#and yes I lost all my money from the tickets

[bethanydelleman]

A few months ago, the symphony in my city went bankrupt and closed permanently. I was shocked. My SIL and I had season's tickets and were preparing to go to the first concert that very week. I had extra tickets so my kids could go to Music and Magic later in the season. The year before, I had brought my oldest for the first time to see Cirque du Symphony (Cirque du Soleil + symphony) and he loved it. I'm not sure he loved the music but he enjoyed the performance.

I'd been going since a friend in university gave me her extra tickets. Back then I could go for about $25 as a student and sit anywhere in the house. My SIL and I aren't rich, we paid for tickets in the back of the mezzanine. We weren't terribly cultured, we went to the Pops series which had dancing and other performances, not the Classic series. But I loved it, I love when the music goes straight through your body and fills you up. I miss that feeling. You can't get it with pre-recorded music. Now I can't have it again unless I want to drive for hours.

I just feel profoundly sad about it. I went to the bankruptcy meeting and I felt so betrayed. They never told the public, it was completely out of the blue. They didn't ask us to try to save them. Now it's gone and it may never come back. And I sat there beside the musicians who had no idea what they would do now, because symphonies everywhere are closing and there aren't new ones taking their place. Something is gone that I wanted for my children and this is the first time I've experienced that feeling. It's dreadful. Also, the meeting was filmed and I cried on local TV (did not realize they were filming me until my in-laws texted me...)

I know it's a hard time for everyone, and maybe we don't have enough money to support the arts. And maybe people don't care anymore, I was often one of the youngest people in the audience. But I regret this loss. The arts are important in an intangible way that I can't describe. I loved living in a smaller city with a symphony, I don't anymore.

It died, and I am only a single person, and I can't bring it back.

[elodieunderglass]

the first chapter of Moby Dick rewritten in tiresome modern idiom

CHAPTER 1. Loomings.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - it's none of your business how many - being mostly broke, and bored with the land part of the world, I thought I would sail around a little and look at the watery part of the world. I'm probably the most mentally healthy person you know. Whenever I feel my face getting grim; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself accidentally reading the ads in the window of funeral homes, and following funeral processions through traffic; and especially when I'm hangry, and only my extremely strong moral principles stop me from deliberately going out in public and methodically slapping people's earbuds out - then I know it's high time to get to sea, ASAP. This is my substitute for getting in fights. I'm too mentally healthy to kill myself; I quietly and considerately put myself on a ship and sail myself away instead. There is nothing surprising in this. Everyone feels exactly the same way, and if they don't, they're lying.

You think I'm lying? Exhibit A: a city. Go to your local coastal city. Everyone is looking at the water. They drive over from other neighborhoods just to come to the water. They make a day of it. They're not doing anything, they're just staring at the ocean. Why? Is it because they all work office jobs? No! Here come more of them! They cram themselves up to the edge of the water and stare at it. WHAT DO THEY WANT? WHAT ARE THEY LOOKING AT. Perhaps the ships themselves all packed together, each one with several compasses on it, creates some kind of critical mass - all of the small compass-magnets on all the ships in the harbor combining into one really big magnetic field - and the people get sucked into the field and trapped there. That's science.

Exhibit 2: the countryside with lakes in it. Every path you follow in the countryside brings you to some water, such as a stream. There is magic in it. If you take your standard fool with ADHD dissociating in the middle of a supermarket and put them outside and give them a shove, they'll automatically lead you to water (if there is any nearby) (try it). Another good experiment to try is to get lost in the great American desert in a caravan supplied with a metaphysical professor! Try it in the great American desert at home!

Yes, as everyone knows, meditation and water are a match made in heaven. Married forever. That's science.

Here's an artist who wants to paint you the dreamiest, most enchanting landscape. What does he put in it? Trees, meadow, cows, a cottage with smoke coming from the chimney, obviously. He will probably put a path in it and make lots of triangular mountains in rows and have them be different shades of blue (naturally.) But there's gotta be a stream in it. Go visit the prairies in June, and wade for forty miles through knee-deep through tiger lilies. What's missing from this picture? Water!

If Niagara Falls was made of sand instead of water, would you travel your thousand miles to see it? Why would a guy given a handful of cash have trouble deciding whether to buy a coat (which he needed) or go to the beach? Why are all the best, healthiest, sexiest and most mentally healthy people obsessed with the sea? (You get me.) When you were first on a boat, did you not succumb to VIBES? Consider ancient Persia. Consider ancient Greece. They understood about vibes, and also gods.

SURELY ALL OF THIS IS NOT WITHOUT MEANING.

And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all! You get me! You understand it now.

Now, when I say that I am in the habit of going to sea whenever I get weird, don't you dare imply that I buy a ticket and get on a boat. I have never had money in my life. How dare you. Anyway I don't go as a passenger - that's bougie, and something boring people do. Passengers never have a good time. And although my C.V. is incredible - I go to sea SO MUCH, you guys, I have lots of experience - I don't go as a boss, or a cook. That sounds like far too much work. Hard work. Disgusting, respectable, bougie, and far too responsible. I can literally only look after myself. Do not ask me to look after ships or shit. In fact, I have only a vague idea of what a ship is. There's so many different kinds of ships - don't get me started and DO NOT GET INVOLVED. Also, I'm allergic to glory.

It's kind of attractive to go as a cook. I mean, I'm allergic to glory and there's some glory attached to the position of the ship's cook, but, like, you're not management-track and so it's still credible. But I don't really want to cook (say) roast chicken. I really fucking love to eat roast chicken. I'm one of the best at doing it actually. I really appreciate when people go out of their way to butter, season, baste and roast a chicken for me. Picture a roast chicken and I am Looking Respectfully at it. Maybe something more, maybe I'm worshipping it. Don't make this weird. If you want to get weird about my relationship with roasted chicken, why aren't you getting weird about the ancient Egyptians? They ate roasted hippos (look it up) and the pyramids were basically pizza ovens. So it's pretty hypocritical to think that I'm being weird about roasted chicken when I've never made mummies out of chickens or built a religious pizza oven dedicated to honoring them: check and mate, haters.

Anyway - I like to go to sea as a manual laborer. A simple sailor. Salt of the earth… er… sea. Yeah, true: as a job it sucks. They make you jump around, order you around, treat you like shit. They expect you to jump around the boat like a grasshopper. And yes, at first, this sucks. It's degrading, especially if you come from a middle-class family. Worse, it's awful if you've already had some kind of professional job before signing on to be the dirt on the boss's boots - like, if you went to college and worked as a teacher and actually got kids to pay attention to you, really feeling this connection to work/teaching/identity or some shit, and now you are just literally the scum on this captain's boots, in the lowest possible job in the world. It hurts! It hurts your dignity. But the hurt, and also the dignity, both wear off in time.

So what if some old bastard sea captain orders me - ME! - to get a broom and sweep down the decks? What does that indignity amount to, compared to the shit in the Bible, compared to the shit in the news, compared to the shit everyone else has to take. Do you think the archangel Gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because I promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? Who ain’t a slave? Tell me that. We're all just serfs under capitalism, right, so why not just be honest about it: I prefer the honesty. Anyway, however the old sea captains may order me about - slapping and punching of course - I have the satisfaction of knowing that it's the same experience everyone else on Earth has, but more honest. Everyone else in the world is being served the exact same way. Either in a physical or a metaphysical way - sometimes people get the shit beaten out of them in person, sometimes online, sometimes emotionally, it happens to you in EVERY JOB, you sign on to get pushed around and slapped in the teeth: so the point is that when you're a sailor, it's a clean and honest slap. All the workers of the world share the same universal slap to the face that gets passed round, one slap passed all 'round the chain, like paying it forward, but it's a slap; and we should all accept this Universal Slap as the price of living, and then offer each other healing back massages, brother to brother, and slap each other and then kissed the places we slapped, and be happy.

I could examine that but I'm not going to.

Anyway: I always go to sea as a sailor. I've said that already. You're welcome. BUT THE POINT IS, they pay you. If you're a passenger, they don't pay you, at least, not that I've ever heard of [citation needed] (do they pay passengers?? Is there a job I can get where I can be a passenger and get paid?? Look this up.) Yeah so passengers have to pay. And there is all the difference in the world between paying and being paid. The act of paying is perhaps the most uncomfortable infliction that the two orchard thieves entailed upon us. (That's Adam and Eve. You get it.) But BEING PAID. GETTING PAID IS THE BEST. NOTHING COMPARES TO GETTING PAID. EVERYONE LOVES THAT SHIT. Which is surprising, since we also apparently believe that money is the root of all evil, and isn't there something in the bible about "no rich people can get into heaven," right? And yet it's universal, literally everyone loves payday. Ah! How cheerfully we send ourselves to hell.

Finally, I always go to sea as a sailor (I've said this already) because it's FRESH AIR AND EXERCISE. Okay so think about ships. Normally, bosses stand on the "bridge" thing, and because we're sailing a boat, the nose is going into the wind and the butt part of the boat is at the back. That's how wind works. But if you think about it, winds usually go in one direction more than other directions (unless the men have been eating beans and farting: it's Pythagoras, look it up) SO if you're a boss standing on the boss-deck, the wind is blowing FROM the sailors TOWARDS you, and YOU ARE ACTUALLY BREATHING THE AIR THAT SAILORS ALREADY BREATHED. The boss THINKS he breathes it first, but he doesn't. He gets the air at the BACK of the boat and sailors get the air at the FRONT. So it's better to be at the front of the boat (sailor) for health reasons. This is a metaphor for life and work, etc.

But I have smelled the sea lots of times as a paid sailor and WHY I should decide to go on a whaling expedition - ok so you know how there's an invisible police officer of the Fates who has me under constant surveillance, who secretly dogs me, and influences me in some unaccountable way? YOU get me. You know him. "The poor FBI agent tasked with reading my search engine history" YOU GET ME. Anyway, "Ishmael, why, after having a perfectly well-reasoned, and very smart of you, part-time job as a spontaneous random sailor, did you decide to escalate that to joining a WHALING EXPEDITION, which is worse in every way?" Well, ask my fucking secret FBI agent, he can answer better than anyone else. Including me. You get me. Also, obviously, this was predestined, part of the Universe's Grand Programme for its talent show, which was all scheduled way before our time. The concept of sending me on the whaling voyage comes in as a kind of interlude or solo between the main performances of the Universe's great talent show. I bet it was advertised llike,

"PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF THE UNITED STATES EMBROILED IN ONGOING LEGAL DISPUTE.

Whaling voyage by some guy called Ishmael.

BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN."

Like a commercial break in between the big acts. A filler episode. Lightens the load for everyone else. Though I can't explain why the stage managers - the Fates - chose such a shitty role for me, a WHALING VOYAGE of all things, when it feels like others were given magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - it seems a little unreasonable at first. Why doth Ishmael get shat upon, etc. But then I think about all the circumstances, the plot points and motivations that were cunningly presented to me under various disguises - FBI agents, bouts of random hanger, gay awakenings, you get me - and you can see that actually, I was set up. And worse, between them all, these Fates and Circumstances conspired to make me believe it was all my own choice and good judgment. Is Free Will an illusion? Are my decisions bad? We will NEVER know because I, Ishmael, am just a little guy that the Universe plays head games with.

One of the ways the Universe tricked me into starring in this performance and then mocking me for it was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself (whaling expeditions usually contain whales.) Such a portentous and mysterious monster roused all my curiosity. Then of course, if you have a whale, you have the wild and distant seas where the whale rolls around with his body-the-size-of-an-island; the dangers and nameless perils of the whale; whales are also found in interesting places I haven't seen; this all tipped me over the edge. Maybe normal people could've resisted, but I am tormented with an everlasting itch for obscurity. I hate everyone else's oceans. I want the forbidden seas.

You know The Horrors? Of course you do. You might be surprised that I, the most mentally healthy person you've ever met, a person who is self-aware enough to go to sea when they're at their fucking limits, a guy who likes fresh air and manual labor and normal things, is familiar with The Horrors. Well, you'd be surprised. I know what's good, I'm an extrovert. But I'm still quick to perceive The Horrors. And how I deal with the horrors is a very extroverted thing: I'm social with them, if they'll let me. It's smart to be on good terms with The Horrors. You should always be on good terms with your permanent neighbors. That's how extroverts deal with The Horrors, and I recommend it.

I think that's enough explanation for why I welcomed the whaling voyage. The great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild figments of imagination that pushed me into doing it, the whales came marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah. They marched into my innermost soul in endless processions and occupied it, you see, I was quite helpless under this occupation - I consented to the haunting and the whales marched in to haunt me - and amidst them all was one grand shrouded white phantom, like a snowy mountain in the air.

You get it.

You know how it is, with whales.

(read the actual first chapter of Moby Dick here: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2701/2701-h/2701-h.htm)

[baby-jaguar]

Meeting Johnny

Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope

WC: 2,726 CW: None

AN: I'm alive! Sorry this is so short, this was a good stopping point and I need to work on my world-building for Soap before getting to the next part. Just know- I haven't given up on this AU (It's literally my firstborn, blood, and soul, but I will be a bit slow until my brain juices stay flowing. I hope ye enjoy <3

Please see the Introduction for the explanation and precursors to the scene.

Introduction, Biography

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Johnny’s proposal to you was quick in terms of a few letters exchanged; three letters in, he invited you to come out and sent you enough money to figure out accommodations to get to him. As soon as you read those words at the post office, you ran home high on endorphins and adrenaline began packing your bags without grandiose care in the world. The fire inside you licked at the bottom of your heart, anger at staying in this shithole for far too long and feeling a sense of belonging- the sense of feeling wanted to make you have an ulterior purpose in life as if a phoenix reborn and spreading its wings while nose-diving into the unknown. When your parents came home as you zipped your bags, you sincerely couldn’t give a flying fuck as you shoved past them and began berating your parents with a grand show of a public yelling match for the neighbors to hear. 

Good for you! 

You had already planned how to get to him after receiving his first letter back; First step, buying a train ticket that led you to Santa Fe, New Mexico. From there, you had to embark on the Gila Trail, before having to buy your horse and head out on the San Diego Crossings wagon road by yourself. 

This trip was a long haul, and you prayed that Johnny would trust in your quickly established faith to wait out for you. The promise of a strong and loving man is all you could think about...

While in your adrenaline-filled escape, you hadn’t plucked the book in your room that hid his photo as a bookmark, but thankfully had grabbed the letter that gave you his directions. While you scavenge your mind to have a solid image of him, you think over his features and re-read the letters countless times.

Johnny has a background of all sorts, having grown up in a family that held their bond strong, especially after his father had passed in a mining cave-in, which rendered him the man of the house from a young age. Even in his brief telling of these events, you could tell he’s moved out to California to find a deeper meaning of himself, create the line in concrete for it to harden as he ages. 

That isn’t to say that he has lost his sense of boyishness, not at all in fact. His stories that he wrote even contained small doodles along the borders to better depict what he was writing about, and it was half your mind to cut them out and keep them as little bookmarks or place them in your wallet as a keepsake. He was playful, writing jokes about the smallest things, even letting you in on some secrets about the people in his town before you got there.

While the sense of his flame burned hot in multiple directions, deep in his hearth was a passionate man. Just as he seemed so sweet, with a flick of his wrist the writing would turn into something hot enough to make you blush, averting your eyes as your mind ran wild with his thoughts. He seems to enjoy a bubble bath… but maybe only when you’re in it with him. Even writing about the future and him stating he wants a family by any means, you could only imagine a deep possessiveness inside of him to claim you as such. Even if you were able to have his biological children or not, he’d still make sure you felt like you did.

But back to your journey. 

The course of the trains provided you an oversight of the new lands you had yet to ever see, as it was the beginning stages of territories turning into states. The rides were long, and adjusting to the set time zones was a large throw-off to your circadian rhythm. Having already traveled two states west, it was difficult to decide on which line would grant you the fastest access to Johnny. Luckily enough, a kind person in the Denver station helped point out that taking the route from northern Nevadah into California would grant you the fastest time, and ease your solo traveling. 

The kind person stated that they were in a similar situation and now waiting for the train, having a bit of time to offer some advice while making it toward their end goal. Thanking them with bountiful wishes and good luck’s in their journey, you were on your way.

It took four more days to find yourself in Temecula, California. An astonishing change from the desert lands that reflected the sun so brightly now showed the capabilities of a plush environment of greenery and clouds. The train station was reached as the sunlight began pouring in over the mountains; being quick on your feet, and from the other settlers being far too tired, you found a deal on the last remaining horse available. 

Traveling by horseback prompted challenges with reading Johnny's directions, and you did not want to admit that you were lost. The lack of directory and signage left you getting flustered already by noon and being left alone in such a rural area in between towns felt far more daunting than any part of this trip. Passing by stagecoaches who all seemed to know their way around, you filed in line through a secondary road filled with houses in the valley of the small mountains.

Three hours later and a small urge to cry while having given up on re-reading the letter, you accepted defeat when you saw someone sitting on their porch down a dirt road with his house being the only one there.

“Hi! Excuse me, sir?” The sound of your voice breaks through the stillness of the settling valley, enough to make the man look up from the table he is currently hunched over.

“Would you mind helping me out by giving me directions?” Willing yourself to not blush or shrink into your large coat, embarrassment running through your chest while in the new environment.

For a moment, the man doesn't seem to acknowledge you, having to do a double take before his eyes widen in surprise. The toothpick that was delicately hanging on his lip falls to the ground, less he even notices before he sits up straight readjusting his hat, and clears his throat.

