#because the ring signifies his duty right

[grapejuicegay]

Kim, Wik, and Family Rings

“Wik is another side of me. Maybe it’s the side that I prefer.”

Kim as Wik (no ring):

Kim as Kimlock Holmes (with ring):

Now, here’s the thing. I don’t think the ring is just a marker of his mafia side. I think it’s a reminder to himself of how he has to act, something to keep himself in check, to keep himself from slipping into a false sense of security.

And that’s because of this:

Chay showed up out of nowhere outside of his house as Kim was leaving, and the ring is there - Kimlock. It’s his public persona and a reminder to himself.

The studio is his only safe space. Not even music, the studio because....

The ring stays on even when he writes music at home:

But at the studio:

Chay was unexpected here, so this was just him going to the studio... and no ring. This is one of the few places where he doesn’t carry the reminder with him. This is his space.

Now this is where it gets complicated

KimWik in the studio:

No ring when he brings Chay to the studio for the first time.

This is the moment where Kim unintentionally mixes his two worlds up forever. His distinction for Kimlock and Wik is the studio and performance (not music). 

He’s here as Kimlock, but Chay’s talking to Wik and already in this space, Kim can’t have that. So he lets Chay in on the KimWik 180.

But now he’s here as Kimlock AND Wik playing music with Wik’s biggest fan who is Kimlock’s target in Wik’s studio. Whatever lines he’s made for himself are falling apart.

And you do see the distinctions start to fall off:

Here’s Kim talking to Big about Porsche and Chay with no ring (inside his house, where there is always a ring):

Which brings me to:

The ring here.

I don’t think Kim knows whether it was him or Wik who kissed Chay in the studio. I think Kim is confused and scared and really doesn’t know how he feels. He put the ring back on after the studio to slip back into the Kimlock. Maybe because of Chay, maybe because he’s sleeping in someone else’s house/

I think he tries to run away from breakfast because he’s trying to be Kimlock but Chay keeps talking to Kim, completely open, making smiley faces on omlettes. 

But suddenly he’s having to Kimlock and suddenly he’s in the middle of a situation where the ring isn’t the only reminder, it’s his training, it’s his knowledge of what to do in this situation, it’s his ability to keep fighting as he’s getting tasered. 

Suddenly he has to Kimlock to save Chay who only sees him as Kim. And I think it’s very intentional that he won’t see Kim’s left hand during the shootout. Because I don’t think Kim knows which persona he is at that point either.

#i just think it's definitely relevant to look at kim's rings #especially after kinn's came off this episode #because the ring signifies his duty right #and the conversation kinnporsche have right before that is about kinn not trusting porsche #but like... he did #we know he did #but porsche doesn't #because what porsche sees is kinn doing his duty #and yeah whatever they don't talk about it they bang it out whatever idc #what i do care about is that #it's clear that that was the issue #and as soon as that's the clear issue kinn's ring is off #this is now kinn and porsche #no duty no mafia no bodyguard just them #at least in that moment #so yeah idk if this makes sense #but i found every sighting of kim's hands and the ring #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #OH AND ANOTHER INTERESTING THING #tankhun did not have his ring on this ep during the meeting #it's interesting #he'll put on the ring to defend porsche #but sitting in an official important meeting and there's no ring

[jarofstyles]

Petals and Prompts

Hello! It’s been a while… but here we are! Part 3 to A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes! Princerry returns.

I hope you enjoy it! Please let us know.

Check out our Patreon!

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes Masterlist

—-

Harry was smitten.

There was no doubt about it. Every moment he was around her, his stomach was filled with butterflies and his cheeks heated far more often than he had wanted. She was everything he could have wanted. Sharing laughs, and difficult discussions, she managed to make him feel comfortable. Human. Ways he had never experienced before.

Looking at her across the table as she had a chat with his sister and laughed, holding fans to their faces and cooling off from the warm garden, he realized fully how lucky he was. She was glowing. Skin dewy and radiant, the soft pout of her lips. The curve of her nose and the long lashes that fanned her cheeks. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she was to be his. Harry’s and his alone.

His eyes traced her as he sipped his drink, happy she asked his sister to join them for the sole reason of getting to observe her. The way her eyes brightened and dulled at certain topics.

The beautiful laugh that fell from her lips and how she would tip her head back. The sass and snarl when talking about people they disliked. Every so often checking in with Harry to make sure he was okay and enjoying himself. All it took was a fond smile and nod and she would continue her conversation. No one had ever checked on his comfort so intently before. So, no. Harry didn’t mind at all that their lunch had been overtaken by his sister.

They’d made fast friends, Isabella and Y/N. His sweet girl had managed to charm the entirety of the family. Funnily enough, Isabella would be the hardest to impress out of everyone. Protective of her brother in her own right, she had told him who to stay away from many a time. Hearing of the defense she gave of Harry’s honor just a few weeks back had softened her up immensely. Add in a shared interest in flowers and Isabella promising to teach her some new embroidery techniques, it had turned into a lovely thing. The only downside was Harry becoming the target of their teasing.

“And he ran out almost naked! From a mere bug on his bed!” Isabella used one of his embarrassing moments to have Y/N in a fit of chuckles, making him give a faux glower at the pair. “Future king.. terrified of a little beetle!”

“I was 13.” He deadpanned, crossing his arms and raising his brow at the both of them. “Isabella, I know plenty of embarrassing stories of you. You are lucky I am polite enough to spare Y/N the embarrassment of recalling them.” He sniffed, nose in the air. Playful, but also a slight warning.

“Rude.” The girl huffed, smoothing out her dress. “I am being targeted because I simply share fond memories of you as a young lad with the woman who somehow puts up with you! You can back out, Y/N. It isn’t too late.” She leaned in, placing the fan to block her mouth but saying loud enough for him to hear. “He snores sometimes. And he smells atrocious after training! You can spare yourself.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she saw Harry’s mouth drop open in scandal. “Somehow, I think I can make do with that. Sacrifices. He’s such a pretty thing.” She sighed, looking over his face. That had him smirking, a bit of a puff to the ego. “I quite like him, so I’m afraid you all are stuck with me.” She looked at the ring on her finger that showed the promise. The engagement.

Harry had made it custom for her. Small rubies surrounding a single, large princess cut diamond. It sparkled in even the dullest light. Two emeralds mixed with the rubies, signifying how she spoke of his eyes and the night they had met. She had nearly sobbed at the sight of it and the explanation when he had gotten down on one knee at the fountain.

They were only a few days away from the engagement ball. Y/N was helping the queen most days with preparations and taking on a few duties of her own. Learning from her to see what she would be doing one day. It warmed Harry to know that she was inside the castle most days.

He couldn’t wait for the days he could retire to their own quarters. Spend time with her alone, and truly alone. No limits on what they could do. Kisses on the cheek, the neck, the arms only quenched so much of his thirst. Though… Harry knew that he would wait years if it meant she was at the end of the finish line.

“Isabella, I think it is time for you to help mother. I would like some alone time with Lady Y/N, please.” He had shared enough of her during their scheduled time. He wanted to spend some of it closer to her.

“Fine. Kick me away from my new friend.” She grumbled, collecting her skirts and smoothing them as she stood up. “Give me a call if he gives you any issues at all, Y/N. I am incredibly fond of the cake you’ve chosen, but I won’t hesitate to smear some on his ugly mug.” She teased before flouncing off towards her room.

Y/N gave Harry a fond smile, allowing him to help her up and take her into his arms for an embrace. It wasn’t anything too drastic, and the prince knew that they’d be watched, but he snuck a kiss to the curve of her jaw. “Radiant as always, my dove.” He pulled away and gently took her hand to lead her through the gardens. A stroll was their favorite pastime, her arm looped through his as they examine the florals and Harry watched his beloved fiancé ‘ooooh’ and ‘awe’ over each petal.

Something so simple managed to make the woman he was falling heavily for so happy. When trying to meet other women in the past, it was always the castle's golden archways or the silver placeware, the pearls Harry sometimes adorned around his neck. It was the luxury of it all that wooed them and nothing else.

Y/N was pleased with the flowers. The company. She never blinked twice at the golden rings that covered Harry’s hands besides to play with them as they spoke at times. She never expressed jealousy over belongings. It was so refreshing to him to find her in the library, speaking with one of his advisors over books. A well read, educated woman was incredibly intimidating for a lot of people. Not to him.

Her intelligence was one of the things that called to him the most. Their philosophical and theoretical conversations, the politics they agreed upon, the societal differences and being able to actually have discussions when they disagreed on subjects was something Harry had never experienced in almost anyone else.

Now he would be lucky enough to call her his wife.

“I am growing more and more excited as the days pass.” She murmured, fingers stroking the white petals of the daisies. “To live here and explore these gardens everyday. With you.” Her face turned to him and made his heart skip a few bears. He was positive that her smile could kill him. Shock his heart with the overflowing of love that conjugated there.

“It is the same for me.” His words were softer than the sweet summer breeze in this garden. “I wake up every day longing for the day we don’t need supervision to be with one another. It wouldn’t be proper to kiss you out here now… but in a while, it will be. And I crave that.”

“As do I.” Her voice was soft, not wanting to be overheard. “I never understood before, you know?” A slight tilt of the head had Harry humming, her cue to go on. “How people just… were happy settling down. Having one person to be their life partner. I thought that love was something rare. Sometimes I still think it is… but I was lucky enough to have you stumble upon me.” Her eyes met his. “It doesn’t scare me like I thought it might. The idea of forever at someone’s side. I think… if it was anyone else? Perhaps. I may not like it. I like fluidity, I love movement. But with you?” She squeezed his hand firmly. “It doesn’t feel like a trap. I’m not naive… I know that the castle is somewhat of a gilded cage. But I don’t think I’ll mind if the other bird in it is you.” Her head rested upon his shoulder, a dreamy sigh leaving her mouth.

“They were trying to scare me.” Her soft admission made him turn slightly, trying to gage her face. Alarm went through him at the idea of someone trying to harm her, even just her peace.

“Who?” He questioned, stopping their pace. “What did they say to upset you?” The pure concern was written on his face. Harry was a fierce protector. It had been a lot to know that even before people had been cruel to her about his decision. Like being rude would change either of their hearts. Both of them were stronger than that.

“Do you know Anastasia?” she questioned, watching his face as he thought for a moment before nodding. She was a socialite, married into nobility and recently widowed. Young, just a few years older than Y/N. Harry did not like her company. Something about her seemed so… slimy. Unsettling. Like a snake. An eel, more like.

“Well, I was getting fitted for a few dresses the other day in town… she and her group of gossipers were definitely trying to pick my weak spots.” She shook her head, feeling irritation prickle on her skin.

“They were saying as a royal I would have no freedom. There would be no time to read books, to talk to people. That I would have to sit by your side and nod and be pleasant. I wouldn’t be allowed to see my family often. All of these things that I know to be mostly untrue.” She placed a hand over his. “I am not unaware of the fact that I will not live as I used to. I will be busier, I will not have the same freedoms, no. It will be different ones. It is an adjustment, isn’t it? Life gives us new chapters to live and learn… I am not afraid of it. But they know I have always spoken of wanting to travel the world. They would scoff when they saw me reading when I was younger. It just… irritated me.” She wanted to let him know. He would be her partner and deserved to know these things.

Harry hated that people tried to ruin her happiness. It was pure jealousy and spite, the both of them knew that, but the idea of it was still sickly. They let the tentacle of greed wrap around them and turn them into puppets for the emotion. Not realizing that there was no way to change it. Nothing could be done. Harry was completely and utterly smitten with her and no other woman would tempt him to change his mind.

“I’m sorry, dearest.” He sighed. “I understand. You’ve taken the changes with such grace. It won’t be an easy transition, I will never lie about that. There is a lot to learn. However- just seeing you here? How you’ve taken to planning with my mother, how you deal with people like that? You were made to be my queen.” His hand brought hers up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “You’ve got the spirit for it. The drive. You want to better the kingdom. You don’t want the riches and luxury these women are thinking you’re being handed.” Granted, Harry had had countless jewelry pieces being made at the moment for her, custom crowns and dresses she had no idea about. But that was the point.

“A spirit that sets the world on fire like yours? It’s once in a lifetime. There’s no one else like you. They want these gardens and a title but they would never be able to handle the things you and I will. The reform.” His voice dropped again. “The projects. You’ve proven to be a worthy leader before I’ve even kissed you properly. I know in my heart of hearts that you’re the only person for me.” The statement left no room to be discussed.

“If you’d like, I can have Anastasia barred from our parties… I’ll have them moved to another village. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable on our special days.”

The engagement party, the wedding, the dozens of holiday balls. Harry wouldn’t blink an eye with banning anyone if it meant she was happier. But that wasn’t who she was.

“It’s alright. I would prefer her to stew in her own anger and pity in her seat while we have the best times together. I know that will be a better revenge than banning her from the parties.” Y/N’s little smirk and revenge streak did something to him. It wasn’t appropriate but he knew that when they were wed and she showed a bit of her devilish side? He would have no choice but to drag her to bed.

“As you wish, my love.” He kissed her hand again, lips sticking to the skin longer than it needed to before he looped their arms again. “Now… show me your favorite flower so far. I will make certain it is present at the wedding.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry blurb #blurb #harry one shot #blurbs #harry styles blurbs #harry smut blurb #concept #princerry #prince harry styles #prince!harry #royal harry styles #royal harry

[innershoesuitcasebiscuit]

So I'm back again, I'm taking my time right now reading the manga, not because I'm starting to grow tired of it. It's because I'm now in the Marine Ford War Arc.

We know this arc was great and it also triggers our depression 😰.

To cope up with it I'm checking for the screenshots that I have taken and have myself a Zorobin therapy.

So I've actually noticed a somewhat connection between Zoro and Robin. I realized that we can compare the two of them to 'start & end of a bridge'.

For example with this scene in the manga:

The Bell was actually discovered by Robin when she actually read the inscription she found in Shandora. Enel while observing Robin realizes that she could read those words.

Then at that scene above Enel yelled that he was going to take the Bell. While Robin was explaining the location of the Bell Zoro was reminded of what Luffy said to them.

Then they saw a leaf fall down with Nami instructions to cut the stalks. Zoro proceeded with the task but he only cut down one of it.

We will also see here in this scene that Wiper disagrees with ringing the bell as this is their will or their duty. As Usopp continued the attack on the stalk, Robin told Wiper the tale of Montblanc Noland.

Please pay attention to this scene as it is very important.

Robin then told him the reason why Luffy is insisting on ringing the bell at a cost of his life. She also told him the name of diamond-ossan.

Which gave the push so that Wiper can destroy the other stalk. As he might have believed that this is the will of Kalgara.

As I said before Zoro and Robin are like the start & the end of the bridge right? Then that makes Luffy crossing that bridge.

For Luffy ringing the bell would make Cricket-san know that the city of gold is actually at the skies, but it also has a deeper weight than that. As ringing the bell also signifies the reunion of friends 😭.

We know that Cricket-san is Noland's descendant and Wiper is Calgara's descendant.

Calgara also promised that when Noland will come back to Shandora they're going to ring the bell. Noland through his descendants fulfill his promise of returning the only one left is for Calgara to fullfill his.

Wiper at this scene is in a bad shape, using the reject dial took a toll on his body (he's also on the verge of death).

Zoro said he doesn't understand what Wiper's goal.

Zoro added that he's an honorable warrior (the reason he's saying this is because he heard Montblanc Noland's name and the fulfillment of a promise.)

It would have been sad if Kalgara's descendant would have died while Noland's descendant lived. It would be a tragedy.

Robin discovers the bell and the location, which helps Luffy to decide to ring the bell to notify Cricket-san. Zoro partially made possible by cutting half of the stalk.

Robin told Wiper about Montblanc Noland & Cricket. Making Wiper helps them in bringing down the stalk indirectly saving Wiper as well. Zoro upon hearing what Wiper said decided to help him live by making Chopper tend to his wound.

So that's it there are also circumstances like this one but. I think this is very long already so I'll end it here.

As for the freebies:

Here I offer an inquisitive Zoro.

(admit it you like hearing her talk Zoro 🥹)

💜💚🌸⚔️

#one piece #roronoa zoro #nico robin #skypiea #roronoa zoro x nico robin #zoro x robin #zorobin

[frodo-with-glasses]

For the ask game:

Frodo - kiss

Faramir - mirror

Eomer - fire

Gimili (and Legolas) - salt water

Kiss

OH HECK YEAH HOCKEY ANNA YOU KNOW WHAT I L I K E

(And what I like is platonic displays of affection through Physical Touch)

See talking about this topic is great because for the vast majority of kisses involving Frodo in this book, a) he is the recipient of said kiss, and b) the one doing the kissing is Sam. 8-D

THIS is why Frodo and Sam own my brain. Not only is their friendship crucial to saving the world—not only is it a beautifully gut-wrenching reflection of what it’s like to love someone with mental illness, which is an intensely familiar and poignant thing to me—but they’re also just so openly affectionate and vulnerable and sweet with each other, and confident and secure in that bond without embarrassment, and it’s demonstrated in so many ways including but not limited to kisses and IT’S SO HECKIN’ CUTE (and also FEELS)

Le Evidence, for the court’s review:

Sam weeps on Frodo’s hands at some point when they’re climbing the Emyn Muil, but the narration specifically points out that he does not kiss them, which makes me insane because it implies that such a thing was a possibility to begin with and Sam actively decided against it

Sam kissed Frodo’s forehead when he was out cold with Shelob’s poison and Sam thought he was dead (which is utterly gut-wrenching)

Sam kissed Frodo’s forehead again in the Tower of Cirith Ungol and tried his best to sound cheerful as he said “Come! Wake up, Mr. Frodo!”, trying to put a brave face on the less-than-ideal circumstances of Frodo having been captured, stripped naked, interrogated, and scourged with a whip just moments before

Sam kissed Frodo’s hands twice while they were climbing up the side of Mount Doom—one instance of which was specifically because Frodo begged him for help to resist the temptation to grab the Ring (I didn't draw these and darn it I probably should have)

And lastly, of course, Frodo kisses Sam’s forehead at the Grey Havens before he leaves for Valinor, which will never not shatter my heart into a million pieces in the best way possible

I could scream about literally every single point in this list forever and a day. I could scream about how kisses on the hand used to signify service and fidelity to a superior in Ye Olden Days, and how that relates to Sam considering kissing Frodo’s hand but deciding against it. (Did he think it was a bit too forward? Did he figure his loyalty was already implied? Was it just too early in their friendship, and he wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable—thus forcing himself to stop crying and playing it off like “where the heck is that stinker Gollum” a few seconds later? Maybe it was some combination of them all? I don’t know! Am I losing my mind?? Probably!!)

I could scream forever about Sam thinking Frodo is dead, and the raw agony that it is watching him grieve, and the way that that kiss on the forehead is (at least what he thinks) a final goodbye. I could scream forever squared about the fact that the forehead kiss happens as he’s taking the Ring from Frodo’s limp body.

See, in Sam’s mind, there’s no contradiction here. The Ring was Frodo’s burden, and now Frodo is gone, so out of love for him and duty to the world at large Sam is taking on that burden and honoring Frodo’s memory by doing so. BUT ON ANOTHER LEVEL. THERE’S A HUGE AND EPIC CONTRADICTION. Because the Ring is a thing of evil and malice that has only ever switched hands through murder or theft or unhappy accident, until this upstart little bundle of hobbits had the NERVE to pass it on in LOVE and HONOR for each other, and here is Sam taking on this thing that has been coveted and lusted after through the centuries by people far more powerful and important than him, and he has the gall to imply that he doesn’t actually care about the Ring at all right now; all he cares about is his friend that he thinks is dead. LIKE WHAT AN EPIC SCREW-YOU TO SAURON. HOLY COW. SAM IS THE BOSS and he literally proved it just by loving Frodo more than he loved the Ring.

I could scream forever about the moment in the Tower when Sam tries to wake Frodo up like it’s just another day in the Shire. They are in the middle of Mordor. Frodo was just interrogated and beaten. Sam is hungry and parched and exhausted. There’s danger all around them, and if all goes well—not poorly, mind you, well—they’re going to walk into far worse. But darn it if he isn’t going to try his darnedest to throw some light into this bleak situation, because Frodo needs comfort, and Sam is the only one around who can give it.

Also he’s probably far less embarrassed to kiss Frodo now, while he’s awake, ‘cause he’s already done it when he thought Frodo was dead, and that’s incredibly cute.

Also also, this happens while he’s cuddling a still very very naked Frodo. Which. I. Wow. I’m still in awe. 🤣🤣 You literally cannot get more vulnerable and comfortable with another person than that (short of things getting Very Much Not Platonic). Tolkien really looked at every single silly inhibition we have built up around friendship and went “that sign won’t stop me ‘cause I CAN’T READ”

If I had a nickel for every time Sam kissed Frodo’s hands on the slopes of Mount Doom, I’d have two nickels, and that would not be nearly enough money to make me stop screaming about it. I just. The tenderness, the exhausted attempts at encouragement, the way Sam helps Frodo fight temptation through love and gentleness and affection and the way Frodo begged for Sam to hold his hand and then Sam immediately goes above and beyond. They’re both utterly spent and exhausted. All they have left is the task in front of them and each other. Sam’s lips are dry and cracked from thirst, but he continues to put Frodo before himself, and I will never ever be over that.

And I could scream forever squared—no, cubed—no, forever to the power of itself about the kiss goodbye at the Grey Havens. Of all the things it means, the gratitude and love and grief and joy and pain and victory and hope that’s all wrapped up in it. Frodo very rarely uses Physical Touch as a love language. That’s Sam’s purview. Frodo is much more a Words of Affirmation kind of guy. But at some point, the words run out—and even if you had enough of them to say what you feel, the whole world could not contain the books upon books you could fill—so you fall back on the very first way each and every one of us learned to perceive love, when we were teeny tiny and wrinkled and brand new and someone held us close; and when we felt the warmth of their body and the safety of their arms and heard the heart beating steadily in their chest, our brand new little brains knew that we were loved.

At some point, Frodo’s words run out, and he returns the love and affection he’s been given in the same way Sam has always given it. One small gesture, and it says leagues more than ten years of Words ever could.

One kiss—and absolutely everything has been expressed that could be.

This is why Frodo and Sam are ultimate friendship goals. Until I write a bromance that has the same casual intimacy and extraordinary vulnerability that these two have, I will forever consider myself a mere grasshopper to the galaxy-brained genius that is Tolkien. Until I myself have a friendship on that level, I will always feel I have something to learn. Until I surpass the Master, I am but his humble Student.

Basically Tolkien—despite being Incredibly British—really came out here and said “it’s cool to kiss the homies, actually”, refused to elaborate, and left, and I have never stopped screaming about it.

WORD ASK GAME!

#word ask game #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #this is of course the same reason i love reading your stories about eric and casey LOL #i just *clenches fist* love those bois #EDIT: added links :-3

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 015

that last minute decision? well. this may come as a surprise to you all……..but i did add a little sexual content in this one. i actually was able to fit some in there so.. SURPRISE! i will signify where it starts with ** and the spacer is where it ends if you don’t want to read it. it’s also kinda quick for a reason lol

i hope y’all like it i was kinda nervous. i legit don’t know what im doing.🧍‍♀️this is my first time don’t scream at me

WELCOME….TO….MONDAY…NIGHT…..ATTITUDEEEE!!!!!

youuu guys knoww the drilllll! you know ‘sweet but psycho’ by ava max really set the tone for me.....”you’re just like me, you’re out your mind”??? oh yeah RENT WAS DUE!!!!!

hope u enjoy this chapter i had a lot of fun writing it

YOU’RE STILL RUNNING on adrenaline! You and Trish hit backstage, spirits high and thrilled you two not only attacked Torrie, but are working together for the night. It’s going to be one hell of a Raw.

BACKSTAGE // 8:01 PM

“Trish!” You yell, turning over to her and shaking her shoulders. “That was great! My god, we really kicked her ass.”

She smiles at you. “It was! Did you see her face when I joined in?! Hilarious!”

“Listen, thanks a lot for coming on my show and helping out. I’ll be in your corner tonight, so I’ll see you later, okay?” You give her a thumbs up, heading further down the hallway towards your locker room.

Trish had your gratitude. It’s only right for you to pay her back. You’d do everything in your power to make sure that their team won.

But other than Trish’s match, you’ve got a lot to do tonight. Watch the Hardy Boyz…..accompany Austin to the ring….it’s a busy day! Makes you happy you’ve got something to do.

Vengeance is coming up and that means Austin would have to be in a series of matches in order to qualify and become the undisputed champion.

This isn’t good for your anxiety. You knew he was pretty good, but what if it went the other way around?! Nah, that couldn’t happen. He has to win.

As you made your way down, you notice Michael Cole interviewing RVD. You decide to pop up behind him and join in. “Hello, world!”

With your sudden appearance on camera, the crowd cheers. RVD gives a smile and shifts his Hardcore Title to his left arm, then slings his right around your shoulders. “Hey! It’s Miss WCW.”

You wonder if he didn’t remember your name..which would be a shame since you two teamed up not too long ago. “In the flesh! Nitro’s Golden Girl is reporting for duty.”

“What a surprise!” Michael, the interviewer exclaims. “I was just asking RVD his thoughts on the Undertaker attacking him so viciously the previous night. What’re your thoughts?”

For a moment, your mind drew a blank. You can’t remember Undertaker attacking him at all! Just so you don’t stand there in silence, you make something up on the fly. “I mean, it’s crazy! If you ask me, I think Undertaker is going through a midlife crisis or something. I mean, joining a biker club? I could’ve sworn he was all scary a couple of months ago!”

You didn’t know much about him right now, but you tried bouncing off of what you’ve seen so far.

RVD nods his head, his tone relaxed as ever. “That totally makes sense. No wonder why he got mad when I recommended him to use diapers.”

You cover your mouth on instinct. WHY WOULD HE EVEN RECOMMEND THAT?! That’s literally not what you meant at all.

He continues. “If you ask me, I think the Undertaker’s just all worked up because RVD—“

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on a second.” You could recognize that voice as Christian, who had his title on his shoulder as well.

“You’re saying that the Undertaker’s all worked up? And you,” He points to you. “You’re saying he’s going through some midlife crisis? Well let me tell you something, did you ever think it’s maybe because he gives more respect to Vince McMahon? Do you guys think you’re better than the Undertaker?”

Christian was getting a bit hostile. You hoped most of his irritation wasn’t towards you, but you still speak up anyway, Michael shifts the mic towards you. “Mr. McMahon never had my respect in the first place. It only makes things worse because of that match he put himself in to antagonize Trish Stratus. And if you want the truth, yes! I think I’m better than the Undertaker.”

RVD motions towards you. “You heard the lady. Besides, we’re gonna find out if I’m better than the Undertaker at Vengeance.”

The two of them stare each other down, but you take the opportunity to take the mic from Michael. “Can I see this?” You ask. He nods and hands it over. “Oooh, how about this you guys, since I heard the Undertaker isn’t here tonight, how about you two go against each other?”

