#BECAUSE BLACK AND ARTHUR KEEPS THROWING IT AROUND | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babybluebex · 9 months

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rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you’d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #cillain murphy x you

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 months

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I could read your writing all day honestly! Could you do a george as a dad imagine, he's such good dad material :)

oh my god, he would be! the most loving, kind, supportive dad in the world... :')) and all i can think of is girl dad.

it's a surprise.

not just for him (because he was there when yn suggested she take a test and he was there when she took the test in her bathroom and he was there for the confirmation scan to make sure everything was okay) but for the two of them.

they weren't trying.

they never really had the in depth conversation about kids and having a baby together. that was something they wanted to talk about when the future came around, when they were living in their own home as an engaged couple, ready and wanting to bring kids into the world as the next big milestone for them.

so it was a huge shock to see a positive answer on the stick in her hand. he let her take it alone, chewing on his fingernails with his knee bouncing with nerves as he sat on her bed, but he was there as soon as she was finished. holding her hand, squeezing it reassuringly, just standing there in a silence that neither of them wanted to break.

"shit."

"fuck."

"well-"

"what do we do, george?"

"i don't know," he responds, his eyes glued to test that had already determined their future, "i don't know."

she wants to cry, he wants to cry, but neither of them want to be the first to show their emotions towards the situation. she feels sick to her stomach yet she doesn't want to throw up, he feels anxiety low in his belly that he can't shake, both minds racing to figure out what it is that they wanted to do.

"i can't get rid of it," she frowns and he shakes his head, "i can't."

"god no," he looks at her for the first time and all he can do is let the soft smile lift his lips, "we're having a baby, baby."

"we're having a baby," she repeats, gulping back the lump forming in the back of her throat, "george, a baby."

"a baby," he laughs in the sweetest manner, arms wrapping around her waist as he pulls her in for the tightest squeeze he could manage, "jesus, we're gon'a be parents, yn. a mum and a dad. to a baby. a little, tiny baby."

their families were the first people they told. the two of them had the idea of doing it over a home-cooked sunday dinner, in his flat, that they got to use as an excuse to keep themselves busy to dodge any strange questions that their families had to ask them. to keep them from letting their nerves get the better of them.

and, of course, it was a shock for them.

but a good shock. her parents were the first to stand from the table, the first to hug the two of them, her mum in a complete tizzy as she congratulated her daughter whilst her dad pulls george into a strong handshake. his sister looking ecstatic, pulling yn into a hug as she spouts off all the things she gets to do with a niece or a nephew in her life before hi-fiving her brother, before his parents are up from the table and giving the two of them their own form of congratulations with hugs and kisses all around.

a sonogram is given to each of them and none of them can tear their eyes away from the tiny white dot in the middle of the black backing. and george can't help but let a smile burst from his mouth as he puts an arm around yn's shoulder and pulls her into his side.

"so, who wants sticky toffee? custard? cream? made by yours truly," george breaks the silence, "it's good."

the next is their friends.

his roommates; the two arthurs and chris. and they choose to tell them over breakfast... yn offers to cook for them, which they can never turn down, and they think nothing of it as they sit down at the table and pour themselves their own drinks. chris on a cup of tea, arthur (tv) on orange juice and arthur (hill) on a cup of coffee. the table full of plates filled with all kinds of breakfast foods.

and it's a nice moment shared between the five of them. laughter and stories shared, an array of 'thank you's from the four boys as they scoff down the breakfast that she had made for them, sipping on her own smoothie that she had made because george insisted she tried to include more fruits and veggies in her diet during the pregnancy.

"so."

"so?" chris repeats, looking at george with a confused look etched on his face, "was this breakfast for something in particular?"

"kind of," yn smiles and nods, looking across to george as the two arthur's place their knives and forks down on the table, food still piled up on their plates, "we have some news."

"you're moving out?" arthur (hill) asks, "does that mean i can have the big bedroom now?"

george shakes his head, "sorry, pal."

"it's a bit more exciting than that," yn grins and laughs as the three boys look at her, waiting patiently for the reason breakfast had been cooked for them all that morning, "me and george, we're having a baby. i'm pregnant."

"no way?" chris asks and his eyes widen, "george knows what sex is?"

george scoffs and throws a piece of sausage in chris' direction which he gladly catches and pops into his mouth, standing up from his seat with open arms and walking towards yn, to which she stands up and welcomes his arms around her.

"congratulations, you guys. that's amazing," he presses a kiss to yn's cheek before pulling away, "a baby, eh?"

yn grins widely and pats her belly with two hands.

"tucked up in there, growing away," she says, rubbing across the expanse of her non-existent bump, "a little me or a little george, who knows?"

"hopefully it's a little you," arthur (tv) claims, taking chris' spot and giving yn the tightest hug possible, "we don't need more mucky and annoying george's in the world, do we? one is enough."

yn laughs and returns the hug, a kiss pressed to her cheek, before he pulls away.

"platform roulettes are gonna be different now," arthur (hill) states and follows in suit of the other boys, hugging yn tightly and pressing a kiss to her cheek, "congratulations. this is huge news."

once the most important people in their lives had been told, they were weary to announce it to the public... part of them wanted to not share it and keep it quiet between their close friends and family but they knew that wouldn't happen because one of them was bound to muck up and accidentally share it without thinking about it.

and all they did was share an instagram post.

on both pages.

just a picture taken of the sonogram sitting on a babygrow with 'baby clarke, est. summer' printed on the front.

their comments from the general public turned off and only allowing their close friends and family to comment to save any overwhelming comments that they just didn't need to read. twitter could say what they wanted, tiktok could do what they wanted, because they chose to steer clear of anything negative... especially with her hormones in on a rollercoaster of ups and down.

and throughout yn's pregnancy, he's obsessed.

he can't stop taking photos of her and a her bump, especially when she's wearing clothes that really accentuate the curve of her front. he can't stop being close to her, hand on her bump when they're out in public and holding her waist when they're at events, talking to their baby through the bump and reading stories when they know their baby has developed all it's sensory organs and can hear the outside world. he's so in love. and the closer and closer it gets to her arrival, the more and more excited he feels.

and when she's born, he's in love.

he can't stop looking at her, completely infatuated with how the two. he just wants to hold her all the time.

"she's ours," he whispers, his thumb delicately stroking the softest tufts of her hair as she snoozes in yn's arms, milk-drunk and fed and happy in her place, "mine and yours. we made her, baby."

"she's perfect," yn grins tiredly, her jaw aching from how smiley she had been once she'd come down from the high of adrenaline during her labour. the birthing pool still set up in the corner of the hospital room, yoga ball deflated and on the floor by her overnight bag, clean clothes on her body. "thank you."

"i should be thanking you."

she shakes her head, "george, you've been the best over the last few months. i know i've not been easy. but you've been incredible. and i love you, so much."

he leans up and presses a kiss to her lips, "you did all the hard work. you grew her, you kept her safe, you gave birth to her. baby, the least i could do was look after you when you needed me."

yn smiles warmly at him.

"want me to put her down?"

yn nods and he looks like he's done it before. like he was a dad of four and he was a professional at everything. holding her in the crook of his arm, supporting her head, close to his chest and barely touching her because he was terrified he was going to break her. placing her ever so gently in the clear bassinet in the corner of the room and settling her down, covering her with a blanket, before he made his way back to yn.

"i'm so so proud of you," he smiles, sitting back beside her, grabbing her hand and holding it tightly, "so proud of you. watching you give birth to her, all that pain, i couldn't have fallen more in love with you."

"i had you," she whispers softly, a crack in her voice, "can do anything when i've got you next to me."

probably not what you expected with this prompt but... i got a little carried away at the thought of george with a newborn baby and it makes me all warm on the inside. thank you for this! xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey fics #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke blurbs #george clarke fics #george clarke headcannons #chaos crew

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funnyexel · 2 years

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Til’ Sea Do Us Part

Arthur Curry (Aquaman) x Black Female Reader

Summary: After being in a complicated fling with Arthur, you take a much needed vacation to clear your head. But when your vacation uncovers an unexpected surprise, what will you do once confronted?

Warning(s): L Bombs, Hair pulling, Smut, Degrading, Praise

Word Count: 4.7k

Grabbing a shirt from the big pile of clothes on your bed, you fold it up and place it in your suitcase. Packing had to be the worst part of going on any vacation, your room would always be left in a total wreck afterwards.

“Knock knock.”

You sigh, already knowing who would have the nerve to knock on your door and actually say the words 'knock, knock'.

“What.”

You say, knowing who was at your door before you ever opened it because there’s only one person who knocks like that.

“Am I disturbing you.” He pushes past you and goes to your kitchen.

“Actually, yes. You are.” He rolls his shoulders as he cracks a beer he got from your fridge.

“Too bad. What are you doing anyway.” He leans over, seeing the tornado in your room. Going in it, he immediately sees the suitcase.

“You’re leaving?” A serious statement finally leaves his mouth.

“Yeah?” You go back to folding and packing.

“Where are you going.”

He crosses his arms, demanding a response.

“Wow. You never listen to me.” You huff, being more aggressive with your clothes.

“What do you mean. Yeah I do, all the time unfortunately.” You roll your eyes, walking up to him and his arms relax at his sides.

“If you did you would know where I am going.” You shove a pair of pants into his chest, pointing to your dresser.

“Third drawer.”

“Don’t do this to me now. It had to be a while ago.”

He chugs his beer and quickly throws it away. Well to be fair, you did tell him around a month and a half ago so it has been a minute.

“A cruise. I’m going away on a cruise, Arthur.”

Done with the outfits you start packing panties and bras.

“Yeah, with your best friend. See, I do listen.” You chuckle in the slightest.

“Whatever you say.”

You take a few from your drawer and place them in two piles.

“Woah! What are you planning to do with those panties?” He points to a dark green lace panties you have in your hands.

“I’m a grown woman, Arthur.” He shakes his head and snatches your underwear.

“I’m gonna need you to keep it pg on this cruise.” He says stretching his arm up so its impossible for you to reach your underwear.

“Stop being a child and give me that.” You hold out your hand and he stares down at you not letting up.

“Come on! I don’t have time to play around, the boat is leaving this evening.”

You reach up, putting your hand on his shoulder, “Please,” You plead, he sighs and finally hands it to you.

Zipping up your suitcase, you roll it in the hallway by the front door. You shove him out your room, “Aria will literally kill me if I’m late.”

“It won’t be the end of the world.” He tries to persuade you to let him stay but you are relentless.

“No. But it will be the end of our vacation.” He turns to you in your doorway, towering over you.

“A moment can’t hurt…come on.”

He leans down mere centimeters from your lips. Temptation calls out to you, just one moment won’t hurt. You put your lips against his. A peck is all that could be managed with how fast you pulled away.

“Arthur, I can’t do this.” You keep your distance with your hand on his chest.

“What do you mean? Its a kiss.” He bites his lip, thinking about that teasing peck.

“A kiss that turns into touching, that turns into sex, that turns into you…not wanting a relationship after you rocked my world the night before,” You see the guilt in his eye,

“We tried that whole thing and it didn’t work. I know what I want and I’m not settling for less.” He runs his fingers through his hair.

“I rocked your world, huh?” He smugly says, but the unamused look on your face says that this isn’t the time to joke.

“Bottom line is, you’re not ready for commitment.” You take a deep breath, slowly closing the door on him.

“So I’m going to pack matching lace sets, short dresses and swimsuits that shouldn’t be labeled as such because I’m not casual sex, I am a person that deserves to be valued and not seen as a personal fuck toy.”

You closed the door on him, not letting him issue a response. It needs to sink in for him. You met up with Aria and got on the cruise, as soon as you both got your bags sent to your room you changed into swimsuits and lounged on the top deck by the pool.

“and I told him, I’m not casual sex, I deserve to be valued as a woman.” You tell her, taking a sip of your margarita.

“I know thats right. It was long overdue. You let him get away with too much shit.”

You take out the straw and down the drink, sighing.

“He fucks so good.” She laughs at your blunt words.

“And he can be sweet from time to time. He checks off all the boxes and I mean all.”

She opens her mouth to ask you further questions but ultimately takes you word for it. Continuing to listen you ramble on.

“He just can’t commit. Its always something and its always me!” A worker picks up your empty glass and asks if you want another.

“Pina colada with extra vodka please.” They nod to you.

“Darling, that’s just men. There’s always something wrong when you find the “perfect” guy. Whether that be snoring or in-laws. Sometimes I wonder if life was easier when we were dating women.”

She puts on her shades.

“For now lets tan or get darker in our case and we’ll continue this conversation in the room. I can feel the conservative stares.”

You chuckle at her and smile closing your eyes.A few days in and your battling a crazy hangover. You were in the Bahamas for two days, Aria had family there so she spent time with them while you recovered. You got food and everything but you stayed in the room.

“When you see him after the cruise, tell him how you feel and if he isn’t honest with you then forget him for wasting your time.”