“‘Course, my dear. How can I be of service.” His accent is rich, leading you to believe that he’s been raised in the West, and has a perfectly smooth twang to his speech as it leaves his side smile.

“I’m looking for the country store… There’s supposed to be an old Coke sign on it.” The words leave you in a higher pitch than you’d normally speak, having a handsome stranger stare at you with a wide-eyed stare as he watches your lips move. “And to be honest- I wouldn’t know if I’m in the right place to begin with.” 

As if snapped back to reality again, eye contact cut short as he blinks before looking down the road and then back to you. “Ah, store’ way down yonder with a crossing sign. If yer’ headed west then a left will take you to the interstate,” A nod confirms his sense of confidence in his directions, explaining it plain and simple as the roads that his house lies on.

The smile that crosses your face lights your eyes, and it's the most relief you’ve gotten ever since getting on horseback. “Thank you, I really do appreciate it.” Your hands pull on the reigns of the horse, already turning around to try and beat sunset before it's too dark to ride alone.

Before you’re out of earshot, “When you’re in, you gotta stop and ask Ms. Bell for somma’ her sweet tea. But remember, take a right, and you’ll end up right back here to me.” The wink that leaves him makes you question if you’re seeing things in the late light of the day, but you’re sure he can see the blush that burns your cheeks.

A laugh leaves you before nodding in response, now clicking your horse into a quick trot while you’re high on the adrenaline from the interaction. Well… at least you have a backup plan in case your bachelor doesn't work out.

Arriving far too quickly than you’d expect, the store was only a few minutes down the road and concealed by a line of trees. Hitching your horse and walking into the store on stiff legs, you plan on following the stranger's advice to get some sweet tea.

The bell above the door jingles as you walk in, catching the attention of the older woman behind the counter. Here eyes take in your form, surprised such a fresh-faced person has arrived this late into the day. “How can I help you, sweetheart?” Her voice rings out a bit rough, someone who knows how to pull her weight if trouble would arrive.

“I’m actually looking to get to someone's home near town, but I was told to make my way from this store to not get lost.” A pause as your eyes take in the scenery of the rustic store; A layer of dust settled onto the wooden floors as shelves are stocked with an assortment of canned goods, spices, and a few refrigerators labeled as eggs and milk. “Met a stranger on the way and was told I should get some sweet tea here, too.”

Her eyes, still studying you as you speak and noting your accent, or lack thereof, bring a small quirk to her face. “Well, lemme get you some of my tea while you get yourself found.” Leaving her seat she makes her way to a wall in the back, pulling out two large mason jars with a light brown liquid. 

“That stranger you met- was he small ways up north fr’mere?” The smile on her face grows as she walks back to her seat at the register as you walk forward to meet her.

“Yes… A lone house down a single road. Blue eyes, brown hair, and some stubble.” The answer is pulled from you automatically, reciting the mental image of him.

“Toothpick in his mouth?”

The question is almost absurd in how spot-on she is, but then again this is a very small town. “Yes.”

The answer makes her laugh, somewhat un-ladylike when compared to the women from your home, and the noise makes you startle in place for a second.

“That damn Johnny makes me work my ass off to keep this tea in stock. He’s been so stressed waiting for his person to come ‘nd has been drinking me straight out of this stuff.” She levels when calming down for a moment, now placing the jars in bags.

She has yet to look back up at you and fails to notice your limbs seemingly frozen in place as the air leaves your lungs. That was Johnny?

“I’m so sorry ma’am. Did you say that was Johnny? As in MacTavish?”

The rustle of the brown paper bags stops, her eyes darting up to find yours. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She murmurs lowly before a sly smile takes over her face. “You’re here, and you’re damned too good from what you made yourself out to be, sweetheart.” 

Still frozen with your mind reeling, adrenaline begins to pump back into your bloodstream while a jolt alights your muscles. “Oh- I’m so sorry ma’am, I must get going its getting late and-”

The sliding of the jars on her counter interrupts your rambling, “Ah ah, its Ms. Bell dear, and you best be taking this with you to him. Don’t worry bout nothin’ but I’m happy to welcome you to the town.” 

If you looked now, you could notice the tremor in your hands. Nodding and taking the bag, a rush of endless ‘thank you’s’ and an elated smile seats itself permanently before loading the bags on the saddle and turning back around to start galloping forward back towards where you once were.

—

The sound of horses and wagons isn’t a constant to Santa Ysabel during the night hours, usually only occurring after the dayshift ends. As Johnny sits on his porch, his mind muddled with confusion as he stews over his soon-to-be partner arrives, thoughts of the stranger asking for directions makes him confused.

Fresh toothpick in his mouth as he widdles away at a bar of tallow, working to pull off glycerine for work. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence, right? The picture you sent was muddled down with water stains, and he blamed it on the damn train that sent your envelopes out this way. It was beginning sunset, and though he couldn't make out most of your features because of the coat you concealed yourself in- 

The bar of soap drops to the ground and he curses, now jumping out of his mind and into the present. 

The sound of hooves beating and approaching make him look up.

There, Here, you’re back again and the whites of your teeth are illuminated by the fading sun to show your smile.

Slowing down your horse to a stop, breathing in a slight pant as compared to your horses, the smile never leaves you.

“Figure you need some more directions, sweetheart?” His drawl leaves him, standing to make his way towards you. 

“Take off your hat.” The response is curt, and demanding in a way, but that glimmer of excitement makes it sound so sweet.

Johnny himself is befuddled for a moment, eyebrow cocked but complies anyway. Now raising the hat off of his head and holding it to his chest, his eyes answer for him. This what you wanted?

A small sound of excitement leaves you, nodding before your leg swings over your saddle, dismounting with a small jump and walking forward.

“Johnny, it's me.”

A swear leaves his mouth, accompanied by a rush of air before he drops his hat to the side and plucks hit toothpick out with it. The smile that coats his face makes him appear so young and boyish at heart as he moves forward with arms open to wrap around your hips with a low growl, “C’mere you,”

You could be embarrassed by the small squeal that leaves you, but you couldn’t give a rat's ass on anything right now. He spins you around for a quick moment, arms around your body as he lifts you easily with his strength.

Staring down into his eyes, you grab a shoulder while the other hand cups his jaw. “Didn’t know it was you until Ms. Bell said something.”

He laughs, head tilting back in bewilderment at the situation and excitement. “Talkin bout her sweet tea?” He asks while setting you down on your feet, hands never straying as he pulls you against him and traverses over your body.

“Yes, gave me some to bring home.”

The use of home sparks his heart with a bright thrum, butterflies encasing his stomach while he rumbles out a laugh. The texture of his hands is both soft and ruff, his thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones before one hand moves to brush over your hair, cupping the back of your neck.

“Well, in that case, welcome home, sweety.” The rumble sends a shiver down your spine, eyes darting over his face before settling on his lips. A breath settles before you look back into his sharp blue eyes, as he looks at you seemingly waiting for permission.

A small nod of your head and gently pulling him towards you, the band on the back of your head pulls you forward as he brings your lips together. The taste of him has a spice to it, the favor of cinnamon cotes his lips and brings a slow burn over yours while his body’s warmth brings another wave.

The stubble of his beard rubs your face- and it's a welcome feeling as compared to the winds of the valleys whipping past you. Something you’d gladly leave your skin bright red and raw from hours of the feeling.

Before growing too heated, you part with a small gasp and trail him slightly before blinking to find his smirk growing as a low rumble vibrates against you. “Let's get you settled in, then we can celebrate s’more.”

--------

[Who do you all think the reader met at the train station? If you get the song reference for their meeting you get two gold stars! I hope yall enjoy.]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 9

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

(Yes I'm procrastinating rn)

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

You sit behind the glass and yawn in the deathly din of the transit office. You lazily scroll a finger over your phone. The brief rush has dissipated so now you're free to read old forums about the cult classic show you've been bingeing.

Despite your hours being cut, every shift feels too long. The time is dull as most people buy their passes online or get tickets at a kiosk in the mall. So you work is minimal and the pay even less. Not to mention, your patience.

You lean your chin in your hand and press your finger to your lashes, trying to keep the old mascara from stinging your eyes. The chirp of the sensor has you sitting up and you nearly bite your tongue as you try to greet the customer. Not him!

“Closed,” you lie and reach for the metal gate above, struggling to clasp onto the handle.

“Hours say–”

“Get the fuck out, dude,” you snarl and hop, rolling down the grate and slamming it into place.

You swear as it hits your phone, knocking it through the small slot under the glass partition, locking it out and you in. You lock the bottom, not caring about the burner. Fuck it, you only ever text Snicky.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky stops by your phone, bending to pick it up, “how many of these you lost so far?”

He wiggles the phone at you, am eighty dollar Polaroid piece of shit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Ah, what's happened to customer service these days?” He tuts and comes closer, shoulder broad and rolling. “Look, I'm not here for me, right?” He tucks your phone in his jacket pocket, “my friend, Steve, the string bean, he likes you.”

“I don't fucking know you. Or him. And I don't wanna know you–”

“You don't? Cause I think I got to know you pretty well–”

“Fucking ass–”

“Let's not keep going through this, alright? Now, I've been pretty damn nice. Do you know how much you can learn from a phone? I know you're about thirty-seven dollars in overdraft and your Instagram keeps popping up with pictures of that dumb girl that hangs off you.”

“How, I–”

“Locked me out? You think,” he taps on the glass on the other side of the gate, “what if I made you a deal?”

“I'm not into the hard stuff,” you scoff.

“Didn't seem to mind it,” he winks, “maybe coulda gone for something lighter…”

“What do you want?” You bark.

“Alright, alright, like I said, it's not me,” he smirks, his gaze creeping up and down your figure. “My friend, he's got no luck with the girls. Told me you stood up for him. That's sweet despite… being you.”

“So you wanna be my pimp? Oh, fuck off–”

“A date. That's it.” His hand tightens in his pocket, gripping your phone. “Humour him. He's been moping about you all week.”

“Yeah right, I'm not stupid–”

“You won't see me. Really, I got plans. Saturday's are good for business, not worth the cut.”

Your nostrils flare. You want to be done with it, him, that club, and all the losers who hang out there. You bite down and cross your arms, glaring at him.

“How about… three hundred?” He offers. “Up front.”

He shifts and pulls the phone out of his pocket. He sets it before the slot in the window then reaches into his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and counts several bills.

“He'll pay for dinner. He's the old fashioned type, you know? Just wear something sexy.”

You scowl, furrowing your nose as your mouth dries. You can't believe you're even considering this. Are you that low?

Well, hes offering as much as you get in a week and the last chunk of your rent. So yes, you are.

“Saturday?” You ask crisply.

“Seven,” he slides the money and phone against the bottom of the gate, “I'll send you the time and place.”

“If I even hear your name–”

“Relax,” he backs up, “I got mine. Just take it easy on my pal.” He smirks and uns his thumb along his bottom lip, “he's a virgin.”

“You're nasty.”

“Oh I know I'm just your type but he's better for you,” he chuckles and turns, stalking to the door, “and if you don't show, I'll be back to collect and trust,” he pauses, “I always get what I'm owed.”

The door swings shut and you stare after him. Slowly you look down and unlock the gate. You push it up and reach for the phone and the bills. The skinny one can’t cause you that much trouble, can he?

[estoricwaterlane]

A Fools Gamble

character: Thomas Shelby

fandom: Peaky Blinders

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

tags: fluff,romance,slowburn

a/n: heyy guys I'm back took a long break lol

She looked around the train station, feeling lost and disoriented.

She had never ventured so far from her posh, upper-class home in London before, and the only time she had ever been to Birmingham was when her parents dragged her to visit the country's biggest industrial center for the annual Cotton Fair.

Her thoughts shifted to the reason for her journey, and her face flushed with excitement at the memory of their secret rendezvous.

She called over a porter and inquired about the whereabouts of the Marriott Hotel.

The man politely directed her to the ticket booth, where she purchased a ticket for the local tram. She climbed aboard the trolley and marveled at the bustling crowds milling about. There she saw him, a strikingly handsome man with dark, wavy hair and piercing blue eyes.

She knew immediately that she had to have him.

Once they reached the hotel, she slipped the porter a few extra pounds to procure her a room for the evening, and then she entered the bar, hoping to catch the gentleman's eye. "May I fetch you a drink?" she asked him seductively.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you speaking to me, miss?"

"I am. Are you opposed to beautiful women approaching you, Mr. . . ?"

"Mr. Shelby, Thomas Shelby," he replied.

People at all corners of the bar were eyeing you as if you were some sort of spectacle, and it was something that she was used to.

Being from a wealthy family had its perks, but the attention was something that she disliked.

"Well, Mr. Shelby, I shall take your silence as a yes, and shall get you the finest Scotch in Birmingham," she said, flagging down the barman.

"I don't like being patronized," Mr. Shelby replied.

"Neither do I," she said. "Tell me, are you a betting man?"

Mr. Shelby's eyes lit up with interest. "I am, although I'm afraid I don't gamble with women," he said.

She pulled out a handful of bills from her purse and slid them toward him. "Then I suggest we bet on whether or not you will fall in love with me."

Mr. Shelby smirked. "And what are the stakes?"

"If I win, you will join me in my hotel room for the evening. If you win, then I will buy you a bottle of the finest Scotch to help you forget all about me."

He looked at his watch. "It's getting rather late, Miss . . ."

"___," she responded. "Miss ___."

"If you'll excuse me, Miss ___, I have a business appointment to attend."

He slipped the money back into her purse and walked toward the door. She sat back and took a sip of her cocktail, watching him go.

[rhodesrider]

Hi can you do mafia CG! Judgement day and the rest is up too you :)

Kettle corn

CG! Mafia! Judgement Day x Little! Y/N

-Minors DNI-

Warnings: Cussing and threats of murder.Age regression like behavior and affirmation nicknames

Cold nights were the best nights for interrogations. The man was thrown on the ground, feeling the sharp rocks stick on his arm he whined in pain some and rubbed his arm staying on the ground. “Listen, listen to me please I promise I’ll have your money by next month I need more time-“ soon a sharp kick was to his chest. “We gave you time. And it’s been ran out. So cough it up old man.” The figure spoke with the purple bandana over his mouth. The other figures were searching the car finding luggage and airplane tickets.

“Trying to run out on us Robert?”

Robert, still on the rocky ground, looking up seeing the figure come closer and removed the bandana. “Rhea…” He mumbled and scooted back some. Seeing fear in his eyes only made Rhea smile. “What’s wrong Robby? Looking like you seen a ghost.” She smirked. “I’m tired of giving chances on you know that.” “Please I just need a little more time. I won’t run I promise.” Rhea just sighed and pulled out a small yet sharp knife, pointing it on Robert’s neck as Finn and Damien revealed themselves next. “You’re wasting my time Robby. You always do. But we give you break after break because you keep mentioning your family. Speaking of which, how is your family? You know the one you haven’t seen in weeks?” His eyes widened seeing he was caught in his lies. “Yea I asked some of my police dogs to run by your house and your wife was so worried. You haven’t been home in weeks. Your children haven’t seen you in weeks and you-“ she pointed the tip in his neck seeing some blood show. “-you lie to me. I take family very seriously Robby ol boy.” She hissed. He looked in her eyes seeing nothing but a black soul, bodies have seen her face before they die slow. “So what, you hop on a plane? And go where? I have connects out my ass to make sure your life is a living hell.” She continued smiling. Soon Damien felt his phone vibrate, he looked at the contact and sighed some walking away from the conflict to answer.

“Princess not now we are working.”

On the other side on the phone was their prize possession. All of theirs. Y/N pouted as she was in her big king sized bed, watching the canopy flow from the vent giving her fresh air. “But papa, where are you guys? It’s getting lates and mama said we can watch a movie…” she whined. Damien forgot about the movie night, it slipped his mind as he found out that Robert was trying to skip down from the police officers they hired. “You are right we are sorry Princesa, let me tell the rest and we will be on our way. Do you want some sweets?” He always spoils her rotten along with Rhea. “Hmm, kettle corn please?” He smiled. “Ok I’ll get it for you. But no getting outta bed waiting for us.” “Yes sir! I love you papa!” She quickly hung up getting in bed grabbing her one of many jumbo pokemon stuffed animals waiting for her caregivers to come home.

“Wrap it up.” Damien called out and Dom nodded going to get a large can out from their trunk. Gasoline. Robert watched him the whole time but was quickly back on Rhea. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.” She hisses and puts her knife away. “You look like you need some weight off though, why don’t you have a nice stroll home.” She smiled and soon a single match was set by Finn as Dominic finished up soaking his belongings and car in the fluid. “The next time I see you, is with our funds along with you so you can keep your fucking scumbag of a life.” She whispered in his ear as he watched his car go in flames and the men walk away to their car. Rhea stood up from her knee and waved goodbye, but first turned around with dark eyes. “Another week. Or else you’re dead.” She smiles hearing the crackle of fire from the burning car. They drove away as they heard Robert cry out in anger and pain as he lost his last way to get out of his situation.

“Ok, she wanted sweets?” Rhea asked removing her bandana and putting it in the glove department. “Kettle corn, Finn did you make sure she drunk some-“ Before Damien could finish, Finn showed him a picture of the water bottle he bought her with times on it. All the way down to the bottom. “Awesome. Dom did you text drew to make sure she was finished with her activities?” Dom blinked forgetting about her homework activities, and he’s pretty sure he didn’t tell drew. “Imma take that as a no. It’s ok I’m pretty sure she finished some of it.” Damien said in hope. “Damien we were busy all day and Drew is a good babysitter-“ “Yea but we all need to make sure she does what she’s suppose to.” He said. Rhea rolled her eyes and pulled up to the side store to get the big bad of kettle corn.

