#competent woman trying to change the world for the better through hands-on control of the situation

[mikuchan]

“Neve uses ice powers to control the battlefield, and that’s a good metaphor for her character arc” oohhhhh

[bullet-prooflove]

Donna’s Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #4

Hey guys! As some of may know I do a weekly radioshow on Wednesdays and I thought why not put together a prompt list from some of the songs I’ve been playing. I thought it would bring some fresh prompts into our world!

Feel free to pop any of these prompts with a charcter I write for (You can find these on the pinned post on my blog) into my ASK box!

 1)     You've never been with anyone who doesn't take your shit

2)     fucked on the bathroom sink

3)     every girl in here wanna be her

4)      You know your smile woman

5)     there ain't nothing that I gotta prove

6)     Baby when you kiss my lips

7)     So am I wrong for thinking that we could be something for real?

8)     I'm so in love with you

9)     When you whisper in my ear

10)  I'm still the man you want It's just hard to tell you so

11)  That's the beauty of a secret You know you're supposed to keep it

12)  What I say is how I feel for you

13)   I need your loving every night

14)  Your tender words of love, 

15)  You are the loving girl who's taken my hand

16)  I know you've enjoyed all that attention from her

17)  I thought I knew about love I only knew about the fight

18)  For me there's no way out

19)  When I saw you walkin' in And my heart started skippin' a beat

20)  It's hard to change a love like this

21)  For a woman who became my wife

22)  To feel your lips upon my face

23)  How your hands felt in my hair

24)  It's just a rumor and I don't believe 'em

25)  I'll give you all I have

26)  Damn, you's a sexy bitch

27)   the moment you let go

28)  Try to love you when you really don't want me to

29)  I've been holding back my love

30)  I know you've never really taken responsibility

31)  You think your words will make me black and blue

32)  I'm always ready for a war again

33)  why do I try to love you?

34)  She's nothing like a girl you've ever seen before

35)  We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night

36)  But you love me anyway

37)  All the better just to please you

38)  Deeper In love with you, I'm falling

39)  please him Any time or any place

40)  All I wanna be Is somebody to you

41)  So I lit a match and burned it down

42)  how you laughed when you said my name

43)  My kind of medicine is whiskey straight

44)  I'm gonna love you,

45)  My hands are dirty and my heart is cold

46)  you walk like you're a god, they can't believe I made you weak

47)  they don't make posters of my kind of life

48)  Gonna lose control tonight

49)  You try and change me, you can go to hell

50)  These days I can't seem to make this right

51)  What do you want from me?

52)  The boys I've been with say I got no soul

53)  Tell me who's gon' save me from myself When this life is all I know

54)  "You know, I haven't always been this way"

55)  And memories like a coat, so warm A cold wind can't get through

56)  just a bit ashamed

57)  nobody would ever compete

58)  how you gripped my hips so mean

59)  But I don't have to fucking tell them anything

60)  I used to be so tough never really gave enough

61)  I don’t feel safe

62)  Tell me who's gon' save me from this hell

63)  And everybody wants to know 'bout how it felt to hear you scream

64)  Whose gonna pray for me

65)  First date, first kiss

66)  I used to run around I didn't wanna settle down

67)  feeling of a lightning strike

68)  And she'll tease you, she'll unease you

69)  baby let's give it a shot 

70)  Her lips a sweet surprise

71)  Then you were gettin' down on your knee

72)  'Cause you say you love me and then you do it again

73)  Fooling my selfish heart

74)  And a love that, when it was right could always see me through

75)  Left broken empty in despair

76)  Going through the motions

77)  sacrificed for the greater good

78)  Kickstart the honeymoon

79)  The I do's and the kisses

80)  Let's set the date

81)  I fight the world, I fight you, I fight myself

82)  I'll spill this blood for you

83)  Without you, I'm all alone

84)  I'm tryna fight back tears, 

85)  You need a hero, look in the mirror, there go your hero

86)  Miss me when I'm gone

87)  Moments, when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do

88)  I stood there, tryin' to find my nerve

89)  I think he recognized That look in my eyes

90)  But now, I wake each day Looking for a way that I can see your face

91)  Nothing ever mattered to me more than this

92)  So much more I have to say

93)  Watching me fall apart

94)   baby, I need more than that

[siswritesyanderes]

Ok but yandere carlise x reader x yandere esme

(Not as detailed as I’d hoped to make it, but I quickly realized that if I went into detail then this thing would become very long. Hopefully avoided making the characters too OOC. Let me know if you like it, and how I did!)

…

You first met Dr. Cullen when you spent the day volunteering at the local hospital for one of your college classes.

There was a whole group of students there to help out, and you honestly weren’t sure why he seemed to notice you in particular; it certainly wasn’t because you were doing such a great job. Your work speed, in restocking the closets, was roughly average, and you kept having to ask your fellow volunteers where things were supposed to go. Granted, you at least weren’t one of the students who was transparently doing the absolute bare minimum to get the credit, but you wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a shining star of competence either.

Still, Dr. Cullen approached you personally to say, “Thank you for your help. You’re really doing us a great service.”

He was a beautiful man, with warm eyes that seemed to be beholding the goodness in your soul, for how amiably they glimmered.

“I don’t know if I can take any credit,” you said, admittedly flustered by the attention. “It was our teacher’s idea.”

He smiled kindly. “Nevertheless, we’re glad to have you here.”

You smiled back. “Glad to be here.” Then you continued working.

When Carlisle walked away from you, he carefully kept the reluctance from showing in his expression. He sent Esme a quick text warning her that they might have another soulmate in town: a human. His initial thought was that this would be the end of it; so long as Esme avoided meeting you, she wouldn’t feel the awful desperation currently clawing its way up Carlisle’s throat, and so long as Esme wasn’t suffering, Carlisle was confident in his own ability to let you live your own life, just as he had done with Esme, at first…

But then, he knew how that had turned out for her: years of pain, mistreatment…The thought of anything of the sort befalling you…The world was so dangerous, between humans and vampires and other such things, and you, so small in comparison, so vulnerable…

Carlisle regained his composure (though, to the untrained eye, he hadn’t lost it in the first place). The world could be dangerous, yes, but his awareness of that fact was informed, in no small part, by the fact that he wanted justification for keeping you. And he couldn’t give himself such license; it wouldn’t be right.

He wouldn’t drag you away from your human life.

Perhaps he could keep watch over you, and do you small favors every now and then, but that was the most he could afford to indulge.

He heard your stomach growl from across the room; he detoured to a vending machine and bought you a light snack. (Perfectly timed, Alice texted him your preference. No doubt, she was scouring the future to see how you might fit into it; he would have to have a talk with her, to be sure she didn’t go overboard. And deciding to have a talk with Alice functioned in the same way having a talk with Alice did.)

Dr. Cullen handed you a snack from the vending machine, which puzzled you at first; it didn’t seem like the hospital was handing out food to anyone else, and even if they were, why would one of the doctors take the time for such a thing?

He answered your unspoken question with a polite smile and the words, “You were looking a bit faint; I thought you might need this.”

Had you been looking unwell? You didn’t think you felt that bad, but a doctor would recognize the signs if something was wrong, and you were pretty hungry. “Thanks,” you said, and he dipped his head in your direction. Then he and his kind smile departed.

That wasn’t the last time you met Dr. Cullen.

Your paths crossed in all sorts of places: in the grocery store, he tapped you on the shoulder once to ask if you’d dropped a hundred dollar bill, and he urged you to keep it even once you’d told him it wasn’t yours; you saw him in your school’s science building, one day (He was there to speak to one of the professors, and he asked you if you had drunk any water recently.); and you even ran into him at the library. All incidents spaced out over weeks; not close enough together to really be coincidences worth thinking about. You figured that you had probably crossed paths just as much before meeting him, but only noticed now because you knew who he was.

Anyway, the two of you remained acquaintances. He was a nice man.

When someone slammed into your car, a few months later, he was the doctor who cared for you.

“A hit and run?” he murmured, tutting in displeasure as he moved a light across your eyes. “People should be more considerate, and careful with other people’s lives. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“They probably just made a mistake and were scared of the consequences,” you offered, because the doctor genuinely seemed somewhat upset. You were trying to assume the best about the other driver, because the alternative was getting angry about something you couldn’t change. You had barely even seen the car that had hit you. You just knew that it was some shade of yellow, and apparently much stronger than yours. “I wish we’d gotten to trade insurance information or something, though; my car is apparently totaled.” Despite your best efforts, your voice wavered.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dr. Cullen said, and you were probably delirious, but something about the decisive way he said it made it seem, to you, as if he himself planned on helping you get your car fixed. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

You did.

“Have you...” The doctor seemed to choose his words carefully. “Have you called anyone, to let them know what happened, and that you’re alright?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. The ambulance got there so fast, I guess I didn’t have time to think about it.” You weren’t terribly concerned, though; if your relatives hadn’t been made aware of the crash, then they didn’t know to be worried yet. No need to call them now.

Dr. Cullen stilled at your words, though; the light in his hands shone in the spot between your eyes and did not move. It was as if he was deep in thought. No, as if he were at war with himself.

“Dr. Cullen?” you prompted.

He quickly smiled, setting down the light. “I think you should call them. Now, if you can. I would...just feel better if someone knew where you are, and that you’re alive.”

You called them (as awkward as that felt with the doctor right there in the room, patiently waiting), and Dr. Cullen seemed to relax.

Once you were released from the hospital, you went back to only seeing him every once in a while, around town.

Your car was mended seemingly overnight, under mysterious circumstances, and a part of you jokingly wondered if Dr. Cullen was some sort of fairy godmother, or guardian angel.

Then, another month after your accident, a stranger approached you while you were walking back from your last class of the evening.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted you, somewhat apologetically. She was shorter than you, with a lovely face and spiky black hair and a spritely disposition. “I’m Alice. I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry something to my car? It’s getting late, and I really don’t want to be here after dark.”

“Oh, sure,” you answered, feeling so at ease that you forgot every warning that would normally flood to your mind about the danger of following a stranger to her car. So at ease that your mind somehow just failed to observe the taller guy standing right next to Alice, well in your field of vision. You saw him, but you didn’t really think much of him.

You followed Alice to a bright yellow Porsche, and the shade of yellow stirred something in your memory, but you couldn’t say what; you were too busy looking for what you were supposed to be helping her lift.

A lovely woman with a long blond ponytail leaned against the car trunk, staring at something that she was holding in her hand, and there was a figure sitting inside the car, too; you couldn’t see them through the tinted windows, but you saw enough to be confused as to why you had been called here to help when it seemed Alice had many potential helpers, here.

Your panic, as you began to realize the ruse, had only just begun to climb when the blond woman suddenly moved, swift as a bird, behind you, and there was a hand over your mouth and a feeling like a pinch in the side of your neck.

The thing she was holding. It was a syringe.

The tall guy (the one you hadn’t thought much of, at first) moved to open the nearest door of the Porsche; he moved the passenger seat forward, to access the back row of seats.

“Wait, stop,” you slurred against the hand (the stunningly cold hand) over your mouth, as the woman who had syringed you began to maneuver you into the Porsche with surprising strength. You were already losing control of your limbs.

“This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” the woman griped as she slid you carefully inside, then climbed in behind you. You were sandwiched between her and the person you’d seen through the tinted windows: a sulking young man with bronze hair. Four strangers total, and you were in the back seat of their car.

“Thank you, Rosalie, for your help,” Alice said resolutely. “Will you drive, Jazz?”

The tall one nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat while Alice occupied the passenger side.

You struggled to find your voice, or your fists, through the haze of sedative.

“It’s okay,” said the sulking young man at your side, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m able to hear you, even if you can’t speak. I can read minds.”

“The human is still awake?” Rosalie said.

“Not for much longer, but yes. You have time to apologize.”

“Sorry about all this,” Rosalie said, gently nudging your mouth closed (as it had fallen open). “Don’t be scared; we just…have to bring you to Carlisle and Esme. They’re pretty great people, and they’ll treat you really well. And these guys were going to do it anyway, so I had to come and make sure things went smoothly. Alice and Jasper can’t even administer a shot; they probably would have chloroformed you or something-”

“Wouldn’t’ve had to,” said the tall guy in the driver’s seat- Jasper, apparently. “Could’ve just lightly flicked the back of their head at the right angle. Provided Alice checked the future to make sure we did it right.”

“…and didn’t cause a concussion, or worse,” the bronze-haired one deadpanned.

There was a brief silence. You were sinking against the self-proclaimed mind reader, unable to support your own weight. You were about to sleep. You actually wanted to sleep.

“Don’t worry, Rose,” Jasper added. “I’ve made sure the human isn’t afraid.”

You supposed you weren’t. Why weren’t you?

You fell asleep before you could figure it out.

…

You awoke to the sound of agitated voices, outside the (closed) door of a bedroom that was not your own.

You were in a bed, and it was obscenely soft and pleasant, but it wasn’t yours, and you weren’t home.

Where am I?

You felt weak, and tired. Heavy, confused. But you had to stay awake, and regain your wits, because you had been taken somewhere, and you didn’t know where or why. There was a window across the room. It was nighttime outside the window. Maybe if you could make it over there, you could climb out and run for it, but you didn’t yet have the strength to even get the bedcovers off of you.

“Because it’s been awful to watch how badly it affects you to be away from your mate,” one of the voices outside the door was saying. “All five of us agreed, and we never agree on anything!”

“And it’s not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually,” another voice agreed. “Just like with Esme.”

“Exactly! You were only prolonging your own suffering, for no reason.”

There was a sigh, and a familiar voice said, “Are you all finished?” It was Dr. Cullen; that much you knew, even though you had never heard him sound so tired.

“We did it for you, because you deserve happiness.”

“And now that Esme has seen them, there is no way to undo it, is there?” Dr. Cullen asked rhetorically. “Edward, is the human awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bring some food up, Carlisle,” an entirely new voice suggested. “The children have been…underhanded, today, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t make the best of it.”

“It was for the best.” (Your head was clear enough, now, that you recognized this unabashed voice as belonging to Alice.) “You’ll see.”

Footsteps approached the door, and shortly a woman entered the room. She was soft-looking, with caramel brown hair, and she held a dinner plate in her hands.

“Good evening,” she said, soberly. Sitting on the edge of your bed while you struggled to sit up. “I’m so sorry the kids did this; we didn’t ask them to, but they thought they were doing us a service. I’m Esme Cullen, Dr. Cullen’s wife. Here: eat something.”

You ate a forkful of pasta only because it was too close to your mouth to refuse. “Why ‘m I here?” you asked hoarsely. “Take me home.” Another forkful slid into your mouth.

“I’m very sorry,” Esme said. “I’m so, so sorry, but you see…the trouble is…” Her eyes scanned over you, and she smiled a seemingly involuntary smile and didn’t finish her sentence. As if looking at you was simply a much better use of her time.

“I want to go home,” you said.

Esme sighed, pressing her lips together contritely. “The trouble is, I can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to Carlisle, and Carlisle can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to me. I promise you, though, we will make it up to you.” She fed you more pasta.

It tasted delicious, but that did nothing to assuage your terror. “You don’t even know me. What do you mean, I’m important to you?”

Esme clicked her tongue softly and rhythmically against the roof of her mouth, as if to soothe. “Carlisle can explain that better than I. But rest assured, everything is going to be alright.”

Your skin crawled, at the dissonant cordiality. “Where is Dr. Cullen?”

You heard a flutter of what could have been footsteps, if people were capable of moving that fast. Then, the bedroom door opened again and Dr. Cullen entered.

“Hello again, dear heart,” he greeted you, and his demeanor was about the same as it was in public, or in the hospital. Respectful, polite. Maybe just a bit...off. Too much of something, maybe too polite and kind for the circumstances. “I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

The apologies were making this worse. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you said. “Just please take me home.”

“I can’t do that, angel,” he sighed. He did appear sorry, but not as sorry as he should have. “But I can explain everything to you now.”

He sat down on the other side of the bed, opposite Esme, who was still feeding you. And he did explain everything, in such expansive detail that you fell back asleep before he even got to the part about mates.

…

“You can pretend with them, but not with me.” The voice was quiet, and not so much accusatory (despite the pointedness of his words) as reminding.

“I know that, son.” Dr. Cullen sounded positively serene.

“You knew how much time you were spending with Jasper, in your saddened state.”

“Yes.”

“You knew that we would do this.”

“I…suspected.”

“You meant for us to do this.”

“That’s enough, I think. Thank you.”

Silence fell.

You opened your eyes just a crack. The pillow beneath your face was awash with yellow light; the sun had risen, since last you’d fallen asleep. None of it had been a dream. You were still trapped in a house with these people who thought they were vampires. You closed your eyes again. The two voices had been speaking from the direction you were facing: Dr. Cullen at your level, perhaps in a chair at your bedside; and the other above, as if standing.

“One month,” the first voice suddenly added, and you weren’t sure what it was in reference to. It was as if an inaudible question was being answered.

“That’s her optimistic guess, or her pessimistic?” Dr. Cullen inquired.

“If all goes well, it will be one month. Poorly, and the longest she’s seen is three months.”

“Well, that is good to hear. I’ve waited much longer with hope for much less.”

“I know.”

You turned over, so that your back was to them, and began to open your eyes again, but then you heard Dr. Cullen rise from his seat, take up the chair, and move around the foot of the bed. You kept your eyes shut as he set his chair down on the new side and sat in it once more. He did all of this matter-of-factly, as if he’d changed sides every time you’d turned over during the night.

The thought of anyone wanting to see your face that badly made you shiver a bit.

“Awake?” Dr. Cullen inquired casually. You didn’t hear an answer, but the other man must have nodded, because Dr. Cullen continued, “Good. Esme will be done with breakfast soon. She’s so happy to be cooking again.”

“Jasper is in the kitchen with her,” the other said, as if that was a related statement somehow. “I’m going hunting. Good luck.”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt as if he was talking to you as much as Dr. Cullen.

[danddymaro]

Perfect | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Who Is the Perfect man for (f/n)?

-Something Corny, and sweet.

Word Count:  2826

Perfect 

He found it impossible to compete with his closest friend, not just because it was morally wrong to try and get the same girl, but because all in all, he had no chances with her, and he was well aware.

'Because even if I'm wrong,' He started, '...Even if it's not Steve... then I'd still be the last person in the world you’d ever look at,' He silently declared, truly believing it.

'You could always do so...so much better than me,' He thought with dejection.

'I know it...but even then, I'm willing to make a fool of myself. 

 I want to let you know because it's getting harder and harder to just sit back,'

"(f/n)" He said while following up with a harsh swallow,

"I'm not perfect like Steve," Bucky started, "...I’m not someone who’s loved by everyone, and looked up by just about every child on the damn planet," he confessed, and at his sudden outburst she let out a surprised peep, turning to him with wide eyes,

“Wha-”

" And I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm not him!" He cried out. " But I wish I was..." he added, knowing just how much the woman idolized the other man.

"I really wish I were." He added with a short mutter.

 (f/n) eyed his pain-stricken face with concern, because there was an obvious shine of heartbreak in his steel-colored eyes, causing a hitch in her breath, her heart stopped by the sight before it tore in two, further breaking as she saw his expression grow even more with anguish and melancholy as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

- This was the endgame, the all or nothing for him,

"In Fact, I'm the furthest thing from a hero and I know that." he continued on, a dry laugh tailing the words because he found it almost amusing how little he was in comparison to the perfect blonde.

‘When I stand next to him… I can’t help but feel like I’m less.’

"- I know what I am," he added, trying his best to let his wavering smile last.

He wanted to at least look brave, to look like a real man and not the groveling mess he really was as he forced out the words, battling rough the pain that threatened to take over.

Her (e/c) colored eyes went wide as he said that, and she immediately rushed to his side, " No Bucky, please don't start with that, you're a good person!" she said with a certainty that almost convinced him.

Like many times before, she rushed to his side, both Metaphorically and in literal actions, trying her best to assure him, and it was yet another reason why he cherished her so much.

"It can't be true if I don't believe it," She said stubbornly, throwing him a glowing grin as she said the words, the expression brightening even more as he looked at her dumbfounded,

"What does that even mean?" He asked her, a little chuckle leaving him.

"Just what I said," She went on, " It can't be true if I don't accept it," She reiterated.

He let the words settle in, and it wasn’t long before eye understood, by then offering  her a tired, little smirk  as he shook his head, "So, it’s just that easy?" He asked her, the moronic simplicity of it amusing him.

"For me it is," she told him, "For me, it's easy to accept that you're not a monster. It's easy for me to believe it, and even if you keep telling me otherwise, Buck...It won't change the way I see you," She explained,

"So just think of it that way, that, even if the entire world believes it, you included, there's not a damn thing in the world that will let me fall into the same train of thought.

As long as I'm kicking there's doubt,

And as long as there is doubt, it can't be accepted as truth," She spelled out, the certainty she displayed showing to be unwavering.

‘Only you...’ He thought with disbelief, 

“You really are something else,” He muttered, the little grumble rousing a little giggle.

She was the anchor to his unsteady boat and all the while the kindness she showed him made him fall harder under her spell, giving him more excuses to come closer to her, it also scathed him, because he knew that she only saw him as the pathetic mess in need of care.

And he wanted much more than that. 

He shook his head and took advantage of the closeness of their bodies by taking hold of her, his hands at her upper arms,

"- (F/n)," He started, mauling over how it had taken him months to find the perfect moment, the instant where he'd risk everything.

‘This is it,’ He told himself.

"You don't need to coddle me like that," he said with a soft sound of amusement escaping his nose. Afterward, he then took a deep, slow breath through his parted lips, before he tightened his hold by only a small degree, careful to not hurt her with his metal arm.

"Look... I can't be him, and I'm sorry," He said softly, truly sounding regretful for something he had no control over.

"I can't be Steve, and there's not a day that goes by that I don't wish I could stand in his shoes for just an instant, and feel what it's like to have you see me with anything but pity.” He revealed, “ Because then...(F/n) you’d see me in the way I really want you to look at me as...as a man." he confessed.

‘I don’t want you to feel bad for me anymore. In fact, I don’t want to be swallowed up by the same pity myself,’ He thought to himself.

" Look, I'm not as smart as Banner, because I still struggle with the technology of today and I know it'll get annoying," he said trailing off, not finding a single strong point he held in the field, "But I'll try... I really will," he swore.

At the confession, a small smile made its way onto her features, because he was right, he was a helpless mess when it came to the more modern things, but, to her, it was adorable.

She found it cute, and just another reason to stay by him a bit longer.

Watching him fiddle with his phone with that adorable, little face of confusion he gave her was all the more reason to sit closer to him, taking hold of his hand within hers to lead his finger across the screen and navigate through all its apps and features.

" I'm not wealthy like Stark… in fact, I could never have that much money and spoil you as much as he could." He told her, " I know some women like fancy jewelry and nice expensive dinners, but the most I can do for you now is a small bouquet of ( favorite flowers)...because I know how much you like them," He said softly, having noticed how much she stopped by to visit the little patch of them as they took small walks.

"Sorry," She said with a sheepish smile, " I know it gets annoying," She said while petting the small petal, " But I really like these flowers," She said while gazing at the blossom,

" They're my favorite," She told him, having to only mention it once for him to remember, ingraining it in his brain that if he ever got her flowers they'd be the ones she loves most.

' I know everything about you,' he thought with fondness. ' Because...Because I always remember everything you have to say...I cling to every word because I know that sometimes you think you’re not heard.'

"I remember every bit of you, down to the stupid little faces you want me to forget," he said making her hold back a small chuckle as she glanced away, turning pink at the mention.

"I'm not a prince like Thor.. or ...even a God..." he continued on, speaking with just abit more lightheartedness while gazing at the sweet expression she wore.

"I'm not funny like Clint since you seem to love his jokes so much...for whatever reason," he said with furrowed brows, seemingly stumped on that one because Clint Barton’s humor was just simple, stupid puns that made everyone else roll their eyes.

"And don't get me started on Sam..." He muttered, detesting how easily the two flowed with each other, all to the point they seemed to share a single, working  brain cell, and it only made the older man wish he had the same ability to just work with her without the awkwardness and fear.

‘But I just get so nervous...’ he lamented, ‘ I just end up overthinking it all, and it’s because you have this effect on me,

In fact, it’s a miracle I’m even getting through this now,’

(f/n) shook her head at him, because Bucky didn't need to tell her jokes to smile, and they didn't need to make stupid banter either.

she didn't need to find a reason to smile with him, because, she just did, naturally.

- It was like second nature while at his side.

"I'm not as charming as that Loki guy.

I see the way you smile at the sound of his voice and I'd be lying if I said I really didn't wish mine sounded like his," He said with a dry chuckle, knowing he grew especially jealous when the other man purposely pronounced certain words for her, just to make her giggle, living for the attention he received.

'Oh...Bucky,' (f/n) thought while shaking her head, because, truth be told, the sound of his voice was much more her taste. She loved the sound of it from when it goes higher with joy, or mellows down in serenity, and even when it trembles as he tells her his worries.

‘I don’t think you realize how expressive you’ve become,’ She mused, ‘ Oh Buck, I could go on forever listening to you instead.' She thought to herself. 'I'd love nothing more than to hear you every morning, and not just outside my door. 

I mean first thing...right as I wake up.

And then...afterwards, fall asleep to your murmurs.' she inwardly spoke with the same bashful expression that had yet to cease,

'Bucky...' She thought with a soft smile. 'You’re such an idiot.'

"- I'm just not... not him. I'm not any of these men.

I don't have anything to offer you...

Not a single thing to my name that can bring you pride, " he admitted while looking down at his hands, both gloved limbs because he detested looking down at what actually lay beneath the piece of clothing.

"My arm is like a spoon on a stove on most summer days and a block of ice on winter ones.

So, I could never give you a fully warm touch, one that’s comforting and that I know you deserve." He said softly, having gone over the thought so many times that it haunted him.

"I'm not perfect..." he said dejectedly, saying so in a way that seemed as though it was meant for himself to remind him of just who he was before he got his hopes up too far.

‘What am I even doing...?’ He asked himself, his shoulders slowly falling as he weighed in the facts.

‘Oh...I'm not either Bucky,' She thought while feeling her heart race.

What he believed to be perfection was all misguided, because All the details and traits he wanted to have were things he didn’t need.

"I know I'm not.

I'm at the point where I'm still struggling to remember who am...and much more, somehow make up for all the wrong I’ve done.

(f/n) , I'm Still struggling to accept what I've done...which is a lot." He confessed, sighing deeply. " I've done so much wrong that I don't ever think ill be able to atone for my wrongdoings.

