#as a londoner i have never said luv in my life

[vhstown]

as a british person seeing "luv" in a hobie fic makes me giggle (esp when it's spelt like that)

[gildedkrone]

I'm the boy next door, let me come in🔞

Part 2 to this fic

Relationships: Ghost x verse!Male Reader Synopsis: You meet him years later and he still can't forget you. Master List

Simon doesn't text back anymore. You aren't so much surprised as disappointed to know it would end this way. He has a wife to go home to, and your next client wouldn't wait for you to get over the very one-sided heartbreak.

The chat ended on a single message from Simon.

["Take care, luv. Hope this helps you with your dream."]

A transfer of ten thousand pounds into your bank account. You don't want to know how he acquired said information, given he is a military man, you wouldn't put it pass him to have used his clearence to search you up. Would it have killed him to do it in person? No. But anything, is better than nothing from a man you should have never gotten attached to.

It's a bittersweet end and the end of your "relationship" with the man.

---

A cigarette between his lips and his moment of peace was interrupted by his secretary entering his office after two knocks.

"Mr Riley, you have an upcoming meeting at two with the Mr Decartes, should I arrange for him to wait in the conference room?"

He flicks two fingers (yes) and snuffs out the cigarette. The Riley family always had a name in the military business, and the newly retired lieutenant returned home to Manchester to hold the reins to his family empire. Post military life is mundane, he supposed. There's no threat of being knived or shot when out bumbling about the streets of the city and most people give him a wide berth of space, if nothing but fear of his size. The skull mask is gone, replaced by a simple black mask concealing the bottom part of his face.

---

The train to Edinburgh is packed to the brim and per his request, the entire business coach is booked out to give him some semblance of privacy. The online meeting is rotting his brain with the incessant business partners and their multitude of requests. Eventually, the meeting ends not before the train is slowing to stop.

"Dear ladies and gentlemen, due to a railway signalling fault, we are unable to proceed to Edinburgh and the train will be stopping at Carlisle. Please speak to a train attendant if you have questions about transfers and continuing your journey."

Fuckin' hell and now even the train is conspiring against him. The attendant is apologetic and informs him of his choices. Return to Manchester on the train in three hours or wait for an unspecified time for the next train to Edinburgh. Either way, he isn't reaching his destination within the same day.

---

He has hours to burn, and he begins with getting coffee. Carlisle isn't a big city and he spends some time walking about the place and looking at things. Whatever British people did for fun. His mindless walk brings him to a flower shop and before his mind could object, he was pushing past the doors and the sweet chime into the cool and empty shop. There is nobody at the counter and he rings the bell.

"Coming!"

Sounds of shuffling as a man returns from the rear of the shop and you stop behind the counter.

"Hey, is there anything I can do for you?" You flash him a smile and he is taken back by the sight. It's the man he's had a fling with five years ago but there is no recognition in your eyes. Was it the mask?

"I'm looking for something for a business deal."

"Oh, do you know what arrangement you would like?" He looks confused and you continue. "We can make it in different sizes and shapes if you have any in mind?"

"Not really. Do you have pictures?"

"Sure do." You grab the folder of pictures and flipped to the business section. When you looked up, the man has an unfathomable look on his face. He takes his time reviewing through the photos and asks several questions about the shop. How did it come to be etc. You tell him about the ten thousand dollars a man left for you once and he knows, confirms it is you.

"So I moved from London up north here to settle down and open my shop. Business is doing well and I've just received a giant order for a wedding. Might need to hire some people to help me out there."

He doesn't know what his traitorous mind was on when he mouth blurts out how willing he is to help. He is dressed in some formal attire and clearly not a contract worker but he is insistent, so you relent and tell him to meet you after dinner. Especially knowing how difficult and costly it is to hire rush work.

---

Edinburgh is the last thing on his mind when he shows up to your shop at eight in the evening. He opted for a large hoodie and some sweats and you usher him into the back of the store where the greenhouse is. His mask is still on and the hoodie is drawn over his head and you crack a joke about dressing correctly since it's cold in the greenhouse.

You make the first of many bouqets and he examines the shape and quantity of flowers in it. The silence is amiable and the man is a fast worker. Precise and controlled, his first bouqet is beautiful and well made. You disappeared into greenhouse to get more flowers and he follows you back in. Midway through the gathering of some flowers and he speaks.

"You don't remember me."

You give him a puzzled look and set the flowers back down. Did you know him?

He sighs and pulls back his hoodie and removes the mask on his face. It's him. It's Simon.

---

"What are you doing here, Simon?"

He sips his coffee and the both of you are seated behind the counter.

"The train broke down and 'm was exploring the city. Stumbled upon your shop and …"

"Are you no longer in the military?"

"Left the job. Had to go home and run the business."

He is still an absolute looker even five years later and his fingers gently brush against yours where it stays.

"Simon, your wife--"

"We're divorced. She's no longer my wife." He elaborates something along the lines of a falling out between the two families over business.

"Oh."

His hands are rough and calloused, and they hold yours.

"It wasn't a possibility then, but … I--"

"Simon, we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Did you really love me? We had a fling, not a real relationship. I am past the age of flings and I want a real relationship."

"I can give yer that. Only if you would let me."

"Si--" And the rest of the sentence was stolen by his lips against yours. He is insistent and all of the walls you imagined comes crashing down at the taste of him and the hand on your thigh.

"Luv, fuck, missed yer fuckin' lips." And your moan is breathy as his touch crept up your thighs.

---

You weren't sure how it happened, but the kiss ends with you and him in the greenhouse and his hands in your pants. He is pleasure incarnate and his hands move with an urgency to feel you. They roam across expanses of skin before digging into flesh and unbuttoning your jeans. Your mind is drunk on the pleasure and your dick is aching to be touched, with the way it bobs up and down.

The touches are something clandestine, and you used to be his illicit affairs. Now, you are his partner? Lover? The definition is irrelevant as he turns you around to face him before pushing you into the wall. His dick is freed from his joggers where they tented the garment obscenely and he hands rest at your hips.

"If yer asking how serious I am, 'm fuckin' serious about this." The whispers of past encounters are strong and he gives your dick a few strokes before he hugs you tight and your dick pokes against his ass.

"Fuck, Simon, you sure about this?" His response is a sloppy kiss and a muffled yes.

"Have you done this--"

"Nobody. There's nobody after you." Fuck, if that doesn't send your desires higher to know he saved himself for you all these years.

You finger him gently to loosen his rear and gently slide into him until he is moaning and spasming around your dick. He is impatient and tugs your hand but you refuse to fully bottom out, knowing this is likely foreign to him and unwilling to hurt him. Tight, warm heat hungrily swallows your length and you fight off the urge to slam your hips into him—to show him who controls his pleasure. Gruff and gravelly moans get louder with each thrust and with eyes lidded in pleasure, he takes dick so beautifully and you reward him with kisses and bites to his neck. He chokes at the feeling of skin breaking when you leave a hickey. The sudden imagery of domming him and making him beg to cum is fire in your veins and you slow your thrusts.

"C'mon, fuck, yer heathen, stop teasin'." He gets another kiss and he whines.

The great Simon whining like a pup and trying to get himself off on your dick after years of abstinence is making your head all muddy. His hips squirm and he grumbles when you pull out of him only to turn him around to face the wall. The smack of his hands against the wall is loud when you enter him without warning and he is practically clawing at the walls to remain standing under the onslaught of pleasure.

"Fuck, not gonna last if you keep doin' this," and true to his word, his greedy hole tightens around you as he tipped his head back into a moan. Your hand guides him through his orgasm as the wall is coated with pent up ball batter and you are finishing in him with a whine and whimper.

He felt as divine as ever, even when he is below you and twitching from the aftershocks of an orgasm. Mercifully, he doesn't fight your attempts to clean him up even if a clench of his core meant more of your cum is dripping down his thighs. Your dick jumps at the creamy sight but Simon is fully sated and you are content to wait.

Here in the shop, everything feels right. Hearts aligned in a bow drawn taut towards love are yours and his.

---

"Simon, the dog is fighting the mailman again."

"Fuckin', luvvie, its your decision to get a dog."

"You didn't say no when we were at the shelter."

He groans when you shift on his lap while keeping him warm and cozy as the dick in your ass pokes against your prostate. Pre spills from your dick and he swipes a finger through the milky substance for a taste.

"This is, all your damn fault," you choke out between pants when his dick juts into further into you.

"Can't blame a man for wantin' more, sweetheart. Now sing for me," and those hips are determined to be the death of you. Ah, the joy of pleasure and to die from it, you think you could die happy in the lap of your man.

Raspy growls and a man possessed to chase and seek pleasure after years of draught is a dangerous combination. Your head rests against his shoulder amdist thrusts jostling your body.

"Fuck it, he can deal with that damned dog while I make you cum, darling."

[peaceloveandf1]

Soft Launch pt.4

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 5

part 6

summary: It’s been 6 months since the release of Daylight and y/n l/n has never been better. The f1 season is back in full swing and so she’s traveling between London and races with Lance. They’ve been together 10 months and are still on the down low…but will that change?

pairing: Lance Stroll x reader

Face claim: Taylor Swift

rating: PG-13

………………………………………

yourusername posted photos

tagged: yourbestfriend, jackantanoff, honeymoon

liked by jackantanoff, kleinhila, yourbestfriend, lance_stroll and 6,307,099 others

yourusername life lately with my loves🫶🏻

20,469 comments

ynsgf: WHO IS THAT

honeymoon: luv u

jackantanoff: more wine needed next time😏

ynbae: hi @lance_stroll, is that you??

^lance_stroll: @ynbae huh?

f1baddies: LANCE IS HERE BYE

peaceandlove: so who is that bestie??

user1297: wow she’s got a bf already.. that’s quick

^ynscloset: shut up it’s been like 6 months or more

view more comments

………………………………………

“Mama! Ants is back” I hear the voice of my 3 year old son, Brooks, announce Lance’s arrival from his spot on the couch.

I give up my attempt to clean up a spaghetti sauce stain that is now embedded into the rug in favor of joining Brooks on the couch and greeting Lance, who just returned from a race in Austria. My son has been spending more time around Lance now that we’ve been together for 10 months and he adores him (and his racing simulator), my heart couldn’t function when Lance brought him to the Canadian GP for the first time.

“Hi, I missed you.” I said as he dropped his suitcase in the foyer and practically smothered us in hugs.

“I missed you too, although I definitely enjoyed our phone calls”, he said, whispering the last part in my ear;before telling Brooks all about his trip.

“How were Jack and Lana?” Lance asked me as I returned from tucking Brooks in.

“Good. We may or may not be working on something new…” I hinted, raising my brows.

“Well I expect to be the first to here it. I know it’s gonna be great.” He smiled, pulling me into a long kiss.

“Of course.” I promised, reciprocating the gesture.

“C’mon you’re practically falling asleep, let’s go to bed” I suggested, standing up from the couch and walking to our room.

..

“y/n”

“mmh?” I hummed in response as Lance’s voice floated into the bathroom.

“I want to go public” he stated.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head as I spit my toothpaste into the sink. “Huh?” I questioned, unsure if I heard him right.

“Well I mean we’ve been together almost a year. And I don’t want to skate around it anymore.” He offered.

My mind races, unsure of what to say. I do want to go public but I’ve dealt with so much media scrutiny before regarding my relationship with Matt that it scares me to go public with Lance. I’m too scared that the media will make me lose him.

“Lance.” I say softly, walking back into our room; “I do too. But I’m so scared. Terrified honestly. I don’t want what happened to Matt and I to happen to us.” I explained, as he watched me intensely.

“y/n, the tabloid’s can post whatever they please. We know what’s true. That’s all I need. You.” He reassured, pulling me into a hug and holding me there.

“I know, I know. I just- let me sleep on it, okay?” I offered. “I’ll talk to my publicist tomorrow morning. She’ll take it from there.

“Okay babe. It’s up to you. We don’t have to, you know that right?” He said, kissing my temple.

“I know. But I want the same. I just have to convince the other part of my mind” I giggled.

“Ok. Now get some sleep” he urged.

“Babe, you definitely need more sleep than I do right now” I said rolling my eyes, but complying anyways.

He laughed before throwing his arm around my waist and planting a kiss on my shoulder.

“Love you, y/n” he whispered.

“Love you, Lance” I whispered back, before letting my eyes fall heavy.

…….………………………………….

enews posted a photo

like count has been hidden

enews It’s confirmed! Y/n L/n and Formula 1 driver Lance Stroll have been dating for the last 10 months a source close to the couple has confirmed. In addition the two were spotted in London this morning.

1,827 comments

f1wagsgossip: HOLY SHIT WE WERE RIGHT

yns.style: so this is who I Think He Knows is about 😏

ynandlance: LFG

ynswife: someone check on Matt. JK

user170307: why is she never with her child

view more comments

………………………………………

“It’s out.” I called from my spot in the living room. “On E! have a look”,I said passing my phone to Lance.

“So what’s with the close source thing” he asked, looking confused.

“So you know how my publicist handles that stuff? Well when you want something ‘leaked’ or hinted at you have them contact one of their contacts at a media company and they’ll get the story going.” I explained. I would’ve thought he knew that because of the media presence in F1, but apparently not.

“And what’s with the picture. I didn’t even see the paps” he questioned again.

“I have no clue. I don’t even know how they found us there.” I laughed, also confused.

“So no more hiding?” Lance asked, brows raised.

“No more hiding” I confirmed, a weight lifted off of my shoulders, as he pulled me into a kiss.

[football-and-fanfics]

Argument - John Stones

Who: John Stones Request: The one with you and John having an argument over something like he ignored you (which he didn't mean to, kinda Taylor's all to well vibe?) and the argue goes crazy until he sees you're crying and all of sudden he stops that and become a big softy and all suff? already luv ya 💋 Requested by: anonymous Warnings: mentions of having a fight, crying A/N: I changed the request up a little bit (🙄), but it fit a little better with the idea I had for this. Hope you don't mind....

