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ashblooddragons · 1 day ago

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The Red Queen (Chapter 15/?)

Series Masterlist

115 ac

Your Pov

Sit next to Aegon as Ali gets dressed for his second nameday celebration. She's wearing a pretty red dress, but I think she looks better in blue.

I look down at my dress, it's a pretty red with gold embroidery of dragons on my chest. But I wanted to wear my pink and silver dress but Papa said that would be impractical and we needed to show our house colors.

I look down at Aegon when he says my name, well at least something close.

“What Aegon?” I ask as he holds up his wooden dragon.

“Oh well thank you.” I say as he hands it to me before going to grab his other one. I look down at the dragon, these used to be mine before I gave them to Aegon. I remember Kepus and I playing with these together. But they're no longer mine so I must accept the bite marks along the tails and the chips on the spines.

“Roar!” Aegon yells shoving his wooden dragon in my face. It startles me to the point I gasp and fall back on my hands.

“Aegon darling, nice play remember?” Ali says from her seat in front of her vanity as her maids do her hair.

Aegon pouts before looking back at me. “Sowy.” He says moving forward to hug me.

“It’s alright, you just spooked me.” I say hugging him back before kissing his brow and letting him play again.

I stand before turning to Ali. She looks so beautiful, I hope I look as beautiful as her when I'm married. But I also notice how tired she is. How she seems like she hasn't rested in days, mayhaps moons. And I know why, it's the babe she winces each time it kicks or moves.

Just like Mama did with baby Baelon. I think before shaking the thoughts from my mind. There is no use for them, they only bring sadness to a happy day.

“Look at you, my darling girl.” Ali says from her plush brown armchair, her feet propped up by a small stool with feather pillows atop it. “You look lovely, though I know you wished to wear another dress and for that I am sorry.”

I shake my head as I walk over to her and rest my hand upon her round belly. I feel each movement, each kick, it seems almost like magic itself is inside Ali but I know it is the gods gift to women not magic.

“It isn't your fault, besides Papa has his reasons.” I respond with a tight smile.

Ever since Aegon was born Papa has been…irritable. At times I wonder if he is even cruel. He says such awful things at times, specifically to Ali. I don't understand why, nor do I want to. For if he can be that cruel outwardly what is his mind like?

I feel Ali rest her hand over mine tapping each of my fingers to get my attention once more.

“You have been lost in thought lately. Is your studies too difficult? Tiring perhaps? Your Father has put much stress upon you, I don't blame you for being tired.”

I feel my heart squeeze at her words. No one has noticed my tiredness, my lack of excitement. I know I need these lessons, that I need to learn how to rule. But at times I wonder if Papa remembers the girl who loved to fly, who loved to dance at feasts, who wanted to play and laugh. I at times find the answer to be he doesn't. Or more likely he doesn't care.

But instead of laying all my worries upon Ali I only shake my head with a joyful smile. “I'm fine, I need to learn how to rule so I can be a great Queen.”

It's there for only a second before she gives it. Pity. She knows I'm lying, knows I panic at times to the point I can hardly breathe. But she lets me have this, let's me have my fib, if only for now.

“Good.” She says before looking at Aegon and then the clock.

“I think it's time to go. Wouldn't want your twos Father wondering where we are.”

The walk down to the council room is long, but also feels like a blur. I feel the eyes of court on me, feel them assessing my posture which I know is straight after my new Septa, Septa Joy, made me stand and walk back and forth for hours each day until she deemed it perfect. The name Joy does not match that woman at all.

I know not why Papa made me switch Septas, why he separated me from Laena and Nymeria. Only that he deemed I needed a stricter woman to guide me than the sweet Septa Martha.

I know my dress has no wrinkles as I had to learn how to sit properly so as not to ruin a dress. I know my hair is perfectly braided around my head because Ali did it. I know I look the perfect Lady, the perfect Princess, the perfect heir.

But just as I know how I look I know how different I feel. I don't feel like me at times, I feel like a character in my books. Like I'm playing a part in a play like those fools and jesters Papa brings to feasts.

I don't feel like me anymore. Unless I'm with Laena and Nymeria or Ali. They know me, they care for me, they don't care if I seem proper, they want me to play and have fun. But Papa? No, he sees the perfect Heir who will rule after him, and though it hurts he now talks to me, listens to my words, nothing like before where we only spoke at dinner and even then it was sparse.

As we enter I hear them chant for Aegon, I can't help but smile. He is such a sweet boy and he deserves all this praise.

“Ah there's my boy!” Papa says before taking Aegon from Alis arms.

This Papa is so different to the one at dinner. He is joyful, laughing, but at dinner he is quiet, cold even. It's a bit jarring to see but I know better than to ask why he has changed his attitude.

“Ah! And my heir and Queen as well. What a lovely surprise.” Papa says almost jokingly but I see the look he gives us.

You should've been here sooner.

“Yes, terribly sorry for our untimeliness, I'm afraid the babe was lively this morrow.” Ali responds for us with a tight lipped smile.

“No need to apologize, you both look lovely by the way.” Papa says as he tries and makes Aegon laugh with silly faces.

I sigh looking down at my dress once more. It truly is pretty, just not beautiful like my pink one.

“May I say the young Prince looks just like you, Your Grace?” Some Lord says from beside Papa. I take this as my leave to find Laena and Nymeria.

I push past Lords and Ladies who grumble as I had taken their attention away from Aegon. But I don't care, this week I have the chance to finally play and be myself, not the perfect Princess with the kind smile even when a Lord or Lady is being rude.

I find Laena and Nymeria quite quickly, for they are both giggling next to a platter of cold meats and cheeses.

When I walk over Laena exclaimes my name before hugging me tightly. “I'm so excited! I heard there is a white heart in the forest.”

I think about the story of the white heart, how if a man killed it he was destined to be King. Of how it is a symbol of power but also of peace. And for some reason I hope it is not killed, for it is often called the King of the forest and if man needs rulers then so do animals.

“I wonder if it will get caught, perhaps I should have Daisy fly out and scout for it.” Nymeria says, taking a sip of her lemon water.

I frown at the thought of Nymeria's Ill tempered hawk. The bird only listens to her and claws and pecks at anyone else who walks past.

I would much rather Daisy stay here but if she truly wishes for the bird to come I will not deny her. I think before reaching for a piece of cold honeyed ham.

“Perhaps not, she is a beautiful bird but I think she needs to be trained on how to be nicer.” Laena says and I can't help but giggle at Nymeria's shocked face.

“Daisy is an amazing bird!” She demands but then frowns when she notices Laenas wrist where Daisy clawed at her for no reason besides walking by.

“She is an amazing bird, though just not as amazing with others.” I say with a shrug before taking a bite of a raspberry and honey cake.

Laena nods her head in agreement before we are interrupted by Nymeria's sister Myrielle.

“Sorry to interrupt but I need my sister for a moment.” She says before gliding by Nymeria groaning behind her.

Laena and I watch as they leave before looking at one another again and giggling at the fact Nymeria will probably be told her brown dress isn't suited for the festivities.

“I heard Myrielle is betrothed to the Queen's brother Lorenet.” Laena says with a smirk before pointing to the man in question.

I take him in, he looks like Ali. From the auburn hair to the pale freckled cheeks. Though his hair seems straight compared to her curls.

“He's handsome.” I say before turning to look back at Laena again.

Laena only hums before taking a sip of her lemon water assessing the Lord as if it were life or death. “But why him? She could be with someone with more power so why him?”

I frown at the question, for she's right, why him? He has no lands besides what his uncle gives him, no wealth of note. So why him and not another of more influence?

“Maybe she loves him? That's always a good reason to marry.” I say which seems to satisfy Laena’s curiosity for now.

We continue to gossip back and forth on what we've heard throughout the Keep. “And I heard that Lady Sofia Swann was caught indisposed with a stable boy.” Laena says just as Papa walks over to us.

I notice his look of distress mixed with anger and already know who has caused it. “Have you seen your sister? She was to be here almost an hour ago.”

I only shake my head watching as he moves about asking lords and ladies if they have seen my sister.

“Why would he ask you? Why would you know, she never was kind to you.” Laena says with a scowl towards Papa.

I shrug with a sigh. “Probably because he doesn't want to admit me and Rhaenyra’s distance. Or should I say a relationship that never even formed.” I say with an annoyed sigh.

I know Papa doesn't want to admit me and Rhaenyra don't get along, I've tried, I know I have. But no matter how hard I try she pushes me away, hurts me with cruel words or hands. At some point I just…stopped. I stopped caring if she loved me, I stopped caring if she looked my way, I just stopped caring.

“Seven hells, when is this hunt gonna begin!” Laena groans out as she watches as men guzzle wine and ladies sip tea. I can't help but giggle at her obvious disappointment in the activities of this small feast. There is only so much gossip girls can do before they've said it all.

“Let us hope it will be soon.” I say watching as Ali walks out of the council room for some reason.

I look to see who has Aegon to find Papa does. I frown at this, Papa doesn't spend much time with Aegon and yet he is telling stories left and right about him. It is odd that Papa has so many, or Papa is fibbing which is much more likely.

“He looks so much like the Queen don't you think?” Nymeria asks out of the blue. We both turn to find her in a new dress, this one a pretty pink with yellow lace along the hem. I have to fight the jealousy that rises in me at the sight.

“I think so, but Papa and the rest of the court says he looks like him. I think he had Papa's hair, and his Violet eyes are similar to Papa’s. But other than that he looks like Ali.” I say to which Laena and Nymeria nod in agreement.

“So what do you think the Quee–” Laena starts before Papa announces it is time to depart to the Kings woods.

“Well I hope you all have a wonderful ride up there. Let us pray my carriage won't be too tension-filled.” I say before a giggle erupts from me as Nymeria and Laena pretend to pray as they walk towards their carriages.

I turn to mine to find little Aegon on his nursemaids lap, Papa smiling at him, Ali avoiding Rhaenyra’s stare, and Rhaenyra glaring daggers at Alis belly.

