#then the next year it was copper sun i think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, I'm new on your blog and I don't really know if you still take requests for your one-shots, but I'd love to see Arthur get all sweet and maybe fall in love with a girl who owns a dog. We all know he loves dogs and maybe that's how they meet? He sees the dog and goes to pet it and them meets the girl and the rest is history...

I love your writing tho, spent hours reading your stuff and I'm so in love with the way you portray Arthur🧡

HEY THERE!

Thank you so much for the compliment and I apologize for the super late response, I hope you didn't think I was ignoring you!

This is a cute idea and I pieced this together little by little over the past few months when I had the time/energy to do so.

It was a gorgeous day. The bright sun beamed through the azure sky, bathing the land below in its warm rays.

The local park was teeming with people enjoying the day just as much as Arthur was. He sat content on a bench while the world continued. Picnics in the field across the way, children playing and laughing in the nearby playground. Young couples walking with one another, and of course the occasional jogger.

He leaned back, taking a deep, relaxing breath. A faint floral scent drifted across in a breeze that carried through a flower bed next to him. His eyes slid shut, not opposed to taking a nap at the moment. It's not like he had anything better to do on a Saturday anyway. No work, no chores, no worries.

He'd drifted off for a moment when a cold, wet nose nudged his hand and his eyes snapped open, his gaze flicking to a rather happy looking Yellow Lab. The dog was pushing against his palm, looking to be pet.

Arthur chuckled and smiled, raising his hand to oblige. The dog excitedly shoved its head beneath Arthur’s outstretched hand, immediately leaning into the complimentary ear rub.

“Hey there...” Arthur glanced underneath for a split second. “Boy.”

The dog backed up and dipped his head down to retrieve a well-worn tennis ball and placed it in Arthur’s lap, looking up expectantly. Arthur laughed a little. “Wanna play fetch, huh?”

He picked up the ball, the dog’s eyes focusing on his hand. He stood up, waited, and threw it directly in front of him. The dog took off immediately, bounding after the ball with breakneck speed. He caught it just a moment later, and galloped right back to Arthur, dropping the ball at his feet.

Arthur chuckled and just now noticed the leather collar adorning his new canine friend’s neck. “Your owner know you're over here?”

“Brody!”

As if on cue, the dog’s head turned toward the feminine voice calling from a few yards away. Arthur followed his gaze to see a pretty woman with a leash in hand.

Her eyes met his, and she gave him an apologetic look. “I'm sorry, is he bothering you?”

“Not at all,” Arthur chuckled again, glancing down at the pup whose name was apparently Brody. “He's a good boy.”

The woman jogged to close the gap between them, her eyes flicking to the dog, then back to him. “We’re working on our recall,” she explained. “Except he thinks the first person he sees must be his friend.”

“I'm glad I can make a friend,” Arthur said with a small smile, rubbing Brody’s head. “Really, it ain't a bother.”

There was a smile on her lips. She bent down and clipped the leash to the collar. “Well, thank you for being his friend at the moment.”

Arthur’s smile matched hers. “Any time.”

As the woman and Brody headed off, Arthur watched while the smile remained on his lips. He loved dogs and missed having one, but hadn't had the heart to seek another after his faithful companion, a hound named Copper, passed away a few years ago. A twinge of sweet, sad nostalgia tugged at his heart. A sigh passed his lips and he sat back down, momentarily lost in the memory of Copper before enjoying the rest of the day.

---

“Sit,”

Brody’s ears pricked at the command, his hind end planting into the grass with his eyes focused on you.

The hand that held his tennis ball lifted, and his brown eyes immediately focused onto it, his body vibrating with the beginning of his tail wag.

“Wait,” you say, lifting a finger with your free hand. Then, you toss the ball. Brody watches and his muscles tense as if ready to chase it.

“Wait,” you repeat, drawing out the word. He does so, tightened like a bowstring ready to snap.

Another second passes. “Go get it!” You command.

You waited for a few seconds, watching for a streak of blonde to pop out from the dense green.

Nothing.

“Brody!” You called out. His recall had gotten better over these past few weeks. “Brody, come!”

Still nothing.

You sighed in annoyance and jogged toward the thicket, navigating through a small path between two large bushes. You emerged on the other side to a wider path covered by the maples and oaks that lined it, giving immediate shade from the bright sun.

You glanced left and right, seeing no sign of the meathead of your dog. “Brody!” You called again, adding a sharp whistle to your command.

As if on cue, up ahead you heard a bark. Your attention snapped forward to a small clearing not too noticeable between the trees. Crossing the path, you barreled into the clearing to see your dog happily harassing someone who sat at the base of one of the trees.

“Sorry!” You call automatically, surging forward to grab onto Brody’s collar before the Lab could tackle the poor guy to death.

“S’alright!” A voice chuckles, and you pause, realizing it sounded vaguely familiar.

Heaving Brody back, you took a better look at the man and realized it was the same one your dog pulled into an impromptu game of fetch a few weeks ago. You smiled in recognition, and then noticed a sketchbook laying haphazardly on the ground.

“Oh no!” you exclaim, immediately hooking Brody to his leash. “Did he ruin anything?” you gestured pointedly to the book, your eyes skimming for any damage. There didn’t seem to be anything noticeable.

The man glanced at his sketchbook and gingerly picked it up, brushing off blades of grass from the paper. “Don’t look like it,” he said observantly. Your gaze fell to the page, which you now realized had a drawing on it.

You automatically leaned forward, taking in the detail. It was a sketch of the park, a view of the field you were just in through the trees here. It only took up half the page and you wondered if there was more to be added, and then you noticed a dirty paw print right underneath.

A groan passed your lips. “Oh, I’m sorry about that,” you gestured exasperated to the print.

He only smiled. “S’okay, it’s his contribution.”

The joke and his easygoing demeanor eased some of your frustration, and you smiled a little. “Then...you might as well draw a dog bursting from the bushes,” you giggled.

He laughed, reaching to give a hearty pet on Brody’s head. “He don’t mean it, do ya?”

Brody’s body wiggled in excitement, and almost jumped onto him if you hadn’t held the silly dog back. “Seriously though, I’m sorry for this. I’m glad he didn’t ruin your sketchbook.”

“It’s only a book, I can always get another if that were the case,” he replied, tucking the sketchbook under his arm. “N’ I’m always happy to see my friend.”

It took you a moment to remember that’s what he referred to Brody as the very first time they met. “And he was very happy to see you too...” you trailed off, realizing you didn’t even know the guy’s name.

As if he read your mind, he responded with, “Arthur.”

Arthur. You smiled wider and introduced yourself to him. “And of course you already know Brody.”

Arthur tilted his head in greeting. “He reminds me of my old dog, Copper.”

“Really?” You say with interest. “Was he a crazy Lab too?”

Arthur chuckled again and shook his head. “Nah, Hound dog actually. But he had the same personality, jus’ wanted to love on everyone.”

“That’s the best kind of dog,” you reply, watching as his smile shifted. It was a slight change, but you could tell it was a look of remembrance.

You also noticed other things too. A tinge of green in his eyes almost completely eclipsed by a light blue hue. His hair, a light brown almost shone blond in the patch of sunlight streaming through the trees. It looked soft. His cheeks had a few days’ worth of stubble, but that didn’t cover the hard cut of his jaw. He wore a blue flannel that hung open over a black shirt, the sleeves rolled almost to his elbows. He completed the look with a pair of blue Wrangler jeans and what looked like black cowboy boots.

He was...pretty good looking, if you had to say yourself.

“He was,” Arthur agreed, catching your eye. There was another shift in his expression. This time, it was a look you recognize. He too was viewing you in the same manner you were viewing him just now, studying the minor details. His eyes slid from your face and quickly flicked down your body, back up. It was such a quick glance that you had to appreciate him not lingering below your neck.

A silence fell between the two of you. It wasn't awkward nor uncomfortable, but you were unsure how to even continue the conversation.

“I should get back to our game,” you say, glancing down at Brody.

Arthur nodded, and in his other hand, he held out Brody’s ball. You blinked in surprise, not realizing he held onto it the entire time. You reached for it, your fingers gently brushing his for a split second.

Brody watched the exchange with intensity, waiting for it to be tossed again despite being currently on his leash. Arthur pat his head again, another smile forming on his face. “Maybe next time I oughta show up with a ball of my own, huh feller?”

“I'm sure he’d love that,” you said with a grin.

“Then I'll see ya next time,” he replied, giving you a two-fingered salute. You weren't sure why, but that little gesture made your heart flutter.

“Next time,” you agreed, wondering exactly when ‘next time’ was.

---

The following days your walks in the park led with the small hope you’d run into Arthur again. Though you didn't see him, you weren't going out of your way to actively search. Still, the tiny seed of disappointment that appeared at the end of each walk didn't deter you.

Truth was, you wanted to get to know him a little more. He was probably one of the friendliest strangers you've ever met, and it was a bonus that he loved dogs. You thought back to the last encounter, and the sketch of the park he was working on. You wouldn't have pegged him as an artist from his demeanor and style. Hell, he seemed more like a casual cowboy. But you knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

You continued walking along the path, only partly paying attention as Brody happily strode alongside you, his ball in his mouth knowing that his daily game of fetch would be soon. Your eyes lazily scanned the landscape, not really focusing on anything as more thoughts churned in your mind. You knew you had some chores to do after this, including tending to the lawn that started to grow too tall. Some dark clouds in the distance however might delay that, unless you were quick with--

The sudden feel of the leash going taut surprised you, and you barely had enough time to regain your balance before Brody made you face plant into the path. Steadying yourself, your other hand grabbed the leash and held tight.

“Brody!” You snapped, watching as he tried to win the tug of war battle, tail going a million miles. Glancing ahead, you saw what got him excited.

Who got him excited.

Your shock was just enough for your strength to falter, and Brody ripped free, charging toward Arthur in pure excitement. Brody jumped up on the man, as Arthur expertly managed to keep whatever he was holding out of your damned dog’s reach. Arthur’s face was full of delight, laughing as Brody continued the happy assault. his paw managed to catch Arthur in the crook of his arm, making the man spill what looked like iced coffee all over the ground.

You lunged for his leash, yanking him back with all your might. “God damnit, Brody!” You growled. “Enough!”

All that time spent training for what, your dog to get overly excited over this man? You stared at the ruined coffee in dismay, and then looked up at Arthur, expecting to see irritation all over his face. Instead, it was just amusement.

“I'm so sorry,” you gasped, heart pounding from the sudden exertion. “I can get you another drink!”

Arthur glanced down at the coffee, then back to you. There still was no annoyance or exasperation on his face like you expected. “No use cryin’ over a three dollar coffee,” he said with a small shrug.

“Still,” you said, finally managing to get Brody to calm down at your side. “it's my fault my idiot of a dog made you drop it.”

Arthur gave a small chuckle. With a slight shake of his head, he replied, “He's jus’ excited.”

“He knows better,” you insisted. “And please, let me buy you a new coffee. Three dollars or not, I know what it's like to go without your daily caffeine.”

The smile on his face widened slightly. “If you’re insistin’,” he said thoughtfully. “Then I'll buy you one as well.”

This caught you off guard. “Uh, that's not necessary, Arthur. I'm—”

He waved away your refusal. “S’only fair. Besides, seems like you need the energy to keep up with this one.”

Only fair for what? You had to wonder. The question played on the edge of your tongue, but the way Arthur gazed at you expectantly...it drew you up short. His handsome features weren't lost to you, and you remembered that time beneath the trees, caught up in examining the finer details. The way he did the same...

Realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. “Are you...asking me out?” You asked suddenly.

Arthur’s smile turned sheepish, his demeanor slightly folding in a picture of shyness that reminded you of a middle schooler. “Hopin’ you'd say yes,” he said in a roundabout way of answering your question.

Heat flushed in your cheeks as your thoughts spiraled. This was completely shocking and unexpected, but not at all unpleasant. Hadn't you offhandedly wished you could run into him again?

“Uh...yes,” you finally breathed out. “I'll go for a coffee with you.”

Arthur was beaming.

Youd just managed to get home to drop Brody off before the telltale roll of thunder boomed through the iron clouds. A gust of wind followed, pulling along the scent of rain. The coffee shop Arthur told you to go to was thankfully a few blocks away, which meant a short trip in your car.

Parking just a half block away, fat raindrops began their descent just as you hustled toward the shop. You made it through the door just before the torrential downpour began, and you sighed in relief before facing the interior of the shop. It was cozy, with a color scheme of warm oranges and browns that somewhat reminded you of the desert. The counter with two baristas were along the back wall. A few small tables scattered around the open floor. It wasn't really busy, the shop sporting what seemed to be just four other people. It was early afternoon on a weekday, so the small crowd made sense. The storm outside muted the interior noises, setting an even cozier ambience.

You heard your name called, and you glanced over to the corner to see Arthur waiting for you. Smiling at him, you approached and stopped just a few feet before him. “Hey again.”

He greeted you with a smile of his own and a tilt of his head. “Looks like you didn't get caught in the storm,” he observed.

“Almost,” you said with a shrug. “Guess that ruins any chance of sitting outside.”

“S’alright, I don't mind sittin’ inside,” he said, moving up to the counter to which you followed suit.

The both of you placed your orders, and Arthur whipped out his wallet and paid for yours before you even had a chance to unzip your purse. Despite your efforts to decline, he insisted and paid for your drink and a snack. After retrieving the cold drinks, he led you to a small table pushed up against one of the windows.

At first it was quiet. It’d been a while since you’d been on a date, and you idly toyed with the straw of your drink to better mix the concoction settled at the bottom before taking a sip. It was good.

Glancing up, you saw Arthur was doing the same, his eyes cast down at the drink before him. There was a sheepish, almost shy look on his face, reminding you of earlier when first asking you out. It seemed without the intervention of Brody, Arthur was a man of few words.

He looked up then, meeting your gaze at an instant. “How’s your drink?” he asked.

“It’s good,” you responded, wondering how else to combat the awkwardness slowly rising. “Yours?”

“No different than the one before,” he said with a small smile.

Earlier shame from Brody’s misbehavior flooded your cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Brody’s usually so much better than that. I don’t know what about you makes him go crazy.”

“Must be my winnin’ personality,” he joked, picking up the blueberry muffin he’d purchased and took a bite out of it.

That made you smile a little. “I suppose it is,” you thought back to your previous encounters. “Did you finish that sketch from before?”

Arthur paused for a moment, no doubt trying to remember. Finally, he nodded. “Wanna see?”

You blinked in surprise, wondering if you’d somehow missed the large sketchpad. Before you could glance around for the obviously missing item, he pulled out his phone from his pocket. It took a moment before he turned the screen to you, producing a photo of the familiar sketch. The scene of the park seemed to appear more detailed than before, along with an addition that surprised you.

The pawprint Brody had so kindly bestowed on the paper had been faint but noticeable before, but now it seemed more prominent. Your brow furrowed, wondering if his paw had been dirtier than you remembered that day. Upon closer inspection, though, you saw that wasn’t the case.

