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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

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Learning a Lesson Chapter 9

iLearning a Lesson Chapter 8

Part 1 Here, Part 2 Here, Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here, Part 5 Here, Part 6 Here, Part 7 Here, Part 8 Here

Young Actor Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated E -Smut, Angst, Complicated Relationship - Teacher/Actor Posing as Student, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Threats, Breakups, Angst…

ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER! (but don’t worry… I’m a hopeless romantic)

Summary: It’s your first day as a teacher and things are going well. That is, until a tall, gorgeous boy with blond curls and dramatic ways saunters into your last class. When he ignores all the swooning girls to flirt outrageously with you, it is secretly thrilling. Even more so is when he tries to steal a kiss after class ends. How long will you be able to keep your defenses up?

Up and Coming actor Tom is under cover in high school for research for a movie, but the pretty drama teacher is making the long assignment so much more enjoyable

@arch-venus25, @caffiend-queen @ciaodarknessmyheart @frostbitten-written @just-the-hiddles @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken @nonsensicalobsessions @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @shae-annelore @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @hiddlesholic @yespolkadotkitty @vodka-and-some-sass @wolfsmom1 @tom-hlover @toozmanykids @delightfulheartdream @whyispistashanuttaken @hopelessromanticspoonie; @loki-yoursaviourishere @is-it-madness

The Monday morning walk to school was the longest of Emily's life. With every step she took she was tempted to turn around and run the other way, hiding under her blankets and weeping rather than going on. Only a deep seated stubborn streak kept her from giving in to her fears and doing just that.

She needn't have worried. Tom was true to his word. There was no sign of him to be found in school. No infectious laugh ringing through the hallway, no tousled halo of blond hair floating above the shorter students amidst a throng of admirers, and no ice blue eyes seeking hers for a secret wink or speaking glance.

Emily told herself it was for the best. She hoped she would eventually believe it.

The other god-send was that Jim Howard seemed to have called in sick. A substitute was in his classroom when she got there, and never had she been so glad to see the old woman than she was that day. She assumed that it was his pride that kept him from walking into the building with a black eye and a swollen jaw, and took evil delight in the fact that Tom had so thoroughly trounced him.

Tom. There he was again. She could not go five minutes without calling him to mind. It was going to be a long day. Hell, it was going to be a long forever as far as she knew. How long would it take to get over the golden boy who had so completely won her heart?

Half a day was how long it took for the news of his exit to hit the school grapevine. Emily began hearing his name whispered during her fourth period class. By the time that class ended and she made her way to the staff lounge it was all anyone was talking about. Ada, Janis, and Mike were gossiping about it when she came in, a pathetic lunch of coffee and a banana in her hand.

"Well, anyone with eyes could have seen that that boy should be a movie star," Janis was opining. "It doesn't surprise me one bit."

"Oh, come on Janis," Mike laughed, skepticism showing, "he was handsome, sure, but there's no way you saw this coming!"

"I'm not saying that," Janis sniffed. "Obviously I didn't know he was an actor. But if anyone in this school was destined for greatness it was Martinsson."

"Hiddleston," Mike corrected her. "Apparently that's his real name. You're awfully quiet, Emily. You were close with the boy, weren't you? Tutoring him after hours and all?"

"Not that close," she said with a half shrug. "He claimed to want help with an audition monologue, but that was obviously for show. We never actually worked on it. Just class."

The words were true enough as far they went, even if the meaning behind them was an all out lie.

"Still, he clearly preferred you," Ada said, giving her a probing look. "I heard all sorts of chatter about how he always flirted with you, volunteering to read romantic scenes with you. I was a little jealous, to tell the truth. I mean, and I can say it now that I know he's a genuine adult - what I wouldn't have given for a chance to sculpt a nude of that boy!"

"No wonder Howard hated him so much," Mike laughed good naturedly. "It seems it's not just the high school girls who had a thing for him."

Emily did her best to tune them out after that, and took to eating in her classroom. The days blended into each other, with no end of the day secret to make them stand out as special.

The kids in her drama class were all excited of course. The thought that they had read scenes with an honest to goodness actor, one who was going to be starring in a movie, made them practically giddy. Kate began recirculating the lie that the two of them had been involved, and no one dared to correct her. Emily was angry on his behalf, offended that anyone would believe he would fool around with a student, until she realized the implications of that thought.

It was that guilt that was the worst. Well, along with the loneliness. Even if he had been an adult, she hadn't known that. She had thought him no different than Kate or Zack or Jamie, and she had slept with him anyway. She deserved all the pain she was feeling. Deserved more than that; to loose her job and never be hired again, even. More and more she slipped into a depression.

It was nine days after she had thrown him out of her apartment and her life that the first letter arrived. She grabbed her mail from the small slot inside the door and rifled through it on the way up the stairs as she always did, expecting nothing more than bills and solicitations. When she turned over an envelope addressed in an instantly recognizable hand, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Hands shaking, she opened the seal, afraid that if she didn't do it at once she would never find the courage, and unfolded a letter.

"My Darling Emily," it began in Tom's loopy mess of long hand, "I know I have no right to write to you, having broken your trust in the most caddish way possible. I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to once more take advantage of your goodness of heart and kindness of disposition, that I may try to explain why I orchestrated such a hurtful charade.

"As you are patently aware now, I am an actor of both stage and screen. I take my profession very seriously, perhaps more so than it deserves, though I like to believe that you among all women will understand why. If I can peel away the layers of a character enough to expose the beating heart within, allowing my audience to sees even a piece of the truth of humanity in my portrayal, then I truly believe that I am contributing something to this shared experience we all are living. Pretentious as that sounds, it is my goal every time I assume a role, be it Iago or a soldier, or even Mr. Toad.

"When I was cast as a student from the States, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I was educated, I blush to say my love, in the best schools in England: Eton, Cambridge, and RADA. My good fortune has been quite excessive, I know, though no teacher I encountered in all of my tutelage could hold a candle to you, my darling. In any case, I was woefully unprepared to know the struggle such a young man was going through. My director came up with the idea to have me pose in a small town school, and I admit I leapt at the chance.

"Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would meet the woman of my dreams in such a situation.

"I confess that in the beginning I flirted with you to amuse myself. You are quite breathtakingly beautiful, my sweet, and I was bored beyond belief. As the days went on, however, I began to uncover the woman underneath the starched blouses and pencil skirts. A woman with a mind that soared and a soul that sung. One who shared my passion for stage poetry, and did not back down from a challenge.

"In short, my darling Emily, I fell in love with you.

"I should have told you the moment our relation crossed over the line. Alas my love, I fear that it is a coward who worships you. I was afraid that if you learned the truth you would be angry, and I wanted to collect as many precious moments with you as I could before your warm eyes turned cold. My sin is great, I know. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nonetheless, I place my heart at your feet in hope that you will take it up, take pity on me, and not stomp it beneath your shoe.

"The film I am working on seized the opportunity afforded by my early matriculation to begin shooting. I am relocated to New York City to start principal photography. I know it is a mere two hours from you, and yet it feels the length of the world. Knowing I will not see you each day, hold you at night, is a weight on my soul that I know I have only myself to blame for.

"I ask nothing of you, my dearest Emily, but that you allow me to write to you. I do not expect you to write back, although I live in hope that one day you will. The distance keeps us apart, but perhaps that need not be all bad. Perhaps it can give you time to heal and to trust me once more. Let me write to you, to tell you about myself - my real self - and try to win your friendship back if nothing else. It has been the most important of my life.

"I do not flatter myself that I will ever hold you again, kiss your soft lips, feel you beneath me as you gasp in passion. I have too great a mark against me to hope for such grace. I would die to have it, but will not impose it on you. Just let me try to heal the hurt I have done, and I will be content.

"If you cannot find it within you to accept my offer of friendship in the form of epistles, simply write me with one word. 'Stop' and I will cease. You are in control, my heart. I will bow to your wishes.

"Please take good care of yourself, my Emily. I wish I could be their to tend to you myself. Be warry of the dread maths teacher. I know it is no longer my place, but I would ask you to not be alone around him.

"Enough of that. I will end for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

"My heart is yours.

All my love,

Tom."

Emily read the letter through, barley able to make out the words through the tears welling in her eyes. When she had finished, she collapsed onto the bed and read it through again, openly weeping this time. All of the pain and guilt she had been holding in came flooding out. In the end, she had to put the letter aside so that the deluge of her tears didn't permanently mar the ink composing the lines. By then she knew it by heart, but she still loved to see his strong hand scrawled out over the page.

She did not for a moment consider writing him to stop. Perhaps she should have. There was no future she could see for the two of them. Her trust had been shattered, along with her mental image of herself, by the situation. On top of that, he was away, filming a movie in the big city that she rarely went to. When this movie was ended, who knew where he would be? Jetting off to exotic countries? Treading the boards in London? His life was exciting and adventurous, and she was a little mouse of a school teacher from a small town. How could they hope to make a relationship work, even without their drama?

The letters came far more frequently than she had expected. While it was not every day, Tom was clearly grasping every spare moment he had to pour out his heart to her. He told her all about the filming process. She felt as though she knew his costars, so vividly did he depict them. Against her will, Emily would find herself laughing at ridiculous anecdotes, or groaning in commiseration at delays in the shooting.

In the midst of all of these tales of misadventures and productivity, Tom made clear to he still hoped to win Emily back. He never missed an opportunity to praise her, calling her darling, his sweet, his dear, his love. He mentioned how he had suggested that one of the teachers should be young, smart, and sexy as an homage to her, though no one could possibly do her justice. He let slip that he had been making his costars groan with his continual referencing her, to the point where they teased him any time her name arose.

At the end of each letter he dropped all pretense, stating plainly that he loved her and would do anything to win her back. He insisted that he would wait, that the decision was entirely hers, but that he lived in hope that one day she would write him back, telling him she forgave him. Until that day, he would soldier on and try to deserve her.

Several times Emily found herself sitting down, trying to pen a reply to him. She wanted, desperately wanted, to do so. But each time, the fear would come crashing down and she would end up tearing the letter to shreds.

About two months after the letters started, there was a longer than usual gap between arrivals. Emily began to think that he had given up on her, and a panic she had never felt gripped her. She had not realized the extent to which she had been living for his words.

When an envelope finally arrived, it was in an international envelope, and the return address was London, England. That was it, then. He was out of the country. All of the stories of his homecoming, complete with welcoming family, were a dagger to her. He still professed his love, but now an actual ocean separated them along with the sea of emotion.

Their were two more letters, spread over a month and a half, and then nothing for three weeks. Depression returned. She had all but given up when a card shaped envelope, gilded on the edges, arrived in her box.

***

"Alright, out with it!"

Emily looked up from the pile of papers she was grading to see Ada standing in her classroom door, arms crossed over her paint splattered apron and a determined look on her face.

"Out with what?" Emily asked, confusion genuine.

"It's been four months, Emily," the older woman said, shutting the door behind her as she walked in and sat at one of the student desks. The same desk, Emily couldn't help but note, that had once been Tom's.

"Sorry?"

"Four months that you have been moping around! Barely showing your face in the teacher's lounge, looking like someone stole your dog and kicked your kitten. This, from the girl who was such a spark of joy when she was hired that she even ignited passion for teaching in an old war horse like me!"

"I'm sorry," Emily mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, girl! Tell me what's wrong!"

"It's nothing."

"Emily, do you think I'm blind?" Ada asked with a sigh.

"No..."

"Or that I'm stupid?"

"Of course not!"

"Good," Ada snorted. "As I am neither. Four months ago, a certain long-legged boy with more looks than are good for anyone swaggered out of this school, and you have been a ghost ever since. It's not hard to put the pieces together."

Emily gaped at her, all color draining from her face. If Ada knew, or strongly suspected, was it then general knowledge? Was her shame a joke amongst the faculty, or a cause of scorn?

"Don't worry, hun," Ada said, as though reading her mind. "Most of the people around here are blind and stupid. No one else has any idea. Well, maybe Jim, but that's a whole other can of worms that I am not too keen on digging around in. So, you fell for the boy, huh?"

"You must despise me," Emily said, voice hardly above a whisper.

"So you're failing is that you're deaf," Ada shook her head. "How many times did you hear me rhapsodize about him? Hell, I was undressing him with my eyes every damn day!"

"But you never took it farther than that."

"No, I didn't. But then I am decades older than either one of you and was not given the opportunity. Who knows what I might have done if he had batted those long golden lashes at me and flashed a dimple."

"You wouldn't have slept with a student," Emily said doggedly.

"Is that what this is? That you feel guilty? Tell me something, Emily: would you ever even consider anything inappropriate with say... Jack Simmons, or Zach Lewis, or Dan Fielding? Would it even occur to you?"

"No," Emily said at once, repulsed by the very idea.

