#carter luggage

[anthonys237thfreckle]

‘Promise’ - Javier ‘Javi’ x Kate Carter & F! reader (angst!)

someone asked for a part two and I realized how good of an idea that was lmao. I need indirect ways to incorporate my past experiences into my fics anyway.

part one

prompt: you made a promise to distance yourself from Javi and Kate

TW: mentions of smoking, some detailed mention of self harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of nausea, disordered eating, breakdowns, smoking, angst :(

Do NOT proceed if the triggers mentioned above upset you greatly. You have been warned.

I made a promise

To distance myself

Once Tyler dropped you off to the train station, you smiled and waved until you couldn’t see his truck anymore. You wanted to hang onto any last string of familiarity for as long as you could.

Especially since your life would change completely - for better or worse.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to calm down your trembling body.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

5 things you see - the train station, the crumbling yellow bricks, the jolly red-white-blue american flag, your luggage, and the people. Lots of people.

4 things you hear - the people, obviously, the cicadas crying, the heavy bell ringing inside, the honking of cars for you to get out of their way.

3 things you smell - the heat - somehow, the smell of smoke from cars, and the thick air.

2 things you feel - terrified. hurt.

1 thing you taste - bitterness.

Shaking your head, you take another deep breath. Eyes dead set on the mission in front of you, you marched into the train station, bought a ticket to Oklahoma City, and settled down inside.

But now was the hardest part; waiting. What made it harder was you didn’t want to think about anything that happened yesterday. So, putting your headphones on, you made a playlist with none of the songs that reminded you of Javi or any of the ones he recommended to you. Essentially, you just listened to 3 songs in total, over and over again, but the knowledge you knew what was coming next was comforting, something you couldn’t apply to your current situation.

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about

How we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

You woke up when the train jolted to a stop - you had fallen asleep, waking up to hear the opening notes of some song you were listening to earlier. Looking out the window, you reached Oklahoma City. With a sigh of relief and trepidation, you got your bags and headed out of the station, hailed a taxi to the airport. Booking a last minute flight back home to LA, you made your way to the gate. Setting your bag down, you sat in a char near the huge windows. Deciding it wasn’t close enough, you sat on the little raised platform attached to the window and leaned your head against it like you saw so many children do.

The boarding call was announced, and everyone sat up groggily. It all went by pretty quickly. Standing in line, getting your boarding pass stamped and your passport checked, finding you seat, putting your bag away and sitting down. Taxi and take off was a blur; luckily you got a window seat, and stared out at the pink clouds, tinted by the setting sun, a peach tone.

Peachy, just like your favourite pie.

You groaned, covering your eyes and rubbing them as your mind started to think about Oklahoma. About Javi, and the last time he saw you. And the last thing he said to you. It wasn’t even a proper goodbye, but you couldn’t blame him because he didn’t know it was goodbye.

And honestly, neither did you.

But you made yourself a promise - to distance yourself.

Those last words of his echoed in your mind.

“I- Okay, alright. Take care, (Y/N)”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

You half expected a text from Javi - it had been around 24 hours since you last saw him. Since you told him you had a ‘family emergency’ to take care of. Who wouldn’t expect a little ‘you doing okay?’ or ‘safe travels’ when someone saw you break down in the middle of a field, distressed as hell? Sure, you and Javi weren’t dating, sure you both drifted apart ever since Kate got closer with him instead, but were you two not even friends anymore?

Did you mean nothing to him?

This wasn’t the first time he ghosted you - after the EF5 tornado, he didn’t say a word to you. But it was understandable why - everyone was hurting, and maybe he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. In Oklahoma, the only times he’d talk to you is when you started a conversation, otherwise you could sit silently and he’d happily talk with Kate, leaving you be. It was never him starting anything.

And Kate. Did she figure out you liked Javi? Is that why she didn’t text you? Did she feel guilty? Part of you wanted her to feel guilty, but the other part of you didn’t want to be pitied. Part of you wanted to go back, but this - this was best for you right now. Nobody could tell you otherwise.

Instead, you got a text from Tyler.

‘hey there cowgirl - how you getting along?’

You chuckled - ‘cowgirl’ was probably the worst way to describe yourself. Instead, you typed down a response, your heart a little less heavy.

‘hey, Tyler. thanks for asking. means a lot’

He was typing, the three dots appearing on screen

‘of course. lemme know if you need anything at all okay? stay safe out there’

You sent him an affirmative text, thankful to actually have a friend who cared enough to check in on you, helping you out without questioning anything, having only known you for a week.

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

You found comfort in some form of familiarity in your life; back home in LA, everything looked duller, more still. Like the whole world knew about your heartbreak and was mourning, or mocking you. You tried to plunge into work, distracting yourself but sometimes, you’d just stare at your work, screen or paper, and just zone out. Your was brain still trying to process everything, and you were losing a lot over it - sleep, peace, overall joy, your will to wake up, and more.

It felt like after the EF5 tornado but worse because you knew somewhere in Oklahoma, Kate was with Javi, both of them happier than ever. It felt worse because you could never have him anymore. He was gone. And someone got to see him every day, sometimes wake up next to him, sometimes stay up all night with him. You felt like you were gonna be sick.

For a fortnight, all you could eat was cheese, bread, and grapes. It was the only thing you could keep down.

It was so hard not to text Javi. After you had just left, it’s like you were isolated for 5 years, given a taste of him, then forcing yourself to stay away. It was something you chose to do, not something you were forced to live with.

But you won’t call him. No matter how long the days felt they were dragging by.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

Walking by a drugstore to entertain yourself, you entered the establishment with an electronic ding notifying your presence. Strolling through the ailes, you picked up Sourhead Extremes (so in case you wanted to call Javi, you’d have to go through a gustatory agony first) and some nail polish, just to look pretty. Walking to the cashier, you mindlessly threw in a pack of cigarettes onto the counter, before putting them back in a jerky motion.

“What the hell…” you murmured to yourself, ashamed of what you were about to do. Buy cigarettes - to smoke.

Walking out of the store briskly, you speed-walked home; chiding yourself for almost ‘rewarding’ your no contact mission by smoking, you realized how truly pathetic you were.

“God, what is wrong with me…” you muttered, keeping your head down, watching the wet streets reflect the light of the sun and your dark sorrow.

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose,

Eventually you did buy the cigarettes. You went home, lounging in your bed, a pretty china plate acting like an ashtray for you. Legs up in the air, swinging occasionally, eyes half lidded from the light high, you felt the chalky smoke fill your lungs, watching it come out in little clouds of grey air.

You felt in control for the first time since leaving Oklahoma - the cigarette sitting pretty between your red tinted fingers and lips. You smiled softly, satisfied by finally scoring a small win. You didn’t tell Tyler that you smoked. He’d say it’s a horrible habit you should give up.

Obviously it was more of a lose - giving into an impulse, and now you were at risk of falling deeper into addiction. You weren’t in control, you never really were.

But why would you make yourself feel worse when you were on the literal brink of crumbling?

Although, you didn’t get addicted. After the high wore off, you felt disgusted, throwing out the pack of almost full cigarettes. You wouldn’t tell Tyler, of course.

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing with you

Two weeks went by, and though you pretended everything was okay, it really wasn’t. You didn’t know if you missed Javi or not, but you really didn’t want to.

You don’t know if you want to see the face you loved so much, the face that lights up when he sees Kate, the face that Kate holds, kisses, caresses.. the face that she admires alongside you.

You wanted to get over him, you really did, but you cared so much about him. You didn’t want to stop caring about him, when loving him felt so… lovely.

But it hurt so much.

You barely got any sleep this past fortnight. Having a reverie about the man who daydreamed about another woman. The things you wished he did to you, he did to Kate. He was hers. So assured, so confident. No doubt in that.

For a fortnight, there you were, stripped of any text backs from him.

You were starting to think you just wanted his attention, which you dont know if you wanted anymore, knowing his attention belonged to Kate. Why would you care so much about him texting you?

But then again, weren’t you two friends?

I’ve done the math

There’s no solution

We’ll never last

Why can’t I let go of this?

Right now, you, broken, needed comfort. May it be fake hope again. Nobody was there to stop you anyway, so in your free time, you started to think of the ways Kate and Javi would have problems with each other.

‘She’s too arrogant sometimes, and he’s really down to earth’

‘She can’t communicate her feelings!’

‘Kate’s one to settle, Javi isn’t’

Of course, you knew it was wrong. Of course it was a bitchy thing to think. But who were you to care right now?

You were hurt, and you needed to feel better to even try and start to get a grip on reality. you didn’t want to rip of the band aid yet.

Not yet.

Even worse, your mind started thinking of ways you and Javi could get together; Kate could leave him in the dark again, she could get into a fight with him…

But nothing made sense - she wouldn’t leave when she looked at him that way… and any fights would be cleared quickly with Javi’s forgiving nature.

He would do anything for her.

All in all, you realized how shitty you were being, and texted Tyler, saying you couldn’t hide from Javi - couldn’t hide from the pain that haunted you. The bright lights of LA looked dull. The sun felt like a false light.

Your world was falling apart, how could the sun be shining when your world was falling apart?

‘Just walk around. Wear something that makes you feel good. Grab some good lunch downtown. Spoil yourself. Act like a damn tourist, I don’t care. Just do anything that reminds you that there’s more to life than Javi’ he wrote.

So I broke my promise

I called you last night

I shouldn’t have, I wouldn’t have

If it weren’t for the sight of a boy who

Looked just like you standing out on Melrose Avenue…

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing, with you.

Three days later, you sat on the roof of a building. The sun was setting, you looked at the streets below. People were walking - their dogs, their toddlers, and whatnot.

You were so disappointed with yourself. Closing your eyes, you thought back to everything that happened yesterday.

Following Tyler’s advice, you woke up ready to face the day.

Waking up bright and early, you went for a run, saw some pretty things on the way. You found it insane how easy it was to overlook the small things in life.

Coming home, you made breakfast; oatmeal with bananas, almond butter and chocolate chips. You savoured every bite with a smile.

You hopped into the shower, using your favourite body wash. Putting on an outfit, doing your hair and makeup, slipping on your shoes, you left the house, ready to explore the city…

All was going well until sunset.

—

You were walking along the streets of LA, acting like you’d never seen anything like it before. A coffee in hand, you walked confidently down the path, turning a corner to browse a bookstore on Melrose Avenue, when someone caught your eye.

A boy, waiting for the light signal to turn green, who looked exactly like Javi.

You froze.

Suddenly, you didn’t want coffee any more. You didn’t want anything right now but to go home.

—

You rushed home, trying so hard to control your breathing, then stumbling desperately to your room. As soon as your face crashed against the pillows, the soft, gentle fabric a perfect medium to absorb the tears now flowing down your face. You sobbed, curled into a still-bedazzled ball on your bed, hugging yourself, contracting into a fibonacci.

Reaching for your purse, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. Through the wet and blurry lens of your tears, you scrolled into the alphabet until you reached the ‘J’ section. The first name was Javi.

Pressing on his name, then the ‘call’ button, you held it to your ear, taking shuddering breaths as you tried calming yourself down. The your phone cooed like a pigeon, signalling his phone, somewhere in Oklahoma, was ringing.

You were clean. Clean for a little over 2 weeks. Clean from his voice ringing in your ears, new words exchanged and whatnot.

But as you held your phone in your hand, crying, watching it reach Javi’s phone, waiting for him to answer, it all felt like a relapse.

Like the feeling of the cool blade on your skin, slicing through, leaving an angry red river in its wake.

The sick, high feeling you get from it - the ecstasy, watching you destroy yourself, finding beauty in the rubble.

Some part of you, the logical part of you was screaming to press the red button. To leave Javi alone. It wasn’t fair for you to reach out first, right? Why would you make a fool out of yourself by calling him? You’re not that desperate for him, are you?

But the hurt, emotional, desperate part of you didn’t, daring him to answer. Just to remind him of your existence. Just this once.

Still fighting the internal battle, you delved deeper into why he didn’t call you yet.

Did Kate tell him everything? Did she finally find out? Did she realize at all about how hurt you were?

The anger only just started to hit you, claiming your brain as a new population to be corrupted, a new host for the parasite, a new fruit to rot.

You were mad. You didn’t know at who. But you decided you were mad at Kate. For dating him. You knew it was wrong to be mad, because you had no claim over Javi, but you were too deep into your anger to actually think of a better way to cope. Suddenly, you were so mad at Kate. So, so mad. Part of you wanted to tear your house down, scream like a mad woman, but you didn’t. Your dwindling self control kept you in check.

Then came the sadness. You were so mad at Kate, but she was so happy right now. She didn’t care or know how your felt right now. how hurt you felt right now. She had Javi. Her Javi. And they were both happy - oh so happy, oh so blissfully unaware of how you felt right now.

They were happy - they were perfectly fine without you. Because they didn’t need you as a friend, not like they did in college - maybe they didn’t back then either, because they had each other. That’s all they needed. Each other was all they needed.

You were so deep into the crevices of your mind, drowning in both pain and relief, you almost didn’t hear your name drenched in Javi’s voice coming from the speaker.

‘[name]?’

—

follow + stay tuned for part three!!

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt 3 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2,5k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lover, work romance, fluff

"do you have everything?"

charger. phone. apartment keys. suitcase. wait did I say charger?

"uh huh," you answered your sister and closed the trunk of the car, giving her one last hug before joining the staff on the bus that was parked outside of the main office building, along with the team bus.

you watched as she drove away into the early morning. 6:56 to be exact which meant that the sky was covered in hazy clouds, giving into the dusky look despite it being morning. you let out a breath and watched as the cloud of condensation formed.

you put in your airpods and shoved your free hand into your pants pocket. the drive wasn't long and you had to be on the field to oversee training for some clips so you dressed comfortably. a pair of navy blue nike parachute pants, a navy blue sweatshirt with a black shirt underneath and a pair of new balance.

the stroll to the bus was quiet, your mind elsewhere as you watched the staff members roll onto the bus after putting their luggage away. you sent a smile clara's way after she waved at you, and you were mentally preparing yourself to sit beside her during the ride when you were caught off guard by someone tapping your shoulder.

with eyes wide in shock, you whipped around to face the reason for your mini heart attack.

"oh," you sighed thankfully and paused your music when you saw klopp standing in front of you, an apologetic smile on his face.

"good morning to you too," he greeted with a chuckle and you returned it with a sheepish nod before falling into a brief conversation about today's match and it took a bit for you to realise that you had to get in the bus where everyone was waiting.

"jamie's watching the match today?"

you stifled a laugh at curtis' entrance, watching as the group's manager gave him a pat on the back. "she'll be watching most of our matches curtis. I told you this already."

curtis let out a knowing hum as the rest of his teammates piled onto the bus, making sure to greet you. he paid close attention to one person in particular however and suddenly had a light bulb moment.

"is she joining us on the bus?"

you quickly shut him down which caused klopp to let out a breathy laugh but curtis was adamant and didn't want to back down.

he took a few steps forward and swiftly took your suitcase out of your hand and gave it to the driver to put away before you could even fight him for it. "wouldn't you rather be accompanied by people your age? we don't want you to die of boredom the entire ride."

you narrowed your eyes at him, knowing very well what he was doing. "It's just an hour. I'll be fine."

you were about to take off when curtis shot his boss a look that took the older man a moment to register. "uh jaime," he called out after you. "you're more than welcome to join us. I think it'll be less of a hassle too, seeing as we'll get out at the hotel together as well."

you've got to be joking.

you let out an even heavier sigh. "no se--"

"--don't worry. you can sit next to me," curtis chimed in effortlessly and slung his arm around your shoulders as he led you onto the bus, talking about how much fun you two were going to have on the ride.

and to be honest. it wasn't a terrible experience.

when you got in it earned quite a few surprise looks considering that it was curtis of all people who got you on the bus.

when you walked over to the middle of the bus with him, you were met with a very confused alexis. "uhm?"

"well, give the lady her seat," curtis said and gestured for him to get up and you couldn't help but shoot alexis the most apologetic look you could muster up.

he stifled a laugh as he watched curtis point to the seat next to alisson. he reluctantly got up of course and pat you on the shoulder. "I should be the one apologising to you."

you sighed as you checked your uploaded Instagram story, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you were out on a soccer field at 7 in the morning.

everyone had just gotten back from checking into their hotel rooms and to your luck you were sharing a suite with clara. she was only a year older than you were but she was the sweetest person you'd ever met.

she was rather soft-spoken and kept her life behind the camera. which was exactly what she was doing right now as she took some pictures of the practice session so that it could be uploaded.

practice had started slow but that didn't mean that it was boring. you watched with your lips pursed, eyeing one player in particular before turning to clara who was a bit further away. she shared the same expression as you, one of utter shock.

you put your hand in front of your mouth and mouthed something to her. "he looks so hot."

in return, she gave you an eager nod and waved you over to look at the pictures that she had taken. there were a lot of things that you wanted to say in that moment but you had to hold back for multiple reasons.

both you and clara had to pretend to seem like you were actually doing your job instead of fangirling. "It's illegal to look this damn good."

from beside you clara stifled a laugh and gave you a brief look to see you staring at the footballer, a glint of something in your eyes that she couldn't quite make out.

