#this character is the one that breaks the woman in her twenties curse most of the gacha women get by being middle aged

[fishareglorious]

hat size somewhat correlates to how lesbian they are so I say one day bluepoch will release someone who wears a hat with a brim so fucking massive that you can't see any defining features of their face, and in the moment you get her in gacha she will pull out a polaroid and show to you a picture of her wife and tell you about how pretty she is and how much she loves her and have you seen her? well now you have:)

her wife in return has the tallest don dimmadome lookin ass hat. they have been happily married for decades.

[jointherebellion215]

Birdie

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: A rare night out in London has Bucky coming to terms with his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: mechanic!reader, songbird!reader, female!reader, she/her pronouns used, drinking culture, cursing, mutual pining, moderate bouts of denial, insecurities, women supporting women because it's what we deserve, let's pretend that The Old Therebefore is an ancient Appalachian folk song in this universe, maybe she's a Mary Sue idgaf, I just wanted to write something happy so LET ME LIVE, WWII era, there's no Y/N but reader has the nickname "Birdie"

A/N: Yeah, I'm obsessed with Masters of the Air. I had to write something for my mans before the creative procrastination literally killed me. Please leave a like, comment, or even a reblog if you're so inclined :)

You can read my OC version of this story on AO3!

Songs Mentioned in This Fic:

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters

G.I. Jive by Johnny Mercer

The Ole Therebefore (Accapella) by Rachel Zegler

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, don't copy my writing without explicit permission. That includes you, you AI sonuvabitch.

Your heels clicked on the cobblestone streets, turning into the pub you’d heard so much about. You were out celebrating a very rare weekend off. The Brass had somehow allowed you and twenty other mechanics from base two days leave, so you took advantage of the opportunity and headed straight to London.

Your two best girlfriends from base were with you. Teresa was one of the toughest nurses you’d ever come across. She could give you a wide grin, crinkles around her hazel eyes, and reset a broken bone without breaking a sweat. It helps that she was already working towards becoming a nurse back in New Mexico, the war just sped along that process. You had bonded over your love of books, giving each other recommendations almost weekly.

You’d met Irene on the boat to England. She puked on your shoes almost thirty minutes exactly after leaving the port in New York. You gave a small grin, offering her a handkerchief and a piece of ginger candy and the rest was history. Finding out that she was a fellow mechanic was the icing on the cake. Coming in at a whopping five foot two, the spritely blonde could easily be found in a crowd with her loud Appalachian accent.

It seemed almost like fate for the three of you to have found each other. Being some of the few women on base naturally made you close, but you were closer with Irene and Teresa than any of the others. That’s not to say that you weren’t friends with any of the men, because you were. Friendly. 

All three of you were dressed to the nines, in contradiction to your everyday work wear. You all got ready together in your hotel room, giggling while you applied makeup here, spritzed some perfume there. You all felt confident and were ready to have a good time. You spotted some familiar faces and made your way over towards them, your friends linked arm-in-arm with you. Lemmons was the first to greet you.

Of the fifty men on the ground crew, Sgt. Ken Lemmons was the most welcoming of them all. From the get-go, he didn’t care if you were a man or woman. He just wanted to know that you were capable. You were sure he had to go through some hazing because of his age, which probably changed his perspective on gatekeeping the job. This made earning and maintaining respect a lot easier for the women on your crew. We all came over with the same goal, it was better for all if we just helped each other out.

“Hey Birdie! Nice to see you out and about.”

Ah, the famed nickname. You tend to hum and sing under your breath when elbow-deep in a project. It helps you pass the time and clear your mind. Of course, the rest of the ground crew quickly caught on to this habit of yours, which quickly earned you the nickname “Birdie”. You, of course, never sing solo in public, so this confuses anyone who’s not around you while you’re working. But the name stuck, so here you are. Birdie.

Chairs are quickly cleared for you and your friends, which you all graciously take. You go up to buy some drinks, knowing what your friends like, and quickly return with your drinks of choice. Conversation flows, laughs are shared, and a few drinking games are played over the next hours. Teresa soon speaks up on a topic you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?”

You shrug and look into your drink, “Dunno. Why does it matter?”

Irene, the ever supportive best friend that she is, backs up Teresa. “What do you mean ‘why’? This is your chance to finally make a move!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly deny, taking another sip.

An unladylike snort leaves Irene, “My ass! You and Major Egan have been making googly eyes at each other when you think the other’s not looking for months. I’m saying it’s time for you to perk your tits up, buck on over and ride that—!” You slam your drink on the table, pressing your hand over Irene’s mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Are you insane?” You whisper harshly, looking around to make sure no one overheard you. You seem to be in the clear, which makes you calm down a bit. Irene pushes off your hand, takes a swig of her drink, and consults the person who started this whole conversation.

“Am I wrong?” You look to Teresa, who cringes slightly in agreement.

You gape at the pair of them. Normally, you were the median between the two girls who had vastly differing opinions. But this is what made them come to a consensus? Unbelievable.

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to.” You start, which makes your friends nod encouragingly at you. “It’s just that… Is he really as interested as you think he is?”

They both groan and slump against each other, like they’d just run a marathon. Teresa sits up, scooching your chair in closer so that the three of you were in a private triangle, cut off from the rest of the group.

“Let’s look at the facts here, okay?” Teresa starts to tick off a finger with each point she and Irene make. But you seem to always have a rebuttal at the ready.

“He brings you coffee every morning.”

“I thought he does that for everyone.”

“He constantly fixes his hair when you’re around.”

“He takes care of his appearance!”

“He walks you to the mess hall every day for dinner.”

“We just happen to be going the same way. And we happen to have the same dinner schedule.”

“He read The Hobbit when you said how much you loved it.”

“He’s an adventurous guy, it’s an adventurous book, what’s not to like about it?”

“You two literally will walk and talk outside alone for hours.”

“A man can’t have a stimulating conversation with a woman?”

“He laughs at all your dumb jokes.”

“Hey! They’re not all dumb. Like, the one with the goose and the—”

“Point proven. Anyways! He has your picture in the inside pocket of his jacket.”

That one stops you in your tracks. You brain tries to justify this meaning but comes up blank.

“He…” You struggle with an excuse. “He…” Your best friends give victorious smirks in your direction.

“He… likes the extra padding in his jacket?” You stutter over what is possibly the most pathetic, sorry excuse you could have ever come up with.

“When are you gonna admit to yourself that he likes you? Like, actually truly likes you?” 

You gave a sad sigh, letting the insecurity you were feeling deep down come to the surface. “I just… He’s just so…” You had stomped down your feelings for so long that it was becoming hard to articulate what exactly you’re feeling.

“He just seems so unreal. Like, of everyone he could have chosen, why me? I mean, I know I’m great. But you’ve seen the other girls on base. They’re all so beautiful, smart, classy… and none of them are covered in engine oil ninety percent of the time.” You looked down at your hands, specks of grease and oil peeking out from beneath your nail beds. It seems like it would never completely wash out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You hadn’t even painted your nails for this weekend, knowing it would be money wasted come Monday morning when you’re back on the clock.

Teresa and Irene share a look that you don’t see, then come forward and grab each of your hands. 

“The words you just used to describe those girls. All of that is you, Birdie. That and more. You being a mechanic doesn’t make you any less of a woman, and to hell with anyone else who thinks otherwise.”  You nodded in agreement, Irene’s words of encouragement slowly washing away your anxieties.

Teresa spoke up next, “You deserve someone who will rearrange the stars and the whole night sky for you. And I’m more than willing to bet that Major Egan is up for the job.” 

“Besides, none of that 'unreal' stuff. At the end of the day, John Egan is nothing more than a man. If he can’t look past his nose and his d—" You gave a squeak to cover up the vulgar word Irene was about to blurt in public. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued.

“If he can’t see what you’re worth and make the effort to treat you a hundred times better than that? That’s on him. Not you. You know what you deserve, and you deserve everything you want. Absolutely everything.”

You sniffed, happy tears coming to your eyes. You brought your best friends in for a hug, thanking them profusely. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Teresa grins into your shoulder “every girl needs to be pulled out of her well sometime.”

You pull back from the hug, grabbing your glass and tipping your head back, finishing the rest of your drink. “Even if he’s not gonna be here, let’s have a ball!” Your girlfriends cheer as the three of you go to the bar for refills.

One drink turns into two, which turns into a few more, and suddenly you’re buzzed. Your group are having a rambunctious time, Irene dancing by the local piano player. Once Irene looks over to you, she stops and whispers in the player’s ear. He nods, then starts a new tune. Irene starts up her voice, walking over to you and Teresa, encouraging you to join her. 

The alcohol has loosened you up enough that you don’t feel the nausea you usually associate with being perceived, so you join in the harmonies you and your friends have practiced in your bunks at night.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

Soon the whole pub was jumping and dancing along to the tune as you brought a new vibe to the pub. It was like a spark that started an entirely new night and everyone was eager to go on forever.

One song turns into an entire set, which ends with a full rendition of G.I. Jive, which had everyone singing along. It was a magical moment; made you feel like you were a part of something important.

Irene sidles up to you, giving you a hug. She says in your ear,

“I think it’s time to slow it down a bit. How about you sing that song I taught you.”

She means an old Appalachian folk song that’s been in her family for generations. You had heard her sing it one night and immediately loved the dark, but strong nature of the lyrics. It was an honor to learn it from her. 

“I don’t know, it’s your family’s song and…”

“And I can’t think of anyone better to sing it to these soldiers.” You gave each other a look, her slight eyebrow raise gave you the courage to nod in acceptance. She smiled, hugging you again, her voice yelled out to the crowd. 

“Birdie’s gonna sing solo!”

The announcement is met with raucous applause, Irene and Teresa shoving you towards a dodgy looking table. Crank offers a hand up, which you take gratefully. As you find your bearings on the tabletop, you quickly spin around and find all eyes on you. 

The crackling energy in the air seemed to simmer, the fast-beating hearts of the pubgoers recognizing a moment to acknowledge you. Nausea starts to make an appearance, but a deep breath quells the sensation within you for the time being.

You take another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and sing.

Meanwhile…. 

Majors Gale Cleven and John Egan walk down the familiar street, one eager to catch up with his fellow countrymen’s alcohol intake, the other just happy to spend time with his friends. They were arriving later to the festivities due to being caught up in filling out reports. By far the worst part of having a higher rank was the paperwork.

“It’s pretty quiet.” Buck acknowledges. “They’re usually rowdier by this point.”

Bucky sniffs, shrugging off the concern. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.” 

As the two men approach the pub, they find that a crowd has formed. Soldiers, civilians, RAF, USAAF, old, young— people had obviously stopped to watch whatever was going on. It was dead silent, save for a voice singing. Was there a radio show on or something?

A familiar face peeks out at them from the crowd, DeMarco quickly waving them over. 

Bucky is quick to question, “Hey, what’s going on?” but is immediately shushed by nearby crowd members. Buck cringes in apology, despite not being the one to disturb the peace. His best friend, ever unshaken by the opinion of strangers, carries on.

DeMarco leans in, whispering, “Your girl’s taking us all to church.”

“My girl..?” Bucky’s nose scrunches in confusion. He makes space through the crowd and quickly makes sense of DeMarco’s words. It was you.

I’ll catch you up

When I’ve emptied my cup

When I’ve worn out my friends

When I’ve burned out both ends

Standing on a tabletop, watchful eyes sat all around you like baby ducks flocking to their mama. You were captivating everyone with each note and word that flows from your mouth. Damn, you've got a set of pipes— a voice that belongs on the radio, in concert halls, on Hollywood records. He had no idea.

His little Birdie.

“Wow.” Buck mutters in awe from behind him, and Bucky couldn’t be more in agreement.

When I’m pure like a dove

When I’ve learned how to love

He hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were closed. Like she needed to concentrate on each and every breath she took, every single movement her body made, before letting them out in an angelic melody.

As if by divine intervention, her eyes pop open and lock on his as she belts “how to love” 

It could’ve been an eternity, for all he knows, the amount of time that they spent locked in each other’s gaze. The world pauses around them, everything frozen. Her eyes were already the kind to knock a man clean off his feet with a single gaze, but he thinks- for a brief moment- that his heart completely stops beating.

John Clarence Egan would swear every day from then on, until his dying breath, that the course of his life was altered in that very moment. He knew how it would continue from then on, and how it would end. How he wanted it to end.

Then the world starts back up and carries on.

Right here in the old therebefore

When nothing is left anymore

Her final hums are joined by a short blonde woman who stands nearby, another face he recognizes from base. 

The applause that picks up after the end of the song is near deafening. The star of the hour gives a shy smile, a quick curtsy and is given a hand to step down from the table.

Everyone soon starts mingling, the normal chatter of the bar returning. But Bucky is stuck in his spot, dumbfounded. In all the conversations you’d had together, somehow this never came up. He should’ve put two and two together, as he recalls overhearing your hums one morning as he made his daily coffee delivery to you. But you had been caught off guard, so much so that you tripped off the ladder you stood on and fell. Luckily, his quick reflexes kicked in to catch you before any serious injuries occurred. 

Remembering the sensation of his hands on your waist and thighs, face just inches from yours, sent his brain into a tailspin. That’s not even considering just how damn cute you were when, after a beat, you turned away from him and playfully mourned the cups of coffee that were splattered all over the hardstand.

“John. John?” A hand waving in front of his face knocks him out of his reverie. He blinks once, twice. Then looks to his best friend.

His voice comes out uncharacteristically weak in response, to which he then clears his throat and corrects. “Yes—yeah?” He pops the collar of his sheepskin jacket to try and hide the rampant red of his ears that signals the heat radiating from them.

Buck just shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Egan. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“See what day?” Bucky starts to consciously return to his body, leaning on the bar.

“The day when a girl finally knocks you on your ass. I knew you had a thing for her, but that?” He points to his face and motions to indicate where they had just been standing. “That’s something else. That’s something real.”

Bucky gives another shrug in response, to which Buck throws back an unconvinced frown. He turns his head to gaze over the pub patrons and is distracted by you once again. Any denial he was about to spout immediately dies in his mouth when you lock eyes with him again and give him a dazzling smile. The world starts to fade away again.

His heart pumps faster in his chest at the sight. Damnit. He sighs, telling his best friend the truth he’s been privately wrestling with for a while now, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

Bucky smiles back at you and is elated when your face lights up. You give him a wave.

“She kinda snuck up on me.”

[martialartslover7]

Headcanon time: Am I the only one who feels like, Jiraiya should have left this little compensation gift for Tsunade, before heading off to fight Pain? Dying in the process, while still leaving a remainder of his legacy behind? Making up for lost time, and allowing the two to heal together, after years of fearful denial and trauma?

I get that the Naruto series is practically infamous for how poorly the female characters were handled, but honestly, this one time, where one woman in the series would end up pregnant, where I would wholeheartedly SUPPORT it, would be Tsunade. Think about it, after the war, after fighting Madara, she practically returned to the same solitude lifestyle she had, before encountering Naruto. She didn't change for the better, in fact, she regressed completely. She returned to living without any purpose, going back to gambling and getting senselessly drunk, practically every day.

Look, I get it, by the time Kakashi becomes Hokage, she might have just retired and wanted to be left alone, but is this really all there is to it? Just regressing back to negative habits, because, screw you? I dunno, man, this is that one time where, if she DID end up having a child to take care of, it might have elevated her character, instead of "putting her down", because it would mean: She has a purpose for living. And it would mean, her love for Jiraiya wasn't a "curse", like how it was with her previous lover, Dan. Jiraiya's love for her, saved her life, in the end. He turned out to be that one guy, that, even post-mortum, still managed to have a positive influence on her. And the child is a daily reminder, of how closely intertwined the two were, in spite of the trauma. That just sounds so beautiful, and far more conclusive to Tsunade as a character, than what happened in the actual story. Plus, she and Kurenai could have become besties and connect over the difficulties with pregnancy.

And yeah, I hear you calling: BuT tSuNaDe Is ToO oLd To GeT pReGgErS! Listen, the Strength of a Hundred Seal kept her entire appearance and body about twenty years younger, if that also applies to her organs and her uterus, that isn't a dead topic. Plus, we all know how much of a horny perv Jiraiya is, he couldn't have just left it at just one time, and then never again. Especially since, this is Tsunade we are talking about here, the one woman, he had always held so dear. And I can only imagine, the moment the dam breaks between the two, it would get... SPICY.

It wouldn't even come close to all these sex worker ladies that Jiraiya had probably slept with, while thinking about Tsunade, since he would always go for those, who KIND OF resemble her. But I will bet, in spite of his attitude, I doubt he would have even minded to see Tsunade all wrinkly and old. His love for her was genuine and deep-rooted, I doubt he would have had any problems with her getting "saggy". She would have been THE golden exception, to most of his "rules" on what he finds attractive, because to him, everything about her, is attractive, not just the looks.

But another point to consider, just imagine, IMAGINE, the look on Naruto's face, the moment he learns that part of his father figure will continue to live on, inside Tsunade. That all his sacrifices were never in vain, and he finally got over himself to tell her the truth, resulting in the birth of their child, the one to carry on both of their legacies. Naruto would have cherished this baby, just imagine him tearfully cradling it in his arms, swearing to protect it, the same way his mom swore to him, when he was still a newborn. Oh god, my heart...

...it would also be a nice callback to how Kushina held Naruto, right after birth.

Plus, it would have given Naruto, much like when Shikamaru revealed to him, how Kurenai bore the child of her and Asuma before he died, a much bigger motivation to fight Madara, Obito, and later, Sasuke. The stakes would have become way higher then, if that were the case, since, this isn't anyone's child, it's Jiraiya's and Tsunade's child. Two people, who have played major roles in Naruto's life, being his foster parents, if you will. And he would have fought way harder to defend the past, the present and the future, while facing Sasuke. I mean, sure, it's doubtful if Sasuke would have ever had the guts to truly go through with this, since he couldn't even bring himself to kill either Naruto or Sakura, no matter how hard he tried, so, if he couldn't do that, then everything would be out of the question. But you get the point.

And for NaruHina and SasuSaku fans: Yup. Both Naruto and Sakura would have probably had to take care of Tsunade's baby, since they were the closest to her, and it could have been an ideal training method for either of them, to grasp all about the stressful nature of raising a child, while still working as shinobi and in their respective fields of work. It would have mentally prepared either of them, for when Hinata and Sasuke finally decide to tie the knot with them, and build their own families. And to add another layer of pure sweetness: Kakashi and Anko would have gotten announced as the child's godparents, should something happen to Tsunade. Nuff' said.

I am sorry, despite Kakashi and Anko not looking like it, I think, both of them would be AWESOME godparents, or hell, even uncle and aunt. Both saw the worst of what life had to offer. Raising a child would be... child's play, by contrast. Just imagine Anko adorably doting on the baby in her crazy, unhinged, but very endearing way.

There you go, another headcanon of mine, spilled. What do you guys think? Lemme know. Peace.

[myloveismineallmine]

Sydcarmy & Beauty and The Beast

So, The Bear is a story with many themes and messages in it. The process of creating a story a lot times is just frankenstein-ing other stories and elements you like plus your owned lived experience.

I don't really remember how I started thinking about it, I do remember it was like 3am so that definitely has something to do with it, but I started thinking about Beauty and The Beast. And then I started comparing certain elements of it with The Bear. And then I started reading the Wikipedia page for Beauty and The Beast. And then I looked at the clock and it was like 4am so I was like okay, I should sleep now actually.

I did notice a lot of interesting similarities between the two, so I wanted to compare some of them in this post here. I think it's a really interesting lens to look at the story of The Bear from.

Chapter 1: The Beast

So, while it would be cool to do some kind of role reversal with the two romantic leads, this story does not do that, and the obvious parallel for Carmy is The Beast.

Rundown of The Beast's character traits, via wikipedia:

"In the original tale, the Beast is seen to be kind-hearted for the most part, and gentleman-like, with only an occasional tendency to be hot-tempered. Disney's interpretation of the Beast made him more constantly angry and depressed, due to the shame from his unkind actions which led to his transformation, and particularly his struggle of reconciling his hideous appearance with his inner humanity which made him feel hopeless about breaking the curse. Supervising animator Glen Keane describes The Beast as "a twenty-one-year-old guy who's insecure, wants to be loved, wants to love, but has this ugly exterior and has to overcome this." Upon his reform under his love interest Belle, his personality changes to refined and more even-tempered, while naive about the world at the same time."

Obviously this isn't to shame JAW's appearance, he's a pretty attractive dude, I'm looking more at the personality traits here.

The Disney version of him is way more unhinged and animal-like, which I'm not sure perfectly fits Carmy, but I feel like the insecurity, anger and depression is pretty accurate.

I don't think the "beast" element is entirely irrelevant, however. Let's think about what the namesake of the show is: The Bear. In reference, or course, to the main family having the last name Berzatto. They do also refer to each other as "Bear."

It's Cousin Michelle who makes the connection between the Berzattos and literal bears:

When she mentions this quote someone had said to her.

Stevie likens the Berzattos to bears later on in this episode:

It's pretty clear that the Berzattos = bears. Aggressive, but also kind and emphatic.

I also want to talk about the very first scene of The Bear:

Carmy is letting the bear out of it's cage, walking slowly towards it. He says "I know" to the bear, trying to calm it, or maybe trying to empathize with it. The bear growls and attacks him, and he wakes up from the nightmare.

It's clear that the caged bear represents something in Carmy. His rage, his stress, his grief. And he can't control it, it escapes and it consumes him.

Backstory of The Beast, extremely paraphrased:

Disney version: A prince is spoiled, cold-hearted and extremely selfish. He's transformed into a hideous beast as punishment, and told he won't transform back unless he earns the love a beautiful young woman.

Fairytale version: The prince's father died before he was born, and his bio mother leaves him in the care of an evil fairy godmother. Things get weird and incesty, this was the 1700s ig, the godmother tries to seduce the prince when he's an adult. He rejects her and she curses him to become a beast and says the curse won't be broken until he receives a maiden's act of true love. There's then a lot of really irrelevant fairy-lore and other stuff that I don't really want or need to get into.

I feel like evil mother figure one might be more accurate? Especially because Donna's one of the people who gave him so much trauma that he still carries with him? Generational trauma and addiction is "a curse" in a way.

Chapter 2: The Beauty

So it's very clearly Sydney.

Beauty in the OG fairytale doesn't have a super interesting personality outside of "pretty, caring and kind." so I think we'll look more at the Disney version here:

"While the studio wanted Beauty and the Beast to resemble an old-fashioned film, the writers envisioned Belle as "a woman that was ahead of her time"."

"...  the screenwriter conceived Belle as a headstrong feminist to avoid creating another "insipid" Disney princess."

