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hllywdwhre · 18 days

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Long Time Coming

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: When each of the family members noticed you and Tommy falling for each other

Warnings: arranged marriage, mentions of heroin (talks about how Tommy used it and the Chinese selling it - nothing graphic, only mentions), let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1.7K

Notes: THANK YOU for all the love on Revenge! After many comments and requests asking for more of the pairing, I decided to delve deeper into the development of Tommy and her’s relationship. Up next is moments reader and Tommy fell for each other!

Can technically be read as a stand-alone, but is meant to pair with this Tommy fic I wrote.

Polly

Polly was the second to catch on. She knows her nephew far too well to not notice the small changes. Grace’s death changed something deep inside of Tommy and she didn’t think she’d ever see the day when Tommy, not only fell in love but allowed himself to love again.

Then you came along.

He started smiling more and drinking less. You got him to stop using dope to self-medicate. He also didn’t look nearly as tired.

She always said Tommy had his mother’s smile when he truly smiled, and it had been a long time since Polly had seen her sister’s smile on his face. You made a sarcastic comment in the private booth at The Garrison once though and there it was.

She noticed you falling for him when you came to her with way too much anxiety over an innocent, and adorable, request.

You were picking at your nails as you sat on her sofa while she lit a candle in her living room,

“Tommy mentioned you were the only one who had ever been able to replicate his mother’s raspberry tart recipe. I was wondering if there was any way you could teach me to make them?”

Polly froze for a moment, surprised at the request given your anxious state. It was then that she realized why you were so nervous. Even if you hadn’t realized it, you were falling for Tommy.

You two spent the rest of the day in her kitchen perfecting the recipe.

Arthur

Arthur, bless him, can be pretty blind when it comes to romance. Like. Really blind. Lust? He can spot it a mile away. Hell, he was the first to notice that you and Tommy were sleeping together. But love? Gods help him.

It took until you killed Sabini for him to notice the two of you were in love.

The next day neither you nor Tommy wanted to leave your bed, but an emergency family meeting with the Shelbys and your father had been called because of your actions.

When you told everyone what you had done, Arthur was the first to break the shocked silence.

“Why the bloody ‘ell would you ‘ave done that?” He’d shouted in a mix of shock and anger.

“He’s been intimidating my father and me for over a year now, and then yesterday I learned what he had done to you lot… My anger got the best of me and I was tired of him,” you’d replied with a deep crimson blush spreading across your face.

The rest of the family and your father wore knowing smirks at your explanation, but you could see the moment it all clicked in Arthur’s eyes. His smirk spread across his face and his tone went from shocked and angry, to proud.

“Well, love, remind me not to piss you off.”

John

Since he’d had an arranged marriage of his own, John knew better than most what you and Tommy were going through. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Tommy had actually come to John for advice before the wedding on how to help things go more smoothly and make sure that you were comfortable.

After a couple of months of being married, John had gotten Tommy alone and checked in on how he and you were doing. It was when Tommy had seemed surprised that things were going so well that John noticed his brother was becoming fond of you. He didn’t question Tommy on how he felt, he knew better than to think his brother would spill his heart to him, but he could see that Tommy felt something for you.

Esme & Ada

Once again, since Esme’s own marriage into the Shelby family was an arranged one, she went out of her way to make you feel included and make sure you knew that she was an open, non-judgmental, and private ear you could turn to.

Ada walked in on you and Esme having a more vulnerable conversation when you were first married and you and Esme both immediately changed the topic. When Ada later asked Esme in private what the two of you had been discussing, Esme answered as honestly as she could without giving away details.

”I know what she’s going through, to an extent. I got lucky with how quickly I was accepted since John and I immediately clicked. Not to mention the way I saw every inch of you on our wedding night,” Esme said, both her and Ada laughing lightly at the memory of Esme not seeing her own husband naked on their wedding night, but instead his sister as she gave birth to Karl.

After that, Ada made sure to include you in any shopping trips she went on and opened her house in London to you in case you ever needed to get away.

”I know how my brother is. He can be a right twat when he wants to be. Just let me know if you ever need an escape. We’ll call it a girl’s night.”

The two women noticed you falling for Tommy when you were included in one of the shopping trips and they asked how things were going. You’d tried to brush the question off far too quickly, and when they couldn’t pry out of you that anything bad had happened, they quickly pieced together that you were catching feelings.

Michael

Michael noticed as Tommy’s jealousy and protectiveness over you grew. The Shelby family knew you were capable of handling your own, but that didn’t mean Tommy wasn’t going to be protective. Especially after Grace.

Michael watched the way Tommy went from simply glaring at any men who tried flirting with you, to approaching the men and wrapping his arm around you while questioning whatever unfortunate man had angered him if "he had spotted the ring on your finger and was simply stupid, or if he was blind."

Jealousy was what gave it away for Michael.

Finn

Finn noticed after a particularly dangerous job involving you didn’t go according to plan. You and Finn were the only two who wouldn’t be immediately recognized, so it was up to you two to find out if the Chinese had been selling heroin even after Tommy had threatened them with a bomb.

The two of you had been separated and you hadn’t returned yet when Finn made his way to the betting shop where everyone was waiting.

Tommy’s rage when Finn dared show up without you was something Finn never wanted to be on the receiving end of again.

Charlie

Charlie was the first to notice. Granted he didn’t realize what he was seeing, but he had noticed.

You had convinced Tommy to build a stable at The Arrow House. He, Charlie, and you all loved horses, and it would be a fun way for you and Charlie to bond.

Tommy was away on business and you and Charlie had decided to take the horses for a ride. Charlie sat in front of you and you were letting him guide the horse as he hammered you with various questions about the world.

“Why do horses eat grass? Where do horses come from? Why can’t they eat human food?”

It was during this conversation that he pointed out that Tommy liked you.

“When will Daddy be back?” Charlie asked you.

“In two more days. He’s handling some business in London,” you answered easily.

“I miss him,” he said wistfully.

“I’m sure he misses you, too,” you reassured, “but he has to work so we can have our house and horses,” you told him, hoping to comfort the child some more.

“Do you miss him?” Charlie questioned, turning his head to look up at you.

“I do,” you answered easily. It wasn’t a lie.

By this point, you had grown to care for Tommy. You thought it was only as a friend and nothing more, but Charlie seemed to notice it was something different. You and Tommy didn’t feel the need to explain to Charlie what an arranged marriage was. The two of you had talked about how you were going to explain your marriage to Charlie, and you had both come up with a way to explain it to him without potentially causing any insecurities in the child or exposing him to what an arranged marriage was. It was a delicate balance of lies and truth, but neither of you wanted to tell Charlie “Well, sometimes marriage isn’t love, it’s business.” He was going to deal with enough at the truth of his mother’s death, and neither of you felt it was necessary to add a potential insecurity about whether the new mother figure in his life actually cared for him.

“He misses you, too,” Charlie said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyebrows furrowed together and you looked down at him,

“I’d hope so since we’re married, but what makes you say that?” You were still walking that delicate line of truth and lies, but his comment had piqued your interest.

“He watches you a lot and smiles a lot.”

His simple explanation could easily be explained away and you explained it away internally, but Charlie had noticed what you and Tommy hadn’t noticed yet.

Alfie

Alfie and you had always had a cheeky and joking relationship. You got on like old school friends more than sometimes-ally-sometimes-pain-in-the-ass.

However, when Tommy and you came to him to see if you could rally his support in the inevitable war that was going to break out with Sabini’s men, he noticed the dynamic had changed. Typically meetings with Alfie were tense with the atmosphere only broken by your sarcastic comments and Alfie’s borderline flirting with you.

Alfie was taken aback when you shot down his flirting and Tommy sent a glare his way.

He recovered quickly though and soon went on to teasing the two of you about your “newfound happiness”.

”Was wondering when the two of you were going to pull your heads out of your asses and smell the roses.”

#tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #Peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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pandoras-princess · 3 years

Text

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

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marmosa · 3 years

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if it were up to me.

George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: none!!

A/N: i don’t celebrate christmas, but if you do- merry christmas!!!! i hope this is a lovely treat for all of you that do and don’t celebrate the holiday. i’ve been binge watching the movies with my sibling this past week (we’re on winter break right now) and i was just on a roll (finally got some inspo thank god). but i loved writing this piece and i truly hope you all enjoy reading it just as much as i did writing it. happy holidays to you all, i love you tons <3

***

“Are you busy right now?”

[y/n] looked up from the papers splayed out over the table in front of her, her lips pursing into a little pout of annoyance at her broken spell of silence. She grit down a sarcastic remark and looked over her shoulder towards the source of the sound, the venom bubbling to the tip of her tongue dissolving in an instant as she put a face to the voice.

“Ah! George! Um, a little bit, but I have a moment to spare. What do you need?”

He visibly relaxed when the soft tone of her voice ran through his ears, her inviting smile and outturned posture welcoming him into her space, “I wanted to ask you a question actually.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and quirked her head to the side, her brain rapidly noting and filing his odd behavior. George was naturally more calm in his pursuits and actions, well as calm as a Weasley twin could be anyway, but this seemed to her a bit overkill. As he stalked over, she picked up on the way he was wringing his hands and the corners of his smile were twitching. It irked her, but she resigned not to mention it.

“Well, out with it already! You’re making me nervous just standing there,” she chuckled, using her ankle to pull out the chair next to her, motioning for him to take a seat with a jerk of her chin.

He let out a puff of air and plopped down next to her, slumping his shoulders into the chair. [y/n] couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his display of annoyance, his eyes flickering to her face for what felt like the first time since he approached her. He could feel his smile twitch yet again as he rehearsed what he was supposed to tell her.

“Okay, well it’s less of a question and more of an explanation and then a query,” he explained, obviously trying to dance around getting to the point.

“Alright, out with it then,” she nodded, raising her brows with a tilt of her head to edge him on.

“Uhm, Merlin, he’s a bloody git for making me do this,” George groaned, shielding his face with his hands and lulling his head backwards.

“Who’s a- George if you keep beating around the bush I’m gonna tune you out and get back to work,” [y/n] huffed, her expression falling into one of mild irritation.

“Sorry! Sorry- uh, you know Emmett right?” George began, his heart twisting in his chest with every word that started to tumble forth from his mouth.

“Yeah, we have nearly four classes together. What about him?”

“Well, uhm, he was too nervous to ask you himself- Hufflepuff and all, so he requested my services during potions. Came up to me, sweating awful bad, red up to his neck, and asked that I ask you if you’d go to Hogsmeade with him this coming week,” George finished the last part with venom biting at his tongue, his retelling obviously botched out of Emmett’s favor.

[y/n] could feel the embarrassment bleed its way into every single crack of her face, her eyes bulging out of their sockets as her brain drowned in it’s process’. She quickly averted her gaze to the papers next to her, grabbing at some blank parchment and her quill.

“That- uhm, wow! That’s incredibly sweet of him to ask. However-”

George felt his heart begin soar at the ‘however’, biting back his extremely obvious shit-eating grin fighting its way onto his face, “Yes?”

“I was actually hoping someone else would ask me to Hogsmeade, well not necessarily ask, more like officiate it as a date of sorts? I-I don’t know, but I unfortunately can’t accept his offer- lovely as it is! Of course,” she rushed out, chewing on the inside of her cheek to try and soothe the discomfort bubbling in her stomach.

“So, that’s a no?” George questioned for clarification, more to fan his internal flame of victory than get an answer for the Hufflepuff boy.

“Yeah, it’s a no- oh! But George, do let him down gently please, I know Emmett and he can be a bit overcritical at times. Just let him know it’s not his fault, I just happen to like someone else,” she trailed off, her eyes glued to her hand that had subconsciously shot forward to squeeze George’s wrist as he stood up to go dutifully deliver her answer.

“Anything for you,” he finally let his smile crack through, his other hand reaching over and squeezing hers, “See you in the Great Hall?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, retracting her hand and turning back to her work as George padded away, leaving her to her thoughts.

As soon as she was sure he was out of ear shot she let out a string of curse words, her head falling forward with a defined thunk, “Merlin, now I can’t finish my work at all.”

***

“[y/n]! What took you so bloody long?” Esme called out from the table, clambering out of her seat to rush over to her friend who looked more than a little flustered.

“Oh you know, the usual, running into yet another ridiculous unfathomable situation,” [y/n] shook her head, plopping into her seat.

“Do tell,” Esme hummed, her lips curled up into an expectant smile.

“Don’t be shy, give us all the details,” Lucile chirped from across the table, pointing at [y/n] with a fork adorned with a chunk of turkey.

[y/n] looked down and across the table, scanning the area to make sure George and none of his pals were anywhere to be seen. She let out a puff of air as soon as she deduced that the coast was clear, motioning for her friends to huddle in as best they could with their seating arrangement.

“So you know how I usually spend my free period in the library doing homework, right?”

The two other girls nodded, Esme already giving [y/n] that cheeky, suggestive grin. [y/n] frowned and shook her off, slapping Esme’s shoulder lightly with a plain ‘ew’.

“Well George came up to me, acting all the more nervous, completely out of sorts for him-,”

“A Weasley twin? Nervous? Someone pinch me I must be hearing things,” Lucile whistled, frowning when Esme kicked her leg under to table in a silent warning to watch her volume.

“And then he spends forever getting to the point of his sudden appearance and it turns out Emmett set him to ask me to go to Hogsmeade with him!”

“The Hufflepuff?”

“Yes”

“Well, what did you say?!” Lucile urged, setting her drink down to minimize the splash zone had [y/n] given them a surprising answer.

“No, of course! You know I like-,” [y/n] whipped her head around, doing yet another sweep of the table to ensure she wouldn’t be heard by the wrong people before dropping her voice to a hush, “you know I like George.”

“No wonder he was nervous!” Esme threw her hands up, earning herself a few awkward glances from the people seated next to them, “he was worried you’d take up Emmett’s offer.”

[y/n] could feel that same embarrassment from earlier draw itself taut on her features, as she folded into herself, “That’s a load of rubbish.”

“No, Esme’s right. If you certain he approached you as awkward and nervous as he was, it’s probably because he didn’t want you to say yes to Emmett’s offer,” Lucile concurred, finally directing her attention back to her meal, “besides, I passed him and Lee in the hall earlier and I caught your name.”

“What-?” [y/n] coughed, nearly choking on her food at Leslie’s far to casual mention of this piece of information.

“Yeah and then when they saw me they went all quiet and headed the opposite direction of me,” Leslie nodded, biting back an amused smile as she watched [y/n] literally melt in on herself in real time.

“You’re bluffing! That’s great news innit! Come on [y/n] you’ve gotta let yourself accept that he likes you,” Esme clicked her tongue, elbowing her in the side gently.

“I won’t because it’s not true. Besides, we’re already going as friends and I think that’s quite alright for me,” [y/n] shook her head, shrugging off Esme’s side eye and disproving frown.

“Whatever you say, Ms. denial,” Lucile grumbled, pouring some more gravy over her turkey.

“If you don’t quit picking on me I’m going to head off to the dormitories and forget this interaction ever happened,” [y/n] deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

“We wouldn’t have to pick on you if you’d just admit that he likes you already!” Esme nearly shouted, sinking into herself slightly when Lucile took her turn reminding her to watch her volume.

“What’s all this about picking on [y/n]?”

[y/n]’s face went slack with horror, as her nerves painted themselves plainly obvious on her features. She passed Lucile a pleading look not to mention anything, and Esme didn’t need to be told twice simply by the waves of terror rolling off of [y/n].

“Just teasing her for the whole Emmett thing, it’s quite funny if you ask me. Poor lad will just have to find someone else, but so’s life,” Esme chuckled, scooting to the side to make room between her and [y/n] for George to take a seat.

“Exactly, that’s what I said! Which, by the way, he took the let down very nicely [y/n]. So don’t go beating yourself up over something you couldn’t help,” George mentioned, reaching around [y/n]’s shoulder to give her a squeeze.

“Thanks George, I appreciate it,” [y/n] smiled, ducking her head slightly to try and conceal the water building up in her eyes purely from nerves.

“He’s a Hufflepuff, he’ll cry it out, get a few hugs from his pals and move on with it,” Lee noted from across the table, he and Fred taking liberty to sandwich Lucile between them.

“Aside from him, we heard you already had a fancy in mind- is that true [y/n]?” Fred added, leaning his chin onto his hand, a devilish quirk to his grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” [y/n] snipped back, sticking out her tongue in defiance, “Why are we even concerned with my love life anyway? Esme might be going with Dina, Lucile has got her hands full of potential suitors, Lee’s got his dates for the next month planned, Fred is practically tripping over himself for his newest infatuation, and George’s got- wait, what’ve you got George?”

It was George’s turn to feign embarrassment, the red slowly seeping up his neck until it overtook his entire face, “Well, nothing in particular actually, it’s quite complicated-,”

“Complicated in that his crush is shy and he’s shy and they’re both hopeless but he’d kill me if I tried to help, so we’re all just waiting for a miracle to drop from the sky,” Fred sighed dramatically, reaching across the table to snatch a roll from one of the quickly emptying break baskets.

“When you put it that way it sounds lame,” George grumbled, passing his brother a bitter look, “It doesn’t matter anyway. Hogsmeade is just a bit of holiday magic, something could happen at any time.”

“He does make a point there,” Lucile chimed in, nodding her head in agreement.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, you’re literally living your own version of The Bachelorette- if I can recall that’s what my cousin told me. Anyhow, if anyone needs a bit of holiday magic it certainly isn’t you,” Esme giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at Lucile’s less than amused expression.

“What’s this Bachelorette you mentioned all about?” Fred quipped, his eyes sparkling with interest.

“You’d certainly enjoy it, Fred. What with your lifestyle of charm and dazzling your fancies and all,” Esme hummed.

“Did you just call me a slag?” Fred gasped, faux hurt painted across his face.

“I did nothing of the sort! Don’t you put words in my mouth,” Esme threatened, pointing an accusing finger at Fred.

George rolled his eyes at his friends’ antics and decided now was a great a time as any to slip away while everyone was distracted. He carefully elbowed [y/n] who was thoroughly amused with the electric banter flying across the table, her head snapping to the side at his redirection of her attention.

He mouthed a silent ‘want to get out of here?” to which she responded with an eager nod. George’s smile widened and her made quick work of maneuvering his long limbs out of the table, offering a helping hand to [y/n] shortly after gaining his bearings.

The two began to head off but not without Lucile calling after them, “Where are the two of you headed!?”

[y/n] swiveled around with a messily concealed expression of excitement, offering their friends nothing more than a bouncy shrug of her shoulders before she turned back around and quickened her pace to match George’s.

The cacophony of sounds echoing from the Great Hall slowly trickled down to nothing but a dull murmur, the occasional hallway conversation the only discernible noise through the sleepy castle.

“So, I take it you needed a breather after that harsh interrogation,” George began, burying his hands into the pockets of his robes.

“You wouldn’t believe. I swear they were moments away from drilling me for my Ministry administered ID,” [y/n] giggled, shaking her head, “honestly, you’d think they’d get tired of asking a question they never get an answer too.”

“Very much so. Maybe it’s just blind optimism and a bit of hope that one day they’ll chip away enough at it that you’ll just give in and admit it,” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “But who knows.”

[y/n] hummed in agreement, pulling her robes tighter around her body to try and hoard every last sliver of heat she could as they wandered the corridors of the castle, “so, what’d you drag me out here to do?”

“Truthfully I just wanted to get out of there, I had no general plan in mind. But hey! I’m a Weasley, we’ll find something to do soon enough,” He grinned ear to ear, making a show of his jazz hands.

“I’d usually recommend going out to sit under the stars but the snow and cloudy sky do make that a very unpleasant option,” she sighed, blowing out a puff of air from between her lips.

“Oh! I know, I have the perfect idea,” He exclaimed giddily, “I know you’re going to start out opposed but hear me out.”

George grabbed her hands and drew her to the side, huddling his shoulder to try and minimize his size to capitalize on whatever privacy they had made for themselves in the tiny little niche in the wall.

“It’s not against the rules is it?” [y/n] questioned, a concerned quirk in her brow.

“Not entirely,” He trailed off, trying his best to reel her back on board when she looked more than a bit opposed, “But it won’t get us in trouble- or not a lot of trouble, at least. If anything happens I’ll take the blame, I swear on Godric Gryffindor himself.”

“Fine, fine, tell me your idea,” she giggled, drawing her lip between her teeth to try and get her bubbly laughter under control.

“Okay, so you know all those dusty, old, empty classrooms on the upper levels?” He paused, waiting for her nod of conformation, “well, they just so happen to be the perfect place to practice charms, spells, and the newest collection of Weasley Wizard Wheeze’s.”

“You’re letting me see the new line?” [y/n] gasped with glee, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Not necessarily new, more like a final product. But more or less yes,” He nodded eagerly, his hair shaking with the aggressive movement.

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Lead the way!”

“Say no more.”

***

“You were not lying when you said these places were dusty,” [y/n] coughed, fanning the invisible particles from out of her face, taking in the clothed furniture and dim windows.

“It’s not the brightest place, but it’s not too shabby either! Watch this,” George muttered a spell and flicked his wand, all the candles and wall fixtures flickering to life before them.

[y/n] turned to him with an impressed look, her arms crossed over her chest in pride, “Since when have you paid any attention in charms?”

“Since forever! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He rolled his eyes, getting on his hands and knees to search under the furniture for his hidden treasure, “ah ha!”

“What’ve you found?” She quipped, jogging over to help him with whatever his search had brought him.

“The new line of course,” He grinned, handing her a lovely orange and purple box, pushing himself off the floor to dust the particles off his robes, “Do ya like the packaging?”

“It’s certainly bright,” She nodded, lifting the box up slightly to examine the bottom, “I like the ribbon though, it’s a beautiful shade of purple.”