Careful strokes and shading showed that Arthur enhanced the pawprint, blending it effortlessly into the rest of the sketch, appearing as if it were intentional.

You once again blinked in surprise. “You...outlined the pawprint,” you said rather dumbly.

“Thought it’d be neat,” he responded nonchalantly.

Somehow...that warmed your heart. It perhaps was an insignificant little thing. Arthur could have just ignored it entirely or drawn over it, or hell, even scrap the entire drawing afterward. But he didn’t. He incorporated your dog’s “contribution” into his art without a second thought.

Your heart stammered a moment, and once again you found yourself at a loss for words.

“I also...” Arthur reached with his free hand to scroll, showing another image. “Drew him.”

Your eyes focused on the new drawing, your breath catching in your throat. He seemed to capture Brody in a moment of play, the glee on the dog’s face apparent as he chased a tennis ball through the bushes.

“That...” you swallowed the well of emotion that rose. Why did that affect you in such a way? “That’s amazing, Arthur. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” he said, pulling his phone back. “A dog like him really leaves an impression on ya.”

A small giggle bubbled from your mouth. “In more ways than one, apparently. I’m glad you like him, even when he’s being a pain in the ass.”

The chuckle he gave matched yours. “He’s a good friend, n’ I hope I can see more of the both of ya in the future.”

Heat swarmed your cheeks and your gaze dropped to your drink, your heart humming beneath your ribcage. The smile on your lips was shy. “As long as I get to see more of your art,” you replied, peering back up at him.

He dipped his head in a nod. “I think that can be arranged.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

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thesweetestofdreams · 2 months ago

Text

The Gold and the Rust (Part 2)

How It Shines (part 2/??) 3k words

pairings: poly!marauders x reader (soon)

warnings: none I think

a/n: Hello, thank you so much for the warm welcome to this series. I'm so happy to share more, and I would love to hear your thoughts.

Sometimes the wizarding world felt like a fever dream, one that you would wake up from at any minute. The first time you saw magic, real and intentional magic it felt like you found something you didn’t know you lost. The strangeness you’d always felt suddenly disappeared even if for just a moment. As young as you could remember you felt like you were watching the world spin without waiting for you to catch up. You could finally catch your breath, that is, until everything came crashing down. People are frightened by things they don’t understand, even if it is their own child. This shining and magical world stole everything from you, and now you were left in the dark trapped between two lives that you couldn’t fit.

You figured when your entire world is made of gold it's easy to be blinded by all of the reflections. That's how you thought of Gryffindors. It was strange to be in a house and only ever feel like you're viewing it from the outside.

Few people left you with the feeling of an open door, a welcome and unencumbered view of what a true Gryffindor was. Lily Evans was one of those people. She was made for this life. It was clear from the moment you met. She was contagious and impossible not to like.

Looking at her now as the two of you studied in the Great Hall, you could still see traces of her at eleven. The girl you met on your very first train ride to hogwarts. She always held an unwavering assuredness that no matter where she was she would find her place. She was there the first time an older boy with sharp eyes called you a mudblood. You hadn’t known what it meant at the time, but you knew it was bad enough that Lily broke his nose for it. She sought you out at the start of every year no matter how much work you did to avoid her.

"Are you even paying attention?" She asked, finally looking up from her book. Copper hair fell over her shoulder. She looked like a painting from a museum, something timeless. She also looked rather annoyed.

"Yeah yeah there's a rare pixie in eastern caves." You said trying to remember you were in the great hall and not your own head.

“That was ages ago, I asked if you were going to the Slytherin party?”

“Why would I?” Slytherin parties were notorious.

“Because it's going to be fun? And I'm going so you should.” She didn’t return to herbooks instead she watched expectantly.

“I don't know. I have a transfiguration’s essay.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t much of a good excuse, not for Lily.

“Remus is in that class and he said it wasn’t due until next week. Please come with me.” You were caught and Lily was giving you an irrefutable, pleading look.

You were about to answer when a surge of people flooded into the great hall. Their noise came with them like the roar of a wave, trickling down to where the two of you sat.

You started to gather your things ready for your next escape, but you weren't quick enough.

"You don't have to leave," a familiar voice said. It was James coming around to your other side. He smiled at them as he started talking to Lily about a new quidditch player. He always smiled like the sun, almost too bright to truly look at it.

"You weren’t leaving, were you (y/n)," another familiar voice and a familiar arm over your shoulder as Sirius sat on your other side. He was looking at you with his usual mischief, already planning something surely. “What were you ladies talking about? It wasn’t me was it?” He winked, incredulous.

“It wasn’t you, Pads,” and there it was the last of the trio. Remus leaned over the two of you, if it was anyone else his height would be intimidating, but for him it was just, well, Remus. “It was, transfiguration?” he said looking at her work. “I thought that wasn’t due until next week.”

“That’s what I said.” Lily jumped from her conversation with James as Remus sat next to him.

“Okay lads, well it's been lovely as always,” you said, sliding out from under Sirius’ arm.

“Wait, you’ll come with me won’t you,” Lily added. She was certainly persistent.

“She’ll go,” Sirius said.

“You don’t even know where, and I’ll speak for myself thank you,” you said, patting a less than gentle hand on his shoulder as you stood.

Lily looked at you again with her best pleading face on display.

“Yes, I’ll go with you, but can I finally leave now?” Your eyebrows raised as you tried not to smile at her giddy face.

“Okay yes, go, you’re dismissed,” she said waving her hands to shoo you away.

As you walked away you heard Sirius say something along the lines of never having any fun. Little did he know you were just doing your best to get through the year, fun came in rare moments you didn’t have the time for anymore. Really you were going to the party as a chaperone, to watch Lily have fun from your place at her side.

If the wizarding world was a fever dream then slytherin parties were another realm altogether. The flickering candles were enchanted to an array of colors casting the room in darkened rainbow hues. It was as if the room was colored by stars.

The floor to ceiling windows showed the dark expanse of the black lake only further reflecting the lights swaying with the water's movement.

People were passing cups full overflowing with curling smoke and uniforms were long since abandoned for more festive clothing.

Gryffindor parties often got a bit wild, but they still had nothing on Slytherin. Being below the ground, nestled in the dungeons, meant celebrations could be as loud as they wanted. Once you'd considered what life would be like if you were sorted into Slytherin, what it would feel like to be in the house of the cunning and ambitious. Then you were reminded that there were no more prizes in life that you wanted, only to get through.

The party was a swaying sea of green, house pride and what not, but there were occasional pockets of yellow, red, or blue. Some people it was nearly impossible to tell, blurring the lines of house division.

Somewhere music was playing but it echoed through the large stone rooms so it seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Lily had pulled you in a large circle around the room, seeming to greet everyone you passed. The night was still young and there was much to do and much to see, although you did wish for the comfort of your dorm.

"Do you want something to drink?" Lily asked loudly overcompensating for the music.

"No thanks, I don't feel like tumbling down a moving staircase tonight." You said picking up a sugar quill instead from the table of drinks and treats. Gummy snakes slithered along the surface, curling around discarded cups and tangling amongst each other.

"Sirius was right, you know," Lily said, taking another drink for herself. "You don't know how to have any fun."

You'd heard Sirius say it plenty of times. You could almost hear him now. Hearing it come from Lily had a different weight to it. "I have fun, I just want to make sure I remember watching everyone else fall on the stairs."

"Ha ha," Lily deadpanned. "Here," she shoved a drink in your hand, clearly ignoring you. Smoke snaked around your fingers from the lid of the cup. You looked at her incredulous. "Just to hold," she said, "for decoration."

A group of kids in the corner were already placing lively bets on the coming quidditch season. A few more were playing some game with a floating bottle spinning in the air. Lily continued to pull you along with her almost like a tethered balloon. She slid between Slytherins with sharp eyeliner and bold shadow, she slid between a group of hufflepuff girls with yellow blouses more fit for summertime than cold dungeons.

The entire scene was otherworldly an escape from the sometimes stifling class schedule. Everything seemed to burst with color and that's when you saw it. That's when you saw the contents of your cup begin to bubble over spilling liquid past your fingertips. You looked around the room trying to see if this was happening to anyone else. A cup in the hands of a younger ravenclaw across the room and several at the refreshments table began to do the same things. You looked down at the purple foam now dripping down the side of your cup until suddenly it exploded. You were bathed in a sea of colors. The contents of the cups in the nearby table flew in fountain-like streams up to nearly touching the ceiling. You were soaked in streaming colors, bursting from the purple foam of your cup. Pink trailed down your arms and a bright yellow pooled around your shoes. A few others by the table caught the brunt of flying colors, but none so bad as you and the ravenclaw boy, well it was hard to tell now that he was ravenclaw his house sweater was now closer to a kaleidoscope rather than the usual blue and bronze.

You felt yourself slide into place behind your eyes, almost watching the scene unfold from a separate version of yourself. Separate from the you that partygoers were now snickering at. Separate from the you that more resembled a rainbow than your usual self. You didn't share in the merriment, nor did your face reflect the shocked "o" shape of Lily's. You were fuming, almost as if you could steam the color right off of you. You knew exactly who was behind this, better yet, you knew the exact three who were behind this.

You stalked into the Gryffindor common room eyes searching for your target. Sitting on a couch tucked near the back three laughing forms came into view.

Pink powdered hair and color-smeared face forgotten, you approached them. “Can I talk to you,” you whispered to Sirius leaning over the back of the couch. It wasn’t a question.

“Of course love,” he started, but quickly stopped as the three of them took you in. Shock dancing on their features. From the look on your face Sirius knew he was in trouble. Pulling him into a secluded

“Do you really think this shit is funny?” you fumed. Sirius took you in his face falling more and more by the second, then a quirk of his lip.

“Pink hair suits you.” For a moment you were dumbfounded. This was meant to be an argument.

“Can’t you just be serious for one minute?”

“I’m always Sirius.” He flashed what was meant to be a dazzling smile, it just made you want to smack him. Instead of actually hitting him, you started to walk away. Clearly there was no talking to Sirius on this issue.

He catches up to stand in front of you. “I didn’t know you’d be there (y/n). I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” Finally a sincere thought, let alone an apology. You sigh.

“Please just leave me alone Sirius. I think that will be best for both of us. We don’t need any more distractions this year.”

“So you think I’m distracting,” he says, quickly falling back into his usual ways.

“Sirius Black.” It comes out far too loud from your mouth and immediately you wish you could snatch it back out of the air. You look over and James is peeking over his shoulder while Remus at least pretends to be engrossed in the fireplace. You run your hands through your hair pink dust staining your fingers. “Some of us are just trying to make it through the year and this,” you gesture to yourself covered in bright pigmented blotches, “only makes it harder.”

“I could try to help, make things easier, I mean.” He seemed oddly sincere. It suited him and for a moment you thought you saw a chink in his armor, that maybe there were pieces of you reflected in him. You pushed the thought away.

“I want you to stay out of it, to leave me out of it.” You were getting tired, of the night, of the conversation, all of it.

“Well, I’ll try, but I’ve never been very good at doing what I’m told.”

The Gryffindor common room was warm. It always was no matter the weather outside. As days marched forward the common room always seemed fixed in time. It was the one constant, it never changed when classes did. It saw everything.

It saw you at every turn. It also saw you as you dashed through the portrait hole. Running extremely late for charms this morning.

After a long night of scrubbing colored powder from nearly every inch of yourself and catching up on assignments you’d meant to do after the party, you jolted upright, knocking a host of books off of the bed. Your hands were smeared with ink and a good portion of the parchment had smudged, illegible writing now pooling at the bottom. You muttered curses as you flew about the room for your uniform. With an undone tie and bedraggled hair you ran to Charms hoping you hadn’t missed the entire class.

Stomach flipping as you made for the door, you had the vague sense to smooth down your hair and robes. Had the world been on your side the class would have been in the middle of chaotic demonstrations from students, but when was the world ever on your side? An overly dramatic hush came over the classroom and several students, a handful being Slytherins from the party, snickered at the sight of you.

Sirius tried to get your attention, waving a hand at you and gesturing to the seat beside James. Ultimately this is what got Flitwicks attention, snagged away from his lecture. “Unfortunately that will be point from Gryffindor Ms.(l/n). Please have a seat.” Flitwick looked to the seat closest to you. As fate would have it that seat was also the one next to that of James Potter. It wasn’t particularly surprising as he had a habit of talking with his hands and a reputation for spilling ink jars.

“So Gryffindor, party too hard?” A voice sounded from the mess of green robes. You saw Sirius shoot a scathing look their way.

“That’s enough distraction,” Flitwick reprimanded, quickly returning to his lesson. You could still hear your heart pounding over the scratching of quills. The thundering rhythm of embarrassment came with it.

“I’m guessing you didn’t?” A whispering voice came from your right. James was restraining his usual sunshine smile.

“What?” You were still reeling from the sticky pull of sleep, your hands fumbled through your bag.

“Party too hard?”

“Oh, no,” you said, your mouth trying to catch up over the race of your heart.

“Sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” James said. “Here.” He slid you his notes, they were surprisingly diligent if only half legible.

"Alright everyone, as we are nearing the end of your time at Hogwarts, we must be sure you're prepared for the real wizarding world. In a real job you'll seldom work alone and for that reason I am introducing our first group project. I trust your desk mates will make worthy companions on this venture." Flitwick continued but you hardly heard him. A series of groans fluttered through the class, but Flitwick continued as if you had all just applauded. “This will be a considerable portion of your grade so please do take this seriously.”

You glanced down the table at Sirius who looked rather happy with himself. Remus smiled at you with a small wave, and James bumped your elbow with his. “Welcome to the best group,” he whispered to you. You felt a part of yourself crumble at the realization that you were now dependent on the Marauders of all people if you wanted to pass Charms and finally leave hogwarts.

The rest of class was a blur between Flitwick going over the project and frantically copying James’s notes. He kept having to tell you what words were through all of his scribbling. Eventually after all of the trouble Remus passed his to you. There were little black stars drawn in the left margin.

As class dismissed you did your best to get out and into the hall before being sequestered by Sirius. You were not successful.

“Oh love you have ink on your cheek, James why didn’t you tell her?” Sirius said, standing next to you.

“I didn’t want to be rude.” James tried to defend himself. You were mortified.

Sirius began to lick his thumb. You take a few steps back bumping into another small group of students.

“Here.” Remus rummaged through his bag pulling out a packet of tissues.

“Of course you’d have that, Moony.” Sirius says, grabbing them up. With it comes a half bar of chocolate.

“I figure you didn’t have time for breakfast, it's not much but…” Remus said trailing off at the end.

“Oh great idea. I think I have a… an apple.” James pulled an apple from his robe pocket.

Sirius tries to wipe your face for you but you make quick work of doing it yourself.