"Come on, you know I don’t want shoes on the carpet, love." You complained to John as you walked back into your living room. He sat on the sofa with his sneakers firmly planted on the cream-colored carpet. "Why is that always an issue with you?" He responded curtly. You knew he was in a bad mood over the lost match of the day before, but his response still pushed all the wrong buttons with you. "You’re not the one cleaning it," you retorted, equally curt. "Like you have much else to do," John replied angrily.

"Excuse me?!" Your anger was instantly reaching boiling point. You had moved to Manchester from London just a few months ago, after maintaining a long-distance relationship for a while. It was quickly decided among the two of you that you would settle in here properly first, before starting looking for a suitable job. "Come on, don’t start a scene now." John looked up at you with an irritated frown plastered on his face. "No, I am making a scene!" You yelled. "Why the hell would you say something like that to me?!" "Because you’re getting on my nerves with this." John's voice was raised now, too. "Oh, really?" You fumed, tears burning in your eyes. "Well, then you wouldn’t mind it if I left." You grabbed your jacket and hand bag, and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind you. ---- You wandered around the city for hours, crying silently over the fight you and John had had. His words had seriously hurt and upset you, and you needed some time alone to process what had happened. About an hour ago, your phone started buzzing in your pocket and had continued to do so with regular intervals. You ignored it, not wanting to talk to anyone right now. After a while, you finally took your phone out of your pocket and looked at the screen. There were 35 missed calls from John, but what shocked you the most was the time: 10.15 pm. You realized you had wandered around the city for over five hours. Even though you were still mad at John, you decided to go home. You had barely opened the door, before John came running to you and hugged you tightly. "I was so worried," he nearly sobbed, "I called everyone we know, and you weren't at any of their places. I feared something might have happened to you." "I'm fine." You pushed him away. "And I’m still mad at you." "I know," John said softly, his lower lip trembling slightly. "And I deserve that. I’ve been an absolute jerk." You folded your arms across your chest, and glared at him. "I should never have said any of those things," John continued, "I don’t mean them. I love you… so, so much. I'm sorry for all of it. This lost match has got me on edge, but I should never have taken it out on you, and now I've hurt you...." John fell silent, gasping for breath through tears spilling from his eyes. You knew he couldn’t be more sincere with this apology. "Please, babe, say something," John stammered after a short silence. His shoulders rocked with suppressed sobs. You cried now, too. Seeing the man you loved with all your heart breaking down into a sobbing mess over hurting you, was all the proof you needed of his love for you. "I forgive you," you whispered, but he had heard you. "Oh, thank god!" John hurried back over to you, and hugged you tightly again. "You’re the love of my life," he said softly, never breaking his embrace around you. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself if you ever left me." You giggled softly through the last of your tears. "I know," you whispered back, gently kissing his neck. "Neither would I."

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @de-geas, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @scuderiavettcl John tags: @footballffbarbiex, @johnstonessss PL tags: @ella33 Add me to the tags list, too! For more of my John imagines, click here

[johnconstantinejld]

London Tales-Woman in Green

She barely slept, the energy to keep the woman down keeping her up nearly every night. June sat amongst the stones, the mid-autumn sun cold upon her. It was snowing. It’d be snowing all over the county now. The Woman in Green braced. She sensed someone coming slowly from behind.

‘Hello, June.’

He lit a cigarette. The succubus gripped June’s shoulders tight. This man felt good. 

‘You are a weak one, John.’ The voice said, ‘Is that why you lose people? Is that why they die?’

‘Is that you’re spending your time just talking and talking?’ He asked back. Not a trace of emotion. Cigarette ash fell to the ground. He shuffled in his pocket. He seemed to be more concerned with a hip flask.

‘You’re alone. There’s nothing beyond. Every inch of this world is covered.’ Constantine said. ‘You’ll be defeated. You’re reduced to a totem. No reinforcements, no hope, no rescue. Nothing above, nothing below. The Angels don’t care, and Hell doesn’t either.

‘They will scream my name instead.’ The woman in green growled, ‘Scream hosannas to me!’

‘Rice pudding. Piss.’ Constantine muttered. The woman in black shuffled. John smelt like he had pissed against a wall last night. He had, unaware a ghost was standing there. Didn’t go through the ghost either.

‘I will see to it living life survives.’ She smiled, ‘They will then know which of them was right.’

‘And it’ll take June with it, as well.’

Enchantress snarled. ‘She’s a weakling. Quite like all the people who befriend you. Who is the real Constantine? Hmm? The man in the suit? The scared man?’

‘Fuck Keanu.’

Constantine sorted through his pockets, picked out a cigarette and looked for something to light it on. He scratched it on an old rune and it set alight. 

‘You mistreat your symbols, Hellblazer.’ She smiled. ‘Heaven doesn't have your back.’

‘Never figured this one out.’

He threw a symbol roughly to the ground. ‘Make the Earth tremble, luv.’ He sighed and turned his back.

‘Look us in the eye before we switch off the lights of the world and rebuild in our light.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that before. A woman in white told me bigger stuff. Guy on a white cloud was kind of big. You’re just a totem.’

‘A totem? I am a goddess!’

‘Oh, they all are! They all take different names and they all take different books but they’re all the same. I’m a bastard! I’ve kicked demons in the bollocks and out-witted so-called creators who saw the whole thing coming. And yet you hesitate to step on this little thing! Go on, step on it. May, June, July…I haven’t got all year.’

‘You’ve never had anyone, Constantine. They all go away.’

‘I asked the woman, Greenie. June, read it.’

There came a screaming. A dozen screaming cries; June’s, the succubus, the souls of others. The Enchantress held on. June pushed forward. She stumbled and stepped onto the relic. She screamed again. But not her. The woman in green.

‘What does it say? What is it?’

‘A nightmare for slags like you. You’re going to meet some very real power. They’ll be your nightmares.’

June dropped to her knees. She was holding a bland piece of lead in her hands. 

‘What is it?’ She asked. ‘I can feel my heart.’

‘She’s going to a place where things like her are real uncomfortable. She’s still alive, but no archaeologist is going to find her totem for a long time. Want a coffee?’ First try at a Hellblazer work. I don't own any of the rights. Could do with some work, so I'm prepped for any complaints.

[parkers-gal]

why T.H.

wc: 6k (angst)

jerk!tom makes an appearance

You were angry, that was for sure. Tom knew why, it was his fault after all, but he'd never admit it. He would never 'man up' to you and just apologize like he should. At least, not when he should, but he would later, when the damage was already done and set in.

Truth be told, you were furious. How could he do that when he promised not to? You were more hurt than angry, if you were being honest. You didn't want to be the 'mother' but quite frankly, you were disappointed too.

It was your dream to own a bakery, but a bakery in London was something to get your hopes up. Dreaming big never ended well for you in the past, but after years of working your ass off, you had managed to achieve something you had wanted since you were young.

Your bakery, Flour Before Frosting, also happened to be where you met Tom, your boyfriend of almost 18 months. He had walked in one day, charming with a dashing smile, and asked for "your best made velvets, frosted with your number." You remember that day vividly, for it was one of the many times Tom would drop by before eventually taking you out and officially making you his girlfriend. Eight months and 17 days later, you moved out of your crappy flat and into his house (though it really just made things easier because you were already over every night).

You were in your shared bedroom, writing down new plans for how to decorate your bakery for the holidays.

"Hey, babe!" Tom called.

"In here, Tom," you yelled back.

"Oh- hey, luv. Got an old friend visiting next week, so I won't be by for our Wednesday lunch plans," he informed you.

"Oh, okay. Do you want some cupcakes and tea? Gonna have a new batch on Tuesday, fresh with new tea that Jackson just got. I think he made it- anyways, he gave me a sample a few weeks and I absolutely loved it. I think you'll like it too, it's just right for you." You rambled, and Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Yeah, darling. I'd love some cupcakes for my guest, gonna have to show off your amazing skills, aren't I?"

You blushed, waving your hand in the air as a hint for him to leave so he would stop flustering you. He ran over to kiss your cheek, leaving a Hershey kiss on your desk before yelling out that he'd be at the gym with Harrison for the next two hours.

Wednesday had come by, and you were on a lunch break, leaving Jackson in charge before heading to your favorite café for coffee and some light reading, and maybe even more planning. Heading in, you ordered and sat down in a booth. The door chime rung, making you look up from your papers and notebooks you had spread out to start your organizing. Tom, and what must've been his friend, walked in. You smiled as they went to the side of the restaurant with the small library of old, vintage books. They were facing away from you, sitting side by side in the angled lounge chairs. You were about to go over to and say 'hi' but your waitress came by with your coffee, so you stayed seated and went back to your work.

You saw Tom with the Tupperware box you gave him, enclosed with the small lunch note you always wrote him. He opened the box, giving a cupcake to the man talking to him (you were right in earshot), before reaching in for his, and the note. Before he got the chance to even look at it, his friend spoke up, frosting on his upper lip.

"You said these were made by a friend? This is fucking disgusting. Is it chocolate or..? Damn, ew, is this frosting healthy?" he laughed.

Tom nodded along, "I, uh, honestly couldn't uhm.." he trailed off, his friend looking at him with a confused expression, expectantly thinking for Tom to agree with him. "Yeah, man, I don't really fucking know."

His friend took another small nibble before playfully gagging, and looking at Tom while he bit into it for the first time. Tom reacted in the same way, 'gagging', to agree with his friend, before putting it on the table with his friend's cupcake.

"Who made that? Certainly wasn't Gordon Ramsey."

At this, Tom laughed. Whether he thought it was funny, or if he was just trying to ease the tension, you couldn't tell. You were too busy blinking tears away.

"You said you had tea?" he questioned Tom. Tom nodded. "Good, need something to wash away that disgusting thing people call a cupcake."

You cringed, turning your head to the side with squinted eyes because you truly couldn't sit there and listen to what someone thought was wrong with your life's work.

Tom didn't reply, just getting the tea in the thermoses in his bag, handing one to his friend while opening his. You were contemplating on if his lack of response was a good thing. On one hand, he wasn't completely encouraging the hate you were getting, but on the other hand, he didn't stick up for you either. Right now, that was all you could think about. But then, everything slipped your mind when both boys tried the tea you had specially made (early, for it wasn't to be sold in your shop for about another month) just for them.

Tom opened his thermos, smiling when he took a sniff at it, because you were right. It smelt like something he would love. His friend, however, would not agree. Taking one sip, he was just as rude about it as he was with the cupcake, going as far as spitting it back into the thermos.

He got up, taking both cupcakes with him, and dumped the thermos out in the trash can, the cupcakes following not long after. He sat down next to Tom, shaking his head with a coy grin before speaking.

"Next time, let's get Chinese or something," he laughed, Tom nodding along with him before slipping both thermoses back into his bag, dropping your note in the process. Before he got to pick it up, his friend crumpled it up and threw it towards the trash can, laughing probably a little too loudly about it. You were certain he knew it was a note from Tom's girlfriend. 

You were still for five minutes, stunned. Ultimately, you decided to cut your lunch break short, packing up your stuff as quickly as possible, leaving a tip and rushing out, your back to the boys.

You had yet to bring anything up, though you weren't noticeably acting different around Tom. But when he mentioned the next week that his 'old friend' wanted to "eat dinner and get drunk" you were hesitant. You hoped this 'friend' was temporary, because the effects were already starting to show, and you didn't like what they were.

Tom didn't tell you when he'd be out with, Andrew, he said his name was? but you didn't think it would be the immediate week after the cupcake incident.

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, jotting down ideas for your shop when he came in.

"Oh, Y/N! Andrew and I decided to go out this Friday, said something about clubbing or shit. Anyways, he said don't expect me home early, but I might sneak away if he's drunk enough," he said, rather quickly, for while he was talking, he was filling a water bottle and grabbing some fruit.

"Wait, this Friday? I thought we-"

"Thanks, Y/N! Gotta head out," he was practically yelling, running to kiss you on the cheek before racing out and slamming the door shut.

Did he mean this Friday? His only day off for the rest of the month, the one where you two planned a film night, with take away and late night talks and star walks in the park?

It was only eight o'clock on a Wednesday morning, your late opening day, but you decided to head in early. Walking in, Jackson had already opened for you, being the gentleman he is, just setting up for the day, knowing you didn't want to walk in to a store full of customers without being there. He was sitting at a window table with his boyfriend, Jeremy, giggling and eating a muffin. When the door chime rung, he looked up, his boyfriend turning around to smile and wave while Jackson was coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! We're a little short on shortbread today," he laughed at his pun, "so I put in a new batch about 20 minutes ago. The chalk board is set up and the cappuccino machine is on-" he was about to turn away before he stopped abruptly. "Oh! And Tom stopped by while I was in the back. Jeremy said that he wanted you to know something about not eating cupcakes for this new diet? I don't know, he mentioned something about Anthony telling him about some diet that would help fo-"

"Andrew!" Jeremy cut in from behind, correcting him.

"Right, Andrew told him it would help for his job. So he said to stop making his weekly order."

"Oh," you weren't quite sure what you could say. Thank you? What the fuck? It was all jumbled into your brain too fast. "Thank you, J. Well, guess we should open shop for the day." With that, you worked until seven-thirty, an hour later than you usually would.

Arriving home, you walked in and set your bag down, heading for the kitchen to get water. Mid-drink, Tom walked in.

"Why are you home so late?"

You swallowed, placing the cup down, "I was working," you deadpanned, maneuvering around him so your shoulder wouldn't hit his on your way out. He followed you into the living room.

"It's almost 8!"

"Yeah? I don't know what you want me to say, Tommy. I'm sorry? I'll tell you what you want to hear, but that doesn't mean I mean it. "

He was silent for a second, laughing slightly, seemingly letting it go. You weren't joking, but you didn't want to argue, yet. "Right," he laughed again, "Sorry. I did want to talk to you though."

"We are talking."

"Smartass," he joked. You giggled slightly. "I've got to go back to press next week. I leave on Tuesday." You stopped laughing. 

"For how long?"

"I'm always gonna be away for the same amount of time, Y/N, you know that. I'll be back mid October." 