"Beauty and the Beast's story department was predominantly male. Woolverton often argued with the more traditional story artists over Belle's role and personality, but continued to be supported by Katzenberg and lyricist Howard Ashman, the latter of whom also lobbied for "a thinker and a reader" who "wasn't a victim"."

So, Belle was basically a strong and independent woman for Disney at the time. I wanna hone in more on these character traits they mention specifically.

Sydney is very intelligent, even an overthinker at times. She literally shows up to, like, week 2 of work with a full book written on how the business can be improved.

We know she's a reader. Not only from the coach K book, she also mentions lending Marcus books at some point.

I also think Sydney fits the "not a victim" criteria. Sydney is shown pretty consistently to stand up for herself and fight back in situations.

On Beauty's backstory:

In every version of The Beauty and The Beast, Beauty's a daughter to a widower (much like Sydney is.) Beauty has many siblings, most notably her evil older sisters. They are omitted from the Disney version, and Belle is an only child.

In the Disney version, Belle is well known for her beauty, but looked down upon for not conforming to more traditional feminine roles.

Being a headstrong woman of color in the very white and male dominated world of fine dining, I can see how she fits this.

Her father has doubts about her career as a chef, she has had bad experience with chefs in leadership positions before, and the crew of The Beef really looks down on her at the beginning of the series.

Chapter 3: Beauty and The Beast

So now let's talk about the actual relationship of the Beauty and The Beast.

Belle/Beauty is lured into The Beast's castle because her father is being held captive inside. And interestingly....

Sydney references her father as the reason for why she applies for The Beef.

In the fairytale, The Beast is immediately smitten with Beauty and asks her to marry him every day. That would be a very obvious HR violation in The Bear, so I think it might be better to look at the Disney version of this story.

So in the Disney version, The Beast is more annoyed that Belle and her father showed up at all, but he does know she's a pretty woman and allows the release of her father so she will be his prisoner instead.

Their relationship is pretty bad at first, like you'd expect a captor and prisoner relationship to be, but he does allow her a nice lavish room. He orders her to have dinner with him, and she refuses to leave her room to protest against him.

Carmy and Sydney were friendly at first meeting, but after The Stock Incident, their cracks really start to show. It's when Sydney really stands her ground and argues back at him. This is not the end of the arguments and tension between them.

Belle and the Beast end up getting in a fight when Belle snoops around his room. He yells at her more loudly this time, and Belle flees the castle on horseback. She gets attacked by a pack of wolves and The Beast saves her. She takes him back to the castle and nurses his wounds.

This to me matches with the final fight Sydney and Carmy have in season 1. Carmy displays the worst of his anger, and it causes Sydney to want to wipe her hands with him completely. She grabs her stuff and leaves, telling him she's quitting.

She comes back when he apologizes to her, and they have a real bonding moment when they decide to open a restaurant together.

The Beast and Belle start to have a better relationship after The Beast heals. They become more friendly, The Beast more docile, and they're both really happy for the first time in the film. There's a scene where The Beast shows Belle the castle library and tells her it's hers.

I think the equivalent would be seeing Carmy and Sydney plan the menu together. In those scenes they seem less like co-workers and more like friends. You can also tell it's one of the few things they get actual real enjoyment doing.

I think the main parallel I see for this relationship is how Carmy and Sydney improve each other. Like with Belle and The Beast, you can actually see Carmy learn how to better handle conflict and communicate more efficiently when he's placed with Sydney.

He's more vulnerable. He apologizes more. He's able to better control his temper.

There's two very concrete examples of Sydney being able to help stabilize his emotions, actually.

Sydney is quite literally "taming the beast" in Carmy. Cognitive behavioral therapy would also achieve that, but Carmy is too much of a workaholic to attend a session, so Sydney will have to do for now. They didn't have CBT in 1700s France, either, unfortunately.

I will also say that this isn't a 90 minute Disney movie, so the slow-burn will be slow-buring for awhile until we get to the actual conclusion of the fairytale.

Chapter 4: Gaston

so I have two characters in mind for this role: Richie and Marcus. But def more heavy on Richie than Marcus.

Gaston is a villain made exclusively for the Disney movie. Here's some description for him:

"In direct contrast to his adversary the Beast, Gaston is depicted as physically handsome with an unattractive personality, both physically and emotionally embodying hypermasculinity. "

"Gaston has been generally positively received by film critics, as his lack of "magic power or political influence" means that his villainy tends to resonate with audiences who often identify someone similar to him in real life, although critics regard him as a less memorable villain than some of the studio's previous efforts."

"The Huffington Post described early drafts of Gaston as "a weaselly, sort of wimpy character." In fact, Gaston was originally intended to resemble more of an annoying than antagonistic character,"

So I think Richie kind of fits the "hypermasculinity" thing, in terms of some of his mindset and sexist behaviors.

Richie, for at least the first season, really looks down on fine dining as a concept. He makes fun of Carmy and Syd for their background in it and makes snide comments about it whenever possible.

Gaston also looks down on Belle for liking books, and encourages her to live a more "simple" life with him instead.

Here's a really interesting parallel I found with these two:

Making fun of the main character's book and then throwing it away? In the intro of the story? Very interesting.....

As far as the similarity with Marcus: it begins and ends with Marcus and Gaston both having unrequited feelings for the main female protagonist.

Other than that, Richie is way more Gaston coded in the grand scheme of things. Just not as evil. I feel like he gives first-draft Gaston with being "More annoying than antagonistic."

Chapter 5: What about Claire?

I see Claire fitting into this as almost like a faux-Belle. The love interest that's supposed to "fix" the main protagonist, but something doesn't work.

Again, there's two scenes I wanna look at specifically to showcase this:

This reaction shot of Carmy. This is the last shot of the sex scene, and there are some other previous shots of the sex scene overlaying this at times. But I've been wanting to do a deep dive into it for awhile-- why have this shot? What's the purpose of it?

I think that this shot clearly tells us that Carmy is either pensive and/or dissatisfied with what has happened. Laying with his eyes open and just staring at the wall, deep in thought, possibly regretful. This isn't the expression a man who's just had sex with a pretty woman usually has. This is one of many clues that this relationship isn't something that he really wants or enjoys.

Aaaand, the panic attack scene again. If Claire was his "true love", she would be able to quell his anxiety and panic, if this whole "beauty and the beast" story arc I'm putting together is to be believed.

Claire is the perfect girl. She's pretty, smart, talented. His family loves her. She loves him. But she does nothing to fix his problems. Because it's not true love.

Carmy not being happy at the thought of Claire vs Carmy cracking a smile because he looks at containers of radichio + fennel, ingredients Sydney cooked him once.

It is ABUNDANTLY clear that his feelings for Syd help his mental state in ways his feelings for Claire do not. Because what he feels for Sydney is closer to true love.

Conclusion:

Am I saying Christopher Storer took the plot beats and characters 1 for 1 from Beauty and The Beast? No, obviously not. Am I saying that maybe he sat down one day and this movie was on and he was like "hey maybe i can do something with this"? Possibly!

This is just speculation at the end of the day, but I really loved looking at all the possible connections between these two things. Tell me your thoughts on all of this: cool interpretation or am I just talking out of my ass?

[tala-bez-i]

At first sight Chapter Twenty-Three

(m!reader x Bonten!Haruchiyo Sanzu)

Fluff/slash/reader is male/cursing/BontenTimeline/drugs and alcohol mentioned/violence/blood/death

All characters that appeared in the Tokyo Revengers manga and anime belong to Ken Wakui.

Words: 3746

I came back from a much-needed vacation and I'm publishing the next, twenty-third chapter. The fanfic hasn't been abandoned, so don't worry. I just had to take a break from work and people. I wish you all a peaceful and wonderful summer and I invite you to read. Kisses for everyone.

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You sat at your desk, lost in memories of the past. You always looked up to your uncle as a role model and always wanted to be like him. He was kind to you and your sisters, and despite his tough appearance, he was much lighter-handed than his older brother. 

Your mother could always count on him, although unfortunately he couldn't always come to your aid. Additionally, he didn't believe that his brother was bullying all of you and raising a hand against you. He always explained that if a child deserves it, there are no contraindications. Did it help? It helped, but not for long. At least not in your case. 

Your uncle was quite shocked when it was revealed at one of the family gatherings that you had joined a gang. He didn't speak to you for a good half a year, trying to process and absorb this information, but in the end he decided that you were just going through a rebellious phase and as long as you didn't get into more serious trouble, you were in no danger and there was nothing to worry about. Making such conclusions cost him a serious quarrel with his own brother and a ban from appearing in your family home for the next three years. Who could have predicted that the ban would expire on the day of your older sister Mai's funeral? 

You started playing with the lighter. Your fingers moved automatically opening the lighter, lighting it and closing it after exactly two seconds. 

Your mother begged her brother-in-law for help in finding the people who were responsible for tormenting the high school student and leading her to successfully take her own life. He promised her help and kept his word, but these people were convicted of completely different acts than inciting suicide. That didn't bother your mother. The most important thing for her was that they did not go unpunished. 

The next time you saw Tsuyoshi was at your mother's funeral, but before the man could approach you to talk to you about something very important, you ran away. You didn't want to hear about how he didn't think your father was responsible for the death of the most important woman in your life. You knew she didn't die the way the police said. You saw her body and knew she was murdered, and the suicide was faked. On top of that, your father disappeared and didn't show up at the funeral. It spoke for itself. He was guilty. 

The last time you saw your uncle was at the funeral of your other sister, Tomoko, but he didn't try to approach you then. You looked at each other through the crowd of people and all you could do was nod your head in greeting. Your father also did not appear at this ceremony either. 

Your fingers stilled and your eyes fixed on the flame. It was then that you realized that your dear old man had a tendency to play with his lighter the same way when he was thinking about something for a long time. You closed the lighter, placed it on the desk in front of you and bit the inside of your cheek lightly. Fuck, you even did that just like him. 

*knock, knock, knock* 

There was a cheerful knock on your door, and without waiting for your answer, a very smug Shuji Hanma burst into the room. He gave you a wide smile that reached his golden eyes. 

“Good evening, honey!” He greeted you cheerfully and sat back comfortably in the armchair you assumed as Sanzu's seat. 

"Honey? Something happened?" You raised one eyebrow, looking at the tall man with curiosity. 

“Oh, you don't even know. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you came back from the club.” He took out a cigarette and lit it with your lighter. He inhaled deeply and exhaled, still smiling. “Your ex-fiancée doesn't send you her regards, I'm sorry... But she was very curious how you were still alive.” 

“How am I still alive?” You asked, raising your eyebrow even higher. “Is this about that shooting?” 

“I asked her about it too, but she was probably even more shocked. She apparently had no knowledge of the incident.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, taking a better look at you. “She had something else in mind. Apparently, someone was ordered to murder you and it was apparently carried out. That's why she cried every time you appeared before her at her house.” 

You blinked a few times, completely surprised. Order? “What are you talking about, Hanma?” 

“Exactly, what am I talking about? You're safe and sound..." He grimaced slightly. “Well, maybe not necessarily sane, considering what you're capable of and the company you keep every day, but…” He shrugged. “I'm not a doctor to evaluate this effectively.” 

"I didn't notice any killer who was trying to kill me... But you said that the attack was a success, so it means that someone lost his life for me..." 

"Yes. Exactly, but who?” The man laughed and shook his head. “You seriously got under her skin, didn't you? But never mind." A serious expression appeared on Shuji's long face, and his eyes became cold and empty. “I have some information you might be interested in.” 

“Kisaki knows?” You asked calmly, and for a brief moment Hanma watched you in complete silence, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

“Well... Maybe he doesn't necessarily know everything, but I don't think it will hurt him.” He said calmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Emiko was involved in everything, just as you suspected. I'm sorry." 

You pursed your lips and exhaled loudly through your nose. You felt your blood begin to boil and your hands clenched into fists. “Okay... It's a good thing you moved her out of town, because if I could get my hands on her... 

“She's still in Tokyo.” He said, the corners of his mouth starting to lift into a smile. 

You looked at him in shock, not knowing how to react to this news. You felt like you had lost the ground under your feet and you were glad that you were already sitting down. You glanced around the desk and shook your head slightly. You looked back at Hanma, who seemed amused by your reaction, his eyes twinkling. He was very pleased with himself. 

“What do you mean Emiko is still in Tokyo?” Your voice was quiet and you hoped it was all just a joke. 

“And what didn't you understand? L/n, I don't know who told you we took her away, but they're obviously too afraid for her safety….” 

“Rindou mentioned that Mikey ordered her to be taken out of town.” You interrupted his statement and the man fell silent for a short moment, then smiled even wider. 

“So our beloved leader has not only misled you. Good, correct.” He laughed softly and took a drag from his cigarette. “They agreed on this version at the meeting before Sanzu came.” 

“So I guess you shouldn't tell me about it, right?” 

“Oops.” He covered his mouth with his hand and blinked several times, trying to look very innocent. He tilted his head slightly to the side and looked deeply into your eyes. “Let's say you don't know anything. Why did Emiko want you dead?” 

"I don't know. I would love to know the answer to this question myself. I didn't look for her after she left me. She literally took everything from me, even the money I kept at home... But I wasn't looking for her. I didn’t even know she wasn’t out of town.” You rubbed your face with your hands, suddenly feeling tired. 

“She's in an old warehouse where a recent exchange of goods took place with a customer.” Shuji said casually, apparently anticipating your next question. He smirked and put his finger to his lips, telling you to stay silent. “Not a word. Keep it to yourself, understand, Y/n?” 

You nodded without breaking eye contact. "How many people?" 

“Only four. She is not dangerous.” 

“Ryousuke escaped. They may have someone in our ranks.” 

“They do. Of course they have." 

“You know who?” 

“We're guessing.” 

“They might want to take her back.” 

“They will do it. That's what we're counting on.” Shuji's smile disappeared and he looked at his cigarette. “Let them try and we'll get rid of them all, including this bitch.” 

“And further information?” 

“She won't tell us anything more. Her beloved husband is not the Yuu everyone took him to be. He looks scary, he's a dangerous asshole, but he's not Yuu.” 

"What?" Your mind went blank and you felt like you were back to square one to some extent. "He's not?" 

"Simply. She told me this after I convinced her to tell us some secrets. Ryousuke Uchiyama is Daisuke Sugiyama, but you probably already guessed that yourself.” 

So, she knew... 

“How did you get her to talk?” You became interested and seeing the twinkle in Hanma's eyes made you feel a cold chill. 

“Let's say Mrs. Uchiyama saves on rings.” He replied calmly and you huffed, shaking your head. You might have expected it. 

You leaned back in your seat and looked up at the ceiling. Everything was fucked up, literally. You felt like a fool and started to wonder if you were really that blind and hadn't saw what Emiko Miyura was like. Maybe she was sending you some signals, but you simply ignored them, being more focused on receiving signals from... From Haruchiyo Sanzu. You tried many times to prevent various tragedies related to his antics, but... No, he was not guilty of anything. Never. 

"What should I do?" You asked the question quietly and Hanma sighed, getting up from his chair. 

“You should focus on Nagano and Kuroda. By the way, maybe you and the boys will catch Sugiyama and there will be no attempt to rescue Emiko. Have fun like you used to.” He said, looking around the room as if he was looking for something and you pointed him to the window, guessing what it was about. He approached the indicated place, opened the window and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray. “Or you can visit her soon. When are you going hunting?” 

"Tonight." You replied and the man closed the window. 

“So you don't have much time.” He clicked his tongue and smiled slightly. “You can always visit her after you get our miraculous trinity.” 

“I guess I will. I don't want Sanzu looking for me again." 

“You mean you don't want him to check the tracking app.” You looked at him coldly and the man laughed. “Everyone already knows that he watches over you as if you were a little child. Do you know when he started?” 

"Nope." 

"Really?" He smiled wider and you groaned in frustration. “Oh, I guess you already know.” 

“I didn't notice before. Fuck, I feel pathetic now.” 

"You have the right to." He passed your desk, walking to the door of your room. “Gosh, he must care so much about your safety.” 

“You know what I did for him and it can't be called a safe job.” 

“But still... The last person he worked so well with was Muto. Good luck, honey.” He smiled widely and waved you goodbye. 

You stuck your middle finger at the door closing behind the man and sighed again. Your collaboration with Sanzu was nothing like that with Yasuhiro Muto. Absolutely not, but you got the message. If anyone catches you trying to reach Emiko, you could end up as an unidentified corpse somewhere on the coast. You decided to keep everything a secret to yourself. Maybe after today's hunt, you'll be able to find time to talk to the woman. 

You stood up from behind your desk and lit a cigarette as you left your room. You decided to go down to the entertainment room, where you hoped to get something to drink other than what you had in your supplies. Maybe you'd find some good company, although no one could replace Rosie. She would definitely give you some advice... 

You walked down an empty hallway that was dimly lit by wall lamps and passed another closed door. There weren't many of you in the hideout, including the usual henchmen, but you were always surprised by how many rooms there were. In your opinion, the grand scale and display of wealth was completely unnecessary, but who were you to complain about the expenses associated with maintaining this place? Nobody. 

The closer you got to your destination, the louder the conversations and music you heard became. You walked inside and the three women who were having fun playing pool fell silent. Uncertainty appeared on their faces, as if the thought had occurred to them that they shouldn't be here, but you saw a familiar face behind the bar and waved your hand at the girls, letting them know they could go back to what they were doing. 

You did so, still a little hesitantly, and you sat down on the bar stool. The prostitute standing behind the bar immediately approached you and smiled friendly. 

"The usual?" She asked and you responded with a nod. 

"Thank you, Miki." You said as she placed the glass of alcohol in front of you and you reached for the ashtray. “How much longer can you stay here?” 

“Until next rotation.” She replied and went back to cleaning the glasses. “You look more tired than usual.” 

“That's how I feel too.” You looked at the girls playing and Miki laughed softly. 

“This is only their second time here.” She said and leaned against the bar counter. “Maybe you should take advantage of it?” 

“No, thanks.” You drank alcohol while still watching the girls. They were pretty, even attractive, and you were sure they would make some people's time very pleasant. 

“They can also put on a little show. They don’t mind when customers just watch.” The girl said quietly, giving you a pointed look and you laughed under your breath. 

"Do not tempt." You wagged your finger at her lightly, but your eyes landed on the three prostitutes again. You slowly looked down, the corners of your mouth turning up slightly when you noticed their small feet. 

“Maybe after all?” Miki bit her lower lip gently, and the tone of her voice became more seductive. 

“Don't try to sell them to me.” 

“I'm not trying.” 

"You're teasing me." 

“When was the last time you had fun?” She asked after a moment and you looked away from the laughing girls. 

“Recent enough that I still feel satisfied.” You replied and took a sip of alcohol. “Maybe you need a little entertainment?” 

The girl laughed and brushed her long dark hair off one shoulder, revealing her fair skin. "I can handle it. Thank you for your concern.” 

You reached out your hand towards her and caught a strand of her shiny hair between your fingers. You wrapped them gently around your finger and turned your head slightly. “You changed color.” You stated, playing with a lock of her hair. "Pretty." 

"Thank you. Rosie suggested this one.” The girl blushed slightly and you looked into her light brown eyes. 

“It suits you very well.” You muttered, smiling, and lowered your hand to reach for the glass of drink again. “Stay with this color.” 

"Of course." Miki smiled, very pleased with the compliment and poured you some alcohol, for which you politely thanked. 

“Here he hid!” You heard a man's voice and as you turned to the entrance, you saw the Haitani brothers. Ran smiled slyly and glanced curiously at the three prostitutes at the pool table. "Well, well, well. Alone with four beautiful ladies and all you do is drink?” 

“Everyone has their own priorities, brother.” Rindou replied in an indifferent tone and sat down next to you on the vacant stool, leaving his older brother with the giggling girls. “Same for me.” 

Miki nodded, poured him a drink and then moved away from you to observe her new friends, who did not hide their admiration for Ran. You were amused to notice that they were jumping at him from all sides, showering him with all kinds of compliments, to which he reacted with amusement. 

“Good to have you back.” Rindou said after a while and you looked at him carefully. 

“Did you really miss me?” 

The man smiled halfheartedly and looked at you with his purple eyes. “Let's just say Sanzu will be calmer.” 

“Are you worried about him?” You asked quietly, and behind your back the girls burst out laughing, completely absorbed by the figure of the older brother. 

“He was almost constantly checking where you were on the tracking app. It is not healthy." 

You grimaced and drank the contents of the glass. “Fuck… I know he checks Mikey's location this way, but I had no idea he checked mine too…” 

The man muttered under his breath and reached under the counter for the bottle of alcohol he had just started, to which Miki gave him a reprimanding look, but he didn't care at all. 

“You're not worried about him?” 

“Not enough to follow him like that.” You confessed honestly, offering your empty glass and Rindou poured you another drink. “Besides, I don't worry about him when he's with you and Ran.” 

“Do you trust us that much?” He raised one eyebrow as he brought his glass to his lips and took a sip. “What if we tied him up, put a bag over his head and threw him off the bridge straight into Sumida?” 

“Without any extra weight?” You gave him a quick look. “I doubt it. He is safe with you.” 

Rindou laughed and one of the girls squealed behind you. You turned to look at what was happening and saw that Ran was teaching one of the girls how to properly hold a pool cue, insolently pressing his crotch against her shapely ass. 

“Ran, not in front of everyone, brother. I haven't had enough to drink to look at it.” Your companion commented on this, the girls giggled with deep blushes, and Ran gave you both the middle finger. 

“Ignore him, honey. He is jealous." The man said directly into the young prostitute's ear and you shook your head, going back to drinking alcohol. 

“He couldn't cause more trouble than usual.” You stated, returning to the topic and offering Rindou a cigarette. 

“Theoretically you're right, but it was obvious that his thoughts were somewhere else. Never mind. How are you doing with this damn case?” 

“I received documents from Takeomi revealing that our Ryousuke Uchiyama is Daisuke Sugiyama…” 

“Sugiyama?” The younger of the Haitani brothers was surprised, turning his head towards you. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I'm serious... Why? Something happened?" You asked, feeling uneasy at the thoughtful look on the man's face. 

“Daisuke Sugiyama... He once tried to take control of Roppongi, but we managed to maintain power there.” 

“Do you know anything more about him?” You became curious and Rindou drank from his glass again. 

“There were rumors that he shot his mother and uncle, but you know how it is. People loves gossips but most of it is completely false." 

“They might be true this time. At least to some extent.” 

“Ran! You know the rules!” Miki raised her voice, and when you turned back again, you saw all three girls running out of the room, completely red in the face. 

“I didn't do anything.” The unfazed man replied, straightening his tie. “Anyway, don't interfere in other people's business.” 