“Thank you,” you say, passing the packet back to Remus, “but it’s really not a big deal. Lunch isn’t too far off.” You can’t rightfully take food from them after telling them off just the night before.

“Don’t be coy, (y/n).” Sirius took both the apple and chocolate, pushing them into your hands.

“Thanks,” you said, not sure what else you could say. They had no reason to be so nice to you.

As much as you wanted to glare at them or make a snarky comment, they were being, well, caring. It left you feeling off kilter, like one push could knock you over. People didn’t treat you like this, not anymore. Not since your mother and father left their strange and scary daughter at Hogwarts only to never retrieve you, only to send you off again. It was another reason you would never be the same as the golden Marauders. You were from and you lived in two different worlds.

“Okay well, I have a transfiguration essay to fix, but I guess I” you paused, “owe you guys.” Finally you seized the chance to leave. A series of objections fell from behind your back as you made your way to the library.

You had to get a grip, remind yourself that staying away from them was what you wanted, was easier, was for the best, but how were you meant to work together if all you wanted was to avoid them? What was the better sacrifice, your vow to leave Hogwarts as soon as you can or the vow to never let anyone see who you really were? You were just going to have to make it work. You can work with the Marauders without falling into anything more. Sirius couldn’t rope you in if you tethered yourself to the truth, that no one wants the strange and scary girl left alone at the train station.

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #marauders x reader #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #x reader #marauders era #the marauders #dead gay wizards from the 70s #we're getting there #cute dates coming soon

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dawneternal · 7 months ago

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The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Four

☁︎ notes: these dummies are so smitten

☁︎ warnings: usual talk of injuries and Beron's abuse. Injured animal (he's okay though)

☁︎ word count: 2.2k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

The next summon interrupted Aya’s day off. Her promised day of nothingness; no lessons, no jobs, no meetings, and no Court dinners. She planned to curl up in a corner of the green house and read, surrounded by the scent of healing herbs and flowers. Until that infernal ring began to glow once more. She could not ignore it, but she could grumble to herself all she wanted about how talented the Heir of Autumn was at collecting near-death experiences.

She was still silently complaining while she winnowed, while the world righted itself, and while Edana’s garden appeared before her eyes. What finally stopped the chain of complaints was the sight of Eris standing before her.

Hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side, he smiled as her gaze met his. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, eyes bright and unclouded by pain or alcohol. The sunlight gilded his copper hair and kissed every freckle.

Aya found herself unable to remember what she had been thinking about. No memory of her difficult weeks, her reluctance to return to this land of cunning and deception. She was lost in his smile. Something in it made her feel like she knew everything and nothing all at once.

Eris watched her eyes flick over his form, still struggling to focus after winnowing, and he took the time to study her in turn. Her height surprised him, the top of her head barely level with his shoulder. She had lovely curves, hugged by flowy, pastel fabrics as per the Dawn Court fashion. Her ears were lined with piercings, a gold ring with a gem dangling from her septum. Her wings were a soft glimmering gold dappled with darker brown, feathers rustling in the light breeze. She kept them tucked in tight to her body. And her eyes-

He thought of the sun rising, the blue fading into the orange and leaving that strange greyed-out tone in between. Somewhere in that softly painted sky was the color of her eyes. A brilliant silver, not quite blue, hints of orange. Purple in some lights. Somehow conveying all the loveliness of a misty dawn. Perhaps he had not appreciated the sunrise as much as he should in his five hundred and something years alive.

In short, they spent entirely too long staring at each other.

“At last, I meet my savior,” Eris broke the silence.

“I’d hardly call myself a savior,” Aya said, clutching her bag a little tighter. Her voice was as soft and melodic as he remembered from his dream.

“You deserve countless thanks, nonetheless,” He smiled, and Aya admired the way his freckles moved and dipped to make way for his dimples.

The crisp air combined with her thin clothes pulled a shiver from her. She had begun to wonder if he had called her there just to thank her when he swept an arm toward the door to Edana’s rooms.

“One of my hounds is injured,” He said, his expression slipping into something more solemn, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know it’s nothing serious. If you’ll follow me.”

In the daylight, she could see more details of Edana’s rooms. The trim, doorways, and furniture were cut from the same dark wood as the rest of the Forest House, but the Lady had her walls painted light colors. Her decorations ventured outside of the familiar autumn color palette, a few daring shades of blue scattered throughout.

Aya also noticed for the first time that the door to the stone hallway was different from the rest. Aside from being situated in a strange place, it was older, warped and scratched. It had been left slightly ajar, and she could see from its faint purple glow that it was enchanted. When the door was shut, it would disappear from the wall entirely.

She followed him through the doorway, watching the fae-lights in the dim hall illuminate his muscled shoulders and well tailored shirt. As the ever present silence of the stone hallway wrapped around them, it finally hit her that they were alone.

“This is a private passage?” She asked softly, “There’s never anyone here.”

“Yes,” He answered, his voice strangely tense, “It’s an old passageway either unknown or forgotten by my father.”

He did not elaborate and she did not pry any further. It bothered Eris that she had been here twice before and he had not been conscious of it. He had no idea what she had seen and heard and learned. Things he should have been there to shield her from, no doubt.

When she stepped through the doorway, Aya shivered, her wings ruffling. Eris’s brows knit together. He had never seen anyone react to wards that way before. He watched as she scanned the room and locked in on the hound laying on his bed, needing no instruction. When she approached, she offered him the back of her fist to sniff, and he seemed to have no qualms with her coming closer. She soothed him before moving to his wound, smoothing down his dark fur and massaging his ears, all the while murmuring kind words and praise.

Eris almost smiled, wondering if she understood how ferocious that beast could be. He had seen the same dog with eyes hollow and hungry, blood dripping from his jaw. Not many would go near him. On his feet, he probably stood almost to her shoulder. And here she was, turning him to putty with her pets and kind words. His tail wagged as she spoke to him and he didn’t protest when she finally began to clean and dress his wound.

“What happened?” Aya asked, eyes remaining focused on the work before her. He admired the dance of her hands, swift and coordinated.

“He tumbled near the river bank, silly beast,” Eris answered.

Aya noted the affection in his voice and the embroidered collar around the dog’s neck. A thought also prickled at the back of her mind that Eris was not telling her the real story. Why have her come all of this way if the cause was not something that Beron must not know? But it did not matter, because she wasn’t supposed to sleuth.

“He has a name, doesn’t he?” She said instead, smiling.

“Juno,” Eris admitted, a bit sheepishly. Embarrassment crept up the back of his neck, the feeling of being caught at something he tried to hide. Her smile was too knowing, she definitely recognized it as another figure from mythology.

“I wish I could give you something to thank you properly,” He continued.

“Well you did interrupt my day off,” She flashed a sly smirk, eyes still on her hands.

“Oh, did I?” His eyebrows raised, lips twitching up into a smile. Something sparked in his veins at her playful tone. “I suppose I’ll have to figure out something special then.”

“If you think that’s fair,” She let out an exaggerated sigh, eyes glittering.

Eris was distracted by a golden glimmer, catching the light as she worked. It was the ring on her forefinger, a simple gold band that fit snug against her skin. His stomach dropped.

“My mother bound you?” He whispered, and from his tone she could practically see the embers burning in his throat.. Aya paused and looked up at him, the color draining from his face.

“Yes,” Her brows furrowed. She thought he would have known that. “Her contract seemed fair. I asked for a written copy.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he said in that same quiet fury, “Will you please send me a copy?”

“Of course,” Aya said, gaze still stuck on his as she searched his face for answers. It was almost too long before she turned back to the hound, who had begun to whine for her attention. The silence in the room had begun to squeeze.

“I understand that this situation is…delicate,” She continued after a moment, swallowing hard. It was always too quiet here, sounds of arguing and pain the only things to interrupt it. It was unnerving, like balancing a glass ball on each shoulder.

“I wish she would not have dragged you into it,” He whispered through his teeth. He stood with his arms crossed, looking a little taller than before. This was closer to the image of the Heir she had heard stories about. Though he was certainly less intimidating since she had seen him drunk and smitten with a fictional angel.

“I can handle it,” Aya said, giving Juno one last pat before rearranging the supplies in her worn leather satchel.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

She faced him, bag in hand, tilting her head back to look at him fully. Eris drew in a deep breath, trying not to stare at the reflection of the light on her long glossy curls, in her misty eyes.

“Thesan gave me a talisman,” She pulled up one sleeve to reveal a tattoo on her bicep. A stylized, swirling cloud. “It will give me protection against magic if your father tried to use any against me.”

The sight of it did strange things to Eris’s heart. He felt the relief of her protection. She was not another liability, another piece on his chessboard that he must keep under his watch at all times. But there was another feeling there, too. Like he resented this thing that separated her from him. That ugly desire to control and protect everything he felt a fondness for reared its head. She belonged to the Dawn Court. She was Thesan’s creature. She may be Eris’s healer, bound to his mother by that horrible ring, but she was not his. She was not loyal to him. Unless she chose to be. And nobody ever chose Eris of their own accord.

“Good,” Eris said, in another tone that Aya couldn’t read.

“Oh,” She said, in an attempt to avoid another awkward lull, fishing a corked bottle of green tablets and holding it out to him. “Juno can have these for the pain. They’re mostly herbs so they’re very safe for him.”

“You’re very kind,” Eris smiled, his voice softened by the kindness she had shown his beloved pet. It was, of course, a risk to show any affection for his hounds. They were meant to be ruthless weapons. Just like the seven sons.

“What are your mother’s guards names?” She asked suddenly, brows drawing together.

“Why?” He swallowed an urge to reach out and smooth the wrinkles between her eyebrows with his thumb, swiping away whatever worried her just to see her smile again.

“I just think I should know. It seems to rude to refer to them as anything else. They’re not my guards.”

So she must not know about Thesan’s order for Eris to protect her while she was present in the Autumn Court. He had extended that order to the guards.

“The older one with dark hair is Caspian, and Asher is blond and bearded,” Eris answered. Aya nodded, and he could practically see her tucking the information away in her mind.

Against the dark wood and warm colors of his room, he thought she looked like a sparkling gemstone. Vibrant Amethyst among common stones. They watched each other in silence for the third time until, reluctantly, he led her back to the winnow spot and let her return to her world.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The next morning, Aya was pulled from her sleep by a knock on the door. A courier waited on the other side with an envelope and package wrapped in brown paper and string. She thanked him and returned to her bed, holding the parcel in her lap. The paper and string fell forgotten to the floor as she opened it eagerly.

Inside was a new leather satchel, the same shape and size as her old one. The sides and edges had been dyed a rich mulberry, the leather carved and tooled into an interlocking, curving design. The golden clasp, shaped like a leaf, gleamed in the morning sun. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of it, so lovely and new compared to the one she had carried daily for years now. The leather had been worn so thoroughly that it drooped and sagged.

Aya opened the bag, finding it lined with pockets and sections the perfect sizes for bandages and vials. There was also an envelope nestled inside, her name scrawled on the front in curly script. She opened it gingerly, planning to add the paper to the box of ephemera under her bed. Mail was a rare treat.

Aya,

Thank you again for your help. Juno is doing much better and I suspect you have made a friend of him. I hope this gift will be of use to you.

As for retribution for your missed day off, you may also find that your instructors received a strongly worded letter from some anonymous busybody complaining about the state of cleanliness in the healer’s wing. I believe the buildings are being deep-cleaned over the next few days. Enjoy your long weekend.

Eris

Aya buried her face in her hands, covering her silly, involuntary smile and burning cheeks. She finally bothered to open the other envelope, finding Eris to be truthful. The head of the school had sent a note announcing that classes had been canceled, though they did include a list of assignments to complete and log in the meantime. Assignments that she could complete in the greenhouse, between dozing off and basking in the sunshine the green, herbal scent. Somehow, against all the odds she battled with, Aya had made a friend.

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hellfireclubmember · 3 months ago

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Don't Know Yet

a/n: just the beginning of a fanfic i'm working on. if any of u like it i will post the rest of this. i think it's cute enough to break my silence. good to be back friends

summary: you're moving in the middle of summer to a random town in the middle of nowhere with your father. a group of misfit wanderers take you in

The door to your new house was painted a deep green, there were small chips running along the edges on the door where the hinges met the frame. Some of the old paint and even some wood peeked from the cracks. There were scratches on the copper of the mail slot from years of use. And you thought of all the mail that must’ve passed through the house over the years; simple advertisement from some markets in town or sleazy magazines the previous owners spent hours flipping through, or maybe even some love letters clumsily slipped through the small space on the door.

“Hey sweetheart, you wanna stop staring at the door and grab a box?” There were boxes covering the majority of your father’s face. They were stacked high in his arms. He walked toward the house, his oxfords looking very out of place on the dirt path onto the porch.

Without a second look at the door, you walked back to the car, where there were boxes stacked on a patch of grass. There were tiny blue flowers scattered amongst the green. The sun was beaming down at anyone brave enough to stand outside of the shade but there was a nice summer breeze. You grabbed a box with your name scribbled on it and walked inside the wooden home. It was a two-story house with a gorgeous wrap around porch.

“You should walk into town to grab some food for us.” Your father was walking back into the house with the last box. “It’s not very far.” He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped some sweat off of his forehead. His cheeks were a bright red shade which made you chuckle.

“Yeah, I wanted to go for a walk anyway.” You started you trek toward the small town which happened to be ten minutes on foot. Even with the short walk you could feel droplets of sweat running down your arms as they swung at your sides. The path you were walking was another dirt road, lined with big chinkapin oak trees. The thought of the bright green leaves many shades of orange made you excited for the fall. Whilst thinking of falling leaves you heard the engine of a vehicle approaching. Very loud music became louder and louder. When you turned to search for the source of the noise, you caught a glimpse of the prettiest boy you had ever seen. The sandy color of his hair almost matched the color of his freckles. His lips were a soft pink, and they were upturned in a knowing smile. His eyes were fixed on you when the van that had disturbed your peaceful walk blocked your view. The boy with the perfect hair got into the passenger seat.

“Who’s the babe?” Eddie, the driver, yelled out over the music to the pretty boy. The thought of lowering the music hadn’t occurred to him.

“Don’t know yet.” He looked out of the window as they drove by next to you. Steve stared at you until they turned the corner on their way to Bill’s.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader

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shelbyssins · 2 years ago

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HI 💕 I loved Home so much and I was wondering if I could request something?? I had this idea of Tommy x Reader where reader was like a one that got away situation with pre-war Tommy and she married someone else but her husband dies during the war but Tommy didn’t ever know that he just thought she was married.. so time passes and they meet again then you can choose the ending!! Happy or sad you can choose, I hope this makes sense English is not my first language lol!! And if this doesn’t inspire you that’s okay too but know I love your work and am excited to see what you write next!!!💕😇😇

Seasons Change, People Don't ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, a sprinkling of angst

Word Count: 6,880

A/N: So this past week or so has just been insanely busy for me and I was struggling to find time to finish this request but here it finally is! I wanted to make this a little more light hearted than my previous request and the idea of Tommy and reader's relationship changing through the seasons really stuck with me so I hope you enjoy! I will be posting some shorter form one shots this week with some different characters so watch out for those! As always, if you read this, let me know what you think! - Rosie x

June 1912

“Tommy!” Y/n shrieked as she bounded over to her friend in the stables. The summer sun was breaking through the thin cover of cloud that drifted over the fields today. Y/n watched as Tommy’s eyes met hers, a soft smile playing on his lips when he recognised her. Y/n pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, smacking her lips louder than she needed to because she knew it wound him up. He made an exaggerated show of wiping the spot she’d kissed and Y/n punched him lightly in response, he laughed gently, feigning hurt as he rubbed his arm.