Drew was knocked out on the couch, the team looking down at him in annoyance. “Well I’m glad she’s still breathing.” Damien sighed and went to get the rest of the snacks ready for her. “Drew get up.” Rhea punched him up and he jumped. “Ah fuck don’t scare me like that.” He huffed looking around. “Fuck how long was I out?” “Who knows but you’re in trouble~” Dom teased and Finn pushed him out the way. “You were suppose to be watching her.” Drew soon remembered and sighed. “My bad. I was just tired.” He soon noticed a black blanket was around him and he smiled some.

Earlier when we was watching over the house and her, he was yawning a lot as he was finishing up the dishes and getting Y/N ready for bed. She watched him the whole time rubbing his eyes and bags forming. “Uncle Drew?” She said lightly and he grumbled as he was sat down on the couch. “Sorry munchkin I don’t really feel like playing.” She smiled and nodded as she already had the blanket ready. “Mind going up to bed dear? I’ll be there I’m just getting myself together.” She nodded and laid the blanket to the side as she went upstairs slow. After a while, maybe a hour, she tip-toed back down and she saw he was out cold sleeping. She took the blanket and put it over him and kissed his cheek heading back up so he wouldn’t get in trouble for not tucking her in.

“Welp she would have been down by now if she was awake so she probably sleep.” Rhea sighs. “I’ll check.” Finn saids and he jogs up. Finn then goes in the door and she’s the bed sleeping peacefully, he smiled and slithers in. She had the covers half way on her so Finn fixed the blanket giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. A soft smile was shown after on her face as he went back to the door leaving out. “Yea she’s sleep.” He confirmed and everyone smiled. “We could just have a movie day tomorrow. Get her somebody snacks and then go to the park or something.” Rhea was planning. They come home happily to her, give her anything she needs and wants. Spoil her rotten. That was their princess. No one elses. Everyone else sees them as evil and ruthless people, but in her eyes she sees them as a safe haven, not an ounce of evil no where in sight, and they love every moment.

Nothing was better than having their princess in their arms.

[samstclair]

Tommy Shelby's Barmaid

Tommy Shelby X Reader

Anonymous Request - 

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

Word Count: pretty long

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

"And where are we off to, Miss?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ello Miss? Miss?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh my god, you guys exist?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Their faces dropped with fear. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y'all got a menu?" 

"I'm sorry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were flabbergasted. Dude REEKED of some ale. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Queen?" he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Def," you said.

"So you and Kendall?" another asked.

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

"But this is Birmingham?" another man said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You clicked play. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's a credit score?"

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

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

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

He didn't reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Bagpipes, I've heard."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine. I'm avoiding parole."

"Parole?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Most nights," he said. 

"Don't worry, me too."

"You served?"

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

"I wasn't aware women served."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What if I just grabbed his hat?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"♪ Overwhelmed, overwork, underpaid ♪ -"

"Can you sing?"

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

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

"Every barmaid knows how to sing."

"Okay, sure. Like acapella?"

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

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

"Lana. She sounds nice."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you have something nice to wear?"

"Like what?"

"A dress?"

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

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

"We're gonna race?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tommy turned back to the road. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Like, carpool karaoke," you suggested. 

"What?" John asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not hungry."

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

"Maybe later. Do you dance?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wot?" Kimber spat. 

You almost laughed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, you spotted a familiar face. You ran. 

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

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

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

"The mouth on you -"

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

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

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

"You look absolutely GHASTLY darling!"

"Girl move -"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The woman smiled. You loved hyping the girls up!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ew, why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn't help but smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not familiar with them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Video Games (hello it's for Tommy)

Love Song (this makes them all cry)

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N, don't."

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

Besides that, everything was great and chill.

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

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

"Yeah, what?"

"Do you know about a Thomas Shelby?" 

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

"Do you know where I can find him?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lana or Nicki?"

"Lana."

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cleared your throat. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, Tommy -"

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

"Stop what -"

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

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

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

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

"Tommy -"

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

Spin. Spin. Spin.

"LET IT BLOODY RIP!"

And there it was. 

And there you went. 

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

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

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

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

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

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo, 

~Sam St. Clair

[juliedrawz]

I saw some old posts where people addressed Héctor's flaws. I got stomach aches reading them because I think they got it totally wrong! I couldn't get it out of my mind, so here I am, putting my salt into the soup!

~

First things first, EVERYONE's got flaws! Nobody is perfect. Everyone's done and is doing mistakes. And with Héctor, we need to look very carefully, consider 1. His character and 2. His situation.

Right off the bat, what some see as flaws are actually GOOD character traits merely tending to bring trouble because the world is dark and twisted most of the time! Héctor is one of the most selfless and altruistic characters ever! He'd give everything for those he loves and this immense love also makes him reckless sometimes.

Let's beginn with the first flaw pointed out by others.

"Héctor let himself be persuaded to go on tour with Ernesto. He should have said no."

Yes, Ernesto talked Héctor into his idea, BUT, they were best friends! As close as brothers! Héctor came along because 1. He loved Ernesto and 2. He wanted to provide for his wife and daughter! Even if that meant he had to do something he was slightly uncomfortable with. Ignoring his wants to stay at home, he took the chance! He took the risk. If being away for a while meant more money and hence a better life for his family, he gladly make that jump! It is absolutely selfless but also admireble! Like, that's what a good father does! He couldn't have know how much Ernesto would change during that time, nor that he would eventually snap and get him killed. And Héctor did stand up for himself! He's not a weak, idiot who let's himself get pushed around! Most of the time he's just peace seeking and slow to anger! Which, are RIGHT traits according to God! And to me too! It might get you hurt and some people might take adventage of your kindness but what exactly is bad then? Your kindness, selflessness or those mean people? Aha, see what I'm getting at? Nobody should change their positove traits or harden their hearts just because others are in darkness! It's a whole different thing to draw lines and stand up for yourself. And Héctor does!

"His irresbonsibility"

*big sigh* Ok, there are 2 reasons mentioned to put the stamp irresponsible on Héctor's forehead and it get's me mad!

The thing about him lending things and losing them all! Well, Héctor tried desperatly to cross the flower bridge for decades! He tried everything to cross. Lending himself stuff and noz being able to return them wasn't because he's careless and irresponsible! He just couldn't bring them back! Take a look at his broken bones, his knocked out teeth, his scratches and THINK for a second! All the horrific accidents he must have gotten into. He surely aimed to bring each and every item back but they all got lost or destroyed in the process. And I don't think Héctor made an attempt to cross with it most likely failing at the back of his mind. He just went for it! Remember how he bolted forward once he was through the check? All his mind is focused on is "I need to get to and see my baby!" And before that it was "I need to get to and see my wife and baby!"

If Héctor had the chance to bring the items back, he would have! He wanted to take the Frida costume back but who forbit him to do so? The officer! (Joke's on him though because it'll be Ceci giving him hell later"

He was being irresponsible with Miguel ...

Someone said it would have been easier to just hand over Miguel to the police and have them sort it out! Well, have you seen how Miguel ran from his own family to get his way? He ran from Héctor too once he figured out Miguel had relatives around! Héctor helped Miguel first and foremost because out of desperstion! Miguel was the BIGGEST ticket for him to be able to cross, by letting him bring the photo back. But for Miguel to do so, he had to help him bring him to Ernesto. And that's what Héctor did. He tried hi best to get Miguel to Ernesto as fast as possible. Not to forget, that it was a race of life and death for both.

And Miguel is a kid! And obviously he's acting like one now and then! And Héctor paniced when Miguel ran off. Because he worried for him! If his deal wouldn't work, he would look for another way but Miguel could die! Yes, Héctor might not always make right decissions, but he is giving his best and he always means well! And we also need tp consider his condition! He knows he'll most likely not last the night, yet he still risks that and helps Miguel.

Of course we see Hèctor later on pleading with Miguel one last time that they had a deal but then in the cenote, he caves in. He's getting weaker by the second, the process of him fading has begun. And even through his pain, he is still comforting Miguel.

Him being clumsy and him lying is also often seen as one of his flaws. And while I absolutely agree, that yes, he's a huge clutz and he's both accident prone and sometimes too reckless when it comes to his own health and savety, I wouldn't call his lying a flaw in the classical way. Because, the only times we see Héctor lying in the movie is so he can get as much as a hinge closer to his goal of crossing the bridge. That's how important his daughter is to him! Lying is never good, but he lies out of desperation. (In my book, young Héctor sometimes used his catch phrase "That was a lie! I apologize for it!" as a means of his humor, and, or to calm his opposite. And Héctor is darn humorous!

Now to what I point out in my book, not necessarily flaws but things that get Héctor into trouble often

His kindness

His altruismn, selflessness

Him ignoring his own needs and wants for the wellbeing of others

His clumsiness

His recklessness

His trait to always see the good in people

His stubborness

And while most of those are wonderful character traits, as mentioned above, in a world where such personalities as Hèctor are rare, it's hard to get around.

What do you guy's think?

[archiveikemen]

Harrison Gray Main Story: Chapter 4 Premium Story

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

(... I can’t believe this is how he’s making me repay him.)

As a way to repay him for helping me at the casino, Harrison suggested that…

Kate: … A cafe?

Harrison: There’s not much of a crowd here, but this cafe opens till late at night and has delicious food.

Harrison: Excuse me. I’ll have grape cake, cheesecake, chocolate parfait… and also…

Kate: I can’t eat that much!

Harrison: Huh? Who said that I’m ordering for you? This is all for myself.

(Erm… all of it?)

Harrison: Master, I’ll have a sweetened strawberry flavoured milk as well. Alright, you go ahead and order too.

Kate: Is this all… because I was too conceited?

Harrison: Maybe. Thanks for the treat.

…

The sound of the doorbell ringing as we exited the cafe echoed into the quiet street at night.

Kate: … And there goes my money meant for buying play tickets. Again.

Harrison: But the food was good, right?

Kate: Of course! I didn't notice that place hidden in an alley even when I was making deliveries as a postwoman.

(The ricotta pancakes were to die for. They were so fluffy and melted in my mouth, they were so delicious…)

Harrison: You repaid me, gained valuable information, and got to eat good food. Isn't that a good thing?

Kate: Yes!

(Huh…? I have a feeling that I just got taken for a ride.)

As I inwardly wracked my brain, Harrison muttered “speaking of which…”.

Harrison: In 10 minutes time, your 3 days will be over.

Harrison’s gaze pointed towards the clock face on Big Ben.

(Right. So many things have been happening lately that the promise almost completely slipped out of my mind.)

Unfortunately, I failed to obtain any useful information “from him”.

Harrison: Judging from that look on your face, I guess it's safe to say that I’ve won?

(If I admit my loss now, Harrison will never allow me near him again, just as he said.)

(The opportunity to get to know Harrison will be lost forever.)

I didn't know why, but I had this strange pang of loneliness welling up inside me when that thought came to mind.

He was a carefree and mean liar whose mind I could never read.

Sometimes, he would stare into my eyes as if looking at what was in my heart. And his eyes occasionally contained a hint of loneliness.

(... Yeah. I want to get to know Harrison better.)

(I want to know things like what makes him happy, or what makes him upset.)

A mild impulse surged in me, giving me motivation.

Kate: The game hasn't ended yet.

Harrison: …?

Kate: Harrison, you “never leave someone in need”.

Back there at the casino, Harrison could've chosen to leave me in the lurch — but he didn't.

(At that point of time… I was really glad he did that.)

Kate: I think that this is a very useful piece of information about you.

Harrison: …

Kate: So, um…

(That was just an excuse.)

And then, the atmosphere around me changed.

Harrison: Pfft, haha! What on earth was that?

Harrison: You sound so desperate. I thought you’re just way too kind-hearted, but you’re surprisingly resilient too.

(... This is the first time I’m seeing his genuine smile.)

His smile was gentle unlike his usual aloof smile.

It completely stole my heart.

Harrison slowly came closer to me and peered into my face.

Harrison: What’s with that face?

Kate: Oh, um… I was just thinking that this is the first time I’m seeing you smile.

Harrison: I’m a human being, of course I can smile. It’s a natural thing.

Kate: Well, that’s true.

Kate: But this is the first time you’ve smiled in front of me, right?

(This smile must be precious, so I should remember it well.)

As I grinned in satisfaction, Harrison gently pressed a beautiful finger to my cheek.

Kate: W- What are you doing…?

Harrison: Me too.

Harrison: It’s my first time seeing you smile too.

Harrison: You should smile more often. It suits you.

Harrison narrowed his eyes and pulled his hand away, then distanced himself.

Kate: … I knew it, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, just forget about—

Harrison: Fine.

Kate: … Huh?

Harrison: Seeing how resilient you are, I’ll let you win our bet.

Kate: Are you being serious…?

Harrison: What, do you want me to lie?

I shook my head, and Harrison smiled.

Harrison: If I say no to you, I’ll have to deal with you getting all depressed and sulking.

Harrison: I mean, you’ll only be here for a month anyway. So do whatever you want, I guess?

Kate: Yes, I’ll definitely do that!

Harrison: Goodness.

And with that, Harrison was about to start walking again when…

Harrison: …

Harrison: Hey, can you walk in front of me?

Kate: Why?

Harrison: My fox curse causes me to get distracted when there’s someone next to me.

Kate: I see. Got it, I’ll pay attention to that next time.

I nodded and did as I was told.

(He’s giving me information about the fox curse after our bet has ended. … As expected, he’s mean.)

I could hear the sound of his footsteps coming from a little distance behind me.

Harrison: — Who made that kiss mark on your neck?

Kate: K- Kiss mark!?

Harrison: Yeah, there’s a very obvious one on your neck. Your partner must be…

Kate: I- It’s definitely not that! Maybe it’s just an insect bite or something.

Harrison: I lied.

Kate: … Lied?

Harrison: Pfft… I’m amazed by how you managed to live this long.

(Did he just play me? Geez… I can never let my guard down around him.)

Feeling frustrated with how easily he fooled me, I walked away in silence.

And then I heard a clattering sound from behind me.

(...?)

I turned around to see Harrison shaking a metal tin.

Harrison: Mints. Here, you have one too.

Kate: … Mint is a hit or miss kind of flavour.

Harrison: Hmm. Fine if you don't want it.

Kate: I do!

Harrison: Then, I’ll feed it to you mouth to mouth.

Kate: You’re lying, right? I won’t let you fool me anymore.

Harrison: I’m serious.

Kate: … What?

Harrison: Yeah I’m lying.

(D- Darn it!)

Harrison: Here, take one.

He tossed me a mint from behind.

Harrison narrowed his eyes as I looked at the mint candy I caught in my hands.

I popped the candy into my mouth and started walking again.

The candy tasted refreshing and slightly sweet at the same time.

I was reminded of Harrison’s mint coloured eyes.

(Harrison is like mint candy.)

His footsteps echoing behind me, and for some reason I…

I found it hard to look back at him.

[lostfirefly]

Thank you, driver, for getting me here, you'll be an inspector, have no fear, I don't want to cause no fuss, but can I buy your Magic Bus?

I swear this fic came to me in a dream! Even dialogues! I just tweaked them a bit :) English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: You and your sister are taking the bull to the farm. You board the only bus that can transport bulls, the driver of which is Buggy.

Warnings: Buggy and F!Reader. Just a stupid shitty shit.

Words: 2137

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @yujo-nishimura

The title is taken from “Magic Bus” by The Who.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Here! It's coming!” You stood at the bus stop with your sister and watched the bus approaching.  “Hanse, stay still.” 

“Are you sure this is the bus we need?” Your sister asked you, pointinng at the carriage.

“Yeah, it's the only one that carries bulls.” You pointed to a brown bull with a bell around his neck that you were holding on a rope. “Thank God Freedom Farm has agreed to take him in.” 

“God, I never thought we'd be rescuing a bull.” Your sister replied. 

A yellow bus pulled up to the stop and you and your sister entered through the back doors. 

“Hanse, let's go. Come on in. Good boy! You'll be safe soon.” You got the bull into the bus and put him next to you. 

More people came in after you. 

“Shit! I realized I only had enough money to pay the bull's fare.” You checked all the pockets of your jacket, pants, and wallet.

“Beautiful, sister! Just beautiful! What are we gonna do?” 

“Let's hope that one day the control doesn't get on the bus, and we get to the farm safely.” You shrugged and straightened the leash.

You had traveled about thirty minutes when the bus suddenly stopped and two controllers entered the cabin. They were tall men wearing gold necklaces around their necks. They began to check the tickets of all the passengers. Finally, it was your turn.

“Your tickets, girls.” Asked one of the ticket checkers. 

“Look, here's the thing. It's a totally stupid situation. I lost my wallet and I can't pay for a ticket.” You were smiling at the checker.

“Is this one with you, too?” One of the men pointed to the bull.

“Yes. We're taking him to the farm.” You looked from the checker to the bull and then back to the checker. 

“Have you bought the ticket for him?” One of the men asked sternly.

“We were just about to do that, sir.” You spoke with worry in your voice.

“All right, but since you only have money for the bull, I must fine you for traveling without a ticket. And you know how we mark people like you.” He took your sister's hand, then grabbed her finger with his fingers and was about to cut the phalanx. 

“No, no, please! Wait a minute!” You rushed to the bus driver's cab.

