#he’s 21 in book ten right?

[iluvromance]

👹 hehe

[skyriderwednesday]

Hmmm... so if ASiS takes place in 1881, and I've said that Enola was nine the previous year...

Then evidently this version of Holmes and Watson meet when Sherlock is a few days shy of 24.

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club

Pairing: The grid x driver!reader, Lance Stroll x reader

Summary: A wild goose chase ensues when you are at a meeting with your book club

requests are open (plz send some, i can’t keep only getting ideas while driving 🥺) masterlist

————————

“Guys, have you seen y/n?” Lance panics, rushing into the McLaren garage. It’s not the first time his girlfriend had disappeared from her garage but he’s always been able to find you a few steps away.

“She’s missing?” Lando leaped out of his chair. “Come on, Oscar, we gotta find her,” Lando drags his teammate out of the garage, following Lance to the Mercedes garage to find George.

“Any y/n sightings?” a very stressed out Lance asks.

“No, but now I am invested,” the Brit tags along in the search, hopping over to the Ferrari garage.

“Mes amis, you seem stressed,” Charles says, looking up from his book.

“Y/n is missing, Lance can’t find his girlfriend,” Oscar sighs, not sure why he isn’t leaving the group.

“No, we must join the quest, Charles,” Carlos says, clapping his teammate on the shoulder.

“Alright, only for y/n,” Charles, like oscar, begrudgingly agrees to join the ‘noble quest’.

Meanwhile, y/n is sitting on the couch, wearing a chunky cardigan and a pair of fashion glasses, sipping tea.

“No, Lizzy was clearly in love with Darcy even then,” Fernando waves his hands. This month’s book was Pride and Prejudice.

“Sure, Fernando,” Valtteri rolls his eyes.

The book club, affectionately called ‘The Old Drivers Club’ started when y/n barged into the Haas garage, claiming she needed their opinions and that she was tired of all the young drivers. Despite her being only 21, she found a home with some of the older drivers in the Paddock. The club consisted of her, Fernando, Valtteri, Kevin, and Nico. Lewis wanted to hold on to his youth, as he claimed, and Checo didn’t quite care for their gossip sessions.

“I still don’t understand how you can go from a 20 year old party animal to a 80 year old grandma overnight,” Kevin teases the young girl, bringing up a common point of conversation (usually her complaining about the younger drivers).

“And I don’t understand how you all don’t find Nico attractive? If I was ten years older, I would be all over him. God damn, what a fine man,” you swoon, causing the German to blush fiercely.

“Yes, yes, someone who could outshine Charles Leclerc in his prime,” Fernando dismisses it with the wave of his hand. You giggle and refocus on the book discussion.

“Nando,” you prompt him, silently asking him to go to the next topic.

“Alright, alright, let’s discuss what was probably y/n’s favorite scene, the confession scene. The second one, not in the rain,” Fernando says, and you shyly look down, the older drivers knowing you too well.

“Max, Checo, have you seen y/n?” Lance asks, even more flustered, half the grid behind him.

“Y/n? Why do you ask?” Max says, looking at his teammate.

“She’s missing!” Lando exclaims causing Checo to laugh.

“No, no. She’s with her book club, in the Haas motor home. I sometimes join them, interesting gossip, but not quite for me, no,” Checo says, looking oddly at the group.

“Her- her book club?” Lance asks, utterly confused.

“Si. Lewis has been invited too, but he claims he is too young,” Checo laughs to himself.

“Sorry mate, a book club?” George asks, a little offended he was never invited.

“And gossip? I’m a little offended I’ve never been invited,” Pierre gasps.

“Well? Is that all,” Max asks, wanting the group to leave his garage.

“Right, well I guess we go to Haas,” Carlos says, quickly thanking the Red Bull drivers.

“VALTTERI!” Your astonished gasp is heard from outside. Your group had moved on to what some think is the more enjoyable part of the evening, the gossip.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, we were worried sick,” Lando dramatically says at the doorway, having opened the door, revealing your group. The five of you look at the other group wildly confused.

“Worried sick?” You ask, looking at them.

“You were missing, I couldn’t find you,” Lance scratches the back of his neck, a little confused.

“I,” you pause before laughing. “Lancelot, you could’ve texted me,” you tell him.

“Why weren’t Pierre and I invited?” George asks, looking accusingly at your group.

“You don’t fit the criteria,” Kevin says, dismissing the question.

“And y/n does?” Pierre asks.

“Yes. When she sits upside down on your couch to gossip and complain about you all, and ask for life advice, then we might consider it,” Nico shakes his head.

“She is the founder of our group,” Valtteri points out.

“You also have to find young Nico attractive, more than current Charles,” Fernando teases, causing the young girl to blush.

“He was!” You defend yourself, and Carlos nods in agreement.

“Your girlfriend, mate. I’m surprisingly glad I tagged along,” Oscar says to Lance, pretty amused at the chaos.

“Out of curiosity, what is your next book?” George asks, your face lighting up.

“We are on a classics kick right now, so we are reading the No Fear version of Romeo and Juliet,” you say excitedly causing George and Charles to groan.

“We can’t join?” Charles asks again.

“Sorry, Leclerc, only room for one hot driver here,” Nico winks at you, causing your cheeks to redden.

“HEY!” most of the drivers in the room take offense to it, Lance mainly because the wink was directed at his girlfriend.

“Alas, if only you didn’t have a wife and kid, and I was ten years older,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“In another life, Mein Liebchen,” Nico sighs as well.

“Alright, I’m stealing back my girlfriend,” Lance pulls you away.

“Lancelot,” you giggle, waving goodbye to your book club.

“It is in these moments that I remember how young she is and how old we are,” Fernando sighs, Lewis taking your seat.

“My bones ache more and more each day, mate,” Lewis shakes his head.

“Welcome to our club, have the first act read by the next race,”

[admiringlove]

[13:21] . . .

out of nowhere, one summer afternoon, your best friend asks you a question you never thought he would.

“you still got a thing for me?”

you raise your eyebrows, eyes poring off the book you were reading as you laid on your stomach in bed. your legs, blissfully held up in your knees find their way back to the bed, as you watch him. he’s playing with some trinket he found on your windowsill; an old figurine you loved to collect back in highschool. he’s not looking at you—he won’t look at you, and you know it.

the summer air hadn’t bothered you until now. now, it just felt too hot and too stuffy and too humid in your room. the bedsheets with cherries printed on them felt too childish and you felt as if you were being transported back to the times in highschool when you trailed after him like a lost puppy even though you were his best friend and his partner in crime after his twin brother.

“osamu, you knew?” for the first time, you call him by his name. not “‘samu”, or “bear” or any cheeky nicknames you’d given him. just plain old osamu. you had half the mind to fuck with him and call him “miya” but you think it’d take it too far.

that’s when he looks at you. he’s laying on your bed too, with his back against the fluffy pillows you like. you’re laying half-way down the bed, whereas he’s on your right, a little above you. the window above his head is open, and a small breeze flitters its way inside, the linen curtains swaying above his head as you watch him. your glasses perched on top of your nose as you scrutinize him. you’re judging him—or at least that’s what he thinks you’re doing because you never ever call him by just his name.

“i had an idea, i think,” he says, looking back at the figurine in his hand. it was some video-game character, he reckons. you and atsumu used to fight to play it in the arcade with your pocket money for the week. and then osamu had to buy all three of you meat buns because you’d run out of money at the arcade.

“right,” you say, a bitter and avoidant tone lacing your words as you look back at your book. he can’t tell what you’re thinking, and you can’t tell what he wants.

had he always been like this? were you too much in love with him to notice that he knew all along and didn’t bother to say anything?

“you didn’t answer my question,” he says. and it makes you wonder how much audacity he has running through his veins. you make a face, as if you’d smelled something pungent. your lips scrunched and your eyebrows knotted as you try to think how to respond, “i don’t want to.”

“why not?” he asks, perching himself up onto his elbow. you look back up from your book, and the sunlight that falls on his face and highlights his freckles makes you almost swoon. you catch yourself though. “because i don’t want to, miya.”

a deep physical pain festers itself in his chest when he hears you say his last name with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. he blinks, sitting up, the figurine still in his hand as he rubs its face as hard as he can with his thumb to ground himself. “but i want to know.”

“and i don’t want to fucking tell you,” you quip, sparing him nothing but a dirty glance. he sucks in a sharp breath, watching you. had he distanced himself from you so much that being near him hurt you too? but he’d only been busy. in the last year of highschool, there was some obvious tension in between you, him and atsumu because of osamu’s decision to not pursue volleyball. you’d been crushed in between two men with big egos and big dreams, and you’d somehow managed to stay neutral. and then college happened. everyone moved to different places. osamu and you to tokyo. atsumu to okinawa for camp. then osamu got busy with his multiple part-time jobs and certification prep for his restaurant. he’d exchange five to ten minute phone calls with you once a week. but in the last six months, he hadn’t managed to do that either.

so he’d thought, at least it was summer now. he’d have more time to slow down and look around him.

“why not?” he asks, voice shaky and intuitive. he wants to read you again. he wants you to be his abditory again. he wants you back in his life the way it used to be before tokyo. he remembers the feeling still—you and him, standing in his kitchen in hyogo, as you try something he’d cooked. you’d always have that excited look in your eyes. and he’d always assumed you’d continue to have it till the end of time. maybe he was wrong.

“because it wasn’t a stupid fucking crush, ‘samu,” you laugh, but it’s not funny, “i was in love with you and you never noticed. as simple as that.”

“i said i had an idea,” he furrows his brows. it’s like you didn’t want his company anymore. did you not like being around him? what was the problem? he had taken notice, he just hadn’t taken any action. he reckons he wasn’t ready.

or was he just scared? he doesn’t know. but he watches as you turn your attention back to the book, and he feels a crack form under the two of you. as if you were slowly slipping away, and he couldn’t do anything about it. he scoffs slightly, prying the book away from you and placing it somewhere on the bed haphazardly as you protest. “osamu, seriously, stop being such a dick!”

“i’m talkin’ to you,” he says, sitting up straight. he rubs his thumb against the figurine’s face feeling its nose against the pad of his finger. he presses down hard, wanting to feel something. he hopes you’d notice how nervous he is.

“and i don’t want to talk to you because you’re a selfish prick,” you say, taking off your glasses and running a hand through your hair. you’re looking up at him with an emotional he can’t quite place, but he thinks it aligns somewhere with disgust. it makes him sick.

it’s not like he never noticed. he knew that the way you clung to him when you were younger had to be more than platonic. you’d stare at him with big eyes, blinking as if he hung the world together by strings and stars—and he’d feel that flutter in his stomach as if he were a child.

you’re both sitting in an awkward silence, the tension thickening the air like the humidity outside. osamu looks down at the figurine, its face now marred by the rough treatment. he feels like it’s a metaphor for you and him—something once cherished, now tarnished by neglect and misunderstanding.