Tommy was reverently brushing his mare, a bay horse who’s coat gleamed like copper coins under his attention. Tommy was a quiet man, never really as raucous as his brothers could be, but he laughed a lot, those soft little chuckles that never failed to make Y/n blush whenever she pulled one out of him. Tommy was a middle child, but Y/n knew he acted every bit the eldest. Having been blessed with intelligence, his head would soon be burdened with the crown of the Shelby family. Though he did laugh a lot, Y/n could often see the strain he felt as the head of the family, so it was nice to see him relaxed and in his own world.

He was twenty two now, about a head taller than Y/n and she found him so frustratingly handsome. She watched as his solid muscles shifted beneath his crisp shirt with every movement over his mare’s back, all broad shoulders and quiet strength, it was no wonder he had every girl in Small Heath falling over themselves for the chance to go out with him, though he never seemed to care much. Despite the obvious physical attraction, Y/n’s favourite part of him was his bright blue eyes, shining like sapphires in the sun, like stormy seas in the shade. Y/n would like to pretend that she was better than all the other girls, far above so obviously throwing herself at Tommy; but it was hard to push down the magnificently huge crush she had on him when he gazed at her with those pools of blue.

Y/n had known Tommy ever since she could remember, her mother was best friends with his Aunt, Polly Gray, they were practically sisters, and as her father had abandoned them before she was even born, the Shelby family pitched in to help wherever needed. Then, when Y/n was twelve years old, her mother passed and she’d lived with Polly ever since. She knew full well that Tommy only ever deemed her like a sister, but that didn’t stop her dreaming that he’d one day notice her affections.

It didn’t help that Tommy always treated her like a child as well, chiding her when he’d seen her smoking for the first time, always referring to her and her friends as ‘the kids’. Y/n had hoped that now she was eighteen, Tommy might see her in a different light, might start treating her like an adult, but if anything he was even more overprotective.

Just recently he’d refused to let her sit with him and his older brother, Arthur, in the Garrison, telling her, “It’s not proper for young ladies to listen to conversation like ours, you don’t want to be around us when we’re drinking anyway,”. It was kind of humiliating, especially when Arthur had laughed that booming laugh right in her face, so she gave up that night and trailed home, feeling every bit the little girl Tommy thought she was.

“You know, Mark’s been hanging around me a lot recently,” Y/n began, hoping that Tommy might get jealous if she talked about another guy, “Ada says she thinks he likes me,”

Y/n got nothing more than a non committal grunt from Tommy, though his hands had stilled their work over his mare’s mane.

“She thinks he’s going to ask me to go to the Garrison’s jazz night this weekend. As his date,” She added the clarification at the end, searching Tommy’s face for absolutely any reaction.

Tommy obviously wasn’t going to bite, so Y/n decided to try a more direct approach, “You know, if you asked me to go with you instead of him, I’d say yes,”

For all the intelligence he apparently possessed, Tommy just looked at Y/n blankly, a puzzled eyebrow raised as he went back to grooming his horse.

“You know I don’t like jazz, Y/n,” Was all he said on the matter, and Y/n wondered if he really was that bad at picking up her hints or if he was ignoring her attempts at flirtation on purpose.

Y/n was beyond frustrated at the fact that Tommy just didn’t understand what she was trying to say, she had hoped distantly that maybe she had a head start on all the other girls who liked Tommy too; she knew him far better than they did after all. But maybe it was because they’d grown up together that Tommy couldn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, maybe she’d always be just a kid in his eyes. Maybe he had some misguided idea that he was protecting her feelings by pretending to be confused, because perhaps in reality he just wanted to reject her.

“Well maybe I’ll just say yes to Mark then,” Y/n snapped, all together fed up with trying to get her meaning across. She looked away from Tommy then, afraid that if he caught her eye that she’d start blushing.

Tommy didn’t look up at her statement, just scratched at his horse’s ear as he said a bored, “Ok,”

Y/n huffed, storming away in a barely contained stomping tantrum that would rival any fit Finn could throw. She felt utterly defeated as she walked away from Tommy, thoroughly embarrassed that she was a tiny bit jealous of a horse.

March 1913

The sun was warm today, the first hints of spring blooming to bask in its light. The grass, damp with morning dew, caressed Y/n’s bare legs just below her skirt as she walked through the meadow in search of Tommy. Y/n knew he would be out here somewhere, desperate to get the family’s horses out in the fields for some exercise after the previous week’s relentless storms had kept them locked in the stables.

As she climbed her way over a short hill, Y/n’s eyes finally set on Tommy, who was standing under the shade of a tree, smoke from his cigarette billowing out of his mouth. Y/n ambled over, the closer she got she took in more of his appearance. He was dressed only in an undershirt tucked into his trousers, his suspenders hung loose by his legs. Tommy’s hair, not gelled down for once, flopped over by his ears. Y/n swallowed thickly as she remembered that she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

“Hi, Tommy,” She said softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever daydream he seemed to be in.

“Y/n,” He replied simply, blowing some smoke in her face by way of greeting.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she waved the cloud of smoke away, faking a cough as she did.

“You got another one of those for me?” She asked with a gesture towards his cigarette, putting on the sweet voice she always used when she wanted something from Tommy.

He wordlessly opened his packet and she took one gratefully, leaning forward when Tommy flicked his lighter. Tommy moved in close to light Y/n’s cigarette for her, she held her breath as he did, wanting to avoid accidentally breathing in his dizzying scent of fresh soap and a hint of whiskey. Y/n took a long drag of the cigarette, having smoked almost half of it in one go when she finally exhaled. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her obvious craving for the nicotine but didn’t comment.

Y/n relaxed her shoulders a little as she felt the effects of the smoke calm her rushing blood slightly, sagging against the tree as she pulled at the last dregs of the cigarette. Her mind wandered back to the problem at hand when she flicked the butt away into the grass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Tommy asked as he too finished his smoke.

Y/n sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes finding two of the Shelby horses grazing at the far side of the field in the shade, “I think Mark is going to propose to me.”

She sighed out a breath and couldn’t stop the way her eyes immediately went to Tommy’s face, waiting for his reaction. Y/n had accepted months ago that Tommy wouldn't ever see her the way she wanted him to, so she shut the door on those feelings and kept them buried under Mark’s affections. But she couldn’t help but worry that the lock on her heart was too weak now that she spoke to Tommy about impending marriage, she was powerless to stop the small hope that Tommy might tell her to say no, knew she’d run right into his arms if he wanted her to.

“I’m not sure what light you think I’ll be able to shed on the matter,” Tommy responded, his bored voice grating on Y/n’s final nerve.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help,” She huffed, pushing away from the tree and smoothing her skirts with angry hands. She made to stomp off back across the field, like she always did when Tommy irritated her, but a warm hand circling the entirety of her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

“Alright, love, alright, stop your tantrum,” Tommy was barely concealing a laugh behind his hand, but Y/n could see the humour clearly in his twinkling eyes.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Y/n replied, articulating her scowl with a harsh shove into Tommy’s side, “I’m just… not sure I want to marry him, at least, not so soon,”

Tommy pushed his hair out of his eyes and seemed to consider for a moment, “Well, don’t you like him?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Of course I like him, he’s sweet - kind to me, you know... Has a good job,”

“Well there you go, if you like him, why can’t you marry him?” Tommy said, so matter of fact that Y/n might have thought he’d mulled this over before.

“That’s just the thing, Tom. I like him, sure. But I just described him like he’s a pet dog, not a potential husband,” Tommy snorts at that and Y/n can’t help the little giggle that escapes in response, “I just… I always thought I’d be madly in love with whoever I was to marry, I’m scared I’ll regret it if I say yes,”

“What if you say no and regret it?” Tommy asked, his voice as soft as the breeze whispering over Y/n’s skin.

“You’re right. I don’t want to end up alone the rest of my life, and it’s not like anyone else is lining up for the chance to propose to me,” Y/n cringed at how obvious she sounded as she glanced at Tommy, she hunted for any change in those expressive eyes but came back disappointed when there was nothing.

Tommy said nothing more, sensing that Y/n was deep in thought, so they stood there in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky.

Y/n felt bereft at the way her life had turned out. She and Ada used to dream of their weddings like all little girls did. They would excitedly tell each other all the details, what kind of dress they would wear, the colour of the bouquet they would hold, even the flavour of the wedding cake. They would clasp their little hands together and wish their dreams would come true, but there was one dream little Y/n never told Ada. The dream that a handsome blue eyed man would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he’d say she looked beautiful as he lifted her veil and they’d vow to belong to each other as long as they both lived.

Y/n's chest tightened sorrowfully as she felt that dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how tight she tried to hold onto it, she knew now that it would never come true.

“Come on,” Tommy spoke up, apparently done with the silence, “We can ride the horses back to the stables and I’ll see you home.”

Y/n felt pained by his words because they came from brotherly concern rather than the love she’d always wanted from him. He walked on ahead of her and Y/n closed her eyes, trying to find a way to barricade the door to her heart just a little more, so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time Tommy smiled at her.

November 1913

Autumn came and went silently through the town of Small Heath. The residential area was completely taken up by dull houses and sooty factories, so Y/n always had to go searching for trees just beyond the cut if she wanted to see the change of the leaves before there weren’t any left. All that evidenced Autumn was a slight chill in the air and the constant heavy rain that deluged the narrow streets.

Y/n and Mark had married in that quiet Autumn a month ago in a small ceremony attended by only Mark’s family and the Shelbys, including Tommy. Life since then had been sweet, Y/n had to admit. Mark absolutely doted on her, hanging on her every whim to keep her happy, and Y/n found herself a little besotted with being Mrs Mark Johnson too, much to her surprise. At the wedding reception, Tommy had done nothing more than offer a muttered congratulations and brood in the corner alone for the rest of the night. But for once in her life, Y/n couldn’t find it within herself to actually care what Tommy was doing, thoroughly intent on enjoying a day that was all about her.

Winter then took Autumn’s place. Freezing air bit at bare faces, the town blanketed by a persistent cover of grey cloud. Y/n pulled her coat even tighter around herself as she made her way to the Garrison, praying that she’d find Tommy there since he’d been putting great effort into avoiding her recently. As she neared the place she hoped she’d find the second oldest Shelby, Y/n felt firmly resolute about her plan to talk to him, as she knew his stubbornness all too well. She knew that he’d let the silence between them stretch on until the end of time if she didn’t do something about it. So she steeled herself as she reached the heavy doors of the Garrison and walked inside.

She was immediately hit by the familiar smell of stale alcohol and tobacco permeating the air, barely containing a shudder as her senses tried to get used to the offending scent. Y/n quickly scanned the main area and didn’t find her target, so she walked over to Harry, the barkeep, and smiled at him as he finished wiping a glass.

“Hi, Harry. Is Tommy here?” She asked, hoping he’d at least caught sight of him today.

“He’s in there,” Harry replied, glancing over at the snug and nodding in that direction.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/n gave her best sweet smile as payment, feeling a little bad about not buying a drink.

She pulled open the door to the snug and felt triumphant as she finally laid eyes on Tommy. He didn’t even bother to try and conceal the heavy sigh he huffed when he made eye contact with her, strengthening Y/n’s resolve that she would confront him about his avoidance even further.

“Hello, Thomas,” Y/n opened the conversation, inviting herself to sit at the table with him.

Tommy immediately brought out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and hastily shoved it between his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth with every word.

Y/n was puzzled at the question, “Is this not a public place?” She asked her own question back but didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks now, Tommy, but you always had some convenient excuse to avoid me,”

Tommy kept his face even and calm, the only tell that he’d been found out being a minute twitch of his lip, “There’s always business to attend to these days, Y/n,” He offered his meagre reasoning, another hasty excuse to hopefully placate her.

“Business,” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, “Tommy, we haven’t had a conversation as long as this one since my wedding!” She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s shoulders straightened at the mention of the wedding. Curious.

“Why have you really been avoiding me, Tom?” She asked, softening her voice a little in hopes that Tommy would be more liable to answer truthfully.

But just as he’d opened his mouth to speak, in waltzed Arthur, the very embodiment of awkward timing, barrelling in like a rearing stallion, voice booming as loud as gunfire. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that rose to her lips as Arthur pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head.

“And how’s married life treating the new Mrs Johnson, eh?” Arthur articulated his thinly veiled innuendo with a suggestive wink.

“Just fine, thank you, Arthur,” Y/n replied with a smirk, quite enjoying the way Arthur’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, surprised that she’d actually played along.

“I bet there’ll be tiny little versions of you running around Small Heath in no time at all, eh, love?” He garbled around the cork of a whiskey bottle he’d pulled out with his teeth, pouring the amber liquid into his glass.

“Well, that might not actually be the case,” Y/n smiled a little sadly, watching as Tommy sat up a little straighter, quirking a confused brow as a means to ask her to explain.

“Mark has been looking at a property in the countryside, about an hour away from here. If nobody outbids us we’ll be moving come New Year,” Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into knots as she tried to avoid Tommy’s penetrating eyes.

Arthur hummed but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Y/n knew Tommy wasn’t going to offer anything new, recognising that the contemplative look on his face meant silence for the foreseeable. So she felt compelled to continue on explaining herself.

“With all this talk of war getting closer and closer to us, we really want to settle down and start a family sooner rather than later,” She rambled, feeling a little interrogated even though neither man had said anything yet.

As Y/n flicked her eyes over to Tommy apprehensively, she saw that his jaw was completely set and he was gripping his whiskey glass so tight that his knuckles were white and his fist was shaking a little.

Y/n looked at him quizzically, trying to make him meet her eyes by some sort of telepathy, but Tommy’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his alcohol. She couldn’t understand why he’d be angry with her about this, her move hadn’t come as a shock to anyone who actually spoke to her often; it had been on the cards pretty much as soon as they were married. Maybe it was because Tommy thought she’d be happier here, maybe it was because he didn’t like her husband; how was she to know if he rebuffed her every attempt at communication?

Silence continued on for a minute before Arthur, characteristically oblivious to the tension, piped up again, “Well! The countryside, eh? Sounds marvellous, love,”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief, and shook his head, dragging on the last fragments of his cigarette. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks to Arthur as he stood, saying something about another bottle of whiskey from his private collection to celebrate. Her eyes followed Arthur’s slightly drunken gait as he made his way out of the snug.