George felt his smile soften as he reached forward and pulled the ribbon loose from the box, dangling it in front of her, “Well then it’s yours.”

“Really?” She asked softly, setting down the box, taking the soft piece of fabric from him.

“Of course. It’d probably end up in the trash anyway. It’d look much lovelier in whatever way you intend to put it to use,” He grinned, leaning against the desk that held the box.

“Thank you,” She muttered sheepishly, reaching behind her to tie up a section of her hair, “I love it already.”

George could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he looked at her with pure adoration, his heart drumming against his ribcage so aggressively he was sure it was going to beat right out onto that dusty floor.

“S’no problem,” He tipped his head forward courteously, “now, you wanna try out some Wheezes?”

“You bet I do.”

***

“I can’t believe you guys managed to make all this stuff!” [y/n] squealed in childlike delight as she pulled yet another one of their confetti party favors, the confetti charmed to bloom into flowers as soon as they hit the ground.

“It’s our passion, the thing we love most. I’m just glad it’s having its desired effect,” George chuckled, stomping on the now empty box of trinkets to flatten it out.

“You guys are some of the most talented people I know. You’re incredible George,” She breathed, reaching down to pick up one of the confetti flowers, stroking its petals ever so carefully.

George felt time stop. Her words looping in his mind like a broken record, her rolled up sleeves, out of place hair, and gentle handling of the flower an image he was never going to burn from his mind. He felt as if he could scoop her up right there and consume her in a hug so strong she’d melt into his arms and never leave them.

[y/n] glanced over her shoulder at George, who was sitting crisscross on one of the desks they’d uncovered. Her smile faltered when she noted the way he was looking at her, a far-away look in his eyes and a weird quirk to his lips. She was suddenly extremely self-conscious under his gaze and she quickly straightened out her posture, coughing as if to clear her throat.

“I look rather unkempt now, huh? Reckon I was having a bit too much fun,” She chuckled quietly, clicking her heels together.

“You look fine,” George spoke up, suddenly in front of her.

“You’re just saying that to be nice, I know there’s probably confetti in my hair or ash on my cheeks,” She shook her head, eyes flickering to meet his.

Her heart nearly stopped, his gaze so intense it made her want to sink so far into herself that she just disappeared and never returned. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what had him so trained on her. It was almost certain in her mind that there was something up with her appearance.

“Well?” She asked, trying to coerce some words out of him.

“S’just a little smudge of ash, right here-,” He squinted, reaching forward and swiping his thumb right on the apple of her cheek, letting his hand linger on her face a little longer than it needed to.

“Oh- thanks,” She swallowed, sounding far too breathless for her comfort, but pretending to not notice just how obviously out of sorts she was feeling.

“No problem.”

The two stood side by side in their own little world for what felt like forever, until [y/n] felt the bubble of words lodged in her throat finally pop and surge forward, “are you going to Hogsmeade with anyone?”

Her brain immediately wanted to back peddle and come up with some shitty excuse as to why she asked such an out of place question, but it was near impossible now as George was already jumping to answer her question.

“I was thinking it was just going to be Fred, Lee, and I. Maybe we’d run into you and your friends. Like every year. But-,” He shrugged, “I was kind of hoping for something else this time ‘round.”

“Something else?” She echoed.

“Like a date,” He continued.

“Anyone in mind?”

George fell silent, offering her nothing more than a silent nod. Because when it came down to it, admitting feelings for someone when they were right in front of your face seemed more daunting than anything.

[y/n] nodded and shuffled off to retrieve her things, straightening out her dress shirt and pulling on her robes. She could hear George behind her doing the same, a soft gust of wind letting her know he was also tending to the aftermath of their games.

“Thanks for inviting me out to do this, it was fun,” She spoke up, still not daring to look up from her hands, continuing to pretend that she was still busy fixing her attire.

“Anytime,” He replied, waving his wand to send the trash to the bin, ‘you’re always welcome to have fun with me.”

“Good to know,” she hummed softly, “well, I don’t know what your plans for the night are, but I best be getting to bed.”

George wanted to say something, anything, to try and make it clear that she was the girl he was thinking about. That she was the one he wanted to take to Hogsmeade on a date. That she was the one he wanted to drink butterbeer with, buy a cute gift for, play in the snow with, and then cuddle by the fire after it all. It was always her he wanted to do those things with. Always.

But his words failed him once more and he finished the last of his cleaning, offering her a small gesture of farewell, “I have to find Fred and Lee, we sort of planned for something later tonight, so...”

“I understand. You lot are always having far more fun than you should be,” She giggled softly, “But I’ll be off then, I don’t want to worry Esme.”

“Yeah, don’t keep her waiting. Merlin knows she’d have my head if she found out I was responsible for getting you in trouble,” He snickered.

“That is very much true, she certainly would do that. Anyway, Goodnight George,” [y/n] waved him goodbye, shutting the classroom door behind her with a click.

***

“You look far too down in the dumps for the night before Hogsmeade, what’s got you so low?” Esme questioned, hopping over the top of the sofa and sliding down next to [y/n].

“It’s nothing, really, I’m not upset, just sleepy,” [y/n] assured, shaking her head with a weak smile.

“I know you and I know a liar when I see one. Come on, out with it, before I go get Lucile to talk your brains out,” Esme huffed, scooting closer and wrapping her arms around [y/n], “you can talk to me y’know.”

“I know. It’s just-,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself relax into her friends embrace, “Everyone kept saying George liked me and I was really hoping he would’ve built the nerve to ask me to Hogsmeade. But it seems like I was right, and he doesn’t like me that way. I’m sorry to bore you with this topic again, it seems like the only thing we’ve spoken about for the past couple of days, but I- I just wished you guys had been right about us.”

Esme could feel the sadness building up in [y/n] by the quiver in her voice and softening of her tone. It broke her heart to see her friend so distraught, especially over something as trivial as a boy. But she knew well enough herself how much these sorts of things meant to her and her friends and despite her urge to tell [y/n] to just push him out and party, she knew that would be of no help.

“I understand darling,” Esme cooed, squeezing [y/n]’s shoulder, “and I’m sorry things turned this way. But remember, we’re all going to spend time together tomorrow with our favorite candies and drinks, near the crackling fire with the winter blizzard swirling outside. It’s going to be lovely and just like George himself said, a little holiday magic isn’t the only opportunity to confess your feelings.”

[y/n] giggled through her sniffles, rubbing her fists into her eyes to try and dissipate the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She knew Esme was right and though all she could feel was a dull hole in her chest at the prospect of only meeting George as a friend tomorrow, she knew Hogsmeade in itself never disappointed.

“You’re right, no more tears from me, I promise,” [y/n] smiled.

“You better not, tomorrow is about fun, now off to bed! We’ve got a day ahead of us tomorrow!”

***

The Three Broomsticks bustled with business, students of every kind huddled together with glasses of butterbeer engaged in cheery conversation. The three girls had found themselves tucked off in a cozy little corner, giggling about something or other, lips covered in foam.

“And that’s when I turned to him and told him to shut his mouth before we both got caught and ended up in detention,” Lucile exclaimed, throwing her hands up and falling back against her chair.

“Scandal!” Esme and [y/n] gasped, exchanging looks of intrigued horror.

“There’s no way he did that, not-,” [y/n] stifled a laugh, dropping her tone to a hush “not in the common room.”

“Oh, but he did!” Lucile broke into another fit of laughter, her head hitting the table with a thunk as she struggled to real herself back in.

[y/n] finally got a grip of her laughter, trying to equalize her breathing pattern as she scanned the restaurant for familiar faces, her cheery disposition quickly dying out as she recognized the patrons who’d just entered the shop.

Esme picked up on her change of manner and reached across the table, squeezing her hand with a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine.”

[y/n] returned a weak smile and nod, “I know. Don’t worry about me.”

The three girls sobered themselves up as Lee, George, and Fred made their way over to the table all with cheery grins plastered on their faces.

“Well ladies, how’s Hogsmeade been treating you so far?” Fred inquired, sliding into the booth next to Esme, Lee following suit.

“You know, gossip, jokes, more gossip-,” Lucile began, giggling at the looks the boys gave them.

“And lots of butterbeer,” [y/n] added, raising her glass in the air.

“Speaking of butterbeer, here comes our order,” George noted, rubbing his hands together happily as he slid in next to [y/n] and Lucile.

“Lovely timing,” Fred noted, the table erupting in a cacophony of ‘thank you’s.

The table broke out into conversation, some involving everyone and others only demanding the attention of a few. Amusement, horror, anger, and disgust all adorned their features as they cycled through topics, never at a shortage of something to grace the table with.

As time passed they found themselves outside, discussing where to head off to next, everyone with hopes of their own for the rest of the day. It ended up being decided that Esme and Lee would head off to the Sweet’s shop, Lucile and Fred would make a stop at the Instrumental shop for some personal supplies, and [y/n] and George would be at the bookstore. Then they’d all meet up at one of the gift shops to search for some small gifts and knick-knacks.

Before they all headed on their own separate ways, Esme made sure to give [y/n] a tight hug and some reassuring words. The group split and left each other to their own devices before they were to regroup.

“Is there any book you’re looking for in particular?” George asked, quick to keep their dialogue going.

“Well not really, I’m actually looking for a few bookmarks and some new pens and such. The bookstore has a lovely selection there, so,” [y/n] explained, glad he shouldered the burden of lighting a conversation.

“That’s nice, reminds me that I do need some new quills. I have gone through far too many for comfort, my mum is going to gut me when we head home for break,” he chuckled, shaking his head with a shudder.

“Come on, she cant be that bad. Besides, I know a spell to fix them right up, if you ever need it.”

“First off thank you, I appreciate it. Secondly, if you’re so sure you should come over during the holiday’s, meet her for yourself.”

“Are you inviting me over for Holiday break?” She asked, surprise evident in her tone.

“I guess I am,” He chuckled, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I’d be delighted to join your family for the holidays.”

“Terrific! I’ll send an owl to my mum as soon as we return to the castle!”

The book store run didn’t last for very long considering they both had an idea of exactly what they needed, the only dallied around the new shipment of quills that were fancifully decorated, as the glitter was hardly something anyone could resist. They paid for their things and stepped back out into the frigid cold, the snow surprisingly calming down quite a bit considering they’d expected it to only turn up.

“Hm, it seems we still have a decent amount of time to spare,” George muttered, glancing down at his wrist watch.

“What should we do? I doubt the others are finished,” [y/n] exhaled, the plume of air dancing in front of her before blending in with the rest of the atmosphere.

“I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me,” He perked up, that same giddy excitement from the night before written all over his face.

“As long as you’re not dragging me to the Shrieking Shack, I’m more than happy to come along.”

“Brilliant, alright then, follow me!”

***

“Oh, Merlin!”

[y/n] gaped at the scenery, her eyes bulging out of her head as she took in the beauty around her. The trees towered high over them, covered in sheets of snow, the green peaking out as if to remind them that it was still persisting through the cold. A few patches here and there of purple flowers that had withstood the freezing cold, poking out from under the snow. A lone bench poised in the center of it all, the entire place feeling like a little nook they could call their own.

“This place is gorgeous George! How ever did you find it?” She breathed, absolutely enamored with the way everything looked.

“You’d be surprised what you can find with a few years of exploring and adventuring under your belt,” He nodded, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at her display of wonder.

“Yet again, you are absolutely incredible George,” She said, more to herself than him, but still managing to get him flustered.

“I’m glad you like it, I’d hoped you would. Wanna take a seat?”

“Oh, sure!”

She staggered over, dragging her feet through the thick layers of snow towards the bench, pulling out her wand to mutter an incantation so that the snow on the bench melted away, leaving it clean and dry for them to sit on. She plopped down with a huff of content, her legs finally getting a break from all their heaving in their monstrous snow boots.

“I’ve always wanted to bring someone here, y’know,” George sighed, setting his bag of stuff down between his feet.

“Am I-?”

“The first person I’ve brought here? Yeah,” He nodded, a small smile unconsciously pushing its way onto his lips.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” She nearly whispered, taken aback with just how forward he was being and just how lucky of a position she was in, “thank you George.”

“Of course,” He grinned at her, his cheeks red from the blistering cold.

“Hey George?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His smile faltered and his eyes widened as he processed her request.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask, because I got a feeling-,” She went off, trying to save whatever was left of her dignity.

“[y/n]!” He grabbed her face, turning her head so she was facing him again, “you can.”

He pulled her into him, their lips connecting in a sweet exchange. She felt her bag slide out of her lap as she scooted closer to him, her arms wrapping around his torso, trying to pull him into her the best she could with their awkward positioning. He did the same, pressing into the curve of her body as he held her face like if he let go she’d vanish.

It was a soft and drawn out kiss, the two finally reveling in the fact that they’d both gotten what they’d so desperately wanted all this time. George could practically feel himself going lightheaded from just how overwhelmed he was.

When they pulled away, he had that same grin, giddy joy practically radiating off of him, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Me too,” she giggled, unwrapping her arms from around him to reach forward and tuck his stray hairs back under his hat.

“Can we do it again?” He asked, eyes wide with childlike anticipation.

“You can do it as much as you’d like, darling. I’m all yours from here on out,” She hummed, slinging her arms around his neck

“Absolutely wicked! Now c’mere, love.”

#george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #hogsmeade #mar writes

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penwieldingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Dante's Prayer - Chapter 1

Thank you all for your likes and reblogs. I'm really happy you liked it. Now on with the next part. Let me know what you think about it and if you want to be tagged. As always thank you @fortheloveoffanfic for being my beta.

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of sex, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence

Words: 1304

Chapter 1

Arrow House, Warwickshire, 1924

"Tommy, you need to consider remarrying." Aunt Polly told him, bouncing Charlie on her knee as she watched her nephew pace behind his desk. "There have been rumors goin' round."

Taking a deep breath, the leader of the Peaky Blinders turned to the older woman. "What would you have me do, Poll, ey? Take the next best woman that's out on the streets?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Tommy. You need someone with good connections and money." she told him, hoisting the boy into her arms and coming to stand next to Tommy. “She has to accept that you’ve been married before, that there’s a child. Even though we’re rich now, doesn’t mean that all women of the world will fall over for Thomas Shelby.”

Snorting, the second eldest Shelby grinned at his aunt, although the smile wouldn’t reach his eyes. Not since Grace had been shot because of him. “As you just so nicely reminded us, we don’ need the fuckin’ money, the Shelby’s are already fuckin’ rich. What are you gonna do? Arrange a marriage, just like John and Esme?”

“Stop the cursin’, will you. There’s a small child here.” Shrugging her shoulders, Polly regarded him with a stern look he just knew all too well. “I talked to Johnny Dogs, he knows a family in Ireland. Lots of connections, loads of old money.”

“No, Poll.” he shook his head, opening the silver case to grab another cigarette, hoping to calm his nerves from the nagging of his aunt. “I’m not goin’ ta bring anyone new into this family. There’s enough people to take care of as it is. Who’s to say that family doesn’t have ties to our enemies?”

Smoothing out Charlie’s dark blond hair, Polly Grace shook her head. “Stubborn as a mule, that one.” she muttered to the boy, the corners of her lips moving up into a smile as she heard the two-year old laugh at her. “Even John wasn’t bitchin’ so much. I know why you won’t do it, Thomas, but you need to see reason. Your boy needs a mother and you, you need someone to warm that heart of yours, even if ye don’ believe me. Be ready in a week, Johnny will take you to see your future wife.”

Grunting, Thomas Shelby watched his aunt leave the study, his son perched on her hip. Grace had only been gone a few weeks - or had it really been months? - and yet his family was forcing him to marry some spoiled high society girl, whose only problem would be the perfect temperature of her tea. Letting out a defeated sigh, the leader of the Peaky Blinders sank into the plush sofa Polly had occupied minutes before and looked at the portrait of his late wife. “What am I goin’ to do without you, eh? You shouldna have been involved in my fuckin’ mess, Grace."

Of course there was no answer from her, the smile on her lips stayed forever frozen. Dropping his head into his hands, he breathed in the air filled with tobacco and whiskey, trying to keep every detail of his love in his heart, never to forget her.

Dublin, Ireland 1924

"Edward, when will you tell our daughter that it's not ladylike to run around with a horse like that?" Helene McCann, Duchess of Leinster and Baroness of Kildare, admonished her husband entering the large sunroom of their country home Castletown House.

Sitting at the table with his other two daughters Amalie and Louise, he read the newspaper and only hummed. "What would you have me do, hm? Send her to her rooms and lock the doors?" Andrew, Duke of Leinster folded the papers and leaned back to watch his wife with an amused smile on his lips. "She is just as free spirited as you, my darling."

"Oh no, I'm definitely blaming you on that one. Saoirse has done everything to avoid being a proper lady, no thanks to you, love." she countered, sipping her tea and giving her husband an angry look. “You know that Mr. Shelby will arrive today and I want her to be presentable.”

Shaking his head, Andrew grabbed his pipe and lit the tobacco. "Saoirse is just like your mother's cousin has been. She was a free spirit, too, a friend of nature and I know you often went to visit her. I do believe Mister Shelby will be very lucky to marry her and you know that as well."

Sighing, the mother of three leaned back in her seat and turned her gaze on the gardens, hoping that her youngest daughter would at least be fine while out there riding through the forest behind their home.

Hooves beat against the cold ground, harsh pants of the horse sounded in the silence of the woods as it raced through the trees, nostrils flared and kept its attention on the sounds around him.

“Socair.” Saoirse spoke softly, guiding her stallion through the thick undergrowth. “Calm, my love.”

Since her mother had told her about the arranged marriage, the youngest of three daughters left to find solace with her animals. Her dappled grey White Knight brought her to the flower field she had found a few months earlier. “Good boy, we’re going to stay here and enjoy the sun before those men come.”

With a snort, the stallion stopped and Saoirse jumped from the saddle, taking the bridle off of him. She took a deep breath and brushed her hand over the speckled coat of the horse. “I can’t believe father agreed to that marriage mother arranged.”

There had never been time in her life that she wished more than ever to not be a descendant from royalty than now. Arrangements had been made with Thomas Shelby, leader of a gang in Birmingham. Her mother had told Saoirse that in a few months she'd be his wife and make sure that their connections would help him further his business and standing in politics.

Leaning against his neck, the young woman closed her eyes. "What should I do, huh? I don't want to be a wife being kept in a house as a broodmare. I just, I want freedom."

Both, rider and horse snapped to attention when a twig broke behind them in the woods. "Who's there?" she called, her eyes flitting through the green leaves of the trees.

"It's just I, princess." the man reasoned, his accent thick as he spoke. Moving through the underbrush, Saoirse could see the kind eyes of Johnny Dogs he only reserved for her. "I knew I might find ye out 'ere."

Smiling, she moved in for a tight hug. "Oh, how I missed you, Johnny. It has been boring ever since you left."

"Oh I know," the Irish mused with a smile. "I bet yer mum has had you reciting poetry and embroidery."

Rolling her eyes, Saoirse lightly hit his shoulder. "Don't remind me. I'm not as much the lady she wants me to be. But now, why are you here? Don't tell me he's here already."

"I'm afraid he's 'ere." Johnny sighed, seeing the defeated look darken her eyes. He had known her since she was a little girl, having worked for the Duke in his stables and taught her everything about horses and riding that he knew. "Please Saoirse, it's not as bad as ye make it out to be."

Exasperated, she turned away from her friend, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm losing my freedom to be a gangster's wife so he can further his business while I'll have to sit in his manor and play the lady of the house, greeting guests and giving him children to make him seem good."

"Just give Thomas a chance, once in a while people will surprise you." Johnny tried to reason with her.

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@fortheloveoffanfic @fics-not-tragedies

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #arthur shelby x oc #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby fanfiction #arthur shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #shelby family

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fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

Arthur Shelby Fluff Alphabet

as requested by @beautifulfigment !

Arthur is my absolute fave, and I’ve had a few requests to do the smut alphabet for him too :)))

Warnings: some mention of arthur’s issues (PTSD, alcholism) mentions of suicide attempt

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Arthur adores your laugh, the way your whole face lights up and your eyes twinkle. He especially loves it when you’re trying to hold back laughter, rocking silently with the giggles at the most inappropriate moments (normally when Tommy’s doing one of his lectures)

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

He wants children. Aside from Finn, he’s the last of his siblings to have kids, even though he’s the oldest. there’s always the worry in the back of his mind, however, that he would be a terrible father, just like his own. You tell him, firmly, that that is utter bullshit, and he’d make a brilliant dad.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He is a GANGLY man, all long limbs. So long as he’s close to you, he doesn't really mind how you cuddle. His favourite way to cuddle is with his face buried in your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

He very rarely takes you to posh nightclubs or restaurants. They’re loud and busy, and he hates feeling like everyone is staring. Instead, he’ll take you on drives through the country, spread out a picnic blanket in a field and have a proper little picnic (thank God for Aunt Pol).

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

You are his little angel.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

He knew he was head over heels in love with you when you kicked some bloke in the balls in the Garrison. He was behind the bar, pouring drinks, noticing the man bothering you. Until then, he had all of these feelings for you that he couldn’t put into words. But when the man tried to grab your waist, his anger flared and he was about to shout and jump over the counter when your foot made contact. You walked away as the man fell to the floor, brushing your hair out of your face, and ordered yourself a drink. Arthur simply stood staring, mouth slightly agape. Tommy grinned. “Oi, Arthur. Get the lady her drink and invite her to the pictures,”

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He is so gentle. He knows how much damage he can cause with his bare hands, so he makes every touch as light at possible. You have to tell him off eventually, saying that you’re not made of porcelain and would very much like him to hold your waist in public, as well as other public displays of affection. He also speaks much quieter with you as opposed to his normally booming voice- it often seems as though you two are in your own personal bubble as you talk

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Arthur ALWAYS grabs your hand when you walk by him, unashamed to hold it in front of everyone. You’re his girl and he loves you, so of course, he’s gonna hold your bloody hand (fuck off John, go see to your own woman). When he starts getting angry, you tend to slip your small hand into his, and it mellows him out fairly quickly. You both have a system of squeezing one another’s hands for encouragement, reassurance or a code for ‘shall we go home?’

