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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 5 months ago

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𓅨 A Song in the Depths: Chapter One

A Song in the Depths: While staying with your grandmother in the coastal town of Dreaming, you grow curious about a summer solstice festival the town celebrates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Dark!Siren!Dream x NAMEDFemReader, I like giving names, bite me.

Word Count: ~3.4k

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Your grandmother's invitation to spend the summer in the old town of Dreaming between college semesters didn't exactly fill you with excitement. After all, it meant leaving behind your friends and all the fun they were sure to have on break. But as she was getting older, you couldn't say no. Plus, the promise of being near the ocean provided some consolation.

With a heavy sigh, you packed your belongings and said goodbye to your parents' house. Boarding the train to Dreaming, you struggled to adjust your overstuffed backpack as you searched for a seat near the window. The whistle blew and the train lurched forward, pulling away from the station. As you settled in for the journey, your ears caught snippets of conversation from two women sitting nearby. They were whispering about missing tourists in Dreaming, their voices filled with fear.

As if drawn to the gossip, you lean in closer, unable to resist the urge to eavesdrop. One of the women leans in closer to her companion, wide-eyed and trembling as she spoke.

"They say every summer solstice, someone vanishes without a trace," she says. "Some people think it's a vengeful spirit, others think it's just nonsense."

You roll your eyes and turn back to the window, fixating on the passing landscape to distract yourself from their superstitious talk. It was just another story blown out of proportion. Besides, your grandmother had lived in Dreaming for years without any trouble.

The train eventually pulls into the small station of Dreaming, bathed in a warm golden glow from the setting sun. Your petite grandmother stands proudly on the platform, waving excitedly as you step off the train.

"Noelle, my darling! Welcome to Dreaming!" she exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug.

You can't help but smile at her genuine joy and follow her to her cottage by the sea. Perched on a cliff overlooking the beach, its whitewashed walls and thatched roof gleaming in the evening light, it's a picture-perfect sight. The scent of salt and seaweed fills the air as you take in the breathtaking view of the ocean.

"Isn't it beautiful?" your grandmother asks, her eyes sparkling with pride.

"It's amazing, Grandma," you reply, truly entranced by the sight. The view was absolutely incredible.

The sun slowly dips below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange, while you help your grandmother carry your luggage into the cozy cottage. Antiques fill every nook and cranny, each one holding a story within its worn edges. Stories from your childhood and even further past.

"I've prepared your room upstairs," your grandmother says, gesturing to a narrow staircase. "You should get settled in before dinner."

Thanking her, you climb the creaky stairs and enter the small, simply furnished room. A soft white quilt adorns the bed, and a vintage-style dresser stands against one wall. Through a small window overlooking the ocean, a peaceful glow spills into the room.

As you settle into your new surroundings, your mind can't help but wander to the whispers you overheard on the train. You brush them off as mere superstition, but a nagging feeling lingers in the back of your mind. You try to shake it off and focus on the present, but the unease persists.

Determined to push aside your concerns and enjoy your stay, you unpack your belongings and hang your clothes in the old wooden wardrobe. While you fold your jeans and t-shirts, you can't help but notice a faint, musty smell emanating from the wardrobe. Your grandmother didn’t get many visitors, you should try to visit more often while you can.

Just as you're about to close the wardrobe door, a small, worn book tumbles out from the bottom shelf. Curious, you pick it up and examine the cover. It's a journal, its pages yellowed with age. Intrigued, you flip through the pages, reading entries dated years ago. The handwriting is elegant but barely legible.

As you read, you realize the journal belonged to your grandmother. It chronicles her life in Dreaming, including her first days in the cottage by the sea. You smile at the thought of your grandmother as a young woman, full of hopes and dreams.

You read further into your grandmother's journal, learning more about her life in Dreaming. Your smile grows as she describes her first days in the cottage by the sea, filled with wonder and excitement. She writes about her early friendships and the tight-knit community that welcomed her with open arms.

One entry, dated several years after her arrival in Dreaming, stands out to you. In elegant handwriting, she describes meeting a young fisherman named Samuel. His bright blue eyes and warm smile had captured her heart from the moment they met. Over the following pages, she recounts their blossoming romance, filled with long walks on the beach and cozy evenings by the fire.

Your heart aches with happiness as you read about their love story and how they eventually married in a small ceremony by the sea. Oh to have a love like that…Your grandmother's words paint a vivid picture of their life together, filled with love, laughter, and the joy of raising a family.

As you continue reading, you notice a shift in your grandmother's tone. The entries become more somber, tinged with sadness and fear. It's around this time that she first mentions the disappearances. People she knew and loved, vanishing without a trace during the summer solstice.

Your blood runs cold as you read her words, remembering the whispers you overheard on the train. You can't help but feel a shiver of dread creeping up your spine as you realize that these disappearances have been happening since before your grandmother was even born! It's as if the town of Dreaming itself is cursed.

Your grandmother's entries go on to describe the town's efforts to uncover the truth behind the vanishings, but every lead seemed to turn up empty. The fear and uncertainty weighed heavily on the community, leaving them with a lingering sense of unease that never quite went away.

As you close the journal, your thoughts swirl with the stories of your grandmother's past. The joy and love she found in Dreaming were undeniable, but the darkness that seemed to lurk beneath the town's surface was impossible to ignore.

A sudden gust of wind rattles the window, breaking your train of thought. You look up, feeling a sense of foreboding settling over you. The sky outside has turned a deep shade of purple, and the ocean looks angry and unsettled. A sharp knock on the door startles you, and you quickly stuff the journal back into the wardrobe. "Noelle, dear, dinner's ready," your grandmother calls.

"I'll be right there," you call back, your thoughts swiftly moving from the mysterious journal to the awaiting meal.

Dinner is a simple affair, with your grandmother serving up a hearty meal of fresh seafood and vegetables. The aroma fills the cozy kitchen, and you find yourself eagerly anticipating the first bite of her cooking. As you take your seat at the small wooden table, you can't help but smile at the familiarity of it all. The warmth of your grandmother's cooking brings back memories of your childhood, when you would spend summers here, exploring the island and indulging in her delicious meals. Odd that it had never been during the summer solstice…

You watch as she moves gracefully around the kitchen, her hands deftly preparing the food with a practiced ease that comes from years of experience. The love and care she puts into her cooking are evident in every bite, and you can't help but feel thankful to have been raised with such love.

As you enjoy the meal, you reflect on the idea of staying home instead of coming here. Would you really have been content to spend your entire break doom scrolling through social media or watching mindless TV shows? No, you realize, this trip was exactly what you needed. A chance to reconnect with your roots, to appreciate the simple pleasures in life, and to create new memories with your grandmother while you still have her.

With each bite, you savor the flavors and the company, knowing that this is precisely where you're meant to be. You cancel it in your bones. The whispers and unease from earlier seem to fade away, replaced by a sense of comfort and old memories.

After a satisfying dinner, you offer to help your grandmother clean up. She accepts your help with a disgruntled look since you were a guest, but allows you to aid in washing dishes and putting away leftovers. As you finish up, your grandmother looks at you with a slight frown.

"Noelle, darling, I know you're eager to explore the town, but please be careful," she says, her voice tinged with concern. "It's not safe to wander around after dark, especially near the beach. I never told you much about Dreaming when you were younger but you must know, there have been... strange occurrences."

Her words echo the whispers you overheard on the train. However, the allure of the ocean is too strong to resist, and you find yourself drawn to the beach regardless of the warnings.

"I'll be fine, Grandma," you reassure her with a smile. "I won't be gone long."

She nods, her expression a mix of worry and understanding. "Alright, but don't stay out too late. And try to avoid the water, okay?"

With that reassurance, you leave the cottage and make your way down the winding path that leads from the cottage to the beach below. The sun has already dipped below the horizon, leaving a painted sky of lingering pinks and oranges in its wake. The ocean, now shrouded in darkness, murmurs softly as it kisses the shoreline.

When you reach the sand, you kick off your shoes and feel the cool grains between your toes. The sea breeze tousles your hair, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to savor the salty air. It's so peaceful here, so far removed from the noise and chaos of the city you left behind. Maybe next time you will invite your friends to come!

You walk along the edge of the water, allowing the gentle waves to lap at your feet. The ocean seems to call to you, its mysterious depths holding secrets you can only imagine. Despite your grandmother's warnings, you find yourself drawn to its allure, unable to resist the urge to explore further. How dangerous could it be to just dip your toes into the water? You continue down the beach, your steps slow and deliberate as you take in the surroundings. The moon casts a glow on the water, and you can't help but soak in the sight with a sated sigh.

Rounding a bend, you spot a small, rocky outcropping jutting out into the sea. Curiosity piqued from faint memories of playing on it as a child, you make your way towards it. The further you venture, the more the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks drowns out the soft whispers of the sea. You climb onto the rocks, careful not to slip on the wet, moss-covered surface. From here, you have a perfect view of the ocean stretching out before you, its vastness both humbling and exhilarating. Oftentimes you forgot how big the ocean is.

Leaning back against the rock, you take a moment to soak in the experience, the cool night air sending chills dancing across your skin. The warnings your grandmother gave you earlier echo in your mind, but you can't help but feel safe in this moment, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the sea. You’d spent countless summers here, it was perfectly safe as long as you made sure to be aware of riptides.

You gaze out at the water, lost in thought, when you notice a splash of a tail flicking out of the water. You smile, thinking that it must have been a dolphin, or some other sea creature with a fin. But then you spot a head and long black hair.

A moment later, you see a tail seemingly connected to the figure. A man? Your mind struggles to process what you're seeing, and you blink a few times, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision. You tell yourself that it must be a trick of the moonlight or just your imagination running wild. He's gone, a figment of your imagination. Your exhaustion was getting to you.

“Time to go to sleep, Noelle, you are seeing things,” you mutter to yourself before removing yourself from the rock. You trudge back up the winding path to your grandmother's cottage, feeling unsettled. The sight of the mysterious figure swimming in the ocean lingers in your mind, making you question if you'd really seen what you thought you had. Who would be crazy this crazy to swim at this time of night?

Looking back at the top of the cliff, you squint your eyes, trying to make out the figure once more. There it is again, a male with long hair and what appears to be a tail. You blink, rubbing your eyes to make sure you're not hallucinating. But the figure is still there, swimming effortlessly through the water.

Feeling a chill run down your spine, you turn away from the sight and hurry up the path. You are hallucinating, Noelle, sleep deprivation is getting to you! The cottage comes into view, its warm lights inviting you in from the cool night air. Stepping inside, the pleasant scent of your grandmother's nighttime tea fills the air, immediately soothing your unsettled nerves.

"Noelle, dear, you're back!" your grandmother exclaims, bustling over to give you a hug. "I was starting to worry. Did you have a nice walk?"

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. Should you tell her what you saw or brush it off as a figment of your imagination? Your tiredness certainly explained it… In the end, you decide to keep your concerns to yourself.

"Oh, it was lovely," you reply, forcing a smile. "The ocean is just breathtaking."

Your grandmother beams at you, her eyes twinkling with pride. "I'm so glad you're enjoying your time here, dear. Now, come it grows late and I am sure you are exhausted from all your travel! Off to bed with you!"

You are wandering through the quaint village the next day watching the townsfolk bustling about, preparing for the upcoming summer solstice festival. The air is filled with excitement and anticipation, yet there seems to be an undercurrent of hesitancy and unease. It’s been bugging you since the train so you finally decide to get some answers. You approach a group of villagers hanging decorations along the cobblestone streets.

"Excuse me," you say, smiling warmly. "I couldn't help but notice all the preparations for the festival. I've never celebrated the summer solstice before. Can you tell me more about it?"

The villagers exchange nervous glances, their smiles fading as they look back at you. A tall, wiry man with a bushy beard steps forward, his eyes darting around as if checking for eavesdroppers.

"Well, uh... it's a tradition we've celebrated for generations," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's a time for us to come together and give thanks to the sea for providing for us."

You nod, sensing their discomfort but unsure of its cause.

"That sounds lovely," you reply. "Are there any special customs or rituals that take place during the festival?"

The villagers exchange more nervous glances, their faces growing paler by the moment. The bearded man hesitates, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

"There are... some customs," he admits, his voice barely audible. "But they're, uh... we haven't practiced them in centuries. They're rather archaic… sacrifices and all…" Oh, yeah you can see them wanting to be hush hush about that kind of past.

"Sacrifices?" You question softly, "You wouldn't happen to know where those took place do you? I do so love history…"

The village elder reluctantly reveals the location of the ancient sacrifices before turning and getting back to work, making it clear that the were done talking. Despite your unease, you are intrigued by the historical significance of the site and decide to explore it for yourself. You’ve visited the coastal town long enough that you should learn more about it.

So you make your way through the streets of the village, following the elder's directions towards a hidden cove nestled between two cliffs. The path is overgrown with vegetation, and you have to push through dense branches to reach your destination. It is clear that this area is avoided.

Upon arriving at the cove, you are struck by its otherworldly beauty. The ocean water is a deep cerulean blue, gently lapping against the rocky shore. In the distance, you can see a large, flat rock jutting out from the water, its surface worn smooth by centuries of exposure to the elements.

When you approach the rock, you notice a lone figure standing atop it, his back turned towards you. His short, black hair is wild and unkempt, and he seems to be staring out at the horizon, lost in thought. The man doesn't seem to notice your presence, so you muster up the courage to clear your throat and speak.

"Excuse me," you say, "I couldn't help but notice you standing here. Are you... waiting for someone?"

The man startles at the sound of your voice, spinning around to face you. His eyes are an otherworldly shade of blue, reminding you of the deep ocean depths. For a moment, he just stares at you, his gaze intense and unnerving.

"No one in particular," he finally responds, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I was just... enjoying the view."

You nod, feeling a bit uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. There's something about him that strikes you as different, almost ethereal. Also familiar yet you had never met him. You can't quite place your finger on it, but you sense that he's not like the other villagers.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," you say, taking a step back. "I was just exploring the cove and noticed this rock."

The man shakes his head, his smile growing wider. "No, no. It's quite all right. I was actually hoping someone would come along. It gets rather lonely standing here by myself."

