. Instead of leaping over it, which Willam knew Sharon was capable of, the strike threw her to the ground and knocked all the air out of her lungs. Willam was painfully reminded of when they had first met, at thirteen, and that image gripped at her heart. Instantly, she knelt beside Sharon, who hadn’t moved.

“I’m fine.” She croaked. “Out of practise.”

“Bullshit.” Willam swore again. “Someone like you doesn’t just get out of practise. Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Sharon denied vehemently. “Willam, I’m fine. You won, I’m proud of you.”

The fight had been more like a warmup than anything else, so Willam started to get concerned. Sharon’s face was pale and glistening with a sheen of sweat where, as she’d previously taunted, Willam’s was dry. Slightly worried, she pressed a hand to Sharon’s forehead and hissed.

“Jesus fuck, Sharon. You’re sick. Why the hell are you out here fighting with me if you’re sick?”

Sharon struggled to her feet, swaying slightly as though she were drunk. “I’m not sick.”

“Sure. I’m not a princess, either. Sharon Needles, you’re sick. Come with me, now.”

Before Sharon could protest, Willam held up a hand to silence her. “I hate to do this, Sharon, and you know it, but as a princess, I have a right to command you to do as I see fit, and right now I see it fit that you take my coat and put it on, and walk with me to the palace so that I can get you inside and get you warm. At no point during this will you protest against what I have told you. Understood?”

Sharon grumbled, and Willam raised an eyebrow.

Then she cracked a smile and started to lead Sharon back to the palace.

Neither of them talked about their interlocked fingers. Sharon was cold, and being cold was the worst for anyone who was sick. Willam was simply warming her up, preventing her from getting any sicker. Anyone would’ve done it.

Once they made it into Willam’s bedchambers, somehow miraculously unseen by anyone who would go tattling to a governess (which Willam didn’t need, being twenty one and no longer in need of an education, yet still had), she stripped away the coat and handed Sharon one of her silky nightgowns.

Sharon stared at her.

“Come on, bitch, I know you’re not stupid. This is a dress worn in bed. Put the damn thing on.” She watched Sharon expectantly.

“In front of you?” Her voice was thick, now, clear evidence that despite whatever she claimed, she was most definitely sick.

Willam shrugged. “You’ve dressed me hundreds of times, get your clothes off and get this on. I’m going to call on the kitchen real quick, when I get back you better have the dress on and be tucked in bed, got it? No complaints, hop to it.”

Sharon opened her mouth to protest, but judging by the sudden wince, her throat was too sore to say anything in response, and Willam darted out to speak to someone who could relay a message to the kitchen. She asked for hot soup and broth and tea and bread, trying to think of anything she could that might make Sharon feel better. Camomile went on the list, as did peppermint. Perhaps it was a little excessive, but Willam really, really cared about Sharon, and she knew winters could be cruel.

Her heart nearly melted when she re-entered the room, taking the tray from the young servant and opting to carry it in herself. Not only did Sharon look beyond beautiful in her dress, flattering her figure better than Willam had seen on anyone else, she looked ridiculously sweet and helpless in the middle of her huge bed, huddled beneath the layers of sheets.

Willam smiled tenderly, happy that the kitchen had honoured her strange request of a slightly damp, cold flannel to go with the assortment of teas and broths. She placed it on Sharon’s head to attempt to relieve her fever, ignoring her protests of how cold she was.

“I know, I know. I got sick last winter and it was horrible.” Willam told her, stroking her hair. “Here, have some of this tea. Drink it slowly, I think it will help.”

Having lost the energy to fight, Sharon just did as she was told. The tip of her nose had turned a rosy pink and Willam wanted nothing more than to kiss it.

“Sit with me.” Came her request, whispered so quietly and yet registering in Willam’s mind as though she had shouted it from the rooftops for the whole kingdom to hear. “Please.”

She was truly unable to say no. Without another thought, Willam slipped underneath the covers beside Sharon, who was absurdly warm and soft and jesus christ Willam had thought about this scenario so many times and it wasn’t happening how she had imagined it and yet still, somehow, Sharon was in her bed and she was a warm soft weight and really, what else mattered?

Sharon shuffled close and lay her head on Willam’s shoulder, and it was all she could do not to explode into a million tiny pieces.

“You know, I thought I had ruined everything when - when I kissed you.” She found herself saying, almost tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. “I ran because I was so sure you hated me for doing that to you, especially right after Alaska…”

She caught herself before things got too personal. “Then I hardly saw you and it just confirmed my fears and I’m so, so sorry. Sharon, I care about you way too much to hurt you like that, and it’s so confusing to me. Sometimes I swear I hate you just because I don’t understand why I like you so much.”