“do you remember that summer festival in hyogo?” you suddenly ask, breaking the silence. the question catches him off guard, and he looks up, momentarily surprised that you’re shifting the conversation back to a happier time. but it’s a welcome distraction, he thinks.

“which year?” he replies, leaning back slightly, curiosity flickering across his face.

“the one where you tried to eat all the dango, but ended up just staring at the fireworks with half a stick in your mouth,” you chuckle, and it’s a sound he’s missed. the soft melody of your laughter contrasts sharply with the heaviness that has settled between you.

osamu feels warmth creep into his cheeks at the memory. he remembers the way the sky lit up, vibrant colors bursting in the night, mirroring the excitement in his chest as he watched you watch the fireworks. you had looked so beautiful, illuminated by the kaleidoscope of colors, your eyes sparkling with wonder. he had been so caught up in how pretty you looked, he forgot to chew. perhaps that was some kind of infatuation that he just didn't understand at the time. maybe if he simply had-

he shakes his head at the thought. there's no use thinking of what could've been.

“yeah, and ya made fun of me the entire time,” he smiles, trying hard to lighten the mood and to forget his current train of thought.

“because you looked ridiculous!” you tease, but there’s a hint of painful nostalgia in your voice. “you had this concentrated look like you were on a mission. i couldn’t stop laughing.”

he chuckles softly, but the sound feels hollow. “you were just jealous i because I could eat my weight in dango.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now, and he takes that as a small victory. “i don’t think i ever ate that much. but-” your voice trails off, and he can see a shadow passing over your face. “it was nice, wasn’t it? being young and… oblivious?”

“yeah, it was,” he admits, a hint of melancholy creeping into his tone. “we had so much fun back then. it feels like we were invincible.”

and it did. back then, when he'd drag you out to try random foods at stalls or simply to go on a walk. it felt as if he could do it forever. have you by his side as his constant in this ever-changing world of his—where his brother was a professional volleyball player and he would simply be a restaurant owner someday.

“were we?” you asked, voice incredulous as you tilted your head, “the whole time, it kinda felt like you were the invincible one and i was just there. it’s like how you feel with atsumu.”

this makes osamu pause. had you really felt that way all this time? inferior? the thought lodged itself deep in his chest, a heavy weight he couldn’t shake off. he had never meant for you to feel that way. in his eyes, you had always been the spark—the one who brought color to his world when everything else felt gray and predictable.

“i never thought that, you know?” he finally says, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “i thought- i thought you were always the brave one. always ready to dive into new things, while i was just there. playing it safe.”

your brow furrows as you process his words. “brave? me? i was just following you around, trying to keep up,” you reply, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone.

“but you did keep up. you were always right there beside me,” osamu insists, his gaze searching yours, desperate for you to understand. “you made everything more fun. without you, i’d just be-” he hesitates, the reality of his words hanging in the air, “i’d just be some guy in a kitchen, flipping meat buns and rice balls.”

“but that’s what you want, isn’t it?" you challenge, a fire igniting in your eyes.

“it is,” he admits, his heart racing as he watches you, “but it’s not the only thing i want.” he swallows hard, unsure if he should say more, if he should reveal the way you had always been a part of that dream, a silent partner in the chaos of his life.

the silence stretches between you, charged with unspoken words and tangled emotions. osamu feels a wave of uncertainty crash over him. the weight of his thoughts, his feelings, it all feels too heavy to carry alone. “sometimes, i wish i could go back,” he confesses, “to the way things were before everything got complicated.”

a small flash of a memory passes by in front of his eyelids. just for a split second, he sees a younger version of himself chasing fireflies alongside you in his backyard. jumping up to the first branches of the apple tree his grandfather had planted, the two of you miserably failing. the thought makes his lip curve upward.

“complicated? bear, we’re not kids anymore. we can’t just go back.” your voice is firm, but there’s a softness in your eyes that he can’t ignore.

“i know,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “but sometimes it feels like... like i’m losing you in all this.” he gestures around, to the walls that had once held laughter and secrets but now felt like a cage.

“losing me?” you echo, your expression shifting to something more vulnerable. “do you even know how many times i’ve sat here wondering if you even wanted me around anymore? it’s like you’ve been drifting away, and i- i don’t want to be just a memory for you.”

the truth of your words hits him like a cold splash of water, and he’s left grappling with the realization that he has indeed let the distance grow between you. osamu feels his heart ache, the weight of regret settling over him like a heavy fog.

“i never meant to push you away. life just... got in the way. and with 'tsumu doing so well, it’s hard not to compare myself.” he pauses, the vulnerability of admitting that laying bare the fragility of his ego. “i thought if i focused on my dreams, i wouldn’t lose you in the process.”

“but that’s just it,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “you’re so focused on what’s ahead that you forgot to look around and see what you have right now.”

osamu feels the sting of your words, a deep ache forming in his chest. “i don’t want to lose you,” he says finally, the honesty hanging heavy in the air. “but i don’t know how to fix this.”

he feels an estranged sensation pool at the pit of his stomach. it’s an unsettling mix of longing and disillusionment, a swirling tornado of emotions that seems to siphon away the warmth he had once felt in your presence. he remembers a time when everything between you had been easy—like a favorite song playing in the background, its melody effortlessly weaving through the fabric of his days. his relationship with you was always like a distant childhood memory; as if he were sitting on his bed whilst rain poured outside and laughter could be heard in the next room.

he can’t help but feel like he’s caught in a dream that has turned surreal, where the colors have faded, and the edges of reality blur into something unrecognizable. the laughter that had once come so easily now feels like a ghost haunting the hallways of his memory, a faint echo that reminds him of what he’s lost.

"maybe it's not about fixing it," you say, sitting up. he blinks a few times, as you push up your glasses. his eyes focus on your frame—the way you criss-cross your legs and look at him with that expression he could never pinpoint properly. something like how an older mentor figure would in disappointment, but with a hint of hope. "maybe, it's simply about trying."

and maybe, just maybe, he wasn't trying hard enough. maybe he wasn't trying at all.

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 38

part 1 | part 37 | ao3

"Sure thing."

"Can you go say hey to everyone, too? Please?" he adds. "I need a second."

He expects Eddie to tease him for being bossy, but Eddie just winks and says, "Do you one better than that, sugar," smiling playfully with his tongue out like a dog before he bounds outside and tackles one of the kids into a pile of snow.

Steve uses the distraction to clean himself up; towel the sweat from his face and hair and clean the blood off of his knuckles, and when he steps outside a moment later Eddie's shouting "no wedgies no wedgies!!" while Dustin tries to shove a snowball down the back of his pants.

"Steve!" Eddie calls out when he spots him. "Steve, help!"

"No, help me!" Dustin counters with a strained grunt as Eddie grapples him into a chokehold. Mike yells "Get him, Eddie!" and Lucas rolls his eyes and mutters, "This is what we get for not bringing any girls."

The trip is pure chaos right from the jump, which Steve anticipated the second he suggested packing five dudes into a van for a run to the hardware store (he had to sit through ten minutes of Mike, Dustin, and Lucas arguing over everything from girls to books to whether The Cure objectively sucks or not until Eddie finally hollered "shut the fuck up!" and drowned them all out with 'real music'), but it feels good to be in charge. To have a project to manage, even if he's the reason there's a project in the first place.

He bosses the boys around the aisles when they get to the store, gathering up supplies — tarps and tools and vinyl, a few sheets of plywood to repair the damaged subfloor, disinfectant spray and gloves; safety shit, too, just in case they need it — and it reminds him of that day in the junkyard. Hey, dickheads! How come the only one helping me out is this random girl?

"You talk to Max lately?" he asks Lucas when they get a minute alone.

Lucas dips his head and kicks at the wheel of their shopping cart, looking so much like a kid, even though he's almost taller than Steve now. "No," he says with a frustrated sigh. "I don't— it's like she's there, but she's not there. You know? I don't know how to reach her."

"Mm." Steve gets that. Felt it just this morning. He claps a hand to Lucas' shoulder. "Just give her time," he suggests, bending to grab a sanding block off a shelf and drop it in the cart.

In his periphery, he sees Eddie skipping at the far end of the aisle while Mike and Dustin chase after him. "Is she still with Eddie's friend?"

Lucas glares at the back of Eddie's head at Steve's reminder, voice sullen when he answers, "Shit, man. I don't know."

"Is he being cool to you?"

"Who, Gareth?"

"No, Eddie," Steve clarifies, remembering Erica's threat-request to look out for her brother.

"Oh." Lucas scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, he treats basketball like it's the Dark Side, but-"

He breaks off with a little laugh, and Steve laughs with him. "Yeah. He's kind of dramatic. I'll talk to him about it."

"You will?"

"Sure. Jock solidarity and all that." He gives Lucas a fist bump, and Lucas gives him a long, thoughtful look, chewing his lip.

"So you guys are, like... friends now?"

Steve's heart gives an unhelpful flutter at the question. They are like friends now, he guesses, if friends kiss each other with tongue.

He clears his throat at that thought and looks away to hide his blush; sees Eddie using a cut of PVC pipe as a sword, lunging at Mike in a fencer's pose and shouting 'en garde!' "...Unfortunately, yeah."

—

part 39

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ aftermath ] t. zegras

paring : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) helps Trevor deal with Jamie leaving and breaking his ankle all in 24 hours

warning(s) : injury, some angst

author’s note : it’s me. hi. i’m the problem, it’s me

༺═──────────────═༻

She definitely believes in the snowball effect after the last 24 hours of her life. It’s one of the reasons why she’s currently on a flight in the middle of the night to Raleigh to meet her boyfriend’s hockey team at their hotel.

Both her life and Trevor’s life have changed so much in 24 hours. Trevor left with the Ducks for their road trip expecting to have a fun trip. His best friend was finally 21 and could enjoy all that Nashville had to offer.

Then Jamie got the call that no player ever really wants to get from their general manager.

Hours later, he was on a flight to Philly and leaving the Ducks and a distraught Trevor behind in Tennessee.

She should’ve gotten on a plane then and there. Instead, she tempted fate.

The next day was Trevor’s 200th career NHL game, and he had to play it without his best friend on the ice with him. (Y/N) happily watched from their apartment in Anaheim.

Until Trevor went down along the boards after 3 shifts and two minutes total on the ice. She was on her feet as she watched her boyfriend get helped down the tunnel. He wasn’t putting any pressure on his left leg as the trainers helped him.

She blew up his phone with texts and calls until one in the morning California time. He never replied. Then she texted Mason and asked where the Ducks were staying in Raleigh. She booked a flight and asked Mason to get Trevor’s room number when they got there.

Luckily there was a nonstop flight to Raleigh that left from LAX at three that she just barely made. She packed a duffel bag and ran out the door to catch the flight.

After nearly five hours in the air and multiple timezone changes, (Y/N) lands in North Carolina. She left at three in the morning and landed at eleven in the morning. Mason’s text with Trevor’s room number and a he’s cranky comes through as she grabs her duffel from baggage claim.