You hesitate, unsure if you should trust this stranger. But something in his eyes makes you feel safe, as if he's someone you can trust. He is just a man and you’ve had some self defense training, what is the worst that will happen?

"My name is Noelle," you say, extending your hand. "I'm visiting my grandmother and don't know much about this place despite having visited for years.”

The man takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Noelle. I'm... Morpheus."

You smile, noting the peculiar name but deciding not to dwell on it. "So, do you come here often, Morpheus? I’ve noticed that the path is a bit overgrown and not used…”

He nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I do. There's something special about this place, don't you think? The way the ocean crashes against the rocks, the salty air... it's invigorating."

"I wish I knew more about places like this," You softly murmur, your eyes appreciating the nature. "I— I don't get the chance to get away from society much."

Morpheus chuckles softly, a melodic sound that seems to echo around the cove. “I understand, it's in the quiet corners of the world that we find the most intriguing stories. The secrets of the past are buried in places like this, waiting to be discovered by those brave enough to seek them out."

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in closer to Morpheus, eager to hear more. His words seem to cast a spell over you, filling your mind with images of forgotten civilizations and ancient mysteries. A thought flickers into your mind.

“Will you be attending the solstice festival?” You inquire, a glint of curiosity in your eyes. "I've heard whispers about it from the villagers, but they seemed hesitant to discuss the details. Or tell me anything about it for that matter… Do you know anything about the festival and its significance? Is it dangerous?"

“Only if you are not a strong swimmer,” Morpheus replies with a charming smile. “Part of the ritual is to swim in the ocean, I could show you how its done tomorrow night if you so wish.” Oh you wish alright.

“You would do that for me?” You question, your heart racing in your chest as your eyes glimmer with excitement. Morpheus was a native to Dreaming, surely he would know all about the summer solstice and put to rest the silly rumors and stories you had been told. What’s more, you’d learn the ritual from a native first hand!

Morpheus nods, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "I would be honored to guide you through the summer solstice ritual, Noelle. It's a tradition that has been passed down for generations in Dreaming, and I believe you will find it... enlightening."

Excitement and anticipation fills the air as you ask Morpheus about learning from him, your questions spilling from your lips once after the other.

"Meet me at the cove tomorrow night," he says, his voice confident and assured. "Just before midnight, when the moon is near its peak in the sky. That's when we'll begin our ritual." The thought of learning from a native under the light of the full moon fill you with excitement, you have nothing to fear. Your grandmother would have nothing to worry about!

“Just before midnight,” You repeat, your heart racing in excitement.

Date Published: 6/26/24

Last Edit: 6/25/24

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#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #sandman x reader #dream of the endless #dream the endless x reader #morpheus #the sandman

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dizzymisslizzie · 5 months ago

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Casual Friday

Henry’s luggage is somewhere over the pacific going in the complete wrong direction.

He fantasizes that this would never happen to someone with a private jet.

The heat of LA is overwhelming in his trousers and sweater. His carry-on is a Burberry weekender that has his meds, toiletries and a few books. He’s going to have a buy a whole weeks worth of clothes.

He’s being picked up from airport by his new publisher. He’s on the curb and realizes that he didn’t pass the typical dark suited person holding a sign with his name. He’s looking around and opens his rapidly dying phone to call his contact, Zahra. Before he can type out the message, a red open jeep screeches to a halt in front him. After the dust settles, Henry sees brown curls, a sharp jaw cresting into a chin dimple, a perfect nose holding up aviator sunglasses that reflect Henry’s hapless expression. The curls are cut short but he’s imagining them longer and draped over his shoulder as… wait - is the most attractive man he’s ever seen walking towards him?

“Fox?” The southern drawl that comes out is honey smooth and adorable. He nods and this seems to amuse the gorgeous human who smirks and takes off his aviators. When he pulls the sunglasses off his face Henry notices his sinfully long fingers that he wants to suck into his mouth.

“Is that all you brought?” Adonis asks Henry who still hasn’t said a word. He shakes his head, “The airline lost my luggage.”

“So you need to go shopping?” Eros asks Henry who barely trusts himself to speak so he just nods. The brown eyes of Adonis sparkle and Henry isn’t sure why.

“Well then, Sweetheart. I’ve got just the place. Hop in. Oh! I’m Alex!” Henry’s fucked. “Hi, I’m Henry.”

“Oh I know, let’s get a move on.” Alex winks and takes Henry’s bag from his shoulder and stores it in the jeep.

A short drive full of getting to know you things later…

“Here we are!” Alex pulls in a gravel parking area with an old wooden A-frame store front with gold letters reading Vintage.

“I was expecting…” Henry starts.

“Rodeo drive, your majesty?” Alex smiles wide.

“Not exactly… but maybe one of those malls you’re all so proud of.” Henry looks over the well kept building.

“C’mon, give it a shot.” Alex claps him on the shoulder and walks him into the shop.

A bells rings when they enter, Alex leads Henry to a section of the store.

“Ok, there’s chinos and button ups but there’s some great denim for your readings and these amazing vintage t-shirts.” Alex is pointing in various directions and Henry cannot keep up.

“Sorry, too much?” Alex asks, wincing a little.

“No, I’m not a great shopper. I tend to get anxious.” Henry’s admits as he looks around at the decor on the walls. It’s got rich colors and accents that could border on over stuffed but isn’t.

“Can I pull a few things for you?” Alex asks.

“Yes… I think that’s would be helpful.” Henry is nervous that he’ll just buy whatever Alex picks out for him.

“Stellar!” Alex is off to the races, “oh! Sizes?” Henry tells him and turns to a rack of khakis. He finds a few trousers in his size, a few button up shirts that are neutral colors. He takes his finds to the dressing room where Alex has set up a dressing room full of selections.

“Jesus, we have got to work on your wardrobe.”

“My look is… classic.” Henry’s sticks out his chin.

“Absolutely! But also boring as fuck.” Alex gives him a cheeky smile.

“What’s your plan then?” Henry looks around his selections.

“Picture it! Color… on… your clothes!” Alex does silly magician flourishes and Henry honest to god giggles.

“I am in LA for professional reasons.” Henry’s reminds him.

“And I pulled several business casual options but! You could dress more your age, relate more to your audience, maybe even… gasp… show some personality.” Alex teases.

“Why would my readers care about my personality?” Henry’s quirks and eyebrow.

“They are obsessed enough to come to a reading, they are interested in you. Authenticity, well… it’s something that not everyone can give but I see you can. I think showing more of yourself will resonate with your readers. They might even feel seen.” The sincerity on Alex’s face when he says to Henry makes his inside molten with feelings.

“That’s… exactly how I wanted people to feel with my first book. I… Pez, he’s the only one who sees me.” Henry shares.

“He’s a very lucky human.” Alex says low and a little… Henry can’t place it.

“He is, we became best mates at Eton and it was like he saw straight through the uniform and confident facade and saw me. It meant everything to me and I wouldn’t be who I am today without him.” Henry smiles nostalgically.

“I’m so glad you’ve got him in your corner.” Alex says and Henry can’t believe he’s real.

“Alright, Foxy, let’s try so stuff on!” Alex turns and Henry would swear he wipes his eyes before picking up a few hangers. “Here ya go! Shopping montage!” Alex sits in an overstuffed purple chair and Henry closes the curtain.

Henry tries the trousers first and two of them fit fine, third are too long.

“Hurry up! I wanna see something! Also, I’m almost done with the pick up order for essentials. Any special requests?”

“See something? I’m trying on trousers, I don’t think I need assistance in deciding if they fit or not, Mum!” Henry’s being cheeky.

“I’ll be the judge of that!” Alex calls back. Henry smiles and rolls his eyes. Henry puts on the bright blue button up and navy trousers and opens the curtain.

Alex looks up from his phone and his smile makes Henry’s brain fuzzy.

Tagging @miss-minnelli

#firstprince #rwrb #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb movie #wip wednesday #shopping #vintage #ao3 fanfic #red white and royal blue

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gav-san · 1 year ago

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A Vintage Bouquet | 2/5 | Mihawk x reader

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk / Fem Reader

Length: 2/5 Chapters

Summary: Trapped in a monastery and threatened with an impending marriage, you'll strike any deal with a Pirate to escape what your father has in store for you.

Previous/Next

The heist of a lifetime set off with much less fanfare than books would suggest.

Getting packed wasn’t easy, even considering the circumstances. You had long been out of practice being on the ocean, and there was nothing to be done about the dreadful churning in your gut.

It wasn’t easy to leave what had essentially been your home for over ten years, even if it was more of a jail than a warm comfort. There had been quiet chatter among the girls of escape but no one had so far been foolish enough to do so.

You’d like to blame fate for steering you towards dangerous and unseen paths, but you are too frank to lie to yourself.

There is something unnatural about your desire to sail the sea, and it always has been that way.

Throwing yourself into the chaotic ocean’s currents was dangerous, but there was something so dangerously seductive about that future. Add in an untrustworthy pirate (whose name you swore was familiar) whose cold gaze kept you cautious still was far more enticing than the most comfortable, cushiest life as the wife of a wealthy Celestial Dragon.

You would rather quickly drown than be forced to slowly suffocate as years ticked away and your ability to seek adventure faded.

There was a distinct feeling of severing fate with a butter knife.

Those with weak wills had no place in the sea, but you would brave any danger to feel the presence of your mother again.

So you couldn’t doubt yourself. Once you spurned a Celestial Dragon there was no choice but to dance forward because there would be no return.

So you made your decision.

Packing wasn’t a suspicious activity in itself, as you were supposed to be working on your marriage trousseau. Others would think you were just eager to leave the monastery despite the poor choice of your husband. Many other girls had done this exact thing.

So you feigned packing the overly fancy luggage, leaving the disgusting amounts of finery and jewels you had already been gifted, unable to sleep any of the night. It disguised your actual luggage, a single brown bag that could carry your mother's hair pins, a fan with her lost ship's logo, the lone dagger you had managed to smuggle, and a few small coins. Things that you could explain as being sentimental keepsakes you wanted to stay close to.

The Mother Superior was much shrewder than she let on and had expected the worst of you from the moment you had met. So you packed your second bag light, exclusively taking what you could carry under your habit, in pockets, or tucked away.

There was trouble finding appropriate clothes, and you had to end up purposely spilling on your dress, something you knew would earn you laundry duty. Only then could you find a suitable ensemble through the donation box full of ancient clothes, a simple shirt, vest, and pants. And last, a common hat that many local islanders preferred.

And while missing your last chance at a free meal to scrub toilets (with the tiniest brush possible) you thought about the man in all black with the giant sword.

And even when your stomach rolled, twisting with hunger pains, those bright, golden eyes seemed never to leave your memory.

Hawk eyes, you thought. You had never seen anything like them, eyes so bright, not just thanks to color, but the undeniable trace of intelligence within. Like a perfect bird of prey, he seemed to see everything around him with that perfect clarity only the strong had.

It had made you writhe under his gaze, to be dissected, measured, and judged.

It made you want to fight.

And as you rolled in your uncomfortable bed, squirming at the memory of the virile male, until your roommate threw her scriptures at your head in frustration upon being woken so late. It was a good thing that you both promised not to say a word about each other’s rule-breaking.

But beyond the general secret-keeping, you had never been close, and she certainly wasn’t going to listen to you express a single word about how there were… other things about the man that made you feel ticklish and warm.

You weren’t unaware of the fact you had somehow, during a single conversation, developed a total crush on the man. It was just the mechanics of it that had never been experienced and now you finally understood all those contraband romance novels traded within the hallowed halls. Some that you had also read previously, with little understanding. But now you were a bit dizzy and fully aware that the whole euphoria aspect could make it challenging to keep your head on straight. There was nothing like a huge dose of heady girl-lust that would make you trip over yourself.

But could you blame a girl or judge her for combing her hair till it shone, even if it was going to be under a bandana? There was a swordsman out there she had to impress. Whether through wine or with violence, you would be getting on Dracule’s ship, or another’s.

Once you had stuffed your bed to seem like you were under your blanket, you snuck through the convent, slipping past the memorized sentinels and sisters there. The father was long asleep, and gently opening the door and sneaking into his room was simple.

He was laid out on his bed, and you were sure you couldn’t tap-danced and not woken him, by the smell of things. But as it was, his loud snoring covered your movements, creeping to the corner of his room where several casks of wine were stored.

He had drunk himself to sleep, and so you made off with the wine casks, strapping them under your habit. It wasn’t a great disguise, but it would have to do. Since most sisters were still at evening mass, you ran into none of them, slipping into the gardens with practiced ease.

By some miracle, the half-broken gate hidden by the orange grove hadn’t been discovered.

It was then you shed the nun’s habit, already dressed in the pilfered overalls, and letting the casks drop. You moved the habit behind the corner, pulling leaves and fallen oranges over it as quickly as you could, listening for bells to mark the end of mass.

After, you take handfuls of dirt and smear it upon your face, your clothes, and the casks. You smear mud on the barrel logo stating the wine’s quality, ensuring that you look much like the cabin boy you have always wanted to be.

Finishing, you grabbed the casks, head lifting towards the sunset.

You shifted, letting your bag hang over your shoulder, checking for any passing wanderers. With no person spotted, you proceeded to push the gate open, wincing at its rusty creaking.

With a small nudge, you slipped the wine through, then followed.

You don’t look back, don’t think, just take off down the road.

Your bare feet catch dirt swiftly, concealing your pampered, wealthy skin. It’s far more believable that an urchin wouldn’t have proper shoes, and makes blending with others much smoother. Your hat stays down, and soon enough, people are passing you.

By the time the Monastery Bells are tolling, you have reached the middle of the city, and are fully confident in your disguise.

You would not return, no matter the cost.

Dressed with your pilfered overly-large hat, no one was wiser that the young figure with two large wine casks was the convent girl due to be married the next day and not an errand-running ship boy.

Isla Palma was alive in the evenings, and this night was no different.

Most ships preferred to leave in the bright mornings when the view was better. People milled in the streets, the sour smell of gin and vomit not hidden by the other smells of an oceanside city. The city center had never been your favorite place, a maze-like setting of depraved men with insufficient coins for the nicer inn higher on the hill.