"Of course not. Because they are children. The Simmons boy is a hulking child, true, but even though he is big, he is still an adolescent. You can easily tell in a moment he is not an adult. Now, compare that to Tom. He has a baby face, and is all gangly, but there was something about him that flatly identified him as a man. You knew that, instinctively. That is why you let things play out the way you did."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you," Ada said simply. "You are a good person, with a moral compass. Was it a stupid thing to do? Of course! It could have ended horribly for you, and thank god it didn't! But don't beat yourself up for listening to your intuition when it turned out to be right! Even if the boy did end up being a snake."

"What if he wasn't?" Emily asked carefully.

"I just assumed... he left, and you didn't seem happy about it... Emily, what did happen?"

Emily looked at her friend, chewing on her lip as she decided what to say. Ada already knew the worst; what harm could it do to let her in on the rest? In a rush it all came out. The clandestine affair, the trouble with Mr. Howard, seeing Tom on Nicholas Nickleby, their disastrous fallout, all of it. Ada sat there rapt as Emily spilled the whole sordid story.

"He really punched Jim?" Ada asked when she had finished, a huge grin spread over her face.

"Twice," Emily confirmed, answering smile on her own mouth. "Hard. Knocked him flat onto the ground."

"Oh, would I have loved to have seen that."

"I could have lived without it, honestly."

"Oh, hun, I don't know what to tell you," Ada shook her head. "I don't even know whether to feel jealous of you sorry for you. Both, I suppose. Ah, to be young again."

"He's been writing me letters," Emily confessed, face reddening. "Ever since he left."

"What does he say?" Ada's eyes were huge.

"Different things. How his day is going. About the filming. That he loves me and wants to be with me."

"Well what the hell are you doing here then?" Ada stood from the desk to stare at her.

"Ada..."

"Girl, if that young man wanted me, you can bet that nothing would keep me away!"

"He's in London," she muttered.

"Did something happen to all the airplanes?"

"No... In fact..."

"In fact what, Emily? Spill it? Give a woman something to live vicariously through!"

With a sigh, Emily dug through her bag and pulled out the card she had received the day before. It was an invitation to a movie premiere in New York City. Folded along with that was a train ticket, prepaid first class, and a small note:

"I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.

Tom (with all thanks to Miranda in The Tempest)"

"Well," Ada smiled at her, "when shall we go shopping? You, my dear, are going to need a dress!"

#Tom Hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #fic #fanfic #love #angst #pining #letters #love letters #smut (in other chapters)#teacher/student relationship #BUT NOT REALLY #he is undercover for a role #I am a sucker for a happy ending I promise!

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summii · 3 years

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looking back

pairing: everyone/reader. eren/reader

warnings: MANGA SPOILERS. MAJOR MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS. CHAPTER 139 , DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE MANGA/ DONT WANT SPOILERS. Death mention, Sadness- VERY SAD. Alcohol consumption, Nightmares, brief description but not really. Season three spoilers.

A/N: yeah, i totally didn’t cry while writing this 😫 sunny told me it would be sad ofc- but did i listen? no 🥰

_________________

the trip was long. the journey itself to get there was exhausting, the emotional side of it was taking a toll on you. you didn’t know if you would even want to come in the first place, but then again, it was what everyone had wanted. they wanted to see him. well...at least, in a sense...in the only way they could.

the trek to the hill was silent, as if there were a tension hanging above everyone’s heads. the thoughts of everyone- everything you all had lost in the past years. it had been three long years since you had been on your home land. three years since you had talked to him. three years since he had died.

staring at the state of the stone slab at the foot of the tree was a feat that brought the memories back to the forefront of your mind as if they were lightening. all of those moments spent in the rain, heat, cold, all of it. even the ones you distinctively remember where you didn’t know if you both would make it back then- if you’d see him again.

it was an unbreakable silence- nobody wanted to bring anything up first. not even as you all gathered around and sat in front of his grave, gazing down at the words engraved in the stone slab.

it seemed like a long time since you had gotten there that someone had finally broke the silence, “jean...why does your hair look like that?” armin managed to murmur out after breaking his gaze from the stone.

it was all the group needed to loosen up, many of them letting out chuckles and soon enough you were smiling along with them.

“yeah....eren would have made fun of you for it for sure,” you piped up, finally reaching over to open the wine you had brought. jean made a face in response and snatched the bottle from your hands, causing you to huff in annoyance.

“oh yeah- sure- bag on the guy who tried to look his damn nicest. whatever- that bastard can eat his words if he even tried to comment on my hair,” jean ranted as he uncorked the wine, soon slamming the bottle onto the ground after taking a drink from it straight.

“you horse- use the cups we brought,” annie cut in suddenly, thrusting one forwards with an annoyed glare. jean merely rolled his eyes and took the cup from her, pouring a hefty amount into his cup almost instantly. “yeah yeah- shut it,” he grunted out.

everyone took turns pouring the wine into their cups, taking sips. soon enough the silence turned into a bustling conversation, joking around light heartedly; they were light conversations.

“you know- remember when eren’s odm gear totally went awal and caused him to slam his head into the ground?” reiner cut into the conversation, finally bringing up the man who’s grave the group had come to visit. instead of pausing in a depressive silence like before, everyone let laughs tumble out of their mouths, your own expression lighting up into a bright smile.

“yeah! i remember mikasa and armin had to patch him up so many times!” you cried out through your laughter, bringing your cup up to your lips. you caught the eye of the female from across the circle, her soft smile only making your own grow.

it was like a fever-dream. the nights you would spend with him, the days spent alongside him fighting, talking, joking...it almost felt like he was still there with everyone, getting overly embarrassed by their taunts and laughter- he would definitely become red in the face and shout out insults or threats to them all. either that, or he’d try to embarrass you all as well. you could picture him sitting next to armin, joining in on the drunk banter and festivities. you could picture him here, with everyone. with you.

“you know…you’ll get wrinkles at a young age if you keep scowling…”

the boy stared up at you from where you were on his hip bones, having just pinned him down. light sparring- well, at least that’s what it was supposed to be. until your sparring partner got frustrated.

you didn’t know him- vaguely remembered his name, and vaguely of who he surrounded himself with. but besides that, all you really knew of him was his drive to kill titans.

“shut up! you’re so annoying!”

he sprung up suddenly and his head smashed into your own, causing you to reel back with a heavy screech, quick to shove your hand into his face to move him back.

“you crazy ass suicidal bastard!” was your response, and soon the two of you were rolling around in a feat of what seemed to be a power struggle wrestling match. it continued on until you two were pulled away soon after.

but even as the group went on about their memories with him, he wasn’t. all you could do was remember the times he was there with everyone, smiling alongside them. you joined in to distract yourself from thinking too much about it.

“or the time he tried to compete with sasha in a shooting range and lost,”

“let’s not forget the time he talked about captain levi’s height and captain levi was standing behind him!”

“or when annie flipped him”

“didn’t he flip you because of that, jean?”

“n-no! shut up! we’re not talking about me!”

“you know- i remember him being so worried about your mom- he thought she was being treated so badly!”

“...eren always did regret never telling his mom he loved her....” mikasa suddenly cut in to the conversation.

the group went on reminiscing for a long while, laughter being shared between everyone. your stomach almost hurt from thinking back to the many times eren had embarrassed himself. of course, there were light hearted memories, the funny ones seemed to outshine them in the conversation just in the slightest. though, even with the happiness seeming to run through you all, it wasn’t long before the group had become silent once more, staring longingly down at their cups or to the side.

it was another night of no sleep for you, it seemed. it was annoying- how many times you woke up in a cold sweat due to nightmares that just wouldn’t go away. it was different tonight though. for some reason…you just felt so…powerless. and claustrophobic.

it wasn’t much of a waiting game for you like this, listening to the noises in the tents to the others moving around in their makeshift beds. eventually you had to get up- clear your head. you couldn’t take it anymore. it was like a suffocating whirlwind of thoughts, you hadn’t realized you had been dozing out throughout getting your shoes on. before you knew it, there were leaves crunching underneath your feet from along the path.

the forest was so eerie at night, the sun shining down on everything and the path seemed to dark in some paths. even so, you just wanted some time away from the stuffiness. even if it would end up with you lost- though you doubted that would happen.

it seemed to be a long ten minutes before you decided you’d finally sit near the trunk of one of the trees. you brought your knees up under your chin, soon averting your eyes towards the sky. it was calm, for once.

that is, until you heard the same crunching to your right.

you sat up quickly, your pointed gaze hurriedly looking over, suddenly guarded, “hello? who’s there?!” you called out.

the crunching stopped, and soon your eyes adjusted to the brief light. of course you’d recognize those eyes anywhere. the passion in them was recognizable anywhere.

“…fancy seeing you out here…” your voice was soft, yet it didn’t fail to have that sarcastic tone that was so easy to use with him. eren merely scoffed.

“yeah, yeah. i heard you leave so i came lookin’ for you. i didn’t want you getting lost,” he huffed out, soon moving to take a seat next to you.

“aww, was brave wittle jaeger worried about me?~” you teased.

he was glad for the pale moonlight being the only source of light on you both, for it was easy for you to miss the way his face lit up into a light red. the annoyed grunt that left him left you both in a silence, and soon you were moving your gaze back up towards the sky. it was nice. you always felt most comfortable alongside him.

“…did you have a nightmare?” his voice cut out suddenly, almost enough to make you jump. however, the soft tamber of it relaxed you, and soon you were turning your gaze back; only to be surprised when your eyes met his immediately. he had already been staring at you- yet you couldn’t guess for how long.

“it’s so weird how you can guess things about me in a second with just one look. are you telepathic or something?”

“don’t avoid the question, (y/n).”

a hefty sigh left you, and soon you were turning away from him. you were afraid to see his expression-but you knew he wouldn’t leave it without getting an answer.

“…i just- yeah. i guess you could say that. i just- it’s just…do you think we’ll be alright after this? how much it will…how hard it’ll be to retake shinganshina? it must be so hard on you and mikasa and armin- i can’t even begin to fathom the pain…i wanna help in some way- b-but i just feel..powerless? like…reiner and bertholdt’s - hell, even annie- all three of them betraying us…i don’t know…affected all of us…and yet you’re still so…strong” you huffed, picking at the grass near your feet as you avoided his gaze. you missed the way his gaze softened- one of the many things you were oblivious to.

“honestly,” he started with a grunt, bringing his hand up to your own and tugging it over to his lap. it almost made you fall to the side. “i think you might be overreacting,” he bluntly put out.

it had you blushing feverishly, and you were quick to stare up at him with surprise- but he cut you off before you could curse at him- “you just…worrying about me…reminds me that i’m not alone…which is enough…” he sighed.

your expression faltered, and you let out a helpless grunt before looking down once more. you didn’t say anything afterwards, and neither did he.

connie was the one to break the silence this time.

“i miss him,” he said, voice suddenly shaky as his eyes glossed over, his gaze moving up to meet that of the groups, yours included.

you hadn’t even realized tears of your own had swelled over your lash line and fell over on the apples of your cheeks. not until your eyes moved down to his grave, eren jaeger.

“he was...so bright and hopeful. i remember when- when he would go on rants in the mess hall about killing all of the titans...” you almost stuttered over yourself.

“I’ll kill them all, every last one of them!”

“yeah...he sounded so stupid,” jean chuckled, shaking his head and smiling against his wine cup.

“he would announce it to everyone...at the stupidest of times...not to mention his stupidly annoying undying passion,” connie huffed and downed the rest of his wine, trying to hide the tears that had filled his eyes.

“i wonder...what he would say about us crying over him if he saw us,” reiner sighed.

“he’d probably make fun of jean for crying, and connie for starting it,” you chimed in shakily.

“hey! you’re not too far off!”

everyone was crying, yet at the same time...you all were smiling.

“hey…when this is all over…do you think…we can live happily…together?” he asked one night.

your head moved up almost immediately, staring up at him from across the table, and soon your head was tilting to the side, “are we not happy right now?”

he almost looked conflicted for a moment- but soon enough that dull look was replaced after a small sigh, and soon he smiled at you. “you’re right. i’m completely unhappy with you,” he teased.

and when you turned your back to take the dishes away- his expression faded, dreading of what was to come. and how you would come to hate him.

once they had all gotten it out, armin stood suddenly, holding his cup over eren’s grave and beckoning everyone to follow. they poured their wine over the grave. it bled into the ground and soon disappeared, leaving a wet patch in the soil.

“we miss you...you suicidal maniac...”