Sharon snuffled, nestling closer to Willam. “I thought you hated me.” Sharon replied sleepily, and somehow the proximity of their two bodies was right, as though two jigsaw pieces had perfectly slotted together. “I was scared to come by you in case… in case you didn’t want to see me.”

“I always want to see you.” Willam reassured her, and then bit her lip from how forward it was. “I mean… I never know what to say around you. I’ve never wanted anyone to like me so much in my life. Our friendship has always meant so much to me, and the thought of ruining it…”

“Liked it.” Sharon murmured, her words becoming more and more nonsensical as she drifted into a sleepy trance. “Liked when you kissed me… always been pretty…”

Willam chuckled softly, careful not to jostle Sharon too much. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Thank you for the tea… and the bed… and the cuddle…” Sharon told her, and it was so fucking sweet that Willam could’ve cried. “Love you…”

Willam kissed the tip of her nose. Sharon fell asleep in her arms and it was exactly where she was meant to be.

It was a weird relationship. All Willam knew was that she loved Sharon so, so fucking much.

[mymelancholiesblues]

Just wondering, what your head canon for Leon's family?

Oh my god, I was planning to post this huge compilation of my RE Headcanons soon (starting with what I have for Leon) when I got your ask’s notification. Are you a mind reader? Hahaha. But really, thank you for providing me with a justification to start posting them.

I would like to please invite you to sit because I have plenty – honestly PLENTY – of things to share over this specific matter (Leon’s family). And, of course, to ask you to bear with me through them.

For anyone else whose interest might be picked over this: keep in mind that these are (obviously) my headcanons for Leon’s background and family and in no way is anyone else under the obligation to accept nor fully agree with them.

I wrote them down because I think A LOT about storytelling devices, stories structures, characterization and characters studies, world-building, fiction tropes, etc. and, since I’ve been a Resident Evil fan from age eight to this day, I also tend to spend a lot of time thinking about its characters – and the overall rest of its lore. Furthermore, as a way to help me write them in fanfictions or even in meta-analysis, I’m always thinking of what would make sense within these characters narratives and to their personalities.

Anyway. Back to Leon and his family!

There’s a very solid theory in RE Fandom that Raccoon City is set in Missouri. I really take this into account when I think about RE Characters because it helps me “placing them” before Raccoon, since not all of them were originally born/living there. Leon, for example, according to canon material, only decided to apply to be a police officer in Raccoon because “he was intrigued by the bizarre murders cases in Raccoon City” going in the news. 

Because of this, *my* Leon S. Kennedy:

– Was born in small Galena/Illinois. His parents moved to Chicago/IL when he was around 8;

– So, huge fan of the Chicago Bears (and the Chicago Bulls);

– Leon was lovingly raised by a very Catholic couple, Liliana and Isaac;

– Since Kennedy and Scott are, respectively, an Irish surname and a Scottish name and Leon is not an unusual name in Polish (check out about Polish Americans in Illinois and you’ll have a more proper comprehension of my thought process) and German cultures, I think Isaac would be a man of mixed Irish and Scottish heritage, and Liliana of Polish and German heritage;

– Although, his biological parents were actually Roberto (Italo-American punk) and Abigail, Liliana’s youngest sister;

– Robby was a drunken deadbeat, while Abbie was an airhead obsessively in love. Leon was conceived when they were both very young – his mom had sixteen and his dad eighteen;

– Liliana had three daughters (ages 10, 13 and 15) by then (1977), but she and Isaac always dreamed of having a little boy. They even tried to, but the attempts led to miscarriage after miscarriage, so when Abbie gave birth to Leon, the couple was pretty much devoted to their nephew, always visiting to see him and make sure he was properly being taken care of;

– Robby took note of all that and when Leon was only barely one year old, he packed his and Abbie’s stuff and imposed that he was leaving and that she should go with him, leaving the baby behind, telling her that surely Liliana would raise him as if he were hers;

– Indeed she did, albeit feeling distraught by her sister’s complete negligence;

– Isaac adored the boy, and Leon’s three cousins always treated him as their little brother;

– Also: Liliana decided she wanted to erase Abbie’s true connection to Leon, so she got rid of all the photographies that led to those deductions, leaving only the ones that showed baby Leon alone or the ones with the rest of his relatives, but not with his biological parents. Isaac never agreed with this, though. He believed that once Leon got older, he had the right to know his origins, believing that if their love for the boy was true he’d love them back and recognise their role in his life, so there was no need to lie. Thus, he kept a photo that featured Robby resting a hand in Abbie’s shoulder while she was breast-feeding Leon;

– Isaac was very ill when Leon was nearing his eighteenth birthday, and passed away just five months prior to Leon turning nineteen (Isaac was sixty-three years old by his time of death). Leon found that hidden photo after Isaac’s death since his dad left most of his personal belongings to Leon;