But there were many dark nooks and allies that you could slip into to make it back to the docks. And so you did, making good headway. And no one even glanced your way.

Well, almost no one.

“Ello, Miss Gabriella.”

The casks dropped.

–X–

The docks were salt-encrusted pillars of wood, smelling of fish and sweaty fishermen, a swell of sour-smelling sailors returning after a booze-filled evening.

Mihawk didn’t have much use for the common sailor. They entirely bored him, or much like an exterminator, he rid them from the seas because they annoyed him. He’s not sure why he is still on this pitiful little island, besides that small spark of amusement he gained from battling wits against you. It may be that any of his suffering was caused due to his enormous success but regardless, it had been getting unbearable.

He sighs, rolling his eyes as if disappointed in himself.

He must be truly bored, to humor a monastery girl.

He doesn’t need to look behind him at the sunset to notice time is running short for the said child. That was worth another sigh, as it was becoming clear that he had overestimated yet another person, however minuscule it had been.

And as the sun went down, he resigned himself to setting sail by himself.

Until his Haki caught onto the beginning of a scuffle and the familiar sound of a fight about to go down. With a quirk blooming his brow, he uncrossed his legs and pushed from the dock pillar he had been resting on.

And in the midst of it, a familiar voice.

He turned, noting that there was still a sliver of red light over the dark ocean. He supposed he had told her to be at the dock. Which, from the sound of things, was near enough to the docks to pass muster.

“Very well monastery girl,” He turns towards the city of Isla Palma. “You’ve piqued my interest.”

–X–

“Surely you’ve got more than that.”

You held up the pole again, fingers weighing and testing it for your next hit. It looked like someone had snapped the beam off a metal fence, the blunted tip rusting, but it did the job.

A job well done, she said with a snarl, hitting the next man who ran at her as she sidestepped him.

Of course, it started with Heffery.

Of all the dirty rotten luck. He had been the one who found her, and unfortunately, he was less sloshed this time around.

“Hey, sweet-cheeks,” Heffery said, “Well isn’t this nice? I thought I was gonna have to break into that place to kidnap you.”

You had dropped the barrels, and some other man with terrible breath had your hands behind your back. You aren’t paying attention to him, but rather the metal glint near his feet.

You grit your teeth, glancing at the hat that had fallen. Thankfully, your hair stayed in its braids. Hefferey dared to pat your cheek, annoyed you weren’t paying him attention.

“Hey! We’ve been donating money to your Nunnery for years, thinking it might win one of us your favor. It seems only fair that you give us a little taste before that snobby rich boy comes.” He guffed, tone taking an unsavory turn.

Heffery's gaze wandered down to the low dip of your dress, following how your breasts pushed at the bindings, even under the cotton shirt.

“Let me go.” You threatened, much to the men’s amusement.

“Let it go, sugar, you’ll get your pretty gloves dirty!” Heffery drawled, rolling up his sleeves.

You steadily glared. At least they were arrogant enough not to have tied you up with a rope.

Five against one were not good odds when you were rusty, but what choice did you have? These sorts of fights were known for being ignored by the Marines.

You only had yourself.

Heffery, tired of talk, moved to lower your shirt.

And that’s when you struck.

Stamping on the foot of the man behind you gave you back your hands, and a hit from your elbow downed him. That same turn allowed your foot to catch Hefferey’s face, felling him to the ground.

After that you turned, grabbing the metal pole on the ground, and raising it in a stance that caused a rich wave of nostalgia to fall over you.

“Oh, looks like kitty does have some claws.” A man mocked her, taking out a rusted blade.

Hefferey and his lackey who were dropped to the ground were groaning in pain. But there were three more, and so she once again danced.

And then one of the men swung towards her, trying to catch her by surprise. You danced to the side, footwork a little rough but evading the man still. Turning the pole she crashed it on another head. She wasn’t fond of the ensuing crack, but she didn’t yield or flinch, quickly moving back into a position where she could see the last standing man.

He ran.

Just out of spite, you take the gold ring on Hefferey’s finger.

You raised your pole.

“So much for Marine training.” You quipped, lowering the pole to reach for the wine casks again.

And then, a fear fills you.

It’s a bone-deep dread of knowing that something fearsome is coming.

With more dexterity than you realized you possessed, you swung the pole, hitting the offending away from your face, clanging too near to your chin.

It’s a dagger.

A familiar, absurdly small, cross-shaped dagger.

“To be fair, Marine dropouts aren’t considered the cream of the crop.” A familiar voice drawls. You flinch, jaw clenching at the power behind the dagger.

“Swordsman.” You say, chin set. “I’ve made it then.”

“Hardly.” One of his magnificent brows raises at your over-confident words. “Me stumbling over a drunken alley brawl is no credit to you.” He says hat pulled low over his golden eyes, the white feather ruffling in the evening breeze. “Though you may as well get used to it. You’re late, and our deal is forfeit.”

And the swordsman has such an air of authority that you almost agree, but blink to snap yourself out of such a ridiculous notion. You were not going to be bullied by the swordsman on a technicality.

The sky is black, and the only light is from the windows and lanterns from the streets, but you refuse to be cowed by what must be the devil in disguise, the specter in all black with ripped abs and an aura was was downright dangerous.

“Is this not considered meeting you at dark?” You say angrily, raising your pole. “Would you have so little honor?”

“Are you challenging my honor?” He says flatly, and though the corners of his mouth don’t turn up you swear there is something in his eyes that is amused. “Surely you can feel the difference in our experience.”

“If that’s what you call your arbitrary word.” You contest, hand tightening on the metal in your palm.

You don’t flinch as he moves forward, faces close enough to kiss as your pole hits his dagger in a dull metallic clang that sends shivers into the earth beneath you. Power throbs from him, no matter how casual he seems, and you know that you have found a true bird of prey.

“I won’t be cowed by you.” You say, almost to yourself, reminding yourself that there is nothing to return to, even if he cuts you down. “I won’t apologize.”

His eyes are fearsome so close, so very like his nickname, and the sweet smell of a decent vintage escapes his breath this close as he leans into you.

“What of death?” He queries, voice digging as hard as his strike.

“Better death than a life lived in fear of my own potential.” You aren’t sure what shifts in the swordsman's face, but in that moment, you see something. It’s almost like he is reassessing your dedication to your dreams, deconstructing and rebuilding the idea.

Testing it for its purity.

Testing you for your worth.

He tuts, his perpetual frown creasing, his facial hair sharpening his disapproval.

“Such resolve won’t change my decision, monastery girl.” For a moment your heart drops, but there’s something about his words that taunts you.

He seems to believe you are too far beneath him to care one way or another. Even locked in combat he refuses to budge. And you’re no fool, you know he’s an experienced swordsman, much more powerful than you are.

But you’ve always been a hard-headed fool with a big mouth.

“Then would defeating you give you enough humility to take back your words?” You say, doubling your stance to lean into him more, causing him to shift his foot.

You’re close enough to the smell of the sea on him, and whatever expensive cologne and aftershave he uses. Perhaps sandalwood and cinnamon, but also something deep, like a rainforest. Close enough to see through where his sleeves lace to his jacket, and the veins in his hands and throat. Close enough to appreciate the dark hair curling from under his hat and the mole under his eye.

So close one of you could lean forward and kiss the other.

He doesn’t flinch.

“If you can give me even a scrape,” He says, flatly, “I’ll honor every last desire in that black heart of yours.” He says, raising his free hand. You mirror him but are surprised as he holds it behind his back.

“I’ll even give you a handicap.”

You flinch at the insult.

And despite defeating him being your very goal, you immediately know that you should not, under any circumstance, actually fight him. You know, just by the way he straightens, tilting his body and pivoting his feet he isn’t embellishing his prowess. He is going to hurt you if you give him the opening.

But you don’t.

You both step back, releasing the deadlock, and giving you a moment to nurse your sore arm. But not for long, as you adjust yourself to move defensively, feet dancing prettily into place as he holds his position.

“Done.”

And you don’t want to fail.

You can’t fail.

He doesn’t respond using words.

Your pole clashes against his dagger as you clash again, and again, each strike becoming harder. Sweat pools on your head as he comes out of you, more like you are in a ballroom, and he is a suitor smoothly guiding you in a waltz.

Good swordplay always felt like that.

You know you are outmatched, your footwork unpracticed and shoddy from lack of use and finesse. But it is there, and though the swordsman doesn’t seem to smile, you can almost see pleasure at the chance to perhaps take on an opponent who knew some steps to whatever dance he was waltzing.

You would be extremely fortunate to ever near such perfection in form and precision, and you could only hope to delay him as long as possible because you needed to keep dancing with someone so proficient. You may never get the chance again.

You step towards and away from one another in the perfect sink, circling one another in a perfectly intoxicating waltz of swords.

Pivoting the silver blade flashes past you, and you dodge neatly, moving to roll under him.

Dracule isn’t fooled by the feign, instead looping an arm around your elbow, causing the spin to be cut off. Your pole hits the ground in two pieces.

That damned little dagger pierces your throat as he holds your head in a deadlock, off-balance and unable to straighten.

“Boldness is a fool’s game for the weak,” He says against your throat, causing a dastardly shiver to escape you as he curls into you, not a drop of sweat on his perfect body, compared to the heat and wetness dripping off you.

“I am not weak.” You say, teeth clenched as you turn towards him, jaw hitting his own as he mutters into your ears.

“Oh?” He says, that amused tone heightening as he pushes you into the brick wall, squishing you between a rock and a hard place.

The words that escape your mouth as you struggle against the unmoveable swordsman are of legend, but the man sighs. No matter how your fingers attempt to claw him, there is no release.

“Such a disappointment, convent girl.” He drawls, his free hand brushing along the wild tangle of your hair to land on your chin to turn it towards him. “Surely you can do better.”

You kick off the wall, twisting.

But even the wild kick doesn’t land as he pulls you forward into enough of a crouch that your legs can’t reach his crouch.

“Now now,” He chides, fingers digging into your throat as hot breath envelops your neck, making your entire body seize in alarm. “None of that, darling. Be a good little girl and accept your fate. Return to the monastery. Surely that’s better than finding yourself in this position again and with a less courteous benefactor.”

Hot anger licks your insides.

You were nothing but good in your life, and now look where it has brought you. Being sold off into an abusive marriage, only to have a golden chance of escape flash by you. You want to lash out, you want to scream, you want to do something-

You glance down at the hand clenching your chin, turning you to look at the hill where hell itself is. By using only one arm, the man had sacrificed his ability to entirely restrain your body. You can’t get him with a weapon. But what he isn’t expecting, is your own quick thinking.

A smirk touches your face.

“Swordsman.” You say sharply, causing the man to angle his head towards you.

“Are you finally giving in?” He says, tired sounding as ever.

Pain stabs through the swordsman’s hand and though he doesn’t let go, he does turn you to give you the full glare you’ve earned with the extent of your actions.

“Are you a dog?” He drawls, unimpressed by the way your sharp teeth dig into his hand, your pretty lips curled in a grin.

Quick as lightning you had turned, dislodging a single finger of his, biting down hard enough to draw blood.

Iron fills your mouth, bitter, but tasting of victory.

“I win.” You say, letting go. “You said to scrape you. Your words.”

He releases you, and you have to brace yourself on the brick wall as he examines his hand, looking as unmoving as usual.

You wouldn’t know till much later how much the man admired the blood on your lips as you gazed ferociously at him.

“Very well,” He finally admits, turning away from you. “I am a man of my word.”

You huff in indignation, turning away yourself to let out an unsteady breath.

Finally.

You turn back to triumphantly follow him to his boat, only to realize…

That bastard!

He’s entirely gone. Not only had he negged on his word, he had taken all the wine!

#romance #mihawk #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece #OPLA #fanfic #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader

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silly-inky · 27 days ago

Text

Some Princess Luisa and fem Sunny love

I made a short story about how princess Luisa and fem Sunny met in this au (I made this last month but I only just got round to spell checking it) i made Sunny much more of a flirt in this. I did make some art to go along with it and that's after the writing

So Queenie ( Queen Boo) and Luisa are heading over to Delfino for a little vacation, they are mutually pining but neither have said anything yet. Peach, Dandy and Maria come with them but they arrive there with Queenie earlier than expected because of an earlier plane being delayed.

Luisa unfortunately missed this as she had to sort out a few things back at home before she could go, the others offered to wait but she thought it would be easier for them to go and get things sorted out so when she gets there there is no reason to fuss. It's not like she has a lot of luggage anyways, well she has a special suit case that can fit more than normal (curtsey of E.Gadd), not like she packs a ton but its good to have it all in one bag.

Now Luisa arrives there in the early afternoon (the others set off the previous day and got there in the night) and she looks lovely, she has a poofy long skirt/dress that's her signature green, she also has a sunhat, heals and vintage sunglasses with her suitcase in tow, she looks fabulous and everyone is noticing this gorgeous woman walking around the island, word makes it to the hotel before she even gets there about a gorgeous tall brunette with lovely long curls and a beautiful dress, she looks like she could be a princess or a model. (If you are curious on how she gets on the boat, she just takes her heals off then jumps)

When she finally arrives at the hotel she's a little flustered but still people can't help but stare. She apologizes to the man behind the front desk about being late as she had just missed the last boat and had to wait another half an hour before she could get to the hotel. This entire time the whole staff have been looking at her, one person in particular has already taken a particular liking to her.

As Luisa receives her room keys she goes to the lift (elevator) only to see it's out of order, with a heavy sigh she begins to pick up her suit case so she can drag it upstairs, then her knight in shining armor or appears as a very large woman approaches her, she has to be the tallest person she has ever seen besides Bowsette, she's chubby and surprisingly pale, she like many of the other islanders doesn't have a lot of clothing on, a pair of khaki shorts, a very large Hawaiian top left completely unbuttoned showing off her bikini top and the gold chain that hung around her neck, her hair was curly with a slight pink hue to it and her face wasn't too different to a Boo's apart from the difference in the eyes.

Luisa would be lying if she didn't find this mysterious woman.. Attractive.. but she was confused as to why she had approached her, so all she could really do was to stand there as she makes her way over to her. Standing next to her was a completely different feeling as usually having someone tower over you like this is a little intimidating, but she had a kind face and seemed to mean no harm.