“It is my business. While Rosie is away, I keep an eye on the girls.” The woman was angry and didn't hesitate to show her displeasure. 

“Watch your words.” Ran held up one finger and smiled cruelly at her. “Otherwise, next time I will ask for your company, and you know that this time you won't be able to refuse without suffering the consequences.” 

Miki swallowed loudly, blushing with anger, but she let it go and the man joined you at the bar. 

“Now would you be so kind and pour me a drink, darling.” He said softly, smiling mischievously. 

“Let her go, Ran.” You said going back to drinking. “She's just doing her duty.” 

“She scared away my toys.” 

“You know very well that's not true.” 

“These girls aren't toys…” Miki said quietly, placing a drink in front of him. 

“I have a feeling that when I come back from the mission, you will give me a massage.” Ran commented, looking at the girl like a predator looking at its prey, and when the girl shuddered, he smiled and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, you will come of your own free will, or I will find you.” 

“Ran.” Rindou spoke up, giving his brother a warning look, which the latter ignored. 

"Hey! You know the rules well! No fucking in the entertainment room!” Sanzu shouted from the doorway and you all looked at him. 

“Nobody was fucking anyone here.” Rindou answered him and the pink-haired man leaned on your shoulder, grabbed your glass and started sipping your drink. 

Miki immediately replaced your lost drink with a new one, which you thanked with a nod of your head. 

“Then why were the new bitches giggling as they ran down the hall and commenting on the size of Ran's dick among themselves?” 

You choked on your alcohol and everyone laughed. "Ran... *cough, cough* Maybe you'll give up on *cough, cough, cough* Miki... *cough* and take care of these ... Fuck *cough* new girls when you get back?"  

“With the purest pleasure.” The older Haitani brother laughed and you saw him winking at the girl behind the bar. “I forgive you, honey.” 

Sanzu patted your back and smiled widely at you. “I missed this. The four of us and having fun!” 

You sighed and raised your glass in a toast. “For ending this shitty case quickly.” 

“And that everything will end well.” Rindou added and both of the other men joined in the toast, completely agreeing with you both. 

You looked into the blue eyes of the pink-haired man and, apart from the dilated pupils, you saw happy lights in them. You smiled broadly at him and his hand ruffled your hair, as he had done many times in your many years of friendship. You had a good feeling about this night... 

<PREVIOUS/NEXT>

[beom1e]

twenty four

everything about yeonjun was infuriating to you. the way he assumed he had the right to toss other women aside simply because he was arranged to marry you, the way he didn’t care for the kingdom he was going to one day rule, and most importantly, the way he didn’t love you the way that you loved him.

pairing choi yeonjun x fem! reader

genre drama, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, royal au, prince! yeonjun, princess! reader, set in the past (unspecified)

warnings misuse of alcohol, mature discussions, minor injuries, minor violence, a horse dies, large amounts of blood, weapons (daggers and arrows), cursing, slight misogyny, gets a bit heated but not too far, mentions of death

masterlist | next

it was funny how alcohol could change so much. everybody shows their true colours, even if they don’t want to. people cheat, love is drunkenly expressed, confidence is boosted, awful confessions are spilled, mistakes are made. you had once vowed to never let your true colours show, no matter what. it would be more harm done than good. nevertheless, you couldn’t resist an invitation to drink.

just you and the other girls in flowing nightgowns, laughter filling the room. you would sing and dance and knock empty bottles to ground as you clumsily navigated your bedroom on a loop. gossip and the never-ending ‘who is doing who’ updates would be exchanged, your favourite aspect of the night. and much like your present, all of this would be a result of a mandatory ball or dining experience. the need to free yourselves from those obligations always ended in drinking until you passed out, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

the forced smile on your lips faltered for a moment as the boy standing before you looked you up and down. if it weren’t for the required formalities, you would have taken your hand out of his own and used it to shove him far away from yourself. as a princess, though, that was merely a fantasy. you could only dream of breaking character in a room full of watchful eyes.

your father was the king, or at least one of them. the land was split into two separate kingdoms thousands of years ago, as the two families totally despised each other. in a sense, you were the juliet of the story. your mother was forever searching for peace, and convinced your father to make a deal with the rival kingdom. that deal involved you and the other family’s son, choi yeonjun. you were to be married, and the two kingdom’s would be united into one. everybody was sick of war, and you were roped into their need for peace before you had even been born. now you were the queen-to-be, and had a reputation to uphold as their peace-loving princess.

you actually hated peace. you loved bad habits, both alcohol and boys. being queen was something you dreaded, and mostly because it meant being married off to a man who couldn’t care less about you if he tried.

yeonjun was quite like you. he loved socialising in rebellious ways, although he always got away with it. to the adults, he was a prince hard at work in preparation for his throne. to your generation, he was the biggest heartbreaker of both kingdoms combined. it didn’t taint his image, in fact it only made him more desirable. a king who valued fun and freedom over ridiculous activities such as hunting and fencing, and one who everyone on the land had a chance to sleep with. watching girl after girl sob and splutter about how yeonjun broke her heart at your secret, drunken parties always gave you a sickly feeling. how could a man be so cruel? and how come you were the only woman he wasn’t interested in?

‘would you excuse us?’ yeonjun spoke. talk of the devil and he will arrive. ‘i’d like to have a word with my betrothed.’

right, this was your engagement party.

‘of course,’ the man dropped your hand, and you smiled politely before following behind yeonjun.

‘i’m not a damsel in distress,’ you reminded. ‘i don’t need you to step in every time a man so much as looks in my direction.’

‘that man was eyeing you as if you were a bag of gold,’ yeonjun stopped and turned to face you. of course, he had to do this in the middle of the ballroom. ‘he has no status, so he’s not worth tainting your image over. a queen shouldn’t be seen mingling with commoners when she’s engaged to be wed.’

‘i was making polite conversation,’ you raised your voice slightly, before catching yourself and taking a deep breath. ‘i had no intention to sleep with him. i’m not you, i don’t just take every living, breathing thing home with me.’

‘i’m friends with enough of your previous lovers to know that’s a lie, y/n,’ he held out his hand to you, bowing slightly. ‘now, may i have this dance?’

‘absolutely not,’ you scoffed, but raised your eyes to see that everybody had turned to watch you. another forced smile made its way onto your lips and you took his hand. ‘just know i’m doing this for the kingdoms, and not you.’

‘that’s my girl,’ he flirted, pulling you in closer as the band began to play a slower song. ‘now look pretty and dance for the sake of our parents.’

the laughter didn’t seem to stop. you fell back against your bed, still giggling to yourself as your best friend hid her face out of embarrassment.

‘your turn, y/n,’ another girl spoke, running across the room to deliver a freshly opened bottle of mead to you. ‘we’ve been waiting on a story about how it is to be yeonjun’s girl.’

‘well, i am definitely not yeonjun’s girl,’ you pulled yourself to sit up. ‘although, he did refer to me as such at our engagement party. still, it’s only for show. we don’t share a bedroom, we’ve never kissed, i would rather eat coal than hold his hand, and he’s already slept with half of the women in this room. the most i can say is that he’s a swell dance partner.’

‘well, i can say so too,’ another girl spoke, sending everybody into another fit of laughter. ‘and of course, i mean outside of the ballroom.’

‘yes, yes, we all got it the first time,’ your best friend looked at you with pity in her eyes. ‘i think it’s time we left y/n to sleep, she has a big day ahead of her.’

after the room was cleared of drunken girls, you locked your bedroom door and hit your head against it a few times. hiding your jealously behind humour had became a very bad habit of yours, but it was the only way you could cope. you were being forced to marry the boy you had been in love with for your entire life, and he just didn’t feel the same. it was cruel and torturous, and yet only one other person in the world knew just how much it pained you to hear of his recent hookups.

it took mere seconds for the alcohol to knock you out, but it was only a few hours later that you were being forced out of bed again. a loud knock echoed throughout the room before the door was shoved open and yeonjun stepped inside.

you gasped, sitting up and using your silk sheets to cover your almost-bare body. the only thought running through your mind was that you were sure you had locked the door, and that only palace staff had access to the key. the words were about to leave your lips before yeonjun interjected.

‘i asked for permission to wake you up this morning,’ he smirked, closing the door behind himself. ‘from your father, and from the staff. i wanted to get a feel for what i’d be getting in the morning for the rest of my existence. so far, i’m not totally appalled by you. considering the fact that you’re hardly covering yourself with those sheets, especially.’

the sound you let out in response was a mixture of a growl and a gasp. you gripped the sheets harder and tried to shuffle further into them, while yeonjun stood there looking amused.

‘get out,’ you ordered, glaring up at him. ‘we’re not yet married so you have no right coming in here without my explicit permission. my father’s permission is not enough.’

‘i only came to deliver you a hangover cure,’ he brought his hands out in front of him and presented you with an old glass bottle filled with a brown liquid. ‘the kitchen recently received the recipe for coca-cola, so i asked them for a sample.’

‘just leave it by my dressing table and get out,’ you avoided his eyes, waiting for his next move. he simply raised a brow and tilted his head. ‘thank you, yeonjun.’

‘you’re welcome, y/n,’ he smiled, crossing over the room to place down the bottle. you watched his every move like a hawk. ‘and breakfast is in an hour.’

then he was gone. the door closed behind him and you did what could only be described as a child throwing a tantrum over having to do something they didn’t want to. but there was no choice about it, obviously. the servants would arrive shortly to dress you, and then you’d be carted off to village after village in search of peace.

you slipped out of bed onto the hardwood floor and hurried towards the bottle. the throbbing headache was kicking in, and you had all the hope that this would work.

‘your highness?’ a woman’s voice called, causing you to run back towards your bed and gulp down as much of the drink as you could. ‘are you awake?’

‘yes,’ you breathed out. ‘could you give me one moment just to bathe myself alone?’

yeonjun was flipping through an old book and producing different sounds based on how far he agreed with their views. you felt like throwing your knife across the long table and hitting him right between the eyes. of course, you had no choice but to put up with his annoying habit — although you’d bet he was simply putting it on in order to annoy you — whilst many servants surrounded the two of you.

the doors swung open and your father came towards you with purpose in his stride. you placed your cutlery down beside your plate and stood, assuming he’d ask to speak with you privately. that assumption was proven wrong when he began to speak in front of everybody.

‘a maid found an unregistered bottle beside your bed,’ he fumed, filling the room with his large voice. ‘you know the rules, y/n, and breaking them won’t do you any good when you’re queen. i won’t be able to step up and explain your mistakes, and i certainly don’t expect the prince to do so.’

‘it was me, sir,’ yeonjun stood. ‘i delivered the bottle to her early this morning, it was a new recipe i wanted to share.’

your father looked down the table and over at yeonjun, the anger in his expression slowly dissipating. you smiled down at your plate, mentally thanking him for saving you.

‘from now on, register every item that goes into and comes out of your rooms,’ he spoke in a softer tone. ‘when you’re married and crowned the new royals in charge, mistakes like this won’t pass. it only takes one servant for the word to be spread, and for your image to be ruined by the rumours.’

‘yes, father,’ you bowed your head. yeonjun stayed silent, but mirrored your actions.

‘the carriage is waiting outside,’ the king continued. ‘add some layers so you don’t freeze, and be friendly to the townsfolk who came to watch your departure.’

there were minutes of silence that followed. your father’s footsteps echoed throughout the room before the large, wooden doors creaked open and then slammed closed. servants began to whisper and yeonjun seated himself with a kind smile on his lips. it was all just for show.

your mother buttoned your cape at the collar before grabbing your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead. you smiled sadly and made a silent promise between yourselves that you would keep yourself safe. only another woman would understand the dangers of travelling alone with a man, whether that man was involved with you or not.

‘the king and queen to be,’ you were introduced, followed by the doors opening and the sound of cheering filling the area. both you and yeonjun put on a smile and he offered his arm for you to hold onto as he led you down the stairs. children jumped with joy at the sight of your dress, and women fanned themselves at the sight of the man on your arm. if it weren’t for the audience, you’d be rolling your eyes already.

the carriage was cramped, as always. you never minded if it was just you and your own family members, but being forced to sit that close to yeonjun was going to make for an awful few weeks. on the seat, there was a basket of baked goods and clothing items for the villagers. you wanted to question how the next basket would be delivered, but you assumed your parents would have already thought of that.

yeonjun helped you inside and took a moment to wave everybody goodbye before he sat beside you. you scooted as far away from him as you possibly could and faced the wall.

‘we’re going to be sitting here beside each other for the next three hours,’ he reminded. ‘maybe i can offer something more interesting than the wall.’

‘i actually think the wall will offer much more intelligent conversation,’ you shot back. ‘i want a peaceful ride.’

‘sorry, your peaceful majesty,’ he mocked. ‘i had no idea you were such a genius.’

‘how dare you?’ your head whipped around to face him. ‘i would have loved to go to school. i would have loved to read and to learn, not be forced to practice crochet patterns and piano. do not mock a woman whose only purpose was to marry, because i can assure you it wasn’t my choice.’

‘i didn’t mean to offend,’ he sighed. ‘i’m sorry, truly.’

‘gosh, yeonjun,’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘i can’t believe so many women want to sleep with you when you famously can’t go three minutes without displaying that you’re a misogynist.’

‘you think too little of me,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘i only meant to throw an insult back at you. i didn’t think about the context, only how i wanted to fight you back.’

‘this marriage will never work if you can’t respect me,’ you turned your head away. ‘i’m not asking you to love me or even to like me, but a bit of respect would be nice. i’m not a joke, i don’t need saving when another man approaches me. i have fought my own battles for my entire life, and i want you to respect that i’m my own person and not just your queen.’

‘i do respect you, y/n,’ yeonjun sighed. ‘we’ve always been this way. you take the first chance to insult me and i take a jab back at you. just because we’re going to be married doesn’t mean we have to act all grown-up from now on.’

‘but i do,’ you met his gaze. ‘a queen has to be perfect. perfectly dressed, perfectly well-spoken, perfect manners, perfect attitude and a perfect reputation. a king merely has to fulfil his duties, and the rest is his business. he can have as many mistresses as he pleases, he can drink any day of the week at any time of the day, and nobody will blink an eye.’

‘and you think i’m going to cheat on you with every woman in the kingdom?’ he laughed. ‘drink myself to death? ruin the image my father created for our family?’

‘did you not invite one of my girls to your room last night?’ you raised a brow. ‘did you not grab a sample of coca-cola for yourself as well?’

‘no, i didn’t,’ something in his expression shifted. ‘i haven’t even looked at another woman since i proposed. this marriage is for show, so there’s no way i’m going to risk being caught being disloyal and ruin the whole illusion.’

‘you’ve gotten away with it for years,’ you clicked your tongue. ‘has all the secrecy and tiptoeing around finally gotten to you?’

‘you don’t know me, y/n,’ he frowned. ‘as much as you’d like to believe you do, you don’t. family comes first for me, and now that you’re part of my family, you come first. i don’t want to risk ruining you or us, so i’m doing the right thing. i’m sorry for spending my days of freedom doing the things i wanted before i would be inevitably made king of two kingdoms.’

‘freedom?’ you rolled your eyes. ‘and what freedom will you be losing as king? i, on the other hand, now belong to you. i belong to you. i’m your wife, i’ll mother your children, i’ll greet the townspeople everyday while you make all of the important decisions, and i’ll never get to experience love.’

‘oh, please,’ he dropped his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. ‘i’m done arguing with you.’

‘because you know i’m right and i’m winning,’ you had to get the last word in. ‘because you know everything i said to be true, and you can’t deny it.’

the first thing you noticed was that it was muddy. yeonjun had dropped down from the carriage already and was holding a hand out to you, but you only stared at the ground and then back at your dress. he groaned and lifted you from the carriage into his arms, before placing you down on solid ground. the women audibly gasped and cooed at the sight.

‘thank you,’ you smiled. yeonjun left your side to reach for the basket, before placing it in your arms.

‘prince yeonjun, and princess y/n,’ the carriage driver introduced, bowing as he did so. the two of you smiled and bowed too, before the townspeople came excitedly towards you. yeonjun watched as you were practically swept off your feet and brought into the village.

the carriage was parked elsewhere. you handed out the food and clothing while yeonjun gave hefty donations to each of the market stalls. the children swarmed around you and tried to play, some of the girls reaching for your hand and asking for you to dance with them. it was a fun interaction complimented by the live band that played jolly music. for once, you enjoyed the obligation. the people loved you and were thankful for you, and that made you feel so good inside. becoming queen was something you definitely didn’t want to do, but you thought it’d be a little bit easier now that you were loved and respected by your people. well, they were currently yeonjun’s people as you were visiting around his kingdom.

‘i think the queen would like to rest now,’ a woman spoke, placing her hand on her daughter’s back to pull her away from the crowd. the rest of the children began to space out, and you looked at yeonjun for help. ‘i can take you.’

‘oh, thank you very much,’ you smiled at the woman, and began following her through the village. yeonjun caught up with you and offered his arm, you wrapped your own arm around his and held onto his bicep for support. the ground was very uneven, that was the only reason.

the sun was starting to set when you were left alone in the room you’d booked for the night. yeonjun began undressing, unclipping his cufflinks and unbuttoning his waistcoat. you choked out a sound of surprise and spun around.

‘what’s the matter, princess?’ he pried as he shrugged off the waistcoat and placed it on the bed. ‘do you want me to step outside to change and raise suspicion?’

‘you could have warned me,’ you huffed. ‘watching you strip wasn’t part of the deal.’

‘these people have to really believe we’re in love,’ he began with the excuses. ‘for all we know, they could be peeking through our window right this second. and i can guarantee they’ll all be listening out for some bed squeaking tonight.’

‘shut up, choi,’ you snapped. ‘you can’t manipulate me into sleeping with you ‘for the people’.’

‘you can’t keep using my surname against me,’ he joked. ‘it’ll be yours in a matter of months.’

‘stop,’ you were furious now. ‘you’re being mean. i’m having my name and my freedom stripped away from me by you, and you think it’s all fun and games because you get to be king. the reality will hit you hard when you figure out that ruling isn’t as easy as you think it is. and i’m not going to become your wife, i’ll be the queen who stands just as tall as you will.’

‘and how easy will that be for you?’ he pressed. ‘you hate responsibility. you love drinking until you pass out and sleeping with the men who fall at the knee in front of you as soon as they hear of your status. you’re no better than me, in fact you’ll be a worse queen than i’ll be king.’

‘if i’m no better, why do you think so highly of yourself?’ you argued, and yeonjun had already spun around to start unbuttoning his shirt. that pissed you off. you ripped out the bows in your hair and set them down, before undressing yourself down to your undergarments.

the bed was going to be yours. you stomped around and huffed as you picked up yeonjun’s neatly folded clothes and tossed them to the ground. he spun around in disbelief and his eyes widened at the sight of your barely-clad self. you got under the sheets and pulled them up over your head, leaving yeonjun half-dressed in the middle of the room. he sighed heavily and moved to blow out the lamps around the room.

‘i wish you would stop fighting me,’ he spoke softly. ‘i don’t want to spend the rest of my life fighting with you.’

the rest of his life. the rest of your life. you were going to be trapped in a marriage with no love and no affection. you’d never get to experience sleepy morning kisses or intimate nights, you wouldn’t be introduced to his friends at parties as the woman he loves, your children would never tell stories of how dearly their parents loved each other. he wouldn’t hold your hand or kiss you goodbye, he wouldn’t fix together a poorly made soup when you’re sick or hold you when you’re struggling. a loveless, cold marriage doomed for eternity.

‘excuse me,’ you rushed out of bed and through the room until you were pulling open the door and leaning against it from the other side. yeonjun took a seat at the foot of the bed and he felt his heart ache. both for you and for himself.

it was miserable. you’d never get to be happy, and neither would he. your lives were dedicated to reuniting two rival kingdoms and combining them into one. the whole point of your trip was to convince everyone of your love and help them adjust to the collaboration, not a romantic getaway to test your love. you lived to serve your parents and your people. it was either you spent everyday feeling hopeless and miserable or you sucked it up and learned to be happy in an environment not built for happiness.

you let the tears fall. it didn’t matter. you sobbed and wiped furiously at your eyes, your vision turning blurry after the amount of tears filling it.

‘why so glum, princess?’ a man’s voice, and you gasped. he placed his hand over your mouth and held your arms behind your back in an attempt to keep you quiet. ‘make a sound or scream and i’ll kill you.’

your mother had taught you what to do in this situation. he’ll kill you even if you’re quiet, so you need to kick and scream and cry for help. and when you’re free, go for the weak spots. eyes, nose, stomach, and you know where. you squirmed aggressively and freed your arms, reaching forward to grab his hand and rip it away from your mouth.

‘yeonjun!’ you cried, still flailing around in the man’s arms. he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dagger, holding it up to your throat as a warning.

‘i mean it, princess,’ he spat. ‘i was sent here to snatch you, dead or alive. your father’s stupid for trying to get us to join him, i know hundreds who won’t do it.’

‘that’s not her doing,’ yeonjun interrupted. ‘get your filthy hands off my fiancée.’

‘what are you going to do?’ the man snorted out a laugh. ‘i’ve raised chickens with more muscle than you’ve got.’

you took the distraction as a chance to elbow the man hard in the stomach. his dagger sliced across your arm as he dropped the ground, and you winced momentarily. yeonjun grabbed you but you pulled your arm back and placed your foot firmly on the man’s hand. he groaned while you reached down to slip the dagger out of his grasp. once again, yeonjun reached for you and pulled you back, but you only slipped out of his hold again and returned to the bedroom.

you grabbed your cape and fastened it over your shoulders when you heard more disturbance outside of the room. when you stepped outside, the man had grabbed yeonjun by the collar and was holding him against the wall. you looked around for a solution, and noticed a table holding a single lamp. you blew the flame out and tossed it aside, spilling wax all over the wooden floorboards. as you lifted the table, you thought that maybe the hot lamp would have been a better choice.

still, you lifted the small table above your head and used your strength to throw it towards the man. it hit him over the head, and yeonjun quickly ducked out of the way onto the ground. the man dropped silently to the ground and blood trickled out from the small wound in his head.

‘we should go,’ you breathed out, feeling the ache in your arms. not to mention the sting of the slice you’d endured from his dagger. ‘quickly before another shows up.’

‘thank you,’ he cleared his throat, his eyes full of worry. ‘y/n, you’re bleeding.’

‘don’t pity me,’ you rolled your eyes. ‘i don’t need your pity, and evidently i don’t need you to come and save me.’

‘why’d you call for me?’ that same smirk was on his lips again. the sight of it made your blood boil and your body tremble slightly with anger. ‘if you don’t need saving.’