“Sir, sir! Mister!” You knocked on a small window. 

The cabin's window lowered, and you saw a man with a big red nose, blue hair and a clown makeup on his face. 

“Oh, my God.” Suddenly it came out of your mouth. 

“What do you want?” The driver answered rather sharply.

“Sir! You see. I have this situation. My sister and I are taking the bull to the farm. Your bus is the only one that can transport them. But we only have enough money to pay for Hanse.” You took the money out of your pockets and handed it to him. “The controllers want to penalize us, but please, can we ride for free? I'll pay you back later.”

He looked at you without any emotion and lifted the window.

“Hey!” You knocked again. “You didn't answer!”

There was silence in response.

“Asshole!” You mumbled.

You slowly walked back to your sister, with the controllers standing beside you. You shook your head, clearly showing your sister that the negotiation had failed. 

“Well, ladies, your hands, please.” The men took your fingers and were already bringing small knives to your phalanges when suddenly the driver's window rolled down.

“Hey, you two.” A clown's head peeked out of the cab and barked at the controllers. “Leave the girls alone. They are with me.” 

“With you? Are you sure?” One of the men asked in surprise. 

“Why would I say that about people I don't know? I know them. Her.” He pointed his finger at you. “And apparently her.” He pointed his finger at your sister. “Now get off the bus, you're making me lose my schedule.”

The checkers shrugged and left the bus. You exhaled and continued on your way. 

“At least go say thank you.” Your sister whispered to you, pushing you in the shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah!” You hit yourself lightly on the forehead.

You got up from your seat and walked towards the driver's cab. 

“Sir! Mister!” You knocked on the window.

“What?” The answer came back to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” You answered hesitantly. 

Suddenly, the bus driver's window slid down, and you saw green eyes staring at you in surprise. 

“For what?” He barked.

“Well, you stood up for us. And to be fair, you're the reason we didn't get our fingers cut.” 

“Whatever.” He closed the window. 

“Thanks anyway.” You were walking towards your seat when you got a call.

“Hey!”

You turned toward the voice. A blue-haired head was looking at you again from the cabin. 

“Come back!” He beckoned you with his finger.

You turned around and walked back towards the driver's side.

“Look, since I saved you, if you say so, keep me company.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked in surprise.

“Well, let's have a chat or something while I drive you back to the farm with that stupid bull. I'm terribly bored today. Only old people get on the bus today. And I suddenly got a beautiful girl to make up for it. After all, you owe me. Otherwise, I'll drop you off and you'll walk to your farm.”

“All right! Only standing will not be very comfortable.” With a laugh in your voice, you replied. 

“That's not a problem.” He opened the door of his cabin and pulled out a small bench.

You sat down on the bench and crossed your legs.

“What is your name?” He asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/N. You?”

“Buggy. Buggy the Clown.”

“The clown? Why do you drive a bus? Did you get fired from the circus?” You laughed slightly.

“Long story. So, Y/N, are you the bull protector or something? Why are you taking him to the farm?”

“I got it from my grandmother, and I promised her to keep Hanse safe.” You glanced at the bull, who was already snoring peacefully on the seat. “Ok. Another question. Why are you so dressed up?” You looked him up and down. “Bandana, leather pants, striped vest and white gloves. Aren't bus drivers supposed to wear ugly, shapeless clothes?”

“Hah, muffin! I'm a flashy clown. And I should look flashy.”

“Well, this cannot be taken away. You are perhaps the most handsome bus driver I have ever met.” You scratched your cheek.

You noticed how he blushed.

“What do you do in your free time from work, Buggy the Clown? What do clowns do in their free time?”

“I do the same things which men do. Drink beer and eat hot dogs. Hold on, there's going to be a sharp turn.” Buggy carefully turned the steering wheel and turned onto another path.

The bus stopped and picked up new passengers. You heard the grumbling of passengers who asked to tell the driver about the places you were driving through.

“The old ladies are nagging you.” You laughed.

“Really?” Buggy looked out of his cabin and glanced at the passengers. “Fuck them, If they want a tour, let them choose another bus. I have more interesting company here. So, Y/N. Tell me more about yourself. Why are you travelling with your sister? Where is your boyfriend, and why did he let you go so far alone?”

“I would also like to know where my boyfriend is.” You nodded and smiled. “In fact, there is none. And you? Do you have a girlfriend? She probably also walks around in all this.. well.. you understand.” You carefully pointed to his face. “Makeup.”

“Ay-ay, Y/N, what kind of questions.” Buggy clucked his tongue. 

“Hah, that means there is no girl.” You snapped your fingers. “Gotcha!”

“Who told you that?” He raised one eyebrow and looked at you.

“You, and just now.” You pointed your finger at him.

You noticed your sister looking at you intently. You waved her off and made yourself more comfortable on the bench.

“So, Buggy the Clown. We have already found out that you don’t have a girlfriend, I don’t have a boyfriend. You love beer and hot dogs. And you are flashy.” You curled your fingers with every phrase. “Not a bad start, right?” 

“We also found out that you save bulls. Hold on tight, one more turn.” He carefully turned the steering wheel again, and drove along the road between the trees.

“Wow! The forest is so beautiful!” You said, looking through the front window. “Is this the road to the farm?”

“Yes, we're almost there. Another twenty minutes. And I'm glad that I will spend these twenty minutes in the company of a beautiful girl.” Buggy smiled and glanced at you. 

You blushed and felt warmth run through your hands.

“Ok, Buggy the Clown. Let's get back to our conversation. Tell me. What was the dumbest thing you did as a child?” You asked, tapping your fingers on your knee.

He tensed a little, then smiled strangely. “I ate some tasteless crap. And you?”

“I almost sent a hamster into space. I tied him to a homemade firecracker and was about to light the fuse. Thank God, mom noticed this in time and freed the unfortunate Coconut.” You chuckled.

“Is that why you save the bull? Are you making amends to the hamster?” He laughed, turning the steering wheel carefully.

“Hah, kind of.” You glanced at him with interest and cleared your throat. “Listen, maybe you can teach me how to drive a bus somehow?” You asked, leaning on the wall near the cabin.

“Why wait for this shitty “somehow”? Get in!” Buggy invited you into the cabin with a movement of his head.

“Seriously?” You asked in surprise.

“Why not? Just don't kill us all.”

He shifted in his seat and gave you some space. You glanced at your sister, who was looking at you questioningly, you smiled at her and climbed into his cabin.

“Hold the steering wheel like this and drive carefully.” He placed your hands on the steering wheel, and put his hands on your hands. You felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Listen, do you invite all the girls to your cabin?” You asked, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.

“I'm deeply offended, muffin. Who do you take me for? Hold the steering wheel.” He held your hands a little tighter and helped you drive the bus. “See! We've been driving for ten whole minutes, and you haven't sent us to another world yet.”

“Asshole!” You laughed. “Overall it's cool. I like it!”

“See? You're doing great, muffin!”

“I'm driving the bus! Yay! Ok! One more question! What are the little things that always make your day better?” You asked, trying not to smile, feeling the warmth of his hands even through his gloves.

“Today it's you!” He replied and blushed a little.

“Liar!” You giggled.

You took three more turns, constantly chatting and reached a large farm.

“Well, we've arrived.” He said, letting go of your hands. “I have to admit, this was the most fun trip I've had in the last couple of weeks.”

“Yes, I liked it too. Thank you!” You didn’t notice how you kissed him on the cheek with joy. You suddenly pulled away. “Sorry. I accidentally.”

You ran out of the cabin and ran to your sister and the bull.

“Let's go Hanse. Everyone is already waiting for you." You took the bull out of the bus and led him to the farm gate.

“Listen, sister. Wait two minutes.” You handed the leash to your sister and ran back to the bus.

“Hey, Buggy the Clown!” You held the handrail with your hand.

“What?” He asked, sipping coffee from a thermos.

“I just had a thought. That one driving lesson is not enough for me. How about we repeat?” You took a piece of paper out of your bag and wrote down your phone number. “Call me if you will need company.”

He carefully took the piece of paper, looked at it, then glanced at you and winked.

You jumped and ran happily to your sister. You brought the bull to the farm, filled out all the necessary documents, said goodbye to him and went back to the bus stop.

“I wonder how long we need to wait for the next bus?” Your sister asked, sitting down on a bench at the bus stop.

��I don't…”

You heard the horn and turned towards the sound. Your eyes widened when you saw the yellow bus.

“Hey, muffin, need a ride?”

[nightghoul381]

Dark If ~Jude Jazza

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

London, the capital of the United Kingdom, boasted glittering prosperity during the reign of her majesty Queen Victoria.

I’m an ordinary citizen who works as a postman in the city.

I don’t have enough money to buy tickets to the performances I want to see.

(Okay, everything has been delivered for today.)

(If I could work a little more, I would be able to buy tickets to see that performance…)

Kate: “I’m back.”

Director: “Kate! Just in time for…no, but the roads are dangerous at night…”

Kate: “What’s wrong?”

Colleague: “Well, they have a vacancy for a night delivery person, so we’re short-staffed.”

(That’s it!)

Kate: “Please let me go!”

I take on an additional deliver and walk through the townhouse district illuminated by gas lamps.

(All I have to do is deliver a letter addressed to the bookstore manager.)

(Ah, “Kingsley Books”… here it is!)

Kate: “Excuse me, I’m from the post office, the manager…”

(There’s no one here, I guess I’ll just have to come back tomorrow,--Oh, what’s this...)

I picked up the book that had fallen casually at my feet.

As if drawn to something, I opened the untitled book.

Kate: “…!”

The wind whipped up, and I was enveloped in blinding light—

Beautiful man with long hair: “Welcome to the distorted fairy world…”

Beautiful man with long hair: “Our first visitor! Yaaaayyy!”

Beyond my open field of vision, a beautiful long-haired person was waiting for me.

Kate: “H-here… I… I was at the bookstore just now, and…”

I had no idea where I was or who the person in front of me was.

All I know now is that this is not a bookstore, and I still have work to do.

Kate: “Um, I’m in the middle of a delivery. So, I’d like to go back to Kingsly Books.”

Beautiful man with long hair: “I’m afraid that will be difficult.”

Kate: “Huh?”

Beautiful man with long hair: “Actually, I don’t even know how to send you home.”

The man, who introduced himself as Victor, tried to explain things to me and soothe my confused mind.

The place I am in now is between the world of fairy tales and the world in which I live.

Kate: “…Fairy world.”

Victor: “You were led here by an untitled book. Don’t you remember?”

Kate: “Yes. So, does that mean I got lost inside a book?”

Victor: “That’s right. You’re a quick and intelligent young lady.”

(I never thought that the adaptability I had honed as a postman would be put to use in a place like this.)

Kate: “But you… Victor, sir. I’m sure you just talked about a ‘twisted fairy world’.”

Victor: “Alice in Wonderland, Snow White, and Thorn Princess**.”

Victor: “Most fairy tales in the world have a fixed plot, and generally end with a happy ending.”

Victor: “However, in the world of fairy tales, the plot of the story has gone awry, chaos has reached its peak, and the ending is far from happy.”

Kate: “…How can that be?”

Victor: “That’s because…each fairy tale has something missing.”

Kate: “…Something missing. What is that?”

Victor: “Even I don’t know that.”

Victor: “I believe you were called here to look for it.”

(…er, in other words)

Kate: “If I find what’s missing, the distortions in the fairy world will be corrected, and the story will have a happy ending.”

Kate: “Then, I’ll be relieved of my role.”

Victor: “Perhaps then you can return to the world you come from.”

(If that’s the only way, I have no choice but to do it anyway.)

(Find what is missing in the distorted fairy world and correct the distortion. And with my own hands, lead it to a happy ending.)

Then I will return to the world I came from and continue my delivery.

Victor: “Ah, I think it’s almost time to wake up.”

Victor: “Miss Kate. With your hands, create the happiest ending.”

Victor: “—Come now, let’s go to the distorted fairy world.”

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Bitter End | Premium End | Epilogue

[ukthxbye]

All That Glitters and Gleams

So it has been over a year since I writer Sherlolly. Thought I might be done because of my focus on my two books and trying to get an agent... life is funny.

When this photo showed up in the sherlolly discord,

the wheels started spinning and 24 hours later, you're welcome.

cw: semi-public sex, fingering, light dom/sub, begging

Glittering.

Gold and silver statues and everything shiny draped dramatic fabric in this room normally spare dingy blue white.

And he hated it.

But impressed all the same. The banquet hall of St. Barts transformed to another age. Sherlock scoffed when Molly asked him to this 1920s fundraiser, rattling facts about all the false opulence for what.

"It's fun to pretend," she'd said in the wry, sad resignation he knew like a drug. Nearly as unpredictable. She might tell him to forget it and go with someone else. She might let him rattle off facts as they walk in and still pull him along, suffering the embarrassment.

She blessed him with the latter. 

He couldn't refuse anymore what she asked for. His life depended on her happiness… like a new addiction.

But he'd denied her the one thing she craved. She denied herself more. 

"They shouldn't have spent so much money, you were right," she said at his side. "You've every right to hate this. It's dancing and talking to higher ups. We can go home."

"Well, at least the champagne is cheap," he said glancing at woman walking by with two green bottles in had. But home, where is the adventure in that? Can't critique and complain until we have the facts," he said, slipping off his long wool coat, handing it to the hired coat clerk… no wait, it was a boy from the cafe. 

"Gerald, they roped you into this?" Sherlock frowned at him. 

"Ticket sir, you try to have a good time, eh?" the boy said, coats piling up on his right. 

"Yes…yes." Sherlock offered him a cocked tightlipped smile. 

In instinct he turned to Molly, and without interrupting her conversation with a heart surgeon he disliked, his hands reached around her shoulders, grasping the lapels on her equally long coat.

The lights, low in the room but travelling across a mirror ball, landed at her back as he slid the dark fabric down like a curtain.

Glittering.

But he liked it.

He vibrated, her scapula bones meeting like wings of an angel as she dropped the coat off her arms. 

She'd not let him look at the dress until now. Beadwork in a line down the straps, down and across her waist. Shadow and bones and gold. Champagne dripped down her frame, soon like on her tongue.

She matched the room and enhanced it to a mind numbing quality. 

"Come on, there's Stamford," she said with a half grin, and grabbed his hand.

 Like fire on a golden pyre. 

He accepted her lead, lost in the light playing off her skin. He'd mapped it before. He mapped everything. But why does it look different here?

Do her nerves jump when his hand drifted up to her elbow, gripping like a secret, waiting? Lost to the bunching pale satin, but… she responded each time, ending the conversation.  

She let him hold her hand absently as she tugged him from one corner to the next. Satin gloves threaded in his fingers, robbing him of hers.

But her back, exposed, and his touch strayed there often to catch her attention, drawing her into him so he could mutter in her ear some amusing observation he'd about someone she chatted with. 

Her skin cooled like a glass of cold milk. He craved it the same. But he feared his hand gave him away, warming more with every risked caress. 

She flinched the first time, her wings shrugging him away.

But now she let it lay there, even as he chased a shadow up the nape with his finger. 

Her shiver is not from the room now. 

He smiled to himself, but the oncologist next to him took it as an opportunity to speak. I can do two things at once. Sherlock kept his fingers near her scalp, his fingernail grazing along the hairline until she quivered, and fanned herself with her purse. 

They made many more rounds, each one more exhausting. The satin under his hands, the hand on her lower back enticing. Every man who tried to insult her field of study with backhanded compliments boiled his blood.

 His mask slipped, and he half insulted the last surgeon they spoke to. 

"You're getting rude," she said, dragging him down by his collar to her ear. 

Oh, don’t do that…

The tug switched on a part of his brain he'd kept safe from her. They'd both been so good since his sister nearly destroyed everything.

Such respectable friends, open with their emotions except for…

I'm going to ruin that now. 

“Sherlock, are you listening to me?” She searched his face for understanding in the dark. 

“I thought you said all surgeons are like footballers, egotistical and overpaid,” he sniffed. 

She leaned back and frowned. "You said that."

“Hmm…” he matched her frown, then smiled, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh, yes… I did. But you might have agreed.”

He gasped. She snatched his collar again, with a curl twisted in it now, setting a delightful tingle across his scalp. 

“Why is it so hard for you to behave…”

He turned enough so she could meet his stare. "You like me when I don't… why change that now?" His tongue strayed across his lips, letting his gaze drop to hers. 

In the dark and flashing light of the room, it hit perfect timing for the scarlet of her lips to show. Her teeth parted and her tongue licked her own lips as well. 

“Come with me,” she said, low, releasing him when someone glanced their way. 

They reached the bathroom on the front left corner of the room, with no one around. “You know what? Wait here for a moment and then we'll talk.” She stepped in and his hand caught the door as she pushed close it.

Wide-eyed, she let him push it back and close it behind him, meeting her stare. 

"Sherlock, what are you—"

His finger to his lips and she clamped her mouth shut. His lips lifted into a sly smile. 

"Is there something wrong?" She moved to him and glanced at the door, his hand going back behind him and clicking the lock. 

“No, I wanted to talk… privately.”

She sighed out in relief. “We could have gone outside.”

“Then I couldn’t look at you in that dress.”

The bathroom decorated for the theme, feather arrangement, lights low. The cream walls normally boring matched her antique faded gold satin. He soaked in the room along with her. 

One last look before you leap…

"Oh, don't be silly…" she chuckled, crossing her arms, and his eyes dropped to the cleavage.

He remained wordless, a hand in his pocket, waiting for her to catch up.