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inkykeiji · 4 years

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Hi! Can I get a bnha matchup, please? 😊 I'm a 5'1 latina girl that can stop talking. Luckly I'm contagious, so even really shy people tend to talk a lot when they are with me :) I'm a very intense person with strong personality that would kick anyone ass if it's needed, but I'm extremely cute, calm and submissive with the person I love. Sarcasm is my second language. Also I'm always horny hahaha. Love Halloween, vampires and Frankenstein. Thank you so much.

hello!!! of course u can c:

i match you with ⇢ shigaraki tomura! oh my god u guys would be SO cute aaaah!!! i think your outgoing personality and confidence would bring him out of his shell a lil more, and with your strong personality + penchant for sarcasm you’d not only be able to handle his snarky comments with ease, but you’d also be able respond with your own clever quips. that, plus the fact that you’d be willing to be his cute submissive lil baby??? oh you’ve got his whole heart almost instantly.

what you carve into your pumpkin ⇢ oooh ghostface (from the movie scream! i have a headcanon that this is one of his favourite horror films ehehe)

which halloween candy you eat the most of ⇢ sour skittles OR sour twizzlers!

couples costume ⇢ frankenstein and frankenstein’s bride, ofc!!! feel free to put your own twist on ‘em if you don’t just wanna dress up as the classic universal versions; maybe you modernize them and make them millennials! or maybe you restrict them to a specific time period, like the 1920s or the 1950s (pls y’all would look soooo cute as 1950s versions of frankie n his bride could u imagine!!! with ur hair done up all pretty and a cute sweetheart neckline dress, his hair greased back, pops of red somewhere in ur costume since it’s, y’know, his favourite colour!! eee so adorable)

how you celebrate halloween ⇢ he’s relatively indifferent about the holiday, but because he loves u so much, he’ll do whatever you’d like. so you take him to an amusement park, one of the ones that has a super cool event going on for halloween, like themed haunted houses/mazes etc (think something like halloween horror nights at universal studios or knotts scary farm!). all dressed up in your costumes, you’re barely recognizable, and you spend the night going in and out of haunted houses and riding rollercoasters (or other rides if those aren’t for u!). you’ll probably have to put up with a bit of grumbling at first, but ultimately he has a great time, and you tease him for it relentlessly on the way home <3

clari’s 1k halloween matchups! 👻

#this is so cute i'm screaming #thank u for supporting me!!!#have a super fun n safe halloween <33 #i hope this makes sense it’s 4am here hahaha #inky.1k

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psycheswritings · 4 years

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Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Three

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC) Warnings: Swearing, I guess. Word Count: 5019 Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Life has been a bitch this week and I was hating everything I wrote. Thanks to everybody that liked and commented on the fic, honorary mentions to @blues022, @livingmybestfakelife, @livvtheangel and @stressedandbandobessed7771 - thank you all for taking your time to review this, it makes my heart swoon with happiness. @livvtheangel kindly asked for me to add some kind of separation between the scenes to make it easier to read, I have already done it on the other parts and will do it in every chapter from now on. It was supposed to have a blank space between the scenes but God knows what happened. Let me know if its better this way. And, finally, before I go, @stressedandbandobessed7771 asked to be tagged in the series, which I'm going to do from now on, and I wanted to let you all know that if anybody wants to be tagged too, let me know. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated. I relly hope you like this one. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Daphne receives a very unexpected invitation while the Shelby's have to deal with Sabini's retaliation. Tommy buys a new horse and gets to know a possible new asset at the same time that Polly tries to understand what is the nature of his interest in the woman working with Solomons. Ada has a heart to heart with her friend and Alfie makes a surprise for Daphne.

Three

“Next month?!” Daphne’s shocked expression and high-pitched tone of voice made the engaged couple laugh. William was a little behind them, by the door, a smirk on his face. “Now I understand what you’re saying about them hushing things.”

“You never believe me.” Daphne just rolled her eyes at his mockery before Jane quipped in her defense.

“Well, you have a habit of overreacting about things.” The doctor narrowed his eyes to looks at his sister.

“Always knew that you were going to be a little traitor.” They all laughed, apart from William, although everyone knew that it was just an act.

“Nothing like a little display of sibling love by the Weston’s.” Alfie commented, surprising Daphne with his good mood. The last few days had been a little strange for them, both had totally ignored the episode of the window, but his words kept coming back to haunt the woman every time she looked at him. She was distracted observing him when their eyes met, Alfie gave her a heartwarming smile that Daphne promptly returned.

“We are always happy to entertain, Alfie.” There was false mockery in his tone.

“But we didn’t come here for William to complain about everything.” She turned to face the other woman, her expression was serious but joyful. “I want you to be my maid of honor.” Daphne blinked a few times, shock washing trough her. She expected to be invited to the weeding, of course - the two of them were good friends, after all – but being Jane’s maid of honor wasn’t something that she had in mind.

“Oh, I… Of course. It will be my pleasure.” Jane got up to embrace her friend, bubbling with happiness.

“William here already accepted to be the best man, despite his constants complains.” That resulted in Charles receiving a slap on the back of the head, given by his future brother-in-law, making them all laugh aloud.

“In all these years that I know him I never saw William do anything without complaining.” He looked at Daphne shaking his head.

“What’s this, a plot to ruin my reputation?”

“What reputation, mate?” Charles chocked in laughter and soon the others accompanied him.

“Et tu, Brute?”

“What can I say, mate. You make it too easy, aye.” When they all recovered from their laughter, Jane addressed herself to the gangster.

“Of course you’re invited too, Alfie.”

“And I will be there, for sure. Wouldn’t miss William’s speech for anything.” That was something that Daphne had missed, the friendly banter between Alfie and William, that brought a genuine smile to her face that didn’t escaped Alfie’s eyes.

“The betrayal. I thought we were friends, Solomons.” The doctor complained while Alfie just shrugged.

“What can I say, business is business, my friend.”

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“This had better be good to interrupt my holiday.” Polly rushes into the betting shop after John has opened the door that connects it to the house. It’s clear that she is in a hurry and in no mood to small talk.

“Where's the boy?” Arthur asked when she was putting her things on the table.

“In the back room. I only brought him because afterwards we're going to the museum.” Another obvious thing was that she didn’t wanted Michael involved in the family business, even though she knew it was an herculean task.

“He wanted to come in and say hello but...”

“Shut up, John. There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room.” Said nephew stopped talking altogether, looking a little dismayed. “Tommy, get on with it.”

“Last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winson Green. This morning, I had a telegram to say it was Sabini who ordered it.”

“And it says here that Thomas Shelby's next.” Arthur added, ripping said telegram into pieces. Despite the death threat on his life, Thomas didn’t looked that concerned, like he wasn’t with most things. Just another day in the job.

“If our men think we can't look after them in prison, they'll not work for us. Sabini knows that. So we need to get the Green sorted out. Scudboat, you and one of the boys. Break a couple of windows and get yourselves arrested. I'll have our coppers get you into the Green and you can find the bastards who did it.”

“Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car?” All of the men, besides from Tommy, start laughing. “What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car. I'm still on a donkey.”

“All right, just get yourselves fucking arrested, it doesn't matter how. And before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid. We'll start a fund for his family, Pol.”

“Agreed.” The woman says, solemnly. “So is that it? Can I go now?” She starts picking up her things just to hear Tommy talking again.

“Well, as company treasurer, I need your permission to spend a thousand guineas.” That makes her stop and look at him.

“On what?”

“On a horse.”

“A thousand guineas on a horse?”

“That's right.”

“When was this decided?” She starts passing, deep in thinking.

“You've been busy with Michael.” He knew that she would question it but this was a means to an end. Sometimes it was difficult to make people see what he saw. Even Polly.

“Oh, my God. So, in the absence of common sense, you boys have had an idea.”

“Polly there's a thoroughbred quarter-Arab filly up for auction at the Doncaster Blood Stock.” Polly looks at him.

“What do we want with a thousand guinea horse?” Tommy sighs, before explaining.

“When we make our move on Sabini's racing pitches, any men we get into the betting enclosure will be lifted by Sabini's police. A good racehorse is a passport to the owner's enclosure.”

“We'll be in there with all the toffs. Coppers won't know where to look.” Arthur adds and John accompanies him, excitedly.

“Yeah, the Epsom Derby, Pol. We'll be drinking with the bloody King.”

“The Derby? Did he say the Derby?” The glare Thomas gave to his younger brother erased the smile in John’s face while he lowered his head. The leader of the Peaky Blinders took a deep breath and cleared his throat before speaking.

“That's right. For the last ten years, Sabini has made it his race. If we're going to take him down, might as well make it there as a symbol.”

“Did you come up with this idea in a pub by any chance?” Her tone was drenched in pure sarcasm.

“Pol a good racehorse is an investment, like property. We need to diversify the portfolio.”

“So when is this sale?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And Tommy's had a death threat so we'll have to go with him for protection.” The older of the Shelby siblings explained.

“So, you're going to close up the shop, go out on a piss-up and blow a thousand guineas on a horse that's not even whole Arab?”

“Quarter Arab is better! Quarter Arab, it means...” Polly cuts him off.

“Curly, shut up.” The door that connects the betting shop to the house open to reveal Michael. Polly instantly looks reprovingly at John. “I thought I told you to lock that door.”

“He did. I used the key on the nail.” The younger boy explains. “Look, I've been listening. I want to go with them.”

“You see?!” The Shelby matriarch throws her arms up in exasperation while Tommy looks at his cousin.

“I love horses. I could even help!” The excitement mixed with hope that his mother would allow him to go with his cousins was evident in Michael’s face.

“Over my dead body.” The older woman said, crossing her arms.

“It'll be all right, Mum. I've been to loads of horse auctions before with my uncle. They're very respectable. People bring their butlers.”

“Yeah, and their posh wives!” Arthur said, smirking and taking a sip of his whiskey.

“And their mistresses.” Added John, elbowing his cousin while they laughed.

“Let him come, Polly.” Arthur tried to convince the woman. “We'll go there, buy a horse, come back.”

“I'll drop him back at the house in Sutton before it gets dark.” Promised John to his aunt.

“No. Fucking no.” Michael left the room slamming the door behind him, clearly upset. Polly looked at Thomas and after a minute that seemed to last too long, he treated to clear the room.

“All right, that's it. Back to work.” All of the men started to leave, going back to his own tasks. John stayed behind, approaching his aunt.

“Come on! Aunt Pol, when I was Michael's age, I'd killed a hundred men and seen a thousand die. If you want to scare that kid away forever, carry on how you are going. If you want him to stay, let him come.”

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Thomas couldn’t say that he was surprised to see his aunt entering his office later that day. After the incident with Michael earlier he expected that she would come around, he just didn’t predicted the reason why she wanted to talk to him.

“How’s Michael?” He asked when she took a sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, his eyes not leaving the papers he was analyzing.

“Beaming with happiness now that he wored me down to go with you lot, tomorrow.” She answered with a sigh. “But that’s not what bought me here.”

“What it is then?”

“That woman” Polly started, waiting for his attention to be back on her, but he ignored it completely, the only reaction that she got was his pen freezing for a couple of seconds “the one you and Ada were taking to at the Garrison.”

“What about her?” His tone was dismissive, however, his aunt wasn’t foolish. She was pissed off with him that night at the reopening of the Garrison, but she most definitely saw his interaction with the unknown woman that had arrived and departed of the pub like smoke, but not before drawing all eyes to her.

“Who is she?”

“She is the woman who works with Solomons.” He hoped that would end with the interrogation but he wasn’t that lucky.

“The one you were curious about?” Tommy exhaled loudly, dropping the document he was currently reading to look at his aunt.

“Yeah, that would be her.”

“She knows our Ada.” She would have asked Ada about the woman if she had had the chance, – her niece certainly would be less evasive than Thomas -but her son had appeared at her door and the subject escaped to the back of her mind. Also, the gipsy woman needed to see his reaction to know if they were going to have another problem like they had with that barmaid.

“Yes, they know each other from London.”

“I want to meet her.” He wrinkled his forehead.

“Why?”

“Because the last time a woman caught your attention your judgment became clouded and we both know that it didn’t end well.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Maybe not yet, but I know the look in your eyes. She intrigues you. I noticed the first time you talked about her. I brushed it off because I thought it was just because of the business, but the way you behaved yourself around her that night at the Garrison tells me otherwise.” Thomas takes a deep breath but does not confirm or denies her suspicions.

“I’m certain that Ada can schedule tea for you three...”

“No. I want you to be there.” She wanted to see firsthand how he reacted to this girl because the last thing that Polly trusted was in men and their cocks. Thomas wasn’t the worst of the Shelby brothers in this topic – John was the man whore of the three of them – but since he was in charge of things in the family, the potential of trouble was higher.

“I will see what I can do.”

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“To the premises of Mr. Charles Strong, Small Heath.” The man wrote down on the book before looking up at Tommy. “What kind of premises?”

“Boat yard.” The Brummie answered unamused.

“Yachts?”

“Canals.”

“I'm curious. What is your business, Mr. Shelby?” The man asked, giving Tommy a piece of paper.

“Import, export.” Before he left, Tommy added. “But I also sell pegs and tell fortunes.”

“You beat us to it.” The feminine voice made him stop and turn around - it was the woman of the auction. The one who had been stealing glances at the gangster since they arrived.

“Did I?”

“I was trying to nab a filly for my stud.” Thomas knew that she was only trying to catch his attention, but he played along.

“Sorry.”

“Thomas Shelby from where?” He took a deep breath before answering.

“From Birmingham.”

“Goodness!” There was a certain amount of surprise in her voice, mixed with shock.

“No, not much.”

“May Carleton.” She extended her hand for him and he took it. “I breed racehorses and train them. What is it you do?”

“I rarely answer questions, is what I do.”

“Tommy, come on, hurry up! We've got to go!” Arthur shouted in the background, laughing.