"Hello ma'am, I'm sorry to disturb you an such a gorgeous day but I couldn't help but notice ya have some luggage with you that you need to take up to your room, is that right?" the Tall woman asked, her voice was calm and soothing, a little deeper than what she expected but not off putting in th slightest

"Ah! Well the lift here seems to be out of repair so I'm going to have to take the stairs unfortunately, i usually wouldn't mind but with heals and having to walk about so much today already I'm just having to mentally prepare myself" Luisa replied politely laughing a little at the end

"Oh there is no need for you to struggle darling I'll carry it for you, it's no trouble at all and you should take a rest" the Tall woman insisted

"If you wish, but please don't feel pressured into helping me Ms" Luisa said as she handed the suit case over to the other

"Of course, but what kind of hotel owner would I be if I didn't help out my guests! Shall we go? Ladies first " the Lady said as she picked up the suitcase with ease and gestured to the stairs

"Oh you are the owner! Oh well isn't that handy" Luisa said as she started to walk up the stairs

"I'm sorry I didn't catch your name?" the tall woman asked with a smile

"Oh of course! My name is Luisa, what is your name? " Luisa laughed a little

"Luisa? As in Princess Luisa? Oh well it's an honour to meet you, Queenie has been telling me all sorts about you! She told me you were beautiful, but her words don’t do justice to how truly stunning you are."

"Oh! Well thank you! you are too kind I don't deserve such praise. You know Queenie?" Luisa was a tad bit flustered but took the compliment in stride as she asked her question

"Well of course I do, if I'm not mistaken she brought you here to meet me sweetheart" the lady smirked a little in a teasing manner to fluster Luisa a little more

"Oh so you must be Sunny! Well it's a pleasure to meet you, i feel a little bad now since you invited us as guests and now you are having to carry my luggage" Luisa said cheerfully although still a bit flushed from the look Sunny gave her

“I told you before, I wanted to help, and I'd be a fool to not try and help a lovely little lady such as yourself, my name sounds so nice coming from you~ I'm a little jealous of how Queenie gets to spend all be time with you" Sunny said with a wink

"You are quite to flirt aren't you" Luisa didn't care to hide her cheeks at this point seeing as it only instigated sunny further

The two kept talking for another couple of minutes until they finally reached Luisa's room, she was sharing it with QB so she only had to knock. When Queenie came to the door she gave Luisa big hug and said how she was glad Luisa got here just fine, then she noticed her friend standing next to Luisa with her luggage in hand.

"Oh so you've already met Sunshine! How lovely, are you two getting along well?" Queen Boo asked as she took Luisa's luggage from her friend

"Are you kidding? We've already become besties! And how dare you not telling me how much of a cutie she was! The whole island is talking about her" Sunny pipes up before pinching QB's cheek a little

"Oh wow so she's already left quite the impression! Well I'm not surprised, and I did tell you she was a gem"

Luisa looked between the two becoming flustered again in the process

"Oh and she's such a delight to flirt with she looks so cute when her cheeks go red, you better be careful Q or I might steal her from you" Sunny says as she gives Luisa a knowing look

"Ha! I'd love to see you try! But I do agree, she's adorable when flustered" Queenie said

They were both joking and overall just acing like good friends, but there was the tiniest bit of tension between the two, like a silent rivalry sparking up, QB seemed to get just a little more protective of Luisa all of a sudden and didn't seem to want to back down.

This is going to be a long vacation for Luisa if things keep on like this

Art: (I couldn't be bothered erasing Luisa's legs, the skirt is not see through)

@brosif40 @spectrayus @skulls-soul

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samstclair · 1 year ago

Text

Tommy Shelby's Barmaid

Tommy Shelby X Reader

Anonymous Request -

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night Sammy Sammy yes I am! So check this out - I just saw Oppenheimer and came to the conclusion that I really miss seeing Cillian Murphy's face. So that night I began rewatching Peaky Blinders and am just in awe. So you know the point. I want to be his barmaid. No hate to Grace, love her, but let a girl just imagine. And that's where you come in. So yeah I wanna be his barmaid and sing to him. Maybe we're off to the races? Do your thing or else I'll might do a thing and report your account! :)

Word Count: pretty long

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

"And where are we off to, Miss?"

"One ticket to London, please!" you told the airport cashier, (or whatever they're called I'm not sure tbh), with your gleeful, bimbo smile. "The UK, one, thought. Not the Ohio one! Can't have that happening again!"

The lady didn't respond, she instead gave you a soft customer service fake ass laugh pretending she knew full well what you were talking about and kept her eyes down on the computer, securing that flight. You no longer trusted yourself to use computers or laptops, thanks to those Benadryl pills you used to be addicted to. But now that you were evicted from your New York apartment, you lost those pills in the process, and honestly all of your personal shit, so you've been forced to quit cold turkey and was actually experiencing withdrawals at the very moment. But, you couldn't let anyone know this! You needed to leave America fast.

"Okay, to confirm your name, Y/L/N, Y/F/N, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am!" You passed her your credit card and she did her magic, charging you a fuck ton of money!

The printer pooped out your ticket and she passed both that and your card back to you.

"Enjoy your flight. Safe travels," the lady wished you.

"Oh my god, girl, you too!" you wished back. You turned around and found your terminal, buying an expensive Starbucks drink of your choice and plopping your big butt down on a chair. You sat and looked around, sipping your coffee like a mother, taking in your surroundings of this little JFK airport they got going on.

"I'm really a world traveler right now...like, I'm on some Lewis and Clark shit right now," you thought to yourself.

You looked down at your luggages, or perhaps, just luggage. All that remained after your eviction just filled one Hello Kitty-themed suitcase you bought from TJ Maxx. You also had your rare vintage Juicy Couture purse you bought from Depop, thats faux leather was literally peeling off like dead skin, filled with all your essentials - lip gloss, nearly dead Elf Bar, crumpled up two-year-Goodwill old receipts, wired headphones because that's what cool people use walking down the street, crystals, loose hair ties, a baby Calico Critter, wire-exposed phone charger, and more that aren't too important to mention. You did miss all your other knick knacks and items that were lost, but since you were traveling light you 1. saved more money since it was just carry-on and 2. looked mysterious, just a girl on the road on her own adventure.

"After all, items are just like - items. Things." you thought, trying to convince yourself that all material items are just not real and people don't really need those things. This is what you repeated to yourself over and over but in all honesty it wasn't helping. You were fucking pissed you lost all your shit.

With all your items was your go-to airport fit - a Juicy baby blue tracksuit. So now you resorted to old PJ's you had shoved to the bottom depths of your drawer, wrinkled to the house boots down and forgotten of existence. They were a pair of Nike shorts and a baby tee that read "I <3 Surfer Boys". You then looked down to your white Crocs with the knock-off Jibblitz - the ootd would just have to do.

As you sat in your terminal, waiting, you thought about what adventures UK would bring to you. You wondered what people you'd encounter, what new storylines you'd get wrapped into, what NPCs would say to you - it really did feel like you were fast-traveling into another country in a video game.

Safe to say, you were ready for liftoff! Whenever that liftoff! would be because your flight was delayed like three times cause that's just airport things! This was the start of a new adventure! New and humble beginnings! No more America and their never-ending obsession with you committing financial fraud or whatever the IRS loved to say! But never mind that don't ask don't PUSH!!!!!!

Some hours later, you were finally able to board your flight. By this time, let's just say - people were fucking pissed about their flight being delayed, but you didn't really mind it. Yes, you were in a big time rush to leave America as soon as possible, but all that time waiting allowed you to finish the only downloaded show on your phone: LPS Popular. Shit was finally getting heated, Savannah Reed was def the no nonsense type of girl you envisioned yourself to be.

Anyway whatever you boarded on, took your window seat and went through the usual bullshit of waiting for everyone to board on and take off and turbulence and random ass baby crying and shitty food and whatever.

About a half hour in the sky, you looked through the catalogue of movies available - none which caught your interest.

However, after scrolling for another half hour - you found the one.

"Oh my god, a movie about two lovers flying in the sky staring Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams?!" you thought excitedly. "That's some good shit right there."

You hit that play button, scooted deeper into that seat, propped your patas up, and was subsequently locked IN for the short ass movie Red Eye.

The majority of the plot went over your head because you were to entranced with the Irish actor's cunty little face, sassy little attitude and blue big orbs for eyes, causing you to replay certain scenes over and over. (Specifically that bathroom scene. You didn't miss SHIT there). That hour and a half passed by and the movie had finished. Safe to say, you were NOT expecting any of that shit to go down.

"If that were me, I'd call that fucking hotel before he even told me to. Shit. I get Mark Wahlberg, if I was on that plane, things really would have gone differently," you thought, shaking your head. ]

After your almost seven hour flight, you had finally made it to London Town. It was indeed a stormy day, he was right, but you could go outside and roam around, contrary to popular belief. In order to prep for this trip, you stuck to just watching British films, trying to get an overall vibe of what those little redcoats were like. Pride and Prejudice (2005), Love Actually, Trainspotting, Little Women (Greta's version), Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon - let's just say, your Letterboxd was going crazy. You sobbed pretty disgustingly to all of them, except Trainspotting and Clockwork, which made you feel just icky. And Barry Lyndon just made you angry fuck that guy fr.

A/N - I just realized that Little Women, both Greta's version and the older 90s Winona Ryder one take place, in FACT, America. Oops! So yeah disregard move on u horndog <3

You once thought you were well-rounded on what chaos was, after all, you've been 1. in theater school, 2. briefly in the Medellin cartel, 3. worked in corporate America - but all of those experiences looked like fun Sunday pastimes the moment you stepped your fat butt off of the plane into London's Heathrow airport. Nothing could've prepped you for this shit. Too many people all doing different things in different directions was NOT your favorite place to be in! Let's just say - shit was hectic.

You boarded off, left your terminal and gathered your one Hello Kitty-themed suitcase and bolted the fuck out, running at your highest speed possibly, your Crocs locked in their sports mode, you just ran. It's what you did best, your superpower some might say. Maybe since Ezra Miller is canceled for being a kidnapper, you could possibly replace the Flash? Who knows tbh.

You ran so fast, miles and miles, (kilometers here!), you didn't realize you were now standing in front of the Big Ben. It was, admittedly, pretty big. Too bad you couldn't read time like that.

You looked down to your phone to see your receipt - you needed to be back in three hours for your next flight to Glasgow, Scotland - your actual destination. This London shit? Yeah it was only a layover. But you couldn't miss it.

You ended up missing it. You fell asleep on the big red bus, thinking you could sneak a little tour in before having to return for your next flight. By the time you woke up, it was morning, and you were alone, just you and your carry on.

"Ello Miss? Miss?"

Your eyes fluttered, adjusting to the brightness. A big English dude with missing and fucked up teeth was poking you awake.

"Bro what?" you muttered, pushing yourself up.

"Miss, it seems you've drifted off to sleep," the man said.

"Wait," you collected your thoughts, looked around at your surroundings, then down to your phone - your flight was seven hours ago. You felt your heart fall to the acidic pits of your stomach -

"Ain't no fucking way I'm stuck in London", you blurted out. "AIN'T NO FUCKING WAY!"

As if you took ten shots of DayQuil, you jumped up, scrambled for your shit and rocked the bus side to side as your Crocs took you across it, out to the exit and back onto the cobblestone streets of London Town. It was cloudy as always.

"Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no. NO I CAN'T DO THIS I CAN'T!" you yelled, running back towards the direction of that hell of an airport. You needed to get back. You NEEDED to get back to Scotland, you literally saw Trainspotting just for Scotland!

But alas, it was too late. By the time you made it back to Heathrow, there was no refunding. You would have to pay another fat BUCK to get on another flight.

"Oh fuck that," you told the English lady. You walked back out, no way this little kingdom was gonna make a profit off of your ass. "I'd rather walk!"

And then you began to walk. Not run, you were a little hungry and needed some energy for that amount of dedication.

You stopped by a tea place and thought that you might as well have a crumpet or whatever, which sucked ass. They charged so much for what? A pastry with like three grams of sugar? Girl bye.

You sat on the curb, looking down at your phone and opening a map, you could literally just walk to Scotland. Yeah it'd be a pretty fat walk, but you might get a crazy BBL ass for free from all the walking.

"Babes? Are you alroight?" you heard a strong British voice call. You turned and there it was - a chav. A real fucking chav.

"Oh my god, you guys exist?"

She furrowed her dark over-filled brows as she smacked her nude-lipsticked lips on a piece of gum. There were other chavs behind her, all bleach blonde, overly tan and red ass cheeks. It was like your friend group, but in an alternate universe.

"Wot?" she asked again, more confused than offended.

"Listen girl, I don't know if you can tell - but I'm not from here. I need to get to from the UK to Scotland. How does a girl like me do that?"

"Babes? Yor in the UKay, loike, this is London?"

"Huh?" you asked, like Trisha Paytas in the car.

"Babes," another chimed in, "the UKay is loike, mooltiple places poot into one? Loike, England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales -"

"Oh, so they're all like, the same?"

Their faces dropped with fear.

"Babes, don't say that. I've just met you, but I'd definitely tell you loike, don't say that around other peepol," the main chav warned.

"Especially the Irish, yeah," another said. "They'd be mentool."

"Oh, no worries here. I'm an ally to all," you assured, "so do you know where I can rest for the night?"

"Babes!" the chav said excitedly, "I've got family in Birmingham! It's up norf, already on the way for yor travels! I'll text me nana so you can stay there fo free!"

"Babes," you said, you're cheap frugal ass getting hyped, "you're such a babe! Thanks girlie!"

You ended up dropping some money to take an Underground from London to Birmingham, because you then really realized your Crocs could only momentarily take you so far. Also, tat withdrawal wasn't doing you any favors. Anyway you enjoyed the ride, drinking some complimentary tea with your headphones in and disassociating as you looked out the window into the cement walls. You started to regret not bringing some sort of sweater because who would've thought a baby tee and Nike shorts would be enough. Shit was chilly.

You stepped off into the platform, feeling a strong GUST of wind rush past you. You first kinda enjoyed it like it was some sort of main character moment, but the moment that ghastly smell of smoke hit your nostrils - you went frozen like Mitch McConnell.