‘you seriously need a reality check,’ your eyes narrowed. ‘i can’t wait for the day somebody finally ruins your confidence.’

the sound of a door slamming cut you off, yeonjun grabbed your uninjured arm and began dragging you down the unstable stairs. if it wasn’t for the current life or death situation, you would have fought him on his need to act a hero once again. instead, you just followed along.

outside of the inn, a few more men were waiting. yeonjun began to run, but when he noticed the arrows flying towards you, he shoved you aside and ordered you to hide. you caught yourself before you fell face first into the mud, and ran towards the stables. the bottom of your white slip dress was now dripping and drenched in mud, and you had smudges of blood ruining the upper half.

you looked for your family horse in the stables, a smile lighting up your features when you spotted her. in a struggle to unlock the gates, you noticed hurried footsteps approaching you. but much to your delight, it was only yeonjun catching up with you. no words were exchanged as he squeezed his way past you and opened the gate easily. the usual huff or groan that you’d respond with was nowhere to be found, you simply looked at him with thankful eyes as he guided your horse out.

‘you first,’ he ordered, holding a hand out for you. you nodded and climbed up onto the horse. you grabbed hold of the reins as yeonjun sat comfortably behind you. your breath hitched when you felt the warmth of his body surrounding yours, and his firm chest pressing against your back. ‘we’ll be best off going through the woods if we want to lose them.’

you nodded in agreement and pulled on the reins, sending your horse into a hurried run towards the thick woods. the men followed the sound of her hooves hitting the ground, still clutching onto their bows as arrows repeatedly zoomed past you. it was unnerving, the whipping sound of arrows and the thump as they pierced into trees all around you. yeonjun tightened his hold on you in order to calm your nerves. the woods were getting thicker and thicker, branches scratching against your bare skin and tears beginning to form.

‘i won’t let anything happen to you,’ yeonjun whispered beside your ear, but his voice was shaky and unsure. ‘i promise.’

the moment was ruined when your horse stopped and began to refuse to move. you held on tightly to the reins, despite her insisting on throwing you off.

‘over there!’ a man’s voice announced, followed by the sound of more arrows flying past.

the tears began to fall. the horse finally agreed to move, but the amount of arrows in motion was becoming dangerous. you could hardly see due to the speed, the darkness, the amount of greenery and now your tears.

‘let go of the reins, y/n,’ yeonjun wrapped his arms around you waist and pulled you flush against him. you shook your head, letting out a sob. ‘let go!’

it was an order now. the reins slipped from your grasp and yeonjun dragged you down the floor with him. you landed harshly on a mess of twigs and mud, but yeonjun took most of the fall. he coughed, having been winded. your horse began to throw a fit once again, before a pained sound that you’d never forget echoed throughout the trees.

‘no,’ you whimpered. ‘please, no!’

yeonjun couldn’t stop you. you picked yourself up and began to run towards your horse. her beautiful white fur began to turn red from the multiple injuries she sustained from the arrows. she laid motionless on her side, and you couldn’t hold back the sobbing and screaming. blood soaked through your dress and began to paint your hands and arms, and then your face when you tried to wipe away your tears.

‘we have to go, y/n!’ yeonjun grabbed you by the arms and pulled you back, but you shrugged him off and went back to stroking over your horse’s lifeless snout. ‘if we don’t leave now, we’ll both be dead!’

as irrational as you wanted to be, he was right. you felt numb as he grabbed you and pulled you to stand. you didn’t really understand what was going on, your mind was hazy. yeonjun held you behind a tree while you tried to calm down, a hand placed over your mouth to silence your cries. you only snapped out of it when you heard him wince in pain, and noticed the arrow that had just skimmed past his arm.

this time, you grabbed his hand and began running with him. you had no idea of which direction you were running in, just that you wanted to get far away from your attackers. you began to grow hopeless after running yourselves to exhaustion, when you spotted an old, small house not too far away. the coast seemed clear, so you silently agreed on the plan with yeonjun and made a run for the house.

he tried the door handle first while you scanned the area in a paranoid and erratic manner. it was stiff, but he managed to nudge the door open. he grabbed your hand and dragged you inside before slamming the door behind you.

‘close all of the curtains,’ he ordered, and you did so happily. you liked this side of him. he was assertive and put-together. ‘i’ll block all of these doors off so they have no chance of getting inside, but we have to be quiet.’

it was almost half an hour of making sure they wouldn’t be able to break in, and all you could think of was wrapping up yeonjun’s wound. that thought made you feel stupid, because you knew the slice on your arm wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. still, you began searching the cupboards for anything to wrap it up. of course, it was practically bare. but if by magic, there sat some gauze on a high shelf. you climbed up until you could reach it, as well as grabbing the only knife left behind by whoever used to reside here.

‘come here,’ you called softly. ‘we need to wrap that wound up before you bleed out.’

you pulled out a chair and took a seat at the small table. it was incredibly dark, but your eyes were adjusting enough for you to make out the objects in your hands. yeonjun pulled out the only other chair and sat close to you. he grabbed your wrist and turned your arm over.

‘and what about you?’ he sounded tired, the sound tugging at your heart. ‘you’re grieving, y/n. i’ll wrap your arm up and you’ll go to bed, and i’ll take care of myself.’

‘yeonjun, please,’ your voice broke. ‘i’m too afraid to sleep.’

he ignored your words and went straight to wrapping your arm up in the gauze. when he got to the end, he held the material between his teeth and sawed away at it with the knife. then he tied it into a dainty bow, making sure to keep it pretty as he felt you deserved.

‘now—’ he tried to speak, but you cut him off immediately.

‘i’m not tired,’ you reminded. ‘let me do the same for you.’

yeonjun didn’t want to fight. he’d lost all desire to rile you up. he’d seen a new side of you, and his opinion was starting to change. you weren’t heartless, you cared so much about everybody and everything. he’d seen you break down over a horse you’d loved throughout your childhood, you saved his life, and you were begging for him to let you help him.

he didn’t see you as a person, that was his problem. as children, you were an annoying little girl who always wanted to be in his space. as teens, you were rude and could never see eye-to-eye with him. and as adults, you made it as clear as possible that you wanted nothing to do with him. it was rejection after rejection. you’d glare and roll your eyes, scoff and groan every time he spoke. he wasn’t invited to join you and your friends, he only ever saw you at formal events. you were cold towards any man in your path, including close friends of his that he’d grown up with. all of this just painted you as a dark, looming presence in his life. you always had something sarcastic to say, you snapped and broke character easily around him, you always had the perfect insult to throw his way and you wouldn’t dream of viewing him in any way other than the opinion you’d created of him in your mind.

you wrapped the fabric tightly around his arm, and he tensed his arm in pain. he looked down to meet your concerned gaze and he relaxed again, but he was hoping you hadn’t noticed.

‘you’re so full of surprises, princess,’ he whispered.

‘what’s that supposed to mean?’ expecting an insult, you pulled tightly on the bandage again. yeonjun grunted in pain, and you felt your body heat up.

‘perfect self defence, stamina for running, you can control a horse, you’re strong, and you know how to wrap gauze,’ he smiled, ignoring that you were totally taking everything he said the wrong way. ‘i was thinking you were just a girl dressed in bows and lace, dreaming of owning a castle.’

‘well, you don’t know me very well,’ you tied off the end of gauze, your hand lingering on the sleeve of his shirt for a little too long. your eyes dropped to the area of his chest visible due to the first few buttons being left undone. you guessed he didn’t find time to fix himself in between all the running and trying not to die. ‘i never wanted to be queen. i love bows and lace, but the new castle will be too lonely and too large.’

‘you have a point,’ he agreed. ‘it was built way too far away from the centre of the kingdom. and what will they do with the two empty castles?’

‘don’t you mean, what will we do?’ you sighed and stood up, placing the knife down onto the table and approaching the bed. ‘don’t you wonder who used to live here? and how come they left all of this behind?’

‘all of what?’ yeonjun followed you, stopping in front of you. you were only inches apart, but he stood taller than you. ‘it was poorly built, it’s cold, and it’s in the middle of nowhere.’

‘it’s quaint and beautiful,’ you whispered, realising there was no need to speak when you were this close. ‘much less lonely than a large castle with too many rooms to count.’

yeonjun grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers. the both of you watched your hands before locking gazes.

‘what would you do?’ he whispered back. ‘with the castles.’

‘schools,’ you felt your body forcing you to step closer to him. ‘education for everyone, no matter their status. every girl—’

his lips pressed against yours. only for a moment, and it was the lightest touch, but it made you feel warm inside. when your lips parted, he was still only inches away from you. he dropped your hand and placed one hand in your hair in order to pull you in again. you moaned into his mouth and let yourself melt into the kiss.

‘i’m sorry,’ you pulled away, eyes closed and lips pursed. ‘i’m so sorry, i don’t know what came over me.’

‘why are you sorry?’ he leaned to place his forehead against yours, his eyes also falling shut. ‘it’s just you and me, princess… it’s just you and me for the rest of our lives.’

yeonjun didn’t sleep. you’d passed out with your head on his chest hours ago, and he laid thinking about you and the kiss you’d shared. never in a million years did he think he would fall in love with you, but now he was realising he just wasn’t allowing himself to fall. why did it bother him that you paid him no mind? and why did he enjoy poking and prodding at your nerves until you inevitably snapped? because he wanted to be something more to you.

the sun shone intensely through the gaps in the curtains. you whined and buried your face into yeonjun’s chest without realising what exactly you were doing. he lifted his hand and held it over your eyes, protecting you from the sun. he wanted you to keep sleeping, he wanted to keep thinking, he wanted to stay in this small space alone with you forever.

alas, your eyes opened and you were met with yeonjun looking down at you. immediately, you sat up and apologised. he just smiled and stretched his arms above his head, making his shirt ride up above his hips.

‘you look terrible,’ you commented. ‘you’re covered in blood.’

‘i could say the same for you, princess,’ he gave you a lopsided, half smile. ‘your mother is going to hate me.’

‘my mother loves you,’ you laughed shortly. ‘you could set a village alight and she would still defend you.’

‘we should set off to get home before nightfall,’ he suggested. ‘i’d rather deal with our parents now rather after two nights of us fighting for our lives.’

the walk home took several hours. it was easier once you’d made it onto the path, and once yeonjun had insisted on holding your hand so that you wouldn’t fall behind. walking into the castle grounds was terrifying, the stall keepers whispered amongst themselves and mothers covered their children’s eyes. who could blame them? the future king and queen were walking hand-in-hand, covered in blood and in clothing that had been ripped and stained black and brown. not to mention that you were both barely clothed, having had to flee from the inn mid-preparation for bed.

word spread like wildfire and your mother came running out of the castle to see if it was true. she pulled you away from yeonjun and into her arms, checking you for injury. then she ushered the both of you inside as quickly as possible.

you were taken away by servants to be bathed, treated and dressed in appropriate clothing. for the next few hours, all you could think about yeonjun. the way his lips felt, the way his fingertips rubbed against your scalp to send you to sleep, his warm hand in yours, the skin showing beneath his shirt, the way his gaze now softened whenever he looked at you. it made you feel giddy and childlike, and you were kind of thankful for the men who’d tried to hunt you down.

yeonjun didn’t seem to be around. he wasn’t seated at the table for meals, you didn’t see him walking around the castle, and you hadn’t heard anyone else mention his name. a part of you wondered if it had all been a dream.

that was, until nightfall.

the shock of everything you had experienced and the pain you felt every time you relived the memory of your horse being shot down had kept you inside. not just inside the castle, but inside of your room. so when it came to the night, you were finally free to walk around the castle.

you peeked through your door before opening it fully, and began walking towards the servant’s entrance into the kitchen. it was no longer mandatory for use, per your mother’s request, but you loved how quickly it took you into the kitchen. you stepped down the steep staircase and pushed open the door at the bottom, only to be met with a figure standing by the sink. they turned back at the disturbance and you realised that, in all his glory, it was yeonjun.

‘y/n,’ he practically sighed. it was obvious, even under the candlelight, that he was tired. he’d had no chance to sleep, not that you knew it yet, and was too shaken up to do so even if he’d had the chance. ‘i didn’t mean to disappear on you.’

‘i’m not upset, yeonjun,’ he loved the way you said his name when it wasn’t coming out as a snarl or mid-insult. ‘i was worried about, if i’m being honest.’

‘i had to talk with our fathers,’ he placed his cup down. ‘they’re going to put in a new law surrounding treason.’

‘and that is?’ you came towards him, stopping just a few feet away from him.

‘punishment of death,’ he sighed. ‘i don’t have hope.’

‘that’s awful,’ you agreed. ‘but we don’t have much choice, do we? it’ll either do well to scare them off, or we’ll be sentencing hundreds of men to their deaths.’

‘i’m worried that it won’t work,’ he admitted. ‘that they’ll come back for you and you won’t make it out alive this time. then does it really matter if they’re killed for their crime?’

‘we’re protected here,’ you reassured. ‘the world won’t take me away that soon, i’m not done bothering you yet.’

yeonjun couldn’t take it anymore, he’d been going crazy thinking about you all day. he placed his hands on either side of you and kissed you hard to try and portray at least some of the emotion he felt towards you. you wrapped your arms around his neck and reciprocated the kiss, no longer feeling the need to apologise for wanting to be this close to him.

‘and i’m not done loving you yet,’ he mumbled between kisses, making you pull back with a smile.

‘don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me over the past twenty four hours,’ you smirked. yeonjun felt his heart skip a beat at this new flirty side of you.

he didn’t feel the need to answer, it was obvious that you were right about his feelings. he lifted your chin and placed another tender kiss to your lips. finally, for the first time, you actually felt at peace, and you didn’t feel like disrupting it.

[lamuradex]

Stitches of the Mind: Character Profile 1

For October I'm gonna do brief profiles on the main characters for my Stitches of the Mind novels. No major spoilers, most of what I'll cover is backstory.

So, to begin with:

Tammy Wordsworth

Description:

Tammy was a young woman in her late twenties, with raven-black hair down to her shoulders, softly pale skin, and a thin build. She was medium height, standing only a few inches shorter than Dennis, wearing a light-purple turtleneck with dark denim jeans. Her arms were less folded and more wrapped around herself as she stood beside the open doorway.

Tammy is an ordinary twenty-something living in the once sleepy town of Meadowhurst. Born and raised in London, she moved to Meadowhurst for work, taking a job in town planning with her having a head for precise measurements and structure. Not exactly a passion as a job, but one she is very comfortable with.

A bookish introvert when she first arrived, she was pulled from her shell somewhat by some of the locals, with her meeting them through Rhianne, one of her new neighbours who'd come in to complain about the local postman and kindly invited her out with them.

Rhianne, Jaqueline, Rebecca, Penny, and Tammy herself, soon became a fast group of friends, spending days hanging out and evenings at the bars. With her new friends, Tammy managed to forget many of her anxieties and just have fun for a change...

That was until Penny Willows disappeared. Until the Willows Murders began. Until her life fell apart.

With Penny wracking up bodies, Tammy's despair only built. She and her remaining friends soon became the focus of the police investigation, to reveal them as conspirators or in hopes the girls could shed a light on why Penny was doing this, or where she was.

Tammy struggled to even believe it was real. Her friend, Penny, a killer? It didn't make sense. That was until one murder landed too close to home.

Rebecca Tanson, victim four, her body was found in the trees on the outskirts of town. One of her best friends killed by another. Tammy could deny it no longer.

This of course only redoubled the police's belief in some conspiracy, but there was little more they could ask the girls. Rebecca's funeral was held, and promptly disturbed by two officers, but beyond that all they could do was keep going. Tammy was placed on a medical sabbatical from her job considering all she'd been through, but this was as much a blessing as a curse.

Tammy, now functionally alone, struggles against her own mind as much as her isolation. Trapped in her life and her thoughts, her weekly ritual to place flowers on Rebecca's grave is the only event to break up the monotony. Her friends have vanished, retreated into their own little worlds of safety, leaving her by herself. And every day she feels like she could be doing more... even if she isn't actually a policeman and knows it isn't her job.

But she knows Penny. Maybe she'd see something others would miss. Not that the police would listen, as many still believe she is somehow in league with Penny.

But Tammy isn't a threat to anyone. Alone, struggling to find a purpose in her despair and depression, she is honestly more likely to hurt herself before anyone else.

That is until she finds a purpose helping the new detective in town. Because maybe they'll catch Penny and her life can finally go back to normal.

It can go back to normal, can't it?

When faced with horrors, and questions of whether things they've faced are real, Tammy tries to believe in the natural and the logical... but when push comes to shove, and the idea of demons and monsters begins to creep in, she has to confront the fact she can't explain everything logically, and maybe the world is darker than she can imagine.

[hs122]

Fictober 2024: "That was good work"

TW: hanging, death, mutilation of a corpse, poor writing

Original characters in unoriginal world: Vampire: the Masquerade.

I'm serious about the poor writing. You've been warned.

“So I just place this candle…”

“In between the fingers of the hand, that’s correct,” Helen said curtly. Helen wasn’t a mean person, but she was rather angry at the moment. She was angry at me, for the record, not the fledgling. Helen’s colorful pastel sundress made her pale skin seem even more pale, but it was the fact that she wore colors that was likely more the statement. It’s hard to get blood out of colors.

Helen was showing the fledgling how to use the Hand of Glory, a grisly mummified hand that was wrapped in cloth. Helen’s pale fingers placed the candle in between the fingers, and she made the motion of lighting it. The candle itself was an off-white color, and smelled horrible. 

It was made from human fat though, so, you know, you get what you get. Fortunately, none of us actually needed to breath.

“Once you light it,” Helen continued, “it will cause all who are touched by its light to fall into a deep sleep. With the exception of the one who lights it.”

The Fledgling in question, Tamika, was a younger Black woman. Embraced in what seemed to be her mid-twenties, she had a very professional air about her, which was par for the course for a Ventrue. The vampiric ‘Clan of Kings’ always carried itself rather confidently, and she was no exception. The Ventrue were also cursed with a very refined palate. The dietary restrictions never made sense to me; one Ventrue could only feed from Frat Bros, one could only feed from gay men, and on and on it goes.

 In Tamika’s case, it was a state of being: Sleeping people. I wasn’t sure what it was about sleeping people, but that was the restriction. She’d been getting away with it through the use of drugs and a healthy dose of breaking and entering.

But recently, it was clear that it was something of a hindrance, and the ability to just knock people out without pharmaceuticals that would also affect her was established as being very important. The clan was looking for narcoleptics, but they must have had some difficulties.

Which was when they turned to me. Eventually. As a middle man.

“I think I understand,” Tamika said calmly, in a controlled and professional manner. I could see a slight curving of her mouth, a slight increase in speed in her movements. She was probably excited. With Ventrue, it can be a little difficult to read the emotional states.

“Excellent,” I cut in. I was in something of a hurry, I still had shit to do and moonlight was burning. “You’re doing a test run later correct?”

Tamika nodded, “we are. A few of Cross’s mortal associates will participate.”

“Great, and once it’s shown that it works, we’ll be expecting payment. Be sure to remind Cross.” I said with a wide grin. I was really playing up the ‘used-car salesman’ vibe. It fit my reputation, and when Kindred knew what they were getting, business went smoother.

“He will,” Tamika said, her eyes guarded, but she couldn’t hide that slight eagerness. Cross’s childe must be very new for her to be showing this much emotion.

After she left, Helen and I sat in my ‘office’. It was an empty apartment, little decor outside a desk and chairs. It was ad hoc, which was important as I moved it often. I kept most of my stuff at storage facilities, but I never did real business there. Keep your business separate from your personal life. Boundaries are important for mental health.

“You didn’t tell her how we got it,” Helen observed.

“She didn’t ask,” I replied, “and no one wants to know how the sausage is made.”

“She’s Ventrue. I doubt she’d care too much,” Helen continued, “and it’s not exactly a secret Isaiah. It’s a known folkloric object. That it requires vampiric blood to be created is the secret.”

Helen was right, of course. She was rarely wrong. The ‘Murdering Hand of a Hanged Man’ is pretty easy to deduce. Find murderer, hang murderer, cut off hands. That you have to turn the rest of the corpse into candles is a fun addition.

“Well if she asks, we just tell her the truth,” I replied, “we hanged a Murderer and cut off his hands. Easy peasy. And I wouldn't count on her being so.... understanding. She's new, after all. I think she's been Kindred for what? A year? Maybe less?”

Helen narrowed her eyes at me. For all her clan’s fierce reputation as Blood Sorcerers, this Tremere vampire had a remarkably kind heart. Or at least less bloody minded and/or ruthless.

“I’ll tell her you got the materials,” Helen said after a minute. “Do you have your end of the bargain? I don’t work for free either.”

“You know,” I started slowly, “you could just move to Tampa. You wouldn’t have to deal with the Camarilla laws.” I pointed out.

Helen just stared at me. I knew she preferred the more neo-feudal order of the Camarilla St. Petersburg over the, uh, ‘lively’ state of affairs in Tampa.

“You can take my ‘Right of Childer’,” I said, giving a wave. I’d been given the right some time ago as payment. I wasn’t interested in training any new vampires though. Too much work to distract me from my work. “Go find your apprentice or whatever. Make your own fledgling.”

Helen gave me a disdainful expression, and I was briefly reminded that she could boil my blood with a glare. Not that she would, that is. Just that she could.

She strode out of the apartment quick enough though.

The inevitable call came the following night.

I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone rang. I hadn’t even gotten out of the bathroom.

“Speak,” I said simply.

“It’s Cross,” a deep voice said over the phone. I always forgot how hot he sounded when he spoke.

I looked myself in the mirror, trying to decided if I wanted to keep the scruff that regrew every single night or shave it off. I was never tan, so the pale nature of my skin wasn’t too dramatic of a change, but when I died I’d not shaved for several days. As a result, I have a ‘more than scruff, but less than a beard’ follicular situation on my face.

 My dark brown hair was always short, since it wouldn’t ever grow anymore. Just to finish off your mental image of me, I frequently went to the gym when I lived. It wasn’t a huge part of my life or anything, I wasn’t a bodybuilder, but I was glad I kept myself in shape before I died.

“What’s up Cross?” I replied, fingering the wedding ring on my left hand.

“Where did you get the hands?” he asked bluntly. He wasn’t even bothering with coding his language. Must be secure. Or he must be genuinely concerned about something.

I smiled as I leaned against the bathroom counter.

“I don’t think I need to answer that,” I replied, “did it work or not?”

“It did,” Cross replied, “but that doesn’t answer the question. And you will answer the question Isaiah.”

You know, I don’t think I was ever this attracted to men when I was alive. I know there’s a stereotype of vampires being gay, but sometimes I wonder if that really does come with the fangs. 

“From a murderer, obviously.” I replied with a slightly mocking tone to it. That wouldn’t irritate him, but it was still fun. “What, do you think I stole a corpse or something?”