“Well, before you go, if you ever decided to put that filly out, I'd be interested in having her.”

“I plan to race her.” She looked at him surprised.

“Do you have a trainer?”

“I know people.”

“I know people, too.” The woman replied giving Tommy her card.

“Tommy! We've got to get this kid back before dark or Polly will have your balls!” John shouted this time while they all laughed.

“She will have 'em!” Arthur quipped in.

“We know different people, I would guess.” Tommy just ignored his brother’s giggles in the background.

“My father knows Mick Hancock. Trained three Ascot winners.”

“Oh, so that was your father?” He was right, them. She was talking to him for a reason – a reason that didn’t involve the horse at all.

“Yes. We're joint owners of the stud. He took the majority share when my husband was killed. Ypres.”

“Tommy! We've got to get back to the caravans! The chickens are hungry!” May looked at them and chuckled before asking.

“So will you consider me?”

“I will consider you.”

“You still didn't tell me what you do.” Tommy turned to face her again.

“Oh, I do bad things. But you already know that.” She could be a good asset for their plan and maybe – hopefully - help him get his mind off of the damn mystery that was Daphne Scott.

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Things have been quite calm for Daphne since she received Jane’s invitation to be her maid of honor. She saw the girl almost daily now, helping her prepare everything that was needed for the ceremony in such a short time. To say that the youngest of the Weston’s siblings was beaming with joy would be an understatement – she was all smiles and compliments and it ended up rubbing off on Daphne, even if just a little bit.

She had met William a couple of times too, since he was involved in the preparations as much as her seeing that he wasn’t just the best man but also the bride’s older brother. He tried to sound annoyed in every meeting, but Daphne knew that he was happy for the couple, just worried that his little sister would be out of his sight from now on.

Alfie was an entirely different matter. Things had been as normal as you would expect between them. No more visits from Thomas Shelby, no more employees being knocked out cold, everything seemed to run smoothly. However, Daphne knew in her heart that something wasn’t right. More than once, she had caught him staring at her from the distance with a frown on his face, deep in thinking. He usually did not even noticed that she had caught him staring, but when he did, the Jew made quick work to turn the other way, pretending that nothing happened.

In all the years she had known him, Daphne never gave too much though about the reasons why he kept her around. Alfie wasn’t exactly what you could call “a man of his word”. She had seen him betray his associates for his own benefit more than once - and being brutally honest, she couldn’t say that if the roles were reversed she would have done different. With her, thought, he always had been anything but loyal. He had helped her in the moment she most needed and they constructed a strong bond. Strong enough for her to consider him family.

In all the years they have worked together, they learned how to read each other – that was one of the reasons why they functioned so well as partners. And that’s why she knew she wasn’t going crazy because he was, most certainly, hiding something from her. His words kept hammering in her head: “Do you trust me? Because sometimes I wish you didn’t.”.

“You look like Tommy.” Daphne blinked a few times while looking at Ada.

“What?”

“You do this thing of looking straight away, to nowhere, not blinking or moving while you’re deep in thinking. He does that sometimes.” Ada laughed when the other woman raised one eyebrow at her. “I can’t help it if you two have so much in common.” There was a pause while she poured the both of them another cup of tea. “He’s been asking about you.”

“Who?” Ada rolled her eyes, sitting down on the chair again.

“You know who. My knucklehead of a brother.” Daphne laughed at that while the other woman just observed her carefully. There was a hint of concern in her voice when she asked “Why is he so interested in you, Daph?”

“It’s not in me he’s interested in, it’s in my relationship with Alfie.” Or so she had been trying to convince herself. Since she last talked to Harriet Daphne had been trying to figure out what she felt towards the Brummie gangster, with no luck so far. It seemed that the much she thought about it more confused she was getting.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe in that for a second. I know my brother and the way he looks at you has nothing to do with curiosity about your relationship with Solomons.” Daphne had no answer to that so she took a sip of her tea trying to ignore Ada’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Just be careful, okay.”

“Ada, even if he is interested in me it doesn’t mean that anything will happen. Even if I was interested in him too.” Daphne regretted her words the moment they left her mouth.

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Interested in him?” There was a long silence where the two of them just stared at each other. “Just have in mind that Tommy usually gets what he wants and this not necessarily means that it will be what you want too.”

“Ada…”

“I really like you, Daph. And I know that deep down my brother is a good man. He’s just… Not the same since he came back from the war and I would hate to see him hurt you.” Neither of them had the time to address the subject further since Karl entered the room in a rush going straight to Daphne’s lap. As they both giggled at something that the little boy had done, the topic dissipated in the air. The unfinished conversation had to wait for another time.

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When they entered the pub everyone stood up, clapping their hands as they passed. Daphne just looked at Alfie and he only shrugged, a hand on her back to guide her through the crowd. Some of the people greeted her on their way to the mezzanine just beside the stage.

“I’ll bloody kill you, Solomons.” She said to him through clenched teeth and he laughed at her, whispering into her ear.

“No, you won’t love.” Despite being pissed off at him for ignoring her wishes of not doing anything at her birthday, Daphne couldn’t help but feel touched by his gesture.

“You tricked me into this.” He made her stop at the base of the stairs that lead to the mezzanine beside the stage, turning her to face him and resting his hands on her arms.

“I knew that it was the only way for you to come, don’t blame me for wanting to see you happy.” The young woman just nodded, ignoring all the eyes on them, before she let him lead her upstairs. She recognized almost all of the faces that turned to look at them when they arrived on the mezzanine – Ollie and his wife, Jane and Charles, William, Harriet, some of their work associates, Ada and Karl, but her eyes were instantly draw to a pair of blue irises fixed on her. His stare was so intense that she felt like getting lost in them, but the connection was broken when Karl escaped Ada’s arms and run right to her screaming “Dee Dee”, making everyone smile. She caught him by reflex while he hugged her.

“Mommy said that this was for you. She said it is your birrr…” He gave her a package that Daphne knew contained a book all the while struggling to say the word birthday. She smiled and kissed him on the check.

“Birthday, sweet pea.” Alfie chuckled behind them while Ada walked to them.

“That it.”

“What have I told you about running away from me, Karl?” It was always amazing to see Ada step into her motherly figure.

“But it was Dee Dee!” The boy protested snuggling into Daphne’s neck while the woman smiled.

“It doesn’t matter, you can’t do that, Karl.”

“It’s okay, Ada. He won’t do it again.” Karl straightened himself to look at Daphne. “Will he?”

“No, Dee Dee.” She smiled at him again and he gave her a kiss on the check. Ada could do nothing but shake her head.

“That’s a good boy.” Daphne placed him on the ground and Ada stepped closer to hug her.

“Happy Birthday, Daph. I know you hate it, but try and have some fun, will you?” They looked at each other for a moment.

“I won’t promise you anything.” The two smiled at each other and Ada hushed Karl back to where they were sitting so Daphne could talk to the other guests.

Jane almost knocked her out to the ground in a very good mimicking of what Karl had just done while everyone laughed. Charles was right behind her - the couple seemed to be stuck into a bubble of unbreakable happiness. William was trying – and failing miserably – to hide a smile right behind them.

“Trying to maintain your reputation of ‘The grumpy Weston’, I see.”

“Somebody has too.” He smiled, before hugging her. “Happy Birthday, Daph.”

“Okay, can you release her now? She’s not exclusively yours, you know?” They separated themselves from the embrace and laughed at Harriet standing right behind them, hands on her waist as if she was about to give them the scold of their lives.

“You and your wonderful timing, as always.” William huffed, rolling his eyes and receiving a slap on the arm from Daphne.

“Get away, lover boy.” The courtesan jested, smiling bright at Daphne before taking her in a hug like the others. “Are you okay?” The question was asked quietly, just for Daphne to hear. They kept each other close after they parted from the hug.

“I will be.” Harriet knew that it was a lie – Daphne was not okay, she would never be okay, not entirely and the sadness in her eyes proved that. She wanted to convince her friend that she could be happy, she should be happy, but sometimes the woman could be as headstrong as Alfie. Harriet just nodded and Daphne moved onto the next person that was waiting to greet her, with the Jew following her closely.

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The blood red of the dress contrasted with her skin and for a moment, Tommy let his eyes wander down her body. The sleeveless piece of clothing was sophisticatedly draped with intricate embroidery at the front, the velvet was loose on her curves, marked only at the waist but the back had a low-cut that showed a good amount of her skin, since her hair was loosely tied. The golden locket always around her neck.

Thomas felt pulled by her presence like a moth to a flame. He observed, curiously, as she crossed the room with Alfie right behind her, all eyes on her. Then it took him by surprise the way his nephew had run to her, hugging and kissing her as if she was family. He already knew that she and Ada were close but he was right in assuming – after Ada called her by a nickname – that their bond was stronger than he had predicted.

Polly noticed the way Tommy’s eyes were immediately attracted to the woman the moment she entered the pub. She took her time observing the girl too. It was undeniable that she was beautiful – all soft curves, long hair and a smile that could light up the whole room – but there was something more, something about the way she carried herself that made people captivated by her.

She watched Thomas observing the girl and immediately recognized the spark in his eyes – there was no denying that he was attracted to her, Polly wanted to know in what extent. The older woman saw the same spark in Daphne’s eyes when their eyes crossed just before Karl jumped into the woman’s arms. Her relationship with Ada was something that Polly would explore later, because there was no way that her niece would have left Karl around someone she didn’t trusted.

“That woman over there isn’t Harriet?” John’s voice broke the spell and Tommy looked at the woman his brother was talking about – it was the brunette, dressed in a tight navy blue skirt and white blouse mocking a the man who was hugging Daphne at the moment.

“Harriet? You must be crazy Jhonny, boy. This can’t be…” Arthur’s mouth fell open before he could finish the sentence.

“The owner of one of the most famous brothels in London?” John looked at the older Shelby, smugly, but Tommy’s attention was securely held by the interaction between Daphne and the man that had just hugged her. He seemed like one of those rich gentlemen that every mother wanted for their daughters at the same time that he held an air of rebellion. What made Thomas wary was the way his touch lingered on Daphne who seemed unbothered by it.

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Daphne graciously greeted everyone in the mezzanine – everyone except for the group of people watching her on the other side of the mezzanine. She looked at Alfie that just motioned for her to follow him.

“And I took the opportunity to invite the rest of the Shelby clam, so we could get acquaintance, aye. Now, you already know Tommy here, this is the rest of his family.”

“Arthur Shelby, at your service.” The eldest of the brothers kissed the back of Daphne’s hand, making her smile.

“Daphne Scott.”

“John Shelby, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He mimicked his older brother moves, a flirtatious smile on his face.

“Likewise. You aren’t supposed to have a wife, somewhere?” Arthur almost spat his drink trying to contain his laughter and John cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. Alfie chuckled behind her.

“She had to stay home with the kids.”

“Send her my regards, then.” He nodded at her, clearly not used being caught flirting like that. Daphne’s eyes then stopped in the older woman beside Thomas. She was staring at her quizzically but there was a hint of a smile on her features.

“Polly Gray.” She took a second too much to extend her hand for the younger woman to take, probably trying to make a point. Her grip was firm but so was Daphne’s – two could play at this game.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Ada talks greatly of you.” The girl knew how to play, Polly had to give her that. The way she handed John’s flirting showed that she knew how to handle herself and, most importantly, that she had done her fair share of research on them. By bringing Ada into the conversation right now, she was trying to gain the older woman’s good graces.

“Funny thing is that she never mentioned you.”

“I had to keep her away from the bunch of you or otherwise she would have left running.” Ada quipped in, having just arrived back at the mezzanine after going to the bathroom, before Daphne could say anything.

“Well, she is not running.” Her hazel eyes encountered Tommy’s when he spoke, keeping himself beside his aunt. Daphne held his gaze when she answered.

“It takes a lot more to make me run.”

“I hear that a happy birthday is in order.” He extended his hand to her, that she took without question, the touch lasting a minute longer than it should.

“Dee Dee, are you going to have a cake?” Daphne released Tommy’s hand to lower herself to Karl’s level before talking to the little boy.

“Maybe. Why? Will you want some?”

“’Cause when it’s your birrr…” She smiled again.

“Birthday.”

“Yeah, you have to blow the candles, right?”

“That’s right, lad. Do you want to go see if Daph’s cake is ready?” Daphne was amused at how shocked everyone looked when Alfie lowered himself at her side to talk with the little boy, who looked at him shyly. Karl looked at his mother who nodded at him, before looking at Daphne again.

“Will you help me blow out the candles?” He only nodded excitedly, before taking the hand that Alfie offered him and the two of them walked to the kitchen. When Daphne straightened herself, observing Alfie and Karl going down the stairs seemingly in a happy conversation, she directed herself to her friend. “That was a low blow, even for you.”

“What can I say, we play with the cards we have.”