Seems Laena and Nymeria's prayers didn't work. I think before climbing into the carriage for a long ride.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @fallenxjas

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kingmakerpod · 2 days ago

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Might be an uncouth subject, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some insight on what kind of money goes into producing audio dramas (specifically when it comes to reaching out to/compensating vocal talent.) I know a lot depends on what tools and connections you already have; I'm just looking for a flexible baseline to start from and make sure I'm not cheating or insulting folks by asking them to work for peanuts. Having a target to save up for would be a huge help. Thanks so much!

(And yeah, I'll totally admit this is partly just me wondering how you fine WANA folks managed to nab Jonny Sims and Tiana Camacho for Killjam XXX; let me know if this is a question better posed via email and I'll get out of your hair, sorry for bothering!)

This isn't an uncouth question at all. It's actually a great question and we'll be happy to answer it!

It's hard to give a definitive baseline for budget beyond the cost of web hosting and audio equipment, which in itself can vary quite a bit. The yeti mic and arm set we (Meg and Henry) bought for Less is Morgue (and still record a lot of Killjam and TKH on) cost about 200 dollars. If I remember correctly the hosting costs for Less is Morgue were about 30 a month, and for Kingmaker it's 14 dollars a month. Those are the only two things you absolutely need to spend money on, so it's definitely possible to make a good quality audio drama for under a grand. In fact, we would absolutely not recommend going over a grand at this point. You definitely don't want to shoot too high with the budget for your first project. Spoken from experience, you will end up spending it on things you'll later realise weren't worth it.

The most important thing is just to put something out there first so the actors can tell that the project is real and you're not just stringing them along. The few episodes of Less is Morgue were pretty much all done in-house with a cast that was mostly people we were already friends with, and we didn't do any open auditions until midway through the season. Another way to do it is to start off as a single narrator podcast then gradually introduce a full cast as the show goes on. Other shows have released a pilot episode to the public that then serves as an advertisement for what the rest of the show will sound like. Once you have a sample of your work out there, you can start reaching out to actors.

When it comes to how you compensate your talent- just be upfront about how much money you're working with. The best way to not cheat or insult folks is by giving them realistic expectations. Don't promise money you don't have, and don't ask them to do work for something that you won't be able to finish. If you're honest and easy to work with, a lot of voice actors will be willing to adjust their rates or work for free. Speaking from a voice actor's perspective, Addison said she would be willing to work for free on a first time indie project if it seemed fun and interesting and she could tell that it was something the creator was really passionate about.

As for how we got some of our big names- it really is all about cultivating a reputation for being cool to work with. Maybe not the most useful advice for a first project, but it will be useful later, and it is true. At this point the WANA core four have been involved in The NoSleep Podcast, Congeria, Less is Morgue, The Kingmaker Histories and Mayfair Watcher's Society, and that's only counting the stuff that more than one of us have been involved with. Every project we try to make loads of friends. Eventually you will have enough mutual friends with enough people that you can just hit up Jonny Sims and Tiana Camancho, because someone you know worked with them on some other thing and they're willing to vouch for you.

#behind the scenes #messages

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ippipo · 3 hours ago

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self aware caleb? yummy

part 1

you were in deep concentration when you heard a grunt coming from your phone while studying with caleb. he was staring at you from the phone, which you assumed was a glitch in the game.

"caleb, honey, if you make sounds like that just as i finally concentrate i swear to god i'll throw you across the room," you threaten him playfully, totally unaware that he understood every word that you said.

you return to focusing on your textbook, trying to regain the ability to pay complete attention to it. his eyebrows pinch together. who was this girl, and why was he seeing her? he was unaware if you were danger or not, you did just threaten him.

he waited until he heard a ding, watching you sigh. "finally, i finished studying. let's get me some food," you speak to him, confusing him even more. "who are you?" he asks, his tone was cautious.

"what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?" you panic. you stare in all directions, blissfully ignorant to the device in your hand. you finally looked at your phone and caleb is closer to the screen now. "nah, i must be dreaming," you snicker and go to the kitchen.

he was annoyed now. "no, you are not," he confirms your suspicion. "caleb? what the fuck?"

"yeah, that's my name. who are you and why am I able to see you?" he asks you with more aggression this time. you read stories about these things but never really imagined them to happen. and you did what you thought you would do while reading them instead of freaking out. explain to him your world, of course. but you were so close to pissing your pants, partly from excitement. but this was a dream come true, were you really gonna waste it on some stupid sense of fear?

"this is gonna take a while, buddy. you might wanna sit down for this," you say with a sigh, motioning him to sit down.

you told him about your world, and how magic and superpowers don't exist and how he was in a game. it took you about an hour. he was attentive, listening to every word you were saying, not taking his eyes off of you.

"so....to summarise it up, i'm an otome game character and that girl from my childhood is not real either. just not aware?" he asks, you nod. "the creators are so cruel, man. why would they make a cool guy like me go through that?" he remarks, a grin etched onto his face despite the sadness behind that statement.

"i don't feel anything towards her now, though," he states while scratching his nape, feeling lost. "i guess you aren't my love interest anymore, aw." he remained quiet at that statement, wondering what happens now. sure, he was attracted to the person he was talking with right now. but wouldn't it end tragically if he were to fall for you?

pushing those thoughts aside, he was curious about the real world, "how are the people there?" he asks you. "they're......cruel. but the people around me now are pretty alright, i don't go out much because i prefer staying at home," you reply.

"cruel? how so?" he questions, unconvinced with your answer. he was expecting the world to be better, without deception and unfortunate circumstances. "for starters, women here are still struggling, being treated disgustingly, racism is more prevalent than ever, the nazis are somewhat back, some orange white capitalist dude is ruining an already ruined country, and everyone's suffering," you finally take a breath.

you watch caleb's conflicted expression, regretting info-dumping on him so much. "so it's the same like here," he trails off. "it's still as shitty as here," he completes.

"don't think so, your world seems slightly better. i think i would be scared of walking alone at night because of wanderers instead of men," you state. he felt bad for you, and a familiar protective feeling resurfaces, the one he was conditioned to feel for the girl in the game now felt for you.

it was weird how he no longer recognized whoever that was. "i feel like i know you more than the character in here," he confesses. "well, she's basically me. although the personality is different, her name and stuff is basically mine."

caleb sighs in relief. it brought him some comfort knowing you were controlling it, not him involuntarily falling for someone he didn't know consciously.

"this sucks, i would rather be there with you," he reveals. he probably didn't know that made your heart flutter just a teeny tiny bit. just a little bit. "don't say stuff like that," you warn him. "hm? why?"

"i've read stories like this and they always end painfully. you'll start wanting to be with me because of my amazing gorgeous personality and eventually we'll do the boom boom pow online. suddenly you'll wanna do it with me, then you'll visit me and you'll have to choose between that world or this world. then you'll realize this world sucks and you'll have to give up our love. you'll go along with the mc and i'll end up missing that ding-a-ling," a shit-eating grin made its way onto your face. you felt proud of yourself.

he suddenly starts laughing at the way you worded the whole thing. "you're really something," he says making you snort. "i won't fall in love with you, i'm not that dumb," he states. you ignore the soft clench in your heart.

"are you sure you can resist all this, baby?" you flip your hair and wink at him. he rubs his ears to hide the redness, which was an unusual movement because his character never did that.

"positive, baby," he flirts back. it was your time to blush now. you clear your throat in embarrassment, "wanna see me cook?" you look at him hopefully, wanting to show off your skills. "i'll cook along too," he says.

he moves to his kitchen, the view to you was like as if you were on a video call. the screen showing you things in the game you wouldn't normally be able to see.

you hear a knock on your front door. "hey, lemme just check that and come back," you tell him before going to the door. your neighbour wanted some salad dressing. he was a fairly tall, good looking guy. he was married though, and he carried his ring around everywhere.

caleb watches the stranger waltz into your kitchen. his brows furrow in discontent. he didn't like the idea of you letting in another man into your house. he pinches himself and finally snaps out of it. 'you just met her properly for the first time, loser. control.'

the neighbour thankfully doesn't notice the animated but realistic man on your phone glaring at him. "thanks," the man smiles at you and leaves your house. "who was that?" caleb finally asks the question he was itching to ask. "my neighbour, he's making salad for his husband," you casually mention, unaware of the relief he felt. he was married, perfect.

you turn your back towards the camera and bend down to pick up a spoon that fell earlier. your ass on full display to him, well, not exactly, you had some shorts on. you didn't realize it, despite being an incredibly self-aware person. but caleb got the biggest loser boner ever.

he shifts in his place uncomfortably. "caleb, are you okay?" you ask with concern. "yes, great actually," he skillfully covers it up with a cough. "just getting used to not following a script."

this was gonna take a while.