Her words repeated in your head, thats one thing you could depend on her for. Telling you what you needed to hear, no matter how much you hated it. Looking out on the balcony from the comfort of your bed, the sun was long gone and the moon shined on the ocean. You contemplated going out to the deck party but you didn’t want to push your luck, you were convinced you were one shot away from throwing up if you didn’t recover properly.

“I guess drinking my problems away only does so much.” You smack your pillow over your face.

A banging was irritating you and the tv wasn’t doing enough. Getting out the bed you drink some water from the fridge and the banging continues, at this point it wasn’t in your head. Looking around, you figured that it was coming from the balcony door. Opening the locked door, you’re immediately backed into the room.

“I can handle those little outfits you wear but body shots is where I draw the line.” He says as he locks the door behind him.

“How did you get here?” You ask, jaw dropped.

“And you saw my story?” He looks at you from head to toe and shifts his stance.

“Of course I saw it. Me and 600 other people.” You nod.

“Why are you here? Did you get so horny, you had to track me down?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. Thats not the reason I came. I came because-“

“-Let me stop you right there. You came all this way somehow. Cut to the chase.” You tell him sternly with your finger placed against his lips, having a strong feeling he was on the verge of ranting.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, not making any moves yet.

“No, you cannot.”

Who were you kidding of course you wanted to kiss him, honestly kissing barely touched the surface of what you wanted him to do to you.

“I understand. My life was a mess the week you were away. I found out I was a potential royal air to Atlantis, my half brother reeked havoc on the surface, tried to kill me in a duel, I found my mom, became king and I had a few near death experiences on the way.”

That is hard to follow up. Staring at him, your jaw slightly drops to his summary.

“This all happened in a week?” You exclaim in clear bewilderment. Processing everything he said to you, you smile to him.

“You found your mom.”

He smirks, you know how much it means to him to finally be with his mom. He always talked about how he wanted to at least have a conversation with her, he wanted her to see his growth and now he finally has that.

“So you’re a king?” He hums to your question, “Hopefully they know what they’re in for,” He nudges you, chuckling at your remark. Noticing how close you are to him, your breathing slows.

“I thought about what you said and is that really what you think? I see you as a sex toy?” You take a steady step back, your mind sways in distaste at those words leaving his mouth.

“You can reassure me all you want but your actions say so much.”

The eye contact was intense, he was looking for a lie something that told him you were lying but there was nothing. You were telling the truth. At this he practically collapsed on the bed, his hands stabilizing himself on his knees.

“Y/n, I don’t know what to say. What can I say?” He laughs sarcastically to himself.

“I don’t see you as a sex toy. I never did. Ever. I just…I have issues and I know you deserve way better than what I have to give you. But I want you. I always did, still do and I tried to stop, move on but that didn’t work.”

He says pouring out his truth to you. You know exactly what he’s talking about. That long night you two shared together, he lost his restraint? Pushing his hair back, he watches as your face goes through so much realization at once.

“I can work on my commitment issues. I can grow, I can mature. I will do whatever I possibly can to be a fraction of the man you need.”

You’ve never heard him speak about his feelings and issues so much. When you tried he would always change the subject but he was facing it head on. Whatever he’s been through definitely changed him for the better.

“Arthur.”

His name lingers on your lips as you move closer, standing directly in front of him. Doing your best to hold back tears, you take a breath.

“I-I…” The words couldn’t manifest on your tongue as you burst into tears. Wiping the tears away, you see him staring at you and embarrassment fills your whole being.

“I’m sorry. I need a moment.” You go to the bathroom in a rush.

Looking in the mirror, you shake your head. Crying in front of him had to be a new low. In the two years, you’ve cried over the whole mess of a relationship you both had, if you can even call it that, but you never cried in front of him. At all. He sat in shock. What did he say? Did he say the wrong things? His mother told him to speak from the heart and thats what he did. The whole thing is so overwhelming. When you saw him, you were determined to break things off but now you can’t bring yourself to do it. As corny as it might sound, it would feel like a piece of you was taken if you were to do it. Pulling yourself together, you grab a tissue, open the door and there he was ready to knock.

“I’m at a lost for words,” You sniffle, blowing your nose, “I was holding onto this for two years, just to hear you say that as I was ready to break this off.” He backs up as you get out the bathroom. His face visually drained, the optimism he had before now disappeared.

“Do you mean it?” You hiccup and he perks up, “I don’t want you saying all this to get in my pants.” You point to him and he puts his hands up, shaking his head.

“I mean it. I do. Sex didn’t even cross my mind.” You grace him with a small smile, complimented with puff eyes and tear stains.

Slowly he cups your cheeks, wiping your face with his thumbs. Leaning into you, he kisses the top of your head and hugs you. Rapping your arms under his arms, he holds you tightly and close to his chest. Stroking your head.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” He mutters into your bonnet. The embrace was loving as if he was deathly afraid of losing you.

“I don’t want you to keep crying so let's stop talking about feelings for now.” You chuckle into his chest, looking up to him.

“I agree.”

You both figured things out yet tension was still in the air. Jealousy was somehow in the air. Shifting his head down, he kisses you. It’s no mediocre or shy kiss it was demanding and wanting. He was fully in the moment and so were you. Moving your arms up, you hooked them around his neck and he moved his down to your waist. Forcing his tongue in your mouth, he takes a breath through his nose. Drinking you in, squeezing your waist to make sure this moment is real. He went through so much just to recognize a great woman like you and understand not to let you go. This is the perfect moment. The moment for him to prove himself to you in this new relationship. Breaking away from the kiss, you hum as you lean your head back.

His kisses trail down your neck. Erratic patterns all over it, with the way he’s moving you know the hickeys will be more than visible even with your melanin skin. His touch is burning on your cold skin, you’re convinced steam is radiating off you with every touch and kiss.

“mm, arthur.”

You breathe out, sigh of relief leaving your lips as your shorts slide down your legs. He stops briefly, making sure you want this. Looking down to you, tenderness is seen in his eyes.

“touch me arthur.” You strip your skimpy shirt, revealing the matching set he was teasing you about.

“Keep talking to me like that and you might not like what I do.” He smiles, gripping you by the thighs and dumping you on the bed.

“This is your favorite color isn’t it?” You tempt him, the green lace on your body the physical representation of temptation.

The amount of wetness piling up in your underwear clearly amusing and exciting him as you hear a grunt rumble from his chest. Eyeing your body with a burning flame and pouncing on you, crawling on top of you. The bikini line that shows under your bra, your brown skin turning a shade darker from the sun, your tired hungover gaze and your curves. The dips on either side of your hips, the little chub on your stomach thats perfectly proportionate to your thighs and your soft shiny skin.

He notices everything, the inside of your thighs were calling to him, blinding him with the sparkly trail of wetness that left your cunt, your cute aching cunt. He shouldn’t be rewarding you, he thought, he should be punishing you for leaving him with a painful boner every time he saw you. But punishing is for another day, tonight is all about making everything up to you. Goodness are you attractive, your beauty alone makes him forget about every problem, every responsibility he has. All he thinks about is you when you’re in his view. He ran his hands over your body, soft touches from your knees to the inside of your thighs to tight squeezes at the sides of your stomach to light rubbing on your arms.

Reaching behind your back, he unclips your bra taking a good look at your breasts as he throws the clothing to the side. His hands cup your chest and you roll your eyes, slapping your hands on top of his to ensure he doesn’t move them. A cocky smirk plays at his lips as he leans down into your ear.

“tell me what you want,” he breaths lowly against your cheek, a moan falling from your lips as his knee nudges your clit.

“I want you to fuck me. Fuck me into the sheets. Please, please, pretty please.”

Your desperation meets no ends as you immediately beg him, you’ve experienced his strokes before, you know what you’re in for and thats what makes this even more of a tease.

"I guess I should give you what you want. Since you asked so nicely.”

You nod repeatedly as finger plays with the hem of your underwear. Yanking them down your legs, you kick them down, flinging them off them bed. You make things too easy for him, who needs foreplay when you’re so wet. Pushing a finger in your tight hole, its goes in without a problem. Unbuckling his pants, he takes them off and pushes them to the floor. Cock on full display for you, rubbing his soaked finger on the head of his dick, his breath shuddered. Pumping his dick a few times, he makes sure he’s his hardest for you before lining up with your hole.

You tap your stomach in anticipation, waiting patiently to be filled up with his big cock. Pushing through your squeezing he groans, halfway through he stops to take a few deep breaths.

“I missed your hole.” He grunts lowly, sounding pussy drunk when not even his tip is inside.

“Your pretty little pussy.”

His hand reaches down rubbing your clit as he hastily bullies his way inside your gummy walls. Your toes curl at the stretch and you feel the coil in your tummy winding up with each moment he's inside you.

“no one...m'..can fuck- fuck me like you.”

You gasp as he leans down, moving out of you and pushing in, he smirks. You’ve been craving this even if you never wanted to admit it out loud, you were singing like a canary for him and he couldn’t have loved it more.

“miss me, baby?” His hips pulled back and snapped forward, finally finding a sinful stroke.

He was knocking into you like he didn’t travel thousands of miles to see you on this boat. Speaking of, the rough currents of the deepest waters couldn’t touch the way he thirstily thrusted into you. The hangover will be the least of your worries later. Tightening your legs around his waist, your nails move across his back, threatening to break the skin barrier, shortened moans leaving your lips as wind is knocked out of your lungs with every move of his hips. He was determined to fuck that bonnet off your head so he can pull on your braids, making you tell him you love him, he knows you do. Why would you put so much effort into a person and relationship if you didn’t, but he was executing this step by step.

“w-wow.. A-arthur.” Your core was twisting and churning, your fingers could not match up to the climax you’re about to get from this man. His words are now registering to you.

“I did…m-miss you. Oh fuck. Yes! I did.” You whine in his arms, his hand tries pushing your legs down, all you can do is smile as he looks you in the eyes. Trapping him in a tight hold, your cunt soaks his dick, his tip curving and scraping the top of your g spot. Your nails scratched down his entire back as you came down from your high, moaning.

Prying your legs off him, he sits up, resting them on his shoulders. All the while watching as your face twists up from the sensitivity, the skin slapping matched with his balls hitting your ass over and over makes you want to stay on this boat forever.

“You’re so tight. Loosen up a little.” He asks as his movements slow down, he knows you’re doing it on purpose now.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says referring to him getting lost in you, shaking your head you grab his hand and interlock your fingers.

“its okay…” You smile to him and your hooded eyes gave away how dick drunk you are but if you say you’re okay then you’re okay. Keeping the slow pace, he pounds into you. The position mocked missionary and your soul honestly can’t take anymore of him staring into you with his piercing eyes. His other hand made its way to your head as he flipped you into another position, pulling off your bonnet and he holds onto your braids.

“Arthur!” You wince, head being pulled back and your back forced to arch, he had you on all fours. Right where he wanted you.

“do you have to be…this rough?” You whine and grunt as he holds your braids tighter. He’s considerate of where to pull your hair, so he doesn’t yank out your braids.

“What makes you think you don’t deserve it? I could do much worse. If you want that.” He says to you in between pants, his voice hitting a dangerous low in your ear. The promising opportunity leaving a smirk on your lips. Hitting your high once again, your body tingles all over, it felt like butterflies but more intense. Its confusing, isn’t it a tad bit too late for butterflies at this rate? he’s literally inside you.

“Tell me something.” He gathers your attention, pulling you completely out of your bliss and thoughts as his pace reaches a halt.

“And don’t lie to me.” He speaks deeply into your right ear, a message only meant for you to hear as his hand goes down and cups your mound.

“Do you love me?”

You bite your tongue, wincing at the pain. Out of all the things he could say…he said that.

“Is now really the time-“ You turn your head to the side, able to see him out the corner of your eye.

“Yes. Now is the time.” His expression is neutral, no joking or anything of the sorts, he is 100% looking for a truthful answer. You sigh.

“I do love you.”

The silence consumed the both of you as you stood on the bed in fucking position. Was that the answer he’s looking for?

“Say it again.”

He demands, rubbing on your clit as he grips your hair tightly.

“I love you.”

You bite back moaning the words, your fingers tangling in the sheets more and more.

“Again.”

Your legs cross at the ankles as you forcefully squeeze him in you, his fingers on your clit isn’t nearly enough.

“I love you, Arthur.” You exclaim, swallowing heavily and he shifts forward, his beard tickling your shoulder and cheek.

“I love you too.” He says in your ear, a smirk painted on his lips, as he kisses your cheek, neck and shoulder. Taking in a deep breath, you grin.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ﹤⋆

Breathing in and out, you sniffle at the hair that went up your nostril. Moving the hair out your face, you shift on the pillow, basically hiding your face in it. Nothing registered for you yet, for all you care its a regular morning in bed. A slight chill on your neck causes you to shrug and blink your eyes open, turning over your eyes focus on the surroundings.