“Thomas, why are you sulking at me?” She interrogated immediately as the door shut.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ash try, “I’m not sulking,” he replied, frowning.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent impression,” Y/n countered, sighing when Tommy’s lips didn’t even attempt a smile, “I just don’t understand why you can’t even pretend to be happy for me at least,”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged at that and he finally lifted his head up to meet Y/n’s eyes, “Don’t get upset ok?” He began carefully, and just by his tone of voice, Y/n knew she absolutely was going to get upset, “I just didn’t think you’d marry so soon, especially after our conversation in spring, you said he was like a pet dog, not a husband. Now all of a sudden you’re moving away? I know you Y/n, you love our town, what if you hate it in the country?”

Y/n’s face flushed hot, she was utterly incensed that Tommy thought these things about her marriage and apparently just chose to never say a word about it, “Firstly, if I remember correctly about that conversation in spring, you offered me no actually helpful advice when I was obviously asking for it!” Y/n was careful not to shout, so her voice came out like a hiss, “Then you practically encouraged me to marry him! Now you want to act as if you’re the font of all knowledge when it comes to my marriage.”

Tommy bit his lip and scrubbed a rough hand over his face, the way he did when he was trying not to get angry, “I just can’t help but think that your decisions have been too hasty, Y/n,” he supplied, any sweetness in his voice long gone.

The words wounded Y/n deeper than anything he’d said to her before, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she tried not to show that she was upset. All she’d ever wanted was this married life with him, but now that she’d moved on and accepted that it was never going to happen, Tommy chose to criticise her every decision, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had worked so hard to get over him.

“I could hardly wait for you forever, Tom,” Y/n whispered, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the memories of her relationship with Tommy flashed in front of her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste, pining after him for all that time. Such a waste to crave the affections of a man who didn’t pay enough attention to her to notice she was utterly in love with him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy finally said, looking away from Y/n’s tearful eyes.

“If you had such strong opinions on the choices I made, who I was going to marry, where I was going to live, maybe you should’ve voiced them while you still could’ve done something about it,” Y/n stood as soon as she finished her speech, walking towards the door when she was certain Tommy wasn’t going to speak again.

Tommy didn’t call after her when she left.

February 1917

The fire crackled distantly as Y/n stared blankly into the flames, amber light casting lonely shadows onto the walls of her cottage home. The room was near silent, but the thud of her heart in her ears was almost deafening.

She clutched a telegram in her trembling hands and didn't bother to fight her tears as she read it for the fourth or fifth time, hoping this time she might make sense of the words written there on the page. But she didn’t know whether she couldn’t understand the sentences or just couldn’t believe the words were true.

Before the war hit England in July 1914, Y/n and Mark had spent a wonderfully happy, albeit short, married life. A few months before Mark was shipped off to France like every other man fit to fight, he worked as a clerk in the postal office of their little village, while Y/n looked after their house. She tended the garden too and often found peace planting flowers and thinking up new arrangements. Mark would come home every evening and greet Y/n with a kiss on her cheek before they sat down to eat dinner. Life was peaceful and picture perfect, no fighting, no drunkards lining the streets, no constant threat of crime. Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the chaos of Small Heath at least a little bit, but somewhere between their move to the country and Mark’s constant devotion, Y/n well and truly fell in love with him.

Now, as Y/n looked around her desolate sitting room, she realised she had absolutely nothing to prove that their love had ever happened. No matter how hard they had tried, God wouldn’t bless them with a child, and in the suffocating silence of this house, Y/n suddenly ached with longing to hear the patter of little feet running into her arms. At least she’d be comforted by the knowledge that a piece of their father resided still in this cottage, could look at their faces and still see his eyes looking back. But there was nothing, just utter loneliness.

Up until now, Y/n had grasped at any small shred of hope that Mark would return, ever since he left three years ago. She wrote to him every week, prayed for him every night, even though she wasn’t sure there was anyone listening anymore. She wished for his safe return and dreamed of the day he would warm their bed again. But now, there was no hope left in all the Earth that Y/n could beg for. There was no marriage, no husband to speak of as Y/n sat completely alone in this world, still clinging to that damned letter, her tears ruining the ink that spelled the end of her life.

Mark Johnson - Killed In Action.

July 1919

Y/n stepped off the train and took a heaving breath in as she tried to calm her nerves. Tendrils of anxiety curled around her chest as she carefully walked up the steps to leave the station, she knew she was only a short walk away from her home town and the odd need to run away was rising through her body.

Only the month prior, Y/n had sold her cottage in the countryside, finally accepting that nothing was keeping her tied to that place anymore, accepting that she couldn’t fit in without Mark. In the village, every corner she turned was a reminder of her husband, the route he used to walk to work, their favourite spot in the park, the station where she'd kissed him for the last time. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously, she’d kept it on even after Mark's memorial service, it seemed a simple service she could do her husband to wear it, to remember him every day.

Y/n decided to rent a flat just down the road from where she’d grown up, and the familiarity of the streets comforted her as she entered her new home, dropping her few belongings in the hallway. It wasn’t much, but as a woman alone Y/n didn’t really see the point of buying a big house with no one else to keep her company. She sagged against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get a whiskey, so she decided to leave the flat for a while and hoped that the Garrison would clear her head.

Almost as soon as she opened the door to the pub, Y/n could hear John’s familiar voice shouting over to someone at the bar and her eyes immediately landed on all of the Shelbys sat around a table, drinking various spirits and pints of ale. The relief she felt as she counted the boys and noted that they were all intact and alive was brief, she couldn't believe her bad luck that she had run into every Shelby the minute she set foot back in Small Heath. Y/n quickly scurried up to the bar, hopefully unnoticed by the family, deciding that she definitely wasn't having this reunion sober.

She had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when a voice called to her from across the room, "Well isn't this a sight for sore bloody eyes," Y/n heard Polly's familiar drawl and didn't need to look up from her glass to know all the attention was suddenly on her. Y/n gave up on the dainty sipping and knocked back the rest of her whiskey as the Shelbys began to descend like vultures to their prey. She focussed on the way the alcohol spread through her body, warming her and giving her that little bit more confidence as she gave a tight hug to her surrogate mother, "Hi, Pol," she said with a smile.

"Now what the 'ell are you doing back 'ere, love?" Arthur spoke as he nodded to the barkeep to refill your glass.

Y/n sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden questioning even though it was only Arthur who had asked anything, "You ok?" Polly whispered, squeezing her arm. Y/n nodded quickly and took another gulp of whiskey, "I wasn't counting on seeing you all so suddenly, I only got here half an hour ago!" She laughed nervously, "But now's as good a time as any to say I've moved back here. Surprise!" There was a chorus of congratulations and happy remarks, but there was only one person's face Y/n searched for, and she finally felt like she was home when she found Tommy's blue eyes.

He looked different, older definitely, but there was a cold harshness in his eyes that Y/n had never seen before. She shivered at what those eyes might have seen in France.

"It's good to have you back round here, Y/n," Tommy said lowly, and Y/n felt like everyone else in the room had faded away as she let Tommy's presence wash over her.

"Let's get a bottle to celebrate!" Arthur boomed, ruffling her hair like he did when she was a child, "Where's that husband of yours?" Y/n sucked in a sharp breath at the tactless question, fighting back tears as she tried to remember that it wasn't their fault if they didn't know Mark had passed.

"Probably at home looking after the kids, eh, Y/n?" John chimed in, nausea rising in Y/n's stomach as she tried to get a word in edgewise before someone said something they would regret.

"Nah, he's probably avoiding the pub, you know he can't handle his booze," Tommy was the one to pipe up that time and Y/n hated the cruel edge to his laugh, she'd hoped he'd grown up enough to get over his childish dislike of her husband.

"Tommy," Polly warned in that low, threatening voice of hers, picking up on Y/n's quickened breathing and tearful eyes. But Tommy carried on laughing, oblivious to his Aunt's insistence that they stop making fun, "You have to admit, he's always been a bit of a boring bastard," and there was the last straw. Before she'd even told her arm to move, Y/n's hand was flying at Tommy's face, slapping him right across the cheek so hard his head actually looked like it might detach from his neck. It happened so quickly Y/n wasn't quite sure if she had actually done it or not, but the boys had stopped laughing instantaneously, and the way Polly physically flinched told her she had genuinely just smacked Tommy Shelby. "How dare you," Y/n hissed before she could think better of it, her voice cold as steel, "My husband is dead, Thomas, have some fucking respect," The entire pub had gone silent, all staring intently at the scene unfolding, but wincing at Y/n's words, like they were watching a car accident happen right in front of them, too morbidly curious to look away. To his credit, John looked thoroughly ashamed of himself even though he hadn't said anything insulting and Arthur's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head, Y/n might have laughed had the cause been different. "Y/n, love, I'm sorry, we-" Arthur reached out as if to comfort her, but he cut off his sentence when Y/n flinched away from his touch, too overwhelmed to be crowded by him. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but tears were flooding down her cheeks and pooling on the floorboards at her feet.

"Right. John, Arthur? Time to go," Polly insisted, ever the observant one, she knew that Tommy and Y/n had some talking to do. Neither man moved at first, but all it took was for Polly to level them with her menacing glare and they were hurrying out of the pub faster than a horse at full gallop.

Tommy and Y/n stood in silence for a moment, Y/n being too scared to speak because she desperately didn't want to acknowledge that she'd just slapped him.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," Tommy finally whispered, and his voice was so genuinely sincere that it broke the final shred of dignity that Y/n cared to hold onto, and she started to cry louder than she had even let herself cry at Mark's memorial. Tommy opened his arms and that was all the prompting Y/n needed to fall straight into his chest, she sniffled as he cradled her head against his steadily beating heart, he shushed her softly and held her tight, "Come on now, love, let's go in the other room yeah? We can talk away from all the prying eyes,"

Y/n allowed herself to be led into the snug, struck by how familiar it was even after all these years, Tommy lowered her carefully onto the couch, as if he was afraid she might fall over.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Tommy," Y/n babbled as soon as her breathing evened out, "It's not your fault, you didn't know Mark was dead,"

Tommy rubbed his cheek and smiled lightly, "Don't apologise, I deserved it. You've got some power in that hand, you know? Not sure any man has ever hit me that hard," Y/n giggled despite herself, sniffing and wiping at her face to dry the tears.

"So how come you're moving back here?" Tommy asked as she sagged into the couch, he avoided asking about Mark's death, sensing that she'd talk about it in her own time.

"Everything back at the village just reminds me of him, I couldn't stand it. Every time I left the house I couldn't stop thinking about how I waved him off to France, to fucking war, and didn't know he was never coming back. So I just isolated myself, only left the house to buy food, never made any friends because I couldn't bring myself to walk around without him by myside, I couldn't walk around as if nothing had happened," Tommy just hummed, knowing there was more to say and just waiting for Y/n to go on, "So when I finally sold the house, I decided to make a new start somewhere I knew would be easy to fit in,"

"You were right, you know," Y/n laughed into the quiet of the room, "I really did miss it round here. I missed how unpredictable it was, the routine of the village was hard to get used to but..." She teared up all over again as her husband's smiling face flashed in her mind, "I really did love him,"

"I'm sorry," was all Tommy said as Y/n swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love with him so deeply. At the start, my main reason for marrying him was because I thought I had no other option," Y/n confessed, not entirely sure why she was spilling all of her secrets to the man she used to love.

"I always thought you liked him a lot either way," Tommy said, a confused edge to his tone, "You used to talk about him constantly,"

Y/n laughed a genuine laugh at that, reminded suddenly of herself at seventeen, "I only talked about him so much because I thought it would make you jealous,"

Tommy's head shot up at that, and Y/n was once again concerned about the structural integrity of his neck, "Jealous?" He reiterated, pausing the rolling of a new cigarette to stare at Y/n expectantly.

"Yeah, I used to hint at you all the time about my very massive crush on you. But for all the good your intelligence apparently does, you never got it. Or, you know, you were just trying to let me down gently,"

Tommy looked like he was about to choke, or possibly stop breathing all together, "Hold on, you liked me?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Tommy, assuming he was overreacting on purpose, "I know, it's embarrassing Tommy, don't make fun of me. But yes, I didn't just like you. I loved you, Tommy, ever since I was eleven,"

"Oh my god," Tommy breathed, suddenly struggling to get his rolling paper to stick.

"What? There's no need to be dramatic, Thomas," Y/n said, voice snippy due to her slight mortification.

"I just... I liked you too, for years, but I thought you didn't have any feelings for me since you were going out with Mark,"

Y/n was sure her blood had turned cold in her veins, either that or someone must have dumped a bucket of ice over her head, "Are you serious right now? Tommy, you should've just told me! I was being so obvious with my hints and you just refused to see it!"

Tommy looked indignant as he gave up on rolling his cigarette, "Well, why didn't you just tell me!" Y/n couldn't deny that that was an excellent point, "Anyway, I was sure someone as beautiful as you couldn't possibly have feelings for someone like me,"

Y/n slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the revelations, she smiled as she imagined how she would've reacted to this information when she was a teenager all those years ago.

"Oh, Tommy, you're an idiot!" Tommy started to laugh and Y/n couldn't help soon joining in, feeling weightless for the first time since the war. She gazed into Tommy's eyes again, searched for the same look they'd had when he was in his early twenties, even though she knew she wouldn't find it. He'd changed so much, they both had, but in that moment she wondered if they really could just be the same two kids who loved each other so much, couldn't help but wonder how their lives would've played out if they'd both had the courage to admit their feelings.

Y/n didn't know when it happened, but their faces were suddenly only a hair's width apart, she could feel his breath whispering over her mouth, he smelled sweet despite the tobacco that clung to him. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed out of instinct, her heart thudding as she let herself be intoxicated by Tommy's entire being. But just as their noses touched, she sprung away from Tommy like he'd burned her.

"I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't apologise," Y/n cut him off before he could start spiralling, "Tommy... I've loved you since the day I met you, and... I think I always will love you, no matter what happens, or what has happened. You mean the world to me," she stared at her hands, afraid of the vulnerability she felt as she laid her heart at Tommy's feet, "But you have to understand... I loved my husband too, and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, because I'm falling for you so fast all over again. I'd - I'd feel so guilty if I rushed into something with you when he loved me so much before he passed. I can't just forget him."

"I won't ask you to," Tommy replied, tentatively putting his warm hand on Y/n's knee, making her look up at him, "But I have loved you too, and I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow. I won't ever be able to forgive myself if I let you get away again, not now that I know you feel the same. I want to be with you, whenever you're ready. We can take it slow,"

Y/n was breathless, like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out, she was completely consumed by thousands of thoughts running through her head all at once, "What does slow look like?" She whispered, entirely swept up by the ocean of love in Tommy's eyes.