"Jeeeeeesus CHRIST!" you bellowed, "who fucking farted?"

You looked around, but soon became even more confused. Everyone was giving you the hardest stares you've ever received in your lifetime. But it wasn't their stares, no, you've been stared at before for worst things, it was cause of their - fits.

Everyone was dressed like some 1900s shit. It reminded you of the show Downton Abbey, the show your old boss Logan Roy used to binge. Little particles of what looked like dandruff floated around you and everything else just seemed gray.

"Wait, are you guys filming?" you asked in your bimbo self, smiling, "did I just walk onto set?"

No one replied. They really thought you were insane. There you were - rough looking, mid-withdrawal, I <3 Surfer Boys, old high school Nike shorts, Crocs, Five Below socks, Dollar Store sunnies, Hello Kitty-themed suitcase and Juicy bag, Elf bar in one hand and your phone with dangling earbuds wrapped around it. They were petrified.

You grew angry. You just stood there as they stood there too - both you and the Downton Abbey cosplayers were in a stand off.

"Okay whatever," you said, rolling your eyes. "Stay hating!"

You whipped around and began walking down the pavement, calling, or as the English say "ringing", that chav's nana. However, it rang and rang, you dialed and dialed, the lady was not picking up.

"Um, what the fuck?" you said looking down at your phone, "can this girl pick up?"

You continued to dial, your other hand to your waist like a Karen. You continued to look around as it rang, really impressed with the set.

It had been very foggy, and the cobblestone roads led down between old brick buildings where people in their 1920's costumes walked along, smoking and dodging the occasional explosion from the coal-burning coming from inside the buildings. Horses were trotting, carrying hay and other shit. People were yelling in their crazy accents and the dandruff kept raining down. Pillars up in the sky let out dark clouds of smoke. That gross exhaust smell still lingered, and no matter how much Nicki Minaj body spray you put on yourself, there was no way to mask it.

"Great. I'm homeless AGAIN!" you thought, giving up on that nana. "Whatever. I didn't even want a roof to sleep under anyway. C'est la vie honestly."

The stares did not cease. In fact, it got worse. You knew you were hot but like what the fuck can't a girl just walk and bitches mind their business?

Things were getting worse. The cobblestone ass road made it hard for you to pull your suitcase, so you were just essentially dragging it, you phone was on ten percent, you were hungry and thirsty because let's be real you did not eat much on that train, and honestly just over it.

You passed all the workers, dodged some random explosions, evaded random running children, spit some of that dandruff out of your mouth. Safe to say, you were angry but needed to persevere!

Eventually it was nighttime. You couldn't really tell if it was night or if it was just the pollution in the air at first, but after asking a random man he assured you it was indeed nighttime.

"I don't know how you guys live with all this dandruff," you told him, shaking your head. "You guys must be getting paid good as extras."

"Dandruff?" the man said, "that's ash, luv!"

"Thank god, that makes more sense. I was thinking I was gonna need to buy some Heads and Shoulders. I hate Heads and Shoulders."

He continued to look at you weird while he smoke his, what you were pretty sure in the span of you two talking, sixth cigarette. "Heads and shoulders? Fuck are they to do with your hair?"

"I know, horrible branding. I feel bad for the people in Pompeii. They probably thought it was like, a dandruff epidemic."

Eventually the man directed you to the Garrison, which was supposed to be this pub or whatever that all the locals hit up. You really just wanted a drink of water and like Taco Bell or something. Maybe a "Macky D's"? By the time you made it to the establishment, it was midnight, since you took forever cause you kept getting lost.

It was situated in a weird spot, where several men would occasionally run out and throw up bad on the dirt floor. It sounded hella noisy and rough in there, which was something you were not looking forward to. But again, you're hungry.

"I'm fucking starving," you thought to yourself as you pushed those heavy doors open, your suitcase getting caught in them. A surge of anger caused you to yank it past the swinging door, causing the it to slam against the wall and crack the glass. You got scared cause you didn't wanna pay for it, so you applied the "hear nothing, see nothing" tactic. It always worked <3

Nothing could've prepared you for when you entered. The energy was just not it. Heathrow vibes for sure. Hoards of drunk ass English men doing, well, things that drunk English men do. They were yelling, cursing, fighting, just being overall very annoying and overwhelming. It took you by surprise, you were just in awe that English were real. It was literally like a Call of Duty lobby but the English colonized it as they always do.

"These motherfuckers are crazy bro," you thought to yourself, getting a seat at the bar. The bartender made his way to you, and after some hesitation on his end, he finally spoke.

"Em, what can I get you, ma'am?" he asked, looking at you confused.

"Y'all got a menu?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Food, bro. I want food." You were not having it.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid there's just drinks here."

"Fine, fucking alcoholics," you said, holding in your hangriness, "what about water?"

"Huh," he thought, "no one ever asks for water. I forgot we served it!"

He turned around and as he began to pour some crusty water into a dusty glass, you felt a tap on your shoulder. But before you could even turn to ask what the fuck whoever wanted what, another big burly English drunk dude was all up in your face.

"ELLO MISS! MIGHT I HAVE A CHANCE AT BUYIN' YA A DRINK?"

You were flabbergasted. Dude REEKED of some ale.

"Uh, you stink," was all you could muster, pressing your fingers on your nose.

His face fell into a very angry one. "YOU FOOCKIN' JEZEBEL!"

You weren't sure what 'jezebel' meant so you just rolled your eyes and turned back to the new glass of water placed in front of you by the bartender, and before he could walk off you downed the entire thing. He, too, like McConnell, was frozen at your abilities.

"Sorry about that man, Miss," the bartender said as he poured you another. "You're very pretty. Must be getting used to it by now around here."

"Yeah, like, about that," you started, taking your time with the water this time because you didn't know how much they had left in this place, "why is everyone cosplaying? Like, people here are DEEP into their character, which, don't get me wrong - I respect. I used to be a theater major myself, so I get it. But this is like, crazy. I know the English love their theater, but god."

The bartender, with a hypothetical gun to his head, could not for the life of him understand what the fuck you meant. You kinda got that vibe when he didn't reply right away. He actually looked worried for your mental wellbeing.

"Um, why did you just like, disassociate?" you asked.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he chuckled nervously, "you've just confused me, is all."

"Yeah, all that alcohol is giving you that early onset dementia. Do you know where I can get food around here?"

"Hmm," he thought, "I don't really know, to be honest with ya. And it's quite late, so I'm not sure what's open."

You could cry. You hated being hungry and tired at the same time, added to literally everything else that was happening around you. You were able to tune out the drunken men yelling behind you, but only to a point - mama was close to blowing.

"Oh my GOD," you started. "WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO TO GET SOME FUCKING FOOD AROUND HERE?!" you caught yourself. The bartender was growing more concerned. "I'm sorry," you cleared your voice, "it's just like, your queen for real sucked."

"Queen?" he asked.

"Wow, you're really dedicated to the craft. Like I said, I respect." You continued to drink your water.

"How'd you end up here in London, anyway?" he asked, leaning against the counter. You later found out his name was Harry, like Styles.

"Oh, buddy," you said, "what a story I have for you."

You then began to blabber on about what brought you to this point, which helped because it made you forget about your current grievances. Soon, the entire pub went dead quiet, tuned in to your story time. You felt like Tana Mongeau, and these were your viewers. You get why the majority of YouTubers were lowkey conceited. (Not Tana though she's funny love you girl <3). It was like a big kindergarten story time.

About half an hour later, you were mid-way through.

"And so, when my boss literally fucking died, I was like, 'oh shit, I've like lost my job by like, proxy'? It was scary."

"How'd he pass?" one of the drunk men asked.

"Dude, get this. He died getting his phone out of the toilet. Like, some Elvis shit," realizing they wouldn't get what you just said, you thought it best to move right on, "anyway, I was like, 'maybe this is a good time to move on, maybe America isn't the place for me.' I was also wanted by the Men in Black, too. They don't fuck around."

"Who's the Men in Black?" Harry asked.

"The IRA were after ya?" another asked, in shock.

"I. R.S. It's not important. So, after he died, one of his kids had to be chosen to take over the company. Imagine like a Game of Thrones sort of thing. My on-and-off boyfriend, Kendall, is the oldest so you'd think it'd be him, right? Like, his name was underlined and everything. Or crossed out, you know, is the dress blue and black or white and gold? The day of, I snuck into the building for the board meeting. I wasn't supposed to be there, cause you know, I'm not a share holder or whatever, but I thought 'if I act like nothing happened, maybe technically I'm NOT fired cause my boss died, maybe nobody will say anything?' Confidence takes you a loooong way let me tell you! So at the board meeting, I voted Kendall, but his stupid home alone ass brother Roman was like 'oh YOU'RE still here?'. Then he told me to fuck off and that I should've died with Logan? Could you believe that?"

They were all in shock, muttering angry English curse words to each other.

"And then I was like, 'no fuck you. What ever happened to democracy? I don't have a vote?'. But whatever, Kendall didn't win and he left the building. No, Horton Hears a Who Tom won, and while everybody was celebrating I was like, 'guys? GUYS! ALL EYES ON WINDOWS! WHERE DID KENDALL GO? All eyes on windows!'. Then I got like, kicked out or whatever. I kept spamming Kendall, texting him and calling him and nothing. Like 'Kenny, wya???'. He was ghosting me. Then I saw right after he put his phone on Do Not Disturb. Targeted, really. I saw his location at Central Park, facing the water, and this had me WORRIED. Kendall and bodies of water? Yeah they don't mix well. I needed to talk to him before he jumped! But when I got there, his new dumbass body guard was like, 'Can you leave? He's not seeing anyone'. I kept calling him, and he wouldn't turn to look at me. He was like, mega dissociating watching that horizon."

"Must've killed him that he's no longer the number one boy," a drunken English man said, somber.

"Def," you said.

"So you and Kendall?" another asked.

"No more. He never picked up, so I thought we were done," the men in the bar were devastated. "Yeah, really sad. I already mourned, though. So, yeah, I was like, 'what do I do now?' Logan gave me some money, so I can really just do anything? I was walking down the streets of New York and saw a random man in a suit I thought was the IRS, and it hit me - I'm lowkey a fugitive? I need to like, leave. Logan isn't there to protect me anymore, you know? And then it hit me - I'll go to Scotland! In Logan's honor! Like, his hometown. Plus, I thought Scotland didn't have extradition, but it was actually Venezuela. But it's okay, same shit. And that's why I'm here."

"But this is Birmingham?" another man said.

"Oh, yeah, don't worry I fully aware. But yeah, that's it."

Again, the pub had been silent. They'd been intrigued, captivated. You waited for someone to speak up and break the silence, but about two minutes later you realized that wasn't gonna happen.

"Okay? Anyway, so nothing to eat here?" you asked Harry.

He shook his head, stunned. You then slowly crept off the chair, gathered your shit and saw your way out. "Weirdos," you thought.

You exited back out, it was now fully dark with few lampposts shining light onto the falling dandruff. It all reminded you of exactly where you were - stuck.

You slumped against the wall, onto the ground where you didn't see any of the mud that splashed all over your shorts. You were too tired and over it to give a fuck. You pulled out your phone, and saw the battery on 2%.

"Man FUCK!" you exclaimed, "I know damn well none of these Lin Manuel Miranda stans built an electric socket."

You went on to scroll mindlessly through your feed, which barely loaded because of the lack of signal. You were in the middle of spamming the refresh button until you received a notification from Snapchat that read, "One Year Ago Today". You clicked it open, forgetting you still had that app downloaded, and its contents nearly pushed you over the edge to start balling.

You clicked play.

"Oh, don't be a pussy, Greggguh!"

"Mumusdsfjks," Greg said, shoving more marshmallows into his mouth, "Chubb Bunif."

"Sorry, buddy, couldn't hear you!" Tom said, giddy, shoving his own marshmallow down Greg's mouth.

"You got it Greg!" you heard yourself say.

You wanted to cry. You wished you could just go back to Waystar in that moment, playing the Chubby Bunny challenge with gay lovers Tom and Greg.

"Man, I miss them," you thought. But alas, that was all gone now...

You quickly closed the video, going to your bank app to see how much money remained. After all, Logan DID leave you with enough, but you couldn't help yourself on those McDonald's breakfast orders through Uber Eats.

Your tears quickly evaporated like they were put through the snap of Thanos when you got a glance of your credit score though. Oh no.

"OH MY GOD?!??! MY CREDIT IS AT 400????!!? I'M LIKE, FUCKED?!???!"

"What's a credit score?"

You nearly shit yourself at the deep, sullen voice. You looked up and let's just say - you were intimidated. It's the terrorist dude from Red Eye. He wore a flat cap and a tweed little suit type of fit.

But it wasn't the tweed that had you transfixed - no, it was those eyes....they were familiar. The last time you felt power of being in a trance like that were those Furbies... it forced you to look at them, you had lost all ability of self-control. They made you question yourself, your purpose and whole life being. They were commanding you with their uncanny valley vibe. Their immense gravity caused all time to slow...

"Dude, put those away!" you yelled, forcing your eyes shut and looking away.

He didn't reply.

"I'm sorry," you giggled, realizing he wasn't gonna reply to you and instead just stood there. "I'm just really hungry. You got anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Actually...we don't eat." He had a little sassy, matter-of-factly tone of speaking you fucked with heavily.

"Yeah, that's why your official dish is tikka masala," a glance of that dish popped into your head. "Man I could fuck that up right now."

"I can take you to my office, I might have something there," he said. You agreed right after, anything would have to do. Little did you know, this would be the man who would save you. Not in a self-fulfilling sense but he'd grab you something to eat.

You two made it to his office, some ways away. It was just a big ass dark room with tables in the middle, which you would later find out the betting on his horse racing took place.

You sat down and he took off his coat and goofy ass hat, then went to the back for a moment. You looked around, you felt like you were in a dungeon. You looked down to your phone - shit was dead.

He came back moments later, with a single loaf of bread he placed in front of you. He then took a seat across from you, took out a cigarette and did what the English do best, smoke.

You were a bit taken aback, and it definitely showed, since his little sassy face got more sassier.