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maycontainneurotoxin · 5 years

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((i feel like this fanbase so often under-appreciates the fantastic robot design in favor of humanizations- like it’s genuinely discouraging because so much love and work went into the designs of every construct at Aperture (and the Combine synths from Half Life in the same uni, no less but ppl dont make humanizations of those, presumably because they dont talk)

like each of the designs is instantly recognizable and so expressive and unique, you would be able to point out a Valve robot from miles away

these robots have little to no human facial features and yet their expressions convey their emotions pitch-perfectly, not only do they look like robots, they MOVE like robots with their myriad of little gyros and gears and bits all whirring and animated together

AND despite all these little details, each bot can be broken down into basic shapes and can be silhouetted while still knowing exactly who they are (minus the cores and turrets ofc but those were designed to be easily replicable in uni)

like looking at every Valve robot, ESPECIALLY GLaDOS, fills me with such love and inspiration and ambition to be able to design something as iconic and unique, so otherworldly and yet so expressive

NOT TO MENTION, AS VIC POINTED OUT, that the fact that GLaDOS was a person forced into a hellish approximation of a body and having her autonomy stripped away only to regain it as a robot by force... thats literally a huge part of her character that translates hauntingly well into her design

i feel like the canon designs are overshadowed by human/android designs for the sake of simplicity and that makes me so sad to see it))

#portal #portal 2 #GLaDOS #valve #i love GLaDOS so much yall i think about her every day

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chosenrule · 4 years

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Firstly. We are here to say that @unrequiteddeath is amazing and y’all are doing yourselves a deep disservice if you aren’t following. SECONDLY, and the main point of the whole post, is to throw out there that I have made a new verse I vm much enjoy. ( And amazingly, you don’t have to legitimately suffer with it either! )

It’s one in which Lazard doesn’t die, and thus eventually convinces Sephiroth to calm down and take a breather instead. Maybe work on feeling better rather than destroying everything. SO. Key points about this verse:

Sephiroth still has the black materia, and has days where he considers using it. These thoughts are, however, usually set aside for whatever distraction Lazard puts in front of him; he’s terribly mentally ill and angry, after all, not a genuine monster. And ofc bc this is the ‘let’s calm down kids’ verse, it also means that Seph didn’t get around to murdering Aerith.

Lazard is presumed to be dead by ShinRa and the world at large, and Sephiroth is instantly recognizable. Hence, the two find an abandoned home in the middle of nowhere to settle in and spruce up so they can try and get Seph feeling a little better. However, Sephiroth is wholly a recluse and doesn’t really leave the homestead much. When he does, it’s almost always at Lazard’s request, and always accompanied.

Not terribly important to the plot, per se, but to me as a person: Sephiroth refers to Lazard as Mother now, rather than Jenova. He’s the closest thing to a mother Sephiroth has ever had, and Seph’s other two disappoint him. So fuck y’all, Lazard is Mom now.

It’s incredibly important to note that while Seph does better being loved and not consistently in horrid situations ( amazingly ) he’s still extremely mentally ill, and will be for the rest of his life. Lazard is only helping him to cope with the things he’s been through and has learned about himself.

Since it’s inevitable that the main gang eventually track down Seph ( like uhhh big major ‘gonna destroy the planet’ threat just disappears out of thin air??? Not gonna fly ) by default the Vincent mentioned in it will be my own ( @anothersin ) for a specific reason: upon recognizing what’s going on with Seph ( that he’s genuinely trying to get better and that Laz is helping him, which, btw happens p quick bc he’s quite the emotionally intelligent dude despite how he comes across sometimes ) he defends the two from the gang, and will often bring them supplies and check in on them. Might also be a little soft for Lazard, but that’s no one else’s business.

There might be other things I’m missing here, ( there’s at least a blib on my verses page ) but my brain is foggy so who knows. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#v: you are what happens after the war #nothing is so painful to the human mind as great and sudden change // headcanon.#this verse's nickname is Forever Fluffy bc it is my nice verse #... I don't promise I'll remember that nickname but w/e #point being #having nice and soft things like this is good for my mental health #esp when Seph's canon is SO. FUCKING. ANGSTY.#yes I know I chose this and it's fine #but being able to have a break that fits without being ooc?#p r i c e l e s s

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josiewinters1999 · 5 years

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What It Feels Like 6

Rocket Raccoon x OFC (Willie)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: Willie awakes to find herself in The Collector’s gallery. She knows she has to escape... for Rocket.

Contains: Angst, fluff, feels, cursing, violence, really gross stuff for a hot minute

A/N: It has been forever and a day since I’ve uploaded and to my [5] fans, I’m so sorry. If you are reading this, thank you for coming back after my long absence and I hope this part is worth the wait. I’m actually pretty proud of it tbh. If you guys like this enough and I keep getting the time/motivation to work on it, I hope to extend it and add the other Guardians. Also, I’m thinking about starting up and writing about Willie and other characters, in her “canon” timeline (aka, the one I have meticulously planned out in my head). Drop a comment and tell me what you think of the story or anything I’ve proposed. And as always... enjoy!

The morning was just like any other; the alarm clock went off, he got up, dressed himself, and went into the control room of his ship. However, when Rocket realized upon entering that it was missing a certain person and all the comforting ambiance they produced, he felt his heart sink in his chest. Today was going to be a long lonely day.

He makes his way to the coffee machine, ready to brew himself a cup since Willie wasn’t there to do it like she typically did. With a drowsy paw, Rocket grabs the coffee and begins making the pot.

As the water brews, the raccoon’s distorted reflection grimaces back at him from the coffee pot. He crosses his arms and looks away, not wanting to be reminded how miserable he actually is. Brown eyes gaze across the common room of his modestly sized ship. On the table where he and Willie would normally be sharing breakfast, he spots his holocommunicator.

All the muscles in his body tense the second his eyes lock on it. He slowly makes his way to it, afraid he might startle it somehow if he’s too quick. It looks back up at him, almost begging him to make the call he so desperately wants to make.

Furry paws grasp the tablet and hold it feebly. It’s only been one damn day, his mind tells him. What could possibly have happened in one day? The voice of his conscious didn’t stop Rocket from wanting to make the call.

If I could just hear her voice one more time... his small fingers punch in her name and got to hit the ‘call’ button but stop in an instant, mere millimeters above the surface of the device.

She left you his darker side scolds him. She doesn’t need you and you don’t need her. Face scrunching up in anger, the raccoon throws the communicator back onto the table and returns to his coffee.

***

The space is still and stagnant, air not moving in any direction. It smells of plastic, harsh cleaning chemicals, and something foreign. Behind her eyelids, Willie can sense there was a light on.

Voices in the distance are muffled by a what sounds like a wall. They’re deep, masculine, and many. Mind not yet a full functioning, Willie is unable to translate and blows off the noise as the radio or television.

In her space, the Gallifreyan stirs, finding her position uncomfortable. The pain in her head suddenly catches her attention and her whole body winces. The sound outside her space changes from voices to loud thumps, each one increasing in volume before stopping.

Bang bang bang.

The sound of a fist on flat glass is enough to jolt the woman awake. She springs into a sitting position and makes the horrible choice of opening her eyes.

Flickering and humming fluorescent lights above her magnify the pain throbbing in her skull to levels unbearable. Raising a hand to shield her eyes, Willie squints, hoping it will help her focus.

The blurry room slowly starts to become comprehensible. There is a man standing above her with a wide, wicked smile on his face. He waves sarcastically as he bends his knees. His blue skin, black eye, and bloody lip make the Kree man instantly recognizable.

Too weak to make a rebuttal, Willie just snarls and the man laughs, his voice now being clear and understandable, “Not so tough now, are you, you stupid bitch?”

Willie’s memory suddenly comes crashing into her like a runaway train.Landing in Knowhere, going to her ship, having a smoke at her table in the bounty hunter’s bar, the fight in the bar, the fight in the alleyway, all while she was trying to get back to Rocket.

Rocket. Oh God…

One of the men from the alleyway steps up and pulls back his friend taunting Willie, “Come on Agron, let’s just let the man pay us and get out of here,” he leans into the blue skinned Agron, “this place gives me the creeps.”

Agron looks between his friend and his catch in the glass cage before walking away. This gives Willie a second to fully survey her surroundings.

Feeling a stiff, scratchy feeling on her skin, she glances down. She was now clad in a crisp, clean, white jumpsuit and matching socks. She feels a pain in her neck. Reaching up,she feels a small metal disk under her skin. Having used them on others before Willie knows exactly what its purpose is; electric shocks. Shifting to be on her knees, she crawls to the edge of the square enclosure. Peering out into the area outside it, she looks up and out at the vast storage area.

The ceiling seems to stretch on almost forever, receding into blackness as the items hanging in it begin to disappear. Hundreds of glass cases similar to Willie’s reach into the space above, each one filled with a different, rare creature.

Willie had heard many things about this man and had evaded his grasp many times by the hairs on her neck. Finally being in his care, in his glass case looking out, was something Willie had prayed she’d never see. Suddenly feeling light headed, she falls back onto the seat of her jumpsuit, the world before her becoming blurry.

In the distance, she sees three indistinct figures. The smallest of them hands something to the other two before they walk away. On the brink of fainting, Willie doesn’t notice the figure’s movement until he begins to finally come into focus at the edge of her tank.

He is slightly taller than Willie and wears a luxurious white fur coat draped over his shoulders, it’s hair matching that on his head perfectly. His tailored purple suit underneath oozed elegance and wealth. Wealth, Willie is now starting to realize, built on blood… blood like hers.

With straight perfect teeth, he grins at Willie like a passerby would grin at a cute dog. He bends his knees, purple fabric around them straining slightly. “Look… at … you,” his words were slow and full of pride, “After all this time I never thought I’d have one. A Time Lord. The last Time Lord,” he trembles slightly with giddiness, “And she’s all mine.”

“Jokes on you dumbass,” Willie grins back, “I’m not actually a Time Lord. I’m a Woodlander. We’re a different breed.”

The Collector stands, fixing his now lightly wrinkled clothes, “Makes no difference. You’re the last one left.” He looks back at her with a devilish grin, “You’re one of a kind.”

***

“I wish we could stay like this forever…” Willie sighs, rubbing the fur between Rocket’s ears gently with her long pale fingers. He grips her shirt tighter and smiles, inhaling her scent deeply. She smelled of cigarette smoke, tangy soap, and something distinctly Willie.

Curling into her side, Rocket can feel her warmth radiate onto him, the clear blue sky above him and the crisp wind completing the scene. “We can stay like this as long as you want baby,” He mumbles happily.

Willie furrows her brow, “We can?” The worry in her voice drains Rocket’s joy as he sits up to look at her. Her skin was perfect without a single blemish on it, like it had been airbrushed. “Why couldn’t we?” he asks, concern evident.

She brushes her vibrantly colored yellow hair back, looking up at the raccoon, “I don’t know.” Her hands find a blade of grass beneath her and twirl it in her fingertips as she continues, “Maybe because we shouldn’t be together.”

Rocket grabs her hand and holds it in both his paws, “Baby, we can do whatever we want. Who was it that made the rules of who can and can’t be together?” Her blue eyes glance at his hands and then back into his eyes.

“Don’t you love me?” the raccoon asks, deep brown full of worry. She only smiles, gracing his cheek with her free hand, “Of course I do. I always have.”

For a moment, time stops, the birds stop chirping, the clouds stop floating, and the wind comes to a halt. Willie’s warm smile is enough to last Rocket a lifetime. Her plump red lips turn upwards as she speaks in a low voice, “Rocket, I lo-”

The moistness under his chin wakes Rocket from his dream. Groggy and half out of it, he sits up, looking at the puddle of drool in his lap. Wiping the now cold liquid from his cheek, he looks at the clock on the ship’s console.

2pm. It’s barely past noon and he’s already bored himself to sleep. Living without Willie is harder than he thought it would be.

His hands tingle as if they really had just been touching Willie. He sighs, heart heavy and the images flashing through his mind. Rocket realizes he feels empty without her.

But again, her face, her real face, not the one in Rocket’s dream comes to mind; sunken in, covered in scars, nose crooked, and eyes permanently full of disdain and disappointment. The sight hurts just to think about. Hurt soon turns to anger and he clenches his fists around the armrests of his captain’s chair.

“Fuck her. Never needed that junkie slut crowding me anyways.”

***

Whenever Willie got any reprieve from being watched, by either The Collector himself or by one of his pink skinned minions, she searched her cell fervently. Top to bottom she looked for something that could get her out.

Fingers tapped, poked, and pried at every corner and seem of the glass. It was sealed tight, the only opening was the air vent above and Willie had already rubbed her fingertips raw trying to feel for a weak spot or anything she could wrap around her fingers to help in her escape.

Willie was beginning to learn the hard way how things work as a toy in The Collector’s box. Twice a day, every day, you were delivered food. The food was bland but kept you alive and healthy, just the way he wanted you.

When it was feeding time, you were told to get into position at the opposite end of your tank. This position consisted of you kneeling, ankles crossed and hands interlocked behind your head. Something you can’t get out of very easily.