Honestly, she should’ve gotten on a flight as soon as Trevor told her that Jamie got traded. This is what happens when you tempt fate.

She orders an Uber from the airport to the hotel where Trevor is staying with the Ducks.

Why he traveled with them after getting hurt is beyond her. Maybe it isn’t a long term injury and it’s just a sprain.

Either way, she’s about to find out.

After a ten minute debate with herself, she lightly knocks on Trevor’s door.

It’s a second before the door opens. As soon as it swings open though, her heart breaks at the sight behind it.

Trevor stands on crutches with his ankle wrapped. His eyes are red and puffy and it looks like he hasn’t slept a wink in two days. Honestly, he probably hasn’t.

"Trev," she pouts.

He shakes his head and quickly spins to walk back into the room. She follows him and lets the door shut behind her. "I don't want you here, (Y/N)," he tells her. The voice crack tells her all she needs to know. He does actually need her here.

"I don't care," she replies. "I'm here anyway." Trevor leans the crutches against the middle table and sits on the bed. "You haven't exactly had the best few days so I came to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not fucking okay!" Trevor shouts at her before rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair to compose himself. "My best friend plays across the damn country now after getting traded out of nowhere and I might have just broken my damn ankle in a milestone game. I'm going to be out for like two months again."

(Y/N) crouches down in front of him and puts her hands on his knees. "I'm sorry, baby," she softly says. "I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now. I know Jamie's in Philly right now and I know you won't talk to anyone else about how you feel so that's why I'm here. I don't want you to bottle up your feelings."

"It just sucks," Trevor says, voice shaky. "Everything's changing and I don't like it. I'm probably going to have to go to Jamie's and pack his apartment so I can send his stuff to him, especially now that I'm out and won't be able to do anything."

She gets up and sits next to her boyfriend. She grabs one of his hands and holds it on her lap. She rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. Trevor leans over and drops his head to her shoulder. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and plays with his hair.

"I'm here," she whispers. "I don't care if you don't want me here. I'll always be here."

"I know," Trevor replies. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm just frustrated and confused and in pain."

(Y/N) kisses his temple and buries her face in his hair. "It's okay," she says. "You're feeling a lot right now so I don't blame you for anything you say right now. Just know that I'll be here the entire time. As for Jamie, you know he's a phone call away whenever you wanna talk to him. He'll answer every single time you call him."

He nods. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Can we lay down until I meet with the doctor?"

"Of course," she replies. "Whatever you wanna do. What time do you meet with the doctor?"

"Three," Trevor tells her as he gets comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he can since he's hurt. "I have to leave at two."

That's enough time for both of them to take a two hour nap.

She sets her alarm for 1:30 then settles in next to him. She wraps a leg around his waist and rests her head on his forehead while he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you for coming," Trevor whispers, his voice tired. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she assures him. "Close your eyes for a bit. I'll wake you up when it's time to leave."

He nods and within seconds, his breathing evens out. She smiles and falls asleep herself knowing that Trevor is finally getting some rest.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[calderacitylovers]

Zutara SlowBurn FanFiction: Personal Favs, part II

·        DESTINY IS A FUNNY THING by Megara Pike | Published: 2020-08-21 | 198K Words | 45 Chapters

ATLA Season 3 rewrite, fills in a lot of blanks between canon scenes. From the Southern Raiders to Sozin's Comet through coronation and aftermath. Growing friendships, bonding, being there for each other, a carnival & a cave, epic spirits' appearance on the Ember island, sparring, nightmares, assassination attempts, political ruses, and covert operations. Lovely, sweet. Exciting plot.

 ·        ATLA Book 4: Ashes by elayne_cypher | Published: 2018-10-27 | 306K words | 34 Chapters

This action-packed story picks up right after Ember Island Players and continues well after the war. Zuko is facing many challenges as a new Fire Lord. Romance, tough decisions, rebels, traitors, out-of-body experiences, secret headquarters, angst, teamwork, fire jets. The story has a bunch of OCs.

 ·        Refraction by caroes3725  | Published: 2020-09-09 | 215K Words | 37 Chapters

After breaking up with Aang, Katara needs to figure out her place and role in the patriarchal world. As determined Katara stubbornly bulldozes her way through Fire Nation political scene, her feelings for Zuko grow. Diplomatic visits, Gaang reunion, bonding with Kanna, insights into the life of Caldera city, stuffy politicians, cute correspondence, tropical storm, women supporting women, assassination attempts, personal boundaries. A sweet well-written coming-of-age story with a healthy measure of slow-burn and mutual pining. Katara and Zuko are both POVs, but the story mostly follows Katara. Bonus: Mai is NOT a clingy resentful idiot, but a smart person and a good friend. Some explicit language here and there, a bit of mild smut.

 ·        I Asked You First by halfhoursonearth | Published: 2020-10-03 | 142K words | 22/? Chapters

Ongoing, incomplete. Post Southern Raiders ATLAS3 rewrite. Mostly canon-compliant with blanks filled in between familiar scenes. Zuko and Katara develop a close friendship built on trust and sharing each other’s fears and hopes. Includes mentions of implied child abuse, Lu Ten’s diaries, exploring Avatar Roku’s legacy, sharing a balcony, heart-to-hearts, a hot spring under the stars, an actual date, and artbending. It’s incomplete, but what we have is bliss. Slowburn, mutual pining. Zutara-centric, but also explores the personalities of Team Avatar and their relationships.

 ·        Katara Alone by cablesscutie | Published: 2020-05-31 | 21K words

Katara is not an “unnecessary accessory to a more powerful man”. After the war, she is willing to forge her own path as she turns to people who need her the most on her journey of self-discovery. Features character exploration, correspondence, exploring outback villages of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, sweet reunions, and new firebending skills.

 ·        THE PHOENIX AND THE DRAGON - THE COMPLETE SERIES by JasmineTeaLatte | Published: 2021-06-11 | 100K words | 31 Chapters

This story picks up after The Ember Island Players. Zuko and Katara get to know each other during a late-night conversation by the campfire. In this story, you will find healthy boundaries, protective Sokka, a dash of Taang, sparring, funny banter & lots of flirting.

·        HESITATE by tiffaniesblews | Published: 2020-07-11 | 22K Words | 12 Chapters

This story picks up right after Zuko's coronation and spans two years afterwards. Zuko & Katara talk, share a few beautiful moments, write to each other, and reunite for the 2nd anniversary of the war ending. Very sweet, fluffy story about two sweethearts figuring out their feelings for each other.

·        LIKE WE'RE MADE OF STARLIGHT by Naladot | Published: 2021-11-28 | 5K Words

Katara leaves her post as the ambassador to the Fire Nation to take up a new one as the ambassador to the Northern Water Tribe. Her absence makes Zuko realize that he's got an unfortunate crush, which he is determined to keep secret. Unfortunately for him, subtly has never been one of his strengths—especially when he arrives in the Northern Water Tribe and she keeps taking him on what seem to be dates.

·        FIGURE IT OUT by clearascountryair | Published: 2021-12-20 | 35K words | 13 Chapters

After choosing not to kill Yon Rha, Katara rethinks her sense of self and others' perceptions of her. Or,    In which Katara learns that there’s a really big difference between being kissed when you don’t want to be and being kissed when you do. Aged-up 3B/Ember Island AU.

-  I FOUND YOU by that_turtleduck | Published: 2020-11-01 Completed: 2024-02-24 Words: 157,541 Chapters: 28/28

After divorcing Aang, Katara uproots her family and travels to Caldera. There she finds comfort, kindness and support from an old friend. Katara tries to find her footing as an independent political figure. Great story & relationship dynamic of Momtara & Dadko in their early 30s (Ember island, diplomatic meeting, dancing, turtleduck pond, letters). Delicious slow burn with rewarding spicy resolution in the end (explicit open door). Titters on the side of Anti-Aang.

Here’s a link to Part I of my personal favorites.

Here’s a link to Wholesome Zutara Short Stories.

[luellasplanet]

opposite’s attract. (aggie beever-jones)

word count: 1.9k

i think i changed the tense in this about ten times so let’s ignore that shall we x

aggie and y/n were never ever seen without each other. the duo were so similar yet so different. people often wondered how they became such good friends and later on girlfriends.

aggie was always with the boys at lunch time, jumping in the mud and leaves, creating an absolute mess of her uniform and overall being a total pain to the teachers, who were always shouting at her to behave herself.

whereas y/n was softer spoken than aggie, rather preferring to sit under the trees during lunch and talk about what she was going to do at netball later on that day or preferring to have her head stuck in a book and her head in the clouds.

the duo met on one random thursday in year three, aggie watched on from behind one of the trees as y/n gave into one of the year sevens who wanted her lunch. passing along the sandwich and chocolate bar with ease. the girls were easily a good half a foot taller than the year three so they towered over poor y/n.

from that day forward aggie vowed to be y/n’s knight in slightly muddy armour, always keeping an eye on her at lunch if she was by herself. forever standing up for y/n if someone was bullying her.

21 DECEMBER 2014

“aggie no! you wouldn’t!” the shorter girl was currently being pinned down to the bed as aggie threatened to pour the glass of water on her.

aggie was insistent that y/n had to be her defender for her in the garden, so that she could practise her shots. it was pissing down with rain and there was simply not a chance in hell that y/n would be getting sick this close to christmas.

y/n’s screaming and laughter had alerted aggie’s mother as she peered into the doorway. “aggie get off poor y/n right now.” the woman always had a soft spot for y/n, she was practically her third child after all.

grumbling under her breath, aggie flopped to the side and off of y/n, placing the glass down next to her. “dinner will be ready in five! come and set the table please.”

despite their differences in the sport they liked what the two had in common however, was their shared love for food. the duo raced down the stairs eager to eat supper.

after a more than filling meal and a very intense game of footsie under the table, tiredness starting to settle into their systems, a movie in front of the fireplace was just what was needed.

the four beever-jones’ and the honorary beever-jones all settled underneath various blankets and cushions on the two couches and love seat.

fire crackling softly, lighting the entire room is a soft orange hue while an old christmas movie played on the tv.

19 MAY 2017

today should’ve been one of the best days in y/n’s netball career, but instead after arriving at the wrong netball courts, then her team losing three out of four matches and her not being able to shoot more than five goals into the net, she was simply done with everyone and everything.

not a single word was spoken in the car on the way back to the y/l/n house, the only thing that could be heard was the soft buzz of the radio and the sound of other cars on the highway.

there was simply nothing anyone could say to make her feel better. seven months of training, for the biggest u14 netball competition, down the drain in a couple of hours was the most soul crushing experience for a fourteen year old.

the orange and pink uniform was digging into her shoulders and the seventh place certificate was placed haphazardly on the seat next to her.

y/n’s older brother tried to make a small joke but seeing the glint in her eyes he shut up immediately as he didn’t want to upset his sister even more.

the car ride was half an hour but it felt like an eternity. time didn’t feel real for y/n as she exited the car and grabbed her bag from the trunk.

taking refuge in her room when she got home, all she wanted right now was to have a nap and suddenly realise this was all a sick dream and she would wake up and all would be fine. but it wasn’t a sick dream it was a reality that she would have to face sooner or later.

loud footsteps could be heard from the staircase before her room door was roughly shoved open. “there’s my favourite netball star!” the sob that followed shortly after erased the smile from aggie’s face very quickly.

clearly no one had told her how the tournament had gone.

one look at y/n’s tear stained face and wobbly lip was the only thing that aggie needed to see before she dropped her sleepover bag on the floor and jumped onto the bed next to y/n.