“Hanging isn’t legal in Florida,” Cross growled, “they replaced it with the Electric chair in the 20’s. I pushed for that. So you didn’t steal the corpse. So. Where. Did. You. Get. The. Hands.”

He wasn’t going to let this go. Cross was probably hyperfocused on getting an answer. That’s one thing about Ventrue people don’t realize: they need to be obeyed. Clan of Kings? Yeah, because they obsess over getting people to just listen to them.

“I knew a murderer,” I replied, “a Ghoul and I used a chain and a truck to hang him. You know how mortals are with me, they always spill their deepest sins.” Being a Minister in life helped with that, I still find it funny that the Clan I was embraced into was called ‘The Ministry’. “He told me he killed his boss. Strangulation, conveniently enough.”

“I see,” Cross said, “and the entire body was used correct?”

Cross was head of a group that enforced the Masquerade, the lie that vampires are fiction. He was always wary of people killing the Kine, the mortals. If it was just a corpse or two, it didn’t usually matter, but if he heard about a killing, finding out what happened to the evidence was something he was always concerned with.

“Of course,” I said, “The fat was used to make the candles, the rest of the flesh was used to feed Anya’s garden. The bones I’m holding on to. I’ll drop the skull off in a few months so they can match dental records and close a missing person’s case. I’m thinking alligators.”

“Fine,” Cross said after a pause. There was another pause before he spoke again. “The system works very well. Tamika’s feeding will likely be far more consistent now.”

“Of course it works well,” I said. “Have I ever let you down? ”

There was a pause for a few seconds before he spoke again. He was actually thinking on the question.

“Well, you let Melissa down,” Cross replied with a bit of an edge before the line went dead.

He had to bring the fucking wife into this didn’t he?

You’re probably wondering about the murderer aren’t you? Why was I so evasive? Why not just tell him? Surely dealing with a death didn’t bother vampires to much.

Well, you’d be right. But Cross was likely concerned that I had a stable of serial killers on hand. Or he was worried that I did something stupid like break into a jail or something.

I’m not going to lie, that was the original plan.

But… well it turns out that breaking someone out of jail is a pain in the ass. We were thinking of bribing a warden into giving us the corpse after an execution, but Cross was right, Hanging was banned in the 20’s.

It turns out, when you want to make a Hand of Glory, store bought murderer isn’t an option. You have to make your own.

“Please! Please don’t!” the man shouted. I honestly forgot his name at that point. It was so easy to convince him murder would solve his problems.

I mean, he’d been wanting to murder his boss for months now. Ever since he found out the guy was sleeping with his wife. It didn’t take much to convince him that the killing was justified, and that God rewards those who mete out justice.

We were out in the middle of a swamp. It was pretty deep in, so no one to hear him. Judging by the far too intelligent looking wolf that kept watch over us, I didn’t think we had anything to worry about from humans.

Our murderer was a rather rotund individual, mid-forties, balding. He was in some kind of middle-management position. Once I thought he’d go far, that he had the will to advance, to liberate himself from the chains society had placed on him.

But no. He held onto those chains for dear life. The only time he cut them was when it benefitted him. He resisted true liberation.

“Please! No! You said it would all be okay!” the man shouted some more. 

I was only half listening. I was tired of dealing with this job. It should have been easy. I mean, it was, but it was just annoying.

“And everything will be okay,” I said finally, “once you finally shut up. Cora, please, let’s hurry this up.”

Cora’s a ghoul. An aggressively lesbian ghoul with long blonde hair in a loose ponytail, has an affinity for plaid in a variety of color combinations, and loves Doc Martins. She was young when her Regnant, a Tzimisce named Anya, turned her into a Ghoul. Thus, at least 20 years later, she still looks like you need to see ID before you give her a drink. That’s the power of becoming a ghoul people: eternal youth and you still get sunlight, so long as you get your fix regularly.

“No! No! Please! I have a-” His voice was cut off as I made eye contact.

I knew what he was seeing: two vibrantly green eyes, with large black slits. Snake eyes. The eyes of a serpent. Just as the myths of gorgons, he froze, his body no longer moving. There would be no more words.

Cora frowned at me and started up the truck. As she drove, the chain tightened and the man rose into the air, his restrained body squirming as I lost eye contact for a second and he tried to free himself. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore.

“Finally,” I muttered, as I watched the squirming man. 

Bob! That was his name! Bob Carter. That was going to bother me all night. His wife was Cindy Carter, a few kids. Might have to check in on them in a few months.

I knew there was still more work to do on this, but at least the end was in sight. Cora would have to go and bury the body somewhere overnight, and my understanding was that she already had a hole ready. And once that was done, it would have to be exhumed the following night, and then the candles would actually have to be made. Fortunately, I wasn’t going to have to do that. That was all Helen. I knew some sorcery, but I didn’t know how to make candles. You needed both. Helen apparently made candles as a wee child back in the 30’s.

Cora got out and walked around to stand next to me. She wasn’t my ghoul, she drank Anya’s blood, not mine. It made being around her a little… awkward. It was a bit like being stuck with someone’s kid or something. I could deal with that though. Collecting favors and boons from an up-and-coming Ventrue usually proved helpful, especially when you knew she’d be a repeat customer eventually.

“So, uh,” she started. “How long do you think?”

“Eh, give it 10 minutes or so,” I said calmly. “Just remember to lower the corpse into the bed. You know the drill.”

Cora nodded, she knew how to clean up a mess. Even one that was at least twice her size.

A few nights later, I was at Cross’s corporate office. He might have been alive when slavery was still a thing, but he kept with the times. The Masquerade enforcer had a data collection and analysis firm that worked in advertising and market research. A great cover for a group that essentially did city wide surveillance.

A beacon of the modern corporate hive, the office was all glass and modernist architecture, but it still had a strange sense of oppression. A feeling that you were being controlled, that you were under the dominion of another.

Cross was the person I needed to meet with, but, well, I have to follow up on my work.

“So,” I said as I slid in the chair that sat in front of Tamika’s desk. I wasn’t sure what she did, but it must have been very important for her to both have an office and be Embraced. “How is the Hand working?”

Tamika’s flat expression was briefly broken with a smile. It probably helped that I had turned off the ‘used-car salesman’ vibe and was now aiming for something along the lines of ‘proud artisan’. 

“It works wonderfully,” Tamika said simply. “Thank you for your assistance.”

It was kind of cute, receiving an actual thank you. It even seemed genuine.

“Well I can’t take all the credit,” I said, leaning back in the chair. “Helen made the actual candles. I just collected the materials.”

Tamika’s face seemed to twitch, a bit of a suspicious eyeing. It was gone quickly.

“Still,” she said after a moment, “That was good work.”

[whoslaurapalmer]

and to complete the trio ! 🤍 beatrice 🎭✨🦇for 2, 5, 22, & 25 !!

!!!!!!!!!!!

2) favorite canon thing about this character?

tie between 'made dinner on the floor once' and 'wrote a novel-length letter to break up with a guy' and 'put on heels while eating an apple and making eyes at her boyfriend bc how is that not the coolest sexiest thing bea has ever done????????' and 'thought fishing was super boring but took her son fishing bc she loves him'

5) what's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

i very much wish i could say the heroine by unwoman bc it really is such a good bea song, like objectively i know this, but bc i first heard it on night vale and in one of the best episodes, one of my favorite episodes, i will forever associate it with kevin. i just do think very frequently about how it reminds me of kevin but it could be such a good bea song if it was not for kevin. ANYWAY. curses by the crane wives

22) if you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? what's something you don't like?

oh! this one is the opposite! if i am reading bea! okay okay. ah..........i'm picky about people writing beatrice. i know it's because like.......we've had to build a lot of fanon in this fandom. bc there is so little we see of some characters. and bea is not actually one of them, we really get a lot of bea in memories, but we still don't get to see Beatrice. so we've still had to infer a lot and create a lot. and i know that i am responsible for some of it. and it becomes something very personal, writing these characters, bea especially. i'm, very picky about fanfic i read anyway bc characterization is the most important thing to me. i want to see a bea that is layered, that is joyful and sly and dramatic, but interpretations differ among us all about the, amount to which that is an act, the sort of act that she puts on at all, because she is an actress and we can't forget that, of the extent to which she might've...............been manipulative. that personally is where i draw a line bc i don't think she was. categorically manipulative? it's not the word that i think works the best for me when i think of bea, idk. i'm also plotting a fic where she Acts in a very specific way for a very specific purpose through the whole thing so i also have less of a leg to stand on here than i usually do. but i think there's no like, malicious intent in her manipulation. i think sometimes there could be a lack of.........a desperation in a young beatrice in fic. the nuance of vfd on her. or like.........showing the acting but not showing the cracks it's created, the cracks vfd has created. i am. looking forward to poking those cracks more, myself

25) what was your first impression of this character? how about now?

first impression: i was nine and reading the books as they came out and going 'oh this beatrice woman sounds FASCINATING i wonder if i will ever find out who she is. i wonder what happened with her and lemony.'

current impression, editing to point out that it is now twenty whole fucking years later: my babygirl my everything my angelface my beloved

[pantherlover]

A Local Habitation Re-Read: Part 5

Hello again! Here's part 5!

Chapter Seventeen:

"Quentin, get something nutritious to go with your soda. A Snickers bar or something." Oh they were both SO lucky May showed up after this.

Oh, poor Luidaeg. She's finally met the person who will eventually be able to remove the geas on her, and she's a person who decides that summoning the night-haunts is an acceptable plan.

Of all the people at ALH, I might like Elliot the most (other than April). I respect a character that can just roll with with an unexpected situation.

Toby mentions that Raven-maids and Raven-men are skin shifters like the Selkies. Given how/why the Selkies were created, this makes me curious about whether the Raven-maids/men were created for similar reasons. In the story published with Be the Serpent, Luidaeg says that she cursed the Siren who murdered her love to join the Sky Kingdoms. Maybe that has something to do with how they came about?

I really do feel sorry for Elliot about Yui. I'm glad they got their wedding after everyone was brought back.

Chapter Eighteen:

Connor is noooooot equipped to help out with quests. You were going to take Toby's car back? *Really*?? You had ONE job, man.

Was Sylvester still the Mad Duke when Quentin started his fostering? I'm pretty sure it was mentioned somewhere, but I can't remember off the top of my head. If he was, that might be why Quentin thinks that 'breaking out into hysterical laughter' is a normal reaction in Shadowed Hills.

Connor's relationship with the Luidaeg is definitely something that I want to try to pay more attention to on this re-read. It would be interesting to see what I can pick up from it now that we know about the Selkies.

Okay, Connor, I understand that your marriage is unhappy, but you're still married. Gently resting your joined hands on Toby's cheek is not cool!

Toby was probably lucky that Alex showed up and distracted Connor; he probably would've gotten a lot angrier than that otherwise.

Chapter Nineteen:

Connor may not be equipped for quests, but he does know his role as coffee-provider.

"We need to talk to [the night-haunts], and this is the only way. Believe me, I don't want to. I'm scared stiff." Toby is the ultimate proof that repeat exposure works.

I think I'm appreciating the wistful 'what-could-have-been' of Toby and Connor's relationship more this time around. I don't think they would've worked out in the long run, but they might've been able to be better friends to each other. It's a little sad that they never got to learn how to be that for each other.

Fuuuuuuuuuck Aaaaallleeeeex. Just - SO many things wrong. First, I feel like he contradicts himself while he's explaining? Does it come naturally or does he not do it to every woman he meets? Second, is it supposed to be a *compliment* that he doesn't enchant every woman he interacts with? Like it means something that he liked her enough to give her no choice in how she felt about him??

I wonder why Gordan didn't sabotage the summoning; she and Elliot got all of the flowers together, she would've had plenty of opportunity. Was she that confident that the night-haunts wouldn't be able to tell Toby anything? Was she hoping that they'd come and eat her? Was she curious enough about the night-haunts that she wanted to see it play out?

The summoning ritual is SO creepy/cool. We don't see Toby doing any concrete 'spells' with her magic; she just forces her way through a situation until she gets a desired outcome. I wonder if having kids is going to make her try to find a more consistent way to do things so she can teach them?

Chapter Twenty:

As much as we learn about them in this chapter, I think the night-haunts are the longest running mystery in the series. I saw a meta a while back theorizing that, after the Roane returned, the night-haunts lost their most stable food source and were in danger of fading unless they found another way to sustain themselves. I'm not sure if this is the direction the series would take them, but it would be a good reason to call in Toby's debt to them.

This might be the first time Toby's ever been described than 'wiser than most who deal with [the night-haunts]'.

The mandrake doppelganger make me sad, and I'm trying very hard not to think that the 'created just to die' part is foreshadowing of any kind.

Forget all the blood magic; Toby's superpower is being able to connect with people so strongly that it affects them *after death*.

Chapter Twenty One

'Backups. They had backups for the backups in this place. It was amazing anything had been able to go wrong: they should've had backups for the people, too.' Funny you should say that, Toby!

'"Look, I'd hug you, but I'd get blood al over you." "I don't care," [Quentin] said, and threw his arms around my neck.' Oh, I'm so glad that Quentin and Toby found each other.

Whatever else you can say about Luidaeg, her bedside manner is still better than Gordan's.

Jan, at least, gets (minor) props for actually planning on telling Toby everything before she died. It is honestly a miracle *anyone* made it out of this alive given how willing everyone was to take their project to the grave.

That's it for this part! As always, please feel free to come talk to me about stuff!

[lilac-whump]

Nightmare's Shadow

Part 2- Faces of Fortune

In part two we meet most of the remaining important characters for her story, Inrissa gets closer to her goal of murder, and you get to meet Nevaeh! Trying to figure out how to introduce the important stuff without it being confusing is fun, bear with me, once we get through the intro period things get more intense emotionally and whump wise.

CW: slavery, lady whump, thats about it this is content wise a more mild installment, mostly introducing characters and stuff

Part 2- Faces of Fortune

Part One

Inrissa leaned against the frost covered tree trunk, tilting her head to have a clear view of the meeting in progress without leaving her place of concealment. Her breath frosted in the air.

Six weeks at the Aren Glade, building trust with the Tribe- particularly their chief, the father of Absalom of the Elite Guard- were finally paying off. The Guard were finally back on land, after an extended mission at sea. Because of course they were at sea, where she couldn’t reach them for over a month.  

It didn’t look like they had had a good time, either, Inrissa noted as she took stock of the group. All of them looked exhausted, and their expressions carried every stage of grief. And one of their members hadn’t come back with them.

Prometheus Firstforged was there, his hulking frame stooped with the loss of his comrade. He was built like a bear, and adorned like a ceremonial weapons display. Everything about him, from his boots to his armor, reeked of privilege and wealth. His armor bore the Imperial Crest and, of course, the same cursed symbol emblazoned on Inrissa’s own neck. Inrissa dug her fingernails into the bark of the tree and gritted her teeth.

Absalom explained things to his father, professional and stoic, just as she would have expected from the Elite Guard’s leader and the chief's son. The smallest member of the team was perched in a tree on a high branch, goggles magnifying her eyes and a crossbow on her knee. Ling, Inrissa found the name on her memorized list of Guard members. The sniper. That left Larkspur, a middle aged human woman. And instead of the dwarf that should have been on the team, there was another woman. A half elf in elegant garb, with long pink hair and elaborate jewelry. 

Inrissa listened to Absalom’s debriefing to figure out who this girl was- she didn’t look much older than Inrissa herself, which meant she was only in her twenties. Finally, she caught a name.

Natala. Not just a name, though, but a title as well. 

Princess Natala.

Of course. Because the Elite Imperial Guard wasn’t called that because of their skill, or at least not exclusively for that. They were the literal elite. Traveling with a Princess herself. Inrissa felt her hatred of them crystallize in her chest.

The Empire was supposed to be a place of opportunity, where she could find refuge and new beginnings. And maybe it was, but so far it just hurt to see. Every ounce of good, of safety, of power, all of it she had had to take by force. To fight for with bloodshed and suffering. But these people didn’t just get security, power, and happiness. They didn’t just get a good life, the kind she wished she had. The kind she could barely dare hope for. No, they didn’t stop there.

These people just couldn’t get enough. 

—------

Four Years Previous

The girl with the red hair tried to get Inrissa to smile, but the young Tiefling stared vacantly at the floor she was cleaning. She hadn’t spoken when anyone could hear in over a year. She didn’t dare break the streak now. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl with red hair knelt beside Inrissa and pulled a rag from the bucket. “Here, I’ll help you, you won’t get in trouble since you’re still working. I’m Nevaeh. What’s your name?”

Inrissa looked at the girl, Nevaeh, trying to decide what she wanted. What kind of a trick could this be? Surely it was a trick; no one would really want to talk to her, no one ever had. Not even other slaves. Even among them, she was the lowest, and she knew it. She was a Tiefling; a monster. She was bad.

Every breath reminded her what she deserved, the metal collar around her neck squeezing with every twitch of muscle. 

Nevaeh wasn’t like her; a regular servant, not even a slave. And human. And pretty. With pale skin and freckles, and long red hair in a neat braid. Her scars were few, and her smile- it must be a lie. Inrissa knew it in her gut. It wasn’t a real smile for her. It had to be some kind of trick. 

Inrissa looked back down and tried to ignore the girl. To keep working. That had to be the right answer. Unless she could get in trouble for ignoring someone? Someone who’s a real person; she should respect them. Inrissa froze, her grip tightening around the rag. What was the right answer?

“Are you okay?” Nevaeh reached out and put a hand on Inrissa’s shoulder. Inrissa felt her joints lock into place and her breath was trapped in her lungs at the touch, anticipating agony. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for silence and pain to engulf her. 

Instead, a soft hand wrapped around hers. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Navaeh whispered. “I promise.”

It was too good to be true. And nothing good in Inrissa’s life had ever been true before. But nobody had ever pretended to be nice to her like this before, either. She didn’t understand what it meant.

Inrissa nodded and pulled her hand away. It hurt to pull away, her hand itched to return to the kind touch.  But it was too risky.  

Nevaeh stayed nearby, helping with Inrissa’s work, and making the occasional soft, kind remark. For hours. 

Her presence was like cold water on a burn, soothing. Inrissa was desperate not to lose it. The evening was closing in, so before they were forced to part ways, Inrissa stopped and looked up, finally looking the other girl in the eye. 

“Inrissa,” she said. “My name…it’s Inrissa.”

Next

[jazzycurls]

I want to know what love is -

pt.2

Summary: After years of being stuck in an abusive marriage you are hoping to start a new life with your son. Meeting an old acquaintance awakens feelings in you that you thought were long gone. Will your broken heart allow you to love again?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings/Tags: No use of y/n, angst, PTSD, domestic violence, injuries, brief arguing/raised voices, curse words, hurt/comfort, fluff, future smut, (let me know if I missed something)

Word Count: 5,050

An: Hi you guys! This is my first attempt at writing of any kind.  I'm also new to Tumblr and don't know how to create links to a master list. All feedback is welcome, be gentle please haha. Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work, everything besides the characters and plot points by the original writers, belongs to me.

~

You impatiently tapped your foot as you stood in the checkout line of Bradley's Big Buy supermarket. The lines were extremely long today due to only one cashier manning the register. There was also some sort of party going on this weekend, you had seen numerous buggies of party foods and cheap beer being bought.

Your buggy contained a six-pack along with popcorn and some essentials for the house. You were preparing for the movie night you had planned with Eddie tonight. The both of you had agreed that he would get the movies and candy leaving you to get popcorn. The beer was something you'd thought of at the last minute while at the store.

Your son was spending the weekend with your mom and dad giving you a much-needed break. You loved your son dearly but you were looking forward to some peace and quiet.

You huffed as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ease the slight ache in your feet. The wine of a baby caught your attention, looking ahead you noticed a young woman in front of you holding her baby, patting and bouncing him on her hip trying to keep him quiet.

She looked to be in her early twenties, still a baby herself. Seeing her reminded you of yourself and how much you struggled as a young parent. You didn't have much guidance and had to rely on the advice of the older women in the park. Although you had forgiven your parents a small part of you could never forget how they had essentially abandoned you and their grandson when you needed them most.

The line shifted and you moved forward looking at your watch noting it to be a quarter past three. At this point it would be nighttime before you got out of here, you thought shaking your head.

Thirty minutes later you had checked out and were walking to your truck. You unlocked the door and began to unload your items into the passenger side.

"Hey muffin," a raspy voice said behind you.

You gasped as your body lurched forward, shaking with fear. Taking a deep breath you willed yourself to turn around, facing your husband. He stood a few feet away from you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"What are you doing here?" your voice was edged with fear.

"I got the papers," he stated ignoring your question. He walked closer to you, slowly as if he was a predator trying to avoid spooking his prey.

You remained silent too shocked to respond. Your eyes darted left and right, seeking desperately for help or a way out.

Noticing your expression he tensed, taking his hands out and balling them by his sides. "Stop overreacting, I'm just trying to have a conversation with you." he bit out.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, your words failing you. Waiting a moment you were able to respond "Please l-let me g-go, I'm scared!" you pleaded, frantic with fear.

He sprung forward, closer towards you, invading your personal space. His arms slammed into the truck on each side of you effectively caging you in.

A bolt of panic hit you causing you to shout in fear. He slapped a hand over your mouth to shut you up and glanced around the parking lot, making sure no one had seen anything. Tears streamed down your face running over his hands.

He leaned in close his stale breath fanning across your face "I'm not signing those fucking papers, so you can just forget about that." he sneered. Suddenly he leaned back and smiled "It was nice talking with you," he said loudly. He turned and walked briskly in the other direction getting into a red car you hadn't noticed before.

You didn't dare move, making sure he got into the car and watching him drive away. As the car passed you noticed a woman looking at you, none other than Cindy Johnson. Looking closer you noticed that her features were twisted in concern and something else you couldn't interpret.

~

You had finally gotten home, having gone back into the store and called your father to come to pick you up. You were shaken up and were in no position to drive home. Your mother stayed at their home with your son not wanting to alert him that something was wrong.

The police were called as well and you filed a report of the incident with your father by your side for support. Lucky for you the store had just installed surveillance cameras in the parking and store due to the upsurge in disappearances lately.

You had left your truck after taking out your purchases and loading them into your dad's car. He assured you that he would find a way to get your truck home to you and not to worry about it. The drive home was silent, you were too shocked and numb to hold a conversation.

After you had arrived home, your father made sure to check the windows and called a locksmith to replace the locks on the doors. Once he was satisfied that you were okay he hugged you goodbye promising to call you later.

You were now alone, alone with your thoughts, alone with your anger, alone with the shame of the cowardice you felt, and most of all alone with the fear of what was yet to come. The clock ticked loudly making your breath suddenly catch, all air in the room seemed to dissipate, leaving you gasping for breath.