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

That you didn’t belong in Small Heath. It was too industrial, too dangerous, too dirty for you. You seemed to innocent for the drunks and the whorehouses and the dodgy bookies like him.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Yes. If he’s sober, he’s more likely to close up and become distant as his brain goes into overdrive; what if you leave him? what if he’s simply not good enough for him?

When he’s drunk, he’s more likely to speak up, though he doesn’t throw fists straight away, unless you’re clearly uncomfortable. More often than not, the situation defuses to him holding you proudly to his side saying (rather loudly) “That’s my girl! My YN!”

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You initiated the first kiss. he was walking you home after your second date as an official couple, and it was clear he was apprehensive about something. He eventually admitted his true feelings, how he had loved you for a long time, yet he was nervous and didn’t want to wreck it.

You cupped his cheeks in both your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You can’t wreck it, Arthur,” you had murmured. “Because I feel the same way about you,” the first kiss had been sweet, no tongue, and you stroked his cheek gently.

In general, his kisses are tender, even the chastest ones filled with passion and longing. Often, he’ll be in a rush and press hurried kisses to your cheek or forehead while you’re in the middle of getting ready.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Arthur. He’s hungover and you get him water and aspirin, before settling next to him. He grabs your waist and snuggles close, kissing you (but missing your mouth slightly) and mumbling “I bloody love you,”

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

When he asked you to marry him. It was by no means a perfect proposal, and it took him ages to pluck up the courage but seeing realisation and happiness spreading across your face as he got on one knee was worth every second of apprehension

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Arthur loves to spoil you... the only problem is he’s useless at picking stuff out, always worrying whether or not you’d like it. He often ends up getting Ada and Polly to help him pick something out, though he always makes sure he goes with them.

“What about that frock? She likes them pretty patterns,”

“Arthur, that’s a maternity gown,”

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

sky blue. It was the colour of the dress you wore on one of your first proper dates. He was speechless when he saw you, unable to believe how lucky he is

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Love, darling, my angel

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

He loves when you send him letters when he’s off for work- you never send telegrams, or use the typewriter for the notes. He keeps them in his breast pocket, and when he’s stressed, he holds the paper close to his heart, inhaling the wafts of your perfume to calm down

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Stay in bed with you, slipping in and out of sleep, All spft caresses and gentle kisses, huddled up under the blankets

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Whiskey and snow used to be his go to. But with you, he has other ways.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Anything and everything with you. He’ll ask questions, genuinely curious about all sorts, cooking, your family etc... one evening you ended up showing him how to crimp the pastry at the edge of your steak pie because he asked how you got it so pretty.

He talks about work, often glossing over the worst of it. Even with the glossing over, he feels much better, like he has someone who understands how the war and the business effect him, especially as his closest brother never seems to listen

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Laying in your arms, holding your hand... generally just being close to you makes him feel calm

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

You. You’re his girl, and he wants everyone to know it. If you tell someone to piss off, he’ll grin like mad, leaning to his brothers and saying ‘that’s my girl’.

He’s also proud of how far he’s come with you, how much more mellow he is as well

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes a while after you start dating, once he is certain you’re the one. He proposes on your birthday (read this!!) and you have a quiet wedding, just close friends and family, in a quaint little church. Tommy let’s you use Arrow House for the reception, and Arthur stays sober the whole night

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ is every Shelby’s song.

But his song with you is Moonlight Serenade by glen miller (I know the dates don’t quite match up). He remembers being the last two in the garrison, slow dancing with you, your head on his chest as he swayed with you

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Once he is sure you’re the one, he knows he wants to marry you, and he wants to do it properly. Nothing arranged like John and esme, not because you’re pregnant like Tommy and Grace and Lizzie. He wants it to be because you love eachother deeply, wholly, truly.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

Arthur wants a great big dozy dog who’ll just trot behind you and nearly knock him over when he comes through the door. He’d give it a human name too, like Dave. This makes you giggle like mad.

Tag list: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @theunderlier @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind

#arthur shelby fluff #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x you #peaky blinders #fluff #arthur shelby headcanon #request

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 3 years

Text

Roguish Women Part 48

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 48: Kate and Tommy’s wedding. During the reception, Alfie asks a serious question.

“Tommy and I are getting married tomorrow. I still can’t believe it. Even saying it out loud is like a surprise.” Kate laughed softly to herself. She was in the stables, taking her time grooming Blue. It was spring and his winter coat was shedding off and Kate wanted to see his black coat gleaming in the warm sun again. She spoke softly with the gelding as she combed his made and brushed his coat.

Although she was happy about finally getting to the altar after such a long time of waiting, nerves were starting to get the better of her. With her past and with Tommy’s, it was hard to tell what the future held. But what Kate wanted was to at least try to guarantee a good life for their children.

Besides, she decided that maybe she was still clinging to the idea that she didn’t deserve love. Something that she knew Tommy struggled with too.

“I’m sure everything will go alright. At least Tommy’s already gone through a wedding before.”

“Oi, heard that.”

Kate poked her head out of the stall and smiled. Her fiancée was walking down the stable aisle. “I’m just stating facts.” She replied with a smug look. "Out of the two of us, you're the one with wedding experience."

Tommy chuckled and pecked her lips. “You might want to duck out while you can, the boys are coming soon.” The day before the wedding, Arthur set up to go hunting in Warwickshire to celebrate with just the lads. “And they’ve already had a go at some champagne.”

“Well, I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want to ruin the fun.” She teased.

“Oh please, they’d get a kick out of you coming along.” Tommy stroked Blue’s nose as he poked his head out of the stall to greet him. “Want me to take him?”

“What do you think?” Kate cooed to the gelding. “Do you want to go along for the hunt?” She patted his strong neck. “I think he’d have fun. Lord knows I can’t entertain him much.” She rested a hand on her stomach. It was more than obvious that Kate was pregnant. At five months she had gone through a variety of getting dresses rehemmed or buying new clothes all together.

“I’ll take good care of him,” Tommy promised and began to head to the tack room. But his fiancée stopped him.

“Y’know, I was talking to Frances today,” She said. “Um, about the nursery.”

The two had talked plenty about the pregnancy and subsequently the child or children, depending on if Polly was right. They had even discussed names. But the upstairs of Arrow House had become like a minefield.

Grace’s room was locked and only Tommy had the key. The unfinished nursery that adjoined the room was still under debate. Kate felt as if it was her duty to make sure she wasn’t forcing him into anything. The estate had more than enough rooms to accommodate them if he wanted to close off that part of the hallway.

Yet Tommy had pushed his feelings down. Deep down. As if he was trying to force everything to be okay.

“The nursery is half done.” He replied. “All the furniture is new; we’d just need another cot if it’s twins like Pol says.”

“If it’s twins then maybe we should use one of the bigger rooms?” She moved cautiously through the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was put a damper on his day. But she still thought it was important.

He met her eyes. “Kate, we talked about this.”

“I know I just worry that you’re not addressing how you feel.” She touched his cheek. “The more honest you are with yourself; the easier life is.”

“We have time on another day to discuss it further.” He kissed her cheek. “Go on back to the house and rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I think you’re right about twins, Pol,” Ada said.

“When have I been wrong?”

Kate chuckled softly. She turned right and left to look at herself in the mirror. Ada wasn’t joking. She remembered seeing Ada and Esme pregnant and they didn’t show nearly as much as she did. Especially in a wedding dress, it was hard to conceal. Not that she particularly meant to. She didn’t think anyone who was coming to the wedding that day would be openly critical. “Are there twins in your family?” She wondered.

“Maybe a pair on the Strong side,” Polly recalled and walked over to place a dazzling barrette in Kate’s hair to hold back the curls from her face.

“I didn’t know my mother’s side of the family very well,” Kate admitted. “It may be from her family.”

Polly pivoted the conversation. “Are you sure about walking down the aisle alone? Arthur said he would walk with you.”

“Yeah, he talked to me about it yesterday.” Kate mindlessly adjusted her dress in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her baby bump. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be alright.” There was never a point in her life where she pictured anyone giving her away. She never pictured herself walking down the aisle, to begin with. Her father was never fit enough to be that sort of figure in her life before his death. She felt much more comfortable making the short walk by herself. That's how she found her way to Tommy, all on her own.

“Here.” Ada helped Kate step into her heels so she wouldn’t have to bend down.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure Arthur won’t mind the short notice.” Polly smiled and made sure every Kate’s hair was in place.

Ada glanced up as she fixed the straps of Kate’s heels. “Is it true you invited Alfie Solomons?” She wondered.

“I know his popularity in the family is mixed but he’s a good friend.” Kate asserted so there would be no confusion on the matter.

“It’s your day. Whoever you want at your wedding, you can invite.” Polly nodded in agreement. Although in the back of her mind she hoped that Tommy had prepared the others to see Alfie. She didn’t want the wedding erupting in chaos over some old bad blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m leaving.”

“Brother, easy.” Tommy grabbed Arthur by the suit sleeve before he could storm across the lawns and out of sight.

The guests were starting to take their seats and it just so happened that Alfie Solomons had a near front-row seat to watch the affair. He had a beautiful woman on his arm, Mabel. She looked less like the painfully shy thing that Kate had met at the boxing match. In fact, she was positively glowing with happiness as she exchanged kisses with her sister and the other ladies of the Forty Elephants.

“You invite him to your fucking wedding? Your home?” Arthur seethed under his breath trying not to cause too much of a scene until he had an explanation.

“Kate invited him,” Tommy replied quietly, not to draw attention to them. “And I won’t have you fighting with him on my fucking wedding day. I’ll keep him away from you if you promise you won’t kick-off. If you upset Kate, you're dead.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and reached into his coat pocket for his flask. “Could’ve warned me.” He muttered.

“I did tell you. Not my fault you were too high on snow not to remember.” Tommy let go of Arthur’s sleeve, confident that his threat had done the trick. “He’s retired, anyways.”

“Men like that don’t retire.” Arthur tucked his flask away.

"Men like us don't retire." Tommy clarified.

The sun had come out, thankfully, for the wedding. Although Polly wanted the union to be under God’s watchful eye, Tommy and Kate had balked. Kate was unsure if she wanted to step on a nerve and get married in the same church Tommy and Grace did. There was no use in being forced to relive painful memories on what was supposed to be a happy day.

Kate suggested perhaps getting married outside. Arrow House had plenty of room out in the lawns. And it reminded her of John and Esme’s wedding. There was something so romantic to her about the beautiful countryside in the spring.

Tommy agreed and a suitable wedding venue was arranged. They were just fortunate that the weather had held and it hadn’t rained like the week before.

So many times, Tommy had thought he’d lost Kate for good. On his journey to bring her home, he was restless as they crossed the Atlantic.

He hardly slept at all, spending most of his time, smoking on the deck of the ship. In the night, he waited until land came into view. But the inky black expanse of the waters and the night sky gave him nothing.

He tried to think of what to say to her. The last words she spoke to him still cut so deep. He knew they weren’t true. She still loved him. But she was trying to keep him safe, trying to sacrifice herself.

He pictured beating Santo Leoni into a bloody pulp. The sound of the gun as he put a bullet through the man’s head.

Finally, the coast came into view. Exhausted but the drive to bring Kate back to safety kept him awake and alert.

On the phone, Frank told him that Kate was fine and that she had killed Santo herself. Tommy hung up and could barely stand still as he waited. The wait at the port felt longer than the entire trip across the ocean. Every second dragged on until the car pulled up.

Kate threw herself out of the car before it had even stopped. Tommy felt so much relief he could’ve cried. He vowed to himself that he would never let her go from that point on.

“You look like you’ve gone into a dream state,” Kate murmured to him when Tommy took her hand.

“I’m trying to convince myself it isn’t a dream.” He replied with a soft smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, they’ve been inseparable since he left for Margate. Lillian said Mabel hasn't come back to Camden since she first visited him. She simply had her stuff sent to her. Been there ever since and has no plans of leaving.” Alice loosely held the champagne flute in her hand. She and Kate were speaking on the edges of the dancefloor. "Of course, everyone's talking about it, but nothing to change. They seem to be in love, far as Lillian says."

Arrow House was abuzz with energy after Tommy and Kate married. The reception was considerably less proper compared to Tommy’s first one with Grace. With no cavalry members in sight, it was a little more relaxed. Not to mention the number of criminal masterminds in attendance. But truthfully, they were the most fun.

Kate looked smug watching Alfie and Mabel talking across the dance floor. “Well, I won’t say I told him so.”

Alice smiled and finished her champagne. “Alfie handed over some paperwork to me this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Wants me to take over the bakery.”

Kate tried to play it cool even though she was excited for her friend and even more excited that Alfie had gone through with what he said. Maybe this was his final act of retirement and his acceptance of his new life with Mabel. “Well, you have the support of the Peaky Blinders.”

“Just can’t wait to see Sabini’s face when he finds out.”

“Ha,” Kate snorted. “I’d like to see that too.”

“Mind if I interrupt?” Tommy stepped into their conversation.

Kate beamed. What had been such a beautiful ceremony was melting into the ideal she never knew she wanted. A life forever by the side of the man she loved.

“Of course.” Alice smiled. “I’m going to go find Lillian and Ruby.”

Tommy took Kate’s hand and led her to the dancefloor. Holding her close, they began to sway together to the soft jazz music.

“You haven’t gone off to meet with some crazy Russian duchess again, have you?” Kate teased.

He chuckled. “For a Shelby wedding, this has been very uneventful.”

“The night is still young.” She murmured in his ear with a smile.

“I like it better this way.” He admitted. “I didn’t want anything to happen, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“You’ve always treated me like I’m some sort of royalty.” She lightly ran her fingers up the nape of his neck.

“That’s how you deserve to be treated. Every day I was apart from you, I promised I would make it up to you.”

“Tom, you don’t need to beat yourself up because of the past. I’m here, we’re finally married. We’re going to be parents soon. Everything that happened, happened. And despite all of it, all my paths lead back to you.” She stopped dancing a moment so she could look him in the eyes. “And they always will.”

Tommy saw the world in her eyes. A world very unlike the one he had planned for so many years. In Kate’s eyes, he saw himself walking away from everything. Moving into Arrow House permanently. Raising the children, they would have. Spending his days riding horses, hunting, and being the best father, he could.

Those blue eyes invited him to do all of that and more. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He gently kissed her, hoping that he could hold steady onto his given path.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Thought I’d find you out here.” Tommy sat down on the front steps next to Alfie. “Mabel was asking around for you. Kate had me come look for you.”

Alfie seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Oh, congratulations, mate.” He hadn’t really heard what Tommy had said to him. “Kate’s very happy. Y’know, before all this she’d come into me office. I figured it was because she was doing her fucking job but then she’d start lamenting to me about you. Like I were her gossip buddy.” He snorted and shook his head. “She wanted nothing more than to have you but didn’t think she deserved it. Of course, you and I both know it’s the opposite way around, innit?”

Tommy shrugged.

“I don’t deserve Mabel. Not in a million years. Not even if God himself came down and told me we were meant to be.”

“I thought you two were hitting it off. That’s what Kate said.”

“I ain’t never been so happy.”

Tommy raised an eye at him. “Then what’s the problem, Alfie?”

The man beside him took a heavy deep breath. “I’m dying, Tom. I told Kate at the boxing match. I’ve got skin cancer and it’ll kill me in a couple of years if I’m lucky. That’s why I want you to kill me.”

After two blows, Tommy was a bit speechless. Alfie was dying and he wanted him to kill him. In what world were they living? This certainly wasn’t the man who had threatened to shoot Tommy on many occasions.

“I’m not going to kill you, Alfie.”

“Oh, c’mon you know you’ve wanted to fucking put a bullet through me head ever since we met. I ain’t blind. Now I’m giving you the option and you turn it down like a scared little boy?” Alfie wasn’t angry. When he was angry, everyone around him knew. No, this was fear. Fear coming from a man who claimed to be fearless.

“What would that do to Mabel? Aye? And d’you think Kate would ever speak to me if I did?” Tommy questioned harshly. “You’ve got another part of life to appreciate, try not to skip out on it.”

“Yeah, how much you think I’m gonna enjoy that while I’m rotting away?” Alfie demanded. “While Mabel watches?”

Tommy shook his head. The logic wasn’t lost on him. How many nights had he been wide awake wondering how long he had to suffer? How much longer would he tolerate the pain and weight of the world? How many times had someone held a gun to his head? How many times was he completely at peace with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his skin? How many times had he waited patiently for that click and then….nothing.

“I’m not killing you.” He said again. Because if Tommy had given in, he wouldn’t be sitting there. Married and about to be a father. “We’ll get the best doctors in London to help.”

“Oh, right. So now you’re my saving grace?” Alfie rolled his eyes. “Fucking ridiculous. I don’t want some fucking doctor drugging me up. I ain’t gonna roam around life high like you lot.”

“I know you don’t think you deserve Mabel. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I don’t deserve Kate. But look at us, aye? They’re still here with us. You fucking need God to come down and explain that to you?”

Alfie grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you’d be no fucking help.”

“Take it up with Kate. See how she reacts and then you’ll realize how much easier I was on you.” Tommy replied and lit up a cigarette. “She’d go ballistic.”

The two men sat out in the breezy spring night. Past the gravel drive was nothing but dark countryside with the sounds of nocturnal life.

“I saw the ring Mabel was wearing.” Even at his own wedding reception, Tommy was perceptive. He could never turn it off even if he wanted.

Alfie merely muttered something incoherent under his breath.

“So, I invite you to my wedding but I’m not given the same courtesy.”

“It were a gift.” He grumbled crankily. "Can't I buy jewelry for her without people getting their knickers in a twist?"

Tommy tapped the ash off his cigarette to the step beside him. “So, no plans then?”

“Her mum threw a fit when she found out. Even in retirement, I’m still the devil of Camden. No one wants their women near me. Her mum hated that we were friends when we were kids. Guess she thought she was in clear, that I wouldn't ever go near Mabel again.” He let out a humorless laugh. "Guess she were wrong and now I'm corrupting her thirty-four-year-old daughter. S'fucking ridiculous."

“Since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?”

“I don't. But Mabel's getting an earful every night. Ain't fair to her." Alfie shrugged. “Just know there won’t be no blessings coming my way, that’s for sure.”

“Except for Kate.”

He laughed. “It’s tough to disappoint her, innit?”

“I think she’d be disappointed if I killed you especially if she found out you asked me to do it.”

“There’s just no pleasing some people.” Alfie shook his head.

“Come on.” Tommy stood up. “Don’t want Kate thinking you’ve skipped off without saying goodbye to her.”

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelbyxofc #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie solomons #ofcs #ocs #polly gray #season 4

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carllisle · 3 years

Note

Would you tell us vampire!Esme's backstory please??

i don’t deserve you!! thank you so much for asking!

right now I haven’t thought much about Esme’s backstory so it’s very fluid. I have more ideas about the others in the family as their stories stay pretty unchanged. For the sake of timeline, and to fit in with Edward’s story, I want Esme to be born some time in the early-mid 1800s.

battle excess is said, by SMeyer, to be one of the most common ways for accidental transformation. Perhaps Esme came over as a coloniser with her family and during the American War for Independence she was caught up in a skirmish in her settlement and was the victim of excess of a vampire. Given her canonical backstory, I think it would only be suitable to have her as a married woman who lost a child recently. Maybe her husband fought for one side of the other on the war, and he died. Yes, I like that, give Esme a husband who went off to war and did not come home, it’s what she deserves! Sadly she lost her baby and shortly after, war came to town and she was half drained by a vampire

That would put her turning in the 1770s. That would give her plenty of time to settle in her new life. She could have her wild years where she lived nomadically and met all sorts of people. She could have met many American nomads and attached herself to groups now and again but she never found what she was looking for. After fifty or sixty years, she couldn’t take it anymore and she tried to starve herself. She tried to kill herself because she couldn’t take the pain of taking human lives anymore and she spent months in isolation. Hidden deep in the wilderness, it was a passing bear that gave her relief. She drank and drank and felt stronger. It tasted foul compared to the bliss of human blood but she felt better than she ever had as a vampire. The souls she took always haunted her but there was a brighter future in front of her now

She was smart and found her way into employment as a teacher after ten years of testing her self control. Sometimes she posed as a widow, sometimes as an unmarried woman. In 1916 she found herself at a boys’ school as a teacher in Chicago - unusual, but not unheard of - and she was well-liked by students and teachers. There were some parents who liked her more than others, and a certain Mrs Masen took a shine to her. She felt sorry for the young woman alone in the city and the two formed a friendship. There seemed to be something about Esme that drew Mrs Masen to her and Esme never quite knew how much Elizabeth guessed about her. She figured out something. When the influenza came, Esme visited Elizabeth and Edward whenever she could. It was difficult because of the quarantine but they were dying and Esme had no symptoms. Eventually, the staff let her in and didn’t pay her any mind. Elizabeth was in a terrible way and wouldn’t last the night. She begged Esme to save her son. Esme could have wept, and she promised she would. Elizabeth died painfully and agonizingly but there was a small morsel of peace in it, at least.