“i messed up everything aggie, i’ve never seen my coach so upset with me in her entire life! i couldn’t even shoot properly and i kept getting blown for contact and stepping and-” aggie’s soothing hand on her back quickly stopped your rants. although your words were muffled because your face was smothered by the fluffy pillows, she could still make out how upset you were.

“oh y/n/n, i’m sure no one is upset with you, it’s only one tournament. i’m sure no one will remember this in a few months.” an idea struck to mind and with a teasing smile plastered on her face, aggie whispered to y/n “and besides you’ve been so busy crying you haven’t even noticed i’m sitting on your bed in my sweaty and muddy footy clothes!”

your head shot up immediately to notice that aggie was indeed sitting on your bed in her football clothes. it was tradition every saturday the two had a sleepover, rotating every week who’s house they would sleep at. “agh go shower you dickhead.”

placing a hand on her heart aggie placed a faux look of hurt on her face “you wound me y/n/n, you really do.” before getting up and going to the bathroom. where of course you had already laid out a fresh towel for aggie to use.

30 DECEMBER 2019

you had long grown out of her timid phase and was now the confident young woman your parents always told you she had to be.

your sixteenth birthday party was hopefully going to be the highlight of the entire christmas break, well besides christmas itself.

a rooftop party where none of your siblings would be present and no parents in sight sounded like the perfect idea to get a little drunk. (spoiler it wasn’t a little)

music blared out of the speaker, the base from the speakers sent shivers up everyone’s spines as they all mindlessly danced. after maybe four too many shots and a whole lot of encouragement from some out of school friends, y/n found herself in between a whole lot of sweaty bodies swaying and jumping to the music.

“i’m just heading to the bathroom quickly, i don’t feel too good.” you said to no one in particular before rushing off the dance floor and into the bathroom. the music in there was much softer and more calming, which helped with the upcoming headache forming behind your eyes.

barely managing to run into the nearest bathroom stall, back slumped against the wall as your hands gripped the porcelain toilet seat. trying to control your breathing and gain back the ability to see straight.

“y/n open the bloody door, right now!” aggie’s urgent voice and fist rattling hard against the wooden door increased the banging sensation in your head. blindly reaching up towards the lock of the door, you barely managed to turn the lock in order to let aggie into the small bathroom stall.

muttering a few curse words under her breath, aggie let herself into the bathroom before closing and locking the door behind her. bending down to your eye level. “who are you? i’m not sure my girlfriend would like it if she knew i was in a bathroom stall with a stranger you know…” y/n’s vision was blurred so she couldn’t quite see that it was her so called ‘girlfriend’ next to her.

“your girlfriend mm, now who would that be?” teasing tone very evident in aggie’s voice, but of course that completely washed over y/n’s head as another wave of nausea hit.

even with your head over the toilet seat and tears prickling in the corner of your eyes you still managed to mutter out how much you loved aggie and how extremely mad your dad would be if he saw you like this.

but of course this small interaction between the two of you would not be remembered in the morning, or how you had made it home in one piece after the night's events.

you didn’t remember how aggie had to keep her arm tightly around you as the two of you walked (stumbled) across the pebble stone sidewalk, how aggie’s jacket was draped over your shoulders and most of all when aggie dropped you off at your front door. the lingering kiss that you left on the corner of aggie’s mouth which sent butterflies into the blonde’s stomach.

CURRENT DAY

all those little memories were often reminisced at family dinners with both beever-jones and y/l/n family members present.

or in hushed conversations as the sunlight started to set on the bustling city of london, soft conversations about anything new or old as the room slowly began to lighten. rustling of freshly washed sheets and quiet laughter, before feet padding against the wooden floors and music could be heard.

the sounds of the frying pan sizzling with butter and the shower being turned on full blast.

y/n and aggie worked in perfect harmony, knowing each other's schedules like the back of their hands. you were fortunate enough to have an extra twenty minutes at home before you had to leave. which meant that you assisted aggie’s getting ready.

making sure the blonde had her protein shake prepped and ready, as well as making sure that her kit bag was clean and organised.

it was simply the little things that y/n did for aggie that meant the most to her. aggie would always press a lingering kiss to your lips before leaving the apartment, never forgetting to say “bye, i love you, see you later!” before she left.

then when the two of you got home later that evening, after giving the house a bit of TLC and aggie preparing dinner for them both. you would both settle down on the couch with a fluffy blanket draped over your legs.

a movie or series on in the background as the light from the tv, light the room in a soft hue of different colours. although the routine may seem boring and tedious to some, aggie and y/n wouldn’t have changed anything for the world.

the random saturday night dates, shopping on a wednesday or thursday, offering to pet sit y/n’s brother’s dogs when he was out of town and even the late night walks hand in hand to whatever destination their legs took them.

simply just y/n and aggie against the world, forever and always.

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Iron Man. Part 3 (The Cave)

Part 1, Part 2

We know Tony spent 3 months in captivity:

He was in Afghanistan from late January/early February 2008 until May 2. Since we don't have exact dates for February-April, for convenience I will take approximate ones and write down the periods of time that might be needed.

Day 1 (~Feb 5):

~3:30 pm - the attack. Tony is mortally wounded and captured by the Ten Rings. They give him emergency medical care to keep him from bleeding out and, while he is unconscious, transport to their base in the mountains. They are not very gentle and add abrasions to his head.

Evening - Raza records a video for Stane.

Same night - Yinsen performs surgery to remove shrapnel and bolts an electromagnet into Tony's sternum.

In 2 weeks (~Feb 20):

Tony finally wakes up (he partially woke up earlier - there is blood on his right hand and on the bandages, which means he was messing with his wounds not long ago).

He meets the Ten Rings and refuses to work for them.

The Ten Rings torture Tony by dunking him in a barrel of water. Due to this (electromagnet in chest+water are not good for one's heart) or to shrapnel-inflicted damage to his heart, Tony develops arrhythmia.

During the torture, Tony's brain comes up with the idea of ​​a miniaturized arc reactor.

Why so long? 1) Facial hair on his cheeks and neck has already grown. It is about two weeks long; 2) His wounds needed time to heal; 3) Some of the wounds on the torso have already developed scars; 4) He had a nasogastric tube inserted, which means enough time had passed for him to need it; 5) His lips are very dry and chapped.

Next few days (~Feb 21-22) - torture continues, this time they beat him on the head.

~Feb 22:

The Ten Rings take Tony outside to show him the SI weapons they have, and offer "to free" Tony if he builds them the Jericho. Tony "agrees". He sees that they have missiles with palladium, which he needs to build the reactor.

Later that day, Tony comes up with an idea for how they can escape: the armor.

~Feb 23-29 - "one week before death". Tony and Yinsen work on the reactor and pacemaker. Tony makes a drawing of Mark 1.

~March 1 - Yinsen performs the second surgery to implant the pacemaker, the housing for arc reactor and the reactor.

~March 1-April 12 (about 6 weeks) - post-op recovery:

First 4 days (~March 1-5) - Tony is unconscious and on a ventilator to help him breath.

~March 5 - Tony wakes up.

~March 15 - Yinsen starts physiotherapy to restore Tony's movement.

~April 6 - Yinsen removes bandages (scene on the surveillance camera).

~April 6-12 - Tony is almost recovered, but not yet strong enough to work. So he and Yinsen play backgammon, drink tea and talk.

How can we tell that a lot of time has passed between these two scenes (Tony showing Mark 1 drawing and the backgammon scene)? In the backgammon scene, Tony is shaved and his skin is clear - there are no traces of small wounds on his face and neck, as well as the long cut on his collarbone that was visible earlier.

~April 12-29 - work on "the Jericho" - Mark 1.

End of April - Rhodey goes back to Afghanistan with pararescue to search for Tony.

April 29 - Raza threatens Tony and Yinsen, demanding that they build him the Jericho by tomorrow. Tony and Yinsen work intensively all day, night and the next morning.

April 30 - Escape day:

Morning - Tony and Yinsen assemble Mark 1. They attack the Ten Rings. Yinsen dies. Tony destroys the base and escapes.

Evening - wounded Tony wanders through the desert. Hypovolemic shock kicks in. Rhodey finds him.

Why the same day? In the "Iron Man novelization" (not canon, based on an original script, unreliable source) and "I Am Iron Man" comics (many scenes are also different and cannot be seriously considered canon), Tony spent the night in the desert. The scenes in the book and the movie are very different. In the book, Tony was unconscious and unable to move when Rhodey found him. In the movie, Tony is not that exhausted. He couldn't walk all day and night in the desert and be so active. Also, it gets very cold there at night, and Tony used the jacket to cover his head from the sand, not to keep himself warm, which would have been more important. Still he's cold, but it's daytime (it is hot in the desert in April). Therefore, it must be from hypovolemic shock and not from the actual ambient temperature.

May 1 - Before returning home, Tony had to spend some time in a hospital at a military base in Afghanistan. During this time, he and Pepper were contacted by the Department of Defense, the FBI, and the CIA.

May 2 - Tony comes back to US.

Part 4

[23fallencomets]

for the actor logan fic can you tell us what kind of roles logan usually get? what was his career trajectory up until the fic? Im sososo excited driver x non-driver aus are always so fun

ooohh i haven’t really thought of that but we can establish that right now

so he’s been in the industry for 15~ years so he basically grew up in the eyes of the media. I put him as his generations heart throb so he usually gets romcoms because the awkward lover boy trope is a hit. he most definitely experimented with other genres: horror, thrillers, action, indie, sci-fi.

he’s a hit in romcoms and fantasy though. his one horror film did so well people wanted him in more and he was like “i had to see a therapist, i don’t know how the others do it” so horror, one and done.

would probably mess around with western style shows/movies. the longest show he had been on was a sitcom type of thing (friends, modern family, that 70s show type of beat) and it ran for ten seasons, so from from the ages 11 to 21.

he has a super clean reputation because he had seen how the media can turn on someone like nothing so he worked extremely hard to be a respectable person. He does still act like any other young person in their 20s but he will disappear the moment drugs or anything that can incriminate him appear.

people get suspicious about him since there’s literally no dirt on him but that’s just because logan knows how to act like a normal person and is a firm believer in boundaries.

mans was booked and busy so he takes a year off and that’s where formula one comes in!

his one connection to F1 is through liam because i’m a mess for lilo (literally the cutest ship name) and the fic timeline starts in miami :)

[yenqa]

the line in between

synopsis — in which it’s new year’s eve, 1999. and jay finds you on his doorstep right before midnight.

warnings — lots of mentions of dying (no one actually is but they think they’re going to + no violence), i think that’s it lmk

pairing — jay x gn!reader (i think)

wordcount — 1053

a/n — this is kind of like apple cider au + that one scene of 25/21 combined but also ignore how this is lowkey my fic “smart” in a different font erm

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You let out a nervous smile trying to convince him to let you in. Though he has no idea what you’re doing at his house on New Year's and minutes to midnight, he lets you in. Deciding to push aside the question looking at your anxious expression.