She squinted, shaking her head as she whispered, "Oh… no."

"Molly."

She ran a hand through her short cropped hair. How soon might I do the same?

“Are you really going to do this here? This dance for… god I thought we'd settled this,” she said, the plead in her tone only urged him on more.

“Oh, my sweet Molly, like ice cream on my tongue, freezing every word… until this dress.” he shifted near to her, and she stepped back near the sink. 

"I'm not sweet," she said with folded arms, looking down at the cleavage, realising the effect and moving her arms, bracing on the sink basin. “We should go… before you say something you shouldn't.”

"I'll be the judge of that."

She turned toward the mirror with a scoff. “Your judgement is terrible. I don't trust it. But yes…you always thought me too sweet… is that all compassion is to you?” Her gaze went down as she said it and he counted the vertebrae in her neck, concentrating. 

How did I get here? How do I get out of it? 

But he was bored with ignoring the chemicals running under his skin when she was near. 

He closed the distance behind her, and she stiffened. His eyes travelled from the hollow of her throat, slowly following the pink path each capillary displayed with the pump of her heart. Those lips, red and not yet swollen as he'd make them. 

His gaze lifted from there up as he spoke his stare meeting hers in the mirror. "My mistake then… I do confess to the two mistakes you accused. But then I recall less gentleness when your hand stuck hard," he raised his hand, tenderly tracing his thumb along her cheekbone, and licked his lips when she shivered. “Do I deserve it again?”

The beadwork, gold and silver sparkling in the low light, entranced him. He traced down with a finger, following along its path, ending in a v, breast swelling with her heightened breath. Her heartbeat was so strong the pulse beat a rhythm under his fingertips. But he never broke his stare, and she held it, her eyes dark and shining.

Gleaming.

And he loved it. 

Would she imagine him closing the gap, a canyon between what they've been… and what they will be? Never letting his lips touch, but he assured his breath and its heat performed the same duty as he spoke into her ear… and then her jaw. 

"But tell me… did you know how I fought every urge and when it changed… how many times we've almost. When we considered all the possibilities and said no…was it not because you were so principled?" He said with a smirking grin. 

Crack.

She’d spun around to face him and struck his left cheek. She gulped hard, and he sighed, waiting for her words to catch up with her hand. 

“If this is a game… It's very cruel. You can read what I want without touching. You know every ache, every want… you…” She drew a deep breath through her nose. “Always did. Question is… will you be too high minded … or will you…” She squinted as she spoke, but the tremble he expected was absent. 

But this was the Molly he'd fallen for all along, in her own power and never under his. Quite the opposite. Her lips parted, her eyes on his lips as well.

Her breath matched his, and his lungs ached for them to share the same air. 

“Which one of us will break… that delicious thick tension we’d spun for years… but…” he tipped his nose against hers and with his hands on either side of her on the washbasin, holding on to the porcelain for dear life, he said near her lips, “It was always yours to take… stop asking for permission.” 

Come on now, my Molly.

He let her kiss him, and answered the swell in his chest deepening until his entire mouth encompassed hers, his tongue licking the champagne sugars off hers.   

“You kiss like you want me, Sherlock Holmes.” She sighed into his throat, breathless. She'd pressed her body against him when the kiss deepened. He couldn't dare put his arms around her… I might never let go.

He swallowed hard. "The easiest thing I've ever done. You'd be correct… you always were."

“Oh, yes… too sweet. Then…” she said with a huff, leaning back, robbing him of her nearness, and he missed it.

He met her knowing stare. 

“You're correct… you always were.” Honesty at last. But he couldn't see if it would help or harm the mood. 

She shook her head slightly. “Don't be like that. I don't know what to do with that. It can't fuck me properly.”

“Then tell me what you want. As in to say… I'm done thinking for now. It bores me.” He spoke into her neck, “Tell me the fantasy… I can only read so much from your breath and skin singing under my touch… instruct me to see how to get you there. New memories.”

"Beg me. On your knees. And make sure you say please.”

He sighed. “Now Molly… I wanted to tease you more before I have use of my knees… have you lost patience—”

Her hand covered his mouth, and she pushed him down until her knee dug into his shoulder hard, on his knees in front of her.

“Beg… it's the least you can do if you want me so much… wanted me so long. We're both ignoring our principles now…” she said, each word strong ringing in his mind. “So beg.” 

Her mouth is so pretty when she says…

"So beg." 

He quieted his mind, a singular focus now. Every sense dialled in to her rich floral perfume, her touch and heartbeat. 

The light played on the satin before him, transfixing. “Please,” he said low, running his hands lightly along the golden sleek cloth, seeking her bones underneath like a lost road. “Teach me, tell me what to do.”

“I don’t want to ruin this beautiful dress… put your jacket next to the basin.”

He lingered his hand fascinated with the precise folds of the skirt, shining and shadowing, like the folds he’d soon… he trailed a finger along one close to her hip.

“Now will you be a good boy…and do what I asked or do I…?”

He looked up into her eyes, so far above him like a goddess’ blessing. He held her stare as he snatched the coat off and handed it to her to arrange.

“Now set me—oh!”

As he stood, taking her with him as he grabbed her hips and arse, fingers digging the slippery dress and sat her on the counter so hard she bounced.

He smiled sly as irritation on her skin coloured the same as her blush. I like both too much. 

He held his hands up in false surrender. 

She huffed out, “Are you going to take instruction or are you gonna improvise your own here?”

 “I’ve matured, I like collaboration.” He shrugged a shoulder, leaning over and snatching an ostrich feather out of the full vase next to her. How perfect for the theme this evening. The sheen on the feathers caught the light golden as her dress. He twirled it between his fingers, waiting. 

“Nothing else unless I say so,” she said. He didn't miss the gravel and struggle to breathe. Her stare unblinking on the feather.  

“Then…” he held the feather out in front of her and lowered it, leaning in meeting her half lidded gaze. “Tell me what to do.”

“I think you guessed I like a tease.”

He nodded, “Oh do I ever…we've done years… little kisses on the cheek like friends,” he let the end of the feather fall across her face, moving it in time to watch the colour rise deep scarlet. “But since we remedied that… … but what's a little more?” He lowered the feather across her neck and she turned her head, opening up and he imagined her nerves jumping.

That neck was like cream he wanted to lick and bruise with his teeth. 

Ah, there is the demon I've always feared.

He teased with the feather down between her breasts, and she shuddered with her sigh. Her eyes closed, and he trailed the feather up again, teasing her clavicle, the bones showing their angles in shadow and he wanted to add his own shadow there as well.

She leaned back, head against the mirror. “More,” she whispered out.

The feather up her throat, and he trembled, the tip of it caressing her lips. Now I'm jealous of a feather. He wanted to kiss her again but now bound by the agreement. She'd broken so many rules for him. I can keep this one.  

Her breath shuddered as she leaned back over and looked up into his eyes. 

“That's enough. Kiss me… kiss me so hard I might bleed.”

He shook his head, and squinted, “Don't ask me to do that. I'll do anything you ask… it is what you deserve, but… those demons don't need to come out yet.”

She gritted her teeth under her lips, “Then kiss me like you love me.” 

I'm gonna ignore those tears. They're not here to stay.

 He kissed her so tenderly he thought they both might break. 

She stopped for a breath, and spoke into his ear, “I love you too… Now that's out of the way, kiss me however you want… but I want your hands to move this skirt out of the way.”

He lifted her and shoved it out of the way behind her, and she helped gather the top. He hates the skirt now. Should have encouraged her for a short flapper dress, one with a delightful fringe he could have twirled in his fingers near her knee.

No matter. The music kicked up loud outside the bathroom, the low beat thumping under his hand resetting just beside her thigh like a heartbeat. 

“Tell me what you want… my touch or my tongue.” He licked his lips, drying from his breath increased as much as hers. Oh, to find out how sweet she really is.

“Touch… I think that's all I can stand for now,” she said with an unsteady voice. “Talk to me. Tell what you want… tell me what you will do… your voice is the only sound I want in my head.”

His thumbs strayed to her thighs, bare and like silk. Circles and caresses, and he leaned into her ear, “Can you please…” he caressed over her knees. "lean back to the wall, my love, I don't want you to hurt that pretty head."

“Yes… more,” she said, exposing that creamy throat again.

“Can I kiss your neck… please?”

“Yes… god yes, but… I need your fingers,” she reached a trembling hand and grasped his, setting it on inner thigh. "I need them inside me." The fire like heat pulsed against his palm. She's so wet for me… 

But first, he raised his fingers up to his mouth, letting her observe him wet them, meeting her stare. 

He tugged her soaked knickers aside. Two fingers found her folds. So ready for him, his knees nearly buckled. He turned his fingers and met her clit with his thumb, gently as she was so hard. She pulled and tugged on his fingers, whimpering, calling him like a siren's song.

She's always been the rock I'd dash myself on. 

His lips on her throat, and she burrowed her nails in his curls and scalp. Those low moans barely reached his ears, but they vibrated under his tongue, the salt of her skin mouthwatering. 

Bang bang.

The lock jiggled.

They both glanced at the lock, wide-eyed, but it held. 

Oh, that will not do. 

Her movement on his fingers wavered, but he pressed further, finding the spot that nearly made her cry out and he grinned into the hollow of her throat and flicked it with his tongue. 

Her moan louder, but he clamped his hand tight over her mouth, every knock urging him on, his thumb playing with clit, soaking wet dripping down as his fingers curled. Her panicked peeks at the door replaced as she closed her eyes and smiled into his hand, her sigh hot and panted. 

He turned her face and leaned into her ear, nipping as he spoke. “Is that adding to the effect? There'll be no mistake what I did to you when we leave together… they’ll know… shame they can’t hear the crying moan I want to hear… A shame for me. Tell me. Harder or softer… how long do you want them to wait?”

She panted into his hand. "Harder… oh god… I'm so close. Don't stop that or I'll hit you again."

The brat in him wanted to tease her. But this wasn't the time. 

But his deep voice, he knew its effect, and he spoke, meeting her lidded stare with his own.

"They love our brilliant brains, don't you think? But they don't see us as humans. Never will, but we can see and feel it now. It's our little secret how human we can both be."

She whimpered and tightened but… no it's not quite there.

“Can you come for me… please?”

“Kiss me one more time… I… oh…” she said with a shudder, her legs tightening on his hand.

And kiss her he did, so hard she might bleed and she cried out into his mouth and shuddered down into her orgasm, pulsing so deliciously around his finger he almost came himself.

She slumped, and he stared, pulling out. 

When she met his gaze, she whispered, “You can taste the results… and think about when we get home.”

He sucked his fingers clean, not blinking and her smile, slight, ended with a shivered whimper. 

Much too sweet… I can't wait for more. 

[foreverindreamlandd]

Sweeter Than Honey • 3

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x Fem!Personal Assistant!Reader

WC: 8.2k

Summary: It all started with a failed attempt to buy your boss a new phone, and then suddenly you're in the middle of nowhere Ireland crying your eyes out in front of a handsome mechanic who would do just about anything to make you smile again...

Note: That's all, folks! Thank you so much for reading this mini series of mine. I had WAY too much fun thirsting over our favorite Irish mechanic. If I were a famous children's author with all the money in the world, I would by you all plane tickets to Ireland to find yourselves a hunky bae <3 Banner photo taken by *moi* ;)

You woke to the feeling of Bucky’s hand cupping your face, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Come on, love,” he whispered, and though your eyes hadn’t yet opened, you could hear the smile on his face as he spoke. “We got a big day ahead of us.”

God, his morning voice might actually be the thing that killed you.

He kissed your forehead and you let out a small, content sigh, eyes slowly fluttering open.

Bucky was, in fact, smiling. Eyes looking at you as if you were everything good in the world.

The sun was just beginning to rise across the vast fields before you. Bucky had originally offered to drive you back to the hotel as the late evening transitioned to early morning, but you were so happy, so lost in this magical little bubble the two of you had created together, that you said you wanted to stay in the back of the truck and watch the sunrise.

So, here you were, safely secure in the arms of the man who made your chest ache and your head spin, your leather jacket from the night before replaced by one of his flannels he kept in the truck as backup. The air was a bit chilly this early in the morning, but you barely registered it thanks to the furnace that was Bucky’s body and the blanket wrapped around you.

His smile grew as he watched you wake up, and he leaned forward to give you a slow, chaste kiss.

“Morning, love,” he murmured into your lips while pulling away.

Another happy sigh. “Morning, Buck.”

“Ready to see the sunrise?” You nodded and he kissed your nose before pulling you up to sit along with him. “Right then, we need to get moving then.”

You let out a soft whine and he chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down your arms at a quick pace and then caging your face between his calloused palms to pull you in for a deeper, hungrier kiss.

That woke you right the fuck up.

He guided you down the bed of the truck, then grabbed a few bottles of water from the cooler and you smiled as he handed one to you. Never in your life had you had someone who was so attentive to your well-being, and Bucky seemed to do it so effortlessly. 

His cheeks turned pink as you continued to stare at him fondly. “What?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I’m going to be really fucking sad when I leave tomorrow,” you responded, your voice light but coated with bitterness.

Bucky frowned, then pulled you in for a tight embrace, his chin leaning on the top of your head. “Can I be honest with ye?” 

Your heart skipped a beat as dread spread through your body in an instant. He was going to say that he couldn’t wait for you to leave, or that you leaving wasn’t going to affect him at all.

You braced yourself and nodded against his chest and he sighed, hand running up and down over your hair.

“I know it hasn’t been a full day since our paths crossed, and I don’t mean to startle ye,” he said, “But I’m pretty sure that the second you’re not within arms reach of me, my heart is goin’ to cleave in two. Colors will be less bright, the air will be less sweet, everythin’ will be dim because you’re not there.” He chuckled. “I must sound like a nut, don’t I?”

You squeezed him tighter before pulling away to look into his eyes, moving a hand up to trace along his jaw and cup his cheek.

“No,” you said softly. “I think you described it perfectly, Buck.”

He smiled, moving forward for another deep kiss, a light breeze pushing the tips of his hair into your face and you reveled in the feel of it, soaking up as much of the experience as you could.

After another passionate makeout session that made you breathless, Bucky took your hand and led you down the field and up a small hill that ended up providing a perfect view of the sunrise. You sat there between his legs, back leaning against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He kept his cheek pressed against yours, moving only to press his lips to your temple, your forehead, your jaw, every spot of your skin he could get to.

You turned to look at him once the rays began warming your body, admiring the way his skin glowed in the light. The way the orange/yellow hues mixed with the blue of his eyes made your breath hitch, and with the way they sparkled when he looked at you, you knew he felt the same.

As much as you would’ve liked it to, the moment could not last forever. You still had a job to do and Bucky had one more stop planned before dropping you off. He took you to a cafe, where you had the best coffee and soda bread of your life, the two of you sharing stories of your childhood, your friends and family back home, learning as much as you could about the other person.

Then, your time was up, and suddenly his truck was pulling up to the hotel. His hand was interlaced with yours, and he lifted it up to kiss your knuckles.

“See you tonight?” you asked with a smile.

He nodded. “I’ll be countin’ down the hours, love.”

You scrunched your face and he scrunched his back, the two of you giggling as you got out.

When you reached the door of the hotel, you turned around to find him still parked, eyes locked on you, smiling.

You pulled open the door and winked at him, and you could hear his chuckle perfectly in your mind as he shook his head, switching his focus to the road and driving away.

A small groan escaped you as you noticed Quentin standing against the wall by the door to your room, his arms crossed in front of him. The sound caused his head to shoot up, and he scoffed.

“Where the hell have you been?” he chastised, standing straight.

You rolled your eyes, digging through your bag for your key. “I was out.”

His hands waved around in the air as he let out an even more dramatic scoff. “Out where? With that mechanic Tony said you met yesterday? Are you even capable of doing your job, Y/n?”

You whipped your head at him, eyes filled with rage and momentarily startling Quentin.

“Quentin,” you said in a cool, calm voice. “Was there an emergency last night involving Tony?”

He huffed. “Well, no but-”

“Did Tony ask you where I was at any point last night or this morning because he needed me?”

“No but-”

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is.” You held up a hand, pressing one finger at a time as you listed off facts to the brat in front of you. “I got him his phone, I got him to his event last night, I got him back to the hotel, and now I’m here an hour before his press schedule begins. And had Tony called me at any point last night, I would have dropped whatever I was doing and taken care of it. Now unless you have some actual constructive criticism about my job performance, I would ask that you let me change and get ready so that I can get Tony where he needs to be, alright?”

He clenched his jaw, stepping toward you and you narrowed your eyes in defiance, showing no fear as he leaned down to meet your eye. “Listen here, you little-”

“Y/n,” Tony said, voice slow and questioning as he watched you and Quentin jump back from each other, eyes both on your boss with much lighter expressions. “Beck…everything okay with you two?”

Quentin let out a chuckle, seamlessly switching into his Tony’s in the room time to schmooze mode. “Of course, Tony, just making sure Y/n here got in okay. Looks like she had a wild night.” His hand patted on the flannel Bucky told you to keep covering your shoulder and you flinched.

Tony nodded slowly. “Right….uh, Y/n, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Knots formed in your stomach and you nodded, forcing yourself not to look over at Quentin’s smug expression as he walked away.

This was it, you were actually going to get in trouble for being out with Bucky last night. 

He walked over to you and smiled. “So, I take it you had fun last night?” His eyes went down to the flannel covering your arm.