In short, I could give you a list of the many things wrong with me, and it'd run for miles, but there is one thing that I know is right,

And...And it's that I love you." He said while finally uttering the three words he's wanted to tell her for ages now.

"I love you so much (f/n), it hurts right here when I'm not with you, " He admitted, clutching his chest, placing his palm right above his bouncing heart.

Taking her hands in his he lifted them to his lips, offering her a tender kiss to each Knuckle, and all the while she stood watching, still stunned by his confession.

"Doll, you make my heart race like crazy!" he said with astonishment, peering down at her with glowing eyes.

"Sometimes, you make me feel like I'm back where I was when everything was simple and good, and for those moments, I feel fully human.

Yeah, There are times when my brain goes haywire, and I get stupidly tongue tied, but, when I’m not  rendered stupid, with you...everything feels right.

 And just looking at you does that to me!" he said cocooning her hands in his.

"You give me nostalgia of good times and make me forget I'm a mess, and that's all I want now, to feel like a regular guy and...maybe, settle down.” He revealed, letting her know what she inspired in him.

‘A family? For me?’ He asked himself, ‘ You make me think of building an actual future,’

“-I know one thing for certain and ...and It's that whatever I become after this will revolve around you,

Always.

Because you're the center of my universe (f/n).

I didn't want to force you into loving me, to pity you into accepting me, that's why I've been silent, but I also can't keep this to myself anymore, because I feel like it’s slowly killing me," He said while tightening his hold on her.

“Keeping this from you is torture,” He added." If I lose you because I was too afraid to take the risk I don't know what I'd do with myself. And I know that even if everyone else in the world has a better shot than me...Even if they're all better in every way, no one else can love you the way I do,” He told her. 

“And you deserve to be given the world, if not the entire universe!

(F/n) ,  I'm asking for the chance, The chance to try and hand it to you, " he pleaded. "That's all I need, it's all I need to prove myself. I'll try my best to make you happy and treat you like a prince- no like a queen. " He went on, rambling and unwinding everything he'd kept silent.

Her (e/c) eyes were wide and her brows rose as high as they could, shaking like a leaf in his hands, and seeing that he felt anxious,

"Don't be afraid of me, please. You can even say no if you want, just don't leave me.

 Even if you don't want me as a man, I still want to be able to see you, I still want to be a part of your life, no matter how meaningless it is, because I just want to make you happy."

His eyes then met hers, and in that one glance, his heart exploded into little bits and pieces.

Her eyes were glistening with tears, but beneath that, they twinkled with the glee. They sparkled like they never had before and he couldn't help but stare at the woman, becoming dumbstruck.

" You took all this time to list the things you're not Bucky..." she replied, finally speaking, finding her voice. " but you forgot to mention everything that makes me want you instead," She told him.

She then wrapped her arms around his neck, latching onto him, unashamed at coming closer.

Without skipping a beat he lifted her up and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Spinning her around he smiled,

"Doll... I'll make you happy, I promise...I'll find a reason to make you smile every single day." He swore, heading down for a kiss he'd craved.

Through her response she smiled, kissing him back with the same yearning, thinking of no one else but the man that held her so dearly,

“I love you too,” She said back, the words filling him with even more joy because while he wasn’t in any way near faultless, she loved him.

‘I’m not perfect either,’ She mused, ‘But you think I’m worth being handed the entire world and more,’ She went on, truly touched by his declarations, 

In spite of his every insecurity and doubt, she saw him as her own perfection, finding it amusing because all the while, she’d been afraid to take the step closer, 

“I couldn’t ask for better,” She breathed, 

“I couldn’t love anyone else,”

[faraway-wanderer]

BOOKS BY ASIAN AUTHORS MASTERLIST #stopasianhate

In light of recent events and the growing anti- Asian hate in the US and UK over the course of the pandemic I wanted to put together a masterlist of books by Asian authors. Obviously, it’s not extensive and there are HUNDREDS out there, but supporting art by Asian creators is a way of showing support; read their stories, educate ourselves. It goes without saying that we should all be putting effort into reading stories of POC and by POC because even through fiction we’re learning about different cultures, countries and heritages. So here’s some books to start with by Asian authors!

Here is a link also for resources to educate and petitions to sign (especially if you don’t read haha). It’s important that we educate ourselves and uplift Asian voices right now. Your anti-racism has to include every minority that faces it.

https://anti-asianviolenceresources.carrd.co/

for UK peeps, this is a good read: We may not hear about the anti Asian racism happening here, but it is definitely happening. https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/culture-news/a35692226/its-time-we-stopped-downplaying-the-uks-anti-asian-racism/

 THE BOOKS:

·         War Cross- Marie Lu ( the worldbuilding in this is IMMENSE.)

For the millions who log in every day, Warcross isn’t just a game—it’s a way of life. The obsession started ten years ago and its fan base now spans the globe, some eager to escape from reality and others hoping to make a profit. 

·         Star Daughter- Shveta Thakrar

A beautiful story about a girl who is half human and half star, and she must go to the celestial court to try to save her father after he has fallen ill. And before she knows it, she is taking part in a magical competition that she must win!

·         These Violent Delights- Chloe Gong (I told my little sister to read this book yesterday bc she has a thing for a Leo as Romeo- so if you want deadly good looking Romeos, badass Juliet’s and to learn about 1920s Shanghai- this is for you.)

The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. A Romeo and Juliet retelling.

·         The Poppy War- R.F Kuang (My fave fantasy series just fyi- it’s soul crushing in the best way. Rebecca Kuang is a god of an author).

A brilliantly imaginative talent makes her exciting debut with this epic historical military fantasy, inspired by the bloody history of China’s twentieth century and filled with treachery and magic, in the tradition of Ken Liu’s Grace of Kings and N.K. Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy.

·         Loveboat Taipei-  Abigail Hing Wen  (Really heartwarming and insightful!)

When eighteen-year-old Ever Wong’s parents send her from Ohio to Taiwan to study Mandarin for the summer, she finds herself thrust among the very over-achieving kids her parents have always wanted her to be, including Rick Woo, the Yale-bound prodigy profiled in the Chinese newspapers since they were nine—and her parents’ yardstick for her never-measuring-up life.

·         Sorcerer to the Crown- Zen Cho (if anyone is looking for another Howl’s Moving Castle, look no further than this book)

At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.

·         Emergency Contact- Mary H.K. Choi (very wholesome and fun rom-com!)

For Penny Lee high school was a total nonevent. When she heads to college in Austin, Texas, to learn how to become a writer, it’s seventy-nine miles and a zillion light years away from everything she can’t wait to leave behind.

 ·         Jade City- Fonda Lee (I am reading this currently and can I just say- I think everyone who loves fantasy and blood feuds in a story should read this.)

JADE CITY is a gripping Godfather-esque saga of intergenerational blood feuds, vicious politics, magic, and kungfu. The Kaul family is one of two crime syndicates that control the island of Kekon. It's the only place in the world that produces rare magical jade, which grants those with the right training and heritage superhuman abilities.

 ·         A Pho Love Story- Loan Le

When Dimple Met Rishi meets Ugly Delicious in this funny, smart romantic comedy, in which two Vietnamese-American teens fall in love and must navigate their newfound relationship amid their families’ age-old feud about their competing, neighbouring restaurants.

·         Rebelwing- Andrea Tang

Business is booming for Prudence Wu. A black-market-media smuggler and scholarship student at the prestigious New Columbia Preparatory Academy, Pru is lucky to live in the Barricade Coalition where she is free to study, read, watch, and listen to whatever she wants.

·         Wings of the Locust- Joel Donato Ching Jacob

Tuan escapes his mundane and mediocre existence when he is apprenticed to Muhen, a charming barangay wiseman. But, as he delves deeper into the craft of a mambabarang and its applications in espionage, sabotage and assassination, the young apprentice is overcome by conflicting emotions that cause him to question his new life.

 ·         The Travelling Cat Chronicles- Hiro Arikawa

Sometimes you have to leave behind everything you know to find the place you truly belong...

Nana the cat is on a road trip. He is not sure where he's going or why, but it means that he gets to sit in the front seat of a silver van with his beloved owner, Satoru. 

 ·         Super Fake Love Song- David Yoon

From the bestselling author of Frankly in Love comes a contemporary YA rom-com where a case of mistaken identity kicks off a string of (fake) events that just may lead to (real) love.

  ·         Parachutes- Kelly Yang

Speak enters the world of Gossip Girl in this modern immigrant story from New York Times bestselling author Kelly Yang about two girls navigating wealth, power, friendship, and trauma.

·         The Grace of Kings- Ken Liu ( One of the Time��100 Best Fantasy Books Of All Time!)

Two men rebel together against tyranny—and then become rivals—in this first sweeping book of an epic fantasy series from Ken Liu, recipient of Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards.

·         Wicked Fox- Kat Cho

A fresh and addictive fantasy-romance set in modern-day Seoul.

 ·         Descendant of the Crane- Joan He

In this shimmering Chinese-inspired fantasy, debut author Joan He introduces a determined and vulnerable young heroine struggling to do right in a world brimming with deception.

 ·         Pachinko- Min Jin Lee

Richly told and profoundly moving, Pachinko is a story of love, sacrifice, ambition, and loyalty. From bustling street markets to the halls of Japan's finest universities to the pachinko parlors of the criminal underworld, Lee's complex and passionate characters--strong, stubborn women, devoted sisters and sons, fathers shaken by moral crisis--survive and thrive against the indifferent arc of history.

·         America is in the Heart- Carlos Bulosan

First published in 1946, this autobiography of the well known Filipino poet describes his boyhood in the Philippines, his voyage to America, and his years of hardship and despair as an itinerant laborer following the harvest trail in the rural West.

 ·         Days of Distraction- Alexandra Chang

A wry, tender portrait of a young woman — finally free to decide her own path, but unsure if she knows herself well enough to choose wisely—from a captivating new literary voice.

·         The Astonishing Colour of After Emily X.R Pan

Alternating between real and magic, past and present, friendship and romance, hope and despair, The Astonishing Color of After is a novel about finding oneself through family history, art, grief, and love. 

·         The Gilded Wolves- Roshani Chokshi

It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance.

·         When Dimple met Rishi- Sandhya Menon

Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.

·         On Earth we’re briefly Gorgeous- Ocean Vuong

Poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a shattering portrait of a family, a first love, and the redemptive power of storytelling.

·         Fierce Fairytales- Nikita Gill

Complete with beautifully hand-drawn illustrations by Gill herself, Fierce Fairytales is an empowering collection of poems and stories for a new generation.

 BOOKS BEING RELEASED LATER THIS YEAR TO PREORDER:

·         Counting down with you- Tashie Bhuiyan- 4th May

A reserved Bangladeshi teenager has twenty-eight days to make the biggest decision of her life after agreeing to fake date her school’s resident bad boy.

How do you make one month last a lifetime?

·         Gearbreakers- Zoe Hana Mikuta- June 29th

Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series

·         XOXO- Axie Oh- 13th July

When a relationship means throwing Jenny’s life off the path she’s spent years mapping out, she’ll have to decide once and for all just how much she’s willing to risk for love.

·         She who became the sun- Shelley Parker-Chan- 20th July

Mulan meets The Song of Achilles in Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun, a bold, queer, and lyrical reimagining of the rise of the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty from an amazing new voice in literary fantasy.

·         Jade Fire Gold- June C.L Tan- October 12th

Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series

  Keep sharing, signing petitions and donating where you can. The more people who are actively anti-racist, the better. And if your anti-racism doesn’t include the Asian community then go and educate yourself! BLM wasn’t a trend and neither is this. We have to stand up against white supremacy, and racism and stereotypes and we have to support the communities that need our support. Part of that can include cultivating your reading so you’re reading more diversely and challenging any stereotypes western society may have given you.

 Feel free to reblog and add any more recommendations and resources of course!

[orionwhispers]

Swan Song// Thomas Shelby 🍸

(A.N )- holy shit. holy shit. you guys... its finally finished. it took months but its finally done!!here is the long awaited and highly requested lolita wedding. im so happy you guys finally get to read it! i feel like my baby has all grown up lol. there might be errors and stuff bc its 16k words and im exhausted but hopefully you enjoy it. thanks for being so wonderful and patient. ily) also sorry for all the pics in the moodboard being white i try and be inclusive but smh pinterest sucks sometimes, anyone is welcome here. we are all hoes for tommy)

Trigger Warnings; so much fucking fluff, implied smut, some angst and mention of past injury.

PART 1  PART 2

It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights.

When even the sun didn’t want to retire for the evening; the sky a rich, milky blue, and the air still thick and warm like honey. You were on the window seat, clad in one of Ada’s many wedding presents, a blush silk slip and matching robe, a gift she had brought back from her week in Boston.

You were happy. Irrevocably so. The floor and love seat crowded with the people you held closest to your heart, the room smelt of expensive vanilla candles and strawberry wine, and the deep throaty rumble of laughter filled every empty space.

It was perfect. Well - almost.

You missed him.

It was only one night apart, you had spent longer times separated when he went out of town for business or you had a rambunctious girls weekend with Ada and Esme - but still you missed him entirely.

You knew he missed you too. That much was obvious from the disdain on his face when Arthur and Polly laid bare their plans for the night before your wedding. There hadn’t been time for an engagement party let alone a bachelor party - a few weeks after announcing the news Tommy had been due to attend to some business in New York, and he was adamant that you were to come along. He wanted to treat you, show you the vibrant city and all of the glitz and glamour of Broadway, but you knew that was only part of the reason. He didn’t like you out of his sight for too long, the wound on your chest might have been puckering into a scar but the pain was still fresh in his mind and his overprotectiveness had tripled.

After a brilliant few weeks away in the big apple, filled with passionate, breathless kisses and red satin dresses and driving hand in hand down the Brooklyn bridge, you finally returned home - but much like the city you had just left, Thomas Shelby had no time for sleeping. He was knee deep in new deals and navigating his partnership with Alfie Solomon’s, as well as his new venture of manufacturing gin. Despite the long nights and the early mornings, you never felt neglected. You loved him, all of him, and that included his workhorse nature and tenacity. And besides, he struggled being away from you, finding himself noticing the lack of warmth in his office, when at home you would be perched on his lap, pressing dizzying kisses to the base of his neck. He missed the sound of your laugh and the way that you giggled, biting your lip innocently, making him want to bite it even harder.

He loved you, and that god awful summer had shown him that all he truly cared about was having you by his side. So for every night he was at the office, or every morning he was out of bed before you woke up, he made it up to you with a weekend away, or a signed first edition of your favourite book, or a piece of jewellery he had made for you. They might have been material things, but the meaning couldn’t be clearer, he was hopelessly, dangerously, completely, in love with you.

His main present to you though, arrived a few days after his sudden proposal in his office.

He originally wanted to take you into London, show you the finest jewellers by the water and let you choose anything that caught your eye - only the best for his best girl - but, after everything, his plans had changed.

Truthfully, marriage had been on the tip of his tongue since that very first day he locked eyes with you in the Garrison. He knew he had to have you, even before he knew your name, and by the time the two of you first kissed, tasting like sweet strawberries and cigarettes, he knew you would be the woman to take his.

But things got in the way. Marriage wasn’t as simple as it might have been for the people you passed in the streets. Marriage to him was like putting a target on your back, it meant your entire life being intertwined with his, the whole world knowing that you were the woman that made him fall to his knees. It would take everything from you, and the darkness would slowly start to seep into the light that surrounded you, and he needed to keep you safe for as long as he could. He knew he was going to marry you, it was just as clear in his mind as it was that he was the leader of the Blinders, you were the missing piece in his puzzle.

But of course, his plans were blown to smithereens when the bullet shattered your collarbone that summers eve. His visions of red roses and rich wine and getting on one knee, feeling like a goddamn kid again when you gave him that smile as he pushed the ring onto your finger, were flung to the wind. And instead, his honeyed words were swapped with breathless desire and need, whispered in your hair as you were cradled in his arms, in the afterglow of such a dreadful day.

The one thing he knew he could get right, however, was the ring.

It had to be special. It had to be you. Something soft and sweet and gentle, but with an edge - sharp and strong and beautiful. Of course, it would be impossible to find any diamond or pearl that could compete with your beauty, but he wanted you to have the best.

That wasn’t the only reason though.

It had more to do with the jewel that had hung around your neck that day at the ball, the one that haunted him when the sky got dark and you were fast asleep beside him. He had come so close to losing you, only a hair away from the girl he loved being buried, and the thought was driving him mad. He controlled every aspect of his life, but this was something completely out of his grasp, and he needed to stop his dangerous thoughts.

He hadn’t been superstitious since he was a boy chasing his brothers through fields of wildflowers and listening to Polly’s ramblings by the fire, but he had to rule out every possibility. So a few days after he proposed, and with the best doctor in Birmingham giving you the all clear (and triple checking that the house was secured and being watched by practically a small army of Blinders - and a stern warning to Michael, Isaiah and Finn that if even a hair on top of your head was misplaced by the time he got back, none of them would be able to have any children)- he set off.

He told you he was signing a deal in Manchester, but he was really only a few miles away, at the campsite where he had spent the majority of his youth. It was all rolling hills of deep emerald and jade, and fog that curled and twisted around his ankles, and for the first time in a long time, he felt out of place. He had chosen the ring with the help of Polly, who was adamant she knew your taste better than him, something he vehemently denied.

It was beautiful and unique, just like you, and he never felt such a profound rush of love quite like when he pictured slotting it onto your finger. It was big, but not overly so - nothing tacky or too much, Tommy knowing that you never wanted anything glimmering or gaudy and that you’d probably hit him and then faint if you knew the price. But, in his eyes - nothing was too expensive for his little girl. Besides, he particularly liked the way the ring shone in the light, imagining all the men that would fuck off and leave with their tail between their legs when they saw it and realised that the most beautiful woman in the room was already spoken for.

The diamond was brilliant and a “Princess” cut, something that made him smirk because it was one of his favourite pet names for you, and he couldn’t imagine anything more fitting. The band was solid gold, two different paths that intertwined and curled like summer vines, making him think of the lightness and whimsy you carried around you. What really sold him though, were the soft, twinkling rose quartz gems that cocooned the diamond.

“For protection.” Polly had muttered as he twisted the ring between his fingers under the dim lighting in the store. He had rolled his eyes when she spoke but secretly the meaning behind them made his gut twist. Protection was something that he needed you to have in abundance, even if it came from small crystals the size of a half grain of rice.

The ring was so perfect. So rare and alluring and undeniably you, and he walked out the door with the feeling of pure content, something that only even happened when he thought of you. But he knew there was more for him to do. He sent Polly home, ignoring the raised eyebrows she gave him and brushed off the sixth sense his Aunt had always had. And with the ring safely nestled in its plush navy box in his breast pocket, he drove off.

The campsite felt like the past. It felt as though he was visiting somewhere deep in the confines of his mind, somewhere that he had locked and stored away and forgotten about, only now being able to see through the thick haze of smog. He met the elderly woman by the doors of her caravan, noticing the difference between his sharp suit and the furs and shawls she had covering her body. She smiled and invited him in, pouring him a cup of something that smelt like sap and crisp autumn apples.

“It’s been a long time, Thomas.” She said, eyes so dark they almost looked black as she watched him curiously.

“That it has.”

“What brings you to this part of the woods then? I thought you would have forgotten about the rest of us.”

It was a dig, but he refused to rise to it. He wasn’t in the mood for petty jibes.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So I hear.” She exhaled, stirring her tea meticulously with a golden spoon. “They tell me you’re practically running the country.”

He smiled softly and falsely, digging his hand deep into his pocket. “Let’s cut to the chase, eh?” He pulled out the small box, opening it in his palm, and twisting it round so that the clear cut diamond was twinkling right before her.

She grinned, leaning forward on her elbows to get a better look. “It’s beautiful. Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“The woman it’s for is worth it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I know why you’re here,Tom. The boys told me what happened at that party of yours.”

He cleared his throat, not liking the lack of control he had over the conversation.

“Right, well then. Just tell me what I need to know.”

She closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath, and Tommy sat back on his haunches, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Was he really fucking doing this? Sitting in a caravan in the middle of fucking nowhere getting his jewellery cleansed by some batty old woman he knew as a child? It went against everything he believed in, and was the exact opposite of the calm and level headed way he ran his business.

But then he thought of you. And your light. Your sweetness and the sound of your laugh, the curve of your lips and the flowers you wore in your hair and the grass stains on your little white dresses. He thought of the scar that ran along your collarbone, and the feeling of white hot desperation that had coursed through him when he that you might not wake up.

You were worth it. Fuck sensibilities and rationality. He’d drive to the fucking ends of the earth if it meant that it would keep you even just a little bit safer.

After what felt like an age, the woman opened her eyes and raised her head. She used the edge of one of her many colourful scarves to wipe the surface of the gems, her hands moving in quick, rhythmic circles.

“It’s clean.” She said. “There’s nothing bad on it. At least, not that I can see.”

Tommy felt the anvil strapped to his chest suddenly fill and float like a balloon, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he brushed off the relief flooding though his body, and straightened up. “Well I came to the best.”

She smiled, both smugly and bashfully, the way most women felt around Tommy. “That you did my love.”

His fingertips merely brushed the top of the roll of money he had stuffed in his pocket, and the elderly woman sat back, shaking her head at him.

“It’s on the house. Maybe you can bring your girl around one day, I know we’d all like to meet her.”

Not fucking likely he thought. No way in hell would he bring you to a place like this, whilst he still had good memory’s of his youth, he didn’t trust the people that still lurked in the fields around this place.

Wanting to settle the score, he held out a wad of notes. “I insist.”

“And I decline.”

He didn’t like the way the conversation had ended, it didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked to make his deals as open and closed as possible, money was the best way to seal a deal, he didn’t work with favours. “Right, well. Thank you for everything.”

He looked out of the windows of the caravan as he gathered his things. It was starting to get dark, the sky blushing like summer strawberries and freshly sliced peaches, the air still a little thick from the heat. All that he wanted now was to get home to you, everything else had faded to static in his ears. He bit back a grin as he thought of how you would smile, all teeth and round cheeks and wide eyes when he showed you the ring. He imagined it sitting pretty on your finger, the nudge of the jewel against his when you intertwined hands and the way it would dazzle at night, not nearly as beautiful as you as you laid beneath him, sweaty and breathless and ethereal.

As sudden as a gunshot, sharp words from behind him cut through his daydreams like a blade.

“Have you ever considered, Tom?”

He merely paused, not even bothering to spin on his heel and face her. He knew what she was going to say and yet it still felt like a knife digging into a fresh wound as she continued speaking.

“That maybe it’s not the jewels? Maybe it’s you?”

He wasn’t the type of man to back down from a fight, and he was the unrivalled champion of maintaining his composure and remaining calm under every type of pressure, but even he couldn’t deny the shivers that twisted around the bottom of his spine at the implication of her words.

“Yes. I have.”

He could feel her shifting behind him, ready to lure him in, tell him the thing that kept him up at night and clawed at his throat when he watched you sleep; that perhaps he was the poison that seemed to follow you like a dark cloud. He was much too selfish, far too infatuated with you to keep you at arms length. The deafening ache that perhaps you were the reason he finally felt alive, and that maybe he was the reason you would end up buried. 

He didn’t allow himself to think any more, tossing his cash towards her, not even bothering to check if she caught it or if it landed on the floor, instead he raised a hand and walked off, murmuring under his breath. “Keep the change.”

He waited until he was back in his car, with a cigarette between his lips and the sour smell of petrol and ash filling his lungs before he finally inhaled, glad to be out of the fucking fresh air.

—————————————————————

Your reaction was even better than he imagined.

It was dark by the time he eventually got home, and he didn’t miss the buzz of warmth that pulling into the driveway brought. It was bizarre, he had spent so long feeling nothing that meeting you had reignited everything inside of him, he felt like a boy again, nervous and elated to see the girl he loved.

The lights were on, reflecting through the windows like flickering candles, and a pleasant yellow glow engulfed the shadows in the gravel. He could hear voices, (mainly Arthur’s), deep low laughter and the sound of music all throughout the halls. He winced slightly, hoping that whatever ruckus his family had brought wasn’t keeping you from resting. He was certain that this impromptu gathering was his brothers idea of raising your spirits, but Tommy would have felt much more comfortable knowing that you were peaceful and recovering somewhere safe, knowing that you were far too polite to send his family away.

“What the fucks all this noise, eh?” He shouted as entered, his tone was sharp but even he couldn’t stop the tiny grin making its way onto his face as he watched Arthur and John drunkenly dance in the living room.

“Ay! You’re back? How did it go?” Arthur asked, holding out his arms in greeting as his speech slurred.

“Everything’s in order.”

“Hurrah!” Arthur swayed on unsteady legs like a sailor on the rough seas, and

“Bloody hell Arthur, what the fuck are you on?” John laughed,

“It’s a celebration, brother.”

Tommy pushed him aside playfully, tuning out the sound of their bickering as he strode further in the living room, eyes brushing past all of the faces crowded around, his heart stopping when he finally found the one he was after.

You were curled up on the sofa by the fireplace with your legs tucked underneath you, your face flushing deliciously, the spark slowly reigniting inside of you - and Tommy swore that he had never seen something so beautiful. Michael, Isaiah and Finn were crowded around you, looking much younger than their years, playing cards in their hands and big, toothy grins, occasionally accusing the other of cheating. Polly watched from beside the fireplace, something that had once been the beating heart of the house, a place where the two of you coexisted so magnificently. He thought of the flames from the logs and also from deep inside of him, devouring you completely on the hardwood floors, the sound of your moans mixing with the crackle and snap of the kindling. He hadn’t looked at the fireplace since you had been shot, it was too intimate, too personal, memories of early morning laughter and pure carnal hunger when the sun set, his fingertips pressing against the softness of your throat as you melted like paper under him.

Now though, it had been filled with empty wine bottles stuffed with candles, wax dripping and melting down their green glass necks, the room smelling like cherries and lavender. He knew you had put them there, and it made him exhale, because it no longer hurt to look at it, and he knew that eventually, the fireplace would be yours again.

Polly caught his eye from over the sofa, hers glittering and twinkling with suspicion of where her nephew had been, taking a long, poignant drag from her cigarette. He ignored her. He had no doubts that she was completely aware of what he had been doing, and that imagining him back at his roots was conjuring a particular mental image in her head, but right now that was the least of his concern.