Esme nearly killed Edward because her control was barely enough. She hadn’t tasted human blood since her last kill decades ago and he tasted heavenly after so long. Still, she managed it. It was selfish, she later thought, to bite him on the bicep where there was no vein because it made the transformation so much longer - but it also helped stop the blood flow that could have so easily overwhelmed her

Edward was confused after the change but they already had some kind of relationship as she had taught him and was friends with his mother. He quickly loved her as his creator and mother and although there was a lot of strain between them as he adjusted, they were quickly devoted to each other. She was kind and understanding - sometimes to a fault - and he had never felt so loved

Rosalie came in the 1930s, after Edward had rebelled and returned. Esme knew her face from the high life of Rochester - the Platts lived outside of fine society but Esme taught at the prestigious school Rosalie had attended. She saw Rosalie and smelled her bleeding out on the street and it reminded her of her own death, her own wasted life. Surely immortality was better than a life cut short? Surely this was better than nothing? Rosalie felt much the same about it as she did in canon. Esme did not turn her with the hope of her being a mate for Edward, though, but Rosalie was still offended that he didn’t want her so that tension was still there. Rosalie didn’t want to be a vampire and she didn’t want to miss out on her old life of excess and wealth. Esme worked harder than ever and got into property and over the next few years their wealth exploded. It helped Rosalie feel better and that made Esme happy

When she found Emmett she begged Esme to change her. Esme was frightened because he was in such a bad way. She asked for Edward’s help and she needed it - Emmett smelled better than anyone she had smelled in a hundred years. He came from the wilderness and was free from the stench of the city - he smelled like humans used to. Edward was stronger than her physically but he didn’t have the strength to turn Emmett, so they agreed that she would bite him and if she lost control, Edward was to drag her off him. Rosalie couldn’t bear to witness it. It was a good job they made the arrangement because Esme lost control, Emmett’s blood tasted amazing. Edward had to drag her off him and she turned on him momentarily. They fought but he subdued her and the transformation went ahead smoothly

Alice and J*sper joined the family as per canon

#ask #ellie writes #human!carlisle #its not the best tag as this is about esme but uno we make moves #thank you so much for asking darling!!#tintind #esme

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seancamerons · 3 years

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zaya #8

So I deviated extremely from this prompt and I debated on adding it and all but the prompt was zaya + roommates and this is the story about that conversation.

The more Zig drove further from home, the more he was indecisive about going home when all was said and done.

What exactly was he going to do with his life? He knew he didn’t want to see Esme again, it could derail her life and his own if they were to run into each other again which is inevitable. He knew he didn’t want to return because then he’d be alone, the group home already wanted him to find an alternative living arrangement but with no job, no money, no family and no best friends he knew relocating would be the best option for him. And last but certainly not least, Maya is the only person he wanted to be beside and the priceless memories they were making on this road trip he didn’t want them to all come to an end when they reach the destination. The more time he spends with Maya it seems as if their friendship has come full circle, they started as friends and they’re embarking on a new adventure as friends. Deep down, he wanted more but he didn’t want to press it. Maya had enough on her plate incoming freshman at a music college. What did have to offer her?

He happened to observe in his peripherals as he remained eyeing the road straight ahead Maya’s head propped out at the window watching the world go by silently and the sun hitting her. He wished he had a camera or to freeze that moment. She looked genuinely content, the lighting was just right, she was always beautiful to him but she looked her most radiant in the sunlight. She was a ray of sunlight and he’d always thought about her in that light for a long time, and then the sunshine went away and was replaced with a duller more subdued only to return again. It was only a year ago when he thought he’d never see her smile again, and he never wanted to be without it again.

On their little cross country roadtrip that they are only midway through, usually is spent talking, a lot of talking but not about the serious things or even the sad things but the hopes and dreams, the thoughts they had about their peers, how they’re going to miss home but there’s a great big beautiful world ahead of them and just silly conversations about memories, music and things were relatively light conversationally wise. It was upbeat, candid but still sans of anything too pressing or serious.

It was then that Maya couldn’t help but observe and notice Zig’s silence, they usually don’t go more than a few seconds without someone talking about something so then she asked continuing to keep her gaze fixed on the road from the passenger side window, “You’re quiet. What are you thinking about?”

He was silent for a moment before just answering ambiguous and vaguely, “I was just thinking.”

She darted her eyes to him, her body still leaning toward the open passenger side window she quizzingly asked, “About the biggest ball of yarn billboards or something else?”

“It’s stupid, it’s just about something stupid.”

She had a softened expression on her face as her smile faded, “You were just quiet is all.”

He didn’t mean to be a buzzkill for her. He didn’t want to really get into it, he didn’t realize he felt himself tense up at the mere thought of discussing his issues, gritting his teeth he muttered, “I’m just thinking about what I’ll be doing after all this.”

She questioned, “Well, what were you thinking?”

He shrugged his shoulder while confessing, “Well where do I start? I have nowhere to go back home. I don’t know what I wanna do with myself as far as a career and my grades were pretty bad even if I did manage to graduate. I didn’t think I’d make it this far alive, I didn’t tell you about the group home stuff like group because I aged out and it just wouldn’t be a good idea to go back and beg for a bed. You know about the stuff with my mom and how she’ll likely never take me back even when I’m desperate. Screw her. Tiny is going to Caltech in the fall and you’re going to be out here too and it’s not like I have Vince anymore and what’ll happen if he gets out, so it's not like I can simply crash with him until I figure it all out. I’m up shit’s creek without a paddle after all this so I’m just enjoying whatever time I have left with you before my life becomes a shitshow.”

“If it’s a home you’re worried about I might be able to help. I might regret this but, why don’t you know? Stay with me.”

“You sure?”

“Of course, doofus. I wouldn’t want you to be homeless again.”

“You sure your mom won’t flip? Need I remind you I’m a guy...”

“She doesn’t have to know, Zig at first.” She tld him, “Either way I’ll work on that. I’m sure I can smooth it over with mom and besides it’s not forever just until you and I but especially you get back on your feet and figure it out. I know it sounds a little crazy but I think it could be fun to be roomies again for a while. We’d put our money together. It won’t be so bad.”

A smile played on his lips, “I guess it would be pretty great.”

“It would be but, we’re adults now. I know I can live with you because we’ve already done that. You were a good roommate. Of course we’ll have to make rules and all but it could be fun, c’mon. I don’t know how I’ll navigate alone in searching for apartments and all that adult stuff.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?”

“It’s the only thing I'm literally worried about. So you in or not?”

“Yeah, of course Maya you’re my hero. So what kind of rules?”

“We’ll have to find ourselves some jobs of course,” She made a serious face and tried not to laugh when she told him, “As for the rest hmm we’ll have to sit down at a diner and figure that together and oh the big one: no hanky panky.”

He managed a laugh and smirked, “Alright. I’m in.”

“So it’s settled. We’re roommates.”

He echoed, “Roommates.”

“See you should’ve been thinking out loud so I didn’t have to pry it out of you.”

“I don’t know, I always have a lot on my mind.” Zig focused on the road more and then looked over at Maya and excitedly asked as they passed the billboard for the next few exits, “So the world's biggest ball of yarn is 50 miles away but it’s kind of out of our way. Wanna go?”

“Sure roomie!”

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deepdonutkid · 4 years

Text

A list of some One-Shot ideas

As I am not able to write them now or any time soon, I write them down, so I won’t forget them. Yeah, I could- totally- keep them in a document on my computer, but… then I would make the mistake- same as always- to write the idea as short as human possible, which is making the idea to a cryptic message for everyone. Me included. I might decipher it a month after, but… well, I never write them, because who would know I didn’t… and I am by nature a lazy person.

Original setting

Bonnie plans to run off with a girl, Bonnie and Clyde-Style, with guns and “It’s us against the world”- vibe. @bonniesgoldengirl – thanks for giving me this idea

Pre-war Arthur, Tommy and John stealing a car and end up wrecking it, just because CHAOS- u know. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong.

Tommy waiting for nobody after the war. He just sits there at his usual spot, where he used to meet Greta or ‘Y/N’ and realizes that he is all alone. Big sad and lots of angst.

Arthur crying after William (I believe, Billy is just the short form, and he didn’t actually named his son Billy, pls don’t take that from me) is born and then he drinks with his brothers to celebrate. John laughs about him, because he cried, but his brothers remind him, that he cried to, when his first child was born. And Tommy adds that with Charlie it was just the same, while Finn doesn’t understand the whole conversation, because he is still a virgin.

Michael coming to the canal for his first cigarette and he grieves over his lost sister, after Polly told him, that Anna died, because Michael expected to see her in Small Heath as well. He is disappointed and thinks about his childhood. How his parents were drunk all the time, how his big sister helped him, how they were taken from Polly and everything that happens afterwards. And also that he found a replacement for his big sister in Johns wife, who cares for him, whenever she can. Michael is eager to prove himself to the family, ‘cus this is what Anna would have done. Part one: here Part two: here

Johns and Esme’s extremely awkward wedding night, after all that happened and it’s still an arrange marriage, no matter how cute they are, so their first encounter would be a little weird.

OC and Tommy playing chess, while discussing the nature of things

Michael meeting an italian barmaid, after he got out of prison. Even though he knows that his family has problems with the italians, he still keeps dating her and falls in love with her. Eventually marring her. (This could be a three part story)

John plays cards with a strange russian girl. He keeps losing all his money to her, but she is too beautiful while playing, so John has to stay until he wins a night with her.

Modern Au!

Finn meet a girl from mongolia. She is a talented rider, much more like him. He is impressed by her skills and the way she expresses her heritage nowadays. Finn shows her the stables of his family, she chooses a horse and immidiatly starts riding, he don’t have much time to run after her. Even though she doesn’t speak perfect english, they get along very well and he is in love with her, knowing she is still on vaction.

Well, if I actually write them, then I will link the stories here. I would also add ideas, if I get some more. Unfortunately, I forgot, what I had in mind for the modern!au. I know, I haven’t written anything yet, but if you have ideas and don’t know how else to tell them, tell me!

#oneshot #like an idiot #peaky fucking blinders #fanfic

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ive-lost-my-effervescent-mind · 4 years

Text

Bella Accidentally Calls Esme Mom: Part 1 (fic)

What if Esme and Bella had a greenhouse? What if they spent a lot of time together and became friends? What if they lived in Alaska and Renesme wasn’t a thing?

Based off of my post from a month ago

I had never thought my life would lead to this. Throughout my childhood in Phoenix, I had basked in the sun with my mother, surrounded by the sand and soil of the Arizona landscape that contrasts with the sleet and snow of the Alaskan winter that encompasses my current home. It was fairly new, even to the centuries old vampires of my family. While during past stays in Denali the Cullens had lived with their cousins, we decided to build our own home nestled among the snow covered peaks. After all, the addition of myself and Garrett to the covens a hundred years ago made things a little crowded. Esme had, of course, designed the white structure paneled with light wood in order to accommodate our family. Floor to ceiling windows, a book-lined office for Carlisle, closets twice the normal size for Alice, and a greenhouse for us.

I had never had much of a green thumb. Renee kept a garden off and on her entire life, but the citrus trees and tomato plants she tried to grow didn’t always last that long. I seemed to make things worse. I had a talent for killing even the most desert friendly succulents, and I would have killed the cactus I took to Forks ages ago if it wasn’t for Esme’s intervention. Under her guidance, I became a botanist extraordinaire.

Little by little our traveling garden grew large enough to warrant the beautiful greenhouse attached to our far-from-humble abode. I was surrounded by a collection of flora unlike any other.Many plants were chosen for the memories they evoked when caught by our heightened senses: white and violet flowers from the forests of Forks, ferns and wide leafed plants from Isle Esme. Rosalie had begged for daisies and roses, the scents reminding her of long walks in the park from decades past. We had planted three young fig trees on Jasper’s request that had since grown taller than either of the boys could reach. I would often find him, after a long or trying day, sitting under the small canopy created by their interweaving branches. In his youth, he told me, his mother had grown a fig tree. It was her pride and joy, after her children of course, he said. I didn’t push him. I had already grown used to walking into Esme and I’s paradise to find him leaning against one of the trunks. But Jasper was able to confide in me, we had a bond, built of quiet caring and mutual understanding. Perhaps it had formed in the wake of the deep friendship Alice and Edward had, one so chaotic and unique that no one could ever understand, unless they possessed similar abilities. Whatever it was, I had spent hours sitting in the soil of the large planter box listening to Jasper reminisce about experiences almost lost to the waves of time, but now uncovered in the sand by the sight and smell of his fig trees.

Carlisle had suggested rosemary, basil, and other herbs, Emmett apples and cherries that he could help pick, Edward sprawling ivy that reminded him of his Oxford days. Alice near demanded “lots and lots of flowers” and in the spring you could find her happily humming in the kitchen arranging beautiful bouquets. Everyone had their own space in the greenhouse, even me.

The midday sun fell through the trees surrounding the greenhouse, casting dancing shadows onto the collection of cacti and succulents in front of me. The greenhouse was silent, save for the hum of its climate control and the sound of Esme watering Rose’s roses. The quiet was comforting. At first, it made me long for the days I spent in the Phoenix Public Library during my humanhood. Just like the shelves upon shelves of books promoted a muted atmosphere, the thick concrete walls and double paned windows of the greenhouse muffled any sound that came from the house and insulated the greenhouse from the cold outside. I still haven't gotten used to the surprising amount of noise the Cullens made. The sound of laughter and squabbles, of the clacking of fingers on the keys of Carlisle’s keyboard and Edward’s piano, were picked up by my enhanced hearing, even though they took place at the other side of the house. I still haven’t gotten used to it, and at times it was overwhelming. At least here, everything was softened. The greenhouse had become my haven, along with Esme’s companionship.

Today, there was no reason to be here except for that companionship. The rest of the Cullens had disappeared from the house, either hunting or over at the Denali’s, and their noise had vanished with them. Alice and Rosalie were helping plan Kate and Garrett’s second wedding, but if you asked Alice it was their first, because “If it is officiated by a man dressed as Elvis then it does not count.” The boys were out hunting, with Garrett and Eleazar tagging along.

Quiet days like this gave me a peek into Esme’s world, back when the Cullens masqueraded as a blended family. She would often stay at home, working on projects and designing buildings that may never come to life. In recent years, however, we moved from small town to small town less and less, now opting to live in more secluded areas for decades at a time. My favorite was the Alps, but then again our greenhouse there wasn’t as big.

Bright light drifted in through the windows, reflected by the snow, settling on the collection of cacti and succulents in front of me. We had come a long way, the large barrel cactus I held in my hands and I. Cheerfully named Dorothy by Esme, my prickly friend came with me to Forks, and had accompanied me through the journeys of my second life. She was so small back then, but had grown over the course of the hundred years she was in my care. 80 years ago the cold climates and rainy area we favored took a toll on her. I was heartbroken, I couldn’t bear to part with my cactus, the last bit of Phoenix and Renee, of before, that I had left. But thankfully Esme had stepped in. Dorothy had flourished, producing small copies of herself and inspiring the garden we have now. But now, approaching the end of her life, she was looking a little dreary.

“Don’t fret, Bella,” Esme softly said as she approached me. “Giving her a pot of her own, in the sun, should help her out. She’ll be as good as new in no time”

“Thanks Mom” I said, before I even realized. Mom. The word echoed off the glass walls of the greenhouse quietly, but it was loud and clear to our heightened senses. When the sound ceased, the word continued to bounce against the walls of my mind, hitting memories that I would have forgotten, if it weren’t for Edward. Mom? MOM!?

Renee, my heart yearned. And I could see it in Esme’s eyes, a similar yearning, yet completely different from my own.

#tumblr really doesn't have indents #that's not the move #this is my first fic #and I haven't written anything similar in 3 years #so bear with me #Bella Calls Esme Mom #K writes #esme cullen #bella swan #twilight #my fic

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allicekitty13 · 3 years

Text

Daughter Of The Moon: Chapter 3

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

Jasper led Alice down a long hall lit only by candelabras that hung from the walls. She spotted various paintings of men and women, including one of Esme and a large group portrait featuring all of the faces she'd seen in the house and then some. All the figures donned black clothing with their head covered in either a hat or hoods. It had taken her a moment to register what and who she was looking at because of this. A woman in the back row of the portrait seemed eerily familiar. However, Jasper didn't give her much time to examine the decor, gently explaining there would be time for a tour later as he placed a hand on her back, guiding her further down the hall. The pair descended a staircase and ventured outdoors.

The garden they entered was merely a small portion of a large expansive outdoor space. Gorgeous arrangements of flowers decorated every corner, and at the center, a small pond with an ornate fountain decorated in crystals sat in the center. Twinkling lights with no discernable source floating around the fountain illuminated the area, effectively creating a majestic atmosphere and filling Alice with a sense of wonder.

"It's a simple light spell," Jasper spoke up, causing Alice to look away from the orbs to see him standing sheepishly off to the side, still with that nervous expression. "I could teach you if you'd like."

"You'd do that?" She turned fully to face the man, an elated smile bursting across her face. She hadn't expected him to be so immediately open, she'd hoped for guidance, of course, but his offering to teach her something when they'd hardly spoken yet had her so excited Alice felt as though she could float.

"Yeah, of course." He responded, smiling at her warmly, seeming to relax slightly as he took a few steps closer to her position near the lights. However, he suddenly stopped in his tracks turning around to face the house with an annoyed glare. Following his gaze to a window on the second floor, Alice was able to spot Emmett, the blonde woman from earlier, and a red-headed girl squeezed together intently, watching the pair in the garden below.

Jasper, who was now shaking his head at the group, raised a hand, flicking his wrist to the side, causing the curtains to slam shut in the faces of their onlookers.

"So, what was that all about?" Alice asked, amused by the display.

"Some of the members of this coven can be a bit nosey."

"Oh," She laughed a bit uncomfortably, "What exactly were they expecting to see?"

Jasper stiffened at the question reverting to the rigid nervous position he'd held before their short interaction over the lights. A light pink tinge began to spread across his cheeks as he stared intently at the fountain, spraying water over the pond. "So," He finally spoke after a moment, clearly looking to change the subject. "Emmett said you had some questions for me?"

"Oh!" Alice was quickly reminded of the entire reason she was there in the first place. It had been so easy to forget once out in the garden, surrounded by such wonder and beauty. It had felt natural, as though this was where she was meant to be. Standing there, watching the lights with Jasper, should have been overwhelming; it should have been a complete culture shock. She should have felt starstruck around the man, she had at first back in the lounge with Esme. But those feelings had melted away quickly, leaving Alice feeling at ease. Of course, at some point, though, they had to get down to business.

"Emmett thought maybe you would have some ideas on how I could safely practice and develop my magic safely... considering my situation." Alice trailed off at the end of the sentence in confusion. Jasper looked at her with pity, a sympathetic sadness clouding his green eyes.

"He didn't tell you, did he." It came as a resigned statement rather than a question. Alice shook her head slowly, indicating that whatever it was Emmett was meant to tell her had been a subject he'd avoided.

"Of course he didn't," Jasper pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Leave it to the class clown to avoid the big blows."

A sinking feeling began to develop in the pit of Alice's stomach as she took in Jasper's stance, as well as his tone, both conveying the message that whatever he had to tell her wasn't good news. "What, um... What do you mean?" Her voice came out shaky, fearful of whatever information the man was about to drop.

Taking in a deep breath, Jasper closed his eyes as he thought over how to break the news delicately; he seemed to arrive at a conclusion as he nodded at a marble bench facing the fountain indicating that Alice should take a seat. Feeling woozy, she quickly obliged. "What do they say about me?" He opened, looking down at her tentatively from his still standing position, his posture straight hands clasped behind his back. "I'm assuming my escape caused enough of a commotion to reach the top of the chain."

"Yeah, you're um... kind of a big deal. Like I legitimately had an entire lecture in class about you yesterday. You're on the most wanted witches list, do not approach status. And I..." She hesitated, wondering if bringing up Maria was a bad decision, not wanting to reopen old wounds. Yet, she wanted to be honest, to lay all her cards on the table. "I know Maria personally."

Jasper looked away from her, fear in his eyes at the mention of the name. "Hey no, see, here's the thing." She moved her hair so that it covered only her right shoulder, exposing her witch's mark. She pointed to it as she continued. "This thing gives me a unique perspective. I've always wondered what your side of the story is... I mean..." A blush swept over her cheeks, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. "If you're willing to share, of course."

"I hale from the south," He began, leaving no question as to his willingness to share. "I'm sure you've been taught about the state of things in that region."

Jasper looked to Alice as though questioning if more explanation on that statement would be necessary. Alice nodded to indicate that she knew very well what life for a witch hunter was like in the southern portion of the country. At the academy, geography was less of a class on the layout of the world and more and instruction on the practices of the various hunter's associations. Living in Salam, where their headquarters were located, as well as being the leader's daughter, allowed Alice even more insight.

Alice had no questions about the intensity of the situation. She was fully aware that during the Salem witch trials, while most accusations were false, vast amounts of actual witches fled south for safety. Of course, it hadn't taken long for hunters to catch on, taking the battle with them and leaving what history knew of the situation in Massachusetts.

In the present day, it was still a bloodbath, daily casualties occurring on both sides. Hunters in the region were highly skilled, applied vigorous training in their academies, and only accepting the highest-scoring applicants to their ranks. Leader's in those states going so far as to keep an eye on grades nationwide. Even at her young age, Alice's own sister was being scouted for a position in Lousiana at the heart of the conflict.

The nod seemed to be sufficient information for Jasper as he continued recounting his tale. "My mark appeared in my pre-teen years, on my shoulder. I thought I was lucky; it's an easy enough place to keep it hidden. I decided to play my cards carefully, continuing to train to the best of my ability until I could make an escape. I focused all my energy on being at the top of my class, partly to prevent suspicion as well as to have an edge in defending myself were I ever found out."

Jasper paused a moment, staring intently into Alice's eyes as though he wanted to drive the next points of the story home. "I'm glad I did because one day, during a particularly intense sparring match, my shirt ripped, revealing my mark. The very second everyone in the room realized what they were seeing, I was immediately, viciously attacked. My own friends, my family... The hunter's creed runs thicker than blood; it doesn't matter to them who you are, what kind of person you are. If you have the mark, they will kill you."