Blood pounded in your ears and you stood up in a panic trying to regain control of your senses. Your chest heaved up and down frantically as you clutched your chest in alarm, unable to catch your breath.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door catching your attention. Still gripping your chest, you stumbled to the door throwing it open. The panic you felt outweighed the thought of who could be on the other side, hoping that whoever it was could help you.

Eddie stood smiling cheesily on the other side arms full of tapes and goodies. His face quickly fell at the state you were in. Dropping everything on the porch he rushed to your side kicking the door closed.

"Hey, hey it's okay," he said softly, as he walked towards you slowly. "C-can I touch you? "I just want to help," he said sincerely holding his arms out to you.

You nodded frantically, giving your consent.

He quickly wrapped you up in his arms rubbing your back soothingly. "Take deep breaths, in and out kay"? "On three," he urged you calmly. "One....two....three.....One....two....three...." he repeatedly counted.

Your head laid upon his chest, fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt as you desperately inhaled and exhaled on his count. Tears streamed down your face at the exertion on your body.

Slowly he lowered you both, sitting on the floor. He turned you around so your back was pressed to his chest. He continued to count and began to breathe in and out himself, allowing you to follow the rhythm of his breathing.

Leaning back you close your eyes, focusing on his words and breathing. You increase your inhale in and exhale out as you struggle to regain control of your breathing. He rubs your arms soothingly, keeping you grounded and centered.

Moments pass and your nerves finally settle allowing your body to function normally. You feel sore, your chest aching from your battle to breathe. Sitting up slowly, you move forward to get up, stumbling back to your knees.

"Whoa, whoa— take it easy,” he urges catching you before you fall. He helps you up, walking you over to the couch and setting you down gently. He sits beside you grasping your palms and begins to massage comforting circles into the back of your hands.

You avoid his eyes as a wave of shame washes over you, embarrassed that he had to witness you having a panic attack and also grateful that he showed up when he did.

"I'm sorry— I didn't..." you choke on a sob, your eyes welling with hot tears. You wipe them away angrily, ashamed all over again for having poured all of this onto him.

He pulls you into a hug wrapping his arms around you, "Don't you dare apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for." he assures you.

Fresh tears fall anew, in that moment you felt safe. Safe to let your guard down and release all of your pain. Settling your arms around his neck you lay your head on his chest, allowing yourself to cry as he held you, rubbing your back gently.

You're not sure how long the moment lasts, it feels as if it's seconds and hours at the same time. Once your tears subside, you're lulled into a calm state. Still tucked safely into Eddie's arms, not willing to break away and disturb the peace you feel. He had leaned back into the couch to get more comfortable, still keeping you in his embrace.

"My mom had really bad anxiety" Eddie mumbles above you.

You make a noise of acknowledgment, listening to him intently.

Clearing his throat he continues "My father— he wasn't a good person," "Terrorizing her every chance he could, eventually, he broke her." he stated emptily.

"I was young, too young to protect her, I had to learn how to help her whenever she had an attack," he explained.

You lower your arms to your sides and lean back from him to look into his eyes. They look cold and distant as if he's been transported to another time and place.

"I'm sorry about your mom and that you had to experience that," you say sincerely. "No child should have to take care of their parent."

He nods his head in acknowledgment. "I just don't want you to feel sorry for what just happened," he says smiling softly.

You smile in response, feeling ready to share your story as well. "My husband—" you start, stopping to take a deep breath.

Eddie takes your hand in his, squeezing gently, encouraging you silently to continue.

"My husband abuses me," you continue. "Emotionally and physically," you confide holding up your arm wrapped in the cast. "He did this to me during our last fight, if you could call it that," you state humorlessly.

"He left that night and I made the choice to leave him for good, not only for me but for my son too." "He deserves better than to be raised in a broken home, I'd rather be a single parent than to continue to allow that to happen," you say frankly.

"I served him divorce papers and I guess he finally got them." "I'm not sure how he knew where I was but he cornered me today. I had just gotten done shopping when he threatened me," you said shaking your head in disbelief.

You glance at him before continuing "I guess I just broke down and released all of my pent-up emotions,"  "sorry you had to witness that" you apologize again.

"I thought I told you not to apologize," he chides gently, tapping you playfully on your shoulder.

"I know, but I can't help but feel awful." "We barely know each other, you shouldn't have to be my therapist," you confess jokingly.

"Sweetheart, I think we've passed the point of not knowing each other," he chuckles.

Your breath catches at the pet name. "Well, that was a lot to unpack," you laugh. Although you still felt like shit and your body was sore beyond belief, you honestly felt like a weight had been lifted.

"Right, I've never talked to anyone about my mom and pops before." He thinks for a moment "besides my Uncle Wayne," he admits glancing at you.

"I'm honored that you were comfortable enough to share that with me" you respond flashing him a warm smile.

"Thank you for allowing me to help you," he replies sitting up a bit. "But seriously though, you're stronger than you think," he says. "Just make sure that you keep moving forward and never look back, kay? he pleads.

You nod in agreement and fall into a comfortable silence as you attempt to process all that has happened. You yawn suddenly feeling yourself beginning to crash.

You cover your mouth in apology glancing at Eddie. "Sorry," you say sheepishly.

Eddie looks at you and chuckles. "I guess that's my cue," he says slowly getting up to leave.

You grab the sleeve of his jean jacket impulsively. Not sure what possessed you to do so.

He stops in place and turns to look at you questioningly. "Everything okay," he asks.

"Yeah, I just— Could you please stay? Just in case if...." you trail off unable to finish your sentence. You drop your hand into your lap and lower your eyes to the floor thoroughly embarrassed now.

Eddie laughs lightly causing you to look up at him through your lashes. You notice that a blush has spread across his features.

He rubs a hand through his hair "Of course, as long as you don't mind my snoring," he quips. "I think I could be used as some sorta bear repellent," he says jokingly.

"Well that's good then, you will stop anyone from coming in here," you smirk.

He laughs along with you, his brown eyes crinkling cheerfully. "Where do you want me to sleep," he gestures around the room.

"The couch is a pullout, it's more comfortable than it looks," you tell him. You get up from the couch and head towards the linen closet. "Are you okay with that," you ask as you pull out a spare pillow and blanket.

"Of course, I think I can manage," he smirks. "It's not like my bed is made out of the finest silk," he laughs jokingly. He stops laughing, walking hastily to the door.

You watch him curiously as he opens your door, picking up the bags he dropped earlier. He closes the door behind him "Almost forgot about these" he explains motioning to the bags as he places the items on the table.

"This was so not how I intended our movie night to go," you say feeling slightly annoyed. At this point, it seemed like it would never get to happen.

He thinks for a moment "I'm not mad about it, it just gives me a reason to hang out with you again," he says smoothly. He goes over to the couch and begins removing the cushions to pull out the frame.

You stand there for a moment, shocked into silence. He can't mean that, right? I mean, technically you're still young but the responsibility of being a parent is what sets you apart from others your age.

"You sure you want to waste your free time with an old lady" you kid as you walk over to him to help.

As you finish setting up, he turns towards you his eyes flicker with mischief "well you sure don't look like one," he replies simply. He sits down on the pullout and takes off his shoes and jacket.

Heat spreads throughout your body at his words. Was he flirting with you or was he just being polite? You hand him the pillow and blanket "well, I guess I'll see you in the morning," you say changing the subject.

"See you in the morning," he says with a warm smile.

"Goodnight," you reply softly, backing up towards your room.

"G'night," he replies.

Smiling you turn around and enter your bedroom closing the door. Quickly dressing for bed, you hop in and turn off your light. You lay there staring up at the ceiling completely awake now.

Your mind races a mile a minute, jumping from one thing to the next. After a while, you hear snoring coming from the next room. You laugh softly as a yawn bubbles up from your chest. Turning over you finally fall asleep.

~

When you awake in the morning Eddie is still sleeping, snoring peacefully. Tiptoeing by him, you go to take a shower. Once you're done you get started cooking breakfast. As you're scrambling the eggs in the skillet, Eddie comes into the kitchen yawning.

"G'morning," he says blearily.

"Good morning," you reply cheerily.

He clears his throat while leaning on the counter. "Need any help," he offers.

"Yeah, could you set the plates on the table, they're in that top cabinet behind you," you say as you turn the eye off on the stove. The toast pops up from the toaster announcing that they are done and you move to take them out.

"I hope you're hungry," you say as you follow behind Eddie with the food. You spoon the food from the skillets onto both plates. You go back into the kitchen to pour some orange juice nearly dropping the cups when you see Eddie close behind you.

"Let me," he says gently, taking the cups from you and walking them over to the table.

"But you're my guest," you protest pouting.

"Yeah, but you've done enough making all of this delicious food," he says spreading his arms out. "Now, it's time for you to relax and enjoy the meal you've prepared," he tells you as he pulls out your chair.

"Thank you," you beam flashing him a smile. "Such a gentleman," you say before taking a bite out of your food.

"That's a first," he laughs as he begins to eat.

You fall into a comfortable silence as you eat your food making small talk in between bites.

Eddie is the first to finish letting out an exaggerated sigh and patting his stomach. "Wow, that was the best meal I've ever had," he exclaims. "Wait that may be the only meal I've ever had," he jokes.

You roll your eyes and grin as you get up to clear the table. Eddie beats you to it saying "please, I insist."

"Only if you let me help, non-negotiable," you reply crossing your arms with a smirk.

"Deal," he says.

~

After cleaning the kitchen, you both moved to the living room to clean that area as well. You folded the comforter and put it, along with the pillow back into the closet, while Eddie folded the couch back into position.

You worked in silence, once everything was finished you sat on the couch and sighed. Eddie took a seat beside you, close but not enough to invade your space.

"What do you have planned today," he asked you suddenly.

"Nothing really, I was going to go down to the mechanic later and get my brakes changed," you replied.

He perked at that and turned to you suddenly his dark eyes widening "I can totally do that for you," he exclaims.

You laugh at his sudden outburst, he was so expressive, often reacting without a second thought. You wished that you could be as carefree as he seemed.

"Are you sure?" "I don't want to ask something of you that you're not comfortable doing," you reply carefully. You don't want to offend him by questioning if he is capable to do the job.

"Of course, I work on my van and my uncle's car all the time," he says proudly. He points a finger to his chest and continues "I might not look it but I'm pretty handy with repairs.

"Well, in that case, I would be much obliged if you did fix them," you implore batting your lashes theatrically.

"Anything for you sweetness," he responds. "Do you have the parts," he asks.

No, I don't even know what type of part to get," you admit. "I was hoping that the mechanic would already have what I needed."

"That's okay, I can help with that too," he grins. "So, when do you want to go to pick up the part?"

"Anytime you're ready, also could we use your van to pick it up?" "My dad is supposed to be dropping off my car sometime later today," you say, rambling a bit.

"Well, I guess I'll go and get ready now," he says standing up.

You stand up as well and start walking with him towards the door. You step out onto the porch and bask in the sunlight for a moment tilting your head towards the sun, smiling. Just as quickly, you turn back to Eddie to find him facing you with a brow raised.

"Just recharging my batteries," you quip.

"Okay, so you're going through photosynthesis then, got it." "How often should I water you?" he deadpans.

Ewe! Eddie that's so gross," you titter giving him a light shove.

"Hey, I meant water," he argues laughing. He stops suddenly and wiggles his brows at you "what did you think I meant?" he questions.

You gasp, lowering your head to let your hair cover your flushed smiling face. "N-nothing, I d-don't know what I meant," you stammer. Pushing him off the porch you squeak out "Okay, bye! See ya later!"

He hops down your steps grinning mischievously. "See ya later neighbor," he sings skipping down the trail to his house.

You groan as you go into your home shutting your door. I wonder how many times can one embarrass themselves in one day you think as you go to get dressed.

~

You wait about an hour, giving Eddie time to get ready before leaving your home to meet him. As you're locking up the trailer you hear someone clearing their throat loudly.

Turning to your side you see Mrs. Brenda sitting in her rocking chair. "Hi hon, how are you today?" she asks.

You walk towards the steps of her porch and lean against the railing. "I'm doing fine, I had a rough day yesterday but I'm doing much better," you say.

"Oh no, I'm glad that you're feeling better," Is everything going to be okay?" she says worriedly.

You start to recount everything that happened yesterday, feeling comfortable doing so since she pretty much knows the history between you and your husband. With her being right next door, she's heard a lot of the fights and arguments between the two of you.

She listens patiently waiting for you to finish. "I'm sorry, that happened to you honey," she says taking your hand in hers.

"That man, and I use that word loosely, needs to be put down like the rabid dog that he is," she says venomously.

Your eyes widen, you've never heard her speak ill towards anyone before. "Mrs. Brenda!" you say amazed.

"It's true, and if I catch him around here, ill pop a cap in his ass," she says matter of factly.

You laugh deeply, holding your sides. "I thank you but I can't let you do that," you pause trying to contain the giggles. "We'll just leave it to the authorities okay?"

"Um hmm," she says as she starts rocking her chair again.

You sigh exasperatedly, "Mrs. Brenda, I'm serious I—," you're cut off abruptly by the sound of tires rolling over gravel.

Eddie pulls up in his van, rolling down his window. "Hey gorgeous," he yells out while leaning out the window and waving.

Your eyes furrow in confusion, and you lift your hand waving back shyly.

Before you can respond Mrs. Brenda speaks "Hello, hot shot," she says swooning like a teenage girl.

He looks at you with a smug smile, "Hey, you ready to go?"

You mumble goodbye to your neighbor and sulk over to the van. Eddie leans over and opens the door before you can reach it. Hauling yourself into the van, you settled down in your seat and fastened your seatbelt.

Eddie looks at you with an arrogant grin "Hey gorgeous."

"Shut up and drive," you say staring pointedly at the road with a heated flush across your face.

~

After you and Eddie return from your trip to the auto store. You find that your father had returned your car while you were gone. Your heart warms at how he handled everything for you, so you didn't have to. You make a mental note to thank him as soon as possible.

Eddie drops you off in front of your house and drives off to go park. You look in the flower pot by your steps and find your car keys. You had told your dad where he could leave the keys just in case you were gone.

Eddie comes around the corner with his toolbox and a jack stand. He has his hair up in a bun with tendrils of hair hanging freely. "Wow, you really are a handyman huh," you exclaim, peering at all the tools peeking out of the box.

His face and the tips of his ears turn red at your acknowledgment. He smiles in response and quickly gets to work. It's still early out and the sun is high in the sky. You sit on the porch watching for a while before heading inside your trailer.

You go to the kitchen to make sandwiches and fix some lemonade. You're done in no time and go back out with the food and drinks. As you sit everything down on the small table outside, you notice Eddie sitting on the ground with his back to you.

He's close by the wheel which is suspended in the air by the jack. Due to the humid weather, he has forgone his shirt for comfort.

Your mouth goes dry as you openly stare at his back, feeling safe to do so since his attention is focused elsewhere. His skin is pale and smooth with beauty marks dotted here and there. He's lean but still has a naturally toned build.

You watch as the muscles in his back swell and rise, straining as he exerts pressure on the task at hand. Finally, he gets the worrisome part on. You quickly avert your gaze to pick up the food and drink.

"Lunch break?" you ask with a smile.

"He turns to you smiling fondly "sure," he says setting down his tool. Dusting off his hands on his faded ripped jeans, he picks up his shirt and wipes the sweat from his brow.

You hand him the plate of sandwiches and the cup of lemonade as he sits beside you on the steps. You're silent, lost in your thoughts, as Eddie devours the food you prepared.

"Thank you," he says getting up and setting the plate down in his place.

"Is there a lot left to do?" you wonder as he goes back to his task at hand.

"Not really, I took off the old brake pad and caliper. I'm almost done putting on the new one," he says.

"Oh," you say, not really understanding.

He laughs a little as he puts another one of the parts you bought from the store. "I'll be done in about thirty minutes."

You hum in response, getting up and picking up the plates along the way. After washing the dishes you call your mom to check up on your son. He tells you about all of the fun he's having and you listen with a smile on your face. After a while, you say your goodbyes, telling him you love him before hanging up the phone.

As you walk back outside you see that your truck has been lowered and Eddie is putting his tools back in his box. He looks at you over his shoulder and hands you the keys.

"Alright, time to test those bad boys out," he says.

After you drive around the park at 10 miles per hour, tapping on the brakes. You can finally drive your car safely without Fred Flinstoning the brake pedal.

Once you've parked your truck, you are once again in front of your steps with Eddie beside you. You turn to him with a grateful smile on your face.

"Eddie, I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me," you choke on your words a bit, as you start to feel a little emotional.

He stands there smiling, patiently waiting for you to finish.

Tears well up in your eyes as you look up at him, smiling softly. "Even though we haven't been for long, you are a great friend and I'm thankful for you."

He stiffens slightly at your admission but you are too busy wrapping your arms around him to notice. He hugs you tightly to him and you lay your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.  He lays his head on top of yours, rubbing his hands along your back for comfort.

You stay there a moment basking in his embrace. His scent is strong but not overbearing, the smell of his cologne, cigarettes, and off-brand laundry detergent creates a perfect blend of fragrances.

You're the first to pull away with a smile. "Thanks again Eddie, for everything," you whisper.

"Anytime sweetheart, what are friends for?" he smiles back at you warmly.

Your stomach turns at his response but you choose to ignore it. You tell him goodbye and promise to make plans for the movie night soon.

His words echo in your head over and over 'what are friends for?' Sleep doesn't come easy for you that night.

Next Chapter

[americancowgirl19]

Tommy’s Little Girl

Summary: You’re the most precious thing to Thomas Shelby. So, when a guy comes into your life he isn’t the most supportive.

Warnings: fluff, angst, cursing

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Daughter!Reader, Reader x Male Character (H/n = His name, he can be whoever you want)

Word Count: 5,261

A/n: This was a request by an anon - Please can I request that Tommy Shelby’s daughter becomes engaged to a man behind his back and he refuses to acknowledge the engagement while the rest of the family do. After six months, just before the wedding, Tommy finally comes around to the idea... So, I added a few things to this request, I hope you still like it! I was just going to do the scene that the anon requested but I personally love writing who stories and backgrounds and shit so you get to see an entire life at Tommy’s daughter with the request included! Oh, and John doesn’t die cause fuck that.

Masterlist

You were the ultimate daddy’s girl. From the moment you were born you and your father were inseparable. The only thing that tore you apart was the war. You were barely two years old when he went off to serve his country.

When he left he entrusted Polly to look after you. Of course she treated you as if you were her own. She protected you as fiercely as she protected your father, uncles and aunt. Especially when your Aunt Kitty, Kitty Jurossi, showed up demanding that you were to go with her.

Kitty is your mother’s sister. She never approved of Greta being with Tommy. While Tommy taking care of Greta in her final days and loving her as he did was honorable, Kitty knew what kind of man he is. She knew what kind of family he had, what kind of business he partook in. She didn’t want you around them.

Polly always thought it was amusing how Kitty waited until Tommy was out of country to try and collect you. Kitty wrongfully assumed that Polly would just hand you over. Your mother’s sister was lucky she was able to return to her home with her life, especially when she tried to forcefully take you.

You remembered that day very vaguely. You don’t remember what happened but you remembered the yelling, someone grabbing you painfully and how scared you were. Your father had just left you for the longest time in your life and now this woman was trying to take you from the person you considered your mother.

The years without your father were long and unmemorable. When he finally returned home you were five going on six. You waited on the train platform with Polly, Ada and Finn. Polly kept a tight hold on you as the soldiers came off the train and went to their families.

You tried to find him but you were far too short and all of them were wearing the same uniform and cap. You jumped in your spot just itching to run into his arms. It didn’t matter that you didn’t really remember specific details of him. You remembered the feeling you had with him. You remembered being safe and happy with him. You remembered being sad and lonely without him. You’d rather be safe and happy than the other part.

“There they are!” Ada shouts. Your head darts to where she was pointing. When you spotted him not even Polly was able to hold you back.

You remember him shoving his way through the others to get to you. When you were close he dropped to his knees and pulled you into his arms. You clung to him.

Then, just like before he left, the two of you were inseparable once again. The only time you weren’t together was when you were sleeping (although on rough nights you often found your way in his bed) or when he had dangerous Peaky business.

You were the Shelby princess. You were untouchable. You didn’t figure out how much you could get away with until you were older. You could murder his best friend - not that you ever killed anyone - and the longest he’d stay mad at you would be a few hours, a day at most.

Anything you wanted was yours. You were spoiled but you were also kind and generous. You had bratty streaks but who didn’t? You may have been the light of your father’s life but you were John’s partner in crime. Whenever his own kids got too much or he wanted to pick on his brother’s you were the one he came too.

As much as he did truly enjoy spending time with you, John also knew that with you by his side he wouldn’t get into as much trouble as he would without you. All you had to do was give your pretty little smile and bat those eyelashes and Tommy was wrapped around your finger.

Even when your siblings came into the world you were number one. You didn’t exactly like Charlie, not Grace, at first. They stole your father’s attention, something you weren’t used to sharing. Eventually you warmed up to them.

You were sad when Grace died but not nearly to the extreme as your father. His heart break broke your own heart. You felt as if nothing you did eased his pain. In reality, you were the one person keeping him from completely spiraling. He spiraled but just being with you managed to slowly bring him back.

You were a little more welcoming toward Lizzie and then Ruby. By the time Ruby came around you adored Charlie. Ruby quickly wiggled her way into your heart. You became fiercely protective of them. You helped Lizzie with them when Tommy got too busy. When you needed a break you joined your father to the office and he would continue explaining what he did.

To you, life was perfect. You had everything you needed and everything you wanted. Tommy kept you in the business just enough to satisfy you but not enough to put you directly in danger. You didn’t understand a lot of the politics and drama within the family but to you it didn’t matter. You had your family, you had your fun, and life was great.

Then, as you were creeping up on your mid-twenties, you met the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You were in the market with Lizzie, Polly, and Ruby. You had wandered a bit from the others. There was some jewelry you were looking at when he came over. 

He was tall, muscular, and extremely handsome. He had a boyish smile and a flirtatious personality. It didn’t take you long to also figure out that he was clumsy and adorable. You were instantly hooked.

You two talked (flirted) for longer than you thought. Before you knew it Polly, Lizzie and Ruby were rejoining you. Polly was weary of him but it was obvious that he quickly won Lizzie over.

Much to your displeasure, once the three of them showed up you were quickly whisked away from him. Polly had said it was time to go and not many people were brave enough to argue with her. 

Even on the way home you thought about him. You hoped that you would see him again but you figured it was unlikely.