"he doesn't have a girlfriend," she said with a smile and turned back to the front and took a few more pictures.

it took a moment for you to register her comment. "what difference does that make?" you asked with a quirked eyebrow. "I mean at least I won't get jumped for looking at him, but still."

you hadn't expected clara to laugh as hard as she did. your joke really wasn't that funny but it had the girl doubling over, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter as well when she snorted. you tried your best to calm her down but it just made it worse.

"dude everyone's looking at us," you managed out breathlessly. "the joke wasn't even funny."

clara shook her head in disagreement and wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks that were blood red. "I'm sorry--" she apologized with a snicker. "I just imagined you getting into a fight with a girl and you would get bodied so hard."

your jaw dropped in offence and a slight blush rose to your cheeks. "we're done here."

clara watched as you jokingly stormed off and smiled to herself. "you can do more than just look at him though!"

you whipped around in shock at how loud she had said that. but luckily no one was paying any mind to your little argument and carried on with what they were doing. "clara stop!"

about 10 minutes later the videographers had gotten their cameras rolling and it had brought you back to your presentation that had to be ready by next week thursday. entertaining alternatives. how were you supposed to think of any entertaining alternatives?

as an influencer yourself you took into account that you hadn't posted anything in a while and spent most of your time twitch streaming. you started on tiktok in late 2021 and blew up not too long after. there wasn't much to it— you were pretty and people found you funny but it wasn't much of a job for you since you posted anything you felt like.

but your twitch career was something that you'd always wanted to take a leap into, so when you grew a big enough following you started your account with your now ex boyfriend who was still going about his career as per normal.

to the public your breakup was ended on mutual terms and it was stated that you felt that you were better off as friends. he cheated on you with your best friend. there was nothing mutual about that at all.

you dated for nearly three years before you found out, but you weren't even sure how long they had been seeing each other. and you didn't tend to find out. you needed to get away, so the second you got the chance you moved out of your mother's house in london and moved to liverpool since your sister was here.

and luckily she was more than happy to let you come and live with her for a bit until you got your own place. it was just her, her husband noah, and her 4-year-old son alex who were away visiting noah's parents back in london.

it's been a year now. a very quiet year at that seeing as you distanced yourself from your friends who had in fact known about your boyfriend cheating. but you were happy and that's all that mattered.

oh shit, I have an idea.

"ali. my man." you greeted with a smile and gave the goalkeeper a high five but it was obvious that he was either concerned or suspicious that you were standing in the net with him.

he chuckled at your sudden mood shift and continued to put on his gloves since everyone was getting ready for some shot practice. and frankly it was the viewers favourite segment to watch.

you slowly wandered through the net, taking a look around. "It's nice in here. you come around here often?"

the older man chuckled at your rather cute yet amusing joke. "yes I do actually. how about you?"

you shook your head to the side and took a deep breath. "I prefer to be on the pitch. I'm all for the action you know?"

you watched as he eased more into the conversation and played along, and you couldn't help but smile. "hm, you seem like the type. I heard that you played until you finished high school. center forward right?"

a smile drew to your lips at the fond memories, leaning back into the post as you nodded your head. "I was like if chloe kelly and leah williamson had a baby."

ali wasn't the only one to laugh this time. from the other side of the field you could hear jurgen laughing along with the videographers. you hadn't noticed that your interaction was being filmed but at least it was something new.

you turned back to the goalkeeper with a hopeful smile, "that's actually what I wanted to talk-- dude!"

harvey nearly hit you with the ball. well technically he did, but alisson was able to jump in front of you and catch it just in time. you stood behind him in slight distraught and tried to fully process what had just happened.

"let's switch up practice a bit and use jamie as bait," harvey exclaimed and raised his hand with a proud smile. "all in favour say I!"

you scoffed in disbelief to see everyone on the team raise their hands. you were so close to jumping that garden gnome but ali stopped you and told you to carry on talking. this was the equivalent to a trust fall to be frank, but you were desperate and tried to doge the ball everytime it was kicked so that he could save it.

"okay, so basically trent and I kind of have a bet going on right now."

a chuckle left the goalkeeper's lips as he sent the ball back drawin's way while harvey urged everyone to kick the ball a little harder. "a bet? are you two fake dating?"

you pulled a face at the accusation. "ew no."

as if.

"long story short— the garden gnome wanted to tussel but I said no and then he threw trent under the bus and I was like 'hey why not?' but he won't let me because he's obviously scared that I'm gonna beat him and the only way he'll let me is if I can get a goal past you."

you didn't even bother taking a breath in between anything you said and surprisingly ali got it all. he got up from the floor with a deep breath and handed you the ball to kick out, and you did so with ease and made sure to send harvey a look.

"so you want me to help you with this so you can beat trent, but I'm also assuming this has something to do with your idea for 'alternative entertainment'," he said as he ran through your rant again and you gave him an eager nod.

you probably looked like a child to him. oh gosh.

you took a step to the side and got ready to hide behind him as you saw trent get the ball ready. "how did you know?"

"you kept on mumbling 'alternative entertainment' over and over for like five minutes while you were standing behind the post."

you eyes widened a fraction and you gave an embarrassed smile. "oh. that's nice."

that earned another chuckle and a reassuring pat on the back. "I'm in. just tell me when your pitch is approved and we can start."

it was finally match time, and everyone had started filing out of the tunnel at molineux stadium. it was 4:50 p.m with ten minutes left till kick-off with the team was on the pitch for warm-ups.

you were sitting peacefully by yourself behind the barricade, your camera out as usual to take a few pictures of your own and checked on the tags on twitter for some feedback from supporters. the stadium was fairly rowdy but since it wasn't a home game the atmosphere wasn't anything in comparison.

it was a few minutes before kick-off when you felt someone slide into the seat beside yours. you glanced at trent from the corner of your eye before returning your attention back to your phone screen. "fancy seeing you here."

trent wasn't playing today due to a minor hamstring injury but he wasnt expected to come and watch the match. you heard him mumble under his breath, something about you being british but you brushed it off and got back to what you were doing on your phone.

neither of you said anything for quite a bit of time and kept your focus solely on the game in front of you which had taken a turn just seven minutes in when lee chan scored for wolverhampton.

"fuck," you muttered and sat back in your seat, trying your best to read the game.

from beside you trent couldn't help but glance over at you every so often. he watched as you bit your bottom lip in concentration which caused an unfamiliar feeling to swell up for him.

he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying his best to gain your attention. "I'm sorry about earlier. is your arm okay?"

you turned to look at him with a teasing glint in your eyes but your expression remained neutral. "yeah, I'm fine or whatever. i'm not the one with the hamstringy injury."

he nodded his head slightly and turned to the field once again half debating with himself over whether or not you were being sarcastic or not. silence took over for another 10 minutes before he mustered up the courage to say something again.

"were you serious about the whole 'if leah williamson and chloe kelly had a baby' thing?"

an amused smile drew to your lips. "well that's for you to find out when you're ready to play again."

trent stifled a laugh at your confidence and he felt the acceptance sink in. he didn't quite know what it was that intrigued him but he was willing to find out. he just found you strange that's all. and he was having quite the time giving into the banter and your overflowing confidence.

he couldn't lie and say that he didn't find it fun. the entire game he had to fight back the urge to laugh because of something you said or a comment you made about some of the players.

"do you think darwin would drop his hair routine if I asked?"

"£20 says that robbo tries to tussel with someone."

"I totally forgot that shorty was on the field. nah garden gnome suits him better."

"I just know for a fact that domi's face card never declines. I mean he's my lockscreen wallpaper for a reason."

it got to the point where he had to take a moment and sink into his seat anytime he wanted to laugh. at some point, jurgen came to join the two of you to rant about how you weren't scoring anything and it was near half time but you gave him some reassurance.

"we always come back second half though. just throw them all with some water to wake them up and you'll get at least two goals I'm sure."

were you right? of course you were. lightwork.

cody, robbo and an own goal.

there were eight minutes of added additional time so you took the time to relax, after 90 minutes of screaming and complaining. and you started to notice that trent was warming up to you and actually made conversation.

progress.

"you tagged me in your story? are you even allowed to do that?" he asked and you shrugged your shoulders, not seeing a problem with it.

you quirked your brow. "do you have a girlfriend?"

trent's lips parted in shock at the question, not sure how to respond or what you meant by it. he didn't know how long he spent looking at you lost in thought but it felt like eternity. "no."

"then yes, I am allowed to do that."

posts:

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Eight

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Chapters two through seven from Tommy’s POV.

Warning: language, smoking, war mention(ish), PTSD mention(ish), suicide thought, ethnic slur

Side Note: Taking some liberties with some of the back and pre-pilot stories, as well as some of the stuff we just don’t know (Harry’s backstory and involvement in the war, as an example). Just go with it lol.

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Chapter Eight: Devil Inside Me

There’s a devil inside of me, and he’s holding on. And I don’t know if he’s staying, or for how long.  Pulling at my heart-strings, kicking in my mind. And I’m sad to say he’s got me thinking, about the bad parts of my life.  — Devil Inside Me, Frank Carter & The Rattlesnakes

Tommy was a dead man, walking through a life he knew he shouldn’t be walking, breathing an air that he shouldn’t be breathing. The realization that he hadn’t in fact died, or that he was actually going to go home, hadn’t even set in until hours after he stepped out of the train station the day they all came home. 

Well, not all of them came home. The faces of those he left with, who he fought with, who hadn’t been “as lucky” as him were always there, flashing just behind his eyelids with each blink. 

Ghosts of a fate that should have been his. 

He knew he wasn’t the same Tommy Shelby who’d left those handful of years ago. None of the men who were returning with him were. He could see it in Polly’s eyes the moment she saw them — a relief that was immediately replaced with a new coat of worry. 

Looking around as he stepped off the train, he was surrounded by men of all ages embracing their loved ones, crying, weeping. He watched John cradle his wife’s face as he kiss her, his children surrounding his legs. He watched Ada hug Arthur, then Freddie, before pulling him in for an extra tight hug. Tommy should have felt that same level of relief that he could see on his brothers and best mate’s faces, to be walking on English soil. 

But he still felt like a dead man. And it was all because of her. 

The first face Tommy saw as he stepped off the train was hers — the same face he saw while he laid in the mud. Another ghost, standing amongst the sea of people. 

The girl seemed just as surprised to see him as he’d been, and in a moment she was dropping her head and turning to leave. Tommy started to move forward faster, determined to reach her before she disappeared again. But by the time he breached the crowd in front of him, she was gone, and the cries of welcome from Polly, Ada, Finn, Martha, and John’s kids pulled him out of his odd trance. But still, in the back of his mind he wrestled with whether she’d really been there in the flesh this time, or if she were just another vision. 

Riding back into Birmingham, into Small Heath, and then walking down Watery Lane felt like a dream. His brothers and mates wanted to go to the Garrison first thing, but Tommy just wasn’t ready. After years of living in the trenches, the world around him felt very loud, very crowded, and he just needed a moment of peace in his old bedroom. 

Polly had kept his room the same as when he left. The clothes and sheets were recently washed, she’d told them on their way in. Tommy wondered if he could even fit in those old clothes of his anymore, instead choosing to pull out a shirt to sleep in from his luggage, breathing in the familiar scent. 

As he dug around further in his bag, he found the medals they’d given him. Acts of heroism and gallantry, the voices of those who’d presented them to him echoed through his mind as he scoffed. He picked them up and threw them in a drawer, then laid down on his bed. A few minutes later, he sat up and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He could hear the cheers outside, the music, the merriment and excitement of the war end, of husbands and fathers and sons returning home. 

Suddenly furious, he tore the drawer open and grabbed the medals and his coat, barreling out of his room and into the streets. 

“Tommy!” A female voice he barely recognized called out to him from the outside of the Garrison. 

He turned in time to Lizzie Stark wave a handkerchief at him, starting to walk his way. Ignoring her, he turned away and continued to walk, knowing that would be enough response to keep her from following as he walked down to the bridge. He waited at the ledge for a moment to see if anyone had followed him, but the music and merriment remained behind him as he pulled out a cigarette and looked down into the watery darkness of the Cut. 

The canal always made him think about his mother — another ghost in his life — and he wondered for a moment how much better it would be if he joined her. He wasn’t supposed to be here anyway, how easy would it be to just lean his weight forward. 

Right now, he reasoned that there were only two futures at play for him. He already saw the effects the war had on some of the other survivors, some of his comrades — the Flanders Blues. 

Danny had nightmares, and now it was starting to effect his waking hours, taking him ages to come back even after he’d already awoken. And there were others who were suffering far worse — like Barney, who had what they were now referring to as shell-shock, and Tommy feared would never be able to shake it and wondered if he’d ever leave the institution they’d admitted him in. 

Even now, Tommy could close his eyes and still hear the guns, the shouts, of shovels and picks breaking into the earth. He could feel the ever looming threat of breaking through the mud and finding the enemy — of always being so close to death.

He couldn’t even imagine a world where the things he’d seen would ever fade from his memory. The gore, the blood, the flesh. The smell of burning, of gas, of fire, of dirt, of blood. 

Whether those who’d died had found their way to a better place, Tommy no longer believed such a place existed. There was only a hell, and he’d volunteered to enter. 

The medals burned in his hand as he thought about all those ghosts — his friends, his comrades, even his enemies. They were gone, and he was here. 

He thought back to what he’d said to his brothers and comrades after they found out the war had officially ended. That this was their second life, their bonus life. Even then, Tommy wasn’t sure if he actually believed what he’d said in the throws of victory, of finding out that they weren’t going to die after accepting their fates. But now, standing over the Cut, Tommy knew that the only option for him was the second option. 

No one was ever going to put him or his family in the mud again. That one day, he’d build his family up so high that not even the King himself would be able to touch them. That was the only way they’d ever truly be able to find safety and peace. 

Lifting the medals into the street light, he read the engraving one final time before letting them slip through his fingers. He closed his eyes until he heard the expected splash. 

What he hadn’t expected to hear was a person exclaiming below the bridge. 

“Oi!” Tommy shouted, suspicion that he’d been followed creeping into his paranoid mind. “Someone down there?” 

Not waiting for a response, Tommy was already off the bridge and walking toward the underpass when he heard a woman respond. 

“You almost took me out,” the voice quipped, the body still leaning over the waters edge near where the waves were still bouncing. 

When the body straightened and turned toward him, he instantly recognized it. 

It was her — it was you. 

He breathed in deep, remembering his lit cigarette, and for a moment he had the thought that he’d actually jumped. 

Tommy could tell by the look on your face that you recognized him as well, and that the fact that you were standing there together was just as a surprise to you as it was for him.

“You were at the train station,” he tested, moving closer to the street light to get a better view and hope that it would prompt you to follow suit. Which, you did. 

The last two times he’d seen you felt different than this. Where before, even at the train station, you’d felt ethereal, otherworldly. Now, in this moment, you felt real, your body fidgeting uncomfortably as your eyes moved everywhere but refused to meet his own. He took the opportunity to get a better look at the mystery woman. 

The first thing he noticed was how different you looked now than you had in his vision. You were dressed in something similar to what his sister had been wearing earlier that evening. And while your hair seemed slightly in disarray and face looked flushed, you looked just as beautiful as you had the first time he’d seen you. 

His vision flashed before him, and he recalled the different version of you he’d seen. In his vision, you had on considerably less clothes, the recollection of your long, bare legs had him moving his eyes down your body. 

When his eyes reached back up to your face, your eyes finally met his again and a blush crept across your cheeks. Part of him wondered if you could read his thoughts. 

“I was,” you finally replied, your voice a little stronger than he’d expected. You motioned toward the water. “And you were throwing some medals into the river, yeah?” 

Sobering up, Tommy felt his back straighten a little at the notion. He hadn’t expected you to notice what exactly he’d thrown into the water. He narrowed his eyes, took a long drag of his cigarette, and made some comment about how the fish could have them. 

“Don’t think the fish’ll have much use for them,” you replied back, and he didn’t miss the way your eyes wrinkled and mouth flinched, as if holding back a smile at your own joke. 

Despite himself, the sight actually amused him enough to breathe out a shrug. “Seems we have that in common, then.” 