“Look who’s finally awake.” She says in an sarcastic tone, looking up from scrolling on her phone.

“when did you get back?” You ask in a whisper, your throat sore as hell.

“Last night, although I had to take a detour because of all the ruckus you were making in here.”

She was definitely waiting for you to wake up to tease you. Letting out a short embarrassed giggle, you wave her off.

“you sound like an old lady.” She chuckles at your comment and sighs.

“could you pass me a shirt, I’m pretty naked.” Aria throws a shirt at your head, slipping it on, you sit up and look next to you. Arthur is passed out cold with a raging case of bedhead, the sight is one to be photographed and framed. Stretching and rolling your shoulders, you blink slowly as if your brain is still mush.

“Never thought I’d see the day where an underwear would be flung on my bed.”

You laugh, holding your stomach as she points to the panties she placed on the table in-between both beds.

“So thats where I kicked it.” Getting out the bed, you grab the underwear and put it with your dirty stuff, putting on new undies.

“What time is it?” You ask, picking up the clothes on the floor, folding his up nicely and placing them on the foot of the bed.

“11:42” You nod, stifling a yawn as you scratch your head.

“What on earth did you do to him?”

She utters, genuinely concerned as she stands over him, eyeing the visible hickeys, bites and marks all over him.

“Someone was hungry.”

“Do you ever get tired of teasing me.”

You ask, half rhetorical and half serious. Lifting up to stretch your stiff limbs as you watch her movements.

“Nope, you know what else I never get tired of?”

“Wine.” Your tired voice mixed with her joyous voice in a harmonious yet comedic way.

“So if you’ll excuse me, I have a wine tasting to get to.”

She grabs her purse and waves you off as she leaves the room. A sharp pain hits you in your bladder and you run to the bathroom. As you use the toilet, the pain leaves your stomach and you go back into the room.

“Good morning.” His raspy morning voice just makes you want to crawl under his skin.

“Good morning.” You shoot him a warm smile as he motions you to come closer. Standing by the bed, he reaches up and traces your jawline, rubbing your chin with his finger tips.

Pulling you down to his level to kiss you tenderly, a low moan leaving your lips, his hand moving up underneath your shirt to squeeze your hip.

“How are you feeling?” He breaks the kiss, sits up and off the bed in his boxers.

“I’m good, my stomach is hurting a bit but I’ll live.”

“Where is it hurting?” He helps you lift up your shirt and watches as you point to the area below your belly button.

“Somewhere here.” You grunt softly, accidentally touching the sore spot.

“Here?”

You shake your head.

“Here?”

You see what he’s doing, one hand trying to point out the problem and the other caressing your back, making its way to your butt.

“Here??”

He stares at your stomach, glancing at you for a moment, making you chuckle and utter a no. Your eyes go wide as he gropes your ass, playfully grabbing his wrist, you shake your head.

“You’re not slick.” You chuckle with him.

“Relax, I’m trying to assess your situation, so be a good patient and stay still.” He cackles mid sentence and finds his composure.

“The whore is jumping out, Arthur.” He bursts out laughing as you reach up to fix his hair, pulling down your shirt, you put on your shorts and point to his clothes.

“Let’s get some breakfast, I’m hungry.”

You tell him as your stomach rumbles. Putting on his clothes from last night, he turns to you as he messes with his hair.

“I’ll have to leave soon.” He warns you and you nod.

“Time is money then.” You grin, grabbing your phone and walking to the door with him close behind, before you open the door he spins you around.

“I love you.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek and one on your lips.

“I love you too.”

You kiss him back several times as if you weren’t sure the others were up to par.

“Alright now we can go.” He says while opening the door for you and putting on some shades.

“Is that mine?” You ask as you walk through the hallway to the elevators, fingers interlocked.

“Yeah.”

writing list

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hollowed-theory-hall · 5 days

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What is your take on Riddle's possession of Ginny? I read a fic where she was held accountable for not immediately reporting the diary after she blacked out and started to suspect that something nefarious was going on. Stating that she 'wilfully' time and again put saving her own skin over the lives of her fellow students and teachers.

Thoughts??

Like, Tom definitely did possess her. Do I think Ginny took the best course of action in the situation? No. But I don't put as much fault on her for this as some things she does later in the books.

In CoS, Ginny is 11 years old, lonely & friendless, Tom is her only friend, she shares her secrets with him and then he turns and uses her secrets to blackmail her. Both what he forced her to do and what she told him.

Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters?

(CoS, )

To an 11-year-old Ginny, this threat is terrifying. Terrifying enough to not tell anyone because she's scared of the consequences.

And she did try to get rid of the diary by flushing it down the toilet. So she tried to remove the source of the problem without notifying anyone. It just ended up not working out.

Ginny in CoS is mostly motivated by loneliness at first, and then fear. This threat Tom mentions in the above quote, I'm sure is one he made to Ginny. He probably explained exactly why she shouldn't tell anyone or throw the diary away. He probably told her she'd be expelled from Hogwarts if anyone found out.

While I'm not a Ginny fan, I don't judge 11-year-old Ginny too harshly. This is a terrible situation to be in. Because she feels like she doesn't have anyone to confide in besides the diary that causes all her problems. She is in a new school, her first time away from home, and new people all around, it can be terrifying, and I think it was for her.

And then you add Tom into the mix who's clever and knows how to manipulate a scared 11-year-old girl. Ginny didn't have much of a chance there. It's not like Harry told any adult about the strange talking diary (that being said Harry just doesn't trust adults).

Molly and Arthur Weasley aren't the perfect examples of supportive parents either, I don't think Ginny would've risked her parents' ire over her own problems. She probably thought (hoped) she could figure it out herself and not have to bother them. Because bothering them would've come with a punishment. I talked about how Arthur and Molly Weasley aren't great parents, and Ginny was probably scared of their punishment and her mother screaming at her like she does at Fred and George more than she feared what would happen to the other students.

“Ginny!” said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. “Haven’t I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain. Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic —”

(CoS, 304)

Like, Arthur says this, but he and Molly don't behave in a way that encourages their kids to confide in them. So, Ginny has a reason for her fears, it's not that they're unfounded.

And she won't tell her older brothers, because she doesn't want them to see her as a scared helpless little girl. She's scared of their opinion of her just as much. And I think she truly thought it wouldn't get too bad, that she could figure it out on her own. She was wrong.

Yes, her decision is selfish, it's dumb, it endangered so many students and people in general, and it doesn't paint her in a great light. But since she was 11 at the time, I'm more willing to give her the benefit of the doubt about it. Like, I'd be more lenient when punishing 11-year-old Ginny over the CoS ordeal. I think a stern talking-to was the bare minimum, so at least it won't happen again. She probably should have received some consequences, but I don't think I'd expel or even suspend her over it.

Like, I'd probably want to make sure she understood what her actions could have resulted in so she'd be more fearful of that potential scenario in the future rather than her own skin. And I think she did understand she herself was in just as much danger by the end of the book. Like, I think this situation wasn't one she should've been punished harshly for, but instead used as an opportunity for her to learn from the situation.

A punishment should've still been given though, and I don't recall it was. Because she did hurt students (through her neglect) and was incredibly lucky no one got really harmed. So, some punishment more than she got in the books was required, but not something too harsh is what I'm thinking.

#harry potter #hp #harry potter thoughts #hp thoughts #Ginny Weasley #chamber of secrets

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briology · 2 years

Text

you take them to the hair store: shinra, arthur, benimaru, vulcan, ogun genre: comedy, a little bit of fluff pairing: w/ black! fem reader cw: cursing

SHINRA KUSAKABE

he went with you because he likes the way it smells for some reason

will probably try to lick one of the products

his signature smile will probably scare a few people but as he keeps coming, they get used to it

he likes to mess around with the makeup section of the store

will build a bond with the owner and workers of the store to get you a discount (it works)

everytime you would go without him, the workers will ask "where's your lil boo thang?"

the workers will jokingly say "you can't come in without him sis"

ARTHUR BOYLE

you were getting ready to go, you told arthur that you will be back after running to the hair store

he insisted on going with you because he says "your majesty should be accompanied by protection" or something

when you take him, all of the workers were shocked because they didn't expect you to come in with him

since you were close to them, you talked frequently about your relationship with arthur, to which they told you to bring him to the shop sometime

though, they didn't know the time would be now

when you and some customer was going for the last hair gel, HE DREW HIS DAMN SWORD saying "let it go, peseant"

at least you got it

the maniquenns be throwing him off because he's all like "DID THEY GET BEHEADED

overall, 10/10 experience with him at the hair store

BENIMARU SHINMON

at first, he didn't want to go because he's lazy, but since you bribed him with sukiyaki, he took the offer and went with you

boy was that a bad idea

this nigga had everybody staring at both you and him (yall compliment each other so well)

so many people didn't know if they wanted to be you, or be him

will probably complain that you're there for a while

i know this nigga got some nice ass curls before he got that damn silk press

so you got some hair products for him as well because you wanted to see what his hair looked like

he was against it at first, but gave in to your persuasive nature

safe to say, them curls were GLORIOUS

VULCAN JOSEPH

he interested in how you do your hair and wants to learn how to do it and which hair to use

he will accompany you because he just loves being there with you in public

he's fascinated by the way you instantly know which hair to get for each hair style

"get red so we can match" is a common phrase FOR EVERY HAIR STYLE

will tell you to get a certain hairstyle because he knows you will look great in it

tell you to get a product because it smells nice

the man loves animals, so he got beef with gorilla snot

"THEY TAKING SNOT FROM A GORILLA?! HELL NAH"

yea, quite the experience

OGUN MONTGOMERY

he went because it's like a chore going with you

he constantly complains about not having enough products for his hair, especially conditioner

so when he goes with you, he instantly goes into the section with durags and conditioner

he will also get some little gold accessories to put in his hair and will get you some for your hair

he wants to get matching bonnets and durags with you because he thinks that yall will be like them black couples on pinterest

will offer to pay for everything (to which you object to sometimes but he still pays for it)

HE KNOWS HOW TO DO YOUR HAIR

will pick out the color of the braiding hair because he knows which ones will suit you better

mmm, that's a black king right there

#shinra kusakabe #arthur boyle #benimaru shinmon #vulcan joseph #ogun montgomery #enen no shouboutai #black! reader #black writers #shinra x reader #arthur x reader #benimaru x reader #vulcan x reader #ogun x reader #anime #black reader #fire force

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padfootastic · 9 months

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Remus had some nerve accusing Harry of throwing his parents’ sacrifice aside, when a) Remus had no real way of knowing that Harry was aware Sirius posed a threat to him specifically because I’m pretty sure it’s just Arthur who informs him of this and not any of the teachers. To the teachers’ knowledge, all Harry knew was some guy broke out of Azkaban and wanted someone at Hogwarts dead, but none of them actually told Harry “hey, we think this guy wants you dead.” Like, they didn’t offer him any form of protection and he’s been in danger in the actual castle, why the hell would he automatically go “oh, Hogsmeade is totally where this guy will try to kill me, I should stay in the castle where a whole bunch of people are in danger every year and the teachers never actually do anything about this, I’ll be totally safe there.” There was a big-ass snake just roaming around the entire year before and the teachers accomplished precisely nothing in terms of protecting the students, Harry has no reason to believe he’ll somehow be safer there than in a literal crowd of people and with both of his best friends right next to him and thus capable of causing a hell of a scene if something happens to alert everyone nearby that Sirius Black is present and attacking Harry Potter. Sirius is good, but I’d put my money on the screaming capacity of two pissed off teenagers who just wanted some candy and butterbeer. B) Remus over here is literally helping Sirius, albeit unknowingly, by refusing to tell anyone he’s an animagus. Even if Remus wanted to believe Sirius was getting in some other way, he’s still risking the lives of everyone in the castle because he doesn’t want to disappoint Dumbledore. I can see why they didn’t trust him in the First War, he keeps secrets even when he knows he is putting others at risk. The guy believes Sirius is a Death Eater, a spy, and Voldemort’s second-in-command who is poised to take control of the rest once Harry is dead, and yet he is just staying silent on the matter. Horrible AU where Sirius really was a traitor the entire time and Remus’s silence damns everyone, Voldemort comes back some other way or Sirius just kidnaps Harry for LV so V comes back later

no but that first part!!! i remember reading a fic? post? ab it that literally no one thought about telling harry wtf was going on (story of his life, really) and remus definitely didn’t try. so for him to say what he did? TO AN ORPHAN???? it’s mind bogglingly cruel and i rly wonder why it’s so overlooked. and the fkn audacity to do it when he’s the one disrespecting jily’s sacrifice by giving their alleged betrayer access to their son???????

i’m also afraid that in this Horrible AU, it would do absolutely nothing except send remus into a self pitying guilt spiral guaranteed. nothing more concrete than that.