– Leon never confronted his mother on it, putting together two and two and realising his biological parents haven’t thought twice before abandoning him, so he shouldn’t bother with them either as he was raised in a genuinely loving and supportive family;

– As I said, Leon has three older sisters: Lydia (born 1962), Meryl (born 1964) and Olivia (born 1967). Two nephews from Lyds’ side, and a niece from Liv’s;

– Parents personalities: I picture Leon’s dad as a mixture of both Jonathan Kent (DC Comics) and Eddard Stark (ASoIaF). A firm, caring, kind, upfront and sincere man with high moral values, strong ethics and unwavering sense of justice, who valued honesty above all else and always believed in the best of people and in helping others, true to the “love your neighbour as yourself” commandment. Liliana was the more stern parent (especially with Lydia, always wanting and expecting her to set out a good example for her siblings), so I picture her as a fierce, proud and honest woman, passionately protective and supportive of her family, that dedicated herself entirely to whatever she put her mind into (domestic activities, city projects, EVERYTHING); 

– Lydia would be the “Patricia Arquette’s character in Boyhood (2014)” kind of woman. Kind-hearted, hardworking and amazing, but guilty as charged of the serious flaw of always being romantically involved with scumbags. A Geriatric Nurse, divorced twice, mother to Kilian and Luke – both kids from her first marriage;

– By the way, Kilian is a problem-child and Lucas is the emo kid. Leon has trouble dealing with both;

– On top of it, Leon have several difficulties dealing with Lydia. Being the most distant from him in age terms, Lydia always came off as a bit distant to and unnecessarily strict with him;

– Meryl is Leon’s lesbian best buddy. Confidant, a bit arrogant, always open to give advice, prone to bluntly point out faults in her loved ones and to get angry with Lydia. She graduated in architecture and is a state employee, working as an Urban Planner. Has cleaning OCD;

– Olivia is the sister Leon was closest to since it was with her he had the “smallest” age difference. Driven, headstrong, empathetic and an introvert, she’s actually the one who inspired him to join Law Enforcement and is now a detective in Massachusetts. Liv has a long-time relationship with Peter, whom she met during her childhood in school, and they have a daughter, Harriet (any coincidence with Olivia Dunham from Fringe (2008-2013) is on purpose since Olivia would be Leon’s perfect older sister, ok);

– Leon’s sense of humour takes much after his brother-in-law’s one, Peter, considering he spent a lot of time with him as he would be a frequent guest to their house;

– He fell in love for the first time when he was in middle school in his seventh grade with an eighth grade girl, Allison, who was an exceptionally good basketball player and would kick his ass in all the practice games;

– Allie has very evident native-American heritage, skin and eye colour, hair;

– It was Allie the long-time girlfriend who broke up with him right before Raccoon. She felt he was being distant even prior to his decision to be a cop in Raccoon City. In truth, what happened was that Leon feared his future being set stone too early in his life the way things were going. His wishes to have more agency over the shaping of his own destiny started driving him further and further away from Allie as he felt she was expecting their relationship to progress over time to the building of a family etc.;

– Meryl and Olivia both loved Allie and to this day they don’t get over the fact that Leon didn’t marry her;

– Leon unwillingly distanced himself from his sisters, though, only contacting them for birthday calls and holidays alike because of all of that government recruitment stuff and classified shit and also dealing with a heavy emotional load after surviving Raccoon;

– The only reason Hunnigan found out that Leon had living relatives was that Lydia called to give Leon the news of Liliana’s death in 2010 (by seventy-two years of age) on work-time. Leon, of course, was very shaken with the news;

– While Leon only knows what Ada herself lets him about her past, family, childhood and the circumstances that put her precisely where she is now, Ada knows everything there is to know about his past, family, childhood and the circumstances that placed him precisely where he is now because she’s very competent at her job and did her homework as a spy (this will die with her, but for countless times she fantasized about him confiding all of those mundane details of his life and backstory in her);

– I’m very convinced that in one of those nights Ada visited him for some hoochie coochie after like, six to eight months without seeing or talking to him at all, Leon had to break up the news that she came in in a bad time since he already planned for a Thanksgiving dinner with his sisters. Ada accepts the challenge because she’s been REALLY missing him (horny on main). Ah, and he’s quite upset with her because of that “six to eight months with no news at all” “little” issue. So, picture that. Please.

And that is all I have for “Leon’s family” headcanons. For now. As I warned: PLENTY. Hahahahaha, sorry! Hope this can provide some entertainment and delight to you.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Hey sweet Amanda! We always see these request: Sonny/Nick/Mike wears his blue cop uniform and s/o goes wild. But what about Barba's s/o is a detective and she comes home with her old uniform because whatever and Barba goes wild? ;)

I love, love, love this prompt to pieces!! Thank you so much, and I’m sorry this took so long for me to get it out!!