"It starts like this," He murmured softly, taking Y/n by the hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles, "Then it might continue if you'll accompany me to dinner soon?"

"I'd like that Tommy," Y/n replied, a wave of relief flowing through her body, grateful that she could find love again at her own pace.

Tommy leaned in slowly and placed the most gentle and reverent kiss on Y/n's cheek, looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought he might be gazing directly at her soul, his voice was full of adoration as he said, "I promise I won't ever let you go,"

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff #polly gray #arthur shelby #tommy shelby x reader fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader imagine #tommy shelby x reader oneshot

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inkblot-inc · 8 months ago

Text

Cruisin' For A Bruisin'

Summary: The crew is on a much needed (and definitely deserved) vacation from hero-ing about. It's important to remember that you can plan out a trip, but you can't anticipate everything that happens on said trip.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mutant!TigerShark!Reader

[AU Masterlist] Arc 2: This is Part 1

Warning(s): This one's pretty wholesome for the most part, but I will say there are some descriptions of violence. Also strong language, but if you've been here long enough you know that-

Note(s): WELCOME TO ARC 2 BAYBEE! Jaws is back and I could not be any more excited to get back into this shit! As far as I can tell arc 2 is definitely gonna be longer than arc 1, but I hope y'all enjoy :3

Word Count: Skidding pass 2.9k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

It'd been a little over a year since you'd joined the Avengers. There were certainly a few incidents here and there, the biggest being the dismantling of the Red Room which, incidentally, led to Natasha reuniting with her folks.

It was certainly one way to meet your girlfriend's family, that's for sure...

Things seemed to finally take time to settle, at least for a little while.

It was newly June and you along with Natasha, Wanda, and Vision were set to go on the cruise trip you'd booked around Christmas time last year.

---

"How were you able to swing two months off mission calls, babe?" You looked up from packing your suitcase at Natasha's voice, a small smirk growing on your face.

You made your way over to Natasha before wrapping your arms around her waist. "Well, I'm still not greenlit to go out in the field for a slew of reasons, Wanda's only put on for specific assignments, Vision's her plus one, and you have, what? Three years' worth of PTO? We're in the clear, Natty. The team will be fine for a month or two."

Natasha let out a hum of agreement before she brought you closer for a kiss. "That- and you harassed Tony to figure it out."

You raised a brow in mock confusion, "I thought that part was obvious." Your mouth pulled into a genuine gleaming smile as you got a laugh out of Natasha as she wrapped her own arms around your neck. "You're a menace."

"Is that meant to be a bad thing?" Your lips met in another kiss.

"Never a bad thing."

As the two of you finished packing, you met up with Wanda in the Common Room of the compound, where she was talking with Vision. The atmosphere was sullen with only one set of bags on the couch.

"What's goin' on? Did they not have SPF50 at the Walgreens?" You set yours and Natasha's bags down before going to get the keys to the Quinjet. "I'm sure we could find robo-sunscreen on the way, man."

Vision looked at the back of his hand for a good second. "I don't think I would need protection from the sun, seeing as my skin is-"

You came and wrapped your arm around the synthezoid's neck, jangling the jet keys by his ear. "Joking! Again. If anything, we'll just cook eggs on you when you overheat like a copper pan. We aren't gonna be on an air-conditioned boat the whole time you know." And just like that, the light atmosphere you'd created sunk back down as Wanda and Vision looked at each other. You looked between the two in clear confusion, "Alright, what's the deal?"

Vision eyed Wanda for a bit longer before turning to look at you and Natasha, who just came into the room. "I'm afraid I won't be able to accompany the three of you on this vacation. I will be remaining on call."

You tossed the Quinjet keys to Natasha as she came further into the room. "That's ridiculous, we all sent in time off notices weeks before now. How'd this even come about?"

Vision let out a sigh, "Captain Rogers came to me with concerns of being understaffed during the next few months with the search for HYDRA operatives still ongoing; With Dr. Banner still off-world, Mr. Barton indisposed with his with his family, and Mr. Stark only expected half of the time, it is rather easy for me to see Captain Rogers' point. Out of the four of us approved for time off, it was determined that I would be the one to stay behind in case of emergency."

---

You'd spent the cruise enjoying each stop between Hawaii and French Polynesia, and it's been anything but a normal experience with you around as the agent of chaos.

Wanda made sure to get plenty of pictures to cement the new memories. There's photos of you "hugging" a manta ray, Wanda and Natasha relaxing on the beach in Bora Bora, several pictures at dinner, and even one of all three of you having an absolute ball watching one of the night shows in Samoa.

Your most recent picture was a group one after you laid on a blowhole in Savai'i. You almost gave the nearby family of five a heart attack, but it was still fun to do.

The last two weeks have been a welcome break for the three of you. Despite some of your more "peculiar" ways of having fun, this has been a freeing and relaxing time. No missions, no threats; a true vacation.

Wanda was currently in her cabin across the hall from yours and Natasha's on her nightly call with Vision. Next time he had to come, Steve be damned. Wanda was a good sport about it when Vision was called in at the last minute, but you all wished he was here as well.

Natasha had taken to video calling with Yelena as well, though they weren't as frequent with her being on her own mission.

You had your own time to talk with Yelena that mainly consisted of her cosigning whatever fuckery you were up to on your vacation.

Part of it might be just to get a reaction out of Natasha.....Which she always did-

It was wonderful to see Natasha just unwound and be less serious, Yelena is one of those people that just pulls it out of her.

Their Relationship had noticeably improved since they were brought back together last year, after learning more about each other that they hadn't had the privilege to learn before, having been separated for their most formative years.

-----

You and Natasha sat on the secluded deck connected to your cabin. The open air was refreshing as you let Natasha lean back into your arms, watching the sunset on the water.

"I'll be honest and say that I can't choose between Tahiti or Savai'i,"

You placed your head on top of Natasha's. "It's always going to be Enoka for me. It was so long ago, but can remember the views on the island as clear as day." Your words were less clear, almost like you were talking through your teeth. "The white sand beaches occupied by damn near everyone in the mornings, green peaks covered in flowers, the quiet that surrounded the deep waters at night... Seeing the sun make everything above me glimmer while it was up high in the sky. Those small "nothing" memories are one of the few things I haven't lost to time... I just wish I had pictures to show it to you."

Natasha slowly rubbed your forearm that was across her stomach as she encouraged your rare moment of open vulnerability. "Well that's why we're doing this. Making new memories closer to home..."

You focused on the soothing gesture as you thought of those same flickering pictures taken through a toddling interpretation.

In the morning you, Natasha, and Wanda were going to part from the cruise ship and make your way to where Enoka would be via a smaller, personal yacht (paid for by you, modified by Tony, who was convinced to do so by Pepper).

There's nothing that could ruin this moment for you. With two of your favorite people by your side, you were going to visit what's no more than a watery lump of land that once was your home and put it to rest for good.

-----

After leaving the cruise ship, Wanda focused on directing the three of you through the smaller crowds of people walking in the opposite direction away from the docks. "What's this boat called again? Delilah?"

Natasha unfolded the small piece of paper in her hand to reread the messy script, "The Blue Delilah. It should be near the end of the pier."

You grasped one of their wrists in each hand, "It's just up ahead!" Both Wanda and Natasha cringed slightly as you just barely missed bulldozing a group of people on your way to the boat that turned out to be a custom Sunseeker 76 yacht.

before the three of you boarded the yacht, a brown-haired man wearing thin rectangular glasses came up to the three of you with a gleam in his eyes. Your eyes narrowed at the camera in his hand before he even started speaking. "I'm really sorry to bother the three of you, but you're Avengers, right?"

You just blankly stared at the man while Natasha, while also on guard, she was more cordial when she addressed the man. "We're not exactly on duty right now, but did you want something?"

Wanda noticed that there was a dark haired woman not too far behind him simply staring at the yacht before looking toward the three of you. The bespectacled man, who began perspiring the longer you stared him down, jumped to answer. "I just wanted to get a picture with you guys, my wife and I are really grateful that you all are around to protect us."

The three of you looked at each other. While all of you weren't keen on taking pictures, the couple seemed harmless enough, Wanda read as much from both of their thoughts. The man, Graydon, was both nervous and excited; worried that he'd come off as a creep that was bothering them. His wife, Tara, had a similar train of thought in not wanting to bother the three public. Tara's mind was notably much quieter than her husband's; presumably the result of a calming tactic.

Wanda mentally relayed this to both you and Natasha before the three of you finished wordlessly discussing the matter. With Natasha nodding, Wanda spoke to the couple. "One picture wouldn't hurt."

Graydon's face lit up as he gestured for his wife to come closer, essentially saying they were in the clear. Tara came to stand on the other side of Wanda while Graydon went to find a passerby to take the picture on his camera. After he showed a willing older man how to snap the photo, he stood on the right of Natasha with a rather dorky thumbs up.

You left your mask on, put you arms over Natasha's and Wanda's shoulders and squinted your eyes a bit to give the illusion of a more positive emotion on your face as the brief flash irritated your eyes.

After the picture was taken, Graydon rushed over to the volunteer cameraman to see how it came out. Tara turned to Wanda with a small smile as she exited her personal space after a small shaking of hands. " Thank you for indulging us, and it really is a pleasure to meet you, Misty Red."

Wanda watched the dark-haired woman walk away in confusion. "Misty Red? Who's that?" Natasha raised a single brow while all you did was laugh at Wanda's expense.

Natasha's confusion didn't last long with her own deduction skills. "Apparently that's what the people are calling you," a slow smirk made it's way to Natasha's lips as you were still laughing, "I mean, it does makes sense." The redhead was the first to turn and make her way toward the ramp of the yacht.

"I can't decide if they made you sound like a wrestler or a porn star! I just-" You broke another bout of laughter.

Wanda's eyes narrowed at your juvenile line of thought as she crossed her arms. "It isn't even that funny, Jaws. You're just milking it at this point,"

You took a second to recover from your laughter, "It's funny to me. You don't gotta get it cuz I think it's funny. There's no shame in what you do, Wandy."

Natasha rose her shoulders as she continued to make her way onto the boat. "That's just what happens when you let the public name you."

Wanda almost felt the need to defend her lack of an alias, "I didn't think it had to be very high on my list of priorities!"

You lightly pushed the brunette forward and up the ramp to The Blue Delilah. "Uh huh, get on the boat, Misty Red."

---

When You, Natasha, and Wanda all made it onto The Blue Delilah, a smaller inconspicuous boat pulled off behind it at the same time, noticing that the yacht had a discreet Stark Industries logo. Their plan isn't clear at the moment, but it is clear that they're tailing The Blue Delilah. They follow a long way behind, but have their own tracker placed on the ship so they don't lose the yacht.

The three of you were on the private yacht for about four days so far travelling to Enoka.

Note: All citizens of Enoka have the location of Enoka ingrained in their brains, so Jaws always knows where it is. This is a similar practice for the inhabitants of a certain other living island...

As you got closer to the island, it was clear that it's not completely submerged, but it definitely looks different to how you remember.

The goal now was to see if there were any inhabitants on the island that were still alive and who survived the flood over a decade ago.

You didn't voice it, but there was a new sense of anxiousness and hope that started brewing in you at the prospect of going home.

Maybe there actually was a "home" there left...

-----

About a day out from the Island, the engine to The Blue Delilah seemed to stutter, so you went to check it out and before you reach the engine room on the back pad, you noticed large ripples from something that dove back into the water.

Soon after you heard sounds of a struggle on the yacht and booked it back to where Wanda and Natasha were.

There were two attackers engaged in fighting with the two women, four were on the floor unconscious already. It's rather bold for a group of six, well seven.

Jaws grabbed the arm of the seventh attacker that tried to sneak up on them and threw them over their shoulder.

The attacker you were dealing with was a woman and she had armor that stood out a bit more than the others; she had less of it, toned brown skin shown through the large gaps between the armor pieces, and the shoulders were a bit more prickly and menacing in comparison.

'Definitely their leader.'

You raised an eyebrow at the sort of reptilian bone mask obscuring most of the woman's face. "What, were you too good for Bleach?"

You can see the woman visibly squint behind her mask before she grabs two daggers from their place on her hips, "I know fuckin' Kisame isn't talkin' about me, "

Your own eyes narrowed at her retort. 'Well fuck you, too.'

With both of you having been insulted by the other, the two of you rushed each other. The two of you were essentially going blow for blow for a while before you knocked the bone mask off of your attacker's face.

It revealed more dusky brown skin, a few scars on her face and a tattoo of some kind under her right eye. The woman turned to face you fully, wiping blood off the corner of her lip. "You might be one of the more skilled pirates I've come across. It's a shame I consider your life past tense already."

Suddenly, the woman then tackled you off the yacht, knocking your breathing apparatus off in the process, hoping to hold you down and drown you herself. Her daggers reaching to slice at your now exposed neck.

Putting her knife up to your neck, she then notices the gills on each side of it, which throws her off.

It's then, underwater, that she gets a good look at you before her eyes widen considerably, confusing you.

"Y/n, is that really you?"

There's that name, your name. Hardly anyone called you by your given name when you were little, and you hardly cared, but...

"Ys tath uyo, Y/n?"

Your own eyes widen at the familiar language coming from this woman's mouth. Only one person would really insist on using it back then...

"Sienna?"

And with that one word, the woman threw her daggers to the side leaving them to float in the water away from the two of you before tightly wrapping her arms around your neck. You hug her back just so.

After the two of you pulled away, she almost immediately slapped you with a new fire in her molten brown eyes.

"Agh shit! Did you grow talons?!" It wasn't hard enough to actually hurt, but you definitely felt the woman's nails drag across your face.

"Ehrwe ni eth FUCK veah uyo eneb?! Y thugoth uy' DDEA lla heste rayse!"

Sienna went to smack you again before you held both of her wrists in your hands to keep her at bay, your eyebrows furrowed. "Y itd'dn eyrall cieded ot velae, ni cesa uy' omowesh trogof!"

Sienna shook her head as she struggled to get free of your grip, her dark locs waving wildly in under the water. "Elt og of 'em! Y vat'ehn retnotfog shit!" Sienna then began to try and kick at you to let her go, so you brought her into another hug as she resisted.

Her attempts grew more and more feeble as the power behind her punches to your chest fizzled out. It was only then that you realized she was crying.

Sienna's voice was raw and heavy with emotion, "Ehrwe ddi uyo og?! Y odloke nad Y odloke nad Y odloke lla rove rof uyo..."

You let her sob into your chest as you held her, floating in the underwater quiet.

"Y'm ghrit ehre, sersit."

** footnote: I wanted to use a completely different script for the Enokan language being spoken, but I couldn't find a way to import it so that it was shown, so instead I made a simple code using typoglycemia (aka just unscramble the letters of each word). To make it so that it didn't look as clunky, I sometimes replaced (i) with (y). Some words that end with vowels may have an apostrophe that takes the place of the vowel. Apostrophes can also be found at the beginning of words with vowels for fluidity's sake. I didn't think swears should be scrambled cuz that just *looks* off to me. The point of these changes is to have this resemble a spoken language more than it is a blatant tactic to confuse you.