Boom, you made the match card make sense. It was that easy. It’s not like the audience knew the card in its entirety anyway.

“For that hardcore title? Absolutely.” Christian wasn’t against it, in fact he was more than willing to prove himself to Vince. And with the hardcore title on the line? Hell yes.

“Sounds like a good idea.” RVD easily agrees, then lightly taps Christian’s title. “And how about we put that Euro-trash title on the line too?”

“I’m a genius!” You chime. “Title versus title? Hardcore and European?”

“My title? Ha! As if I’m going to lose this to you, RVD. I’m pretty sure neither of you know nothing about Europe!” Christian challenges. “What’s the capitol of Belgium?”

“Isn’t it Br—?” You’re about to answer...

…But RVD answers with no hesitation: “Waffle!”

You turn to look at him with a smile. God he’s stupid…but he’s hilarious. The crowd laughs at his response.

Christian shakes his head. “Are you serious? Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

“I think.” You say. “Why don’t you tell us the capital?”

“..Tch,” He scoffs, waving a hand. “I’m not telling you!” It made it very clear to the crowd that he had no clue what the capital was either. “Listen, I welcome any match, where it’s cool to use the Conchairto.”

Makes you think. Man, you need to be a commissioner or something, they’re missing out on a lot of opportunities here with your co-workers!

RAW IS WAR // 8:15 PM

Because of that segment, you had to literally run and change in the locker room. You’ve got a couple of minutes to be in gorilla and come with Team Xtreme to the ring.

As you were moving around, a black letter sticking out of your bag had caught your attention. You could spare 3 minutes to read this, so you walk over and pull it out.

‘Though our meeting was rudely interrupted, I find it apparent that you’re fit to be with me. You are unapologetically you, but it’s as if you’re being silenced.

I will set you free from the chains that you’ve been bound to. Find me in the shadows. A place where people discard things they have no use of.’ A place where one would find it disgusting.‘

— Quote the Raven, Nevermore.

And all of a sudden, you had less interest in the match you were supposed to come out for.

Who cares about the match anymore?

You wanted to know more about Raven. What he said at your anger management class really struck you. He even offered to free you.

Isn’t it about time you come with him?

You’re in no hurry to make it to gorilla anymore. A place where you could discard things of no use? A place where one would find it disgusting?

That had to be the trash. And to go even bigger, it must’ve been a dumpster. Normally, you’d be disgusted, but if it’s for Raven, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if he was beside it or inside it.

Who was on the match card again?

You couldn’t remember. All you cared about was going to find a dumpster. You quickly finish changing before heading outside the room. All you had in mind was heading towards the back.

You passed by quite a few of your coworkers, who seemed to be confused as to why you’re in such a hurry. The only person who was willing to stop you was Debra.

“[Name], sweetie,” She called, rushing over to you. “I’ve been looking for you. You and Steve told me class went well, but once I spoke to Doctor Smiley, he said it was a disaster! What happened?!”

You’re not sure what to say to her. It was one thing that you two lied, but your mind was focused on one and one thing only. “I don’t know.” You shrug.

“How do you not know?” She questioned. “And where’s Steve? You two should be ashamed of yourselves! I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

You mutter an apology. You’re wasting time when you could be out and about…. “I’ve gotta go.” You move past her, completely unaware that you bumped her out of the way.

And towards the back you go. There had to be a dumpster back there. You push open the door and shiver as the cold air hits you.

There’s some cars back here. You wonder if it’s any of your co-workers or any of the higher ups.

….Ugh, who cares. You mindlessly walk forward in search for your pursuer. You see nothing but most of the cars disappearing and the sight of an empty parking lot until…..

“What a pleasant surprise.”

The voice immediately makes you turn to the left, seeing none other than Raven sitting on the ground surrounded by trashcans and pieces of litter. It’s not a dumpster, but it’s definitely somewhere no one would go.

Perhaps you were wrong, but you didn’t care. You’re filled with glee. He’s all you cared about tonight.

“I didn’t expect you to show up.” His curly hair was covering most of his face and he made no effort to shake it out of the way. “Austin brutally beat me earlier tonight and I feel as if it was an attempt to keep you away from me.”

You agree. “I think so too.” But you don’t want to stay away from Raven. You never want to. “What were you talking about when you gave me that letter?” You kneel down to his level.

Raven says nothing at first, but there’s a smirk playing on the edge of his lips that you couldn’t see. “…Come closer.”

You do, and he finally moves his hair out of his face to get a better look at you. “I want to set you free.” He gets up and lightly pushes you down so he’s on top of you instead.

“I’ll show you the light, [Name]. You’ll let me, won’t you?”

Yes. You will. He’s helping you in more ways than one.

Raven leans in closer, hovering his lips above your own before moving to your ear. “I want you to repeat these words.” He whispers. “I am no bird…and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will.”

**

You nod as he goes lower and focuses on your neck. “I am…” You hesitate once he kisses it, then starts to bite down. “I am no..bird…”

Raven moves his hand down carefully and lands right on the underside of your left breast. He doesn’t really grope you there, instead glides over and down to your navel.

“And no net ensnares—ah!” He bites you harder, almost enough to draw blood. “I-I am a human being…” You’re almost breathless at this point, unable to focus thanks to the man on top of you. “…with an in…dependent will.”

He latches his lips off of your neck. Just as you think he was going to say anything else, he crashes his lips into your own.

Him doing that hurt, a lot. But you didn’t care. You loved it. He pushes his tongue into your mouth forcefully, drool sliding down your chin from how haphazard it was. He swirled his tongue around yours and you could only think about him. 

It’s the most messiest kiss you’ve had in your life and you wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. You can feel his hand slide down even further, right down into your underwear. 

You push Raven off to catch some air, but he keeps his hand nearby your underwear. He takes the hint and returns his attention back to your neck. You run your tongue over your now swollen lips.

He’s muttering something under his breath, you can barely hear him with the ringing in your ears. You can feel him inch down towards uncharted territory and your stomach fills with butterflies as he slides your underwear to the side.

Is this really happening? Right here? Right now?

It started out soft, as he gently caressed your insides with his finger. It’s almost like he was testing the waters. Your ragged breathing only egged him on further. Slowly, he begins to move his finger in and out.

He raises his voice so you can hear him better.

“The human body is a mystery to me. I find it strange that even the simplest gestures…”

Detaching himself from your neck, he looks up towards you. For a second, he curls his fingers, then uncurls it. “…can get a reaction out of someone.”

Through your moans, you finally gather some strength to speak. “I’ve gotta….” Though your mind was on a swivel the entire night, you knew people would be looking for you. “Gotta…….”

Raven doesn’t allow you to finish your sentence, switching from one finger to two. “Fear not. Tonight, you can become apart of me.”

You’re just stuck moaning and panting on the ground. You hope no one can hear you, but it’s unlikely with how empty this area was.

Even so, he doesn’t give you the right to even finish. He snatches his fingers out, stopping as quickly as he started and gets off of you.

You lean up from your spot, dazed and completely in the clouds. As he licks his fingers clean, you stare at him with such an intensity that you think your eyes would fall out.

You think you’re in love.

RAW IS WAR // 8:35 PM

You’re still disheveled from earlier. Your clothes were wrinkled, your hair had gotten frizzy, and you’re still burning inside.

Holy shit.

You’re aching because he didn’t give you the opportunity to finish. You hope this feeling goes away. You refuse to finish yourself off anywhere near the show.

On the bright side…you’ve figured it out. Raven is your one true love. He’s everything you wanted and more. You felt like you had all the time in the world for Raven. That you could drop everything you’re doing for Raven. Raven. Raven. Raven. Raven.

That’s all you cared about right now.

A cold hand on your shoulder makes you turn around quickly. “What?!”

“Heeeey. No need to get defensive!” It’s Lita, who looked pretty concerned. “You okay? I was worried about you. You didn’t show up tonight and Jeff was disappointed.” She pauses to look at how messed up you look. “You look a mess…what happened?”

“….” You look at Lita, unable to think of a proper response. “I….no, I’m okay. Just fine. Just leave me alone.”

Your response surprises Lita. “Huh? You’re acting strange. You can tell me, you know. Was it Torrie? If—“

“No! Just—FUCK! Leave me alone!” You scream at her, wanting nothing more than to be left alone at the moment. Lita immediately shuts up as you give her one last glance and head down the hallway.

that was an experience.

really really hope u guys liked it because i lowkey wasn’t fond of it?!?!?! again i feel like it was because i kept reading it over and over but yeah. raven does things. he won. the night isn’t over either...we’ll find out what happens next monday!!!!!! also reader challenging undertaker indirectly ruh roh

#wwe imagine #wwe imagines #wwe x reader #wwe preferences #wwe various x reader #lita imagine #lita x reader #trish stratus imagine #trish stratus x reader #jeff hardy x reader #jeff hardy imagine #bret hart imagine #bret hart x reader #stone cold steve austin imagine #triple h x reader #triple h imagine #wwe christian x reader #wwe raven imagine #wwe raven x reader #chris jericho x reader #edge x reader #edge imagine #attitude era x reader #attitude era imagine #wwe attitude era imagine #wwe attitude series

[astrocenter]

SHANKACHOOD-(SHANKACUD)-SHANKHNAAD YOGA/( DOSHA) IN KUNDLI (KAALSARP YOG SERIES ARTICLE 10)

This article focuses on the effects and remedies on Shankachood –Shanknaad Kaal sarp yoga/ dosha.

Shankhchood- Shankcud  Kaal Sarp Yoga/Dosha has been mentioned as serpent snake in holy books. According to Hindu Mythology it is the duty of a son to give respect and honour to his father and after his death perform Pitripaksh funeral blocks to give to charity. The persons who defy the act Pitrigi grief find themselves depressed person and suffer from Pittar dosah in the Kundli. There are many doshas that are formed in the kundli because of not performing pitripaksh properly. Shankhchood Kaal Sarp Dosha is one of them.

It is formed when Rahu ( Dragon’s Head) is in 9th house and Ketu is placed (Dragon’s Tail in 3rd house all other planets are in the axis/ circumference of Rahu and Ketu.

Impacts of Shankhchood- Shankcud- Shankhnaad Kaal Sarp Yoga/ dosha:

Astrological Analysis

Ninth house in the chart represents:

Virtues, deeds, pilgrimages, worship, religion, inclination, devotional and religious learning, karmas of present birth, charity and kindness, wisdom and knowledge, father, younger brother and sisters of spouse and long journeys etc

Ninth house in medical astrology signifies -  Hips, thighs and nourishment

Third house in the chart represents:

Courage and valour, physical fitness, hobbies, talent, education goal, qualities of siblings, selfishness, neighbours, ornaments, friends, cleverness, near relatives and short Journeys etc.

Third house in medical astrology represents - Ears (right ear), neck, throat, shoulders, bones, upper limbs, mental instability, physical growth and longevity.

Impact of planet positions

Rahu in ninth house in general:- Native may gain from foreign country, He may not keep good relations with his father, Political career, expert in many fields. He will waste money on Saints and donate lot of his money on religious places.

Ketu in third house if benefic:- Native would be blessed with good children and would be a generous and kind person- success in political career.

Presence of Shankchood Kaal Sarp Dosha in a native’s kundli will have following impact:

The native with this Kaal Sarp Yoga in his kundli may face many upheavels in life.

This Dosha in the kundli will show native sudden successes and sudden failures.

This dosha creates distance between the native and the father.

 The person with Shankchood Kaal Sarp Yoga/Dosha in the kundli will loose temper easily and this will often land him/her in trouble.

This dosha brings as lot of struggle in the native’s life and therefore native will always believe himself/herself to be unlucky and will be devoid of various daily day comforts

Divergent views with senior authorities and face problems from higher authorities- Govt of the day and local administration in the field of business & commerce.

The person with this dosha in his/her kundli will face various upheavals in his life. He or she might not have stability in his profession which may increase his financial problems.

This dosha will also bring unstability in the form of numerous job changes or transfers.

Remedies

Following are the remedies to remove malefic influence of Kalsarpa Yoga from the native’s life

Worship Lord Krishna and perform puja on Lord Krishna janam ashtami

Place idol of Laddo bhagwan in the home with peacock feather

Respect father- The native should never distance himself/herself from father and should try maintain good relations with him.

The person can wear Agate in the silver ring to increase the strength of fortune.

It is advised to perform Pind daan for the ancestors and offer food and donation to Brahmans according to his capacity.

Parmod Kumar

Former  Assistant General Manager ( Punjab National bank)

Astrologer (PK Astroceneter now The PK Astro)

Blogger:- www.pkastrocenter.com

For love marriage, delayed marriage, foreign travelling,settlement abroad or career ,business and kaal sarp yoga /dosha

Email at [email protected] or place your query

at http://pkastrocenter.com/horoscopeanalysis

Youtube :-THE PK ASTRO PARMOD KUMAR

[zippityzap]

Sonic Tarot Card Project: explanations for character picks

Recently I completed a summer-long project where I created Sonic themed versions of the tarot major acana. I put a lot of research and thought into what characters to assign to which cards, and I wanted to explain my rationale behind each one! (Everything’s under the read more cut because this is a very long post!)

To start off, let me explain why I did this project in the first place. This summer I watched Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure for the first time, and in Part 3, Stardust Crusaders, the majority of the stand abilities are named after the tarot major arcana. Thanks to cultural osmosis I vaguely knew the meanings of a few of the cards and I realised that one of the characters suited his assigned card pretty well. I was curious if this matched anyone else and so once I finished watching that part, I did research on tarot and found that yeah, a lot of them do match! That got me interested in tarot and since I like combining things I’m interested in, I decided to make Sonic versions of the cards.

I do want to note that while Jojo did inspire this project in a lot of ways, I tried not to let my character picks be influenced by Stardust Crusader characters, although there did end up being some picks that did coincidentally happen to match nicely anyway. Also, I’m not gonna lie, ever since picking these card choices I’ve been highly tempted to draw Sonic as Polnareff.

Anyway, on to my explanations for character choices!

0: The Fool (Charmy Bee)

The Fool represents innocence, spontaneity and recklessness. I believe Charmy’s happy and carefree nature, along with the simple fact that he’s essentially just a little kid who likes to have fun makes him a great fit for this card

1: The Magician (Infinite)

The Magician represents creation and strength, but also manipulation and narcissism, a good match for Infinite and the powers of the phantom ruby. (I was also very pleased to notice that the traditional art for the card has an infinity symbol- everything lined up very well!)

The Rider Waite version of the card also depicts a sword, a wand, a cup and a pentacle; the suits of the minor arcana. I have attempted to depict these with various objects from the Sonic series, namely Infinite’s sword from the IDW Forces prequel comic, the sceptre of darkness from '06, a chaos emerald, and a ring respectively.

2: The High Priestess (Princess Elise)

The High Priestess represents secrets, repression, and the unknown, which I believe fits with Elise’s initial desire to control her emotions and her sadness. (Admittedly this is one of the looser character/card connections for this project, but my two other picks for this card I felt were better suited to different cards)

3: The Empress (Vanilla the Rabbit)

The Empress represents nurturing, fertility and childbirth, all traits that I believe make this card a good pick for a kind, caring mother like Vanilla

4: The Emperor (Dr Eggman)

A card fitting for the leader of the Eggman Empire! The Emperor represents authority, power, and tyranny, all traits Dr Robotnik desires, if not possesses in many continuities.

5: The Hierophant (Espio the Chameleon)

The Hierophant represents wisdom and tradition, and in both upright and reversed forms it has large connections to the concept of social conformity. Perhaps I’m drawing more from the various comic versions of Espio, but he comes across to me as someone who is hyper-aware about how he presents himself.

Fun fact: a hierophant is essentially another word for a religious leader, although I’ve never seen it used outside the context of tarot. I assume the religious connection is the reason why in the OST of the Jojo part 3 anime, Kakyoin’s theme is called Noble Pope.

6: The Lovers (Amy Rose)

The Lovers represents love, communication, and passion; and Amy is certainly a character who wears her heart on her sleeve! She’s a good example of a character who I feel fits a number of different cards, however there are no other characters who suited The Lovers quite as much as her.

7: The Chariot (Sonic the Hedgehog)

The Chariot represents journeys, wanderlust as well as the ambition and willpower to achieve your goals, which I believe is the perfect match for Sonic’s adventurous and heroic spirit. This was one of the first cards I decided on and it’s probably the one I’d defend my interpretation of the most.

If you’re wondering why there’s dark and hero chao in the artwork too, it’s because the original card art depicts the titular chariot being pulled by black and white sphinxes, and this is my way of calling back to that.

8: Strength (Maria Robotnik)

This card pick might seem unusual at first if you take the word ‘strength’ at face value, however considering the original card art depicts a maiden peacefully taming a lion, perhaps the Strength card represents inner strength, courage and determination rather than physical strength. These are traits that I believe Maria possesses.

9: The Hermit (Knuckles the Echidna)

The Hermit signifies awareness and independence but when reversed can mean isolation and resignation, traits that parallel well with Knuckles and his duty to be the protector of the Master Emerald

10: The Wheel of Fortune (Big the Cat)

The Wheel of Fortune represents fate, karma and luck! This is admittedly a bit of a cheeky dig at myself since I’m awful at the Big fishing levels in SA1 and mostly got through them through luck. But that’s not to say the card doesn’t apply to Big himself! His frequent cameos do have a bit of a fate/destiny vibe to them and in IDW Big is lucky enough to manage to avoid the metal virus for quite a long time.

11: Justice (Vector the Crocodile)

The meaning of the Justice cards is… pretty much what it says on the tin: fairness and clarity. Of course the Team Chaotix detective agency represents this as a whole, but that trait especially shines through with Vector himself. He may be a little money oriented, but doing what is morally right always takes priority.

12: The Hanged Man (Shadow the Hedgehog)

The thing about Shadow is that he’s a fairly complex character which means there are a number of cards in the Major Arcana that match him well, but I knew early on when tackling this project that I wanted to assign Shadow to The Hanged Man. This card represents change, release and sacrifice, which all align well with the character arc that Shadow goes through during the course of SA2 and beyond.

13: Death (Tikal the Echidna and Chaos)

Despite the morbid name of the card, (and the admittedly macabre scene I’ve depicted) the Death card is not an inherently negative card to draw. Yes, it can mean endings and grief, but it can also mean letting go and new beginnings. The story that Tikal and Chaos go through in SA1, their anguish and how they later find peace, is something that I think pairs well with this particular card.

Fun fact: this is the only card in this project that has two significant characters on it rather than just one. I felt I needed both of them to be on the card in order to fully represent its meaning

14: Temperance (Blaze the Cat)

The Temperance card signifies balance, harmony and patience, which matches Blaze’s very poised and graceful demeanour. Admittedly I had a little bit of trouble deciding on a card for Blaze since the High Priestess and the Hierophant are also good matches for her.

15: The Devil (Rouge the Bat)

The Devil card represents temptation, seduction, and materialism and well… look, Rouge is one of my favourite Sonic characters, I’d be one of the first people to tell you that there’s a lot more to her than what initially appears, she is so much more complex than just sex appeal and a gemstone obsession. However, I felt there was no other character that matched the traits of this specific card better than Rouge, and so my choice was decided by that.

16: The Tower (E-123 Omega)

The Tower card represents a number of things; disruption, disasters, sudden changes etc, however the trait that made me believe that Omega would be the best selection for the card was violence.

17: The Star (Miles ‘Tails’ Prower)

Tails’ character arcs normally centre around him gaining independence and self-confidence and learning to believe in himself. He is also largely characterised by his unyielding faith and trust in Sonic. These traits are the reason why I believe The Star card represents him well, as it symbolises hope and faith.

18: The Moon (Shade the Echidna)

The Moon card symbolises mysteries and the unknown, and when Shade is first introduced in Chronicles, she and the rest of the Nocturnus Clan are certainly presented as mysterious. The Moon can also represent misconception, which fits well with how Shade was initially unaware of the true nature of Ix’s plans.

19: The Sun (Cream the Rabbit)

The Sun, when drawn in an upright position, has a lot of positive meanings! Freedom, fun, happiness, good luck etc. Cream’s cheerful and optimistic disposition makes her a good match for this card

20: Judgement (E-102 Gamma)

The Judgement card symbolises liberation, awakening, redemption and second chances, all of which I believe represent Gamma and his character arc in SA1 well

21: The World (Metal Sonic)

In the upright position, The World card symbolises triumph, completion, strength and happiness while in reversed position can mean failure, anxiety, lack of self-confidence etc. I had both positioning of the card in mind when connecting it to Metal Sonic; he is devoted to the tasks given to him and is self-assured in his belief that he is the true/superior ‘sonic’ yet he repeatedly finds himself at the hands of failure. But he doesn’t let previous failures hold him back, thus starting the cycle anew. (Another connection to the World card as it also symbolises cycles)

#sonic the hedgehog #tarot cards #I'd be curious to hear if people agree/disagree with my choices

[i-am-baechu]

Title: The People’s Princess | Chapter four

Paring: Kim Seokjin x reader, Min Yoongi x reader 

Genre: Fantasy au, Angst, Romance, and Fluff 

Summary: “I, Y/N L/N, take thee Seokjin, to my wedded husband. To have and hold. From this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, to cherish and to...to obey. Till death do us part...”    

She looked at the man she barely knew for a month with an emotionless look. She turned towards her family to be met with sorrowful looks. This day was supposed to be the most beautiful day, a moment in a woman's life that signified a new chapter. A chapter that she no longer wants if he was part of the story.  

Warning: Mention of Suicide**

Masterlist

↜ Pervious chapter ♔ Next chapter ↝

August 10th 

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror with a smile, the dress she had on was beautiful and her mother approved it, which made it even better. The dress was light blue and the top of her shoulders were uncovered but it covered the sides of it as it flows down into a graceful semi-sweetheart neckline that was covered in ruffles. It’s a snug fit that drew attention to her breasts but in a graceful and elegant manner. Her arms have been covered in white gloves that made her dress shine even more. The dress waist was tight but it flared out in the skirt that showed off her waist perfectly. The dress reached just above her ankles in the front but in the back it was slightly longer. She was wearing shoes that were her mothers because all her shoes didn’t match her dress, they were simple white flats with a small heel. To top it all off she was wearing a lavish diamond necklace that shimmered in the light and several diamond bracelets on each arm.   

Her hair was curled pinned back with small crystals in the curls to show off her eyes and her soft features. She tilted her head and whispered to herself, “ Yoongi will love this.” 

In the kingdom of Margan, Seokjin finished looking at himself in the mirror with an annoyed expression. He was wearing a standard shirt with an elegant tie, on top of this shirt he was wearing a dark blue vest with six buttons that had a very narrow v-line which allowed the top to remain visible, even if the suit's jacket is buttoned up. The jacket was clearly made for him, the color and fit was perfect. The jacket had a single pocket on the side and a breast pocket that contained a pocket watch.

He wiped the lint off of the jacket with annoyance, I was supposed to see her today but here I am, wearing a suit for a family I don’t care for. What a waste of my time.

Throughout the four kingdoms, the only thing the citizens could talk about was the ball for the crown princess of Audaqira, Cecilia Marie L/N. It was a rare occurrence to see the princess in the public eye in that matter. She was usually on the front page of the paper for her speeches or her standing besides her father during his duties. After being in school for almost her whole life, she was finally done with her education. The other kingdoms didn’t understand how Audaqira had an education system for all genders and ages. It was a widely controversial topic but king William ignored it because he knew what was right for his people.

There’s also been rumors all over the kingdoms that princess Y/N was in a relationship with the crowned prince of Oshia, Min Yoongi. Both kingdoms chose to ignore the rumors and never put out a statement about it. They chose to wait for the young couple to be engaged to let the public know the future for the young princess and the future king. Prince Seokjin was used to the rumors but for him most of the rumors were true. Prince Seokjin, seen with mystery women last Sunday going for brunch, is this the future queen? or Prince Seokjin was seen inside a jewelry store, many hope it's him looking for a ring for the future queen. 

There was a time when the four kingdoms were one nation under the rule of Lusi. The country of Lusi is a nation across the sea that had military power and owned a piece of land across the Ocean of Maidsea. Their queen, Alexandra Ilun II ruled all the countries with an iron fist making sure they knew she was their ruler. It wasn’t until the queen died and her son became ruler that the thought of separation came to mind. 

The four kingdoms that are known today are Audaqira, Utaes, Oshia, and Margan. The separation from the country took a long time but Lusi agreed they could separate on two conditions. The first condition was they could never go to war with Lusi and the second condition being they receive fifteen percent from their trades. Although they didn’t agree in the beginning, the only way to get full freedom is to agree with the conditions. 

The kingdom of Audaqira was the first to separate and become their own country. The people decided to focus on education and farming. The kingdom chose to be near the sea where they could easily sell fish but within this land was forests were bugs that create white fibers. The people during their time realized these fibers could be used in clothing and other things, so the country decided that fish and clothes would be what they trade. As the years passed, they became the most libreal and advanced kingdom. 

There was a legend that was never proven true that a princess of Audaqira was once engaged to the prince of Margan in the beginning times of each kingdom. The legend was, the princess was kind and gentle while the prince of Margan was cold and evil. The two were in an arranged marriage but the prince fell in love with the girl. The girl however, was afraid of the man. The day before their wedding, the princess killed herself and casted a curse on the country of Margan. Where the country will never be truly happy until one learns its lesson from the past. There were no documents to prove this was true or false but many believe it is true because of the lack of relationship with Margan in the present time. 

The kingdom of Utaes was the second to separate. The people of Utaes decided to focus on military and healthcare. The kingdom chose to be in the mountains where they could easily focus on military training and use the herbs that are in the mountains to make medicine. As the years passed, they became the country where people sent their children for military training or studying in the medical field. 

Utaes and Audaqira are the only kingdoms that share blood relations. L/N and the Jeon’s are second cousins on Y/N mothers side. The two countries are the closest out of the countries, holding balls for each other for celebrations or sharing secrets. Utaes uses the forests in Audaqira to teach their military how to blend into the environment. While Audaqira uses Utaes many herbs to make their own medicine.    

The kingdom of Oshia was the third to separate but it took awhile for them to truly separate. At first the country was scared to be on their own and decided to wait and see what happened with their neighbors. When they saw how good they were doing, they went forward with their plans. The people of Oshia decided to focus on music and architecture. The kingdom decided to be in the forest where they were more isolated from the others. As the years passed, they became the country of builders. 

Oshia had a rocky relationship with Utaes in the beginning. Seeing them as a threat, they wanted nothing to do with them. Fearing the country could easily overpower them and take control of their kingdom, the country isolated themselves. It wasn’t until recently the crown prince Yoongi built a relationship with the crowned prince of Utaes. Many rumored that the reason for this was because prince Yoongi was engaged to princess Y/N but there was no statement to confirm nor deny it. 