Not prompted at all by the thought of your legs from his vision, Tommy began to wonder how difficult it would be to persuade you to join his bed. It’d been a while since the last time he’d slept with someone. 

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized you’d indicated that you were leaving. He didn’t want you to leave though.

“You a whore?” He asked, reasoning that if he could pay you to stay with him, it’d be the easiest way to keep you from disappearing again. 

It wasn’t a crazy question. There weren’t many women walking around alone, at night, in Birmingham, who weren’t offering some intimate services. He knew it was where his unmarried brother and mates would be ending their nights tonight. Hell, one of them was probably giving Lizzie the attention he’d denied her at this very moment. 

He didn’t have anything against prostitutes, it was just another business transaction in his opinion. Plus, it was an easy way to have sex without the mess of feelings. 

But the way you’d rounded on him, planting your feet just a step away from him as your face contorted into something different than the one he’d just seen, his opinion on the question changed. 

You dove into a rant asking what the hell was wrong with him. 

“No, I’m not a whore!” You’d finally said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t support a woman’s choice to sell her services to men who will pay if it means making enough to survive in this God awful existence!”

Tommy chuckled, realizing that the two of you felt the same way about the profession. “So, you aren’t a whore, but you respect ‘em, is that it?”

You rolled your eyes and the sight made him want to smile again. He reasoned that this woman before him had no idea who he was — no person in Small Heath outside of his own family dared to talk to him like this, much less roll their eyes at him without the fear of his blade cutting through them, male or female. You were fearless, it seemed — or stupid. Either way, for the moment it intrigued him.

“Everyone sells part of themselves for something eventually. Sometimes it’s a woman laying on her back for a man. Sometimes it’s a man crawling through the mud for a King.” 

Your comment made Tommy shift immediately from amused and intrigued to angry. 

No, you weren’t afraid of him, but you should be. 

His eyes narrowed as he took a step closer to you, straightening his back and shoulders, expecting you to flinch. But you didn’t, and he couldn’t figure out why the refusal to back away or even break eye contact made him want to kiss you rather than punish you. 

“You should go home,” he decided to say, choosing to soften his voice instead of raise it. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop himself from scanning down your face to your lips. “The next man you meet alone, under a bridge, at night, might not be as accepting to your ideologies as I am.” He darted his tongue out to lick his own lips when you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth. While he was willing to let you get away with what you said to him this time, he still wanted to make you realize the vulnerable state you were in, how much power he really had. “If he says you’re a whore, he might treat you like one in spite of your pretty words.” 

He watched you finally react, a shiver running through you as your eyes met his again. He noticed the blush on your cheeks deepen as you took a step back, telling him you appreciated the advice before a strong breeze caused you to wrap your arms around your body. 

Tommy hadn’t even felt the cold since the minute he laid eyes on you, the adrenaline from marching down to the Cut and then finally getting to speak to you had his blood boiling. Without even realizing it, Tommy was shrugging his coat off his own shoulders and offering it to you, who hesitated slightly before accepting it. The sight of the oversized coat hanging around your shoulders made his chest tighten. He couldn’t figure out why it looked so right on you. 

Before he realized it, you were stepping away from him toward the steps of the bridge. His eyes met yours again, and something shifted behind them. Before he could ask, you welcomed him home and turned to finally disappear into the darkness, leaving him alone by the water’s edge again. 

Tommy didn’t know why he’d had a vision of you months ago. He didn’t know why he had met you tonight, or how it seemed you also knew about him. But he did know one thing — he was going to find out. 

——

Despite his initial internal promise to find out more about the mystery woman, Tommy found his attention otherwise occupied as he threw his energy into building back up the family name and reputation. And despite Polly’s insistence that they take a few days to get back in the swing of things, Tommy spent all his free time reacquainting himself with the family books, starting with the furthest back and moving his way forward. He was happy to discover that true to her letters, Polly had been keeping the betting business going with no qualms. Even with the amount of men in the war, there was enough steady flow of cash to keep everything afloat. 

The family business side of things hadn’t been as lucky. While still viable thanks in part to members of their gang who hadn’t enlisted, there had definitely been a drop in income. Tommy made a note of all the people he was going to need to visit. 

He could feel Polly hovering as he read through the books throughout the days. Having grown up with his aunt practically raising him, he knew how overprotective she was over her kin, so part of him thought nothing of it at first. 

He was nearly done with all the books, finally getting halfway through this year’s ledgers, when he discovered the real reason for Polly’s hovering. 

“Polly!” he shouted from his office, standing up and grabbing both books he’d been looking at before moving into the kitchen. He threw the first book open on the table in front of his aunt and pointed to the margins. “Who the fuck’s handwriting is this?” 

“Tommy—“ Polly began, moving quickly to close the doors to the bustling betting den. 

“Who the fuck’s handwriting is this, hmm?” He tapped against the book pages harder, leaning against the table as Polly closed the other doors, concealing them from any eyes or ears that may have followed Tommy’s tirade. “Fuckin’ answer me, Pol.” 

“I hired someone, alright Thomas?” her voice answered softly in contrast to his volume as she shook her head, waving him off. “You didn’t expect after all this time that we wouldn’t bring in new help.” 

Tommy threw a second book on top of the first and pointed again at the same handwriting in the margins. “And what is the same fucking handwriting doin’ in the family book, eh?”

Polly held his gaze. 

“Did an estranged family member show up while we were away? Perhaps a bastard looking for a father, or a long lost brother?”

She didn’t answer, her eyes narrowing at her nephew’s condescending questions as he went on, taking her silence as a no. 

“Okay then, how ‘bout a new uncle? Did you get married and you just forgot to bloody mention it, Pol? Is there a new last name we should be calling ‘ya?”

“No,” Polly answered straight, crossing her arms defensively as Tommy rose up. 

“No,” Tommy repeated as a mock and his body mirrored hers, crossing his own arms. “So, there is a non-family member auditing our family books then, yeah?” 

“Yes,” Polly answered again. 

Tommy took a deep breath, trying not to let his aunt’s stubbornness rile him up. There was information she was keeping from him, that she’d been keeping from him, and he wanted to know everything immediately. 

“Go on, Pol,” he went on, his voice still even despite its rise a few moments ago. “Tell me what you were thinking.” 

Polly held Tommy’s gaze for a moment before finally relenting, taking a deep breath that matched his own. 

“She’s a friend of Ada’s—“

“Fucking hell—“ Tommy’s eyes shot upward as he felt his entire body groan at the mention of his sister. 

He loved Ada, but the girl had never shown any interest in their business, either business, her entire life. In fact, the girl had never taken anything serious, so he couldn’t imagine the kind of company she chose. 

“She’s smart, Thomas,” Polly insisted, the use of his full name showing her seriousness. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to him. “Here, see for yourself. That’s a list of everyone who has tried to steal or skim money from us since she started.”

Tommy opened the paper, and immediately recognized most of the names. Two had been men he’d hired himself years ago. 

“It started with the betting books. Then I gave her one of our books just to see if she could spot anything. She didn’t know what it meant, just told her to cross check names and numbers.”

Tommy took another deep breath, “If she’s so smart, how do you know she didn’t know what it meant, eh? How do you know you can trust her?”

“Ask around,” she offered. “You’ll come to the same conclusion I did.”

“Where is she now?”

“I told her to stay away until you made your decision.”

“What decision is that? Whether to invite her back or kill her?” Polly’s eyes narrowed, and the reaction actually surprised him. He scoffed, “Really, ‘ave you gone soft on us now, Pol?”

She held her glare before raising her hand. “Just— just look into her first. Do that, and I’ll tell you everything I’ve learned. But, be discreet. Her employment was and still is a secret. Plenty of men were angry when we started taking care of that list.”

Tommy noticed some of the names next to the list had symbols next to them, understanding the meaning behind them. The two men he’d brought in both had black stars next to theirs. 

“Any threats?” Without realizing, Tommy began to take a closer look at Polly, searching for any new cuts, scars, or faded bruises. 

She scoffed, smiling as she shook her head. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Tommy took a deep breath, taking another look at the list. This really was impressive, and he was curious how exactly the girl had come to discover all of this. He’d paid close attention to her notes in the margins of the books and could already believe Polly’s insistence of her intelligence. 

But that didn’t mean she was trustworthy. This wouldn’t be the first time they’d been double crossed or infiltrated by an enemy or copper. 

“Fine. You’ve got a deal,” he finally said, folding the list up and putting it in his own pocket. “Just tell me her name.”

“Y/N.”

——

It didn’t take long for Tommy to find out where this Y/N lived and worked. Not only was the number of people moving into Small Heath minimal, but especially young women. 

Tommy had been avoiding the pubs since he came home, he still wasn’t ready to dive back into the crowds. But he heard the rumors of a pretty, out-of-town barmaid at the Garrison, and his curiosity finally won over. 

He thought his chances would be better if he went over early, and despite being gone for a few years, the old pub hadn’t changed a bit. Which meant, he knew exactly which nook and cranny to hide inconspicuously while the afternoon bustle began to ramp up. 

So far, it was just Harry tending the bar, the sitting area still sparse enough for one person to manage. Tommy watched as a couple men filtered in and out of the snug, and an idea began to formulate as he waited. 

He’d always liked the Garrison — it was conveniently closer to the house than any of the other pubs in the area, and it was slowly becoming the heart of the town for the everyday man. Presumably, all were welcome, even the men who preferred pubs that catered more toward the commies or Fenians. 

And he liked Harry. The man had never treated he or his family any different for being gypsies — Tommy chalked that up to him coming from Irish travelers himself. Even after Harry began to pay the Shelbys for their protection, he’d still treated them without some of the passive aggressive bitterness that some other patrons held. There was always a layer of respect, of common sense, and even a hint of humor that Tommy always appreciated. 

Even now, when Harry found him sitting in the dark corner of the bar with his paper raised like a shield, he hadn’t questioned and didn’t bring attention, an unspoken understanding it seemed and instead simply dropped a tumbler down in front of him and kept an eye on its fill level. And as if the man needed any more of a reason, Harry had fought in the war, up until he was sent home, and Tommy respected any man who fought for his country.

Yes, Tommy liked Harry, and decided in that moment to make the Garrison the Shelbys official pub.

He was beginning to formulate the deal proposal when the office door to his right opened and a body emerged. He pulled back up his racing paper, lowering it just enough so he could take in the backside form of a young woman as the door closed behind her and she walked toward the bar. He tried to listen as the women sat a book on the counter in front of Harry. The owner scratched his head as he looked at the page and shrugged. Tommy could read Harry’s lips as he shoved the book back toward the woman and told her he trusted her. She grabbed it and practically skipped away from the counter, obviously happy with the outcome of the exchange, and turned back toward the office door. 

It was you. 

The girl from his vision, from the train station, from the Cut. 

You were Y/N. 

Tommy felt his blood run cold at the realization and froze as you continued to look down at the book and walked right back into the office. You hadn’t seen him this time, and for that he was grateful. 

Because right now, he was angry. 

Who the hell were you, and what right did you have invading his space like this? First his mind, then his home, and now his business? Who the hell did you think you were? 

His blood turned from ice to a boil as he stood up and stormed out of the front door. Tommy could feel Harry’s gaze follow him with a silent question that he knew better than to ask. 

Tommy’s feet took him to the person who led him there: his aunt. 

Polly was near the fire, stacking some of the logs from the shed in preparation for a cold night. It was mid-December now, and the days were growing shorter than ever. All outdoor chores had to be done before supper and Polly always liked to get everything squared up and out of the way before she had to begin.

She heard Tommy storm in through the front door, she could always identify the sound of his footsteps over his brothers, even at a young age. He was heavy in the heels and he was always in a hurry, walking with his shoulders forward. Polly took it as a sign that he would be a leader one day, always firm in his resolve and destined to forever chase a dream bigger than himself. 

“Welcome back,�� she said evenly, already feeling his attitude before he even made it through the doorway. 

Tommy didn’t answer her, only moved to close the door behind him, and then the betting doors, despite the house being quiet at the moment. 

Polly wiped her hands on her skirt and rose to look at her nephew, the sight bringing a crease to her brow. 

Tommy was always composed, the number of times she hadn’t seen him so could be counted on one hand. But now, in front of her, she could add another count to her list as she reached for him. 

“Tommy,” she started calmly, urging him to sit before taking the seat next to him. She was trying to decipher if his expression was one of anger, shock, or something worse. “Tell me, what is it?”

His eyes finally flicked up to his aunt, and the anger returned. “Y/N.”

Polly took in a deep breath, more of the picture starting to fall in place as her back straightened. “You saw her?”

He nodded. 

“You talked to her?”

He shook his head. 

Polly licked her lips and tightened them. “Why not?”

Tommy ran a hand over his face and assessed his aunt. He was contemplating whether he should tell her his vision. Polly was more in tune to visions and spirits than he was. And despite his outward skepticism of most things religious or religious adjacent, there was something deep within him that was never able to fully dismiss some of the mysteries that came from the Romani people. That’s why he was always respectful toward old gypsy women, and took extra caution to his aunt’s warnings. Same with Curly, his Uncle Charlie, and even his mother back in the day. Whether it was real or just something familiar from his upbringing, he knew without a doubt his aunt could have some insight into all this. 

Hell, she probably already had some insight. It wasn’t lost on him that his aunt often knew things that he didn’t. And while usually that was something he trusted to use to the family’s advantage, right now he wanted to know everything. 

“We’ve already met,” he decided to begin there, not totally lying but not divulging the whole truth yet. “The night we returned, down by the Cut. It wasn’t exactly the best of introductions.”

“Oh Thomas, tell me you didn’t —“

His brow creased at her response, noticing the look on her face and realizing what she must have thought. He breathed out of his nose, “Nothing like that, Pol. We just talked. I did ask if she was a whore and she nearly pushed me in the water.”

The corner of Polly’s lips flew into a smirk as she tried to refrain from chuckling. It was difficult though, she could only imagine what that must have looked like. 

“Tell me what you know,” he continued, back to business. “This girl keeps showing up in my life and I want to know why.”

Polly took a deep breath, her smile turning serious as she leaned back in her chair. He wondered if she caught his use of the word ‘keeps’ and would push on it. 

She didn’t, for now at least. “I told you I would tell you once you found out more for yourself.”

“I’ll keep looking into her — discreetly,” he added when he saw she was about to remind him of her secrecy. “But right now I know enough and if I don’t hear what you have to say it might make things worse.”

The anger he was feeling before crept back up. He thought about facing you again in this state, and truly he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Part of him believed he’d just torture you into telling what you wanted from him, who you were working for, what your game was. The other part of him believed he’d fling you over his shoulder and bring you to his bedroom. Both of which would be unhelpful to his current situation. 

Something bigger was going on here. He could feel it. And he wanted to know what. 

Polly was watching him during his internal battle and could sense his edge. She took a deep breath before nodding. “I believe she’s gypsy,” she stated simply. “Maybe not bred, but by blood.”

Tommy hadn’t expected Polly’s big insight to be this. He restrained himself from scoffing. “That’s it? Just because she might be gypsy you think she’s trustworthy to be privy to our family books?”

Yes, Tommy and his family came from a long line of Romani blood. But that didn’t mean it held any stock with him. Outside of his own family and extended family, other gypsies would be some of the last people Tommy would trust. 

“I think she has a gift, Thomas,” Polly continued seriously. “The first day I saw her, the day she met Ada, she predicted the end of the war months before it happened. To the day.”

Tommy’s brow creased. “One correct guess and suddenly she’s a fortune teller?”

“It’s not just that. There was gossip when she first arrived. Mrs. Tully was chirping about a batty new tenant who finally arrived in the empty lodgings they’d been keeping. Said she acted like she’d been living under a rock all her life — didn’t even act like she knew there was a war going on. Strange that a girl who barely knew about the war could guess the exact date of its end, isn’t it?”

Tommy made a mental note to add Mrs. Tully to his list of people to question. “I suppose. But still doesn’t sound concrete to me.”

“Perhaps, but there’s one piece that solidified my guess,” Polly replied, straightening in her seat. “She has a tattoo on her back — I only caught a glimpse but I’m sure of what I saw. I’ve seen the symbol before, once, when I was a girl. The crest of the Delphi family.”

Tommy’s shoulders squared at the name. He, like most gypsies, were familiar with the name and the crest. It was one of the oldest Romani families still around, and there was a reason for that. Their age and their affinity for fortune telling deepened their pockets enough to provide them with muscle and protection. They were ruthless when wronged, and their leader was said to unleash unimaginable curses on her enemies. 

And according to Polly — you, his mystery woman, had their symbol branded on your back. 