Here's a word unscrambler in case you need it

#jaws au #jaws: arc 2 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #black widow #natasha romanoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #mutant!reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #jc inkworks #ink.nat #ib-jc.

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jeaanmoreau · 1 month ago

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vampire!andreil drabble: tell me what i look like

arti attempts to write aftg fanfiction part 3. this time courtesy of this post which was the cutest thing i've seen this week and immediately made me think of andreil 📚 read on ao3

"Well, your eyes are blue, but clearly you knew that since you went through all the trouble of wearing brown contacts for a while there."

Neil merely stared back at Andrew unapologetically, ankle tucked under himself on the couch they shared, curiosity having got the better of them not for the first time. Because it had bothered Andrew that Neil didn't know what he looked like; apparently to the point where he'd decided to sub in for the mirrors he couldn't look into.

So now here they were, cards on the table and trying to put words to the faces they saw in front of them. Neil did not think himself a wordsmith, and Andrew was not a poet, but maybe it would be enough.

"But maybe you don't know exactly how blue," Andrew continued, and he leaned in closer with that gaze that rooted Neil to the spot. "They're like a lake when it's been frozen over in mid-winter. Or the colour of moonlight through mist at night." He paused, considering. "Piercing."

Piercing. Neil did not think of himself as piercing. He didn't like being looked at, regularly, but something about the way Andrew did it made it feel right. Serene and grounding. He could not stop thinking about what words he would use to describe Andrew's eyes. They kept rattling around in his brain: golden. earthy. amber. copper. honey. sun-kissed.

Renee had lent them art supplies, much to Andrew's chagrin, and they rested on the coffee table next to them. Neil reached for the watercolours and started mixing them around. Yellow, brown, green, a touch of black, white. When he was satisfied enough with a colour, he painted two splotches onto a blank sheet of paper, then turned it around so Andrew could see. "Yours."

Andrew's eyebrows flicked up somewhat as he turned his gaze to it. "My eyes?" he asked, deadpan, looking back at Neil, who nodded. "Draw the rest of me, then."

It wasn't really a question.

So they grabbed more colours, more pens, started sketching on their own canvases in silence, knees touching between them in wordless companionship until Andrew sat up and wiped some watercolour from the back of his hand.

Neil was covered in orange. When he finished, he turned his paper over so Andrew could see and took Andrew's drawing for himself.

It was a surprisingly skilled portrait and there were more details to his face than he'd thought. Freckles. A slight edge to his nose. Andrew had drawn and redrawn the exact angle of his jaw a few times, and he noted that, too. His hair he frequently saw bits of when it grew over his eyes, but to see it on a person, with eyes that were the frostiest blue, exactly like he'd been describing earlier, was another thing altogether. Neil didn't know what to do with the fact he was seeing himself through Andrew's eyes for the first time.

"You drew me in full gear," Andrew said as Neil looked up. "You've drawn the stitching around my racket but forgot to give me eyebrows."

Neil frowned as he peered over at the offending drawing. "Obviously you have eyebrows," he stated in defense. His wasn't a good drawing. It kind of looked like a ten year old had done it, and Andrew looked more like a school arts & crafts project than a human next to what he acknowledged was an immacculate representation of his Exy racket. Eventually, he drew a breath and let it out through his nose in frustration. "I'm not good at this."

"No," Andrew agreed, and Neil thought he heard a mixture of fondness and amusement in his tone as he set the drawing aside and leaned back into his space, reaching over for the watercolor-stained skin of his icy wrists. "Good thing I have an identical twin brother and I've always known exactly what I look like."

#andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #andreil fic #andreil fanfic #aftg #all for the game #aftg fanfic #aftg au #writing #writing: aftg

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fleet-of-fiction · 11 months ago

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Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Three

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 410 ~ Jake

Her eyes drifted up from the board. An air of concentration furrowed between her brows and the tip of her tongue which sat delicately at the edge of her teeth.

"Check mate!" She announced, knocking my piece off the board with a look of devilish satisfaction.

"Beginners luck." I replied, sending a hand to my ribcage to rub an ache I suspected would always trouble me from now on.

The snow had fallen in earnest. A blanket of dazzling white covered the ground, powdered flakes falling off the canopy of trees around us made for a spectacle when the sun peeked out from behind clouds. It was the first real beauty I'd taken note of in what felt like a very long time.

"And what if I told you that I was a secret master? That I'd been dumbing down my abilities all this time just so that I didn't demasculate you over a game of chess?" She gloated, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to make my next move.

She reminded me of a sunset. With a touch of copper in her hair and those damned freckles on her nose. She had all the hope of a beautiful end and that it would bring something as equally beautiful in the morning.

"I didn't have you down as a liar." I replied, scanning the board for something that would knock her off her winning streak.

She folded her hands beneath her chin and leaned her elbows onto the edge of the kitchen table. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jake."

I didn't doubt that. But I was sincerely grateful for the things which I had learned over the past few days. She'd carefully guided me around the entire place, shown me how everything worked and where the source of all the power came from. How to maintain all the power sources and what to do in the event of any of them breaking down.

There was a bank of solar panels on the cabin roof, flanked by a couple of small turbines. They were hooked up to a battery which powered the entire place. There was a small out house around the back, a few old generators were sat in there gathering dust in case of an emergency but she assured me the solar and wind provided more than enough for the entire place to run off for another decade.

These were things that I felt as if I should've known. Things that felt fundamental to survival. As if somehow it'd been wrong to live in a house that was attached to a network that relied on manpower to keep going. The foolishness of it.

Even the polytunnels where the vegetables grew made me feel as if I'd been missing the point entirely every time I'd walked into a grocery store. There were chickens kept in a coop, and there were two horses in a small stable on the other side of the trees. Because, apparently, someday the fuel was going to turn bad. She talked at great length about how she had no idea how to get the horses to mate, in the event of their untimely deaths she didn't want be left without transportation.

These were things I hadn't considered. Things which made me feel a little stupid when she pointed them out to me. My eyes widening in slight horror at the sheer expanse of pickled foods and canned goods kept in what she liked to call the "store". It was a small shelter, dug into the ground and covered in mossy earth to the untrained eye. But inside there was every non perishable and medical supply you could think of. Put there by her Grandma, in the event of the government falling to into it's own pit of destruction, or so her Grandma explained it.

The stark realisation that my life had been filled with convenient privilege was not lost upon me. I watched her muck out the horses and feed the chickens, tend to her plants and make sure the store was stocked up making mental notes of each little thing she did. Hoping that when the time came, I'd be able to be of some use to her.

"I know you're not a chess master." I hummed, tipping over her Bishop with my Queen. "Check mate?"

She leaned back in defeat. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to react. The board looked a little chaotic now, with pieces in places I had no idea what to do with. I had minimal knowledge of the game and I suspected she was trying in vain to keep it going.

"You're a dark horse." She ruminated, trying to step over the impasse we'd arrived at. "I can't imagine we'll complete this before sunrise."

What did it matter? Time was our greatest thief. And yet, it was slowly becoming our greatest asset. We had time to sit and play chess, time to sit and read. Time to take walks in the woodland and drive into the empty streets of Roanoke to go in search for supplies.

The world was gently eroding back to nature. Something I'd barely noticed over the passing of the last year. Maybe I'd been so hell bent on finding another living soul that I'd forgotten to take in what was around me. With Amelia, it was starting to feel like I had woken up from a deep and dreamless sleep.

I was about to consider my next move when she shoved the board aside.

"How about that whiskey?" She asked, a flash of mischief in her eyes that I'd never seen before. "You're done with your antibiotics now."

The wind howled outside. Another flurry of snow in the air. The animals were fed and watered. I felt a churn of something deep within, like the stirrings of Christmas morning as a child. Like everything was precisely as it should be.

Everything was ok.

"You might not like me when I'm drunk." I warned, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip out. "I have this terrible penchant for speaking in a British accent."

She grabbed a bottle of something dark from the cupboard beneath the sink. Hooking two small glasses between her fingers from the cupboard above.

"That's the alcohol influencing the broca's area of your brain." She explained, pouring out two generous shots. "The part which perceives speech is impended. Although the accent thing is weird, I'd quite like to hear it."

There was a little curl in her lip as she clinked her glass against mine.

"You're so smart." I told her, "You make me feel like I was just travelling towards a destination with my eyes closed."

Immediately she brushed a dismissive hand through the air. Curling up her legs to sit with them crossed in the little dining chair, nursing her glass as she watched the brown liquid roll around the crystal edges.

"I think we were both entirely different people before." She said warmly, "If we had known what was to come, would we have lived our lives any differently?"

I sank my drink and leaned my hand out for a refill. "My life wasn't ordinary, even back then."

There'd been so many reasons why we hadn't talked like this before. Her initial reluctance had taken time to thaw. The silence we'd become accustomed to seemed so much safer to dwell in.

I was starting to lose count of the days I'd been with her. I was entirely distracted with surviving and being of service to her. Getting myself well enough to pitch in and not be a burden. The way she had given me purpose again made me want to live in this empty world. It made me not want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

"I guess we haven't really touched on that, yet." She replied sheepishly, almost as if she didn't want to go there. "It almost seems irrelevant, doesn't it?"

She sank back another shot. Wincing as the burn slid down the back of her throat. Her nose wrinkled, all those freckles converging. For a moment I could forget that once there'd been another woman in my life.

"We both lost people we loved." I countered, taking the bottle for myself and pouring my glass almost full. "It's not relevant now, but I still miss them. I don't know how to stop missing them."

She didn't say anything for what felt like too long a period of silence. Where usually it was solidly comfortable, I could feel her unease at the presence of the ghosts of those we loved. Their names on the tips of our tongues.

"I don't think we're meant to. I think we're meant to miss them for the rest of our lives. Maybe that's our cross to bear. For whatever this life now brings." She replied, our mutual sadness at that thought evident in the way her eyes glossed over.

I didn't want her to cry. I couldn't bear to see her cry. It made me want to throw all my resolve away and take her into my arms whether she would have me or push me away. It made me want to make a fool of myself.

"I don't think we should play chess anymore." I suggested, "It makes us melancholy."

I clocked the bottle and it was already half empty.

"I don't think it's the chess." She slurred a little, gesturing to the snowy expanse outside. "I don't think I've seen this much snow for this long in my life, ever."

I could feel the heat of the whiskey in my blood as I stood. Taking my time to stroll over to the kitchen window. Trying to make myself appear steadier than I felt.

"Maybe the climate is changing."

Her face remained still. It took me a moment to notice that she wasn't responding. When I chanced a glance over at her, she was chewing the inside of her cheek. Lost in a thought I couldn't follow her into.

"What is it?" I dared to ask.

"They won't be here to see it." She replied quietly, a solitary tear betraying her. "They won't be here to see any more sunrises. Or the way that grass is starting to grow in all the pot holes that were left. And they'll never see the snow on the ground again. I hope..."

She swallowed hard, taking the bottle and foregoing the glass entirely. Swigging it back, like she couldn't stand to measure it out anymore.

"What do you hope?" I asked.

There was a longing there in her face that wasn't there before. Subsequent tears spilling down her red cheeks. Her skin all blotchy from the drink and the roaring fire.

"Wherever they are..." She sobbed. "I hope there's snow."

If we didn't speak their names, how could we honour them? If I was doomed to spend the rest of my life missing them, their names would never be forgotten anyway. They deserved to be spoken. They deserved to be memorialised. If they were dead, we couldn't go to their graves and weep. If they were alive, there were no roads we could find that would lead us to them. Speaking of them was all we had.

"Josh loved snow." I offered, returning to the table as slowly as I could. "We used to get a lot of it in winter where we grew up. Our parents used to make us go out back and chop wood and we'd have these huge bonfires and burn all the crap we didn't need for next summer. When we got a little older, our little brother Sam would have to come with us and we'd make him do all the hard labour. And he'd stand there and complain that it wasn't fair and we'd spin him a yarn about how he used to get to sit in the house all nice and warm while we did it and he wasn't a baby any more. Our sister never had to it, though. Her name was Veronica. She would sometimes come outside and hang out with us, though. She was cool like that."

I hadn't said their names in so long it was like resurrecting them. When I looked up from my faraway gaze, she wasn't crying anymore. There was this look of inherent surprise. Like she hadn't expected me to offload a childhood memory so freely. I could see a glimmer of hope where the tears had once been.

"Josh was your brother?" She ventured.

"Twin." I nodded, "He and I were the eldest. Then Veronica. Then little Sammy."

I probably shouldn't have, but I let her slide the bottle over towards me. Enough left for one more sip. I could feel myself on the fringes of being drunk, I knew one more would tip me over the edge.

"I had two brothers." She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her t-shirt. "I was the middle child. My older brother, Deacon, he was like eight years older than me. I'm not sure my parents planned on having more than one but I guess nothing really goes to plan in life, does it? My little brother, Charlie, he was only two years younger."

Charlie. The little toy chest in my room still had his name carved in it. For her, they weren't just names to be said in remembrance. They were real, solid echoes still bouncing off these walls. I felt this uncontrollable need to close the distance between us. To hold her like I had when she'd screamed in the night.

"It didn't stop us from fighting, though." Her eyes lit up. "Deacon would always have to be the voice of reason, but every now and then he would come down to our level and bicker with us about something until our Dad had to step in. Our Mom was always a little more laid back, I think it was because she was raised here at the cabin. My Dad grew up in Silicon Valley. He had vacations in Europe and country club memberships. My Mom had yearly road trips to Virginia beach in a beaten up Volkswagen my Grandpa drove into the ground. Deacon was the first person in her family to graduate college."

And just like that, the fire went out again.

"So your Dad was rich?" I poked at the embers, hoping to see the spark in her come back.

She shrugged. "His family were. All surgeons and lawyers and ceo's. I think he probably would've lived that textbook rich white guy life if he hadn't met my Mom. She kept him grounded. We were never allowed to exploit our wealth, we had to do volunteer work and give generously to charities. We had to go to college and get our own jobs and careers, there were no hand outs. But I guess you could say we were privileged. But never spoiled. Not when we used to spend summers here, with our Grandparents."

I could have listened to her all night. "What was that like?"

She uncrossed her legs and inspected the empty bottle. Her eyes were half closed, lids fluttering up and down slowly in a drunken haze.

"It was like fucking Disneyland." She smiled, then. "My friends all went off to ski in Aspen or whatever. We got sent here to hunt squirrels with my Grandpa and bake pies with my Grandma. And toast marshmallows on the fire every night. They'd let us go swimming in the lake until sunset, taught us everything we needed to know about living in the woods. And every time we had to go back to California, it always felt like I was stepping back into something I didn't really feel a part of."

She looked up at me from her inspection of the empty bottle. As if she'd forgotten that I was sat there at all.