He tore though the living room, almost colliding with a dozen bodies, it seemed Arthur had dug up every close acquaintance within twenty miles and invited them over. The room smelt like sour whisky and spilled wine, and he swore he could see his expensive furniture lowering in price by the minute.

He loved his family, he would do anything for them, but God he wished to the highest heavens that they would fuck off so he could spend some time with his girl. If it was up to him the house would be completely empty, nothing but the sound of your laugh and the thump of your heart, fuck everything else.

You were wrapped up in your poker game, head tilted back as you laughed at something Finn had whispered to you, the small creamy corner of your bandage poking out from the collar of your dress. Tommy swore inwardly, the sight making him falter. As quickly as the feeling came, he brushed it away, not wanting you to see him worry, not wanting himself to fall into old and dangerous habits.

Finn saw him first, his youngest brother looking impossibly boyish and playful as he laughed with his friends, a world away from the man he tried so hard to be. One look and he was on his feet, quickly swatting Isaiah and Michael and gathering the cards in his hands. Tommy patted his shoulder fondly, his eyes fixed firmly on you, watching your pupils dilate and sparkle when you finally caught sight of him.

“You’re back.”

Breathless. Angelic. Innocent. It took everything in him to not gather you in his arms and take you upstairs all for himself.

“And you should be in bed.”

He sat down next to you, his knee brushing against yours.

You smelt of home.

Of sweet cinnamon and strawberries and wildflowers, messy hair and woodsmoke. You finally smelt like yourself, not like the chemicals and disinfectants that now filled the halls, making him want to set his whole damn estate alight because the reminders of what they caused were too painful.

“I’ve been resting for weeks, Tommy. Let me have a little fun.”

You gave him that smile. The one that made his knees buckle. The one that would have made him sign his company over to you if you asked - not that there would ever be a time he would say no to you. It was bizarre, how you were sitting there with no makeup on, your hair tied back with a baby pink ribbon, and you were undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Alright, alright, enough with the pouting.” He winked at you, making a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt in your stomach. If it had just been the two of you he would have leant in and kissed you stupid, but he didn’t want to give his drunken brothers something else to whoop and tease about. He would save his romantics for later, when you were alone, and he could take his well earned time and leisure to ravage you.

He pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around the edge of the sofa and over your shoulders, keeping you as close and protected as he possibly could, the simple action comforting him immensely. You snuggled into him, his body so warm and firm and safe, and he pressed a kiss to your neck as you relaxed, his lips scorching you like a brand. He felt his whole body exhale, feeling at ease because he was with the people he loved most in the world, with you tucked into his side like you were carved there, and the feel of your fingertips ghosting over his chest. His life was so fast paced and hectic and his mind was whirring a mile a minute, but at that moment, the there was no where else he would rather be.

His patience lasted exactly 47 minutes. His composure and lenience with his family finally snapped when Arthur bet John that he could do a better handstand than him, proceeded to leap onto his hands, flail about disastrously and then crash right into the console table, shattering an array of fine china and imported vases.

“Oh John, look what you did ya’ stupid cunt.” He said when he got to his feet, his hands slashed to ribbons and blood dripping onto the carpet. Esme rolled her eyes, grabbing her brother in law by the collar and dragging him out of the room to bandage him up before he inevitably passed out from all the alcohol.

Tommy straightened out next to you as Mary quickly rushed in and gathered the glimmering shards with a dustpan and brush. He heaved himself to his feet, reluctant to withdraw from your side, and he cleared his throat once before speaking. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight, everybody fuck off.”

You rolled your eyes at his terrible bedside manner, tugging on the edge of his rolled sleeve playfully, making a small smile cross the edge of his lips. Polly pressed a hand to your shoulder as she herded the boys out of the room, each of them mumbling drunken goodbyes and pressing whisky stained kisses to your cheeks, mindful of the placement of their hands and your scar, mainly because of Tommy’s sharp, warning glare.

Johnny Dogs grumbled something along the lines of parting, but instead passed out face down on the carpet, his body rising and falling with heavy snores. Tommy waited rather impatiently as you said goodbye to the remaining guests, wanting nothing more than some well earned solace with his girl.

When you were finally alone, the moon dancing across your skin through the large open windows, soft music filling the room and the smell of sticky split wine following you both, he pulled you into his arms. He looked at your face and smiled. You were ethereal. Golden and glowing in the twilight, eyes sparkling like diamonds. Your face had changed a little in the time you had been together, your body and mind maturing and adapting, but you still looked so young. A breath of clear, fresh air amongst all of the smoke.

He lifted his hand to wipe a few specks of shimmering rose rouge from your cheeks, evidently left from where Esme hugged you goodbye, but you got there first, playfully taking his finger in your mouth and gently sucking and biting at his fingertip.

He felt a fire ignite in his stomach and his trousers tighten. How were you - so small and sweet and innocent, able to control his body like you were a master puppeteer and he was nothing but wood and string? It was baffling to him, an enigma that he craved to solve but knew that he never could. He was completely and incurably love sick.

You were going to be the death of him.

He pulled you even closer, freeing himself from your grip and taking your head in his hands, smashing his lips onto yours. You melted into him, practically putty in his hands. His teeth clashed against yours, the kiss was messy and desperate, as though you were two kids determined to make the most of the time you had alone. He felt everything wash off of him, all of his stress and tension melting down his spine like candle wax. Because, with your body flush against his and his mouth pressed up against your own, he was home.

You pulled away shyly and reluctancy, and he felt the absence of your warmth immediately. He moved to drag you back, not done with you just yet, but he followed your gaze to the man on the floor. Johnny had somehow managed to roll over onto his back, still asleep and snoring, but with his eyes half open, his gaze focused on the two of you. Tommy let out a rare, genuine laugh, and it made you feel like somebody had lit a firework in your chest. He wrapped his fingers against your own and tugged softly, his voice deep and rumbling like the ocean.

“Let’s go upstairs, princess. I’ve got something to give to you.”

Your room was safe and it was warm. It smelt like ripe peaches and fresh mint and rolling tobacco, like leather and lace; innocence and sin. It had finally become yours again, interlocked like your fingers, intertwined like your hearts, something so precious and belonging to just the two of you. It had broken his already shattered heart when you were separated, and looking at you now through heavy eyelids as you sat on your knees in bed, waiting expectantly for him to reveal his present, he took a moment to thank whoever was listening for giving him a goddamn angel.

“You need to stop buying me things, Tommy.” You scolded gently, shifting on your legs.

“I’ll do whatever I bloody feel like.” He replied, undoing his cuff links and loosing his tie. He liked to always be properly dressed and sharp, but around you he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in your sweet comfort.

You watched him, so beautiful and angelic looking under the yellow lights. You smiled to yourself at his mussed hair and natural pink pout; the side to him that only ever flared up around you. You kept your eyes trained on him as he rummaged around the room, taking off his jacket and folding it over a chair before turning around and pointing a finger at you.

“Close your eyes.”

You huffed. “Is that really necessary?”

“Close ‘em.”

You looked up at him teasingly, exhaling loudly before closing your eyes. You felt him moving around the room, listening to the soft creaks of the wood and the sound of his footsteps as he approached the bed. He lifted your arm and you giggled as his fingertips ran down your skin, stopping at the middle of your wrist, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could he pushed something onto your ring finger. Even with your eyes closed you could feel his smile.

“Open.”

It took you a moment to register what you were seeing, the surprise knocking the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flickered from him back down to your ring, your mouth agape. You hadn’t really thought about an engagement ring, flashy diamonds weren’t really up your alley and with everything that had happened tradition seemed to have flown out of the window, but you should have known Tommy would always be one step ahead. It was beautiful. So brilliant and classic and totally you, and you could feel tears pricking behind your eyes, your mouth going dry.

“Oh, Tom! Oh, Tommy it’s beautiful!” All of your restraint was gone, and you leapt onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he caught you effortlessly, like he always would. He let out a laugh, slightly stunned from your reaction, and the feeling of your lips pressing hot, quick kisses all across his skin. He held you tight, burying his nose in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer.

He felt your lips at the base of his ear, brushing against his flesh as you spoke. “This must have cost a fortune!”

He shook his head, not even needing words to convey his feelings. To him it was obvious. Nothing would ever be too much for you.

You admired it from over his shoulder, watching the hypnotising way that it glimmered in the light. He gently walked forward, leaning you down so that you were in contact with the bed, tilting up your face so that you were looking him in the eye.

“There’s something else.”

“Tommy - ”

He had already started unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat back and watched as his nimble fingers looped down his torso, finally grabbing something underneath and holding it towards you.

You inhaled sharply, feeling yourself floating.

He had your name engraved on a silver dog tag, much like the ones he had thrown into the cut with Freddie along with his medals of honour. This was what mattered to him, your name carved into the metal, dangling right next to his heart, because it was only you who owned it.

Your eyes met, filled with love and lust and true happiness. A week ago you had been lying in bed, terrified that Tommy might not be in love with you, but now it was clear that the two of you were bound together, that you were the safety of a lighthouse to his wandering ship.

He kissed you - greedily and open mouthed, and you fell into him, letting him devour you. His hands worked quickly, desperate to see all of you, everything laid bare for him, with nothing but the ring glinting under the pale light of the moon. He kissed your neck, collarbone, throat, his hands and calloused fingertips brushing your flesh.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He said and you melted. You never felt short of love around him, but hearing those three words was like a hit of heroin, and you were desperate for more. You knew that he was as well, that he craved your stability and the sweetness you gave him, and you pulled his head from the crook of your neck, getting lost in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, Tommy. I love you.”

—————————————————————

The weeks passed, and the ring on your finger still gave you goosebumps when you saw it - a reminder of the man you loved. Life continued, business slowly dripping back into your days, the hazy bubble of love you had entered starting to pop but never fully dissolving. Tommy was adamant that you shouldn’t start back at work, making it very clear to you that he didn’t want you doing anything until he was beyond certain that you were completely healed.

You hated being stuck in the house however, and still managed to find a way to get a very reluctant Michael to sneak in some accounting work for you to do. Something that made Tommy see red when he found out, only to have you pout and preen and make all of his anger subside, although Michael wasn’t as lucky.

Wedding planning hadn’t been on your mind, not with business booming or the wonderful trip to New York. You were happy with everything, dizzied with love and lust and laughter, and whilst your finger had gotten much heavier, there was nothing in your relationship you wanted to change.

That didn’t stop Polly or Ada however from trying to plan the best party England had ever seen.

You remembered a sleepy Sunday morning with the two of them, and the shrill sound they both made when you said that you didn’t want a big wedding.

“What? Finally something bloody good happens to this family and you don’t want us to celebrate?”

You rolled your eyes, dunking your biscuit into your coffee with a smile. “I’m not saying we can’t celebrate, I’m just saying that I haven’t really thought about it, I just want something small.”

“Small? Every woman has dreamt of her wedding day!”

You looked over at Ada, wanting her to back you up against such traditionalist views. Instead, she held up her hands and laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I hate to admit it, (Y/N) but I agree with Pol! It’s about time this family had something good happen, and you and Tom deserve a bloody wonderful day. I’ve never seen a love story quite like yours.”

You smiled at her kindness but didn’t let up, stirring your tea with your matching spoon.“I don’t want a fuss! I don’t need a big wedding to be happy, I just need him.”

“Well that’s sweet.” Polly interjected. “But I want to buy some new furs and get drunk and wake up next to a man who likes to buy me diamonds.”

You laughed out loud.

“Since when do you need a man to buy you diamonds?” Ada snorted, staring down her aunt over her strawberry filled pastry.

“I don’t. But they always look better when they’ve been bought by someone else.”

You sighed, watching the two of them playfully bicker, feeling so grateful that the stars had aligned and they were now your family.

“So you don’t have any plans? Not even a date or a dress in mind?” Polly asked, her brisk voice cutting through the banter.

“No.” You smiled. “The only thing I’m sure about is the groom.”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Well that’s going to need to change.”

——————————————————————

Slowly but surely you started to fall back into old habits and patterns, picking up where you left off at the Garrison, and meeting Michael and Isaiah for drinks in the city. Tommy was reluctant to loosen his grip at first, so used to having you all over him in the comfort of your own home, safe and warm under the protection of his watchful gaze and gentle hands. He knew that he didn’t own you, and that he couldn’t keep you under lock and key like a prisoner, but he spent those first few weeks anxiously pacing in his study, dreading the phone ringing and finding that you had once again been hurt because of him.

He kept his work as separate from you as he could. He knew you wanted to be by his side through everything, but the wound was too fresh for him, too raw, and he needed to know that you were safe. So he kept his sins and misdemeanours away from you, making his home his sanctuary and you his oasis, finding religion in your lips and solace in your touch.

You were in no hurry to arrange anything. As much as you loved the idea of Tommy being your husband, you were happy to just let things slowly fall into place and try to regain whatever normalcy you had lost - but your future in laws had different plans.

Polly was a whirlwind. She spent the majority of her free time writing letters and phoning different market vendors from all over the world, her office filled with sugar icing and the finest loose leaf tea that money could buy, all gifts from those wanting to cater what was set to be the “wedding of the century.”

You didn’t mind - even when she stole you away for an entire work day to pick out cutlery and matching table runners, or you came back from the department store with pin pricks up and down your body from hours of having dresses fitted. She was happy, and when darkness seemed to follow the family like a storm cloud, you were adamant at grasping at whatever you could get, even if it wasn’t quite what you envisioned.

You knew Tommy found the whole thing hilarious. How his stoic and level headed Aunt had been swept up in lavender and lace, snapping at bakers over mango whipped frosting and arguing about the best way to cook lamb. It made him so damn happy though, when you came home after a long day - eyes tired but sparkling, face flushed and glowing, the way that he always wanted you to be. The distraction was what you needed, something sugar coated and dreamy to blur everything that had happened, and he knew that you were in great hands with Polly.

He couldn’t even deny that he was looking forward to the day. He knew more than anything that he wanted you to be his wife, and whilst he loved shiny, expensive things, all he truly needed was you by his side. He didn’t want a fuss, he wanted whatever you did, but imagining you all wide eyed and honey lipped at the alter, rings forever symbolising your connection, the sound of your first name with his last.

Well, that he liked.

Even though you were feeling a little out of your depth amongst all of the wedding planning, there were some things that you knew that you wanted. Like, the powder pink roses from the bushes Tommy had gifted you for your birthday to line the stairway, and ocean blue forget me nots in the bouquet - to match his eyes. You even had a hazy vision of what you wanted your dress to be, the hours spent walking through boutiques in London with Ada paying off as you debated A line, trumpet, and ball gown style dresses.

The main thing you were certain about, however, was who you wanted by your side throughout the whole thing. You had a feeling he knew something like this was coming, he always did have a way of knowing what you were thinking, but even Michael wasn’t expecting you to leap out of his wardrobe hand in hand with Finn, holding out a small cupcake with a candle on the top one rainy evening.

“Holy shit!” He squealed, watching as you and his cousin broke down in fits of laughter, clutching each other as you toppled onto the floor, jackets and shirts trailing behind you.“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Surprise!” You managed to say in between deep throaty giggles. “We wanted to catch you off guard!”

“Well you fucking did.” He tutted, “Hiding in my wardrobe! Nearly fucking shat myself.”

Your laughter was infectious, and soon all three of you were close to tears, your bodies exhausted and elated, gripping onto one another to stop from completely collapsing.

“So what was the point of this ambush, then?” He asked finally, his hands on his knees as he gasped for air, his face slowly returning to its normal colour.

You thrust the cupcake under his nose, the tip of the flame narrowly missing singeing the little hairs on his upper lip. “I want you to be my maid of honour! Well, man of honour.” You corrected quickly.

“You want me to be your what?”

Quick to silence his objections, you added - “Finn’s going to be flower girl!”

“Flower boy.” He interjected, “Katie’s flower girl. I’m just doing you a favour.”

“Yeah. Right.”

You and Michael locked eyes for a moment, challenging the other with your gaze. After a tense minute of silence, he broke out in a smile, one of the classic, cheesy ones that you loved so much.

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

You grinned. “Only if you want to.”

He threw his arms in the air in mock defeat, and he seemed so much younger, reminding you of running barefoot with him through raspberry fields, and throwing pennies down a pretty little well.

“Alright. Okay. Yes! Bloody hell.”

You leapt into his arms and Finn whooped triumphantly, partly pleased for you but mostly happy that he wasn’t the only member of the family who had somehow been talked into something he was bound to be teased over.

You felt Michael press a kiss to the crown of your head, his words getting muffled by your loose hair. “God, does Tommy even know what he’s got himself in for with you?”

You smiled, as sweet as spun sugar.

“Nope.”

—————————————————————-

As much as you wanted to stay in the rose tinted bubble that wedding planning had created, more and more problems with the business started to arise, and everything had to be put on the back burner - but it never dampened your spirits.

The hot summer days bled into crisp autumn nights, and you were trading your short lavender dresses for fur lined coats and boots. You celebrated Christmas with everyone, and discovered that a day you never used to enjoy was now your favourite, all because of the man you would up beside.

New Years passed in a flurry of drunken kisses and gold dresses and dancing until the sun rose. You vaguely remember finding Arthur passed out in the bathtub, surrounded by ice and champagne, the gramophone shaking the paintings on the walls. Your main memory was Tommy pulling you down the hall with him, away from the rest of the family, kissing you right as the clock struck midnight with hands tangled in your hair and a smile on his lips.

He often left for weeks at a time, work taking him up and down the country, and that meant that every morning and night you spent together was treasured.

One particular spring morning, when the air was starting to warm up and the days getting a little longer, you were sprawled on Tommy’s lap in the garden, reading from your novel whilst he read the paper. The day was less than half way though and you had already spent the entire morning in bed, making up for all the time you had lost. Now you leafed through your book with strawberry stained fingers, the curl of cigarette smoke twisting around you both.

Tommy had made it certain that he was not to be bothered that day. It had been almost an entire month of nothing but speaking over the phone and stolen kisses before he had to up and leave again, and the only thing he goddamn wanted was to do absolutely nothing with you. He was exhausted, not that he would ever admit it, but because you knew him better than absolutely everyone, you forced him to take a break before the man you loved completely crumbled like a bourbon biscuit.

So when you knew that he was coming back, you gave Mary strict orders to ignore all phone calls or mail regarding the business until the weekend was over. She had happily obliged, so you and Tom were both confused when you saw her running through the grass in her wingtips, her hands still soapy and wet from doing the dishes.

“Oh Mr Shelby! And Mrs Shelby!” She called, her voice so shrill that a few birds even took flight. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Tommy sat up as best he could with you on his lap, his arms snaking around your waist to stop you from toppling over. You could feel the cigarette moving with his lips as he spoke, his accent deep and throaty in your ear.

“Mary? What is it?”

She didn’t reply, instead thrusting a sage green and gold piece of paper at you. You caught it before it fell to the floor, and let out a loud, genuine laugh when you read the script. You felt Tommy leaning over you shoulder, and felt the rumble of his body as he laughed with you.

“Well,” He said finally, pressing his lips to your neck. “Guess we know what we’re doing next month, Princess.”

On July 20th

Please join us for the union of Mr Thomas Shelby and (Y/N, Y/L/N).

The wedding of the century!

————————————————————————————

Polly had organised everything. Whilst you had been dealing with the accounting from the Garrison and Tommy had been building his business, Polly had managed to do her job, and single handily plan a wedding.

Everything was full steam ahead. The house was a flurry of florists and caterers, the grounds were picked and preened and polished by gardeners that had sailed over from Italy and the south of France. It was wonderful, if not a little overwhelming, but it was worth everything to see your future Aunt beaming as she supervised everything.

Tommy had pulled you aside a few times, determined to make sure that this was what you wanted, ready to pull the plug if he even caught a whiff that all of the glitz and glamour were out of your comfort zone. But Polly knew you well - not that you ever doubted her - and everything was beautiful and muted, classic and beguiling, just like something out of a fairytale.

You tried to be as involved as you could, picking out flowers for the bouquets, letting Esme try out a million different hairstyles on you as you sat barefoot and cross legged on the floor like a child, running around the kitchen with Katie, taste testing all of the frosting you could find. More than anything though, you were excited, elated for the day and it had nothing to do with all of the smoke and mirrors, instead it was the man you would meet at the end of the aisle.

You could tell that Tommy was getting antsy for the day as well. He was softer, calmer, his touch on your skin gentle but possessive, calling you “Mrs Shelby” as you came apart under him. He found himself falling asleep a little easier, his breath not getting caught in his lungs, his mind wandering and imagining his favourite girl in a pretty white dress, waiting for him under an arch of blush coloured tulips.

The real surprise though, came the morning before your wedding. You were curled up on the sofa drinking strong coffee and eating honey toast as Tommy finished some paperwork. He was trying to get everything done before the end of the day, wanting tomorrow and the weeks that came after to be nothing but the two of you.

You told him you never felt neglected. You had been by his side through it all, you knew just how demanding his job was, but that still didn’t ease the niggle of pressure at the back of his neck when he had his nose in his books for too long. He truly couldn’t wait until he could shove everything and everyone else aside. All he wanted was his girl in his arms with his ring on her finger, and a bottle of sweet gin.

Everything seemed so within reach, until the front door banged open like a whirlwind, and you heard the sounds of Polly’s stilettos against the hardwood floor.

“Alright you two, no time to lose!”

You and Tommy lifted your heads quickly, your eyes meeting across the room. “Polly?”

“- and Arthur!” An voice added, accompanied by the familiar face of the eldest Shelby.

You smiled, shutting the cover of your book. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tommy shot you a sharp look that said, don’t encourage them, but you ignored him, getting to your feet to greet them both.

Polly kissed you quickly on both cheeks, leaving you covered in a light layer of sticky red lipstick as she surveyed you both.

The study was the only place the two of you could find solace amongst the craziness of the wedding planning, every other room in the house filled with servants and buckets of flowers, the floors freshly waxed and polished. You could practically feel Tommy rolling his eyes behind you as Mary pushed open the double doors, holding your pastel pink overnight bag.

“Mrs Grey, I’ve packed all of Mrs Shelby’s things like you asked.”

“You did what?” Tommy said, rising to his feet.

Polly brushed him aside, reaching for the bag in the maid’s hand.“Ah. Thank you Mary, but it’s not Mrs Shelby yet, not till tomorrow. Let her be Miss (Y/L/N) for one last night.”

“Polly?” You asked, “What are you up to?”

She winked at you, her eyes catlike and beautiful, filled with the mischief that always hung around her. “You’re coming with me, love.”

“And you Tom, are coming with me.” Arthur said, pointing a finger at his brother.

“No. Fuck off, both of you.”

Polly put her hands in the air, but you could tell she had been expecting his resistance. “No Thomas. She needs a night as a free woman! Lord knows after tomorrow you’ll be keeping her all to yourself.”

Tommy straightened his back and crossed his arms, never one to back down from a fight, especially with his Aunt. “She’s staying here.”

“It’s tradition!” Arthur interjected, his voice already slurred despite it not even being noon yet.

“Fuck tradition.”

You moved forward, blinking up at your future husband. You knew why he was being so stubborn, the day before your wedding would be the prime time for something to go wrong, or something to happen with you, and keeping you within reach was what he wanted. As much as you loved spending every second with him, you also loved his family, and knew that perhaps a night of drinking and laughing and exhaling, was what you both needed.

He looked at you, his eyes unmoving and stern. You didn’t falter though, mimicking his frown and knitting your eyebrows together, trying to knock down the walls he was so insistent on putting up.

“It might be nice, Tom.” You said. “You deserve to have some fun, and it’ll make seeing each other tomorrow all the more special.”

A moment passed and you felt him falter, the corner of his lips moving ever so slightly.

“Alright. Bloody hell, fine.”

“Good decision brother.” Arthur said,

“We’re not leaving town.” Tommy stated simply, laying down the law.

“We wouldn’t dream of it! Johnny brought his caravan down, all of you men are camping in the woods. Us girls are staying here.”

“Aberama Gold doesn’t happen to be one of these men does he?” You said playfully, nudging Polly with your arm. She rolled her eyes but pulled you closer, her fingers toying with the satin ribbons on your blouse.

“Cmon, love, lets go.”

“Wait.”

You felt Tommy approaching you both, his large hands cupping around your face. You melted into him, his touch so soft and so warm. His eyes were so very blue, cobalt and icy, but they made your stomach infinite. He pulled you into him, smashing his lips against yours, not caring who was watching as he dug his fingers into the roots of your hair, dragging you against his body. Breathless, he pulled away, smiling at the frown on your face from the lack of contact.

“Be safe. Alright? I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Alright you two.” Polly said exasperatedly, but you could hear the happiness in her tone. “Let’s go.”

You let her lead you away, smiling at Arthur as he bounded towards his brother, filling him in on the multitude of activities he had planned for the night.

Every single one of them involved drinking.

As you left, Tommy shot Polly a look, one that told her to keep you near and to keep you safe, and she nodded in response. As soon as you made it into the hall she laughed genuinely, squeezing your shoulder.

“You will definitely fit in with this family, (Y/N).”

“Hm?”

“Yes. You have the Shelby woman’s gift.” She leant down, her lips to your ear. “The power to control a strong man like a puppet.”

———————————————————————

So there you were. Wrapped up in satin and lace, a glass filled with blood red wine, your friends happy and tipsy, swapping stories under the moonlight.

Bea and Violet, two of your closest friends from back in the little village had arrived to be your bridesmaids, their eyes wide and glimmering when they had seen the life you now lived. You watched as they sat with Polly, telling her tales of when you and Michael had been young and stupid - not that much had changed.

Polly had invited all of the girls from work and your friends from in the city, and the laughter bounced off the walls and engulfed you. Ada was enchanting, completely beaming as she sat next to you, telling you every embarrassing thing about her brother she could remember as she downed shots of vodka and cinnamon whisky.

Michael was lounging on the floor with one of Polly’s fine fox scarves draped around his neck. Charlotte was curled up in his side with a cigarette, her hand intertwined with his as she watched him with dopey, loved up eyes. You caught his eye and smiled at him, and he winked in response, joining in with the girls’ as though he was one himself.

You had told him to enjoy the night with the boys, but he refused. You partly suspected that it had something to do with Tommy, and that your fiancé had wanted you to have more protection, but you also knew that Michael wanted to spend tonight with you. Things hadn’t changed per say, but there was no denying that the both of you were getting older, and soon you would be a member of his bloodline rather than just his best friend.

You still had all of your wonderful memories, like running through sunflower fields and swimming in the river until the sun set, but they seemed further away now, almost out of reach. Part of you still clung to the past, the innocence of your youth, all peach skies and daisy chains, but there was no denying that your vision was cloudy, blurry, only focused on the future, and the only man that you wanted to be in it.