"Well?" he bellowed, motioning to the food.

"Honestly," you started, not wanting to offend cause he did scare you (in a hot way), "I don't know what more I was expecting. I know Panera bread when I see it."

You began to eat, he just watched you. You would be annoyed had this been anyone else, but man was too fine.

Some minutes went by, and he just smoked while you ate. He was definitely a man of few words.

"You're so mysterious," you said. "Is that your character?"

He took in a big puff and put his feet up on the table like he owned the place, cause he literally did. "You don't belong here."

"Yeah, no fucking shit. I'm supposed to be in Scotland."

"What's in Scotland?" he asked, tapping his cigarette into an empty whiskey glass.

"Bagpipes, I've heard."

He then leaned to the side, grabbing his cigarette case out and offering you one. You declined.

"It's okay, I don't like cigarettes. They're gross," you went inside your bag and pulled out your crusty geriatric Elf Bar that was on life support, "here, try this! She's my sidekick!"

He stared at it, not a thought behind those eyes. He then rose up.

"What about a whiskey, eh?" He went to a table against the wall and poured two glasses. You shrugged at his decline of your Elf Bar, and took some shitty hits cause girl it's dead give it up.

As he had his back to you pouring the glasses, you really thought about how manly he was, in a way all those Ryan Gosling Drive stans love. He reminded you of those mafia boss fanfics you used to read. The way he spoke was so low and serious, but it made your feet rock like crazy!

He turned back around and placed your glass in front of you. Before he sat, he took a swing of his and literally drank it all in one shot like an animal. Wanting to impress him, you did the same, but soon regretted it right after. You'd tried whiskey before, but that was just not good. It was so strong it burned your esophagus, causing you to feel like you had strep throat all over again. You nearly gagged and threw it up but you couldn't let Tommy see you that way. He was staring.

"Jesus Christ," you said in a raspy, chain smoker voice, trying to smile through the pain, "that's some real shit right there. I'd much prefer a BuzzBall."

"What brings you to the UK?" he asked again, a little more interrogating.

"Fine. I'm avoiding parole."

"Parole?"

"Have you ever been on parole?" you asked.

He took a moment, your question hit hard. "Ever since men like me got back from France, we've always felt we were on parole under the king." He had a sadness to it, which then made you kinda sad.

"Aww, you're a parole baby <3."

He rose his brows in a "yeah this girl off it" way.

"Does France give you bad memories?" you asked, wanting to know both out of being a nosy bitch and seeing if you could break him.

"Most nights," he said.

"Don't worry, me too."

"You served?"

"I might has well have," you replied, thinking of that past life living with your old boyfriend.

"I wasn't aware women served."

"We always do," you assured. You kept looking into his eyes like it was a staring contest.

"What's it you're looking at?"

"You have a very, no-nonsense cunty face. Like BBL," you first smiled telling him that, but it then reminded you of when you told your old boyfriend Kendall the same thing. The thought of him made you sad, you wondered where your number one boy was now...

You didn't realize but Tommy noticed your change in demeanor, initially believing you were thinking about your time during the war in France. He rose and grabbed another drink, placing one in front of you as he killed his in less than a second.

You snapped out of your sadness. "Oh, no thanks. I don't think I can have anymore. This trip will definitely be very detoxing for me."

You two then sat in comfortable silence for some time, as if you two were both mourning after the innocence lost before France. You were something different for him, a new comfort he couldn't find much else in that polluted ass city. And you found comfort in him, he really did seem like he needed fixing. But that's not what you do, no no, he's a grown ass man and can fix himself. You'll just watch from the sidelines <3.

Eventually, you stayed in Birmingham. Once you were aware that your money had no value in the UK, you realized you needed to be employed again to save up for Scotland. Dollars, turns out, did not equal shillings and pounds or whatever. Tommy hooked you up after finding out your situation and generously gave you a job at the Garrison as a barmaid, along with Harry, who in time, became your BFF. It wasn't that hard of a job, these men never mixed any drinks and would instead have their alcohol straight like a bunch of monsters, so you kinda ate at this job. Another perk was that these 1920s bitches loved thin eyebrows, so your Y2K overplucked eyebrows fit right in! Full circle shit!

But perhaps the best perk was when Tommy would come in every so often and give you a little LOOK. Oh that shit made you rabid yes it did! It made you all hot down there and you couldn't handle it! You two barely spoke, as he would go into the side room for meetings and whatever mumbo jumbo he got up to with his brothers, but when you did you did your best to bring out that old femme fatale. You knew damn well he'd fuck that shit up. And let's be real so did you.

You knew that you had Tommy in your CLUTCH when he was once lecturing you - basically there was talk about some Billy Kimber dude amongst him and his brothers and the members of the gang, but you couldn't get past how fun it was to say the man's name, especially in their wild ass accent. You kept incessantly shouting it, to what you thought was a joke, "BILLY FACKIN KIMBA" in every possible moment you could, but it would send all the men into a paranoid shock thinking Billy boy was just around the corner. Obviously, he wasn't, in fact you couldn't point out who Billy Kimber was in a crowd of English, but let's just say - it sent them for a sheer panic. They would constantly tell Tommy to get you to stop, since it was bringing back war trauma basically and never felt fear like that since the war. You personally thought they were being a bunch of pussies but whatevs.

Anyway Tommy found you at the bar after closing and wanted to have a serious talk with you - no more random BILLY FACKIN KIMBA. As he was lecturing you on the dangers of it, you actually started to disassociate in those eyes of his. You then started to think,

"What if I just grabbed his hat?"

Those intrusive thoughts grew stronger and stronger as the moments flew by and the more his voice became a bunch of muffled nothing. And they won.

"GOTCHA HAT!" you spat before taking his flat cap off and running with it, jumping over the bar on some parkour shit and pushing those doors open onto the grimy streets of Birmingham, in an excited manic. You ran for nothing, since you didn't notice in the adrenaline of it all he didn't move an inch and instead just stood at the bar, stumped. From that point on, he knew you weren't like other girls. Cause let's be real who in their right fucking mind would do that to Tommy Shelby? You did girl xoxo <3

But when your image with Tommy REALLY hit home for the guy, it was one night. One very special night...

You were working the night shift at the Garrison, again. It was another rainy day in London Town, and you were all alone cleaning up. You started to think about Gabbie Hanna, and how low key right she was. You continued to rap to yourself,

"♪ Overwhelmed, overworked, overpaid. I'm on top of the world sitting pretty ♪ -"

The doors flew open, causing you to jump pretty high up. You looked to the entrance, it was Tommy. And man was drenched and tired looking, your fave combo.

He walked over, behind the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was always a little emo and to himself, but something about him now was really depressing, like man's definitely going through it.

He then took a seat at a table, and looked at you with dead eyes.

"What's with the frown?" you asked, trying to lighten up the mood but was severely unsuccessful. (Unbeknownst to you he literally just had to put down a horse he thought was cursed :/ it's a canon event!)

He didn't reply. Surprise surprise instead he just drank his whiskey done. You chewed your gum, clueless.

You just continued to clean, continuing Gabbie's rhyme in your head.

"♪ Overwhelmed, overwork, underpaid ♪ -"

"Can you sing?"

You turned around again. He fr sounded sad asf. It shocked you, cause did he like, read your mind or sum?

"Uh, yeah. You want me to sing?"

"Every barmaid knows how to sing."

"Okay, sure. Like acapella?"

He just stared at you, lost again with your mumbo jumbo.

"Well, I know Lana, I know Nicki, my ex had a song L to the OG-"

"Lana. She sounds nice."

You nodded. "She really is, I love her. Okay, I think I know a song."

"Stand up there," he pointed to a table. You were a bit hesitant, the last time you did that you ate shit like that one girl on YouTube who was also singing on a table and ate shit. But it was for Tommy so you did so anyway.

You climbed up, took out your gum, flicked it in a bucket, cleared your throat, moved your hair out of your face, and fixed your posture - this was your Pose moment tonight, and Tommy's Billy Porter.

You then started to sing White Mustang by Lana, but the moment you got to the chorus, which was, well, White Mustang, he told you to stop.

"Something else, please," he asked demanding yet softly.

"What? Too close to home? Don't worry, Lana does that," you assured, "here, I'll sing a song that hits close to me, it's called How to disappear, it's what do when I'm trying to run from the IRS."

You cleared your throat again and started to sing and girl you ATE THAT SHIT!!!!!

You hit those fucking notes, you were lost in your little own world envisioning yourself in a music video. You understood why America's Got Talent contestants were nervous, cause the pressure? Yeah it's real. And not only is Tommy Billy Porter, he's also Simon Cowell - a yes from that Brit would secure your spot.

Speaking OF Tommy, because momentarily you forgot he was there with you - the man was enthralled, ENCHANTED. He sat silently, the rainwater dripping down his face, as he was taking in every small gesture you made, taking in every musical note that came out of your BBL mouth, (even the voice cracks), and just taking, well, you in. At that very moment, he was in love. YOU were the femme fatale he needed in his life, the one that would complete him, make him feel whole, and would give him purpose.

Once you were finished, you snapped back into reality and realized you actually weren't in a music video. You looked to Tommy, whose face barely made any other emote other than the one where he looked like he was annoyed, staring up at you. A wave of anxiety flooded over you - you were the center of his world right now, and that pressure was too hot!

You quickly climbed down, and flashed him a big smile.

"So?" you asked, now LITERALLY feeling more grounded on the ground.

He didn't respond at first. Moments later, he did.

"Do you have something nice to wear?"

"Like what?"

"A dress?"

"Um," you thought, trying to remember the contents of your Hello Kitty-themed suitcase, "maybe. Why?"

He rose up, getting ready to leave from the fear and insecurity of the emotions he just experienced. "I want to take you to the races."

"We're gonna race?"

"Horses. Horse races," he corrected you, making his way to the exit. "Be ready by tomorrow, I'll collect you before noon."

"Oh my god, like a date?" you were too slow to come to the conclusion because by that time he'd already left. The excitement quickly mixed in with the anxiety, which wasn't the best feeling in the world. You knew in anticipation for tomorrow you were gonna need SOMETHING to take the edge off, so before closing up you snatched some bottles of alcohol to take to your flat. You weren't really sure what exactly they were, but what you did know was that it was gonna taste like fucking ass. But when mama needs her go go juice, she TAKES her go go juice.

The following morning you woke up at the crack ass of dawn to get ready - you knew you needed TIME. Not that it takes a while for you to get all pretty, girl you're already naturally stunning! but time and place - you needed to stunt today. Also, you already weren't a morning person so you didn't trust yourself to snooze. Actually, you barely slept at all last night since you were too caught up about what makeup you were gonna do, how you were gonna style your hair, what dress to wear and most of all, your ass was just asked out by Tommy. You wondered if this is how nervy the soldiers felt when they encountered bin Laden's bunker.

You had already finished your makeup and hair, looking pretty snatched. Too bad your phone's been dead for the past couple of weeks and you couldn't take pictures. But anyway you did the usual 1920's makeup tutorial you remember watching on some Buzzfeed video a while ago, pretending you were doing a Vogue makeup tutorial in your mirror and talking step by step your process. You curled your hair into the 1920's bob they were obsessed with back then, packing on an obscene amount of gel just to keep that wave stiff. You struggled but nonetheless you got it girl.

You were now staring at the remaining contents of your Hello Kitty-themed suitcase - let's just say, you had nothing. That's a lie you did have SOMETHING but was it appropriate for the time? No. Like if you're going to the Renaissance Fair, your ass isn't gonna wear some Skims ass dress. But guess what? That's actually all you had.

It was a black, tight, spaghetti-strap slip-on dress that was above the knee - definitely NOT the vibe for the era, maybe a bit too revealing? But what other choice do you have? You're I <3 Surfer Boys tee? Exaaaaactly.

You slipped it on and was taken aback - you know how you forget how good you look when it's been a while since you've dressed up and you actually surprise yourself? Yeah that was you right now. Kim would be proud to see you in that dress, in fact, she'd probably cheer you on to wear it proudly at the races. Even though she wasn't your favorite sister, you imagining her company right now really did help.

You kept feeling yourself in the mirror - girl you looked GOOD. You put on some black heels, some perfume and that was it - you were simply that bitch now.

"Oh my god," you thought to yourself, "Tommy's gonna flip. Shit, I'd get with me."

And just like that, you heard the honks of a car coming from outside your flat. You peered through the window, and there you saw some vintage, rinky dink ass car.

"Oh, fuck!" you shouted, mainly to yourself, but they heard. "Coming!" you called out the window.

It was actually happening - oh fuck he's here oh yes he is. Quickly, you grabbed one of the bottles you confiscated and took the fattest swig. It was the most horrendous, grotesque warm vodka you've ever consumed. But it would have to do.

You quickly made it downstairs, taking a moment before appearing outside to calm yourself down and make it seem as if you effortlessly just went down some stairs without a care or worry in the world. You made sure to grab a fur coat, faux of course, and your keys.

Down by the car was Tommy in the driver's seat, with his two brothers, Arthur and John, seated in the back. They all looked at you in awe - they had never seen so much of a woman's legs in their entire life.

"Bloody foockin' hell, Tommy! What do we have here?!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Jesus, Tommy," said John, "I didn't think it was bloody possible for you!"

Tommy stared at you for a few seconds longer, a bit taken aback himself.

Tommy ignored his brothers and exited his side, helping you into the passenger's. You got a whiff of his cologne that brought out an animalistic, innate horndogness of you that you remembered to keep in check. Now was not the time but it was admittedly hard cause the man just looked so good.

He climbed back into his side, then started driving off, the cobblestone road causing you to feel even more nauseous than you already did. You didn't realize it, but you were mute for the first ten minutes from how disassociated you were. That vodka was hitting deep and swimming in circles in your empty tummy - you hadn't had breakfast, essentially raw dogging and running on nothing, because you knew if you munched on some Panera bread, you would've thrown it up from the nervousness. You were now really accepting the fact that it was a grave mistake.

"Well, what's wrong with her?" Arthur bellowed, "is her bloody tongue cut off?"

Tommy gave you a quick little side eye, then fully turned to you after realizing you were, indeed, gone.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned with a TOUCH of attitude. Or maybe they were both the same you couldn't differentiate it when it came to Tommy.