You grimaced, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m sorry boss, I should have come home and been here if you needed anything. This was so unprofessional-”

He shook his head. “No no no, Y/n you’re fine.” He smiled. “I’m glad you had a good time! I love that giant bastard. Pretty sure I got lost in those sweet baby blues of his a couple of times yesterday.”

You laughed. “They are quite hypnotizing.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “So, you’re not mad at me? And I’m not fired?”

His eyes narrowed, head jumping back in confusion. “Absolutely not. Why on earth would I fire you?”

Biting your bottom lip, you explained to him the reason for your panicking. “Cause of the fiasco yesterday with the phone and the car, and I’ve just spent the night galavanting off with some random guy I just met.”

Tony cocked his head to the side. “Was Quentin just giving you shit for all of that?”

You blinked, not wanting to put yourself into a deeper hole with Quentin or causing Tony any unnecessary stress.

It was enough of an answer for him though and he rolled his eyes. “Clearly he never told you about his first year on the job. Kid forgot to convert my international tour schedule to the appropriate time zones. I don’t even want to talk about the number of flights and events I missed because of that.”

Your eyes widened and you breathed out a small chuckle as Tony continued. “Y/n, you are seriously doing a fantastic job. Yes, yesterday got a little crazy, but this whole job is fucking crazy. And you handled it like a champ! As far as the Bucky thing goes, you’re an adult! And though the hours for this job get a bit nutty, I hardly expect it to be a 24/7 gig. In fact, I would hate that for you. So if you meet a cute guy in a foreign country and decide to get safely swept away by him during the time I’m not asking you to buy me a new phone that I dropped off a cliff, who am I to get in the way? I am the cool boss, after all.” He winked and you laughed again.

“Thanks Tony. For this job, this trip…everything. You’re seriously probably the best boss I’ll ever have.”

He grinned. “Damn straight.” Then, he lifted his arm to check his watch. “Alright, I should go back to my room and let you get ready.” Walking backwards, Tony made a peace sign with his fingers and went back into his room.

A small smile lingered on your face as you walked into your own, checking the time yourself. 

Technically, you should start getting ready for work now so that you didn’t have to scramble to meet Tony on time.

Or….you could scramble and still make it on time….after laying in bed and pressing your face against Bucky’s flannel for five more minutes.

Yeah, that would be a good idea.

When Tony first told you about the fancy dinner you would be attending to raise money for child literacy programs, you had originally gone shopping for fancy gowns and sparkly dresses. It wasn’t everyday that you got to attend such a high society event, so why not go all out with the glam and live out your Princess Mia Thermopolis dreams?

But then, two weeks into your job you worked your first event, and you were glad that you hadn’t bought an outfit yet because you were hit with a sudden realization.

There was no way you were going to wear a dress while running around every which way for hours on end. Your thighs would never forgive you.

So, you went with pants.

A green sequin jumpsuit, to be precise (you were in Ireland, after all). 

It was now the greatest thing you owned. So sparkly and chic, yet incredibly comfortable. The quarter-sleeve piece hung loosely around your body making it easy to move around without fear of anything ripping or tearing, and its tie belt wrapped around your middle to give your figure shape. 

In this outfit, you felt hot as fuck even as you were lugging stacks of chairs across the large ballroom, a thin sheen of sweat forming over your brow as you hustled to put everything together. 

You had thought that Quentin had set everything up last night, seeing that he used it as an excuse to skip Tony’s event. It turns out that he had set up the tables….and rolled the racks of chairs into the room.

That was it.

So when you showed up an hour before showtime to a half-empty room, you asked one of the servers setting up the bar for a free shot of scotch before getting to work, scrambling to decorate the tables and put up the seating cards and make the fundraiser that was supposed to raise millions for children’s literacy program into something that looked worth investing in.

Luckily, after a month of working for Tony, you had grown used to the chaos and you were able to shift to total work mode and get things done quickly. Within thirty minutes, the tables were dressed and decorated. You were so focused that you barely noticed the stack of chairs being lifted from your hold for a moment until you realized that you were walking towards a table with empty arms.

You stopped short, staring at your hands confused until you heard a soft chuckle behind you. And then Bucky was walking past you toward said table, chairs in hand. You took a moment to ogle at the giant irishman, dressed in a tux that fit his body extremely well. So well, in fact, you felt slightly concerned that if he turned too quickly he might tear the fabric. The thought made you instinctively run your fingers over your mouth to make sure you weren’t drooling. 

“Ye gonna stand around all day while I get this place situated, love?” he asked, giving you a side smile as his eyes looked you up and down hungrily. “Not that I’m complainin’ if ye do. Ye look too gorgeous to be doin’ any work, in my opinion.”

You grinned, running forward to give him a quick kiss before grabbing another stack of chairs. “I love the flattery, Barnes, and I owe you many more kisses for coming to my rescue to help set up, but we have twenty minutes before the big wigs show, and this place needs a lot of work.”

He nodded, expression going serious. “On it, boss.” Then he smiled again. “Ye look beautiful, Y/n. Just gotta make sure ye know.”

Your smile grew. “And you look devilishly handsome, Bucky. Now let’s get this party started so it can be over that much faster and I can finally rip that bowtie off of you, undo a few buttons, and mess up that gorgeous hair of yours.”

This time, when Bucky nodded, he stayed silent as you watched his Adam’s Apple work.

By the time the first round of guests arrived, the room looked stunning, as if an entire team of workers spent hours making sure everything was perfect, instead of two now very exhausted people running around last minute in a panic. As soon as the final napkin was placed on the table, the head bartender of the evening placed filled glasses of whiskey in yours and Bucky’s hands, congratulating you both on achieving the impossible. 

The two of you made eye contact as you downed the drink, laughing in complete shock that you had finished the job.

Tony and Quentin were one of the first to show up, Tony looking around the room in awe as they walked up to you.

You pulled on Bucky’s arm, silently asking him to lean down until his ear reached your lips and you whispered, “That’s the deck I was telling you about. Quentin.”

Bucky let out a low, almost silent growl in the back of his throat and his jaw clenched. When he stood straight, you saw him roll his shoulders back and puff his chest out, looking larger and more intimidating than ever before.

You knew he was trying to look frightening, but to you, he had never looked hotter as the Irishman went into full protective mode.

“I gotta say Quentin, you really outdid himself with this one…I swear it’s never looked this good before,” Tony said as they approached, patting his employee on the back.

Bucky furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to argue but you elbowed him in the gut and smiled, nodding at your boss.

“Just doing my job boss. You know I’ve always got your back!” Quentin narrowed his eyes as he looked Bucky up and down, sizing your date up (even though your date towered over him easily). “So,” Beck said, “You must be Bucky…”

Bucky nodded, one hand reaching around to rest on your waist as the other extended out to shake Quentin’s. “And you’re Y/n’s colleague. Heard a lot about ye.”

Quentin cocked his head to the side and shook his hand, fighting back a groan as you watched his fingers get crushed within Bucky’s tight grip. All he could do was bob his head in response, desperate for his hand to be free. When Bucky finally let go, Beck’s fingers flexed a few times to allow the blood flow to move once more.

“Anyways,” Quentin said, forcing a smile, “I should start chatting with some of the investors. You should do the same, Tony. You know they love ya.” He patted your boss on the back and Tony rolled his eyes.

“I know how to talk to people, Beck. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

You and Bucky exchanged glances as soon as the two of them left, then burst out into a fit of giggles. 

“Bucky, you’ve done a lot of stupidly hot things over the past 24 hours. But the look on Quentin’s face as you crushed his hand? That takes the cake, babe.”

His eyes lit up and he winked. “Listen, that deck has to know that as long as you’re my girl, he better be on his best behavior. Even if ye weren’t my girl, he should respect ye as the fierce, hard working woman ye are.”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting back the urge to kiss him senseless in a room full of people that weren’t his closest friends like at the Golden Elixir. “Well, Buck, ready to meet Dublin’s elite?”

He stayed by your side the majority of the night, chatting with various investors with so much charm and wit that you had to force yourself to stop staring at him and make eye contact with the other people you were chatting with.

It worked out for Bucky as well, because everyone you spoke with took a liking to him immediately, and as soon as he mentioned that he worked at Wilson’s, most of them remarked that they would be willing to check the shop out, complaining about the shit work “high end” mechanics did around these parts. Bucky was overjoyed at the idea of potential new business, and you beamed when he offered free tune-ups to anyone who contributed more than five thousand dollars for the fundraiser.

“Bucky,” you whispered, hand wrapping around his forearm.

He shook his head, smiling. “It’s alright, love. It’s for a good cause. Plus, we’re good at what we do, so if we can lure them in with free work, we’ll most likely get guaranteed business forever. It’s all about the investment, right?” He winked again, and you couldn’t stop yourself as you stood on your tiptoes and kissed the now blushing man on the cheek.

“Oi! Barnes!” a deep, rumbling voice echoed through the room and you saw a blond head bobbing through the crowd. “Is that you, mate?”

Yesterday, you had first thought that Bucky was the tallest man you had ever seen in your life.

Then, you met Steve, who managed to stand over Buck ever so slightly.

But now, as the blond man stood before you, you were certain that he was an actual giant, a literal skyscraper next to anyone who ever crossed his path.

Bucky smiled from ear to ear, moving forward to pull the large man in for a hug. “Thor! It’s so good to see ye, brother! How are ye?”

Thor grinned back, shaking Bucky’s hand when they pulled away. “Absolutely grand! Even more so now that I know someone fun is at one of these things.”

Bucky turned to you. “This is Thor Odinson, part of Asgard Electric. His family’s company lights up almost all of Ireland. We went to primary school together. Thor, this is Y/n, she’s Tony’s assistant.”

You extended your hand to shake Thor’s, only to let out a small yelp as he wrapped his arms around you, lifting you in the air as he hugged you with a hearty chuckle.

“Y/n! Lovely to meet ye!” He lowered you to the ground and you stumbled back to Bucky’s side. “Ye sure have a lovely woman on your arm tonight, Barnes.”

Bucky shook his head, smiling as his arm made its way back around you. “Aye, she is lovely, but I feel as if I am her arm candy for the evening. She’s quite an impressive woman. Practically put this whole thing together.”

Thor’s brows raised and he nodded. “Well, you’re lucky to have such an impressive lady.”

Bucky nodded back, squeezing you against him. “That I am.” He looked at you with a fond smile before turning back to Thor. “So, are ye here alone or is the rest of the clan here? I’ve been meaning to talk to yer mother to see how her car’s been holding up since we changed the battery last month-”

His words were cut off as the two of you were jostled by a figure bumping against your arm. Quentin.

He let out an incoherent apology as he worked to stand up straight, alcohol sloshing around in his glass and he gave you a mischievous grin.

“Well, Y/n,” he slurred, completely ignoring Bucky and Thor as his arm waved around to gesture at the crowd. “Welcome to your first party filled with the dumb, snobby rich folk. Now I know you came here with your own date or whatever,” Bucky pulled you closer to him and out of Quentin’s reach, “But you should really consider hitting up some of the old crones who are looking for a fun time. I’ve managed to add a few extra thousand dollars to a donation thanks to my generous attention to some of the guests who are looking for a little something extra.” You looked over to Thor and Bucky who were both frowning, clearly uncomfortable with what your trashed coworker was saying. 

Quentin, completely oblivious to their being upset by the conversation, kept going, and he whispered loudly in your ear, “I think I’m gonna go for the wife of the electric company guy. That hag Freyja looks like she hasn’t had a good time in decades-”

Thor roared, grabbing Quentin by his jacket and lifting him up in the air, face red with rage. “What did you just say about my mother?”

Quentin whimpered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I wasn’t-”

“What is going on here?” Tony emerged next to you, brows knit together in anger. 

Bucky jumped to action, moving to Thor’s side and whispering something in his ear. Thor grumbled back, but then lowered Beck to the ground, his hands still clenching his suit. He looked the terrified man in the eyes as he responded to Tony. “This little maggot just disrespected my mother, Stark, and I’m half inclined to rip his mouth from his face so that he never gets to speak ill of her ever again.”

Another whimper from Quentin. “Tony,” he pleaded, “Ya gotta, ya gotta believe me man I was just joking around of course I would never-”

“Are you drunk, Beck?” Tony asked, crossing his arms.

“N-no,” Quentin stammered, hands out in an I’m innocent manner. “I mean, I’ve had s-some drinks here and there-”

Thor let go of Beck and stood back as Tony stormed over to him, silencing his employee and you heard him murmur. “I want you out of here, Beck. Don’t pretend like you’ve been acting like a real piece of shit these past few months. I thought the new role would give you more responsibility to finally get your head out of your ass, but looks like I was wrong.” He gave Quentin a long, cold stare before saying, “Pack your bags, you’re fired.”

Quentin stared at Tony, horrified for a few seconds before he regained composure, standing straight and buttoning his suit jacket. “Fine,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “I’ll go, and see how long you last without me.” His glassy eyes bore into yours and you glared at him. “Good luck with this incompetent loser managing everything on her own-”

He yelped as Bucky’s hand grabbed him by the back of his hair, the seething Irishman now dragging him by the scruff toward the exit. Nobody had noticed the scene playing out before, but now all heads were turned to the two of them as they cleared a path to the exit. 

Bucky was back by your side in less than a minute, his hand interlacing with yours and squeezing it as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You okay, love?”

You nodded, squeezing back. “Thank you…for being here and taking care of that.”

His jaw worked. “Believe me, I’ve been wantin’ to do that ever since I realized he was the root cause of ye cryin’ yesterday. It was a pleasure to toss him around a bit.”

At that, you let out a small giggle, and Bucky finally smiled for the first time since the whole ordeal.

Afterwards, you went into damage control mode, starting with politely asking the servers to hand out a new round of drinks to everyone and escorting them to their seats so that speeches could start to hopefully prevent gossip from spreading too far. Then, you, Tony, and Bucky went to issue a formal apology to the Odinson family (Bucky, of course, had nothing to actually apologize for, but he still offered to do a full detail of each of their cars for free). Per your suggestion, Tony offered to donate five signed full sets of his books for the libraries at the schools of their choosing.

Thor gave both you and Bucky a big hug for dealing with Beck. “Barnes, the way ye dragged him out with his tail in between his legs was just grand! Wish it could have been me doin’ it, but I probably would have done way worse and for everyone’s sake, I’m glad I didn’t.”

Bucky nodded, shaking his hand and you smiled up at the man at your side, grateful to have him here to keep you grounded after feeling you were going to pass out from the panic racing through your veins.

You were definitely still in shock, not totally believing that Quentin had just been fired.

Thank fucking God.

The rest of the night was a roaring success. Tony went up to the stage shortly after the chaos died down, being his usual charming self and completely winning the crowd over. Bucky kept his hand in yours for the rest of the night, never wanting to leave your side.

There was one moment that the two of you had to temporarily part ways at the end of the night – much to both your disappointment – when you had to square away payment for the bartenders and caterers.

When you returned, you noticed that Bucky was standing in a circle with Tony and a few of the investors that were heading out, smiling and laughing as Bucky shook one of their hands. He turned to you as you approached and his smile widened, excusing himself to head your way.

“Making friends, Barnes?” you asked, tilting your head to the side questioningly.

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “What can I say, love? Everyone wants a chance to talk to the handsome mechanic who can get them a deal on good-quality service.” He leaned closer and whispered, “Becca and Sam are gonna shite themselves when they start getting calls from some of these folks.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Hotshot Mechanic, how about the two of us get out of here?”

His eyes lit up in excitement and he extended his arm out, the other finding its way back around your waist right where it belonged. “Lead the way, love.”

You both bid your goodnights to Tony and then Bucky went to grab the truck, leaving you and your boss outside the venue by yourselves.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with all this shit, Y/n,” Tony mumbled, face apologetic. “I should have fired him long ago. I guess I never realized how much he sucked until I actually hired a good assistant.”

You gave him a small smile, nodding. “No worries, Tony. I’m just sorry he wasn’t who you thought he was.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’ll be much more mindful of that when I look for a new Brand Manager. Until then, your workload might get a little nutty. That okay?”

You laughed. “If it was anything other than nutty I’d honestly be a bit concerned.”

Tony laughed with you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Ain’t that the truth.” Headlights hit his face and you turned to see Bucky’s truck pull up. “So….are you two like, officially a thing now?”

You turned back to Tony, smile turning bittersweet. “Who knows. Kind of complicated, you know, living thousands of miles apart and all.”

“You never know. Sometimes things change.” He paused for a moment, then grinned. “Speaking of change, I got asked to go to breakfast with one of the investors from tonight right before our flight home. It’s right by the airport and it would honestly be a waste of time for me to go there and then pick you back up at the hotel.” His eyes flickered to the truck then back to you. “Do you think you might be able to find a ride to the airport and just meet me there?”

You fought back a gasp, eyes widening. Not having any morning obligations with Tony, nor driving with him from the hotel to the airport meant so much more time with Bucky. It wasn’t much, but any amount you could get with him was now a precious gift. You nodded, seeing the knowing look in his eyes and feeling like you’d never be able to adequately express your gratitude. 

He nodded back, patting your shoulder before stepping away. “Right then, go have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You grinned. “Have a good night, boss!”

His fingers moved up in a waving motion as he walked toward the valet pickup area, and you wasted no time turning and running to Bucky’s car.

The first stop was to the hotel so that you could both change into sweats and pack up your things. You nearly squealed with delight when Bucky let you remove his bowtie in between kisses, and then nearly dropped all of your toiletries when he removed his shirt, finally getting a peak at the hardened muscle all those terrible layers of clothing had been hiding all this time. Bucky let out a soft chuckle when you pouted as he threw on his red henley before he began to help you pack. 