Somebody flipped the record over. You listened to the thump and rhythm of the music, smiling at those you loved as they danced around you. You adored everyone in the room, even Lizzie who had arrived already drunk and had glared daggers at you every time you turned around. These were your new family, your new life, and whilst you were elated and excited for it all, you also really needed some fucking air.

Almost on cue, Violet toppled over a champagne flute as she kicked her legs like a cabaret dancer, and you sighed playfully as she covered her mouth with her hands like a small child, her eyes as wide as the moon.

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“Violet, it’s alright! I’ll go and get some cloth, you ladies stay here, try not to break anything else, eh?” You said rising to your feet and darting out of the door, the sound of laughter following you like twinkling diamonds. As soon as you could you ran down the stairs, your feet pattering against the carpet, sneaking out of the back door and into the jet black night.

————————————————————-

The moon was round and full, and you sat cross legged on the grass, your bare feet dipped into the lake that wrapped around the property. It was your favourite place to clear your head, under the weeping willow, listening to the sound of the animals around you, the night air brisk yet comfortable. It was hard to believe that in a few hours you would be married, bound to this brilliant man that had swept you up like a rough wave, capturing you completely.

“Not having second thoughts are we?”

You smiled in the dark. His voice cutting through the night like a knife through butter.

“Tommy.” You breathed, turning around and facing him, the spark of his cigarette as bright as the stars above you both. He grinned at the sight of you, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, looking like a vision under the moonlight. “What are you doing here?

“I should be asking you the same question.”

“I just needed some air.” You said, curling your toes and inhaling the cool air, you felt his eyes all over you, and you wanted to get as close to him as possible, replace his gaze with his fingertips. You were inches apart and yet you still missed him, and you knew that you would feel this way forever.

“Ah. I take it the ladies are just as boisterous as the men. I only managed to get away after Arthur fell into the bonfire.”

“Bloody hell! Is he alright?”

“Burnt moustache and bruised ego. Nothing he can’t handle.”

You were about to laugh but you stopped suddenly, remembering something important.

“Wait! It’s after midnight!”

“Are you about to turn into a pumpkin?” Tommy asked, amused by your change in tone.

“No! We’re getting married today! You can’t see me!”

“(Y/N).”

“Turn around!” You squealed, pushing him away from you and spinning on your heel.

You heard an exasperated laugh.

“I think we’ve had our fill of bad luck, little one. Turn around, I want to see your face.”

He took you in. No makeup and loose hair and still squeezing all of the air from his lungs.

“We don’t have to do it like this, you know.”

“If this isn’t what you want - all the fucking champagne and caviar. We could leave tonight, get married in a fucking courthouse - just us. Or we could do it in Johnny’s field, get him to marry us right next to his caravan. I don’t care where it is or what we do, I just want - I just need to be with you.”

His words made your gut twist, the sincerity in his voice meaning everything to you, knowing that he would move mountains if it would make you happy, and that you would do the same for him. “I think Polly would murder us.”

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.”

“No. I want this. Yes it’s all a bit... much.” you struggled to find the right word, feeling overwhelmed but ultimately completely spoiled by all of the fuss. “But I think it will be lovely. Your family deserve this. You deserve this.”

Looking at you all sleepy eyed, dressed in silk and satin and lace, your necklace hanging in the sweet dip of your throat, the ring on your finger glinting under the summer twilight, he really wasn’t sure he did.

He pulled you into him, not wanting to be apart from you for any longer. You smelt of home, like violets and green apples and vanilla cupcakes, and he felt like heaven, with his strong body and warm hands and comforting arms. Safe in his presence, you mumbled the words that had been the reason for many of your sleepless nights.

“Do you think she’ll come?”

She being your mother. The woman who had nursed you and bathed you and kissed the scrapes and bruises on your knees when you were a child had all but refused to attend your wedding. You understood why. Your trip to visit Michael in Birmingham was only supposed to be a few days, a week at most, and here you were two years later engaged to a man on the other side of England. You had tried to come home a few times, but the visits were cold and severed, Michaels foster parents filling your mother with poison about the family you had entered.

The phone calls stopped. No more weekly letters from your mother or care packages wrapped in string. You still wrote, but you never got a reply, only a small impersonal card at Christmas and your birthday. Michael understood, and always knew how to comfort you. He had also left the only family he had known and entered the strange underground where you both now lived. He was a boy from the sleepy village who had grown into a man.

It was harder for you, being a woman meant that you were held with certain standards and expectations. But, luckily you had Polly and Ada who taught you that you could be more than just a housewife.

It affected Tommy the most though. If anything was bothering you he knew how to deal without immediately, crushing whatever had made you sad with the heel of his boot, using his power to make everything alright again. He couldn’t do anything about your mother though, couldn’t twist her view of him, not when it was so accurate.

He was bad for you and you were too good for him.

It hurt him though, when late at night you would get that sad, wistful look in your eyes. Or when you would wait for the postman every Monday, the disappointment bleeding from you every time nothing came. He wanted to fix everything, but he didn’t know how. He left the bulk of the comforting words to Ada and Michael, and did his best to show you how much he cared in his own way, with gentle touches and shared looks and those three words that always made him feel better.

Your wedding though, was a different matter. There was no way in hell that you would be anything less than happy if he had something to do with it. His heart broke a little the day that the RSVP came back in the post, a simple “unable to attend.” scrawled at the bottom, as though it was a routine doctors appointment and not her daughters wedding day. Tommy knee he had to fix it when he heard the muffled sound of sobs coming from your bathroom, his heart ripping in two just thinking about the tears staining your beautiful face.

He had a meeting in London but he pushed it back, determined to right the wrongs that lingered around you both. His black matte Bugatti looked incredibly out of place as it trailed down the quiet village lanes, the purr of the engine much louder than the bird songs and running water in the background. It wasn’t hard to picture you in the chocolate box cottage that he parked in front of, smiling ever so faintly at the thought of you running through the grass when you were a child, hanging up laundry in the summer, drinking hot chocolate in the winter.

She opened the door after the first knock, her eyes the size of dinner plates and her mouth agape. Usually, Tommy would be firm and curt and rude, demanding exactly what he wanted and when he expected it to be done, but he knew that he had to be somewhat kind to your mother, even if he currently resented her because of the state you were in.

“I won’t stay long, Mrs (Y/L/N.)” He said, not bothering to step over the threshold, knowing that she’d probably scream if he did. “You might not like it but I’m in love with your daughter. I intend to marry her, and as my wife, I want to make her happy.”

Your mother didn’t interject, merely nodded, and Tommy took that as a sign to continue.

“I know what you think of me and you’re not wrong, but don’t punish your daughter over it. (Y/N) is safe and she is happy, and as her mother that should make you pleased shouldn’t it? Not behaving like a child and treating as if she is a stranger. I want my wife to be happy, so put aside your fucking prejudices and buy a nice hat, alright? For her sake.”

The tension was thick and hot and practically dripping over them, but their eyes met briefly, and something flickered between them.

“I hope to see you at the wedding.” He bit, his tone as sharp as his canines, turning on his heel and heading for the car.

He hummed quietly, listening the sounds of the night. The flicker of the bonfire in the fields behind, the sound of drunken singing and chanting that was louder than a siren.

“I think she will.”

You thought about saying something but held it in, not wanting to ruin the tender moment of him holding you against his chest, the heat of summer nothing compared to the two of you.

He moved you slowly, placing his hands either side of your face, his eyes veiled and moonless.“Go and get some sleep.” He said. “Because you won’t be getting any tonight.”

His voice was low and wolffish, and you felt your entire body setting alight at his words and the darkness in his eyes. His hold on you was so tight it was almost painful, but there was nowhere else that you would rather be. You smiled prettily, already feeling the butterflies coiling in your stomach, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him, sweet as strawberry ice cream and fresh honey, the taste lingering on his tongue. You left silently, leaving him grinning dopily, drunk on you and the heat of the evening.

He watched you as you walked away. His eyes never leaving as you stalked back to the house, his gaze lingering long after your shadow grew small, and the front door opened and closed behind you.

————————————————————————

Polly let you sleep in until 8.

You had crashed out after seeing Tommy, Polly had scolded you for leaving and then insisted that you got some beauty sleep, and you practically collapsed into the powder pink pillows on the guest bed.Sleep had come easily, and you grumbled a little when your new in laws had barged in the next morning, pulling back the curtains and letting in the heavy sunlight.

You were ushered into the master bathroom. The claw foot tub had already filled to the brim, rose petals shimmering on the surface, epsom salts dissolving around you. It was warm and inviting, steam billowing around your face as you undressed, and a cup of cinnamon coffee waiting for you on the cabinet by the side, next to an almond croissant from your favourite bakery in London.

You were slightly confused as to how she acquired it, but you knew by now to never question Polly and her methods.

Mary came in not long after, the maid you now thought of as a close friend unable to keep the smile off her face as she helped wash your hair, dragging a soft toothed golden comb over your locks and massaging lavender oil into your scalp. You scrubbed your skin until it shone, washed your body and dragged a razor across any unwanted hair, soothing your skin with thick coconut cream and honey salve.

You could hear everyone on the floors below, the sound of clattering china and rivalling voices coming up through the floorboards. You thought it might make you nervous, but it didn’t, if anything it made you feel more certain. The butterflies in your stomach were a swarm now, and all you could think of was him.

The girls were spread out in the largest guest room. The big windows had been opened, the lace curtains billowing in the warm breeze, and you could see start of the canopy being set up along the great expansive garden, one of yours and Tommy’s favourite places.

Ada squealed when she saw you, even with just a towel around your body and hair, she showered you in compliments.

“You’re glowing!”

“That’s because I’ve scrubbed off ten layers of skin.” You teased, letting her hug you tightly.

The rest of the girls clambered towards you, cigarettes in their fingers and champagne on their tongues. They were a blur of sweet lilac and warm honeysuckle, the colours of their soft chiffon dresses sparkling under the low lights, and you could feel your heart burst at the sight.

“Oh, Pol.” You said quietly, “Everyone looks so beautiful.”

She came towards you, a vision in her golden draped dress. It was covered in glimmering beads and diamonds, and she looked like a starlet on the big screen. She took you in her arms and laughed, “All you need is Auntie Polly to wave her magic wand.” She shook you slightly, running her fingers along the damp skin of your arm. “Come on, you. I think there’s a very impatient man waiting for you.”

Your nails were filed and painted pink, your hair mused and styled by Mary, leaving it long and wavy down your back, the way that both you and Tommy liked it best. You laughed out loud when Bea and Violet showed you their wedding present, a beautiful swan white lingerie set from the dressmakers in the village, complete with high stockings and a frilly lace garter.

“Maybe keep a doctor nearby when he sees you in that tonight.” Bea giggled as you fingered the delicate stitching and fabric.

Not everything was perfect though. One of the caterers dropped a plate of crab cakes and goats cheese bruschetta onto the floor, and one of the mares that was going to lead the carriage to the church had bolted at the unfamiliar hands and raced around the paddock away from the grooms that tried to catch her. Polly had huffed loudly and left with the girls and promises that she would be back with someone’s head, you had nodded, oblivious to everyones anxiety, too dazed at the thought of the day ahead to worry about the little things.

So they left you alone in the big bedroom, staring at your reflection in the golden mirror. It had been a four woman job to get you into the dress. Ada holding you steady by the armpits as Mary and Polly and a unsuspecting servant from downstairs was roped into helping you slide under the fabric, the tulle and lace as heavy as an anvil on you all. Polly had the dress shipped over from Paris after months of searching for the perfect dress, finally ordering one completely hand made and one of a kind, just like you, she had said.

You had never seen Polly cry.

Once, almost, when she had too much brandy at Christmas and she spoke of how much she wished Anna could have been there, the lump in her throat unmistakable as she told you how much she missed her daughter. And now in her nephews bedroom, her smile so wide and her eyes glistening, as she took your face in her hands.

“Thank you for making my boys so happy.”

You could hear her downstairs. The click of her stilettos and the sound of her voice, and once again you were infinitely grateful for whatever cosmic force had brought this wild, brilliant and chaotic family into your life. You turned back to the mirror, running your fingers over the delicate beading on the corset of your dress.

It was without a doubt the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. It was the colour of a fresh blanket of snow, so angelic and pure. There were thin straps at the shoulders, decorated with tiny crystals and jewels. The bodice was cinched and slightly scooped at the neckline, the puckering of your scar showing just above the pristine chiffon.

It had never been something you wanted to hide. It showed that you were alive.

The skirt was wide and full. Layers of expertly fitted tulle and crinoline holding it together, gilding and cascading like a waterfall down your legs and to the floor. There were pearls and thread and diamonds in the shape of flowers stitched right into the fabric, glimmering and twinkling like the stars in the sky when you shifted in the light.

“I’ve left the car running.”

You turned at the noise, smiling when you spotted Michael in the doorway, looking like a million dollars in his rich navy suit and tie.

“Just in case.” He continued.

You rolled your eyes, laughing sarcastically. “Ha. Ha.”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes soft and kind and as wide as dinner plates. The emotion on his face making your heart constrict, his face suddenly so much younger. “Wow.” He breathed. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed, your eyes darting to the floor as he approached you.

“Really, (Y/N). You look... wow.”

“Thanks Mikey.” You said softly, the two of you comfortable in the silence. In that moment nothing else really mattered, you were two kids again, running through waist high grass, sledding down the hills in the winter, splashing each other in the river. So much had changed and yet it would always be the two of you.

He broke the silence first, not one to linger in the past for too long. “This is for you.”

“Oh. Michael. You shouldn’t have! You’ve already done so much.”

“I wanted to.”

He rummaged around in his pockets, finally pulling out a large scarlet velvet box, slowly lifting off the lid. Inside was an exquisite sparkling marquise diamond necklace, intertwined with yellow and rose gold, oval shaped crystals draping and falling from the band like raindrops. Beside it, were two matching earrings, brilliantly cut, so clear that you could see your reflection, the gems woven together like ivy on a cottage. So stunning that you started to tear up.

You gasped, unable to swallow your shock. “Michael! This must have cost a fortune.”

“Nah. I stole it.” He teased, his voice a little shy.

You pulled him in to your arms. He kissed your head, pulling you tightly against him.

“I love you.” He said, his words muffled by your hair. “You deserve this. God, you deserve the world. I am so happy for you.”

You smiled into the fabric of his suit, muffling an “I love you” into the stitched seams. He squeezed you playfully, making you squeal as he hoisted you into the air.

“Careful. If you smudge my makeup there’s a good chance that Polly will shoot you.” You giggled.

“I can handle her.”

“Can you?”

His gaze faltered and you laughed, hitting his shoulder. He spun you around, lifting the necklace from its box and settling it onto your throat, his skilled hands fastening the clasp. You gasped at your reflection, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“It looks perfect.”

“I love it Michael.”

He pressed a kiss to your crown, watching as you delicately picked up the earrings and put them on.

“And tell Tommy that if he ever hurts you that I’ll kill him.”

A moment of silence, and then:

“- you’re not going to really tell him that are you?”

You both laughed as he outstretched an arm, looking you up and down proudly, his eyes already a little glossy and big. You thought of how much younger he looked.

“Cmon.” He said, “ I think they’re waiting for you.”

————————————————————

Thomas Shelby never felt apprehensive. He wasn’t familiar with the prickling anxiety that lingered at the bottom of his spine, or the dread that that had settled itself low in his gut, or the way that his palms were growing hotter by the second. He never got nervous. Until now.

Perhaps nervous wasn’t the right word. He had no doubt that you would be walking down the aisle in a few minutes, he knew that you would say “I do.” with as much certainty as him, and he knew that the golden band in Arthur’s jacket pocket would soon be on your finger. But still, the foreboding remained, hanging around his head like a dark cloud.

He didn’t deserve you. He knew that much for sure. He was the devil, his hands stained with blood, his lungs filled with ash, his insides dark and mean. You were an angel, soft and sweet and gentle and warm, the girl that could bring him to his knees.

The church abbey felt big, the summer sun filtering through the stained glass windows, the high ceilings making the room feel vast and empty, despite the crowded benches. He needed you to arrive, to settle the unease inside of him, to light up the room in the way that only you could, feeling every single empty space with your light.

He glanced around the room. Arthur was next to him, nursing a pretty tragic hangover and still a little ashy from his burn, but his smile was bright and he winked at his younger brother. There were plenty of blinders here, working rather than as guests, Tommy was insistent that he wanted as much protection over the day as possible, and even though it was your wedding day, he never would stop protecting you. He wouldn’t put it past his enemies to try something on what should be the happiest day of your lives.

He saw your friends from work. John and Esme and their litter of children. Lizzie and her new boyfriend, hanging off his arm and looking at Tommy with already drunk, hazy eyes. He even smiled as he saw Alfie perched in a middle row, his hat bigger than his head, his beard neatly combed and an array of golden rings on his fingers. Ollie was next to him, watching the room warily, always on guard.

Once Alfie had heard about the engagement he sent over fresh loaves and flowers and then invited himself to the wedding. But he needn’t have, as he had always been on the guest list.

Tommy’s eyes grazed over the person he had been looking for though. Your mother. Sitting in a pew near the front, draped in fine silk and a matching hat, looking entirely out of place but smiling tightly nonetheless. Their eyes met, a single flame of acknowledgement flickering between them. Unspoken but still lingering in the air, that they would both always put you first and that was all that mattered.

“You nervous, Tommy boy?” He heard Arthur say from behind him. He opened his mouth to answer but stopped as he heard noises from outside, the clunk of horse hooves and the rattle of the carriage. He felt his palms sweat and his heart race like he was back in battle, but this time the feeling was so sickly sweet and warm, he felt so fucking happy.

There was so much light when the doors opened. Polly was traditional, and even with all of the immorality in her life, she was adamant that you would both be married in a church. Neither of you protested, Tommy would have said “I do” in front of God himself if it meant you would be his wife. None of it mattered to him.

He remembered the day you came back from seeing the cathedral for the first time. How wide your smile was as you laid curled up in his chest, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as you told him all about the ivy covered steeples and wildflowers and beautiful black jackdaws.

You were smitten, and so was he.

There wasn’t much they could do to decorate the church. Back at the house was where the main party was going to be held, but Polly was a genius, and every empty space was filled with tall flickering candles and bouquets of flowers. Everything felt clean and soft and pure, a mixture of old and rustic and fresh and new.

Light. So much light coming in from outside. The day already so sticky warm and wonderful, much like the summer the two of you met and fell in love. Katie came in first, giggling at the eruption of “aww’s” from the pews, everybody watching as she threw small white daisies and coral amber rose petals down the aisle.

Finn followed, looking like an adult in his suit and tie and freshly polished brogues. Then the bridesmaids, coy smiles on their faces, hair curled and polished and smiles that seemed to stretch all the way to the moon. Tommy could feel Arthur’s sly grin from behind him, and knew that he would have a job of distracting his older brother from the beautiful young ladies later on.

The fabric of their dresses swished and swayed under the light, the softness of the skirts and the sharp heel of their stilettos such a wonderful contrast. The ladies whose faces he vaguely recognised moved to your side of the alter, young and impressionable eyes looking around the grand room, obviously astonished and surprised that one of their own was going to be married in such a remarkable chapel.

Ada was next. Polly at her side. His sister and his Aunt commanding the entire room with just the sound of their shoes and the sway of their hips. They looked incredible, such a mixture of power and beauty. Polly’s smile was smug and self assured, but also filled with a certain kindness that was meant just for Tommy. Ada’s eyes were glistening, looking at her brother with adoration and pride, and that playful tease that he knew and loved.

The room was quiet for a moment. The anticipation roaring around like a wasp trapped under a glass, and Tommy could see Curly smiling happily, peering down the aisle as they waited for you to arrive.

For Tommy, his whole life had once been so loud, and then, as if by magic, everything stopped. All of the noise, the blur, the people. They all faded and disappeared. It was like having his head held underwater, the rush of the ocean and the pounding of his blood in his ears deafening him. He felt movement around him, everybody in the pews rising to their feet, the orchestra starting the bridal chorus. His friends and family were smiling so widely, enjoying the ambience and the atmosphere, holding their hands to their chest and wiping their eyes and muttering how beautiful everything was.

He didn’t see any of it. He only saw you.

You had always been the most beautiful woman to him, the kind of woman that made the air leave his lungs and his heart beat a little faster, but oh god, did you look magnificent. In your dress that wrapped and dipped and swayed around your legs like running water, the bodice that cinched you in tightly, exposing the dip of your throat and the curve of your collarbone, just begging him to leave a necklace of bruises next to the diamonds. Your eyes were wide, lined with kohl and blush on your cheeks that reminded him of sun soaked days and strawberry jam and wax stamped envelopes. The curve of your lips, raspberry red gloss that made him think of kissing you until neither of you knew where one of you began and the other ended, his hands in your hair, your legs around his waist.

He felt tears prick behind his eyes. Such a foreign feeling that he almost recoiled. He was so used to being strong and in charge, never letting his emotions bubble up on the surface where somebody might see. But seeing you walk down the aisle, filling the room with love and youth and kindness - knowing that you were going to be his wife, that your days would begin and end with each other, that you would fight and fuck and laugh and cry, tell each other everything, hold him when the shovels got too loud, clean him when he was dripping with another mans blood, be the one you called because no one else would ever compare.

He let his eyes grow glossy as you stepped forward, taking his hand in yours. You were so smooth and soft and small and he was so large and rough and hard, but you fit together like you had been moulded that way, as though there was no where else you two could ever be. So in a room filled with people who respected him and trusted him as a cruel, calculated leader, he let himself be washed away with you,

Because he was in love. And nothing else fucking mattered.

———————————————————————-

Champagne and crystal chandeliers. Cotton candy coloured roses across all of the banister, wide full petals looking like silk under the lights. Pearl necklaces snapped in half and black satin gloves ripped up the seams, pretty fine china filled with bourbon, and laughter that never seemed to cease.

Tommy had tried to keep the party civilised for as long as he could, but the Shelby clan were persistent, and with the amount of booze in the house, they saw it as a challenge to drink it all.

The wedding dinner had gone well. Only the nearest and dearest invited to a seat at the grand table, you and Tommy at the head, his hand possessively on your thigh, your shoulder pressed against his chest. There were more courses than you could count, great big plates and bowls of honey roast ham and glazed partridges and peach trifle and jam soufflé. Your glasses were never empty and yet everyone was well mannered and kind, their voices a little softer than usual, their jokes a little bit cleaner.

You suspected it had something to do with the woman sat next to you, safely nestled in between yourself and Michael, the two people she knew. Your mother had been quiet but mellow at the ceremony, even going as far as hugging you with tears in her eyes as you gathered outside for the photos. There had been tension of course, but it meant the world to you that she was willing to put on a smile for the day.

You had no doubt that Tommy had ordered everyone to be on their best behaviour around her and you could feel yourself chuckle lightly as Arthur gave a very uncharacteristically charming toast to the two of you. The rest of the dinner passed pleasantly, and you could even see your mother start to loosen up as Ada spoke to her about her favourite novels and the current political climate.

After the plates had been cleared away and the guests started arriving for the party, your mother pulled you aside before you got to the living room.

“This might not have been what I wanted for you, (Y/N). You’re my daughter. I only want the best for you.” She murmured, wringing her hands as though she was willing herself to continue. “And it pains me to say it but... Thomas clearly loves you, and I truly feel safe leaving you in his hands. He might not be a good man, but he is good for you.”

Those words were more precious than all of the diamonds and jewels you had stuffed in your dresser upstairs, that your mother accepted the man you loved.

“Oh, Mum.” You sighed, pulling her into you. She was so familiar and warm and you could feel tears prickling behind your eyes. She held onto you tightly, kissing the top of your head and wrapping her arms around you as though you were a baby again.

“I must go and catch my train. But - I’ll call you (Y/N).” She said, and you nodded wildly, your smile so big you thought your cheeks might split.

You walked her to one of the cars, instructing the driver to take her to the station, waving at her as the car got smaller and smaller in your eyes. You felt Tommy approach you, his hand snaking across your waist, and you let him pull you close. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, kissing him ferociously, letting your gratitude show in your touch. He accepted greedily, devouring you on the front steps of your home, his hands in your hair and your lips between his teeth, the sound of the party and music suddenly sounding so far away.

——————————————————-

With your mother gone, the party was in full swing. People were dancing barefoot because their shoes were stained with blood, sharing wide smiles between friends, the rooms smelling of skin and sweat and expensive perfume. You saw pupils blown up to the size of the moon, horse racing and gambling in the paddocks at the back, whoops and laughter vibrating around the house and shaking the paintings.

Tommy had kept you close, not that you ever wanted to stray. It was obvious that despite the genuine fun and admiration for him and all he had accomplished from those walking through his house with slack jaws, he only really wanted to be with you. It worked for the majority of the time, the two of you nestled on one of the ruby velvet chairs in the lounge, letting the crowds of people come and find you and offer their sincere congratulations.

But as always, being Thomas Shelby came with a price, and he often had to leave begrudgingly, with a tense jaw and closed fist, every time someone (Arthur) tore a painting or someone else, (Finn) crashed a car into the allotment and ripped up all of the courgettes.

He always left with a grumble and obvious annoyance swimming in his ocean eyes, planting a firm kiss to your lips and a promise to be back soon every time somebody called for him. He was never one for public displays of affection, he liked to make everyone know you were his but he preferred to keep his tenderness private. Maybe it was how drop dead gorgeous you looked in your gown, a looser, more intricate number you had donned for the evening party. Or maybe it was the rings you shared, the two solid gold circles looking like a sky full of stars under the lights, or maybe it was a mixture of the champagne soaked kisses and pure, uninhibited bliss he felt when he touched you - but whatever it was, you loved it, relishing the attention wholeheartedly.

You weren’t sure where he had got too this time, and somehow you had been wrangled into a conversation with a very tipsy Lord and Lady something or other, both of them fawning over you, their voices high like children. Your saving grace came in the form of a very tall, very stocky baker, his rings cool and comforting on your shoulder as he pulled you away.

“Yes. Yes. That’s very nice right, I’m just going to take (Y/N) away now, yes. Yes. Finish your drinks.” He waved them off as you laughed, “God, these rich fucks can talk for England. Fucking Liberty. Plus, I’ve seen them finish off all of the crab cakes. It’s not on.”