He ran through the possibilities of what this could mean in his head. You could have been a family member who ran away, or a slave to one of the leaders. Polly had mentioned she didn’t think you were brought up in the gypsy life, and from the little bit of interaction he had with you, he was inclined to agree. There had to be a connection between this woman, this family, and his dream. Which was beginning to feel more and more like a curse, or an omen to stay away. 

But then, why did every instinct fuel him to get closer, to find out more?

He got up from the kitchen table and began walking back toward the pub. He ignored Polly’s call behind him, obviously worried he’d do something irrational. 

But Tommy was beginning to form a plan, a battle strategy, if you will. To defeat the enemy, you had to know the enemy. And whether Y/N fell in that definition for him or not, he needed to gather as much as he could before he made any call. 

Over the next day, he managed to speak with Harry while avoiding you. It was easier to ask about you in the pretense of dangling a business proposal, claiming that he needed to trust his employees as much as the owner when it came to matters like this. 

“Oh, ‘ya shouldn’t ‘ave a problem there,” Harry had told him. 

“Forgive me for askin’, Harry, it’s just you don’t normally give jobs to women. Especially pretty women.” 

Harry breathed out of his nose before waving his hand dismissively. “Findin’ anyone to work when I got back was bloody impossible, mate. And when I finally could find help, even if they was a girl, they’d end up spending more time makin’ their own money on the side, if’ya know what I mean.” Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “But let me tell ‘ya, Y/N’s been a dream since she showed up.” 

Tommy’s back tightened at the use of phrase. 

“She came in with all these ideas and improvements, ‘processes’ she calls ‘em. I tell ‘ya, I ‘aven’t met a more educated woman before in my life. I fought the changes at first, but dammit I can’t fight against less waste and more money. Oh, and don’t worry — I made sure she wasn’t a prostitute. Asked her ‘for I hired her.”

The corner of Tommy’s cheek rose slightly at the comment, curious if he’d been the latest of a long line of people asking her the same question. 

“And you’re sure?” Tommy asked, just to scratch a curiosity. “Not even recreationally?”

Despite himself, Tommy couldn’t keep out the thought of your blushed cheeks down at the Cut, the way you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, and the bareness of your legs in his vision. He adjusted in his seat before forcing his mind to stop before it went too far, noting to make an appointment with Lizzie the next time he saw her. 

Harry shrugged, oblivious to Tommy’s internal struggle. “She’s nice to the men at the bar, enough to keep the place calm and in good spirits. But I’ve ‘eard her turn down enough of ‘em to know she’s not interested in making an extra bob like that. Only once did I ‘ave to throw a man out for trying anything on her, and that was after she’d already damaged his boys herself. After that, the men seemed to get the message. She’s pretty though, and a good barmaid — think that’s why they keep comin’ back.” 

Tommy breathed a short breath of amusement out of his nose at the thought of you fighting. Granted, he’d seen enough fights between Ada and John to know that women would hit where ever they could to get the upper hand in combat, and he didn’t blame her. 

“I promise ‘ya, Tom,” Harry had continued talking. “You can trust her. Whatever business you want to do with me, Y/N could only make it better.” 

“Give me a week to make my own assessment,” Tommy replied. They ironed out the stipulations of how Tommy could make such an assessment and agreed to keep it secret. He could sense Harry’s hesitation, and he wondered if it was out of protectiveness or something else. 

But eventually, a handshake sealed the agreement and Tommy promised to have the deal finalized and ready by the time he finished.

A little more than a week later, and Tommy came to three absolute conclusions about you. 

First: you had a secret. He could tell predominately by the way you talked to people and by the way you carried yourself when you thought people were looking. It wasn’t obvious — in fact, it’s subtlety was one of the more glaring identifiers to someone who was looking as closely as Tommy was. 

Second: you weren’t a threat. At least, not to his family or their operation. Aside from the Garrison, your lodgings, the local grocer, and the bath house that he knew Ada frequented, you didn’t have any odd routes that previous coppers narcs had taken in the past. Y/N hardly had a life outside of the pub, Tommy realized, and found it strange. You didn’t go out with any men or friends, the way other women your age did. Hell, even Ada managed to leave the house at least twice a week to go out with her friends. But not you. 

You were especially less threatening when he caught you on the first night you were closing up the pub since he began his investigation. Everything was going as expected, until about an hour into the clean up when you began to sing. From his spot (which he’d managed to obtain permission from Harry to watch from with the promise that he wouldn’t do anything unsavory or harmful) he could see and watch as you sang some foreign song and danced around frivolously with your broomstick. 

It was hard to imagine you as some nefarious mastermind after watching you slip on a spot of tobacco spit on the floor while extending your arm in front of you and clasping your hand together, then jumping in the air as you shook your fist while singing some repetitive salutations to an invisible audience. 

That had actually caused him to laugh, something he hadn’t done genuinely and wholeheartedly since returning to Birmingham. 

The last conclusion Tommy made while watching you was the oddest, he thought. 

You didn’t smoke. At all. 

He didn’t know anyone who didn’t smoke. Hell, even Finn had been caught smoking a handful of times since the brothers returned. And he was ten years old. 

Tommy chalked the last observation up to the air of posh-ness he sensed you possessed. He felt strangely drawn to it, and after your odd drinking game after he finally approached you did it only increase. 

He still couldn’t quite get a read on you. There was an innocence he could see about you, especially when it came to your understanding of who he was and his place in this world. On the other hand, your eyes held a heavy weight to them that warned him not to underestimate you. That there was wisdom mixed with the innocence that he couldn’t quite detangle. 

He’d gauged your reaction to his reveal that he’d dreamed about you. You’d been genuinely surprised, though that hadn’t brought him much reassurance. If anything, it made him more frustrated by the series of events, especially when he had to use every ounce of resistance not to kiss you.

You'd given him all the signs — hell, he probably could have bed you that night if he’d asked to walk you to your bedroom. But you weren’t just some random woman or a prostitute. He’d asked you to officially work again for their company, for their family. He couldn’t be flippant with his more primitive instincts with you.

Plus, if there was something more going on here, something deeper, he wanted to make sure he had all the answers before he made himself too vulnerable. He had not only himself, but his family to think about.

After he left you at Mrs. Tully’s, he began his search for Johnny Dogs, determined that some kind of explanation had to be found in the Delphi camp. 

But now, you and him were here. And Tommy felt just as confused and frustrated as he had when they first met. 

Just get through the night, Tommy told himself as he led a freaked out you toward the jovial crowd of gypsies dancing around the bon fire. The time for secrets must end. 

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

tag list: @cillixn @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @swordofawriter @sweetmilkshakeluminary @ttae-yong @topstory21 @cole-silas @moral-terpitude @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reallysparklychaos @enrapturedbythemoon @bat-shark-repellant @kpopslur @ilovestrngrthgs @musicsweetie21 @invisiblexcth @lovelydivs @whoisf4yryl0v3r @itscheybaby @laylasbunbunny @lordofthunderthr @luvstylesz @roseanimelover @lostgirl219 @berarenado @akemiixx01 @mulletmcghee @jasminxts @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @piceous21 @xoprincessmel @invisiblexch @arcanebabe

I tried to tag everyone who requested, but if I missed you, let me know and I’ll add you! Also, I’m not sure why it doesn’t link everyone, but idk how to fix that. Next chapter will be published right after this one!

[buckyscrystalqueen]

More the Merrier: Part 5

Pairings: Henry Cavill x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers x Sharon Carter

Warnings: Swearing, Polyamory

Word Count: 3,412

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite the heartbreak your family felt, you decided to stay in Australia for the full two weeks. You could definitely tell that there was a heavy, melancholy feel to the air, but that didn’t stop you all from enjoying the country Henry had never been to before.

“I don’t want to go home.” You complained on the last day as you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling of the hotel room as Henry packed both your luggage.

“It’s time, baby.” He huffed with a smile as he set an outfit aside to travel in. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Can we stop in Jersey instead of London on the way back? I want you all to meet my family.” A smile stretched across your face as you rolled onto your side to look at him. 

“Of course! We can absolutely do that if that’s what you want.” He paused and looked up at you with a nod.

“I absolutely do.”

“Then we’ll stop in Jersey.” You agreed as Nat came into your room with her hand held out. She handed you two Advil and your brow furrowed. 

“For your cramps.” She clarified since your cycles were in sync. Your brow furrowed further as you sat up and shook your head.

“I don’t have cramps. I don’t have my period.” Natasha and Henry both froze and looked over at you as you stared at the two pills in your palm. “Natasha, I don’t have my period.”

“Okay. Okay.” She said as calmly as possible as she walked over to take the pills from your hand so she could take hold of it. “Let’s not panic. There’s a pharmacy at the end of the next block.”

“I’ll take her.” Henry said as he abandoned the suitcases. He walked over to you and instantly pulled you into his shaky arms for a hug. 

“I’ll get Bucky.” Nat whispered numbly. “We’ll all go.” Henry nodded and you fisted his shirt in your hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby girl.” He mumbled into your hair as he shook his head. “Don’t you dare be sorry.”

“How is this possible?”

“We didn’t use condoms on the plane. And you don’t use them with Bucky.” He reminded you as he pulled back to cup your jaw in his hands to search your now panicked eyes. “(Y/N), it is alright. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Even if it’s Bucky’s?”

“Even if it’s Bucky’s.” You nodded your head as the man in question walked into the room with Natasha’s hand held tightly in his.

“Hey baby girl.” He cooed softly as he came over to brush his hand down the back of your head. “We’re alright, okay? Everything is going to be just fine.”

“I know.” You sighed as Henry pulled you to your feet. He carefully tucked you into his side while Bucky grabbed your and Nat’s hands and the four of you headed out the door to go to the pharmacy. 

——

“Natasha, I’m sorry.” You said softly as she stood in the bathroom of your hotel, ripping open pregnancy test after pregnancy test to make sure that they weren’t false positives… which they weren’t. She whipped around toward where you were sitting on the tub ledge and shook her head frantically.

“Solnyshka, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry about, do you hear me?”

“But I…”

“Sweet girl.” She sighed as she came over to kneel down in front of you while gently cupping your face in her palms. “I am not mad. I am ecstatic! A bit scared because we’re about to get on the plane for a full day and all I want to do is get you to a doctor to make sure you’re okay. But I am not mad, you hear me?” You nodded as best as you could as Bucky and Henry walked back into the bathroom to look at the current test situation. They had taken the news of the first positive one quite seriously and immediately played rock, paper, scissors for who got to sleep with you in the bed on the plane. Henry won best two out of three. 

“Stop looking at me like I’m about to explode.”

“We’re not, baby.” Henry chuckled as he came over to sit down beside you to hold your hands. “We’re just checking to make sure you’re okay with all of this.”

“I’m okay.”

“Shit, we’re gunna be parents.” Bucky laughed as he ran his hand down the back of your head in a continuous, soothing rhythm. “Who’d have thought it.”

“Alright, let’s get our stuff and head to the airport.” Natasha said as she stood up and went to collect all of the positive tests to throw out. “I’ll call the doctor when we get to London to meet us at the house.”

“Oh, we’re going to Jersey.” You pipped up as you stood up. “Henry wants to introduce us to his parents on the way home.”

“Alright then I’ll call when we are leaving Jersey.” Nat confirmed as she washed her hands. “But let’s get a move on it all the same.”

“We’re going, we’re going.” Bucky chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and settled his hands on your lower stomach. He kissed your neck with a smile before pulling away to spank your ass lightly. “Come on, lil mama.”

“Oh, don’t you start.” You giggled as you headed out into your room and grabbed your day bag off the bed. It was immediately taken from your hands by Henry.

“No heavy lifting.” He said with a smile as he shouldered the bag while you huffed at him. 

“It’s not heavy lifting, it’s a bag of clothes.”

“No heavy lifting.” Your family chorused simultaneously which made you roll your eyes.

—— 

“I feel like this is really bad timing.” You said as you Ubered to Henry’s parent’s house.

“It’s perfect timing, baby.” Henry said as he reached over the middle seat to take ahold of your hand. You nodded against Bucky’s side in the back seat as the Jersey landscape flew by your windows. “I want my family to know my family.”

“We can wait.” Natasha said, politely as she turned on the seat next to Henry to look back at you. “If you really want to, we can wait.”

“No, let’s just do it.” You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair. “We’re here and it’s been so long since you’ve seen your parents… let’s just go.”

“Okay then.” Henry said with a nod as he squeezed your hand and turned back around in his spot as the Uber pulled up in front of a quaint home. Everyone got out and Henry instantly grabbed your hand so he could wrap his arm around your waist. “They are going to love you.” He whispered in your ear as the four of you headed up the walkway to the front door. You nodded like a bobblehead as he knocked on the door before reaching back for Natasha’s hand to pull her closer as well. 

“Oh!” The woman who answered the door exclaimed as she took a step back. “Well I’ll be! Henry?! Come in, come in!”

“Hi mum.” Henry said sweetly as he guided you and Natasha into the house first. You looked around the cozy living room that had photographs everywhere and you felt at ease for the first time all day.

“Who are your friend’s dear?” The woman asked as she gave her son a hug while an older man called out his son’s name.

“Hi dad. This is my girlfriend, (Y/N)… and her wife and my other girlfriend, Natasha and their husband, Bucky. Guys this is my mum, Marianne and my dad, Colin.” The room got pin drop silent as Marianne looked between you and Natasha with a furrowed brow. 

“I’m sorry. You said wife and husband?” She clarified, which made you take a step back into Bucky’s chest. He instantly wrapped his arms around your body to protect you from whatever fall out was about to happen.

“Yes.” Henry said as he put his arm around Natasha’s waist. “We’re in a polyamorous relationship.”

“A poly what?” Colin asked as he looked at your family with confusion.

“A polyamorous relationship.” Henry repeated as he turned to find your hand so he could hold it while holding Nat to his other side. “We are all in a relationship together. And we just found out that (Y/N) is pregnant while on holiday in Australia.” Henry’s parents stayed dead silent for almost a full minute, making you and Nat shift unconsciously under their scrutiny, before Marianne nodded her head slowly.

“So you’re happy then?” She asked as she looked up into her son’s eyes, hopefully.

“I am.” He told her with a nod as he squeezed your hand. “Very much so.”

“Well then it’s settled.” She said as she stepped forward and cupped your and Nat’s jaws in her hands. “You two are gorgeous.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” You both said simultaneously, which made her tisk at you.

“None of that. It’s Marianne or mum. Come sit down, we’ll call your brothers. How long are you in town for? Here, girls you can sit here. Colin, go get some chairs from the dining room for the boys.” At her fussing, a smile spread across your face and you shared a look with your wife because neither of you had parents that would fuss over you. “Drinks! Oh, I have water and some beers…”

“I’ll get everyone drinks, mum.” Henry said as he headed through a door off to the right while Colin came in with two chairs from a door behind you. Bucky lunged to help him and you giggled as Marianne fussed while pulling a blanket across your lap.

“A baby.” She said more to herself as she pulled a foot stool over and propped your feet up for you. “How wonderful.”

“Mum, let her alone.” Henry said as he carried in three beers and a glass of water for you. “She just found out. She’s not fragile.”

“Oh, alright.” Marianne conceded as she held up her hands in surrender since she had done all she wanted to do to make you comfortable anyways. “Now, you three tell me all about yourselves. I want to know everything.”

“Mum, I didn’t bring them here for you to give them the third degree.”

“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, I will get to know my son’s partners as I see fit. You hush.”

“Yea, Henry. Hush.” Natasha teased before taking a sip of her beer and putting her hand on your lower back to draw circles on your skin until you melted in your spot. “Well not to drop more news bombs on you but I am a former countess of Russia, (Y/N) is an heiress, and Bucky works on Wall Street.”

“A countess, really?!” Marianne gasped as she took a seat on the arm of the recliner chair Colin was sitting in. “And what kind of heiress, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“My family are ranchers out in Montana. Have been for hundreds of years.”

“Oh ranchers. That makes a lot of money then?”

“Mum.”

“What, it’s just a question.” She chided as she swatted the air in Henry’s direction.

“Yes, it makes a lot of money.” You confirmed with a nod before taking a sip of water to sooth your parched throat. 

“Fascinating. Now Bucky, was it? Tell me about your job. Oh, let me send a text to the boys first to tell them to come over to meet you all.”

“My brothers.” Henry clarified as he shifted nervously in his seat beside you. You reached out and gently took his hand and he visibly relaxed almost instantaneously. Once the text was sent, Marianne kept a running string of questions coming as she got to know her son’s new family. It took almost an hour for Henry’s brother’s and their families to arrive and right as the last brother walked in, your stomach growled loudly.