#remus lupin critical #ugh i’m pissed all over again w this character #not just w him. but how he’s perceived as well #like i’m genuinely curiou #everything else gets excused #but what do u do about remus acting the way he did w harry #he’s rly not a great person to have around lol #i said this a long time ago #but i think he’s a terrible partner #and i feel like it applies to all of his relationships #pen’s asks

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call-sign-shark · 4 months

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How did Amos and Heaven meet? 👀👀👀 Curiosity is eating me alive (and cmon we all know Arthur is endgame, he'd eat Amos alive lol)

Thank you so much for the question Borys! All the interest around Amos makes me so grateful because I never thought I would get a chance to talk about him! 😭 This is a fantastic question. While it is exactly how they met, there is still a little secret I keep for another question… (And shhhh for Arthur and Amos, they’ll probably meet one day teehee)

It was one of those endless day where the darkness that plagued his mind became too unbearable for him to stay locked up between the walls of his mansion. He had decided to ride through the mighty meadows on the black stallion he had acquired months ago, hoping for the frozen wind to chase his sorrow away. Suddenly, the cacophony of furious cries and men screaming caught his attention as he rode back home. Then, he saw two of his men throwing a young woman, whose face he couldn’t see but her long snow-white mane stirred his curiosity, on the wet grass. Like a menacing ghost, Amos loomed from the fog, his long black cloak floating behind him. His quiet but stern voice resounded in the wind, the strictness of his tone stopping the men and catching the attention of the young woman. One look at her crystal eyes, which are burning with a feral fire, was enough to disrupt his usual coldness. Quickly, he got informed that the white-haired girl had tried to steal food from the mansion’s kitchen. Amos didn’t know why he felt more merciful than his hunter heart was on daily basis, but he helped the little wild thing to stand and offered her to walk her back to the kitchen of his house and take as many food as she wanted only if she agreed to accompany him for a walk through the giant garden. At the end of the day, when the dull winter sky melt in surprisingly warm orange hue, Amos felt his heart hurt in his frozen ribcage. By her side he had felt more peaceful and amused he had never felt. She looked at him and he felt life coming back to his frozen bones.

With a charming grin and his black onyx eyes drowning in the fairness of hers, he kissed his hand and said “I pray whatever God is up in the skies that you’re not a mirage.” The way she looked away and pout, her porcelain cheeks turning rosy and coloring her bratty face, made him swoon. Dauntless, he went on “If you come back tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

The Gods must have heard him, for she came back the day after with a smile growing more beaming and sincere as days passed… Maybe home wasn’t a place. Maybe home could be a person, she thought. And maybe home could be him.

This ask is linked with the ongoing Arthur x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Amos is Reader/Heaven’s first love and former fiance.

#Peaky Blinders #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Arthur Shelby x Oc #Peaky blinders imagine #Ben Barnes #Heaven Shelby #HYE Squad

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peakyscillian · 1 year

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Family Ties | Modern!Tommy Series

Summary: The Shelby’s will do anything for family. Warnings: ✨SPOILERS✨ Smut, 18+ Minors DNI, Mature themes, use of the word ‘Whore/Slut’ , mentions of unconsenual sex. Mentions of miscarriage proceed with caution Part: 15 Pairing: Modern!Tommy x Fem!Reader Requested: No Notes: If you read a series/story and you like it or even love it, please comment, like & reblog so writers know they’re getting the interaction they deserve! It means so much to see someone reblog your work! I also want to thank everyone who has shown me so much love on my work!!

Family Ties | Part Fifteen

Please Read warning in RED before proceeding!

Masterlist | FT Masterlist

Part Fifteen.

Tommy made his way into the abandoned warehouse, your voice telling him to be ‘bloody careful this time’ ringing in his ears as he strides through the corridors, he stops outside the door at the furthest end of the warehouse, he can hear Arthur inside.

Checking his gun is sat in his holster before he pushes his way in, Arthur is sat in front of the man who’s tied to the chair, the busted lip and black eye a sign his older brother has had a good go at him before Tommy arrived.

“Brother, we fucking got him” He states, Tommy nods because well, yes he could see that, Arthur stood from the chair, landing another blow to Sam's stomach making him cry out in agony.

Sam looked up at Tommy, he went to speak, but Tommy was in his face, “Think you can go around controlling all those vulnerable women eh?, make their lives hell and get away with it?” he sneered.

Sam smirked “They all fucking deserve it, especially Y/N, she fucking loved every minute being a whore needed putting in her place” he laughed, Tommy’s fist connected with his face “keep her name out of your fucking mouth” he shouted.

Sam was laughing, could see how he was winding Tommy up “Nice fucking cunt eh?” he taunted, Tommy immediately had the gun pressed against Sam’s forehead, eyes locked on the man who had caused his wife so much pain.

“Enough!” he bellowed, watching with a smirk as Sam went to open his mouth, without giving him a chance to say anything degrading about you again, he pulled the trigger.

“Fucking hell, Tom” Arthur chuckled, as Sam’s body slumped forward on the chair, “he didn’t deserve to fucking say her name again” Tommy pushed the gun back in his holster.

“Call Johnny Dogs he’s waiting to clear up, I need to call John and Finn, let them know to get things underway at Daytona’s” Tommy looked at Arthur, “Get home to Y/N, I can deal with them, Johnny Dogs knows his orders” Arthur patted Tommy on the back, “Get back and tell her the good news eh?” he smiled.

Tommy nodded “Thanks Brother” he took one last look at Sam, finally gone, he couldn’t wait to tell you, to see your face when you found out he wouldn’t be hurting another young women again.

You greeted Tommy a few hours later, throwing yourself into him not caring about the blood on his clothes and face, “He’s gone darling” he hummed, pulling back to get a good look at you “Fucking free of him finally, eh?” he smiled cupping at your face, you bit at your lip trying to hold back the tears.

“Really?” you were shocked, finally, you felt the weight lift from your shoulders “Really Darling, got what he deserved” he pulled your face towards his, lips pressing against yours.

Tommy woke up to the sound of you muffled behind the closed door of the en-suite, the soft heart wrenching sobs, he was out of bed in a flash, heart pounding as he twisted the doorknob.

“Y/N, love unlock the door” he gave it a gentle tap, voice soft, “please” he added as an afterthought. Letting out a breath as the click of the lock indicated he could go in, his gaze skimmed over you, the red of your eyes, the red on the tiles “I think I'm losing the baby” you choked out a sob.

Tommy gathered you into his arms, hand stroked over the back of your head as he soothed you “let's get you cleaned up, eh?” He hummed, moving you to sit on the edge of the bath, he could see the red streams on your legs as you doubled over with another pain.

“He’s fucking dead and he’s still won” you hiccuped, would this ever end? You wouldn’t ever be free of him. Tommy knelt on the floor in front of you, hands stroking against the skin of your thighs “He hasn’t won, I won’t fucking let him” he sighed.

He called for Polly, someone just to come over because fuck, he didn’t have a clue what to do in this situation.

Polly had got you cleaned up and into bed, a calm presence in the madness, she found Tommy in the bathroom making an attempt to clean up, hands shaking as he wrung out the cloth “Thomas, leave it” Polly spoke softly.

“She can’t come back in here to this, Pol, why her eh?” he was trying to stay calm, didn’t want to make you upset, “She doesn’t fucking deserve this, we don’t deserve this” Polly took his hands “He’s gone, you sorted it, you’ve kept her safe” she spoke trying to get him to see sense.

“But he’s won hasn’t he?” Tommy gestured to the mess of the bathroom, Polly shook her head “No he hasn’t because you’ve still got each other, you found each other and you saved her” Polly reassured him.

“Tom” your soft voice came from the doorway, stepping into the bathroom you kept your eyes on your husband, “I’m so sorry” you whispered, Tommy pulled you into him “You have nothing to apologise for” he guided you out of the bathroom.

He helped you into bed, letting you curl into his body holding onto him. “I’m going back on the pill, I don’t want to go through this again” you confirmed, you really couldn’t go through this pain.

Tommy pushed his fingers through your hair, “Baby, you don’t have to worry about that right now, eh? Get some sleep, please?” he urged, looking up as Polly came back into the room.

“Call me if you need anything, I’ll be back tomorrow” she smiled, you looked up at her “Thank you Pol, I’ll come see you out” you went to move from the bed. Polly frowned, “You will not, I’m capable of getting out of the door myself, get some rest” she ordered, you nodded knowing not to ignore her orders.

Polly turned before she left the room, “I don't want to see you working for the rest of this week, that's both of you” she didn’t give either of you a chance to answer, before she left the room.

Thank you all so much for being so patient with me and my awful updating!! I appreciate you all 😘

Taglist @cillmequick @runnning-outof-time @look-at-the-soul @gypsy-girl-08 @heidimoreton @thomasshelbee @forgottenpeakywriter @shelbydelrey @allie131313 @cillixn @midnightmagpiemama @zablife @queenshelby @missymurphy1985 @janelongxox @cloudofdisney @being-worthy @vhscillian @radioheadgirl @elenavampire21 @datewithgianni @magicalpieex @camilleholland89 @cilliansangel @uchihacumdump @inkandpen22 @ysmmsy @lyarr24 @anotherhitandrun @alreadybroken-ts @flyingjosephine-blog @moral-turpitudes @duckybird101 @lostgirl219 @blyanyan @flippittygibbitts @stevie75 @winchestergirl22 @stars-of-scorpio @moral-terpitude @lespendy @lovemissyhoneybee @pocket-of-possibilities @otterly-fey @gotohellandbackforyou @tinyminxie

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Modern!Tommy Shelby #Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby Content #My Writing #Tommy Shelby Series #Family Ties #Family Ties Series #Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader #Modern!Tommy x Fem!Reader #Modern!Tommy #Peaky Blinders #Series #Fic #Tommy Shelby Fic #PeakyCillian Updates #PeakyCillian

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inkareds · 2 years

Text

Werewolf by Night Day 1 - Werewolf // Moon Knight

event masterlist // ko-fi // normal nav

Whilst Marc never seem to care much about you, fully intending to avoid you. Both Jake and Steven seems to desperately want the usually closed off man to open up.

✧.* Word count: 3.8k

✧.* Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, stitching, Marc centred, kind of rushed ending, Marc being an annoying lil shit, the reader is physically strong and was a SHIELD agent

✧.* genre: SFW // fluffy ending

Rmbr guys the event is still open and there's still a lot of slots left!!! Unless they're filled out I'll just put whoever I want AHAHAHAH (also thankq for my bestie for requesting this)

“Care to tell me how you got into this situation again?” You could hear Marc’s exasperated sigh from the other line. “With all due respect, I can tell it to you a hundred times after this!”

A burst of laughter escapes you as the sounds of grunting, and snarling beasts fill the other line. “So, are you going to help me or keep laughing at me from the other line?” Marc was clearly getting impatient.

He thought calling you would get him backup, but it seems that the only thing he’s getting is your judgement. Throwing another one of his moon-shaped daggers towards the werewolf, trying to catch up to him, he ran as fast as he could to dodge the other werewolf, trying to gain the upper hand on him. Then, swerving himself to a nearby alley to catch his breath, his eye got caught in his own reflection on a puddle.

“See, Steven, I’m telling you this was a bad idea! They’re just going to keep taunting us over the line.” He complained towards his companion. “They’re going to come, mate. Just trust us, they were Jake’s partner for years, remember?” Steven, donning his Mr Knight outfit from the reflection restated.

Marc’s head whipped around the alley outside when a loud crash followed by multiple snarling echoed through the empty night streets. “Well, tell Jake, that his old partner is a piece of shit!” Marc yelled at Steven just before going back to the fray.

“Glad to know even Steven’s the only one without a sailor’s tongue.” The sound of a different voice other than the snarls of beasts caught the attention of Marc. Looking up, his masked eyes were met with your gleeful gaze, holding two guns in your hands.

Under the mask, not that you knew, Marc grinned. “Took you long enough.” He was able to keep his annoyance in his tone.

“Oh shut up, Casper the friendly ghost. I had to change my bullets to silver bullets. It takes a while to do that, you know.” You shrugged as you carefully made your way from the rooftop down to the ground beside Marc. “Any reason why it isn’t Jake in control right now?” You motioned your gun towards Marc’s outfit.

It was extremely easy to guess who was fronting when they wore their suits. Steven always had the Mr Knight outfit, Marc had the ceremonial robes of Khonshu, and Jake had a more practical, military-style black and white more armoured outfit.

You had asked because, though you often worked with the Avatar of Khonshu, it was extremely rare for you to work with Steven or Marc. You see, you had a history with Jake Lockley long before you knew Marc and Steven existed.

Being an ex-SHIELD agent allowed you to work together with the fist of Khonshu for quite some time during his work in the States. During those times you were working with him, you knew him for Jake Lockley. Only when he disappeared without any sign of contact did you start worrying.

Then he showed up one night, explaining everything. Turns out, after Marc was found out by Steven and the whole Arthur Harrow event unfolded, it didn’t take long for Jake’s existence to be noticed by the other two. Which led to a long conversation about every memory gap Marc had. Which led to Jake coming that night to your doorstep explaining everything.