“No. Alfie, it’s not.” You said with a smile, letting him lead you into the parlour, the room almost empty and the faces that you recognised were pleasantly familiar. You grinned as you thought of how well Alfie knew the inside of the manor, something that you were sure to use as ammunition against Tommy any time he tried to tell you that “they weren’t friends.”

That was how he found you almost an hour later. Somehow the rest of the family had migrated into the room, bar Arthur who said he wasn’t drunk enough yet to be in the same room as Alfie. Tommy had been pulled and tugged in every direction, speaking to people he really didn’t give a shit about just to keep the party running smoothly, for your sake. He was on high alert, Johnny had said his boys had seen a figure running through the back paddocks, and just that alone was enough to send him spiralling. It was probably just a stray, strung out guest trying to get home, but it made his blood feel like it was electric.

He made all his men stay on guard, shut down the gambling and horse racing in the garden and made every single person who worked for him stay on red alert. Perhaps he was over reacting but he would never admit that, better to be overly cautious than have something happen to you. After doing laps of the house, checking on the cooks and gritting his teeth through drunken chats with whoever managed to grab him, he finally made his way back to you.

There you were. Face lit up under the candlelight, eyes tired but still sparkling, obviously exhausted but still enjoying the conversation, wanting to keep everyone happy. You looked ethereal. And for a moment he just watched you from the doorway, captivated by the movement of your hands, the bow of your lips, the way that you formed your words, so careful and light.

Alfie noticed him straight away, smiling cheekily as he pulled you into him. “Mrs Shelby.” He said, putting emphasis on both of the words and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It was crazy how he could rile Tommy up more than anyone without being tipsy or high, somehow knowing how to push all of his buttons. “If you’re ever in London right, come to the bakery. I’ll show you a good time.”

You rolled your eyes at him, instantly knowing his game. You followed his gaze and saw the man you loved, your husband, watching you from the doorway.

“Tommy.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” He said firmly, brushing Alfie’s hand off you a little harder than he needed to. “I need to borrow my wife.”

God. Were you ever going to get used to him calling you that?

His hand slipped into yours and you melted, his lips grazing your ear lobe, deep accent rumbling like waves. “Cmon, lets go outside.”

You would have followed him anywhere, to the edge of the world if he had looked at you the way he was now, with those goddamn sky blue eyes and that smug, boyish grin.

Instead he led you through the party, playfully tugging on your hand as you both ran, desperate for nobody to see either of you and try to trap you in another mind numbing discussion. He took you through the servants entrance in the kitchen and into the courtyard, one of your favourite areas of the gardens. It was beautiful sculpted, with its high, emerald green bushes and intricately crafted pots and flower beds. You moved towards the fountain in the middle, surrounded by the rows of lilac and salmon tulips that swayed like ballet dancers in the wind.

He cleared his throat as you watched the water drip and fall and ripple down the stem of the fountain, the night sky reflected across it like a painting. It wasn’t chilly out but still he wrapped his blazer across your shoulders, filling your senses with cinnamon and nicotine and whisky sours.

“I want to read you my vows.” He said.

You turned to face him, confused.

“I know we both said we weren’t writing them, and I haven’t, not really, but there are some things I need to say to you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, watching him under the moonlight, how beautiful and how strong and how vulnerable he seemed all at once. You could feel your heart beating rapidly, your belly coiling and twisting, somehow he always managed to knock you off balance. He came towards you, close enough you could see the faint scars on his face from fights he had both won and lost, see the brilliance in his eyes and the sadness that always seemed to linger deep down in them, the curve of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth, the way that they had clenched around your heart and never let go.

“I deserve a lot of bad things. I do bad things, and I always thought that everything good would be taken away from me. I wasn’t born into a life like this, I’ve worked hard and given my blood sweat and tears to live like this, to get the things I have now. I’ve spent a lot of nights alone. Fuck, I’ve... felt alone since the moment I got on that train to France, and ever since I’ve been trying to find... something.”

“I thought it was all of this, but maybe it isn’t. I was always searching for the next big thing, the next move on the chessboard, the next city to take over. I didn’t realise how none of it made me happy until I walked into the Garrison the day you came here.”

A pause. A beat of silence.

“Look, I’m not the most articulate man, but God, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the very first moment that I saw you. And - and - ” His voice crackles, fizzles out like a firework. “That day that I almost lost you, that nearly fucking killed me. That was when I realised that you were the thing I was searching for. You’re it for me.”

His hands on yours, pulling you in.

“For the first time in my life I don’t have to pretend to be happy. Whenever I see you, I just am. I can’t promise that I’m not going to fuck it up, but I’m trying, you make me want to try. You want to make me be better. You make me better.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said, pressing his palm to your jawline, looking in your eyes with such sincerity and love that you felt as though you were floating.

“Oh, Tommy.” You breathed into the night, swept up and drowning in him, lost in lust and love and devotion, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

[themadauthorshatter]

If you're up to date with my posts, then you know what's about to happen.

I've read the books, WE'VE ALL READ THE BOOKS, but this is a somewhat fun switch-a-roo.

Expect a BUNCH of changes that I'll try justifying, especially painful ones, so bear with me🙏

OTP SWAP PART 1: THE CRUEL PRINCE!!!!

I'm starting with the first book for obvious reasons

Like before, we start in the mortal world with Ashley Duarte(yes, human!Cardan's last name is Duarte, but like I said, bear with me) making tacos in the kitchen while one of the MANY dogs and other animals wait for her to drop some food. Baby boy Cardan and his older half-sister Rhyia are watching some human stuff, maybe Looney Tunes or old Mickey Mouse cartoons, when the door is knocked on, which alerts the animals and wakes a half asleep Cardan; Rhyia does not wake up.

Cardan answers it and finds a cloaked Madoc at the door. Rather than ask who he is or call for his mother, he stares at this man, who kneels and asks as evenly as possible if his mother is home.

Cardan slams the door in his face, which prompts Ashley to ask why he did so.

Madoc BANGS on the door and shouts, "Asha!" and Ashley pales as she realizes who is at the door.

She demands Cardan to go upstairs as Madoc kicks the door open and walks inside, giving the same speech as the original, that Balekin told him she'd ran away with his daughter, that she killed a woman who was just as pregnant as her, that she ran away and married some lowly farm hand and blacksmith. He thought it was a lie, but nope. Here she stands.

Asha(which is her real name) is deeply ashamed at his words, and tries to pull Cardan away; an angry Madoc is an unstable Madoc.

Like before, Justin rushes in to save his family, but ends up getting kebabbed with his wife.

Rhyia does wake up to see both and Madoc spills the tea that she's his and needs to pack her bags because they're leaving, and Cardan's coming with.

Cardan, despite being seven, is outraged and tries to kick Madoc into oblivion with no avail. Rhyia, however, swears that she'll never love a monster like Madoc, who simply scoffs and tells her to wrangle the human and gather her things in half an hour, because they're leaving for Faerie.

Reluctantly, they do and they never see the mortal world again for a very long time.

Jump to the present day as Cardan, a now seventeen year old human heart throb, is getting prim and proper for a revel. His hair is getting styled nice, he's in a nice suit, he's wearing a cool belt that makes him look like he has a tail, and has ear cuffs that make his ears look pointed like a faerie.

He also has rowan berries on his wrist, because he doesn't want the necklace to be easy to see as a lot of his shirts show his chest.

He's dolled up and meets Locke, his brother that came around when Madoc married Oriana and had Oak. The two did not get along, at first, but they began to tolerate each ither as they realized they were the only humans in Faerie that were gentry kids.

Locke is more of a bard or a poet, always seen with a little book, and doesn't wear the same stuff Cardan does, so no pointed ear cuffs for him. He's also more accustomed to Faerie, being good with half truths and minor deception. He's on good terms with both Madoc and Oriana.

Cardan, however, is not on good terms with either of them, as he has tried multiple times to leave Faerie, with and without Rhyia with him, and every time ended with Madoc outside scowling at him and leading him back to his room. Still has that 'no kill' rule, but he's better with sneaking and a sword, having been able to lighten his steps so he could sneak past Madoc and his guards whenever he tried to leave. He's not bad with a sword, but he still has a lot to learn, being 17 and all. When he doesn't have a sword in his hands, he has an animal in them, i.e. a foal, a dog, or, at one point, a skunk that was calm enough to not spray him. Yeah, animal lover that can hold his own.

The two exchange banter and Locke shows show rare excitement for this revel, saying the two will have the time of their lives. Locke, who isn't as close with her, wonders where Rhyia is, but Cardan reveals she's not attending, instead going to visit some friends in the mortal world.

Her funeral as the boys saddle up with Oriana amd Madic and go to the revel.

Similar events occur, like Oriana telling the boys to be careful, Madoc talking to Dain and Balekin, and Locke leading Cardan through the revel so they can have a good time.

IT GOES DOWNHILL WHEN THE GREENBRIAR TWINS AND THEIR FRIENDS ARRIVE. Jude, her older sister Taryn, and their friends, Edir, a bard that can sing and play anyone under the table, Valerian, who's a sadist, and Nicasia, the princess of the Undersea.

Jude and Taryn may have the same face and body, but don't be fooled, Jude has horns, always wears a sword, and will slap you in a dress and then set it on fire without a second’s hesitation. Taryn, however, always has a bunch of flowers in her hair, always wears a dress, and uses words as her weapon. Did you know that she broke on of the most boisterous men in Faerie qith nothing but her words? True story. Edir is the guy that keeps them both in check, an order of Balekin's, which we'll learn later. He is also more of Jude's friend and Taryn's bed buddy, in SFW terms. Nicasia is Jude's friend, like FRIEND, and Valerian is the same, really, just more of an ass now that he has more even targets.

Everyone bows to these guys, even Cardan and a smirking Locke. That smirk vanishes when Taryn winks at Cardan, who Jude GLARES AT.

Locke feels the same way, cinfused and angry, but no time to think in it because Valerian storms toward a confused Cardan and grabs him by the collar, snarling that he can play dress up and make believe all he wants because it won't hide his plain hair or round ears or barn dog smell, so he shouldn't even bother.

Valerian throws him back and Locke rounds on Cardan, asking him what the hell that was between him and Taryn. Cardan brushes him off, as it was just a wink, not a lap dance. Before they can REALLY go at it, crying draws their attention and see that Jude just pincushioned someone who didn't bow, said someone nkw having a hole in their stomach and a slash across their torso. Taryn is annoyed, Nicasia and Valerian are trying not to laugh, and Edir, who's embarassed, is scolding Jude for losing it at a revel.

Jump to after the revel and the day of school. The boys do indeed get dirt kicked on their food, but instead of 'make me,' Cardan snaps, 'TRY me,' because Nicasia asks if he's as filthy as other human boys. Locke talks him down, but Valerian, kicking more dirt and even throwing some IN Cardan's face, asks if the two qould like them for friends.

Locke apologizes for Cardan, but Jude commands he prove it by dropping out of the tournament, it'll be less embarrassing than getting his ass beaten in front of everyone.

Nicasia spots one of the ear cuffs and pulls it off, asking if he stole it. Big mistake because the cuff burns her hand, as it is iron and iron hurts Faeries.

Cardan smirks and the group leaves, Locke scolding him for being stupid.

Later, at dinnner, after talk of Dain's coronation, Cardan, despite some minor objection from Rhyia, asks Madoc a question: May he please have a green sash for the tournament? Why? He would like to be a knight, please and thank you. Madoc chikes on his wine, Locke coughs to hide a laugh, Rhyia winces, and Oriana os shicked into silence.

Madoc gives it to him straight: he's not bad with a sword, he's good on his feet,and he's the best damned rider that anyone's ever seen, but no. He cannot compete for knighthood, on the count of being the furthest thing from a killer imaginable and just being in over his head.

Cardan protests that he can do just fine, but Madoc warns him to stop before he gets himself thrown in a dungeon instead if his room until the coronation of prince Dain.

Cardan relinquishes and we get the salt prank like before, except Locke is pissed beyond all reason at his foster brother. Cardan doesn't mind until he's grabbed by Edir and Valerian, Locke being pulled by the hair by Jude and both are thrown in the river, which has Nixies in it.

Thier supplies get yeeted, Locke gets pulled out by Valerian and is made to kiss Jude on the lips and both her horns, but, when asked, Cardan does not give up, vowing that he will never give up, which makes Jude laugh and the group leave.

Locke and Cardan walk home, get some baths, and go to bed, except they go to the mortal world with Rhyia and meet her friends Vivienne and Heather at the mall. Vivienne apologizes for Jude's behavior, and we learn that Rhyia is planning to leave Faerie, and is probably going alone.

The boys return and endure a lesson, but Jude pushes Locke's buttons, so Cardan pushes her into a tree. Challenge accepted.

TOURNAMENT TIME!! Cardan fairs wellin that Valerian is lazy, Edir is out of shape, and Jude got cocky, so he wins.

Jude fumes at him, later grabbing him by the tail on his belt amd demanding he beg for her forgiveness. He does... NOT! And spits in her face that she may push him down, but he'll pull her down with him, and it will hurt her like hell.

Taryn approaches him and expresses interest in him, saying that she once took both Edir and Nicasia from Jude because people just like a sensitive girl.

She leaves and the tournament eventually ends, which leads Cardan to return hime and meet Dain, who requested one of Madoc's people to tell Cardan one of Eldred's children had come for a visit.

Dain and Cardan get talking and Dain offers him something that isn't knighthood: spying. Plus one wish.

Cardan knows what he wants: to not be controled.

Granted, but Dain can still control him and the fruits of Faerie will still effect him.

Screwy, but deal, he's a spy now

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!!!!!

[justcourttee]

And They Were Roommates-Pt 2

Marinette woke to the piercing ring from her alarm clock. With a groan, she blindly hit her nightstand, trying to find the snooze. 

“Marinette! If you snooze, you’ll be late again! Professor Brookes may like you, but she did threaten that one more tardy to the meetings and you’ll be fired!”

Tikki pulled at a strand of Marinette’s hair trying to pull the girl from her bed. 

“Tikki it’s just five more minutes, please!” 

“Dupen-Chang, Tikki wanted to wake you the nice way but if you don’t get your ass out of bed in the next five seconds, I will dump a cup of ice down your shirt.”

Marinette’s eyes flew open as she sat straight up, scowling at the sight of Chloe and Tikki high-fiving. 

“I hate you two.”

“Mhm, now go shower. You look and smell like you just wrestled with pigs.”

Chloe’s nose scrunched up as she threw a towel at the girl. Marinette rolled out of bed with a heavy sigh, trudging to the bathroom. 

“Chloe, will you pick me out an outfit?”

“Already done, now hurry up!”

Turning on the water, Marinette noticed the dark ink covering her skin. A beautiful robin stretched from her wrist to her elbow, every last detail drawn with care. She sucked in a sharp breath as she allowed her fingers to trace over the artwork. As she stepped into the shower, her eyes never left the picture, scared her soulmate would erase it before she had a chance to photograph it for later inspiration. 

Turning off the water, she wrapped her towel around her body tightly before racing back to her room, almost diving for her phone. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth from the pure concentration of capturing the art at the right angle. Once she was sure it was photographed properly, she fumbled for the pen on her nightstand. 

“I love waking up to your artwork, would you mind leaving it for the day?”

She stared intently at her hand, waiting for his response that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. 

“Dupen-Chang! If you want a ride, you better be dressed in the next five minutes!”

Chloe's voice echoed through the apartment, snapping Marinette out of her trance. Within three minutes, she pulled on the dress Chloe had laid out and managed to pull her hair back in a messy bun, sticking a pen through it just in case. She was working on the heels when she finally felt the tingle. 

“Sorry Angel, important interview today. I’ll leave you something tomorrow though. Promise” 

Marinette let out a defeated sigh, but tried to push it out of her mind. After all, she couldn’t be mad, he had a life too, one he didn’t want to publicize and she could respect that. Putting the final touches on her outfit, she grabbed her purse, leaning down beside the dollhouse to allow Tikki to fly in. 

“Dupen-Chang!”

“Coming Chloe!”

Tikki let out a giggle as Marinette rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long day. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

“Ms. Dupen-Chang, can I see you in my office please?”

Marinette internally groaned as she plastered a smile on her face. She picked up her design book, throwing a cover over the mannequin before she turned to walk toward the professor's office. 

“What can I do for you Professor Brookes?” Her smile was sickly sweet as she stared down at the woman. 

“Sit, please.” Brookes didn’t even look up from her paperwork, just made a vague gesture to the seat in front of her desk. After several minutes, she finally looked up, making a show of clicking her pen shut. 

“Do you know why I called you in Marinette?”

“Because you were lonely and wanted someone to talk to?”

She offered the woman a pity smile, but Professor Brookes was not having it.

“You have refused every offer I have arranged for you in the past three months. Marinette, what did I tell you when you accepted this position in my work field for young entrepreneurs?”

Marinette let out a sigh, her eyes falling to the ground. 

“It’s easier to work under a big name and break away than it is to build your own empire. But Professor-”

“Exactly. So tell me, why exactly have you refused not only Giorgio Armani and Karl Lagerfeld, but now I hear that Audrey Bourgeois has been after you for years now and you’ve refused her as well!”

Marinette bit her lip, trying her best to level her breathing before she snapped at the woman. 

“With all due respect Professor Brookes, they don’t want my name on the designs. I can’t make a name for myself if everyone else is taking credit for my work. If there’s any way you can find me an internship under someone who will let me be myself I’d be more than glad to take them on.”

It was Professor Brookes turn to sigh as she slipped off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“You’re a talented girl Marinette, nobody is denying that. But you just don’t understand how the business world works. This work field is for entrepreneurs who will listen to my advice, not do everything in their power to ignore it.”

“I understand if you want me to relinquish my position Professor Brookes. I’m sure you could fill it easily.” 

The professor looked up, her face unreadable as she stared down the designer. Several minutes passed and a sinking feeling began to settle in Marinette’s gut. 

“Ms. Dupen-Chang, what you’re asking me to do is to find you a sponsor. They’ll put their good name on the line for you, allow you to take credit for your work, and in return you’ll give them a portion of your profit. That’s anywhere from 5%-25% depending on how the sponsor operates. If I do this for you, you are going to have to up your production levels from one outfit a week to three, which means you’ll need to be here for three days instead of just one. Is this something you really want?”

Marinette’s heart pounded in her chest as she felt her body flood with relief. 

“It is. I really want a sponsor.”

“Then it’s settled, I’ll need you to complete a portfolio including pictures of models wearing your designs and at least three test designs that I can send to possible contenders. The test designs allow them to view your work up close and personal to look at stitchwork and such. I’m assuming you already have models in mind seeing as you live with two of them?”

Marinette nodded, her heart feeling as if it were about to explode with joy. 

“I won’t let you down Professor Brookes.”

The designer stood hastily, practically running back to her workstation. 

“I’ll need all of that before the first day of spring semester Marinette!”

The professor's voice echoed in her ears but she was too stunned to care. She was getting a real chance and that meant she had to put everything into the next month. Sitting on the spinning chair, Marinette pulled out her phone to view the picture she had taken earlier. Admiring his sketch, an idea began to form in her head as she cleared the workstation, laying out her various pencils. 

After a couple minutes of sketching, her phone began to buzz. At first she ignored it, trying to focus on her design, but after the third time, she finally gave in. 

“Chloe, I’m sorry, I know I said 3 but it’s looking like 5 or 6 instead, I finally got the break I was hoping for.”

“Well that’s great Dupen-Chang, but you see, I have a guy here responding to the ad placed this morning and I just wanted to ask if we could interview him without you.”

Marinette sat down her pencil, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She distinctly remembered emailing Julia for the spot, but she never sent in the ad. So either Julia’s newest boyfriend was applying or someone from the news team was.

“He’s not dating Julia is he?”

“I don’t know, let me ask. Hey! You! You’re not dating Julia, right? No? He said no.”

Marinette shook her head as she looked up at the ceiling, trying her best to send apologies to the boy. 

“So?”

“Go ahead Chloe, that’s assuming you haven’t chased him off already. I’ll be ready to go in an hour.”

“Great, you’re the best. Congrats on your break, I’ll order some food from that italian restaurant near our apartment to celebrate.”

Before Marinette could even respond, the line went dead, leaving her to stare at her sketchbook in slight despair. The poor guy would be scared senseless before she even got a chance to meet him. With a sigh, she returned to her sketch, determined to finish at least one design before she left for the day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Marinette waved bye to Professor Brookes before she made her way up the stairs to her apartment. She had texted both Chloe and Adrien several times, but neither came to pick her up, something she was going to lay into them for. 

“Hey guys what’s the deal-”

She stopped in her tracks as her eyes couldn’t process the sight in front of her. Adrien was playing Ultimate Mecha Strike V, but that wasn’t the problem. No, the problem lied in the fact that some guy she had never seen before was battling him using her lucky controller. 

“Hey Mari! Meet Damian Al Ghul, our new roommate!”

The guy stood up, offering his hand, but Marinette’s eyes weren’t focused on his. Instead, she watched in horror as he tossed her control backwards onto the couch, the force sending it flying to the floor.

“Damian huh?” She pushed past his outstretched hand to pick up her controller, examining it for any cracks or chips in the paint job.

“Yes?” He moved his hand to awkwardly rub the back of his neck, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

Marinette sent a sour look at Adrien who only shrugged. 

“Damian is a double major as well Mari, history and business, sound familiar?”

“I hear you are quite competent in both subjects.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, setting her controller on the coffee table before standing to face the man.

“I’m more than ‘competent’, I excel in both with a perfect 4.0 GPA.”

Damian scoffed sending a wave of fury through the girl. Just who did this guy think he was? Adrien watched the interaction, amusement clearly written on his face. 

“So Mari, you want to play the winner of this round?”

“No, thanks. I’m going to study. My first final is on Tuesday, just ask Chloe to leave my food in the microwave, I’ll get to it later.”

Without another word, she marched back to her bedroom, shutting the door harder than she meant to. She pulled out her sketchbook, opening it to her unfinished design from earlier. Her pencil hovered over the page as she tried to remember the feeling she had earlier. 

“Tikki, how did I manage to let him get under my skin in less than five minutes?”

She let out a groan as she fell backwards onto her bed as the kwamii let out a giggle. 

“He’s got a unique personality, very straightforward Marinette. He almost reminds me of Chloe when I first met her.”

“That has to be it. PTSD from when I was 13 and Chloe was still a menace. I just don’t think I’m going to be able to get back into this design tonight.”

“That’s okay Marinette, let’s work on the last essay for your Grad school application!”

Marinette sat up to reach for her laptop, pulling up her browser that never closed. The Metropolis University website was still up, her application reading 95% complete. She clicked on the textbox and attempted to zoom in on the final question that had been bugging her for a week now. 

‘How will you use your education to benefit the world?’

“Why does my degree have to benefit the world Tikki? I just want to do something I love, can’t that just be enough?”

“You’ll think of something Marinette, you always do!”

“Yeah,” the girl huffed out a puff of air, leaning forward to reread the question for the hundredth time. “I always do.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Around 10:30, Chloe stumbled into their room, tearing through her closest.

“Marinette, come clubbing with me and Adrikins! He needs a distraction for the night or two if you know what I mean.”

She let out a giggle as she pulled out her favorite dress, not even bothering to shut the bedroom door before throwing off her top. 

“Chloe! We’re living with another guy now!”

“Yeah yeah Mari, you’re the only straight one here so there’s no problem!”

“Just because you’re not straight, doesn’t mean he can’t oogle at you.”

Chloe stood up, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the girl. 

“Oogle? How old are you? 75?”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she stood up to pull her dress over her head. With her help, Chloe finished touching up her makeup. 

“So you gonna come with us?”

Marinette shook her head at her, earning a pout from the blonde. 

“Boo, you and Damian are both lame.”

Picking up her clutch, she opened it long enough for Pollen to fly in before shutting it tight. 

“You losers have fun tonight staying home.”

“I think I’ll just barricade myself in here instead.”

“Whatever.”

Adrien appeared in their doorway, equally tipsy as he offered Chloe his hand. Marinette watched with worry as they made their way to the front door, both stumbling over their feet at every other step. 

“Are you guys taking an Uber at least?”

“Yes mom!” They both looked at each other in shock before dissolving in a fit of laughter. Marinette rolled her eyes, waving goodbye as they slammed the front door shut.

With a sigh, she made her way to the microwave, hitting the reheat button for her pasta inside. 

“Is that an every weekend occurrence?”

Marinette jumped, whipping around to find Damian leaning against the kitchen counter, his face expressionless. 

“How about next time a warning like ‘Hey Marinette’ or ‘Whatcha doing?”

He didn’t reply, just remained stoic as he waited for her answer.

“No, it's not, just an occurrence whenever Adrien gets his heart broken. So try a monthly thing.”

He nodded in response, watching her carefully. Marinette shifted under his gaze, trying to keep her cool and not melt into a puddle. He may be a jerk, but he was still a hot jerk. The ding of the microwave severed the tension between them as she opened the drawer beside her, pulling out a fork. Sliding out her pasta, she didn’t even check to see if it had heated all the way through before she rushed past Damian and back to the safety of her room. 

He didn’t follow, but she heard him let out a thoughtful hum before he made his way back to his room, shutting his door. Letting out a sigh, she stirred through her pasta, reaching for the pen beside her bed. 

“How’d your interview go?”

She was halfway through her pasta when she felt the tingling. 

“Aced it. How was your day Angel? I apologize for not writing sooner.”

She rolled her eyes at his formalness, trying not to let her smile get the best of her. 

“I finally got my break. I’ll be getting a sponsor!”

Finishing the last bite of her pasta, Marinette weighed the risk of running into Damian again if she went to put up her dishes. Deciding it was too great, she set the plate on her nightstand, mentally preparing herself for the backlash she would get from hungover Chloe in the morning.

“That’s fantastic, I hope it works in your favor habibti.”

A shiver ran down her spin as her cheeks flushed red. She had used google translate a few times of the names he gave her and was surprised to find the Arabic traces. When she asked him about it, he just brushed it off to being from his mother’s side, never bringing it up again. Picking up her pen, she etched a small Robin on her arm, leaving a space beside it to write;

“Your pictures always inspire my designs. I can’t wait to see what you leave me tomorrow.”

A minute hadn’t even passed before he responded. 

“If you wash your arm off now, you won’t have to wait.”

Her heart picked up pace as she rushed into the bathroom, scrubbing furiously at her arm. She returned to her bed, toweling off the few wet spots as she watched in awe as pen strokes tickled her skin. 

“He’s so talented Marinette!”

Marinette smiled as she watched his delicate art slowly cover her arm, her mind drifting from the stress of the day. 