#lads caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x reader #lads x reader #lads fluff #lads fanfic

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more-sonorous · 24 hours ago

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Idk if someone has already asked you, but favorite Jack and davey headcanons????

mmmm i love this :D i have so so so so so many headcanons for them so i'm gonna try my best to narrow it down lmfaooo

overall

jack never stops drawing davey. he's obsessed. he'll fill sketchbooks with the most mundane things about this boy because he finds him so impossibly pretty

davey is taller, and jack pulls him down into kisses. be it by the tie, the collar of his shirt or his hair-- jack doesn't do tiptoes. davey also loves dropping kisses onto jack's forehead.

davey loves jack's hands. could stare at them all day. he's always wanting to hold them or run his own fingers over the callouses, or rub the constant streaks of paint off-- jack's hands are constantly on his mind

jack could listen to davey read for hours on end and never get tired. there's something about davey's voice, how soft and soothing it is, maybe, that's unfairly addicting. he'll listen to davey read anything, sometimes not even registering the plot in favor of listening to the rise and fall of davey's voice

davey wasn't touchy until he met jack. then he was like 'oh maybe physical touch does make sense as a love language' and there was no going back. they're sort of always touching, whether it's just their pinkies brushing or they're sitting on top of each other. jack's favorite is keeping his hand in the back pocket of davey's jeans, and davey likes to walk with two fingers hooked in jack's belt loop.

davey kisses all of jack's scars whenever he gets the chance.

jack kisses davey's freckles in the same way, if he's not using them to draw constellations.

canon era

jack's always tugging davey around by the tie. there's no stopping him.

jack blows all of his meager spare change on green paints and pastels because he wants to get the color of davey's eyes just right

even though jack's technically catholic, he finds himself obsessively trying to learn everything about judaism to be closer with davey. he wants to understand everything about davey's traditions, and there's something about the way davey lights up with love and passion as he explains his religion that makes jack fall a little bit more in love every time.

modern era

jack steals all of davey's clothes and davey is powerless when it comes to stopping him (he even steals the sweaters that he complains are nerdy, and davey pretends to be annoyed, but the sight of jack in his clothes is just... yeah)

jack learns how to brew tea just for davey and davey teaches himself all of the recipes jack's mamá used to make, even if they're too spicy for him and he gets a runny nose every time he makes one for dinner

davey, a polyglot, did not know spanish when he met jack. jack, fluent in spanish and english and nothing else, wonders how the hell his boyfriend (who fluently speaks languages as difficult as yiddish and polish) doesn't know spanish and takes it upon himself to teach davey. davey is so enamored by the gentle way in which jack teaches that he doesn't tell jack that he picked up spanish fluently about three months after dating him. when jack finds out years later, hell is raised-- but then the happiness he gets from being able to speak his native language with the man he loves the most outweighs any overdramatic feelings of betrayal

can you believe that isn't even it? these are just my favorite ones i could come up with off the top of my head.

thank you so much for the ask oml <3

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cherrygirlfriend · 1 day ago

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ᯓ★ meet the family

pairing: kook!reader x bf!pope synopsis: reader meets pope's friends for the first time. warnings / tags: fluff! wc: 600 a/n; originally posted 08/22/2024

you were sitting at your vanity, looking into the reflection and trying to make sure that not even one hair on your head was out of place. you could see your boyfriend in the reflection, laying on your bed with his phone in his hand, and you looked at him through the mirror, your brows furrowed in question "do you think i look okay?"

pope turned his attention and looked at you through the mirror, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to make sense of what you were saying, letting out a small chuckle and shaking his head. "what?" you asked with a small frown as you turned your head to look at your boyfriend, who was now burying his head into your pillow, laughing.

"baby, you know i always think you look gorgeous." he said once he had laughed enough.

but even your boyfriend's sweet, assuring words couldn't calm your racing mind, and you continued to pout at him through the mirror while applying blush to your cheeks.

you knew that none of pope's friends were too fond of kooks, thinking that most of them were privileged stuck-up assholes, and you were worried that they'd hate you even before they even had the chance to meet you. normally you didn't really care what people thought about you, but you knew how important his friends were to him, so the moment he had even brought up the idea of meeting them, you had panicked. "babe, what if they don't like me?"

pope let out a small sigh as he approached your vanity, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek before looking at your reflections in the mirror, a reassuring smile on his lips. "they'll like you. they know how much i like you. they're all really excited to meet you, i promise. even if your lipstick is smudged, or your eyeliner wing isn't perfect."

you turned your head to look at him with wide eyes, "wait, is my lipstick smudged? is my eyeliner wing messed up?"

he laughed, before pressing his lips against yours, and while the gentle kiss caused your heart to start racing in your chest, it also managed to soothe your worries, and you wondered how someone could have such a calming effect on you?

when he pulled away from the kiss, pope tugged a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek as he looked at you with his dark eyes, making you feel as if you were going to melt under his sweet gaze.

"you look absolutely perfect."

when you finally did meet pope's friends, you felt silly for having worried at all.

as soon as the group spotted you two, pope's friend jj had slapped him on the shoulder and congratulated him on having actually landed a pretty girlfriend, causing your boyfriend to roll his eyes.

and once pope had told you all of their names, you were sitting around a small fire getting to know all of them, a blanket snugly wrapped around you along with pope's arms, the boy wanting to make sure you wouldn't get cold as the night drew closer.

you were pretty quiet, preferring to listen to pope's friends talk as the boy occasionally pressed soft kisses on your temple, murmuring sweet words into your ear, the few beers he'd drank having made him even more affectionate than usual.

"are you gonna fall asleep on me?" he mumbled softly into your ear, making you chuckle as you closed your eyes, leaning against his warm chest, feeling yourself slowly succumb to slumber.

#old account repost !!!#pope heyward #outer banks #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward x you #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward fanfiction #pope heyward fluff #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fluff #obx

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weirdthinkingdragon · 1 day ago

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Stay Close

Slight yandere Dan Heng x reader

warnings: a bit of awkwardness? Slight fluff

Yandere Dan Heng using his Lunae form to keep a "dragon lover" reader close to him. You being from a world they're nonexistent to now seeing one that shouldn't be possible when you joined the express.

Like a moth drawn to a flame the first time you saw it you were beyond fascinated to the point everyone could tell. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to question him about it feeling it would be disrespectful since he seems so avoidant of talking about it after just a few questions you tried to ask him.

That also lead you to feel unbelievably awkward around him for a while since you've already talked about your love of dragons to the express... If you knew then you would have never said a word. How were you supposed to know there was a draconic type of human??

That lead you to research in the archives a lot to make sure there isn't anything else you should know about before it was too late.

With time things got back to normal and you started to drift away from Dan Heng. He's a guy who likes his space. Why bother him when you have Trailblazer and March to bother? Plus you're pretty sure you learned everything you wanted to know by then and your visits became less and less often.

Little did you know at that point Dan Heng didn't really like that. He grew rather used to your previous frequent presence in the archives.

What he really didn't like is when you got separated on visiting another planet. That alone wouldn't have been so bad if the person you were with trying to help the world didn't try to stab you in the back. Literally. He saw it happen and nearly lost his cool. He threw his spear just in the nick of time and punctured the person's leg, causing them to stop and scream in pain.

Obviously that startled you to turn around and see them running up and what happened.

After that there was a shift in his actions with you. Almost always in the same room especially if no one else was. Another thing you noticed was him more often in his other form. Man you want to touch his tai- no. Bad. That's weird.

It's like a train wreck no matter how hard you try to stop looking, you can't.

He knows you want to touch it. It's not hard to tell. Quite frankly, it's the opposite. It's to the point you don't even have to say it. But that's what he wants. He's willing to show this part to you alone just to keep you near if he has to. He knows you don't think he sees you looking while he's reading.

"You can try touching it, if you want."

You're shocked for a good minute, then apprehensive. You wonder if he only is saying that because your looking is pressuring him so you can stop, or maybe another bad reason you don't want to try to think about. "...Are you sure?"

Aeons, please just do already! This is more of a delicate situation though. If he wasn't as level-headed he'd have already impulsively pulled you to him with his tail and made you stay close as much as possible. "if I wasn't, I wouldn't have offered."

You cave and carefully do. It wasn't what you were expecting. it was more smooth, airy to the touch, and rather cool. Not cold, but definitely not warm either. Maybe airy wasn't the right word? Felt more like water itself but a bit more solid. So like soft ice and not nearly as cold.

You didn't want to stop touching it but didn't want to push your luck. That alone was enough for you to be happy with.

But it didn't stop there. More frequently you'd go to the archives again and he kept offering. Eventually one day he pulled you to his lap and rested his head on you while you held it. He wrapped his arms around you as well and let a mental sigh of relief. He's glad it's this way now.

This is where you belong with him. Whatever happens or comes for him, he cannot leave the express anymore. Not with you. Not with something as great as this.

He's never been more glad to have his other form than now. If it helps make you stay close, well then he might just have to start staying in this form more often. Even if around other people too.

#x reader #x you #fluff #hsr x reader #reader insert #yandere dan heng #dan heng #hsr #yandere hsr #yandere dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #yandere hsr x reader

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traumadumpwriter · 2 days ago

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JJ Maybank X Reader - Relapse and a Half

Summary: The Pogues feel betrayed by the readers sudden relapse into hard drugs, but they're unable to be angry at her for too long as something terrible leaves her needing their support more than ever.

Trigger warning for: drugs (obviously), guns, sexual assault, violence

Part One

Part Three

Part Two:

After John B had driven you home that night, he raced back to the Chateau, knowing that JJ would be going crazy. He hoped that nothing had been broken, thinking back on the last time they'd discovered that you were taking pills.

The night had been engraved into the minds of all the Pogues, the way you just suddenly collapsed and wouldn't wake up. The moment of realisation when JJ had emptied out your bag in a panicked rush and six orange pill pots fell out. Pope's hyperventilating as he felt for your pulse and it came back weak. John B's panicked shouting as he watched JJ shove his fingers down your throat. Kie's uncontrollable crying as she called the ambulance.

Then there was the despair that they’d felt watching the ambulance drive away with you inside. The shout that JJ had let out as he smashed through the rotting wooden table on the front porch. The way his hands had bled, his knuckles cut open, and how he’d refused to let Kie clean them, adamant that they needed to get to the hospital immediately. The devastation that they all felt in the waiting room.

It was all they could think about.

Kie and Pope had awoke at the shouting, and whilst Kie was sat solemnly on the porch with her head in her hands, Pope was trying to calm JJ down.

"I can't believe she's back on that shit! I mean what the fuck?" He had shouted, throwing off his cap and aggressively pacing. "And I can't believe she lied to my face like that! To John B's face! I mean, can you guys fucking believe it?"

"She's obviously going through something. If we intervene now we can stop it before it gets bad." Pope said pleadingly, to which JJ scoffed "It's already bad! Trust me man, you didn't see her tonight."

The memory of your wavering posture and slurring tongue snapped at him mockingly, too similar to the times his dad had come home drunk and unable to see straight. It just didn’t make sense to him. You’d spent so many hours together, him holding back your hair as you were sick from withdrawal, you curled up on his lap whilst he reminded you of how strong you were. Why would you want to throw that all away? Had it meant nothing?

"I don't know why you're so shocked, JJ. It's been pretty obvious for weeks now that I think about it. I mean, she's been acting so strange. It all makes sense now." Kie tutted. "You know how addicts are, they lie."

"Does she just not give a shit about herself or something? Why would she put that shit in her body again?" He wondered out loud, and Kie struggled to bite her tongue.