Helping turned out to be more like a series of constant derailments caused by him wrapping his arms around you from behind and kissing your neck every five minutes.

Once that was done, you checked out of your hotel and Bucky put your belongings in the truck, and then it was time to drive to your new favorite spot: a field in the middle of nowhere Ireland where the stars shone brighter than the streetlights in New York.

In the arms of the man you had fallen for before you even had a chance to stop yourself. 

There were many moments when you wanted to crumble and burst into tears, as his hand cradled your face, or when his lips brushed against yours so tenderly. But you knew that as soon as you started you wouldn’t be able to stop, and you didn’t want anything to ruin this perfect moment.

Still, there were a few tears that managed to slide down your face, but Bucky kissed them away before they could leave streak marks on your skin.

You held onto each other, through the stories you shared, the silence that lingered as you stared into each other's eyes, the desperate kisses that made you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

Forever wasn’t an option, but the emotions you had felt the last two days would at least last you a lifetime.

You tried to stay awake all night, arguing that you could just sleep on the flight home. But the work from the last few days left you completely exhausted, and your lids grew heavy as Bucky’s hand moved along your arm in a hypnotic motion.

What really did you in was the moment he started humming an unfamiliar ballad, his perfect, soothing voice coaxing you to sleep.

When your eyes opened back up, the stars were gone, replaced by a purple sky.

You turned your gaze to the side to find Bucky awake, staring at you, a small, sad smile on his face.

“Morning, love.”

Things moved by in more of a haze the rest of the morning. You watched the sunrise, but your focus was more on the feel of your cheek against Bucky’s shoulder. The green fields passed you in a blur as you passed them on your way to the airport, your attention solely on the profile of Bucky’s face as he stared out at the road ahead, the way his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of the truck, the way his hair blew in various directions from the wind.

Everything you could memorize about him, to paint the clearest picture in your head so that no matter where he was in the world, you could find him in your daydreams.

When the airport finally came into view, you felt knots form in your stomach, bile rising in your throat, dread puncturing your heart. Bucky noticed your distress and took your hand, giving you a comforting smile as he parked the truck.

You both sat there for a moment in silence, looking out at the crowds of people moving about outside, unable to make eye contact.

“We never spoke about it,” you finally whispered, taking a deep breath and turning to look at him. “About the after. After I leave…and what happens then.”

“Well,” Bucky started, clearing his throat, “I’m probably going to go to the pub and drown in my sorrows for the day after I make sure you’re settled and kiss ye senseless. And then, I’m gonna sit by my phone and wait for ye to call me when ye land and tell ye how much I miss ye.”

You smiled, tears welling in your eyes. “I know you said that you don’t have plans to visit New York anytime soon, but if you ever find yourself with a free week or something and feel like taking a trip across the pond…I would really like that.”

He bit his bottom lip, grinning. “That sounds grand.”

“And I definitely have to go back to the Golden Elixir to hang out with the hot redhead,” you said with a wink.

Bucky groaned, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shook his head and you laughed along with him.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down at it, smile dropping from your face. “That’s Tony. He just got here. Guess I should go meet him.”

Bucky nodded somberly, then reached out to grab the back of your neck to pull you in for a sweet, tender kiss.

The two of you moved slowly as you grabbed your bags and made your way to the airport entrance, Bucky’s hand around your waist, thumb stroking your side.

Once you got to the double doors, you stopped and Bucky followed suit. You could see Tony through the glass windows scrolling through his phone, the one that you had been so desperate to get for him only two days ago. 

The memory of Bucky’s small smile as he handed you the small rectangular box, as if he was truly so excited to do something that would make you happy. To fix whatever was going wrong in your life.

Oh how you wished he could fix this moment for you.

You turned to him, tears starting to fall. “I-”

“I have somethin’ for ye,” Bucky said nervously, lowering your bag to the ground and reaching into one of his pockets.

You breathed out a laugh. “If it’s another phone Bucky I might slap you.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not that, love. Although if you want one let me know and I’ll give Sarah a call.” You lightly shoved his left shoulder and he grinned. “It’s nothin’, really, and if ye hate it you’re more than welcome to toss it in the bin as soon as I turn my back. I erm,” he shifted on his feet, “That day we met, I was finishin’ up a job near ye, and as I was walkin’ back to my truck Becca called asking me to head over to BHOD to help a panicked American lass out.” He smiled fondly at the memory, then pulled something out of his pocket, holding it out to you.

It was an Irish penny, a circular piece of metal punched through it and attached to a black leather cord.

“As I was talkin’ to Becs, I saw this coin right by the front tire of my truck. I don’t know what the custom is in the states, but it’s good luck to find a penny on the ground, so I took it. I never realized how much luck I was going to get from the blasted thing, but it led me to ye, and now I feel like the luckiest bastard on the planet for getting to spend these last few days with ye. They’ve been the best days of my life, and no matter what happens when ye walk through those doors, I’ll cherish the memories forever. I just want ye to remember that.”

You took the necklace, brushing your fingers over the coin, more tears falling down your face. You looked back up at him with a smile.

“I love it.” I love you, you thought, but couldn’t find the courage to say it. You figured he knew, though, and you figured he might feel the same.

“Grand,” he said, beaming. Then he moved behind you to tie it around your neck, leaning down to brush his lips right above where the leather rested along your skin.

When he was back in front of you, his hands caged your face between them, and he wiped away your tears with his thumbs. 

“This isn’t the end, love, okay? I reckon we’re too good together for that to be the case, aye?”

You nodded. “And miss a chance to see this pretty face again? Never.”

He scrunched his nose with a smile, then pulled you in until your mouths found their way home. 

No matter how long it might be before you crossed paths again, you knew you’d never forget the mesmerizing taste of Bucky Barnes’s lips.

They were sweeter than honey.

He pulled away to envelope you in his arms, embracing you to the point of almost crushing your body, and you still felt like it wasn’t tight enough.

“Until the next time, love,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ll be counting down the seconds.”

You nodded, moving back until you locked your eyes on the beautiful cerulean ones before you.

“Remember what you said to me that first night? About your lips being mine as long as I’ll have them?”

He smiled, eyes glistening. “I do.”

“Remember what I said after?”

A tear fell down his cheek. “That ye’d have them forever.”

You kissed him again, then whispered into his lips, “I’m holding you to that, Barnes.”

His smile widened. “Sounds like a plan, love.”

You smiled back, rubbing your nose against his and running your fingers through those soft, gorgeous chestnut locks.

Then, you grabbed your bags, took a long, deep breath, and moved to the double doors.

As soon as you got inside the airport, you looked over your shoulder.

Bucky was still there, smiling at you with tears in his eyes.

With one small wave, you turned and kept walking, heart cleaving in two.

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“Listen Y/n, are you sure you can’t come with us to D.C.? We’re meeting the President and everything!”

You chuckled, looking both ways before crossing the street. “I know, I know, but it’s my best friend’s wedding this weekend. I know the President is a big deal, but he wasn’t there with a sewing kit when I had a wardrobe malfunction at junior prom.”

Tony sighed. “That asshole,” he joked and you both laughed. “Well, I hope you have fun this weekend. Maria and I will sing all the karaoke without you.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see the movement through the phone. Maria Hill was Tony’s new Brand Manager. At first, she terrified you, her seemingly tough and serious demeanor incredibly intimidating. But then Tony took the two of you out to a karaoke bar after the first event she worked, and you realized that she was actually just the coolest, funniest person ever. She even helped with setup and breakdown, and complimented you when you did your job well. Basically, she was awesome, and you did feel a tinge of disappointment that you were missing a chance to hang out with them this weekend even though you saw them almost everyday. “If y’all sing any Spice Girls I will be devastated, you hear?”

He gasped, acting as if you had just accused him of murder. “I would never.”

“That’s what I thought, Stark.” You checked the time on your watch. “Has your car picked you up yet? They should be there within the next five minutes.”

“Not yet,” he said. “I’m bringing my bags down right now though so I’ll be ready when they do.”

“Do you have everything? Wallet, laptop, boarding pass, Invisalign-”

“Y/n, you have to let the Invisalign thing go. I forgot it one time-”

“And then I had to overnight it to Texas for you, where it got held up at some warehouse and took twice as long to redirect it back home. I’m sorry boss, but until those pearly whites are straight and no longer need a fancy retainer, it is permanently on the checklist.”

He sighed. “You know, sometimes it’s annoying how good you are at this job.”

“Just trying to make it impossible for you to fire me.”

“Well, you already nailed that one. If you ever threaten to leave me I might actually get on my hands and knees and beg you not to. Or I’ll make Morgan give you her best pouty face.”

“That’s not fair. You know I can’t resist a Morgan pout.”

“Neither can I.” He paused, then continued. “So…the wedding. Got a date or anything?”

“Nah, I usually go stag to these things. Besides, the only person I’d want to go with is thousands of miles away.” Though your tone was joking, you felt the familiar ache return in your chest, and your free hand moved to grab the penny resting on your chest.

You and Bucky had talked non stop since you left Ireland, either texting almost 24/7, late night phone calls, FaceTiming, or sharing funny TikToks with each other. You had wished that the two of you could have reconnected in person by now, but with your chaotic schedule and him focusing on applying to schools, there didn’t seem to be enough time for it to work out. Nor did it seem like it would anytime soon…

“Gotcha,” Tony replied, “Probably for the best, anyways. I bet you’re going to be too busy making sure the bride doesn’t have her own wardrobe malfunction.”

You giggled. “Exactly.”

“Oh, car’s here. What are you up to right now?” Tony asked.

“Almost home. Why? Do you need something?”

“Well, I did have something delivered to your place that should be there by now. Just want to make sure you get it.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, rounding the corner to your building. “What is it-”

You stopped short, mouth agape as you stared wide-eyed at the door of your apartment.

At the ocean blue irises that were now locked onto yours, the sheepish smile just below them.

“Bucky?” you breathed out.

“Oh, good,” Tony said, and you could hear the smile on his face. “Delivery got there. I’ll leave you to it then. Have a great time, Y/n.” He hung up, but you couldn’t move the phone away from your ear. You couldn’t move at all.

Bucky walked slowly down the stairs and toward you, hands buried in his pockets.

You finally lowered the phone to your side. Your heart was pounding, head dizzy. 

He stopped when he was a few feet away from you, and you noticed a pink hue form along his neck and up to his cheeks.

“Hello, love,” he said softly.

“W-what…what are you doing here?”

His shoulders moved up and down as he released a deep breath. “Well, I kind of live here now.”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “Wait, like in New York?”

He nodded. “Classes start in a week, so I just moved into my new flat.”

Your brain felt like it was moving 100mph and yet the idea of forming a coherent sentence seemed impossible. “You- classes? You do school here?”

He grinned at your words. “Columbia. Studying engineering. Also managed to snag a job as the personal mechanic for some rich author or whatever.”

Bucky was here. He was in New York. And he was staying? “I..”

“Listen, love. I know this was sprung on ye and I’m sorry I didn’t tell ye sooner. I had actually been wantin’ to apply before we even met, but I didn’t want to say that in case it made you feel any kind of pressure between us. And I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to get in because this school is so damn nice and I didn’t want to get yer hopes up. But Tony introduced me to some people in Dublin who knew members of the admissions team and..well, here I am.”

You tried to speak again, but there were too many words trying to push themselves up and it caused what could only be described as a traffic jam in your throat.

The silence made Bucky uncomfortable, so he continued. “We can talk about what this means. Obviously this is a very different scenario than what ye first imagined all those months ago. If ye wish our paths didn’t cross while I’m here, that’s…” he took another deep breath, “That’s fine. But I’d love to take ye out on a proper date if you’re interested. Many dates, if possible. Of course, I don’t know any of the places around here to eat so ye’d have to tell me what place ye like to-”

Without warning, you had finally regained control of your motor functions, and you jumped to close the distance between you, lips crashing into his.

He let out a gruff moan, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your feet off the ground as he held you tightly to him. 

And just like that, it felt like you were back in Ireland, surrounded by fields of green as the light of the sunrise kissed your face.

His lips were just as you remembered. Soft, tender, hungry.

Sweeter than honey, and all yours.

Forever, just as you wanted.

The End 🍀

No pressure at all, but if you'd like to support me for my writing, please consider buying me a Kofi!

[yeehawbvby]

Operation: Seraphina-chan Figure Recovery (Mammon x GN!Reader)

+ Slight Levi x GN!Reader, but it can be read as platonic too. I just want to include that because this is mostly Levi and MC's shenanigans.

Rating: Teen+

Summary: Levi needs help rescuing a special edition Seraphina-chan figurine from the Great Mammon's clutches, and you happily oblige. Hijinks ensue, and somehow, you wind up in Mammon's bed.

Author's note: *Spoilers for Nightbringer Lesson 5-14 (hard mode) ahead!*

I took most of the plot/script from that lesson and then just changed the ending, so please avoid this if you'd rather experience it for yourself first ^^ Enjoy x

Check it out on ao3!

Being the attendant to your beloved seven sinners, it wasn’t uncommon for you to receive late night calls for assistance. Sometimes, Mammon required a partner-in-crime for one of his typical money-making escapades; and others, Asmo would request your help with his skincare routine after a long night of partying. More often than not though, your midnight calls or texts wound up being Belphie, all but begging to use your thighs as a pillow so he could fall asleep more easily. It’s hard, after all, with all of Beel’s noisy sleep-eating.

The few times Levi needed you so late, it was because he was playing his favorite MMORPG, and wanted you to join in for the group-EXP bonuses he’d get out of it. That said, it was a shock to you when Levi sent you a text – all caps locked, to boot – practically demanding you to accompany him in a heist.

More fueled by intrigue than anything else, you rushed over to the House of Lamentation, quietly snuck inside and upstairs, and lightly rapped on the door to Levi’s room before being yanked inside.

“Ack!” you yelped, not having expected such force from the normally timid otaku. 

The moment he shut the door behind you, Levi put a hand on your shoulder. The expression on his face reminded you that he was a war guy up in the Celestial Realm. His mein was intense, brimming with determination, and maybe even rage.

“Alright, so we’re about to commence ‘Operation: Seraphina-chan Figure Recovery,’” he announced. “Our objective: find and rescue Seraphina-chan!”

“...Umm, what?”

Visibly frustrated by your confusion, Levi took his hand off you and brought it up to his face with the other. As he answered, “Ugh, come on! You ruined the moment,” both palms slid down, revealing a more fitting look of pure desperation. He continued, “Listen, and listen well!”

“Okay,” you sighed, crossing your arms and leaning back onto the door.

“My beloved Seraphina-chan has fallen into Mammon’s clutches.”

“Uh-huh.”

The demon continued, “Oh, and just in case you didn’t know,” before giving you a paraphrased explanation of Seraphina’s whole deal. You lost him for a moment, before snapping back to attention just as Levi got around to his point. “Mammon won her figure recently in a prize campaign after drawing a lucky ticket.”

“Sooo we’re stealing her?” you asked for confirmation.

“Yes!” Levi responded incredulously, as if it couldn’t be any more obvious. “It’s just awful. We’re talking about a special collector’s edition that’s supposed to be kept in an air-conditioned case, never meant to be opened.” 

Freaking nerd… but you wouldn’t have him any other way. You nodded along, jumping a little when he shouted, “But Mammon just tossed her on the floor! Like random garbage! It’s unbelievable! I know she would be happier in my care. Several thousand times happier.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “Probably.”

‘Which is why I’m going to stand up and fight for her!”

“Hell yeah!” you encouraged him.

“So, tonight, I’m sneaking into Mammon’s room and rescuing Seraphina-chan!”

You responded as enthusiastically as you could in your sleep-deprived state. “O-okay!”

“And, like, you will help me with this, right? You are my caretaker after all!” 

Even if you wanted to reject him, you probably couldn’t. The third-born looked pathetically endearing. “Alright, sergeant. Lead the way.”

The two of you skulked down the hall to Mammon’s domain, and Levi let out a quiet “Ah-ha!” as he turned the doorknob to his older brother’s room. “The door isn’t locked! I knew he’d leave it open.”

You both peeked inside – Levi’s head at his own level, and yours poking out from underneath his arm. The two of you scanned the area, as Levi murmured, “Now, where’s Mammon…?”

As if on cue, a loud snore echoed from Mammon’s bed. Perfect. Your companion looked down to you as you looked up at him, and you offered each other a curt nod, signaling that it was time to go inside.

“Let’s find Seraphina-chan while he’s asleep.”

As you took a step forward, something crumpled beneath your foot. “Ew…” you mumbled. “This room is a pigsty.”

“Seriously, how can anyone be this messy?!” Looking back briefly, Levi warned you, “Watch your step. If you make too much noise, you’re liable to wake up even Mam– d’ahh!”

Seeing as Levi was about to fall over, you gripped his arm, pulling him closer to you for balance. It backfired, and you both fell, Levi caging you against the ground.

“Ugh, sorry. I tripped over… um...” You couldn’t see much, but the whites of his eyes became a little more visible. “Is it just me, or is your face awfully close to mine…?”

“Uh…”

Before you could fully respond, Levi stuttered, “Ah, h-h-hold on, this isn’t what you think! I didn’t mean to knock you down and land on top of you, it was an accident!”

Finding his bumbling amusing, you decided to tease him a bit, rather than letting him know that you knew that. “Someone’s feeling assertive today, huh?” You weren’t sure if he could see, but you shot Levi a cheeky wink as you spoke.