The pink skinned girl would then open the door and carefully set the food down before shutting it and leaving. If you moved, she hit a button on the device strapped to her wrist and an electric shock powerful enough to make even Willie seize up would flow through your body, leaving you a sloppy mess on the floor.

Days passed, and many times Taneleer himself would come to just stare at the blond Gallifreyan in her case. Petting his fur coat like it was a living animal, he stared her down, grinning wildly and almost fondly at her. Every time, Willie would curse him, promptly earning her a shock slightly more potent than the ones delivered by the assistants.

Getting out of this place is going to be tough, that much was clear.

***

Willie lay in the dark on her back. The Collector knew better than to give her anything in her case so she lay on the bar hard floor, staring at the grey ceiling, its only features being the light, now dimmed, and the air vent.

Nine days. It had been nine days. Why hadn’t anyone come for her? Where was Rocket? Hadn’t he seen her getting pulled away? Willie thought, hands folded on her stomach. Then it hits her. Rocket doesn’t care. He’s pissed I left. No one is coming…

Her thoughts and potential tears are interrupted by footsteps in the distance. She sits up, crawling to the nearest glass wall. She sees one the cleaning ladies scurrying in, a bucket in one hand and a wad of rags in the other.

“Hurry!” The Collector’s voice is distant, quiet, but unmistakable. “He isn’t going to clean himself now is he?” he shouts and the girl only runs faster.

After watching the pink girl disappear in the sea of dimly lit glass cases, Willie watches Taneleer emerge, steps angry and swift with his less formal, more comfortable night coat flowing behind him.

With the excitement seeming to be over, Willie sits back, listening intently. She could barely make out the sounds of cleaning. The slosh of water, the squeak of clean glass, and the occasional sob from the woman doing the dirty work.

Some time later, the assistant comes back, wet rags inside the bucket of now dirty water. Head to the ground, tears trail down her cheeks and she briskly speed walks out of the gallery hall.

Eyes trained on her like a hawk, the wheels in Willie’s head turn. She feels the blood rush through her body and a hunger form in her stomach; a hunger she hasn’t felt in a long time.

If she wanted to get out of this place, she was going to have to do it the dirty way.

***

Hours passed and her instinct was telling Willie it was turning from night to dawn. The creatures around he were beginning to stir and the hall seemed more alive than it is at night. The Collector comes out to gaze upon his prizes while his entourage of assistants come around with carts full of food trays.

The one that typically fed Willie approaches her tank, tray in hand and cart at her side. She gives a look to Willie and the blond glares at her, asking her to assume the proper position for feeding.

As she kneels, interlocking her ankles and hands, the woman slides the glass door open and sets the tray down before swiftly exiting and going on with her route.

Willie gets up and stares at the food as it practically stares back at her. The tray was like everything else in her tank, white and clean. Perfect, just the way he liked things. It disgusts her and makes her yearn for freedom even more.

Angrily grabbing the food and sitting it on her lap, she begins shoveling it into her mouth, waiting for the perfect opportunity to carry out her plan. She watches the people bustle about, going from tank to tank until their carts are empty. They then roll out in an almost single file line, ready to return in an hour to collect the empty trays.

Finally alone, Willie checks one more time to see if the collector is near. Without the man or any of his minions in sight, Willie sits back hearts racing. If she was going to do this, she’d better hurry.

With no more food left on her tray, she leans forward, looking down at the floor. She gets on her knees, pulling her hair over her shoulders and opening her mouth wide. She takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut tight, and reaches her long fingers down her throat.

There was only a couple other times she’s ever had to do this, and being nervous always made it harder. She forces them deeper and harder down her throat, feeling around to find that sweet spot that will give her the results she needs.

Feeling herself gag, she knows she’s found it. Pressing harder still, she gags more and more. Sweat seeps from her pores, worry that she’ll be caught tickling her stomach. Soon enough she gags one last time and a waterfall of sloppy puke gushes from her mouth and onto the floor by her knees.

Coughing while the last bit comes out, she pulls her fingers out, licking them clean first and then wiping the excess saliva on her leg.

Surely when the lady came to take her tray, she’d see the mess and have to spend a good amount of time to clean it.

Willie’s prediction comes true sooner than she had hoped when Taneleer steps out from behind the row of tanks next to her and see her sitting in her own filth. Glaring at the Gallifreyan, she fakes stomach pains and curls into a corner, trying her best to further the illusion.

The Collector’s face heats up and turns a deep shade of read, “Carina!” he shouts, almost loud enough to make the glass shatter. Quick yet light footsteps rush to his side, “Yes, master?”

He forcefully grabs her arm and jerks her, making her look at the state of his prized piece, “What is this? Are you trying to kill her?” Stuttering but not actually responding, Carina’s mouth opens and closes nervously. “Clean it up...” Taneleer barks into her ear. She nods and rushes off to get her supplies.

The Collector looks Willie up and down one last time before storming off in a rage. If he were to stand and watch any longer, he knows he would most likely scream at Carina the entire time.

Unable to hold it in, Willie grins. Perfect ,she thinks. Within a few more moments, Carina comes back with the buckets, chemical solutions, rags, and sponges needed to clean Willie’s vomit.

Willie begins to tingle with anticipation. Carina doesn’t even bother to say anything to Willie before sliding the door open. The Gallifreyan’s eyes go wide in excitement as she stares at the woman’s wrist and the device strapped to it.

Carina wets a rag and kneels, beginning to wipe the floor. Every second seemed to drag on for years and Willie felt like she did in the forests of her home; nervously excited with a certain insatiable bloodlust as she waits in the bushes to kill her next meal.

Soon the weak prey turns her back to re-wet her rag. The predator lunges forward silently and swiftly, grabbing her by her throat to silence any screams. Prey’s eyes go wide and fingers claw desperately at the suffocating firmness around her.

Willie drags Carina into her tank, through the mess on the floor and up to her chest. The blood pumps through her veins, adrenaline making her stronger and eventually she can feel Carina’s spine in her palm, so close she can feel the bumps in her vertebrae.

The woman’s pawing becomes softer and softer, her pleaing grunts becoming quieter and quieter. Eyes roll up into her skull and she goes limp and heavy in Willie’s hands. Willie reaches down to her wrist and unstraps the device that controls the disc in her neck.

Strapping it on her own wrist, Willie begins punching every button she can find. How the hell do I turn this thing off? Her mind panics. Suddenly there is a beep and Willie quickly prays to every God she knows that that has done it.

Her head darts from side to side as she emerges from her tank for the first time in over a week. Not a soul is in sight and the coast is clear.

She steps swiftly and quietly through the gallery, keeping herself as concealed as possible. She weaves between the rows of glass cases, the creatures and plants inside watching her in awe as she does the thing they all wish they could do; escape.

The door has to be here somewhere. Her mind races and her pores leak profusely as she frantically searches for the exit. Each row only leads to nothingness and Willie starts walking faster and faster through them.

Finally, a grand archway presents itself at the far end of the gallery, barely within view. Face lighting up with relief, Willie makes her way to it, confident and giddy.

“You!” a deep male voice grunts behind her. Her body tenses up again and she whips her head around to see the voice’s owner. The Collector stands down the row from her, Willie equidistant between him and freedom.

She sprints as fast as she can for the door. Taneleer reaches his wrist up to push the button on his device to slow her down. Nothing happens. He presses it again and looks up. She is still running, and alarmingly fast.

His heart tenses and he shouts, “Get her!” No one rushes to his aid and he runs after her himself. Willie reaches the archway and dashes out into the familiar streets of Knowhere.

Luckily there was a crowd and she soon absorbs herself into it, hiding herself in the swarm of bodies lining the strip. By the time Taneleer emerges from his gallery, she is gone. He looks down at his wrist computer again and see a red dot on a radar. “You’ll be mine again...”

***

Weaving quickly through the crowd, stealing the paranoid look over her shoulder, Willie looks everywhere for The Collector or his goons. She’s certain they are right behind her.

After walking the streets and not seeing any sight of them for an hour, she relaxes. She’s outrun them… for now. Willie looks down at her vomit and sweat stained jumpsuit. If she wants to blend in and get off this planet, she’s going to have to change clothes.

She desperately searches the streets for where her ship was parked prior to her kidnapping. That comforting and familiar empty space between two buildings was a sight for sore eyes. A bright smile spreads across Willie’s lips and she runs to her ship. She can’t wait to throw open the doors of that fantastic invisible box and-

Reaching the space, she runs right through it. Where her ship should have been is empty. Her ship is gone.

Willie begins to panic, “No…” she whispers. She frantically feels the air for it. Spinning in circles like a mad man she searches for something that isn’t there. “No,” she repeats. “No no no.” She stomps the ground in anger. “He took it. Taneleer Tivan took my fucking ship.”

She gazes back out into the alleyway, “I need a phone…”

***

Hanging his ammo belt up on the rack at the entrance of his ship, Rocket sighs. Jobs just don’t satisfy him like they used to. The rush of blowing something up and taking someone down just doesn’t get his goat anymore.

They used to give him a sense of fulfillment that satiated his core like a desert flower getting its yearly rain. Things are… well… different now. He knew deep down why, but would never admit it to anyone, especially himself.

With heavy limbs, he trudges to the kitchen. Bounty hunting can sure work up the appetite. Rocket steps on his small ladder to reach the top cabinet. Before he can even fully grasp the handle of the door, the holocommunicator on the dining table rings.

His movements stop. He debates whether he should let it ring out or if he should walk over and reject the call. Either way, he didn’t feel like talking to anyone. The raccoon returns to the task at hand and opens the cabinet.

In the background, the ringing stops. “Guess they didn’t want to talk either.”

Reaching into the cabinet he pulls out a box of food and begins preparing it. He pours the contents of the plastic container into a plastic bowl, sighing with tired eyes and feeble fingers.

The ringing begins again and Rocket growls to no one in particular. Teeth bared, he angrily looks over his shoulder at the table muttering to himself, “Can I not sit down for five goddamn minutes?” Eventually, the ringing stops once more.

Tension releasing, the raccoon takes his food and walks to the captain’s chair to eat it. As he passes the table and holocommunicator sitting on it. It begins yelling at him again, almost as if it knew he was walking by.

Angry beyond comprehension, he slams his food on the table, a few bits of it falling out onto the surface of the tabletop. “Who could it possibly be?” he shouts at the top of his lungs. He picks of the glowing translucent blue tablet and reads the message:

Voice Communication. A3-Sector B09

The code at the end was instantly recognizable to Rocket. It told the raccoon that this call was coming from Knowhere. But why? At this point, Rocket’s anger has subsided and curiosity is slowly taking its place.

Slowly, he takes his paw and taps the accept button. Immediately he hears a hustle and bustle in the background of the call, confirming this call was where the communicator said.

“Hello?” the raccoon’s voice is unsure.

“Rocket!? Oh thank God I was starting to think you wouldn’t pick up,” distinctive voice worries to him. It was shaky and scared.

Rocket’s heart drops at the sound of it and he nearly faints, “Willie?”

She smiles on her end, “Yeah it’s me.” There is a pause as she swallows nervously, “Rocket, I’m in trouble. I need you.”

Rocket opens his mouth to offer his assistance but is suddenly reminded of the full situation. She left him. She left him after he poured his heart out to her. She doesn’t deserve his help. “Why should I help you?” he grunts.

Willie almost chokes at those words, “What the hell do you mean? Rocket, please. I need your help. I’m stuck here.”

He only shrugs, “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

The Gallifreyan bites a lip and lowers her voice, “Rocket, listen. I’m sorry for how stupid I was being. This whole thing with our feelings just is kinda hard for me…” she sighs, “I… I shouldn’t have left. I really had no reason to except that I was scared. But trust me when I say I tried to get back to you. I really did.”

Tears welling in his eyes, Rocket tries his best to make it sound like he isn’t crying, “Then what the hell stopped you?” he spits.

“I was kidnapped!” Willie shouts, her voice going through the communicator and filling Rocket’s ship.

He is taken aback by this, “Y-you were what?”

The woman lets out a deep breath, “The Collector got me. He’s been after me for years and he finally got me. It’s a wonder I was able to get out.” She anxiously scans the crowd as she speaks into the communicator on the Knowhere streets, “I think he still might be on my tail though. Can never be too sure. I need to get this stupid thing out of my neck. How soon can you be here? Because I am dying to kill this piece of shit.”

“Willie…” he trails off, unable to think of what else to say.

“Please Rocket, I need my big man to come rescue me.”

His heart flutters and he smiles, “I love you,” he blurts out.

Willie sighs, grinning like mad, “I think I might feel the same.”

The smile on Rocket’s face couldn’t be wider, “Lay low for a while doll. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

***TAG LIST***

@animeaniseed @youralienfriend @fandoms-4-life0000 @groovy-bouquet-starlight @okie--loki @tara-jadet1ffen @rosaufyuniverse

#rocket raccoon x reader #rocket x reader #rocket raccoon x ofc #rocket raccoon #gotgvol2 #gotg #peter quill #drax #Gamora #i am groot #groot #mantis #marvel

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ooops-i-arted · 5 years

Note

Pre-TCW Legends!verse Rattataki Asajj Ventress in the Rebellion/OT Era.