“He really is Tikki, he really is.”

Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ladybug-182 @fusser90 @thestressmademedoit @dast218 @thezestywalru @jardimazul @olynix @dorkus-minimus @xahriia @kris-pines04 @urbanpineapplefarmer @moonlightstar64 @itsmeevie01 @little-lady-bird @alexandriamw @lozzybowe @emmdaenovice @loysydark @toodaloo-kangaroo @jessigurl-design @aegyobutpsycho2 @stark-morgoona @kris-pines04 @rebecarojas07

[idreamofplaid]

Flashes of Freedom

Summary: This is how freedom to live your own life looks.

Characters: Sam x Reader; Callie (OFC); Dean and Jody mentioned

Word Count: 1824

A/N: This is a request for @awesomesusiebstuff . I wanted to write something for Susan for being so wonderfully warm and thoughtful. She got me tickets to Jensen’s and Jared’s Stageit panels. This is the best way I know to say thank you! 😘💗 I loved them both.

Flash #1

I’m still getting used to the whole idea. I ran from this life, but I couldn’t. Not really. It wasn’t because Chuck was pulling all the strings either. It was because I felt a sense of duty to my family, to Dean, and ultimately to myself. I couldn’t turn my back on who I was. I had a role to play that was bigger than I could have comprehended, and I had to face that head on with my brother. We both made choices over the years that we aren’t proud of, but maybe now we can finally come to peace with those regrets. Maybe we can hang onto the parts of ourselves and what we’ve done that are good and let go of all the rest.

One of the things I wanted to hang onto was Baby. She was my home before there was a bunker, but she belongs to Dean. They’ve always had a special bond, so I found my own Baby. It took awhile. I scoured the country for months looking for another black ‘67 Impala. I finally found her; I call her My Baby. The doors don’t squeak the same, but maybe in time. 

I took My Baby, and I hit the road. Dean headed up to hang out at Jody’s for a few days, saying something about home cooked meals and wanting to experience how a family lives since now that might be an actual possibility for us.

It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that we’re free to have lives. After all that fighting and struggle, we can truly control our own destinies. I feel like mine’s in North Carolina. Sounds weird, but something is drawing me there. It isn’t a part of the country I’ve been to very much. I tried California once. That didn’t work out too well, so I’m heading in the opposite direction.

I like the mountains here. They’re soft and rolling. They give everything they surround a secure and sheltered feeling. It’s beautiful and serene. I could stay here, I think, start a new life. 

There’s something I need to do to start this new life. It’s a symbol of starting a new chapter. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, and I believe I’m finally ready. I scan the main street of the little town until I find what I’m looking for. It’s not a barber shop. I don’t want all my hair gone, just shorter. I’m thinking the barely hit my collar kind of short, that wouldn’t be short enough for Dean, but it’ll make the statement I want. It will tell me things are different now. It makes me a little nervous getting it cut because it’s been a part of me for so long. I settle on a salon that has a slightly modern look for a town like this.

Inside, it’s lots of chrome, clean lines, and green plants. I like the feel of it. It’s welcoming, but there’s also an air of competent efficiency. I need both. I’m really going to do this, so I want to feel comfortable and like this person who’s going to do it knows what they’re doing. 

The receptionist takes my name, and I sit down to wait. I sift through the magazines on the table; nothing grabs my interest, so I decide to just wait. You catch my attention as soon as you walk into the reception area, and I feel my heart do a little flip. You call my name, and I follow you. Yeah, you’re the woman I can trust to cut my hair.

You run your fingers through my hair and lift it up, professionally assessing it; but how my hair might look when you’re done isn’t where my mind goes. It’s been awhile since I thought about a woman like this, and I notice how pretty your smile is when you ask me for the second time, “Are you sure you want to cut it?”

I take a look at myself in the mirror. I’m completely covered by a black cape except for my head, to me it looks like a blank slate. I give you a nod. “Yeah, cut it.”

When you finish, you give me a handheld mirror and turn me around so I can see the back. It’s different, and that’s what I need. You spin me back around to face the big mirror again and tilt your head, looking at my reflection. “You’re still handsome, but I did like the hair.” Your flirtiness sparks some courage in me, and I take my next big step; I ask you out.

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

Flash #2

The next night I take you to what you have told me is the only Italian restaurant in town. It’s classic and traditional from the red and white checked tablecloths covering the tables to the wooden paneling on the walls. Each table has a white candle in a heavy red glass container that creates a soft glow of light and an intimate atmosphere. The way your eyes look in the candlelight does things to me; it makes me feel hopeful.

I’m relaxed with you, truly at ease. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m looking over my shoulder. We choose a bottle of wine and get to know each other better while we sip the full bodied red and wait for our food. You tell me you’ve lived in this area all your life, thought about leaving briefly for something bigger and more exciting; but you realized your roots were here.

It all sounded about as far away from the life I’d known as it could be. I noticed everything about you that night, so many details that wrapped me up in the web of you. Little things, like the way you twisted your spaghetti around your fork before you put it in your mouth. I saw the bigger things too, the life changing things. You look into my eyes when I’m talking like I’m saying the most fascinating thing you’ve ever heard, but I know it can’t be; I’m still holding so much back from you. I don’t want to scare you off, and my life has been a scary thing. I’m holding it back, but I want you to know. I want you to know me.

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

Flash #3

Your hair is plastered to your forehead, and the strain is evident on your face. I tell you to breathe, and you push your breath out deliberately through your lips as slow and steady as you can. It’s hard to watch you in this much pain, and there isn’t really anything I can do.

When the contraction passes, I guide your head down to the pillow so you can rest for a few minutes before the next one hits. You’re weak from all the effort of bringing our baby into the world, but still you smile at me. “I love you, Sam.”

I’m still holding your hand in mine; I raise it to my lips and kiss it gently. I return your smile and push your damp hair back from your forehead. “You’re amazing.” I didn’t get a chance to say anything else because another contraction tore through your body.

Our daughter was born a few minutes later. Seeing her in your arms and watching the way you looked at her was the most incredible moment of my life. My heart was filled with more love than it could hold and my eyes filled with tears. It was the first time in my life I cried because I was happy.

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

Flash #4

“Wake up, Sam.” I feel you dragging your hand down my chest and over my stomach. You’re whispering in my ear, calling for me, “Sam?”

I’m not fully awake when I turn to you and take you in my arms, kissing you deeply. It’s instinctual now, as natural as breathing. I’m used to having you beside me, sharing a bed with me, and wanting me. You’ve been wanting me more often lately, just like you did at this point in your pregnancy with Callie. I’m not complaining at all, far from it. I love giving you what you need, and I’m pleasantly tired. We made love when we came to bed tonight, and if you want me again already; you’re going to have me any way you want. 

In the dark of our bedroom, in the middle of the night, I love you. I give you, at least try to, everything you have given to me. I show you with my body things I still don’t think I’ve found the words to tell you exactly how I feel. The way you’re kissing me back tells me that you know.

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

Flash #5

It’s a morning like all our other mornings, but there’s nothing ordinary about it. You’re sitting by the window, holding our baby son, and singing quietly to him. Callie is on my lap, and I’m reading her favorite book to her. She has the words memorized now, and can tell the story along with me.

Our little girl’s laughter is such a sweet sound. Her delighted reaction is always the same, like it’s the first time she’s ever heard the story. I close the book and bop her on the nose. That makes her giggle even louder, and you lift your head to look over at us and smile. Callie grins at me; her big Y/E/C are exactly like yours. “Can we read another story, Daddy?”

My heart gets bigger when I hear her say it. There’s no other love like the love you feel for your child, and you gave me the gift of that twice. “Sure we can, turtle.” She flashes her cute little smile filled with baby teeth when she hears the name. You started calling her that when she was toddling around and taking her favorite plushie, a yellow turtle, with her everywhere. Callie goes over to the bookcase, much more steady on her feet now, and brings another book back to me. 

You’re putting our baby boy down in his cradle by your chair for his nap when Callie crawls back into my lap. She settles and opens the cover of the book, but then she turns. If it was possible to plot with a two year old, I’d believe you and our daughter planned what she did next. She reached up and took a fistful of my hair that’s grown back down to my shoulders into her little hand. “Daddy, your hair’s pretty.”

You’ve been listening and crossing the room to us this whole time. You place a kiss on top of her head. “Yes, baby, Daddy’s has pretty hair.” The look you give me is pleased, content, and suggestive. Silently, you let me know it’s going to be your hands in my hair tonight. I’m glad I let it grow back.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything 

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @winchesterxfamilybusiness @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed​ @durinsbride​ @deansyahtzee​ @wendibird​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @waywardnerd67​ @fullmooner​ @neii3n​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ 

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Extra Part 8

U.A. a school for students to learn how to become the best Pro-Hero. When young Y/n Midoriya returns from her traveling to be accepted through recommendation. What awaits her when she meet the explosive blonde Katsuki Bakugo

Words- 2458

Katsuki Bakugo x Midoriya!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x Cousin!Reader

Warning-Spoilers from show, mainly hero license arc.

Series Masterlist

You and your classmates had spent the next four days in Gamma Gym working on your special moves. You had spent your time focusing on your energy projectiles and incorporating your psionic energy to hand-to-hand combat skills to enhance them. You and Kacchan had gotten closer spending time together in your dorms or you spent time training as he helped you get your quirk in control, and he also wanted to have someone to fight with who had equal power.

“The students are progressing nicely.” All Might said to Mr. Aizawa as they looked over at each student. Mr. Aizawa focused on you as you used your quirk to destroy a huge slab of stone.

“AP Shot!” Bakugo named one of his moves which allowed him to create an explosion beam. The beam created a hole in the stone. What you did see was it beginning to crack before a chuck fell heading towards All Might. Suddenly Izuku appeared and destroyed the rock with a kick before destroying the remaining with another kick.

“Are you ok All Might?” Izuku asked. You used your quirk to propel yourself up to the platform Bakugo was on.

“That was a close one.” You sighed walking over to him.

“Tch.. He has to be more careful.” He scoffed looking away.

“Sorry for that Young Bakugo.” All Might called out to him

“Be more careful old man!” Bakugo yelled explosions coming out his hands. You smiled at his outburst

“That move you did was really cool.” You complimented the blonde, his anger cooled down giving you a brief nod.

“It took some time but I think I got it down. Your quirk is getting better.” He pointed out you smiled

“Yeah I am able to use my quirk to float much better than last time, ” You giggle remembering we you began training with Bakugo and you were barely able to get a foot of the ground, “I wouldn’t be able to get better if it weren’t for you.”

His face turned red and he looked away from you “Yeah whatever.” Class 1-B and Vlad King showed up and they talked with Mr. Aizawa while one kid Netio Monoma, a kid you had seen around the school was talking with Izuku, Kaminari, and Kirishima. After your training had finished you and the girls were relaxing in the common area.

“That training was intense.” Ashido groaned laying on one of the couches draping her hand across her forehead.

“Has anyone made any special moves yet?” Hagakure asked

“I have special moves in mind but they did more training.” Tsuyu said.

Momo nodded “As do I with more training I’ll be able to get it down.”

“Same I almost got one move down. What about you Uraraka?” You looked at your friend who seemed to be in a daze and upset. Tsuyu nudged her snapping her back in reality

“Uh yeah I have a long way to go, but my heart is all jumbled up.”

“Maybe it’s because you're in love.” Ashido teased much to Uraraka’s shock

“No I'm not.” she denied her face turning red.

“Oh it’s probably Izuku or Tenya.” Ashido pries. Uraraka begins to float in embarrassment.

“Okay let’s leave the poor girl alone.” You try to calm the situation, which Momo and Tsuyu agreed.

“Don’t act all innocent Y/n. I saw Bakugo leaving your room really late one night. Wanna talk about that.”

Your face turns red, “That was nothing, he was just checking to see if I was okay, that’s it.” you defended yourself

“You have been spending an awful lot of time with him, with training and school.” Momo pointed out and the rest of the girls giggled.

“Momo what happened to not prying into people’s love life.”

“Oh so Bakugo is part of your love life.” Hagakure smiled and the girls laughed at your mistake.

“Aww look you're all red.” Ashido poked at your cheek and you smacked her hand away.

“And now I’m going to bed.” You stood up ignoring the whines from the girls and your departure. You got in the elevator watching the light ding each time you went up a floor. The elevator stops at the 3rd floor and opens and Bakugo is waiting there. “Hey Kacchan” you smile as he walks in.

“Hey, how are you.” He greeted standing next to you.

“Good, Are you ready for the exam?” You turned to look at him leaning against the wall.

He shrugged looking forward “Tch, Just another step closer to becoming a Pro.” The elevator dinged the door opens and you both stepped out.

“I see you tomorrow then.” You gave him a smile one growing on his face as well.

“Yeah, goodnight Y/n.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek quickly, his face turning bright red after that. He rushed off and you could hear him mumbling stuff which made you laugh

“Night Kacchan.”

You made your way to your room getting yourself ready for bed and letting sleep take over you.

The remaining days of your training had come and went, and it was the day of the exam. You got off the bus at the exam site holding your hero case. “Uhh I’m so nervous now that we’re here.” Hagakure frowned looking around at the other school showing up. Some of your other classmates agreed with her sharing their grievances.

“Just do your best and you will be able to go further to your goals of becoming heroes.” Mr. Aizawa said, standing in front of your class.

Kaminari looks at you all “Yeah he’s right if we are going to be heroes we need to go PLUS-”

“ULTRA!” Before Kaminari could finish, some random guy jumped into your huddle yelling out your phrase. You gave a look over to Bakugo as you watched the guy's reaction. “I’ve always wanted to say!” The boy bellowed making you guys wince at his enthusiasm.

“Yoarashi, it’s rude to interrupt other people’s huddle.” Another student who was literally covered in hair walked up to him with what you assumed was his other classmates.

“I’M VERY SORRY!” The boy vigorously bowed slamming his head into the ground, standing back up his head was bleeding much to you and your classmates' shock.

“There is a high school in the Kansai that is par with U.A,” Bakugo comments, “There from Shiketsu High.”

“I’M VERY EXCITED TO BE COMPETING WITH U.A AND I WISH YOU ALL THE BEST OF LUCK.” He exclaims before walking off with his fellow classmates. You watched as they walked away and other schools parted away from them as they walked in the exam building.

“Jeez What’s up with him.” Kirishima said.

“That energetic student is Inasa Yoarashi and a powerful contender. He was at the U.A. entrance exam the same year as you all and received top score. However, despite that score he declined the offer and went to Shiketsu.” Mr. Aizawa explain to you all who that student was.

“Why would he refuse enrollment in U.A. even though he admires the school.” Sero questioned

“Although Yoarashi can be awkward, his strength is great, be careful and keep an eye on him.” Mr. Aizawa warns everyone.

“Eraser!” A woman yelled and Mr. Aizawa winced “I know that scowl anywhere.” You all turn to see a very colorful woman approach you guys, “I saw you on tv at the sports festival, but it’s been awhile since we’ve been this close in person.” 

She waved at him as she got closer, “Who is she?” You looked over at Bakugo who shrugged in return.

“Oh that’s Ms. Joke the Smile Hero her quirk is Outburst. She forces people around her to laugh which affects their ability to think and keeps them from being able to move,” Izuku rambled on about the Pro in front of you all “Her fights against villains are always full of insanity.

“It seems like you two were close.” Asui points out

“Our agencies were near each other, as young heroes striving to make a difference in the world a mutual love bloomed.” She sighed reminiscing the memories

“No it didn’t”

“I do miss your quick retorts!” She laughs “Let’s get married.”

“No.” Her bold retorts make you smile at how quickly Mr. Aizawa deflects her attempts

“Good one” Ms. Joke bursts into laughter

“You’re hard to talk to, as usual Joke.” Mr. Aizawa sighs

“Come on imagine it if I was your wife you’ve have a future full of constant laughter!” She pointing to Mr. Aizawa

“That sounds like an actual nightmare” She laughed before turning to your class

“I‘m a teacher at Ketsubutsu Academy High School for Class 2-2.” She points overs to some students getting off one of the buses walking over to your class. 

“Wow Class 1-A I saw you guys during the sports festival. I’m Yo Shindo. I’m impressed with your class’ perseverance considering everything you went through this year.” One student greeted the group, grabbing Izuku's hand and shaking it. “You’re Izuku Midoriya I saw you during the sports festival,” Izuku's face turned red at the comment that someone saw him on tv, “You’re Y/n Midoriya you were there for the Kamino incident must have been scary.” 

He grabbed your hand as well as you stumped over your words. “Well..I mean...It happened.”

He turned to Bakugo who was next to you. “Katsuki Bakugo 1st place winner. I can’t wait to fight you.”

“Yeah, whatever, you can drop the act.” Bakugo scoffed, insulting him.

“Hey Bakugo, sorry about him.” Kirishima apologized on his behalf and Shindo shrugged, not bothered. After that little incident you all went off to get changed into your hero costumes. You head out of the locker room and head to the main stadium where everyone else was. You saw some of your classmates amongst the crowd. Once everyone was in the room a man who looked on the verge of collapse walked up to the microphone.

“Hello I am Yokumiru Mera from the Hero Public Safety Commission. You all are here to take your Provisional Hero License Exam out of the 1540 examinees only 100 of you will actually participate in the actual exam.” You all look around in frustration your chances of passing decreasing even further. “You all will need to complete the first exam to determine the 100 examinees that will compete in the Provisional Hero License Exam,” He yawn trying to stay awake, “The first part of the exam will test your speed which is required in Heroics. In the preliminary round; every examinee will take three targets and place them somewhere on their bodies where others can see, you cannot place them on your feet and armpits.”

The screen behind him shows a diagram of the targets. “Each examinee will be given six balls to use to hit the targets; the targets will light up when it is hit by a ball and once the third target is lit up, that examinee is considered as lost and disqualified. Whoever lights up the third target will be considered as the person who took down the other person. The goal of the preliminary round is to take down two examinees using the six balls given and whoever takes down two people will pass and qualify for the Provisional Hero License Exam.” Mr. Mera continues on his words getting more sluggish as he appears to fall asleep at the podium. He jolts rubbing his eyes looking over the students of different years, “You all will be given the targets and balls a minute after the preliminary round has begun.” He finished up walking off the stage as more people came out handing you all the targets and balls.

You had put one of the targets on your thigh, one on your stomach, and the last one right above your chest. Everyone had finished placing the targets and you all waited to be led to the arena to take the exam.

“Now that everyone has finished we can begin the exam.” Mr. Mera states and the room around you opens up and you are inside the arena with different terrains. An alarm went off and immediately different schools rushed off to different areas creating distance, and you saw Todoroki making his way away from the class.

“We should all stick together as other schools might be after us.” Izuku calls out to your classmate.

“I’m not going to hold back using my quirk more effectively and not become an easy target huddle together.” Todoroki comments running off in a different direction. Kacchan and Kirishima begin to separate as well with you following them.

“Sorry Izuku, I don’t want anyone in the crossfire of me using my quirk, good luck though.” You send a wave running up to catch up with the boys with Denki following after you.

“Why are you damn extras following me?” Bakugo growls heading off to the city-like district.

“Cause we can Bakubro.” Kirishima smiles following the grumbling blonde. 

“Someone’s gotta look after you and make sure you pass.” You commented walking next to him.

“I DON’T NEED A BABYSITTER!” He yelled sparks coming from his hands. You laugh as your group makes you way into the city. It had been a while since the exam had begun and already 58 people had passed, early in you all felt a huge earthquake but focused on the task on hand.

“Want some gum?” Ms. Joke offers Aizawa a piece.

“It’s the kind that traps your finger, right? No thanks.” he counters trying to look at the chaos happening in the arena. “It’s frustrating not being able to see who failed and who passed, though.”

“Our Shindo made it even harder to see by splitting open the ground, too.” Ms. Joke points out putting a piece of gum in her mouth. Every so often you would see smoke or some form of movement but not very clearly, “Hm? What! Are you worried?” Ms. Joke turns to the stoic teacher.

“There’s something I realized after watching Class 1-A for a while, they might not realize it, but in Class 1-A there are two people whose presence has a big effect. They’re not leaders, or the most popular, and the two of them don’t get along at all. But, before I knew it, their passion spread to the rest of the class. It’s strange, but one of them is always at the center of any major events. Joke, I’m not worried. I can’t wait to see what they’ll do. Even if they’re not physically with everyone, their presence raises the standard for the whole class.”

“You’ve fallen for them hard, hm? Gross.” Joke blows a bubble with her gum. 

“That is my class.. Class 1-A.”

[abandonedcyberpunkspidermech]

Character Bio: Peni Parker (SP//dr)

Name: Peni Parker

Hero Alias: SP//dr

Bio:

Let’s do this one last time.

Peni Parker was born on October 15th, 3132, to Richard Parker, the first SP//dr, and New York City chief of police Yuriko Watanabe, the latter of whom died shortly after giving birth. Being the daughter of SP//dr, and all that came with it, defines her life. From a young age, Peni had little opportunity to actually bond with her father. He made sure she was well-fed, had a roof over her head, and fixed her boo-boos, but he was always too busy defending the city to really BE with her. Part of why the kid got into robotics and science was to try to bond with her dad, to give them something to talk about. School has never been an issue for her, with her regularly acing her classes. As the daughter of a celebrity (most superheroes are idolized in this world, and SP//dr, New York City’s finest outside the police, is no exception), she always attended private schools with enough protection to make villains think twice about trying to attack her to get to SP//dr. There’s also the fact that most people only want to befriend her for the clout, but that’s a story for another day. She isn’t necessarily friendless, though. One of her closest friends is Harry Osborn, son of Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp and one of her father’s bosses in the SP//dr program. The two of them hung out a lot as kids due to their fathers’ setting them up on playdates while they were busy with Oscorp and SP//dr, and they have been friends ever since. All in all, Peni leads a fairly normal life. However, things change at the ripe age of 9 years old.

Richard Parker was a hero. The guy who was bit by a spider and became the one and only SP//dr. The hero who saved the city again and again. The man who, no matter how many times he got hit, always got back up. But after one too many battles with one Doctor Otto Octavius, he didn’t. Couldn’t. Just like that, the man she wanted so badly to be with was gone, and with him, her world shattered. To say she was heartbroken would be an understatement. The next morning, still raw with grieving, Peni moves in with her aunt and uncle, fellow SP//dr program employees May and Benjamin Parker, but not before they introduce her to a certain opportunity. As it turns out, Peni had the right genetic material to be able to pilot SP//dr, just like her father. And so, May and Ben inform Peni that she’s the only suitable replacement for her father as the pilot. Basically, they tell her “Let this spider bite you and get in the robot, Peni”. In spite of knowing how dangerous it is, how massive the responsibility is, and how great a legacy she’ll need to uphold, she accepts. She lets the spider bite her, forming a psychic link with it and gaining a supportive friend in the process. But there’s one problem: She is nine, and thus has no idea how to actually fight or be a hero. After a few months of training under the tutelage of SHIELD and Daredevil, a friend of her father, and connecting with the other heroes based in New York City, she finally takes the leap of faith and starts her life as SP//dr, the hero of New York City.

Abilities:

Psychic Link: The spider bite granted Peni a psychic link with her spider by essentially setting up a wireless connection between their brains. What this means is that the two have access to one another's brains, including senses, thoughts, memories, emotions, and instincts. However, this isn’t always a good thing. While it does allow the two to share experiences, it also has possible consequences such as sensory overload and mental contamination.

Psychically-Operated Mech: SP//dr, the mech, exists on the bleeding edge of mech control systems. How it works is that the spider is half of the mech’s CPU, and a human pilot can link with the spider and become the other half. For Peni, this means that she can control it in tandem with her spider like it was her own body, with all the relatively enhanced agility and dexterity that entails and few of the harmful side effects normally associated with using brain-computer interfacing to control extra body parts. However, like the psychic link, this comes with consequences, such as mental contamination, sensory overload, and the sensation of damage. With the ability to move the mech like a body comes the ability to use the mech’s senses like her own, which extends to feeling damage like physical injuries. The mech’s armor and coding reduce the sensory data her brain receives, but she still feels pain when hit.

Physical Strength: The mech is capable of lifting and moving approximately 45000 kilograms of mass without risk of critically damaging itself. However, both pilots hold back to preserve the mech’s internals and to avoid collateral damage, such as undue property destruction, injury, or death. Without restraint, the max lifting capacity of the mech has been measured between 60000 and 70000 kilograms.

Webs: SP//dr is capable of shooting webs composed of fluid that solidifies into an adhesive solid in the presence of atmospheric conditions. These webs serve a variety of functions, including but not limited to the mech’s famous web-swinging, incapacitating enemies, and grabbing objects from afar. SP//dr can utilize a variety of varieties of web fluid (with different chemical compositions) for a variety of functions, such as electrocution, bandaging, and temporary welding. However, most webbing breaks down within an hour, the only exceptions being designed to last longer.

Adhesive Limbs: The hands and feet of the SP//dr mech are designed with microscopic, artificial “hairs” that allow the mech to adhere to objects by use of van der Waals interactions.

Magnetic Suspension: SP//dr is equipped with a magnetic suspension system enabling it to manipulate its limbs (as many as eight limbs composed of two or three segments) in ways that would be impossible with a conventional articulation system. However, this does come at the cost of increased power consumption, and the limbs are paralyzed without power.

LCD Screen: SP//dr’s cockpit is headed by a screen with an LCD display allowing the mech to display emoticons to show emotions, messages, visual aids, or other images. However, the screen is more fragile than the rest of the hull.

Hull Durability and Armor: The chassis and limbs of SP//dr are durable and well-armored enough for the mech and pilot to be able to walk away from being struck with a bus without losing function.

Miscellaneous Gadgets: Depending on the need, SP//dr can be outfitted with a variety of tools, such as scanners, enhanced sensors, saws, welding torches, fire extinguishers, and weaponry.

Neurogenetic Technology Compatibility: Peni Parker has the correct set of genes to be able to interface with SP//dr (and other technology by proxy) given the proper apparatus. The effects, in addition to operating SP//dr, consist primarily of limited neural hacking ability and enhanced thinking speed (mostly subconscious), memory backup, as well as other general abilities usually granted by neural cybernetics. Oscorp scientists have noted a similarity to a cyberbrain, except entirely organic.

Spider-Sense: One of the few superpowers not entirely dependent on a giant robot, Peni Parker, the spider, and the robot all have a Spider-Sense. It functions as a general danger sense, allowing them to sense dangers other senses can’t detect and avoid them almost autonomically. It can also detect other Spider-People. However, scientists have noted that the sense sometimes acts in complete defiance of scientific possibility.