October? It was only the beginning of April.

"Well, I'll be back in London for a few days in July so you'll have that. Press ends around September, but I need to finish up Chaos Walking. I'll be here for Halloween though," he smiled encouragingly.

You nodded. "Okay.. do great things, Tommy," you always told him.

Friday rolled around, and you you were going to close the shop early for your night with Tom, but he was going out, so your plans were out the window. Instead, [your best friend] would be coming over at around eight. Tom would be gone by that time, right?

It didn't matter, because he wasn't even home when you got back from work. It was barely seven, you two usually had dinner together. Well, not this past week because he had plans with Harrison, and his brothers, and Andrew, and Tuwaine...and practically everyone else. Seeing as you had about an hour, you decided to shower, changing into some casual clothes. Tom was going clubbing... he wouldn't be back before 4 A.M., right? You didn't care, [your best friend] would spend the night anyways. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

You were wearing a cute tank, your favorite sleepwear, and some loose sweat pants. You were drying your hair with a towel when the doorbell rang. It rang again, so with the towel in your hand you ran down the stairs, yelling, "just a second," but it rang again. You swung the door open, confused, because [your best friend] always came in unannounced because you two were completely comfortable with each other. Instead, you were met with the boy from the cafe, Andrew. You looked around, and saw Tom's car parked by the curb, Tom waiting in the driver's seat while talking to someone in the back.

"Hey, Tom texted you or- whatever. We're going clubbing, can you get his stuff?"

"Uhm.. stuff?"

"Yeah.. he said you'd put his stuff inna backpack so he could get ready at my place," he answered confidently, as if you knew about this.

"I'm- uh, sorry? I don't have anything," you answered.

"What?" his eyes were wide with annoyance and disbelief.

The car honked, and Andrew turned around, shrugging his shoulder and mouthing something to Tom, before Tom came out and up to you.

"Didn't you get my text, Y/N? About the stuff sitting on my dresser?" he asked, straight up without so much as a 'hello' or 'how're you?'.

"No, I- no. No I didn't get your text, Tom."

"Well-"

"Well?" you interrupted.

"Thanks for, nothing I guess," he responded, moving past you and into the house to retrieve his things. Once again, you were left with Andrew on your porch, only this time he was eyeing you up and down, winking at you before yelling to Tom and going back to the car, Tom following not long after. This time, he didn't even bother saying goodbye on his way out. Just as they drove off, [your best friend] walked up.

"What the hell was that?" she shrieked.

"What?"

"That whole, 'thanks for nothing' bullshit. What kind of boyfriend thinks he can say that to his girlfriend?!"

You started heading in, taking one of her bags with you as she followed you inside. Placing her things down, you turned around, giving her a bear hug which she gladly returned.

"It wasn't that bad. Besides, he's been worse this week," you explained.

She was silent for a moment, shaking her head before talking. "Okay, I see why you called for a girl's night on such short notice. C'mon, lets get changed into some pajamas and get the snacks ready. It's been far too long since we've had actual time with each other," she gave you a sentimental smile, soft and sweet. You nodded, already planning on what to get and where to make the fort of blankets you already knew she wanted.

About half an hour later, she was in comfortable clothes, and you were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, getting chips and dip and pretzels and candy and everything in between. You had both decided to use the guest bedroom, which was accompanied with it's own bathroom. The room was probably a little smaller than the master bedroom, which was normal, but the bathroom was more expensive than yours. Plus, this one was used when the boys came over, so the Xbox, all the video games, movies, and the music equipment was here. Even with all this expensive stuff, the room was still as big as ever, so putting a fort in front of the bed barely took up any space.

You had to make at least three trips for all the food and stuff you were bringing, and because this was a guest bedroom, it had a mini refrigerator. Both of you decided to keep it pg-13, no alcohol or rated-R movies. Tonight, it was a Disney marathon with hot cocoa. At around 11:30, you had just finished your third movie, Beauty and the Beast, when [your best friend] stopped the ending credits and turned to you.

"Before we watch anything else," she turned to you while you did the same, "let's talk. We can fall asleep watching Disney, but we can't fall asleep and keep talking," you interrupted her, laughing, before nodding away. "So.. what's going on? With Tom, I mean, because you mentioned that he was worse earlier this week than he was today, and tonight he was pretty nasty so I mean- yeah, what else has he done?"

You paused, looking down and sighing, giving in. "Well, it started with Andrew, some 'old friend' he wanted to catch up with. I gave Tom some cupcakes and tea from the shop to eat with him. I was on my lunch break when the boys came into the same cafe and started eating. They didn't like it and- well.. they sorta threw it out after gagging about it," you said. Her eyes went wide. "I don't know, [best friend's nickname], I mean at first I was stunned, hurt obviously because it seemed to be on purpose because Tom knows I always go to that cafe on my lunch break. Is it a coincidence that he came to the same cafe at the exact same time I have my lunch break?"

You went on to explain how Tom had cancelled two dinner dates and a movie night within the past two weeks, and that he was going clubbing without inviting you, cancelling his weekly cupcake order and calling you clingy after you texted him about making sure he ate dinner. Not to mention he only just mentioned him leaving next week on a press tour, and spending his only day off with Andrew even though you two had planned spending that day together for a month.

By the time you were done listing off all the reasons, you were sobbing into [your best friend's] chest, trying to catch your breath. It was too late though, because Tom wasn't here and the events leading up to an attack like this could have only been noticed by him, seeing as [your best friend] wasn't here to see them herself. You couldn't hear anything, your pounding heart being the only thing filling your ears. [Your best friend's] attempt to calm you down wasn't working, resorting to the breathing exercises which were slowly drowned out. You could't even get a breath in. The realization hit you: if you didn't take control, you would faint. You had never had an attack this intense in at least four months, so everything needed to help you would take too long to get.

You gripped her arm, unable to focus on anything except for the fact that you were going to faint.

"I'm here, Y/N, I'm right here. It's going to be okay, right? We're gonna work things out. Yeah? Everything's gonna be alright. We're gonna be alright. We'll be alright," she cooed.

You blacked out, only for about two minutes, but you did. When you woke, you sobbed again, finding a steady breath before completely crushing [your best friend] with a hug, gripping her tightly.

"Thank you," you whispered.

She got you settled, convincing you to snack lightly before brushing your teeth, making sure you drank water. The fort was ready, untouched since your movie marathon, so you both climbed in and fell asleep watching Disney.

Four hours later, it was four o'clock in the morning, and the front door slammed shut.

"Y/N!" Tom slurred, dragging out the last syllable of your name. "Y/N!" he repeated, the same way but louder. "Where the fu-! OH! OW!" he screamed.

You and [your best friend] were already starting to sit up, confusion spreading across your faces before she got up, following her directly after. She opened the bedroom the door, and you stepped out, making your way down the stairs and seeing Tom sitting on the ground, missing a shoe with a rip on his shirt sleeve.

"There you are! I wus at the club a-and Andrew and I were hanging out and he took home some girl- he said if he was getting laid that I should come home and get laid by my lame-ass girlfriend, so come here! Fuck me!" he slurred, talking too loudly for your liking.

"Did you just call her a lame-"

"Tom, you're drunk. Go to bed," you cut her off, knowing how protective she would get. Honestly, you wanted her to scream and shout and yell at him, and you wanted to join her. But if you were going to, you wanted him to be completely sober so the guilt would really sink in.

"No wonder you're a lame-ass," he muttered.

"What was that?" [your best friend] yelled.

"Nothing! I'm going up to bed, see?" He looked at both of you before running up the stairs like a kid.

You both stood there, a little hesitant, before going up the stairs, talking on your way.

"Y/N, I swear if you hit him, you better knock some sense into him because that boy is so ridiculously stupid and undeserving of your love."

You laughed, growing quiet because you were beginning to think she was right. 

The next morning, you and [your best friend] got up at nine to make pancakes and bacon, your usual sleepover breakfast. The speaker was playing One Direction, both of you singing and slightly dancing when Tom came downstairs, disheveled and hungover.

It was Saturday, his last Saturday with you, but it had taken him too long to get interested in hanging out with his girlfriend. "Hey, Y/N. Wanna do something today?" he asked.

[Your best friend] looked at you, but you had already made up your mind. "Sorry, Tom, [your best friend] and I are going shopping together. Next time, though,"  you said, before putting your dishes in the sink and slipping out of the room, [your best friend] following you out.

That night, you and your best friend departed ways, telling her you'd call and let her know when she could come over again. You got home, and decided to put your new things in the guest bedroom, because your clothes from last night were still there. The mess, luckily, was cleaned up thanks to [your best friend], who convinced you to help with the cleanup.

It was nearly ten-thirty by the time you got situated. You were in a new set of pajamas, sitting in front of the tele in the guest bedroom on the floor, looking at all the new things you bought. You found this super cute sweater, and a pair of jeans [your best friend] insisted on buying for you. You also found a pair of shoes to go with an outfit you had planned in your head; it was perfect. People say your looks shouldn't matter, but you felt good when you looked good, so you loved fashion. Overall, you and [your best friend] must have spent at least $800.

At around 11, you heard footsteps running around the house, before Tom came into the guest bedroom.

"What're you doing in here? Aren't you gonna sleep in our room?" he looked worried.

You lowered the shirt you were looking at, making eye contact. You hesitated, "I- yeah... Yeah I guess."

"You guess?"

You just shook your head, trying to be playful with it, but ending up avoiding his gaze all together and going back to looking at your new things.

"Y/N?"

You looked up, "Yeah?"

He looked --  surprised almost? There seemed to be a glint of hurt in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded, getting up and setting the shirt back in its bag, "C'mon, lets just go to bed."

He mumbled an agreement, turning around and walking to your bedroom. You left the guest room, closing the door and going into your room. It was weird-- to even consider it your bedroom, because you hadn't slept in it for about three days. The last time you did, Tom wasn't with you. Was it normal? Did all couples go through things like this? You didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, because you were already under the covers, sleep consuming you before Tom got the chance to talk to you about anything.

It was almost noon when you woke up on Sunday. Rolling over, you felt Tom's side of the bed empty. The feeling of the cold sheets didn't come as a surprise to you, he was gone every time you woke up even though he didn't start filming until around 10 A.M. . It was different this time, because it was your last weekend together. He was always at home on the weekends he wasn't away filming. 

You pulled the covers off you, walking downstairs into the kitchen where you were met with Tom and Haz, quietly whispering things to each other. You didn't get to listen long, for both boys shot up and stood straighter, smiling to you. You just looked at them, slightly rolling your eyes before grabbing some juice and heading back into the guest bedroom.

When you came down ten minutes later for breakfast, both boys were talking normally again.

"Just talk to her, alright man?" Haz spoke.

"What am I supposed to say man? I can't just go up to my girlfriend and tell her I'm fucking pissed at how she's been ignoring me. Not gonna be rude like her-"

"Woah- woah woah, Tom. She's not that rude. Just have a civilized conversation with her. It's easy, you're just overthinking it."

"Okay.. okay, yeah- yeah," he stuttered, turning around on his heal but abruptly stopping when he saw you standing in the doorway. His jaw dropped, noticing your anger immediately.

"Maybe I should go-" Harrison started.

"No, no don't bother. I'll go, it's obvious you both want it."

You turned around, going up to Tom's bedroom and getting a change of clothes, immediately putting on your jeans and the rest of your outfit, before Tom came barging in.

"No- Y/N, I'm sorry. Please, let's talk," he begged.

You ignored him, getting some more clothes, enough to last you two days, before going into the bathroom for your makeup bag and some deodorant. Going back into the closet, you grabbed your work backpack, making sure all your notebooks and journals were in it, before shoving the things you had in to join them.

"Y/N, please. I-  listen to me, please. I'm sorry, let's just talk. Talk it through, yeah?" he asked.

You looked up, talking rather emotionless. "No. We can talk when we've both thought our shit through, although I thought it was only you who needed to get their shit together, but obviously I was wrong. I'll be back after work on Monday, if you're even here to notice." With that, you moved past him, grabbing your phone and texting [your best friend], picking up your keys from it's hook and heading for the door. Haz was standing in the living room, and when you passed him he gave you a sentimental look, but you payed no mind as you glared him down, opening the door and slamming it in Tom's face, for he was downstairs too late.

About 10 hours had passed since you left, and Tom had only thought about you for two of them. Andrew and 'the gang' had called him, insisting that him and Haz join them for some fun. Tom had reluctantly agreed, much to Harrison's dismay.

At around eleven o'clock, Tom had had enough 'fun'. The guilt in him was killing him, but his anger for you was killing him even more. Telling Haz he'd be heading out, he drove home, getting into bed and thinking about what you'd talk about when you got back.

Monday had passed, and you were doing better than you thought you would be. You opened shop about 30 minutes early that Monday morning, knowing it was better to keep yourself occupied. It was [your best friend's] week off, so she offered to come with you to work, and 'volunteer' almost. She had quite some experience in waitress-ing , so you gave her that job. Around noon, Tom came into the shop, and [your best friend] called out, "Incoming, [your nickname]."

You looked up from the cappuccino machine, turning around to face the door Tom had just entered. The minute you saw him coming towards you, you spoke. Luckily there weren't that many people around who didn't know you, so they didn't react when you yelled at Tom.

"Get out."

"I just wanted to-"

"Get OUT!" you yelled, louder when Tom didn't listen to you.

He moved forward, leaving a Hershey kiss near the cash register, looking to you for your reaction. You picked it up, and threw it to [your best friend], who unwrapped it and ate it herself. He left after she pointed towards the door.

When you closed shop, you decided to head home, seeing as he was leaving tomorrow and you had obviously thought a lot about what to do. The only option, really: talk it out.

Walking in, you placed your bag by the door and went to get some water in the kitchen. Tom was standing there, staring into space. He noticed you come in, and immediately stood up straighter, obviously becoming more aware of his surroundings.

"Are you- are we talking now?"

"I'm here, yeah. Let's talk," you answered setting your cup down.