“Oh, we need to feed you!” Marianne exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and started pushing her way through the crowd. “Colin call Pizza Express. See if they can get us a couple tables. They shouldn’t be too busy tonight. Is pizza alright, dears?”

“Pizza is lovely.” Natasha agreed with a nod before she handed her finished beer to Marianne’s waiting hand.

“This is chaotic.” You giggled to Henry as he stood up and unwrapped you from the blanket with a smile. 

“This is my family.”

“And it’s perfect.” You concluded as he helped you to your feet.

——

Dinner with Henry’s family was exhausting. Fantastic, but exhausting. However, you weren’t able to fall asleep. You lay in Henry’s childhood bedroom, staring at the wall, trying to convince yourself that you should get up and head to Piers’ room where Henry was sleeping but you didn’t want to be inappropriate. Marianne had said that this room had the comfiest bed and it was comfortable, but you were sleeping alone for the first time since you met Henry and you were not a fan. 

About 20 minutes later, when you had finally convinced yourself to get up, there was a light knock on the door.

“Come in.” You sat up and let out a sigh of relief as Henry slipped into the room.

“I’m not a fan of sleeping alone.” He whispered as he tiptoed across the floor. You pulled back the blankets and scooted to the middle of the bed with a shy smile.

“Your mom won’t mind?”

“I frankly don’t care.” He said as he got into bed and instantly pulled you into his arms. He sighed and nodded his head as he kissed your forehead. “Much better.”

“I was just about to come join you myself.” You whispered as you ran your fingertips up and down his spine as a second knock sounded on your door.

“Come in.”

“Well if you two weren’t sleeping alone, we weren’t.” Bucky said as he pushed Natasha into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

“This is a full size bed, people.” You reminded them as you scooted closer to Henry so the two newcomers could get in as well. 

“We’ll make it work.” Nat said as she pushed Bucky down on the bed and climbed on his chest. She laid down on top of him and you cringed as the bed settled but thankfully didn’t break.

“Cozy.” 

“Get your knee out of my crotch. I am not your wife.”

“Ow! My hair!”

“My mum is going to lose her shit in the morning if we break this bed.”

“Sleep!” Natasha hissed as she pulled the blanket up over everyone and settled in against Bucky’s chest. With a smile on your face, you swung your knee over Henry’s hip and snuggled impossibly closer to him and almost instantly fell asleep with your family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When you got back from your vacation, the melancholy mood that had followed you after Steve’s departure settled back in when you realized he had moved out of your condo and in with Sharon permanently. It lasted a couple weeks until you had your first doctor’s appointment with your OB/GYN.

“Twins?!” Natasha exclaimed as you lay frozen on the metal exam table. 

“Holy shit.” Bucky breathed as Henry simply got up from his chair to hold your hand. 

“Fraternal twins.” Your OB, Cara Smith said as she took images of your 12 week along babies. “The antibiotics you took when you had the road rash to prevent infection knocked out your birth control. That’s the only thing I can think of of why you got pregnant on the pill. Y’all wanted to do a DNA test, correct?”

“That’s still the plan.” Nat said as she looked over at you and reached out for your other hand. “You okay, solnyshka?” You nodded your head and looked over at her with fear in your eyes. “Hey now.” She said softly as took a step closer and ran her hand over the top of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.” You nodded and swallowed deeply as Cara removed the wand and printed out your sonograms for you. 

“Alright, let’s get some bloodwork done, and then I need both dad’s to do the same.” Cara informed the group as she picked up her laptop and started putting in notes. Both boys nodded as you stood up and dropped your maxi dress down to cover yourself while Nat handed you your panties. Cara excused herself from the room and you looked over at your wife.

“How the hell are we going to handle twins?”

“Well there are four of us to two of them.” Bucky pointed out as he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie since he had come to this appointment straight from work on his “lunch break”. “We got this, (Y/N).” You nodded once and looked up at Henry who still hadn’t said anything and he sighed when he met your eye.

“Yes, I’m scared, too.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one.” You breathed in relief as you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Everything is going to be just fine.” Natasha cooed, happily as she walked up behind you to rub your back while ducking into your line of sight so she could look you in the eye. “I promise. We are going to figure this all out and it’ll be a walk in the park.”

“If you say so.” You commented as the nurse came in to do your blood work. You forced yourself to let go of Henry and to sit back down on the exam table as he pulled his arm out of his Henley to get ready for his own bloodwork. After about 15 minutes, you were dismissed from the exam room and told to set up an appointment in four weeks for the gender reveal and DNA results appointment. 

“You hungry, baby girl?” Bucky asked as he took one of your hands, while Henry took the other as Nat set up your next appointment. You shook your head because nausea and morning sickness were a real struggle for you that hopefully would go away with the prescription meds Cara called in for you.

“I’ll grab lunch with you, handsome.” Nat said over her shoulder as she scrolled through the family calendar on her phone to find the best date for the next appointment so you could all be there. “Henry?”

“I’m gunna just grab something at the house when I take (Y/N) home. I have finish my college admissions essay so I can apply to NYU’s photography program before the deadline.”

“Still proud of you.” You said softly as you squeezed his hand. He smiled down at you and gave you a single head nod as Nat finished up with the female scheduler.

“Alright, then I’ll see you both at home.” She said as she gave you both a kiss. You kissed Bucky goodbye, wished him well for the rest of his work day, and headed out of the office with your family until you went in separate directions at the front door. 

“What’s got you so nervous, baby?” Henry asked as he hailed a cab at the corner. 

“I’m just nervous something’s going to go wrong.” You admitted with a small shrug. “What if, God forbid, something bad happens?”

“Then you and I will get through it together.” He stated simply as the pair of you got into the cab. Henry gave the driver your cross streets and sat back in his spot to pull you into his side with a sigh. “We aren’t alone, anymore, baby girl. We have each other and Bucky and Natasha. We have a family. And now, our family is growing by two more so we still aren’t alone. Any issues that arise will be dealt with by four adults that already love these babies more than life itself, right?”

“Yea, you’re right.” You sighed as you sank into his embrace a bit more.

“I know I’m right.” He chuckled as he rubbed your arm. “I’m always right… ow!”

“I’m always right.” You giggled with a smile as he rubbed where you had lightly pinched his thigh. “Not you.”

“Of course you are, baby. Of course you are.”

Part 6

[brrbrina]

echoes

joe burrow x og!c

part: 1/?

warnings: cheating, implied sex but nothing explicit, pregnancy (?) ANGST

"Cinnicinatti Bengals Quarterback Joe Burrow and Model Designer and Wife Kendall Carter broke off their marriage after 7 years. The couple welcomed their first and only child Natalie Burrow-Carter four years ago.

There has been no comment or statement made by his reps but a close source to the couple shared that the breakup was amicable and that their priority is their daughter."

When the announcement hit the news the only thing on Kendall´s mind was her daughter, she was a beautiful reminder of the love she and Joe had for the time they were together. And Natalie adored their parents, she was the happiest kid when she would accompany her mom to work and cheer for her dad every weekend of the season. Telling her they wouldn´t live together anymore broke Kendall´s heart in a way she didn´t know was possible.

"So Daddy won´t drive me to school anymore? " Natalie said looking up at her daddy as he turned to see his soon-to-be ex-wife, "He will baby, it will only be a few times a week my love " Kendall stopped and place her hand on her heart "I want you to know that we love you and we will always love you" she said with tears on her eyes and gulping "On the bright said you will have two Christmas" Joe said excitedly and held her daughter as she laughed, Joe took her out for ice cream and Kendall took a shower.

Being by herself made her heart race and her stomach hurt, she hated Joe, the breakup wasn´t amicable, it was the worst heartbreak she had ever gone through, she cried herself to sleep constantly on an empty bed, holding the pillow where he used to lay his head. He slept in the guest room, had dinner when she was asleep, and took showers when she wasn´t home.

Every corner of that house was haunted, filled with memories and his laughter, his scent, significant moments, and then also screams and anger. Dinners were eaten my themselves and luggage was never unpacked, the shirts she wore once after making love were back in his side on the closet, washed and smelling like detergent, it no longer smelled like Joe´s cologne or her favorite VS body spray she used to wear at home because she knew he loved it.

She hated that, she was always scared of falling in love, her parents got divorced when she was twelve years old, old enough to realize love wasn´t meant to last, she hated the thought of Natalie feeling that way, she knew love existed, their daughter was proof of that.

"I talked to my lawyers, and they will contact yours soon, you can keep this house and the holiday house in Rhode Island," he said as Kendall was in her closet,

Joe wasn´t brave enough to admit when he stopped loving her, he met someone new on one of his trips to New York, she was two years younger than him, a smart-looking woman who he met at a coffee shop, he couldn´t take his eyes off her. He then found out she worked at the NFL and followed her on social media. The first time Kendall and he had sex after the trip, he was picturing Jaqueline or Jackie as he used to call her now.

With every kiss she was giving him, Joe pictured her, when Kendall was giving him the greatest head of his life, he couldn't stop imagining the lips around his cock were from a woman who wasn't his wife, when he was licking her, he wondered how she would taste, .

He knew it was wrong, he was married, had a kid, and a family he wanted to span, Kendall didn´t want a baby right away, she knew she needed to go back to work, and having a baby wouldn´t be the smartest option at the time.

"I haven´t had that great sex in forever, I bought you a new piece of lingerie I can´t wait to see you on. Love you baby see you in a week"

Kendall broke down crying when she saw the message being sent from her husband's phone, she couldn´t believe it. Natalie was dropped off at her grandparent's house with a lame excuse and Kendall waited for Joe sitting on their bed

"Honey I'm home" Joe yelled from downstairs but she didn´t hear him "Where´s Natalie? What´s with the box?" he asked "How long have you been fucking Jaqueline or do you prefer me calling her Jackie or baby? Tell me, Joe, how do you prefer me to call her?” she said with her heart racing and watery eyes, but she wasn´t sad she was mad, she was angry, and she need him to feel the way she felt.

"How long Joe?" She screamed and he was pale as a ghost, words wouldn´t come out of his mouth. "If you don´t tell me how long you have been having this little adventure I swear to god I will make sure you will never come near Natalie anymore" she stated looking at him in a way he had never seen her before.

"Baby please listen to me" he tried to grab her arm but she quickly brushed it off and fought the urge to spit him in the face she said, "Don´t you dare touch me once in your life again or call me baby again".

Joe sighed, "I have seen her for the last two months, I never intended to cheat on you I swear baby" She slapped him, and he started to cry "You have the nerve to cry?" she chuckled "Joe you destroyed our family, you cheated on me and while you were sleeping with that slut I was here, taking care of our daughter, putting my career on hold just because I loved you enough to support you through your career, I was stupid oh my God" she put her hand on her forehead, "I can´t believe I even had this planned this is so stupid" she threw him the box that was next to her on the bed, a pregnancy test, a positive pregnancy test.

Truth be told, Kendall wanted a baby, she hoped it would be a boy, and she was a bit jealous of how much Natalie looked like her dad, Joe could be a cheater, but at least he was a good father to her kid. She fantasized constantly about how their family would be. This would be her last baby, she would go back to work in the clothing company she worked so hard to develop and Joe would win a few more rings, they would be a happy family and eventually move out of the spotlight.

She found out she was pregnant when Joe was away for a game and it made her sick to her stomach that while she was creating life, he was sleeping with another woman. She found out about the cheating three weeks later, and she was angry, pissed, and insanely heartsick, it was almost Thanksgiving and she planned on giving Joe the surprise that weekend, then a month later, telling Natalie on Christmas day, that dream was crumbled.

"How long have you been pregnant?" Joe said excitedly, "Babe this is the greatest news of my life he said trying to hug her and she took a step back "How do you have the nerve to be like this?" she had steady breathing "You tore this up Joe, you ruined our family and" she stutters "You haven´t even apologized, you became self-center and arrogant"

"Ken if you give me one more chance I promise I will change, I will cut any relation I have with her" he had slumped shoulders, and she didn't say a word "Any relation I had with her was purely sexual, you´re the only woman I love"

Kendall had her arms wrapping around her body "So that makes it better" "No, it doesn´t I know it doesn´t but I can go to therapy and work that there, you can have my phone all the time and go through it whenever you want" Kendall chuckled "I don´t want you near this place until we come to an agreement, if you want to see Natalie you can pick her up at school and go to your parent´s house to be with her" she went to bathroom and cried until she heard Joe leave the house.

That was three months ago, she was 5 months into her pregnancy and her baby was growing healthy, she saw Joe every now and then, the season was over, the Bengals won the super bowl and as much as Joe showed he was happy that night, he could only think of the woman he lost and the family he missed so dearly.

He constantly wondered how their life would look like if he hadn´t messed up things, he hated himself, he hated that he wasn´t close to his daughter anymore, and he was grieving that he hadn´t seen his baby, Kendall told him she didn´t want him to go with her to the check-ups, "Well Joe you fucked up honey I don´t know what you want me to say" his mom said staring at him and her son was crying, he seemed awful but at least he was happy that Natalie was staying with him over the weekend.

"Daddy!" Natalie screamed and Joe felt full again, he knew she would eventually know the truth and he deep down knew his children would hate him for it, he would hate his dad if he ever cheated on his mom, and the pure thought of Natalie and baby Burrow hating him broke his heart. He knew he deserved it, he knew he fucked up and he was sorry.

That evening they went to a mall to Build-a-bear, Joe took her telling her that it would be a nice gesture for her baby brother, she was extremely happy with the news, she loved the idea of being a big sister.

"I want that one daddy" She pointed to the classic teddy bear, he grabbed it and went on to fill it, he knew these moments wouldn't last forever and he was scared of his baby girl growing up. When Kendall told him she was pregnant, he was over the moon, Natalie was a copy of him, she had her mom´s brown hair but her dad's blue orbits. When she was born Joe made the promise to always protect her, care for her and guard her dreams, he was mad at himself now because he knew he fucked that promise, his baby would eventually get her heart broken by a guy, and he was sure she would hate him for what he did to her mom.

"Are you excited for your brother to come home, honey?" Joe said with Natalie in his arms as she was eating an ice cream cone "Yes, but I'm more excited to come and buy Mat clothes" They made the agreement of coming to buy clothes for her teddy bear once the baby was born "Mat? Where you got that name from" he chuckled as he put her on the car seat "That´s the name of mommy´s friend, he´s very nice, look" she showed him a bracelet "CARTER".

He felt his blood boil, Mommy´s new friend? Was he spending time with his daughter, was he bringing Kendall late-night pregnancy cravings? He drove Natalie to her mom´s house. He passed a Trader Joe´s and bought Kendall flowers, "Which one do you think mommy would like?" he asked Natalie, she pointed to the pink ones,

Hoping to come to clarity on who that man was. He parked his car in the driveway, rang the door, and hope to see the love of his life, Kendall opened the door, and the smile she had dropped when she saw Joe,

"What are you doing here? You know your mom is supposed to bring Natalie when you hang with her" Kendall took her daughter from her dad´s fathers arms, she was fast asleep, "I know but I really want to talk to you, I want to see how the baby is doing, how are you doing?" Kendall was a pathological people pleaser, and unfortunately for her Joe knew that, he knew she would´t reject him, and deep down Kendall knew the same thing, she was glad her children´s dad was present in their lives and every month when she got ready for her check-ups she wished Joe would go with her; when Natalie was on the way, she was the happiest she had ever been, she loved this baby nonetheless but it pained her to know her son wouldn't experience having a "normal" family, however, that was Joe´s fault's, not hers.

She moved out of the way and he walked inside, Kendall was going upstairs to put Natie to sleep but she was too heavy for her, carrying a baby and her big baby was something she stopped doing a few weeks ago.

"Can you carry her upstairs? I can´t lift her anymore" She turned to see Joe and he quickly brought her back to his arms, he made his way upstairs and Natalie went behind him, when both of them entered their daughter's room a sense of nostalgia filled the air, a longing to have his family back took over Joe's body, to return home and share his life with his love.

Natalie woke up as Joe tucked her in "Can you stay here tonight Daddy? I promise I will eat all my veggies tomorrow" Natalie said with her little sleepy eyes, he didn´t know what to do, he kissed her daughter on her forehead and Kendall stared at them with eyes that once were full of love.

As they made their way out of Natie´s room Joe looked at her with puppy eyes "You can stay here tonight, in the guest room but you have to leave tomorrow evening because I can´t risk Natalie having the hope that you will come back to live here"

a/n: hello everyone! i know i have been mia but i´ve had the biggest writer´s block, this idea came to me yesterday night and i couldn´t stop writing. I hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

special thanks to @cowboyburrow for encouraging me to post this, i appreciate her opinions and feedbacks and i LOVE her stories :)

[jahayla-parker]

Stag Night : Freddy Carter

Note: somehow I forgot to write this and post it before the last part I did for this series but no worries, it’s here!