Word got around about you meeting Mr. Handsome at the market. Your uncles teased you and Ada interrogated you. Your father was oddly quiet on the other hand. He didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t. He just hoped that your paths wouldn’t cross again.

Tommy knew you were getting older but that didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted you to stay his little girl for a while longer. He wished you were still small enough to ride on his shoulders and small enough for him to engulf you in his arms. But you were growing into a beautiful young lady. Whether he liked it or not other men were bound to recognize your beauty and seek you out. He had been lucky, for the most part, about your disinterest in dating, but it wasn’t going to last.

Most of the women your age were already married with at least one child. You were content by yourself. You were gaining responsibilities with the business and being your father’s personal helper. Even though you were content you wanted more. You wanted your own family to come home to with your own kids.

Fortunately, for Tommy, you wouldn’t see the boy from the market for quite some time. It had been so long you had forgotten about him. Until suddenly he showed back up.

The Shelby’s were having a night at the fights. You were enjoying yourself. You didn’t get dolled up often but when you did you went all out. You felt beautiful thus making you feel confident. On top of that, everyone knew exactly who you were which meant heads turned in your direction everywhere you went. You felt important, untouchable. 

You sat with your aunt Ada, Aunt Polly, and step mother Lizzie. The three of you were talking amongst yourselves while the boys hollered at the match in front of them. When the fighters changed out you happened to look up and there he was.

Ada had been talking to you but you suddenly stopped listening. He was bigger, more muscular, than you remember. He didn’t seem as clumsy anymore yet he was just as handsome. 

“Y/n,” Ada shouts over the crowd.

“Oh, will you look at that,” Lizzie states looking at who you were staring at.

“Who’s he?” Ada questions. Lizzie reminds her about the guy from the market you had met over a year prior. You continued to ignore them.

Right before the match started his eyes connected with yours. He obviously recognized you. He sent you the same boyish smile he had in the market causing a light blush to come to your cheeks. He bravely sent you a wink before focusing on the fight.

Your eyes remained glued on him with Tommy’s eyes started at you. He had noticed the interaction and didn’t like it in the slightest.

When the match ended, with his unfortunate loss, you excused yourself to the loo. You weren’t fooling anybody. Everyone who paid attention knew where you were going and Tommy had half a mind to stop you when something grabbed his attention. The split second his attention was off of you gave you the time you needed to disappear into the crowd.

“H/n,” You say, standing in the doorway of the locker room. You were slightly nervous - a lot nervous - but you weren’t 100% sober so that helped. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n,” He says, turning away from his locker and toward you. “Shelby,” He adds. You hadn’t told him who you were. It was obvious he hadn’t known back then and you wanted to keep it that way.

“In the flesh,” You gave him a twirl. “You fought well tonight,”

“I lost,” He deadpanned but didn’t look all that bothered by it..

“Caught me attention,” You told him.

“Guess it wasn’t a complete loss then, aye?” He smirks. “How about you make me a winner tonight and agree to a date?” You blushed.

“I can do that,” You agreed.

From there your relationship blossomed. The two of you fell for each other quickly. He started showing up around the family more. Your uncles hazed him, Ada and Polly constantly interrogated him, and your father silently judged him. No matter how hard you or H/n tried, your father never came around.

H/n didn’t care about Tommy’s disapproval of him. He loved you with all his heart and nobody was going to keep you from him. He may be funny, charismatic and handsome but he knew he was selfish with a side of possessive. In his mind, you were his and he wasn’t letting you go. He would do anything to keep you and to keep you happy.

It honestly was no surprise that less than a year later the two of you were engaged. He had taken you out on a picnic under the stars on a beach. You had dinner, went swimming and had a fire in the sand. While stargazing he proposed with a beautiful ring. You didn’t hesitate to say yes.

The next day, as you two were makin breakfast, you asked how your father handled him asking for permission when H/n told you he never asked. It shocked you that H/n didn’t talk to Tommy first. You knew when it came to your father H/n was a little rebellious but this was different. Honestly, you were a bit upset he didn’t speak with Tommy first. 

It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since your engagement and the two of you were thrown into a fight. A minor one but a fight nonetheless. He didn’t see why it mattered seeing as the two of you were getting married with or without his permission. You argued that it wasn’t his permission you were looking for but your blessing. H/n didn’t understand just how close you and Tommy are but you wished he would at least respect it.

Eventually, he apologized when he finally noticed just how important Tommy’s approval meant to you. You promised H/n that you would marry him no matter what but keeping it from your father was not an option. H/n promised to talk to him.

A few days passed and then a week. H/n still didn’t talk to Tommy. You were fed up and decided to do it yourself. When you arrived at the Arrow House all you found were Lizzie and Ruby. 

Ruby instantly spotted the ring. You desperately wanted to talk to Tommy first but since you weren’t getting passed you sister not Lizzie you conceded.

“So, when did he pop the question?” Ruby asked.

“About two weeks ago,” You answered, a large smile on your face. “He asked me on the beach under the stars,” Ruby swooned but Lizzie didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. You looked at her. You tensed noticing her looking behind you. Slowly, you turned around and saw your father standing there.

His eyes stare into your eyes and for the first time in your life you can’t figure out what he was thinking. He seemed emotionless but you couldn’t tell if the look in his eyes was anger or disappointment. His eyes glanced down at your hand, at your ring.

“Dad, I-” You didn’t get a chance to explain. He turned around and walked out of the house. You were shocked. He never did that to you. He always let you speak no matter what he was feeling. When you snapped out of it you quickly went after him but he was already in the car driving down the road. “Dad! Wait, please!” But he just keeps driving.

“He’ll come around,” Ruby tries to comfort but her words just go in one ear and right out the other.

For weeks your father avoided you like the plague. You walked into a room, he walked out. You tried to talk, he talked over you. You tried to get his attention, he ignored you. You tried for over a month before deciding to give him some space and focus on planning your wedding.

With the help of Ada, Ruby, Polly, and Esme you planned the wedding. Every day you got a step closer to the date. Every day you got more excited. Yet one thing continued to dampen your mood.

“Y/n, come in,” Esme greets, stepping aside to let you into her home.

“Is John here? I want to talk to him,” You say, fiddling with your fingers nervously. Esme smiles kindly and nods.

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll fetch him,” She suggests before disappearing into the house. You walk into the parlor. You smile and play with your cousins for a bit before John finally joins you.

“I wanted to ask you something,” You say after he shoos the kids away. He gives you his attention. You take in a deep breath as tears mist over your eyes. He looks more concerned by the second. “I was wondering if you... would walk me down the aisle,” John frowns his eyebrows.

“You want me?” He asks, shocked. “What about Tom-”

“He hasn’t spoken to me for months,” You snap, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “He can hardly look at me or stand to be in the same room. I think it’s safe to say he’s not coming,” You try to sound angry but curse silently when your voice grows more shaky. John sighs.

“Come here, sweetheart,” He opens his arms and you quickly close the distance between the two of you. He holds you tightly as you cry in his chest. “Tommy’s being a right arse at the moment, everyone knows that,” He mutters. “But nothing in the world is going to stop him from walking you down that aisle,”

“H/n being at the end of it might,” You mutter. John laughs quietly.

“Love, if Tommy really hated H/n, he would be dead by now,” John says truthfully. You see the logic in his statement but it hardly lifts your spirits. 

“The wedding is in two weeks,” You whisper. “He hasn’t budged yet,”

“I want you to do something for me,” John says, pulling back just enough to look at your face and wipe your tears. “I want you to think through your entire life and tell me a time where you didn’t get your way with Tommy,” John challenges. “I’m not even going to wait because it never bloody happened,” You smile a bit. “Now, this has been the longest you’ve had to wait for him to come around but trust me, he is incapable of not doing what you want,”

“Will you still be on standby?” You ask him. He smirks and kisses your forehead.

“Of course,” He whispers. “Bloody hell, has anyone said no to you before?” He asks, smirking as he steps away from you.

“What can I say? I’m everyone’s sweetheart,” You smile. John rolls his eyes and offers for you to stay for dinner, which you accept.

When you returned home you noticed H/n was home as well. You had moved out of Arrow house before the engagement, something your father strongly disagreed with.

When you walked inside, H/n was waiting up for you. You hadn’t meant to be home so late. It’s just when you’re with John and his kids they just make the time fly by. Luckily, H/n didn’t seem upset just tired.

“Come here,” He mutters, opening his arms. You smile and settle in his lap enjoying the feeling of his thick arms wrapped around your body. “Were you at Arrow House?” He asks.

“No, I went to see Uncle John,” You tell him. He hums curiously. “I wanted to ask if he’d walk me down the aisle,” You whisper. H/n holds you tighter.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” He whispers to you. “I shouldn’t have proposed without asking for his blessing or at least mentioning it to him,”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” You grumbled before sighing. “But this is much more than that. Something else is bothering him,”

“You’re his precious girl, he’ll talk eventually,” He reassures you. You don’t respond, you simply cuddle deeper into his embrace.

A week passed. You had five days until your wedding. You woke up excited as you daydreamed about the day. However, your happiness didn’t last.

BRITIAN     AT    WAR    WITH    GERMANY

Your father and uncles had fought in the first war. The supposed ‘war to end all wars’. Now, only a short few years later there was another war. A war the next generation would fight. A war your H/n volunteered to join.

You were in the kitchen cleaning up. You were doing everything you could to keep buys. Britain was officially at war and you were terrified. You knew everything was going to change. Deep down you knew it would happen but it didn’t register until he was right in front of you.

“When do you leave?” You whisper, desperately trying to stay together as you look at H/n. He was in his uniform with papers in his hand.

“Thursday,” H/n hesitantly whispers. You close your eyes and hang your head. Not only was your soon-to-be husband going off to fight this war but he was leaving before your wedding. On top of that, you only had two more days with him.

“Why do you have to leave?” You whimpered. He doesn’t answer. He just closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you into a tight hug. He hugged you as if he could single handedly keep you from falling apart.

“I will come back to you, Y/n Shelby,” He states firmly. “Heaven nor hell will keep me from you, you have me word,”

“I love you,” You whisper, clinging to him. He pulls back just enough to tilt your head up to his lips. He doesn’t verbally respond but he tries to pour all his love and determination to return to you in the breathtaking kiss.

You cling to him for as long as you can but eventually have to let him go. While he didn’t leave until Thursday he had much to get done before then. He promised he would be back in a few hours but you didn’t want to be alone.

The first thing you did was go to Polly. You froze when you saw her drying her cheeks. Finn had volunteered as well. Together you both cried. 

Finn might have technically been your uncle but he was more of a brother. There was only a few years difference between the two of you. Polly had raised you both. You hated that you could possibly not only lose H/n but Finn as well.

Luckily Charlie was still too young to join but only for another year. You had no doubt that he would join up the first chance he got. He’s Tommy’s son. Neither of them were good at backing down.

When you left Polly you went to Arrow House. You were done. You were done with your father’s stubbornness. You were done with his silence and his judgmental stares. He could be mad about the wedding all he wanted but you needed him to come back to you.

“Did H/n..?” Lizzie’s voice dissipates. She didn’t want to finish the question and she didn’t have too. You just nod and accept her comforting hug. You’ve cried the majority of the day and knew you weren’t done yet. You knew the second you went face to face with Tommy you’d fall apart all over again.

“Where is he?” You ask.

“In his office,” Lizzie says knowing exactly who you were wanting. “Most likely on his second bottle by now,” You sighed, rubbing your face tiredly. “I’ll make some tea,” You send her a smile and a nod.

You don’t even bother to knock, you rarely did. There wasn’t a room you knew about that you weren’t welcome into. Inside you found your father slouched in his chair with a full glass in his hands. He doesn’t bother to look at you. You don’t even know if he registers your presence. 

“I don’t know what you’re so mad at me about,” You began. Your voice sounded strong and you hoped it stayed that way. “Yes, H/n asked me to marry him. No, I didn’t know at the time that he didn’t talk to you but get over it. You haven’t made his time in this family easy, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to you. 

“When you found out you found out too soon. I was there to talk to you about it but Ruby and Lizzie saw me first. This wasn’t something I wanted to keep from you, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry,” You whisper. Hope fills you a bit when he glances at you in the corner of his eye. “I know something else is bothering you but I don’t know what it is and I need you to work it out some how because I need you, dad,” You whimper. 

He finally looks at you. 

“These last few months have been so hard without you and now H/n is going off to war, I’m not sure if I’m even going to get married, and you still won’t fucking talk to me!” You shouted but the tears in your eyes betrays your anger. “I’m scared out of my mind I’m going to lose H/n, that I’m going to lose Finn... That I already lost you,” A few tears fall down your face. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, please forgive me because I need you so fucking back,”

By the end you were close to sobbing and falling to you knees. You sobbed but you never fell. Tommy was out of his seat and was wrapping his arms around you before your knees could give away.

He leads you to the couch and sits down. You curl into his chest like you used to do when you were younger. He hums quietly and rocks you.

“You didn’t lose me, darling girl,” He whispers to you. “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve acted. I should have never treated you like I have. No, I don’t like H/n but not because of who he is but because he’s taking my little girl from me,” You tilt your head to look at him. “For nearly 26 years you have been the center of my world,” He whispers quietly. “Through everything, you have been the most important constant in my life. There were many times you were my only source of happiness, my only will to live,” He admits. “I’m terrified of what I’ll do without you,”

“You’ll never be without me,” You whisper to him. “I live ten minutes away and you’ll still see me daily whether H/n likes it or not,” Tommy smiles a bit. “And maybe when the war is over you’ll have more mini me’s running around,” Tommy scowls at the thought of the process of making children rather than the thought of the actual kids.

“You’re happy with him?” You nod. “You love him and he loves you?” You nod again. “Has he hurt you?” You shake your head. He sighs, slightly frustrated with the lack of reason to murder H/n. Not that he really needed a reason but he knew if he did he would hurt you. He’s already hurt you enough as it is. “Then you have my blessing,” You smile at him.

“He leaves before the wedding,” You whisper. He shrugs.

“So, move the wedding up,” He says nonchalantly. 

“How are we going to set everything up before Thursday?” You ask. He smirks.

“You don’t worry about a thing,” He kisses your forehead. “Let me call Ada, Pol, and Esme. They’ll help you get ready and I’ll worry about the rest,”

“You avoided this wedding the entire time, now you’re going to plan in within a few hours?” You ask.

“I’m Thomas Shelby,” He said as if it were the cure to all diseases. “Up you get,” He gently pushes you out of his lap. “No worrying,” He points at you before kissing your forehead again.

“Who’s going to want to celebrate at a time like this?” You ask before he leaves. He turns toward you and smiles softly.

“Right now is the perfect time to celebrate a moment like this,” Tommy tells you. You can see the honesty in his eyes and can tell he’s briefly reliving the past. You hate that his past is always haunting him and you pray that you’ll be able to help H/s if... when he comes back to you. “Relax, get ready, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

It didn’t take long for Ada, Polly and Esme to show up. Polly had your dress and Ada had your accessories. The three of them with Lizzie and Ruby helped you get ready for the wedding.

As you got ready, Tommy went to your home where he found H/n just returning. It was obvious that he was surprised to see Tommy but he invited his future in-law inside nonetheless.

“I was a few years younger than you when I was shipped off to France,” Tommy explained to him. “When I returned I wasn’t the same. Nobody who goes through what we went through, what you will go through, returns the same,” Tommy warns. “Y/n was five or six when I got back. She helped give me a reason to keep waking up, to keep moving. When you come back, you’ll need someone that will be able to anchor you into the present. Don’t push people away, especially Y/n... She won’t let you,” Tommy advises with a soft smile as he thinks about you.

“I won’t,” H/s vows.

“You say that now but I promise it’ll be very tempting when you return,” Tommy says. Casually, Tommy walks closer. “Everyone that returns deals with the past differently. I won’t judge you for the drinks you’ll have or even the drugs you may take,” Tommy shrugs. “But if you come back and you turn violent again Y/n at any point. If you so much as hurt her one time, I will personally dig your grave and put you in it,” Tommy promises. “You will come back, you’ll deal with it however you can, and you’ll take care of Y/n and the family you’ll have. If you can’t do that, don’t marry her and walk away now.”

“I love you daughter. I want her happy and I’ll give my life to keep her safe,” H/s vows.

“Good,” Tommy nods. “That’s my little girl. Her happiness is everything to me. You give me one reason to kill you and I promise you and whatever god is out there that I will take that chance,”

“Understood,” H/n slowly nods.

“Good,” Tommy nods again. “Well, let’s get going, you’re getting married in a few hours,” Tommy says walking toward the door. He pulls out a cigarette and begins to light it.

“I am?” H/n calls out confused. Tommy just keeps walking and H/n jogs to catch up.

A few hours later, John and Arthur show up to collect the women.

“Your chariot awaits madam,” Arthur announces loudly. You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he leads you to the car. John winks at you playfully.

“Told you he’d come around,” John teased.

“Should have cried in front of him sooner, that usually does the trick,” You joke back. John grins wider and kisses your head.

“Alright! Let’s get a move on, we’ve got a wedding to get too!” Arthur hollers. When you arrive where the rest of the gypsies and Peaky Blinders are, they cheer for your arrival.

Tommy greets you at the car looking handsome as ever.

“I hope I’m still allowed to walk you down,” He mutters helping you out of the car.

“Of course,” You smile leaning into him. He kisses your head and leads you toward the aisle. At the end you find H/s standing there looking breathtaking. “I’m scared,” You whisper.

“That’s alright,” He promises, slowly walking you toward your future husband. “There’s going to be moment where you’re scared but there will never be a moment where you’re alone,” He tells you. You tighten your arm around his. “These last few months will never happen again,” He vows. “I’ll be there anytime and every time you need me,”

“I know,” You whisper. 

When you reach the end, Tommy turns toward you. You smile up at him. He gently cups the side of your face.

“I love you,” He whispers, gently kissing your forehead. His lips linger as he remembers the day you were born, the day he left and came back from the war. He remembered every moment he shared with you. He hated that future memories would be shared with H/n but as long as you were there he wouldn’t mind.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, basking in the warmth and safety of his embrace for a moment longer. Tommy hesitantly steps back. You both share a smile before he hands you off to your soon-to-be husband.

[shining-magically]

so I’ve wondered this since the trailer came out years and years ago and Chloe defended the movie - was the red shoes teaser written by the same team that made the movie? were they forced to market it like that, was that based on an earlier draft, etc?? not sure if you know but you seem like the leading expert!

Sorry, this is gonna be an absolute novel because you know I’m an animation fan and the history and production of Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs is SO interesting and insane. Like, Tangled levels of insane. Thanks for calling me an expert, no one else was gonna do it so I just kind of took up the helm lol.

Here’s the low-down... The timeline of the movie’s production is an absolute mess and kind of an extremely wild ride. It was in production for ten years, went through a lot of different crew members, and went through at least two other major versions of the story before landing on the final version.

Since there’s not a ton of info on the movie’s production, a lot of this is pieced together from different interviews and context clues, and also a lot of what I’ve read and what I am quoting has been translated from Korean, sometimes pretty roughly. But yeah.

Here’s the story of why the Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs teasers and poster were so, so bad and fatshame-y and the actual movie was so, so good and body-positive. (With pictures and production artwork!)

(This is a beast of a post so I’m putting it under a cut.)

All right, so. After its conception originally as a short story by the South Korean studio Locus Creative in 2009-2010-ish, Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs was being worked on and was set to come out in Summer 2017, as evidenced by this poster at the 2015 Cannes Film Festival, featuring a different logo and very different character designs for most of the dwarfs.

In early-mid 2016, the first teaser (in which we see Snow White undress and then two dwarfs recoil in horror at her fatness when she takes her magic shoes off) was released, after the film had kind of been slowly chugging along for 6 or so years. (I am having such trouble pinpointing when the second teaser was released (in which one of the dwarfs basically attacks Snow while she is sleeping to steal her shoes), but I believe it was around the same time.) The teasers didn’t get that much traction because this was a small film from a small indie studio in South Korea.

None of the final actors had been cast yet. At this point in the production, the story was different, one of the many versions that the movie went through. As in the final movie, the dwarfs were actually cursed knights/princes and Snow White switched back and forth between two body types due to her magic shoes, but in this version, the dwarfs needed to steal the shoes from her in order to break their curse (rather than needing “a kiss from the most beautiful woman in the world” like in the final movie).

The weird thing is, I believe they had JUST changed the movie’s story when the teaser came out. I’m almost positive it was released more as a proof of concept than as an actual trailer for the movie. They had just recently combined two separate characters (seen above), a typical pretty, skinny princess character (Snow White) and a cute chubby girl character (’Bonnie’), into one single character that switches back and forth between the two appearances when she wears the magic shoes (also they had just dropped literally half of the movie taking place in the real world, with a magic mirror portal, it was a whole thing). 

They didn’t have the details of this aspect of the new story hammered out yet, and the first pass at presenting Snow’s magically changing body type, was, yeah, not good and super offensive. This was a really inexperienced indie studio making their first film on a low budget, so even the animation and voice acting wasn’t great. I think they just wanted to get SOMETHING out there because it had been 6 years and they wanted to have something to show for it.

But here’s the thing. Despite how the teasers make it seem, this was always supposed to be a movie about body positivity, letting go of appearance-based prejudices, and loving yourself and others for who you are and for who they are, which we see in the final film.

I like to think of our film as a kindhearted one. Our intentions are nice.

- Director Sung-ho Hong

It’s important to keep in mind that this movie was made in South Korea by a 99% Korean crew, and, as I understand it anyway, in Korean culture, ‘fatshaming’ is not really a thing that is seen as overtly offensive. Also, children’s media there seems to have more adult things in it than in the US, which probably accounts for the more risque parts of the teasers. That said, I really believe that at this point in the timeline, the movie was on-track to be bad (or at least not very good) when it was released, and it would have ended up bad IF a few key players hadn’t signed on (which I’ll get to in a moment).

Interestingly, the movie’s producer, Sujin Hwang, said in a 2017 interview:

“[Both teasers] were solely produced to induce curiosity. They’re completely irrelevant to the actual story.”

- Producer Sujin Hwang

I think what she was trying to convey was that neither one is a scene in the actual movie, because while the teasers didn’t reflect the revamped story as it existed in summer 2017 (the time of the interview), they DID reflect the earlier version of the story where the dwarfs wanted her shoes, which is what the story was at the time they were made.

Now that we’re in post-teaser 2016, HERE’S where things start to turn around. After the teasers were released, my guy Disney veteran and native Korean Jin Kim joined the project. He and Red Shoes director Sung-ho Hong had been buddies for about eight years and Sung-ho had been trying to get Jin to come to Seoul and work with him at Locus for a long time, and he finally succeeded.