The final kingdom, the kingdom of Margan was the final country to be made. The kingdom didn’t have a choice to stay put because of the other kingdoms. The country wanted to fight with the other countries in order to get more land but the plan was never put into action in the beginning. They decided to focus on tea and coal. As time went on, Margan wanted more land for their coal and decided to ask the kingdom of Utaes to give up some land. When they denied it, Margan declared war on them without a second thought. The country was defeated and lost millions of dollars, the number of deaths were never recorded. 

Another tension that came forward was Margan with Audaqira. Margan's past ruler wanted the crowned princess during that time to get married to their youngest son. Margan king would harass the king of that period by sending letters demanding that a union would happen no matter what. Margan was determined and even sent their son to Audaqira multiple times to capture her attention. The crowned princess married a stable boy instead and Margan felt insulted by this. How can a stable boy take the title of king?  

After the two incidents, the other three kingdoms lost their trust in Margan and never spoke to them again unless they felt it was necessary. Margan struggled without anyone by their side but they never voiced the struggles because they didn’t need the pity. Utaes was the only country that had a relationship with Margan but it was only because they benefited from it. During the present time, the other kingdoms tried their best to accommodate the country of Margan but refused. After years of being ignored, the country of Margan wanted nothing to do with the other countries until today.

The L/N walked down the long hallway, Y/N had her arms looped into her lady in waiting, Irene Jang. Irene was the same age as Cecilia and equally as beautiful if not more. She had waist length dark brown hair that made anyone from a far think it was black. She has dark brown doe-like eyes with double eyelids that are topped with long curled eyelashes. She has a small face, with a v-shaped jawline and a high nose bridge that has a small mole in the middle of her left cheek and on the left side under her eyebrow. She is rather short, with a defined waist and a slightly curvy build with broad shoulders. She was everything the princess wanted to be when she was younger but time does change a person’s wishes. 

Irene pushed a piece of hair out of her face as she looked down at Y/N with a proud smile, “You’ve come a long way, my princess.” 

“I do try but I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

“You flatter me too much. I am excited to see your future with the prince though.” 

Y/N let a smile escape and shifted her eyes away from her, “And I’m excited to see your future with Cecilia.” 

Irene turned towards with an annoyed look and scoffed, “Cecilia said we should wait to get married so her younger sister can have the attention. How tedious, even when I want to do something somehow you're always in it.” Y/N let out a laugh and before she said anything her father spoke first, “I forgot to tell you, your cousin will be here. So, Y/N please don’t do anything too reckless. Some recklessness is fine but too much is a headache.” 

Y/N opened her fan and started fanning herself, excitement came through her body at the mention of her cousin. Her favorite cousin finally makes his appearance after becoming commander in his troops. She didn’t understand military rankings but her father said it's a great accomplishment especially at his young age. The last time she saw him was for his twenty-third birthday ball and even then she barely had a conversation with him but this time will be different. 

They stood before the large door to the ballroom with their hands in the front as they wait for their cue to enter the room. Cecilia turned around to her sister with nervousness and sweat forming on her forehead, “Everyone will be looking at me...”

“Oh, Cecilia. I’m sure everyone will see your achievement more than you.” 

“Do you think so?” 

“Of course, you're the most educated next in line in all of the kingdoms. It's the greatest achievement to have, sister.” 

“Thank you. I guess I’m nervous to see Margan.” 

“I can understand the nervousness but is there more to the story for you?” 

“Y/N...The king has been trying to make me marry the older son and as well as the youngest son but I refused because I am already engaged.” 

“The whole Audaqira knows that Irene is your beloved. No worries about that.” 

Among the guests, the prince of Margan was already in the corner drinking his fourth whiskey waiting for the party to start with annoyance written across his face. His brothers already left him to go interact with people their age or someone that wasn’t in their family. His mother and father stood in the front with the other kings and queens, waiting for the royal family. It was a custom for the kings or queens to greet the person of the hour first before anyone else had the chance. It was a custom that was the same throughout the four kingdoms, the only thing that was the same between each other. 

Seokjin downed his whiskey and asked for another to the waiter as he made eye contact with the prince of Oshia. He scoffed at the idea of him being the next in line for his country, he saw him as weak because he protected people in school from him and others. In his mind, if people can’t defend themselves then what's the point of them in society? His eyes moved towards the other crown prince of Utaes, Jeon Jungkook. The man or boy, was too young to be a king. He may be strong physically but his personality was similar to a sheep, weak and will be eaten by others. How someone younger than that has a higher rank in the military is absurd.  

The doors on the top of the stairs opened and a royal guard came forward, “Now presenting, King and Queen of Audaqira. King William Richardson L/N II and Queen Sophia Amaryllis L/N.”

The whole room became quiet as Seokjin continued to drink his whiskey with a roll of his eyes. He watched the couple come out holding hands and smiles all around for the guests. Annoying. They made their way down the stairs slowly and bowed to the other kings and Queens as they stood in the middle waiting for the princesses. 

“Now presenting, princesses of Audaqira. Princess Cecilia Marie L/N and Princess Y/N L/N.” 

The crowned princess made her appearance first and as she walked down the stairs slowly. Seokjin noticed the nervousness that was one face and raised his eyebrow at this. The second princess made her way to the eyes of the guest. Seokjin put his glass down to get a closer look at the younger princess with curiosity in his eyes. He’s only seen the princess when he was younger but he's never really looked at her until today. The light blue dress made her look beautiful even he could admit that and there was a sense of innocence in her eyes that he had never seen in anyone before. Her smile was wider than her sisters and she had more life in her as she said her hellos to the king and queens in the front. He watched her move to be next to her father as he commenced the ball but his eyes never left her. She took a look at the guests one final time and took a bow. Seokjin would be lying if he said that princess Y/N was ugly but there was something about her that he needed to know more about. 

She lifted her head and made eye contact with the prince of Margan, she gave him a fake smile and turned to be with her family. I hope we don’t run into each other, Seokjin.

Masterlist

↜ Pervious chapter ♔ Next chapter ↝

#bts hoesok #bts namjoon #bts x reader #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #seokjin x reader #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios

[mandoclan]

SWEET HOME KENTUCKY // Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x F!Reader

A/N: 14.8k. Yes, this is a spinoff of Sweet Home Alabama. I love that movie and I love Whiskey, so here you go! This is Jack Daniels x Female!Reader, but there’s no Y/N mention (unless I missed one).

Warnings: Character Death (mentioned in passing), Fluff, Angst, Divorce, Physical Abuse (a punch and a tight grip), Drinking, Drunkenness, (basically, if you’ve seen the movie, I’ve deviated but no more than normal).

She still dreamed about that night. The one where Jack took her out to the meadow behind his mama’s house and told her he wanted to marry her one day. To which she asked, “Why would you want to marry me for anyhow?” and he replied, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.” Her first kiss. Her first love. And they were only twelve at the time.

It didn’t come as a shock to her when Jack had asked her to marry him right out of high school. She was his first love, after all, and Jack swore he’d loved her since before he ever kissed her in that meadow. But then he never showed up to their reception because he was still drunk from his “bachelor party” the night before, he was always gone on missions and attempted to stop her from doing the same even when they worked for the same intelligence agency, and she eventually got shot in the head in a mission gone wrong, resulting in medical having to use Alpha-gel on her to bring her back.

That fatal injury had broken her and it had broken Jack too. He hadn’t been able to protect his own wife when she was his partner, and that killed him inside. After that, he became almost overbearing in his protectiveness and you’d eventually asked Champagne for a transfer after a whole year of turmoil in your home, explosive fights, and missions spent arguing. Champ loved you and Jack like his own kids and wanted you and your husband to fix this, but he did as you asked and you’d transferred to New York without telling Jack with the instructions that if he were to ask that Champ would tell him that you were safe and in another Statesman office.

That’s where you found yourself now, leading the New York office after the last agent had retired. You’d built up your reputation from scratch, leading missions and directing agents in the Northeast region of the United States. You kept in touch with Champ barely, but it had been seven years since you left Kentucky. You refused to even think about Jack unless you were sending another copy of the divorce papers or unless you had that damn dream about the meadow again.

You woke to the sound of your office door opening, and you lifted your head from the desk you occupied on the top floor.

“How come you let me sleep?” You grumbled to your assistant when he stepped into the room with a mug of coffee and a mission report from one of your top operatives.

“You needed it, boss, but it was only for a few minutes. Long enough for me to grab your coffee and fetch the report from downstairs.” He shrugged. “Y’know, that accent of yours gets a whole lot thicker when you’re dreaming.”

That boy had the audacity to smirk before you narrowed your eyes at him.

“And what exactly did I say?” You demanded.

“That I’m gonna get a raise when you realize how awesome I am.”

“We’ll see how good your coffee skills are, then.” You laughed, finally smiling at him through your exhaustion. In all reality, you liked this kid. He’d just been assigned to you and hadn’t earned his agent name yet, but you had a feeling he would do just fine and you already had plans to promote him come next quarter.

“Enjoy.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “I’ll see you tomorrow for that meeting in the conference room, alright?”

The kid agreed and you nodded at him before making your way to the elevators.

Your apartment on the lower levels of the Statesman New York building was modest, but well-lived in. You’d wanted to make it seem as much like home as possible. This time, however, your apartment wasn’t as empty as usual. The entire entryway and living room were filled with rose petals and rose bouquets in glasses of water.

“Goddamn that man,” you swore, stepping around the petals and heading to the panel you had on the wall where an orange light was blinking, signifying you had a waiting message. A button was pressed and suddenly your boyfriend’s voice filled the room.

“There’s a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. God, you must be exhausted. Sweetie, listen, I’ll see you tomorrow at our meeting. You’ll do great. I love you. Bye.” The message ended and you rolled your eyes before heading over to the largest of the bouquets.

You loved your boyfriend, Agent Rum, but this was too much. You hated huge, sappy gestures like this and he knew it, but you supposed it was a bit sweet. Very few other ladies you knew had such attentive men at their sides and Jack had never done anything remotely like this. A sharp breath was inhaled in an attempt to nix that thought from your mind before you headed to your front door and made your way to the ladies’ dorms. You left an embarrassingly big bouquet in front of each door and sighed in satisfaction once you’d swept up and removed most of the flowers in your apartment.

_________________________________________________________________

The meeting you’d scheduled came sooner than you’d liked, this being a collaboration between the Texas office and your own New York one. Rum walked in and kissed your forehead before the meeting could even start and you smiled at him. He could always brighten your day in an instant.

“Thanks for the flowers, babe.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. He grinned, asking if you really liked them, and kissed you before sitting in his spot along with a few of your other agents. You both slipped on your glasses and started the meeting, knowing that you could talk properly once the collaboration was agreed upon.

It felt like hours went by before all positions were assigned and the intel was decided upon. You groaned once you were able to remove the glasses needed to see everyone in their remote locations, rubbing your temples. Hands were felt on your shoulders, and you knew it was Rum. Your glasses blinked a light on the side and you sighed, placing them back on your face.

The blinking was due to a message from Agent AppleJack, one of your own agents whom you’d taken a shine to and often spent weekends going about the city with. She was a nice girl from Maine who had an affinity for seafood you couldn’t quite get behind, but you’d consider her one of the closest friends you had in this city.

“Please tell me he has a flaw somehow.” She had typed out. You rolled your eyes before moving your eyes on the on-screen keyboard to type a reply.

“He asked me to go to California for Christmas.”

“He’s gonna ask you a lot more than that,” was her reply.

“You think so?” You were suddenly nervous. You’d only been dating Rum for six months and your divorce still wasn’t finalized.

“Sweetie, let’s go for a walk.” Rum took you from your conversation, and you nodded, slipping the glasses back off your face. “You’re so stressed, but you did so well today.”

You both made your way to the elevator, hand in hand, and eventually you meandered around Central Park just talking about your jobs and how your last missions went. You rarely went on them anymore, but you made sure that Rum had as many as he liked to keep him happy.

“So have you made a decision?” He finally asked, bright eyes boring into yours.

“About what?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“California.”

“Babe, California? That’s four months from now. We don’t even have to decide right now because we can literally jump on any jet we have and go within 6 hours if we want.”

“I was thinking maybe 200 guests, tops.” Rum continued in his words, but you stopped him with a pull to his hand.

“For Christmas?” You asked, still very confused. “Rum, are you on some kind of medication I don’t know about? Should I take you off of field duty for a bit? Did you get shot or something?”

All of a sudden, Rum was kneeling in front of you in the middle of a pathway in Central Park, and everything finally made sense. He held a diamond ring in his hand, the light hitting it just right and you gasped.

“Brandy, and I should probably know your real name by now, will you marry me?”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re not sure we can just go back to work and forget all about this. It’s only been six months.” You floundered, not even sure what to say, but he looked so hopeful and you really did love him.

“Brandy, I love you. I didn’t come by this decision lightly, and I really hope you’ll say yes. I want to build a life with you.” Rum stood, looking you right in your eyes. “So, I’ll ask again. Brandy, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice and felt the ring slip on your finger. It felt strange, another ring being there, but you were suddenly overcome with joy that your life was finally falling into place and you had a man who loved you and wanted to build a life with you. That’s all you could ask for. So you kissed him.

He grinned once you’d let yourselves out of his arms and released him from your kiss, hand reaching for his agency-issue watch.

“I’ve got to tell my family.” He gushed, “Wait until you see the look on the guy’s faces!”

“Babe, do you mind if we keep this to ourselves for a while? With this collaboration mission with Texas happening and everything else, I’d rather just keep this quiet for a bit.”

“You don’t want to tell your family?” Rum asked, a bit confused. You cursed yourself in your mind because he didn’t know. The only person close to being a family to you was Champ, and you hadn’t really talked to him in ages. Close to seven years, actually, which was downright awful. The guilt gnawed at you.

“Sunshine, I don’t really, um, have a family.” You stated calmly, fingers soothing the back of his hand as he pulled a face.

“But—” he started.

“I have a mentor who I looked up to as a father, but I haven’t seen him in about seven years. I think I should tell him in person.”

“Okay, whatever you want, sweetie. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.” Rum smiled, and you sighed in relief.

“He’ll love you, eventually.” You reassured him.

_________________________________________________________________

First thing the next morning, you caught a plane down to Kentucky and found yourself driving along the battered country roads to the little farmhouse where you and Jack used to live. Your watch buzzed with an incoming call, but you didn’t answer, knowing it was AppleJack. You’d fill her in later.

You parked the car next to the oak tree that still held your swing. A dog came rushing down the steps, howling at you, but you didn’t mind. It was your dog, after all. A tall man in heavy work boots busted out the door, hollering at the dog and telling you that “he don’t really bite.”

The man looked at you without really seeing you, seeing only a woman in worn out cowboy boots and aviators covering much of her face. Her hair was different, so she didn’t really expect him to recognize her.

“What can I do for you?” The man drawled in his southern accent. You shuddered, not forgetting the way that voice sounded when you were in bed together at all times of day or night.

“Well, for starters, you can get your stubborn ass down here and give me a divorce.” You snapped, pulling the sunglasses off your face. Jack’s eyes widened once your words registered. “C’mon, Jack, I mean it. The joke’s over. We need to finish this so I can get back to my office and take care of my job.”

“You’re shittin’ me, right?” Jack spluttered.

You finally got a good look at him. He had shaving cream on the side of his face as if he hadn’t got a chance to finish before your hound was howling, but he’d kept his mustache. You hated to say that he looked good, but it was the truth. The years had been kind to him.

“You know, I’ve never actually understood that expression, but no, I’m not “shitting” you.” You groaned, pulling a packet of papers out of the glovebox of your rented truck and spreading them out in the bed. “Look, it’s even got these idiot proof tabs so you can’t mess this up. I’ve got one copy for you and I both and one for my lawyer. So c’mon.”

When you looked up at him again, he didn’t say anything but he certainly looked like he had quite a few things to say.

“Well?” You demanded, irritated that he wasn’t coming down off the porch to sign the papers like you’d asked him to.

“You show up here after seven years without so much as a ‘Hey there, Jack, remember me? Your wife?’ Or a “Hi, honey, lookin’ good! How’s the family?’” He had the audacity to laugh, finally stepping closer to the edge of the porch.

“You expect me to tell you that you look good? Bless your heart. Sweetheart, we’ve been separated for seven years. I’ve had it with your bullshit.”

“They like that attitude wherever it is you’ve been?”

“Cut the crap, Jack. You knew where I was. Champ told me you accessed my records.” You spat, moving closer to the porch. “And don’t you dare tell me you’ve spent all this time missing me.”

“Oh I missed you alright, but I’ve been going to the range more and practicing so my aim’s gotten a lot better.” He drawled, leaning against the railing.

“Is that a threat, Jack? I’ve got a lawyer who charges me an arm and a leg. He charged me every time you sent these damn papers back without your signature on the dotted lines.” You lifted the papers as you spoke, but he scoffed at you.

“Well, I’m glad to see you got the message.” He smirked, going to say something else but you were both cut off by the dog howling again due to your hostile tones.

“Shut up, Coal!” You shouted, but Jack shouted a different name. “What happened to my dog, Jack?”

“He died. You weren’t here.” He grumbled, turning to go back into the ranch house. You stood there in shock for a second before realizing what he was doing.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m leaving!” He shouted, back turned to you, “You done it, so you should recognize the process. I need to finish shaving my damn beard.”

“Jack, can we please just keep this civilized? For God’s sake, we’re both adults and agents. Please just sign the papers so I can go back home.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was a mistake, you thought. He wasn’t going to sign the papers.

“What do you know from home?” Jack spit, finally turning around to face you, fire in his eyes. “Hell, I bet Champ doesn’t even know you’re here, does he? That old man took you under his wing and trained you himself and you have the audacity to avoid him like he’s some annoyance?”

“That’s my business, Jack, so you stay out of it.”

“Honey, he’s the only family you got.”

“Don’t you ‘honey’ me, honey!” If looks could kill, he’d have died about ten times by now with the murderous look you were giving him.

“Get your ass back in that truck, drive over and see him, and maybe we’ll talk after.” Jack demanded, pointing his finger at your vehicle. He was headed back inside before you could even think, and you started shouting at him as you followed him up the porch.

“Jack, you idiotic, stubborn, no good agent! The only reason you won’t sign these papers is because I want you to!” You yelled, hands on the doorknob of the windowed door he’d just slammed in your face and locked.

“Wrong!” He shouted, trying to pull the blinds on the door that he could never get figured out. “The only reason I ain’t signin’ is because you’ve turned into some hoity-toity, wine-drinking, Yankee bitch and I’d like nothing better right now than to piss you off!”

He finally maneuvered the blinds mostly over the door as you dashed to the back of the house, but he locked that too before you had a chance to get there in time. He could hear your frustrated shout from outside and he chuckled in disbelief before heading to his bathroom to get rid of the rest of his beard.

“Divorce, my ass.” He grumbled. Jack came out two minutes later, wiping his face with a towel to find you lounging on his bed. He froze.

“Hey genius,” you smirked, anger still evident in your eyes. “Next time you wanna lock somebody out, make sure they don’t know where the spare key is.” You waved the offending object in the air, and Whiskey made a mad dash for it but you closed your fist before he could snatch it.

“Knew I should’ve changed those damn locks. It’d be nice if my wife had told me where the spare key was!” He growled.

“I’m not your wife anymore, Jack.” You said softly, “I’m just the first girl that climbed in the back of your truck. But you’re right, I have changed. I don’t even know the girl you married anymore.”

“Then let me remind you.” Jack sneered before grabbing his cell phone and heading back into his bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, Jack popped his head out of the bathroom.

“You bring any clothes with stripes on ‘em?” He asked, and you looked at him in confusion.

Red and blue lights flashed through the windows suddenly and your eyes widened.

“You called the sheriff?!” You gasped, jumping off the bed you used to share with the man looking at you with a satisfied grin on his face. “You know that old bastard hates me!”

“For good reason!” Jack shouted, still in the bathroom.

You made to run for the back door, but it opened to reveal a man you knew.

“Well, hell’s bells!” The man grinned, “If it isn’t our favorite Agent Brandy!”

“Tequila?”

“Hot damn girl, did we miss you! The agency wasn’t the same without you!” Tequila laughed, picking you up and giving you the biggest hug you’d gotten in a long time.

“I can’t believe you’re the sheriff!” You pulled on his badge for a second and knocked his cowboy hat off kilter to mess with him.

“Yep, I get to frisk pretty things like you all day and get paid for it.” Tequila put his hands around your waist and you slapped his chest.

“Aaron, can you try and be at least a little more professional? We got us a crime suspect here.” Jack emerged from the bathroom and you were struck with the fact that you hadn’t known Tequila’s real name until that moment. You quickly snapped back into it, though.

“Now, Brandy, you can’t just go breaking into your ex’s house whenever you feel like it, no matter how much they might deserve it.” Tequila—Aaron, you had to remember that—said.

“I didn’t break in. I used a key. My key, if you must know.” You snorted. Clearly, “Aaron” didn’t know that y’all were still married.

“Well, it still ain’t your house, Brandy. I’m gonna have to escort you out.” Aaron made to take your wrist in his hand, but you pulled away and grabbed the divorce papers you still had with you. You waved them as you heard Jack tell Aaron to use the cuffs on you.

“If you can get that asshole to sign these papers, I’ll let you run me out of town.” You smirked and Aaron laughed at your antics.

“Now that’s none of your concern, Aaron, you hear me?” Jack started, but Aaron was already taking the papers from you to look over.

“Well, what do you know. A bill of divorcement?” He asked. You nodded, and Aaron turned to Jack. “Hell, Jack, I thought you took care of this.”

“I thought I did!” Jack protested.

“Obviously not! Well, if y’all are still married, it’s her house too. This here ain’t nothin’ but a domestic dispute.” Aaron handed the papers back to you, and you smiled at him.

“He didn’t hit you, did he? If he took a swing at you, I’ll take him in right now.” Aaron told you quietly, out of earshot of your husband. You shook your head, because no, that man had never harmed you in ways that were physical. He’d only wounded your heart.

“No, he never hit me.” You replied quietly. Aaron nodded.

“Well, seems y’all got some catching up to do, so I’m gonna leave y’all to it. There’s nobody for miles, so Jack here can make ya scream all he likes.” Aaron winked at Jack, and you shouted in indignation. “G’night, lovebirds!”

“Aaron, I saved your life at least four times back in your Statesman years! You owe me!” Jack shouted, rushing to follow the sheriff’s retreating figure. He wanted you gone from his house in handcuffs if that’s what it took to get you to leave him alone about those divorce papers that he didn’t want to sign.

“Why can’t you just sign the damn papers, Jack?” You yelled after him, and he fixed you with the nastiest stare you’d seen in a long time.

“Listen, Jack. There’s nothing I can do. Your wife’s done nothing wrong, so I can’t just haul her in for nothing. Y’hear me?” Aaron blocked the doorway with his large frame as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“I suppose shoplifting steaks at the grocery store’s okay.” Jack spat.

“I took ‘em back and you know it!” You screeched back.

“You remember that vandalism out at the stockyard? Totally her!”

“Like I could tip a cow by myself at sixteen.” You growled, and Jack groaned. He couldn’t hit you with anything from your Statesman years either because that was all “classified information” you didn’t have to answer to. But Jack got an idea.

“Hey Aaron, isn’t there some outstanding warrant for whoever dumped your old man’s tractor in the fish pond?” Jack smirked triumphantly, making eye contact with your horrified expression. And then the cuffs were on your wrists and you were making your merry way to the county jail in the back of his cruiser.

“Now you know I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Aaron smiled ruefully once y’all reached the station. He’d ended up hauling you off in cuffs just like Jack wanted and you were seething.

“This all could have been avoided if he’d just signed those damn papers.” You grumbled. “Can I make a call?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’ll get a couple minutes once I book ya.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the photos Aaron needed to do for “legal purposes.”

“You know that’s gonna get wiped once I make my call, right?” Aaron had the audacity to laugh, knowing exactly who you were going to call.

“I know. Tell big daddy I miss him.” Aaron pointed towards the phone.

It rang for a few seconds before a secretary's voice filtered on, saying the usual crap the Statesman company was supposed to yodel on about.

“Hi, I’ve got a word for you, lady.” You spit out, “Lemon drops suck.” You heard the operator say something about holding on for a moment and then a familiar voice was asking who you were.

“Champ! It’s Brandy,” you shouted, “Listen, I need a favor.”

“Name it, darling. You know I’d do anything for you and that wonderful husband of yours.” He drawled on for a moment and you smacked the phone receiver into the box.

“I need you to pick me up.”

“Well, where are ya? I’ll send a car or whatever it is you need.”

“That’s the thing. I’m in town. But, I need you to come get me from the jail.” You said after a moment. A groan came through the receiver and you winced.

“Alright, darling, I’ll be right there. I’m assuming it’s the usual one, then?”

“Yeah.”

Fifteen minutes later, the man himself was strolling through the door.

“I’m here for my girl, Tequila.” Champ rolled his eyes at you once he saw you waving. He had you out and your record erased within five minutes, and then you were back in his familiar old truck that smelled like whiskey and gunpowder. He accepted a muttered thank you while you drove off towards the Statesman offices.

“So what put you in jail this time?” Champ finally asked.

“Jack and his big, fat mouth.” You grumbled. “It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Kinda like that wedding I officiated, huh, darling?” You refused to make eye contact.

“I would hardly call that a wedding.”

“The boy was nervous.” Champ chuckled.

“He was still drunk from the night before!”

“Can you blame him?”

“Yes, I can! We’re supposed to be professional agents and he goes and gets piss drunk the night before we’re supposed to get married. I went to the reception by myself with his puke on the side of my dress while he slept it off at the hotel. And you’re still siding with him!”

“I ain’t siding with nobody, so get rid of that idea. Y’all two are my best agents and I need you both.” Champ stated firmly. “The boy’s changed is all.”

“Can we just not talk about Jack? I know he’s like the son you never had, but you also called me your daughter and all that, so can you just ask me what’s new with me or something instead?”

“Sure. Shoot.” Champ looked disinterested, and you had the feeling that he’d kept up with you better than you’d kept up with him. Curse the archives for always spilling your secrets before you ever could.

“I met somebody. And he’s quite a catch.” You started, and Champ raised an eyebrow beneath his larger than life cowboy hat. “And I’m happy. Really.”

The rest of the drive was held in silence, neither of you feeling like talking much. He pulled into the Statesman gates and led you inside, scanning his ID card on an empty apartment in the back of the warehouses where agents could sleep during the longer missions.

“Sleep well, sweetheart. We can talk about all this in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and you hauled your bag inside. “I’ll take you to get your truck in the morning, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

_________________________________________________________________

In the morning, you were on the phone with your lawyer, walking around the Statesman compound and attempting to avoid the various tour groups that were unaware of the real reason this distillery existed.

“How long does a contested divorce take?” You asked, exasperated that you had to do this now of all times because your no-good husband wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. “18 months? Mr. Collier, I don’t even have 18 days, really!”

The man told you that was how it had to be, you informed him that this arrangement wouldn’t work, and he was informing you of a different option when you heard someone wolf whistle at you, throwing out some jab.