Rafael smirked as he listened to you complain about having to wear your police uniform for the first time in five years. Frankly, he was beginning to find your whining rather amusing.

There had been an incident earlier in the week at a local restaurant where you and Rafael had been eating. A gunman had come in to acost another diner in the restaurant, and you had single handedly apprehended him. There were only a couple of civilians injured, including the shooter. Needless to say, not only had your boyfriend all but jumped your bones in the elevator of your apartment building, but the governor (never one to pass up the opportunity for some good press) decided to give you a commendation for bravery.

“You’re about to be recognized for being a hero, and you’re complaining just because you have to wear your old uniform?” he mused in a chuckle.

“You don’t get it, it’s just a pain in the ass to get it all ironed, and put my hair up with all these fucking pins--”

“I’m sure it’s worth the effort, cariño,” he replied.

“Not really,” you mumbled to yourself, making a face as you looked yourself over in the full length mirror in your closet. The uniform didn’t look bad on you, except for the fact that it did no favors for your modest chest. “You don’t know, your uniform is a suit, and you like to dress like a fancy pants anyway.”

Rafael chuckled softly, focused on getting his tie in place.

“I didn’t realize ‘fancy pants’ could be used as a-- “

He stopped short when he looked in the mirror as you came up to stand beside him. His face fell slowly as he took you in, navy blue laid over your skin, badge so shiny and official looking, and why did the handcuffs dangling from your belt loop give him goosebumps?

“What? Does it look that bad?” you groaned, frowning a little.

Clearing his throat, he regretfully looked away, straightening his tie and shaking his head.

“No, not at all,” he replied, trying not to look at you. If he did, he would certainly be more than just a few minutes late for court, and you wouldn’t make it to receive your well deserved recognition. “You look amazing, actually.”

“Get outta here,” you replied in a chuckle, playfully shoving his shoulder. “I look like a tight-ass,” you added, turning to grab your cellphone off the bed, which gave him a perfect view of just how well the pants fit you and it made him wonder if you’d used the term ‘tight-ass’ consciously.

His jaw slacking as he stared, Rafael swallowed the pool of saliva that had collected beneath his tongue as you came to kiss him goodbye and watched you leave. It was going to be a long day of thinking about you in that uniform, he just hoped he could keep it together in court.

It was in fact a long day, especially since you’d decided to send him a photo of you accepting your commendation right before closing arguments. He’d almost gone to the precinct to see you, but thought better of it when he thought about how much better it would be to not have to worry about someone interrupting the dirty ideas he had in mind.

Packing up his briefcase, he took a cab to the apartment the two of you shared, and sent you a text message, hoping you would pick up on the subtle hints within the message so he wouldn’t have to explain it. Having to explain would just ruin the point.

Officer Y/L/N, you may want to come to 46 Grand street, #4F as soon as possible. There is a man inside going through your underwear drawer.

--A concerned citizen

You were just punching out when your phone buzzed, and you took it out of your pocket to see Rafael’s cryptic message. Arching a brow, you said your goodnights to the squad before heading out.

When you got home, Rafael’s strange message finally hit you just as you were about to drive your key into the lock, and instead you smirked to yourself, pocketing the keys and opting to pound on the door instead. Your hands went to the belt that held your flashlight, gun and badge as you waited for your boyfriend to answer the door. When he did, you tilted your head to one side.

“Sir, we received a complaint about a man rifling through women’s underwear. Are you the homeowner?” you asked.

“Yes, I am. Please, come in,” he said, holding his arm out so you could come through the doorway, his eyes dropping to your ass when you walked by. “I was just going through my girlfriend’s panty drawer to be sure she didn’t have a particular that I wanted to buy for her. I’m very sorry for you to have wasted your time, but can I offer you something to drink?”

“I’m on the clock,” you answered, still playing along as he came up behind you.

“May I offer you something else?” he asked against your ear, hands moving to your hips.

“Are you trying to proposition a police officer?” you inquired, turning your head slightly towards him.

“Yes,” he mumbled with a smirk. Before he could grasp what was happening, you’d grabbed his wrist and turned him until you had his hand against the small of his back and his chest pressed against the back of the door.

“I should put you under arrest for that,” you whispered.

“Oh please, Officer, I’ll do anything you ask me to,” he answered, already feeling a stir in his slacks.

Taking his other hand, you cuffed his wrists together and pulled him to kneel in front of the couch. Moving to stand in front of him, you unbuckled your belt, tossing it to the side before taking off your pants and sitting in front of him with your knees parted. Your eyes met his before you glanced down at your crotch expectantly.