"What's your problem?" he asked. You looked at him like he was crazy, so he went on. "I mean, these past few weeks, you've completely ignored me. And when you did acknowledge me, it was a rather rude encounter. "

"You think I'm rude?" he nodded, and you scoffed. "Well I'm sorry you think I'm rude. You wanna know what I think is rude?"

"Look, I'm sorry my being honest upset you. But nobody said the truth was nice," he interrupted.

"Tom, what the fuck?"

"I'm just saying! Out of the two of us, you're the one who has more problems!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you are always the one who cries over shit, and gets upset at little things," he answered. You looked at him in disbelief. "What I'm saying is you're over-dramatic and too sensitive."

"Oh for fuck's sake," you started. "You just- you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"You said to talk! I'm talking!"

"You're being completely unreasonable."

"Am I? Because all you've talked about is how you think I'm crazy. Do you even have anything to say?"

"Fine! You want me to talk? I'll talk. I've been rude to you because you are the one who let that man you call a fucking friend insult my life's work. You completely agreed with him, took in my hate and didn't even stand up for me!" You yelled. Tom didn't know you knew about that, and he was about to interject but you kept going, "And to make things worse, you kept seeing him! Every single fucking week, it was 'Andrew said this!' 'Andrew said that!'. You cancelled dates to see him! Call me over-dramatic, but when your boyfriend cancels a date on his only day off, I think most girls would be pretty fucking pissed," you walked out of the kitchen.

Tom was in the living room too, following you. "Yeah, well I'm sorry I cancelled our plans, but we live together. Don't you think we see enough of each other because of that?"

"Wha- what?"

"Think about it! We see each other all time because we live together," he reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess you're right,"

"See-"

"If you were ever around, I would see you a lot. But you're never around, so no, Tom, we don't see each other a lot. I work too, remember!"

"Not like I do," he mumbled.

"What?" you yelled.

"Nothing."

"No, Tommy. If you have something to say, you better fucking say it or so help me-"

"I said 'not like I do'!"

"What? Because I'm not some movie star with his head up his ass, I don't work hard?"

"My head's not in my ass, yours is! All I wanted to do was talk things out, not get fucking blamed for things that aren't my fault!"

"Yeah? Well all I wanted was someone better," you quipped back.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What have I done wrong! Please, enlighten me! All you've done is complain about the stupidest things!"

"So my feelings are stupid, now?"

"Did I fucking say they were?" he yelled, voice raising as he stepped closer.

"Sounded like it to me!" you yelled, raising your voice to meet his.

"Just tell me! Do you have anything else to say?"

"You- you really are stupid, Tom."

"No, Y/N. I'm not. You are, not even telling me why you're so fucking angry at me."

"I'm angry because I had my first attack in months because of you. You! The person who told me he'd always be there to help me through one, not cause one. I'm angry because you go out without even bothering to ask if I'd like to join you. A-And then you just throw it at me that you're leaving for, what? Seven months?!  Not to mention you completely stopped eating things from my shop because of a so-called diet? And you're off with that Andrew guy, who eyed me like a pervert even though he knows I'm taken. You know how uncomfortable I am with that! And don't you dare say you didn't know, when you're the one coming home drunk telling me he's picked up another girl and telling you that you should go home and get laid too. God knows you'd listen to him if he asked you to cheat on me. Not to mention how you called me fucking clingy because I was checking up on you. You want me to stop making sure you're okay? You want me to stop caring?" you screamed. "Because you say the words and I will fucking back off for good. "

He was silent for a second, only missing a beat, contemplating on if he should apologize or keep fighting. Because he didn't want you to be angry, but he wanted to win. He needed to win. "Yeah, I wish you would back the fuck off. You're always on me!" he screamed. "And I get wanting to be affectionate, but you're just fucking sickening. Too much love."

That made you stop. "You think I'm loving you too much?" you asked quietly, and Tom looked at you, really looked at you, after hearing the change in your voice. You were quiet, practically whispering now. It wavered slightly, your eyes were glossy and red.

"I- I didn't-" he started, but it was no use. The damage was done.

He knew better than anyone about your past, which had caused a massive buildup in insecurities that were inevitably killing you. When you met Tom, he had promised to discard each and every one of your insecurities until you loved yourself as much as he did.

"No, you did. And you fucking know it." You were walking upstairs, getting yet another bag ready to last you until Tom left for his press tour.

"No, no Y/N, I'm sorry. Listen to me, baby. I didn't mean it," he begged.

"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it," you said, choosing a few shirts to shove into your backpack. "Your intentions were pretty clear, Tommy. I'll stop caring for you, stop putting in effort for this toxic relationship. I'll stop loving you, because right now, it seems like loving you is the one thing wrong with me," you said, finding some pants and your makeup bag.

You were making your way downstairs now, "Y/N, Y/N please. Please I need you. I can't leave us like this- not when I leave tomorrow."

"What 'us,' Tom? There is no 'us' anymore."

"What're you saying?" he asked, tears finally falling from his face.

"I'm saying it's time I move on from you. Moving on means not having you. So, we're done," you opened the front door.

Tom stood in the doorway while you gripped the handle. "So- we- we're.."

"I'll be out before you come in July," you filled in. With that you slammed the door, driving to [your best friend's] house, while Tom sobbed on the floor in what used to be a home of two people who loved each other.

[babybluebex]

not your duke [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: prince!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.7k ➽ summary: at the dawn of the new century, you meet two men: one, your betrothed, and the other, a prince with a secret.  ➽ warnings: explicit language, gothic era shit bc i live for that ➽ a/n: many thanks to the loml @earthlyholland​ for coming up with the title and urging me to finish writing this i luv u kiss 

Nothing had ever drawn you into London. In fact, you were staunchly opposed to the idea when your father first told you that you were moving. What was the point of it? You knew that your father could conduct business as easily from the States as from England, but what’s done is done. You had lived in London for a short time, only a few months, before you realized the real reason why your father relocated you. 

You met your fiancé at a party. London was known for its aristocracy, and your father’s banking business had put him in high regard with many of the British elite, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were invited to a New Years party. “The Osterfields,” your father told you. “I’m told they have a son only just older than you.” 

“Really?” you asked, looking out the window, hardly curious. “His name?”

“Harrison,” your father told you. The carriage bumped along the street, and you swayed with it. “The Honourable Harrison Osterfield of Kingston.” 

“Of course he’s noble,” you muttered. “Father, will you ever stop trying to marry me off?” 

“Your younger sister is already married,” your father reminded you. “If it’s not soon, it’ll never happen. And Sir Harrison is a perfectly agreeable gentleman.” 

“Agreeable to you,” you scoffed. 

“He’s an Oxford-educated man,” your father pressed. “Well-read, which I know is something you covet. I’m told he’s a good conversationalist as well; I guess you’ll be able to judge that for yourself tonight.” 

You cried out in opposition. “Father! Am I to meet Little Lord Fauntelroy tonight?” 

“Watch your tongue, girl. You are to meet your fiancé tonight.” 

The New Years party hosted by the Baron and Baroness Osterfield was what you expected, a lush spectacle of champagne and pleasing music and perfume. It wasn’t the sort of place that you usually found comfort at, but you tried your best; the Baron Osterfield was a close business partner of your father’s, and you couldn’t afford to muck everything up by having a foul attitude. “Lord Osterfield,” my father began, placing a hand on my back to usher me into his conversation. “Might I introduce my daughter?” 

The man before you was older, his fair hair tinged with a bit of grey, but he was dressed wonderfully in his tails and a red tie. “Pleasure to meet you, miss,” he said in a sonorous voice. “You’re the lass that’s engaged to our Haz, yes?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smiled, and your father sent a warning pinch to your back through your dress. Attitude, you could hear him scolding you. 

“Have you met him yet?” Lord Osterfield asked. “He’s a strapping lad; running around with his uni mates, I’m sure.” He looked around the room, bustling with activity, and he made a quick motion with his hand when he spotted someone across the room. 

The space before you was suddenly filled by a young man, still older than you, blond hair and green eyes, a wonderful smile on his face and his cheeks blushed. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you, and he took your hand in a gentle but strong hold. “Hello, madam,” he said cordially. “I’m called Harrison. Haz, to most.” 

“Haz,” you repeated slowly. “I’d rather keep with Lord Osterfield, if that pleases you.” 

“Of course, madam,” Harrison said. “Might I interest you in a turn about the garden? It’s such a lovely night.” 

You looked to your father for permission, and he patted your back with a nod. Harrison saw this and gave a smile, and you hooked your arm with his as he led you out into the cold December night. Harrison’s body was warm and you found yourself moving into him, and he finally stopped at a metal bench along the path. “Do you mind if I smoke?” Harrison asked, settling himself onto the bench. 

You shrugged. Harrison took that to mean “No”, and he situated a cigarette in his mouth. It was rolled perfectly, either the work of a skilled amateur or a professional; either way, it was the smallest proof of his aristocracy. All of your friends smoked lopsided cigarettes that had tobacco that spilled out of the ends. 

“I’m sure you like this as well as I do,” Harrison began. “I told my parents that I prefer to marry for love, but my younger sister is already married. They said it was getting to be--”

“Too late,” you supplied. “My father said the same of me.” 

“You prefer to marry for love as well?” Harrison asked. Feeling slightly more at ease than before, you sat down next to him, fiddling with your skirt to lay right. 

“I would like to,” you said. “But we both know that’s not possible.” 

Harrison shrugged. “We only have a few minutes left of this year,” he said, looking at the Swiss watch on his wrist. “Who knows? Maybe 1900 holds newfound possibilities.” 

You tilted your head. “What makes you so sure?” you asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Harrison chuckled. A strand of blond escaped the rest of his styled hair, and you gently pushed it back, earning you a smile from your fiancé. “I’m just hopeful.” 

“Hope can be dangerous,” you remarked. 

“That’s true,” Harrison said. “But what’s the harm in having a little hope? Perhaps we can learn to love each other.”

“Perhaps we can,” you agreed. “I guess we have the rest of our lives to do that.” 

Harrison smiled at you, and you huffed out a laugh. He pulled a drag from his cigarette, and he said, “So we’re getting married, huh?”

“Seems like it.” 

There was a shout from the house, one that made Harrison look over, and you did as well to see a man, about the same age as Harrison, dressed nicely with curly hair, half-hanging out of the house. “Haz, get your stupid arse in here!” the man yelled. “Find your girl, the clock’s about to turn!” 

“I have my girl, you git!” Harrison cried. Before either of you could say anything, the man slipped from the house and came over to the two of you, and Harrison rolled his eyes. “Here we go…” he whispered. 

“This is her?” the man asked. He was British too, and he smiled at you widely. 

“Yes,” Harrison said, and he stood up. You did the same, and Harrison carefully took your hand. “This is Y/N, my fiancé.” 

“Ah,” the man said. “Hello, madam.”

“Y/N, this is one of my mates from university,” Harrison told you. “Duke Harold Holland of Kingston-Upon-Thames.”

“Call me Harry,” he said quickly. “Everyone else does.”

“Harry,” you said with a relieved smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” Harry said. “Have you only just met?”

“Just several minutes ago,” Harrison told him, his arm snaking around your waist. 

“Well, it’s quite cold out,” Harry said. “And the clock’s about to turn. Come in, madam, get a drink.”

“Oh, I don’t drink,” you told Lord Harry Holland of Kingston-Upon-Thames quickly. “It doesn’t agree with me.” 

“No matter,” Harry said. “I’ll warn you, though: a drink completely agrees with your fiancé.” He gave a laugh, and you noticed that Harrison shifted uncomfortably next to you. 

“Well, Christ, don’t make me out to be a drunkard,” Harrison laughed nervously. “You’ll frighten her away, and we only just agreed to go through with this.”

“Not meant to frighten you, madam,” Harry said quickly. “In fact, my oldest brother doesn’t drink. Perhaps you two will get along.” 

“Oh, no, Harry, she’ll hate Thomas,” Harrison sighed. He looked at you, then added, “Thomas is quite a bore, honestly. Not nearly as fun as me, Harry or Sam.”

“Sam? Thomas?” you asked. You agreed that Haz and Harry seemed like fun, but anxiety thrummed in your chest. If Thomas was a bore to Harrison, you didn’t want to know what he truly thought of you. You could easily also be classified as a bore: you preferred reading and drawing to the piano or squash that was popular with your friends. You had done ballet when you were growing up, but were by no means athletic otherwise. 

“My twin brother, Samuel,” Harry began. “And Thomas is… Haz is right, he’s an awful bore. He brought a fucking book tonight, can you believe it? What sort of sod brings a book to a party?”

“But Thomas is a good friend,” Harrison added. “He’s a wonderful listener and gives excellent advice.” 

You nodded slowly. Thomas already seemed like a better match than Harrison, and you cursed your father. Of course he would match you with someone who wasn’t the best option for you. But no matter. Your fiancé offered you his arm and you took it, and you followed the men back into the ballroom. There was a renewed energy, and the ballroom was abuzz. You were introduced to Duke Samuel Holland, a man who bore a striking resemblance to Harry (as they should), and were briefly told about the twins’ younger brother, a boy of sixteen named Lord Patrick. The Honourable Charlotte Osterfield came after Sam, and she was giggling the entire night; she was engaged to Sir Tuwaine Barrett of Chelsea, another uni mate of your fiance’s. 

“Where is Thomas?” Harrison asked, looking around wildly. “He promised me that he’d be my New Years’ kiss!” 

“Did he swear to it as he did to Nadia?” Harry chortled. “I bet he’s gone home already. Slipped away without any of us noticing.” 

The clock chimed, and Harrison turned his jade gaze back to you. You gave him a gleeful look over the brim of your champagne as you took a sip, and your body cowered at the bitterness of the French alcohol. “Happy New Year, dearest,” Harrison said quietly, just for you to hear. “Here’s to many more.” 

You nodded. Suddenly, your chest felt tight, and your head was spinning, and you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. You suddenly saw the rest of your life flash in front of your eyes: The Honorable Lady Osterfield, on your husband’s arm every single day, expected to please him and serve him. You didn’t want that. 