She wasn't sure what had caused her best friend to relapse, but looking at the timeline of her suspicion, it seemed that the blonde might have something to do with it. He was fairly drunk and his shouts were becoming more and more obnoxious, not considering how anyone else might’ve felt about the situation. He only seemed to get worse once John B arrived back; irritated at his best friend trying to defend you.

“Maybe it’s just a little slip up. Okay? Maybe it’s not as bad as last time.” John B protested, but JJ wouldn’t hear any of it, the words going completely over his head as he continued to angrily rant - more to himself than anyone else.

"It's so fucking dumb. The way she lied to my face. It's like she doesn't respect me-"

"Because you've shown her so much respect, haven't you? God, JJ! Would you shut up!" Kie cut him off with some volume, unable to bear the sound of his voice any longer.

JJ looked at her, shocked and offended.

"What the hell are you taking about Kie? What have I done wrong?"

"You treat her like some side piece and you know you do! The way you rub other girls in her face is so disrespectful. It’s like you want her to feel shit!”

He didn't understand. What was Kie talking about? You had never cared about the other girls. You had been the one to make it clear that your sexual relationship was entirely casual. You were far too cool for JJ, way out of his league, and he'd just counted himself as lucky that you liked to have sex with him sometimes. He'd never considered that you cared for anything deeper than that.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He repeated but she just ignored him, picking up her bike and riding home, needing time to think before she reached out to you.

It had been two days since then, and you hadn't left your house. You'd hardly ate and you'd turned your phone off, hiding in your room and sleeping most of the time away. It mortified you to imagine what the Pogues were thinking. They probably hated you now.

You weren't expecting to be woken up by the sound of somebody in your room.

*Your POV*

My sleep was dreamless. A vast, thick blackness that covered me wholly, warm and comforting. It was my favourite way to sleep, no painful reminders of the waking world to bother my subconscious, just soothing nothingness to take my brain away. It was the only break I got from the bad thoughts. Now my shame was too much for even the Xanax to crush - no matter how much I took.

All I could think about was the betrayal on JJ's face as he asked me for the truth, and the lies that I’d spat out at him. I wondered if he or any of the other Pogues had tried to reach out to me, but I was too scared that they hadn't to check. If I turned on my phone and had nothing from any of them, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

The sound of something being dropped near my head woke me up and I groaned, thinking it was my mum trying to get me to eat again.

"I still don't feel good. I'm sorry." I moaned, stretching as I yawned.

"Yeah your mum said you were sick. Wonder how long it'll take for her to catch on that you're using again."

JJ's voice was harsh and unexpected. I shot up straight, looking to the blonde boy with wide eyes. He was crouched down beside my bed digging through my cabinet with careless abandon, my belongings strewn around the room in a way that told me he'd been in here for a little while.

"It's always really nice having to check your friend's pulse, you know, just to make sure they've not almost killed themselves again." He continued in a tone that was dripping with sarcasm. "Is it even enjoyable to you? Living like a corpse? Because I just don't get it."

I didn't know what to say to that, my mind still groggy and confused. All I could mutter out was a quiet "What are you doing here?"

JJ didn't answer me, continuing to dig through my drawer until he finally found what he was looking for.

"Same shit you had to get pumped out your stomach. Nice one Y/N." He eyed the orange pot in his hand with furrowed brows. "And you're almost out, only one left."

It took my brain another few seconds to adjust to what was happening, processing the fact that JJ was ransacking my bedroom and in the process of stealing my pills. He had good reason to be, but it didn’t mean I liked it.

"JJ- I'm sorry." I stammered, watching him slide the pot into his pocket. "I didn't mean to get so fucked up."

"I know you didn't. You didn't mean for us to find out. Good thing I'm not stupid though, huh? Probably would've gotten away with it if I wasn't there. Not for long though, Kie was getting close. And she's pissed."

The thought of my best friend angry sent a shiver down my spine and a pang of guilt into my chest, especially knowing that she was completely right in her anger. How could I fix this mess I’d made? Should I have called Kie? Or would she just shout at me? I couldn’t deal with that.

"I know. I'm sorry. I- I backslid. But I can get clean again-”

“Yeah I know you can. And you’re going to. Whether you like it or not.” JJ cut me off bluntly, finally looking at my face.

He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days, and the crease between his eyebrows was deep set, like a permanent expression of stress. His blue eyes lacked their usual sparkle and his lips were chapped and bitten. I supposed I didn’t look much better.

I opened my mouth to apologise again but he continued to rant at me, his voice getting more aggressive by the word, and it was starting to get under my skin. If it had been anyone else I might’ve been able to take it but the fact that it was JJ - the boy who’d broke my heart without even realising it - just served to frustrate me.

“I just don’t get why you did it. And how you lied to my face like that. Not just to my face- to John B’s too! I mean shit Y/N. Almost a year clean flushed down the drain. How’d you feel about that?”

“Shit, JJ. Okay? I feel like shit.” I hissed, feeling my face heat up.

I knew I deserved the attitude, but I just wished he could’ve been a little softer. I wished he could’ve made me feel less ashamed. I wished he could’ve just held me and loved me.

“And Kie’s got the nerve to say I have something to do with it. I don’t, do I?” He continued as if he hadn’t even heard me, his hand movements becoming exaggerated. All I could do was wonder what exactly Kie had told him, worried that he knew the truth now and clearly didn’t like it. “I mean, the way you’ve been so weird to me is it’s own separate thing. You did this to yourself because of your own issues. Nothing to do with me, right?”

He finally went silent, staring at me as he waited for an answer, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily out of his nose. What could I say to him? Was I meant to lie to his face again? I couldn’t do that. I swallowed nervously, my mind racing with different answers, yet I settled on one question, afraid to hear his response but unable to keep it down any more.

“Why did you stop wanting to fuck me?”

JJ’s eyebrows raised incredulously and his anger only seemed to increase. He sucked in his lips with a disapproving sound and looked around the room, running his fingers through his hair stressfully, before turning sharply back to me.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He scoffed. “You’re the one who started acting weird! You stopped wanting to fuck me! Which is fine. I don’t care. But what does me fucking you have to do with this? I don’t get it.”

So Kie hadn’t told him the truth. But it didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t care - not about having me physically - so why would he want me at all? I was just his friend. His selfish, lying, drug addicted friend. And I was hardly even that anymore. Just selfish, lying and drug addicted.

His words had stung so badly despite being so minuscule that all I could think about was neutralising the sting. I didn’t want to be his friend. I couldn’t bare to be his friend. I needed to not care anymore, and I needed it instantly.

“Give me the pot, JJ. It’s just one more pill. It doesn’t matter.”

His eyes widened, like he was mind blown by my response, and he almost spat the next words.

“Are you fucking serious? You said you were getting clean just two minutes ago. What did I say to manage to fuck that up so quickly?”

I opened my mouth to say something - to tell him to shut up - but he continued on, his volume increasing.

“Because it is something to do with me, isn’t it? I tried to convince myself that it’s not, but it clearly is. That’s why you’ve been acting so shitty with me. That’s why Kie got pissed with me. So enlighten me, Y/N! What the fuck have I done wrong?”

My patience had all but run out at that point. My heart was heavy and my head ached. All I could think to do was tell the truth at that point - even though I knew I wouldn’t get the response I wanted from it.

It didn’t matter anymore. I had already ruined everything.

“I like you JJ! God, are you fucking blind? I fucking like you!” I hissed, the words shooting out of my mouth at a hundred miles an hour. “And every time you get with some gorgeous touron it fucking kills me! It makes me feel so worthless in ways you couldn’t even begin to understand! So yeah, I relapsed. I relapsed because I was sick of feeling worthless.. of feeling anything. Now can you give me my fucking pill back?”

If I thought he looked mind blown before, that was nothing compared to his expression now. It resembled one of horror, and my sickness only increased. Then it returned to his previously pissed off one, his lips thinned and his nostrils flared.

A dry, humourless laugh fell from his mouth.

“So it’s my fault? It’s my fault that you did this to yourself? Because you couldn’t just tell me about your stupid schoolgirl crush months ago?”

God, I wanted to disappear so badly.

“Give me my pill, JJ!” I shouted but he acted as if he hadn’t heard me.

“Way to shift the blame much-”

“Give me my pill and fucking leave, JJ!”

“Blaming this shit on me. You sound just like my dad-”

“Give me my fucking pill!”

He finally responded to my words, leaning in close with gritted teeth and lowly hissing “Or what?”

His faces was inches from mine. I’d never seen him look so angry - at a Pogue anyway - and I instinctively flinched away from him. I could feel my eyes getting damp and my bottom lip starting to quiver, and unlike usual I didn’t try to hide it. It didn’t matter anymore.

“Exactly! You can’t do shit!” He scoffed, a taunting smirk pulling at his lips.

“Get the fuck out of my house!”

“I’m leaving, don’t you worry. You fucking junkie. Just turn on your phone so the others know you’re alive.”

He stood up and pulled the pot from his pocket, waving it in my face before putting it back. He even snickered as I reached for it.

“I fucking hate you!” I shouted, picking up one of my pillows and throwing it at him.

“Yep. I hate me too. Join the club.” He spat.

And with that he slammed my bedroom door shut and I was alone again, tears falling down my face and sobs escaping my throat.

The months of wondering if he liked me back had been answered in the worst possible way. Far worse than any of the terrible ways I’d imagined. And it was all my fault.

I felt devastated, wholly and entirely. Not just devastated about JJ, but about the Pogues. There was no way I’d ever be invited back to the Chateau now. He would tell them about everything that had just happened - about how I’d demanded for my Xanax back - and they would hate me for it.

My mum was in my room moments later, wrapping her arms around me and trying to comfort me. She didn’t have any real idea of what had just happened, just that I’d had an argument with JJ, and she knew for a fact that I liked him. She was my mum after all, she could tell.

“It’ll be alright. Whatever you said, he’ll get over it. It’s not like he’s an angel. Lord knows I’ve heard that boy say some pretty mean stuff.”