“Ain’t seen the likes of you around this place much!” The man shouted from his horse.

“Mr. Collier, that’s just not going to work for me.” You groaned, trying to block out the man catcalling you from his horse. Clearly this was some junior agent. “Mr. Collier, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“Listen here, bubba, why don’t you kiss my ass!” You shouted up at the guy, but screamed in happiness once you realized who it was. “Oh my god, Moonshine?!”

“Let’s go inside then, missy, because I don’t do that kind of thing out here in front of the guests.” Moonshine smirked at you, jumping down from his horse.

“I guess your mama raised you right, then.” You laughed, hugging him. You’d missed Moonshine, who’d been one of your first friends in the agency aside from Jack, of course. “I better back off of you before your little lady tries to come beat me up.”

Moonshine looked sheepish.

“There is a little lady, isn’t there?”

“I can hardly afford me and my unhealthy addiction to firearms and whiskey, let alone some high-maintenance babe.” Moonshine laughed.

“What about Cara what’s-her-name? From the class outside of ours? Y’all had real chemistry on some of the missions I supervised.”

“She transferred out to the Alaska branch, and uh, I wasn’t her type.” Moonshine scratched the back of his neck and you hummed, understanding the situation.

“That answers a few of my questions. Guess we all have our secrets, don’t we, Moonshine.” You grinned, your suspicions about him batting for the opposite team nearly confirmed.

“Yeah, we sure do.” Moonshine climbed back up on his horse, tipping his hat on the way. “I gotta get back to work now, missy, but are you gonna be in town for awhile? Me and a few of the guys are going down to our normal watering hole later tonight if you’re up for it.”

“I hope I won’t be here long. I have to go see Champ, but I think I’ll see you boys tonight.”

“Well, I better scram if you’re seeing the boss man.”

“Very funny. I’ll see you later, Moonshine.” You waved the man off and made your way inside, scanning your own ID card on the entry doors and taking the elevator up to Champ’s office.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t my favorite agent.” Champ drawled from his seat at the head of the conference table.

“Hey boss man, care to give me a ride to town so I can get my truck?” You asked, leaning up against the door jam and waving your keys. He laughed, standing up and grabbing his own keys from his desk.

“C’mon then, little lady. I did make you a promise. You can tell me all about why you’re here on the way over.”

_________________________________________________________________

Once you’d picked up your truck from the jail’s parking lot, you made your way to the bank. You hadn’t accounted for Jack taking as long as he was to sign the divorce papers, so you needed some cash for necessities.

Of course, the bank didn’t have an ATM. You cursed yourself for forgetting as you stepped inside. The bank guard’s eyes widened once he laid eyes on you, telling whoever it was in the teller’s booth that he was going to take a break outside. You winced once you remembered that this was the same man whose farm you and Jack and a few of your old friends had gone rolling pumpkins in year after year. He probably hated you.

You approached the teller, but didn’t recognize her. She clearly recognized you, though.

“Well, if it ain’t the queen of the New York Statesman office.” She grinned. You narrowed your eyes, attempting to figure out who she was when the lightbulb clicked.

“Jenny? Oh my god. I haven’t seen you since you and Tequila got hitched! You look amazing!”

“Thanks, sweetie! So do you. What can I do you for?”

“I need to make a withdrawal from my—“

“Joint account?” Jenny smiled like she knew something you didn’t, which knowing her, she probably did.

“My what?”

“Your joint account. With Jack? From what I hear, y’all are still married.”

“Why yes, yes we are.” You grinned, a plan already formulating in your mind.

_________________________________________________________________

It was after five when Jack got home, but you’d already got to work. You had on one of his favorite dresses that you’d found in a trunk somewhere, one of your homemade aprons, and a wide smile once he walked in the door.

“Hi, honey! Lookin’ good. How’s the family?” You grinned up at him, serving food onto two plates in the dining room.

“Cut the shit. Where’s my stuff?” Jack growled, chucking his hat on the couch along with his whip and lasso.

You smiled where he couldn’t see it, glad to see he’d noticed what you’d done to the place. There were new appliances in the kitchen, a new couch and loveseat, a flatscreen tv, a new rug, and Jack assumed you’d also done something to the bedroom. None of the things he’d had laying around since you left were where he could see it, and the sight agitated him.

“Now what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t pick up after my husband? Dinner’s ready in five.”

“The kind that don’t live here.” Jack groaned, hands raking over his face. “Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time—where is the house key?”

“I had the sweetest talk today with Tequila’s daddy.” You started as you ignored him.

“Nice to see you got your accent back.”

“Oh, I stumbled on a few things today.” You said, noticing Jack had gone to the kitchen, likely in search of a beer.

“Holy shit!” He shouted, and you stifled your laughter. “What happened to the stove?! And where are them little magnets I got from my travels, huh?” He opened the fridge and groaned.

“What the hell is this? Chick food?” He gestured to the fridge that you’d restocked with fresh fruits and vegetables, and new groceries that weren’t stale takeout containers.

“Light beer. Less calories, honey.” You smiled brightly, missing Jack’s murderous expression. He grabbed a can anyway and popped the top off.

“I tried to pick out a new bed today, but the mattress store only had old models. I’ll have to order something from New York.”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey.” Jack muttered, taking a deep swig of the beer you’d bought. He’d have to find his stash of whiskey and hope you hadn’t gotten rid of it.

“Oh, but darlin’, I thought you said we should think of it as our money.” You saw him freeze where he stood, and continued your crusade. “Just a guess, but I’m thinking the words ‘joint checking’ are flashing through your mind right now.”

“How much did you take?” He whirled around, effectively forcing you into the kitchen.

“All of it.” You replied simply, enjoying his facial expression.

“Son of a bitch!” He cursed, chucking the now empty beer can into the trash can and rubbing his face with his hands.

“You wanted a wife, you got a wife, honey,” you spat, “and what were you doing with all that cash? Why don’t you invest it? We work for a perfectly good company with shares for sale, don’t you know anything?”

“I know if you don’t get out of my house right now—”

“Sign the papers and I’ll give it all back.”

“Fine—fine!” He shouted, “gimme the pen.”

You rummaged in your packet for the pen and laid out the papers on the dinner table. You made to give him the pen, but thought better of it.

“Hold on. What are you doing with all that cash saved up? And since when did you tell Champ not to put you on anymore active missions? You aren’t doing anything illegal, are you Jack?”

“So what if I am? I don’t ask you about your boyfriend, you keep your nose out of my life.” He spat out, not making eye contact with you. You deflated.

“Who told you?” You asked quietly.

“Honey, just ‘cause I talk slow don’t mean I’m stupid.” He said in a much quieter tone. He almost sounded hurt.

“Look, Jack—” you trailed off.

“For god’s sake, nobody finds their soulmate at twelve years old.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jack almost smiled. Your eye caught something on the mantle and you looked up to see a horseshoe and a photo of your parent’s old farm.

“I can’t believe you kept that all these years,” you murmured, eyes trailing over the familiar old farm. It had burned down four years after that photo was taken, taking your parents’ lives with it. Jack looked at you before looking at the clock on the wall.

“Oh, hey sweetie, you know what? I just remembered I got myself a hot date.” Jack grinned maliciously, unbuttoning his collared shirt as he spoke. Your eyes moved from the picture to the skin being revealed and suddenly were at a loss for words. “You don’t mind if I have my lawyer take a look at these, do you?” He tossed the papers back on the table and left the room.

“What?!” You gasped.

“Hell, I’m just a dumb intelligence agent with no regards for the law. There’s words in there I don’t even know. You might be takin’ me to the cleaners for all I know.”

“The cleaners? You? You ain’t been there since our wedding, if you even washed your suit for that,” you scoffed. “Can’t you just sign the damn papers?”

“Nah,” he grinned from the doorway to his bedroom, “but thanks for stoppin’ bye. It’s been a real treat.” And then the door was slammed and you screamed into a newly-purchased throw pillow.

You’d realized after about ten minutes that Jack wasn’t coming back into the living room. In fact, his dramatic ass had jumped out the window and you heard his truck starting up outside.

Tequila had made an offer, though, and you planned to take up the social obligation. Besides, if Jack was as predictable as he’d always been, his “hot date” was probably at his mama’s bar where everyone in that little town went to unwind.

Your phone rang once you were outside the noisy bar near Jack’s truck, and you answered at once knowing it was your fiancé.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You smiled into the phone and Rum’s happy voice spilled out.

“Are you sitting down?” Rum asked.

“Why? Bad news? Did the mission blow up or something?” You panicked. You knew putting this in Rum’s hands would only backfire if something happened.

“No, no! Nothing like that. I was just going to tell you that I read the mission reports and everything went exactly to plan just like you said it would. You might be up for another promotion, babe.” Rum reassured you.

“Oh my god, really? Oh, I needed that almost as much as I need to see you.”

“What is that noise?” Rum finally asked, and you assumed he could hear the loud music and shouts coming from inside the bar.

“The sound of my past.” You grimaced.

“Have fun. I love you.” Your fiancé finished, and you returned the sentiments before hanging up the phone and waltzing into the bar. You were immediately greeted by a screech and an older woman who was still spry was pulling you into a tight hug and yelling over the music.

“Batten down the hatches, boys! Trouble done just walked back into my life disguised as my favorite daughter-in-law!” Helen grinned at you. “Honey, gimme a hug, it’s been too long.”

You laughed while you hugged her and stepped back to show her your ring.

“Soon to be ex-daughter-in-law.” You stated proudly.

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” She asked, inspecting the diamond on your finger.

“His name’s Blake and he works with me.” You winked, and she nodded in understanding. She knew about a little of the work you and her son did, but she mostly stayed out of it, claiming that the stress would bring her to an early grave.

“Well, he’s got my vote if he picked out a ring as pretty as that. It’s good to see you, baby girl.” Helen gave you a pat on the shoulder and told her bartender to give you whatever you wanted. You asked for a whiskey on the rocks and nearly laughed at the irony of the situation.

Once your drink was in hand, you scanned the room, looking for your husband. You spotted him in the corner with some young blonde thing and rolled your eyes. A quick march found you standing right behind Jack and you flipped the edge of his cowboy hat.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked sweetly, leaning up against the pool table beside him.

“Actually we do.” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. He was challenging you, but you ignored him in order to set your sights on his date.

“You must be Jack’s hot date.” You grinned at the girl and she put a hand out to shake yours.

“I’m Carly.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Jack’s snotty, Yankee-bitch wife whom he refuses to divorce even though I’m engaged to another man.” You shook her hand, and the girl gasped once she saw your ring.

“Hot dog, Jack, look at the size of that thing!” She gushed. You nearly rolled your eyes at how dumb she was acting just in an attempt to impress your husband.

“Honey? Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, yeah?” Jack turned to Carly and handed her a few bills. The girl smiled, popped her gum, and proceeded to ask you what you were having. You rolled your eyes then. “Not ‘me and her’ us, ‘you and I’ us.”

The girl agreed and scurried off, and then you turned to Jack.

“Why do you make me be mean to you? Is that what you want? To be humiliated in front of all your friends?” You snapped, frustrated that he was taking this so lightly. He shook his head and downed the rest of his own glass of whiskey.

“C’mon, Brandy, they were your friends too.” You heard Jack mutter, nodding towards a few agents who’d just walked over with their drinks. You recognized a few guys who’d been in the class behind you along with Moonshine. He nodded at you and ordered a beer before heading over to say hello.

“Alright, Brandy, you sit down while I teach your husband here how to lose at pool.” Moonshine grinned, pulling a bar stool over to you.

“Now Moonshine, I’m not really a watch and see kinda girl, am I Jack?” His expression was priceless as he took up the challenge.

At least six drinks later, you were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and you landed somewhere near Moonshine as he lined up his shot.

“Come on, now, Moony, you got it. Don’t blow this one, okay baby?” You drunkenly giggled and Moonshine laughed at your inebriated state.

“You can take the girl out of the honky-tonk, but you can’t take the honky-tonk out of the girl.” He missed the shot, but you didn’t care anymore, more focused on the conversation Jack was not-so-quietly having with Cognac? Coors? You couldn’t remember his codename, but it didn’t matter. Jack was talking about you.

“So, Whiskey, are you gonna divorce this girl or what?” The agent asked. Jack shook his head.

“She’s waited seven years. A couple more days won’t kill her. Unfortunately.”

“Like it’s gonna make a difference.” You snorted, nearly falling into his arms but stabilizing yourself at the last second.

“You never know,” the agent started, “you might be interested to know that Whiskey here has been—”

“Hey, hey, Cognac, let her think what she wants. She made her mind up about me a long time ago.” Jack cut him off, making you wonder just what it was that he didn’t want you knowing about.

You quickly forgot that thought, though, when Moonshine started yelling and telling Cognac he owed him fifty dollars. Cognac groaned, forking over the cash.

You didn’t really know what happened next, but you got into a shouting match with one of the other agents and eventually asked Helen for another round of drinks, but she quickly cut you off. Then you were shouting again as Jack dragged you out of the bar by your arm, yelling at you, saying that you couldn’t just insult everyone in the bar because you’d made it out of Kentucky but they were happy where they were.

“What makes you think you can treat them like somethin’ you stepped in, huh?!” Jack demanded as he put you right up next to his truck.

“You asked for it!” You yelled in his face, trying to get your keys out of your pocket. Jack quickly grabbed them.

“You show up here, you steal my money, you rearrange my house, and then you insult our friends, actin’ like you’re better than them.” Jack spat. He was angry and you knew it, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“I am better than them! And you stole my keys!” You whined, wanting to be anywhere but here with your husband who was telling you that you were wrong. He was right, but you wouldn’t admit it.

“That’s all that matters to you, huh?” He asked in disbelief.

You tried to say his name, but he cut you off.

“God, ever since you left, this has been a nightmare. The money, the fancy office, the city, you’re pathetic!” He raked a hand through his mustache and you got lost in the action right before spitting out a comeback.

“Oh, like you’re goin’ places!” You groaned, a splitting headache appearing out of nowhere. “I certainly am once I get my keys back.”

“No, you don’t. No. You want to kill yourself driving, you do it somewhere else. But not here, not on my watch.” Jack said, putting your keys into his own pocket.

“At least I’m doing something with my life. So what if you and I aren’t partners anymore, you can still go on missions. You don’t have to worry about me anymore!”

“Get in the truck, Y/N.” Jack opened the door and guided you inside, defeated. His date was waiting by the door and you noticed them having a quiet conversation before he handed her your keys and made his way back to the truck.

You fell asleep before Jack even got on the two lane highway that led to the Statesman offices where he knew you’d been staying. Champ didn’t say anything when Whiskey carried you inside your temporary apartment, snoring away, but he wished things would work out between the two of you. His hopes were dashed as soon as Whiskey asked for a pen to sign the papers you’d brought with you.

When you woke up, still hungover from the night before, the divorce papers were stuck on top of the pillow beside you. You wished you could say you were happy about it, but you couldn’t deny that a pit was in the bottom of your stomach.

Once you rolled out of bed and had some coffee, the papers were sealed into an envelope and you drove to the post office to mail it out. You’d talk to Jack afterwards and apologize for your behavior.

When you got to the familiar farmhouse, you found Jack’s dog Midnight lounging at the base of the porch. You scratched his ears, and he whined happily at the attention he was receiving. The dog got up and raced up to Jack when he came out of the house with a crate.

“What’s she doing here, huh, boy?” He asked the dog before turning to face you, “Thought you’d have high-tailed it out of here by now.”

“I put the money back in your account.” You said quietly, searching his face for any emotion whatsoever.

“Thanks. Saves me from bouncing a lot of checks.” He smiled at you, a genuine smile, and it caught you off guard. “I like what you did, though, to the house. Should help it sell quicker.”

“You’re moving?” You were surprised. This was the house you and Jack had gotten and fixed up together in the early stages of your marriage and it held a lot of good memories along with quite a few bad ones.

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of my time a bit south of the distillery, so . . .” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

“Look, hon, I signed your papers.” Jack sighed, finally hauling the crate into the back of his truck.

“Jack, I never meant to hurt you, or anybody else for that matter. And I just came out here to say thank you.” You finally said.

“You might want to move your toes.” Jack nodded towards where your feet were in reference to his truck tires. “Wouldn’t wanna run ‘em over since you need them for field work.”

“You can’t just leave!”

“Sure I can.” He chuckled, hopping into the cab. “You want to come?”

“Where you goin’?”

“I want to show you something.” Jack said solemnly, and you wished you could go. Something made you stop, though.

“I can’t.” You finally answered, defeated.

“Can’t or won’t?” Jack asked you, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.

“Both.”

“The girl I knew used to be fearless.” Jack leaned against the steering wheel to get a good look at you. You looked so much like the woman he’d once known so intimately, and yet so different. A lot had scarred you both and he recognized that.

“The girl you knew didn’t have a life.” You smiled weakly, fighting back tears.

“Well, I guess you better get back to living it then. C’mon, Midnight.” Jack got his dog in the cab with him and drove off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

_________________________________________________________________

You didn’t know what possessed you to stay in town now that the papers had been signed and mailed out, but you found yourself in the town square that evening for the weekly square dance night.

“Hello.” You murmured sheepishly once you’d spotted Tequila and his wife, Jenny, and Moonshine, and a few of the agents from last night at the bar. “I just wanted to apologize to y’all. Last night was so uncalled for, and I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Brandy, forget it.” Tequila told you, a smile gracing his face. “You know we don’t stay mad for long.” The group nodded, and you smiled in relief.

Jenny pulled you to the side and handed you a glass of sweet tea.

“You know, he went up there.” She said, sort of secretively.

“Who?” You were confused about what she was talking about. But then she looked at you oddly and you suddenly knew. “Jack? When?”

“About a year after you left. He doesn’t know I know, but Aaron “big mouth” Tequila over there can’t keep a secret to save his life nowadays.”

“Jack was in New York?” You asked, completely surprised. You’d never seen him. He’d certainly never come to see you and say hello. Jenny nodded.

“He told Tequila he’d never seen anything like it. He realized straight off that he’d need more than an apology to win you back. He needed to conquer the world first. He’s been tryin’ ever since.” Jenny told you, downing her own tea.

“That’s why he kept sending the papers back.” You murmured, and Jenny nodded at you again.

“It’s funny how things don’t work out.” She sighed.

“It’s funny how they do.” You smiled warmly at her, knowing she was happy with her life and how it was turning out.

“Hey, look who I found wandering around the edge of the party.” Moonshine cheered, shoving Jack in the center of the group you were with. He had the nerve to look a bit sheepish, knowing you were there, but you were the one who blushed. After that, it was a whirlwind of everyone catching up on the times and you found yourself smiling at Jack.

The band finally started playing a slow song, and Tequila got up to ask you to dance, leaving his wife to drag Jack into the square. The both of you danced for awhile before Tequila stole his wife back, which left you and Jack standing face to face. Jack held out a hand to you to offer a dance, but you hesitated.

“Maybe we could just talk?” You asked him quietly. He shook his head and walked off, a sigh escaping your lips once you realized you were alone.

The night wore on with you on the sidelines, drinking sweet tea, and finally you made your way down the street towards your truck. Something stopped you, though, and you made your way into the coon dog cemetery on the edge of town. Maybe Coal was in there. You didn’t realize Jack had been watching you and finally ended up following you, and maybe you wouldn’t have been so honest in your talk with your old dog if you’d known.

You knelt beside the dog’s grave, his collar and your old license plate stuck to the stone placed above him.

“Hey there, buddy. Sorry it took me so long. I would’ve come sooner if I’d known you were sick.” You sniffed, fingers running along the etching of his name in the stone. “Actually, that’s probably not true. I’ve been pretty selfish lately. Dogs don’t know anything about that, do they, though?”

“You were always a big old pillow after missions. Like when everything went pear-shaped after I got shot, you never left my side. And then I just left you. Oh gosh. I bet you sat there on that big old porch, wondering what you done wrong.” You sobbed, wiping the tears away.

“I told him it was my fault.” Jack’s voice broke you out of your concentration and you whipped around to see him kneeling behind you.

“Quit bein’ so nice.” You sniffed, a small smile breaking through your tears. Jack offered you a hand to help you up and you accepted it. He led you to a bench right near Coal’s grave and kept holding your hand.

“It’s the truth.” Jack stated.

“How come everything has to be so complicated,” you asked tearfully. Jack smiled softly at you.

“What?” He asked finally.

“Truth, life, this,” you gestured between the two of you and towards the hand he was still holding in his grip. Jack didn’t answer that, not that you expected him to.

“He was one hell of a good dog, wasn’t he? You looked like you were having fun out there tonight before I got there and ruined it.” Jack mumbled. You brushed a thumb over your intertwined hands softly.

“I’m happy in New York, Jack.” You laughed wetly, “But then I come down here and this fits too.”

“Since when does it have to be one or the other, darlin’? You can have roots and wings, you know.” Jack told you. You nodded.

“Maybe I could just fly south for the winter.” You joked miserably.

Jack finally pointed out towards the woods and nudged your shoulder, “Look.”

“What?” You asked.

“There, see ‘em?” You followed his pointing finger until you realized that he was pointing at fireflies illuminating sections of the woods with their blinking behinds.

“Only you,” you laughed fondly, looking up at him. You couldn’t deny it, Jack was still just as handsome as the day you married him even if the years had gone by.

“You know, I still go out there sometimes. To the meadow, I mean. I hear the crickets and I go and sit in the field and stare up at the stars like we used to. It’s like a religion.” Jack revealed, turning to look down at you to gauge your response.

“I had a dream about it the other night, our first kiss when we were twelve. Remember that?”

“You ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten shot and died on that mission?” Jack asked bluntly. You were surprised and whispered his name.

“Just, let me get this out before I can’t.” Jack started, “I thought us working together on missions would be an adventure. I loved seeing you be this beautiful badass and I loved being the one who got to love you. And it took me awhile to realize that being tied down to me would be your only adventure.”

“I guess that thug knew what he was doing then, aiming at me. I was so ashamed, Jack, ‘cause I felt so relieved once I woke up and remembered everything. And all of a sudden, I just . . . Needed a different life. Y’know? I had to get away.” You were almost frantic in your story, the painful memories resurfacing of how you just ran away from your husband with no explanation. Gosh, the number you did on him.

“You done real well for yourself. I’m proud of you, sugar.” Jack told you sincerely, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet cheeks. “I’m just sorry I never danced with you at our weddin’. I’m sure this next one’s gonna go better for ya.”

You looked up and suddenly your lips were on his and it felt like you were breathing real air for the first time since you left his home and abandoned him. It felt good, his lips brushing yours in just the right ways, but you couldn’t do this.

“Jack, I can’t do this.” You whimpered through your tears. He nodded.

“I know. Go home, Brandy.”

And just like he’d appeared, Jack disappeared in the dark, leaving you alone with your conflicted emotions.

_________________________________________________________________

The next morning found Jack entering the Statesman offices as a man on a mission. But he found an unfamiliar man with flowers in hand, pacing in the lobby.

“Y’alright there?” He asked. The man whipped his head up and sighed.

“I’m here to surprise my fiancée. The secretary won’t let me in because I don’t have a Kentucky Statesman badge, only a New York one.”

Jack quickly realized the situation, knowing immediately that the man was there to see you without needing to be introduced. He also knew that you were probably in Champ’s office, talking smack about missions like you used to do.

“Well, I’m headed upstairs to see a friend of mine, but you’re welcome to join.” Jack motioned to the elevator, and your fiancé quickly nodded and followed him inside the cab. Jack rolled his eyes at the guy’s eagerness.

“So, fiancée huh? Which one of our lucky agents is it?” Jack drawled, knowing full well who this man meant.

“Agent Brandy.” The man answered, “and you are?”

“I’m Agent Whiskey. Who might you be?” Jack smirked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Agent Rum.” Rum laughed sheepishly. He was quite a bit smaller than Jack and had to look upwards to make eye contact.

“Ah, so you’re the man Brandy was talking about.” Jack couldn’t help but meddle a little in his ex-wife’s affairs.

“You know Brandy?” Rum asked, surprised.

“Course I know her. I know all about her.” Jack grinned down at the man, “I know her name, her whole life story, everything. She was my partner.”

“She never mentioned you.” Rum stammered. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?”

Jack described you, and Rum nodded, but that description would match a few agents and Rum wasn’t sure Jack really knew who you were. Joke’s on him.

Moonshine got in the elevator and froze once he saw Jack with your fiancé. He’d looked Rum up as soon as you’d mentioned him, and the look Jack had on his face was downright scary to someone who knew him. It was like a lion playing with its prey.

“Uh, uh, hey Whiskey.” Moonshine stuttered.

“Morning,” Jack smiled. “Brandy here?”

Moonshine nodded.

“Yeah, yeah she’s here. She’s with big daddy.”

“Wonderful. I’m just escorting her fiancé here up to meet him.” Jack nodded towards Rum who waved a hand. Jack couldn’t figure out how this man got to be an agent, all timid and shy next to Southern guys. He seemed like a schmuck.

“Oh, that’s great.” Moonshine nodded emphatically.

“I’m sorry, you are?” Rum asked, in reference to Moonshine.

“Name’s Moonshine. I’m Brandy’s, uh—” her turned to look at Jack to figure out what to say.

“Her other partner.” Jack finished. Rum smiled at the two.

“Wow! Two partners while she was here. That’s something.”

Jack rolled his eyes behind the man’s back.

“So what do you like about our Brandy?” Jack finally asked him, directing the both of them to exit the elevator. Champ’s office was just down the way, but Jack wasn’t ready to leave this man with you yet.

Rum spouted off a lot of things that Jack knew you weren’t like whenever y’all were married and he quickly realized that the woman you were with this new guy wasn’t anything like the woman he married. The woman he’d seen in the last few days. This was a woman who had completely changed herself to fit New York, and that just made Jack’s stomach churn.

Finally, he pulled Rum over to Champ’s door and he threw open the doors. You were sat inside, alone, staring at a few photos on the wall before you looked up and made eye contact with your ex-husband. You stood quickly, walking over to the two men standing before you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at Jack.

“Well, I came to deliver your fiancé.” Jack stared at you real hard.

“I, uh, think she was talking to me.” Rum cut in, handing you the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding.

“Jack . . .” You trailed off.

“Must be exhaustin’.” Jack started.

“What?” you asked softly. Rum echoed the question beside you, finally realizing that you and Jack were talking to each other in a way that wasn’t normal to him.

“Livin’ a lie.” Jack finished, hand shoving his hat further on his head. You shook.

“What’s he talking about?” Rum asked you, and you looked back at Jack, pleading for him to be kind.

“You and I are in love with two different people.” Jack said with a shake of his head as he left the room.

“Who is he really? He said he was your partner.” Rum asked you, staring after Jack’s retreating figure.

“He’s my husband.” You answered.

“Your what?” Rum was dumbfounded.

“I mean my ex-husband.” You gasped, correcting yourself.

“You married your partner?!” Rum was running his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around the situation and realizing just how little he knew about you. Had you up and married another man while you were down here? Were you married before? You interrupted his thoughts with a quiet answer.