Jin and his twenty years of Disney experience as an animator and senior designer on films like Tangled, Frozen, Big Hero 6, Zootopia, and Moana, had a HUGE HUGE HUGE influence on the movie. He redesigned almost all the characters, oversaw all the visual development from the moment he signed on, and heavily (HEAVILY) supervised the animation, literally going frame-by-frame through preliminary animations and drawing over them, teaching the inexperienced animators at Locus everything he knew. (Literally almost everyone except him either only had TV experience or had no professional experience because they just gotten out of school.)

From an outsider’s perspective, it really seems as though Jin joining the project (and his gargantuan effort) made the quality SKYROCKET. Not just in character design and animation, but also in things like effects animation, story, etc. After he joined, Locus really started pushing HARD to make a good, high-quality movie, and his influence and experience from being a prominent figure at Disney was absolutely key. The studio also began to really study Disney films and other well-made animated films from other studios to really try and pinpoint what the DNA of a good animated movie really is.

I don’t have any solid evidence, but I’m pretty sure that Tony Bancroft (an animator and the co-director of Mulan) then joined the project because he’s good friends with Jin Kim. He is only credited as the voice director (the movie was recorded in English and the characters were animated to the English dialogue), but I am SURE that he probably also had a pretty big influence on the movie, because like... How could he not? I really really think there was more to his role than his title would have you believe, even though there’s almost no info out there about it.

So now the movie goes through a gigantic metamorphosis. Character designs, visual development, and animation quality are all rapidly improving, the story is tightening, and the themes of the movie (which, again, were always the same and intended to be positive) are being presented in a more sincere way. The movie is becoming the sweet, self-love-encouraging and body-positive movie that was eventually released.

I’m putting a gif from the credits of the final movie here. As we move into 2017, when the giant eruption of backlash occurred, please keep in mind that the story was finalized at this point and that THIS was the movie people were so mad about:

Chloe Grace Moretz accepted the role of Snow White immediately after she read the script and she recorded her lines (I think) in early-ish 2017. Her co-star Sam Claflin also immediately accepted the role of the romantic interest, Merlin, after reading the script and recorded his lines in (I believe) July 2017.

In the summer of 2017, the story and script were more or less the same as in the final movie. Promotional images from that time show that most of dwarfs had been completely redesigned by this point and didn’t have their teaser designs anymore.

They also released a few screenshots that look exactly like the final film. The movie was advertised as coming out in ‘2018′ at this point. Here’s a promo image from 2017 that is MUCH more tactfully worded than the infamous Cannes poster:

So now we’re in summer 2017. The Cannes Film Festival. The movie’s script and story have been basically nailed down, animation is underway, and the Korean film company Finecut is beginning to market and sell the movie to worldwide audiences. They are planning on showing some footage to potential buyers at the festival, and they make a poster to advertise the film there.

Unfortunately, it’s THIS POSTER:

Now here’s where there are some unknowns. By this point, the movie is basically in its final form, which is an adorable, body-positive story about loving people for who they are, loving yourself for who YOU are, and that provides commentary on society’s standards of beauty and how they affect how people are treated/viewed. So why this poster??? All I can really tell is that someone (I think Finecut) really, REALLY messed up and either horribly mistranslated the tagline, or didn’t do enough research to know that this kind of thing is REALLY NOT OKAY in western culture.

The above picture is shared and the internet backlash begins, fueled by tweets from prominent body-positivity activists like Tess Holliday. Even Chloe Grace Moretz speaks out against it, because she of all people KNOWS that that’s not what the movie is about. The internet then finds the old teasers from before the movie was revamped and it makes things worse. Producer Sujin Hwang profusely apologizes and says that that is NOT the message of the movie. Locus pulls the advertising campaign, and takes down the two old teasers.

“Our film, a family comedy, carries a message designed to challenge social prejudices related to standards of physical beauty in society by emphasizing the importance of inner beauty.”

- Producer Sujin Hwang

Voice director Tony Bancroft also tried to explain the situation:

“The truth is the film has a body-positive message as its core theme–it’s the opposite of what reports are saying. The problem is one poorly translated movie poster that has been taken dramatically out of context.” 

- Voice Director Tony Bancroft

And then... There was nothing for a while. The movie didn’t come out in 2018 and was delayed. From what I can tell, I DON’T believe this delay was related to the Cannes backlash. I think it was mostly due to Locus’s limited budget and resources, because as we know, animation is difficult, time-consuming, expensive, and easy to do badly but hard to do well. Also, probably with Jin Kim and Tony Bancroft’s influence, they REALLY wanted to make sure to do a good job with the animation because they now had a great story and they really wanted the movie to be a quality, worldwide hit that would kind of put South Korean feature animation on the map. Just take a look at how nice the final animation was:

The movie was released in South Korea on July 25th, 2019. Unfortunately, the damage was done in the English-speaking markets and it was not released to an English-speaking audience until June 22, 2020, when it was released digitally in the UK. At the time of this post, there is no set US release date, but the distribution rights were recently bought by Lionsgate and the MPAA gave the film an official PG rating.

So who’s to blame? There’s no good answer. You could blame Locus for making those old teasers. You could blame Finecut for the competely tonedeaf Cannes poster. You could even blame cancel culture for raging against the movie based on one poster and two old teaser trailers without researching what the movie was actually about.

All I know is, it’s a damn shame.

[alltooreid]

Invisible String

Although Spencer Reid and the Reader don’t find themselves in a romance with each other until well into their adulthood, their relationship has been decades in the making. Almost as if something as been pulling them together all these years. 

A/N: sorry for such a long wait but i’ve been struggling a lot mentally as of late. i hope you guys enjoy this one shot!! As always requests are open and heavily encouraged!! And of course this is inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name :)) Also keep in mind although the following scenes are heavily inspired by some scenes in Criminal Minds, elements of them have been slightly altered to fit in Y/N as a character.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute strangers to lovers fluff fic!

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: typical criminal minds case discussion, mentions of child trafficking when discussing this case, but no real detail. slight spoilers for season eight (beginning maeve stuff) and tiny spoilers for season fifteen (briefly mentions max but nothing really important to the plot at all)

“Time, curious time Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs Were there clues I didn't see?”

You had met Spencer Reid 3 times before you had really met him.  

It was almost silly to think about it now. Now that you and Spencer have been dating for 3 years, it was strange to believe there were so many chances for you two to meet years earlier.

When you were sixteen years old, you got your first part time job. You worked at a self-serve frozen yogurt shop called Iced Dreams. You hated it so much. Your manager was a total creep, your older coworkers were rude and condescending to you, since you were one of the youngest people working there, but most of all you hated the uniforms.

Consisting of a very stupid looking hat, bright pink with randomly embrodiered teal patterns, an outdated bright teal shirt, it had been given to you from a dirty bin in the back, and judging by the sewn in shoulder pads, it had to be at least a couple decades old.

So one day, you didn’t wear the hat.

It wasn’t entirely purposeful. You couldn’t find it, you searched your room, you searched your car, so eventually you had to leave without it to prevent being late. Still, as you clocked it and passed the box of extras in the office something made you decide to leave it alone.

You were about 8 minutes into your shift when your manager approached you. “Y/N? Where’s your hat sweetheart?” You hated this man so much. You had gone to your parents time and time again, recounting his creepy behavior towards you and the other teenage girls who you worked with, but they refused to let you quit.

When you had started working there, he used to enforce this ridiculous rule that all the female workers had to wear skirts as part of their uniform, but you had gathered all the sixteen and seventeen year olds who worked there and all threatened to quit if he didn’t change the policy. So you were no stranger to breaking and defying the rules.  

“Yeah I couldn’t find it, sorry.” you shrugged.

He chuckled and reached his hat out to touch your face. You jerked back, you almost wanted to refuse to wear one of the stupid extra hats just so that you could get fired.

“Well, Y/N its policy sweetie. No matter how special you are to me you still need to wear the hat. There’s extras in the office.”

“No way I’m wearing one of those. I bet they have like lice or something.”

He pursed his lips and sighed “Well I suppose that beautiful hair is just too pretty to wear a used hat huh. . . What do you suggest? If you’re working you have to wear it.”

You laughed, “Well you could let me go home.”

He paused, “Why don’t you go sit in the office, I’ll come talk to you in a minute.”

So you did, for about 10 minutes you sat in the office, surrounded by frozen yogurt flavor marking posters and boxes of old uniforms, and each passing minute you feared for the worst. Maybe you were actually getting fired? You really didn’t want to go that far, because, as much as you hated it, you really needed this job.

When your manager finally came to talk to you he held a small salted caramel frozen yogurt, your personal favorite flavor, and a twenty dollar bill. He handed them both to you.

“You seem so stressed Y/N, why don’t you take the day and go get lunch. My treat,” he said, smiling that weird twisted smile that always made your full body shiver.

However you were broke as hell, and no teenager in their right mind would ever pass up free food, so you took it, grabbed your keys and started to leave

Yet as soon as you walked out the back door you dropped your frozen yogurt, cup fully upside down, onto the pavement. You cursed, you hadn’t even taken a bite of it yet, and it looked like he had put coconut flakes on it, and you loved coconut. Still, you had your twenty bucks, and that was a pretty sweet pay out considering you were only clocked in for about 20 minutes.

So you got Chinese food, and spent what was supposed to be your shift in the shopping mall across town, completely and blissfully unaware of the fact the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI was dragging your manager away in handcuffs.

➽───────────────❥

Young Spencer Reid had only joined the FBI about a month ago. Despite being a genius, and providing crucial information to the solving of cases, he was aware of the most obvious. He was only twenty two years old, and he was scrawny as hell.

He felt this intense need to prove himself, especially to make Gideon proud.

So when they got a case about a the kidnapping and sex trafficking of teenage girls, he saw it as something he could really involve himself in. Based on the profile, it wasn’t going to be a large, strong, confident unsub who Morgan needed to tackle. This man would be ugly sure, but he would be a manipulative mastermind. Reid could work with that, he could prove himself.

He surprised everyone with his sheer work ethic and determination to find this man, and through consistently revising and delivering the profile soon enough they got a hit. A young woman in her early twenties called the tipline and reported her own manager. Insisting he fit the profile perfectly, and described how strangely he treated the minors who worked there, and how he almost exclusively hired young girls, treated them great and then switched as soon as they became legal.

So Garcia did her magically digging, and soon enough the FBI was tearing up a frozen yogurt shop, looking for any evidence of pedophilia. Garcia was even brought along, as she was pivotal to discovering any secret files in his computer.

At first, all they could find were strange compilation videos and under employees skirts. Spencer, and the rest of the team, were struggling to connect how he could get so many videos from an angle like this without anyone noticing or reporting him, until Gideon uncovered an old dusty pair of shoes, in which the right one held a small camera at the toe.

Although this was absolutely disgusting, it wasn’t enough to prove he was running the ring or kidnapping the girls, so Garcia kept digging. Meanwhile, Spencer tried to make himself useful by checking out the back of the store.

That’s where he found your clock-out receipt.

“Hey guys, we might want to take a look at this,” he shouted out.

Morgan grabbed the paper from his hand, “Ok, I don’t get it kid, it’s trash.”

Spencer pointed to the details on the slip, “Yeah but it says here she clocked out 18 minutes ago after only working for 23 minutes and 46 seconds. If this guy is our unsub, this girl could be in a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe she’s still here, has anyone checked out the parking lot yet?”

Spencer shook his head, and followed Morgan out the back door. There they discovered some almost completely melted salted caramel frozen yogurt.

Morgan bent down to investigate, “Yeah, we gotta get this to the lab, but I can tell you right now that there’s clearly more than just coconut topping this yogurt. It also means we have another victim.”

Spencer crouched down as well, “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean kid? We’re missing a teenage girl and we’ve already found illegal evidence on this guy's computer. She’s in trouble.”

“Well judging the shape and inscription of these pills it appears to be some pretty strong rohypnol, almost certainly prescription grade. And ingesting it like this means she probably would have begun to feel its effects fairly early, I would predict 15 minutes. She clocked out 18 minutes ago, so even if she left exactly at that time she would have certainly crashed her car on the way home. The nearest residence is 8 minutes away from here, we’re in a complete shopping district. There’s only two cars out here and neither have a passed out driver, so I would bet she didn’t eat any of it. Also, the only spoon out here is still wrapped in plastic, “ Spencer analyzed.

Morgan sighed, “Well what do we even do then?”

Before Spencer could answer Hotch opened the back door. “We got him.”

Spencer turned to Morgan, “I’m sure her phone number is somewhere inside, I say we call her and make sure she’s ok. She probably doesn’t even know this is happening right now.”

So he did find your phone number, and although he initially pushed the phone to Morgan, he just chuckled and pushed it back.

“No way pretty boy. You’re the know-it-all with all that profiling out there, you can call her,” and before he could protest Morgan left, so Spencer was left to call you.

And strangely, for it being the first time he would ever interact with the love of his life, he thought nothing of it.

And that was the first time you had met Spencer Reid.

➽───────────────❥

The second time was years and years later, when you were waitressing night shifts to make extra money. You had never forgotten meeting Spencer Reid the first time, but this was the first time you would ever see his face.

You were slightly concerned when you got a call from a man, whose name you had now long forgotten, claiming he worked for the FBI. Although you weren’t incredibly surprised to hear your manager committed such heinous crimes against children, you were taken aback by how close you had come to becoming one of his victims.

But that was 9 years ago. In your college days it became a fun story you told at frat parties, but you were 25 now. Sometimes you would think about the incident when you couldn’t sleep, and if you were feeling feisty you would use it as an icebreaker or a “two truths, one lie” statement, but otherwise you didn’t really think about it.

You had plenty of other things to worry about, in fact, that’s exactly why you worked so much. It was so much easier to forget when you were constantly preoccupied with complaining customers and terribly awkward blind dates.

You had just sat this man, incredibly handsome, however it was clear he was on some kind of date. His reservation was for two, and he spent way too much time adjusting his clothes and table setting for him to not be trying to impress someone special. He also brought a gift, which judging by the packaging and shape, seemed to be some kind of wrapped book.

Even though he was 15 minutes early for his own reservation, he still looked really nervous, almost like he already believed she might not show up. You couldn’t help yourself, you had to go talk to him.

“Anyone ever tell you you should model?” you started with.

He looked up “Excuse me?”

“Sorry for being so bold, you just look so familiar,” he weirdly sounded very familiar as well, but you didn’t tell him that. “Are you sure you haven’t modeled? You have excellent bone structure. I bet you could.”

He laughed to himself, “yeah I’m sure.”

“Well your date is very lucky either way. I wish I had a boyfriend as handsome as you. Actually I wish I had a boyfriend period, but that’s a whole other story.”

He chuckled, and although you knew in your heart that you shouldn’t be flirting with him considering he was 15 minutes away from being actively on a date talking to him made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “What happened with your boyfriend? Do I even dare ask?”

“Well I kind of always knew he wasn’t super interested in me, but I really liked him, so I did my best to ignore his wandering eyes,” you sighed. “That didn’t stop him from leaving me for his coworker though.”

“That’s terrible.”

You smirked, “That’s not even the worst part, he broke up with me over a 27 second phone call. He didn’t even let me respond, he just kind of hung up.”

“I’m sorry, no one deserves that. Especially not you. I’ve only been talking to you for a couple minutes and I can tell that.”

“Oh really? What makes you so sure?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people.”

You smiled, “Well I should probably stop flirting with you now, considering your date hasn’t even started yet. And don’t worry, she’ll show, you’re so handsome she’d be stupid not to.”

He looked confused. “You were flirting with me?”

You laughed, “I thought you were good at reading people?”

He smiled back at you, and it made your heart soar, this silly, pure goofy smile that made you want to replace his date and have dinner with him right then and there.

You walked back to your hostess stand. A couple minutes later you noticed the handsome stranger on the phone. You thought nothing of it until later when a woman came in, clearly nervous, holding a gift bag.

“Can you give this to Spencer Reid for me please?” You recognized the name, the man you were just speaking with had filed his reservation under it.

“Um, yeah sure, aren’t you going to go in? He’s at that table over the-” but before you could finish your sentence the woman was gone. Your heart sank, poor Spencer, how could someone drop their date off a gift but stand them up anyway? That’s just cold.

When you get up to bring the gift to him, he’s already heading out of the restaurant himself.

“Sir? Spencer? Dr. Reid?” he turned his head. “A lady came in and dropped this off for you.”

His face dropped, it almost looked like he was about to cry. “Thank you,” he said as he looked up at you before leaving.

He ran out the door, both gifts in hand and whipped his head around a few times before sighing and speeding off in one direction. Even before you learned what happened after that and leading up to it, you felt terrible for the handsome stranger.

How could you not for someone so clearly distressed? Someone so clearly in love?

➽───────────────❥

7 years and a divorce later you were spending your Saturday in a park, strangely contemplating love itself. Although you barely remember that night all those years ago when you spoke to Spencer, he did. Vividly. In fact, on this Saturday you both were in a public park, contemplating your many failed attempts at true love.

It was your first wedding anniversary without your husband. Although you had only been married for two years, you still were having a hard time navigating life without him. 

You started to wonder if you would ever find the true love you had been wishing for since your youth. Was 32 too late? Had you lived out all of your opportunities?

When you were little your mother had told you that all soulmates were attached at the left ring fingers, by small, incredibly thin strands of gold string, invisible to the naked eye. She insisted that these strings were constantly trying to pull you and your soulmate together, and that when life was ready for you two to meet, you would. 

Until then, you would have small, mindless interactions. Things you wouldn’t think about, maybe even things that weren’t interactions at all. You would get the same commercial jingle stuck in your head. You would both get an intense craving for the same food. You’d have the same dream. 

As a kid you were obsessed with this idea, you thought it was so romantic, and you fully believed everything your mom told you about it. You always asked her for more stories, and at bedtime you refused to sleep unless she would tell you more.

But now you were sure soulmates, true love even, didn’t exist. The invisible pretty gold strings your mother weaved fantastic stories with were completely fabricated. If they weren’t, you would have seen the clues by now.

Right?

➽───────────────❥

Spencer Reid was given an assignment from his therapist. He had to spend his Saturday off trying to interact with a stranger. Making friends with someone other than his colleagues may seem like a simple task for some, but it was something the young genius had almost no experience with.

He understood that it was probably for the best. He wasn’t exactly great with relationships of any kind, but especially not romantic ones. It didn’t take a genius to know that a couple of flirtations, a dead girlfriend he had only seen once, and a long time unrequited (or at least he thought unrequited) infatuation with his best friend and godsons’ mother was not a very great track record.

He, just like you, was also beginning to believe that he was hopeless when it came to love. That 38 was too old, that his time to meet someone and have the children he dreamed of had long passed.

But right as he was about to call JJ, to see if she would invite him in on the case Garcia had started to work on, he saw you.

Unlike you, he remembered your face and your interaction vividly. That almost date with Maeve was one of the biggest defining moments of his life, and what are the chances that the waitress from that very night was now less than 30 feet away from him, reading under the green leaves of a tree.

He wasn’t going to say anything, until he saw the book you were reading.

The Narrative of John Smith.

It must have been a sign, for what he wasn’t exactly sure yet, but it just had to mean something. The universe had to be reaching out to him, he had experienced crazier things.

And just as he was about to walk over to you, to close the gap between the gold strings tied around your ring fingers, a child interrupted his train of thought.

“That’s a strange haircut.”

➽───────────────❥

Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid were finally reuniting after many years. They barely got to see each other these days, but even though he was teaching and working at the BAU, Spencer still was willing to clear his schedule to second Derek suggested they meet up.

Morgan was excited as well, both to see his friend and to hopefully help him get a date. Sure, he had liked what he had heard about Max, but he wasn’t exactly surprised it had only lasted a couple months between her and Spencer. They just seemed too different.

Plus, now he got the chance to play wingman again, and he was ecstatic about that. Spencer not so much.

“I don’t know Morgan, it’s only been a couple months since we broke up. Wouldn’t it be too early to start talking to other people?”

“Pretty boy, you and I both know that the rate in which you’ve had relationships is not even close to the average. You need to balance that out somehow.”

Spencer sighed, he knew Derek was right, but he still felt strange.

“Morgan, have you ever heard of the red string of fate?”

“No, but I’m sure I’m about to hear all about it.”

“It’s an East Asian philosophy, based on the discovery that the ulnar artery connects the heart with the pinky finger, actually that’s where the belief in pinky promises come from. The reason it’s integrated in so many different cultures is that-”

“Kid, you’re losing me here,” Morgan interrupted. “Finish your thing about the string.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s the idea that human relations are predestined by a red string that the gods tie to the pinky fingers of those who find each other in life. Legend has it that the two people connected by this thread will have an important story, regardless of the time, place or circumstances. The red string might get tangled, contracted or stretched, as surely often happens, but it can never break. Essentially, the idea is that although we might not realize it, our lives move in a pre-ordained direction, guided by invisible strings that are woven into the fabric of the Universe itself. And all the while, the red thread connecting us to our distant soulmates is getting shorter.”

“Well it’s an interesting theory kid, but it’s a lot to think about. I mean, we’re in a bar, let loose a little bit. Not every interaction has to be about getting closer to your soulmate. And sure, maybe you’ll meet them one day, maybe even soon. But you’re here now, and just because your one true love may not be, doesn’t mean it’s not worth it to be here.”

Spencer sighed, “You’re right. I don’t even know if I believe in that anyway, maybe I’m just looking for something to explain this all.

Derek patted his friend on the shoulder, “okay pretty ricky, this is how it’s about to go down. I’m going to buy you two drinks. You’re going to take both of them, and go find someone, anyone here to go talk to.”

“Ok, I think I can do that. Who?”

Derek looked around, trying to find who he believed would be the best match for his friend. “How about her?” he asked, pointing at you.

Spencer couldn’t believe it when he looked. There you were, the girl, the one he had met three times before, even if he could only remember two. The woman he knew was some sort of universe sent sign that Saturday he saw you underneath the greenery. The girl he was so close to talking to before he was interrupted by Max’s nephew. The woman who (and he obviously did not know this at the time) he would marry 3 years later. The one who would carefully knit the baby blankets for all of their friends and exes. The one who he would adopt 3 children with. The woman who, he was now sure, was at the other end of his invisible string. The girl he needed to talk to right now.

“Is it just me,” Morgan said, “Or does she look kind of familiar?”

“Yes,” Spencer responded, “yes she does.” He got up quickly and started making strides towards you.

“Wait!” Morgan called, “You forgot your drinks!”

“I don’t need them!” he shouted back. When he sat down next to you, you smiled. It made his heart soar, you had this silly, pure goofy smile that made him want to ask you out right then and there.

Instead he settled on the only conversation starter he could think of.

“Have you ever heard of the invisible string story?”

And you couldn’t help but laugh.

“A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

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