And I had to just agree with her, unable to tell her the whole truth, unable to even smile as I thought of the times she’d overheard him talking shit and given him a stern look. There was only one answer to my problem now, and it was the exact thing that had created the problem in the first place. I had to go to Barry’s.

“I’m gonna go to Kie’s. Have a girls night.” I sniffled, wiping my face with the sleeve of my jumper. “I’m sorry mum. I just can’t be here right now.”

“That’s alright darling. Do you want me to drive you?” She said softly, sending another pang of guilt into my gut.

“No thanks. I’ll be alright.” I forced a weak smile and she nodded, her face relaxing slightly.

By time I’d showered, gotten dressed and put on some makeup it was getting dark outside which I was actually glad about. Reduced visibility meant that I was less likely to get recognised by anyone on my way, meaning they wouldn’t see the red blotches on my face from crying nor how ugly I looked.

The ride to Barry’s felt the longest it ever had; my head louder than it had been in a long time. I struggled to not start crying again, remembering JJ’s harsh words and how humiliated they made me feel.

When I got to Barry’s, I was relieved once again to see that the house was empty apart from him. A radio played country ballads quietly and the thick scent of weed smoke filled the room.

“What’s up with you party princess? You look like you just got told the worst news of your life.” Was what Barry opened the door with, and I couldn’t even argue with him. I looked like shit.

“Don’t act like you care. I just need to buy some more pills.” I forced a smile as I sat down on his couch, graciously accepting the half smoked joint from his hand.

“Well shit, that’s blunt. Maybe I do care. How would you know?” He scoffed.

“Because I’m not dumb, Barry. Why would you care? I’m sure you’ve got much more important things on your plate than whatever stupid drama I have going on.”

“You’re right I probably do. That don’t make me heartless though. Sucks to see such a pretty girl looking so sad.”

And there it was. All he had said was ‘pretty’ - such a minute compliment, yet I sucked it up like it was oxygen and instantly craved more. My body relaxed slightly and my gut felt a tiny bit less heavy. I let out a dry chuckle, unsure of whether my amusement was real or not.

“That’s sweet. Now can I buy some pills?”

Barry’s chuckle matched mine, also lacking any real humour though a grin painted his face.

“Sure you can. I ain’t got any xans in though. Only Klonopin. That okay?”

I didn’t know much about Klonopin other than that it was stronger than Xanax, and though I would’ve usually probably rejected the offer, it sounded perfect in that moment. I handed him the cash and he handed me the pot, which I instantly opened and took a pill from.

Barry raised an eyebrow, looking amused, and handed me a beer that he’d been nursing. I was quick to finish it.

“These pills cost more, you’re about twenty dollars short.”

“Shit. I can pay you back next week?”

“Don’t worry about it princess. There’s other ways you can pay me back.”

I knew what he meant immediately from the sultry tone he’d adopted, and though I thought to insist on paying him with cash, I didn’t even care enough to. Instead, I walked to his fridge and took out another beer before swallowing down another pill with it. Anything to make me forget about the Pogues.

These pills hit fast and strong and I sunk into the sofa like it were a big embrace from a huge, soft monster. The fibres felt softer than usual and my fingers traced over them with satisfaction, my mind going completely blank other than the thought of how nice the sofa felt.

“So, you wanna talk about what’s been bothering you or?”

“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want me. Who cares.” I mumbled.

“Who’s that? One of your boy toys?”

“JJ.”

Barry scoffed.

“Could’ve fooled me. That kid follows you around like a puppy dog.”

I grimaced, blue eyes appearing in my mind, and quickly chugged the rest of my beer.

“Can I have some smoke?”

“Nice of you to ask for once.” He chuckled, handing me the ashtray with a half smoked joint in it.

“You like my attitude, Barry. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Yeah. Not the only thing I like about you.”

I snorted at that, though I was secretly flattered, any sense of danger quickly dwindling. An hour later and I was struggling to stay awake, my head continuously falling forward until I pulled it back up again, much to Barry’s amusement.

“Let’s get you to bed, princess.” He said to me with a smile, holding out his hand to take. I took it gratefully and followed him to his bedroom, stumbling as I did.

As soon as I saw the bed I flopped onto it, landing on my belly and burying my face in the soft sheets. Like the sofa, every fibre felt soothing and kind, and I momentarily forgot where I was until the sound of Barry’s deep chuckle reached my ears.

“You like the bed?”

“Yeah. It’s nice.” I mumbled in response and he chuckled again.

“You can stay here for as long as you want.”

“Thanks.”

Then I felt his hands on my shorts, his fingers hooking around the waistband and pulling them down without any warning. He pulled them all the way down to my feet until they were no longer attached to my body and then moved a hand to my underwear, groping my thighs and butt as he did.

“No. Barry. I’ll pay in cash. I promise.” I groaned, trying to flip myself over but struggling to do so against his grip.

“But you’re so beautiful.” He whispered in my ear, his hands now moving to untie my halter top. “Your skin is so smooth. Even softer than I imagined. And your ass is just incredible. A real work of art.”

I hesitated for a moment before whispering “Really?”

He hooked his finger into my underwear and pulled them down and I flinched and tried to turn around again, but his other hand flat against my back stopped me from doing so.

“Anyone who doesn’t want you is an idiot, princess.” He answered, closer to my ear than I expected him to be.

He placed a kiss on my neck and I opened my mouth to say no again but only a gasp came out, reacting to the feeling of his fingers suddenly being inside of me.

“Stop-” I tried to say with confidence, but it came out as a mumble.

“Ssh. Sssh. It’s alright baby. Let me look after you.” He said softly and in a moment of realisation I felt all the fight leave my body, disappearing into the darkness of the pillow that was suffocating my view.

There was no point in trying to stop it. It was happening now - thanks to my own stupid decisions - and I had to accept it. At least Barry wanted me, even if his touch felt like an invasive probe, at least someone wanted me.

My consciousness slipped away into a dizzy, warm pool, occasionally re-emerging with a particularly hard thrust or a slap to my arse, but largely un-present. I didn’t know how long he was fucking me for, and at some points I wasn’t even sure if it was real, everything feeling like some bad, confusing dream. The only real thoughts I remembered having were about JJ, and I was glad when they were plucked away.

The next morning I knew that it was real though, my body aching from his touch, and despite my mind’s desperate pleas for me to leave, another pill into my mouth had me sinking into the bed again, grateful for the soothing words that came out of his mouth. I didn’t have the energy to go home and lie to my mum’s face. To tell her about the great night I’d had with Kie when I’d really been in a borderline comatose state with a forceful drug dealer.

Barry brought in breakfast on a tray - a bacon sandwich - and a joint, lighting it for me before placing it in my mouth. It reminded me of the mornings I’d spent with JJ when I’d first gotten sober. How he tried so hard to make me feel better even though I’d done it to myself. I’d done it to myself all over again.

“Morning party princess, you feeling better?” Barry asked with a sincere smile and I shrugged.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. It wasn’t good, but was it better than last night? I couldn’t remember.

“How are you?” I returned, unable to answer the question.

“Well I woke up next to your ass so I’m pretty peachy.”

I couldn’t even crack a false smile at that like I usually would’ve. My heart ached.

“Oh come on darling, life ain’t all that bad. You got anything you need to do today?”

I didn’t even know what day it was.

“No.”

“Well then you can just relax here if you want. Help me weigh up some product. Eat some good food. Smoke some free weed.”

That did sound like an alright plan.

“I’ll cook up some hash browns.”

His offer sounded genuine, laced with care and concern, and it lit a spark of affection within me. I hadn’t been looked after like this in a long time. Not since JJ helped me get sober. Part of me knew that it was wrong, that I hadn’t wanted any of this from Barry and he was forcing it onto me, but the other part of me felt so desperate for love that I couldn’t bare to be alone.

“Okay, okay.” I agreed and then added a “Thank you” before swallowing a pill and then tucking into my sandwich.

He turned on the television before crawling back into bed with me, wrapping his arm loosely around my shoulders and taking drags on his own joint. A basketball game was playing and he seemed extremely invested in it so I didn’t complain, sitting and watching the sports like it was the most interesting thing in the world. I knew that if I was sober I wouldn’t be able to bare the bore of it, but as I smoked and got more high the giggles eventually kicked in and I felt a smile cracking at my face, amused by the enthusiasm of the commentators.

“What you finding so funny?” Barry turned to me and asked with a grin.

“I don’t know. They’re just so into it. It’s a simple way to live I guess.” I answered and he clearly disagreed.

“Ain’t simple. It’s important.”

“Of course you think that.”

I thought he was going to argue, maybe even get offended, but his smile widened and he instead reached out to gently touch my face.

“I like it when you smile. Suits you.” He said sincerely.

He leaned in and kissed me on the lips. The feeling was invasive and uncomfortable and I put my hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him away. The doting expression on his face was quick to turn to confusion.

“Sorry.. I don’t really want to do that right now.” I said sheepishly.

“That’s alright princess, don’t look so scared, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He smiled and I felt myself relax again.

I was stupid enough to believe him, even though my rear was certainly bruised from what he’d done the previous night. Maybe it wasn’t stupidity, maybe it was desperate naivety. Or maybe I was just high.

It was a short while later that we were sat in his living room on the sofa, a coffee table full of weed and two sets of scales in front of us. We’d been casually chatting whilst weighing and bagging up the weed, passing a joint between each other and paying half attention to the television. I’d almost completely forgotten about the previous night - or at least had pushed it to the back of my mind - and was somewhat enjoying myself. Images of JJ and the Pogues would flash behind my eyes occasionally, but I would just drink a beer or take a drag or eat another pill and they would soon go away. So, by the evening I was quite fucked up again.

A few customers had come by but were quickly hurried away by Barry who could obviously tell I didn’t want to be around them. I found myself quite grateful for his patience even if his lingering stares and light touches did make me uncomfortable. At least somebody wanted me. At least I wasn’t entirely worthless.

Then he tried to kiss me again and I rejected him less kindly this time, a bit too inebriated to remember my manners. The uneasiness that it made me feel had me instantly reaching for my pot of pills, and I didn’t say no when he offered me a drink a few minutes later, expecting him to bring out another beer. Instead he brought out a bottle of vodka and I stupidly said yes to it, not thinking of how spirits mixed with benzodiazepines

I quickly became a mess, unable to see straight or filter any words that came to mind.