“No, I came down here to finalize my divorce.” You sighed.

“Hey darlin’,” Champ burst into the room, “just saw your precious hubby and took his resignation.” He froze once he saw who was with you. “Oh! You must be my baby girl’s new someone!”

You groaned internally.

Rum threw up his hands and made some new noise you’d never heard before then promptly left the room. You scurried after him, trying to get his attention.

“Blake! Wait!”

“I just—” Andrew started as he pressed the button on the outside of the elevator.

“Let me try and explain, you don’t understand!” You tried to wedge your way between him and the door, but he easily slid past you. You slammed your arm against the side of the sliding doors to keep them from closing. “This isn’t who I am anymore!”

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what else you’ve lied about, but I do know one thing. There’s a helicopter parked outside in the field, and I am on it.” Rum’s face was stony as the doors closed.

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, trying to grasp the situation. A sigh escaped your lips before you made your way back to Champ’s office to slump down in a chair.

Champ was sitting at his desk, Statesman glasses perched on his nose and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He looked up right as you made eye contact and gave you his signature “I told you so” look. You groaned.

“I know you’re thinkin’ I spoiled things real good this time.” You grumbled, chucking your hat on the table.

“Now, sweetheart, don’t go accusin’ me of thinking. I ain’t done anything of the sort.” Champ snorted. “Anyway, I don’t think you spoiled what you think you did. You got a good head on your shoulders kid, and I love you.”

You talked for awhile, catching up on life and missions and things you hadn’t spoken of in years when a knock sounded on the open door of Champ’s office. Champ nodded whoever it was inside, but you didn’t even look up until Champ looked at you with a knowing smile.

“Hey, you two. Look who I found wandering around by the weapons labs.” Moonshine nudged someone forward and you finally looked up. Agent Rum, your fiancé, was in front of you with the sorriest look you’d ever seen on his face.

“I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now.” You said slowly, not sure why he was still here. Your little interlude an hour before sounded like a breakup if you’d ever heard one. You stood up and moved to stand beside Champ, knowing he’d back you up if needed.

“So did I.” Rum smiled sheepishly, nodding toward Champ.

“Oh, this is Agent Champagne, but we call him Champ. He’s basically been my daddy since I started here.” Champ reached up squeezed your hand in reassurance and you moved closer to Rum. “And this is Moonshine. He’s been my best friend for a long time, well, as long as I’ve been good to him. He’s always been a better man. This is where I started, where I grew up, and my home.”

“Well,” Rum started, “it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Agent Rum, Brandy’s fiancé. That is, if she’ll still have me.” You looked at him in surprise. “ Look, I don’t really care what just happened back there. So you have a past. I mean, who doesn’t? We’re all trying to escape something in this life. What I need to know is if there is a place for me in your future.”

“Good Lord, he’s saying all sorts of sweet things.” Moonshine muttered and you laughed at him.

“Well?” Rum asked. You nodded with a small smile.

“Crap, guess I need to plan my vacation days to go to New York then.” Champ grumbled at his desk.

“What vacation days, old man?” You sassed Champ. You turned back to Rum, “Babe, what if we had the wedding here? I have so much history here, I’d like to end it all here and start fresh with you.”

Rum smiled and agreed and Champ started hollering about how he couldn’t believe you were going to do this to him again, how he’d have to officiate yet another wedding, and how many times does his only daughter get married? Apparently the answer was twice.

_________________________________________________________________

A month went by before you knew it, full of missions and planning and setting up temporary groups while you’d be on your honeymoon. In between all you had to do in the Statesman offices, you were also wedding planning. Luckily, you had Champ and his wife to help with all that along with AppleJack and your assistant.

Mr. Collier, your lawyer, had been calling nearly every day, but you’d assured him that you had everything handled and that he could clear the divorce without you. You’d been calling Jack a lot too. You wanted to talk to him about what Champ meant when he said Jack had retired, and why no one seemed to want to talk about what he was doing. But he never answered his cell and your old home phone seemed to be disconnected.

It still didn’t feel real that you’d be getting married on Saturday afternoon as you stepped off your Statesman jet at the airfield in Kentucky on Thursday with Agent AppleJack and your assistant—now newly minted Agent Smirnoff.

“You guys remember that mark from a year ago on that mission I was on for about three months, right? The Spanish one?” AppleJack was telling you. You nodded, remembering who she was talking about. He’d been rugged and good looking, and you’d told her as much when you handed her the mission. “Well, he proposed to me, and I think I loved him despite his obvious attraction to black market trading.”

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Smirnoff asked.

“Because I hesitated long enough to realize my head and my heart were saying two different things. And he was on the other side of the legal fence.” AppleJack scoffed.

You guided the two of them towards your waiting truck and chucked your bags in the bed of it. Theirs followed as they argued.

“Well, it’s a big decision.” You added in.

“It’s supposed to be the easiest one you ever make.” Smirnoff said. You’d always thought he was a romantic, and now you were sure of it.

“Hey, y’all, I want to stop somewhere before we head to the office. Okay?” You turned to look at the two of them, and they shrugged before agreeing. It wasn’t like y’all had much to do today anyway. Champ had already assured you that the cellar was decorated and pretty for you and Rum to tie the knot, and that he’d already arranged everything for your honeymoon too.

You drove the forty-five minutes it took to get to your parents’ old farmhouse where you used to live before it had burned down, taking both your parents with it when you were nineteen. You hadn’t been there since a few days after the fire when you’d set up headstones for your parents on the property, but you wanted to tell them what was going on.

The driveway was long, but you were surprised to see how well kept it was. Then the house came into view along with Jack’s pickup truck and a familiar black dog lounging on the steps. You slammed on the brakes and parked right off the driveway, jumping out of the vehicle.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, looking at the place. It looked nearly identical to the house that burnt down, but there was a new barn in the back of the house and fence posts as far as you could see down the drive that kept going. Your dad had never cleared that far into the woods, but it looked good. It looked like a really successful ranch had been started right where so much devastation had taken place.

“Brandy, do we know the people who live here?” AppleJack asked, finally catching up to your quick walk towards the house. “What is this place?”

A man walked out of the house and froze once he saw you, and you hardly heard both AppleJack and Smirnoff arguing about if he was single.

“Jack,” you breathed. He stepped down off the porch and came over to you, greeting you with a sad smile. “I tried to call you a couple of times.”

“Listen,” he started, completely ignoring your previous statement, “since you’re here, you and your friends should look around. Say hello to the horses in the barn or something. It’s nice out today.” He tipped his hat towards your two companions and called his dog, making his way back into the house before you could say anything else.

You shook your head, trying to clear your eyes of the tears that had somehow started filling them. As you looked around the ranch, you saw all the little things that Jack had done, as well as the big, that made this place feel so much like home. It was almost exactly the way it had been when you lived there so long ago, and you were reminded of the photo Jack had on your old mantel. You’d asked him why he kept it, but he hadn’t answered then. And the times when the guys you used to work with were trying to tell you that Jack was successful now, but Jack had cut them off. Now you knew why. He’d built this place for you.

_________________________________________________________________

When you got to the Kentucky office, Champ was waiting for you downstairs.

“Hey, little darling, there was a man here for you. He straight up asked about your whole name and everything. Did you have a guest coming for the wedding we didn’t know about who’d know your civilian name?” He asked. Your brow furrowed as you shook your head. “Alright, well we sent him on his way, anyhow. I’m sure it’s fine.”

You introduced him to your two companions and Champ grinned, happy to meet two people you trusted with your life. You asked him if Rum was here yet, to which Champ nodded and guided you all inside. “Got here about two hours before you, sweetheart.”

Once you were inside, it seemed like a whirlwind of things happened as you readied yourself to get married for a second time. The next 36 hours were hell, waiting for everything to be finalized so you could get hitched.

It was Saturday morning and Champ had stationed two low ranking agents to man the guests as they filtered into the cellar where you’d be holding the wedding. So far, only agents were to be in attendance and a few plus ones, but you’d wanted to keep it small. So when a balding man appeared and introduced himself as Mr. Collier, telling the two agents that he wasn’t on the list, they promptly told him that he couldn’t come inside as he wasn’t invited. The man insisted he had urgent business with a Ms. Daniels, but the agents weren’t having it and escorted him out of the cellar.

Meanwhile, at your old house, the one you had shared with Jack, your ex-husband was adding the last few crates and boxes of his and your things to his truck. He groaned once he saw his mama leaning up against her car in the driveway since he hadn’t seen her pull up.

“Hey, sweetheart, there’s a wedding goin’ on.” She said softly, helping him throw a gym bag into the backseat of his truck.

“Yeah, I heard mention of it a time or two.” Jack shrugged, “I sure hope this weather cooperates. It’s supposed to be a big storm.” He didn’t want to give into his mama and tell her how he really felt about all this.

The truth was, Jack was devastated. He’d spent so much time trying to get his wife back, and now she was marrying a man he knew she didn’t love as much as she loved him, and it hurt. It felt like something had died inside his chest, and he supposed something did. His heart.

“You know, Jack, you’re my only son and I love you, but sometimes you are too much like your daddy.” Helen sighed.

“She made her decision, Mama.” Jack set the last box in the bed of the truck and covered them up with tarps to keep ‘em dry.

“For somebody who’s been holdin’ onto somethin’ so hard, you’re pretty quick to let it go.” Helen eyed him.

“You know I can’t control her anymore than I can control the weather. I gotta go. I wanna get these inside before the rain ruins whatever I’ve got left.” Jack tipped his hat at his mama and climbed inside the cab. Helen shook her head in disappointment.

Champ stood in the corner of the apartment you’d been occupying in the Statesman office that weekend, watching you adjust your dress and cowboy boots. He smirked once he realized you’d be getting married, Southern style with the boots and a dress that he swore he’d seen in one of those fancy Southern Living magazines his wife was always reading. Or was it Southern Weddings? He didn’t know, but you looked beautiful. Even more so than the first time he’d officiated your wedding to Jack.

You kept fidgeting, causing Champ to speak up.

“It’s just nerves. You’re doing the right thing.” He attempted to reassure you.

“Am I?” You asked, unsure.

“When I married my wife, Lord, I was a goner for that woman. I couldn’t put one foot down in front of the other, despite being an agent with perfect balance, mind you. I remember standin’ there thinking, ‘Oh preacher, better hurry up before this woman changes her mind.’ And look where it got me. Sometimes she drives me so crazy that I could shoot her, but—”

“But you still love her.” You cut him off.

“God knows I do, and only she knows why.” Champ laughed, his eyes teary as he looked you over.

“Champ, I think I—”

“He can give you a life in this company, honey. You’ve always wanted this. And he adores you.” Champ said firmly, not letting you get back on the confusion train.

“He does, doesn’t he?” You sighed, “Well, even if he is a Yankee, at least he’s sober. Let’s go, Champ. I’m ready to get this over with.”

Champ led you down to the cellars, and then down the aisle. He didn’t get you two very far, though, when a man’s shouts were heard yelling “Ms. Daniels! Ms. Daniels!”

You whipped around, confused about why someone would be calling you by your married name. “Mr. Collier?” You asked in surprise. The two agents supposed to be manning the door had grabbed him by now, but you were quick to dismiss them.

Rum called your name, but you held up a hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t know why Mr. Collier was here, but it had to be important if he was trying this hard to get in contact with you. The man took a moment to catch his breath.

“You are one hard woman to get in contact with.” Mr. Collier wheezed as he bent over to breathe.

“Mr. Collier, he signed the papers.” You said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“He did. You didn’t.” You finally noticed the papers he was holding and sucked in a breath.

“What? You mean I’m still married?” You asked, unsure how you felt about this new information. You thought for sure you’d signed the papers when you’d sent them off the day after Jack had signed them. Apparently, you hadn’t. Mr. Collier pointed at the line above Jack’s name, and sure enough, it was blank.

“Well, not if you don’t want to be.” Mr. Collier replied gently as he handed over the papers.

“For goodness sake, Brandy, I thought you took care of this?” Rum groaned as he made his way to stand in the aisle beside you.

“It’s an honest mistake, Blake.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Well, then, can we fix it? We’ve got agents who need to be on missions soon and we have a honeymoon to get to.” Rum snorted. Your brows furrowed as you watched this normally kind man getting frustrated over a mistake you hadn’t even realized you made.

“Does anybody have a non-deadly pen?” You asked, knowing no one would have one on them unless it had ten functions to kill someone and not one of them being the purpose of a real pen with ink that would actually stay on the paper. You’d made the mistake before of signing something with ink that removed itself within two hours and you didn’t want to make that mistake again.

No one around you had one, not even Champ, until a woman behind you cleared her throat. You turned around to face your mother in law, Jack’s mom.

“These things don’t just happen, y’know.” Helen said with a knowing smile as she held out a fountain pen. You took it and uncapped it, placing it on the paper but not moving to sign it.

“You can’t ride two horse with one ass, sweetheart.” Champ said from beside you. You looked up at him and with a watery smile, you told him you couldn’t sign the papers.

“Blake,” you started, taking his hands in yours, “You don’t want to marry me.”

“I don’t?” He asked, eyes almost looking dangerous.

“No, you don’t. Not really. You see, the truth is—” You hesitated before continuing. “I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back. And I don’t even know what else to say besides ‘I’m sorry.’ I can’t marry you, and you shouldn’t want to marry me.”

“So this is what it feels like.” Blake muttered, eyes definitely glittering with anger now. “You can’t just do this to me. That’s it? You’re just going to leave me for the man you haven’t even wanted to be married to for seven years? God, Brandy, what the hell!” He shouted.

You took a step back, attempting to make space and remove your hands from his, but he held your hands tightly. You gulped, knowing Blake wasn’t done.

“In my entire career, and I have a good one, I have never met someone so deceitful and manipulative! I should’ve known, considering our occupations, but this is so disgusting what you’ve done.” Blake spat.

“I’m just trying to be honest.” You whispered.

“You are such a little bitch.” Blake roughly dropped your hands and Champ immediately stepped in, crowding the shorter agent.

“Now, look here, Agent Rum. She said her piece and there’s no need for name-callin’, you hear me?” Champ growled.

“Oh go back to your office and get shit-faced.” Blake spat at Champ’s feet. You saw red.

“Nobody talks to my daddy like that.” You growled, throwing one of your best punches. Agent Rum was soon on the ground and you chucked your engagement ring at his head. It hit his cheek and bounced off somewhere, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Praise the Lord, my baby’s back.” Champ cheered, pulling you away from your ex-fiancé.

“Hey y’all!” You shouted as you stood up on an empty chair in the venue, “If you’re friends of the bride, stick around! I’m gonna go find me a groom!”

And then you were off, grabbing your keys from Moonshine and hopping in your truck, wedding dress getting stuck in the door. You didn’t care, though. You knew exactly where Jack would be and you planned to go get your man back.

You roared into the meadow, truck chassis bumping around on the uneven ground. The door was flung open and you were racing across the field, dress bunched in your hands. Rain had started falling, and Jack was sitting in the bed of his truck getting sopping wet. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hands, but he hadn’t quite noticed you yet.

“Hey, cowboy!” You shouted above the rain and he whipped around to face you, eyes wide beneath the brim of his hat. Rain dripped off the edges and you almost laughed at how bedraggled he looked, but refrained. “You owe me a dance.”

“Nice dress. Where’s your husband?” Jack finally said as he capped the whiskey bottle and set it down beside him in the truck bed.

“I’m lookin’ at him.” You said, and Jack froze. “Apparently, you and I are still hitched.”

“Is that right?” He asked slowly as he got off the tailgate. He made his way over to stand in front of you, rain still pouring over the both of you to the point where you could only really see him anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me you came to New York?” You asked desperately, needing to know if he still wanted you, if he still loved you.

“I needed to make somethin’ of myself.”

“About done?” You asked in disbelief. This man was already enough for you, how could he not see it?

“What is it about you Southern girls? You can’t make the right decisions ‘til you tried all the wrong ones?” Jack scoffed. He was sure this was some elaborate joke, that your fiancé would hop out of your pickup truck and laugh at him any minute now.

“At least I fight for what I want!”

“Oh, what do you want, honey? Hell, I don’t even think you know.” Jack shook his head.

“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, Jack, and I want you to be the last.” You said as you stepped closer to him, dress dragging in the grass and dirt. You didn’t even care, not if it meant you could get your husband back.

“Maybe you and I had our chance.” Jack muttered, hoping you couldn’t hear him, but you did.

“Fine! Have it your way, stubborn ass!” You yelled.

“Whatcha wanna be married to me for anyhow?” Jack asked, repeating what you’d asked him all those years ago when you were twelve. You grinned, catching up to his game.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

And then you were in his arms and he was kissing you, his hat dumping water on the both of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were already soaked. You’d gotten your man back, and you sighed into his mouth. You didn’t want to move again, the feeling of his kiss bringing life back into your lungs and giving you space to breathe for the first time in a long time. He just felt right. Hands wandered up his back and you knocked off his hat in an effort to get even closer to him. He groaned when fingers locked into his now soaked hair, tongue slipping into your mouth when you whined.

You only broke away when you heard someone yelling at the both of you, lights shining right onto your interlocking figures.

“What the hell are you two trying to do? Get yourselves killed?” Tequila yelled. You laughed, breaking away from Jack just long enough to shout back.

“What seems to be the trouble, officer?”

“I’m here to bring you in again, little lady!” Tequila called back, hands on his hips and looking downright hilarious.

“What did she do this time?” Jack shouted. He walked you both closer to Tequila and the man had the audacity to grin at the two of you.

“Well, the way I hear it, seems she run out on a perfectly good cake!”

You laughed and smooched Jack on the cheek before reaching down to grab his hat from the ground.

“Get in my truck, cowboy!” You grinned, “Seems we finally get our reception!”

You raced your husband to your truck, hopping in and laughing at the way you both shivered from the cool air you’d had blasting. Jack swore and turned on the heat as you got yourselves out of the meadow and started following the red and blue flashing lights of Tequila’s patrol car.

You reached a hand over to hold Jack’s and he lifted your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles.

“I love you.” He murmured and you returned the sentiments, happy for the first time in a long time.

Tequila led you to the bar Helen owned, and you laughed once you realized where the guys had decided to hold your reception. It was only fitting that the place where you’d originally hosted your first reception was now the place of your second, and with the same man no less.

Tequila made his way indoors first and introduced you, yelling out a “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Jack Daniels!”

You rushed inside, nearly tripping over your boots and dress, but Jack steadied you, dipping you for a deep kiss just inside the door.

Catcalls filled the air as Jack lifted you back up, a boyish grin gracing his lips.

“I do believe I owe this lady a dance,” Jack nodded at his Mama by the jukebox and she smiled at the two of you.

“You sure do!” Moonshine shouted.

“Hey Helen,” you turned to Jack’s mama, “make it a slow one.”

She saluted you, and then hit a button, playing Tennessee Whiskey. Jack snorted at the song choice as he held your waist in the middle of the space they’d cleared for a dance floor, but you didn’t mind. You’d always joked that the song was about him with his Statesman name, and he hated it. You loved him, though.

You had your husband back and you weren’t ever going to give him up again. You swayed to the song for a moment before leaning up to kiss him. Finally, you were home.

#jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels #agent whiskey #statesman #sweet home alabama #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #jack ‘whiskey’ daniels #mandoclan #mandoclan writes

[scoopsgf]

can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it! 

1. 

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

2. 

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

3. 

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

4. 

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it... 

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don���t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps. 

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Why have I done this?

So, as per a conversation with @little-lightning-lavellan, I was blessed or maybe cursed, with this idea about Fane. As such, I had to write a short story about it that I think will be like four chapters long because...yeah. XD

Anyways, enjoy part one! (Look at what you’ve done. IT’S GLORIOUS!)

***

Anatomical Observations - Chapter 1

It had happened once. Short lived, quick, and barely noticeable as many things were more pressing, the world teetering on a crumbling edge. But it was hard to ignore such small things when voices were all you could hear when one was trying to work.

Solas was highly divested in an article of research. A basic magical theory in concept, minor amplifications of lesser spells, but it still required his mind to bend, to become flexible much like his magic when he had first awoken. As such, he had not heard many people come and go through the rotunda, he had not even heard the doors leading in and out slam shut or creak open, nor a polite greeting or scurrying messenger. That was how deep he was in his bubble of concentration. However, one--no, two voices from directly above were currently making it incredibly, and he meant incredibly, difficult to remain focused. 

“I do believe that is my chair you are sitting in, Inquisitor.”, a male voice with a distinct Tevinter accent floated down from above, indignation and slight amusement laced within it. 

“I don’t see your name on it, do I?”, another voice, far deeper and like rolling thunder with how it always held a slight growl. It always made Solas involuntarily shiver, and the same remained true now, making his focus splinter further like cracked ice. “Anyhow, it’s Inquisition property. Got a problem, talk to Josephine. I’m off duty.” A sound like a page being harshly flipped made his ears twitch. 

A gasp. “And work her harder than she already is? Absolutely not!” Solas could tell the line was meant to be a jab, but it only held the telling of a joke within its haughty vibrato. 

“Then I guess you’ll just have to sit your ass on the floor until I’m finished.”, that rumbling timbre came once again, a shifting sound and a loud thud signifying someone’s boots had been slammed down onto something. 

“The floor? Me?!”, another indignant squawk, actually making Solas let out a frustrated sigh as he lifted a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. How much longer was this going to go on for? It wasn’t unusual for this type of banter to sound, but right now, he had work to complete.

And this was not helping accomplish that.

“Yes, the floor. Yes, you.”, another harsh flick of a page ruffling through the air. “Now, can you leave me alone? I’m busy.”

“Oh, yes, you’re quite busy stuffing your face with tea cakes!”, the Tevinter accent rose a pitch, as if in disbelief at what it was saying. “The crumbs! Have you no etiquette, Inquisitor?!”

“Nope.”, the gravelly voice responded with a heavy air of indifference, actually sounding a bit muffled as if it were eating something. “If Vivienne and Josephine can’t knock the elf out of me, no one can.”, Solas could just hear the sarcasm and roll of eyes in that statement. It almost made him chuckle, but he was still too miffed to push one through.

“Most elves I’ve met are very well mannered!”

“I’m not like most elves.”

“Well, that much is apparent!”

“Thanks for noticing. I’m so happy.”, the tone voicing that statement dripping with concealed disdain. Solas knew where that bitterness originated from, and hearing it always made his heart heavy. Heavier than it already was, even.

“You are a truly stubborn man! Fine, I’ll sit on the floor! The cold, cold floor!”, a scoff following right after those words as the sound of leather and, most notably a body, plopped down onto the stone. 

Solas let out a heavy, heavy sigh as silence finally followed that exchange, letting his head hang down to where his chin nearly touched his chest in defeat. It would seem his attention was severed as much as the world’s magic was. He would not be getting back into his rhythm anytime soon. 

“Perhaps I should find a quieter, more secluded place to do my work..”, he mused, lifting a hand to rub at his face slowly. “One of the lower chambers maybe..”

Solas sighed again before letting his hand fall back down to his desk with a light pap, eyes absently roaming over the pages of the tome before him. Maybe if he stilled his mind, found his anchor, he could try to decipher this line of text. The glyphs were a no go, however. Just trying to look at the faded lines was making his vision go blurry. Sadly, the theory he was trying to prove was reliant on those patterns, and they were far more convoluted than he remembered. Perhaps more things had adapted than he originally thought? Or did the older methods  have to be reworked, seemingly forgotten like so much else? He, frankly, did not know. He couldn’t focus, but he would have to try.

“A ward..?”, Solas muttered under his breath, brows furrowing as he traced a sigil with his finger. “No..it is more akin to a summoning circle. Or perhaps a rune?”, he continued, slowly feeling how his mind began to bend and think, the lines of the glyphs becoming clearer, more defined. “Ah! The outlining symbols are for--”

His musing was immediately cut off, much like the frayed line of his focus, as a shout had him freezing and quite literally jumping in surprise.

“Fasta vas! What are you doing?!”, a squawk, the curse in Tevene elongated between the two words for more flair.

“Would you calm down?! Dammit, my ears are fucking ringing now! Ugh!”, the rolling thunder voice no longer indifferent as its volume rose to make the very stone quake. Once again, it made a light shiver run down Solas’s spine despite his tensed up form. What was going on now?

“How can I be calm when you...you do that!?”, furious shifting sounded as if someone was flailing limbs about. 

“One, I don't know what the hell you’re going on about, Dorian!” The sharp snapping of a book making the ravens up above in the rookery flap in agitation. “Two, you can have your chair back because I’m not getting anything done with your needling!”

“I believe you need a needle, my friend! That looked incredibly painful!”

Solas felt his slowly relaxing body tense up at that, mind awakened, but for a completely different reason than trying to get magical research done. He lifted his gaze from where it was fixated on the pages of his book, looking upwards to search the railing that outlined the library for the source of the voices that had shattered his hour of contemplation. He knew them both, but the exclamation housed by one had him wanting to see the other.

Where..? Solas thought the question, eyes roaming every inch of the circular area before stark white had his gaze halting immediately. Ah. There we are. 

He would spot that messy head from anywhere, even in snowy regions like the Emprise. Though, the body that that hair was attached to did a fine job of location as well. Occasionally, he would find his eyes lingering, or searching for less...conventional reasons. However, this wasn’t the time to be thinking of such things, especially as his mind still reeled with what the unaccounted voice had yelled.

Fane was currently along one of the bookshelves, a gloved hand firmly pushing a book back into its place with a typical scowl plastered on his otherwise smooth face, the faded green lines of his vallaslin making an already striking face look more so. Solas felt his body relax as he took in the sight of the man, or rather, the dragon.

His dragon, to be more precise, but not in a way of physical possession. It was more fond, more willing than that. It was not a bond of slavery. It was a vow. A centuries old one, to be exact.

Solas almost called out to the other, a sense of fondness and curiosity as well as mild concern invading his mind, but he clamped his mouth shut when he saw Dorian stride up to the snowy haired man with a look of wide eyed fascination. That was an interesting look, and truthfully, a worrying one. Such looks harbored questions, and he knew Fane did not entertain many inquiries.

And for good reason.

“Wait, what? You can’t be serious?”, Dorian said with an airy laugh. “You do that, and just walk it off?”, his tone rose pitch in disbelief. 

Solas caught the glint of ebbing gold as Fane rolled his eyes, turning his larger frame to face the Tevinter mage more directly. His eyes zoned in on how the reluctant Inquisitor was tentatively rubbing at his jaw, working it back and forth slowly as if it were locked up. Dorian had said something about something being painful, hadn’t he? Was that what he meant?

“Again, I didn’t do anything.”, Fane growled out in denial, the hand upon his jaw shifting so he had it pinched between two fingers to where it appeared he was trying to fit it into place. “I was eating, and I bit my tongue because you pissed me off!”