He moves aside, inviting you in. You thank him, hastily taking your shoes off and taking off your jacket. Jay notice’s the matching sweaters you’re wearing, both navy blue though yours looks much more warm than his.

You sit down on the couch, tapping on the cushion next for him to sit down. He takes the seat happily, you sit in silence, both awkwardly watching the new year’s show playing on the tv.

He decides that he’s prolonged the question enough, asking again with a slightly quieter voice, “What are you doing here?”

Chuckling, you answer. “My parents aren’t back from their vacation yet, their plane got delayed. And I got kinda scared for the new year.”

“Scared? You’ve been through it hundreds of times.”

You nod, the situation almost feels too vulnerable. As if you moved a single inch the room would crumble in pieces.

“I heard someone say the world was going to end or go into chaos, I didn’t want to be alone if it was.”

He laughs. And you crack a smile hearing yourself.

You’re not usually one to believe superstitions or conspiracy theories. But so many were freaking out for the end of the century and you can’t say you weren’t either. The silly theories had gone to your head this time, leading you to where you were five minutes earlier, knocking on Jay’s door.

“You believe that?”

Shrugging, you say, “Anything could happen.”

Jay isn’t the kind to believe in that stuff, he finds it interesting but never enough to be scared of anything. Though he finds your gullibleness funny, he finds it cute how you balance eachother out, You’re usually energetic, and he’s always calm and laid back. You like romance books, he likes thriller and horror books. Even though you’re much better at not being nervous when reading those kinds of things—except for situations like now.

To put it simply, you perfectly balance eachother out, like yin and yang. You’re the perfect pair. The perfect pair of friends.

Though you wouldn’t say you’re friends. If anything your relationship is closer to a couple than anything. He’s never mentioned it, and you were still wondering about it yourself.

Is the line between friends and lovers supposed to be harsh? Should it be clear as day in the end or should it sneak up to you before you even know it? The line seems to blur every time your hands linger near each other, or the stares from afar seem to be too frequent to be an accident.

You find it stupid how a stupid line can define your relationship. But it really does. The blurred line makes it impossible for you two to be anything. On top of the line is fear. You don’t want to lose him because you were being too quick to do anything. You don’t want to lose him because he might not be the same way if anything did happen. You just didn’t want to lose the bond you had.

He snaps you out of your thoughts, asking, “Do you want something to drink, apple? I think we have apple cider, your favorite.”

His nickname for you had been there for years. Since he first saw you chug down a cup of apple cider on the New year’s you met, when you were both ten. You’re still surprised when he pulls that nickname out for you, sometimes it’s every day, sometimes you don’t hear it for weeks.

“No it’s okay, I’m too tired to have any.”

He raises an eyebrow, “It could wake you up?”

You stop to think about it for a few seconds, I mean nothing bad could happen while he’s away right? “Fine, but only if you have some. Be quick though! I don’t want to be alone when midnight strikes.”

He salutes, rushing to his kitchen. You sit in silence, zoning out you stare at the plant right next to his tv. Snapping out of it when fans start cheering on the tv. you’re quick to look around when the thirty second timer starts ticking down.

“Jay, hurry up! You’re going to miss it and die alone!” You call, he rushed back, stomping on the floor loudly to get back to the living room.

Just in time he hands you your drink, sitting down just where he was earlier. Taking a few sips and turning to him, you smile, “You made it.”

He grins, “Of course I did.”

You turn away, watching as the timer ticks down somehow so slowly but too fast for you. Your heart starts racing and you’re not sure whether it’s for the new year or the eyes next to you staring at you with a soft smile.

The timer gets to ten and your heart starts beating out of your chest, trying to calm down you turn to Jay, asking , “Can I hold onto your arm? I’m nervous.”

Jay laughs quietly, gently pushing your head on his shoulder so you can comfortably wrap your arm around his, squeezing it gently. You watch as the numbers sum down to 5, quietly counting down the numbers just so the other can hear.

You look back up with him, letting out a breathy laugh, “Happy New Year, Jay”

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

You try to stay awake with all your might, hoping that if the night ends now you’ll at least have some last words, but your drowsiness takes over, and you’re asleep before you know it.

Jay looks down at your calm state, the squeeze you once had on his arm had been completely abandoned, leaving his arm cold and lonely. He watches as your chest rises and falls with every breath, he lets out a lovesick smile. One he would never let anyone see.

Though tonight everyone he knows and loves—including himself, might die or go into chaos just as you said. He decides he wouldn’t mind this being his last view before it all ends.

taglist : @jwnghyuns @ja4hyvn @trsrina @redm4ri @badmuni @yeokii @enhastolemyheart @softpia @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @boyfhee

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[tagthescullion]

What are your thoughts on any adults in the legion?

Because we know there have to be adults; Frank says that everyone has to serve ten years. Most demigods show up around the age of 12-13. Jason, arriving at New Rome at 2-3 years old, was unusually young, has already had a dozen years marked on his arm and could leave if he wanted, even though he apparently had no desire to up until BOO; Frank, arriving a couple of months before his sixteenth birthday, was unusually old.

So there have to be older demigods, demigods in their twenties. If Frank only steps down once he's been in the legion for ten years (which considering Reyna stepped down with only five years marked is no sure guarantee, but I guess once you're praetor you can do what you want) he'll be 25-26 then.

Even for younger demigods, if you show up at the legion at 12, you're in the legion until you're 22.

Which means that a portion of the legion should be demigods - and legacies - in their twenties, 21 and 22 and 23, closer to finishing their term of service than beginning it, with seven or eight or nine years of experience. Actual adult demigods.

Where were any of them in the series? Why does the entire army seem to be made up completely of teenagers?

And why the Hades aren't any of these older demigods running New Rome instead of a couple of 15-16 year olds being elected praetor?

the answer to every single one of your questions is: rick riordan's favouritism (that and once more: the series were for middle-schoolers/teenagers*)

frankly, I don't understand why the fuck he wrote a whole series based on the argument that there is another set of campers and then just.. never explained shit. ever. other than to say "chb is better, even if demigods never reach >18 years of age"

here's what I think, which ofc is just hcs and conjectures:

demigods generally range between 11-25 y/o at CJ

CJ is a summer military camp, made into a sort of boarding school thing during the year, that way children can go back to their families if they so wish to

after you finish your secondary school education, you're free to go to university (if you haven't settled your 10 years at CJ, you keep attending during the summer, same as the rest of the year-rounders)

this was the second war in two years, making it likely many adult demigods died defending CJ/NR the year before, allowing for teenagers jason and reyna's age to be praetors/army leaders

that and percy & co. are rather independent forces of nature, they never even noticed there were adults willing to die for the cause around

*I feel like this is spoken about every so often but don't forget that children's books are written for children. that's why the protagonists are young, and why child armies are a thing, and why so many crimes that completely obliterate children's rights happen in these stories.. they are for kids to live the adventure at the same pace as the main characters

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; james

requested by ; anonymous (21/05/23)

fandom(s) ; pokémon

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; james

outline ; “OH MY GOD IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE WILLING TO WRITE FOR TEAM ROCKET IM SO EXCITED

ok ok so uh may I request general dating hcs for both jessie and james please ? (maybe someone who has a good living since both are homeless 🥹) THANK YOU !!”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

despite his work as a member of team rocket, james is an incredibly sweet and attentive partner — the type who has a keen memory for everything you love and who will do anything he can to boost your confidence and make you smile whenever you’re together (he’s your #1 cheerleader even if he isn’t the most confident in himself most of the time — but he’s working on improving that with your help)

he doesn’t talk about his family, or his past in general, all that often but he when he does he always has something positive to say about his grandparents (his parents and ex fiancée less so, he loves his parents but they aren’t on the best terms at the moment and jessiebelle is, well, jessiebelle and enough is said about that) — and when you finally met ‘nanny’ and ‘pop pop’, they absolutely adored you (both as your own person and because of how happy you make their sweet little grandson)

if you wear makeup then he’s more than happy to help you put it on or perfect a look — he has a keen eye and a steady hand that comes in handy if you struggle with symmetry — and on a similar note he’s also happy to let you put makeup on him or to do his makeup alongside yours (he’s far from opposed to dressing up, cross-dressing, or wearing costumes with you, after all)

james loves using terms of endearment with you, to the extent that you’ll rarely even hear him say your first name unless it’s a necessary formality (like a first introduction or for a dinner booking), and they range from cutesy to traditional depending on his mood — for example, when he’s feeling dejected and clingy after being scolded by giovanni then he’ll curl up on your lap and call you ‘hun’ and ‘sweetie’ as he vents his woes to you, but when he’s in a more flirty mood then he might dip you in his arms and call you ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ (context matters more than anything here, but he has been known to use just about any pet name in any situation)

he’s a complete gentleman and will go the full nine yards to woo you even after you’ve been officially together for what feels like forever — partially down to his upbringing and the expectations pushed upon him by it, and partially because he’s just that sweet — which includes him doing things like: bending down and kissing the back of your hands/each of your knuckles, opening car doors for you and helping you step out, holding doors open for you in whatever building you’re in, buying you flowers whenever he can scrape together the funds to do so (he may have been born wealthy but nowadays, not so much), offering you his coat whenever you mention being cold, and other things along those lines

jessie has caught him staring at you, or staring into nothingness whilst clearly thinking about you, more times than she’d ever care to count and this eternal puppy-love state has caused the trio to mess up on missions because james is just too distracted to stick to the plan — it would be adorable in any other situation but it usually frustrates her to the point of anger because that mistake was so avoidable, why can’t you just be normal about them for ten minutes?

when it comes to sleeping, james isn’t too bothered about what position you drift off in as long as the two of you are cuddling — he can fall asleep wherever he is, and being in a proper bed for the first time in weeks helps, but he sleeps most peacefully when he can hear your breathing and can feel your weight and body heat right up against him when he’s with you

whenever his team fails a mission, or he’s scolded by someone, you’re the first person he gets in contact with — either finding a phone to call you or stumbling sadly through your door and collapsing in your arms and just… staying like that for a while as he briefly lets himself forget what had left him feeling so low (you’re his rock, really, and he’d do the same for you if you needed it, but for now all he needs is to hear your voice and know that you still love and accept him as he is — despite all of his mistakes and failures)

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - drinking,, sexual references

y/nn = your nickname if your confused🩷

Chapter 8

After Christmas we did something exciting every night, usually beginning after midnight. Sometimes Matt rented either the Memphian or the Malco theater to watch movies. Other times he rented the entire Rainbow Skating Rink, the infamous roller rink I’d heard so much about.