"Uh, yeah," you cleared your throat and sat up straight, "just really taking in the moment, you know? It's my first race."

Tommy turned back to the road.

"You guys look great!" you complimented, wanting to move on.

"Why thank you, Miss Y/N. I shall wear your kind words like a medal from tha war," said Arthur. "You look like one of them silent film stars!"

You blushed. "So, wanna listen to some music?" you suggested, hating sitting in quiet cars.

Tommy scrunched his brows. "What do you mean?"

You looked down to where the touchscreen on the car WOULD be, forgetting this car was quite literally just a box on wheels with an engine attached. AUX and Bluetooth are not in the vocabulary of these people's brains for another couple more decades.

"Like, carpool karaoke," you suggested.

"What?" John asked.

"Bloody hell is that?" Arthur also asked. You also forgot, these English men wouldn't face the atrocity that is James Corden in ALSO a couple more decades.

Tommy scoffed, a small little smile on his face but nonetheless a smile. He gets it. "Singing. She likes to sing."

"Is that right?" smiled Arthur, "wow, you've really done a number on Tommy boy over here! He's now a fan of the musical arts!"

The two brothers began laughing and smacking Tommy on the shoulders and head in a playful, men-in-a-gang, manner. He smirked.

"I'll start, I have the perfect song - this one's called Off To The Races," you turned to Tommy, "also by Lana."

You two smiled at the little inside joke y'all had going on now. You then started singing, really into it like the night before. You were hitting those "scarlet, starlet" notes a little too good. Once you wrapped up, you left the three men in a silence that lasted for a couple minutes. Except Tommy, he was always silent. But his brothers were a little confused, but decided to just roll with it since you made Tommy happy. You thought they were just floored by your abilities.

"Lovely," John finally said, hesitant and low to break the silence.

"You've got yourself a bloody mental one here, Tommy," said Arthur. Tommy smiled, you were indeed a little unwell but it was okay to him. So was he <3

It had been about an hour after your arrival, you had been helping yourself to a shit ton of food by a table, stocking up like a bear ready for hibernation. You were literally the only one there, and you assumed so because the cigarettes and alcohol these Brits were fucking up were acting as appetite suppressants. Your fat ass wasn't complaining.

Besides being the only one actually eating something of nutritional value, you were getting HEAVY looks and side eyes for your outfit. You didn't care, your ass looked good from all the walking around the pub you've been doing. Upon entering, Tommy noticed the looks to. You whispered in his ear, "it's cause none of these interbred Habsburg jaws know what a real woman a real BITCH looks like 💅."

He didn't get exactly what you meant, but got the vibe and he liked it. He, actually, loved that you were the center of attention here, as you SHOULD be. Afterwards, he told you he had some business to attend to and knowing you were hungry, led you to the food table. He said he'd get you after he was done, and man was taking his time. But again you didn't care you were just munching away.

"Try the scone, darling, it's absolutely dashing!" a rich, socialite said to you. Her costume was just as amazing as everyone else.

"You know, I've been avoiding it but, maybe I will. Why not?" you smiled, grabbing one and taking a chomp. It tasted like actual ass but you have a great poker face. You moaned like Mark Weins, even hitting his crazy facial expressions. "It's great!" you mumbled. She smiled and talked on about something you didn't really pay attention to.

Eventually, Tommy came up behind you and grabbed your arm gently. Had this been any other man, you would've pistol whipped them in the face with the rock of a scone in your hand, but it was Tommy so you just got all the butterflies inside. You turned and smiled, chewing your food and swallowing it almost hole to say something and not just stand there.

"Fhey Tomyif," you mumbled through the dry scone.

"Feeling better, eh?" he said in a low tone. He seem a little more cheery, which made you cheery. He was enjoying himself, as he should. And so were you, as you should. Let's just say, the vibes were good.

"Omg, def," you said, finally swallowing the last bit of food, "you know, you should try eating something. I know you don't do it much, but, I feel like it can be a great experience for you."

He looked into your eyes. He loved that you cared. A soft smile came on his lips.

"Not hungry."

You thought for a minute. "But like, I'm pretty sure you haven't eaten since France."

"Maybe later. Do you dance?"

"Do I dance? With a little spicy marg in me, Tommy, it's over." But alas, the bartender would have no clue what a spicy marg was, so you kinda had to retract your statement, "But no yeah I can dance sober too no biggy."

"Good," he said, grabbing your hand gently and leading you to the crowded dance floor. You turned back to wave at the socialite lady, who gave you a little wink. My girl knew you scored.

All you knew was that the Brits LOVED their Charleston dancing, something that you definitely needed Just Dance to teach you. But she wasn't here. You were frightened at the thought, but when Tommy pulled you in, and you two just started going at it, it was as natural as your BBL ass. That one Pride and Prejudice dancing sequence had you mastered in the art.

With his hand at your waist and the other in your hand, and your other hand around his neck feeling his buzzcut, there was no force on this earth that could stop you. You honestly just moved your legs around and were great.

Up close to him, you were again in touch with his cologne. You needed to control yourself, but it didn't help that he was like three inches from your face. In this sea of people, it just felt like you two and no one else.

As you two were fucking up that dance floor to that 1920s jazz music, you looked around at the other faces of people dancing around you. Some you caught staring, others pretended not to. You smiled at the fact your hot ass was intimidating.

"Man, if I were to do the Woah here, they'd all lose their fucking minds," you thought. "What if I like, just started twerking? No, I can't. I can't let them win." You knew those intrusive thoughts cannot get another W against you again. The last time that happened, you were expelled from theater school. You couldn't, you couldn't embarrass Tommy - but the urge was too strong.

Almost as if Tommy read your mind, he pulled you aside the dance floor.

"I want to introduce you to someone," he said. He then took you to a table where a man with the craziest middle part and mustache sat, beside another who looked like an owl with glasses and other carbon copies of English dudes. At the table was a fuck ton of coins and money, along with drinks and clouds of cigarette smoke from ashtrays.

"Y/N, this is Billy Kimber. He owns the tracks here," Tommy said. Oh my god it's him, its Billy fackin Kimba...

You weren't sure why Tommy would introduce you, but you took it as a compliment. Maybe he just wanted to stunt on this guy? Who knows.

The man with the goofy ass fucking name had a wry grin on his face that you did not like at all. The vibe was not good no more around this guy. He stuck out his hand to you, and you obliged very hesitantly. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. With that a wave of disgust flew over you, feeling as though you've been stained. Ew gross.

"Lovely ta meet ya," the man said. He rose, "Mista Shelby, might I ask your lady for a dance?"

"Oh, no thanks! <3" you said, a welcoming smile on your face. Tommy and Billy both looked at you as if you just said the most out of pocket shit. The owl man and English robots also gave you daring looks.

"Wot?" Kimber spat.

You almost laughed.

"Uh, yeah like, I don't wanna dance." you said, mimicking Tana Mongeau's "a bleach and tone".

Billy saw absolute red. He was livid. He turned to Tommy, who, too, was speechless.

"The fuck are you on about?" Billy spat again. You really weren't sure what he didn't understand.

You then realized - there was no getting out of this. You didn't want to cause a scene, cause you kinda already did. So you again invited those intrusive thoughts.

"Fine," you said, clearing your throat and standing straight. "I'll dance."

You then pretended to throw something in the air, looking up in an anticipatory, worried way. They all looked up too, confused.

"Oh my god, do you see it? Mr. Kimber, where is it?!" you said as if a bomb were to fall.

He looked up and then to you, growing increasingly worried. He was too in shock to speak.

"Where is it?! Where is it?! Do you see it?!" you kept looking up at basically nothing, but you knew it was something. You kept them on their toes, scared at this point. Your feet dancing softly, they were ready for impact. It was time to come down. "There! There it is and -"

With that, you pulled it down and committed the hardest, most nastiest Woah you've ever done. The last time it was that riveting was during middle school lunches.

When you brought that down, the pose you ended on had your head down and body limp, as if you were Aang in the Avatar state during the episode where he was fighting Zuko's papa and had to unlock and harness such force.

You left them taken aback, disoriented. They didn't know what to do or how to react. You looked fucking insane.

You took a deep breath and stood back up straight, satisfied. Once you realized that the room had fallen completely silent, even the musicians, you felt you needed to excuse yourself.

"Um, so," you struggled to find the words. You felt the anxiety creeping up again, the lightheadedness arising. And most of all, it was time for you to empty yourself. "I've, uh," you thought harder and harder - "I'VE GOT AN ITCHY BUM!"

You split, running and running as fast as your pumps could take you. You ran and ran, it was always the most liberating activity honestly. All that dancing with Tommy, the nerves piled up along with the hors d'oeuvres - they lead to this very moment.

You searched round and round, desperately for a bathroom. No where in this bitch was there a sign or indication, and time was running slim. This was some real Mission Impossible, Tom Cruise is on a time crunch, shit. You pushed through crowds of drunk, belligerent and yelling people, feeling your body slowly succumb to the intense body heat.

Eventually, you spotted a familiar face. You ran.

"Arthur!" you yelled. He spun and looked back to you.

"Y/N! What is it?" he asked, worried. You looked a bit wild. "Are you alright? Where's Tommy?"

"He's fine, he's," you thought, "somewhere. Look, it doesn't fucking matter."

"The mouth on you -"

"Where the fuck is the bathroom in this bitch? Huh? The loo? The toilet? The washroom whatever the fuck y'all call it?"

"Well, I was on me way. It's just over there -" he pointed and you bolted.

As you were entering, you literally ran full force into the socialite from earlier. She wasn't angry, just like Arthur, worried.

"You look absolutely GHASTLY darling!"

"Girl move -"

You went into one of the stalls and laid your worst. Thankfully since it was a Skims dress, all you had to do was pull your Victoria Secret thong off and go. You felt bad for the ladies in their dresses and stockings and shit here - convenience was definitely not a factor yet.

After you cleared your business, (and subsequently the whole bathroom), you stepped out of your stall, refreshed and effortless. You washed your hands, fixed your hair and makeup just a bit in the mirror, and felt yourself again. You took mental selfies, since it was all you had.

As you left the bathroom, you heard the grunts and yells of men. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but it sounded like some shit was fr going down. You crept to the source of the noise, coming from the men's bathroom. At first, you thought someone was probably constipated, but instead it was Arthur, John and a few others absolutely rocking this guy's shit. They were beating him, cutting him with the razors sewn into their goofy caps, and curb stomping his head into the sink. So sink stomping?

You made a gross face and walked back out. "Yeesh."

After all, it wasn't the first time you were so close to the mob.

You remember your number one golden rule you learned from earlier during your time with Pablo: Hear nothing, see nothing!

After walking past the dance floor again, you were relieved to see that everyone and everything had gone back to normal - people were back to dancing, drinking and chatting - back to the script. You actually forgot this was supposed to be a horse race.

But, there was no Tommy anywhere. You searched and searched, yet you couldn't find that 75% shaved head anywhere.

You then walked back outside by the entrance, where you saw a woman smoking. You went up to her.

"May I bum a smoke?" you asked in your best English accent, trying to speak their language. She turned to you and pulled one out, lighting it for you. "Thank you so much, you look lovely, darling."

The woman smiled. You loved hyping the girls up!

"You too. I must admit, I find your choice in wardrobe absolutely admirable and daring!"

You smiled, "Aww, really?" you quickly corrected your accent, "Oh dear, many thanks, many thanks yes."

You took a hit of that cigarette. Shit was gross. But when in Rome...

You and the woman spoke for some time, deep in conversation. It was refreshing to meet another girl here, safe to just talk shit and have a break from all the drunken men and oh no there's Tommy.

You saw him approaching you and he looked again, upset and emo. It didn't exactly burst your bubble, you really liked Tommy, but were afraid that you possibly embarrassed him in front of the Bilbo Timberland from earlier.

You bided the woman goodbye and walked towards Tommy. He then took you two back to his car and started off onto the road. By now, it was nearing evening. The car ride was pretty silent, you were looking out admiring the brief countryside. Shit was beautiful like a Microsoft Home Screen.

"So, what's wrong?" you asked. "You're like, down in the dumps again. And where are your brothers?"

"They'll find their own way home," Tommy said, low and serious, the usual.

"So is that it? Y'all got into a fight or something?"

He let out a deep breath. "I told Billy Kimber he could have a dance with you."

"Ew, why?"

"Well," he didn't want to say 'business', cause like okayyyyy shout out to 1920's gender roles!, "because you look...nice. You look pretty."

You blushed hard, trying to control your smile. Seeing this side of Tommy was like a sneak peak, it was so exclusive!

"Oh my god, Tommy, are you flirting with me? I didn't even know you had that setting available!"

He smirked, his frown OFFICIALLY being turned upside down. He chucked in disbelief of himself. He was falling.

Once you made it back to the neighborhood, the sun had gone down and the streets were once again pretty dark. Smoky depressing England like what the Smiths wrote about you get the vibe.

Anyway he took you to his flat, saying that he wanted to "show you something". You weren't sure what that something was, it could've honestly been like a dead body but actually it wasn't! It was dinner <3

"I've uh," he started, not crazy about the fact that he was falling for you, "I've prepared dinner."

You gasped and made a very soy ass face. How absolutely gentlemanly of him!

"Oh my god, no you didn't Tommy!" you said, "You're so sweet, that's like, so sweet! You shouldn't have!"

He smiled softly, in a "yeah I did that" sort of way. And he did just that. You were 90% sure whatever was inside he didn't cook, but it's the THOUGHT that counts!

He escorted you inside like the gentlemen he was, shutting the front door behind you two. The lights inside the flat were dim, and by the table were two plates. Upon closer inspection, you were absolutely FLOORED!!!!

"No way - tikka fucking masala?!" you exclaimed. He chuckled and it was hot.

You walked closer and saw two very familiar, VERY FAMILIAR, colorful orbs. You turned them to the side. All this time since you'd last seen one, you forgot what they were or looked like.

"AND FUCKING BUZZBALLS?!?!?!" you said. "Tommy, how the fuck did you even get these?"

He pulled the chair out for you, and you scooted your big fat butt in.