To be quite honest, you were expecting much worse. When your co-workers on a daily have to deal with literal Norse Gods, a man in a flying suit of armour, several witches and wizards, and a guy with a bow and arrow. Safe to say you weren’t surprised that the man who served under the Egyptian Moon God wasn’t all that he said he was.

“Guess he just didn’t want to see you this time.” Marc quickly made up an excuse right as a werewolf swerved its head towards the noise of his voice. Eyes locking in with the beast, there was a short tense moment where the two simply stared.

All before the werewolf lunged at both you and Marc. Thinking quickly, you aimed your guns at the beast, firing your silver bullets at the creature while pushing your body to the side to avoid its deadly lunge.

What perfect timing, you thought to yourself. Of course, you could see through the bold-faced lie Marc told you. There was more to it than Jake just not wanting to see you. You and him have been inseparable since the two of you met. But, seeing as the werewolf you shot and previously thought was dead was now starting to move once again. You knew it wasn’t the time to think of such trivial matters.

Marc could only thank whatever Egyptian God controlled the timing of that werewolf. Had you teased him or called him out on his lie, which you definitely would’ve if you had gotten the chance, he wouldn’t have been able to back up his statement.

There was good reason for you to be confused why Marc, of all people, was fronting. He tended to be the one who didn’t get along with you as much. You didn’t put it against him, Jake and you hadn’t gotten along when you first met either. It was a trust thing. And Steven trusted quickly, so it wasn’t hard for you and him to get along.

But for that exact reason, Steven and Jake, mostly Jake, usually fronted during the missions when you started joining them.

The thing that Marc would never tell you was that he and Jake got into a relatively heated argument right before this mission. Something about Jake yelling at him for being rude to you the last time the two of you interacted. To which Marc simply responded that he just flatly didn’t like you all that much.

Not like Jake or Steven. As Marc could very clearly tell, Jake had something for you, and perhaps you were growing on Steven. Something Marc loathed.

During that argument, Jake and Steven agreed that Marc would be the one fronting when you tagged along on their missions. But, it turned out, that agreement would come to play sooner than any of them had expected. Marc had actually tried giving control over the other two people in his headspace right after he called for your backup.

In response, they completely ignored him and simply pushed him back into the driver’s seat.

“How many are after you?!” you called out to Marc as the two of you split up into two different sections of the street so that the werewolves wouldn’t be working together. “Five, last I checked!”

The one that you had shot when it lunged towards you, and Marc in the alleyway was chasing after you. Its thick black fur matted with its own blood. It was moving much more sluggish than when it first pounced on you. So, aiming true, you shot the beast one last time. Watching as the creature slowed down and finally fell to the ground, unmoving.

“I got one!” You shouted out towards Marc. You saw from the corner of your eye that two werewolves were chasing after Marc, meaning there were two left.

One was running straight towards you, its sharp white teeth ready to rip you to shreds. You dodged some of its attacks as you let a rain of bullets attack the creature. “That’s one, Marc has two, one of them is down. Where is the other one?” You whispered to yourself as you made the final shots to the beast.

Keeping an eye on the look out, you pressed your back against a wall so you wouldn’t be ambushed from your back. You reloaded your guns. Who knew killing mythical beasts would use up so many bullets.

As your mind raced to figure out where the last werewolf could be, you failed to realize that the building you were leaning on didn’t have a tall roof. It was too late when you heard the growling. Looking upwards, you were met with the figure of a leaping werewolf right about to land a killing blow on you. Its long arms with sharp claws outstretched towards you.

Though you were too late to dodge unscathed, you felt fortunate enough that the only damage you sustained was a deep cut on your arm from where the werewolf’s claw had sunk into your skin. Biting the inside of your lip, you ignored the burning pain of a fresh wound on your arm. You had to focus. If you don’t, the little wound would be the least of your concerns.

“Shit.” You murmured as the beast looked even more ravenous after having a small taste of ripping your flesh. You knew at this point that your right hand would be useless; if you decided to put it to work, you could rip more of your tendons from the already tender wound.

But you hadn’t realized how dire your situation was until your head began spinning. For a mere second, your eyes left the beast’s terrifying gaze to look at your arm and assess how much blood you had lost. Unfortunately, the answer was too much. And when the beast lunged at you once again when you were not ready, you were forced to throw yourself to the ground so that its claws would not sink to your head.

In return, another flesh wound was given to you, this time on your cheek. And with you now being on the ground. One arm was severely injured and the other was holding said severely injured hand to make sure it didn’t completely bleed out. You realized you were fucked.

Codeword; were.

Your knight in shining, well white, armour appeared right behind the werewolf and slammed his body to the creature. You watched in gratefulness as Marc wrestled for a moment with the werewolf under him before finally being able to land a killing blow with his crescent-shaped blade.

“I’d love to say I had it under control, but I really didn’t.” you jested, “Thank you.” your smile was both genuine and joyful. Wanting to mask how much pain you were into the mercenary in front of you.

What scared you, though, was that Marc didn’t even respond. He stalked over towards you and wordlessly crouched right beside you. You watched with a curious gaze as he took off his cape, noting how the mask was still on his face; you couldn’t really see his expression and therefore read what he was thinking.

Using his cape, he did quick work at making a makeshift tourniquet also with a branch he had found. You tried to not wince at the pain of it all as he tightened the, now red with your blood, white cape right above the deep wound.

Unbeknownst to you, a flurry of very colourful curse words of two languages were echoing through Marc’s mind.

“How did you not see that there was three following them?! You could’ve handled three but no. You had to be the one to deal with two werewolves and give the other one to them!?” He heard Jake yell in his head.

The first time the man decided to speak since the argument. And he sounded even more enraged now than during the argument.

“Jake let’s not jump into conclusion yeah? Bet Marc didn’t even know the other one was following them. Plus, we just need to focus on getting them stitched up now.” Steven tried calming the very mad Latino down.

“Fine, but if you fuck up, I’ll take over and deal with it myself.”

Usually, Jake’s statement on taking over the body when it was dealing with you would’ve made Marc happy. But, again, he didn’t like dealing with you, not that he really knew why. It was just that Marc felt weird whenever you were around. And he hated it. Therefore, he hated you. But in today’s case. He loathed the idea of Jake taking over. It was his fault that you got hurt. He’ll be the one to fix it.

“Hey, you okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you? I thought Khonshu’s suit would make you heal fast or something.” Despite your apparent worse state than him, you still showed him more compassion than he had the entire time he had known you.

Your eyebrows furrowed in worry when Marc still didn’t answer. His emotionless mask showed none of his inner turmoil as one of your hands reached out to where his cheek would be. When he realized this, he quickly stood up from where he was standing.

“Can you walk?” he almost winced at how cold he sounded. Especially when you reacted in such a confused manner from his sudden bluntness.

You nodded as you stood up, “Yeah, I didn’t get scratched in the leg you know.” Again you tried to joke. Not that Marc laughed.

When he began walking, you asked, “Where are we going?” taking the fact that he wasn’t bidding you goodbye as a sign for you to follow him, you did so. Wincing at the slight movement making the blood seep through the tourniquet. “Steven’s loft is close to here. I’ll get you patched up there.”

You didn’t even try to hide your shock from the man. There were plenty of times you had gotten yourself hurt on the field. But usually, it’d be Jake who’d patch you up, or you patching yourself up whilst Jake, and you had a conversation. The latter was the more common one.

Despite this, you weren’t going to question it too much. Whatever’s gotten to Marc Spector’s head to get him to patch you up will not stop you from not having to stitch your own wounds.

The walk back to Steven’s walk was awkward, at least to you it was. Marc had stayed in front of you whilst you followed slowly behind him. Wincing every so often when stings of pain jolted up your arm. Marc looked back at you every time, only to mask his caring nature once you realized he was looking towards you.

Finally arriving at the homey loft, you made quick work going to the bathroom, ignoring Marc as best you could as you slowly took off the white, now red, cape from your wound. Flinching at the burning pain. Analyzing it under the luminescent yellow light of Steven’s bathroom, you could clearly tell that it would need stitches. Unfortunately, the fact that Marc had yet to enter the bathroom with you meant that Marc pulled back on his own words on patching you up.

Biting the inside of your mouth, you sucked in your shaky breath. Fuck him then.

Taking off your shirt with much effort, you prepared the needle and thread, hoping it won’t hurt so much this time. It always does, though. It always hurts no matter how many times you’d have to get stitched back up.

“What are you doing?” Speak of the Devil.

You turned your head around at Marc’s voice in the doorway he stood, carrying a bottle of alcohol. Its label scratched off and blurred from age. You had once wondered if Steven drank as much as the other two, as Marc did indulge in the liquid gold; Jake, from your longtime friendship with him, was clear to you only drank for recreation. From the look of the bottle Marc was holding, you’ve got your answer. Steven hardly drank.

You noticed that you had begun to get to know the other men that shared Jake’s body. Something you felt great joy at. You knew how much Steven and Marc meant to Jake, despite him never actually voicing how he felt. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely attracted to the man.

It only hurt you when Marc would so often brush you off. Avoid you at all costs. Even Steven warmed up to you. Why didn’t Marc?

“Trying to make sure I don’t bleed out and die?” You jested.

Marc’s already furrowed brows only furrowed deeper as he shook his head. “I said I’ll do it remember?” You stayed silent, mostly in slight shock, as Marc, now not in his costume anymore, made his way towards you.

You could tell he hesitated for a moment when he realized you weren’t wearing a shirt anymore. Despite this, he steeled himself off the embarrassment and grabbed the needle and thread from your hands. You had never seen Marc so gentle as that moment. He, softer than you thought was possible for Marc, angled your hand so that he could better patch it up.

The silence both of you had made for yourself was only broken when Marc poured half of the bottle’s contents towards your, still bleeding, arm. You threw your head to the side as you bit your tongue to stop a scream from leaving you. The stinging pain burned from your hand all the way up and down your arm.

“I’m sorry.” You didn’t even register the fact that Marc had whispered those two words under his breath, as you were too busy not to let out your own slew of curses. Knowing had you done so, the next time Jake and you were alone, you wouldn’t hear an end to his teasing.

If only you knew how silent both Jake and Steven were in Marc’s mind. The two of them fretting about your own wellbeing.

Turning your head back to look at Marc, your heart stammered against your chest for a moment. He looked so focused, so careful. You could tell he was nervous; just like Jake, he had a tendency to stiffen his jaw when he was unsure of something. But his hands were as stable as they could get.

“Look away; it’ll make things easier.” You were about to retort how you’ve been patched up more times than one could count on their hands, how a little bit of blood and gore won’t do much to you.

But with the gash continuing to ooze blood, you heeded Marc’s warning and looked away. You gritted your teeth when the first puncture of a needle inserted itself into your skin.

When it was finished, Matt softly wrapped a piece of gauze on your skin. And finally, looked upwards to look at your face and not your wound.

That was the moment both of your eyes locked with one another. The tension was palpable in the air. So thick one would be able to cut it with a knife. Though from your point of view, everything was silent. Marc’s head spoke a different story.

“Kiss them.” Jake muttered. “We’ve talked about this, just kiss em’.”

But he couldn’t.

Looking into your eyes, Marc wouldn’t let himself fall for you. Not the same way Jake and Steven have. He won’t let himself be weak. So, Marc looked away, he turned and aimed to beeline towards the door.

Which he would’ve done had you not immediately grasped his arm, pulling him so he’d face you once more, and in one swift movement, pressed your lips against his. Marc’s eyes widened as he realized what you had done; for a moment, you were about to pull back because of his hesitancy to kiss you back. Thinking you had made a mistake in reading his body language and attraction towards you.

Steven was the one who stopped this from happening. “MATE, KISS THEM BACK!!!” Finally, Marc snapped out of his trance just before you pulled away. Marc pressed his hand against the back of your neck, pushing you into a deeper kiss with the man. You hummed in pleased surprise.

“Mierda, why was that so difficult?” Jake muttered in their head as Marc pulled away. Leaving you absolutely breathless.

Marc’s heart practically soared when he saw your eyes, starry and joyous. You looked incredible and that kiss felt even more incredible. He scolded himself internally for waiting that long to do it.

The moment was ruined when you couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. “You know, I had thought if I were to kiss one of you, it’d be Jake first.”

“You hear that?!” Jake enthusiastically yelled. Marc’s face morphed into that of jealousy as he listened to your laughter. In a way, it made sense; for one, Marc was the one who seemed to hate you the most out of the other two; for two, Jake had known you much longer. But that didn’t stop him from being slightly annoyed by your statement.

“Oh, I see how it is, alright then if you prefer Jake.” Marc pulled away from your embrace, feigning frustration. “No Marc! No! That’s not what I meant!!” You were able to mutter out between your fits of laughter.

Before you could apologize even more, Marc’s body stiffened for a moment, “Marc?”