You mean back when she was a badass??? Hell yes

To be fair we never saw her actually die in that incredibly amazing showdown with Anakin that showed how he was already gradually falling to the Dark Side better than any other tv show I could name AND with no dialogue even so it could happen, let’s go with that premise

I mean of course Palpatine wants to track down Dooku’s wayward pet, she was strong in the Force and he could use her, but Asajj will have NONE OF THAT and eludes him

Side note but she never meets Quinlan Vos at any time ever, solely because I was so scarred by the travesty that was Dark Disciple and neither of them deserved that

She makes her living in the Outer Rim as a show fighter. She can’t use her lightsabers anymore - too showy, too instantly recognizable - but she’s adaptable and she can figure out anything. She kicks ass in a lot of fight rings. She likes getting her anger out. I could see her being an occasional merc and/or bounty hunter too, and she likes the hunt well enough, but the fight is what makes her blood sing.

She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the Rebellion or the Empire but somehow crosses paths with Luke and she knows he’s one of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s. She always crossed paths with them, fought them, hated them, and she knows that somehow he’s with them and decides to kill him.

You could do a lot there with Asajj crossing paths with the OT trio. Asajj hunting them and them not knowing why. Maybe they find out she’s a relic of the Old Republic era and try to meet with her on peaceful terms, maybe even thinking she’s a rogue Jedi who escaped the Purge who could offer them valuable info (and of course Luke is desperate for Jedi training/knowledge because there’s so little available). And then of course Asajj trying to figure out who Luke it, and learning that he’s the son and sort-of apprentice of her old enemies. In the end there’s a confrontation and of course the OT trio wins the day with the power of friendship and also blasters, but maybe Luke gets a little bit of the knowledge he craves. Or at least meets one person who knew his father as a Jedi. Maybe somehow he gets a little info out of Asajj in the end.

Alternatively, Mara learns that Asajj is trying to off her target, says “no mine” and they have an Awesome Epic Showdown of Awesomeness. Mara wins ofc but she certainly gets a run for her money.

In any case I love the idea of Asajj (the original one) hanging around the OT era. Even if she was just a background cameo and never met the big trio, I like the idea that she made it, escaped Palpatine, and can get herself a drink in cantinas by telling about the time she scarred Anakin Skywalker’s face.

#shine on you badass rattataki #lol can't even tell you how many times my sister and i playacted that jungle fight #asks #nerdtopia reborn

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thunderoad · 7 years

Note

Maybe you've already talked about this, but now that you have a ticket in hand and a countdown to seeing Niall live, what sort of tour merch are you hoping for from him? What would you throw your hard-earned money at?

oh, that’s such a good question!! (it’s 123 days until the show a;dlkfjsj u know me too well)

i feel like the classic concert t-shirt is an absolute must, ofc. i got one of james bay’s shirts when he was on tour last year, and rather than doing the straightforward ‘his face on a tee’ thing, he put a silhouette shot of himself on the front. i thought that was very cool, and a little less in your face than a face bigger than your head stretched over your chest. plus, i think it’d suit niall’s aesthetic a little better, you know? he’s so beautiful but there’s something classic and timeless about these images that can become iconic, like the instantly recognizable silhouette or something massively symbolic, like the joshua tree.

i hope he does stickers and patches, too. they’re quite popular right now, i think, and something simple and recognizable - like his logo, for instance (i love that logo; i think they’d be crazy not to blow it up to the size of a billboard and put it all over every piece of merch available) - would be super neat to spot on laptops at ur favorite coffeeshop or on bikes or somewhere on the walk home. (some nice advertising right there too!! lol.)

me, personally, though - i really hope he does a special vinyl edition of his album with some b-sides or demos on it. he’s gone for such a lovely classic aesthetic and sound in pretty much every way, and i’d kill for that kind of exclusive content. he’s such a perfectionist, but the nature of each of those things is imperfection, and i’d pay out the nose for it.

not technically merch, but i’d love for him to do a behind the scenes making-of doc as well and/or a cool photobook like sometimes come with digital album purchases with exclusive pics. the cool thing about digital content is that there’s not as much of an overhead on production costs, and so i think it’d just be such a cool way to reward invested fans (like me for ex) without necessarily risking too much while at the same time letting new fans dip their toes in without having to jump straight into the epic history of 1d.

#in short...#I WANT EVERYTHING #but especially the double-sided special edition vinyl with b-sides and demos on it #...i'm gonna be SO broke #anon

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psycheswritings · 4 years

Text

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Four

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC) Warnings: Swearing, I guess. Word Count: 4533 Author's Note: Hello again, hope you are all well. Here's the update, hope you all like it. Thanks for everybody reading and liking it, I really appreciate it. Honorary mentions to @livingmybestfakelife, @stressedandbandobessed7771 and @livvtheangel for commenting. Tags are at the bottom. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated. I relly hope you like this one. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Daphne and Tommy share a moment alone at her birthday party and that leads him to get better acquaintance with some of her closest friends. The gangster has some unexpected meetings and receives a rather interesting invitation. Michael wants to take part in the family business, despite his mother’s disapproval. May Carleton goes to Birmingham to get Thomas’s horse and take a look at the betting shop. Aunt Polly has a little talk with her nephew about wanting things he shouldn’t want.

Four

They had sang Happy Birthday to her much to Daphne’s dismay, but it was worth it in the end because Karl had happily “helped” her blown out the candles, giggling all the time. She stayed and socialized with the guests for a bit until she made a very sneaky exit to the balcony on the side of the pub. Usually she would be the one waltzing around, making small talk with people and entertaining the guests, but today she wasn’t really feeling like it. Of course she appreciated Alfie’s gesture - he always tried to cheer her up on her birthday and she loved him for that, truthfully, but one can ignore the day you dread the most just for a certain amount of time.

The cold wind outside made her instantly regret not having grabbed her coat before leaving, but the perspective of going inside again didn’t appeal to her, so she just ignored the goosebumps. She let her eyes wonder to the street, observing a few people stumbling on the sidewalk before her already cold fingers searched for the locket hanging from her neck and nesting against her sternum. Daphne stroked the piece of metal with her thumb a few times, the material was warm against her skin, them she pulled it out of her neck and opened it.

There were two small black and white photographs inside – a young girl and a boy, their features were similar, yet different. You couldn’t tell by the image but they had the same hair color, his face was a little more angular than hers and his eyes from a darker shade of brown instead of the bright hazel of hers. Despite the fact that the photographs were in different sides of the locket, you could tell that they had been cut from the same image because they two seemed to be looking and smiling at each other. Daphne pressed her thumb in the boy’s picture, so absorbed in looking at it that she didn’t noticed she wasn’t alone anymore.

“You seem awfully unhappy for someone who has a whole party in her honor going on just inside.” A warm coat rested against her shoulders, she distinguished the smell of tobacco and whisky, mixed with a musky cologne that she did not quite recognized. Thomas noticed that she closed the locket before turning to face him, adjusting his jacket on her shoulders. The seemingly innocent and simple gesture of her adjusting a piece of clothing that belonged to him on her own body made something stir inside of him – some raw possessiveness that wanted to show the whole world that she belonged to him, even when he knew that it was far from the truth. Daphne seemed like the kind of woman who would never belong to nobody but herself.

“Let’s just say I’m not very prone to celebrate my birthday.” Her fingers rested on the collar of the jacket, the locket securely held between the fabric and her fingers. Thomas noticed that every time he had seen her she was wearing the jewelry. He took a step closer, taking the piece from her, the metal was still warm and weighted very little on his fingers while he twisted it. She did not protest, just observed him with the piece – in the dim light he noticed that the chocolate brown of her irises was almost drowning in a sea of deep forest-green. He didn’t opened it because he felt that whatever was inside it was something she wasn’t willing to share.

“You’re one of those girls who is all worried about getting older?” He asked while parting the chain and passing it through her head, the locket still between his fingers.

“Not exactly.” She smiled but he noticed that it was a forced one because it didn’t reached her eyes. Daphne raised her hand, placing it on top of his, her fingers curling themselves around his own to slip the locket from out of his grasp. He let her take it from him and watched as she adjusted it inside the neckline of her dress. “We better get inside.” Before someone notices, she thought but restrained herself from saying, even when the look in his eyes said that he had guessed it. She should not feel guilty, they weren’t doing nothing wrong, just talking. However, Daphne still felt like this stolen moment was some kind of secret that she had to keep to herself.

He followed her closely, when they stepped out the door she took off his jacket, handing it back to him, their fingers lingering together for a moment before she thanked him and excused herself, going to the opposite direction of the balcony. Thomas stood there, watching her leave, holding the jacket in one of his hands and wondering how this woman could have such a strong effect on him in such a short time. He opened and closed his hand – the one she had just touched - his fingers seeming to tingle from the contact even now.

Nobody in the pub seemed to have noticed the little interaction between the two – nobody except William and Polly, who were observing the couple on opposite sides of the mezzanine, unaware of one another.

William had seen Thomas follow Daphne to the balcony moments before, distracting their friends and preventing them to look that way, trying his best to hide the frown on his face. He had managed to break free from the small group, who continued in deep conversation, and walked to the railing. There was a hint of sadness in his blue eyes as he observed Daphne stepping into the room wrapped in Thomas’s jacket. He clenched his fists, recognizing the all too familiar burn of anger and jealousy that he hated so much.

Polly, on the other hand, was sipping her drink when she saw Tommy and Daphne getting out the door. The older woman smiled to herself – she was right them, there was more than just attraction between his nephew and the girl. She looked around, checking if anybody had noticed the two and saw one of Daphne’s friends - the handsome bachelor who turned many girls heads all night - observing the couple with closed fists. He looked in her direction, a frown on his face, and saw that she had seen the same thing as him, making quick work to ignore it and come back to the group of people he had just left.

Thomas was walking towards his family, intending to leave and go to his hotel room when he heard his name being called.

“It can’t be Sargent Major Thomas M. Shelby!” He turned on his heels and took just a moment to recognize the man talking to him.

“Charles Johnson, I thought I would never see you again.” There was a hint of a smile on the gangster’s face when the man approached him and the two hugged, patting each other on the back.

“Me neither. I was pretty sure that none of us would get out of that hell alive.” Thomas couldn’t stop himself of thinking that a part of him never really came back from the war, but that wasn’t a conversation that he wanted to have.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are, indeed. You should meet my fiancé.” Charles turned to look at the beautiful blonde that had almost knocked Daphne to the ground at the beginning of the night. He made a motion with his head and she approached them. “This is Jane, my fiancé. Jane this is Thomas Shelby, we’ve met in France.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby.” They shook hands briefly. She looked like a delicate flower – young and beautiful and full of energy. They were a match made in heaven, because from what Tommy remembered, Charles had that optimistic nature that sometimes got to your nerves, despite some moments of weakness.

“Likewise. Let me ask you how you ended up with this moron?” She laughed and Charles scoffed at him.

“I thought you were better, Shelby.”

“It was actually my brother’s fault. Charles and William have been friends since they were kids.” Jane answered sweetly, looking around to find her brother. “Oh there he is. William, come here.”

“Where’s the fire?”

“There’s no fire, you daft.” Jane smacked her brother on the arm, the action made Tommy remember Ada. “Mr. Shelby was just asking how I and Charles have met. I said that it was all your fault.” Thomas recognized him immediately – it was the man who had hugged Daphne for a little too long earlier. He extended his hand towards him.

“Thomas Shelby.”

“William Weston.” They shook hands, analyzing each other while doing so. “You know Charles?”

“Yes, we’ve met in France.” Charles answered quickly, apparently unaware of the animosity between the two men.

“You certainly have been there too, haven’t you Mr. Weston?” The sarcasm was evident in Tommy’s voice, but only William noticed it.

“Yeah, served there as a doctor. It’s where I’ve met Daph.” If he wasn’t paying close attention, William would certainly have missed the brief twitch of Tommy’s lip and the hint of jealously in his eyes.

“Yeah, only good thing that happened there.” Charles observed. “You’re here because of her birthday too, right, Tommy?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, Mr. Shelby, how do you know our Daphne?” This time Jane noticed that something was going on by the tone her bother used, so she paid close attention to the conversation.

“I’m working with Mr. Solomons.”

“That he is. A pain in my ass, if you ask me, mate.” They all turned to see Alfie arriving with Daphne on his arm, both of them smiling.

“Business partners.” William seemed a little impressed.

“Yeah. Would you believe it?” Alfie joked, making Jane and Charles laugh, William just smiled without humor to avoid suspicion but Daphne noticed it, so did Tommy.

“You should come to the weeding, Mr. Shelby.” Suggested Jane and Charles immediately agreed.

“Yeah, it’s a great idea. You can bring your wife, you certainly are married by now. You were always a heartbreaker.”

“No. No wife” He looked at Daphne for a moment and she tried to ignore the intensity of his gaze.

“That’s a shame, but you can bring anyone you want, really. Alfie will be there too, so you will at least have a familiar face around.”