“Y/N,” Harrison said, putting a hand on your shoulder. His eyebrows were furrowed, and you at least felt comforted at his genuine worry. “You look pale. Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. “Quite fine. I told you that alcohol doesn’t agree well with me.” 

Harrison nodded, his lips drawn thin, and he turned to Harry. “Call her carriage,” he instructed him. “I think my dearest needs to go home.” 

Harry nodded, giving you a worried look, but hurried off to do as his friend requested. Harrison took the flute of champagne from you and set it down, and he put a hand on your back. “I hate that you’ve gone ill,” he said. “I do wish we can see each other again, though. I enjoy your company greatly.”

“And I, yours,” you replied. “I really apologize for my behavior--”

“Harrison,” a booming voice came, and you looked to see the Baron Osterfield approaching you. “I need to speak with you, son.”

“Father, can it wait?” Harrison asked. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.” 

“His Majesty needs to speak to you,” Lord Osterfield said. “A business venture, he says.”

Harrison looked from you to his father, and he chewed his bottom lip. “I’ll be right there,” he told his father. “I just need to escort Y/N to her carriage.”

“Harrison, Dominic cannot be kept waiting,” Lord Osterfield grumbled. “Especially not on such a matter.” 

Harrison looked at you once more, then his eyes caught someone behind you. “Thomas,” he said. “Thomas! Come here, please!” 

Your heart hit against the wall of your chest when you finally saw Thomas Holland. He was a well-built man, wearing nice clothes that were a bit worn in places. His hair was dark, and in frizzy curls, crawling down his face, as was the fashion. His eyes were the color of amber, his cheeks pink, his lips thin but like a rose. He had a book under his arm, bound in leather, a bit of paper sticking from the top. “Would you do me an amazing favor?” Harrison asked. “I have to speak to your father; can you escort Y/N to her carriage out front?” 

“Y/N?” Thomas asked, and your heart warmed and melted just like chocolate. He had a beautiful voice, and you could just imagine the way he sounded as he read aloud. 

“My betrothed,” Harrison said, gesturing to you. “She’s fallen ill and must be taken home at once.”

Thomas finally pulled his gaze to your face, and a lopsided smile came across his face. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Such an honor to meet you, madam.” 

“Same to you, sir,” you said. “I’ve heard tell about you.” 

Thomas’s smile faltered. “Good things?” he asked. 

“Nothing but the best,” you said. You still felt dizzy, but Thomas’s warm hand on your arm brought you comfort, much more than Harrison’s did. “I apologize again, Lord Osterfield. I hope to see you soon.” 

Harrison kissed the back of your hand. “Same to you, dearest.” 

Thomas led you out of the crowded and loud ballroom to the front of the manor. “Lord Osterfield?” he chuckled lowly. “He’s your fiancé. You should call him by his name.” 

You shrugged. “I can’t bring myself to,” you said. “I hardly know him.” 

Thomas nodded. “I understand,” he said. “So… Harrison told you good things about me?” You nodded, and Thomas let out a laugh. You could tell that it was bitter, though. “Excuse my language, madam, but that’s a load of horseshit. You know it as well as I do. Harrison only puts up with me because my brothers are his closest mates.” 

You were startled at his honesty. “I suppose that’s true,” you mumbled. “My sisters are the same with me. They call me boring, say I’m no fun.” 

“The same is said of me,” Thomas said. “I’m perhaps the least commendable of my brothers.”

You nodded carefully, then tilted your head to look at his novel. “What are you reading?” you asked. 

Thomas smiled. “You’d like to know what I’m reading?” he asked. “Are you actually curious?”

“Yes!” you said. “I just read the most wonderful novel, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s called McTeague and it’s about an American dentist--” 

“By Frank Norris?” Thomas asked excitedly. He pulled out the book to show you, and you smiled at the same one you had been describing. “It’s so entertaining. You’ve finished it, then?”

“Just last night,” you told him. “I won’t spoil it for you, but it was so wonderful.” 

“Have you read The Picture of Dorian Gray?” Thomas asked. When you shook your head, Thomas’s face went red, and he laughed. “It’s my favorite. I could lend you my copy, if you’d like.”

“Oh, Thomas, that would be so lovely,” you gushed. “You’re too kind.” 

Thomas shrugged. “You’re my best mate’s girl,” he said. “I’m obligated to be kind to you.” 

You chewed your bottom lip. “And what of your wife?” you asked. “Am I to meet her soon?” 

Thomas came to a stop at the edge of the steps, casting a glance out at the carriage that rumbled closer. “I am unwedded,” he said. “Courtships have come and gone, but none have ever come to fruition. My father believes in me proposing rather than being forced into marriage, but I’ve never found a lady that I truly loved.” 

Your carriage stopped before the two of you, and the Osterfield’s servant opened the door for you. “Miss Y/L/N,” he said, then turned his attention to Thomas, and he lowered his head in reverence. “Your Highness.” 

“Your Highness?” you repeated, and your heart flipped in your chest. “But I thought that you were a duke?”

“My brothers are,” Thomas explained. “But, seeing as I’m the oldest and heir apparent, I get a different tile.” 

“Your Highness, though?” you chuckled. “What are you, a prince?” 

Your laughter died when you saw the stony look on Thomas’s face. “Yes,” he said. “Did Harrison not tell you?” 

You shifted. No. Please, God, you pleaded. Don’t let it be true. 

A smile played at Thomas’s face. “My lady,” he said. “I’m Thomas Stanley Holland. Prince Thomas of England.” 

[myveryownfanfiction]

Chapter 9

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mveSunIhTZY

Warnings: take of dead parents, bringing them back

The first week John and I stayed at our new place was hectic. We had to fill out way too many pieces of paper at school and we had to take a new bus since our old stop was a good fifteen minutes away. the new ride was shorter and John was fairly tired when we would arrive at school. We hadn’t heard from Chas in a while and John was a little depressed since it was starting to become more clear that he was forced to cut all contact with us when he moved.

“Luv?” John asked over dinner one night. I nodded to show I was paying attention before taking my plate to the sink. “When we graduate, how would you feel about going on a trip to London? I’m feeling a bit nostalgic.” I looked over at him in shock. John never talked about his life in London. Only once when he mentioned his mom but otherwise he kept quiet about it.

“That sounds fantastic!” I exclaimed. “We can go to your old haunts and you can show me around all the pop culture things that I love! Let’s do it!” John chuckled as he slowly got up to join me at the sink.

“I was thinking more of we go to Liverpool and I show you around where I grew up proper. Then London where I snuck off to when I wasn’t supposed to.” I laughed as John gave me a wink and started the dishes. “Plus I thought I could introduce you to mum.” I stopped what I was doing and looked over at John.

“Are you sure?” I knew how much this meant to him and I figured this would be a big step for him if he was willing to do this. “You know we don’t have to do that. We can just go to London and maybe see some shows, go to a pub or two things like that.“ John shook his head.

“i want to.“ his tone was firm and I nodded before gently hugging him from behind. “And I’m going to try to bring her back.“ I raised my head from where it rested between his shoulder blades. “Not permanently. Just to say hi and introduce you too. So she can see me now. As I am.“ I nodded as I rubbed his shoulder.

“I think she would like that. “ I didn’t know how else to respond to him. “Have you been practicing?” I hadnt heard him or seen him trying but that didn’t mean he didn’t. It had been busy for us and I didn’t blame him if he took a short break from his magic practice.

“yeah. well not really but I’ve got the spell down and I was going to try it on something small first. But I think I can do it.“ I nodded again before hugging him.

“alright. And you know I’ll be there for you no matter what happens right? That even if you can’t do this, there are millions of other things you can do with your magic. I don’t need you to become some necromancer just for my love.” John chuckled and nodded.

“yeah I know luv.” He kissed my temple. “I’m going to go out tonight. Practice a bit. Get some rest. I know how hard this week has been. Love you.” I smiled as he kissed me quickly before going to change. I finished the dishes and walked him to the door when he was ready.

“love you too. Good luck John.” I gave him another kiss before I hunkered down for the night. It was pretty late when John walked back in, covered in dirt and upset. It looked like there were tear stains on his cheeks but I couldn’t be sure. “John?” I asked as he walked past me and into the bathroom. I heard the shower running and decided to give him his space for the moment. When john walked back out, he made a beeline for the couch I was on and laid down so his head was against my chest. I ran my fingers through his wet hair and waited.

“I tried it for real this time. On that dog that we buried behind my house.“ he mumbled. I nodded as I pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t come back. I nearly got caught but I couldnt stop trying. Why won’t the spell work? I did everything it said to do!” Tears started steaming anew and I quickly wiled them away the best I could.

“it’s not your fault. Maybe it wasn’t meant for animals. Or maybe you did something out of order. It’s ok John.” He shook his head fearfully.

”no. The spell just didn’t work!” He was quiet for a while, just the sound of his sniffiles and my breathing were heard. “Maybe it’s me. I mess up magic like I mess up everything else in this world.” I shook my head.

“that’s a lie John and you know it.“ I said as I pushed him up. “it didn’t work for one simple reason. It didn’t want to work. Try it again in a few days and I’m sure it will work.” John nodded reluctantly. “just rest for now and we’ll figure it out later. Come to bed?” I held out my hand for him and when he took it, I gently led him to the bedroom. later in the night, when John had fallen asleep against me and the moon light streamed into our room, I watched over him and started to wonder how long John would last before magic took over his life. how long before this need to bring his mother back would destroy what we had so carefully built. But that was a worry for another day.

[nineteenninety-six]

Cheater Cheater - Part 2

Here’s part two! I’m not sure I like but eh. I made Tommy into a massive asshole in this but truly speaking, he’s always an asshole so lol

I also watched Knives Out last night and omg!! What a great fucking movie, like holy shit. Fun fact, I’m a film student but I’m not a big fan of watching films lol

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder @stassiebabyy @dayna041101 @kingarthurscat @soleil-dor @gothicwidowsworld @captivatedbycillianmurphy @porcelainjokersmadness @futuristicslimemongerbanana 

(I can’t tag some of the people who asked so I’ll see if I can tag you in the notes or smth)

WORD COUNT: 1837 

[PART ONE] 

(Y/N) strolled into the distillery, Alfie’s men greeting her as she passed by. It was nearly one pm and (Y/N) decided to bring her husband lunch, knowing that if she didn’t, he wouldn’t eat until dinner, where she would force him to eat with her.

Alfie’s tendency to spend all day working and less time eating and sleeping reminded her of a certain someone from her past, one that she had tried so hard to forget about over the past three years but it didn’t help that Alfie was very similar to him.

(Y/N) had met Alfie just a few days after she had arrived in London. She had gotten a room at a boarding house with the bit of money she had left with and was prowling the streets of London looking for a job when she had stumbled into a bakery in Camden after a long day of walking around looking for jobs and getting rejected. She had only initially gone in there to buy herself a snack but in a moment of desperation, she had asked if there were any jobs going and just after the man said there wasn’t, the hulking form of a man who had walked into the shop through the back had interrupted the man and told her there was a job vacancy. The man had introduced himself as Alfie Solomons and he was the owner of the bakery and after a brief meeting, he gave her a job of the bookkeeper for the bakery.

As time went on, (Y/N) found herself getting closer and closer to Alfie and after a few months of not so subtle flirting, Alfie had asked her out to dinner as a date and the rest was history. (Y/N) fell for Alfie hard and fast, she had doubts about being in a relationship after what had happened with Tommy and feared that she would never love someone like how she loved Tommy but Alfie quickly erased those fears and doubts and he quickly became the love of her life. (Y/N) had thought that Tommy was the one for her but after a lot of thinking, she realised that her relationship with Tommy was one-sided, she gave him all the love and affection she could whilst he could barely be bothered to reciprocate. To Tommy, she was a someone who loved him unconditionally and would do pretty much anything for him and of course, he didn’t want to throw that away, his affair with Grace wasn’t probably the only time he had cheated on her and as she spent more time with Alfie, (Y/N) realised that she hadn’t truly loved him, not like how she loved Alfie.

Alfie had treated her like a princess, always taking her out and buying her things and if she hadn’t told him that she didn’t care about those materialistic things and all she wanted was him and his love, he would still be spoiling her to this day, though he still has those moments where he gifts her extravagant and expensive things.

After a year of dating, Alfie had proposed and they married only a few months after his proposal. Their wedding was small, only a few of Alfie’s friends in attendance but (Y/N) had no-one. Despite how much she missed Ada and Polly and how much she wanted them there at her wedding, she thought it was best to cut off everyone from or connected to the Shelby family, it was only way she was going to live a safe and peaceful life, though her opinion on living a peaceful and safe life quickly changed after she was followed by a small group of men shortly after the wedding. Luckily for her, some of Alfie’s men had seen what was happening and dealt with them before anything could happen to her but it meant that night Alfie was quietly explaining about what he actually did for a living and how the bakery was just a front to his distillery business before begging and pleading for her not to leave him. (Y/N) had spent a couple of days locked up in one of the guest bedrooms, thinking about her future with Alfie and whether or not being married to a gangster is what she really wants and after those few days of thinking, she left the guest bedroom and tripped over Alfie who had been sitting outside of her door and she was pretty sure she saw tears in his eyes when she told him that she would stay with him and that she had no plan on leaving, not that he would admit he was tearing up anyway.

(Y/N) was happy and content with Alfie and he never got her involved with his illegal business, allowing her to manage to the bakery instead. Her almost three years with Alfie were pretty much perfect.

“Is in Ollie?” (Y/N) asked Alfie’s assistant, Ollie.

“Yes, Mrs Solomons but he has a meeting in a bit” Ollie gave her a smile.

“Ah okay, I won’t be long then.” With one last wave, (Y/N) left Ollie’s desk and made her way over to Alfie’s office.

(Y/N) knocked on the door before she stepped in, a wide smile coming over her face as she locked eyes with her husband.

“Mrs Solomons, how wonderful it is to see ya” Alfie smiled as he leant back on his chair.

“You’re in a good mood, Alf.” (Y/N) made her way over to him, placing the bag with Alfie’s lunch on it on his desk.