It wasn’t long until I’d found myself being lead to Barry’s bed again, thanking him for his comfort and then unexpectedly trying to push him off me until I realised that there was no use. He’d raped me last night and he was going to rape me again, though I didn’t know if I could even call it rape given the fact that I’d put myself in the situation twice now. I’d been asking for it the first time, so the second time I must’ve been begging for it.

He was rougher this time, flipping me over, pulling my hair and even choking me. But I accepted it, trying to convince myself to enjoy it even though he was hurting me.

Eventually, I passed out, my body unable to produce the adrenaline that would usually keep one awake in these situations. And maybe I was thankful for that, or maybe it made it worse. I wasn’t sure. But at least I wasn’t thinking of JJ. At least somebody wanted me.

Let me know if ur liking this! It’s my first obx imagine<3

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brummiereader · 1 day ago

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@mischievouslittlecreature fantastic chapter, Lily 😍!

I'm sorry I'm getting so behind on reading 😩. I've currently got a nasty case of bronchitis that won't fuck off 😭, so forgive me if my comments on this chapter don't make much sense.

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head. I love how the title of this chapter echoes that pinned note. You're so clever at connecting everything together.

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing down at her. “You’re so bloody stubborn, you know that?” But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he just sounded very, very tired. Lucy touched his chin delicately. He didn't really think she'd listen to him did he 😅? Poor baby, I couldn't help but notice how tired he was in this exchange too. He sounded like he was stating facts more than having a conversation with her 😔.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Although the image of Tommy having to sit and listen to the screeching noises of Charlie's violin always makes me giggle, I've never really looked at this scene and it's deeper meaning until your descriptions. They're constantly trying to simultaneously keep up some normality for Charlie's sake, all while internally losing their minds with stress with everything going on. I wonder if they both ever ask themselves if it's all worth it?

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.” I never really understood what Tommy meant when he said this. Seems pretty counterproductive coming from a gangster 😂. But I can definitely see why Lucy picked up on this comment in particular. She's already pretty fragile when it comes to her own self worth in Tommy's life, and she has a tendency to pick apart small remarks like this until she's convinced herself that Tommy doesn't want her 😩.

How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. It's interesting how Lucy only ever points out Lizzie's nicer qualities. Because those far and few between positive aspects of her are often completely buried under the hatred Lizzie shows 😬.

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. Why can she never see herself in this equation too 😭? I know he often fucks up when it comes to noticing Lucy's need for reassurance, but I fear she'll never fully see how much he loves her. And I feel like this is only going to get worse as the series continues 😬.

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money. Ha, exactly Lucy! Urghh I loathe him.

I love how you explored what Polly would potentially have felt about the situation if things did continue to get worse while she was still there. Because as much as Tommy and Lucy are right about Michael,and as much I think Polly would have agreed with them, there is no fucking way she'd let Tommy take him out. I get the impression that Tommy really doesn't give out second chances to people he's not romantically involved in.

Loved this chapter, hun. I'm eager to see Lucy and Gina's interactions in the next parts 😬!

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy begin to suspect Michael of a far worse betrayal than what happened on the stock market.

Word Count: 6,076

Warnings: Violence and insecurity.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 4: The Seeds You Have Sown

Lucy rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand as she descended the stairs sluggishly. The house was always disconcertingly quiet in the mornings. Even more so with Lizzie and Ruby gone. Normally she got up with Tommy, which helped to cloak over some of the eeriness that the huge house exuded in the early hours. Especially in her dark, isolated wing of the mansion.

But this morning she had woken up alone. Well, the second time she woke up, she was alone. The first time she had stirred at movement beside her, rolling over with an arm seeking out Tommy’s space beside her in the bed only to find it empty.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he had said, large hand passing over the top of her head. Rather than laying beside her, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, already mostly dressed.

“Mm. Why aren’t you here?” she complained, patting the spot next to her, even as she nuzzled back down into his pillow.

“There’s something I need to go check. Won’t be long.”

“Want me to come?”

“No, sweetheart, just go back to sleep,” he kissed the top of her head.

She drifted in and out for awhile after that, but it was hard to find true sleep without him there. Finally, she’d risen out of bed with a sigh, yawning and stretching and slouching her way over to the wardrobe to pull on her clothes for the day.

Dressed and at least half awake, she was just making her way to the dining room in the hopes of finding a warm breakfast waiting for her when Charlie came exploding in through the front door. His shoes clattered loudly on the floor as he raced towards her.

“Lucy! Dad wants you,” he skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her. “He’s outside in the garden.”

“Charlie, what–”

“Miss. Winters, there was a phone call for Mr. Shelby’s office phone that he just missed,” Frances appeared to her left. “And Mrs. Milligan is here for Charles’s violin practice.”

Who the fuck has violin practice this early in the morning?

“Alright, um, Charlie, you go with Frances to your lesson–”

“He said I’m to play extra loudly today,” Charlie giggled. “Because there might be some bangs outside. Do you know why, Lucy?”

Her blood went cold, eyes snapping to the windows. Suddenly wide awake. She looked back at Charlie, forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile to pull at her lips. “Yes, Charlie. I think I do. You said that he’s in the garden, did you?”

Charlie nodded.

“Right,” she turned to Frances, who had gone a little pale. “Where’s the teacher?”

“In the drawing room.”

“Charlie, go with Frances to see Mrs. Milligan. Frances, keep everyone inside until we get back.”

“Yes, Miss. Winters.” Frances took Charlie by the hand, quickly leading him away. Lucy waited until they’d gone before running to the cupboard in which they kept a small artillery. She snatched up a tommy gun, some extra ammo, and raced outside.

She found Tommy seated on the grass by the barren fields, smoking and rubbing at his face with hands smeared with dirt.

“What’s happened?” she asked, hooking the strap of the submachine gun over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around wildly, searching for any signs of danger but finding none. Until her gaze landed on the middle of the field, where a scarecrow was erected on a wooden cross. Lucy stared at it, breath catching in her throat.

They didn’t have a scarecrow in the field. Not at this time of year, anyway. There was no point when there wasn’t anything planted in it anyway.

If she squinted she could make out that it was dressed in clothes eerily similar to Tommy’s daily attire: a dark coat, trousers, waistcoat, and white button down shirt, with a pocket watch dangling from its neck that glinted in the sun, and a peaky cap a top its burlap head.

Tommy looked up at her with bleary eyes, chest heaving up and down.

“There are landmines in the field.”

“What!?”

He nodded, gesturing with his cigarette towards the scarecrow mounted in the center of the barren stretch of mud. “All around the scarecrow. Fucking miracle that I didn’t step on one.”

“You went out there?”

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head.

“Fuck,” she looked out at the field, watching whisps of white mist float across it.

“In our own fucking garden, Lucy.”

“Yeah.” Already, her mind had begun to work. Who? Who would do such a thing? They were not lacking for enemies, but she struggled to immediately think of any who would be so bold as to do something like this right under their noses.

“Charlie almost stepped on them. He came running onto the field to get me. If I hadn’t grabbed him in time…” Tommy trailed off, shoulders shuddering. Lucy’s lips parted, eyes widening. A sick feeling twisted in her stomach at the thought of what could have happened to their sweet boy. A hand went to his shoulder, clapping onto it both for stability and in an attempt to offer comfort.

Distantly, from within the mansion, she could hear the sounds of a violin starting to play. She closed her eyes against the sound. Normally, she wasn’t particularly taken with Charlie’s violin playing. Often she caught herself wishing he’d chosen a less…shrill instrument to learn. Like the piano or even the harp. But today, she relished in the shriek and squeaks of the bow against the strings.

“He’s okay,” she said, to Tommy and to herself.

“Yeah.” He heaved out a massive sign, head bowing. She rubbed back and forth across his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles even through the material of his coat and the shirt he had on underneath.

“What do you want to do about the mines?”

“We need to take care of them,” he heaved himself to his feet, “so no one risks getting their leg blown off if they step out there.”

“Alright,” she unhooked the strap of her gun from where it was secured on her shoulder. “Should I shoot at the ground from over here, or…?” “No. They’re only around the scarecrow. I think.”

“You think?”

“If there were ones anywhere else in the field, I’m pretty sure there would be bits of me scattered all over the garden by now.”

She cringed at the mental image, heart twisting upwards into her throat. “Don’t joke about that.”

He looked over at her, saw the expression on her face, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry.” He reached for the machine gun clutched her hands, but she pulled it away.

“What are you doing?”

“Well…I need…” he had enough foresight to look sheepish at what he was implying.

“I’m not letting you walk back out there alone.”

“Luces, please…”

“No! I’m not just going to stand here and watch you get blown up.”

“It’ll be fine–”

“Then you should have no problem with me coming with you.”

“Look who’s talking.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips for a second. “You really would rather risk getting blown up with me than just wait right here?”

“Yes,” she said, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes softened, and he didn’t even need to say anything for her to know that she’d won.

“Alright, then,” he sighed, looking back towards the scarecrow. “Just stick close to me, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Through the mist, Lucy could just make out the outline of another tommy gun laying on its side in the mud. He must have dropped it in his haste to get Charlie out of the field.

“Come on.”

She followed him towards the gate that led out into the rows of soft, damp earth. She was careful to stay behind him and follow the path he cut through the mud, since he knew where the landmines were. He scooped up his gun where it lay on the ground, shaking dark tendrils from his fringe that had fallen forward out of his eyes. Immediately, he started firing upon the scarecrow. He emptied an entire magazine into it before coming to a halt, releasing the magazine drum to let it go tumbling to the ground, sliding a second one into its place with a click. Lucy’s finger found the trigger of her own gun, raising it once she came to a stop at his side. Squinting at the dirt around the scarecrow, she squeezed her finger around the trigger.

The ground around the scarecrow erupted, dark soil and boiling flames exploding with a furious blaze into the sky. They were standing close enough for Lucy to feel the heat from the explosions on her face and smell the charred scent of smoke and burst metal.