“Wouldn’t lose William’s speech for nothing.” The Jew smiled, making the others laugh at William rolling his eyes.

“Again with that?”

“Couldn’t let it pass, mate.”

“Daphne will be there too. She will be my maid of honor.” Explained Jane as enthusiastically as is the day she actually made the invitation. All of a sudden, the idea of going to the weeding seemed quite interesting to Tommy.

“Well, why not.”

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Thomas sat in his office looking through the file that Campbell had given him earlier when he saw the blood smearing his fingers. He stared at the red staining his skin for a couple of seconds before putting the file in one of the drawers and getting up to take a drink. He cleaned his hand in a napkin while taking the bottle of whisky at the same time a knock could be heard on the door.

“Yes?” Lizzie opened the door, standing there to announce.

“Somebody to see you, Mr Shelby. He says he has come about the position of accounts clerk.”

“Send him in.” Tommy simply said before turning back to pour himself a drink.

“Just through here, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“Michael.” There was a hint of surprise in Tommy’s unreadable face, the boy smiled at him but the head of the Peaky Blinders just turned around to go back to his desk while talking. “Vacancy's been filled.”

“Not according to this morning's paper.” Michael had followed him, throwing said newspaper on his desk, right beside the glass of whiskey he had just placed there. The boy sat down on one of the chairs on the opposite side of the piece of furniture while Tommy stared down at him. “At school, I was top of the class in mathematics and I did a night-school course in accountancy at Worcester College.” Tommy takes the glass from the desk and walks around to lean against the shelf behind his chair, observing his cousin talk. “Mum says you've had six different accountant clerks in the last six months. When respectable men see the other things you do, they leave. But I, like Lizzie out there, already know what you do. Mum says you want to be eighty percent legal within two years.”

“Three.”

“I can help. I know both sides and you know you can trust me. I want to help you, Tommy, become legal. Do the right thing. I want to be proud of this family.” The gangster says nothing as he eyes the boy, glass of whisky still untouched in his hand.

“Does Polly know you're here, Michael?”

“I'm eighteen on Friday, I go where I please.” Tommy step forward to the desk, places the glass on it to take the telephone and put it right in front of Michael.

“You phone your mother.” He takes the glass and starts to leave the room but not before saying. “Good luck.” Michael just observes the telephone for a few moments before making the call.

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Esme is at the shop, organizing things to open when a loud knock is heard from the front door.

“We're not open for winnings yet.”

“I'm here to see Thomas Shelby.” A woman says from outside and she rushes to the door to see a beautiful rich woman waiting there. “I have an appointment.”

“Come in.” Esme rushes her inside, taking notice of the car waiting parked on the street. Closing the door behind her and locking it, she hurries up to stop in front of the strange woman that is looking around the shop. After a while, the stranger extends a hand to her, which she does not take.

“May Carleton.”

“Mr. Shelby has his proper meetings in his other office.”

“This was the address that he gave me.”

“He gave you this address?” Esme asked surprised.

“He said it was a gambling den. I told him that I've wanted to see one since I'm always reading about them in the papers. Quite the big scandal in the Telegraph lately.” Rich people, Esme thought, always wanting to see how the peasants live. May noticed that the woman was still analyzing her and became quite uncomfortable. “Anyway, he said that I could come and have a look. And now I feel like a bit of an idiot because I'm early and he's late and I have no idea how to behave.”

“In a gambling den?” There was a hint of mock on her tone, so May decided that the best thing to do was to leave and wait in another place.

“I'll wait in the car.”

“If I open the door again, they'll all want to come in.” Esme made quick work of putting the keys back in her front pocket. “Like flies.” She starts doing her work again before asking to a very uncomfortable May. “So what are you?”

“W-what am I?” May asks, looking around.

“To Thomas?”

“I'm going to train his racehorse for Epsom.” This seemed to take Esme’s attention.

“You know horses?”

“Yes.” May turned to look at the other woman. “You?”

“Born riding. I slept in a manger when I was a baby.”

“I was born riding, too.” May seems almost daydreaming when the door open only for John to come in and slam it shut.

“There's a fucking great Riley parked out there and nobody's watching it.” He seems unaware of the woman’s presence until he stops right in front of her.

“John, this woman says she's training Thomas' horse.” He places the moneybags on the table and take a look at the woman in front of him.

“He's told us a lot about you.”

“Don't know where he is, do you?” May asks, hopeful. There’s a noise coming from the other door and soon Tommy walks in.

“Sorry, I'm late. There was a family matter. Esme, keep it locked up for a minute.”

“Yes, Thomas.”

“I'll show you around.” He says approaching May and nodding for John to leave. “So be my guest.” He leaned into one of the columns, lightening a cigarette while May starts walking around again. “That's my brother Arthur's office. Down there is my brother John's office - that's where we slate the runners and riders.”

“It's so out in the open. What about the police?” She approaches him, curiously.

“What about them?” Tommy answers and May walks to the nearby table, leaning on it and looking directly at him.

“When I drove into Small Heath, I thought I was going to get murdered then I mentioned your name. It was like being escorted to see a king.” The gangster barely acknowledges the comment, changing the subject.

“You came here to get my girl, right?”

“Right.” He walks to the front door and she follows him after taking a last look around.

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“She looks in very good condition, considering she's not been out on the gallops.” Acknowledges May as Curly walks to them with the mare.

“Curly's the best horseman in England.” Charlie says, smiling.

“I have a man called Mickey who'd argue the point.” She walks around Curly to inspect the animal.

“Ah, but Curly here is half horse himself.” Tommy says with a hint of a smile on his face as he pets the horse.

“She's blessed. Very blessed.” It’s visible that Curly is agitated when he makes the observation.

“Well, she's from the best stock.” The woman says coming to stop on his side.

“But I'd rather have a colored pony. Mixed blood is stronger.”

“Not to win the Derby, Curly.” Tommy says to the gentle man.

“Don't like them racing, Tommy, not the way they beat them.” Curly gives the reins to May. “She's all yours.”

“Thank you.” Then he leaves, clearly disturbed.

“He gets sad when one leaves.” Explains Charlie.

“What time is your box van coming?” Tommy asks.

“Midday.” She answers more focused on petting the horse.

“Maybe you've got time to take the lady to the Garrison, show her the spa and the tearooms.” Thomas looks at his uncle and see the clear suggestion in his smirk and tone of voice, but just plays along and so does she.

“I'd like that, why not?” May says, looking at Tommy before they head to the pub.

“I just had it done up. There was a fire.” He walks ahead of her, going behind the counter while she looks around.

“It's…”

“Yep.” He throws the keys in the counter and asks her. “What do you drink?”

“So early, but gin.” May takes off her gloves and sits on one of the chairs close to the bar. Tommy walks around, taking the bottle of gin and a glass, which he places in front of the woman and fills with the drink. “Goodness. With something?”

“Like what?” He asks a little annoyed as if she is saying something that doesn’t make sense.

“Tonic water or…” He starts looking around.

“Hum, we have cordial.” As he opens the bottle to pour it for her, Tommy points to the glass and says. “There's not much room in there but…” He turns around, helping himself a glass of whiskey. “You want to fuck me, Mrs. Carleton?” She swallows the alcohol she had just taken, looking at him surprised by his bluntness. “Perhaps because I… Perhaps because I represent something to you? We should have this conversation before the booze starts talking for us.” He says while lightening another cigarette. She may deny it, but the way he treats it like a business transaction brings something in her that May haven’t felt in a long while.

“You have a horse.”

“Yes, I have a horse.”

“The horse is why I'm here, purely that. And because you're paying me a lot of money to train your horse, that's why I'm here, purely that.” May takes another sip of her drink while he observes her frown swallowing the drink.

“Good. Good. Well, a toast, then.” He raises his glass but she hesitates. “To the horse, to the Derby.”

“Cheers.”

“So is that what you say to women?” She asks placing her glass on the counter and looking at him.

“Only if I don't know what they want.”

“And what if they don't want to fuck?”

“Then life is simpler.”

“You want a simple life?” He scoffs, placing his hands on the counter before answering her, recognizing the real question hidden in her words.

“Do I look like a man who wants a simple life, eh?”

“So what do you want?” May takes the drink and takes a sip. Tommy leans closer to her, resting his elbows into the counter.

“For what I'm paying you, Mrs. Carleton, I want a horse that'll pay out at Epsom on an each-way bet.” She takes the pack of cigars and the matches that he placed on the counter.

“Before I took your account, I did some credit checks on you.” She lights the cigarettes and takes a drag. “Apparently, you don't exist.” Tommy scratches the side of his head with the hand that holds the cigarette.

“My existence is questionable.”

“Gypsies don't like registers.”

“You see, I'm not a Gypsy like you mean.”

“But you did register for France. I also sent your name to the War Office. I have friends there. You won two medals for gallantry.” So he was right, she could be useful to them. Tommy puts his cigarette out on the ashtray before looking at her, seemingly unimpressed.

“Does that really impress you, Mrs. Carleton?”

“Call me May.” The door to the pub opens and Finn comes in, eyeing the woman curiously.

“Charlie says the box van is here.”

“Thank you, Finn.” Tommy says and the boy leaves again.

“You know, I still don't know what you're going to call your horse.” The gangster stops to think for a moment, remembering the little stolen time he had with Daphne a few nights ago - the way she quickly closed the locket when he arrived; the way her hazel eyes analyzed him with the piece between his fingers, never complaining about how he was closer to her than what was considered appropriate; how he still could feel the light pressure of her fingers on his.

“The horse will be called The Secret Locket.”

“The Secret Locket.” May ponders sipping the gin again.

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“I told him he definitely can't take the job. He said: "All right, I'll move to London, then.”. I said, I won't give in to blackmail. No is no." Polly is looking at Tommy from the mirror hanging in the wall while she puts her earrings – he was finishing putting his tie.

“Well that settles it, then. I'll give the job to the other candidate. He's much better qualified anyway.” He says as he puts in his shoulder holster.

“Michael did City And Guilds - six months.” The way she talks says clearly that even when she refuses to accept him doing the job, Polly wants Michael’s achievements recognized.

“Yeah, but he doesn't know racing, Poll.” Thomas takes a bottle from the table and serves his aunt a drink. “He knows horses, but he doesn't know racing. This other boy, he knows racing. He's good. He's a fast learner.” She looks at him distressed, when he hands her the glass.

“What if Michael really leaves?” Polly sits down on one of the armchairs, placing the ashtray and her drink on the coffee table.

“You just got to let him go, Poll. He'll get a job in an office in London. I'm sure he'll write to you.” Tommy gets his jacket in the clothes rack, putting it on.

“He made a big speech about wanting to help you build up a respectable business. Oh, he's like his dad, he could make me cry.”

“There are trains to London.”

“So I just let him leave?” Her tone is incredulous.

“Every month or so he'd be back.” Thomas takes the cigarette from the ashtray to take a drag. “Unless of course he meets a girl. Then, who knows?”

“Oh, my God. You want him to do this job.” The older woman looks at him quizzically.

“Polly, I want what you want.” Polly knows him well enough to recognize what he is doing, the tone of his voice, the way he looks at her. It’s not very common for Thomas Shelby don’t get what he wants. She gets up, drink and cigarette in hand.

“What about this other more qualified candidate?”

“Mmm, well, I lied, there isn't one.”

“How much are you paying?” There is a hint of a smile in his face.

“The advertised rate.”

“Like hell.”

“Three bob.”

“Like hell.”

“Three and six.”

“Four.” He gives in.

“Four it is.” She spits on her hand and extends it to him, to seal the deal. Tommy does the same.

“I love him, Tom.” Polly looks at him, her expression serious.

“I know. That's why I'll keep him away from the old business, put him charge of the new. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He helps her put her coat on and walks to the door but she stops him. “One more thing before we leave.

“What is it?” He asks with a frown.

“The woman.” Polly intentionally throws the bait to see if he is going to bite - and he does.

“What about Daphne?”

“She hides something.” He was not the only one who noticed how she the young woman seemed to have a habit of playing with the locket hanging from her neck when she was distracted or when somebody mentioned family matters. But it wasn’t just that. Polly had seen the hurt in her eyes, like something had been broken inside of her - she was all smiles and pleasantries with everybody but she held a sadness rooted deep down on her, something that she kept from the outside world, something that the gipsy woman was used to see in her own nephew after the war.

“I know. I’m already working on discovering it.”

“Do you want to discover it because of the business or there are other interests at stake?” He scoffs before answering her.

“Polly…”

“Thomas. You are a smart man. You’ve already been fooled by love once…”

“It’s not like that.” The way he punctuates every word just confirms her suspicious even more – he is, indeed, falling for the girl.

“Yes, it is. I see it in your eyes and I saw it in hers.” He looks at her them, a little surprised by the revelation. “I said that you had to forget the barmaid, that there would be others. You’ve been sleeping around since them but now you have to have in mind that she’s not some common woman, Thomas. She is under Solomons’s protection and you have to have that in mind before you let your cock take your decisions for you.”

Tags: @stressedandbandobessed7771

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