“My lovely wife has decided to come visit me, why wouldn’ ah be?” Alfie pushed himself out of his chair and walked around his desk so he could stand in front of (Y/N).

“Uh-hmm” (Y/N) hummed before she pushed herself up on her tippy-toes so that she kiss Alfie.

“Not that I don’t like to see ya luv but what’s the special occasion?” Alfie slowly walked back towards his chair, dragging (Y/N) along with him.

“I brought you some lunch, I know what you’re like.” (Y/N) allowed herself to be pulled by Alfie.

“Ahh!” (Y/N) let out a small shriek as she was suddenly pulled down as Alfie slumped down into his seat.

“Sorry darlin’” Alfie smiled at her, his large hand running up and down her thigh.

“No, you’re not, you horrible person.” (Y/N) muttered.

Alfie simply grinned at her before pulling her into a kiss.

A knock on the door along with Ollie announcing that the person Alfie was supposed to meet had arrived, had the couple pulling away from the kiss. (Y/N) hopped off of Alfie’s lap whilst the man glared at Ollie- or rather the door to his office that separated them for interrupting.

“Stop pouting Alf.” (Y/N) smiled at her husband.

Alfie good-naturedly rolled his eyes before shouting to Ollie to let the man in.

(Y/N) was too busy saying goodbye to Alfie and making sure that he remembered to eat the lunch she bought him to pay attention to who walked it but when Ollie announced who the person was, she left like a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over her and when she looked at the man with wide eyes, she found her ex-boyfriend looking back at her with surprise written on his face.

“(Y/N)?”

“T-tommy?” “How do you know my wife, Shelby?” Alfie had stood up, his large form standing behind her and a strong, comforting hand resting on the small of her back.

Tommy said nothing, still staring in shock at (Y/N) so Alfie asked (Y/N) instead.

“(Y/N)?”

“This is Tommy, I-uh, my ex from when I was in Birmingham.” (Y/N) said, reaching behind her searching for Alfie’s hand, gripping it tightly when she found it.

“The one who had cheated on you?” Alfie tensed up and growled.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) whispered.

Ollie had smartly escaped and (Y/N) was wishing that she too could escape.

“So you left me for another gangster eh?” Tommy scoffed, disbelief on his face.

“No” (Y/N) retorted, feeling insulted by Tommy’s insinuation, “I left you because you cheated on me and treated me like rubbish Thomas.”

“You blew it out of proportion. You know that if a man cheats on you, it’s because you’re lacking and he has to seek elsewhere.”

Alfie growled, ready to shout at Tommy but (Y/N) spoke up before he did,

“So you sought your way into the Irish whore’s bed who also ended up being a spy that got your brother-in-law thrown into jail and in turn severed your relationship with your only sister? Or how about when she nearly got you killed and the business ruined? I wasn’t the fucking problem Tommy, you were. You and your massive ego.”

(Y/N) didn’t know where all that came from but she was glad she spoke up and finally spoke her mind.

Tommy grit his teeth, “That’s been resolved, everything ended up fine.”

“Oh so I guess you’re still with Grace if everything ended up being fine”

Tommy’s jaw ticked as he hesitated to answer and (Y/N) instantly knew what had happened. She guessed that she was able to read him after all those years together.

“She’s left?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, “So she spied on you, betrayed you and left you.”

Tommy just glared at her.

“Good, you deserve it.” (Y/N) shook her head, a small smile on her face.

Tommy was visibly angry and opened his mouth, most likely to yell abuse at (Y/N) but Alfie cut in,

“While it was great to see ya mate,” Alfie says, sarcasm dripping from his voice before he switched to a serious and intimidating growl, “I never wanna see you again, now piss off.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue but Alfie interrupted yet again, “Any business we might have had is finished and if I see you or anyone from your fuckin’ gang around (Y/N) or in Camden, I will kill you.”

Tommy glared one more time at them before storming out of Alfie’s office, the door slamming loudly behind him.

When (Y/N) was sure Tommy was gone, she turned around and cried into Alfie’s chest. Alfie simply wrapped his arms around and slowly rocked them from side to side, whispering comforting words to her along with pressing soft kisses on her head.

When (Y/N) had stopped crying, she slightly pulled away from Alfie and looked up at him, “I’m sorry Alf.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for luv. Don’t worry about him or anyone else eh, you and me are the only one who matter.” Alfie soothed her

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Alfie and hugged him tightly, grateful for him and his love and support for her. She was glad she had found someone who loved and appreciated her for who she was.

[dcnatural]

So It Goes...

Word Count: 1592

Pairing: Reader x John Constantine

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: You re-encounter an old lover, John Constantine.

When you met him it was raining, just another typical London day. You were on stage, performing your tricks and illusions when a man came crashing into the bar, falling from the ceiling and leaving a hole on his way in. And following the man, there came a beast. A creature so hideous it could only have come from a nightmare. Luckily for you (and for the man whose life you save), you knew more than just tricks. As a metahuman, you had the ability to bend and control light at your will. And, although he would never admit, if it wasn’t for you, John Constantine would be a dead man.

You don’t know if it was the weather, the adrenaline pumping into your veins, or the celebratory drinks you two shared after defeating the hell beast (or a combination of the three) that made you accept when he invited you to his apartment. It was wild, and perhaps it was the best sex you ever had. But you can’t blame the circumstances, for the months that followed, even with your head clear of booze, you kept coming back for him. Until one day he didn’t show up.

He was supposed to meet you after your show, and you waited two hours before deciding he wasn’t going to come at all. So you did what you always did: got drunk and moved on. And soon, Constantine became just a faded memory. Or so you told yourself. 

* * *

You could see his silhouette in the dark. His trademark trench coat blew in the wind and the golden hieroglyphs floated around him as he conjured the vanishing spell. Everyone in the park stared at him as if he was some kind of God, but you knew better: he was closer to the Devil himself.

The storm raged around you as you pushed your way towards the small bandstand in which he stood. “Constantine!”, you screamed. 

He hadn’t yet noticed you, as he was busy fighting the winged creatures that came from the cracks in the ground, but he recognized your voice the moment he heard it.

“Camila?”, he exclaimed, surprised at your seemingly ability to appear whenever he needed help. You ran up the steps to him and threw your body onto his, bringing you both to the ground seconds before a demon blasted fire the space where John had been standing.

“Stay down”, you whispered, pulling away from him and throwing a bright light at the devilish being and watched as it exploded.

“Good seeing you, luv”, Constantine greeted, getting up on his feet and brushing the dust off his coat.

“Save it”, you interrupted, you didn’t want to hear any of his lies. “Just go back at doing what you were doing and let me take care of the demons.”

Constantine nodded. “Take this”, he said, handing you a crossbow and a quiver that you had no idea from where it had come from. 

You accepted, picking up an silver arrow and putting it in place, before firing it at the nearest creature. The rest of the people in the park stared at the two of you, a strange duo that seemed to be the only thing standing between them and certain death.

“Can’t you do anything about them?”, you asked, signaling towards your audience.

John considered things for a moment, before making the crowd disappear with a wave of his hand. “Won’t make much of a difference, the whole city is under attack. I can only hope that the underground is safe for the moment.”

“What’s going on?”, you asked, hitting another demon in the eye.

He shrugged. “I promise it isn’t my fault.”

You chuckled and watched as another bolt of light exploded in the distance, hopefully taking a few of the demonic beings with it. Constantine went back to his conjuring, and you kept protecting your surroundings, the storm only getting worse. 

Then, after what felt like hours, everything went silent. The ground closed on where ruptures had been made, and the dark clouds hanging above the sky evaporated into nothingness. You turned just in time to catch John before he hit the floor.

“There,” you said softly, “I got you. Go to sleep now, my magician.”

* * *

He slept in your couch for a day and half. On television, journalists talked about the hurricane that had crossed over London, leaving at least 1000 dead and 500 missing.

“Bullocks”, he groaned, blinking to adjust to the brightness. “Where the fuck-”, he began to complain, but then his eyes landed on you, and he recognized the living room where he had spent many nights. “Camila.”

“You feeling better?”, you asked, offering him a glass of water and some aspirin. “Quite a show you pulled.”

He whimpered in pain as he brought himself into a sitting position, leaving a seat for you to take. He swallowed pill after pill, until he handed you the now empty bottle. “How long was I out?”

“Oh, just some 36 hours, nothing much.”

He pondered quietly on what should he do next. There certainly was loose ends to tie, and lots of explanations to give. And maybe he should call in, let his friends know he was okay. But really, he didn’t want to leave you just yet. “So, how have you been?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, you weren’t sure that there even was one. You couldn’t lie, you couldn’t hide the feelings you had, all the bottled anger and passion. 

You stood up, pacing nervously around the living room. “You are a little shit, you know?”, you finally answered. “You, you can’t play with people like that. Tell them you love them and never show up again.”

He got up to level with you. “Owa, I played with you ?”, he raised an eyebrow. “Because you were the one who never bothered answering my calls.”

You held back a laugh. “You can’t ghost me and then expect me to run back to you when you miss me!”

“Luv, I didn’t ghost you. I was really busy preventing a magical crisis.”

“It takes literally seconds to make a phone call and let me know you would be traveling.”

“But I did fucking call!”

“After five months!”

“Well, excuse me if I can’t get a signal in Hell.”

You rolled your eyes. Was he seriously trying to convince you he had been in Hell? “You are such an annoying liar. Stop making excuses for your mistakes and just shut up.”

He smiled in challenge. “Why don’t you come here and make me?”

You stepped forward, grabbing him by the lapels in his coat. “I hate you”, you whispered, pushing him against the wall of your apartment and pressing your lips on his in a deep kiss. 

“Fuck, luv”, he muttered, his mouth still against yours. You stepped back, letting go of him, and he tripped forward, regaining his balance.

“Sorry”, you said, nervously fumbling with the buttons in your blouse. “That was a bit inappropriate.”

“No, that was perfectly appropriate”, he stepped forwards closing the distance between you. “I know you want me”, he said, running a hand down your back, “I can feel it, and so can you”, he paused to suck on your left collar bone.

You whimpered, throwing your neck back for him to gain better access to it. “Fuck, John. I hate you, really do.”

He grinned at up, looking up. You took the opportunity to smash your lips into his once more. He picked you up with ease and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed. You stared at him, his face smeared with red lipstick, his coat falling out of his shoulders.

“I missed you.”

“I know, baby. I missed you too.”

An idea sparked in your mind, and you propped yourself up on your elbows. “You know,” you whispered seductively, twirling a lock of hair around your finger. “I’ve been a bad girl.”

“No you haven’t,” he replied, crawling on top of you. “You just do the bad things when you are with me.”

* * *

The audience erupted in another round of applause as you finished your show. But it didn’t matter, it wasn’t their approval you were looking for. The one you wanted was leaning on the counter, looking brightly at you.

“My illusionist”, he greeted, pulling a bar stool for you to sit on.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I brought you something”, he said, reaching into his coat to pull out a small box.

“A right already? I’m too young to marry.”

He chuckled and opened the box, revealing a small amber stone. “A protective necklace, so next time demons invade London you don’t have go find me to protect you.”

You laughed. “As if I was the damsel in distress. If I recall correctly, I was the one to save your ass”, you pulled your hair up, exposing your neck for him to claps the necklace on you.

“Couldn’t help but be jealous when you were up there. Everyone only had eyes for you. You look gorgeous in this little black dress.”, he whispered in your ear, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“Oh yeah? Come here then”, you said, kissing him. His hands gripped your back, holding you still, his nails sinked into your skin, sure to leave marks.

Your hand stayed on his the whole walk to your apartment, where he spent the night. He had broken your heart before, and you broke his, but who was counting?

[fiercefray]

❅❅ 𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝕶𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 :: 𝕱𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 ❅❅

Merry Christmas B. You made this year, while has been extremely crappy not just for me but the entire world, better. Here’s to another year with you.

𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖓 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖝

“We did it,” Justin sighed as he sunk back into the couch between his sisters. “We made it through Christmas without it going horribly wrong.”

He truly couldn’t believe it. It felt like a lifetime ago now when he discovered demons were real and were out not only for him, but three sisters he never met. He stared at the Christmas tree, decked out in tinsel, homemade ornaments, and golden lights. After the year he’s had, he never would have expected a normal holiday again. Instead, his American sisters and their families flew across the ocean to spend the holidays with their British siblings and their shared father. Oddly, it had been nothing but peaceful.

Cami patted his knee. “You’re adorable, Just. Dad’s here. Something could still happen. Like gremlins.”

“Then we have until after midnight, right?” Eden took a sip of her hot chocolate, specially made by Justin.

“That’s just the movie, E.” Alia told her. “I think the bigger problem would be Krampus and it isn’t like we were bad or anything.”

“Unless killing demons and that counts,” said Cami. “Then maybe.”

“It doesn’t,” said Justin. “Now who wants more hot chocolate?”

All the girls raised their cups in response.

Yeah, he thought. This is all I need. My family. Safe and whole and together.

𝕮𝖆𝖒𝖎 𝕽𝖚𝖘𝖘𝖔

“How the hell do you people survive this?” Cami crossed her arms over her chest. She never should have let Alia and Justin talk her and Eden into coming to the Christmas market. Along with them, Eden’s brother and sister, Travis and Ava, as well as Alia’s friends, Carolyn and Marty, had come along. Cami knew Freddy would be there. Where Alia was, Freddy was sure to follow.

Freddy wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “You have thin blood there, California.”

“I don’t have thin blood,” she retorted. “It is perfectly good blood. Great blood in fact. Vampires love turned dhampir blood. Cassius told me so.”

“That’s comforting,” Freddy teased, though she could sense something was off in the tone. They had been dodging the whole ‘will they, won’t they’ for months now.

Maybe now it was time to finally make a move.

“So...” she said as she tried to keep her eyes straight ahead, watching the chaos their group was causing at the hot chocolate stand in front of them. “What’s the most romantic thing to do in London at Christmas?”