“Not anymore, mi corazon.” Just like that, Jake was in control. He immediately pushed you back towards the sink you had been leaning to, his body pressed against you.

From his grin, you could already tell that it was Jake. “I heard you were looking for me?” he whispered, his face mere centimetres away from your own.

When it was Marc, you were bold but hesitant, but Jake? Jake, you were an absolute mess for. Jake chuckled almost condescendingly when you couldn’t find the words to answer. Then, slowly inching closer to you, his lips were on you. You melted against his warm embrace, both his hands trapping you between him and the sink.

Just as Jake snaked his tongue into your own mouth, all of a sudden he pulled back. Your eyes opened in confusion, only to be met with Steven. Till this day, it surprised you how much you could tell the three apart.

“Sorry for the interruption loves, but you see I think it’s kind of unfair that Marc got your first kiss and now Jake’s about to do something else. I’m just here watching all of this unfold, even though we’ve had this conversation before and we agreed to-”

For a third time that night, you kissed the men you loved. Essentially it was to shut Steven up, though it was also to help him feel less left out. When you pulled away, Steven looked positively beaming and shocked simultaneously. His expression and reactions differ so much from the other two that it caused a giggle to escape you.

“Good night boys.” you muttered to Steven as you made your way out of the bathroom, not forgetting a small kiss on Steven’s cheek as a thank you for giving his place for you to patch up.

Steven practically watched you leave with stars in his eyes, knowing that the next time you meet, it’ll be much different than the tense environment it had been before.

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac #steven grant x reader #steven grant #marc spector x reader #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #moon knight fluff #moon knight fanfic #flufftober22

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evita-shelby · 2 years

Text

Earn me

Part four (the final one lol)

Parts 1, 2, and 3

Gif by @prettieparker86

Taglist: @jyessaminereads

Earn me.

You could lie and say you are above bragging about your engagement ring.

Not many people could afford one here and some didn’t care about the trend.

The black onyx was nestled between two small alexandrite stones that emphasized the emerald cut of the stone. It was stunning and reminded you of the rings the Shelbys always wore.

Much, much finer than Ada’s and Polly's were. It marked you as Tommy Shelby's property even without them seeing your initials inscribed on the inside.

Hence why you chose to brag about it to Grace.

“Isn’t it the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen?” you asked as you shoved your hand directly into her line of sight.

You had a theory that she had been tasked with seducing Tommy, and Tommy being vulnerable and wanting to be who he used to be before the war fell hook, line and sinker.

“Yes, Miss (L/N), it is.” The blonde forced herself to smile.

Tommy was Thomas and you were forever Miss (L/N). She had fallen for him; you could read it in her face. In the hidden pain at knowing you had made him throw her over by coming back.

If you had stayed gone, she might’ve won him.

You know how these types of people think.

They believed that they were always right, that because they wanted something they should have it no matter how many people they stepped over, hurt and killed to get it.

Ada had been collateral damage; she’d only pretended to be her friend to get to Tommy.

Too bad for Grace that Tommy loved his sister more than a no-good barmaid.

Someone should’ve told Grace how Tommy had humiliated the girls who used Ada to get close to him.

Grace won’t be the exception.

“Careful, (Y/N) she might try to steal it too.” Polly said with a knowing smirk.

Grace at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Word on the street was that she had taken to stringing along Arthur to make Tommy jealous.

Not that it worked, Tommy was hell bent on proving to you that he’d never go to Grace or Lizzie or any woman who wasn’t you.

And you were inclined to believe him.

Maybe you could forgive him, but you’d drag this out a little longer. Just for fun.

“(Y/N), let’s go, the pigs are after me. I lost my bargaining power, we need to lie low for a while.” There is no preamble, just Tommy taking your hand as Harry leads the two of you through the back where the car is.

“My place in the country, Grace doesn’t know where it is.” You suggest. Although the little house your grandparents had left you was rather obvious, it was the only place you could keep him safe.

Better safe with you than in the cell next to Freddie Thorne.

----

“You must think I'm a bloody fool.”

You allowed him to sleep in the same bed as you, allowed him to say you were man and wife to the nosy neighbors, but he still needed to do more if he wanted to you to allow him to touch you.

So here you were, sharing a bed with him. Him smoking and you on your side with your back to him.

You ached for him, but you needed him to ear it. You weren’t a pushover, not the type to forgive him easily. Something he’d forgotten when he came back a stranger in your boyfriend’s body.

“I do,” but I know you aren’t the same Tommy who got on that fucking train. He won’t tell you much of what he suffered over there, but you know it was something horrible enough to make him so different.

But he valued you remaining unchanged, he’d said so himself after ranting about how his aunt and sister walked on eggshells around him and his brothers now.

“I thought that if I caved to her charms I could find out why she was so hell bent on going after me. Only ended up fucking everything up.” He says putting out the cigarette on the pretty ashtray on his side of the bed.

You know he’s looking at you, you can feel his eyes on you anywhere. You used to say that was your power, to know when he’s thinking of you.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

Its so genuine it makes your heart melt. You wonder if you can keep torturing him for your pleasure.

“I forgive you, Tom.” You decide you can’t.

It’s New Year’s Day when the two of you finally marry.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader

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misspearly1 · 1 year

Text

When Two Worlds Collide Series

Chp1 || Chp2 || Chp3 || Chp4 || Chp5 || Chp6 || Chp7 || Chp8

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader x Arthur Morgan

Chapter Two: Meeting Mr. Kilgore

WC: 7.5k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Alternative TLOU & RDR2 Universe. Friends to Lovers. Eventual Smut. Love Triangle. Angst With Happy Ending. Jealousy. Mentions of Nudity. Fighting (between Joel and Arthur). Mentions of Guns.

AN: This is the second part, my loves. The word count is getting bigger, but I will try to keep them under 10k. I would post it as one big oneshot, but like I said in the first part, it crashes and makes the posting process difficult. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve broken it up, and I also hope that you enjoy the story as it progresses! Thank you.

Laying on your back, winded and breathless, you stare up at the mighty branches of an oak tree, watching a colourful blend of leaves falling down majestically like a flock of butterflies. You closed your eyes and hoped that when you opened them again, you’d wake up from this dream and end the nightmare. But to your dismay, that didn’t happen.

When you eventually bit the bullet and opened your eyes, you still saw those same mighty branches and colourful blends of leaves falling down. This is real life. It wasn’t a dream and the nightmare continues, but at least you had Joel with you. It could be worse. You could be here all by yourself.

The man lay beside you with his hand clutched over his stomach as he tried to ease the discomfort. He took the majority of the damage when you landed on top of him before rolling onto your back. It didn't occur to you until now that the reason you didn't suffer any major injuries is because of him. He held you and braced for the impact, and thankfully, the grass softened the blow.

You tilt your head and look at him now, wondering what the hell had just happened and quickly remember all of the little details. They came rushing back and struck you with panic. It was just mere seconds ago that you were standing in your living room, holding onto his hand while he curiously reached out to touch the mirror before he was pulled inside, the power and force pulling you in there with him. It happened so fast and there was no way you could stop it.

Forcing yourself to sit up and look around, you take in your surroundings generously and try to gather where exactly you landed. The mirror brought you here, but you don’t know where ‘here’ is. You feel dazed and confused. It’s almost pitch black out, only the moon and starry skies above provided enough light for you to see your environment, but even then, you couldn’t see far enough to make out the details of where you are.

There were trees and bushes as far as the eyes could see. It looked like you were in the middle of nowhere. You could see the distinct shadows of the mountains in the distance and worried about how far away you are from home. Your movements become frantic as you twist and turn, looking for anything to indicate where you are, but there is nothing. It was just you, Joel, and this damn oak tree.

“Darlin’, what’s wrong?” You heard Joel ask. He recognised that you’re about to break down and sat up to help you, but before he could provide any comfort, you turned to face him and scoffed. “What’s wrong?” Your mouth falls open with disbelief that he’s even asking that question in the first place. “What’s wrong?!” You repeated his question with mockery in your tone as you gestured to the surroundings with your hands. “Joel, can’t you fucking see what’s wrong? First of all, we fall into the goddamn mirror, and I don’t even know how that’s possible.”

“Yeah.” He nods as you rant and let it all out, unleashing an overpowering concoction of emotions onto him.

You continued. “And second of all, we land on a patch of grass beneath a tree — the same tree I saw in the mirror might I add.” You throw your hands up in the air, shaking your head at him. “And last of all, you’re asking me what’s wrong? Can’t you fucking see what’s wrong! We’re here, and we should be…” You looked around again, searching for any signs or indications of where you are and how to get home, but to no avail. It’s just miles upon miles of landscape, and maybe a couple landmarks here or there in the distance, but there was little to no light. You could barely see a thing and it was frightening to say the least. You turn back to look at him now with tears in your eyes, your lips trembling as you speak. “How are you so calm about this? Don’t you see what’s happened here?”

He maintained your direct line of sight with a wide-eyed stare, his gaze unbroken and firm as he emphasized what he had to say next: “I know, Y/N—” He took a lengthy pause to let those words really sink into your mind and help you understand that he’s not actually calm right now. You see the slight tremor in his hands, the panicked look in his eyes and the way his chest rises and falls rapidly. He isn’t calm about this at all — he’s trying to stay calm for your sake. “I do see what’s happened here, girl – I know.” He reassured before you finally fell apart and broke down.

You begin to hyperventilate and suck in short breaths of air, as if your chest was tight and you couldn’t quite get enough oxygen to reach your brain fast enough. It felt like your head was swelling up like a balloon, thus making you dizzy and faint. The blood in your face ran cold with the reality of the situation at hand and Joel acted quickly by taking you into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around your back extra tight and held you close.

“Just take it easy. We’ll figure this out.” He whispered into your hair, his voice so soothing and tender. “I promise we’ll figure this out, darlin’ but you gotta take it easy for me and control yer breathing.” Over and over again, he re-enforced his reassurances with words and consoling gestures to calm you down.

There were a million questions fleeing through your mind all at once and it was simply too much to concentrate. You could barely form a thought in your head let alone a sentence, so instead, you just pressed your face to Joel’s chest and focused on the sound of his beating heart. It was loud and deafening, but you counted the beats and finally began to feel his reassuring words and gestures. It was working as you gradually started to breathe at a normal pace again and your own heart rate slowly settled down.

You basked in the warm and security of his tight cold over you. His arms wrapped around your back acted like a weighted blanket to make you feel safely cushioned from the severity of the predicament you find yourselves in. You are so terrified and worried, but he took the edge off and brought you back down to something calm and stable-minded where you could speak without the heated frustration behind your words. His quick thinking and timely decision to take you into his embrace saved you from an extreme panic attack, and you’re most thankful that he’s here with you. It would have been worse if you were here all by yourself.

Roughly thirty minutes later — which felt like forever — you each rested your backs against the cold ridged bark of the oak tree and glanced across the land, taking note of the sporadic flooding in the fields and herds of bison grouping together as they graze across their territory. It was an amazing sight to behold and really quite beautiful too, yet it’s something you don’t often see back home. You only ever see this sort of stuff on the discovery channel or when you’re driving through the extremely rural areas of the countryside. You hoped that you were in the countryside; that you weren’t too far away from home.

But with the sudden remembrance of what you saw in the mirror, you turned to Joel and speculated your thoughts out loud. “I um… I think the image I saw of the tree in the mirror is where we are right now, but I don’t know where this place is exactly.” You scratched your head with bafflement. “I don’t even know how we managed to get here. It’s not possible how we got here.”

“I know, doll.” Joel agreed, his tone steady as he reached out to hold your leg above the knee with a reassuring squeeze. He then pulls his hand away and rises to his feet to take a look around. “Maybe we should go look for a sign or ask someone where we are and work from there.” He suggested, sounding hopeful that there will be a solution to find a way back home. Although you can still sense that he is just as worried as you are right now, you appreciate that he’s trying to be optimistic to keep you sane. You appreciate that he’s remaining calm to keep you calm.

Rising to your feet and gathering just enough optimism as well, you look across the landscape again and point to a landmark in the distance. It was pretty far away, maybe an hour walk give or take, but you could just make out a couple houses and an old windmill tower under the moonlight. It looked like some big ranch from where you stood with Joel, but there was a train track running through the place, so you wondered if it was a small town instead. Nonetheless, someone will be there and they’ll have a phone that you can use.

“C’mon.” Joel gestured to you with his hands, beckoning you to follow him. “We need to call a cab and go home, then we can deal with the mirror.”

Now that sounded like a solid plan, you thought.

Around one hour and forty-five minutes later, you and Joel had walked tirelessly and covered a lot of ground since leaving the big oak tree on the hill. You seriously underestimated just how far away that landmark was, but since you’ve come across the very first sign stating ‘Emerald Ranch and Emerald Station’, you feel much better now that you aren’t in the middle of nowhere anymore. It’s one step closer to finding a way home.