"What was your life like?" She asked, scuttering off to the cupboard under the sink, falling almost as she slinked off the edge of her chair.

She waved a bottle of red wine at me, her lips flattening into a straight line as she settled on the floor.

"We don't have any wine glasses." She said flatly, "Can't drink wine without a wine glass."

I would have gone to her and picked her up off the ground. Helped her back to her seat, made her laugh if I could. Let her fall asleep on the couch in a delicious drunken heap, wrapped in the blankets she'd left me in when she'd saved my life. But she stumbled to her feet, giggling softly as she realised how quickly the whiskey had gone to her head.

"You need some help, there?" I asked, reaching out my hand for her to take.

"No, I'm good." She lied, "You just tell me your life story while I pour."

She filled our little crystal glasses to the brim, taking care to leave enough space at the top to allow for spillages. All regard for needing a wine glass dissipated.

"I was just a boy with a guitar from Michigan."

She stared at me with those hooded lids. Keeping her drink propped against her mouth, like I was weaving the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.

"Where's your guitar now?"

I hadn't anticipated how much that question would sting. I knew she noticed the way I backed away from it. She reached over the table and placed her palm on my forearm. Her thumb making soft movements against the scar which ran down the centre of my flesh.

"No...not without Josh..." I stammered, "I can't play..."

There was a real sympathy in the way her brows knitted together, squeezing my arm a little in silent comfort. She stayed like that, touching me innocently, as I tried to compel myself to bring together the story of my life. It felt like I was entirely detached from all of my memories somehow. As if recalling it from something I'd watched rather than experienced first hand. Like a fever dream.

One thing I knew for certain. One thing that struck me as the alcohol coursed through my veins. It didn't matter how many thousands of people I had played to. It did matter how many awards I'd won. None of it mattered a damn thing without my brothers. And I'd sworn never to play without them again.

Day 413 ~ Amelia

The rain began that night. Lashing against my bedroom window, forcing the snow to retreat. A part of me was relieved. That the snow would wash away and all the earth beneath it would be able to breathe again. Bringing a renewed hope for the coming spring. But it kept me awake. The deafening pitter patter against the old glass felt as if it was break at any moment. The rattle of the wind like ghosts through the cracks in the old wood.

Jake had been a formidable drinking partner. My head still aching somewhat from a hangover that had lasted three days. I bore no regret from it, though. The whiskey and wine had afforded me a courage I couldn't have found on my own. And the nightmares had been kept at bay too. Sleeping far too deep for any of those demons to penetrate.

My mouth was dry. Frustrated by the noise and the insomnia and the lingering consequences of my booziness I crawled out of bed and slipped into my robe. On soft tiptoes I crept out into the hallway, certain that the wind and rain would shroud my movements. But staying quiet just in case.

Down the hall Jake's bedroom door was ajar. A shard of low, golden light striking the hall in half. I'd expected him to be asleep, coming to know his sleeping habits in the days he'd been here. He was a night owl, often hearing him slip into bed hours after I'd retired. It was almost dawn, but still pitch enough that it felt like the dead of night.

It was in my mind to go downstairs and fetch a glass of water, to mind my business and leave him be. But the soft whimpers that cried out above the din of the wind called out to me. And I crept on silent feet down the hall, moving against all the intricacies of the floor boards I knew would creak and alert him to my presence.

It sounded like he was in pain. The way he'd recovered so quickly had been unusual, part of me had wondered if he'd tried to save face. If, when in private, he'd allowed himself moments to feel the pain of his healing injuries where I couldn't see him. But it wasn't pain.

It was pleasure.

I stood in the crack of his door. Sinful sounds coming from the bed. A rush of blood to my head made me weak at the knees. His hand was moving vigorously beneath the bed sheet. The sound of his voice, like that of a man who had known truly how to love a woman.

I closed my eyes and began to imagine hearing those melodic moans above me. A reminder that I'd long forgotten what it felt like to simply be a woman. In survival mode, there was no allowances for arousal. It had been gone from me, the desire to even touch myself. Every night I'd laid my head down and tried to rest until the sun came up. Never allowing myself to fall into that trap of desire. I was forever alone. There was nothing but grief each time my hand had travelled across my breasts. So I'd abandoned it. All hope that I'd ever feel want again.

Despite my eagerness to uphold his dignity, I couldn't find it within myself to move. Even when he grew too heated under the covers, kicking off his blanket to reveal the line of his body. I held my breath. Took note of the way his chest moved as he breathed harder, his stomach rising and falling. And the way he wrapped his hand around himself. Making gentle strokes that pulled on his shaft, revealing the flex of the muscles in his forearm.

I had no right to see this. I was the worst sort of voyeur. The sort that never made their presence known. If he had known would he have been angry? Humiliated? I couldn't tear my eyes from him. It was wrong, and it troubled me. The way I stood there and allowed the sight to make my core begin to throb. A heavy beat making me wet and swollen.

I stood there until he came into his palm. An agonizing groan signalling the end of his endurance. I watched the white, sticky mess spurt from his tip and spill down his fist. My hand pressed against my mound, not daring to trespass further. Not even underneath the fabric of my pyjama shorts. I was quietly hyperventilating, almost light headed from it as I watched him drag a hand towel down his softening cock and the back of his hand.

And just like that, he flicked off the lamp at his bed side and plunged the room into darkness. And I felt my own shame begin to rise in my cheeks as I stood there peering into the pitch black. Allowing the thunder which gathered overhead to shroud my footsteps as I retreated back up the hall way.

It was still raining when the sun came up. It drenched the daylight in a darkening grey and it didn't really feel as if the sun had come up at all. I busied myself with throwing down some chicken feed into the coop and gathering up some of the eggs which had been laid. I mucked out the horses and let them roam a little while I put down fresh bedding. Trying to keep my mind from returning to the thing I had done that morning.

He was a man who had been alone as long as I had. Clearly with a thirst which begged to be quenched. I was throwing down the bedding far more aggressively than I ever had before, torturing myself with thoughts that were unwelcome.

I didn't want him to kiss me, but why hadn't he tried? I didn't want him to fuck me, but why hadn't he tried? Why hadn't he even hinted at it? Or was his own hand a more preferable means to an end? Did he find me unattractive? Did I find him unattractive?

I cursed him as I shovelled the last of the bedding in, throwing my spade down as it clanged against the stable door. I hated myself for thinking such despicable things. All we had to do was survive. Nothing more. What did it matter if he satisfied himself behind a door I wasn't meant to be standing behind?

"There you are."

I spun on my heels. His hair was dripping, his shirt so wet that I could see right through it. A curious look on his face, like he'd been searching everywhere for me.

"Oh, hey." I replied, as nonchalantly as I could.

He looked into the clearing at the horses milling about, with no regard for the rain. They seemed to be enjoying being out of their confined space. And by all accounts, so did he.

"I woke up and you weren't there." He said, rain dripping off the tip of his nose.

"Yeah, I had stuff to do." I had already done it all, but I tried to make it appear as if I was still busy.

He watched me for a moment, his hair sticking to his collar bone and that stomach of his concaving as he breathed against the drenched shirt.

"Is it terrible that I didn't like it?" He asked, "I've grown fond of seeing you there drinking coffee at the kitchen table every morning."

How had I let this happen? This thing I swore I'd never let happen? How had he become so necessary to me and I to him? When he couldn't even bring himself to kiss me? Was it nothing more than a platonic fondness borne of this unwanted necessity? Was I a replacement for his mother or his sister?

"I've got shit to do, Jake. I'm sorry." I dismissed him, passing him as coldly as I could to fetch the horses in.

He would wonder why my temperature towards him had dropped. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to rid myself of this gnawing churn in my stomach that was forming each and every time I looked at him. Least of all now, when I knew the curve and shape of his cock and how he liked to stroke it so perfectly gently and firmly.

"Amelia..."

He would have one kind word from me.

"Jake, I don't have time for this nonsense." I spat, leading the other horse into shelter. "We're running low on fire wood and I need to do a supply run for toilet paper. There's two of us here now, you understand?"

I'd been initially standoffish and he could forgive me for that. We didn't know each other or our intentions. But it was clear I'd let my guard down somewhat, and I knew the way I spoke to him was a bolt from the blue. He couldn't understand my switch.

"You know I'll do anything to help." He said so apologetically my heart almost broke in two. "I can do more, now. I'm starting to feel stronger every day. And I promise... soon you won't have to do all this stuff on your own. I'll pull my weight. I'm sorry..."

I couldn't bear it. The way he looked at me. A solemn pleading in his eyes as I latched the stable door shut and we stood in the pouring rain staring each other down like a duel at high noon. The rain hit the canopy above so hard it sounded like static when the tv didn't have any signal.

"Why are you staying here, Jake?" I demanded, raising my voice above the crescendo of rain. "What is it for? Are you afraid to be alone again, is that it?"

He blinked at me. Water rushing so hard it even poured off his eyelashes. Torrential and hard, we stood there like statues letting it shower over us like it wasn't even there.

"Of course I'm afraid to be alone again, aren't you?!" He snapped back, drinking rain as he spoke. "But that doesn't mean I'd rather be with anyone else?! I don't want to go back out there and carry on looking, I've found what I was searching for! Don't you get that?!"

Someone to take the edge off his solitude. Nothing more and nothing less. And why should I be anything more to him? I didn't want him crawling under my skin any more than he already had. We would ride out this error in humanity's timeline. Help each other to survive. That was it.

"I don't know." I confessed, " I was fine before. I was doing just fine! And then you came along, literally crashed into my life! Like I needed the distraction? The pull on my resources?!"

I didn't mean it. I could feel myself filled with regret even as the words came out. He was shaking his head, his hair so wet it barely moved. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper somehow. And I knew that I'd hurt him by the way he couldn't seem to get his words out. He could only look at me and feel the knife in his back that I put there despite standing right in front of him.

"If you want me to leave I will leave."

And now because he wanted to. He would leave because I wanted him to. And now I wanted to scream at him and fall into his arms and throw away all my pretence and beg him to kiss me. Beg to know why he hadn't kissed me before. I hated feeling like this, I had never felt like this before. Not for a man, not for anyone. He stole all my resolve and I hated him for it. Hated myself for allowing him the strength to take it.

I could feel the sting of tears begin to spill over my lashes. The salty warmth of them in stark contrast to the cool rain.

"If you stay, you'll only grow to hate me." I sobbed, "You'll see that I'm not capable of letting you in."

"That's not true, Amelia." He replied, taking a bold step forward, reaching out for me before pulling back in case I rejected him. "I've seen your warmth and compassion. You're not cruel. I don't understand where all of this is coming from?"

I backed away. "I can't do this, Jake...I wont do this."

I retreated into the trees. Running through the mud and rain, letting it lash against the backs of my legs. I could scarcely see in front of my eyes, but I knew the way back blind. I could hear him calling out my name, unable to keep up with me. But he pursued me, regardless. With his healing bones, he ran behind me Begging me to stop.

"Amelia! Please!!!" He called, his voice fading out beneath the falling rain. "Stop! Please, don't do this!"

I reached the clearing at the front of the cabin. My body burning from the exertion and my breath caught in my lungs. Before I had chance to regain my composure, I felt his body against mine. Wet and solid. Heaving breaths as he spun me around, forcing me to look at him.

"Don't you run away from me like that again!"

He was furious. A rage the likes of which I'd never known could exist burning in the delicate tremble of his lip. I was too weak to protest.

"If you ever do that again I will always follow you, do you understand me?!" He shook me, hands wrapped around my shoulders as I gazed at the fire in his eyes. "I swear it, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth woman!!!"

Still, he wouldn't kiss me. Just let the rain fall upon us as he held me close. Breathing into my parted lips. Our shared breath turning to vapour in the freezing cold air.

"Because there's no one else to follow?" I said, my mouth desperately close to his.

"No." He replied harshly, turning his head to get a better look at me. "I had a girlfriend before all of this. We lived together in Nashville. She travelled with me when I had to go on tour. We were together for years. Maybe I would have married her, if I'd been given the chance."

"Why are you telling me this?!" I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear about the way he had loved another.

"Because." He swallowed hard, "Even if she came back, even if she appeared to me right now like none of this had ever happened....I would still follow you."

I couldn't feel my fingers, or the tip of my nose. A flash of lightening streaked above, illuminating the darkness on the ground. For a moment his face lit up and I could see the conviction there.

He meant it.

But still, I wouldn't have it. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh, don't I?" He clenched his jaw. "You don't know a damn thing about what I know. You don't get to tell me how I feel. I might be afraid to be alone, but I'll do it if that's what you truly want. I'd leave just make you happy."

Nobody had ever held me like this. So securely. So aggressively soft. Like he could shake the life out of me if he so desired, but wouldn't.

"You wont even kiss me." I replied so pitifully, speaking so quietly a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me over the mounting thunder.

"And have you slap me across the face for taking such a thing?" He replied, almost laughing at me. "Would you have kissed me back if I had? I might not have kissed you yet, but I've imagined it. At night, when I know you're on the other side of that wall. And in the morning when you're sat at that table. I wanted to kiss you the other night when we got drunk and I could have used it as an excuse. Every time you wrinkle that nose and those freckles connect I want to kiss you. When you curl up by the fire to read, I want to kiss you. When I see you going out there to make sure the animals are safe, I want to kiss you. Ok?"

"Ok." I breathed, not an ounce of fight left in me.

He kissed me in the rain. In the storm that was brewing. His lips covered in raindrops and mine in tears. A kiss so desperate, so forcefully full of need I let him wrap his broken body around mine. I let him clutch me to him, whether it would hurt him or not. The heat of his tongue against mine was like the lightening had descended from the sky above and struck me where I stood. The gentle murmur of his whimpers in harmony with mine. I could feel his palm against my cheek, his thumb trespassing a slow stroke across it. I'd never been kissed like this before. Like I was in a black and white movie, my knee bent just a little to keep me from falling. He kissed me like he was starved. With gentle intention, but intensifying pressure as his tongue slipped further into my mouth. Until I was sucking on it, grappling at his shirt to tear it from his flesh.

"Fuck, ahhhh..." I stopped myself. "No, no... we can't..."

He was panting as he pulled away, his lips a little swollen from the pressure of being against mine.

"We don't have to, just don't push me away. Please? Don't do that... Sssshhh, come here..."

My eyes flitted over towards the store. Of all the medical supplies I'd sequestered, none of them included birth control. Something I never would have given any credence to before. But now I was dulled with the thought and the fear of him spilling inside me and putting a baby where there didn't need to be one. Not now.

"No, it's not that..." I clung to him. "I stopped taking my birth control. I didn't think I needed it..."

His face washed over with realisation. "Oh."

His smile was going to lead me down a murky path. I knew it. I would've died for the way he smiled at me in that moment. Like I was the sweetest thing alive.

"Not tonight, then." He whispered, his mouth moving against my ear. "Tonight, we can do other things."

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