My first night there I was lacing up my skates when the boys asked me, “Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure,” I said.

“But do you know how to skate?” they persisted.

I got the message real fast when a box of knee pads was passed around. This was not your ordinary around the rink to organ music skating. The idea here was to keep your bones intact.

I wobbled onto the rink only to wobble off. I wasn’t about to stay on that floor after seeing the determined looks on the other skaters’ faces. They made the Roller Derby look mild. From the sideline, I watched them rounding the rink, adjusting their jackets and shirts so they weren’t too tight and checking that their arms and legs were securely padded.

Then Matt skated into their midst, calling out, “Okay, everybody. Y’all clear the way on the sidelines. I don’t want anybody hurt over there. Honey, why don’t you get on the other side there with Louise [Gene Smith’s wife]. The rest of you, get your asses somewhere else.” They all started laughing, and he said, “Okay, let’s go!”

About twenty-five skaters locked hands, forming what they called a whip. Skating abreast, they began circling the rink, building up speed. The objective of the game was to remain unscathed at speeds of over ten miles per hour. It could be very dangerous if you were to lose your balance or if you were at the tail end, when, by turning quickly, they all “cracked the whip.”

There were a lot of falls, but despite the danger, Matt seemed to know exactly what he was doing. I noticed that whenever someone was hurt, he was the first to see if they were all right and to decide if they should continue to play.

I still don’t know how anybody kept from getting seriously injured, yet no one complained and most of them were even willing to do it again the next night. It was rough, but as Matt put it, “If you’re man enough to get out there, then you better be man enough to take the licks.”

New Year’s Eve was approaching. Matt told Alan to rent the Manhattan Club for the evening and to invite about two hundred people, Matt’s friends and the presidents and other members of his fan clubs.

Although I was excited about the party, I couldn’t help thinking that after New Year’s Eve I would have to leave. Matt kept telling me not to think about it. I noticed that whenever I mentioned a problem to him he’d just say, “It’ll all work out, don’t worry about it. I’ve got enough to think about without having to worry about that.”

He always avoided problems. If I was disturbed or depressed, or if I felt we were becoming distant and wanted to get closer by talking it out, he avoided me or told me my timing was bad. There was never a good time.

Once I reproached him about the attention he was lavishing on the girlfriend of one of the regulars. She was very attractive, about my height, with black hair and a nice figure. She had come into the kitchen, where several of us were sitting, and Matt, who was wearing dark sunglasses, began making comments like, “Boy, it’s getting warm in here. Anybody else warm?”

I was so upset I left the room. I waited for him to go upstairs, then followed shortly behind him. “Matt, I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Sure, Honey, what is it?”

“I saw the way you were eyeing that girl. It upset me.”

“Look, woman,” he said, losing his temper. “No one tells me who I can look at and who I can’t. Besides, your imagination’s getting carried away. I’ve seen her ass around here long before today.”

With that I stomped out, slamming the bedroom door. I felt betrayed that he’d even desire another woman and was annoyed that he’d never admit it. I became obsessed and watched what Matt liked, what attracted him, trying to be everything he ever imagined a woman could be, and more.

The New Year’s Eve party at the Manhattan Club started around 10 p.m., but Matt timed our arrival a few minutes before midnight. We just had time to order double screwdrivers when the countdown began. Then we all sang “Auld Lang Syne.”

As people shouted “Happy New Year!” Matt pulled me close and said, “Baby, I don’t want you to go back. You’re staying here. We’ll call your parents in the morning.”

I was in such a state of ecstasy that I didn’t notice what I was drinking: four double screwdrivers, all drunk through a straw. After one double, I was feeling high; after four, I was reeling. I went into the ladies’ room with Louise and stayed there for what seemed like hours, swaying back and forth in the stall, trying to get myself together.

When we finally returned to the table, I tried to act as if everything was okay, but Matt took one look at me and said, “Baby, we better get you home. You’re in no condition to be here.” He asked his old friend George Klein, the Memphis disc jockey, if he would take me home.

I spent most of the ride back to Graceland with my head out the window. George and his date walked me to the door, where we said good night, and I let myself in.

Gripping the banister, I slowly climbed the white stairs, shedding my clothing as I went: my jacket, purse, shoes, and blouse left in a long trail up the steps. By the time I reached the bedroom I was wearing only my bra and panties. I collapsed on the bed and passed out.

A few hours later I heard Matt tiptoe into the room and come over to me. His condition was not much better than mine. I could make out his silhouette against the ceiling above me. I didn’t stir. Gently, he took off the rest of my clothes. Then he kissed me and kissed me over and over. This night we almost went too far. His vow was nearly broken. My passion had gotten to him and under the influence of alcohol, he weakened. Then, before I knew what happened, he withdrew saying, “No. Not like this.” It had to be special, just as he’d always planned.

I have to admit that, at that moment i didn’t care if it was special and I didn’t care what he’d vowed. I didn’t care, in fact, what he wanted at all. I only knew I wanted him.

The next morning my head throbbed with a terrible hangover. I felt ashamed and embarrassed—and yet not at all sorry about what we’d done. He was a little closer to being all mine.

The moment of truth came when we called my father in Germany. Matt was on the extension in his office and I was on another phone somewhere else in the house. Though the connection to Wiesbaden was filled with static, there was no mistaking my father’s words.

“Young lady, I will not go through this conversation again. We made an agreement. You were to leave there on the second of January. You’ve got one day left and you’d better be on that flight!”

Matt interjected, “Captain, sir, if she could just stay a couple more days. I have to be back in L.A. soon, and it would be nice—”

“Matt, I can’t do that. She has to be back in school and that was the deal. I’m sorry. y/n y/ln, are you there?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“We’ll be at the airport. You know the time; we’ll see you then.”

I was furious. I flew into Matt’s office where, sitting behind his desk, he was just hanging up.

“I hate them. I hate them both,” I yelled like a spoiled child. “Why are they stopping us? They just want me home to babysit, to take care of the kids, that’s all.”

Matt’s face was flushed with anger. “We made a goddamn agreement—who the hell does he think he is, talking like that on the goddamn phone—him and his military upbringing.”

He grabbed the phone and called down to the kitchen, demanding, “Where’s my dad! He down there? Tell him to come upstairs to the office.”

Within seconds James was at the door. “What is it, Son?”

“Goddamn Captain y/ln,” he shouted. “We just called to see if y/nn could stay a few more days and he comes off with this cocky attitude and refuses with his jargon about making agreements.”

“Now calm down, Son. It ain’t that bad. He was probably just concerned about her being home in time for school.”

“School, what the hell do I care about school?” Matt snapped, ignoring James’s efforts to soothe him. “Put her into school here, that’ll solve everything. She doesn’t need school. Hell, they don’t teach you anything nowadays anyway.”

“Well, Son, she’s gonna have to go back, there ain’t no two ways about it, give or take a day or two.”

“Goddamn, Dad, you’re not helpin’ matters any,” Matt said, but he was beginning to calm down. He sat back in his big desk chair and swiveled it around to face the window, then gazed out toward the pastures. Finally he turned around and announced that he had a plan.

Matt’s strategy called for me to return to Germany and to arrive in good spirits, then to concentrate on doing well in school so that my parents wouldn’t be able to use my poor grades as an excuse for not letting me return. Matt wanted me to finish high school in Boston and to that end he would make arrangements for me to return as soon as possible.

Germany

Although Matt said that I should greet my parents with a friendly smile, from the moment I got off the plane, my attitude was one of defiance. I now believed that my parents were a threat to my future happiness. I didn’t realize that their fears and concerns were entirely reasonable. All that mattered to me was what Matt and I wanted, and no one was going to stand in our way.

The weather was cold and dreary, which certainly didn’t help my mood. I walked through customs to find my parents waiting. Noting my attitude, their expressions were cool, their welcome stiff. No loving arms wrapped around me, no loving words greeted me. Only my father’s abrupt order, “Let’s go.”

The drive back to Wiesbaden seemed longer than forty-five minutes. I sat in the backseat in icy silence. No one mentioned my request to stay at Graceland.

“All in all, did you have a nice time?” Dad ventured.

“Yes,” I replied, looking out the window at the clusters of trees bare from the harsh winter.

“Did Matt like your present?” Mother asked hopefully.

“Yes,” I assured her. “He loved it.”

“Was it as cold in Boston as it gets here?” Dad asked, keeping the conversation light, trying to make me open up and talk.

“No, it’s colder here,” I replied sharply, referring to both the weather and my attitude. Our eyes met in the rearview mirror and surprisingly, Dad looked away rather than reacting to my cutting remark.

I knew I was pushing my luck with them, but I couldn’t suppress my feelings and pretend that everything was all right. I was so deeply in love that chitchat seemed pointless—as did everything except for Matt. I remembered how he had held me before we said goodbye, with such emotion and need that nothing could keep me away from him. How could I explain these adult feelings to my parents who, I thought, could never understand and would think me silly or just infatuated?

When we arrived home Dad said, “Well, you’ve got school tomorrow, so try to get as much rest as you can tonight.”

Mom added, “You should have dinner and get right to bed.”

Did they both honestly think that I could slip back into the routine of ordinary life?

I rebelled against going to school. I skipped classes, went to town, and downed a few beers with whoever I could get to join me. My attitude worsened along with my grades.

My parents were as confused as any caring parents would be, hoping the problem would eventually go away. But I didn’t make it easy for them. What had started out as a simple introduction to the world’s greatest rock-and-roll star had turned into a nightmare for them.

Matt began calling me almost immediately, and we’d talk for hours. My parents heard me whispering and giggling till three in the morning and wondered what on earth we could be talking about for so long. Nothing really—yet it seemed like everything.

I began to reveal to my mother that Matt and I loved each other and longed to be together. Finally one day I summoned the courage to tell her that Matt wanted me to finish school in Boston. Her response: an unqualified no. She felt it could wait until my father’s tour of duty was over. That would be the end of summer, she said, and there was no need for me to return to Matt sooner.

“But Mother,” I pleaded, “you don’t understand. He wants me there with him.”

“Why you?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “Why can’t he find someone his own age? You’re only sixteen. What is this man doing to our family?”

She buried her face in her hands and began crying.

I did feel sorry for her. We were always close, she was always there for me, but this time she just didn’t understand. I hated seeing her in pain, but nothing seemed more important to me than Matt. Not even my mother.

“He’s not anything like you imagine,” I said, “and he needs me, Mother. I won’t get hurt. Please talk to Dad.”