Smirking softly, he rocked forward to lay wet kisses up the inside of your thigh, leisurely making his way up to your lace covered center as you hummed and settled back against the cushions. When he reached the heat that was pooling at your core, he licked you through the lace, nipping at the material.

“No teasing,” you said, earning another smirk from him as he bit down on the hem of your panties and dragged them down your legs.

Rocking forward against, he got to work licking over your seam as your fingers threaded through his hair. Humming against you, he took your clit between his lips, sucking softly to build you up slowly.

“Oh fuck,” you sighed, arching your back and hooking a leg over his shoulder to draw him closer.

Groaning his response, Rafael let you gently pop from his mouth before his tongue began to trace circles around the little nub, earning another moan of approval from you. Dragging his tongue down the length of your seam, he paused only long enough to tease your opening before he made his way back to your clit. He looked up at the sexy faces you pulled as he worked to bring you closer and closer to an orgasm, smirking around you when your back arched again, hand in his hair tightening as you bucked against his mouth.

When you came down, he was still gently licking you and you purred, moving him away from your center. His eyes were clouded over with lust and the evidence of what he’d just been was smeared over his lips and chin.

“Stand up,” you purred, helping him stand and walking him into the bedroom before you freed him. “Strip. Now.”

He wasted no time in following your instructions, standing before you proudly and waiting for what you would say next.

“Get on the bed.” He did, smirking when you climbed on top of him and handcuffed his wrists to the bedpost. You then moved to start taking off the rest of your uniform when he spoke up.

“No, no wait…leave it on,” he said, looking you over again. Blushing a little, your hands fell from the buttons on your shirt as you moved down to take him into your mouth. “Oh my God, Officer Y/L/N, that feels amazing,” he groaned, closing his eyes and pulling slightly on the cuffs as you took him down your throat.

Humming around him, you coated him in your saliva before moving to hover over him, lining him up with you entrance and sinking down onto him.

“I won’t last long, will you do something for me?” he asked in a husky voice as you placed your hands on his chest for balance.

“What?”

“Will you read me my rights?”

Grinning down at him, you began to move up and down, earning a moan from the ADA.

“You have the right to remain silent--”

“Oh fuck,” he purred, bucking his hips up to meet yours.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…” You began to pant as you rode him harder, one hand moving to grab hold of the bed frame. “You have the right to an attorney…”

“Oh God, yes,” he growled, his eyes continuously moving over your half dressed body. “More,” he purred.

“If you can’t afford an attorney--”

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, bucking his hips up in desperation.

“--one will be provided for you.”

“Oh fuck, I’m close!” You moved harder and faster on top of him, engaging your core muscles.

“Do you understand these rights?”

“Yes!!” he cried, moaning loudly as his orgasm rolled through him, causing his body to twitch as he emptied himself inside you. It was enough to trigger another release for you as well, and you called out his name over and over while you both rode out your respective orgasms.

Bending at the waist, you kissed him passionately before slowly getting off him to fetch the keys. Uncuffing him, you lay on the bed beside him, inspecting his wrists to be sure you hadn’t left any marks before you settled against him.

“That was amazing,” he groaned, wrapping an arm around you.

“Yeah, it was...you really like the uniform?” you asked.

“Yes...very much,” he answered as he tried to catch his breath. “When you read a suspect his rights, though, be sure to say, ‘if you can not afford an attorney’. That’s all we need is for a defense to argue the rights weren’t read properly.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” you replied, smirking as you looked up at him with an arched brow.

[hollenka99]

Josephine Jackson (nee McDonnell, 1823-1900)

Born Josephine McDonnell in 1823, she was the third of the local greengrocer’s five children and eldest daughter. Given his profession, her father tended to work closely with Mr Jackson from the nearby farm. As she got older and helped her family with the business, she often took deliveries from Jackson’s son James.

She took to James easily and the two would frequently meet outside of business transactions. Romance soon blossomed. She was 22 when they got married, with him being 24.

By this point, it’s 1845. The Jacksons’ farm is doing quite well, thanks to successful harvest after successful harvest. With Josephine joining the family and helping out, times are good. However, fortunes are about to change dramatically. Within 2 years, the blight is at its peak. It is then that Josephine discovers she is pregnant.

This changes things. Because before this, both her parents and James’ were dead set on staying put. It’s a few bad years of business for both of them but they’re not abandoning ship anytime soon. The young couple can respect their dedication to maintaining businesses that have been going for generations. However, Josephine can’t consciously allow herself to subject her child to the mass hunger. James supported her decision to build a new life in North America. While he felt him leaving with her would be an ultimate betrayal to his family as the eldest son, he swore he would join her and the baby as soon as the famine was over. She takes as much money as she can, says her goodbyes and leaves Ireland for good.