Intelligence: Even as a child, Peni Parker was a genius, having been one of the brightest kids in her school, a trait that will only grow with age. However, she isn’t a “Renaissance woman”. She specializes in STEM subjects, most specifically robotics and computers, but would be nowhere near as competent with Shakespeare (unfortunately, still taught in schools) or ancient history. She’s also trilingual, with fluency in English and Japanese and some knowledge of Braille.

Fighting Skills: As part of her training to pilot SP//dr, Peni learned fighting skills to enable her to better fight villains. This included boxing, self-defense, martial arts, firearms training, general combat skills, and enhanced physical condition. Aside from “anime moments”, she isn’t superhuman though, merely an athletic baseline human.

Emergency Response Skills: As another part of her training, Peni received training in responding to a general assortment of emergency situations she’d face during her career as SP//dr, including fire rescue, first aid, and water rescue.

Weaknesses:

Peppermint: Spiders hate peppermint, Peni’s spider is no exception, and the psychic link means that Peni shares that resentment. A sufficient dose of peppermint around an area will make SP//dr run from it, at least temporarily.

Vibrations: One of a spider’s most powerful senses is its ability to detect vibrations. This hypersensitivity can also serve as a weakness, as the psychic link means that if the spider senses a particularly strong vibration (or the mech does through onboard sensors), the feedback would be paralyzing. The effect is like a loud guitar riff being played on an amplifier turned to 11 directly attached to both of one’s ears.

Pesticides: Any pesticides that would affect an arachnid would affect SP//dr, so if the spider gets exposed to (or detects through onboard sensors) any of several pesticides, the mech will flee the area as soon as possible to allow itself to stave off the effects of the pesticide. Onboard filtration systems would and do nullify this weakness, however.

Power Grid:

Intelligence: 3 (Grows to 5)

Strength: 2 (5 in mech)

Speed: 2 (3 in mech)

Durability: 2 (5 in mech)

Energy Projection: 1 (2-3 with specific mech weapons)

Fighting Skills: 1 (Grows to 4)

Additional Trivia:

Ideal English VA: Kimiko Glenn

Ideal Japanese Seiyuu: Rie Takahashi

Peni Parker is a vegetarian (like in the comics). This is due to her finding it weird to eat other animals after psychically linking with SP//dr. Similarly, she has an aversion to any animal products requiring killing the animals. Except for insects for reasons most likely related to the psychic link.

As a consequence of being psychically linked to a spider, Peni is one of the more “spidery” Spider-Heros/Spider-Totems/Spider-People. This means that she has a few additional miscellaneous traits only actual spiders would have.

I’m aware of the Web of Life and Destiny and the supernatural aspect of Spider-Totem powers. Thus, I’m going to leave the balance of technological/scientific power origin versus mystical power origin for you to find out.

The SP//dr program has multiple mechs for various situations. The abilities above mostly refer to the primary mech (The same as ITSV), although some things could change with in-universe time and upgrades.

Peni and her spider use “SP//dr” to refer to the spider, the mech, their hero identity, and the program of which they are a part. Due to the psychic link, they always know what they mean.

I don’t have a section on her personality because that would change a LOT in-universe. She goes through a lot, both good and bad. SP//dr stays a supportive friend though.

The SP//dr program is run by Oscorp under the supervision and oversight of SHIELD and the Commission on Superhuman Activities.

In case you’re wondering, I use “neurogenetic” instead of “psychogenetic” because psychogenetics, the word her comic uses, is actually another world for behavioral genetics, the study of how genes influence behavior. Neurogenetics, however, is the study of how genes affect the function of the nervous system. Thus, considering SP//dr’s control mechanism, “neurogenetics” is a more accurate word.

Also, I apologize for any formatting flubs. I copy pasted this from a Google Doc.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I was thinking, what if Jake accidentally triggered Chris? Like maybe Jake casually says something that sir would say when he was about to punish Chris. He’d probably feel so guilty.

So this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but it hits on another ask I received and is very similar! (sorry, other asker, I ended up losing your ask because Tumblr sucks)

CW: References to past whump involving a minor. PTSD/trauma response to stressful stimuli. Includes description of stimming including head banging. VERY vague references to past implied noncon.

Chris’s mind runs fast. Not as fast as his mouth, but that’s okay, he can mostly catch up to himself if he works at it. His mind runs fast but it also derails and crashes on tiny details when he’s trying to finish his chores, and he never had chores before he came to live here but he doesn’t mind them - it’s just hard to get them done when there keep being so many other things to look at.

He’s supposed to be cleaning the living room, and it takes Jake maybe half an hour to do this but Chris has been at it for nearly forty-five minutes, he thinks, maybe longer… and he’s still just trying to finish dusting all the shelves.

The thing is - the TV is on, because he likes the background noise, but words keep catching his attention, little phrases and bits of information his brain wants to add to the constant loop of his thoughts. Plus - plus, on top of the TV and the swirly letters he can’t read on all the books, and the way the throw pillows have kind of a cool texture - on top of all of that, there’s a chipmunk outside.

He knows it’s a chipmunk because Jake told him about how they chirp, which he didn’t know before he came here. Chris mostly didn’t know anything before he came here, but he’s learning, piece by piece.

The chirping keeps catching his attention, drawing him away, slowing him down. He’s no good at cleaning, he can’t think about it long enough, cleaning is too slow and too methodical for his brain. But he likes doing chores, because chores mean he belongs here.

He fluffs a throw pillow, then runs his fingertips over the rough braided texture right down the center, a change from the silky-touch feel of the sides. Silk, rough, silk, rough, silk, rough.

His eyes start to unfocus, go slightly blank.

Silk, rough, just like-

“How’s it going, Chris?” Nat calls from upstairs. She’s turning over all the mattresses and changing the sheets today, Antoni is with her, while Leila works on cleaning the bathroom upstairs and Jake’s down here, in the kitchen, just a few feet away. 

“It’s, it’s, it’s it’s it’s good!” Chris calls back, jerking himself into motion, but he can hear the chipmunk outside still, calling and calling and calling. Is it missing someone?

Do I miss someone?

The thought breaks in, strange and uncertain, hardly his own. It’s plaintive, sad. It’s a thought that belongs to Baldur in the dark nights, and to the numbered boy before that in the flat white room. It’s not a thought that belongs to Chris, who stands next to the window and looks out into  sunny day. It’s not a thought he wants.

So he ignores it.

 Thoughts like that come with headaches that leave him shaking in the dark, and he’s very good at ignoring anything that might bring on the pain again.

He moves to clean around the windowsills, which - who ever heard of doing that, but it’s on the list she reads out to him, and he tries to remember everything. He’s getting better.

The chipmunk chirps outside the window, a kind of throat-swallow sound, and Chris finds himself echoing the noise, making a high-pitched eep-eep-eep sound. It doesn’t sound like the chipmunk at all, but the little animal goes silent outside when he does it, and Chris feels a thrill.

It understood I was trying to talk to it. Maybe it’s listening to me.

That’s a silly thought, and he tries to tell himself it’s stupid, but when he thinks awful things about himself he can kind of hear how Jake would respond if he said them out loud. You’re smart, Chris, you’re smarter than you think you are - you’re brilliant in there, we’re just bringing it back out. Don’t talk down about yourself. The way you think about yourself is how you think about the world.

Chris mostly loves the world, now. So he tries to love himself.

The chipmunk starts back up again, and Chris moves closer, a smile on his face. Slow, and careful, step by step, cleaning forgotten, he tilts his head and-… there it is. Tiny body no bigger than a mouse in a movie, reddish-brown with the black and white stripes across its head and down its back.

Jake says they have stripes like that because the things that eat them don’t see color like people do, and the stripes help them hide.

I wish I had stripes to help me hide.

But the thought doesn’t matter, because Chris doesn’t have to hide anymore. He puts that thought away, too. Lets it sink into the revolving mix of things going on inside his mind at any given moment. Right now it’s mostly the chipmunk.

His hand keeps moving with the rag in it, wiping back and forth across the windowsill, spraying the glass cleaner and wiping at that, too, but it’s half-hearted and he knows he’s leaving streaks. He just… can’t quite stop thinking about the little chipmunk he can just see, hardly a breath of an animal, sitting in Nat’s grass under the white birch tree in her front yard.

If you go to the tree you can peel strips of white and black bark away, easy as cake, like peeling away all his skin to find the real him underneath.

There’s a voice, behind him, from the TV. Smooth, genial, warm and slightly arrogant, the voice of someone who has total and perfect confidence in themselves. 

Chris drops the glass cleaner, the plastic bottle bouncing off the floor. The chipmunk catches some hint of the sudden movement and takes off, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“Of course, Deborah. But I don’t think it’s fair to remove this right that’s been enshrined in our laws since 1952 just because a few protesters get their, well, I won’t say it in polite company. But just because a few protesters are bothered, that’s no reason to get rid of an entire system that’s working just fine. We need to crack down on abuse, of course, and these nasty rumors about illegal acquisition - which, I know the head of WRU personally, I can tell you that’s all a bunch of nonsense-”

Chris’s constant running barrage of thoughts comes to a stuttering halt.

He turns slowly around, cleaning rag still clutched in his other hand, his heart somewhere trapped around his knees, to stare at the TV.

There’s a woman on the screen right now, with blonde hair shellacked in a kind of circle around her head, wearing bright red lipstick and a dress to match. She tilts her head at a practiced angle, and Chris unconsciously echoes the motion. His free hand twists, fingers twitching in a kind of dance, before they tap against his own side. Tap-tap-tap-tap, the motion soothing him, calming him, a rush of something pleasant that fights the fear.

“Of course, Governor Branch-”

“Oh, how do I love to hear myself called that, still,” The man replies. He sits back, the slight shine of the light off his hair makes Chris dizzy. He can almost smell the hair product that’s in it, can almost feel the smooth fabric of the suit Sir is wearing slipping through his fingers.

That’s the one he wore the night Miss Megan saved me.

“Speaking of illegal acquisitions, there’ve been persistent rumors surrounding WRU and its competing corporations about pet abuse, abductions, even minors being put into the system. What would you say o the protesters and pet liberation groups asking for better, more thorough investigations? Would you support the call for a Congressional investigation?””

Sir laughs - it’s a lovely laugh, pulling a smile onto the woman’s face, it’s a laugh Chris has dreams and nightmares about - and Chris lets out a choked-off sound. 

Baldur, darling, you do know how to make a man laugh, don’t you?

His fingers twist faster, tap harder into his side. He steps away, stumbling gracelessly, until he can find a hard surface, the wall. He taps on it as fast as he can, a constant barrage of tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, holding back the worst of the fear, keeping it at bay.

The rush of the sensation isn’t enough to beat back the fog in his mind. He’s buying time but not enough. He can hear Jake singing to himself in the kitchen, and his mouth opens to call, to say, that’s him, that’s my Sir, that’s him on TV, but no sound comes out.

Outside, the chipmunk starts chirping again.

Chris slides down to the floor, curling himself up into a ball, staring fixedly at the screen. 

“Deborah, I have spoken to my good friend Timothy Rahm - current CEO of WRU, sorry, not all your viewers are going to know that, are they? - and he has assured me again and again that WRU has absolutely no minors in the system. They have strict physical examinations and quality control checks that ensure every single pet is of legal consenting age.”

Sir smiles, flash of bright white teeth. Chris thinks of whitening strips laid out in a little stray next to Sir’s sink. He had to look good for cameras. He does look good, in his suit with his tan and his sparkly amused eyes. 

Darlin’, don’t look upset. You’re going to stay right here in the basement for the party, can’t have anyone getting too good a look, can we?

But, but, but but I don’t like the, the basement, Sir I don’t-

Baldur. You’ll stay in the basement. No arguments.

Yes, Sir.

Chris leans his head over, until it thumps into the wall. Briefly, he feels a burst of better, a wash of something like adrenaline, but soothing, calming. So he does it again. And again. And again.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The chipmunk is silent, listening outside to the sound of Chris as his thoughts revolve and focus around the man on the TV.

He can’t hear what they’re saying any longer, he doesn’t try to. He lets the sound of Sir’s voice, melodic and warm, wash over and around him, but if he keeps thumping his head on the wall - if he keeps tapping, too, if he can just do both - he won’t let him in.

Get him to stop doing that thing with his hand, it’s annoying as hell. I don’t care how, tie his fucking hands down. Teach him not to do that anymore.

The voice wants to trickle under his skin, but a good thump - it’s not painful, it doesn’t hurt, it’s only a shake out of his freezing, it’s holding back the sounds that would hurt if they made it too far in - knocks it back out.

Not yours. Not yours. Not yours. Not yours.

He chants along with the thumps of his head, the taps of his fingers. He whispers without sound. 

Better now. Better now. Better now. Better now.

His eyes go unfocused, and Sir is gone, but Chris can’t remember quite how to find his own way back. He doesn’t know how long he floats there, waiting. He doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for.

Someone crouches down in front of him and Chris flinches - no, no, he’s not supposed to touch the walls any longer, he has to stop or he’ll be in trouble again - only to feel Jake’s warm hands on his shoulders, up his neck, on either side of his face.

Jake’s smell, simple clean shower-smell, nothing like Sir’s heavy cologne. Jake smells like soap from the shower and fresh-cut grass from mowing the lawn this morning and the sun that shone in his hair when he did it, while Chris watched from inside.

“Chris?”

“I, I, I, I… I I I saw, I saw, I saw-”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow in concern, a hint of worry lines across his forehead. “What did you see, man? Can you tell me what you saw? Can you tell me what’s in your head right now?”

Sir isn’t on TV anymore. They’ve moved on to talk about something else. Chris swallows, looking up at Jake, then shoves himself forward to push into Jake’s chest, tap-tap-tapping on his side. Jake doesn’t stop him, Jake never ever stops him, he understands the tapping helps. Jake only puts one arm around him and holds him tightly, leaving the other down so Chris can tap, twist-fingers-tap-shirt, again and again.

The simple, clean rush of calm, bit by bit, building a wall to fight back the waves of awful things that want to dig under his skin.

“Chris, I need you to talk to me. What did you see? What happened?”

Chris closes his eyes, thinks of Sir’s smile, just like it always was. His laugh.

Thinks of being good in the dark.

“I saw a chipmunk,” Chris whispers. “Saw, I saw, there was a, a, a-a-a chipmunk, saw a chipmunk, saw-… then the TV, I-… on the, the TV on the tv there was, um, on the TV-”

“Okay. Okay, I know that wasn’t it, but… do you need me to turn off the TV? Would that help?”

Chris nods into Jake’s shirt, clutching hard onto the fabric, tapping his fingers. Hold it back, hold it back, push back the fear and the noise. “Heard, on the TV, I-I-I heard, I heard-”

“It’s okay. Look, I’m going to-… there, if I stretch I can just grab it-” Jake reaches out with his free hand, shakes the side table next to the couch until the remote drops off of it onto the floor within his reach. He turns off the TV and the sudden lack of sound fills the room with a new kind of weight. “No rush, buddy.” Jake squeezes Chris’s shoulders with one arm. “No rush to tell me. Take your time. You’re okay, you’re right here with us, this is Nat’s house. Nobody’s here but us, and we’re safe. I’ve got you, man.”

“You’ve, you’ve got me,” Chris whispers. He feels an urge to thump his head on Jake’s shoulder like he did on the wall, but manages not to. Only just. He can still hear Sir’s voice, like music that won’t stop playing, like when you get a song stuck in your head.

Sir would hate him wearing Jake’s big T-shirt, would hate the silky-mesh basketball shorts he wears all the time. Would hate his knobby knees sticking out from them, his sharp elbows that dig when he doesn’t mean them to. Sir hated his cold feet under the covers.

Jake doesn’t mind any of those things. Jake gives him the shirts he likes, and holds him, and doesn’t stop him from doing the things he has to do to keep his mind from running away too far for him to catch it. Sir was on the screen, but Jake has him here, and only one of those things is real.

Outside, a bit of bark peels away from the white birch tree in the wind, slowly revealing soft, easily-damaged wood the color of pale human skin underneath.

[440mxs-wife]

The Hunter’s Princess- Chapter 2: The Princes’ Challenge

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 2 Word Count: 2550+

Warnings: Kira’s self-doubt, Dean angst, mostly fluff though. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Castiel bowed and left the room, knowing his friends, Prince Dean and Prince Samuel would explain everything to him later. "As we have gotten older, we have decided it's time for one of you to take over as king. However, you will also need a queen to rule by your side," Queen Mary remarked.

"So, to choose your queen, we suggest a tournament of sorts. Something to help you find the woman most likely to fulfill her duties as your queen. There will be challenges to demonstrate each candidate's strengths in archery and the equestrian arts. Your mother and I will also conduct an interview with each woman," King John explained.

"Each province will send their best competitor. At the end, there will be a ball, where you will each announce your final choices. If you do not find a suitable wife by that time, we will choose for you. This is an important decision, one you will have to live with your entire life, so please choose wisely," Queen Mary warned. "For now, I suggest we ALL get some sleep, so we can do some planning in the morning," she advised.

Each of the princes came over to kiss their mother's cheek and say goodnight. Then they went to their separate rooms, changed into sleeping attire and went to sleep. Castiel would have to wait until morning for his explanation of the conversation between the princes and their parents.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, a proclamation was issued. A search was being held to determine who would be the next queen after marrying either Prince Dean or Prince Samuel. A tournament would take place, featuring events in archery and the equestrian arts. An interview with the current king and queen was also part of the competition. On the final evening, a ball would be held to announce the winner.

Word of the tournament spread quickly throughout the land. When it reached Kira's ears, she began to wonder how it fit in with the reason she was sent here. She got ready for the day and checked across the hall to see if Rowena was awake yet. Her door was open, but she was not inside, so Kira went downstairs for breakfast.

"Good morning, everyone," she announced. Alfred and Rowena were discussing the matter and looked up to greet Kira in return. Stefan offered his good morning wishes when he brought the coffee and tea pots to the table for refills. He also placed a tray of his decadent cinnamon rolls on the table, making her mouth water. Business first, though, she thought.

"I assume you've all heard of the Princes' Challenge?" Kira asked.

"We were just discussing the matter, Lady Kira. Lady Rowena has mentioned that you stand an excellent chance of winning and becoming the next queen. I happen to agree with her assessment," Alfred stated, nodding in solidarity with Rowena.

"You definitely meet all the criteria, dearie," Rowena affirmed.

"So what are the criteria for this 'Challenge'?" Kira asked.

Rowena listed the following requirements to compete in the Princes' Challenge.

One: The candidate must be of noble birth.

Two: Only one candidate may be chosen from each province.

Three: Events will include Archery and the Equestrian Arts. These events will be followed by a private interview with King John and Queen Mary. On the last night, a ball will be held, where a decision will be announced.

The Princes' Challenge will begin in two weeks. Candidates must report to Winchester Castle upon arrival.

"You really think I can pull this off? I mean, I have the athletic stuff covered, no problem, but a private interview with the king and queen? 'Soft-spoken' and 'demure' are not exactly in my vocabulary, you know. If I'm going to screw up anywhere, it'll be there. That and....I can't dance," Kira replied, mumbling the last part about dancing.

"Och, not to worry, Kira, I'm working on a solution to get you some help in those areas. Even the dancing part, dearie," Rowena smirked. Kira stuck out her tongue at her in response.

"See? I'm acting like a child. I'll just mess everything up, so I might as well not even go! Besides, who will run the pub, make sure the townspeople are taken care of?" Kira added.

"Lady Kira," Alfred began. "I have worked for this family since before you were born. Well, the you that was born in this dimension," he smiled wryly.

"Wait a minute, Alfred. You've known all this time?" she asked.

"As I said, I've worked for this family for a very long time. I know you are not the Lady Kira native to this dimension. You are very much alike, don't get me wrong, but there are some subtle differences. But I also know that you are our best hope of restoring each Lady Kira to her rightful dimension. I believe the only way you can do that is to compete in and win the Princes' Challenge," Alfred finished.

"Beggin' your pardon, Lady Kira, but Alfred and I can look after the townsfolk in your absence," chimed in Coraline. "And you know Ella can run that pub of yours inside and out, backwards and forwards. Besides, you may find true love when you least expect it!" she exclaimed.

"All right, all right, I'll go! Rowena, I'll need you with me. No telling when I'll need the services of a witch, especially since it was magic that sent me here," Kira muttered.

After a breakfast of coffee and one of Stefan's cinnamon rolls, Kira and Rowena went upstairs to pack. Kira made sure to bring practical outfits, due to the nature of the competition. She also took her best gown for the ball on the final night. It was made of a dusty rose-colored satin, off the shoulder, corseted bodice and a long flowing skirt with tulle overlay. Kira threw in a few pairs of leggings, her boots and some tunics for the competition days. She included some "day dresses" for wearing when not in competition.

When Kira walked downstairs, Rowena was ready to go and Kira bid farewell to her house staff. The carriage was packed with their luggage, and as they pulled away, Kira waved goodbye to everyone. She knew she was leaving her tiny estate in capable hands. The staff was more than that, though, they were family. Kira knew they would do everything possible to take care of their home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The princes met up with Castiel so that they could fill him in on what's going on. He seemed a bit skeptical that their parents' plan would work to decide the next queen.

"You have to find your true love through this competition, and decide before the ball? I don't know, my friends," Cas remarked.

"I'm not so sure either, Cas. But what choice do we have? If we don't choose, they'll choose for us. Besides, they still have the chance to interview the candidates, so that should alert us to potential red flags, right? Dean?" Prince Samuel replied.

Prince Dean was lost in thought when his brother's voice jolted him back to reality. "Hmm? What? Absolutely, brother, whatever you say," he stammered.

"Dude, where is your mind? You've been like this ever since we left that pub. Now, what's going on?" Prince Samuel demanded.

"Sorry, I can't help thinking about that woman, Kira. I wish we could meet up with her again. She was....different. But in a good way," Prince Dean hastily added. "I asked around about her. Collins said she inherited her land from her father, since there were no male heirs and she had no husband.

"When he died, he left her with a mountain of debt, so she's had to sell off pieces of her land to keep things afloat. Even so, she struggles with making ends meet, but she makes sure to take care of the townfolk, like her family. He said everyone adores her, and they're fiercely loyal to her," he finished.

"Sounds like someone's a little smitten," Castiel snickered.

"So what if I am? From what I've seen, she's kind, caring, has a great sense of humor. And as loyal as the townfolk are to her, she's just as protective of them. Remember how I teased her about being 'Lady Kira'? She quietly let me know how things work around there and how she doesn't do it for the recognition. She does it because she cares," Prince Dean retorted.

Prince Samuel held up his hands in surrender. "She sounds great, almost too good to be true. But, I hope she does show up, so that I can get to know her a little better as well. I wasn't too focused on that the first time we met."

Prince Dean hadn't thought of that. Since she does hold a title, she's eligible for his parents' little "tournament". That would give him the chance to find out even more about her. He really didn't like to admit when his brother is right, but in this case he is: Prince Dean is a little smitten with Lady Kira.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Rowena? Are you sure I should be doing this? I mean, it seems like there's so much more I could or should be doing at home. I'm not 'queen material', and probably never will be, because I know myself too well. I'm not the uptight, 'genuflect when you say that' type. The kingdom is much larger than our little space in the world, so much more to have control of. It'll take a bit of a strong hand to keep order, and I don't know if I can do that," Kira finished.

"Och, darlin', don't you worry about that. Just be yourself, and they will love you. Besides, I think a member of the royal family is already a bit smitten with ye," she added mysteriously.

"What are you talking about?" Kira demanded.

"I was talking to Alfred before you came down for breakfast, and I happened to tell him about last night in the pub. He said that the two men that came in late for drinks were none other than Prince Dean and Prince Samuel!" she announced.

Kira gasped in complete surprise. "No.....I'm completely doomed! I was such an idiot last night! Prince Dean called me by my title, and I got a little upset with him. I explained how things work in our neck of the woods and kind of slammed his beer down on the bar. I should go back. Driver? Please take me home," she commanded.

"Driver, you'll do no such thing, keep on course," Rowena declared. To Kira she said, "He is under strict orders to deliver you to Winchester Castle, even if you give him a direct order to do otherwise."

Kira crossed her arms over her chest and slouched in her seat, pouting in her corner of the carriage. She knew Rowena was right to keep on their course to Winchester Castle. She still had her doubts, though, about whether she was fit to be queen. Rowena must have sensed that, because she came over to sit beside Kira. "Don't worry, dearie. I've arranged for some assistance--" she broke off, and as there was a whooshing of wings, Gabriel appeared where Rowena had been sitting.

Kira sat up straighter in utter surprise. "Gabriel?? How did you know where I was?" she asked incredulously.

"Uh hello? Archangel?" he said sarcastically. "I can go anywhere I want, and Sweetcheeks, I'm particularly tuned to where you are. Besides, Thing One and Thing Two explained to me what happened. I suppose I'll be nice and let them know you're all right, but that you have work to do in this dimension."

Tears sprang to Kira's eyes as she thought about how worried her Sam and especially her Dean were about her disappearance. She wiped the tears away and looked at Gabriel. "Will you please do me a favor, Gabe? Will you please tell Sam and Dean that I love them, that I'm sorry to be away from them but that I'll be home as soon as I can?"

Kira knew Sam and Dean weren't Gabe's favorite humans, and the feeling was kind of mutual. But, she thought if he saw how upset she was, that he'd do as she asked. Gabriel rolled his eyes and said, "Fine, I'll tell them. You're lucky I love ya, kid. But I'm not kissing either one of them for you, no matter how many tears you cry," he declared.

Kira smiled through her tears and reached for his outstretched hand. "Thank you," she whispered. She turned her attention back to the rolling hills and trees that dotted the landscape. It had been awhile since Kira got to sit back and relax. Soon her eyelids became heavy and kept drifting closed. Before she knew it, she was snoozing away in her corner of the carriage, dreaming of a certain green-eyed prince that she was hoping to see again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Back at the bunker, Sam had pulled some lore books to try and figure out how to return Kira to their dimension. On the other hand, Dean paced the floor, running over every detail of what had occurred in Room #17.

Rowena said that Kira's locket was a powerful charmed object that had been passed from mother to daughter for generations. With it, the wearer could move between worlds, which could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. Dean only hoped that Kira would be found quickly and returned home before too much time had passed. Rowena was a powerful witch, but Dean didn't know if even she had enough juice to bring them both back.