Slowly she raised her head and looked at me.

“y/nn, I’d never forgive myself if I let you go and if you came back to us with a broken heart. You’re so young! You have no idea what lies ahead of you. All you know is you’re in love. Do you know how difficult that is to fight?” She sighed. “I wouldn’t wish this on any parent.”

She brushed away her tears and after a moment said, “All right, I’ll talk to your father, but not just yet. It’s still too soon.”

I gave her a big hug and whispered, “Thank you, Mother. I know you can do it. I love you.”

Now I had to wait for my mother to intercede. I knew how much my father was against the idea. My parents still didn’t really know Matt’s intentions toward me. They only knew what I had told them. But they had also read in the newspapers that Matt was dating every one of the female costars in his movies, so naturally they were suspicious.

One day on the phone I told Matt, “If you want me to come back and go to school, you’re going to have to talk to my father yourself.”

“Put him on,” Matt replied. “I’m not MacArthur, but I can sure as hell try.”

Drawing on all of his charm, Matt assured my father that if I was permitted to move to Boston, I wouldn’t live with him at Graceland but with his dad, James, and his wife, Angela. Matt promised to enroll me in a good Catholic school—he’d choose it himself—and make sure I graduated. He said I’d always be chaperoned and that he’d care for me in every way. Declaring his intentions honorable, he swore that he loved and needed and respected me. In fact, he couldn’t live without me, he said, intimating that one day we’d marry.

This left my parents in a dilemma. If Matt were as sincere as he sounded, there was a chance that our relationship might work out. But if it didn’t work out, they ran the risk of my returning to them disillusioned and brokenhearted. If they refused to let me go, I might never forgive them and I would bitterly regret this unfulfilled love for the rest of my life. In that light, there was little they could do but say yes, and eventually they did.

In truth, I was as mystified as my parents were about why Matt wanted me to come live with him. I think he was attracted by the fact that I had a normal, stable childhood, and that I was very responsible, having helped my parents raise my younger brothers and sister. I was more mature at sixteen than I was at fourteen, when he’d met me, not only because I’d gone through the normal growing period, but also because I’d experienced the pain of living without him for those two years.

Most of all, he knew he could depend on me. I wasn’t interested in a career, in Hollywood, or in anything else that would draw my attention away from him. I also had all of the physical attributes that Matt liked, the fundamentals he could use in turning me into his ideal woman. In short, I had everything that Matt had been looking for in a woman: youth and innocence, total devotion, and no problems of my own. And I was hard to get.

I intended to do whatever I had to to hold him, because if he had ever sent me home, it would have meant not only that I’d been wrong in going to him, but that my parents had been wrong for having permitted it. I firmly resolved to make our relationship work, no matter what.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - do you guys like longer chapters like this?🎀

[asoiafzambi]

Nerding out about show and booktimeline some more.

Condal and Hess are so funny, can't even decide what year it is on the show.

Rhaenyra is born 97 AC on the show.

Alicent is born 98 AC on the show since everyone (except Hess) now insists she was 14(!) when she wed Viserys.

(As birth month I put tenth moon for Rhae and eigths moon for Alicent because I can do what I want.)

In Ep 1: Viserys had been king for TEN YEARS!11! So if he became king 103 AC like in the books we would be in 113 AC already which doesn't work (or Hess is right that the girls are 15/16 and not 13/14 in that episode.) If they are indeed 13/14 we are in late 111 AC or rather early 112 AC and Viserys became king in 101 AC on the show. I guess Jaehaerys just immediately keeled over after the Great Council in this universe.

Ep 2: Sixth month have passed we are in late 112 AC. The girls have turned 14/15 respectively. Now Alicent being 15 when birthing Aegon finally makes sense. They wed on the last spring moon ('May') in 113 AC so Aegon should drop around the second moon of 114 AC. Helaena is pretty much exactly two years younger and born second or third moon of 116 AC. So yeah, Rhaenyra is most definitely 18 and not 17 during that hunt in episode 3. Vizzy kinda forgot, I guess.

Ep 4 & Ep 5: More than a year has passed because Aegon is now a 'princeling of three'. So we are somewhere mid 117 AC. Rhaenyra is 19 and Alicent close to it. Aemond is made 🤢 and will drop early 118 AC.

Jace takes a bit longer and if he is indeed close to 19, which Rhaenyra implies at some point in season 2, then holy moly we are at least in 137 AC already. If it were 132 AC as was assumed thus far Aegon would be 18 Healena 16 and Aemond 14 which is nonsensical of course. Especially as Daeron was said to be 16 now.

So yeah for the 'next gen' the ages that make more sense are:

Aegon 23

Helaena 21

Aemond 19

Jace 18

Daeron 16

Baela 17 (?)

Rhaena 15 (?)

So forget what the big season 1 time jumps say it's not working out.

Not sure why I'm doing this to myself tbh.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Lucy's usefulness to the company is called into question.

Word Count: 3,587

Notes: Warnings for depictions of slut shaming (sort of).

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 11: Useful

Her fingers twitched, thumb rubbing idly at her rings while she listened to Isiah brief them on what their boys had found during their stakeouts of the flat where Clara had told them some of the Italians were hiding out.

“It’s Alessio. We’ve seen him come in and out a couple of times. From what we can gather, it looks like he has two guards with him. His wife stays there too, but on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she leaves from eleven in the morning to three in the afternoon to have lunch with friends, go to the salon, and help facilitate this book and knitting club she’s a part of. That’s when Alessio and the boys will call on Elizabeth or other whores and have them come over to the flat.”

“Are there any children?” Lucy asked, gaze focused on the opposite wall of the office. Today was a Wednesday. It was a little past noon. 

“No. Alessio and his wife don’t have any. Not so sure about the guards, but if they do, they aren’t staying with them.”

“And the wife leaves at those same times? Every day?” Tommy prompted. 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Lucy could already feel the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. “Well done, Isiah, you’ve done a good job here.”

Tommy jerked his chin towards the door. “You can go.”

Isiah nodded to them both. “Family meeting in ten minutes, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll be gathering in the kitchen. Feel free to put some tea on, while you wait,” Lucy stood from where she’d been leaning with her back propped up against her desk, arms crossed over her chest.

“Thanks.”

“And don’t mention this to anyone else yet!” Tommy called after him. 

She watched the kid duck out the door, weaving around the desks in the betting shop to make his way towards the kitchen. When she was sure that he was out of earshot, she turned to Tommy, and was promptly met with stern eyes and pursed lips. 

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I’ve got to say yet!” she protested. He sighed, pulling off his glasses and tossing them onto the pile of papers atop his desk, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Tommy,” she strode towards him, placing both palms flat on the smooth wood surface, leaning forward across it. With her standing and him still seated in his chair, she was actually taller than him for once. “This is part of what you hired me for in the first place.”

“That was before we had others who can do the killings for us. Besides,” he folded his hands together. “I usually only sent you after ordinary people, not trained soldiers of the Sicilian mafia.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think that I can’t handle them?”

“It’s not a problem of if you can handle them or not, love,” he said quietly, and when he looked up, she was struck by the look in his eyes, teetering on pleading. “I can’t lose you.”

She took a deep breath, trying hard to remember Grace’s words from her dream:

The idea of losing you is probably terrifying.

“I know,” she said, gently as she could, reaching across the desk to take his face in her hands. “I know you worry, but I will be fine. I promise. I’ll take some of our boys with me, if that’ll make you feel better, just please…please let me do this, Tommy. There’s only three of them. If I leave now, I could be done with all of them maybe even before the family meeting is over.”

“Why?” Tommy asked, voice hoarse, staring up at her destitutely. “There’s no reason that it has to be you. The Golds can deal with them just as easily.”

Her lips parted, stuttering slightly at the realization that she did not actually have a good answer for him. She couldn’t say why it was so important that she be the one to go after Alessio. Or who it was exactly she was trying to prove something too. Maybe herself. Maybe the rest of the family. Maybe it was just her fucking pride getting in the way of things; insisting that she was still top-dog when it came to this kind of work, even though she hardly actually partook in it anymore. An insistence to prove that she wasn’t rusty–which she wasn’t, by the way. She still kept up with sparring and shooting and throwing knives. She was just as tough and capable as all the rest of them. Even Aberama Gold and his far-reaching reputation for savagery. 

Before she could even begin to think of an answer, she heard the doors bang open and then the loud hum of boisterous discussion as people started to arrive. She pulled back, away from the desk, looking over her shoulder to see Aberama and Bonnie walking side by side towards the kitchen, chatting to each other while Polly and Ada trailed in behind them. She looked back at Tommy.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

He must have heard the dejection in her voice, because he looked up sharpy, brows drawing together. “Lucy…”

But she was already making for the door, yanking it open with perhaps a little more force than necessary. Behind her, she heard him sigh, chair scraping against the floorboards as he pushed it back to stand and follow her. 

She went directly to the kitchen, giving a small nod to Polly and Ada as a hello. Isiah and Bonnie were talking by the window, and she had to sidestep around Aberama to grab a teacup to fill from the kettle Isiah had already made up. 

“Miss. Winters,” Aberama greeted in that slow drawl of his, watching her as she poured the tea, swirling it idly in her cup and blowing on it before taking a sip. 

“Mr. Gold,” she acknowledged politely.

He shifted, leaning an arm against the counter. Turning, she spotted Tommy talking with Polly and Ada near the door to his office, hands shoved deep into his pockets. When his eyes darted to hers, she looked hastily away. 

She wasn’t mad at him, not really. Just…put out. 

Okay, fine. She was mad at him. But only a little. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Miri and Mercy Lovell, would you?” Aberama asked, pulling her from her musings. She started at the names. It had been a long time since she’d heard either of them. He smiled at her kindly, cocking his head. “I ask because you look like them. Similar shade of hair, petite…”

“Miri is my aunt.”

He nodded. “I thought as much. You’re Genevieve’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Lucy frowned, putting down her teacup. “You knew my mother?”

“Not really. Her family and mine would often bump into each other at the fairs when we were in Wales. And then she left, off into the city with your father. I still see Miri every once in a while.”

“How is she?”

“She’s alright. Mercy’s become quite impressive. She’s got to be one of the best marksmen I’ve ever seen. Does a whole show around it at the fairs.”

“Good aim runs in the family,” she murmured, suddenly swept up in memories of summers spent with Miri and her cousins in the countryside, Mercy teaching her to shoot a revolver and throw knives with near-flawless accuracy. Her and Mercy teaming up in boxing matches against Mercy’s brothers. It was always her favorite time of the year, and while she’d adored all of her cousins, Mercy had always been the one she was closest with. 

An ache pinched deeply in her chest, not quite homesickness–the caravans had never been her home, after all–but close.

“Did you ever work in the fairs?” Aberama asked curiously. A few more people were starting to filter in, Jeremiah stepped inside, moving to talk with Isiah where Finn had already joined him and Bonnie. Johnny Dogs’s voice boomed from the doorway as he greeted Tommy enthusiastically. 