Walking along the muddy path together, you stick close to Joel as the night-time breeze pinches your skin and sends a cold shiver down your spine. It’s still so eerily dark, yet the sky above was lit up with a million stars. You could even see the constellations and it was amazing that you could see it with the naked eye. It looked so clear and visible. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to see the night sky like this back home with all the light pollution, but as much as it was pretty to gaze upon, it was way too cold to be out wandering the countryside as late as this.

Since you and Joel were wearing your bed clothing before you were sucked into the mirror, you’re both feeling the elements of the weather. Your clothing consisted of a thin black vest, a pair of sweatpants and sliders for shoes. If you had known all of this would have happened, you would have worn comfier and more suitable clothing. Joel was wearing something similar to you, and he also shivered with the cold. He had sweatpants too, but he had a short sleeved grey shirt and his work boots on his feet. You wish you had a blanket so you could wrap it around the man and keep him warm. It wasn’t nice to see him cold, and you felt sorry for him.

Although it was pretty much useless, you still had your mobile phone with you. There is no cell service or internet connection to help figure out where you are, and oddly enough, the little compass on google maps keeps spinning around erratically. Even the clock had stopped ticking so you don’t know what time it was either. You landed on the damn thing after you fell into the mirror with Joel, and you hope that nothing is severely damaged or it’s at least an easy fix in the phone repair store back home. Truthfully, you would deem the whole phone useless, but the flashlight came in handy in the extremely dark areas during your walk.

Approaching the edge of Emerald Ranch now, you were careful and hesitant in case the people living here didn’t take kindly to strangers on their property. The last thing you want is to spook them and be threatened with a shotgun to leave. You need help and sought it from the first person you saw.

There was a man leaning over a wooden pen to pet the animals kept inside and you made your way towards him. There were some cattle, sheep and chickens, all separated appropriately, and the man wore a pair of black denim overalls, a dirty white shirt underneath and a pair of leather gloves. You assumed that he is the owner of the ranch or takes care of the animals, and the train must be for transporting livestock.

“Excuse me sir.” You called out cautiously with a polite tone. “I’m sorry to disturb you. but we are lost and need to call a cab-”

“Jesus lady!” The man abruptly cut you off when he turned to face you. His eyes widened for a second before he averted his gaze and held his hand out to block you from his vision. “What are you wearing? You should cover up your uhh…” he paused briefly to find the right words, “... Your assets. That’s too much skin for folk around here, miss.”

Looking to Joel for help as you cross your arms over your chest, you move to stand behind him and use his body to keep you better concealed. Although your vest was a little low cut in the cleavage area, it’s just like any other regular vest top, not some skimpy piece of clothing, and you don’t see how or why it’s too revealing. But simply because you need the help and don’t want to piss the guy off, you bite your tongue and don’t bother giving him a lecture about keeping control of his own damn eyes.

“Sir, we are lost.” Joel cut straight to the point and explained. “We don’t know where we are, or how to get home from here. Can we use yer phone to call a cab? I’d much appreciate it.”

“A cab?” The man crooked an eyebrow with a look of confusion on his face. “I’m not sure what that is, fella, but it don’t matter anyway. We ain’t got those fancy telephones out here. You want to call someone, you gotta go to the bigger towns or cities.”

“Well, where is the nearest town or city then? Can’t ya see that we don’t know where we are or where to go?” Joel fired out a couple questions, his jaw clenching with annoyance now. You could tell that his patience was wearing thin quickly and squeezed his arm, silently telling him to take it easy in a whisper. He tilted his head towards you, nodding softly to reassure you that he’s calm before turning back to face that man. “Could you tell us where we are? So me and my friend can find our way home.” He reiterated with a kinder approach this time.

“You’re standing in the state of New Hanover.” He spat a mouthful of chewing tobacco on the ground before wiping the saliva away from his lips, the sight making you grimace behind Joel’s shoulder as he continued like it was normal to do that sort of thing. “Bout a week's ride that way-” he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, “-Cross the border into the state of Lemoyne and continue ridin’ southeast through the Bayou Nwa region till you hit the water. You’ll find the big city there with a telephone. It’s called Saint Denis. You can’t miss it.”

“Do you mean to ride the train?” Joel searched for more answers while palming a hand over his sweatpants pockets and feeling how empty they were. He has no money to buy train tickets and neither do you.

“Sure, whatever ya want.” The man replied, shrugging carelessly. “Train, coach or horseback. Now is that all?” He asked, but didn’t care to listen to Joel’s answer as he turned around to face the sheep's pen again. You didn’t particularly favour his tone. He sounded as fed up as you and Joel were, but it’s a sticky situation you find yourselves in right now. Having no money like this to get where you need to be is rather embarrassing and shameful. You don’t like feeling useless and lost like this. The quicker you get home, the sooner you can forget about this hellish nightmare and be done with it.

However, as you finally take in what he’s just said about where you are and where you need to go, you realize that you still don’t actually know where you are. “Have you ever heard of those places before?” You questioned Joel quietly, and it makes him have that same realization that you did just mere seconds ago. He still didn’t know where he was either and all of those locations; New Hanover, Lemoyne, Bayou Nwa and Saint Denis weren't ringing any bells other than alarms.

You heard the train horn blaring in the distance as it neared it stop and tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s go find some more help.”

Walking through the ranch together in search of the train station and noticing that it wasn’t like any other ordinary ranch you’ve ever seen before, an uncanny feeling began to settle in the pit on your stomach filled with worry and dread. This place looked like it used to be a town long ago – a very long time ago.

There was a big house with a woman standing in the window upstairs, her clothing attire eerily similar to the 1800’s and there was no electrical light either. The only source of light came from oil lamps. But in addition to those important and concerning details, there was an old wooden windmill and water tower, as well as a couple wooden carriages placed at the end of their yard with more large pens for the animals and crops. There was also an old general store and saloon, but both boarded up and inaccessible. You wonder if this used to be an attraction for tourists of some kind, but it didn’t feel…. right.

Something is wrong here, and Joel could sense that very same thing as well. Nothing was normal about this place and you could tell by the way he walked hurriedly and pulled you along with him that he was determined to find answers. You have an idea where you are, but you don’t want to admit it yet. Not until you have solid proof and evidence of your suspicions. This is why you were so panicked earlier because as well as remembering that picture of the oak tree in the mirror, you also remember that picture of the town which looked to be over one hundred years old. The image looked like it was plucked right out of a history book from the wild western days.

Upon seeing the train station, you and Joel were not only taken aback about how old it looked and how small it was, but you both were also taken aback by the four wheeled stagecoach situated beside the station. There were four horses linked up together to pull the carriage and a man standing by the coach, asking if you needed a ride anywhere for a fair price, his formal, yet strangely unfamiliar accent making you feel uneasy. You rush past him with Joel and make your way towards the front desk of the station, asking the man behind the counter where you are and how to get back home to Austin, Texas.

“I’m sorry folks. You got me stumped here.” He answered your queries gently, noticing the way you both looked so alarmed. “Do you by chance mean the state of New Austin? Over by West Ezliabeth? It’s a pretty long ride by coach or horseback, but a train there will cut your journey in half–” He reached into a drawer in the desk and pulled out a map before placing it over the counter for you and Joel to look at “–Here you go. This is where you are right now, and this is the state of New Austin. Does that help?”

“Jesus Christ.” Joel exhaled heavily. Placing his elbows on the counter and burying his face into the palms of his hands, he shook his head while you stood beside him, horrified and dumbstruck. The map you were looking at only had five states: New Austin, West Elizabeth, Ambarino, New Hanover and Lemoyne.

You don’t even know how it’s possible, but you’re looking at what seems to be a partial map of the US from the year 1899, only none of it was geographically or historically accurate. Not only have you and Joel been transported across multiple states and slipped back in time by over a century, but there’s even a possibility that you’ve entered an alternate dimension too.

The chances of finding a way home have just become a lot more difficult and highly unlikely.

As the sun rises over the horizon and another day passes without answers or solutions to find your way home, you’ve damn near lost all hope and poor Joel has suffered the blunt end of your frustrations. You don’t particularly like being stuck here, or being so lost and useless like this either, but he’s been helping out however he can, and you’ve been an emotional wreck about the whole ordeal.

You don’t mean to argue and bicker with Joel so much, but it’s been three painful days of torture without money, food and supplies. The only thing you’ve been able to eat thus far is wild berries, and too much of those can be harmful and dangerous. Catching a stomach bug or a flu is the last thing you want or need right now. It’s been hard to cope, both physically and mentally, and you don’t know how much longer you can suffer like this.

Last night, you were forced to do something you’ve never done before; something you never thought you’d even be able to go through with. You and Joel snuck inside some innocent man's home and stole everything you could possibly get your hands on. It was shocking and you hated every second of it.

Fortunately though, that man was dead to the world as he passed out on the sofa, so he didn’t see either of you. Although you feel a tremendous amount of guilt for what you did, you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved to sleep in a tent last night with a blanket instead of the cold mucky ground. You have a little bit of money and some valuables to trade or sell, but it’s not nearly enough to keep you both fed or clothed.

You had beef and buttered bread instead of berries last night, and ate it like it was your last meal before washing it down with a bottle of whiskey. Today however, you’ve awoken with a painful ball of guilt in your stomach and a splitting headache. It’s probably the alcohol, but there’s other things bothering your mind too. You feel awful for what you did, how you’ve been treating Joel and you’ve never yearned for a shower so much in your life.

Your clothes are dirty and damp, and you can’t even bring yourself to look at him anymore because your clothes are giving off an odour too. You smell, and you don’t like that you do. Climbing out of the tent quietly so you don’t disturb the man during his slumber, you make your way towards a little pond near the temporary campsite. It’s only temporary because you keep moving every night, fearing the law will come looking for you both for your crimes.

The sun is only just making an appearance right now. It’s barely visible and you need to make the most of this early morning sunrise to clean yourself up the best you can with what’s available. Pond water isn’t the most ideal, but it’s all you have.

Before you walk down the slight embankment, you take a look around and make sure you're absolutely alone and somewhat concealed between the trees and shrub. Not only do you need to wash your clothes, but you need to wash your body too and just feel clean as well as look clean. You feel dirty and the constant supply of clean water back home is something you’ll never take for granted ever again.

After getting undressed, you make your way into the water and gasp sharply with the cool temperatures giving you a shocking thrill of energy. Your heartbeat starts to rise and pick up speed because of how cold it was. It would have been better when the sun is high in the sky, heating up the water tremendously, but at that time of day, it’s more likely that someone will come across you fully nude and vulnerable.

You would’ve asked Joel to keep watch for you, but you’re too ashamed to even let him see you in a state like this and besides, you’re beginning to wonder if he has finally had enough with you because of your attitude lately. Especially after last night.

When you robbed that man blind yesterday and made it to your new campsite, you broke down with tears over what you did and Joel tried to be a voice of reason. He tried to justify what you both had to do in order to survive, but you didn’t want to hear it at the time and snapped at him. An explosive argument quickly followed and you went to sleep angry with each other. You’re going to apologize when you finish up bathing and head back to camp. You didn’t mean to snap at him, and you feel a great deal of regret for making things worse last night rather than better.

Cupping handfuls of water and washing your arms, legs and torso, you wipe away the collection of dirt and grime, feeling better with each inch of skin looking cleaner. You left your bra and sliders on the embankment, but brought your underwear, vest shirt and sweatpants in the water with you. After dunking them generously until they were sopping wet, you then dipped your hair in the water too before exiting the pond to sit between the shrubs and bushes, relying on them to keep you somewhat concealed with privacy.

You lay your clothes out under the sun, bring your knees up to your chest and hug your legs, then just wait until they are dry enough to be worn. It took a little while for the sunlight to even reach you and your clothes, but once those warm rays started shining over you, it felt heavenly.

You closed your eyes to bathe under summer heat, feeling the cold droplets of water rolling down your skin as you slowly but gradually dry off. It was so relaxing and comfortable that you almost fell asleep until you heard the audible sound of a twig snapping beneath a boot. Your eyes sprung open and searched for the source, the little glimpses of a cowboy hat bobbing up and down over the tall bushes across the pond making you leap into action.

Quickly and carefully, you bunched up your clothes and hid behind a large tree, watching attentively as that person approached the edge of the pond. It was a man grumbling angrily under his breath, his face and hands covered in dirt as he kneels down to cup handfuls of the water just like you did to wash himself. His clothes looked dirtier than what yours did, but he didn’t seem to care.

Looking at his clothes closely though, you noticed that he dressed a little differently compared to the other people you’ve seen over the last couple of days. He wore a light blue striped shirt, the sleeves rolled up his arms which displayed a generous amount of hair, and the veins and muscles in his arms. The suspenders attached to his jeans that pulled over his chest and shoulders emphasizes his size and stature. He was broad in the shoulders, big chested and quite visibly strong.