She goes alone. She’s alone on the cramped ship travelling across the Atlantic, alone while she tries to settle into life in Canada, alone as she gives birth to her son on a freezing January day. She names him William and dear god, he looks more like his father with each passing day. With her little boy, she isn’t facing this new life on her own quite as much.

The letters from Westmeath were a comfort. Until a letter, dated September ‘47, arriving in October, announced the news she had been dreading. James was never going to meet his son. Cholera and starvation takes some more of the people she’d known in Ireland.

Still, she can’t be idle. She has a son to raise. She works in the kitchens for one of the wealthier households. The wife of the house is a lovely woman who is more than happy to let her employees’ young children play with hers. Lovely, within reason. For example, if she had reason to suspect a young cook was fratenising with her husband, that young cook would be released instantly. Even if that cook hadn’t wanted the unprofessional attention in the first place.

William is perhaps 4 or 5. She can’t not work. So off to the local store she goes to work behind the counter. That is fine for another several years. Then she is caught being generous to the poorer customers one too many times. She finds more work at a factory. William joins her when he is 14.

She is introduced to Florence Hilliard in 1875. Her son's fallen for a Hilliard, huh? Oh, Josephine knows about that family. Silas was an educated man who went from a school teacher to the school's headmaster. As such, they had quite a bit of money to spare and all of his children were well-red and educated. In other words, what on earth was a girl of her position doing with a young man who could barely make ends meet?

Josephine takes a quick dislikening to Florence. She doesn't understand why an educated girl would bother leading on a boy who has been helping build ship parts since he was 14. In turn, that gets perceived as a lack of trustworthiness. It doesn't stop William from marrying her in 1877.

She doesn't see the bride's family at the wedding. It would seem her parents were equally disapproving of the match and essentially disowned their daughter. Oh. Well, Josephine may know a thing or two from being cut off from family by choice. Perhaps she shouldn't be quite so hard on Florence. There's still something about her she doesn't like though.

The 1880s are a good time in terms of family for Josephine. She gains five grandchildren. William even has his 3rd son somewhat named after James, which flatters his mother that he would think to do that. She teaches the children how to speak Irish and raises them on her views of the English. She's also pleased that they're being raised as literate as their mother too. Josephine couldn't really give William that.

Unfortunately, there's basically no money to support the family but they manage somehow. Josephine's worsening eyesight making her unemployed doesn't help. William has his job at the factory while Florence has business as a seamstress. When not in school, the children help Florence. It's not much but at least it's something.

Then Florence prematurely delivers her 3rd daughter in the May of 1890. Ada doesn't survive the night. It's only the beginning of an unfortunate decade for the Jacksons. March 1895 sees them hit by a bad case of influenza that takes 6 year old Olive. Then 2 years later, Jameson almost dies from hyperthyroidism, only for the emergency surgery to ruin his ability to speak.

All those events had been out of anyone's reach. It wasn't like they chose to get sick. But Harvey, her eldest grandchild, certainly made the decision to leave for South Africa. This causes rifts between him and various members of his family. Josephine, for one, is furious that he would go in support of the British Empire.

It is while Harvey is fighting in the Second Boer War that her health begins to properly decline. In 1900, at the age of 77, she passes away leaving behind her son and five grandchildren. She also leaves a significant influence on her youngest grandson who will harbour animosity towards the British well into his adult life.

[sceawere]

here we are again | john shelby

two anons wanted a continuation of these moments/john+reader having another kid so i combined them

“You’re fucking kidding me. I better be fucking dying”

You whispered against the cool tile as you perched against the bathroom wall, swallowing against the nausea.

“Mummy?”

You cracked your head up, swiping a hand over your mouth. Joe was hovering in the doorway, his pyjamas slumped around him.

“Hey baba”

“Are you ill?”

“Yeah, I think I might be”

“Should I get Pol?”

“Please”

He flew off down the hallway and you heard his little feet pattering down the steps. You waited, bracing yourself back as another wave ran over you.

“Mummy?”

“Yep?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m alright Georgey”

“I heard Joe running around – should I tell him off?”

You would have laughed if it didn’t turn your stomach and shook your head slightly.

“It’s alright, he’s ringing Auntie Pol for me”

“Oh…should I ring daddy?”

“No, daddy’s working out of the office tonight, we’ll have to wait until he gets home”

His bare feet patted against the tile, sitting himself against your tented knees.

“What’s daddy doing?”

“Working, I don’t know”

“He should be home if you’re not well”

“He will be”

You looked down at him with half closed eyes, his cheek snuggling against your knee.

“Is it your belly?”

“Seems to be”

You adjusted your back against the tile, wanting to find a new cool spot as your skin started to warm again.

“Should I wake Katty up?”

“No, let her sleep. You should go back to bed”

“I don’t want to leave you alone”

You smiled down at him, swiping a hand over his ruffled hair.