“Sometimes. Fortune telling, mostly. I wanted to be a contortionist, was practicing for a whole damn year to be one, actually, but Mum said no after I almost broke my neck.”

He chuckled. “Pity. I hear from Miri that the contortionists are some of the most popular acts at the moment.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t all a waste. I’m still quite flexible. It’s come in handy from time to time.”

Aberama chuckled. “I’m sure it does,” he eyed her for a moment. “You look so much like her, in the right light.”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

She looked down. It hadn’t been an uncommon statement, when she was younger. All the women in her family on her mother’s side looked the same: dark red, curly hair, big eyes, and petite, curvy figures. Her mother had been prettier than her, though. For one, she hadn’t been covered neck to toe in faded scars, and for another, she had a mane of deep red curls that fell to the small of her back, and big, doe brown eyes. She didn’t smile often, but when she did, dimples appeared in her cheeks.

Aberama took a step towards her. “There’s something you ought to know…”

“Right!” Tommy’s voice booming throughout the kitchen had everyone, even Aberama, silencing and turning their attention to him. Polly, Ada, Linda, and Arthur all took seats at the table while everyone else gathered in close in the cramped space. Glasses of whiskey were passed around. Lucy took the one Ada offered her thankfully, shooting one last curious look at Aberama, making a mental note to enquire further about what he had been meaning to tell her after the meeting was over.

 Tommy’s eyes swooped across everyone, taking mental tally and ensuring that all were present. “Lizzie’s not here; Ada tells me that she’s dealing with some sort of paperwork disaster over at the other office and won’t be making it, so we’ll continue without her. First off, a commendation, for Arthur. He killed two Changretta men who broke into one of our factories. Every life taken by us from the enemy side should be considered a victory. So I propose, to start off this meeting, that we drink a toast, to Arthur and his good fortune.”

Everyone raised their glass while Arthur mumbled bashfully. Tommy stared at him intensely, the entire operation clearly an attempt to extend an olive branch regarding the recent conflict over opening up the hit on Luca. It certainly seemed to achieve its goal in getting him at least partially back in Arthur’s good graces, based on the way he smiled slightly at him.

“Next item of business, after a vote taken during a meeting of the board members, we have agreed to put out an official bounty for Luca Changretta. I want word to go out today. This bounty would be up for collection for you as well, Mr. Gold,” he addressed Aberama directly, reaching into his pocket. “Should you or your son deliver Luca dead or alive to us, you will be rewarded,” he passed to Aberama the enlarged photograph of Luca from Alessio’s wedding pictures. Lucy watched Arthur from the corner of her eye; he was looking down at the table and scowling, Linda’s hand curling around his shoulder. Her self-righteous face was tight with anger, though Lucy couldn’t imagine what she had to be upset about regarding the bounty being extended to Bonnie and Aberama.

“Item number three: the betting shop needs–”

“Fuck the betting shop!” Linda cut him off, and the whole room went dead silent. Arthur’s head snapped up from where it had been bowed, eyes staring at his wife in wide shock. 

“I want to know what you’re planning to do about the man who gave Arthur up at the factory,” she demanded, back straight, head tilted up in that stuck-up way that pointed her nose at an angle towards the ceiling. She met Tommy’s icy-cold gaze straight on, fearless. 

She had balls, Lucy could at least give her that. 

Tommy wetted his lips, taking his time in answering Linda’s question. Lucy suspected that the delay in him speaking was half out of pettiness, and half because her outburst had genuinely surprised him.

“We are still conducting an investigation into who may have been responsible for letting the Italians into the factory. We’ve eliminated a number of suspects, so far, but until we are sure who it was–”

“Nothing!” Linda flung her hands up into the air, looking around as if expecting others to back her up. “You mean that you are going to do nothing about the man who set my husband up to die–”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “That is not what I said, Linda.”

“But it’s what’s happening, isn’t it!?” she screeched, yanking her arm away from Arthur when he tried to grab it in an attempt to get her to calm down, rising to her feet. “Too busy chasing after the big prize of Luca Changretta’s head on a fucking platter, too busy making sure that your precious company doesn’t lose a single pound in profits to worry all too much about the fact that the man who set up your brother to be murdered is still walking around and could come for him again at any moment!” Her lips curled back from her teeth in a snarl. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter, right? You’ve already gotten one brother killed, so what’s another one to add to the pile, right?”

Tommy flinched, a movement so small Lucy doubted that it was noticed by anyone but her; and yet it was there, as was the flicker of deep grief, guilt, and hurt that swirled up past the layers of his armor in his eyes. It was only there for but a microsecond, but she saw it. And its presence caused protectiveness to flare within her. 

“Linda, sit down,” Lucy ordered, taking a step forward.

Linda rounded on her, eyes alight with fury. The cross on the chain around her neck swayed against her chest with the movement, light reflecting off of it, and Lucy fought back the urge to cringe away and hiss at the sight of it. 

“Nobody asked for your opinion, you…you slut!”

Lucy’s brows flew up at the insult. Not that she didn’t already know what Linda thought about her, but she hadn’t exactly expected her to verbalize it at a meeting with everyone present. But then again, she hadn’t expected her to start in on a verbal attack of Tommy, either. 

“Hey!” Tommy barked, voice so loud it made Ada cringe uncomfortably in her seat. But not Linda. No, Linda kept her eyes focused solely on Lucy, her attention diverted momentarily away from Tommy and onto her. 

“I mean, what do you even do for this company, anyway? Other than follow Thomas around like a lost little puppy all day.”

“Linda, that’s enough,” Tommy growled, voice low and dangerous. 

“Linda, please,” Arthur said gruffly, still trying to pull her back down into her seat.   

Lucy stared into her challenging eyes, fighting back the sudden urge to slap her. Stupid woman; she’d spent, what? One day in the betting shop, and now thought that she understood how everything was run? Fucking hell. 

With a shake of her head, she slammed her glass of whiskey down onto the counter and made for the door, the others that were in her way shuffling hastily to let her shoulder past them. She heard Tommy call her name, but ignored him. She had promised him that she would try her best to play nice, and if she stayed there much longer, she was more and more likely to break that promise. 

Her footsteps thundered down the street, boots clicking audibly against the cobblestones while she walked. A particularly dark look must have found its way onto her face, because several people hurried to get out of her way as she passed. 

Her foul mood was not helped by the acknowledgement that at least a large chunk of her anger stemmed from the fact that Linda wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Sometimes it did feel like all she did was follow Tommy around. Yes, she helped to keep track of things, helped with paperwork, took notes on all his meetings–which, by the way, they didn’t use all that often because Tommy had the memory of a fucking elephant–and offered insight and ideas, but there were times when she couldn’t help but think that, at least without factoring in Tommy’s emotions towards her, the company would be fully capable of functioning just fine without her. 

Sighing, she pulled her cap out of her pocket, pulling it on over her hair. Stuffing her hands deep into her pockets, she kept her head lowered as she walked, so it wouldn’t be too obvious to anyone that passed her by that she was sulking. 

When she got to her destination, she hesitated momentarily. Tommy would be upset with her, if she stepped past the threshold of the doors she was currently staring at. After all, she had said they’d talk about it more later. He’d probably be agitated that she just went off without any backup and not even the go-ahead from him. 

What do you even do for this company, anyway?

“Fuck it,” she mumbled under her breath, and started to climb the steps of the Midland hotel. 

“Can I help you?” the receptionist smiled sweetly, when she approached the counter. 

“I need to speak with Billy. Immediately,” Lucy kept her voice low, pulling out a cigarette while she waited. He came bustling down hastily but a few moments after the receptionist called for him, a little out of breath.

“Miss. Winters, my apologies, we weren’t expecting you–”

“I need to speak with Clara,” she said, pulling her watch from her pocket to check the time. Almost one. 

“She just got in, but I was about to send her off to work…”

“This won’t take long.”

“Alright, I’ll send her up to your room–”

“No, I won’t be staying. Take me down to where the girls get ready.”

Billy’s face went a little ashen. “We don’t normally allow clients into that part of the hotel.”

“Billy, you are testing my fucking patience,” she snapped, and he winced, looking around the lobby anxiously. 

“Very well. This way.”

She followed him through a side door and down a winding set of stairs, suppressing a chill as they traveled lower and lower into the bowels of the hotel. When they finally got to the end of the stairs, they were greeted by a narrow hallway. Billy took her to a door labeled with a placard reading: Dressing Room. Shooting her a nervous glance over his shoulder, he knocked once. 

“Ladies?” he called. There was movement on the other side of the door, and then it opened with a creak of complaint. 

“Yes, Billy?” Maria poked her dark head of hair out, brow raised curiously. She had a forever enduring sparkle of mischief in her eyes, and lips that seemed to always be settled into a small, knowing smile. 

“Maria, is Clara still there?”

Maria opened her mouth to answer, but a softer voice spoke up behind her.

“Yes?” a moment later, Clara had appeared behind Maria’s shoulder, a tube of lipstick clutched in her hands. Billy looked at Lucy. 

“Leave us.”

He hesitated, and she rolled her eyes, reaching into her coat and holding out a roll of bills to him. He took it tentatively, pocketing it with a small nod.

“Girls,” he said to Clara and Maria. “Miss. Winters,” he smiled at her uncomfortably. She waited until he was climbing the stairs, and then turned to the girls.

“Can I come in?” 

They looked at each other, then Maria stepped aside, holding the door open for her. She stepped in, glancing around while Maria shut the door behind her. 

Small vanities were lined against the right and left walls. Some were neat and spotless in their organization, while others were messy and chaotic, nearly spilling over onto the vanities next to it. Makeup and hair-styling products were stored on most of them, and several racks, nearly bursting with clothing, were pushed up against the wall opposite the door. 

“Which one is Elizabeth’s?” Lucy asked. Clara pointed to one of the messier vanities. Lucy went over to it, picking up a palette of makeup that rested atop the general chaos of items tossed upon the vanity. She set it back down, checking her watch again. 

One-thirty.

“Is Elizabeth working today?”

“Yes. She’s upstairs with a client now,” Maria said.

“You’re sure she’s upstairs?”

They both nodded.

Turning back to Elizabeth’s vanity, Lucy touched the coat hanging off the back of the chair lightly. It would be a little big on her, but that would be to her advantage. Her eyes skimmed around the dressing room, taking in the wigs stored on mannequin heads on a shelf. She reached into her coat pocket, drawing out another wad of bills, counting them out and then splitting them between Maria and Clara. 

“I’m going to need you two to help me with some things. And then I’m going to need you to keep Elizabeth away from that flat for the rest of the day. Alright?”

Clara’s eyes widened a small fraction. They nodded. Lucy turned back to the vanity, pulling off her cap and brushing a few locks of her distinctive red hair off of her forehead. 

“Okay. Grab me that wig, over there.” 

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