Solas smirked faintly at his dragon’s typical usage of foul language despite the way he watched his odd movements like a hawk. Fane was incredibly eloquent, cryptic, even, but when irritation or just general boredom took hold, the dual being was a sailor. It always fascinated him rather than disgusted him. For a dragon, an ancient dragon, to latch onto common parlance as if it were the most natural thing to their being was intriguing. Then again, Fane had lived in this world for twenty-four years without knowing he was a dragon. That, would perhaps, be a more justifiable reason, but it still piqued Solas’s interest. Everything about the dragon turned elf was a point of interest. Especially now, with the way he was still nursing his sharp jaw and glowering at Dorian as if he was trying to work something out in his head.

“I’m sorry, but that was not you biting your tongue!”, Dorian exclaimed, shaking his head with that same look of disbelief before it morphed into a thoughtful look, hand coming up to absently stroke his mustache. “Though...if what I saw was..well, actually what I saw, then I have questions and curiosities regarding it.”

Fane’s expression went deadpan as he stared at the other, the golden light in his eyes all but extinguished as he turned on his heel to go the other way. Solas blinked a bit, even as his eyes followed the dragon’s retreating form.

He disengaged. Solas thought with certainty and familiarity. Unsurprising, but still worrying. He only resorts to that level of disregard when he is hiding something.  

His eyes never left Fane’s stalking form, noticing how his brows were furrowed deeply, but could see one of them twitching with nervous energy. Broad shoulders were raised much like a shield, narrow nostrils flared with attempts at dispelling whatever heat had invaded a snowy disposition, partially gloved hands flexed, tendons underneath leather bindings apparent from how much force was behind its pull.

And golden emerald eyes were now fighting for dominance - dancing and bashing against each other as abilities that had laid dormant for too long began to try and enable themselves in an attempt to mitigate the, no doubt, myriad of emotions coursing through a draconic mind. 

Solas felt his concern towards the ancient man mount at all those observations, but also, he felt slightly exasperated. The latter was only because he knew this strategy of deflection that Fane always used as his Queen upon the chessboard of his mental battles. He bounced, side stepped, and outright threw a verbal wall up when he did not wish to cross a specific square. It wasn’t that Fane was lying out of malicious means; he was doing it to protect himself and others. But Solas knew it only caused more harm, more warped perceptions.

It hurt Fane, and he knew all too well how much it hurt to keep the truth hidden, even if it was necessary for the long run.

That is the secondary explanation for this flight. Solas mused silently, eyes never leaving the dragon’s form despite his long strides. Whatever has happened puts his mask in jeopardy.  

So lost in his own thoughts and the duel of veridium, Solas didn’t notice how Dorian broke out of his look of repose as he noticed the other striding away with purposeful steps.

“Where are you going?”, Dorian called after the white hair elf, but not making an effort to chase after him with how far the other had already gotten from him.

“To beat the shit out of a dummy before I beat you.”, Solas heard Fane growl out lowly, dangerously, and for a moment, he easily caught the flickering of his eyes as they met with his own. He met that gaze with ease, reading them as no other could. The message they conveyed had him instantly seeking more as the shifting of deep emerald had his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?”, Solas mouthed to Fane as he was unable to communicate precisely how the other did without it being perceived incorrectly. He noticed how the man had slowed to keep their gazes longer. There was such volume in them that Solas nearly wanted to tear his own away, but also delve deeper like he thristed for their color bound words, their fathomless depths amid a thin world.

Fane’s eyes flitted to the door that led to the balcony the Enchanter always occupied, and then down, to signify he was taking the adjacent stairwell from there to bypass the Great Hall before he disappeared from the edge of the railing, the sound of door slamming issuing his complete departure. 

Solas let out a quiet sigh before nodding, pushing himself up with his arms to stand straight. Well, it would appear he was most certainly not getting an ounce of work done today, and oddly, he was okay with that since concern was overriding his need for magical answers.

There were other, more pressing, questions that needed attending to.

***

#i'll probably put these up on ao3 eventually #but what did fane dooooo? #what doesn't fane do #also it was fun writing dorian! X3 #and solas as always i like writing him #my writing #solavellan #solas #oc: fane lavellan #dorian pavus #dragon age #this idea has been living rent free in my head because SOMEONE put it there! #*glares with threatening thanks* thank you

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T.Shelby Imagine Ch. 20.2

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 10,056

WARNINGS: ANGST, Cursing, “Fluff,” Mentions of Sexual Activity (Not Explicit), Consumption of Alcohol, Brief scenes of Arguments/Fights, Shift from 1st Person POV to 3rd Person POV

Summary: It’s Polly’s birthday and Polly decides to reveal something life changing to Aliena. Life is going good, but how will Arthur’s accident of murdering a boy at the ring alter it?

MASTERLIST   CHAPTER 20  CHAPTER 21

A/N: Once again, that summary is shit. At this point, do I really need a summary? I don’t know. It’s just I feel like I’m giving the plot away when I’m giving the summary. Wait, isn’t that the point of a summary? Oh, well. I’m half asleep. Take this offering! 

Also, this chapter present our first shift in POV!! I’ll have a designated line break that signifies what type of shift in POV it is. In this chapter you will see the line break for a shift to 3rd Person POV. I will post a guide at a later date for reference and better understanding!

Two weeks had passed. Tommy’s injuries and face were almost healed. Thank God! When we got back to Small Heath, Polly chewed off both of our ears. Mainly Tommy’s ‘cause she thought he ordered me to go with him. I didn’t say anything to say otherwise.

That’s what he gets for teasing me on the boat.

Tom was put on bed rest by Polly. He was forced back up to his old room since Polly didn’t trust that he would stay in bed. It felt oddly comforting to know he was sleeping a room away from me again. But that was short-lived as five days later, he was back at his own flat since he could move around with ease again. 

By the way, during those five days he was not completely resting. No, he had two rest days where he did nothing before he got restless. Tom made me get his things from the office ‘n bring it back to his room since I was still on nurse duty. 

The twat!

Anyway, when Tom went back to his flat, I had to report it to Dom. He received my poison results the minute I was alone when I got back to Small Heath, so I was all good on that front. The second I told Dom that I was free again, I was assigned a target. 

The speed of it surprised me, but I accomplished it, nonetheless.

 I got in at four in the morning having just completed a job, and I was fully intending on not waking up till eight in the morning. However, it would seem the people around me would have other plans. There was a knock at my door. A quick, heart attack inducing knock, and then the person on the other side entered. 

I jumped up, groaned, and rubbed my eyes. “What the fuck, Thomas.”

“Before you get mad, I have to tell ya something.”

I rolled my eyes. I was already mad, you fucking divvy. “This better be fucking good, Thomas.”

“Today is the day we celebrate Aunt Pol’s birthday ‘n as you probably already know, I bought her a house. There’s not enough room in the car for all of us, so if you want to be there— I have to take you to her house right now.”

My eyes shot open and I got on my feet in a flash. “Let me get ready. Jesus Christ, Tommy, why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” I shouted and pushed him out of my way. “I didn’t get her anything!”

“Nobody ever really remembers when we celebrate her birthday, so she wouldn’t be expecting anything from you anyways.”

“Just because you’re a bad, workaholic nephew… Shut it and get out!” I turned around and swatted his arm.

“All right, be ready by 6:30.”

I scoffed while turning around as I tried reading the time off my clock. “What time is it now?”

As he was closing the door, he answered. “Five.”

I took a deep breath and growled as I harshly clutched on a dress. “Thomas fucking Shelby!” I could’ve still been asleep!

I pulled out a dress that had a floral print on it. It was short-sleeve but I was going to wear a small, blue cardigan over it as well as my coat. I put it on before I began doing my hair. I wanted to style my hair quickly just how Polly liked it. She liked my hair in an updo, so that’s what I was going for. 

I’m so glad that I watched a million hair styling youtube videos. God bless the women who did vintage hair tutorials! 

Once I was done with my hair, I moved to my make-up. I added a dark shade of eyeshadow. I went light on it, though. Then added a red lip. I was done. I raced to put on socks and shoes then I went downstairs. 

I knew I had to be quiet since Polly’s probably asleep. Oh, and I was not checking the fucking time as I was getting ready!

Tommy looked up at me and tapped his watch. “Barely making it!”

I mocked him before giggling. He helped me with my coat, opened the door for me, and then we were off.

“So,” I began. “How have you been?”

Tom cleared his throat as he flicked his nose. “Been healing up all right. What about you? Polly tells me that you have a new bloke.”

I scoffed, exaggeratedly. “I don’t ‘ave a new bloke. We’re just talking. He’s Angie’s cousin.”

“Right.”

“What? I’m not tellin’ a blag, you know.”

“You know, how come we haven’t seen one of your boy toys before?”

My smile dropped from my face, and I propped my elbow on the car door. “It’s never worked out. Duh. Why would I bring a lad around for the family to meet if I’m just going to break up with ‘em in a week's time.”

“What a heartbreaker you’ve turned out to be, huh?” He looked at me and tsked while shaking his head. “Makes ya rethink about the world.”

I tried stifling my laughter, but I couldn’t help but let out a cackle. 

We talked a bit more as he drove us to Polly’s house. We would have talked some more, but I ended up falling asleep to his voice. 

Tom woke me up when we reached the house. I awed at the sight. "Look at the sight of this place! Jeez, Tom! You really got the best for 'er! Nice neighborhood, too." 

"Of course, I did. Polly's done so much for the family. She deserves the world."

"Is right. She deserves this much for dealing with you and your brothers that's for sure! How many times have youse broken her heart do you reckon?" I teased while poking his chest. I did a little twirl as we walked up to the door of the place. 

Tommy shook his head, his cap covering his eyes, and his hands in his pockets. "More times than I care to admit."

I looked over the outside of the house and the neighborhood ‘n let out a big sigh. “Oh, I only dreamed about living in a house like this! It’s so pretty.”

“How do you mean? Weren’t you a posh girl?”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Rich here doesn’t exactly mean rich where I’m from.”

It was Tommy’s turn to scoff. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Shut it! I’m not pulling your leg. The grass was never this green and the neighborhood was well not as inviting and homely as this.” My voice got softer as I spoke.

“Well, then. Looks like I did a better job at picking Polly a house than I thought.”

I tsked while rolling my eyes again. I swung my arms back and clasped my hands together as I waited for Tommy to unlock the door. "It's not furnished, is it?"

Tom replied as he opened the door. "The bare minimum. Just a sofa or two. Nevertheless, Polly can always change it." He pushed open the door and stepped out of the way. 

I nodded as I stepped into the house. I admired it. Touching the walls 'n such. The backyard had a garden, and it was absolutely beautiful. I sighed while leaning against the doorframe of the backyard, admiring the garden still. 

“Don’t you want to see the rest of it?” Tommy asked me as he pulled out a ciggie. 

I held out my hand for his lighter. He gave me a confused glance, but gave it up anyway with a ciggie hanging on his lips. I opened it and flicked the wheel. “What else is there to see?” I leaned in closer and lit the ciggie for him. 

As I snapped the lighter close and handed it back to him, he said. “There’s a kitchen and an upstairs, you know.”

I leaned back against my original place and put a teasing smile. “You just want to show off the ‘ouse, don’tcha? Alright, then. Show me around.”

Tom rolled his eyes before walking ahead of me. We did as he said. I admired the kitchen and upstairs as well. The house was so big for someone who would only use like two rooms. 

What a shame? 

I wanted to look over at Tommy, but he was already looking at me. 

Didn’t want to make it awkward. I just couldn’t help but think about the mansion he would buy and how gigantic that would be. I mean it would just be him and his son after Grace dies. Well, more like just his son. I don’t even know if staff stays there. I think they do? 

I cleared my throat ‘n finally faced Tommy. We began walking back downstairs and into the hallway that led to the entrance. I asked. “Well, is everything working now? Turned on the light, water, ‘n gas, or whatever?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, had everything turned on a few days ago.”

I nodded and I rocked on my heels. I clapped my hands as I said. “Well, then! What’s the time? You’ll be needing to head back soon.”

Tommy took out his pocket watch, checked the time, and sighed. “You’re right. All right, then. I’ll leave you here. Look after the place, yeah? Get the kettle on while you’re at it!” He shouted that last bit as he was walking out.

“Yes, Mr. Shelby.”

“Fuck off, Aliena.”

I cackled at his response. Once I was done smiling, I took off my coat and draped it over the couch. I walked into the kitchen, looked for the tea ‘n kettle, and got that going. I got bored fast and my fingernail found its way to my mouth. I began nibbling on it repeatedly, as always. 

Truth be told, I wanted a smoke, but I wouldn’t allow myself it. I was deathly afraid that this was becoming an addiction. I smoke more often because of my job, and it’s bleed into my social life as well. 

I scratched my temple with my free hand a little before shaking them both ‘n taking one sharp breath. I wiped my hands on my skirt and hopped onto the countertop. A couple of minutes later, it was done. Since everywhere else was furnished, I figured the cupboards would be stocked too. 

I opened one and sure enough, cups. “A couch or two, my arse.” I whispered to myself. I searched around for a tray that was bound to be around here somewhere, found it, then placed the kettle on it. I grabbed like four tea cup sets, washed them, and then placed those on the tray as well.

I carried the tray to the living room where there was a little table and placed it there. I sat down after that. 

I sang “Toxic” by Britney Spears under my breath for the time being. Hell, I sang like five other songs before I grew annoyed. I huffed as I rose to my feet and walked over to the backyard door.

I moved the curtain again and threw open the doors. I had half a mind to take off my shoes and socks, and just feel that grass between my toes. I was admiring the garden ‘n feeling rather nostalgic, when I heard Arthur’s booming voice. 

I gasped and hurriedly closed the doors. I threw the curtains how they were and raced to the front door. I threw it open and shouted. “Ta-da!”

Polly’s hands were pressed together against her lips as she gasped. “Aliena, love! You’re here, too! Oh, and look at your hair!” She pulled me into a hug and I reciprocated it.

I giggled. “I knew you’d love it. Tommy woke me up early in the morning to bring me ‘round. Happy birthday, Polly!”

“Bet you got an earful for that! Eh, brother!” Arthur boomed as he clasped his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. 

I parted from our hug and ushered her in. I walked ahead of them and stood in the center of the living room.

Polly said as she came walking in, the boys following behind her. “You said you were gonna buy Ada a house.”

Tommy replied. “Yep, that's right, I did. Just had a bit of cash left over.”

Polly walked over to me and stood beside me as the boy went the over way to stand on my left. 

Polly asked. “This is ours?” 

“No, Polly… This is yours.”

Polly’s head whipped in Tommy’s direction so fast, her eyes wide.

“‘Cause you deserve it.”

Polly looked at me and then the boys, who gave her their smiles. She walked a bit closer to the couch as she asked. “What would I do with all these rooms?”

Tommy smiled as he exhaled through his nose. His mouth smacked as he said. “Well, you could, uh, relax for one. Come here at weekends.” Tom moved our attention toward the backyard door as he said. “It has a garden, eh? You love gardens. You can grow roses, Pol. I don't know, have a piano. Have people round, they can have a singsong, eh?”

“God help the bloody neighbors.” John chimed.

“Fuck the neighbors.” Arthur added as he walked forward and handed Polly the key. He managed to get a snicker out of me, that’s for sure. “Welcome home, Pol.”

I’m sure everyone in this room was just as confused as me when Polly wasn’t jumping around in joy. She instead just sat down on the couch, the key clattering on the table. 

Tommy, always quick to assess the situation, said. “Arthur, why don't you take the boys outside, wait by the car?” He looked at me as he continued. “You stay, Ali.” Under his breath he added, “Pol’s probably gonna need you in a second.”

I nodded and shuffled around the table to get to the seat beside Polly, who was taking off her hat. I sat beside her, not yet making a move to touch her or anything. Plus, I’m sure Tommy wasn’t going to speak until he was sure it was just the three of us. 

I managed to see Tommy getting out a smoke before watching the boys exit the room. 

Tommy cleared his throat before speaking, “Pol… I know you haven't been happy for a while.” He lit the ciggie ‘n passed it to Pol.  “And I know why.” Tommy took a chair and placed it in front of Polly, so he could face her. “Esme is all right, you know? She's got a good heart, she has.” 

As Tom was speaking, Polly looked pissed at Esme, that’s for bloody sure!

He sat down. “I've spoken to her and she told me.” He reached in his pocket, rested a ciggie on his lips before propositioning one for me. I shook my head and he put them away.

Quite defensively, Polly asked. “Told you what?”

“She told me what it is that would make you happy. I've spoken to our contacts in the police. They have contacts in the council, and they have contacts with the people who keep the parish records. Records of adoptions, and of confidential forced removals. Now, with your permission, I'd like to grease a few palms and take a look at the records they never showed you.”

Polly scooted back into the couch, and I took that as a signal to reach for her hand. She gripped my hand with such an intensity, but I wasn’t surprised. She lost her children and the thought of getting them back… I could only imagine how she might be feeling. If only Michael hadn’t turned out to be such a little fucking twat! I’m not gonna lie to ya, it’s gonna be hard being nice to ‘em when I know what’s to come.

I don’t trust him or that bitch Gina. Made respect for the hustle, but damn she’s messing with my peoples. And now that I’m living here, oh, boy! I’m gonna wanna deck her in the face if I’m still a part of this family in 1929.

“Pol… I am going to find your son and daughter and I'm gonna bring them home. That's what this house is for. So that you can bring your family home where they belong.”

Polly kept averting her eyes away from Tommy. I could see the redness in her eyes, though, as she was holding back her tears. Polly shook off my hand and leaned forward to take Tommy’s instead.

“We're moving up, Pol.” Tommy said in such a tone that made my heart break. He sounded so happy. I knew he must have felt accomplished. 

Polly leaned back again and looked at me. “Aliena, I want you to come ‘n live with me.” She stroked my face as she said so.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion and I leaned back a little. I scoffed, flabbergasted. “But Polly, this house is for you and your children. I-I can’t possibly intrude on that.”

She shook her head. The tears were welling up in her eyes more noticeably now. “No, I won’t have you in the old house all by yourself. I want you close to me, always. From now on and I don’t want you doing any of the housework here.”

I blinked rapidly before shaking my head. “Polly, it’s not right. I’m not family.”

Tommy cleared his throat. “How many times do we have to tell you, Aliena? You are.”

I averted my gaze from him. As much as that was heart-warming, that statement didn’t sit right coming from him. It sounded like he was telling me that he saw me as a little sister rather than a potential partner. I mean, I guess the fault would lie with me if he did, but still. 

Polly’s mouth smacked before she sat forward, scooting up, and stubbed out her cigarette on the tray. She looked at Tommy, only for a second, as she said. “Tommy, step outside with your brothers, will ya? I have something I want Aliena to know alone.”

He nodded and left, at snail’s fucking pace. Polly and I let out a breath when we heard that door close. Polly scooted closer to me and grabbed my hands, rubbing them.

“Do you remember that night I came home drunk talking about my daughter?”

I nodded.

“Well, I got drunk in the first place because… Because I had a dream about her and I-... I think she’s moved on from this world, Ali. I think my little Anna is dead.” Polly’s voice was so strained as she tried not to cry. However, she was already. “We’ve known each other since you were 16 and you’re 19 now. You’ve helped this family in more ways that I can count and...and. You’ve helped me, love.”

She caressed my face gently before cupping my face. I smiled and felt tears stinging my eyes. A hand held her wrist as I leaned into that hand. 

Polly continued. “I never thought I’d ever see my children again. I wasn’t expecting it and… I just… With you there, it was like God sent me you, in their stead. I wanted to let you know, Aliena, that I think of you as my own. As my daughter. I wanted you to know.”

I gasped shakily, squeezing my eyes shut. 

“Tell me, love. What’s running through your head?” She asked as she began fixing my hair, anxiously.

Polly took a loud sniffle before I took one of my own. I laughed breathily as I said. “I-! I don’t know how to say it!” We both laughed a little through our tears. “Um, basically, I thought of you like my mother too! And I’m so happy that you think of me as your daughter.” We began laughing through our smiles and then joined in a tight hug.

She hummed as she rubbed my back. “That mean you’ll move in with me? No more fighting me about it?”

I chuckled while wiping my tears away. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, I’ll move in.”

We stayed like that for a little longer more before we composed ourselves and invited the boys back in. We spent the whole day at the new house, having a blast.

Of course, I was pested by the two most nosy people in this family about what I talked about with Polly. But I kept my lips sealed. Freaking Finn ‘n Arthur!

I was surprised that Tommy didn’t ask till I wasn’t. I had to remind myself that usually he was like a wall of stone. The sides I’ve seen of him have completely distorted my view of him.

Polly and I moved in our stuff within the week. It took some time, but we did it. I mean, we didn’t move all our stuff. Just the things we’d want to have over there during our visits on the weekend. We even did a bit of shopping. 

Furniture shopping came the week after that. I had a say on what came in as well. Tommy and Polly talked about hiring a maid, which surprised me! I’m so used to being the Shelby maid that the possibility of sharing the title irked me. 

But then again, I was less of a maid and more of a runner. You know, I do “what’s assigned to me” type of job. Since I didn’t need to clean the house as often, I was doing whatever Polly or Tommy wanted me to do. Lately, that’s been working in the shop. Counting up the money, never interacting with any male clientele. Only the men who worked for the family. And all they’d do is give me the money to count without so much as looking back at me. 

It was a day like that when Lovelock came rushing in with Finn and Isaiah behind him.

“Aliena, ‘ave you seen Tommy?” He asked me.

I looked at him and then the two boys behind him that wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Uh, no… He’s been at his office. Why? What’s happened?”

Lovelock sighed and walked closer to me. He whispered while leaning in. “Arthur’s beaten a boy to death down at the ring. Them two were there to see it.”

My eyes widened in horror as I leaned away from the man and then looked at the boys. I ushered them in, pulling them by their coats. “Get inside now! Tom’s old office. I’ll call Tommy from there. Lovelock. You wait by the door to tell him what’s happened.”

He nodded. “Right!”

I turned back around to the pair. “Alright, you two. In ya get!” I motioned toward the two chairs. “Sit there and don’t say anything till Tommy gets here. Understood?”

“Ali, are we in trouble?”

I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose while walking around the desk to get to the phone. “Not so much as youse are in trouble. It’s how we’re gonna get Arthur out of this situation. So, sit down and wait for your brother. I can’t say much since I don’t deal with these types of situations.” I snapped my fingers at him, gave him a pointed stare, while bringing the phone to my ear.

I averted my eyes down, inspecting the paperwork there, absent-mindedly. 

“She talks to you like she’s your mum.” Isaiah whispered. 

I looked up at him before looking back down. I told the operator where I wanted to be connected and I was put through.

“18 Jamaica Row. Who’s this?”

“Tommy, it’s Aliena. Something’s happened.”

“What? What is it?”

“Apparently, Arthur’s killed a boy down at the ring. Finn and Isaiah were there. They’re here now. Lovelock brought ‘em to the shop. What are we going to do?”

“Is the boy dead?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna go down there to check the situation, and then talk to the boys. Go back to work in the meantime, but keep your eye on them, eh. Don’t want them leaving.”

“Yeah, got it. Bye.”

“Yeah.”

We both hung up the phone. I sighed as I looked up. “You two stay there. Tommy is going to be here soon, all right? Now, I have to get back to work. If youse are thirsty or hungry, come get me ‘n I’ll fix youse something.”

I walked around the desk, ruffled Finn’s hair, and then walked out. I closed the door behind me and walked over to my desk. I got back to counting the money that was on my desk that had been multiplied as I was drawn away. I took a deep, calming breath before focusing on the task at hand. 

It didn’t take long before Finn came up to me asking to make them something to eat. I rushed into the kitchen and made them sandwiches. Made sure Finn stayed close to me, so he could just take them ‘n piss off, and I’ll be able to finish my work. 

Tommy came half an hour later. I saw him talking to Lovelock, and I didn’t hesitate to stop what I was doing ‘n run into the office. 

“He’s here. Get ready.” I hurriedly whispered to the boys leaning in close to them. I stood up straight just in time to see Tommy marching over in this direction. I began fiddling with my hands in my anxiousness. 

As Tom opened the door, he didn’t spare me a glance. He slammed it behind him before leaning on the wall, a little behind where I was standing. He took a deep audible breath before speaking, “Alright, what happened?”

Finn fidgeted in his seat a little before answering his brother. “It was a fair fight.”

“Yeah.” Isaiah added while finally looking up. “Arthur just caught him with a good 'un.”

Tommy kept his face emotionless, but I knew that type of expression meant that he meant business. No games or blags. Well, actually, I think in this case he wanted them to tell a blag. 

He took a couple of steps forward, now standing beside me as he said. “I saw the body, don't fucking lie to me. I saw the body, what fucking happened?”

The boys instantly averted their gazes and hung their heads. 

Isaiah said. “I'm not family, I'm saying nothing.” 

Actually quite wise, my good friend.

On the other hand, that left poor Finn. Our attention turned to ‘em and he crumbled. “Arthur… He's blown a few times lately. Six, seven. It's like he's not there in the head. He can't even hear "stop". Even his own name. And then he cries.”

Tom and I both sighed through our noses as we shared a look.

He looked back at the boys and pointed as he spoke. “Right, listen to me. That's two fucking stories. Your brother killed a boy. There were witnesses, there will be questions, get your stories straight, it was an accident. Fuck off.”

The boys didn’t hesitate to get up and essentially, fuck off. I sighed audibly this time as I ran a hand over my face. I tsked before I asked. “How bad was it?”

He stopped pacing and looked at me. He shook his head as a mirthless chuckle escaped. “Bad. Very fucking bad. The boy was beaten to death.” Tom ran a hand through his hair and then threw his head back.

I began squeezing my hands together harder and I took a large step forward. “What are you going to do?”

“Right now, I need to find anything I can to get this off of Arthur. You find him and calm him down. You’re good at doing that.” Tom threw open the door and walked out. 

I sighed as I looked to my left. I walked out of the office, closed the door behind me, and told John what was going on. 

He cursed and found someone to log the rest of the money I was in charge of. I passed the parlor, and into the hallway that led to the front door when the door opened. I gasped when I saw Arthur. 

He wasn’t covered in blood or anything, which surprised me. I asked. “I was about to head out looking for you. Where were you?” I let go of my coat, walked up to ‘em, and took his hands into mine. I inspected them.

Arthur’s mouth smacked as he muttered. “Polly. I was with Polly.”

I tsked. “Your knuckles are still bloody. Come sit and I’ll get them cleaned up for you.” I led him to the living room and made him sit in a chair. I rushed upstairs where I kept a kit in my room, just in case things happened to me. 

I usually patched myself up. You know scratches, bruises, and the like. Luckily, I haven’t been badly injured yet. I think I’m just that good at my job. I always knew I had it in me to kill a man. Sadly.

I jogged back down the stairs and found Arthur nursing a bottle, his coat off. A gun, shealth in its holster as well. I ignored them both as I went into the kitchen to get a bowl and some water. I came back and started to clean to his knuckles.

As I was dabbing away at ‘em, I asked softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, furiously, like a child would. “No. No.”