Descr: text message SMAUs and a brief written fic regarding Freddy’s stag night/ bachelor party trip to Paris before he and y/n’s wedding. Featuring drunk and lover boy Freddy.

Warnings: few curse words, mentions of drinking/being drunk, flirting, suggestive material

“I” Freddy whispered warmly as he kissed y/n’s forehead. “Cannot,” he continued, lips pressed to her left cheek. “Wait,” he hummed as he moved to her right cheek. “To,” his lips pressed to the left of her neck. “Marry,” he cooed breathily as he turned to kiss the right of her neck. “You,” he concluded with a heartfelt kiss on her lips this time.

“Damn, what happened on the stag trip?” Y/n teased.

“Nothing,” Freddy chuckled with a shrug. “You know I’ve been waiting for this month to come for awhile now,” he reminded her with a soft hum as he brushed some loose hair behind her ear. “Just been thinking a lot about our future,” he explained dreamily.

Y/n leaned forward, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her. “I’m glad you had a good time honey, but I’m so glad you’re back,” she confessed as her hand reached up to squeeze his cheeks, earning a grin in response.

“You’ll never guess what Lewis texted me,” y/n smirked as she moved out of his arms and began to roll his luggage behind her as she walked to their bedroom to dispose of the suitcase.

“Oh bloody hell, I love the bloke but he’s a menace,” Freddy laughed loudly. “Do I want to know?” He pondered aloud as he followed after her.

Y/n laughed loudly and nodded in agreement with Freddy’s characterization of Lewis. She turned to face him as she rolled the bag to the side of their room for now. She quickly pulled out her phone to show him the messages.

Freddy blushed madly, his eyes no longer on the phone in his hand but not yet being brave enough to look up and meet her gaze. “I.. umm..”

“Hmm? Care to share what it was that caused you to grin so cheekily?” Y/n questioned, placing her hands softly on his upper chest.

Freddy blindly set the phone down on the dresser beside them. “You’re wanting to know what I was thinking about doing on our wedding night are you?” he replied with a raised brow.

“You seemed to have something pretty good in mind, no?”

Freddy chuckled with a smirk. “Mmmhmm”.

“And you missed me, didn’t you?” Y/n inquired, batting her eyes up at Freddy.

Freddy’s eyes darkened lightly as his hand moved to hold her waist. He tucked his head down to press a kiss to her collarbone as his thumbs brushed the skin just under her shirt. “So much darling,” he confessed.

“Prove it,” she hummed pressing herself against his chest as she hungrily kissed his lips.

She let out a squeal as his hands that had traveled lower until they were holding on her upper thighs were suddenly lifting her into the air as he walked her backwards to their bed.

Freddy Carter Masterlist

Love of a Lifetime Series Masterlist

Taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @missdreamofendless @alex-kazbrekkersimp @nikfigueiredo @historynerd77 @opheliaofficial07 @el-de-phi

Main Masterlist

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER FIVE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

masterlist | previous | next chapter

CHAPTER FIVE - TIES AND STRINGS THAT BIND.

The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the cityscape, casting an amber glow over the bustling streets of London. After his peculiar encounter with the enigmatic Mira Batala-Carter, Marc Spector finally returned to his apartment located just a bus ride away from Trafalgar Square. He staggered into the dimly lit unit marked 502 on the fifth floor, his footsteps echoing in the silence of their cozy living space. The long flight had left him weary, jetlag gnawing at his bones from all the excitement that unfolded. 

Marc let out a deep sigh as he glanced over at Steven Grant’s reflection looking at him from the nearby mirror. 

"You've had enough of the spotlight for one day, huh?" Marc’s alter grinned, his arms folded as he watched his head mate push the luggage beside their wooden cabinet with his right foot, not even bothering to unpack.

"Yeah, I need a break”, Marc chuckled weakly, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. “You go ahead and be the life of the party"

Immediately surrendering control, Steven took the reins as he was already bustling around the apartment, completely at ease. Ignoring the chaotic mess that is his study and bedroom, he deposited his duffle bag on the couch. 

Wait until Mira sees this mess of an apartment, Marc piped into their headspace once more. You should send her a picture.

Steven flipped a bird at Marc’s direction in the mirror reflection, which was uncharacteristic of his British upbringing yet his teasing reaction was expected. Shrugging off his charcoal-gray suit with slow, deliberate movements, he changed into a crisp white t-shirt before slipping into a pair of dark pants. His stomach then growled in mild hunger, prompting him to pad into the kitchen for a light meal, selecting a bowl for what would soon become a delightful reprieve from the day's fatigue.

Vegan cereal filled the ceramic vessel, and he poured fresh almond milk over the golden clusters, watching them slowly soften as they embraced the creamy liquid. It was simple, yet comforting, and he savored every spoonful. But it wasn't long before Steven’s thoughts wandered to the sweet delicacies Mira had generously shared with him and Marc back at the airport. Her exciting recommendation weighed on his mind, and curiosity got the better of him.

He retrieved the ziplock bag of treats from their duffle bag and perused the contents, the vibrant colors and exotic flavors beckoning him. With a grin, he decided to involve Marc in the tasting adventure. 

“What do you reckon we should try first?” Steven spoke excitedly as Marc's eyes widened from his silver spoon reflection.

“You’re vegan, right?”, Marc replied as he surveyed the array of options before them. “I think you should go for the dried mangoes first”

Steven, ever conscious of his vegan lifestyle, appreciated that Marc’s particular choice aligned with his dietary preferences. With eager anticipation, he plucked a slice and bit into the chewy fruit. The taste sensation was an unexpected revelation. The dried mangoes burst forth with a symphony of flavors—sweet, tangy, and slightly chewy. Steven's eyes widened, and he exchanged an amazed glance with Marc. It was as if a tropical paradise had been captured in a single, delectable bite. The decadence of this newfound treat made their eyes twinkle with delight, and they couldn't resist reaching for more, savoring the afternoon's unexpected adventure into the world of exotic flavors.

Like night and day, the two of them had developed a remarkable understanding over the past few weeks, unlike the first few months when they were still sharing lives apart from each other. Marc’s life was a whirlwind of chaos and unpredictability, and every time he thought he had found some semblance of stability, it slipped through his fingers like sand. 

Steven, on the other hand, was the steady anchor in Marc's turbulent life. He was the one who managed the day-to-day affairs, kept their finances in check, and ensured that Marc didn't do anything too reckless. He was also the one who helped Marc cope with his dissociative identity disorder, a condition that had plagued them both for years.

After finishing the bowl of cereal and putting it away in the dishwasher, the full force of jet lag clung to them like a heavy shroud. Without further ado, Steven (and Marc) finally retired to their bedroom, taking the former’s previous precautions of taping their door, spreading sand around their bed and tying their foot to the wall post to prevent sleepwalking. Against their will, it had become a shared routine born of necessity.

Marc and Steven knew that they weren’t alone in the body. Their last battle as Moon Knight in the streets of Cairo cemented that fact as the unknown third alter made his unexpected appearance. While the two of them and Layla were on the doors of death at the hands of Arthur Harrow’s newfound power, the mysterious entity acted on his role as the body’s protector and saved them all from a sure demise. 

You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you? Marc spoke gently in Steven’s head as the latter finally collapsed into their bed.

“Can’t help it”, Steven sighed, remembering the night Khonshu freed them from their servitude to the moon god. “It would’ve been nice if we knew who really saved us that night”

I’m not really sure if I would want to know. Marc murmured, slowly blinking his eyes closed as he and Steven slowly succumbed to their well deserved respite. Determined to not think too much about the events of the past month, their shared consciousness slowly drifted to their encounter with Mira Batala-Carter instead. They collectively recalled her with fondness - her graceful presence, her captivating beauty, the way she had intrigued them both – these thoughts brought a soft, endearing smile to their faces, even as sleep began to claim them.

The next morning, however, would bring a new twist to the tale. Marc awoke to the soft chime of his phone. He reached over to his bedside table and groggily picked up his phone, flipping it open and squinting at the bright screen. It was a text message from Layla, his ex-wife.

I’m back in Cairo. Hope you got home safe.

His mood immediately sombered, his emotions shifting as though he'd been doused in cold water. It had only been a day after his divorce was finalized for Christ’s sake, and the idea of entering another relationship shouldn't even begin to cross his mind. Yet the high walls he built within himself were effortlessly brought down by Mira - the very woman who he recently met on the plane from last night and shouldn’t even be the sole, primary occupant of his head. 

Marc, what's wrong? Steven called out in their headspace, sensing Marc’s ongoing turmoil. He was briefly puzzled on why Mira was currently on the forefront of their shared thoughts, until his eyes finally caught Layla’s latest correspondence on their phone. Ever the perceptive one, Steven started to piece together his alter’s current dilemma.

You know, Marc, sometimes we can't help how we feel. Steven spoke softly, ever empathetic as he offered his counsel. It's okay to be drawn to someone. You don't have to beat yourself up about it.

"It shouldn’t even happen in the first place”, Marc ran a hand through his disheveled hair and sighed. “Our mind’s all over the place already. I don’t need to drag her into our collective shit”

I mean, you don't have to dive headfirst into anything. Steven’s voice was calm and understanding. You can take your time, get to know her as a friend first. If it's meant to be, it'll happen naturally.

“No, Steven”, Marc softly shook his head, cursing himself for falling so easily for Mira's charms. He couldn't help it; her beauty and intelligence were truly captivating. "I need to keep my distance. Hell, I should be better than this”

I think you’re being too hard on yourself. Steven nodded, his eyes filled with empathy. You deserve happiness and companionship just like anyone else. 

“I don't need that”, Marc shook his head, his frustration evident. "I need to get our life together, and I can't afford to get involved with someone right now, especially with our current circumstances"

Steven nodded in understanding, although wishing that Marc would have a different perspective. He knew that Marc's fear of being rejected due to his condition was a powerful motivator for his self-imposed emotional distance. 

We'll take it one step at a time, lad. Steven continued to reassure. Just remember that you don't have to go through this alone, I’m here for you.

But Marc’s resolved hardened, very determined to protect his fragile heart. He couldn't afford to get too close to anyone and let his guard down. Keeping his new acquaintance, Mira, at arm's length is becoming an evident solution to his problem. Friendship would be the only connection he will allow to develop between them, no matter how much his heart might yearn for more.

That morning, Steven took the reins of their shared life to hopefully keep Marc’s stormy thoughts at bay. He started to go about his normal routine, dutifully feeding their pet goldfishes, Gus II and Fig. Settling down before the office desk, he opened his laptop and started to work on his CV. He started updating the details regarding his work experience and past education, and the possibility of securing the tour guide position that Mira potentially offered for the British Museum was becoming too enticing of an opportunity to pass up.  

As Steven typed away, he couldn't help but think about Mira. Her passion for her work and her kindness had left a quite deep impression on both him and Marc, and the prospect of working closely with her was both exciting and intimidating. He knew he had to be at his best to secure the job, so he plans to put his best foot forward.

After a few revisions, Steven finally keyed in Mira’s email address from the calling card she gave to Marc and clicked send to his composed email introduction. He can only hope that this upcoming job opportunity would allow him to see you more often and get to know you better.

Meanwhile in a bustling corner of London, you were deeply absorbed in your role as the curator of the British Museum. The burst of caffeine energy you received from your morning coffee was deeply focused on receiving and cataloging the latest shipment of Egyptian artifacts and relics, which was a crucial addition to the upcoming Ennead exhibit scheduled to open next week. 

Your passion for your work was evident in the way you handled each artifact with care, your fingers tracing the intricate details of ancient history. You couldn't wait to share them with the world.

Most of the artifacts for the Ennead exhibit had been recovered by the Scarlet Scarab - a mysterious figure known to the people of Egypt and the antiquities community. Albeit anonymously, you had received emails from the enigmatic vigilante, explaining that it was her way of returning "stolen goods" to their rightful owners and ensuring they were used for the benefit of the community. It was a curious and unexpected turn of events, but one that filled you with gratitude.

Taking a brief break, you leaned back in your office chair and let your thoughts wander. The museum had always been your sanctuary, a place where you felt most connected to the past. But lately, it seemed that your world was expanding to include new acquaintances like Marc Spector and Steven Grant. 

Your laptop chimed with a new email notification, pulling you out of your reverie. With a curious smile, you opened the email and the sender's name immediately caught your attention.

Subject: Application for Museum Tour Guide Position - Ennead Exhibition

Dear Mira,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to express my keen interest in the Museum Tour Guide position for the upcoming Ennead exhibition at the British Museum. As a passionate advocate for Egyptian culture and history, I am excited about the opportunity to contribute to the visitor experience and help bring this extraordinary exhibition to life.

I’ve worked previously with the National Art Gallery, where I have developed a deep appreciation for the cultural significance and historical context of artifacts. I am confident that my ability to communicate complex ideas in an accessible and engaging manner, combined with my enthusiasm for the subject matter, makes me a strong candidate for this role.

Please find my attached CV providing more details about my qualifications and experience. I look forward to meeting you this Saturday to discuss the job opportunity further. If you could kindly disclose the dress code for that occasion, I highly appreciate it.

Thank you for considering my application. 

Sincerely,

Steven Grant

You promptly composed a response, a smile tugging at your lips as your fingers danced across the keyboard. As you hit send, a flutter of anticipation you haven’t experienced in a long time coursed through you.

Subject: Application for Museum Tour Guide Position - Ennead Exhibition

Hello Steven,

I’m delighted to receive your application. Please come to the British Museum after lunch at 1PM for the museum tour guide interview. The dress code for this occasion is business smart-casual.

I look forward to meeting you this Saturday.

Sincerely,

Mira Batala-Carter

The days passed quickly, and Saturday finally arrived with a sense of anticipation. As the curator, you were tasked with welcoming the final batch of tour guide applicants. You stood in the grand entrance hall of the British Museum, where a diverse group of eager tour guide aspirants began to gather before you, their eyes filled with anticipation and enthusiasm.

They all had a common dream – to become a tour guide at one of the most prestigious museums in the world.

You had meticulously prepared for a mini-program before you got into the actual process of the job interviews, where you would briefly introduce yourself and explain the application process to the attendees.

“May I have everyone’s attention, please?” you politely called out to everyone in the vicinity. “We will start the program in about ten minutes. Thank you all for your patience”

You ended with a quick smile, walking away briefly towards the double door entrance on your way out to the nearest cafe to grab some much needed caffeine. But before you could even take the next step, a strong body unwittingly collided against your own, prompting you and the culprit to fall down together on the cement stairway.

“Oh, bugger! I am so sorry”, a soft, British accent greeted your ears before muttering under his breath. “I’m such a plonker, I should’ve looked where I was going”

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it”, you said breathlessly, brushing off dust from your beige pencil skirt as you felt muscular arms slowly hoisting you up. A shock of unruly dark hair greeted your vision, with but a few curly strands framed carefully over his forehead. Your eyes trailed down to finally meet his familiar striking brown eyes surrounded by a subtle network of laugh lines. 

“Marc?” you gasped at the eerily familiar man before you, his shoulders hunched low as his own eyes widened in recognition. 

“Not him, sorry”, his British speaking voice startled you once more as he spoke, and you were definitely puzzled by the way he’s carried himself right now. “Although, he has told me a great deal about you” 

Your eyes then flickered with recognition, as if two puzzle pieces were finally solved together. The resemblance between him and Marc Spector is quite uncanny, as if they were just one and the same person.

“Steven Grant?” you muttered, prompting the man before you to let out an apologetic smile, looking slightly disheveled in comparison to his twin brother.

“Spelled with a V, yes. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mira”.

END OF CHAPTER FIVE.

masterlist | previous | next chapter

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence"

Rated: Explicit (this Part is rated Teen)

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior

Summary: Steve gives Bucky's parents a tour of the school and promises to take excellent care of their son

Author's Note: *reformatted with a few age and plot changes to adhere to Tumblr's ToS*

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 yet!)

Part 2 - A Pedagogy Steeped in Tradition

Most of Carter Academy’s international students are shipped over by their families, arriving with nothing but themselves and their luggage. So Steve is surprised when James’ parents fly in with him and ask for a tour of the campus. He obliges them of course, chatting easily with the mother, Winnifred, when he learns that she’s from Brooklyn, and making due with talk of football and how the Patriots are doing that season when the father, Ransom, insists that they’re Bostonians through and through. 

James, who has been brought to the school under the pretense that this is just a college scouting opportunity and mini vacation to England, is left behind in Steve’s office with Sharon and a security officer. Sharon is the employee whom Steve has decided to assign as Bucky’s alpha Handler. The security officer is just there to ensure that whatever fit the boy throws can be contained. Steve isn’t too worried about it. Omegas are simple creatures, easily molded and contained once you build a small rapport with them. It never takes much to redirect their focus and get them in line.