The explosions came one after the other as they swept the ground with bullets, setting off landmine after landmine, each bursting in its own mini inferno.

And then all was quiet.

Black smoke roiled upwards, rolling over itself, momentarily blotting out the sun above them before being broken apart by the wind.

“You think that was all of them?” Lucy asked, lowering her weapon, glancing over to see Tommy doing the same.

“Yeah. We’ll have to dig them up later.”

“Not now?”

He shook his head. “Charlie said that there was a phone call for me.”

“Yeah. To your office phone. Do you think it has anything to do with this?”

“Maybe.”

Mist danced around their ankles while he started to lead the way back to the house. She eyed him as they walked side by side. His entire face was pinched with stress, shoulders wound ever tighter than usual.

Michael was supposed to be coming back today. She knew that Tommy had been dreading the day; the tension within him seeming to build more and more as the date grew closer.

Not that she could blame him. She felt it too; that sense of deep, approaching dread building in her stomach, hairs on the back of her arms standing on end, alarm bells blaring in her ears that danger was approaching.

Once they were inside, she took a quick detour to lock both of their guns back up in the artillery cupboard before meeting him in his office. He was already on the phone when she slipped in, cocking it slightly when she came over to stand next to him so she could hear static crackling through the receiver, and then the buzz of the line ringing.

Whoever was on the other end picked up, and for just a second, she heard Michael’s voice before it was silenced. And then an Irish lilt filtered through the receiver, the voice introducing herself Captain Swing. Lucy’s brows pinched, stomach twisting into knots as Swing explained that Michael had been caught onboard the ship he’d taken from America, in his cabin making deals with men in Belfast who wanted Tommy dead. In the background, Lucy could hear the faint sounds of Michael’s voice, screaming that Swing was lying.

Swing offered that she could have Michael killed then and there, or she could send him home for them to deal with. Tommy chose the latter.

At Swing’s revelation that Michael was discussing with their enemies how they’d divide up the racetracks after they’d blown away Tommy’s legs, Lucy froze.

That was a very specific way of wording things. And a very specific type of death.

Her eyes shifted to the windows, looking out at the misty field. Despite the mines they’d detonated around it, the scarecrow was still standing on its cross, the wind ruffling its clothes.

How did she know about the mines?

Either what Swing was saying was true, and Michael had been in on the planting of them, or Swing herself had been involved in some way.

“What the fuck,” Lucy said, soon as he’d put the phone down. Tommy looked as if he were seconds away from a stress-induced stroke, turning his back to the room to instead stare out the window while lighting a cigarette. “Do you really think…?” “I don’t know,” he shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t fucking know.”

It wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility for Michael to betray them. He’d done it before, during the vendetta. But at least then he’d had the excuse of choosing loyalty towards Polly over Tommy.

“Fucking kid…” the shock was beginning to give way to rage. “We should never have taken him back in.” If it weren’t for them, he’d be some boring accountant, probably for a firm in London somewhere. Or maybe still trapped in that little village that he hated so much. How fucking dare he try to move against them? “He’ll be in Liverpool soon. Assuming that Swing actually lets him go and he doesn’t try to run. I could go to the station and assess him. Find out if anything that Swing said was true.”

“No.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Tommy put a gentle hand on her arm, drawing her in closer to his side.

“I think that if either of us were to see him right now, we might kill him on the spot. I’ll send Polly and Arthur to pick him up.”

“He might not even show.”

“Then we’ll have our answer.” He lifted his cigarette to his lips, movements slow.

“Even if Polly and Arthur clear him, I think we should quarantine him for a while. Just to be safe.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll have him and the American girl he’s bringing with him put up at the Midland.”

“Good idea.” The Midland belonged to them. All eyes and ears employed within its walls were theirs. Every phone call, every activity, even every fucking thing that Michael ate would be reported to them.

“And have some of our boys see what they can find on this Captain Swing and her people.”

“Will do.”

There was the click of heels against the floor outside, and then a few rapid knocks on the door. Tommy’s chest heaved with his sigh, lifting a hand to scratch at his brow.

“Come,” he called, voice gruff, not turning from where he was still staring out the windows. His voice sounded very far away, and Lucy knew that he was currently locked within his own head, turning each and every possibility over and over in his mind. She inched a little closer to him, and when his arm draped around her shoulders, she looped her own around his waist, hoping that the warm press of her body against his side would help to soothe him.

Frances came in, bringing with her inquiries from the violin teacher about the bangs she’d heard. Tommy waved away her concerns with an explanation of testing fireworks. One glance at the housekeeper’s face, and Lucy could tell that she didn’t believe him for even a second, but knew better than to pry.

“Also, will Mrs. Shelby and Ruby be home for dinner tonight?” she asked instead.

“I don’t know.”

Lucy looked down, feeling the all too familiar pang of guilt wash through her. They’d had next to no contact with Lizzie since she’d left. Both of them too afraid of making things worse if they did not allow Lizzie her space.

But God, it was eating her up not being able to see Ruby. The little girl was like a bright beam of sunlight in the otherwise dreary, melancholic house. The whole place seemed a shade darker in her absence.

Surely Lizzie couldn’t keep her from Tommy forever. Despite everything, she was still his daughter. She would have to let him see her sometime.

Him, maybe. But not you. You have no claim to her. No matter how much you love her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The idea of never seeing Ruby again made her want to curl in on herself and weep.

Approaching footsteps had the three of them starting and turning to see Charlie standing in the doorway, violin clutched in his hands. Excited to show Tommy the new tune he’d learned that morning.

“And what have you learned, my boy?” Tommy asked, and Lucy detected that he was making great effort to lighten his tone so Charlie would not notice the deep tension practically radiating from him. He slipped down into the chair behind his desk, a hand on Lucy’s waist urging her into his lap. She settled there, arm around his shoulders and head leaning against his.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Regarding Michael. Regarding whoever had planted those land mines in their garden, like deadly flowers waiting to bloom in a fiery inferno. And regarding the danger that seemed to be coming at them from each and every direction.

∗ ∗ ∗

They stepped into the Garrison to find it utterly trashed. Broken glass crunched under their shoes, half filled and empty glasses littered the tables, and spilled booze seeped into the floorboards. There were only two people occupying the pub: a girl, who roused at Tommy scrapping a barstool against the floor to perch on, and Finn, who remained fast asleep spread out in a booth despite their less than silent entrance. The girl rushed to gather up her clothes and hurry out the door at Tommy’s command.

While he and Arthur set to work dealing with Finn, Lucy grabbed up a broom from the supply closet and started sweeping up some of the broken glass littered all over the place. They seemed to get through to him alright, though Lucy couldn’t entirely shake the wariness that had settled within her when it came to Finn. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something not unlike how she always felt around Polly. That instinctual knowledge that, no matter what she did or how many times she proved her loyalty, Finn would never truly accept her as a part of the family.

At his mention to Tommy that he’d found a girl he wanted to marry, she started. Jesus, she kept forgetting that Finn wasn’t a kid anymore. In her mind, he was still that little boy running throughout the streets of Small Heath with dirt smeared across his face, grinning as he weaved between the adults’ legs at the betting shop.

That might explain some of his recent behavior, however, what with the running head-on into danger half-cocked. Whoever this girl was, he was trying to impress her.

“Tell me about her,” Tommy requested.

“She likes the life.”

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.”

She frowned, grip tightening on the broom that she was holding, catching her lip between her teeth to worry at it while she shifted uncomfortably. Finn was dismissed, though Lucy barely noticed.

Was that what he really thought? That all of them were better off with women who hated the lives that they’d chosen to live?

She did not fit into that category. But Lizzie did.

Of course he missed his daughter and wanted her to come home. Lucy missed her too. But it had not even really occurred to her that he may be missing Lizzie as well.

Her fear that Lizzie would someday replace her was a constant, forever presence in the back of her mind. Sometimes it was quiet, hardly even a whisper to be heard. Other times it was a scream, a blaring siren warning her to brace herself for heartbreak that surely would be coming at any moment. The volume of it ebbed and flowed like the tide.

His words ran on a loop in her head, doubts growing. Maybe the type of person that she was no longer appealed to him. Maybe Lizzie was what he really wanted. A nice, normal woman. Not some basket case who woke up most nights screaming from nightmares, or who flinched at unfamiliar touches or loud noises. Who didn’t find even the smallest enjoyment out of the sport or kind of work that they did. Who rode a horse sidesaddle rather than with a leg on either side.

Did she like the life anymore? She honestly couldn’t say. The life had caused her an awful lot of pain, as the aches in her shoulders or the twinges in her heart so often liked to remind her. But it had given her Tommy. And if the life of a gangster was what she had to lead to be with him, she’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Without even the smallest hesitation.

She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. A combination of excitement and dread opened up inside her at Arthur’s report that Lizzie and Ruby would be home later that day. She couldn’t wait to see Ruby. But the idea of having to face Lizzie, especially after the fight they’d had and Tommy’s latest comments, left her feeling nothing but anxiousness.

Tommy started to give Arthur orders for how to handle Michael once he arrived from Liverpool, but she barely heard him.

She knew that Tommy cared for Lizzie. That had never bothered her. She cared for her too. But the idea that he might someday fall in love with her terrified her. Because if he loved her the way that Lizzie so desperately wanted him to, there would be no room for Lucy in his life anymore. No love left for her.

A part of her had always figured it was an inevitability. How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. Even longer than he’d known Lucy. It was impossible that he could spend so much time in such close proximity to her–both emotionally and physically–without certain feelings beginning to bloom.

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. And the first thing that Lizzie would ask of him would be to toss Lucy out onto the street like an unwanted dog.

Everything she had, she had because of Tommy. She was not naive enough to think otherwise. Without him, she would lose everything. Hell, he was everything to her. Some days, she doubted she would even be alive if it weren’t for him. What would she even have to live for? Without Tommy she was completely and utterly alone.

“Lucy?” Tommy called, and she started, realizing that he had stood and gone to the Garrison’s doors, waiting for her to follow him.