As he paced the floor in the library, he heard the flapping of wings. At first, he thought it was Castiel, but before him stood none other than Gabriel. "Give me one good reason why you're here," Dean growled.

The archangel rolled his eyes. "Dude, I bring you news of your girlfriend, and this is the greeting I get?" Gabriel retorted.

"She's not my girlfriend," Dean shot back. Not yet anyway, he thought.

"Uh-huh, yeah. Right. Keep tellin' yourself that, bucko. Anyway, I'm supposed to tell you and Samsquatch that Kira loves you and she's sorry to be away from you. Also that she'll be home as soon as she can," Gabe finished.

"If you've seen her, where she is in that other world, then you can bring her back, right?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Um, no. It has to do with that locket around her neck that's blocking me from doing that. Relax, Dean-o, she's in good hands. I'm on her wavelength, so if anything goes wrong, I'll be there for her," Gabriel assured Dean.

"How the hell can I relax, when the woman I love is stuck in another dimension? Plus, no one has any real plan of how to bring her home!!" Dean roared.

"Well, at least you finally admitted your feelings for her. I'll see what I can do. Meantime, you two flannel-jockeys keep researching," Gabe snarled as he zapped out of the bunker.

Sam came over and laid his hand on Dean's shoulder. "He's right, Dean. We'll get Kira back. Then you can tell her how you feel," Sam remarked.

"I hope so, Sammy. I sure hope so," Dean replied softly.

Part 3 here!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles

[chrysocomae]

Part 1 of this excerpt is here. If you find this helpful, please buy the book to support the author. It includes how ADHD brains work and has resources and actually useful tips for dealing with ADHD (unlike "Just buy a planner!!1"). Author is a woman with ADHD herself and a clinical therapist.

On to the book:

"I Am an Impostor

Many women feel that no matter how competent others think they are, or no matter how much they achieve, they are really just fooling everyone. This stems partly from the large disparity between their inner and outer worlds. Other people often see the real competence of these adults but don’t see the conflict inside. They don’t see the “mess” in other areas of their lives or how hard it is to achieve that outer picture. These women often believe they are fooling anyone who thinks well of them because without any warning the switch inside their heads could turn off and their feelings of inadequacy would be exposed. They worry that they won’t have enough time, that their systems won’t work, or that people will drop in unexpectedly. Any minute things could fall apart. This accounts for the sense of impending doom that often is reported. Even if the achievement for these women is real, it feels tenuous and scary to them; they still feel like impostors. One person describes this inner/outer disparity as “the counters are all clean, but the inside of the drawers are a mess.” This is a great metaphor for the exteriors that women often present while experiencing the interior feeling of messiness, disorder, and confusion. Instead of taking credit for their “clean counters,” they just feel that it’s a cover. Even when they do take a risk, and let down their mask by letting people know what’s going on inside, they are met with disbelief, invalidation, or ridicule. The irony is that the more they achieve and the better they do, the less people are inclined to believe them, and the more they feel forced to then stay in the closet.

Unsolved Mysteries

Throughout their lives, these women cope, compensate, and unconsciously devise ways to get by, to cover up, and to keep their heads above water. They don’t even know they are doing it. They cut back on sleep, on friends, fun, or achievement. If they do go ahead and socialize or work, they then cover up what a toll it’s taking. They often have an exquisite sense of not belonging, of hiding, pretending, and waiting to be discovered. They are trying to solve a mystery without knowing what they’re trying to solve. Even the ones who do it best and longest—well compensated, often self-medicated adults—eventually hit a wall, physically or emotionally. They may eventually seek and accept psychological explanations for their difficulties. They either get help at that point, sink more and more into depression, or become determined to use more will power.

Trying Harder ​​

I’m just going to try harder ​​I’m going to go home and DO it this time ​​I’m going to clean that desk ​​I’m going to get through those piles ​​I’m going to be on time this week ​​I’m going to balance my checkbook every month ​​I’m going to maintain those systems They are determined to work harder. They are trying to solve the problem in the same old way, but when this doesn’t work, it can become demoralizing and debilitating. Remember, it’s not that these women can’t do the same things that other women do, or that they don’t have the ability, it’s just that they can’t do it and also lead a regular, balanced life without a tremendous strain on their resources, without staying up to all hours of the night, without sacrificing all their free time. Some of these women’s lives are spent “secretly organizing,” just the way some people secretly eat or drink. They often feel that their dilemma is deciding between two equally bad choices. The first is to tell or to hide and the second is to achieve or not to achieve.

To Tell or Not to Tell To Tell

If they stop hiding and let more of their disorganization show, they will get written off as spacey and irresponsible. They fear they won’t be taken seriously and will be judged by their exterior difficulties rather than the strength of their ideas.

To Not Tell

On the other hand, they can hide. This means many extra hours working behind the scenes with a tremendous toll on their time and energy.

To Be or Not To Be

The other way women feel trapped between two bad choices has to do with their own achievement and ambitions. To Be One choice is to give up trying to control the uncontrollable and instead try to maintain a higher level of achievement and self-focus. Unfortunately, this then often creates chaos for themselves and those around them. If they focus on their own strengths without the structure and support of coaching or organizational assistance and have not yet accepted or understood their difficulties, chaos will reign and overwhelm them, ultimately destroying their feelings of success. It feels like a terrible trap because they perceive the other choice as holding themselves back as described below.

Not to Be

With this choice, they cut back on their ambitions and achievements or give up the idea altogether in order to try to control the demands coming at them fast and furious. They give up the idea of focusing on themselves because it seems like an impossibility given the fact that they can’t even keep up with the demands of daily life. So they spend their lives focusing on the routine tasks, which is actually the “hard stuff” for them. They wait to get that under control before they move ahead and attend to their own needs or their own lives. But that’s not possible without somehow changing strategies because they’re focusing on their areas of difficulty rather than focusing on their strengths. Without some help, they will never get things under control and focus on their strengths. This is the treadmill from which they can’t get off."

- Sari Solden, Women With Attention-Deficit Disorder

[geckolady]

Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - First day on the job

Stephanie woke up in the morning to an empty room but the sound of a lot of activity. She groaned, remembering exactly what a blubbering mess she had been the day before, but then she remembered that this was her house and her friends were here and they owed her a lot of hugs, especially now they were her brothers. How dare they be her brothers for – she checked her phone – twelve hours and she only got a hug from anyone but Skulduggery!

She stomped from the room and found them scattered in the hallway with various pieces of furniture and objects.

“Unacceptable!” She shouted at them. They all went silent and looked at her nervously. “How dare you!”

Dexter stepped forwards and put his hands up when she glared. “Stephanie, we thought you wouldn’t mind if we did some changes. We thought you would like it if you didn’t have to move home, you see, and we were moving out things–”

“Unacceptable! You did all this, made plans, and I haven’t even gotten any hugs. It’s not fair!”

She stepped forwards and clutched Dexter in a hug as tight as she could. “I love you!” She shouted into his chest.

He started laughing and hugged her back. “I love you too.”

She moved onto the others, getting better hugs as she went down the maturity scale, leaving her finally with Snake. “I got you a present,” he declared and looked around. His grin was replaced with a frown. “I lost it.”

Stephanie laughed and left to get herself breakfast since all they were doing was moving boxes into the bedrooms next to hers. When her stomach was full, she went back up to find the place clear of almost everything and the big man was carving names into some of the doors expertly. They were really nice – Erskine, Saracen, Ghastly, Anton. “Whose Anton?”

“Me,” he grunted.

She grinned. “I like that name.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve always called you Bear.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “I gave you all nicknames. They’re fun, and I was little when I did it.”

He nodded and got back to his work so she left him and used the bathroom at the end of the hall – there was one on either end, luckily, and the rooms were large enough that they were not actually that close to each other. She’d have to really shout to get someone’s attention if they were at the other end of the hall. When she was ready, she went downstairs to the living room to find her friends sitting in there looking quite at home. It made her smile. They looked like a family.

Her smile faded.

She felt a little excluded with them looking so happy and close. They knew each other from every angle. She couldn’t compete with that type of friendship, couldn’t dominate that type of love. Where would she fit now Gordon wasn’t here to help her?

“Steph!” Dexter said, spotting her first. “What are you doing standing around? Come sit.”

There were no seats so Stephanie dragged the bean bag into the middle of the room and sat in the centre. Gordon said she if she was unsure, get right in the middle. She was probably misunderstanding but she was doing it, right?

“What are we doing today?” She asked them.

“Well,” Skulduggery, Crow, said, “I think a talk is necessary before we do anything.”

Ghastly, Panda, nodded. “Your uncle wanted to wait but this is different.”

Crow nodded. “Usually I would try to respect Gordon’s decisions even when he is not around but in this case our hands are simply being forced. Stephanie, do you believe in magic?”

And that was how she learned about magic. About skeletons and mages and fire and Elementals and Adepts and that her uncle had tried to keep her from such incredible things.

“Why didn’t Gordon want me to know about this?” She asked, feeling a little resentful.

“Your Uncle wanted you to understand the repercussions of making life decisions before you had to make one. I know that it may seem like he held you back from this, but he really just wanted to make you happy.”

Stephanie mulled it over in her mind. She supposed that was possible. It sounded like something he’d said once, so…

“Okay. So what are we doing today?” She asked again.

“Well, there is one more thing we need to tell you,” Panda said, scratching the back of his scared head. “Your uncle…”

“He was murdered,” Stephanie said. The others were incredibly quiet and looked almost guilty. “Yeah… I sort of got the impression when you started talking about that Serpine man, and how angry you are, and how much you all hate him, and how he keeps killing people. It was suspiciously stressed upon. I mean, it feels like you sort of wanted me to work it out. But Gordon told me you guys take down bad guys all the time. So you’re going to track him down, aren’t you?”

There was a long silence. “Fuck, this is going to be fun,” Wolf laughed, standing and pulling Stephanie into his arms. “Come along little brothers, we have a case to solve!”

Stephanie laughed and banged her head against the top of the door frame and laughed even more, falling over Wolf’s shoulder and just sort of hung there laughing. They were followed out to the cars. Panda’s van was there and so was Crow’s beautiful Bentley.

“So,” Wolf said when they were standing in front of their options. “Do you want to go with Skulduggery and visit China for information or do you want to go with Ghastly and help him make you some awesome new protective clothes?”

Stephanie pretended to think about it. “Crow. But I want to help afterwards.”

“That’s my girl,” and she was let down to get in the car. Wolf opened the door and pulled down the front seat for her. “In you get.”

Stephanie looked at the car. She looked at Wolf. “No.”

He hesitated. “Why?”

“I call shotgun.”

He grinned and she almost grinned back. “But I want shotgun.”

“I called it first,” she informed him. “Now get in.”

He sighed but did get in and Stephanie allowed herself to grin. It was a silly victory, but it was so fun to boss Wolf around.

Crow joined them and the three drove into the city to a residential area to park. Stephanie wasn’t worried about the car as she was too busy laughing with Wolf as he showed her his purple electricity magic.

“Aww, come on Crow,” she said, looking over her shoulder. He looked grumpy. “It’s not all that bad.”

He shook his head. “I promised Gordon I’d raise you into a respectable young woman with good prospects and without bias. Dexter is ruining that.”

“Are you saying Wolf is going to ruin me?”

“Yeah, don’t be so mean to my Cub!” Wolf defended her, putting an arm around her shoulder.

“I will not be ruined by anything. I am quite happy here. I’ve wanted to get to know you all since I was a little kid and go on adventures and solve cases and have fun. I’m doing that. Isn’t that exactly what Gordon would have wanted?”

He sighed. “Of course,” Crow admitted. “But not like this.”

Stephanie didn’t have an answer to that. She just asked Wolf if he could electrocute her if he used his magic with his other hand if he was holding her. He laughed but she felt like electricity would flow through him to her – it wasn’t that bad of a question.

Crow went ahead of them into the dingy old building and the two made a ruckus laughing and joking about falling through the stairs. “You two need to quieten down,” Crow told them. “China won’t be happy if you don’t stop.”

“Whose China?” Stephanie asked.

“China is a lady I often go to for information. She is the most beautiful lady in the world and people fall in love with her on sight. She abuses that love and makes them bring her things for her collection. She owns a library, you see.”

“Oh. She doesn’t sound the nicest.”

“She isn’t,” Wolf said, more serious than she’d seen that day. “China isn’t to ever be trusted, but she is a good ally, and very useful for getting information. People talk to her you see. And one more thing before we go in,” he said as they stood in front of a man with a bow tie. “Do not tell anyone your name. If you do they can control you, remember?”

She nodded. “Never.”

“That’s my Cub.”

They went silently through the aisles of the library in search of the beautiful lady. Stephanie had been worried she wouldn’t know it was her but as soon as the woman was in front of her she could do nothing but stare entranced by her. She wanted to fall to her knees, kiss her feet, do anything and everything for her.

“China,” Crow said, “stop it.”

The wonderful creature laughed, making Stephanie think of little crystal bells blowing in the breeze, and the feeling of absolute devotion lessened to a minor obsession. “I’m sorry, I forget what effect I can have on new people, especially the young. Allow me to introduce myself: I am China Sorrows. And you are?”

Stephanie almost told her but Wolf squeezed her shoulder, where his arm still lay, and she shut her mouth again.

Wolf rolled his eye. “She’s too smart to fall for that.”

China grinned, and Stephanie felt she was being mocked. It certainly let her shake off a little more of the overpowering emotions she was feeling.

“Don’t you have anything for me today Dexter? Not even a hug?” China asked.

“Naa, this is my only girl now.”

“I see I’ve been replaced then, and I don’t even get to hear her speak. So, tell me, why are you visiting me today?”

Crow took over. “We have reason to believe Gordon was murdered.”

“By who?”

He was silent.

“Oh, no,” China said with a gentle laugh. “Not Serpine again? Skulduggery, you think Serpine is guilty of every crime you stumble across.”

“That’s because he usually is.”

“Well I still can’t help you. I have heard nothing but nonsense rumours that don’t even deserve to be called rumours,” she said with a smirk. “I imagine it would make you laugh.”

“What is it then?” Stephanie asked, getting annoyed at the back and forth.

China laughed. “The word is that Serpine has begun believing in fairy tales. In the Sceptre of the Ancients.”

Crow was silent for a moment. “Has he found it?”

“Skulduggery, dear, the Sceptre is a legend and nothing more. There is nothing to find no matter how much he searches.”

“If he’s looking it has some value.”

“That doesn’t mean it exists though, only that he has become more insane.”

“He doesn’t sound like a stupid man,” Stephanie said quietly. “If he thinks it’s real, there has to be a reason, and you said he was looking right? So, he has an idea of where it was. Does that mean he killed Gordon for it? Did Gordon have it?”

The adults looked at each other. “I think you found a lead,” Skulduggery said after a moment of consideration.

They left quickly, trotting down the stairs and out to the car. Crow called the others and put it on speaker, letting Stephanie hold the phone up for him while he drove to Panda’s tailor shop.

“What did you find?” Panda asked when he picked up.

“He’s searching for the Sceptre,” Crow said.

“How did you figure that out?” Weasel, who was really Saracen Rue, asked confusedly. “I never would have thought up that.”

“I didn’t need you to,” Crow said. “My partner in crime did.”

There was a short silence. “Why does she get to be yourapprentice? I want a prodigy too.”

Stephanie grinned and tried not to start giggling as all six men started bickering over her. Eventually it was too much, and she started laughing uproariously at them, making them stop. She could feel them get embarrassed and probably defensive, but it just made her laugh more.

“Oh, please, stop!” She choked out between her laughs. “I’m gonna pee.”

“No! Ghastly, she’s yours,” Crow said in a panic.

She snorted. “I’m not really.”

“She’s mine.”

“You never said about what I thought.”

“Ah, yes. Stephanie realised that Gordon must have had it in his possession at some point, or else had information on where it must be. That’s why Serpine killed him,” Crow said, working it through. “Remember the legends. There can only be one owner of the Sceptre. If Gordon found it after centuries of it being lost, then he was the owner. Upon his death, the Sceptre became free for the taking again, making Serpine able to take the Sceptre with no problems.”

“That means it must be in the mansion,” Stephanie said. “There’s so many trap doors and spaces in the walls, and he never let me in the basement or loft or most of the third floor, or the fourth at all. It could be anywhere in there.”

Crow nodded. “Exactly.” He pulled the car to park on a dodgy looking street. Crow told them they were coming to the shop and they hung up, Stephanie letting Wolf out the back at which point his protective arm returned to her shoulders. It was fun having a big brother.

The shop was grey and a little run down, like the rest of the area, but when they entered it was bight, open and nice looking, if a little like a bachelor pad that had clashed badly with silk, chiffon, tweed and every imaginable button, thread, colour and material. It somehow was still masculine, made better by the muscles on Panda as he run a black as night material through his sewing machine with tender care. She couldn’t help but grin.

“Where in the mansion?” Snake, really Erskine, asked when they had locked the door. They were sprawled around the room, leaving Stephanie the only person standing. They had even taken the table space. She sat, instead, on the arm of the sofa next to Anton.

“Under the mansion is a cave system,” Crow admitted. “Gordon said when he was looking for his home that it was the only place with a magic history – he only wanted one steeped in as much magic as possible – that had only a negative history attached to its magic. Of course, he loved the scandal and bought it, and said once that it had a cave system beneath it. He found a journal from the owner a year later and was raving that he got in and there’re magic creatures. I agree he could have decided to hide the Sceptre anywhere, perhaps to trick someone into going into the caves, but it doesn’t seem his style.”

“If Gordon loved magic as much as you say, and he has a magical cave system with magic security, why wouldn’t he hide it there? It sort of makes sense he’d decide that.”

“Precisely. The Sceptre is free for taking so long as you can get into the caves, so long as you can get passed the monsters and whatever other traps have been set up, if you can get out afterwards. It can be done, but can he do it before us?”

“Nope,” Stephanie said. “We have the house, we can get it today.”

“How do we get in?” Bear asked.

“We need a key. I doubt Gordon would have left that around the house,” Crow said, rubbing his bone jaw.

“So the key is to find the key,” Snake said, smirking. “Any ideas.”

They were silent thinking it through.

Crow cleared his non-throat. “Gordon said what I searched for was right in front of me.”

“Oh fuck,” Stephanie said, sagging. She got looks of shock and scandal, and a few winks. “Fergus and Beryl have the key.”

[thedivinecommaarbitrage]

Waiting for Lightning - Chp 1

I Remember Days When I Was Younger

AO3

Beauregard Lionett, junior at the University of the Cobalt Soul and star of the track team attended every 6 AM weekend practice hungover. She said it was her secret weapon. The added pain from the pounding headache gave her an edge. (And turned her on a little, though she'd only admitted that to Fjord while quite tipsy.) This morning was no different, except the women's rugby team was practicing on the indoor field the warmup track circled. Beau was mid-stretch, jamming to her tunes, and checking out the women on the field, a state of being she rather enjoyed.

Now Beau considered herself a bit of a Casanova. She had slept her way through most of the girls on the track team, and the soccer team, and half the sorority girls she partied with if she was being honest. So, she was sizing up the rugby team, looking for her next one-night stand when she saw the most striking woman.

Running drills across the field was a Norse goddess. A tall, muscular woman with hair that went from black to white tied back in a loose mess of braids. Beau couldn't see her eyes from this distance, but she had dark makeup all smudged around them. Beau could appreciate that aesthetic since she normally sported day old, messy eyeliner. The mystery woman also had a blue line inked from her lower lip down her chin and neck. Beau bit her lip wondering how far down that line went. Beau was so caught up in ogling the woman that she didn't notice Dairon was behind her until they smacked the backside of her head.

"Get your head out of the gutter, Lionett, and get on the track. It's time for training, not drooling over the other athletes." The assistant coach was already walking away before Beau could react.

"Hey! My head's here in the game, Dairon. I know what I'm doing. I'm the best for a reason, okay. Lay off for a minute, will ya?" Beau said as she stood up and jogged after her coach. Dairon had taken an interest in Beau during her freshman season on the team. They were a total hardass, and Beau would never admit it, but she would have washed out without their help. "I'll do my laps, okay. You don't have to tell me twice." And she took off before Dairon could continue telling her off.

Beau ran her laps, with her music turned up loud enough to compete with the sound of blood pumping in her head. Right now, it was Joan Jett. She kept stealing glances at that woman as she played on the field. Beau didn't know much about rugby, but she could still tell that the woman was good. She hadn't ever had the ball, but she had made successful tackles against most of the players who had possession of the ball. That woman was all muscle and ferocity, taking down opponents left and right. It was really fucking hot.

Unfortunately, the rugby team's practice ended before the track team's. Beau watched the woman quietly gather up her things and head to the locker rooms, not talking with any of the other players. Surprisingly, off the field, the woman seemed demure and reserved, compared to the powerhouse she was on the field. Beau only focused back in on her laps once the woman was fully out of sight.

“Lionett,” Dairon called to Beau as she walked away from the track at the end of practice. “Meet me at 10:00 in the practice room for more training. It’s been awhile, and I’m worried you’ve gotten rusty.” They turned on their heel and marched away before Beau could respond.

“Great, yes, Dairon, that fits perfectly in my schedule. Thanks for asking. You’re such a considerate coach.” Beau said to Dairon’s retreating back. She sighed and continued on to the locker room. She was already feeling the laps in her legs and more training with Dairon would just hurt more.

 When Dairon had first taken an interest in Beau, she had been rather angry and troubled. She was getting into fights with her teammates and was close to being kicked off the team before they stepped in. Dairon had taken her to a small practice room and said, “Take a swing. Try and hit me. Take your anger out here, off the field.” So, Beau took a wild swing. Dairon easily sidestepped, so fast Beau didn’t even notice, and then followed up with a slap to the side of Beau’s head. “You’re sloppy, directionless. You need discipline and order. Again.” Beau swung out again, and Dairon raised their hand in an effortless block. “Better, but you’re still miles away. Try again.” Beau yelled in frustration. Why was her coach doing this? She closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose and took one more wild swing. To her surprise, this one connected with something soft, and she felt a small crack. Beau opened her eyes to see Darion staring back at her in shock, blood gushing from their nose.

“Oh my god, did I break your nose? Fuck, that’s cool. Ah, I mean, shit, fuck. Are you gonna kick me off the team?” Beau’s sudden joy at landing a blow on her coach was crushed as she remembered the reality. She had punched a school official, fuck.

Dairon lightly touched the side of their nose and laughed. “That was good. A little wild, but when you focused, and let your anger slide away, you connected. You have potential, Lionett. And no, I’m not going to kick you off the team. I’m going to teach you to fight, properly, with restraint and focus.”

Beau stood there, shocked. Fighting training? All she had wanted as a kid was for her dad to enroll her in karate or any martial arts, but he had refused on account of it being improper for a girl to learn to fight. “Really? What, that’s so cool! I can’t wait to punch things so good. This is gonna be sick,” Beau said, looking at her fists. She already felt so much cooler.

“It’s not something ‘cool’ or something to be taken lightly. You need control and composure if you’re going to be successful on the team. It’s about discipline. Remember that, Beauregard.” Dairon opened the door to the practice room. “Every day after practice, we will meet for another hour, and you will learn. Now, get out of here.” With that Dairon turned on their heel and walked off down the hall. Beau was left standing, still in shock, feeling like her world had been shifted.

 Beau slammed the door to her dorm open and tossed her gym bag in the general direction of her closet. "Morning, Jessie!" She called as she strode across the room to flip down in her roommate's bean bag.

"Beau, why do you have to be so loud? It's the morning. It's time for sleeping. Do you even sleep, Beau?" Her roommate, Jester, groaned as she rolled away from Beau.

"But, Jess, I brought pastries." Beau held up the paper bag, emblazoned with the emblem of The Slayer's Cake, the most popular bakery in Zadash.

"Pastries?" Jester squealed and snatched the bag out of Beau's hand before leaping back onto her bed. "Beau, you're the best roommate ever. Thank you!" She rummaged through the bag. "And you got my favorite blueberry muffins? You really are the best."

 Ah, it was nothing really. The on-campus store is in between here and the track." It really wasn't, but Beau loved making Jester happy. She was the best friend that Beau had ever had. (Though she would punch out anyone who accused her of being soft like that.) “Come on, eat your sweets, I’ve got to meet Dairon again in a couple hours and we have to study with Fjord before then.”

 Beau had met her wild roommate on move in day freshman year. She'd driven herself to school in her shitty, old Toyota Camry because her parents couldn't be bothered to give a shit about their only kid leaving for college. Her brother was born less than a year later, and Beau stopped wondering why they never gave a shit about her anymore. She had finally made it to her dorm to find a bubbly, little blue tiefling decorating one side of the room in pink, frilly things, and a tall, buff minotaur standing guard, arms folded. “Hey, ummm, I’m Beau. Your roommate, I guess.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Jester. And this is Bluud. He’s harmless. Bluud, get out of her way, so she can unpack. I can’t wait to be the best of friends. I’m an art major. What are you studying?” The tiefling, Jester, bombarded her with even more questions while they set up their room and ran out to get more supplies at the local Target. Beau was sure she was going to hate Jester, but after a few hours, they were good friends. And by the time they went to bed, Jester declared them to be best friends forever. They had been roommates ever since, so for now, Jester’s declaration was holding true. Beau couldn’t picture anyone else putting up with her shit, and no one else could handle Jester’s specific brand of wild.

 “Hey, Jess, I saw this cool chick at track this morning. She was practicing with the rugby team, and I’ve never seen her before. She had this really goth look with black and white hair and a chin tattoo. Have you seen her?” Beau began changing out of her running clothes into a different cut off t-shirt and sweats.

“Oh, I think you’re talking about Molly’s new roommate. She just moved here from another school; I think. Her name is Yasha. I saw her briefly when I was at Molly’s last weekend.” Jester turned back to her vanity to finish putting on her makeup for the day. “She didn’t really talk, but yeah she looks really cool and really strong. Did you see her arms? Like, so nice.”

“Yeah, she was a powerhouse on the field,” Beau turned away from Jester to hide her excited expression. Jester knew who she was, and she was Molly’s friend. Beau and Molly may not always get along, but they still hung out with the same people. Beau would have a chance to meet her, to meet Yasha, then. “Yasha…” Beau murmured. The name was beautiful and strangely fitting for the woman she had watched on the practice field. Beau blushed as she thought about her. Beau was going to talk to her. Get her number. Maybe even court her. That last thought made her laugh; Beau hadn’t ever courted anyone. But that muscular, goth woman made her want to try, and Beau would try anything at least once.