Cami couldn’t tell if Freddy was blushing or if the cold had finally gotten to him. He seemed to shake something off before he replied. “Do you like Christmas carols?”

“They’re okay. I need the mood to be right though.”

His smile broadened. “Then Trafalgar Square it is.”

𝕬𝖑𝖎𝖆 𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉

“Everyone is impossible to shop for,” Alia told Carolyn as they wandered through the store. She had already found gifts for everyone’s stockings, which was impressive given how many more people she now had to shop for. Three extra families was no laughing matter there.

But to get them all at least decent gifts to open? Now that was something she wasn’t prepared for.

Carolyn shook her head. “They won’t be when you have the best gift giver with you. All I need is a bit of information on everyone and I can find you something they’ll all love.”

“Even Eden’s grandmother?” Alia asked.

“Grandmas love me,” Carolyn tossed her hair back the best she could under her stocking cap. “It is one of my many charms.”

Alia passed her off her list. It seemed massive as she looked down the long row of names left unchecked. She only had Freddy and Carolyn done. Alia didn’t even know what to get her parents or John. God help her when it came time to find the perfect gift for Marty.

But if there were two girls who could tackle such an impossible task, it was the two of them.

Carolyn took her hand and the two of them dashed off in their quest to find the best presents anyone could ever hope to get.

𝕰𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝕸𝖎𝖞𝖆𝖌𝖎

Eden stood proudly as she looked on the display of the Christmas village. Alia’s mom let her help set it up. In fact, everyone had let Eden help with their Christmas traditions as she set up the Christmas party.

There was music, great food, decorations covering every bit of surface she could get her hands on. This is what Eden had been looking forward to since Halloween.

John came to stand next to her. “You did a good job, luv.”

Eden smiled. “Thanks Dad. I’m glad you like it.”

“Better than any Christmas I’ve ever had,” he told her. They both let the words sink in. Eden knew her father had always had a rough life. Yet here he was, standing here with her and the family he brought together, even if unintentionally.

“Well, we can make it even better,” she told him. Eden motioned for him to bend down. Once he was close enough, she whispered. “I had Justin spike the eggnog. Not to mention we all got you the best present.”

John raised a brow at that. “Care to give me a hint?”

She shook her head with a secretive grin. “Nope.”

He gave her a nod before looking toward the Christmas tree, knowing there was something there for him. Eden wanted this to be the best Christmas ever and now she was sure it would be.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Jet Lag

So, in honour of my 22nd Birthday which was on April 30th. I decided to gift myself some cute Ben Hardy x Reader fluff. This was originally going to be Roger Taylor x Reader, but I was craving some Ben (I mean, who isn’t?)

@not-the-cleavers​  (Because girl, we all need a little bit of Ben in our lives right now)

Story is based off of the song, Jet Lag by Simple Plan.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader (Female) with friend Joe Mazzello Warnings: Pretty much just pure fluff and cuteness, there is a bit of angst though but nothing major! Word count: 5953

Jet Lag

You collapse on your bed, sinking into the plush blankets, and massive pile of decorative pillows, it had been a long, and lonely week. It felt as if the standard five-day work week you had just endured, had been going on for at least a month. Though according to the red crosses on your calendar, it really was Friday the 1st, and not in fact Friday the 29th like it felt. The lonely part stemmed from the lack of company in your apartment over this past week, your boyfriend/ partner in crime, Ben Hardy was currently on a press tour with his castmates from 6 Underground, somewhere in Australia. While he had been away, your old school friend had come to stay while you had the house to yourself, but she had left for a business trip on Monday leaving you once again alone. You settle yourself more comfortably against your pillows, tilting your head back and to the side, keeping your eyes on your phone on your bedside table, just waiting for it to ring. Any minute now, you knew it would ring, and the anticipation of who would be calling had your heart racing.

The cool metal of Ben’s watch lay in your palm, and you clasped your fingers around the gold, circular face, rubbing your thumb gently against the glass. He hadn’t intentionally left his watch behind, but by the time either of you had realised that it was still in London, Ben was somewhere in Japan. Just as you go to glance down at the time, your phone buzzes to life, before vibrating along to your ringtone. It was a stupid song choice for a ringtone, though Ben had changed it for you just before he left, and you didn’t have the heart to change it. The song in question was that ridiculous, Doug Dimmadome – owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome remix that had been going around lately. Every time your phone rang, it nearly gave you a heart attack, as after each conversation on it, you attempted to erase the memory of your ringtone.

You dart your arm out quickly, grabbing your phone and swiping your finger along the screen to answer, a wide grin spreading over your lips, showing off all your teeth. “Hello…” You ask softly with a bated breath.

“Y/N? Hi luv.” Ben’s smooth voice sends chills down your spine, goose bumps appearing over your arms.

“What time is it where you are?”

“I’m in Sydney currently, and it is 9:15am. How about you?”

“6:15pm here, I just got home from work.”

“God, trying to figure out these time zones is making me crazy.”

“Hey, at least we’re doing better than at the beginning of the week. You were saying good morning, when it was midnight!”

“I just hate the thought of you alone. Five more days then I’ll be home.”

As if on cue, a floppy eared beagle pup leaps onto the bed with as much grace as if she were a hippo. Sniffing around your toes, before galloping up the mattress, and butting her nose against your knuckles, then phone. “I wouldn’t exactly say I’m alone. Frankie just joined me, I think she misses you too.”

You can hear Ben’s smile through the phone, and you grin softly yourself, scratching the fingers of your free hand against her head. “So tell me about Sydney, what’s it like there?”

Ben sighs deeply, likely a combination of still waking up, the desire for a smoke and coffee, and the desire to hold you. “It’s alright.  It’s really warm here, and the people are all nice. But it’s the same thing every day, we’re all a bit tired of it.” He pauses, and you can hear his bedsheets rustling as he gets into a more comfortable position. “Fuck, I don’t even wanna be in this town.” He grumbles.

“Sydney is a City…”

You know for a fact that he’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the world, you had known each other long enough to guess the other’s reactions without ever seeing them. “Oh yeah, thanks, go on and correct the guy running off five hours sleep!” He’s trying to sound stern, but there’s laughter peeking through his tired voice.

“Hey now, if I don’t correct you, then no one will!”

“I’m sure there’s at least one other person in the world who is game enough to pull me up on my mistakes.”

You raise an eyebrow, a smirk covering your lips as you watch Frankie toddle to Ben’s side of the bed. Circling three times, before curling into a ball. “Ben, you don’t exactly take constructive criticism well…”

Ben groans, and you’re half expecting him to argue, but it never comes. “Yeah, you’re right. Knowing my luck, I’d probably call Sydney a town in the interview, and never be invited back.”

“Nah, I’m sure they’d invite you back. It’d just be to make fun of you is all.” You shrug, grinning to yourself.

“Oi, be nice! You’re supposed to be supportive and caring.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. You know I love you.”

“Debatable.” Ben shuffles around again, and you can hear him stifle a yawn against his palm. “So what’s been going on in the world of you then?”

“Work, sleep, work. Nothing exciting really…. Actually, the most exciting thing to happen was on Monday last week.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“I was making dinner for me and Sophie while she was still here. I had just drained the spaghetti I had cooked, it was in the colander on the counter, and I turned around to finish the sauce. The next thing I know, there’s a massive thunk echoing through the apartment, I turned around, and Frankie has knocked down all the pasta, and is running off with spaghetti hanging out of her mouth!” You can barely contain your laughter, the memory of Frankie looking both guilty, yet extraordinarily proud of what she had just done seared into your brain. “She looked like one of those Ood’s from Doctor Who!”

Ben is howling on the other end of the line, the deep baritone of his laughter only causing you to laugh harder. “Yes! Good girl! Good Frankie! Dada loves you!” Frankie lifts her head, having heard her name being called from somewhere. You reach over and scratch her head again, making kissy faces at the cheeky beagle.

“You’re not supposed to encourage this sort of behaviour! You’re the reason why she still does this kind of thing. She thinks she can get away with it!”

“Of course she can get away with it! She deserves people food just as much as you do.”

“Ben! We had no more pasta! She took it all, and there was no more in the pantry to cook.” You whine, though you both know it’s all in jest. You could never truly be mad at Frankie. Despite the occasional theft of food, or shoes, she genuinely was a well-behaved pup.

“Aw come on, you know you’re not really mad at her.” You know for a fact that if Ben were here with you now, he would be pinning you with his best set of puppy dog eyes.

Your shoulders slump in defeat, there was no use in pretending to be mad, Ben would see through your lies instantly. “Okay fine, I’m not mad. But we did end up having to buy takeout for dinner, and that was not the plan!”

“Oh boohoo, you had to get tasty food delivered, what a tragedy.”

“Hold up! How come I have to be caring towards you, yet I don’t receive the same treatment?!”

“You raise a valid point. One which I do not care to argue.”

“Whimp.”

“That’s me! - Hold on a sec, I’m just putting you on speaker. I’ve gotta start getting ready sorry.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position, pressing your back into your pillows. “How long before you have to leave?”

Ben pauses for a few moments, likely to check his schedule for the day. “Um, first interview starts at half eight, last one is around seven-ish.”

“Shit, sounds like a long day, eh?”

Ben sighs, the soft sound causing your heart to ache. All you want is to wrap your arms around him, to make him feel comfortable, and at ease, but you can’t, not from the opposite side of the world.  “Yeah, but it’s been like this the whole time. So I suppose I’m kind of used to it by now.”

“Should I let you go now? To go and get ready and all that? I don’t want to make you late.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye just yet.”

“I know, neither do I. But- but you’ll be home soon! And you’ll be home for at least a couple of months, so we won’t have to say goodbye at all for that whole time!” You’re trying to reassure Ben just as much yourself. The beginnings of these phone calls were always amazing; however the endings were almost impossible.

“Next time I go on a press tour, you should just come with me. That way we get to experience the world together, and never have to say goodbye.”

This time, it’s your turn to sigh. A deep, prolonged sound which conveys just how tired of this particular conversation you are. “Ben, you know I can’t do that. I have a job, I can’t just up and leave. They need me.”

“You don’t need a job! I’ll always look after you! You know that right?”

You rub your hand against your forehead, smoothing the lines which had formed there as you frown. “Ben, I know you’d do everything you can to look after me. But remember, you haven’t always been in my life. I grew up needing to work to look after myself. And, I don’t actually have an issue with that way of life. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you make more in one month than I do in six. But you have to look at this from my perspective, what if one day, we aren’t together anymore? What if that happens, and I’ve quit my job so I could travel with you for tours and for work. I’d be fucked….”

“A-are you saying you don’t think we’re going to last?”

You blink in surprise, eyes growing wide as you take in Ben’s words. “How is that what you’ve taken away from what I just said?”

“Well that’s what it sounded like to me!”

You can’t help but groan, this certainly wasn’t going the way you had planned. You were both too tired to be having this conversation, that much was obvious. “Look, let’s talk about this when you get home, okay? I’m not suggesting we end our relationship, far from it. I promise. Besides, having two incomes is probably a good thing for the time being.”

Ben’s silence is deafening, and for a moment or two, you almost think he may have hung up on you. “Okay, I’m happy to talk later. Do you, um, have any plans for the rest of the night?” He’s trying to sound normal, though you know his mind has jumped to the worst-case scenarios imaginable.

“Yeah actually, Joe said he was going to drop round for a bit. He’s been in town the last couple of days catching up with friends, then he’s heading off to see Gwil for a little while. But he said he’d swing by tonight. He claims it’s because he wants to make sure I’m doing alright without you, but I’m positive he is actually just looking for an excuse to see Frankie again!”

This earns you a laugh from Ben, a genuine laugh. You knew it would, but just hearing it allowed you to relax somewhat. Maybe he would forget about what you had said, and you would be able to start this conversation fresh, when both of you were more awake. “Maybe we should get him a carboard Frankie to go with Ben-Cardy?”

“No! That is probably the worst idea you have ever had!”

“What? No way! I think it’s brilliant!”

“Benjamin, Joe has only just stopped posting videos of Ben-Cardy. Do you really want all of that to start up again?”

“Hey, it was funny! Especially that one where I got to be in it too!”

“No, that was the weirdest one!”

“You’re only saying that because you walked in on us filming it.”

“Well obviously! Put yourself in my shoes. You’ve just finished a long day at work, you come home to hear giggling in your bedroom,  and your first thought is, fuck my boyfriend is cheating on me! But oh no, instead when you storm into the bedroom, you see said boyfriend in bed with his best friend, and a cardboard cut-out of himself!”

Yet another pause follows your outburst, before Ben begins chuckling. “Okay, yeah, I see what you mean. That probably would’ve been a little odd.”

A rattling of keys in the apartment door grabs your attention, and you peer down the corridor, keeping an eye out for who was coming in. You knew who it should be, but you could never be too sure. The door creaks open, and Joe pops his head in, grinning at you broadly. You had told him where the spare key was kept, so he could let himself in when he arrived, though you had assumed he may still knock to announce his arrival. “Hey babe, I should probably get going. Joe’ll be here soon, and you need to get ready. Like properly get ready, and actually eat something for breakfast. I know you’re back on the smokes…”

“How’d you know that?”

Joe walks further into the apartment, leaning against the bedroom door frame, a fond smile on his lips. “Ben, I know everything. I see all.”

There’s a smirk in his voice now, as if he’s challenging you. “Alright then Miss all seeing. What colour are the boxers I’m wearing right now?”

You bite your bottom lip gently, completely forgetting Joe’s presence for the time being. “You’re not wearing any.” Your voice is low and sultry, and you can hear Ben hiss out a sharp breath. “Have a good day babe, I’ll talk to you later.”

You swipe your thumb against the screen, ending the call before Ben has the chance to respond. “You’re early.” You smile, turning your attention to Joe now, who was intensely pretending to have not heard the ending to your conversation.

“Did you tell him?”

“And hello to you too Joseph.”

“Y/N, did you tell him?”

You sigh, pulling your legs up so you could sit cross-legged on the bed, facing your entire body towards your friend now. “I tried to, but it didn’t exactly go according to plan.”