“Sorry.” Setting aside the broom she was holding, she wiped her hands down on her overcoat and moved to trail him outside, giving a sharp shake of her head to try to dislodge the thoughts banging around uncomfortably inside her mind.

“You alright?” he asked, once they had made their way to the station and seated themselves in a compartment on the next train headed for London. The floor vibrated under her shiny black boots as they started to pull out of the station, beginning the journey south. She looked away from where she was gazing out the window with her knuckles resting against her lips to find Tommy eyeing her, mild concern shining in his eyes.

She thought about asking him what he meant by what he’d said in the Garrison. But she didn’t have the courage to open her mouth and let the words come out. Too scared by what his answer might be.

“Yeah,” she said, instead, shifting so that her temple leaned against the cool glass of the window. “I’m fine.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Excuse me?”

Lucy looked up from her desk into the face of a bald man with a pointed nose and a dark mustache. He had his hat clutched in his hands, running his fingers along the fine material.

“Yes?”

“This is the office of Thomas Shelby, correct?”

“It is.” She put down her pen. From his desk across from hers, Adam shot her a nervous look. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Stacker. I need to ask Mr. Shelby some questions. Is he in?”

“What sort of questions?”

The man shifted from foot to foot. “There was a shooting two days ago of a journalist who was in here to meet with Mr. Shelby the night before his death. I’d like to speak with him about it.”

“You’re police?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Police aren’t allowed in here.”

“I’m here in a very…unofficial context.”

“Mm,” she cocked her head, both of them aware that wasn’t truly the case. But flat out sending him away might do more harm than good. “Adam, go find Mr. Shelby and tell him that there’s a policeman here to see him.”

Adam nodded, standing and slipping past Stacker to rush out the door.

“You can wait in his office,” Lucy said, standing and walking around Stacker to open the double doors, leading him inside. “Who’s your Chief Constable, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Chief Constable Wyatt, Miss.”

She nodded. Good. They knew Wyatt. “Mr. Shelby will be here in a moment. Can I get you something to drink, while you wait?”

“No thank you. I’m alright.”

She went out into the front office, plucking up a folder from her desk and flipping through it to appear busy while waiting for Tommy and keeping one eye on Stacker. The policeman prowled around the office, examining the papers and trinkets spread out on the big desk, then moving to inspect a painting of a white horse surrounded by a golden frame and hung on the wall behind Tommy’s chair. He didn’t touch anything, though Lucy was sure he was making mental notes about all that he was seeing.

Heavy footfalls announced Tommy’s presence, entering the office with his briefcase in hand and Adam trailing in behind him.

“His Chief Constable is Wyatt,” she murmured into his ear. He nodded.

“Five minutes, then come tell me I’ve got an appointment or something that I need to get ready for so he’ll leave.”

She nodded, going to lounge behind her desk while he went in to deal with the officer.

Just another day in Parliament, she thought to herself as she lit a cigarette, puffing smoke up towards the ceiling, keeping an eye on the clock for when she would need to rise and rescue Tommy from the clutches of the lawman.

The police investigating Levitt’s death wasn’t a particularly unexpected occurrence. Nor was them coming here to talk to Tommy about it, considering that Levitt had died not long after seeing him. Their boys had done good work on the hit, giving it enough flourish to send a message to any other journalists looking to try something, all while ensuring that the police wouldn’t be able to link it to them easily. If at all.

Didn’t mean that their poking and prodding around wasn’t annoying, though. She had hoped that the police would simply assume that Levitt’s death was a result of conflict caused in his personal life, and they could avoid being pulled into the investigation all together. But apparently not.

The clock chimed, and she rose from her seat, grabbing up some documents that she needed Tommy to look over anyway, going back into his office just as the last chime sounded.

“Mr. Shelby, you have a meeting with an MP from Essex in a few minutes.” She reported, placing the documents she’d brought in on his desk. Tommy turned his gaze onto the policeman.

“Your time’s up, Mr. Stacker.”

Stacker said nothing, throat working. Whatever Tommy had said to him before she came in, it had either given him pause, or made him very angry. Perhaps a bit of both. His eyes flickered between them, and then he rose from his seat.

“Thank you,” Tommy called to his back as he retreated from the room.

“Did it not go well?” Lucy asked, once she heard the door close shut behind Stacker, watching Tommy’s face while he moved around his desk to his chair.

“He’s suspicious. But I don’t think it’ll stick. If it does, I’ll have a word with Wyatt about him.”

“Alright.”

Tommy’s eyes shifted to the clock. She glanced over her shoulder at it.

“Arthur was supposed to call me at three,” he huffed, as they watched the minute hand tick over to the right.

“It’s only two minutes past, love.” She moved around to his side of the desk, touching his shoulder. “Arthur isn’t always the most punctual.”

He just grunted, and she smiled fondly at his grumpiness, rubbing his shoulder a few times to try to massage away some of the tension she felt in his muscles. When she moved to retract her hand, he caught it in his, dipping his face to peck a kiss to the back of it. His eyes squinted at her, assessing.

“Something’s bothering you.”

She looked down and away. His thumb rubbed back and forth across her hand where it was still clasping it. She glanced anxiously towards the door.

“There’s no one who might see us except for Adam. And he already knows about us,” Tommy said, reading her mind. “Talk to me. You’ve been quiet since we left the Garrison this morning.”

“It’s…it’s nothing, really.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell me?”

She finally looked up at him. The hard wood of his desk was digging into her back where she was leaning against it. She opened her mouth to tell him, then closed it again. It all felt a little ridiculous when she actually tried to put it into words. “Because I’m just being stupid.”

His brows pinched, fingers squeezing a little against hers. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

Her lips pricked upwards. His hand smoothed up her arm, nearly to her shoulder, rubbing a few times before finding its way back to her hand, raising it back to his lips. “Hm?” His head cocked, tempting. “Come on, now, talk to me,” he said, in a voice like a honey. Lucy huffed, trying to stifle a shiver at the warm rumble of his words, struggling to gather her thoughts into coherent sentences.

“I’m happy that Ruby and Lizzie are coming home. Really. I just…” she sighed, glancing away again. Tommy’s thumb massaged across her knuckles encouragingly, his piercing gaze fixed on her patiently while he waited for her to finish her thought. But she found that she couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough to actually speak the words that rested on the tip of her tongue.

Am I not what you want anymore?

Are you falling in love with her?

Do you still love me?

And yet she didn’t need to. Both of Tommy’s hands landed on her hips. “Come here,” he drew her in closer, head tipping back to peer up at her through his dark fringe, gaze so softened with affection that it nearly stole the breath from her lungs. And she was left suddenly feeling very foolish that she could ever possibly have doubted his feelings for her.

“I love you.” He laid a quick kiss on her lips. “I love you, not her. That’s never going to change.”

Her hands came to rest on the nape of his neck, skin warm under her fingers. Relief, that he understood what she was trying to say without her actually having to utter it, had tension that she hadn’t even realized had built up in her muscles melting away. A relieved breath released from her lungs.

She lowered her head to press her lips to his hair, closing her eyes, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “I know.” And she did. Deep down, she always did. It was just that sometimes the voices in her head screamed so loud that they drowned out everything else. “Sorry. Sometimes…sometimes I just get scared.”

His eyes grew sad. “Don’t be sorry,” his thumb circled against her hip. “Brains can be stupid, ey?”

A quiet laugh left her. “Yeah. They can, can’t they?”

“Mm,” humming in agreement, he dropped his head to kiss her shoulder.

The phone on his desk started ringing, popping the little bubble of contentment that had formed around them. Tommy let out a soft groan, lifting his head and reaching around her to grab at the receiver. He tilted it just so against his ear so that she could lean in and hear what was being said on the other end.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah,” the older Shelby’s gravely voice rumbled through the receiver. “Polly says Michael’s telling the truth.”

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He was angry with us.”

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money.

“Got some American girl with him, too,” Arthur continued. “They got married on the ship on the way here. Name’s Gina Gray. Formally Nelson.”

“What’s she like?”

There was a snort. “She’s got an attitude on her, that’s for bloody sure. Got rooms for them at the Midland. Michael’s mad as a swarm of hornets about it, but he agreed to stay there.”

“Good. What did you think of Michael?”

There was a long pause. “Honestly, Tom…I thought he was awfully fucking defensive for someone who supposedly doesn’t have anything to fucking hide.”

Tommy nodded, looking out the window, lips pursing together.

“I have my revolver with me,” Arthur said, after a moment. “I could probably catch up to them before they even get to the hotel…”

“No. I want to speak with him first. Before we make any permanent decisions. Just have our people at the Midland watch him, for now.”

“All right.”

Tommy hung up the phone, and then let out a groan, face falling forward to rest on her chest, arms looping loosely around her waist. Lucy laid her palms on the back of his head, hugging it to her while her chin rested on his soft dark hair.

“Well, at least we can keep an eye on him here,” she murmured. With a sigh, Tommy raised his head.

“Yeah.”

“If you change your mind and want him taken care of, just say the word.”

“We have to be absolutely sure.”

She examined his face, understanding. It wasn’t about Michael. Not really. Not anymore. Maybe at some point it would have been, but most of the good will that Tommy had towards his cousin had dried up long ago.

This was about Polly.

If he ordered Michael’s death without provable provocation, he would lose Polly forever. Hell, even if they were able to prove that Michael was trying to have Tommy killed, that may not be enough to sway Polly to their side. At the end of the day, Lucy believed that she always would side with him. Even over the other Shelbys, if she had to. And understandably so. Michael was her son.

But Tommy loved Polly enough that he would not have Michael killed. Not until he either had no other choice, or he was confident that Polly would support him on it.

Delicately, she brushed a few tendrils of hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay.”

He looked up at her with eyes worn ragged, stress pinching at the edges of his mouth and in his brow. She stroked his face, smoothing away the lines, drawing his head in close to rest on her chest again. He nuzzled into her with a sigh, eyes sliding closed and cheek resting comfortably atop her breasts.

She wished terribly that there was more that she could do for him. All she wanted was to be able to help him. To help lessen the burdens that he carried. But there wasn’t much more that she could do. Not now, at least.

So instead, she just held him.

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