I hummed and nodded. “Alright, then. We won’t speak of it.” With his free hand, he reached forward and to a swig of the bottle.

I managed to finish cleaning up his wounds and the mess. We sat there in silence before Tom came in. Tom looked at me up and down before nodding. I figured that little look was caused by the fact I took my hair down.

Tom cleared his throat before nodding to the side while looking at me. I got up from my chair and stood to the side. Tommy took my place. There was this heavy silence that loomed over us before Tommy decided to finally grace us with his words. “I spoke to the doctor, he said the kid probably had a weak heart. We'll look after his mother. It'll be fine.”

“Polly said I should have stuck with the medicine. I said that you know best. It's like a fucking boat, Tommy.” Arthur said. Tommy turned around, walked toward the window, and looked out of it. I kept switching my gaze between the both of them.

I knew what was going to happen, and I was scared. I’m not afraid to admit that I was scared. These were two people that I cared for and they were about to fight. I didn’t like it, not at all.

Arthur continued. “Full of heavy cargo, like coal or iron. Sometimes it slips to one end. And the boat tips. I can feel it slipping. And I can feel the boat tipping. But there ain't nothing I can do about it.” His voice was beginning to get louder and shakier. 

“It's like me fuckin' head’s just like this fuckin' black fucking barge!” Arthur’s hands flew to his head, kind of like he was hitting himself. “And it just fucking drifts in and out, in and out.” His hands stayed near his head, his face turning red.

It made me anxious, really anxious. My hands started to shake and I felt queasy.

“Well, we're home a long time now, Arthur. Been home a long time. I thought you were all right.” Tom added.

“Yeah, well...” His hands were shaking near his head. He began stammering, “I don't think I am, Tommy. Take this fucking thing away from me.” Arthur threw his gun on the table and took a shuddering breath. 

Tommy glanced back, closed his eyes, and shook his head. He said. “Just fuck off, Arthur.”

“Tommy...” I chastised softly. His eyes flickered to me as he shook his head. 

Tom continued speaking as he walked closer to Arthur. “You know what? I've had enough. I've fucking had enough. Just fuck off!” He leaned into Arthur’s face as he said that last bit.

“Tommy.” I called out louder.

Arthur sniffled a little. “What?”

“I'm supposed to treat you like a fucking kid again, eh?” Tommy's voice kept getting louder till he was shouting. “Keep you away from guns and fucking rope, is that it? You think I haven't got enough on!”

I yelled while walking a bit forward. “Tommy!” 

“Stop it, Tommy.” 

“Arthur. You think I haven't got enough on?”

“Stop it.”

“The war is done! Shut the door on it!”

“Stop it.”

“Tom, this isn’t the way to go about it! Please.” My hands as well as my voice were shaking like a chihuahua now. My heart practically beating out of my chest.

“Shut the door on it like I did, eh?” Tom’s voice got softer. “Can you do that?”

“Like you did.” 

Christ, Arthur was beginning to get mad. I raised my hands closer to my chest as they were clasped together. I was biting my lips hard enough to draw blood.

“Yeah! Like I fucking did!”

Arthur growled. “I’m not fucking you.”

“Shut the fucking door, eh.”

Arthur charged Tommy, grabbing him by his collar, and shoved him against the fireplace. “I’m not fucking you, eh!”

I gasped loudly, the loud clattering overwhelmed my senses, and flailed my arms around. “Stop it! Stop fucking fighting!”

“I am not fucking you!” Arthur yelled into Tommy’s face as he was jerking his younger brother around. “Everyone fucking knows it!” Arthur put his hands on his brother’s face before growling out, “God!” He hung his head.

Tommy, on the other hand, was taking this fairly well. His face remained stoic. 

“Arthur, please. Stop it. Tommy, do something.” I begged, taking a hesitant step closer. Tommy’s eyes flickered to me for a second and I don’t know how I looked then. I couldn’t feel anything as he looked at me except worry. I knew my throat felt tighter and that my eyes were stinging, but that’s it.

Tommy’s hands managed to weave themselves around Arthur’s neck and he tugged his older brother to face the mirror. Arthur and I connected eyes only for a moment before he looked at himself. 

“Look at yourself. Eh! Look at yourself, man.” Tommy hissed.

Arthur knocked down the jugs that were resting on the overmantle. They clattered to the floor. I flinched and closed my eyes at the sound. Arthur began breathing harshly, and I opened my eyes. 

Tom said as he jerked Arthur’s head. “Take a long, hard, fucking look at yourself.” 

Arthur collapsed into his brother’s arms, but Tom just threw him aside.

I ran my hands through my hair before I quickly dropped them back down. Tom and I stared at each other, and I shook my head. He just fixed his jacket and kept walking. Arthur situated himself in the chair as we could hear the front door open and shut. I rushed to comfort Arthur. I hugged him and he tugged me closer to him.

He was sobbing into my stomach as the door opened again. Arthur didn’t look at his brother but I did. I watched as Tom unloaded the revolver, scooped up the bullets, and then threw the bottle into the fire. The fire roared as Tom left like a bat out of hell. 

Arthur pulled himself away from me as he yelled. “Fuck you, Tom!”

He threw the chair back and I managed to move out of the way. Arthur fell to the ground and started sobbing his eyes out. I held him in my arms and rocked him back ‘n forth. I rubbed his hair away from his face as I tried calming him down. 

Arthur’s grip always hurt and left me with bruises, but if it calmed him down— I didn’t care. When he did manage to quit sobbing and was sniffling instead, I figured that it was time to try talking to ‘em.

My voice was raspy as I muttered. “Arthur, you really need to lay off boxing.”

“I know. I know.” He whispered.

“Why do you need to fight with someone, love? Can’t you beat up a punching bag or something?” I chuckled a little, even though he didn’t. 

“I don’t know why. I don’t know.” 

“Do you like the sight of their blood? Like the feeling you get as you’re beating their face in? Makes you feel alive because as much as you’re dealing pain, you are feeling some of your own.” 

My stare began to drift off, and I realized that I wasn’t talking about Arthur anymore.

He nodded against my hand. “Yeah, yeah. Exactly like that. Exactly.”

Then, I was right. We’re more alike than I thought. I’m just better at hiding it. I’m better at controlling it.

I hummed and said. “You need to work on your control, Arthur. We talked about this.”

“I was on me medicine then but Tom-! Tom needs me off it.”

I didn’t know what to say after that. So, I just said what came to mind. “Just lay off boxing for a while, then. And stick to punching bags and exercising. Don’t go into the ring with other people. Not till you get that compulsion of yours under control. You understand me, Arthur?”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. All of ya are right.”

I shook my head. “No. No, Tommy was wrong. He shouldn’t have said what he said.” I huffed and continued stroking his hair back and rocking us. 

We stayed like that for quite a while till eventually he fell asleep in my arms. I was stuck like that till Polly came and woke him up. She walked him home and told me to get dinner on. 

I eventually had to face Tommy when I had to bring him his scran, but I was in and out.

I knocked on the door to Tommy’s office and he let me in. I opened the door, walked up to his desk, dropped the basket, and turned back around. 

Behind me I could hear him tsk. “Aliena.” He called out to me. “Stop it, yeah? Talk to me.”

I scoffed, shaking my head as I stopped walking. I twirled back around and glared at him. “You told Arthur to go ‘n “fuck off.” What the fuck, Tom? You know he’s tried it before.”

“He’s my brother, Aliena. Don’t know why you’re getting so ticked off about it.”

Tears stung my eyes again and I dropped my gaze. “So, you’ll say that to me too when I get off your nerves enough.”

“What?”

I shook my head and turned around in a fury. “Nevermind.” I muttered. I slammed the door behind me.

We’ve had strained interactions ever since. To be honest, I knew there was truth in both of our statements. I shouldn’t be this upset over something that was a family matter, but I knew what he said to Arthur was wrong. I don’t care about the stupid gender differences and rules. What he said to his brother was wrong!

I don’t care that men don’t talk about their feelings to each other. Family should. Especially this one ‘cause if Tom wants this family to stay together he needs to learn some fiucking compassion. Thought that’s a big-fucking-ask!

A few weeks like that passed. A few fucking weeks. I couldn’t stand the fact that I was actually cross with Tom, but I wouldn’t be the first one to apologize either. Doesn’t matter if I actually forgave him a while back, I wasn’t gonna verbalize it first. 

It took a bloody toll on my performances at my other job. I have a nasty bruise on my chin that soon enough I won’t have my matching foundation to cover it. I’m going to have to buy the foundation of this era, and I’ll be the first to tell you— I’m not fucking looking forward to it. 

Not to mention the rest of my body. Lucky fucker got a few kicks in before I drove a knife in his neck. I had to wrap my stomach with compression bandages just to function. 

Tonight was the reopening of Arthur’s club, The Garrison. Tommy’s throwing this big party, but honestly I’m torn. We’re still “at odds” and I’m not the only one he has to worry about. 

Polly screamed my ear off about how angry he made her. 

The only thing was that I was on Tommy’s side. Always was even when I watched the show. Though, I understood her feelings as well. 

I got ready. I wanted to look nice. To be completely honest, I hoped something would happen tonight. I don’t know what I wanted to happen, but I just wanted Tommy to make a move.

Yes, I know that’s irrational. But, I was slowly getting over… him. Not him in general, but I’m losing hope that he will ever see me as a romantic partner. So, I wanted to see if I could get a rise out of him.

I wore my hair down, just how he liked it. I styled it to match the times and I did the same to my makeup. Black eyeshadow and a bold red lip. I wore a off-white dress, a dress that I received as a gift from Angie, and I wore my pearl necklace. I didn’t wear the earrings because you wouldn’t see them with my hair down, anyway. I put on some black heels and some gold bracelets, and I was ready. I grabbed my clutch and put on my coat before I headed out. 

The cold, night wind nipped at my face as I walked toward the pub. Regretfully, every breath I took sent a slight ache to my stomach. I fought through it and prayed tonight ended on a good note, despite Polly. I knew Polly was not going to let up until tomorrow when Michael arrives.

By the time I got there, people were coming in and out. I went through the doors and stood amazed. I shrugged my coat off and hung it over my arm. A few people walked around me, but I just kept on taking the place in. 

It was so much bigger and... modern. The place filled hundreds of people with room to spare unlike the original layout where everyone squeezed together like sardines. It was all so gold too. 

My trance was broken once I noticed someone coming up to me.

“Is that my little songbird? Come ‘ere, you!”

 I gasped and screamed as Arthur lifted me up in the air. I bit my lip to stifle a groan. He was squeezing my sides. I breathed through my nose to calm myself from changing my facial expression. 

“Arthur!”

“Make way, lads! I need to get the little lady a drink! What are you ‘aving, songbird?” Arthur boomed.

I sighed and thought of something he could make. “Oh, just give me a glass of gin. You better beaut!” I would have asked for a gin and tonic, but damn place doesn’t have tonic water.

He set me down on the bar top, where people were already sitting. He set me down roughly too. Made me grunt. I screamed again when he used my feet to spin around. The only thing that prevented me from rolling over was the person who caught my feet. I looked up at Tommy, who was smiling down at me.

Through a smug grin, he said. “Hello, Aliena.”

It was like the pain that was erupting on my side didn’t matter anymore. Just ‘cause of one stupid smug grin. I smiled back at him as I replied. “Hi, Tommy.”

He pulled me forward and off the bar top. 

I stood on my tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “What’s up with him?”

Tom used a finger to brush back some of my hair away from my ear and whispered. “Finn gave him some Tokyo.”

We both leaned away from each other and I nodded. Arthur clapped his hands loud enough to mimic thunder. I jumped at the sound and my head whipped in his direction.

“Right! One gin coming right up!”

I realized that Tom’s grip on my waist never left and I stared down at his hands. ‘Please. Please for the love of God don’t figure out what’s there!’ I thought. I looked back up and our eyes connected. 

Tom opened his mouth before he closed it again. Then, he leaned into my ear again. “Look, I don’t want to fight anymore, all right. I-... I’m sorry.”

I immediately turned my head away and tried hiding my smile. I tucked my lips away and closed my eyes. 

“I’m guessing that means you accept me apology, then, eh, Aliena!” Tommy shouted over the bustling of the pub.

I took a deep breath and looked back at him. My cheerfulness, or smugness, probably written so blatantly over my face. “Yes. Tommy, I accept your apology.”

“Good. Can finally enjoy a meal without worrying if you spat in it.”

My jaw dropped and I smacked his arm. “I’ve never-!”

“I know. I know. You look beautiful tonight.” Tommy walked off after that.

I felt my face flush with heat and I cupped my face, trying to cool it down. Though, I didn’t waste a comeback. “Oi, what’s that supposed to mean? I don’t look beautiful every other day!” He spun around to glare at me before turning back around. I giggled at the sight.  

I accepted my drink from Arthur and chatted him up a while. However, I was sick of being behind the bar and dealing with him. He couldn’t stay on one topic for the life of him. I went to find John, Finn, and Esme. 

“Hello, hello people!”

“Ali!”

“Songbird, come ‘ere you!” John got up from his seat and lifted me up in a hug. 

I squealed and giggled. ‘What the fuck, universe!’ I thought. I gasped. “What’s up with you Shelby’s and carrying me tonight.” I giggled afterward. 

As I bent down to greet Esme with a kiss on the cheek, John exclaimed. “Might be ‘cos you’re all dolled up tonight. You look stunning, songbird.”

“Yeah, Ali! Stunning.”

I stood up straight and gave both of them a smile. “You’re gonna boost my ego, shut it. Right then, Finn. Make me some room. My feet fucking hurt from chatting with your brother.” 

He scrambled to get what I meant, but I simply walked over to him and sat on his lap. John cackled and clapped his hand on my shoulder.

Through his laughter, he got out. “Ali, that’s mean!”

I craned my head back and stuck my tongue out at him before turning back around and sipping my drink. “So, Finnie. How’s life been?”

His face was so red. “Grand, yeah. Been fighting down at the ring. You know, building up muscle.”

I made an exaggerated face of interest as I nodded. 

“Becoming more of a man everyday.”

I nodded and shouted. “Good for you! Just don’t get into too much trouble, then, yeah? Oh and if I catch you doing Tokyo, I’m beatin’ ya black ‘n blue.”

His smile never left his face. I rose back to my feet and ruffled his hair. I took a couple of steps and decided to chat with John and Esme instead. 

I asked about the kids and the baby and how they were. Esme ended being the one with all the answers. I didn’t mind. John chimed in when he wanted to tease or tell a joke. 

John was having a laugh with me when I finally picked up my head to see Ada walking in with Karl. 

“John, it's Ada!” I shouted before jogging to greet the girl. “Ada!” I shouted while stretching out my arms. 

She shouted back. “Ali!” We hugged as much as we could with the baby in the way. 

I pinched his cheeks and said hello to him as well. “Oh, how have you been?”

“What do you mean? We only saw each other last week.”

A gave her a cheeky grin as I replied. “A week’s a long time.” That’s when a buzzed Polly took notice of her niece and came waddling along. 

Polly shouted while coming toward us. “Ada! I didn't know you were coming.”

Ada greeted Polly back. They chatted a bit. I didn’t catch all of it. Didn’t want to. I find my way to the bar to get my third gin. 

I sipped on it when I felt a hand on my back. 

“How you doing, good looking?” Isaiah said.

I threw my head back in a laugh. “Isaiah, I’m good. How are you ‘n your da’?”

“He’s doing good, yeah. Being a Pastor ‘n all. Night’s been looking a little dim before I spotted ya. The light of the Peaky Blinders. Come on, little light, give us a twirl.”

I threw my head back in a cackle, my hand covering my mouth. I took his hand and twirled around for him. “Such a sweet talker, you!”

“Only for you.”

I scoffed, shaking my head as I took another sip of my drink. “Yeah, right. Eh, how do you feel about going out with me?”

His eyes widened in surprise, he picked up his hands, and backed away. I furrowed my eyebrows before I realized it came out wrong. I smacked my head and snapped my fingers. “Not what I meant, you divvy! Do you want to party with the big boys?”

He eased up and leaned back into me. “Big boys? Whatcha talking about?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I hang out with toffs, don’tya? Don’t try lying. I know you Peaky Boys get orders to follow me around from time to time from Tommy.”

Isaiah made a face that I couldn’t decipher. It was a mixture of being caught but also something else. 

“Well, anyhow. I just wanted to ask. Figured you’d want to party with me. Even if you’re one year younger.”

“Sure, I’m down. Say the word and I’ll be there.”

I winked at him as I picked up my glass. “Cheers then.” We clincked glasses before tossing back our drinks. Isaiah ordered another round for us. It was at that time that I felt eyes on me.

I looked through the crowd and found Tommy. He walked away once I met his eyes. I squinted at the spot he was in as he left in confusion. 

“Oi!” Isaiah shook my shoulder, I looked at him, and took my drink from his hand. “Hey, do you still have a crush on the big boss?”

I smiled and shook my head. “What do you think?”

“I think you should try dating someone your own age for one.”

I rolled my eyes and glared at him.

“Fuck, my bad. I’m just trying to help, ya know.”

We both sipped our drinks in silence.

“It’s just have you even tried making any advances toward him. Like flirt ‘n such.”

I cocked my head at him before huffing. “I guess. We have witty banter ‘n such. I don’t fucking know! He gives me these glances that makes me think he wants me, but then I think that I’m just making a big deal out of it. Ya know?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nope. If I like a gal, I’ll go right up to her and tell her.”

I sighed. “Wow, great advice.” I tipped my head back and took a big gulp of my drink. I winced at the taste. 

“But, hey. I usually meet women at pubs and such. Girls that I’m looking to have a fun time with, not really for a girlfriend. So, maybe it’s the same as that.”

I shrugged. “I think he thinks of me as a little sister.”

Isaiah chuckled. 

I took a step forward and asked. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He raised his hands as he said. “Look, as a man, I can tell ya that Tom does not think of you as a little sister.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Didn’t I say that as a man I know. Look he’s sitting down over there. Go ‘n chat him up. Go on.”

I giggled as Isaiah shoved me forward, my drink spilling over my hand. I took a deep breath and did as Isaiah suggested. I walked over to Tommy. He was looking at something or rather someone. 

I put my hand on the chair he was sitting on and leaned on it. I shouted over the music. “Polly sure likes them young!” I chuckled into my drink as I took another sip. 

I looked down at Tommy who was already looking up at me. 

“Yeah, she does.” He answered in a monotone voice. Kind of like he couldn’t be bothered with me. 

I bent down as I said. “Come on, Tom. It’s a party. She’ll come ‘round eventually. Let’s have a dance.”

He shook his head. “Take a seat, Ali.”

I knew my face contorted in confusion. “Tommy, come on. You’ll be my first dance.”

“Have a fucking seat, Aliena. You’re drunk.” 

I stared at him for a second before I scoffed. “Yeah, right.” I stood up and walked away. Or was planning to anyway. I could hear his chair skid behind me and then a rough tug on my forearm. 

I was about to go off on him. Damn the consequences! But he held his hand up, effectively silencing me. “Look, wait. Wait. Let’s dance. All right, let’s have dance.”

I rolled my eyes and turned my head away. Tommy grabbed my chin and I hissed in pain, swatting his hand away. My eyes widened as I realized I fucked up. Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he gave me a glance that was asking for permission.

I did nothing but hang my head. He placed a hand under my chin and lifted my head. With his thumb, he rubbed away some of my foundation. I knew he knew when his face turned red.

“Who?” He whispered.

“What?”

Tom practically roared over the bustling of the pub. “Who fucking did this, Aliena?”

I shook my head.

Tom’s hands gripped my arms, but it was a gentle hold. I knew he didn’t want to harm me. “Aliena, I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll kill the fucker that did this! It was one of your boyfriends, wasn’t it? Eh? Give me the bastard’s name.”

I kept shaking my head. “Yesterday! Yesterday was my day off, remember. I went with my mates to a party and at this club, someone got handsy with Cassie. I pushed him off her, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I slapped him and he punched me. Some guys handled him after that, and my mates rushed me out of there. That’s all. I don’t even know the bloke’s name.” I rubbed Tommy’s arms up and down and gave him a smile. 

His mouth was open as took deep breaths. He waved his finger in my face. “You better not be lying to me, Aliena. If I find another bruise on you, I’m killing that bastard with my bare hands and I’ll let everyone in on it too.”

God, if only you knew how sexy I found that statement, Tommy. Oh, how I wish I didn’t have this trauma weighing on my back preventing me from confessing to you! 

I smiled and shook my head. “I promise. I’m not telling ya a blag.”

Tommy closed his eyes as he took a deep breath, his mouth smacking. He nodded and took my hand in his. “Let’s ‘ave that dance then, eh?” He pulled me along and I followed suit.

I looked back to see if I could find Isaiah, but he was gone. The fucking bastard. 

As I danced with Tommy, his gaze kept falling back on my bruise. We still managed a conversation, but I knew it wasn’t the same. His attention wasn’t on me as it had been whenever else we spoke. 

I was the one who decided to break apart from him. I couldn’t stand him not paying attention to me. I told him I needed to freshen up, and I went to look for the restroom. I did as I said I was going to do. I covered back up my bruise then went back out. Only Tommy wasn’t waiting for me.

I felt like a fucking fool. 

I gnawed my lip as I rushed to find a familiar face. I stuck to Isaiah the rest of the night. 

It was around two in the morning before I decided to call it quits. Well, more like early three. I was stumbling along with my head hung. I was dead fucking tired and drunk. 

I finally picked up my head and saw a lad standing there. He looked posh, not from around here. Then, it fucking clicked. It was Michael Gray.

Michael noticed me and took off his cap. “Excuse me, Miss. Do you know if an Elizabeth Gray lives here at number 17?” 

I sighed and nodded. “Yeah, she does. Why?”

He fidgeted with his cap. “Well, I think she might be my mother.”

I widened my eyes for show and dropped my weight to a side. “You’re Polly’s boy? You’re Michael Gray?”

He nodded and gave me a smile. “Yeah, that’s me. Do you know where she is?”

I shook my head. “No, but she’ll be back. You see your cousins just threw a party down at the local pub. It’s called The Garrison, just reopened from renovations. You know what, I live here. I work as a maid for the family. Come inside.”

I fished for my keys in my clutch as I walked closer to the door. 

“So, you work for my mum?”

I nodded. “She is one of my bosses, yes. But, my main boss is your older cousin, Thomas. He’s not the eldest remember that. But, he’s the one in charge.” I unlocked the door and threw it open wide for him to walk through. “You know what. I’ll show you to Tommy’s room. He moved out, so you can crash here. Instead of waiting outside in the cold.”

“Um, yeah. Thanks!”

I looked back at him as we climbed up the stairs. “No problem.” We were in front of the door when we stopped talking. I was about to put my hand on the doorknob when a shrill moan could be heard from the otherside. Followed by another one and a curse and another one. Sounded like two different women.

Slowly, I dropped my hand from away from the knob and my whole body felt hotter than it already was. 

Michael stood there stunned. “Uh...”

I looked up at him, sheepishly. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as I said. “Um, uh. It looks like he came back for the night.” I hated how strained my voice came out. 

I swallowed audibly before I took his hand. He protested, but I ignored it. “Come on. I know somewhere else we can go!” I ran down the stairs and when we crossed the threshold of the house, I let go of his hand. “Keep up! Okay?” I shouted as I turned my head back.

What Aliena wouldn’t know is how beautiful she looked at that moment. With her hair whipping around her and her coat hanging in the crooks of her arms as she ran through the filthy streets of Birmingham. Men working the graveyard shift stopped working just to look at their resident little light of Small Heath.

How elegant she looked as she ran. Looked like an actress from a picture.

Michael who had just arrived a few hours ago decided at that moment that he would like being in Birmingham. He made the right decision to follow the man who came and disrupted his life. Because as he ran after the girl he’d only met minutes ago, he’s never seen anyone act this freely nor seen anyone this beautiful. It made him feel alive.

“Hey!” Michael called out from behind Aliena. “Where are we going?”

Aliena giggled as she ran backwards. “You’ll have to wait and see, pretty boy!”

“Yeah,” Michael thought. “I made the right decision.”

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#in another world #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby x oc #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine

[miraculousmarifan]

Felinette Month 2020 - Day 11: Ballroom Dances

Sorry for the delay on day 11 of the @felinettenovember​ prompts! I found out my spouse had the night off yesterday, which throws my after work plans out the window, since he wants to spend time with me (crazy right?). Add in writer’s block for the entirety of my remaining writing time and a complete change in idea 0this morning and you’ve got this. If the motivation ever returns (after November ends) I might try to finish my original plan for this (more of a throwback to when my high school included a short unit about dancing during gym) and give you another Felinette dancing fic.

So here’s some fluff and accidental reveals.

Chat!Felix and definitely taking place near the end of their high school time. 

Around 1900 words

Patrols were Felix’s favorite part of the week. Not only did he get to run across the rooftops as Chat Noir, pushing himself to move faster and grow stronger, but he also got to see his partner. After the akumas started getting stronger, the two agreed that they should get together once or twice a week to spar. Ladybug was light on her feet and surprisingly strong, but he had raw mass on her and was using the patrol to build up his stamina. Modeling didn't cut it. Afterwards he would sneak out to find some extra food to supplement his diet and avoid dropping weight. Doing this for a few years had really improved his fighting and he felt this helped the pair stay in tune better during battles. He noticed they fell under an akuma's influence less than when it first began (him especially) and the battles seemed to be more contained. 

Tonight was different from their usual sessions though. Ladybug seemed too distracted during their sparring and he had the upper hand for too much of it.

"Something on your mind, L?" Felix asked, backing out of their chalk-drawn ring to signify his ending the exercise. He grabbed his water bottle and sat near the edge of the roof. Her quiet steps marked the approach and she sat next to him.

"Yeah. Civilian life problems." She sighed out, slouching slightly. 

"Same. Would you like to share some general parts? If you don't want to, is it alright if I do?" Felix didn't want to pry. A few months into their partnership, they had a serious talk about his crush and the way his actions and words were making her uncomfortable. He took it to heart, examining where the line was, and worked to be better. It also helped their battle chemistry to know they could trust each other to listen and respect. It hurt Felix’s heart a bit to be rejected but if Ladybug's belonged to someone else, there wasn’t anything to do about it. 

"You can go first. I'm not sure how much I want to share yet…" she took another deep breath and pushed it out through her nose. Relaxation techniques. Both of them had learned a variety to try preventing either from becoming akumatized.

"As you've known for a while, I've been trying to move on from you since you told me you liked someone else a lot. I actually have a girl in my school that is pretty extraordinary. She's smart, very kind, and rather talented. Even my father likes her and he doesn't like anybody. I'm considering asking her to a school event that's coming up, as a date. However almost every guy in her class has had feelings for her and she declines everyone that gets the courage to ask her out, sweetly of course. Because that's how she is. Kind but firm," he couldn't hold back the sigh or keep his shoulders from the weight of his worry. Ladybug reached over and rubbed his upper back gently.