His volume rising as he grew more embarrassed, Levi tried to defend himself. “I-it’s not like that! C’mon, don’t say stuff like–”

“Mnn…” 

You could feel the soft breeze of Levi’s head whipping to look towards Mammon’s bed in tandem with your own. His brother groaned, then let out another snore. You felt a little more weight press into you as Levi breathed out a sigh of relief. 

“A-anyway…” He looked at you again, paused to gather his bearings, then said, “we’d better find Seraphina-chan ASAP!” 

The demon scrambled to get off of you, then helped you up as he scanned for his figure.

“Mammon’s room is totally different from mine, huh?”

“Mhm,” you very quietly hummed, hoping it would remind Levi to keep his voice down.

“I’m guessing maybe… you like this sort of room better…?”

You let out a hushed chuckle. “We’re at risk of getting caught snooping around Mammon’s stuff, and that’s what you’re worried about?” You nudged Levi’s arm, then took the neutral route. Both rooms were sick, in your opinion. “I don’t really have a preference either way.”

“Ahahaha!” You winced at your companion’s volume. He’d been too loud and too nervous ever since your little tumble together. “I mean, yeah, of course, right? It’s just a room!” 

Worried about the steadily raising decibels, you tried to cut him off. “L-Levi–” 

“Like, who cares?!” 

Oh good lord.

“Levi!” you whisper-yelled. 

Just as his name left your mouth, Mammon groaned again. This time, he spoke. “Mmn… quiet down…”

“Shit.”

“Oh no!” Levi exclaimed.

Mammon slurred, “Whoever’s disturbed my… my sleep… I got a pile driver with yooour name on it…” 

“I think he’s only half awake?!” the purple-haired avatar speculated. 

Your eyes finally having adjusted to the dark, you could see his features better. As Levi looked towards you, you were looking at Mammon, who was skulking closer to the two of you.

“Levi!” You whispered again, “Watch out!”

The older demon’s form began to square up, and he growled as he inched dangerously close. “Ah!” Levi squeaked. “He’s coming in for a pile driver!”

If you weren’t terrified of, you know, the pile driver, this situation would have been hilarious. Unfortunately, your safety was on the line. You dodged out of the way, and noticing that Levi was frozen in shock, you told him, “Dodge right!” 

He obeyed, and Mammon missed him, falling onto the couch and right back to a full-on sleep.

“Ugh, what was that?!” Levi shook his head, then drew closer to you while still scanning the room. “Okay, now that he’s asleep again, it’s back to the search. This time we’re going to find Seraphina-chan, and–” He cut himself off with a gasp.

“What?” you questioned.

“I-i-it can’t be…” Levi groaned, falling to his knees beside Mammon. “That box underneath Mammon…”

“What about it?”

Levi didn’t – no, couldn’t – answer in coherent words. He simply stuttered and fumbled and flailed, his frustration growing as he gave up on speech and motioned towards the object in question. You could only assume it was his dear, sweet–

“Seraphina-chan…” 

Yep.

“She’s… she’s been flattened…” he mourned.

You kneeled down to comfort the demon, but just as your fingertips touched his back, he tensed up, stood up, and you could only assume he was about to yell. You didn’t risk the possibility of it. Thinking fast, you stood up too, clasping a hand over Levi’s mouth. He looked furious and his face felt red-hot as he groaned questioningly into your palm. 

“Chill. I’ve got this.”

Knowing that, even in this timeline, Mammon had a huge soft spot for you, you were ready to use it to your advantage. He was laying on his side facing towards Levi and yourself, and you hoped that if Mammon opened his eyes, you’d at least be blocking his view of his younger brother. If Mammon saw you first, he’d probably be too flustered to notice Levi was there at all.

“Mammonnn,” you whispered sweetly, running a hand through his snow-white hair. 

“Mn…”

The demon said your name, and your heart fluttered a little, unsure if he was even awake. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wholeheartedly reciprocate the avatar of greed’s feelings. 

“Let’s get you back to bed, yeah?”

Groaning again, he wrapped his arms around your waist, nearly pulling you on top of him. You held in a surprised yelp as you lost your balance. Your cheeks grew flushed as you gripped the back cushion of the sofa, so as to not further damage Seraphina-chan with your added weight. Hearing Levi growl from behind you, you turned to face him the best you could, and put your index finger to your lips. 

A silent, “Dude, shut up and trust me.”

Facing forward again, you placed a featherlight hand to Mammon’s back.

“Come on, let’s goh!” 

The next thing you knew, the second-born was tightening his grip around your midsection and hoisting you up over his shoulder, all while he raised himself back to his feet. You cupped a hand over your now-horizontal body to muffle an instinctive scream. Then, turning your upper half the best you could, you looked back towards Levi. 

“Grab her!” you whisper-yelled, motioning towards the couch as you were brought further away from it.

“W-what about you?!”

“What about me?! We came here for Seraph– oof!” 

Mammon dropped you onto the bed alongside him, before tugging you close. You were shorter than him, but he’d positioned you higher than himself, and was hugging your lower stomach to his face. Your shirt was riding up a bit, and you could feel his hot, steady breaths against the exposed skin. 

You breathed out a jagged sigh before metaphorically shaking several very naughty thoughts from your head, and continued to explain to the now-closer Levi, “We came here for Seraphina-chan. I’ll… I’ll figure something out, just get out of here and do un-flattening surgery on her, or something.”

Cradling the squished box to his chest, Levi looked between you and Mammon a few times before nodding. “A-alright. Uh…”

Backing away while still facing you, Levi seemed to be hesitant to leave you there. You motioned your head towards the door, and Levi finally gave up. 

“Uh, thanks for the help,” he offered before scurrying away.

When Levi shut the door, it became apparent to you how dark it truly was in Mammon’s room. In the present – Or was it technically the future? Whatever – Mammon normally kept a few dim lights on as he slept. You figured that it must’ve been a later Devildom development, because it was truly pitch black at the moment.

Not wanting to wake Mammon, but not wanting to scare him with your presence in case he did wake up either, you had the right mind to attempt to think of an alibi. 

Unfortunately, you’d soon learn that you wouldn’t have time for that.

Mammon sleep-spoke your name again as one of his arms shifted lower, now wrapping around your butt. You had a light hold on his shoulder, but the motion of his strong arm wrapping around a more intimate spot made you instinctively grip much tighter. 

In the future, this would’ve barely affected you. But given that Mammon only scarcely knew you in this timeline, and it had been so long since you’d last received a touch beyond a swift hug or light arm-link from any of your lovers, this was significantly more… exciting, to say the least.

“Mm…?” You sucked in a breath and remained silent as Mammon slowly came to. “W…w-what’s…?” 

Shit.

His eyes were slowly blinking open, and they grew wider as they trailed up your form. Not knowing if you should meet his eyes or look away, you were kind of stuck, reluctantly settling for the top of his hair. The demon reached around you to grab a remote from his bedside table, turning some dim lights on above his mattress. 

It took a moment before he could register the position he was in. Then, Mammon shouted your name. Was it fear? Shock? Embarrassment? You had no idea, because you’d assumed you felt exactly the same.

Quick to react, you came up with the most Mammon-friendly excuse that you could think of:

“I-I… I was here playing games with Levi, and I didn’t want to walk home this late, but I didn’t want to stay in his room either… a-and I kind of missed you, so…” 

It wasn’t entirely wrong. You did miss him… the him that you knew, of course, but it was still him nonetheless. You’d take any version of him at that point.

As you spoke, you looked everywhere but Mammon’s eyes. When he didn’t respond, you finally took a peek, and your breath hitched. His pupils were blown wide, and he had a dreamy yet carnal look to him that you haven’t seen since you were in your previous timeline.

After an almost-cocky-but-mostly-nervous laugh, Mammon slid the arm that was around your ass up towards your back, sending a shiver up your spine as his palm grazed your bare skin. 

“Of course you’d come to the Great Mammon in time of need,” he responded. “Some attendant you are, making me take care of you.” You rolled your eyes at his typical tsundere behavior, but smiled anyway. 

“C’mere, you,” he mumbled, pulling you down closer to his level. 

Then, Mammon pressed a kiss to your forehead – you didn’t even think he realized he was doing that as it happened – and repositioned so that you were able to lay against his toned chest. 

You hadn’t meant to sleep over, but that’s exactly what happened. You weren’t about to object to a comfy night with one of your favorite non-humans.

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

Chapter 2

Boundary Between Good And Evil

???: "Wait!!"

(.....!)

I see a little girl and an angry man leaped in front of me, entangled.

Little girl: "Ow!"

He shakes her wrist roughly and I see a small twinkle between her closed fist.

(Is she a thief?)

Man: "I'll make sure you can't use that arm of yours!"

The man raised a fire poker.

(If you hit her hard with that it will break her bones for sure!)

A moment unfolds before my eyes and----

Kate: "Wait!"

Unintentionally, I shouted.

Man: "Huh?! What do you want?"

(I didn't mean to step in, but...!)

Kate: "Hey, first return what you stole. After that, I'll listen to what you have to say."

Little girl: "Ngh!"

Man: "Ow!?"

(Huh!?)

The little girl took this opportunity to kick the man in the arm and disappeared into the crowd.

Man: "Come back, you bitch! And you, what the hell were you trying to do, huh!?"

Kate: "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to...."

(It didn't come to my mind that she would kick the man and run away)

I regret sticking my nose into other people's business, but I'm sure it will haunt me later.

Man: "She stole something very expensive from me! Of course, you're going to pay me for that, right?"

Kate: "Yes, I'll pay you!"

I can feel tears running down my face, as I took out my purse.

...........

Man with long black hair: ".....I see. So that's the cute little robin."

...........

Kate: "Haa....I did it again."

(Although to that jeweler, that little girl may have been an outright bad person, stealing things)

(But I also didn't think it was good to...hurt and blame the little girl who was so cornered that she had to steal)

Everyone knows that East London is full of people living in poverty.

I couldn't just stand by and watch a little girl get hurt without knowing what kind of feelings she was having about stealing.

(But in the end, the jeweler was victimized and the child got away with the crime)

Kate: "....I don't know if what I did was good or bad."

Kate: "All I know is I'm a little short on money for tickets to this month's play."

It is my humble hobby to go to the theater once every few months with the salary I have saved up.

(I was supposed to save up enough after today's delivery...looks like I won't be able to make it this month)

Kate: "Well, I guess there is no point in crying over the spilled milk. I'll just have to make some more money again!"

...........

Kate: "I'm back."

Postmaster: "Kate! Thank god you're here!.....No wait! On second thoughts maybe not, the streets at this hour would be dangerous..."

Kate: "What's wrong?"

Colleague: "Actually, we're understaffed. There is still a vacancy for night delivery."

(Night delivery...that's it!)

Kate: "I'll do it!"

Postmaster: "Are you sure, you will be safe? I appreciate the help...but."

Postmaster: "Okay look, the delivery block is a safe townhouse area, but don't wander off carelessly."

Kate: "Got it!"

(Great! Now can make up for the money I lost earlier!)

(It's my first time doing night delivery...as long as I'm cautious, I'll be fine)

..........

Man with long black: "Now, gentlemen, are you ready?"

Man that looks like a cat: "Of course, Victor. It's been a long time since we've all been on a mission together. It's very exciting."

Aloof man: "You're getting too excited. Too much excitement can backfire and you'll end up hurting yourself. So just chill."

Man with a gun: "I'll fix you up if you're not too badly hurt. If you die, then I'll have one less person to help me with my research."

Man that looks like a cat: "Thank you, Roger. As expected from a former doctor."

Man with blond hair and blue eyes: ".......Al, do I have to go too?"

Gentlemanly man: "Yes. It's a lovely evening and there may be something you're looking for in the target's mansion."

Man with blond hair and blue eyes: "Really....okay."

Best man: "If we're going anyway, get on with it quickly. Unlike the nobles, I don't have time for this."

Tall young man: "You don't have business meetings or collections scheduled for tonight."

Best man: "Tsk....Can't you just read the room and not be honest for once. Shut up."

Man with red eyes: "As you can see, the Crown is ready, Victor."

Man with long black hair: "Ahaha, as usual. You guys are so carefree. Well, let's get started then."

Man with long black hair: "Loyalty to your evil tonight."

Chapter 3 - Invitation To The Dark Night

[louisisalarrie]

Hey lovely. Wanted to ask you this as you work in the industry but who funds Louis’ tour? Is that the record company or is he doing it himself? And who pays his band, manager etc? I’m just curious as to how much support he’s getting from his record label or if he’s really doing a lot of self funding.

Hello, my love! I’m gonna try and explain this the simplest way possible so I don’t get into too much jargon and make you read a 3,000 word essay hehe. Also, contracts can all vary, but this is the most standard way of touring when it comes to big artists. Let’s goooooo!

Okay, SO, when a big artist (or band) go on tour, they will 99.9% of the time have a contractual Agreement with a concert promoter, this includes the likes of Australian exclusive promoter TEG (who Niall is touring Australia with this year), international promoter Live Nation (Harry toured worldwide with them, Louis did Australia/Asia with them and probably worldwide too because of global deals), Australia/NZ exclusive promoter Frontier Touring (T Swift for Australia, but she was with Live Nation in the US) and there are many other promoters worldwide too. You’ll see on some specific marketing material that the artist and promoter put out, it will have their logo at the bottom of the tour poster, and shows they are what is called a “sponsor” or the concert promoter for this tour. See examples of this below:

^ niall’s Australian tour with TEG live on the bottom right

^ one of Harry’s US posters with Live Nation at the bottom

^louis’ Singapore tour poster, also with Live Nation at the bottom

So basically, what these concert promoters do, is sponsor the artist. That means, the booking agent/tour manager will sign a contract with whichever promoter offers the best deal, and will tour with them. The reason why they sign up for a tour with a promoter, is because the promoter provides a safety net, and takes care of a lot of the things that come with touring that the artist and their team don’t wanna think about organising, and so they let them do it for them. This includes stuff like paying and organising crewing teams and riggers and those guys, work Visas to get into the country, marketing, venues and available dates for shows, catering, sound/lights/backline/LED, rent costs for the venue, security, flights, accommodation, etc., which is negotiated per the contractual Agreement.

The tour manager of the artist also works really closely with these guys to approve any staging, catering, or locally rented lighting rigs and all that specific fun stuff that the artist doesn’t travel with, but is particular about to make the shows/tour exactly how they want them (this will be in their production rider and hospitality rider that they supply the promoter with).

Let’s say, for example, Niall really wants to stay in a specific 5 star hotel in Brisbane, he wants a flight to Aus at a very particular time on a very specific date, he wants to bring 40 crew members with him, he needs a specific set of lights and a particular sound desk at each show (bc he’s my little drama queen). Him and his team are super busy on the other side of the world, they just don’t have time to organise all of that. It would be constant emails and phone calls back and forth with quotes, availability, submitting 40 work Visa applications, multiple suppliers saying “yes we can do that” and “no we can’t”, time zones, etc., so why not sign up with a promoter and let them do it for him?

So now, we get into the money side of things. Sure, niall knows he will make money if he tours without a promoter, he knows he’ll sell tickets in Aus, and he knows that he’d probably come out with a profit. But apart from not wanting to organise and spending a heap of money on all of this stuff, is it worth touring if he doesn’t think it’ll be sustainable and he’s basically lost money from doing it? No, it’s not. SO promoters know this, and they all fight for artists to sign with them, by offering up the biggest guarantee they can. This is often a guarantee vs ticket sales scenario.

So, if TEG were like “hey niall, we’ll guarantee you $800,000 to tour with us, or, 80% of ticket sales, whichever amount is higher”. A guarantee means he’s not relying on ticket sales alone. He knows that if none of his shows sell out and less people come than he thought, he’s still gonna get $800,000. Or, if he sells a heap of tickets, he gets more than that, yay! But if Frontier Touring were like “nah, come with us, we’ll give you $700,000 vs 90% of ticket sales, he’d have to consider the fact he might not make as much money, unless he really trusts that all of his shows sell out. So they usually go with whoever can give a higher guarantee.

Now, within these deals, sometimes the higher the guarantee, the more the artist has to pay for themselves (I’m keeping this at like… what a Harry/Niall/Louis level deal would kind of be, not like an Elton John level or something, because that would probably vary entirely). So, Niall has been guaranteed this insane amount of money, but TEG are then like “well… we’ll do all of this and you know you’re making money, but we do have a budget. So you can pay for your flights and work visas, and everything that you want that is above our budget cap, but we will try to keep everything under budget unless you approve to pay more for a specific thing you want”. Ya know? So yeah, Niall is like “hell yeah dudes, sounds good. Sign me up”. And then it’s all a bunch of finance organising etc., but yeah. Usually the smaller the band, the more they’ll pay for if they go with a promoter, because the promoter doesn’t want to take too many risks on them and still needs to make money. They’ll still get a guarantee, but will have to sort out more by themselves, and not treated exactly like royalty like Harry would be.

So long story short, the concert promoter funded Louis’ tour, and probably organised just about everything. The concert promoter sends the money to Louis’ agent (whether it be the guarantee or higher due to ticket sales), and they divide that amount to him, his manager (which is usually 15-20% but can differ with how famous the artist is), anyone else involved in contracts for % of touring, and then happy days. The tour is over and everything has been a lot easier than the tour manager(s) having to organise it all by themselves, and risk losing a bunch of money in doing so.

Thanks for the q, anon! Let me know if you need clarification on anything xx