"I know people. It's my job."

You couldn't help but smirk.

"It's so hot when a man has connections," your dirty Jezebel mind thought.

He cracked the BuzzBalls opened and poured them for each of you, like it was some high end expensive ass champagne. You watched him, relishing in the moment - you had your GRIP on this man. Chivalry was in fact, despite popular belief, not dead. But it was also the 1920s so you forgot about that bit.

You looked down at your plate - you were going to fuck. this. up. He'd never seen this side of you - the side that would tear your meal like a fucking ape cracking open a coconut with a rock for water. You thought if you should warn him, but told yourself - he needs to know ME for ME.

You gripped that naan, grabbed a fat ass chunk of that chicken - and the moment it hit your lips, you had started giggling like Mark Weins again but subtract the poker face. You had forgotten the long lost love of spice other than pepper and salt. You could've cried if it hadn't been for the fact your makeup looked too good.

You two dined and wined (there's no wine) for the next hour, talking and talking and chewing and chewing. Seeing him eat was hard for your mind to process, you just never thought he was capable of it. Anyway as he was talking you felt bad because you were zoning out looking at him as if he was another dish of tikka masala. He had such a sigma vibe to him, maybe alpha? (I don't know I'm not familiar with gym bro brain rot TikTok lingo but you get the vibe.) He was just so manly and yet so gentle and calculating, it kinda scared you because like he could literally have everything set up to kill you right now and you wouldn't know cause you were too charmed. But then you realized, he wouldn't have done all this shit for someone he wanted dead. No girl, he just wanted YOU! Your toes tickled at the thought, and those butterflies? They were fluttering.

For the first time, you had anxiety but hadn't felt the need to shit yet. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol calming your nerves, or the chill vintage ambience going on, or Tommy's comfortable/intimidating presence. In other words, this felt natural and you were fucking with it.

There were several times you needed to burp, but forgetting you weren't with your girls, you had to swallow that shit deep. After all, girls don't burp. You tried to keep your femme fatale composure.

You were the light he needed in his very dark emo life. It had been a very long time since he had a genuine laugh, despite the fact he might have had no idea what the fuck you were talking about or saying half the time, but seeing you all bubbly and happy made him feel content. He was finally being vulnerable, letting go a little and just, well, living life. Being free. #livelaughlove

"What will you do? When you've saved enough for Scotland?" he asked.

The idea brought you down a bit. You forgot about that shit. "Oh, well, I don't know. I kinda like the barmaid stuff, so maybe I'll try to find something similar there?"

You were eating his leftovers. He didn't eat much but liked watching you eat like it was a mukbang. He loved a girl who eats.

"Why don't you stay?" he asked, avoiding eye contact with you as he poured himself another BuzzBall. You could tell he wasn't a fan but drank it anyway for you because you liked it.

You again couldn't help but smirk. You loved seeing a guy CRACK!!!

"Do you want me to?" you asked, biting your tongue like the white mom. You hadn't done that in a while either, this English life didn't permit it.

He took a sip from his drink. "Perhaps you'd be interested in working for me."

"Aren't I already, low-key though?"

"Garrison's not mine," he said. "Do you know anything about bookkeeping?"

He lit a cigarette and offered you one. You took it, not wanting to offend.

"Well, I gotta tell you," you said, "math is NOT my forte. But oh my god yes babe thanks!"

You ran over and jumped to hug him, he hugged tightly back, he then threw you on the hard table, pushing everything to the floor and you felt his member pressed against your leg. He began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your Skims dress clean off, and started kissing your labia.

"This...this is a bloody fucking labia," he says.

You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the boy from Birmingham in. This is it. No missed flights, no drunk men to call you Jezebels, no lung cancer from cigarettes and factory smoke, no IRS or IRA, nothing - just you and Tommy.

You and Tommy laid on his bed, in each other's arms. Since his bed was high-key smaller than a twin, it was pretty cramped, but neither of you minded. You two were smoking (him a cigarette and you your Elf bar), reminding you of that one band Cigarettes after Sex and how Tommy would've liked them, but they wouldn't drop music for another couple years in this time zone.

You two talked softly as the rain patterned on the window's glass, some of the street lights peering through the curtain. If there was some incense on, it'd be a vibe. You originally thought his opium pipe was an incense holder but you were very mistaken.

" - so yeah, that's why people picked team Jolie. But in all honesty, I feel bad for Jennifer, you know? Like, he literally cheated on her. Over what? A fucky boof ass movie? It was ass," you hit your Elf bar, refusing to accept it was dead. "I guess it doesn't matter now, cause NONE of them are together anymore. So what do you think? Aniston or Jolie?"

He took a drag of cigarette as he stared at the ceiling. He made an unsure face.

"I'm not familiar with them."

"True. Fine, let me think of something you'd know. Like something English drama," you thought. "Okay, team Blur or team Oasis? I hear there was a lot of blood shed during the battle of Britpop."

He again took another drag of his cigarette. Anyone would be looking at this and thinking he found you hella annoying, but he didn't. He just genuinely thought you had a great imagination.

"Neither, I guess. I don't have time to listen to music."

He was right, which was why he loved when you sang at the pub and most of all, to him during your private Lana concerts.

As time went on, you were in DEEP. Scotland? Yeah never heard of her. Not only were you working for Tommy doing whatever bookkeeping is, but he had even introduced you to his family, which you KNOW damn well is a sign that shit is serious.

You loved the Shelby's, even though they were a bit off their shit sometimes. But it wasn't anything new, you'd been well familiar with crazy families before. You loved talking shit with Polly, going to the 'cinema' with Ada, fucking with Arthur until he got mad, supplying John with his toothpicks and making little Finn believe in the fake number 'derf'. You got along with them well, they saw you as a perfect fit for the family - something different, vibrant and bright! You loved them and they loved you! Polly would even tell you in confidence that you made Tommy a happier person, something he lost after the war. Getting Polly's stamp of approval was literally it, that's all you needed.

And you and Tommy? Yeah y'all were a thing. An item. During work hours he'd give you little looks here and there, and so did you, as if it was some secret office romance. But it wasn't secret literally everyone knew you were his girl. And that's power.

You learned the ropes pretty fast, again it wasn't your first rodeo in the mob. It was like Colombia all over again, but we don't talk about that. Tommy fucked with you having a secretive criminal past, he thought it was pretty hot.

Besides bookkeeping, you still worked in the bar. All the patrons loved when you sang Lana, it just went on to prove that she's indeed a poet. They eventually memorized them and sang along, which annoyed you sometimes cause you just wanted to hear yourself and they sounded like ass when they were drunk. But you just go along with it!

Some of the songs you in the pub (and Tommy's room) sang included:

Bartender (cause hello? You're LITERALLY at a bar)

Shades of Cool (for Tommy's big blue ass eyes (you wished they could hear that guitar solo cause the acapella didn't do it justice :( ))

Cola (singing this for the fist time made you realize you had to censor a couple things, they weren't a fan of that intro)

Stargirl's Interlude (Lana's part obvi, but it's again for Tommy cause he's your starboy <3 he loved when you hit those high notes)

Brooklyn Baby (you avoided it cause it reminded you of your ex)

Video Games (hello it's for Tommy)

Love Song (this makes them all cry)

Money Power Glory (again hello it's Tommy, but this wouldn't hit until he's a member in Parliament)

National Anthem (being in England for so long made you forget the United States anthem)

Fucked My Way Up To The Top (literally you rn)

Speaking OF a bunch of drunk men, the gang loved you. You thought you were like the comedic relief of the little theater thing they had going on here. You had to admit, you admired the method acting everyone had done so far. It only, to you, proved that it worked, since you were GENUINELY left in deep in a psychosis where you're just a 1920's flapper girl.

There was some rules and etiquettes you needed to remember, however. One, was of course, the "BILLY FACKIN KIMBA", and another was you finding out Tommy did NOT fuck with brujeria or anything dark magic related. You thought it was kinda funny, he reminded you of those Reddit r/atheist accounts but at the same time, he was low-key scared of zodiacs. Not that he didn't like it, he was paranoid at them. You literally asked his zodiac sign and he responded very sternly and seriously,

"Y/N, don't."

You then said. "That's a very Capricorn thing to say."

Besides that, everything was great and chill.

It wasn't long before this annoying ass Irish inspector dude pulled up to the pub. Once he saw you, he locked eyes with you and approached the bar. You didn't like his vibe in the slightest. In fact, no one in the pub liked his vibe either. They all fell silent when he entered.

"Excuse, me, ma'am," he said. You turned, not really wanting to talk.

"Yeah, what?"

"Do you know about a Thomas Shelby?"

"Yeah, what about him?" you didn't fuck with anyone who referred to Tommy as Thomas. Like?

"Do you know where I can find him?"

You were really starting to not fuck with his vibe even more. Something was def fishy.

"You should really go back to being with the dinosaurs," you said. He didn't like that.

He leaned in. "Do you know who I am? Who do ya think you arrrrrre?" the R's went very crazy.

And just in time, as if he was your guardian angel, Tommy opened the doors to the little room beside the bar. Babes was hearing everything and he was NOT gonna let this dude talk shit to his girl like that.

"You need to speak to me? Inspector Campbell, is it?" he said. "I've read about you in the papers."

Tommy then took Campbell soup outside to speak. Before leaving, he (Tommy) gave you a wink and you winked back. You knew that was code for 'let's hit my flat later'. Little did you know, this would be the last time.....

P.S. - when you asked one of the men at the pub who he was and someone replied IRA, you originally interpreted that as the Irish IRS and shat yourself. You didn't know how to tell Tommy your time was ticking, they'd located you - but you were not going down without a fight.

You were both in his bedroom as usual, he was lying in bed smoking, you were hitting the Elf bar, rain pattering, English people yelling outside yeah you get the vibe. Anyway, he asked you to sing - a request you took quite seriously. You knew this was his only time of relaxation and you had to make the best of it before you break the news you needed to escape again.

You rose, sitting up and looking down at his BBL face.

"Lana or Nicki?"

"Lana."

"Can I do Nicki? You never ask for her."

He took a drag and nodded. "Go ahead."

This, now this would be where you fucked up. Let's just say, you wish you could wipe out this night from your memory. Alas, all things need to come to an end, even the good ones, unfortunately. You'd never thought it would be like this though tbh.

You stood up on the bed, as usual, cleared your throat all that bullshit. You thought and thought, "what's a good Nicki song? What's fitting?"

And then it hit you - it was definitely a deep cut.

He had a soft smile on his lips, watching you as you were thinking. Little did he know, you were going to harness a part of yourself you hadn't seen in a while. This was a mode you unlocked that was such a release after, and you knew you had to go all or nothing.

You cleared your throat.

"Okay, so this one's kinda not AS well known, but it has British themes I think work well," you prefaced. "Okay, here I go."

The moment you opened your mouth, you let the spirit of Nicki come in. And once she's in, there's no going back. And Tommy was not prepared for that. You then started Nicki's verse in Sean Kingston's "Born To Be Wild".

"♪ If you will die, then why would you try and if you reply, a suit and a tie is what I will buy then you will be mine because you and I were born to be wild, I am Martha you King Arthur who knew you would land me, I’ve been known to eat these rappers, cook em like chef Ramsey - ♪"

You were too deep to notice Tommy's rapid increasing worry and fear as you spat out those lyrics. It was too overstimulating for him to handle. You ate, but that was just want concerned him - he didn't know you were rapping. In fact, no one at this current time did.

" ♪ - Mission accomplished, your my accomplice cover of vogue yeah ima go topless ima go bonkers ima go crazy ima get reckless then have a baby then hang the baby off the balcony teach him to moon walk tell em he's Japanese - ♪ "

No, he thought you were putting a curse on him. No, he was CONVINCED.

"Stop! STOP!" Tommy rose from his bed, pushing the sheets off of him.

You were shaken out of your trance, confused. You became worried, what happened? Did you miss something? Were y'all in danger?

"Wait, Tommy -"

"Enough! Stop!" you had never seen panic in that man's eyes. Never. And you didn't like it. He was looking straight at you, talking to YOU.

"Stop what -"

"You're a bloody fucking witch!" he yelled, rubbing his hand through his hair while the other TIGHT on his hip. This was his evaluating stance. "That's what this is - that's what it's been."

"Uh, Tommy," you said, more annoyed that he interrupted your moment, "I'm no witch. I'm just, well, Y/N."

He took a deep breath, now facing away from you. He couldn't believe it. All this time, all that mumbo jumbo that came out of your mouth, all this time - they were just that. Curses. No wonder he didn't understand them, you were literally speaking in tongues this whole time.

You walked towards him, slowly. This man needed that opium right now.

"Tommy -"

"Leave. LEAVE!" he yelled, grabbing your messy bun, and doing what you didn't think would happen again for a very long time - he beybladed you.

Spin. Spin. Spin.

"LET IT BLOODY RIP!"

And there it was.

And there you went.

He twisted you in the air round and round, ready for a different kind of liftoff. He flung you out the window, you crashed through and onto the cobblestone streets of Birmingham.

That was it. All these months, all this rehearsing - it all came to an end. On a random Tuesday evening? The Tommy you once thought you knew was no more - after all this time, he never trusted you? Didn't he know who you were? Like dude he watched you be vulnerable at fuck up a tikka masala. TWO of them at that.

Anyway, you realized maybe the entirety of UK just wasn't your vibe, anyway. With this 'IRA' now in town, your ass needed to be grass. Before leaving, you broke into his horse racing betting place whatever it's called and committed a little fun heist, taking all the money. What? A girl needed to sustain herself in this economy. Dog eat dog world shit. And plus, all your stuff was back at his apartment and you were DEF not gonna go back. Who knows? Was HE working for the Men In Black? Wining and dining you to gain his trust and he turned you in? Maybe he did you a favor in the end.

And maybe you could upgrade to the latest iPhone when you got to London with all this horse money? With a shilling and a pound, the possibilities seemed endless.

You walked down the streets, sad, but again more confused and a little relieved, onto your next destination, wherever that maybe. Anywhere Y/N went, it was all just a big adventure of a girl having fun being, well, just a girl having fun in this world. And THAT'S all that matters.

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo,

~Sam St. Clair

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