Steve takes the parents around the grounds. He shows them through the dormitories and some of the classrooms, the library and the dining hall. And though he’s absent his usual helper for an admissions pitch (Peggy always was the better salesman), he still does his best with the pleasantries, asking if they plan to visit long in England, pointing out all of the campus’ amenities, and giving them his practiced spiel about the school’s traditional methods for training up omegas to the very highest standards. “It’s old-fashioned, but we don’t see that as a bad thing. The way things are in the world today? People could do with a little old-fashioned right about now.”

“You don’t know how glad we are to have found this place,” Winnifred says at one point. “I love my son to death, but Ransom and I are at the end of our ropes. We’re both beta. We’ve tried talking with him, punishing him, but every step we take always seems to be the wrong one. … I’m afraid we just don’t understand what’s going on with him.”

“Not to worry at all. You’ve brought him to the right place.”

She worries about how Bucky will react when they break the news to him that he’s staying there. “He’s very strong-willed, you know,” she tells Steve, wringing her hands. “I worry about how he’ll take it—”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” Steve assures her. “This is a reform school, after all. The majority of our students are enrolled after age eighteen, brought in by their parents when they can’t adapt to traditional college life.” He says ‘traditional college life’ with a gigantic fucking eye roll, and Winnifred nods along and parrots her fears about Bucky heading off to college in the real world.

“You always hear the horror stories of omegas like him once they come of age and leave their parents’ control.”

“But you’ve attained an ECO?” Steve checks. *Extended custody order until age twenty* had been marked on the boy’s paperwork, and Steve is relieved when Winnifred confirms it.

“Yes, yes. We applied last year, once it became clear that he was struggling.”

“How did he take it?”

“Oh, just terrible!” she mourns. “He’s been so defiant, almost worse since we got the judge to sign off on it. He’s been so angry and retaliatory. I almost regret getting the order …”

“Don’t be,” Steve advises immediately. “It’s a good thing you had the foresight to do it. Many parents wait too long and then they’re left powerless or slogging through a much longer process with the courts. Especially in the US. Things are very progressive there.” 

He says it with audible disdain in his voice, because it used to be that omegas never reached majority, and were instead protected by their family and community, kept in the family home or supervised in a communal omega “Nest” until marriage. But then the “age of emancipation” was created in the seventies, and the age just kept getting lowered again and again as the first, second, and third wave feminists fought for more changes. First it was thirty, then twenty four, then twenty, until finally the damn fourth wave feminists got it lowered to eighteen, and in the process destroyed nearly any chance an omega in the US has at being guided into a stable, healthy future. 

“The judge said he’ll be re-evaluated in two years,” Ransom says. “We’re counting on this place to help him get straightened out by then.”

“Oh, but I do worry about what his reaction will be when he finds out we’re leaving him here,” Winnifred frets. “We shouldn’t have tricked him.”

“You think we would’ve been able to get his stubborn butt on a plane if we hadn’t?”

“We’re very experienced in these matters,” Steve promises. “James won’t be the first student to have been enrolled against his will. I promise you that we can handle him.” When Winnifred continues to angst over the harshness of leaving her son at a foreign boarding school three thousand miles away, Steve just leads her along and continues to reassure her that she’s made the right decision in choosing Carter Academy to straighten out her son. “You have to remember: this will be very different from his other schools. We specialize in cases like this. Boys like James thrive on structure and guidance. You’ll be amazed at what we can achieve in only a few months.��

“Oh you really think so?” she gushes, looking brightly up at Steve as Ransom shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. “That’s so wonderful to hear. I actually had been reading about it on your website, about all the things you offer here. The fact that there’s a one-to-one ratio of alpha support staff is just incredible. Will he get one of those, um, … what do you call them again?”

“Handlers,” Steve supplies with a nod. “And yes, he will. Sharon, whom you met back in my office; I’m trying her on for size with your son first. She’s very good at what she does. Plus, James will have me. I make certain to take a personal interest in each and every one of our students. I supervise their education closely, so I can promise you that he won’t slip through the cracks.”

“Good,” Ransom jokes. “Certainly paying enough for it.”

Steve chuckles awkwardly at the gauche comment. “Ah, yes. I know. Costs can be high when you’re staffing support positions for each and every student, but we find that the benefits cannot be overstated. Having an alpha consistently at their side each day is … well it’s as close as you can get to the real thing, isn’t it?” He points out a student passing by with their Handler. The boy is on a lead, walking peaceably with a serene look on his face. “You see, we prepare our students for the real world, not some fantasy world like the more liberal schools do. We want them to leave here happy, well-rounded, and ready to find their future mates. Handlers are their practice for that. They help them model all the important aspects of a healthy A-O relationship.”

“But they don’t, um … you know. Right?” 

“Fuck each other?” Ransom snickers.

“Certainly not,” Steve says sternly. “We take care of the students’ needs, of course, but all of our Handlers are consummate professionals, I can assure you. It’s more the level of constant supervision and dominance that’s so invaluable. That really is the only way to ensure success with these boys. Especially those coming in with any … extra needs.”

Beside Winnifred, Ransom scoffs. “He’s extra, alright.”

Steve’s smile tightens. “Right. Well, that’s one big part of our support system. Constant digital supervision is another.” He points out the cameras as they walk. “The surveillance system. It’s a newer addition, very high tech, outfitted with motion sensors and facial recognition software that allows us to keep perfect track of each and every student.”

“Isn’t that a bit overwhelming for them?” Winnifred wonders.

“Yes, but they need to be overwhelmed. It’s what levels them out. You see, everything we do here at Carter Academy is science-based, backed by all the latest research. We value the research over any ‘modern agendas’. All the studies show that omegas your son’s age have been shown to have decreased cortisol levels and more balanced serotonin and dopamine after even just a few months of close supervision. The cameras add another layer to that support system. You eliminate privacy, and these boys figure out real fast that they aren’t in control anymore.” 

“How long until you whip him into shape?” Ransom asks as they return back to Steve’s office. They’ve just walked in the room, and James is turning around to look at them as they come through the door.

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi. My fee is $10 per 1000 words.

Masterlist

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[theawkwardterrier]

Broadway AU

Steggy Week 2k23, day 2 Prompt: WIPs and updates

Summary: Having known each other as teenagers, Steve and Peggy are suddenly reunited with the spotlight on them the whole time.

I've posted part of this before, but here's everything I have from this WIP (or semi WIP, since I'm not actively working on it) so far 🤷‍♀️

Thanks to @steggyfanevents​​ for organizing!

Although she didn’t believe in curses, Peggy considered making an amendment to the policy.

Heathrow had been a zoo, and they’d taken off late. She knew that she needed to try for a nap during the flight, but every time she managed to drop off, she would be either shaken awake by turbulence, or bumped by someone walking the aisles with a child or on their way to the restroom. At JFK there was an entirely new set of issues: waiting for a runway and a gate took ages, the agent took so long clearing her at passport control that she wondered if she might have missed the luggage only to find that it had been delayed in arriving at baggage claim and then everyone had to wait an additional ten minutes anyway.

All of this added up to the gradual elimination of the cushion she’d planned for popping over to her new place for a shower and change of clothes. She had a toothbrush, a comb, and some makeup in her carry-on, and took a few moments in the taxi to fix herself up, but she wasn’t a miracle worker and the grimy annoyance of travel couldn’t be completely erased.

As she climbed the stairs up to the rehearsal space (they wouldn’t be in the theater for a while yet) her spine seemed to be straightening itself, steely armor. She knew that there was a group of people, however small, muttering that she’d only come to New York because she didn’t have it in her to play anyone but Edwina. They’d meant it as a bad thing, that she didn’t have the talent for anything else, had simply lucked into the one role she could pull off, and was now too scared to reveal her own inadequacy. For all she knows, the rest of the cast could be whispering such things right now.

She knows her own talent and doesn’t need the hardware to prove it, although she does have that too, lined up on a bookshelf in the London flat which Michael is taking over between tours. But right now, the critics aren’t exactly wrong either. She doesn’t want to slip into anyone’s skin but Edwina’s, not until she has to. And today she has an opportunity to come back to it, and she opens the door ready and eager.

Everything is in disarray inside, people striding around and looking harried in a way they shouldn’t until tech rehearsal at least. Peggy recognizes the director, a man named Phillips who looks as if he’d be more suited to coaching a sports team (or perhaps not even that, just a spectator chewing them out from the stands) but is actually something of a legend. His jaw is clenched so tightly as he shouts at someone that Peggy isn’t entirely certain how the words are getting out.

“What exactly is happening?” she asks a woman around her own age who is hanging back and watching the scene avidly.

“Well, we’re all waiting for the new lead actress to get here - they’re bringing her in from England, and she’s supposed to be the best - and Mr. Erskine - the playwright, Mr. Erskine? - he arrived and found out that Mr. Phillips cast Gilmore Hodge as Kirby even though he - Mr. Erskine, that is - said that he liked someone else during auditions and told Mr. Phillips to cast him. And there was a big argument, because Mr. Phillips is the director, but in the end Mr. Erskine won, and he went to try to get back whoever it was that he liked. So now we’re waiting for both of our leads, and Mr. Erskine too.” She looks away from the action in front of her and finally takes Peggy in. “Well, one of our leads and Mr. Erskine, I guess.”

Peggy grins, somewhat charmed despite herself by the rapid-fire recap. “Peggy Carter. I’ll be playing Edwina. Lovely to meet you.” She extends a hand.

“Angie Martinelli, Delilah. It’s great to have you here.” They shake. Edwina and Delilah don’t have any scenes together, but Delilah’s a strong supporting role and Peggy is glad that it went to someone she instinctively likes.

“Any idea when we’ll be getting started?” Peggy asks. She certainly could go up and introduce herself to the director and ask him, but there’s no reason to place herself into the line of fire quite yet.

Angie shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I don’t know where Mr. Erskine was planning on finding this first choice actor of his, or if he’d even be available. What if he booked something else after Phillips rejected him?”

“And no one has any idea who he is?”

“Some people are speculating it’s Jack Thompson,” Angie offers. Peggy hopes to hell not - she  knows he’s gotten quite a lot of notice, and she’s only ever seen filmed performances of his but she’s always hated the smug, smirking way he’d seemed to approach every role. She doesn’t want to imagine Kirby in his hands - and has to assume that her evaluation of Erskine is such that he would feel the same.

Then Angie turns as the door opens again. “I guess we’ll see,” she says, seeming just short of clasping her hands together in anticipation. 

Erskine walks in first and Peggy smiles at the familiar sight, his unhurried, knowing carriage. But then he beckons a second figure into the room, and Peggy has to catch her smile and paste it tightly on.

Because following Erskine in, apparently here to play the male lead opposite her, is Steve Rogers.

They had both been unlikely candidates for the Yale summer drama program. Neither would be attending Yale in the fall: she was slated for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, he for a year’s deferment to work and then, as long as his financial aid package came through again, to Tisch. Her parents had only agreed to allow her to travel to the States after heavy argument on her part. His mother would have gladly let him go, but only a last minute freeing up of scholarship funding had allowed him to attend.

But there they had both been, two talented kids in a sea of talent. They had been paired up for a simple mirror exercise on the first day, then for a two person scene on the second. Later, he would tell her that if he hadn’t known that she would be a success just from her confidence, he would have seen it in the way she took a single line and ran through a half-dozen interpretations, each of them excellent, before saying one over again, nodding to herself, and proceeding. She would tell him that she had thought him adorably committed from the start, but it wasn’t until he had begun to cry during a scene and she had reached out automatically to comfort him that she realized how good he actually was.

Their group ended up doing Anne of Green Gables as their final showcase. She was Anne, he was Gilbert. They would stay late running lines together, taking turns going to fetch hot drinks or vending machine snacks. Soon it turned into sitting out in the warm darkness, telling each other things they had rarely said to anyone before: not only about their families and school and the things they loved, but about the foolishness, the hubris, of trying to make a career of acting, and the conviction that they would do it anyway. He would ask for rehearsal breaks when he saw the line forming between her eyes that meant that her heavy red wig was giving her a headache she was too stubbornly professional to mention. The day she accidentally hit Steve with one of the real prop slates instead of the pre-broken one, she told the director that Matthew and Marilla could rehearse their scene instead and took Steve for ice and an apology milkshake.

They kissed after the evening performance, the night before they were each scheduled to go home. He wasn’t Peggy’s first kiss, but as she pressed herself against him, close and solid and eager, she found herself realizing that she hadn’t really been kissed at all before now, not like this.

At first, they would email every few days, but soon it began to feel painfully unfair to tell Steve about her classes, her professors and the parts she was being allowed to take on, when he wasn’t getting to do any of that. There was a tone from his progressively shorter messages, as if he knew it too, as if he wanted to cling to something that did him no good.

And so she had pulled back, even as it hurt, even as she came home at the end of a long day and wanted to hear his voice or at least find his words on her computer screen, sharing one of his firm opinions or telling her about his day, urging her on the way she believed best from him. They had wished each other a happy new year perhaps six years previous and that had been the last time she had spoken with Steve Rogers.

Until, apparently, today.

When they are finally ready to begin, a scowling Phillips, who has clearly lost the argument he had in undertones with Erskine, orders them to the circle of chairs in the center of the room and tells them to introduce themselves. No overly adorable icebreakers here, listing favorite productions or describing yourself with an adjective beginning with your first initial, only names and roles and, for the brave, brief good wishes for the production.

“Peggy Carter, Edwina. I’m excited to be here,” Peggy says when they come to her, pulling calm over herself. Steve is seated half the circle away.

But it is his turn soon. “Steve Rogers. Um, Lee Kirby, I guess.” He glances at Erskine and then, just before the person beside him begins, he adds, “I appreciate getting a chance at this.”

They skip any improv games - perhaps Phillips goes in for them other times, but certainly not today, with time and temper already short - and move right to the table read. She watches Steve  from the corner of her eye, hair drifting forward as she bends over her script, a fresh copy she has already highlighted and vaguely annotated. (She can climb into Edwina’s skin at will, but it’s strategic not to appear too arrogant and would be foolhardy to ignore the shifts and possibilities of a new production.) Erskine places a script in Steve’s hands, patting his shoulder before taking his seat beside Phillips. Steve flips the book open, paging through with just-solid fingers.

He is, she can see, looking at her over the top, more obviously than she is doing to him.

She’d been barely out of school when she auditioned for Abe Erskine. She knew his name, of course, had even played Miss Susan in a student production of A Lonely Prospect, one of his early works.

His new play, Midnight Hour, was the first he had written in fifteen years and the theater scene was buzzing with the prospect of it, batting around words like “awards material” and “instant classic” as they phoned their agents.

The story took place during the Cold War, and it started out as a simple spy story: a young man, Tom Wright, was using the cover of a trip to Stockholm with his sister and best friend to keep tabs on a suspected agent in the city. The sister, Edwina, and the best friend, Lee Kirby, were lightly characterized during the first several scenes, seeming simple and oblivious, uninterested in politics and unknowing of the sort of vital mission which was taking place beneath their noses.

But then, partway through Act 1, Tom was killed, and it was Edwina and Lee who drew into sharp focus as they worked to discover his killer and complete his mission.

Peggy had come in on the last day of auditions. She’d had the scene for a week by that point, and the dialogue flowed smoothly. There was a line she had never quite gotten the right tone on when she was working it through on her own, but in the audition she had the exact iciness she wanted with just the faintest hint of a question mark at the end: a girl who was very good at dress-up but still a girl beneath it.

Three days later, she got the call that the part was hers and she knew, even before her agent gleefully crowed the words, that this was going to change everything for her.

She had forgotten how good Steve is. He knows the script but clearly not very well, stumbling over words, and still there’s already a sense of character there, even as they just run lines in this empty space.

And she knows, just as everyone does, that there’s an obvious reason Phillips wanted shark-faced, good-looking Jack Thompson instead. James Falsworth, who had originated the role opposite Peggy in London, had been handsome though not particularly imposing, and that had been the trick of it, watching him transform, his face hardening, a toughness brewing as the story went on. But Steve is more than not imposing: he’s slim in the shoulders, delicately-featured, small. It’s perhaps hard to picture him having the power necessary to punch into Kirby’s monologue toward the end of the first act, hard to imagine watching him move believably through both cool confidence and flickering self-doubt, hard to anticipate his face twisting into the anger necessary to support the character into life.

But Erskine must have seen what Peggy was once able to: that Steve has talent enough to do it, that when you walk away from seeing his Kirby you haven’t forgotten your initial doubts, you remember them strongly enough to realize how he’s surpassed them.