The hat he wore paired so well with the black neckerchief. It really brought his outfit together, but the gun belt hanging loosely on his hips kept you weary of his presence. You don’t know what this man is capable of or how well he knows his way around a gun, and you don’t wish to find out either.

He was still grumbling under his breath and quite clearly angry about something, but when he took his hat off, revealing a beautiful head of dirty blonde hair, you leaned around the tree with interest and curiosity to see more of him. His hair was shoulder length with a side part, his beard dark and complimentary to his handsome features and his eyes… God his eyes were so beautiful that you didn’t react quick enough when he lifted his head and looked directly at you.

It didn’t matter that you hid behind the tree completely with your back pressed against the bark because your cover was well and truly blown. You were too greedy with taking a good look at the man, ogling him like a cat in heat, and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass like karma. It was foolish of you to put yourself and possibly even Joel in danger like this. He saw you clear as day, and now you begin to panic when hearing him wading through the pond, his movements loud as he approaches you.

“Who goes there?” He asked, drawing his gun and pulling back the hammer. You could hear it so distinctly and jolted with fright when he gave a warning. “Show ya self or I’ll start shooting.”

“I c-can't show myself.” You stuttered nervously, your voice timid and shaky.

“And why can’t ya do that, huh?” He asks another question, to which you waste no time in answering him truthfully. “Because I’m n-naked. I didn’t mean to spy on you, sir. Please d-don’t shoot me.”

“Oh shit… You’re a lady?” He softened his tone then quickly holstered in gun and took a step back. “I’m sorry ma’am. I didn’t realize at first, but I won’t shoot ya for spying on me. I reckon you were bathing in the pond before I got here?” He inquired.

“Yes, t-that’s right.” You replied, then shook your head. “Well, sort of. I was sitting on the grass while my clothes were drying off under the sun and I can’t put them on right now because they’re still wet you see.”

“I can help with that if ya like.” He kindly offered, then realized how sexual that sounded and quickly explained himself. “Ah, shit… I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I keep a couple spare sets of clothes on my horse for emergencies, so I can help ya out with a shirt and a pair of pants.”

“Uhm… Yeah.” You smiled bashfully and slowly started to relax the tension in your shoulders. Hearing the slight panic in his voice was adorable and assuring that he’s genuine about helping you out. “I’d really appreciate that. Thank you, uh?” You probed for his name, to which he pauses for a moment before answering you. It made you laugh so much that you failed to hide it. “Oh wow! I’m terribly sorry for being so rude. I’ve just never heard a name like that before. Tacitus Kilgore. My… that’s uh… that’s something. I’m Y/N by the way, and it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s quite alright, ma'am.” He chuckles with you, agreeing that his name was quite something indeed. “That’s a pretty laugh you have there, Y/N and it’s nice to meet you too.” He said before whistling for his horse. The sound was so loud that you immediately thought of Joel and worried that he would come looking for you. It’s a worry because he will naturally assume that Tacitus is a threat, and maybe Tacitus might naturally assume that Joel is a threat as well. He thought you were just a few moments ago and it’s best to avoid a conflict under your current circumstances. You’re in dire need of help and you’ll take whatever you can get. Even a pair of clothes from a stranger.

“Hey, don’t be alarmed, but my friend is sleeping in a tent nearby.” You quickly say to him. “He might come looking for me to make sure I’m ok if he heard you whistling, but please don’t shoot him. He’s a good man.”

“I won’t.” Tacitus promised. “Not unless he tries to shoot me first.” Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, you thought. Joel doesn’t have a gun, so he won’t try to shoot Mr. Kilgore. “Your friend won’t mind ya talking to a fella like me though, right?” He asked, and his question made your cheeks heat up a little at the thought of Joel possibly being jealous of another man talking to you. He wouldn’t though. He’s not like that. But… What does Tacitus mean by ‘a fella like me’.

“Well that depends. Are you a nice guy looking to help out a woman in need, or is there some hidden agenda behind your actions?” You answer his question with another question, making the man choke out a deep laugh as he answered you. “No... No hidden agenda. I’m just happy to help if I can, miss.”

When he throws the clothes at your feet, you kneel down and reach for them carefully without revealing yourself to the man. You pulled a red shirt over your head, the fabric long, thick and soft like a sweater. The sleeves were crinkled from where Tacitus had previously pulled them up but they smell clean too, like they had been recently washed with a faintly scented soap. The pants were brown and patterned with stripes. It was just a simple pair of workers jeans, and they were too big, but you slipped your legs inside and used a hair tie to keep them secured on your waist.

“Ok, I’m ready now.” You warned him in advance. “I’m coming out.”

Stepping around the tree and revealing yourself to the man, you watched his expression change with surprise and delight. He started to smile while taking a respectful look up and down your body, as if glancing at every inch of you to memorize what you like before tipping his hat. “Ma’am.” He said courteously, then laughed adorably. “Where are your shoes?”

“Oh, they’re right here.” You laughed also, then dropped your sliders to the ground before slipping your feet inside. “I uhh, I need to dry my clothes.” You pointed awkwardly to a patch of sunlight in the grass, hesitant to step forward and move closer to him. Although he’s a handsome man who’s politely spoken and he’s treated you with nothing but kindness and respect so far, that doesn’t take away the fact you don’t know him and you should still remain cautious of strangers in this unknown dimension.

Tacitus stepped aside for you and moved towards his horse, searching through his saddle bags while you made your way towards your prior spot in the grass and laid your clothes out to be dried. You kept your underwear hidden though, worrying that he might see it and realize you’re not wearing them.

“You can keep those clothes if ya need ‘em.” He threw over his shoulder as you stood stiffly to watch his movements. The man could see for himself that you were weary of his presence and tried to make you feel comfortable by saying goodbye. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Wait… Do you have more supplies on your horse?” You queried shyly, thinking about how Joel will need some clothes too. “And maybe a hat for my friend? He doesn’t have long hair like yourself and the sun keeps burning his shoulders.” You twiddle with your fingers and shuffle on your feet nervously because Joel is here. He’s hiding behind one of the trees and trying to approach sneakily. You caught a glimpse of him over Tacitus’ shoulder and tried to disguise how fearful you were by keeping him distracted. “I’ll pay. We have a little bit of cash.” You kept your eyes trained on the man, never breaking his eye contact once as you did your best to smile and act natural. You didn’t want to alert him, but you also didn’t want him to get hurt either.

“Sure.” He nodded, but looked at you with slightly narrowed eyes. It’s as if he could tell you were scared. “We can trade a few things.” He said whilst keeping his face turned in your direction, but the moment he used his eyes to look in his peripheral vision, you instantly yelled out in panic. “Joel, don’t!”

He leaped out of cover in a flash and jumped onto Tacitus’ back, the action stopping him from reaching for his guns. Joel wrapped his arm around his neck and put the man in a headlock before taking a striking elbow to his ribs. As he winced with pain, Tacitus saw the opening and took it by throwing his head back and headbutting Joel.

However, as quickly as Tacitus turned to face him, Joel had forced himself to overcome the pain in his face and ran straight ahead with force. “Joel, please stop! He’s friendly!” You screamed now as they both tumbled down the embankment and into the pond, wrestling to overpower each other. Joel was throwing punches like his life depended on it, his knuckles already beginning to turn red before Tacitus managed to roll over and return the same treatment. You’ve seen men tussle before, but nothing like this. They were going to kill each other if you didn’t intervene.

When Joel had managed to block the blows to his face and rolled back on top of Tacitus, you rushed forward to help just in the nick of time as he grabbed one of the guns off his waist and pointed the barrel in his face. “Joel!” You shouted his name while holding onto the gun before he could squeeze the trigger. “Don't shoot him. He won’t hurt us.”

“Oh, I don’t know ‘bout that, Y/N.” Tacitus growled, his lip curling with rage, although he had no fear of a gun pointed in his face like this. “I wasn’t gunna, but ya friend here tackled me and now I’m not so sure. Tell him to lower the gun and fight like a real man.”

“No way. Not fucking happening.” Joel barked. It was evident he wasn’t going to let up any time soon. He kept his eyes trained on the man, but warned you gravely. “Take yer hand off the gun and step back, Y/N. Let me take care of this hillbilly sack of shit.”

You didn’t listen to him and used your free hand to remove the other gun off Tacitus’ hip before throwing it far away over your shoulder. Now that one of the weapons was out of reach, you turned your focus to the last remaining weapon and held onto it with two hands.

“Give it to me.” You demanded calmly, hoping your tone helped ease the tension. “You’re making an enemy right now, Joel. He was going to trade with us. Look–” you gesture to your clothes. “–See? He gave me these and helped me out. He won’t hurt us unless you give him a reason to. Please don’t do this.” Your pleadings were falling on deaf ears as he continued to glare at Tacitus with a wild look in his eyes. You looked down at Tacitus instead and offered one final solution. “I’ll take the gun away, but you gotta give me your word that you won’t hurt him.” You then look at Joel, “And you too. You have to promise you won’t hurt, Tacitus.”

The men grew silent as they stared at each other, as if they were taking your words into account and contemplating the outcome. You could see the wheels turning behind their eyes. They were thinking about what the best move was, but you were in the way and neither of them wanted you to get hurt in the process of their fighting.

“I’m gonna ease up.” Joel broke the silence first and spoke steadily now. “No sudden movements or so help me God, I will empty this clip into yer face.”

Moving back slowly and pulling you with him, he moved you to stand behind him and kept the gun trained on Tacitus as he slowly pulled himself up off the ground. You looked at him with sorrow in your eyes, apologizing for the misunderstanding without a need for words. You didn’t need to say it. Your face said it all for the man as he looked back at you with an expression that spoke of acceptance and defeat.

“Can I have my gun back now?” He asked you, and didn’t even look at Joel. “You can still keep the clothes, but the gun belongs to me.” You didn’t answer the man right away and thought about his question for a moment. It would be a task trying to convince Joel to hand the gun over anyway, but for some unknown reason, you trust Tacitus. He could have hurt you at any given point before Joel showed up and he didn’t. He could have left you hiding behind a tree fully naked, but he didn’t. He instead offered his help and generosity, and he was going to trade with you. That probably won’t happen now, but you don’t want enemies here. You want to find a way home, and someone like Tacitus could help you get there.

Reaching out and carefully sliding your hand along Joel’s arm, you don’t take the gun away from him but gently urge him to lower it and take a chance on trusting strangers in this dimension. You don’t blame him for being so protective over you. He blames himself for touching the mirror and bringing you both here and your safety has become his top priority ever since. Even though you’ve been giving him a shitty attitude these last few days, you completely understand now that he’s just trying his damn best to keep you out of harm's way and make sure you’re comfortable.

Now that the gun was lowered, Tacitus relaxed his shoulders and nodded in your direction respectfully – a show of thanks for taking care of the situation in a way that doesn’t end up with blood on someone's hands. It’s the outcome neither of you wanted. But he looked at you and Joel closely, his head tilting with bewilderment as he let his thoughts roam free. You could tell the man was thinking about how you dress, talk and act. Especially when he looked at Joel’s shoes and realized they aren’t a style he’s ever seen before.

Then, you watch as his eyes lit up like had found an answer to his suspicions.

“I’ve seen a few peculiar things in my lifetime to know when something ain’t right.” He smirks and rests his weight on one hip to get another good look at you and Joel. “I gotta say. Ya’ll look a little lost… Ain’t from here, are ya?” He asked confidently, like he already knew the answer.

“No.” You replied, ignoring Joel’s protests for you to stop talking and revealing information like this. You only ignored him because you really think Tacitus could help. “And yes. We are lost and frankly, I’m terrified that we’ll never find our way back home. Can you help us, Tacitus?”

“Perhaps.” He looks away and shrugs, stroking his beard. “I know a guy who looks a little lost like ya’ll. He talks a little funny too. Like he’s from the future or somethin’.” That piqued Joel’s interest now and he jerked his chin outwards, prompting Tacitus to elaborate. He looked at you though and smiled, happily obliging to tell more. “I might be able to help. I met this man once and now I send him letters with rock carvings. I could reach out and ask him to meet up with me. But since I’m willing to help, I got three ground rules I’d like to lay out.”

“Name them.” You nod to the man, eager to know the rules and get going. There's no more time to waste. You're desperate to get back to where you belong and you'll still take all the help you can get.

“Big boy here doesn’t lay another finger on me or the deals off, and my line of work attracts the law so we keep a low profile at all times,” he racks off a couple rules and you both agree to them, then wait patiently for the third and final one. He looks at you now with a twinkling smile on his face, ignoring how pissed off Joel looks. “Last rule – Tacitus is my fake name, use that around strangers, but you can call me Arthur, sweetheart.”

You smiled at that and nodded to show your compliance, but felt Joel’s muscles flex beneath the palm of your hand, his finger steadily hovering over the trigger of the gun. It's as if he wasn't so happy and compliant with that third and final rule. He didn't like that Arthur called you sweetheart.

Maybe he is the jealous type after all.

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