"Why not give it a try? She might just be waiting for the guy she likes to ask her. I would in her shoes… Plus you're a great guy, Chat! It could even be you!" she supplied encouragingly, turning to give him a smile. He knew she was probably correct about the first part, especially given how often she was right about Marinette. Every piece of vague advice she gave worked in his favor and actually was the reason he had managed to befriend her and started to view her differently.

"Yeah. You're usually right," the first word more of a sigh than actually spoken. He still felt nervous but her support eased it just a little. He wouldn't know unless he asked.

"Actually I’m worried about something kind of similar. I'm planning on going to a dance coming up and I want to ask the guy I like to a slow dance at it, if he comes. But I don't know how to dance and, based on a conversation with one of his friends, he was taught to ballroom dance… plus I always get weak-kneed around him so it makes me a little clumsy. So he probably wouldn’t want to dance with me anyway…" a blush spread across her cheeks as she spoke. He couldn’t help but laugh internally at the coincidence that her school would have a dance coming up too. He guessed it must be the season for it though. 

"I can help you out with that, if you'd like. Part of it at least. I have taken some waltz lessons for different events my father forced me to attend." Felix slowly climbed to a standing position and offered a hand to his partner. She accepted and rose.

"I forgot that your family attends formal events like that… I really appreciate your help!" A little of her usual shine came back. Amazing how much hope can light up someone's eyes.

With her assent, he began explaining and demonstrating the basic steps, positioned her arms in the air before her so he could correct posture, then had her practice without a partner initially. Then he began explaining leading and stepped in to demonstrate what it was like having a partner.

She was not great at the start, however with her focus and already light feet, she picked up on the dance relatively quickly. By the end of this lesson, she at least could hold up with the basics.

"Would you like to practice this again in the next week or two?" He offered, proud at the progress she made in such a short time. She affirmed that she wanted to practice more, the two deciding once a week for the next three weeks would be ideal. Before parting for the night, he reminded her to practice the steps on her own each night if she really wanted to be confident in them, especially in her dress and shoes once she had them.

Over the next few weeks, Ladybug was dutiful in her practice and lessons and improved drastically. Felix couldn’t help but wonder if her transformation helped or if she really was this graceful in her civilian life. If she was, it would seem like a dead giveaway to him.

Felix, on the other hand, had not built up his courage enough to ask Marinette to be his date to their school dance. She seemed so busy helping the student council prepare for it, just another responsibility of class representatives. He only had one more week to ask her as his school dance took place the next Saturday.

"I'm confident that you're good enough for a simple dance, L. I'm pretty sure you could even handle it if he threw in some turns. You don't have any reason to worry!" Felix assured his partner after their last practice session. It seemed her nerves weren't any calmer than his. 

"Thanks. I'm sure it can't be more of a disaster than some of the other things that have happened around him… Did you ask that girl out yet?" She looked expectantly and he couldn't help but avoid eye contact.

"Not yet… she has been rather busy so I don't want to bother her. As far as I know, she isn't going with anyone though," he answered reluctantly, running his hand from the back of his neck forward.

"Oh Chat, you can do this. It's just one moment of courage and then the two of you either move on with your lives or go on a date and decide where to go from there!" Ladybug clearly was excited for him, completely confident that the results would be fine. Felix wished he could tap into that enthusiasm. 

"I'll do my best… maybe I'll visit her and ask outside of school…" he tried to sound assured. Maybe I'll feel less pressure asking outside of school. He also began planning to himself how he would ask too. It hadn't occurred to him until then that he might want to do something more than just say it. He should probably bring her something she likes when he asks.

"Good luck!" Ladybug shouted to him as they parted ways again.

At school on Wednesday, Marinette was surprised when Felix asked if he could stop by the bakery that evening. She agreed and asked if he wanted her to have anything ready. He assured her she didn't need anything for him and that he likely wouldn't be there too long. This didn't relieve any of her confusion at his sudden request. 

She was even more surprised when Felix brought her a bouquet of flowers and a spool of nice silk ribbon, and asked her to go to the school dance with her. She readily agreed and, pulling up a photo of the fabric she had used for her dress, asked if he minded the color scheme she had chosen before having a date. She even offered to make him a tie to match, if he wanted. He assured her he had one that would match well and she didn’t need to worry about anything else regarding the dance. They set a time for him to pick her up the following week before parting. Felix kissed her hand gently before walking to his car, hoping the small flirtation would be acceptable and indicated his sincerity. Marinette blushed and watched until his car had pulled into traffic. 

When Felix arrived at the bakery to take Marinette to the dance, he was unprepared for all of the pomp that accompanied it. First her parents took pictures of him before she came downstairs, (apparently they had been taking pictures of her preparing and gotten a few of her alone upstairs), and then there was the moment she came down.

She looked fantastic, hair done up in a single bun, with the flyaway pieces curling around her face and the ends of the pulled up strands curled slightly around the bun. The main body of her dress ended just above her ankles, however the sheer fabric layer on top hung to her toes in her 8 cm heels. The top was tighter around her waist and dropped down in a fashion that complimented her thin frame but didn't hug it. The scoop neckline was high and flat and the sleeves covered most of her bicep. Her necklace and bright smile completed her look.

Felix's mouth may have hung open but he was more focused on her than how he looked right then. When she hesitantly walked towards him, blushing beautifully, and asked what he thought of the dress she had designed, he's sure he said something coherent and complimentary beyond a single uttered "wow," no matter what her parents say. They took more photos of the pair posing together before letting them leave. Her parents decided that their favorite picture was very possibly the one catching the look on his face when he first saw her.

Felix was in for another surprise after he asked her for a slow dance, expecting Marinette to simply wrap her arms around his neck and sway, when instead she shyly asked if a waltz was okay, as that's the only slow dance she knew. He was thrilled by the coincidence and they became the center of attention with their perfectly timed waltz. If either was reminded of their costumed partner’s dancing, it was unconsciously. At the end of the night, he surprised her by asking if she would like to continue dating him. She said yes.

The next joint patrol between Chat Noir and Ladybug ended with excited and more detailed updates on their respective situations. Both were surprised at the accidental identity reveal.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #chat!felix #identity reveal #felinette #miraculous ladybug

[mobius-prime]

294. Sonic Universe #16

Journey to the East (Part 4 of 4): A World Under Constant Vigil

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley Colors: Jason Jensen

So good ol' Espio's back from being a bad guy! Everyone's certainly surprised to see him, but Khan seems a little more than just surprised.

He's got a very fair point. I mean, let's be real, just how many friends would Sonic have left if he rejected everyone he's ever gotten into a physical fight with? Like two? Despite Sonic's words, Sally is suspicious of Espio as well, and when he informs her that he's only with the Iron Dominion because of his affiliation with the Shinobi Clan, she still insists that because of his previous actions she can't trust his word alone. So, he decides on a new tactic to gain their trust - by revealing all the dirt he has on each of them.

Oh, my god. I… honestly can't even imagine where that royal birthmark might be that's so embarrassing, first of all, given that she wears next to nothing all the time anyway. I suppose it'd have to be a place you really have to shift the fur around awkwardly to see. And second of all, look at Khan's freaking face! His reaction! This whole thing is just amazing. Khan still doesn't know what Espio is getting at, and no one really understands how this is supposed to make them trust him more, but Espio explains that his clan's entire philosophy is based on the collection of information, and by divulging it all, he's just lost any advantage over them he would have had, if he desired such a thing. That… doesn't necessarily make much sense and really just sounds like an excuse to have that page above of him hilariously spilling some secrets about the four heroes, but I digress! Espio blindfolds everyone and leads them to a secret cave, where they stand above a dark abyss, and he informs them that they must make it to the other side to meet with the bride of his clan before disappearing. Tails decides to try flying over, but Khan pulls him back before using his lightning powers to reveal a plethora of deadly traps hidden in the stalactites on the cave's roof.

Ah! Not quite the Indiana Jones leap of faith trick, but then again, this isn't a matte painting. Sonic, against Sally's wishes to take things slow, grabs a huge armful of dirt and races on ahead, bridging each break in the twisting path ahead through sheer speed like Mario over a one-tile gap and spreading the dirt everywhere so the path is plainly visible. They cross, expecting more tests, but to their surprise they end up immediately in the Bride of Constant Vigil's main chambers.

Shh! Khan, don't ruin the easiest set of negotiations you've had thus far! At first it really does seem like he's just mad they put so much effort into all this for the last clan to be so easy to win over, but when Sally makes him take a deep breath he reveals that the real reason he's angry is because he thinks the Shinobi Clan should have done more to stand up to the Iron Dominion and help the free people of the Dragon Kingdom. She calmly tells him that once upon a time the clan did just that, tried to act as the "police" of sorts to the Dragon Kingdom, and when they were nearly wiped out as a result they adopted their sneaky ways to survive. Definitely a reasonable position - but she then goes on to say that Espio has demonstrated to her with his actions that sometimes, those rules must be broken for the greater good. Espio, with his bride's permission, explains to everyone that he was never a native to Angel Island as everyone thought, but is rather a Shinobi spy sent to monitor the Brotherhood. W-wait, the Brotherhood? The ones who spied on everyone else across the entire globe for centuries?!

Right here, right now, the Shinobi Clan has earned my everlasting respect. They figured out early on exactly what I've been saying this whole time - that the Brotherhood is (or was, considering all but one member is dead now) shady as hell, and operating with extensive superpowers and no oversight essentially ensured that they became way too self-assured of their "right" to spy on, and potentially take over, the entire freaking world. I'm not even exaggerating here - remember their really creepy conversation in KtE#16 where they were talking about forcibly leading the planet into a new "golden age" under echidna guidance? The Shinobi are the smartest people on the goddamn planet for not only noticing what the hell was going on over there, but taking action to make sure it never went too far. It also adds a hilarious note of irony to the Brotherhood's ever-so-secretive nature - all this time they thought they were the ultimate spies, watching over all of Mobius to look after "echidna interests," with one of them even stationed directly in the Dragon Kingdom, and yet they never suspected for a moment that someone else was watching them.

Anyway, Espio goes on to recount from here how Valdez was his predecessor, keeping tabs on Locke, and when Espio was chosen as his successor he helped him settle into the Rainbow Valley on Angel Island, pretending to be just another local. Espio watched Knuckles for basically the entire time he was alone on the island after Locke disappeared, and the only reason he was permitted to reveal himself at all was due to an emergency, when the Freedom Fighters were captured and Knuckles was stripped of his powers in the Knuckles Chaotix special. His feelings eventually got the better of him, and he became close to Knuckles and the others despite being under orders to remain secretive.

Oh, boy. Even when your mom's the leader of a ninja clan, it's still hard not to be excited when she lets you do something fun, huh Espio? Espio is overjoyed to be free of his former duties, but Constant Vigil remains serious, reminding Khan that he has his work cut out for him in the future. In response, he takes the plain power ring band from his head and, uh… makes a fist around part of it, and after a flash of light there's some kind of little sigil on it. I can only assume this is meant to signify he's accepted his role as King of the Free People, but I have no idea how he just randomly decorated his bit of jewelry with no real effort. Constant Vigil offers to have her clan ensure the heroes' safe journey back to their own kingdom, and when Sonic points out that they don't seem like they can spare the muscle due to the lack of guards, several dozen chameleons melt out of the shadows, revealing they've been watching the conversation all along. Man, I really like these guys. The next day, the heroes thank Li Yuen for hosting them before flying back out, ready to retake their city and break the grip of the Iron Dominion for good.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #su 16 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: tracy yardley #colors: jason jensen

[pitviperofdoom]

Guess who’s back with another fun Magnus AU WIP! This one is... kind of a weird one. It’s somewhat inspired by but in no way based on or connected to Death By Dying, another fantastic podcast.

Warning for some pretty major Season 4 spoilers like, right off the bat.

***

Contrary to what some might think of him, the man currently known as Elias Bouchard did not enjoy the luxury of omniscience. The fact that he could see everything did not make him all-knowing. The “could” was the sticking point. He could see everything, or anything he cared to look at, but then, if he wasn’t looking at it then he wasn’t seeing it.

And so, at any given moment, he did not know certain things, like what the people of London were getting up to in their morning routines, or how a hadron collider worked, or the exact placement of the solar system in the larger known universe. These things did not help or hinder his purposes, and it was a considerable task keeping track of those that did. It simply wasn’t in his best interests to clutter his mind with anything and everything in existence, simply for the sake of knowing all of it.

The Eye itself might be interested, in the way that a man with a full dinner spread was interested in the salt and pepper, but Elias Bouchard, James Wright, and all the names that traced back to Jonah Magnus were not the Eye. He was not a god, only a man who had found a way to use one properly.

And so, when a prospective hire walked into his institute for an afternoon job interview, Jonah Magnus did not, strictly speaking, know anything about him. He knew when he arrived, and he knew the path that the man took from the front entrance to Jonah’s office, but it was only when they were face to face that Jonah decided to give him a proper look.

What he found was… interesting, to say the least.

Jonah’s eyes—just the two of them—showed him… not much. Nothing more or less than what he expected to see. A dark face, darker beneath the pale gray eyes, thin and slightly sunken with sharp cheekbones—this was a man that did not see to the needs of his body. Dark hair, streaked with gray—premature, given the date of birth on his application. He was crisply dressed, though less so than Jonah himself. A waistcoat without a jacket—gray, again. A neatly-done tie—charcoal, for a bit of variety. No adornments but a black ring on the middle finger of his right hand. A signifier of—Jonah lost interest in that train of thought immediately.

All of that taken together, there was not a drop of color on the man before him. Were it not for the brown of his skin, Jonah could have been looking at a black-and-white photograph given life. That would be an interesting diversion from the Stranger’s usual tactics, but Jonah knew, with the certainty of one who could see everything if he wanted to, that he was not dealing with a hand of the Stranger.

As Jonah took in the man before him, only half-listening to his polite introduction, he felt his senses stir with a revulsion that was not wholly his own. He swallowed the feeling, clearing his throat enough to say, “Tell me about your background.”

He did not listen to the man’s answer, as riveting as it surely was. He could see it for himself perfectly well: a lonely childhood, full of neglect and halfhearted care born of obligation rather than love, followed by a life in much the same vein. But nestled in the midst of all the rest of it, there it was.

It started, as these things often did, with a book. One that caught its reader on a gossamer thread as soon as it was touched, and with each turn of a page added more, until the hapless reader was hopelessly snarled and helpless at the end to do anything but find the right door and knock.

And that was where things got interesting.

Because the man before him was not a puppet of the Web. The book was not meant to make puppets; it was meant to catch food. To fall into its trap meant certain death. And yet here he was, sitting in front of him, overflowing with a power that Jonah’s god hated.

After all, the Eye had no use for death and dying, when there was nothing worth watching in its aftermath—and the fear of death came from the lack of knowledge, not its abundance.

(What an interesting move for Terminus, to snatch a victim from the Spider’s jaws.)

On the subject of death and uselessness, Gertrude Robinson was now dead and useless to him. She had been useless even before dying, far too single-minded to be manipulated, far too weak of an Archivist to usher in the future that Jonah sought to build. But now her position was open.

The man before him would also be useless as an Archivist. Were he merely marked by the End, or even by the Web, Jonah would have leapt at the chance. But a full avatar of the End still presented an equally tantalizing opportunity.

His Archivist would have to be marked somehow, would it not?

Jonah carried out the rest of the interview burying his own impatience. It was merely a formality, and he expected that Terminus’s servant knew that; they had both made up their minds the second he’d set foot in Jonah’s office.

“I have one final question for you,” said Jonah. “What, exactly, are you looking for in pursuing this position?”

Not for the first time, he quietly lamented the gaps in his own power. Were he the Archivist, he could pull the truth from him like a knife from a wound. But as he was, all he could do ask, and listen, and see if the answer was truthful.

Pale gray eyes met his over the desk, steady and unreadable as servants of the End so often were. “I’ve heard about this place. I believe that I can do a lot of good here.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” If the smile that spread slowly across Jonah’s face was disconcerting, his new employee gave no sign of it.

Instead, he offered a nod, or perhaps a respectful inclination of the head. “When can I expect to hear back?”

“Immediately,” Jonah replied, sitting forward. “I believe you’ll do very well in the archives.”

“Archives?” For the first time, the man seemed taken aback. “My application was for a researcher position.”

“Ah, I apologize for the miscommunication,” Jonah said smoothly. “The duties and responsibilities of archival assistants are largely research as well, so from time to time some new hire in HR will make an error.” At the ensuing hesitation, he added, “In my experience, the archives offers a somewhat greater degree of… job security. If that helps.”

“I suppose it does.”

“Well then,” Jonah said, rising from his chair. “Welcome to the Magnus Institute, Mr. Sims.”

The hand that he shook was cold. Colder still were the pale gray eyes as, for the first time since walking into his office, Jonathan Sims smiled.

With one more piece falling into place, Jonah Magnus smiled back.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #fanfiction #tales from the pit #true death au

[bluesfortheredj]

Hitsuzen.

Hitsuzen - A naturally foreordained event. A state in which other outcomes are impossible.

Chapter 7.

The weekend was upon you; it was Saturday evening and both you and Evie were sitting in the garden at Sarah and John’s while you waited for Charlie to pick you up. Your amateur sleuthing had earned you a stern warning from John and yet the harsh words had only interested you further into what was going on with Adam.

“He’s here!” Sarah calls out cheerily from the kitchen.

Evie is quick to rise to her unsteady feet and begins to toddle towards the front door as quickly as her tiny legs will take her, and when Charlie knocks at the door she practically squeals with delight at the prospect of seeing him again.

“Evelyn!” you laugh as she reaches up for the door handle which is far too high for her short arm, “come here.”

You open the door with a smile and Charlie grins directly at you before Evie stretches her arms out to the tall man.

“Charlie! Charlie!” she demands, wanting him to take her from your grasp.

“Hello there young lady!” he chuckles as you lean her towards him.

He balances her on his side as she leans her head on his shoulder and you never thought you’d feel slightly envious of your own daughter in such as way as you do now. Her chubby fingers grab at his shirt as she gives him her version of a cuddle and John has to shout out for you both as you suddenly realise you were still stood at the front door. You let Charlie walk through then watch the two of them as he strolls into the lounge with her attached to his side, and you can’t help but think of David and how he probably would have been her favourite parent; a true daddy’s girl left without a dad. Charlie turns to see you leaning against the now closed front door and nods for you to catch up with them but you hold up your index finger to signify you’d only be a minute, then disappear upstairs for a breather.

“Evie, l think Betty is missing you outside, why don’t you go and see her?” Sarah suggests softly.

You can hear Evie’s tiny ‘humph’ and imagine her snuggling into Charlie a little more in an attempt to not leave him, and your heart breaks at the thought she couldn’t have done this with her father. It caught you off guard like this sometimes, an overwhelming wave of sadness that she missed out on knowing her dad even though she doesn’t have a clue about anything right now, and you have to take a short time out to gather yourself again. She knows no different though and although you’ll tell her one day when she’s older all about her dad, she’ll be blissfully unaware for a good few years to come.

“Go on Evie, I promise I’ll be right out,” Charlie says as he encourages her to join her friend in the garden.

“Promise?” she confirms.

“Promise,” he repeats sincerely.

“Okay… where’s mummy?” she questions before she walks away.

“I’m not sure darling, should I go look for her?”

“Yes peas!”

You drop your head into your hands with a laugh at her pronunciation of ‘please’; you were so grateful to have her in your life, one word from her and your mood could change within an instant, and the sadness you’d felt only moments before was now shrinking back into the shadows of your mind. Your hands drag down your face, revealing it inch by inch until you notice Charlie standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at you with a concerned expression pulling at his perfect face.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly as he ascends the stairs towards you slowly.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you chuckle, “Evelyn still hasn’t managed to master the ‘l’ in please!”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to go out tonight if you don’t want to, we can just… sit on the stairs?” he smiles, taking a seat next to you and nudging your shoulder gently.

“No I want,” you reassure, leaning against his arm, “I really do.”

“Charlie? ...Charlie?” a familiar voice calls out, “did you find mummy?”

Evie’s small figure wobbles out from the lounge and looks up at you both sat on the stairs then she crawls up each step until she wriggles her way into the limited space between your thighs thanks to the narrow staircase, and she falls against your chest with a sigh, her little arms reaching across your torso as far as they can go. That mother and daughter bond was undeniable at times like this when it seemed as if she knew exactly what you were feeling and instinctively gave you a cuddle to make things okay again. She looks up at you with eyes older than her years, staring right into your soul, then smiles before puckering her lips for a kiss which you gladly peck before squeezing her once more.

“Cuddle Charlie,” she says quietly as you hold onto her hands while she steps down then over to his waiting arms.

She settles in between his legs much better being as they were more slender than yours and he lifts her up onto one of his thighs so she can sit happily looking at you both as she leans against him as if she knew him.

“You like Charlie don’t you?” you ask as she fiddles with his fingers that sit at her waist, keeping her safely on his lap.

“Yeah!” she grins.

“And why do you like Charlie?”

“He’s cosy,” she replies, snuggling into him, then she looks up to meet his gaze, “are you a daddy?”

He opens his mouth before his mind can catch up to him; the question obviously taking him surprise, “uh… no, I’m not a daddy.”

“Oh,” she says, slightly disappointed, “so you can’t cuddle mummy because only daddies and mummies cuddle.”

“Ah, actually there’s a loophole that does allow me to cuddle mummy,” Charlie starts, much to your amusement, “I can cuddle her if you say I can… even if I’m not a daddy. So, do I have your permission?”

“Yes! You have persmesson,” she nods happily as the two of you chuckle at her mispronunciation.

“Fantastic! Come here then (Y/N),” he grins as he puts an arm around you and cuddles you into his side.

“Are you two going out tonight, or am I supposed to be making dinner for two extra people?” Sarah laughs from the bottom of the stairs as she looks up at the three of you huddled together.

“Yes, we should get going,” you agree.

Sarah walks up to grab Evie from Charlie then takes her down and into the garden to play with Betty while you get your things together and Charlie talks to John.

“Now be good little miss,” you grin as you squat down next to Evie, “and I’ll see you later.”

“Okay mummy,” she nods, “you be good.”

“I will!” you laugh.

“Bye bye Charlie!” Evelyn calls out as you stand, “night kiss?”

“Of course sweetheart,” he chuckles.

You back away as he kneels on the floor next to Evelyn and kisses the top of her softly, and you smile as you watch her little eyes flutter shut as she enjoys his comforting touch; maybe she subconsciously yearned for a fatherly figure without even realising the meaning behind it after seeing the interactions between Betty and John. You walk away to stand by the lounge door to wait for Charlie and look at Evie as her eyes follow him all the way to you, then she diverts her gaze to yours and gives you a big cheesy grin before the two of you disappear.

“Thank you,” you sigh as you get into the passenger seat of his car.

“For what?” he frowns.

“For being so good with Evelyn. It really does mean a lot.”

“It’s nothing, honestly. She’s a brilliant kid and she’s part of you so I just feel lucky to have two new people in my life,” he shrugs.

You smile timidly at his reply then he starts up the car and reverses out of the driveway; his hand falling naturally onto your thigh after he’s got the car into gear and you’re cruising down the road that leads out of the village. Your hand lays on top of his gently until he has to change gear again, but soon enough you arrive at the larger pub in the next village over where his fingers slip between yours as you walk through the door together. He walks you through to the garden where you find a table then he heads inside for the drinks and returns just as a scuffle begins to break out at the other end of the pub.

“Someone’s had too much to drink already,” you joke as it soon calms down thanks to people separating the two men.

“I hope they don’t carry on for too long… I’m off duty and on a date, I’m not getting involved!” he laughs.

“So this is an official date?” you smirk.

“The second one by my count,” he winks.

A blush creeps across your cheeks at his wink, “I’d agree with that number.”

“Sarah tells me you did superbly at taking the class the other day by the way. I didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t handle it.”

“Thank you! I really enjoyed it, it’s certainly put things into perspective for me. I thought I’d be happy with always being the technician but now… now, not so much.”

“You should get job hunting then,” Charlie smiles proudly, “get yourself out there.”

“Everything’s so perfect here though, and Evie’s settled… I don’t know, maybe I’ll just have to wait for Adam to leave,” you laugh.

“There’s no harm in looking though, and it’ll be easy to settle somewhere else if you have someone to help you...”

“Not sure I can ask John and Sarah to help with another move!”

“You wouldn’t have to, I’d be there.”

You smile as you bring your wine glass to your lips then a crash of glass from inside the pub causes you both to snap your heads around to look in the direction of the sound, and there you see Adam stumbling outside with a drunk grin pulling at his mouth.

“You two look adorable together!” he slurs as he approaches the table, “just so cute. Where’s Evie in all this though? Palmed off on Sarah again?”

He scoffs to himself as Charlie stands from the bench and moves into his path, then he lifts his hand and Adam walks straight into it with a bounce, losing his footing easily thanks to the alcohol in his system.

“Oh! He’s your guard dog too?!” he laughs.

“I think that’s enough now, don’t you?” Charlie says calmly as you silently seethe at his comments, “I suggest you head home… on foot,” he continues, taking Adam’s keys from his pocket and slipping the one for the car off the ring, “you can pick this up from the station in the morning.”

“Oh come on! Seriously?!” Adam whines.

“Go home before I call officers to escort you to a nice cosy cell for the night,” Charlie warns.

“I’m going,” he says, backing away with his arms up in the air in defeat, “I’m going!”

Charlie stays standing until Adam is out of sight then drops his head with a sigh and shakes it from side to side as he returns to his seat, “well that was… interesting.”

“Would it definitely be completely illegal to go for a joy ride in his car?” you question.

“Unfortunately it would, but we could make some excuse by you doing him a favour by driving it to the station for him to pick up?”

“I like your thinking!”

“Are you alright after all that?” Charlie asks, reaching his arm across the table so he can take your hand in his.

“I’m fine, honestly. Lucky you were there though otherwise I would have decked him.”

“I don’t doubt that for one second! I was close to it myself!”

“I’m still not quite convinced he’s capable of murder though...”

“Hmm, nor are we to be honest. Something doesn’t add up, it’s too much of a coincidence.”

You lift your fingers and slot them between Charlie’s then your eyes meet across the table, “do you believe in coincidences? Fate? Things like that?” you ask.

“I do,” Charlie nods, “I believe that everything happens for a reason and sometimes things happen in your life that are destined to be, and you have no choice but to embrace it.”

“What if you’re a little reluctant at embracing it? Maybe because there’s an element of fear?”

“Then I’d hold on tight,” he says softly, strengthening his grip on your hand, “to someone you trust to help you get through it.”

“Better stay like this for a while then,” you admit shyly.

@lv7867 @lovemarvelousfics @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @timeandpixiedust @the-baby-bookworm @pink-lemo @chlobo6 @queenslandlover-93 @misslolasworld @killer-queen-87 @drivenbybri @itsametaphorgwil

#Charlie Nelson #ds charlie nelson #charlie nelson x reader #midsomer murders fic #gwilym lee #charlie nelson imagine