“I can look after myself, don’t you worry”

“Polly’s coming”

“Thank you, baba”

Another wave suddenly hit you and you pushed yourself forward.

“Georgey, go wait outside, take your brother”

“Are you gonna – oh! Okay, out Joe, gogogo”

“Ew, mummy!”

-

“How long?”

“Oh, who fucking knows?”

“I tell you what, you two are like bloody-“

“I know! Polly! We’re fully aware”

She sighed, running a cold cloth over your face.

“Is there any chance-“

“I’m pregnant, Polly. We both know it. God, he so much as looks at me and I’m up it again. What’s wrong with me?”

“A lot of women would kill for it to be that easy”

“Well do they want to borrow it for a while? I don’t think I’d miss it”

She smiled at your tone, stepping back to drop the cloth in the sink.

“Well, congratulations mummy”

You looked up at her with as much acid in your eyes as you could muster and she reached out a hand to help pull you up.

“Five fucking kids, Pol. Five of ‘em”

“Don’t look at me, I was in no way involved”

You let out a mock sob, dropping you forehead to her shoulder and she pulled you in.

“When’s John back?”

“The morning”

“You going to tell him then?”

“Depends on whether it looks like his heart’ll take it”

She chuckled against you, still moving slow, wide strokes over the plain of your back.

“Do you think…he’ll be okay, wont’ he?”

“Course he will. Johnny bloody loves you. And the kids. He’d have a hundred if you’d let him”

“Don’t even joke!”

-

“Johnny”

He sighed. He’d come in, thrown the first couple layer of clothes to the ground, and flopped himself down onto the bed in his undershirt.

“Can we deal with whatever this is in the morning, please love, I’m fucking knackered”

“It is the morning”

“5am doesn’t count as the bloody morning”

“I’m pregnant”

“Funny fucking joke, now I’m serious, I-“

“Johnny”

He peeked an eye open at your tone, hand still thrown over his forehead. He swallowed when he saw the serious look on your face.

“Shit”

“Well, that’s encouraging”

You stepped forward from where you were perched on the edge of the cabinet and crawled to lay beside him. He followed your movement, his eyes coming to rest on your stomach.

“We’ve got to stop”

“Now you tell me”

He cracked the lightest smile, hand coming down from his forehead to rub over your belly.

“We’ve barely got the last one out of you”

“Trust me, I’m aware. We had a nice couple of years between Katie and Will, how did we manage that?”

“I don’t remember”

“Neither do I”

“Two under two”

“Five under ten”

“Fuck me”

“No, see, that’s what’s causing the problem here”

He shook his head, too tired to laugh properly. He blew air out through his nose again, rolling to his shoulder, hand still planted over your abdomen.

“You alright?”

“Puking my guts up, the usual”

“That bad?”

“Not as bad as with the boys”

“Think it’s a girl?”

“Aren’t you meant to be worse if it’s a girl?”

“You weren’t that bad with Katty”

“Katty’s a fucking one of her own, though, ain’t she” he laughed, snuggling his head into the covers “no point putting her on a fucking graph”

“I love you”

“Soppy git”

“I love you”

“Yeah, I heard you”

“I love you”

“Keep saying it”

“Fuck off”

“Oh, well. Lost the moment”

He wiggled his hand over your belly and you laughed.

“I love you too, Johnny”

“We’re gonna run out of names”

-

“Right, everyone’s here. What’s this about?”

Tommy lit a cig and John reached over to grab it from his mouth and stub it out. Tommy kept his hands up where they’d been, eyes rolling to Johnny. Arthur laughed from his place at the table, stopping when you spoke.

“We’re having a baby”

The room went still, Polly smirking from the back. You could hear the supports settling and the click of the clock on the wall.

“Surprise”

You waved your hands in the air and Tommy looked between the both of you and then turned to Polly, who shrugged.

“Well…congratulations” his tone didn’t sound sure.

“Another bloody one?”

“Yes, Arthur. Another bloody one”

“Fucking hell”

“Sorry, how many are there of you again? Hang on- let me check”

You made a big display of pointing them all out, counting them off as you went.

“Oh, would you look at that”

“Tell you what”

He stood, pulling you into a big hug and rocking you as you laughed.

“Giving the whole of Birmingham a run for their money, you two. Well done, Johnny”

He pulled him in next, patting his back and you heard him whisper something which made him laugh.

“You’re telling me”

You pinched your eyes at him and he cleared his throat, straightening his face.

“Hey, congratulations”

“Thanks Finn”

“How many is this now? Twelve?”

“Fuck off Thomas”

He smirked as he planted a kiss to your temple, shaking hands with Johnny before smacking the side of his head and pulling another cig out of hid pocket.