It’s so perfect for Kirby’s character that it makes Peggy’s head spin a bit.

[satashiiwrites]

Snippet Sunday

getting out in front of the tags this morning (I need caffeine damnit)

Tagging @tiny-reader @tkwritesdumbassassins @outtoshatter @missanniewhimsy @quietborderline @monsterrae1 @whimsyswastry with no pressure and anyone else who wants to join in for a snippet sunday.

Graphics by me.

Title: Home Found, Chapter 14

Fandom: Eureka

Pairing: Jack Carter/Nathan Stark, prior canon pairings referenced

Fic summary: A moment of clarity at the time of his death leads Nathan to make some changes when he’s give a second chance and awakens on the day he first met Jack.

Tags/warnings: first draft territory here. Sex (eventually we’ll earn that explicit rating). Canon-typical violence.  Fix-it. First time.  Get-together.  Time travel. Science shenanigans. Pod fic welcome

Jack shows up with both Eugenia and Zoe in tow. He’s fuming but helpful.  

“Eugenia,” Nathan says using what Ali likes to call his ‘upset person’ voice, “what can you tell me about Dr. Thatcher?  You’re listed on his paperwork as his next of kin.”

Eugenia’s lower lip trembles as she watches Thatcher fruitlessly fiddling with the office coffee machine that Fargo has installed right outside the door of Nathan’s office. The poor man can’t figure out how to get coffee from the machine as Fargo had gone with a complicated pod system rather than the stalwart carafe-type that Nathan would have bought if it’d been left up to him (sometimes he needed more quantity than quality in his caffeine source). 

“I’m still listed?” Eugenia asks, directing the question at Nathan. 

“Yes.  Our records show you were listed as his next-of-kin on his initial paperwork and never replaced.”

Eugenia covers her mouth, eyes closing as she fights off tears but her gaze is fierce when it reconnects with Nathan’s after a few seconds. “I was, well, we were in love. I always thought we’d be married and have kids.”

“What happened?” Nathan prompts, not objecting when Zoe sits beside Eugenia and takes her hand in support. Jack is leaning against the wall, watching everything like a hawk. 

“He… uh we were in Stockholm,” Eugenia’s eyes dart to his Nobel which is framed on the wall next to the door, “for the awards.  I thought, well, we thought that Irvin was a shoe-in for the prize.”

“He was working on doomsday research,” Nathan adds, letting her know he’d looked into Dr. Thatcher’s research.  “Mutually assured destruction.”

“Yes. I never knew the exact details as everything was so hush-hush then with the Cold War and the Soviets but he was known around Eureka for his brilliance and advocacy for peace.  It should have been him that was named in the award ceremony.”

“And he wasn’t named?  He didn’t win?”

“No.  He didn’t and I lost him right then and there.  I thought he was finally going to propose—I found the ring in his luggage but he never asked.”

“You said you lost him,” Nathan refocuses her, guiding her to tell them what they need to know to take the next step. 

“I did.  He lost his mind when he didn’t win. He got stuck.”

“Stuck how?” Zoe asks. 

“Like he is now.  Speaking nonsense to himself,” Eugenia has to pause, overcome by emotion. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’ve told us a lot,” Nathan hedges. “So Irvin had a mental breakdown when he didn’t win the Nobel?”

“Yes. His project had already been implemented as it required the Apollo astronauts to do part of it and there was a limited window.”

“Window?” Nathan repeats, thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. 

“Yes.  The moon landing,” Eugenia specifies. 

“Huh.”

“Huh, what?” Jack prompts sharply, eyes glittering as they study Nathan over Eugenia’s shoulder.  

“Well, if it required assistance from NASA… there’s only so much stuff that we left up on the moon.”

“Like what?” 

“Like parts of the lander, their vehicle, a flag and the mirror….” Nathan trails off, letting everyone think on it for a moment before readdressing Eugenia. “You said he got stuck when he didn’t win?”

“Yes.”

“Then what happens if we unstuck him?” Jack asks and Nathan doesn’t even feel compelled to correct Jack’s grammar.  

[owlbearwrites]

WIP Wednesday (31/07)

All snippets from Shadows, a Borderlands/Don't Starve crossover, heavily Rhack-centric, but also featuring Angel!

@zyrafowe-sny

Rhys glares at Carter’s retreating back, rubbing a hand against his ribs. The bastard got him good. Still, he probably had that one coming. With some of the fury of the past few minutes lifted from his eyes, Rhys can see how the things he said about Angel might’ve been a little over the line. For all the… sheer terror of their earlier encounter in the throne room, she did not, in truth, come off as malicious. She did free him. And the worst of his suffering immediately after that, he brought on himself; she did warn him to stay away, after all.

@scifikimmi

As for everything else she might’ve done to him… Rhys suppresses a shudder as he remembers the vast shadow hands closing around him, back in his workshop; the numb horror of seeing the essence of his death floating outside of his body; the cold, creeping realization of what exactly happened to him that time when his fire went out at night. It feels almost impossible to reconcile those things with the kind, solemn eyes that looked at him from Angel’s face. Maybe that was exactly the trick, and he was—still is—a fool to believe it. Or maybe there is more to that young girl’s story. And even some truth to her father’s words.

@wizisbored

As he picks himself up from the ground, Rhys grabs the bag that Jack dropped as their fight broke out—and the sight of it burns away his budding remorse and tiny shoots of sympathy. It’s his knapsack. The one that he was packing in a hurry, preparing to rush through the gate to Jack’s aid, only to be dragged through it, feet first. The one he found lying nearby, soon after waking up in the shadow realm, and kept close all throughout his misadventures. The one he left on the floor of the throne room moments before being betrayed by Jack, and one he stared at, day after hypothetical day, until the time when it disappeared. She must’ve taken it. And given it to Carter. Because the story of Rhys's being lied to, betrayed and imprisoned wouldn’t have been complete without getting robbed, to boot. It wasn’t enough for bastard Carter and his monster spawn to take Rhys’s death and freedom—they had to take his damn luggage, too!

@aparticularbandit Rhys grabs the knapsack and stomps towards his camp, where Carter appears to be making himself quite at home, what with stoking the fire and all. “You.” He points a finger at the man, then jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Out.” “I thought you still had parts two through eight of your diatribe to deliver?” Carter kneels down to blow the embers back to life. Rhys resists the urge to aim a kick at his ass that would land him face down in the ashes. Only just.

@auburnlaughter

“On reflection, I decided that tolerating your presence is too high of a trade-off. So… get.” “Hmm.” Carter sits up on his knees, dusts one hand off on the other, then snaps a few twigs and feeds them to the burgeoning fire. “No, I don’t think so.” “Excuse me?” Rhys cocks his head to the side.

@violet-prism-creatively

“It’s like this, kiddo.” Jack shifts around to sit with his legs crossed. A few movements along the way earn a quiet hiss of pain from him. “I may have lied to you about a few things, and omitted… quite a few. But I wasn’t lying when I said that you need a light when you’re out here.” “And… you need one, too?” “Yeah. Or, at least, I suspect so. Strongly enough that I’m not willing to test it. So, if I head out there without a light, odds are, I’m as good as dead. Even if I bring a torch, I ain’t got the time to find enough firewood to last me the night. So…” He adds a couple of sticks to the fire, then stretches his legs out and lies back, arms folded behind his head. “I’m going to lie here, maybe try to sleep off some of the beating you just gave me. You want to drag me into the darkness in my sleep and dump me there—you go ahead.”

[chcrrybcmbs]

closed starter for carter , thanksgiving thread . ( @stardcwn )

the  invite  came  as  a  shock  to  her  system  .  walls  of  a  soft  heart  fluttering  ,  as  she  reminds  herself  he's  just  her  best  friend  .  her  parents  confused  when  she'd  given  the  heads  up  she'd  be  in  north  carolina  for  thanksgiving  ,  not  georgia  as  per  usual  .  "  i  swear  a  body  in  my  luggage  would  be  lighter  ,  "  she  groaned  as  she  set  her  things  down  for  the  jet  crew  to  take  .  usual  glimmering  smile  sent  carter  way  as  she  looks  up  at  him  ,  a  squeeze  of  his  arm  ,  "  i  can't  believe  you  wanna  be  stuck  with  me  this  long  ,  "  laugh  coming  out  by  default  .    

[dhampiravidi]

Jade Sawyer was more excited than she’d ever been in her entire life. Just a few years out of college, one of her old professors who’d taken a liking to her had sent her an email about an amazing opportunity. Someone needed a translator for their archeological adventure, which would take place in the Mediterranean region. She happened to meet all the requirements that the mysterious “Mr. Carter” asked for, including being fluent in Ancient Greek and Latin, able to devote up to a month’s worth of time to the project, and (strangely) having no job related to historical studies in any way. She’d studied the languages in school to proficiency, she had tons of time off saved, and she worked at a company that published mostly YA novels. 

She was an average African-American girl, working a job that bored her just to pay the bills. After growing up reading hardly anything but fantasy books for fun, she had resigned herself to a life of boredom. Jade hadn’t been contacted by any magical people asking for help, nor had she dated anyone who she could tolerate more than a few months. So at 26, she thought that was all life had to offer. Until she got the email. Now she was on a plane, about to land in Greece--one of the many countries she’d wanted to visit practically her whole life!

Jade got off the plane and nearly sprinted to the baggage claim, where she picked up her luggage. She considered herself to be a practical packer, bringing only clothes that seemed appropriate for an archeological dig (plus a cute sundress in case she got some time to explore). For the moment, she wore some joggers with a slightly cropped sweatshirt, going for comfort over anything else. And then she saw the man holding a sign with her name on it. 

He was absolutely gorgeous, about six feet all if she had to guess, and somewhere between thirty and forty (not that she cared). His dark, curly hair was windswept, and his brown eyes were in a weird place between puppy-dog and pure sex. Not to mention the part where his muscles were perfectly outlined underneath his t-shirt. In other words, Jade was trying very hard not to drool.

“Hi,” she managed, letting go of the handle of one of her bags so she could be polite and shake the man’s hand, “I’m Jade.”

@etdraconis

[jefferyryanlong]

Fresh Listen - Alice Coltrane, Ptah, the El Daoud (Impulse! Records, 1970)

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not so recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

I like to think that Alice Coltrane's Ptah, the El Daoud found me, in a nondescript cardboard box on the floor of another used record shop in Little Rock, Arkansas.

Already a little discouraged by by experience at Ugly Mike's, I was prepared for additional disappointment when I pulled up to the stall at the strip mall where Been Around Records and CD's was located. I was having a particularly disheartening phone conversation about work while I parked my car, and this pure quest of record digging I'd established in my mind felt tainted with anxiety about my job. Trapped in this headspace, my journey now felt like a chore, some box to be checked instead of an opportunity for wonder.

I couldn't find much on the shelves, but that was par for the course. Sheathed in plastic, the records were mostly overpriced, and if I was going to find the room in my checked bag on the way back to Hawai'i, I wanted either certified quality or a reasonable price point. In between racks of CD's I saw a row of cardboard boxes with a Mandrill cover exposed, so I bent my creaky knees and perused. Some gems: Hugh Masekela, Albert Ayler and, in a sleeve that no longer pocketed the LP as it should, and with a cover of orange background illuminating rodent god in sarcophagus embedded within carapace of scarab, the image still vibrant after years of friction sliding between other shelved records, Alice Coltrane's Ptah, the El Daoud. I hadn't yet heard any of the songs from the album, but it had been produced in 1970 and I was intrigued by Coltrane's collaborators: Ron Carter on bass, Pharaoh Sanders and Joe Henderson on saxophones and flutes, and Ben Riley on drums. The album immediately seemed worth its weight in luggage space.

My heart fell when I brought the album, along with a stack of other records I'd pulled from the box, to the cash register. The owner didn't technically own the records; someone had just dropped them off, and he needed to pick out the ones he thought he could sell. After a second of consideration, though, he just shrugged and rang the music up on a sliding price scale according to how scratchy they sounded, inspecting each on a turntable on the counter.

Since then, on and off for the great part of a year, I have been absorbed in Ptah, the El Daoud, which references an Egyptian god and the title of "Beloved." It is a fortress of a record; only four songs, two of them coming in at thirteen minutes, bookended by the title track and the equally dense "Mantra." Fortresses exist to protect people and things of great value, and within the depths of the fortress of Ptah, the El Daoud, there is a beautiful princess who reveals herself in two of the most sympathetic and and gorgeous jazz compositions in the canon: "Turiya and Ramakrishna" and "Blue Nile."

Ron Carter, an essential partner throughout the album, summons the first track "Ptah, the El Daoud" with a walking bassline onto which drummer Ben Riley adds a martial beat, as if announcing the Beloved with great fanfare, a train of camels and carts and wagons and carriages and masked mercenaries on foot, marching from the dunes of the desert onto the flagstones of the town. While Carter's bass and Coltrane's piano are more or less simpatico throughout the entire recording, it's little more difficult to get a lock on Henderson and Sanders. After the commanding opening theme, played in close harmony, each of their solos seems taken as if in a vacuum, as if transposed or transposable from or onto another tune altogether, no obvious narrative or intent .At one point, there a a few seconds of Sanders, who comes through the album on the right speaker, simply riding one squawking key of his sax. One can hear an in-time struggle to complement Coltrane and her piano meaningfully, and through multiple listens you appreciate the struggle. Riley's drum solo near the end of "Ptah, the El Daoud" breaks down the formerly purposeful caravan into its most primitive components, footsteps overlapping, tripping among themselves, as the caravan plods to the conclusion.

Sanders and Henderson lay out from "Turiya and Ramakrishna" altogether, though there are some sleigh bells shaken here and there. Despite their absence, or maybe because of it, Coltrane manifests an inspired and tender performance, revealing no less than what must be a beautiful soul. It rises up from between the piano keys, a voice of notes undeniably human in its joy and wonder and unfulfilled desire. Carter, not one to solo extensively, finds himself with the space to wander, as Coltrane gently lays out her chords so that he may never lose his way. "Turiya and Ramakrishna" is a remarkable example of the musicians' sympathy for each other.

What follows on Side Two is another mini-masterpiece: "Blue Nile," in which Coltrane expertly makes love to the harp while Henderson and Sanders, saxophone giants, exchange the horns for woodwinds and, in deference to Coltrane's vision, play very, very small. Though the song has a floating quality, it's neither mystical nor abstract. It's a space of great spiritual peace, hard-won, tall trees planted firmly in the ground, the leaves of which the air flows through in varying currents. Pleasantly disorienting is Carter's bass, which stretches and compresses time between measures, as if measures were only a suggested guideline.

"Mantra" carries forward the focused, heavy jazz dirge of the title track, with Coltrane splashing the listener with colorful, expansive piano chords, while Henderson and Sanders attempt various maneuvers to work their way into the conversation. As the song closes, Coltrane blends all the colors into a single drone, working against Carter's throbbing bass that intensifies as Riley locks in and the sleigh bells return, an extended finale when all becomes one, and Coltrane builds the expectancy until the grand consummation.

I don't exaggerate by proposing Coltrane's Ptah, the El Daoud has become one of the most important records in my listening life. The life force that may be drawn from a a second-hand, not-exactly-for-sale piece of scratched vinyl I wouldn't have considered had I not carried a certain headspace with me at a certain time.

[mightyflamethrower]

Republicans took to social media to flip claims that Republican vice presidential candidate Sen. JD Vance (R-OH) “is weird” back on Democrats.

Several people and accounts such as Fox News contributor Sara Carter, Donald Trump Jr., Libs of TikTok, End Wokeness, and JD Vance posted photos of Sam Brinton, a former Department of Energy official who has been accused of stealing women’s luggage, President Joe Biden appearing to sniff a child’s head, and Democrats wearing odd outfits.

Most recently, Vance has faced criticism from Harris’s presidential campaign and Democrats over his support for expanding the child tax credit and making it permanent.

During an interview with Charlie Kirk in 2021, Vance said people earning a certain amount of money with roughly “three kids” should be able to “pay a different, lower tax rate” than people who earn the same amount and do not have children.

“If you are making $100,000, $400,000 a year and you’ve got three kids, you should pay a different, lower tax rate than if you are making the same amount of money and you don’t have any kids,” Vance said at the time.

Another clip from a 2021 interview on Fox News, showing Vance saying, “We’re effectively run in this country, via the Democrats, via our corporate oligarchs, by a bunch of childless cat ladies,” has been taken out of context.

Vance added these “childless cat ladies” were “miserable at their own lives and the choices that they’ve made, and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable too.”

The senator from Ohio questioned how it made sense that we had “turned our country over to people who don’t really have a direct stake in it.”