Alice felt her throat tighten as realization took hold. Jasper didn't need to continue, Alice was a quick learner, and his point was clear. Sooner or later, she would slip up, be it carelessness or an event outside her control, whether it be carelessness or an event outside her control. It wasn't of a question of if she would be found out. It was a question of when. Considering her grades and resulting lack of combat skills, she would be a goner.

"I have to leave," She looked up at him. "I have to leave as soon as possible, don't I."

"For what it's worth," His words came with sincere sympathy, "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to leave your entire world behind."

Alice leaned back against the bench, suddenly feeling woozy; she'd known what Jasper had meant with his story. Yet to hear it confirmed had caused her to feel like the world was spinning out from under her. Leaving had been her dream for so long, but now it was all happening so fast. There were so many questions floating through her mind flittering through so fast she struggled to focus on just one. How could she do this safely? What was she supposed to do? Would Esme allow Alice into her coven, or would she have to strike it out on her own. Being associated with Edgar made Alice a relatively prominent figure; people would come looking for her.

Alice hadn't realized she was crying until she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder in a sort of half-hug. "Hey," She looked up to see Jasper had taken a seat next to her on the bench. "It's going to be okay. I know it's terrifying; I've done it before. But we're going to make a plan we'll get you out safely without a fight. I promise."

"We?"

"Alice," He chuckled lightly, a comforting sound that Alice couldn't help but smile at despite everything. "You're one of us. Esme would never leave a witch behind, and I would never want to see you go through what I did. I was lucky; most of us born into the society don't make it out. But I swear to you I'm not going to let that be you."

"Thank you," Alice choked out between shaking breaths as she wiped at her tears with the long sleeves of her sweater. She was still terrified, but Jasper's tone and presence made her feel safer, more calm. She may have only just met the man, but she believed every word he uttered. "How do we move forward? Where do we go from here?"

"Well, let's start by introducing you to your new brothers and sisters?" Jasper removed his arm from where it rested around Alice's shoulder, and she found herself immediately missing his warmth and held out a hand that she gladly took.

Jasper led her back inside, never releasing her hand as he guided her through the main rooms of the enormous house. Inside a room on the ground floor, they found Emmett sitting on a couch with the blonde woman who was disinterestedly watching him play video games. Upon their entrance, Emmett paused his game and stood to offer Alice a hug. She released Jasper's hand for the first time since taking it in the garden to accept the sign of affection from the man who had quickly become her friend.

The blonde woman was quick to introduce herself as Rosalie, Esme's apprentice who would take over the duties as coven leader one day. Emmett went on to make sure Alice was okay after her conversation with Jasper in the garden knowing full well the subject matter discussed. Their conversation was cut short by Jasper, who had been having a silent discussion with Rosalie held only via facial expressions and eye-contact.

"We should move on with the tour Alice." The tall man spoke in a tone of mild annoyance, reaching once again for Alice's hand. The small action causing Rosalie to let out an exasperated huff as she turned back to Emmett and his playthrough of Skyrim.

Jasper lead her back into the hallway, remaining quiet and tense as indicated by the slight scowl he now wore. Alice wanted to ask about his interaction with Rosalie, wondering why it had left him in such a sour mood. She felt, though, that it was none of her business as she had only just met the man. It wasn't her place to go prying into his personal matters, especially when he'd already been so forthcoming about his past. So she bit her tongue as she thought about the nervous glances the man had kept sending her way throughout the duration of that silent conversation.

"You alright?" Jasper asked, pulling Alice from her curious thoughts. He'd halted their tour in front of yet another of the numerous doors of the enormous house. "You've been quiet, and you're holding my hand like a vice."

"Just overwhelmed." She responded, trying to keep her voice light. Jasper didn't need to know she had been mentally analyzing his prior interaction with Rosalie. Besides, her response was partially truthful. The night had been quite a lot to take in.

"We can do this another time... if you want to go back home and process all of this."

"No, I'll be fine. The sooner we get through everything the better right? Emergency evacuation plans and all that."

Jasper nodded in silent agreement and proceeded to guide her through the door he'd stopped in front of. On the other side was a large well-stocked kitchen lit brightly by the shining in through large floor to ceiling glass windows overlooking the well cared for garden Alice and Jasper had been sitting in earlier in the evening. Standing at a granite counter, chopping vegetables, stood a smiling blonde man.

"Carlisle," Jasper nodded to the man, something Alice was beginning to notice was a common habit of his. "Meet Alice."

The man, Carlisle apparently, wiped his hands on a nearby towel before crossing the room to shake her hand. "I'm happy to finally make your acquaintance Miss Brandon.

"Carlisle is Esme's husband," Jasper informed. "He's also an expert in healing magic."

"I would love to learn more about that subject someday, sir."

"Please, Alice, call me Carlisle; we're all family here. As much as I'd like to sit down and get to know you, I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Once you're more settled, I would be glad to speak to you about my practice." With that, Carlisle returned to his cooking.

The final room Jasper directed Alice to was an expansive library easily rivaling the size of any she'd seen on the hunter's base. Shelves filled with countless books lined the walls. Alice, knowing those volumes would hold the information she'd been looking for, found herself excited at the prospect of one day having the opportunity to devour every text.

In the far left corner of the woman with fiery red hair, Alice had caught a glimpse of from the window back in the garden sat studiously in front of a piano tapping away at a classical piece. Jasper pointed over to her as he spoke in a hushed tone. "That girl over there is Edythe; it's best not to disturb her while she's practicing.

It was the other inhabitant of the room, however, who caught Alice's attention. She instantly recognized the woman sitting at a table, paging through a book as she twirled strands of her long brown hair around her fingers. It was a sight Alice was all too familiar with as this exact woman had been the one to help guide her through the academy library in her search for information.

Although new questions sprang through her mind, old inquiries suddenly made complete sense. Of course, Bella had bought her flimsy excuses and hadn't alerted any superiors in their organization. Her loyalties didn't lie with hunters; she was one of the witches.

"You!" Alice exclaimed, dropping Jasper's hand to make her way over to the table. "You're the librarian, from the academy!"

"Yes, I'm a scout for the coven," Bella responded as she closed her book, carefully placing a scrap of paper between the pages to make her spot. "I keep an eye on things from the inside and relay the information I dig up on your people back to Esme. It's one of the ways we stay one step ahead. I'm glad to finally speak with you without a cover. You have no idea how many times I just wanted to spill."

"That's amazing," Alice found herself in awe of the woman. "You've got such a dangerous job."

"It is, but it's an important one, so I'm glad to do it."

It was at that moment the large grandfather clock in the back of the room chimed three times, signaling that it was now three in the morning. As much as Alice wanted to stay and continue talking to Bella if she wanted to get any sleep before school tomorrow, it was time to go home.

#Jalice #Twilight #alice cullen #Jasper Hale

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heartofsnark · 4 years

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Black Market Wonderland (Chapter Nine): We’re Covered In Lies and That’s Okay

Notes: I’ve given up on maintaining proper consistent schedules for my fics, but I want to attempt to update at least once every other month for each of my series that are going on rn. I always wanna say thanks for some of the replies/comments on my last chapter that were really supportive and awesome about my disaster of a situation with grad school. I struggle to like respond and be a functional human being, but i read everything and love you all.I will be trying to like alternate posting chapters to each series, monthly. So like, April is Tsun, May will be Dahlia, but uhhhhhhhh every time i try to be consistent, it blows up in my face so that's cool.

Word Count: 7,152

Warnings: This one is pretty tame, cursing, some pettiness. I introduce a new OC cause i can’t fucking contain myself.

Missed the last chapter? Link Here!

“Hmmm, I don’t know…”

“Please,” Anais shakes her clenched fists in a begging motion, “please, please, please!”

The day has passed by easily enough, no snags or major confrontations from the idiots in the penthouse. A nice relaxed day of normal work with Anais clinging to her side, as they teach each other languages. It won’t be long before Tsuneko has to return her to her parent’s room for the evening, they’re walking that direction on the VIP floor. All it took was mentioning maybe giving the young girl a present for her to start begging excitedly. Of course, Tsuneko already has the small pompompurin coin purse in her pocket, something she won in a crane game, but doesn’t need.

“Hm, let’s see, maybe we can make it a reward. Do you remember how to sign, ‘hello, my name is Anais’?”

“Yeah, see,” Anais replies with a big grin and signs the greeting, perfectly.

“Here, you’ve more than earned it,” Tsuneko tells her, before handing over the little plush coin purse. Her blue eyes sparkle the second she sees it and she hugs it to her cheek.

“I love it!”

One of Anais’s hands wraps around Tsuneko’s, the other clutches around her gift, as they walk towards the room. The young girl is practically skipping as they near their destination.

“Tsuneko,” a familiar masculine voice calls out, Mr. Bucci.

“Hello, Mr. Bucci,” Tsuneko greets him, Anais hides behind her leg, shy around the strange older man, “Anais, this is Mr. Bucci, he’s a friend of my boss from Italy, why don’t you say hello?”

“Ciao,” Anais murmurs, still a little awkward, but Mr. Bucci gives her a kind smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, say, Tsuneko. I’m sorry to be a bother, but would you mind showing me around the hotel? I’d get lost in a paper bag I’m afraid.”

“Ah, I’m showing Anais back to her parent’s room at the moment, but if you could wait for just a moment, I can be with you shortly?” Tsuneko offers, even if the room isn’t far away, she wouldn’t feel comfortable just abandoning Anais on the VIP floor alone.

“I don’t mind at all, go ahead.”

Tsuneko excuses herself and Anais, leading the girl down the hall down to her parent’s room. She has a quick chat with Esme, about when the family is visiting Puroland, as well as the fact that Tsuneko may have days in the coming week where Ichinomiya will ask her to work outside of the hotel. It’s officially the second week of the bet and she’s expecting him to make a full force effort before the end of it, since he doesn’t seem keen on just giving up. She says her goodbyes to the family for the night and returns to Mr. Bucci in the hallway.

“Sorry for the wait, sir,” Tsuneko apologizes as they start to walk towards the elevator.

“It’s no problem at all,” he pauses for a moment, “I’m starting to understand more and more why Eisuke seems so enamored with you. Sweet, cute girl, great cook and good with children.”

“Mr. Bucci,” her stomach churns at the thought of Ichinomiya’s saccharine fake smile, “you’re far too kind, I’m sure Mr. Ichinomiya isn’t quite as fond of me as you think.”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Uh,” she stutters as they reach the elevator, wanting to escape this conversation, “so, do you think you know exactly what you’re looking to do? I’m sure you’re well acquainted with the casino, but there are also museums, theaters, pools, plenty of restaurants with food from all over. There’s actually an Italian restaurant, people say the food is really authentic, but I wouldn’t really know, personally.”

“Actually,” he cuts off her rambling, “I was hoping we could have a chat over dinner. I’m sure Eisuke won’t mind.”

She’s sure he wouldn’t, so long as Tsuneko doesn’t out his bullshit. Her regular rooms are all cleaned for the day, the only thing left on the schedule is cleaning the penthouse. So, it’s not impacting anyone else in the hotel and she tells Ichinomiya she was buttering up Mr. Bucci, he won’t particularly care.

“Yeah, that should be fine.”

It’s an awkward elevator ride to the floor with the restaurants, Tsuneko’s arms are folded behind her back to feign some sort of confidence, despite how badly she wants to run. She can’t say for certain what Mr. Bucci wants with her, perhaps just mining her for information about Ichinomiya, but why would he need her for that. There’s a devilish part of her brain that reminds her this would be a chance to out him, to tell Mr. Bucci all about the little game Ichinomiya is playing.

But she can’t bring herself to do something like that. Ichinomiya is an asshole and all-around garbage excuse for a human being, but his success affects more than just him. If the success of the Tres Spades continues to grow and get more money, the employees continue to prosper and make more money. The Tres Spades isn’t some shitty corporation that pays them minimum wage and no benefits. Tsuneko’s situation is an extreme case, she knows that, despite his piss poor personality, Ichinomiya and the Tres Spades take care of their employees.

Not to mention, another hotel, means more job opportunities for people who may need them. People who were like her when she applied, desperate and needing a source of income, could have an opportunity to do more than survive.

Plus, if the hotel expands across the globe, it can help employees in other ways. She thinks of Chisato and Itsuki, the two are basically engaged, but can’t movee beyond that point if they want to because gay marriage isn’t legal in Japan. Chisato has been with the hotel for years and can’t just move to elsewhere without having a job at least as good lined up. If there were more locations, in places where it’s legal, she could have both. So, if the Tres Spades expands…

As much as she hates to sound like a capitalist, helping Ichinomiya really does have ripple effects that help more people. She has to find a balance of not fucking herself over, but not hurting anyone else in the grand scheme of things.

Tsuneko would message Ichinomiya, to at least let him know why she’ll be late cleaning the penthouse and so he doesn’t suspect she’s going out of her way to ruin things. But the only way she has of contacting him is the pager which is on a speaker and she’s not giving that man her phone number.

They arrive at the Italian restaurant the Tres Spades has and Tsuneko immediately feels out of place. It’s mostly guests here for a nice dinner, dressed to the nines, while she’s in her maid uniform. The mixture of cleaner products and sweat is still heavy on her skin.

They’re shown to a table and Tsuneko is trying not to anxiously bounce or move around in her seat. Mr. Bucci orders wine and she gets water, he seems to be beating around the bush, dragging her discomfort out. Tsuneko forgets what she ordered a moment after she orders it. Mr. Bucci is the dictionary definition of calm, as he takes a sip of his wine, Tsuneko is sick of this.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

He puts his glass down on the table and gives a small chuckle. Mr. Bucci has never struck her a mean or cruel man, but he’s a mob boss. There are so many dangerous places this conversation could go.

“Cutting right to the chase, are you?”

“My heart can’t handle doing anything else.”

“There’s no need to look so scared, relax, eat.”

She pops an appetizer into her mouth but can’t quite appreciate the taste through her nerves. The attempt seems to appease him to some degree, as he clears his throat to speak again.

“Carolina has become rather infatuated with Eisuke, despite him having feelings for you.”

“I don’t think he-”

“Please, humor me,” he puts his hand up to make her shush, “I know Carolina has been taking things out on you, which isn’t right, but she’s always felt her emotions very intensely. If your and Eisuke’s relationship were to go further, it would crush her, and she’d only get nastier with you.”

Is this entire dinner about warning her away from Ichinomiya for Carolina’s sake? Because that’s not an issue. Tsuneko wouldn’t waste her time fighting over a man she liked, let alone one she’s actively trying to avoid.

“I know it’s asking a lot, but it would be nice if you and Carolina could become friends.”

“Huh?”

“I was hoping from the way he acted last time they met, perhaps he had feelings for her as well, but it can’t be helped. If Carolina could see you as more of a friend, less of a rival, I think it would be good for both of you.”

“Uh,” that’s not what she expected, “if this is all about getting me to make nice with your daughter, I’m not sure there’s much I can do. I’m not exactly the one making it, uh, contentious. And even if I did, I’m not sure if it would make her feel any better about Mr. Ichinomiya.”

“I know my Carolina can be difficult, but I do think it would help for her to have a friend here.”

“I’m not confident that I’m the best choice for that.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you tried, maybe a girl’s day for the two of you could be arranged?”

Tsuneko chews her lip and pokes at her meal, unsure of what to say or do. Her leg bounces beneath the table. Mr. Bucci strikes her as sincere, he genuinely wants the best for his daughter. And Tsuneko can see his point, Carolina doesn't strike her as the type who probably has a lot of female friends. The kind of mentality where Women are competition and men are some sort of prize. Which is exhausting. Both for those around her and surely for her as well.

"If you can get her to agree, I'll be more than happy to spend a day with her."

"Wonderful. I'll let you know when a date is arranged." Mr. Bucci smiles at her and Tsuneko prays Carolina refuses. The meal concludes with Tsuneko trying to hurriedly eat her entree, as to not waste the previously untouched food, and Mr. Bucci insisting on paying.

Her mind wanders as she makes her way to the penthouse, she thinks of what he said, about believing Ichinomiya might have had feelings for Carolina. Everything he does, especially for business, is intentional. Even the smallest gesture calculated. He doesn’t give soft smiles or too long touches by accident.

And while Carolina might be the type to misinterpret signals, her father doesn’t seem as apt to do so. Which, makes her wonder, did he lead Carolina on for the deal? Not that she thinks much of him to begin with, but that’s another layer of gross.

She arrives at the penthouse, seeing a mish mash of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Baba and Kisaki are the only two of the auction managers there, but there’s four women gathered around them. Three she doesn’t know and one, she’s sadly familiar with, the girl who insulted her weight at the event Ichinomiya dragged her to. The women are undoubtedly beautiful, dressed in short seductive dresses. They’re guests, or at least she has to assume so, which sadly means Tsuneko needs to be well behaved. It’s one thing to mouth off to the assholes who bought her, but actual guests of the hotel she has to behave around.

“Hey, princess,” Baba greets her, a woman with long red hair on his left and another with raven black hair on his right. The girl from the event is next to the red head, while another blonde is practically sitting in Kisaki’s lap.

The three unfamiliar women give Tsuneko a quick once over but seem to ultimately decide they don’t care about her presence. While the one she’s met before, maintains a sharp cruel gaze. Unlike the other three, she doesn’t even seem to be fawning over the men, almost bored with this.

“I’m here to clean,” Tsuneko announces with a customer service smile, “would anyone like anything to eat or drink before I start?”

Kisaki and Baba shoots her confused looks, no doubt taken aback by her kind attitude. However, she can’t risk being inappropriate around actual guests.

“Make yourself useful and get us some wine,” the familiar woman pipes in, showing off her empty glass like Tsuneko is too stupid to understand otherwise.

“Of course.”

She gathers the empty glasses and makes her way to the penthouse kitchen area. There’s a bottle of fancy red wine on the counter, from whenever they first served it, so she tops off each glass and brings it out to them.

“So, you let maids up here?” The redhead asks, twirling a crimson lock around her finger.

“Koro’s special,” Kisaki taunts, despite his sugary sweet smile, and she bites her tongue, only sending him a quick pointed glare.

“I’m the penthouse maid, Tomori Tsuneko.”

“I think the dog name suits you more,” the event girl tells her, her eyes sharp. She’s a pretty girl, a shaggy pale blonde bob hair and burnished orange eyes.

“You’re so mean, Kaede,” the blonde on the arm of Kisaki’s chair gushes out, like it’s cute.

“If that’s all, I’ll begin cleaning now.” She at least has a name to attach to the mean girl, though she’s not sure how much that will actually help her.

Tsuneko busies herself with cleaning the lounge, letting the residents become background noise. She manages to catch that Baba is reading the girl’s fortunes with cards. All of them but Kaede, oohing and aweing over it.

“Hey, pretty lady, come over here,” Baba calls over suddenly as Tsuneko is dusting, every fiber of her being wants to tell him to shush and let her clean. But there are guests, actual guests here.

“Is there something you need, sir?” She says instead, hoping the sir will somehow get her point across. Yet, Baba is smiling like a damn idiot.

“Do you wanna have your fortune read?”

There’s an annoyed twitch behind her eye, she is working. She can see Kisaki gremlin smirking out of her peripheral vision. They’re trying to push her buttons.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m working, sir.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be shy, you know you can always call me Micchy!~”

He winks at her, three girls giggle, but Kaede still shows no signs of being entertained. Instead, her nose wrinkles. A clatter of glass as she smacks her finger into the stem of her wine glass, knocking it from the table.

“Ah!” Tsuneko flusters and rushes, she catches the glass before it shatters, but red wine drenches the front of her uniform. It soaks and chills through the fabric, making it stick to her.

“Couldn’t let you slack off for too long,” Kaede tells her, voice hushed and a mean little smirk pulling at her lips.

The door to the penthouse opens within the next moment, Ichinomiya and Oh entering the lounge. Like moths to a flame, suddenly the four women all flock over to them, abandoning Baba and Kisaki.

“Eisuke, it’s great to see you again!~” Kaede gushes and he narrows his eyes.

“We were waiting for you to get here!”

“I didn’t think we’d actually get a chance to meet the king!”

“You’re even more attractive in person, oh my god!”

“Are you okay?” Baba asks her, suddenly close and in her personal space.

“Yeah, better on me than on the linoleum,” she awkwardly tugs at the wet chest of her uniform, cold drops of wine rolling down her cleavage, that Baba’s eyes seem to follow, “nothing got on your cards?”

“Of all the things for you to be worried about,” Baba looks her in the eyes again and sighs, like he’s dealing with a child.

“I mean, I could also worry about how you two just got ditched for Ichinomiya,” she teases, voice low, as Baba carefully takes the glass from her hand. He’s being, nice.

“We’re used to it by now, some girls will do anything to get close to boss.”

“What’s going on here?” Ichinomiya questions, glaring at the women for a moment, before his eyes land on Tsuneko and her wine-soaked uniform.

“We just thought, it’d be okay for us to come up here and spend some time with you,” Kaede tells him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I take it, we know who’s to blame for letting you up here,” Oh glares at Baba who just grins.

“What’s wrong for having some beautiful women here?”

“Women who find it necessary to throw wine at my staff.” Ichinomiya narrows his eyes at Kaede, he doesn’t even have to wonder who’s to blame.

“Accidents happen,” Kaede waves it off, “she’ll be fine, why don’t we have a drink, just the two of us?”

“Get out.”

“Huh, don’t be ridiculous-”

“I don’t have time for this, get out, now.”

Slowly and with their heads hanging down, the women leave the penthouse, like they’ve been scolded. Which, she supposes isn’t that far from the truth.

“Ugh, I can still smell their perfume,” He’s not wrong, the smell of expensive perfume still hangs in the air.

“Are you sure you should talk to guests like that?”

“They’re not staying here.”

“What?”

“Those women just hang around in the casino, like flies,” Oh explains.