Ada squeaked as she came over, holding her hands to the side of your belly.

“I know, I know”

“You said no more!”

“I know. Trust me, I bloody meant it at the time”

“Well, I’m pleased for you”

“You don’t want to add to your lot, do you? I’ll come visit”

She laughed and you shook your head, peering down to where the faintest swell was peeking out of your dress. If you didn’t know to look for it, you wouldn’t realise but you’d been double checking every day for weeks, waiting.

-

You heard the door crack behind you, drawing your eyes from the window for just a moment.

“How was work?”

He sighed, the swish and soft thud of his coat falling over the back of a chair.

“Long. How’s the kids?”

“Causing havoc. Nothing new”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, lowering his chin to perch by your neck. You watched the kids running around the yard as he rubbed at your belly.

“How you feeling?”

“Like my tits are gonna explode”

“Better hope not”

You threw your fist back and down and he threw his hips out the way.

“Fucking hell love, watch it”

“It’s not like you’re gonna need it anyway, you’re never coming near me again”

“You said that after George, and Joe, and Katie-“

“I meant it”

“And William and here we are again”

He patted at your belly, coming to rest his chest at your back again.

“Well, I mean it this time”

“You wouldn’t last”

“I’d somehow find it within myself”

He laughed into the side of your head, laying kisses on the shell of your ear.

“Can I do anything?”

“Go pull Joe off the wall before he cracks his head, will you?”

You felt him throw his head up and huff a little at the sight of your son scrambling over the brickwork, before marching off for the cracked door. He swung it open and stepped out.

“I’ve told you twenty fucking times” he reached out, pulling Joe back by his belt loops and catching him against his chest, carrying him around while he waved his legs. They had a muffled conversation you couldn’t quite hear, John’s mouth tucked against the side of his head but both of them were cracking smiles and Joe started waving his legs even faster. He dropped him to the ground, ruffling his hair.

“I’ll put you over that washing line and peg you up there by your ankles, see how much of a monkey you are then”

George started skidding the basket William was sat in towards him, propped up with blankets all around, giggling and babbling away. John bent to pick him up, holding him up to his chest and bouncing. You ran a hand over the growing swell of your belly and smiled.

-

“Open the window”

“I just closed it five minutes ago”

“It’s hot again”

He huffed and lifted himself from the bed, unclasping the window again. He’d barely got his knee to the mattress when you groaned again.

“What?”

“They’re on my spine”

He flicked your side with his finger and you rolled. He started trailing his thumbs down either side of your spine, pressing just hard enough.

“Oh, that’s good. Yeah, left a little, down, no up, well…just…yeah! You got it”

He laughed at your hips squiggling about and the sigh you made as you snuggled into the pillow.

“I remember when I used to get to sleep at night”

“Oh, do you? When was that?”

You felt him settled behind you and he bent to lay kissed against your arm.

-

“What the hell are you doing?”

You took another deep breath and settled back against the wall.

“It smells amazing in here”

“It’s a fucking coal shed”

“Hmm…it’s lovely”

“Fuck me”

You rolled your head over to the doorway where John had a hand on either joist, chewing away at a pick.

“I can’t help it!”

“These fucking things get weirder every time”

“Those fucking things are our children, Johnny”

“I meant your cravings you daft- you’re getting black all over your dress”

“Screw it, I feel alright for the first time in three days. If that means plonking my arse in a pile of coal, I’ll bloody do it”

“You’re not coming in the house like that”

“Ooh, you gonna strip me off in the yard, Johnny?”

“Stop it”

You laughed, adjusting a little.

“I thought the custard on the tomatoes was bad enough but this is-“

“Don’t! Talk about tomatoes!”

He shook his head again, standing straight.

-

“I’m sorry for biting you”

“Understandable”

“She was upside down and I just-“

“Shut up before I change my mind”

You hummed, shuffling a little to get comfortable.

“Was Katty this big?”

“No, Georgey was the biggest”

“I remember”

He smiled up at you.

“That alone nearly swore me off anymore, your first kid being the size of a bloody toddler, but…”

“She’s gonna be tall”

“Good, I want an amazon”

He shook his head, looking down at her as she shuffled in her blanket.

“Your mum’s a-“

“Beautiful, intelligent, incredibly patient, and also delightful woman who just gave birth to your fifth child?”

“Summat like that”

You snorted, reaching up to stroke at her tiny fingers.

“Go on then, tell her”

“Right, little one. I’m dad. Sorry to tell you”

You snorted again, shuffling up in the bed.

“And that right there is mum. She’s the delightful woman you heard screaming at me a while back”

You rolled your eyes.

“I swear she’s usually a bit nicer. But anyway, you little one, you’re Elsie. Elsie Shelby. Welcome to the family”