“God damn it, I was polite for nothing!”

“It was so funny watching you try to behave yourself.” Kisaki snickers.

“Oh shut up, now, if you’ll excuse me,” she says and starts to head to the door, wine making her thighs stick together awkwardly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ichinomiya stops her.

“I’m gonna go change then come back to clean, the wine didn’t get on anything else, so don’t worry.”

“You’re going to let guests see you like that?” He narrows his eyes at her, and she looks down at the mess on her uniform, not that she needs to, she can feel it sticking to her.

“Well, it’s not going anywhere on its own.” She flails her arms out, glaring at him, what the hell does he expect?

“I’ll see if Kenzaki can bring you up a change of uniform.”

“Come on, you can get cleaned up in my bathroom and we’ll get your uniform taken care of,” Baba says, placing a hand on the small of her back as he leads her towards his suite, even though she knows where it is, his hand is welcomed warmth against the chill of the spilled wine.

She steps into his bathroom, familiar with the elaborate set up. The sun is just starting to set, shining orange golden light in through the giant window.

“There’s bathrobes for you to change into or you can borrow some clothes from me if you’d like.” He winks, because of course he does.

“I’ll take the bathrobe.”

He gives a melodramatic pout and she pushes him from the bathroom. The door shut behind him, she takes off her shoes and starts to unbutton her uniform. Her eyes dart between the tub and the shower, immaculate. The idea of relaxing back in a hot soapy bath looking at the sunset out the window, sounds so nice. However, reality is a cruel mistress, and she doesn’t have the luxury of taking her time and relaxing. She’s technically on the clock and she’s better off just taking a shorter shower.

There’s a bit of relief from the sticky wine, tacky on her skin, when she lets her uniform drop to the floor and peels off her stockings. The worst of the mess is off her, but it’s well soaked through the layers to her skin. She can even feel the residue on her nipples where it’s dripped down and soaked through her bra. Her underwear joins the pile of clothes and she starts up the shower, steam filling the room.

She leaves a towel over the stall door and steps under the hot water. There’s an array of the hotel provided items with soft clean neutral scents, but she notices a few of Baba’s products as well. They’re all rose and jasmine scented, floral almost romantic scents. Not that different from her own shampoo, but just slightly stronger. Of course, he drinks rose tea and uses rose soap, like the cheesy schmuck he is. Those thoughts don’t stop her from using it. Tsuneko’s muscles relax as she washes the grime from her skin and hair, not just the wine but the sweat of the day so far.

The door creaks as she’s massaging soap into her breasts, she jolts, a slick mess of suds and water in the shower stall makes her feet slip. She just manages to burrow her fingers into the towel before she yelps out, her ass hitting the floor. Pain shoots up her tailbone. The door swings open further.

“Tsuneko!” Baba’s voice jumps an octave as he rushes into the room, whirling around to see her. She scrambles to place the towel, so it covers her chest and groin, though she feels like he probably already got an eyeful in the amount of time it takes her.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

“Are you okay, I heard you yell?”

“Yeah, because you opened the fucking door!”

“Uh, oh,” realization seems to dawn on him, and he covers his eyes before turning his back to her, “I was going to get your clothes, so we can send them to be cleaned.”

“You couldn’t have waited?!”

“The quicker they’re washed the better, you don’t want the stains to set.”

“Just go!”

Baba flusters about for a moment before grabbing her pile of wine-soaked clothes and leaving the bathroom. She heaves out a deep sigh, once she hears the door shut behind him. Tsuneko gets back up on her feet, the towel is completely soaked now, so she tosses it aside. Fearful of another interruption, she finishes up as quickly as possible.

She shuts the shower off and does a quick dry off. They’re probably still sticky, but she goes to grab her underwear, to find they’re not there. Great, so not only has Baba seen her naked, but he knows what kind of underwear she wears. And, she’ll be wearing a bathrobe with nothing underneath, around them all. Lovely.

The bathrobe is clearly meant for an adult man and she doesn’t see any in smaller sizes. It’s soft fluffy white material, she pulls it on, she feels and looks a bit like a marshmallow, but that’s not a complaint. Plus, the excess fabric should make it easier to stay covered. It sags a little low on her shoulders, the sleeves hang over her hands, and the bottom drags across the floor as she leaves the bathroom.

Baba is just outside the bathroom door and she can’t help the pout that pulls at her face, asshole. He’s smirking in response and her fist is connecting with his side in the next moment. He barely flinches at the strike and she can feel the muscle beneath his shirt.

“Pull that kind of shit again and I’ll castrate you.”

“I only had the best of intentions, scouts honor.” He gives a cheesy little smile and scout salute, that she isn’t buying for a second.

“Hmmph.”

She lets out a huffy noise as she fixes her still damp bangs and moves towards her stuff that’s on the side table. Baba must have taken them from her pockets when he got her clothes. There are wine stains on some of her sticky note pads and a bit on her phone case, the phone itself doesn’t feel soaked, however. It’s already been scratched all up, she’s not sure how much more it can handle.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you with your hair down, somehow you just manage to get prettier and prettier.”

She rolls her eyes at his compliment, despite the heat in her cheeks. It’s sweet and she’s sure he’s right, the only one who’s seen her with her hair down fully was Kisaki when he was fixing it for the event. She twirls a still damp lock of her around her finger.

“You never lay off with the cheesy shit, do you?”

“I’m just an honest man.”

“You walked in on me showering and stole my underwear!”

“I was honestly trying to help.”

A heavy sigh escapes her as she puts her phone in the robe pocket and heads to the lounge, hopefully Kenzaki has brought a change of uniform for her. Baba follows after her, Kishi is on one of the couches smoking a cigarette. He managed to miss the chaos, lucky him.

“What the hell?”

“Don’t ask.” She waves him off, dismissing him and his smoke cloud as she takes a seat. Tsuneko is careful to fold her legs in the chair so she stays cocooned and covered in the robe.

“One of Boss’s fangirls got a little testy.”

“There are no spare uniforms in your size, so you’ll have to wait until laundry services washes yours,” Ichinomiya explains to her.

“So, what I’m hearing is I’m getting overtime pay?”

Ichinomiya sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t argue with her. At the very least a bit of extra money in her bank account, but now she’s stuck spending time with them. Last time she was actually sat down with them was when Ichinomiya gave her the confidentiality agreement, before she proposed the bet. She can remember just how tense and rigid she was, now she’s curled up in a robe.

She fiddles with the edge of the robes sleeve, suddenly aware of the strangely vulnerable position she’s put herself in with them. Hair damp from the shower and still down, not a smudge of makeup, in nothing but an oversized robe. Something about it all seems cozy, comfortable. She curls her knees in a bit closer at the thought, as if providing a bit more protection.

“Since you’ve got time you want to get your fortune read, now?” Baba offers, smiling.

“Aren’t you a little old to believe in that kind of shit?”

“You wound me and so soon after our special moment together in the shower.”

“Don’t say shit like that!” She reaches out and smacks him with the long sleeves of the robe, it hits his face and he just keeps grinning.

“Don’t tell me you’re into old men, now, Koro.”

“He walked in while I was showering!”

“You really have the worst luck, don’t ya?”

“You’re telling me. Speaking of shitty luck and women who hate me, Mr. Bucci wants me to spend time with Carolina.”

“Does he now?”

“And you actually agreed to that?”

“What was I supposed to do?” She shoots Oh an incredulous look.

“I’m not sure that’s the smartest idea, princess.”

“Mr. Bucci is gonna talk to her about it, best case scenario she refuses and worst case scenario I have to suffer through a day of her snide little insults.”

“Did you forget they’re mafia members?”

“And Carolina is jealous of you.”

“So,” she shrugs at Oh and Baba’s implications, “she’s not gonna do anything crazy.”

“You can’t let your guard down around people like that.”

“What’s that suppose to mean, slacker?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

Kishi and Oh are glaring daggers at each other, Oh’s hand starts heading towards where she’s sure his gun is. She tries not to snicker and starts scrolling through her phone again. Ichinomiya clears his throat, stopping the short-lived altercation.

“Make sure you take your pager.”

“Why, so you can badger me when you want coffee?”

“Just do what I say.”

“Just do what I say,” she mocks him, not bothering to look up from her Instagram feed. Chisato posted a cute selfie, that she gets a glimpse of before her phone is pulled from her hand, “hey!”

Kisaki has a hold of her phone, he’s perched himself on the arm of the chair she’s sitting in, his smarmy gremlin grin on his face. She doesn’t need him going through her phone, she’s already had one of them see her practically naked today.

“What are you look- hey,” she grabs her phone and yanks it from his hand, before pushing him off the chair arm. He gives a little yell, before his ass hits the floor.

“Don’t touch my phone.”

He shoots her a disgusted look from the floor and she hears the other men snickering.

“You’re so aggressive,” he says, glaring at her.

“Do you have something on there you don’t want people to see?” Baba asks, smirking.

“What is or isn’t on my phone is none of your concern.”

“You’re not helping yourself.” Ichinomiya isn’t looking up at them, but he’s smirking just the same.

“You’re not wrong.” She sighs, hiding her phone away back in her pocket.

There’s a knock, before Kenzaki steps into the lounge, carrying a laundry bag.

“Tomori’s clothes have been washed.”

She’s already out of her chair and making a beeline for Kenzaki, plucking the laundry bag from his hand and muttering a thanks before heading towards Baba’s bathroom. Tsuneko double, triple, checks that the door is locked before she starts to change back into her uniform. There is absolutely no signs of the wine on her uniform, the laundry services at the hotel are beyond amazing. Once she’s changed and tucked everything back into her uniform pockets, she’s able to get back to work. Cleaning the lounge and suites doesn’t take her much time at all

Tsuneko returns to her dorm later than average, going through her nighttime routine of caring for Kiyo and preparing for that stupid auction. The only thing unique to the whole process at this point is crossing off days until the end of the bet. It’s the final marker of the whole routine now, the last thing she does before she closes her eyes.

The next day at work isn’t quite as entertaining, Anais is enjoying Puroland with her family. Meaning, Tsuneko is left to her own usual routine. The first part of her shift passes by calmly and she gets to go enjoy lunch on time. Sakiko is eating a later lunch, Chisato and Itsuki got their lunch breaks to match up and are having a more romantic venture. So, Tsuneko decides to go out grab a quick bite during her break. Chisato already warned her that the gossip about Tsuneko working in the penthouse is only getting worse, so she’d rather have some distance between herself and her coworkers for a moment.

After filling her stomach with hamburger steak and catching up on Monster Lovers during her solo lunch, she’s headed back to the hotel. There’s a soft breeze blowing through as she reaches the backlot, just as a group of unfamiliar men venture through the back door. What are they doing? It’s always something at this fucking hotel.

“Excuse me, sirs!” She yells out as she starts sprinting after them, whatever reason they’re here, she plans on finding out. They don’t stop or respond out of earshot as she starts into the hotel. A glimpse of their back as they venture down the stairs, down to the basement level, she yells again. No response as they continue towards the sub-basement level, Wonderland.

“Hey!” Her voice jumps up another three octaves as she rushes down the final set of stairs. There are even more unfamiliar men there, a line forming out of Wonderland door. Men shoot her confused looks. It’s all random men of all ages and appearances, though, most don’t seem too pleasant.

She stomps and pushes her way through, all of the men shooting her dirty looks as she elbows her way through the crowd. Finally, she manages to make it into Wonderland. The Hatter is at the table across from one of the men, who have flooded the room. He has a notebook open before him and is scribbling notes, like he’s interviewing them.

“What are your hobbies?”

“Horse races, dog races, poker, pachinko.” Some man tells the Hatter in a gruff voice.

“Oh, so you’re a gambling man then. How much would you say you usually bet at once?”

“Everything I have at the moment.”

“You like high stakes bets then!”

“I borrow money from friends sometimes, tell ‘em I’ll pay them back with interest.”

“Have you paid any of these friends back?”

“Not yet.”

“Alright then. Next, please,” he calls another strange man forward to take the other’s place, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hey.”

“I have several questions I’d like to ask you; do you live nearby?”

“About thirty minutes by train, I guess.”

“Yes, that’s a very fine distance; what are your hobbies?”

“Afternoon naps.’

“Pffff,” she scoffs, making both the man and the Hatter looks up at her.

“Alice! Where have you been?” The Hatter shoots her a bright smile, while the man is glaring. He barely looks old enough to drink, so if he’s trying to look scary, it’s not going to work for him.

“I just got back from my lunch break, what is all of this?” She gestures to the crowd of men.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I’m having auditions for the new March Hare and Dormouse.”

He’s not seriously letting strangers back in here, so soon after being robbed.

“And where exactly did you find these men?”

“I put an advertisement up on the website craigslist.”

“What?” Her eyes grow wide, that’s so dangerous, people have been killed from doing stupid shit like this.

“The online world is dull compared to Wonderland, but it’s very convenient.”

“No way, nope,” she shakes her head emphatically, “you’re not doing this.”

She pulls a chair from the table and climbs to stand on it, drawing attention to herself as well as seeing over the crowd of strangers.

“Alice, what are you doing?”

“Hey,” she calls out, “I’m sorry, but you all need to go! The position is closed, there is no job, sorry for the trouble, you gotta get out of here!”

“Alice!” The Hatter’s yell cuts through the disappointed grumbles of the men, she’s never seen him so angry, “please, do not act selfishly like that!”

“Selfishly!?”

“They all came out to be interviewed and you’re being rude!”

“I’ll show you rude, everybody get the fuck out!” She stomps her foot down on the chair for emphasis.

The Hatter is glaring at her as the men slowly make their way out of Wonderland. She needs to call Kenzaki and let him know, in case any of them get wise ideas about venturing through the hotel and causing trouble. Tsuneko hops down from the chair as the last man meanders out, grumbling under his breath about how good the pay was and she shuts the door behind him.

“Why did you interfere?” The Hatter is glaring with a heavy, childish pout.

“Because that was beyond stupid, that’s why!”

“I must find a new March Hare and Dormouse! You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the point, I don’t give a shit about the hare and mouse!”

“Did you forget how lovely our parties were?” His face falls from anger to sorrow, unable to quite meet her eyes.

“Did you forget that you were robbed like, two days ago?!”

“Of course not!”

“And what, you thought you should just have more strangers here?”

He bites his lip and doesn’t meet her eyes, brow furrowing.

“Do you have any idea how reckless that was? Any of those men could have robbed you or worse! Did you even think about that? Huh, what if I came down here and found you fucking dead, ‘cause you let anyone with a pulse and internet just waltz on in.”

“I-”

“And what about everyone else here? What if one of them decided to go do something to a guest or one of the workers? For fucks sakes, even if those men weren’t bad, what if they found out about the auctions? What do you think Ichinomiya and them would do to keep them quiet?!”

“I-”

“You could have gotten yourself and someone else killed, you can’t do this shit!”

His butt hits the ground with a thump, he’s plopped on the ground and pulled his knees to his chest, hiding his pouting face there. Watching an actual seven-year-old child felt less like babysitting. She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, getting her phone from her pocket then punching in Kenzaki’s number.

“Hey, yeah, it’s Tomori. We’ve had an issue in the tearoom with security, everyone is safe, and nothing is taken. But I think it might be good to keep an eye out for any strange characters.”

Kenzaki assures her it’s taken care of and she hangs up, looking over to see the Hatter still hasn’t budged from his new spot on the floor. She sighs, she knows he wants his dream Wonderland tea party, but he can’t sacrifice his own or someone else’s safety for that. Tsuneko chews her lip, the March Hare and Dormouse didn’t do much, other than arrange furniture. She can do that; god knows the pair of them weren’t conversationalists.

Most of her plushies are licensed characters as are most of the ones in her crane games, so they probably won’t work for him. She does a few searches for dormouse and hare plushies, it takes her a few moments to find ones cute enough to add to her cart. Tsuneko sits on the floor next to the Hatter who’s still pouting.

“I just wanted to have our tea parties again,” he mumbles against his knees.

“I know, sweetie, but hey, how about these?” She nudges her phone against his knee, getting his attention. He finally looks up, eyes soft with unshed tears and biting at his lip before looking at the phone.

“Oh…”

“Would that work, having stuffed animals instead?”

“Would you be happy with that?”

“Well, yeah. I mean let’s be honest, the March Hare and Dormouse weren’t exactly shining conversationalists. All I care about is that you’re safe.”

“That’s good then,” he says with a soft smile.

“Okay, I’ll order them and the tea party will be complete before you know it.” She pats her hand on his back, hoping the gesture can convey even just a bit of comfort. He seems to relax under her touch.

The door rattles open and all that comfort is useless as Ichinomiya steps into the room, no doubt Kenzaki informed him of the situation. The Hatter visibly curls into himself as the CEO’s harsh gaze lands on him.

“What happened?” He doesn’t ask for, so much as demand an answer.

“I-” The Hatter stumbles over his words and stalls, that shy soft-spoken boy shining through the façade. She squeezes his shoulder tight.

“There was a little issue, he let in a few strangers…but they’re gone now.’

“You let strangers in, again?”

“Um…”

“I already ripped him a new one. You know why it was wrong, right Mads?”

He nods his head, hat nearly falling over from the force of it.

“And you’re not gonna do it again, right?”

Another nod.

“See, it’s fixed, I just wanted to make sure Kenzaki knew what happened, just in case.”

“I can’t have just anyone coming down here.”

“He knows, he knows.”

“He can talk for himself.”

“Not with you scaring him, he can’t.”

“Is this going to happen again?”

“No, I won’t do it again…” The Hatter mumbles out a response.

“I’m holding you to that.” There’s a subtle threatening edge to his words, like a father threatening to ground his son.

“He knows, go, go,” she tries to shoo him off like a fly, earning a glare, “I’ll make you coffee when I clean the penthouse later.”

“Obviously.” He sneers and gives another stern look towards the Hatter before finally taking his leave.

She spends a few more minutes with the Hatter, ensuring he’s feeling better before she goes back to work. Her shift passes by with her on edge, looking out for any of the men from the Hatter’s auditions. None of them seem to have spread out to the hotel or taken up causing trouble, so she’s able to finish up work with little trouble. Other than a moment of annoyance when she makes Ichinomiya his precious coffee.

“You guys wanna get drinks?” Chisato asks as they’re leaving the locker room.

“You sure that’s a great idea with little miss pervert here?” Sakiko points a thumb in Tsuneko’s direction, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

“I’m not up for it anyway, so don’t worry.” She playfully shoves her as they leave out the back entrance. With the stress of the Hatter’s little auditions, this is the kind of night meant for cozy pajamas and ferret cuddles.

Chisato and Sakiko wave a bye to Tsuneko as they venture off towards the bar, her towards the dorms. Her steps halt, who’s outside the dorms? It’s a younger man, mess of auburn hair and green gold eyes, leaning against the building. A moment passes by before she realizes where she’s seen him before, he was one of the men interviewing with the Hatter. What on earth is he still doing here?

“Hey!” She yells out as she marches over towards the guy.

“You really do yell a lot, don’t you?” He comments, raising an eyebrow at her.

“What are you still doing here? I told you to go home.”

“And why would I do that?”

“’Cause there’s literally no reason for you to be here.”

“What’s the deal with the dude in the basement?” He asks suddenly and it’s like ice water’s been dumped on her. Of course, there had to be one person who stuck it out to ask questions.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Alice, was it?”

“Tsuneko, now go home.”

“I’m Hachirou, look, if I can’t make a buck off of this, I at least wanna know what the hell is going on,” he pleads as she’s opening the door to the complex.

“Go home and stop answering craigslist ads, it’s dangerous.”

With that she disappears into the complex, heading to her own dorm. Once there, she peeks out the window, watching as Hachirou finally takes his leave. She clutches her good luck charm and hopes that will be the end of it, for his sake more than her own.

#kbtbb kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #eisuke ichinomiya #soryu oh #mamoru kishi #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #rhion hatter #tsuneko tomori #black market wonderland

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

Text

Dorian Pavus/ Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 22: Skies Of Autumn

The gang travels to Crestwood to meet Hawke’s Warden contact. One would think that a mission like that would be simple enough, but when is anything ever simple?

Read here or on AO3!

****************************

The large tower bell struck noon. The bright light streaming in through the wide windows of his quarters was half blinding. The stack of reports on Tristan’s desk was almost a foot high.

The pitcher of mulled, watered-down wine next to it was thoroughly empty.

He leaned back on his plush armchair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a soft exhale. He had rolled out of bed well before day break once more, the grey rays of the early morning sun slithering up the eastern mountain range, a sword’s edge along the horizon. There was no end to the duties he had to take care off before leaving for Crestwood, so he had decided to make the best of his lack of sleep. And now I’m paying for it, he thought with a scowl.

The headache that was creeping along his temples now was probably the least of his worries. Lady Josephine had very helpfully informed him the previous day that some distant relatives of his were creating a raucous in the Free Marches, claiming that they were “close friends with the Herald Inquisitor”. In fact, some of them had begun spreading outrageous rumours, saying that they had been present when he and Tilly had been born. A thrice-removed half-uncle of his even claimed to be his godfather. It wouldn’t surprise Tristan if he found out that someone claimed he was their long lost son, born after an illicit affair with his mother.

Now, that would have been amusing. Not to mention inventive. He didn’t want to know what his mother’s thoughts would be.

Josephine had presented him with a list of those that had started the entire thing; Tristan remembered them all, either by face or only by name. His mother had always insisted on both him and Tilly knowing every single person related to House Trevelyan, whether by blood, marriage or allegiance. Even those lesser families, that were only ever associated with them because a Trevelyan half a century before had lost the way back to his marriage bed and fell in some tavern maid’s bed instead, or that one distant cousin of his that had eloped with a silk merchant and sailed to Rivain, thus denouncing fortune and heritage. Tristan knew them all, right down to the number of sovereigns they liked to keep in their coin purses.

Keep an eye on your friends, two eyes on your enemies, and both hands at your family’s throat, his mother always said. A wise woman, Esme Trevelyan. The Free Marches were made up of independent city states instead of a single, unified nation, with the oldest and wealthiest families having more influence than the ruling Counts. When it came to political machinations, power struggles and plots, the Free Marchers could put Orlesians to shame. Thus, making sure that your own family members wouldn’t try to stab you in the back when you weren't looking was the first thing any Free Marcher worth their salt learnt.

Instinctively, he reached for his silver wine goblet and cursed out loud when he found it empty. With a last, heaving sigh, he picked up his pen to sign off on the report before him, that would decide how the Trevelyans would be dealt with. During the council meeting, Leliana had suggested sending an assassin to shut them all up. Tristan had stared at her in disbelief, and her lips had curled in a cunning smile.

“Not an actual assassin,” she had explained in her silvery voice. “Just the threat of one.”

Cullen had bristled at the Trevelyans’ blunder, declaring with a stern voice that the Inquisitor’s name is not one that should be thrown around lightly. “Denounce them,” he had insisted. “Those people and their outrageous rumours are soiling our reputation.”

Josephine’s approach had been much milder and level headed. “Promise them future favors,” she had suggested. “You don’t have to keep them, of course. But it will be enough to satisfy them for now, and stop them from making quite as much noise.”

It was with considerable reluctance that Tristan dragged his pen along the paper. As much as he had wanted to scare his slackwit relatives into silence with assassins or open denouncements, he knew them all too well to know that insults like these would only make matters worse. Free Marchers, and the Trevelyans in particular, were nothing if not loudmouths and insufferable gossips. So, false promises and assurances it was.

A good rider knows when to give his horse the whip, and when the apple. His mother also said that. He wondered idly if he was becoming more and more like her by the day. If Tilly were there now, watching him, he was sure she would have laughed until she cried. “You’re starting to look like her, too,” she would say, nodding at the wrinkles that had recently started to form around his eyes, and laugh even more.

A dull, hollow ache thrummed in his chest. He missed hearing her laugh.

He shook his head and brushed the thoughts away, the memories dissipating like smoke in the wind. His fine golden pen glided on the thick parchment with a soft scratching sound as he signed his name and title at the end of the report. A quick glance at the wine pitcher reminded him that it was still empty, and he frowned.

“If you scowl at those reports any harder, I’m sure they’ll grow arms and write themselves. If they don’t set themselves on fire first.”

Dorian’s voice made Tristan half jump out of his seat. His pen flew out of his fingers, trailing a ragged line along his carefully written report, irreparably marring it. He cursed under his breath as he crumbled it up in his fist and threw it in the hearth.

“Well. I believe that takes care of the latter.”

Dorian was standing before his desk, his lips curled in a soft, teasing smile. The long, flowy robe he was wearing was the softest shade of cream and blush pink, the halla leather belt keeping it in place decorated with golden buckles. One bare shoulder peeked through the carefully arranged layers of fabric, a bronze swath of skin that shone in the sunlight. His heady cologne reached his nostrils, and Tristan’s mouth went dry. Maker, he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Dorian,” he breathed. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Weren’t you? That’s odd. I could have sworn that one of your guards - Maighdin, was it? - came to the library but an hour ago to inform me that you had asked for me. Perhaps I was mistaken. One does get used to seeing mirages from time to time in this place.”

Tristan bit his lip as a faint blush crept up his cheeks. Of course he had asked for Dorian when Maighdin had come in to bring him a fresh pack of letters a while before. With this and that, he had completely forgotten. Had he started losing his mind?

He rubbed his eyes and huffed a laugh. “Forgive me, I… I didn't get much sleep last night. And this wine seems to have been a bit stronger than I anticipated.”

Dorian’s smile faltered just a hair before he gave him a warm, tender look. He sauntered around his desk, long fingers gliding along the edges of the polished wood, and Tristan pushed his chair back. The weight of Dorian’s body felt warm and comforting when he sat on his lap, and his lips tasted sweet as honey and sharp like toasted cardamom when they brushed over his own. He lost himself in that taste, that scent, that moment, the tension that had built up in his shoulders bleeding out of him.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” Dorian asked softly, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Tristan shook his head at Dorian’s concerned expression and reached up to cup his neck, running his thumb down the tendons of his throat. The tender skin felt like velvet under his fingertips; warm, smooth, pulsating with life. He leaned forward, burying his nose in that pulse point and inhaling deeply. “Not when my mind is filled with thoughts of my beloved.”

“Oh, no.” Dorian edged back, wrinkling his aquiline nose. “Not with the sappy poetry again, I beg of you.”

“What sappy poetry?”

“Wasn’t this a line from one of those dreadful poems I keep finding in my pockets?”

Tristan smiled wryly. He had made it a habit to sneak small notes into Dorian’s pockets or under his pillow before he left for his meetings in the morning. It was customary in the Free Marches to leave a letter or a small trinket where one’s lover would find it. It was supposed to make the heart grow fonder in one’s absence, and Tristan hadn’t thought much of it at first. Dorian’s reactions, which usually verged between amused and horrified, had surprised him. Naturally, he had resolved to do it all the more.

“Is it so bad that I want to express my admiration for you in the way I know best?”

Dorian crossed his arms before his chest and fixed his sterling grey eyes on his. The tiny golden flecks in them shimmered in the dancing light of the fire in the hearth. “Yes. Yes it is. Any more of that, and I’ll be running for the woods. Just you wait.”

A slow, throaty chuckle escaped Tristan’s lips as he pulled him flush against him and nuzzled his ear. “That’s a shame. There’s more where that came from. Care to hear it?”

"Do I have a choice?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a yes." Dorian tilted his head up as Tristan placed a soft kiss under his jaw, and Tristan couldn’t help a smile. Dorian could pretend he hated this all he liked, but Tristan could see right through him. "I arise from dreams of thee, in the first sweet sleep of night, when the winds are breathing low, and the stars are shining bright. I arise from dreams of thee, and a spirit in my feet has led me -who knows how? To thy chamber window, sweet! Let thy love in kisses rain, on my lips and eyelids pale-"

“Maker.” Dorian sat up and gave him a suspicious look through his narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to make me hurl up my breakfast? Because it’s working.”

“What? It’s a lovely poem. I think it’s particularly fitting. Don’t you?”

Dorian harrumphed and rolled his eyes again.

"Wait," Tristan said, holding up his hand, "I have another one. I think you'll like that one better. You are a sky of autumn, pale and rose; But all the sadness in my blood surges, and ebbing, leaves my lips morose- ”

"Oh, for the love of-" Dorian groaned and pressed his lips on Tristan's. Tristan chuckled at his desperate attempt to shut him up, but welcomed the feel of his mouth against his.

They kissed for a long while, until Tristan could feel his blood stirring. Since coming back to Skyhold it felt like he was in a rush, and moments of idle enjoyment with Dorian were becoming increasingly harder to come by. Stolen moments, a kiss here, a touch there, a lingering glance across a crowded room; those were not enough to sate the fire that coursed through his veins whenever he saw him.

Yet now, for the first time in what felt like aeons, he had this all to himself. He let his fingers trail over the rich fabric of Dorian’s robes, feeling the taut muscles underneath. Dorian hummed against his lips, running his fingers through his hair. “You know,” he said, “you never struck me as a man of poetry."

Tristan gave him a cheeky grin. “You bring it out in me.”

Dorian chuckled softly, smoothing his palm over Tristan's chest. "Now, before I bring something else out in you," he whispered, "care to tell me why you called for me?" He slid his lips along his cheek, catching his earlobe between his teeth. "I hope it's something naughty."

Tristan’s hands tightened about Dorian’s waist. “It could be,” he replied. “I’ll be leaving for Crestwood tomorrow. You can join me, if you’d like.”

“You’ll be leaving so soon?” Dorian asked. He sat up, turning to face him. The slight movement of his body on his lap almost made a sharp hiss escape his lips, but he bit it back. Dorian’s tone was a touch apologetic when he spoke. “I have a lot of research to catch up on. I don’t think I’ll be able to finish it by then. I would say I’d love to come, but from what I’ve heard of the place that would be a lie.”

“You can’t come?” Tristan asked, his stomach falling past his knees. He forced a small smile on his lips, hoping his disappointment wasn’t too obvious. “And who will warm my bed at night?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“I doubt it would be as good as having you by my side.”

Dorian chuckled under his breath and leaned against him. “So, who will you be taking with you? And I don't mean as a bedwarmer.”

Tristan thought for a moment. Now that Dorian wasn’t coming, he would have to decide on the composition of his party again.“Blackwall needs to come. He’s the only Grey Warden in our ranks. He might be able to give us better insight on… whatever it is that Hawke’s contact will be telling us. I’ll ask Solas to join us too. A mage is always needed. And Varric will want to travel with his friend.” In reality, Tristan had wanted Varric to be there more as an assurance that Hawke wouldn’t be driving them straight into trouble, rather than to give them time together. Perhaps the man didn’t care much for the Inquisitor, but he woudn’t willingly place his friend in danger. Tristan still wasn’t sure how much he could trust Varric, but he could say with some certainty that he didn’t intend to hurt him. At least, not fatally.

Dorian quirked a perfectly groomed brow and tilted his head to the side, the light catching on the side of his throat. Blight, at times it felt like every single one of his movements was practiced to perfection to drive him mad. “You’ll be travelling with Hawke, then?” he asked. Tristan nodded, and Dorian let out a low humming noise. “Tell me,” he said, “how is Hawke? I’ve heard all sorts of rumours about him.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s got quite the reputation.”

“Indeed,” Dorian said idly. A long, beringed finger traced Tristan’s jaw, sending a shiver down his spine. He seemed more absorbed in the movement of his finger than their conversation. “Apparently he is very handsome.”

“Who told you?” Tristan asked, brows furrowing in curiosity.

Dorian’s eyes flashed. He snatched his hand away and glared at him. “Oh, so he is handsome!”

He edged back, arms crossed, the very air seeming to ripple around him. Tristan bit his lip. Damn him. Dorian had laid out a trap, and he had walked right into it.

“That’s not what I said,” he said quickly, in a weak attempt to smooth things over. “I just-”

“Oh, please.” Dorian waved his words off. “Spare your breath. We both know you are a hopeless liar.”

“I am not lying,” he said through tight lips, and was about to say more, when realisation dawned on him. “Wait. Are you... jealous?”

“Jealous ? Ha! The things you say,” Dorian scoffed. “As if I could ever be jealous of a backwards Free Marcher.”

“He’s only half a Marcher,” Tristan corrected, then frowned at the derision in his voice. “I also happen to be a “backwards” Free Marcher, you know.”

“My words exactly.”

Dorian fixed his gaze on him, hard and unyielding, his mouth set in a straight line. His irritation startled Tristan. He returned his glare with a confused look, but then let his lips curl in a smirk. Of course, Dorian was just joking. He must have been. He snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him close.“Alright, I’ll admit, Hawke isn’t hard on the eyes. But there isn’t a man in the whole of Thedas that could hold a candle to your beauty. Besides, he’s an infuriating oaf if i ever met one.”

He had expected Dorian to laugh his usual teasing laugh, but the mage’s eyes were all fire and indignation. They simply stared at each other for a couple breaths, until Tristan couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous laugh. “Dorian, you can’t seriously believe I’m interested in Hawke.”

Dorian looked at him for a moment longer before shrugging indifferently and turning away, his gaze sweeping over his quarters as if appraising them, and finding them wanting. “Whether you do or don’t is of no consequence to me. I don’t mind if you find Hawke good looking, or any man. You’re the Inquisitor. You are free to do whatever you please.”

His words were an icy shower after a warm bath, harsh and unexpected. Tristan blinked and swallowed hard, hoping that he had misheard. “I am?” he breathed.

“Of course.” Dorian leaned back, further away from him. The rings on his fingers clicked when he started idly fixing his hair in place. “It’s not like we’re exclusive.”

Tristan felt like he had suddenly been punched in the gut. “We’re not?”

Dorian’s stern expression quivered for a moment, a blink of an eye. He opened his mouth, then closed it. When he did speak, he didn’t sound quite as confident as before. “I- well, we haven’t exactly spoken about-” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. “Unless my memory betrays me, we never exchanged vows of eternal love and loyalty or anything of the sort. We’ve had our fun. Perfectly reasonable to keep it this way.”

“But…” Tristan started, then paused. This conversation had taken a turn that he had never anticipated. Ever since the Emerald Graves, he hadn’t doubted for a moment that what he and Dorian had was… something. What exactly, he could not say - he had never had any experience in that sort of thing, after all - but he knew it, with a certainty that startled him at times, that this wasn’t like the other flings he had had in the past, void of emotion or meaning. This, this, was different. But did Dorian feel the same way?

He looked up into his eyes, and felt like his heart would jump out of his throat. “Dorian, I-”

Heavy bootsteps echoed along the narrow staircase, and Tristan cursed under his breath. Dorian stood up in a flowing movement, straightening his robes just as Maighdin appeared on the stair landing. Her face was stony when her eyes fell on Dorian fixing his clothes and on Tristan’s no doubt flushed cheeks. If she realised she had interrupted, she showed no sign of it.

“Your Worship,” she said, “I’ve brought you the requisitions for the hold renovations you requested.”

Tristan cleared his throat and nodded sharply. “Thank you. Is that all?”

“My lord,” Maighdin said and bowed. She turned around to leave, and Tristan almost let out a sigh of relief, when Dorian walked after her.

“Dorian,” he said, but the other man barely stopped his course.

“I’m afraid I have to return to my work,” Dorian called over his shoulder. “I do hope you enjoy the weather in Crestwood.”

******

Crestwood. Dark, dank, Maker-forsaken Crestwood. The rain pelted against his hood, soaking him to the bone, the spiralling wind sending the fat droplets flying in all directions. Thunder echoed in the distance, the flash of far away lightning brightening up the sky, that hung over their heads gloomy and overcast. The clouds were so heavy, that it almost felt like if he stretched his hand he would touch them. The day was so dark, that it seemed like night, even though it was most certainly not quite noon yet.

Wrapped up in his thick cloak, Tristan shivered and scowled and muttered curses under his breath.

His companions didn’t seem to be in any higher spirits. Varric looked miserable enough, swaying on his short, stubby gelding, while Solas peered straight ahead of him as they rode, exchanging but the most basic of words with the others. Blackwall and Hawke seemed to be getting along well, chatting away as if oblivious to the rain and the wind.

Hawke’s tall, brown stallion was a magnificent beast, its large hooves splashing in the muddy puddles that had formed along the road. Anderfel Chargers were prized warhorses in the South, and Tristan had only seen them occasionally during the Grand Tourneys in the Free Marches. He wondered how Hawke had come across such an animal. From what he knew, he possessed neither the coin nor the connections to acquire it. Then again, a man like Hawke could slither his way into anyone’s good graces, the way Tristan saw it. Perhaps even his, if he tried hard enough.

Doubt and suspicion itched at the back of his mind. As if aware of his stare, Hawke shifted on his saddle, turning his head to give him a glance over his shoulder. His face was hidden by the shadow of his cowl, but Tristan could tell that he was smiling.

“Everything alright back there, Inquisitor? Haven’t heard you grumbling in a while.”

Tristan grunted his response and looked away. The man’s very presence grated at his nerves. He could feel Hawke’s gaze lingering on him for a long moment - careful, examining, just a touch amused - before he turned to Blackwall and resumed their conversation. Their voices were drowned out by the thunder and the wind and the patter of rain on the old, worn cobblestones, and even if Tristan were even slightly interested in hearing what they could be saying, he had no desire to strain his ears to eavesdrop. He gently kicked Almond forward, until he was riding next to Solas’ hart.

The mage gave him a short bow with his head in greeting, then let his gaze drift towards their right. The day’s dull light reflected on Crestwood lake’s troubled waters, ever shifting and turning with the wind. The rift that lay in its middle was the only thing disturbing that endless expanse of grey. It was bright and sputtering and ugly as an eyesore, and one of the largest rifts Tristan had seen in a while. It gave him an odd sense of foreboding, and he frowned at it, but Solas was simply staring at it impassively, the side of his face painted a sickly green.

“I’ve never seen a rift in a more inconvenient location,” Tristan said, more to himself than to Solas. “Even if I’d wanted to get close to it, it’s impossible to reach.”

The elf turned smoothly, giving him a careful look. “There must be a way. We just need to find it.” His voice was low when he spoke again. “Rifts like these imperil both this world and the Fade. Even one rift left as is, is one rift too many.”

Tristan was about to ask whether he had any bright ideas about how to reach it, when the rift crackled, sputtering green light. A stab of pain shot up his left hand, a ripple of electricity that travelled up his veins and numbed his senses. He bit his lip to muffle out his pained groan, clutching his hand up to his chest.

Solas’ eyes widened; alarm and concern mingled with curiosity flickering in their dark grey depths. “What’s the matter, Inquisitor? Is the mark troubling you?”

Tristan rubbed his palm, wincing. It was glowing faintly from within the folds of his cloak, but the pain was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. He shook his head and waved Solas’ concern away. “I’m alright. I think. It just pinched a little.” He glanced at the rift in the lake, that was relatively peaceful now. “I can’t remember it doing something like that before.”

Solas’ brows drew together in a thoughtful frown. “The Veil is thin here.”

“It certainly feels like it,” Tristan grumbled. Solas opened his mouth to say something more, but shouts and the clang of swords in the distance stopped him. They exchanged a wary look before urging their steeds forward.

After a moment of confusion, the others followed them. The clop of their horses echoed against the tall rocks that edged the narrow paved road. A turn later, and they were all pulling on their reins, dirt and mud flying as hooves dug on the wet ground. Two armed men were standing in the middle of the road, swords brandished and bewilderment evident in their expressions when they gazed at the mounted party before them. Three mangled, wretched corpses lay at their feet.

Almond whickered nervously, her nostrils flaring and her ears standing on end as the acrid smell of darkspawn blood reached them. Solas’ hart took an uneasy step backwards, while Blackwall’s and Varric’s mounts tossed their heads back, the whites of their eyes showing. Hawke’s stallion didn’t move a muscle.

Tristan clicked his tongue softly, reaching down to pat Almond’s neck. Most animals, and indeed most people, were unsettled by darkspawn, their very presence denying any logic or explanation. Dead that weren’t quite dead, and that were only driven by a mindless urge to kill. Void and damnation, they made him uneasy as well.

One of the armed men - Grey Wardens, Tristan realised when he took a good look at the griffon symbol etched on their shining breastplates - wiped his sword on the cloak of one of the fallen darkspawn and placed it back in its scabbard. “Greetings, travellers,” he said, his voice muffled by his helmet.

“Greetings,” Tristan replied, sitting tall on his saddle. “What’s going on here?”

The Warden regarded him curiously. “Who’s asking?”

Tristan glanced momentarily at Hawke, whose face remained impassive and half hidden by the shadow of his hood. The others remained silent, waiting for Tristan’s response. In the brief second of silence that passed, his mind raced - Hawke had mentioned that his contact was hiding in a smuggler’s den. That he had reached out to him because he was concerned about corruption in the ranks. And now there were two Grey Wardens before them, their armours shiny and well kempt, as if they had just arrived. Crestwood did not hold any Grey Warden outposts that Tristan knew - Blight, they were in the back-end of Ferelden, no one had any reason to ride through there- so, what were the Wardens doing? A couple darkspawn hordes could hardly be a reason. It was a well known fact that many places in Thedas were teaming with undead, yet the Wardens hadn’t even bothered to send a party to clear them out, or two.

There could only be one reason, the way Tristan saw it.

“Willem of House Henley, of Starkhaven,” he said quickly in his best imitation of the heavy Starkhaven accent, hoping he hadn’t stayed silent long enough to arouse the Warden’s suspicions. The lie came easily to him, without much thought. If the Wardens here were after Hawke’s friend, announcing his real name and the Inquisition’s presence would only attract unwanted attention, and that was a risk he was not willing to take. He gestured towards his companions. “These are my household guards.”

The man blinked at him. His eyes swept slowly over Hawke and Blackwall, pausing for a moment on Varric, and stopping dead in their tracks at Solas and his hart. “You’re a long way from home, my lord,” he told Tristan slowly when his gaze returned to him.

“Indeed,” Tristan said. “We’re on our way back, as it happens. Care to point us towards the nearest port?”

“If it’s the West Hill port you’re headed for, you’ve just earned yourself an extra day of travel. Should have gone North after Kinloch. Roads are better that way.”

Tristan pretended to be surprised, then exasperated. He nodded his sour gratitude at the man, then glanced at the darkspawn, wrinkling his nose. “What about them? Will we be seeing a lot of them?”

“Quite a few, I’m afraid. I would avoid the main road if I were you. I doubt your guards here can defend you against darkspawn,” the Warden said, shooting a glance of veiled contempt towards Solas before checking himself.

Hawke snorted. Tristan cleared his throat to drown out the sound, glaring at him. “Yes, I doubt that as well. Not that many darkspawn in Starkhaven, as you can imagine. Good thing you’re here, though. It’s a relief to see your Order taking care of business as usual. I hope you’ll stay long enough to clear this place out.”

The Warden shook his head. “Our orders forbid it. Crestwood was only a detour. We’ll be leaving soon.”

“A detour?” Tristan said with genuine surprise. “I thought Wardens went wherever the undead are. Isn’t that your job?”

The man bristled at that. “We’re here on important Grey Warden business. None of your concern.”

Tristan let out a small, mocking laugh. “What business could be more important for a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn?”

The other Warden, that had stayed silent all the while, took a step forward. “A rogue Grey Warden is wanted for questioning. Warden Commander Clarel herself has ordered his capture! That is important business,” he spat, his youthful voice filled with indignation.

The older Warden gave him a stern look, and the youth fell back. He turned his gaze to Tristan, cold and dripping with disdain. “Best be on your way now. This is no place for a lord .”

Tristan gave the man a minute bow with his head, and urged Almond forward. His companions followed suit, steering their horses carefully clear of the darkspawn corpses. As soon as they were safely out of view of the Wardens, Hawke’s mount caught up to his.

“That was clever, giving them a false name,” Hawke said, his voice lowered to a whisper. “Although your Starkhaven accent needs a little bit of work.”

Annoyance flared hot in Tristan’s chest when he turned to glare at him. “Next time, I would appreciate it if you warned me in advance that your contacts are wanted criminals,” he hissed.

Hawke blinked at him, startled for only a moment. “He’s not a criminal,” he said earnestly. “I told you before that I had reasons to believe there was corruption in the Grey Warden ranks. The corruption may have spread more than I thought. If they’re after him, they could be after others who have dared voice opposition as well.”

Or, Tristan thought, your friend is a madman, or a killer, or a traitor, and the Grey Wardens are looking for him to bring him to justice. He scowled as he pressed on, following the small mountain path that veered off the main road. Hawke let his horse fall back, riding beside Varric instead.

No one spoke much until the mountain path trailed upwards, leading them to the hidden entrance of the smuggler’s cave. It really was the perfect hideout spot; narrow, low, the steep slope before it making it barely noticeable from the main road. Tristan swung one leg over his saddle and slid off his horse, tying her reins to a thick root that was growing from the rock. He shifted impatiently on his feet until the others dismounted, thumping the hilt of his daggers. Whoever was in that cave, and whatever he had to say, he wanted nothing more than to be done with it.

Hawke strode confidently forward, pausing at the entrance of the cave to gesture for Tristan to walk ahead. “After you, my lord,” he said in a ridiculous Starkhaven accent, the smile that was plastered on his face wide and mocking.

Varric chuckled, and Blackwall huffed in amusement, but they both cleared their throats and looked away when Tristan stomped ahead, shooting Hawke his iciest frown before passing him by. He regretted it very soon after - the long, narrow passage of the cave was dark and incredibly dank, and he could barely see past his nose, save for the feeble moonlight reflecting off the wet stalagmites.

The passage widened into a room, faintly lit by torches. Tristan gazed around, but other than an old, moth eaten desk, some broken crates and an empty barrel, there was nothing there.

He turned around to glare at Hawke. “I swear to the Maker, Hawke, if this is a trap-”

The sound of a sword sliding out of its scabbard behind him made his blood freeze. He immediately reached for his daggers, dodging out of the way of the blade as he pulled them free.

“It’s alright!” he heard Hawke saying. “It’s just us. I have brought the Inquisitor.”

The man whose sword tip was aiming for his throat was in his middle years, his raven black hair streaked with grey. He had a hard face and hard eyes; cold, aloof, vigilant. His icy blue gaze slid slowly from Hawke to Tristan before taking a step back, sheathing his sword in one seamless, fluid motion.

“Warden Loghain Mac Tir,” he said in a deep, raspy voice. “I believe we have a common cause, Inquisitor.”

#dorian pavus #dorian pavus art #pavelyan #dorian x trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/inquisitor #dorian/trevelyan #dorian pavus fic #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes #johaerys draws

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lovebitesimagines · 5 years

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‘God I’ve missed you’- Esme Shelby.

Prompt #13 with Esme and John Shelby.

I've written this from Esme’s POV, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. It’s something different than what I'm used too, but I quite liked writing this way. Esme is such a cool character, and I love her and John together. Thank you to anon for requesting this!

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Warnings: None.

Pairing: Esme x John.

Word count: 1.4k

When I was a little girl, I always dreamt of a white wedding. I pictured crowds of my family and friends, stood watching me proudly as I was given away to my soulmate. I drew endless sketches of my white dress, the flowers I would have picked, what my groom would have looked like. I always had a talent for art, spending countless hours creating drawings upon drawings.

I was ten years old when I discovered men didn’t appreciate a talented woman, one who had her own mind and dreams. I was soon silenced, my artistic potential going to waste, like half of Birmingham. I was forced to do as men wished, following the demands that would often be cruelly thrown my way. I was given no choice, apart from ‘shut the fuck up or you’ll get what’s coming to you’.

That threat worked until I was sixteen. I had enough of being suppressed. I had words, countless words and ideas that I wanted to verbalise, to bring out into the world. I wanted to paint Birmingham with my imagination, I wanted to see the world.

‘Too wild, they said. She’s untameable, we don’t know what to do with her’. I’ve heard all of that before, and I can’t help but feel proud of the words they throw at me, of the colours they paint me in. When I turned twenty, even I had to admit that perhaps my rebellious nature was starting to get out of hand. But I loved it. I hated being tied down, forced to be an uncharacteristically soundless vessel of a woman.

I thought I had everything under control. I thought that I, Esme Lee, could handle anything my family threw my way. That was until they started launching the words ‘marriage’ and ‘Shelby’ at me. By Christ I panicked. I always thought that I would get to pick who I got married too. I had imagined a wild romance, one for the ages that they would write about one day in history books. I was foolish.

I had heard about the Shelbys’ before. You would have had to be living underneath a rock to escape that name. My family had been at war with them, for as long as I could remember. It was a stupid, pointless argument which had continued to escalate. Started by men, but that was no surprise. The Shelby family didn’t scare me, despite the fact that they stuck razor blades in their caps. I have seen men worse than them. Far worse.

Now my family were arranging my marriage, to one of the Shelby brothers, as means of making a truce. It was hilarious really, that I was their last resort. I guess it was a win-win situation for my them though. They’d have peace from both The Peaky Blinders, and me.

I wasn’t allowed to know who my future husband was, the only sighting I’ll be having of him is when we make our vows. Yet I was never nervous, never apprehensive of what was to come. A calm washed over me, as I kneeled beside my future husband. I remember how I felt when I first laid eyes upon him. I’m not ashamed to admit that I was immediately entranced by his baby blue eyes, and childish grin. I could instantly tell that we were alike, me and him. His name still easily rolls of my tongue, leaving a burning sensation in my mouth. John Michael Shelby.

I was surprised not only by how well I fitted into life in Small Heath, but also how easily I took to marriage. John helped make it easy. We worked together, me and him. Two lost souls battling together against the darkness of the world. We were magnetised towards each other, working in perfect synchronisation.

That’s why, every time John would leave for business, I would not be able to sleep. My mind would be picturing the darkest things that could happen to him. Each situation cruelly taunting me, replaying in my mind like a badly filmed movie. That’s where I was now, watching the hands on the clock slowly turn, announcing it was officially two in the morning.

I’ve already bitten my nails down to short little stubs, gnawing at the skin on my fingertips. It is a nervous habit of mine, one that I had sworn countless amounts of times that I would break. I ran out of cigarettes almost an hour ago, and I refused each drink Polly offered me. I want my mind to be clear, not fussy, just in case John needed me.

I’m unable to sit still. The chair I’m sat on rocking slightly, as I bounce my knee up and down. I’m perched near the window. I want to be able to see them walk down that street, their cocky swagger proving that everything will be okay. I can see Polly throw me the occasional annoyed glance, growing frustrated at the sound of my foot constantly tapping against her wooden floor. But she doesn’t say anything. She is waiting for them too.

Grace is far more relaxed than us. If she is nervous, she does a damn good job of hiding it, her face a mask of calm. She busies herself, with making us all tea. The sound of china teacups rattling against the tray seems to tip Polly over the edge.

“Fuck off with the tea. Will do us no good if they don’t come back” Pol snaps, her eyes flashing angrily at Grace as she lights a cigarette. Her and Grace have never really gotten along, not since it was revealed that she was an agent of the crown. She had only accepted her, for Tommys’ sake.

“They will come back Pol. They always do” Grace murmured, her Irish accent reminding me of home. She placed the tray upon the coffee table, ignoring Pol’s outburst, pouring us all a cup. I take mine of her, smiling gratefully, before resuming my position at the window, eyes firmly placed upon the goings on outside. I take a sip of the tea, the warm liquid running sweetly down my throat.

It’s raining outside, and I softly curse the mist that blurs my vision. The streetlamps went off hours ago, the only light coming from the moonlight. I strain my eyes to see out in the shadows, and I’m met with only darkness.

I knew it was a bad idea, this meeting with Selbini. That man was nothing but trouble, an incredibly menacing blight upon society. I knew that he would stop at nothing to get his own way, to get what he wanted. I just hoped that John wouldn’t run his mouth and wouldn’t act stupid. I hoped that if he did, Tommy had the right words to say or Arthur hit them hard enough.

“Maybe it’s time you get to bed Esme. It will do you no good. Not in your condition” Grace says softly from behind me, and I can sense her concern drowning me. I shake my head. There is no way in Hell I’m going to bed, not until my John gets home.

“Not until he walks through the door” I whisper, my hands instinctively falling upon my bump. If I try hard enough, I can feel the small flurry of kicks against my stomach. I’m six months gone, enough to have a noticeable bump now. I look outside again, my fingers tracing patterns upon my stomach.

I’m not sure how much time has passed, until I see him. He’s the last to walk through the moonlight, my heart stopping until I see him. I jump up, startling Pol and Grace.

“They’re back!” my voice is high-pitched with excitement, as I fly towards the front door. I’m the first one there, almost ripping the door from its hinges as I open it. I push past Tommy, Arthur and Michael, until I see him.

“Hello darling!” John chuckles, opening his arms out for me. I run into them, holding his head in my hands, my eyes scanning over his appearance in search of any injuries. He notices this, and it only makes him smile more. “I’m fine love. I’m fine”.

I press my lips against his, melting at the familiar warmth it brings me. He runs my tongue along my lips, and I grant him entrance. I don’t care about the rain that soaks us both through. I only care about the fact that my John is home. He’s home safe and sound, where he belongs. We pull apart after a few, brief moments, our eyes fixed upon each other.

“God I’ve missed you”

#John shelby #John Shelby imagine #esme shelby #esme x john #Esme Shelby imagine #Esme and John shelby #John Shelby fan fic #Esme Shelby fan fic #requests #request #requested imagine #prompt request #peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Promises Not Kept Part 16

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 16: Leah and Lizzie bond over one of Tommy’s old flames.

“M-morning, Mrs. Shelby, morning Charlie.” Curly beamed at the two walking into the yard. He crouched down to shake Charlie’s little hand.

Leah smiled. “Haven’t married Tommy yet, Curly.” She reminded him softly.

“Oh, that’s right.” The sweet man’s face went red and he shyly wrung his hands together.

“But when we do, you’ll get a front-row seat, I promise.”

He laughed and waved them over toward the docks. “Tommy’s over here.”

Leah held Charlie’s hand as they walked over. A covered boat was starting to slowly pull in but the air was too smoky to see who was on it.

“Daddy!” Charlie ran over to latch onto Tommy’s leg.

He jolted a little. Loud noises and unexpected touches had started to make him flinch. It had been that way after he’d come home from France. Before he’d found his purpose. Anything that resembled the sound of a gunshot made him duck, his arms covering his head. Over time, he’d managed to fight the knee-jerk reaction. But it had returned, even worse than before.

“What’re you doing here, aye?” Tommy scooped up his son and gave him a cuddle. He smiled at Leah. “Out for a walk?”

“Someone was getting a little antsy inside.” Leah sighed and kissed his cheek. "He wanted to see the horses like in Warwickshire. So I decided to come here and see if you had any horses in."

“Who’s with you?” He frowned, hoping she hadn't gone on her walk alone.

“Isaiah and Finn.” She glanced over her shoulder to point out the two young men standing like soldiers. Boys who hadn’t been old enough to fight in the War but were suddenly enlisted into one. No more fooling around while they were on watch like they used to. They stood still, like stone, Isaiah holding a rifle.

“Good.” Tommy nodded. Finn seemed ready to take his position in the family as a legitimate fighter. Perhaps he was trying to do his best to fill the empty spot John had left. Trying to do what he could for the family.

“Who’s that coming in?” Leah wondered. The smoke and fog began to clear and Uncle Charlie hopped down to tie up the boat.

Tommy walked over to offer a hand to the other passenger of the boat, balancing his son on his hip. The woman was dressed very nicely, a stark contrast to the yard around them. “Leah, this is May Carleton.” He introduced. “Helps train my horses for the track. May, this is my fiancee, Leah.”

May’s eyes fell on Leah. Her eyebrows lifted in curiosity. “I didn’t know you were engaged.”

Leah gave a forced smile and reached out a hand to greet her. The woman was beautiful and she had a sneaking suspicion Tommy had a history with her. Jealousy aside, she was a bit warier with strangers those days, just like Tommy had warned her to be. May wasn't a stranger to him but she was certainly a stranger to Leah. “I suppose it’s a long story to tell.”

May shook her hand politely. “I’m sure.”

“If you two are going to a meeting, I’ll continue on our walk.” Leah took Charlie from Tommy’s arms. “Just wanted to say hello.”

“Oh, I just need Tommy’s signature,” May explained with what seemed like a hint of disappointment. “Don’t leave because of me.”

“A signature?” Leah studied the other woman’s face and appearance. Obviously, she was hoping for more than a signature.

“C’mon,” Tommy wrapped an arm around Leah’s waist. “Rather you walk with me. Finn, Isaiah!” He called out to them. “Take a lap, make sure everything’s quiet.”

~~~~~~~~

“Morning Lady Carleton.” Lizzie chirped from behind her desk.

“I’m not a lady.” May continued past the desk, following Tommy into his office.

Leah let Charlie run around the front of the offices. He gravitated towards Lizzie who always had sweets on a silver dish. She followed the little boy, letting Tommy and May speak alone.

The relationship between Leah and Lizzie was an odd one, to say the least. They’d had such a rocky start it was almost laughable to think they would ever get along. But the more time Leah spent in Small Heath, and around the company’s properties, the more she spent time with Lizzie. Leah never disliked her. In fact, she could appreciate that they came from very similar backgrounds. Both working girls who had found steady ground with the Shelbys. She respected Lizzie’s irreplaceable feelings for Tommy. They clearly had a history together. But as long as Lizzie respected her relationship with Tommy, they didn’t have any issues.

It was difficult for Lizzie to be angry with Leah. Mostly, she was pissed off at Tommy for toying with her for so many years only to cast her away. Leah took care of Charlie and that was enough for Lizzie to hold some sort of regards for her. Plus, it was nice to have another woman around. After Esme left, the balanced between the Shelby boys and the women who put up with them was becoming uneven.

Leah sat down across from Lizzie. “What’s the story with him and her?” She asked quietly. "Tommy and May."

Lizzie rolled her eyes and fetched Charlie a few pieces of candy. “Before he married Grace, they were…” Her hand waved in the air. “Whatever you want to call affairs with Tommy. But he chose Grace over her once he found out she was pregnant.”

“Oh…” Leah glanced towards the closed door of his office. “She seems…”

“Like a snob?” The women shared a secretive smile.

Charlie wandered back over to Leah. With sweets in hand, he clambered onto her lap.

“She’s come for his signature.” Leah rolled her eyes. "All this way for a bloody signature." It was a bit of fun to share a distaste for the same woman instead of being cold towards each other.

Lizzie found a stack of papers on her desk for the Grace Shelby Foundation. Ones that Tommy had already signed a few hours earlier. She got a wicked smile on her face and held them up. “Should I interrupt them?”

Leah giggled. “No, no, he’ll only get upset with you.”

The dark-haired woman scoffed and stood up. “As if I care whether he's upset or not.” Mischief glinted in her eyes while she strode right for the door, papers in hand.

Leah stifled a laugh and did her best to listen in on the conversation but it was too faint to make out any words. Charlie contently unwrapping the lemon sherbets and popping one after another into his mouth. She smiled and smoothed back his blond hair, placing an affectionate kiss on his temple. “Slow down.” She stopped his hands from unwrapping the last three candies. “You’ll turn into a little lemon if you eat them all at once!" She cooed, making him giggle at the absurdity of turning into a lemon.

Only a few moments later, Lizzie returned with a slip of paper in hand and a sour look on her face. She sat back down and carelessly tossed the paper on the desk.

“What’d he say?” Leah wondered.

“I’ve no idea how you’ll put up with that man.” Lizzie reached for her cigarettes, offering the pack to Leah. "He's so infuriating. Such a..." She made a noise of frustration. "We should all receive sainthoods for dealing with him on a daily basis."

She took one of the cigarettes and passed a lighter back to her. “Well, I don't think any of us are as saintly as Linda."

Lizzie snorted and gestured towards the slip. “She’s offered a very charitable donation to the Foundation. Flaunting ‘bout her money. Stuck up, whore.” She muttered under her breath.

Leah picked up the check, finding it blank aside from the woman’s signature. “Well, you ought to decide how much she’s going to donate then if she's being so generous. Let her put her money where her mouth is.” She reached for a pen on the desk and carefully wrote out a number before turning it back over to Tommy’s secretary. “A thousand?”

Lizzie took a drag of the cigarette. She grabbed the pen and adjusted the amount. “Add another zero and I think that'll teach her.”

The women shared a laugh but quieted down when Tommy came out. He looked cross as he stormed over to the desk. “What the fuck was that about, Lizzie, aye?” He demanded.

“Watch your language.” Leah scolded, stepping out in front of the conversation before he could scold his assistant. “Not in front of your son.”

Tommy huffed but bit his tongue at her request. “A word?” He jerked his head towards his office. “Lizzie, watch Charlie.”

Leah was irked at the tone he took with Lizzie but stood up anyway. She set Charlie down and let him go around the desk. She followed him into the office, curious as to what he had to say.

May was still sitting there, tucking away a folder of papers, presumably the ones she had brought for Tommy to sign. “Miss Ward, Tommy was just telling me a little bit about you.”

Leah lingered by the door, uneasy by the situation. Her eyes flicked to her fiancee who was pouring himself a drink. “Was he now?”

Tommy turned. “After events that transpired this morning, I think I need to make better arrangements for you and Charlie.” He began.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” She replied stiffly and braced herself for an argument. Already she didn't like where the conversation was headed. “I’ve done my part by staying close to you.” There was no telling what events he was talking about. They hadn’t spoken all day so anything could’ve happened from the time he left bed to the time they met up at the yard.

“Mrs. Carleton was kind enough to offer her home as a sanctuary. Out in Surrey.”

Every nerve in her body became electrified. “You said that we were safest with you. Now you want to send us to Surrey to be sitting ducks for them?” She demanded.

“The Italians won’t know where you’ve gone. They’ve lost two more men today, they won’t have enough to keep tabs on everyone.” Tommy continued steadily. May was quiet from her spot in the room. It was any wonder what he’d said to get her to help. She didn’t seem like the type of woman to get involved in such things.

“I’m not leaving,” Leah affirmed and crossed her arms over her chest. “The move alone would be too dangerous. I’m not risking Charlie’s life.”

“It’ll be easy to smuggle you both out without any notice. Long as we create a big enough diversion.”

Leah scoffed and threw up her hands. “So you’re going to use yourself as bait while you ship us off? Unacceptable, Tommy, I’ll not do anything of the sort.”

“It’ll be safer…”

“You said Arrow House was safe but I was kidnapped right off the lawn!” Leah snapped.

The accusation hit Tommy. His fingers tightened around the glass in his hand and his blue eyes didn’t move from her. “May, will you give us a moment?” He requested in a low voice. The other woman looked grateful for an invitation to leave. She gathered her things and without a word, left the office in a hurry.

The room was quiet for a moment. Tommy set down his glass of whiskey and discarded his cigarette. He looked like he was suffering from an agonizing headache. After taking a second to gather his composure, he walked over to Leah. “This morning, my cousin was almost shot. They were five steps ahead of us. If there is an opportunity to keep you away from all this, then I’m going to take it.”

“You’re a fool if you think I’m leaving. I’ve done it before, haven’t I?” She challenged. “I’ve sat back, stayed far away while you fought for your life. You damn well wouldn’t even let me near the hospital when you were hurt! You want to fight every war by yourself even though there are people who love and care for you. You cannot take the weight of the world on your shoulders, Tommy.” She urged touched his cheek. “There is no one else I feel safer with than you. And I will be home every night on Watery Lane. I will be there when you come home.”

He took a shaky breath and rested his hands on her hips. “Ada was right. Once they find out you’re my weakness then they’re going to go after you. They’re testing the waters, Leah. They want to ruin me before they put a bullet in my head.”

She simply drew him closer to her. “Luckily that’s never going to happen. You’re Tommy Shelby.” Her voice softened. “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re smarter than them.”

His face clouded over, his lips frowned grimly. “I wasn’t this morning.”

“You said you got two more of them.” She reminded him. Her thumb grazing over his cheekbone. “You will win this war. And I will be right here for you whenever you need me. I trust you to keep me and Charlie safe.”

It was easy for Tommy to want to hide her away. Place her out in the countryside where presumably no one would ever discover her. Allow her some comfort in May’s massive manor. Grant her and Charlie some clean air and an escape from the chaotic neighborhood of Birmingham. But he wouldn’t force her and it was comforting to have her by his side. It made him feel guilty.

“And when this is all over, we can go back to Arrow House. We’ll get married and create our life together.” Her soothing words managed to get his shoulders to relax and subdue the pounding ache in his head.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist and kissed her slowly. Her lips soft on his, lulling him into a calmer state. When they drew apart, Tommy hugged her close and pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

“I can’t lose you.” He whispered. The vulnerability he kept hidden was straining to be heard through his voice. No matter how hard he tried to keep it under wraps.

“You won’t.” She promised softly. “I’m not going anywhere. Especially not Surrey.”

He laughed weakly. “I think you’re the only person in this world who would rather stay in Birmingham instead of Surrey.” He lifted his head to look at her.

“I’d rather stay wherever you and Charlie are. Wherever my family is.” She smiled and kissed him again.

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