“So did you or did you not tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him.” Your shoulders slump, and your chin drops as you scowl at the floor.

Joe steps further into the room, coming over to your side where he rests his palm over your shoulder. “You have to tell him, he needs to know.”

“I know that Joe. Don’t you think I know that?” You grumble, flopping your head back so you could look up at him.  “It’s just, every time I try to allude to it in one of our chats, it always gets twisted, and it becomes this big misunderstanding. I think telling him face to face would be best.”

“What do you mean, when you allude to it? Are you actually coming out with the words, or are you trying to skirt around the truth?”

“I mean, I’ll get there eventually. One way or another he’ll find out, I’m just having trouble saying it is all.”

“Y/N. If you don’t tell him, then I will.”

<<<--->>>

Just as Ben had promised, five days later you were waiting at the airport for him to arrive home. The plan had always been for you to be there when he arrived home, however Joe had also decided he wanted to wait for Ben too, as he still had another day before meeting up with Gwil. The two of you stood in the arrivals terminal, you with an A4 sheet of paper with ‘Hardy’ written in pink sharpie, and Joe beside you, with an A3 piece of paper which read ‘Ben Hard-On’.

“Could you stand over there somewhere? Like, as far away from me as possible please? I don’t want people to know that I associate with you.” You grumble, though you’re having an exceedingly difficult time not laughing at his stupidity.

“Hey, it was your idea to make signs!”

“Sign! One sign, as in singular!” You sigh, casting a glare at the grinning American.

Joe simply shrugs, knocking his elbow against your arm playfully. “Well think of it this way, he won’t be able to miss us. Not with a sign like this.” He grins, gesturing down to his crude sign with his chin.

“If anything, he may intentionally miss us after seeing that.”

Before Joe has the chance to reply, you let out a loud squeal, before darting off and leaving him far behind. You sprint forwards, pushing past the couple of people who had decided to stand directly in front of you, blocking your sign off from Ben’s view. “Ben!” You call, throwing yourself at him with as much force as possible.

Ben drops the black rucksack he had been clutching in his hand, allowing it to clunk to the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers digging gently into your sides as he pulls you ever closer to him. “Fuck I’ve missed you.” He whispers against your ear, before nestling his nose against the crook of your neck, pressing tiny kisses to the exposed flesh there.

There are tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and you feel as if you’re about to sneeze as you hold the tears back. “I missed you too. So, so much.” You whimper, clutching your arms tighter around his torso. People moved around the two of you, pretending not to see the blatant display of affection, or just too tired to truly care. The flight Ben had just departed had flown from Singapore into London, and everyone who exited looked like zombies, your boyfriend included.

“Well shit, I hope you’ve got enough to go round.” Joe pipes up, standing just behind you and to the left, this way, when Ben looked up to see him, he was greeted with the charming sign he had made.

“I thought airports had rules as to who was allowed inside?” Ben smirked, slowly lowering his arms around you, so one arm now rested around your waist.

Joe simply shrugged, grinning like an idiot. “British airports are a lot more lenient with letting in riffraff like me.”

Shaking his head, Ben stepped forward just as Joe did, both wrapping each other in a one armed hug. “It’s good to see you mate.”

“You too Benny Boo.” Joe chuckled, earning an eye roll from the blonde, and a deep sigh from you.

Ben heads back to you, bending down to scoop up his bag, before swinging it over his broad shoulder. “Here, I have a beanie and sunnies for you.” You offer with a grin, holding the items out to him. The beanie was black, and hand knitted by the old woman who used to live in the apartment next to yours. While the sunglasses were the spare pair he always kept in your car. “Just in case you’re trying to keep a low profile.” You shrug lightly, shoving your hands into the front pockets of your jeans.

“Hey, actually Y/N raises an excellent point. You’re a big movie star now. Where are all the photographers?” Joe demands, his eyes scanning across the crowds of people in the arrivals terminal. Lo and behold, there was a serious lack of paparazzi. In fact, the closest thing which came to paparazzi, was the small huddle of teenaged girls who were gossiping amongst themselves, whilst attempting to take sneaky photos of Ben. One even went as far as holding her phone directly in front of her face, pretending to be taking a selfie, and it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her flash going off.

Ben smirks, lifting his brows at the girls as the three of you walk past them and towards the baggage carousel. “Well there’s two reasons actually.”

“Oh, and what would those be?” You enquire, keeping an eye out for the bags you know Ben had taken with him. Although you were positive there would likely be one or two extra, filled to the brim with gifts and souvenirs from each country.

“Well reason one, is that aside from you guys, no one else knew the actual date I would be arriving home.  In the last interview I did in Sydney, I said I would be flying out in a week. So there’s probably a heap of photographers around the lobby of my hotel asking where I am right this very moment.”

Joe turns and looks at Ben over his shoulder, brows creasing into a gentle frown. “You’re a cruel man Hardy.”

“I know, I try my best.”

You roll your eyes, nudging your arm against Ben’s lightly. “Alright, so what’s reason two then?”

At this, Ben’s face breaks out into a wide grin, as he looks between you and Joe. “I use a different name when travelling. One that’s less likely to have people catch on to it being me.”

Your eyebrows rise at this, this was the first time you’d heard of Ben going under a different alias when travelling. You had always assumed he used his own name… “What name do you use?”

“Probably something stupid, like Dinkleburg Flapjack.” Joe butts in, grinning childishly at his made-up name.

The carousel you were waiting at whirls to life, slowly chugging around as bags begin to appear along its tracks. One of Ben’s bags is one of the first to be spat out, and he walks backwards towards it, so he could answer your question. “I like to go by a name literally no one will ever now. Joe Mazzello is one of my favourites to use. Shockingly, no one’s ever heard of him?” And with that, Ben turns on his heel and darts over to grab his bag, as Joe stands stock still, his mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water. As for you? Well, you’re struggling to contain your laughter, and doing a terrible job at it!

<<<--->>>

The three of you sat in comfortable silence as you drove out of the airport, you had requested everyone -namely Joe- be quiet while you attempted to find the exit to get you back on the freeway. You always hated driving around the airport, all of the exits looked the same to you, but you found it slightly easier when you had no other distractions at least. Both Ben and Joe had offered to drive, which although kind, you had declined. One, because Ben was dead tired, and you worried that he would fall asleep behind the wheel; and two, Joe had a habit of forgetting he wasn’t in the USA, and kept trying to drive on the wrong side of the road. All in all, you were the safest option when it came to driving, at least in this scenario.

Ben had his head resting against the passenger seat window, his eyes drifting closed periodically before he would snap them wide open again, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t in fact about to fall asleep. “Are we dropping you off somewhere Joe, or did you want to come back to our place?” You glance up at the review mirror, catching Joe’s eye in the reflection.

You watch his reaction for a moment, before returning your attention to the road ahead. You knew what his answer would be, even before you had asked the question. He want’s you to talk to Ben, and he has no intention of actually being there when you do so. He just wants it to happen. “If you wouldn’t mind making a pit stop at that little café you showed me the other day, that would be great.”

You nod gently, flicking the indicator on as you make a left turn towards town. “Yeah sure. That’s no worries.”

“Shoot us through a message later on, and we’ll meet you up somewhere to grab dinner, yeah?” Ben grins, turning around and looking at Joe in the backseat.

“Of course, that sounds great!” Joe smiles, shooting Ben a cheesy thumbs up in order to prove his agreement with the idea.

<<<--->>>

After dropping Joe off, you make the short drive back to your apartment, still with Ben dozing off occasionally beside you. “Hey, what’s that?” He pipes up, squinting his eyes at the dashboard, his view obstructed by your hands on the steering wheel.

You cast your gaze down, searching for what had piqued Ben’s curiosity. “Oh, this?” You laugh softly, reaching one hand forward, and grabbing out the folded picture which had been jammed between the plastic dash covering. “I keep your picture in my car. I figure, if I can’t wake up next to you, then this is the next best thing.” You shrug lightly, embarrassment tinting your words.

Ben reaches forwards, taking the folded photo from you, rubbing his thumb over it gently before peeling it open so he could see both sides. From what you had visible; it was just an image of a bordering on tipsy Ben, his blonde curls tousled and unruly, and his ocean eyes shining brightly behind thick lashes. What had been hidden from view, was how on the other half of the photo, he had his arm wrapped around your waist, while your head was resting against his shoulder, an equal look of joy etched permanently upon your face. “Why’s it only me?”

You tilt your head slightly, looking down at the now flattened photo. “Because it’s a great picture of you, but not of me. Besides, I wake up to myself every day. It’s you who I’ve been missing.”  You shrug, pressing the button on the garage key, waiting of the automatic roller door to curl up, before driving into the underground carpark attached to your apartment complex.

“Well I for one, think that this is a beautiful photo. Of both of us.” Ben sighs, rubbing his index finger and thumb along the crease which had formed down the centre.

You pull the key from the ignition then unfasted your seatbelt, swivelling on your seat so you could face Ben properly now. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyes unblinking, and focused solely on you now. “Something’s up, isn’t it?” He sighs, a brief flicker of hurt flashing through his eyes.

You want to lie, to tell him that everything is fine, and that nothing had changed while he was away. Tell him that your lives weren’t about to head down a path neither of you had ever discussed. “Yes, but not in a bad way perse. Let’s get upstairs? You need to catch up on some sleep, and while you do that I’ll start getting you unpacked. We’ll talk when you’re feeling a bit more human, yeah?” You smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes like usual.

You push open the car door, sliding out and stepping into the cool garage, the perpetually damp air clinging to your skin like a second layer. “Why are you avoiding having this conversation?” Ben groans, following you around to the back of the car, where you both begin to pull his bags out.

“And what conversation is that exactly Ben?”

You swing his rucksack over your shoulder, pulling a large rolling suitcase behind you. “I don’t know. Whatever conversation it is that we apparently need to have!” He’s exasperated, and honestly, so are you. The fact that he’s tired, and likely has no idea what time it actually right now either, doesn’t exactly help the situation.

“Look, yes there’s a couple of things I need to tell you, but it doesn’t have to be right this instant! It’s not some big dramatic thing, okay?”

Ben frowns, folding his arms across his chest, watching you with a stern gaze. “Well for something that isn’t dramatic, you’ve certainly been putting it off. We could’ve had this, chat, last week. But you decided you didn’t want to!”

“Ben, I am not going to fight with you. Not here, not now, not ever. I am happy to talk with you when you’ve calmed down a bit. But as for right now, I’m going to our apartment, and I’m going to make a pot of tea. I can make it for one or two people, the decision is yours.” You don’t await a reply, grabbing the handle of the suitcase, and wheeling it behind you towards the stairs that lead out of the garage.

For a few moments, you almost think Ben is going to stay and fume by the car, but soon enough you hear his heavy footsteps following you up the stairs, lugging his two other suitcases behind him. “Green or black?” His voice flows from behind you, he sounds nervous, almost as if he thinks he won’t be welcome into his own apartment.

“Black, if that’s alright? I just got a new tin of Russian caravan.” You smile over your shoulder, catching his eye and sending a wink his way.

A blush creeps up his cheeks,  one which you watch melt over his pale skin for the few moments it takes before you arrive at your apartment. You rustle around in your handbag for a few moments, before triumphantly retrieving your keys, shoving one into the main lock, and pushing the heavy wooden door open. Immediately, Frankie is bounding towards the door, barking happily at the sight of Ben. “Hey girl. Hey!” He grins, kneeling in the doorway, where Frankie stands on her hind legs, resting her front paws on Ben’s chest. “Oh I missed you so much! Did you look after Mama Y/N? Did you?” He’s speaking in his baby voice to the excitable beagle, and it’s honestly the gosh darned sweetest thing you have ever heard.

“Of course she did, she was an angel like always.” You call from the kitchen, smiling to yourself. It was the truth, aside from the odd hiccup or two -namely the spaghetti incident- Frankie had been on her best behaviour the entire time Ben was away.

“That’s my girl….” Ben’s voice is lower now, and you’re almost positive he’s bestowing belly rubs upon the spoiled pup.

Humming quietly, you busy yourself with brewing a pot of tea, taking far longer than strictly necessary to select which teapot to use. Reaching up to the top shelf in your pantry, you pull down the spherical BB-8 pot, blowing off the small amount of dust which had accumulated on its lid. As you pour the hot water over the loose tea, Ben heads into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his chin over your shoulder. “Hey – I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with you before. I know it seems like it though.”

You replace the lid on the teapot, allowing the tea to steep for the necessary 3-5 minutes. “I didn’t mean to bite back. I think we’re both a bit on edge right now. It’s always like this when you’ve just come home, maybe next time we just need to try and remember that?” You half laugh, bringing one hand up, to stroke your fingers against Ben’s jaw. “If you’re ready now, we can talk?”

Ben lifts his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss against your shoulder before standing up straight, using his hand on your waist to turn you to face him. “I’m ready when you are.” He whispers, crystalline eyes boring into yours.

A deep sigh slips from your lips, a frown creasing between your brows as you attempt to form your next words. “Remember on the phone the other night, and I said that me leaving my job wasn’t such a great idea?”

You know that he remembers, how could he not? But this time you genuinely were stalling. “There’s a reason for that. No, not just because the pessimist inside of me is warning that one day I may not have your income to rely on. But because, having two incomes could be a really good thing right now. In fact, it might be for the best.”

Ben has one hand still resting against your hip, while the other is dragging his fingers through his overgrown locks. “What do you mean? I- I don’t get it?”

“What if, it wasn’t just the two of us here Ben?”

“There’s three of us. You, me, and Frankie!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, a soft smirk on your lips now. “Right, of course. Well what about four then? What if there were four of us?”

“Do you mean Joe? Is that why he came to the airport today? Is he living with us now? Because if he is, he can bloody well help with the rent!”

“Whoa! No, not that! Not at all!”  Your lower lip presses between your teeth, as you shuffle your feet along the tiled floor. “Ben, I mean a baby. I- I’m pregnant. And I figure, babies can be hella expensive, so maybe the two of us working will make things a little bit easier?” You’re rambling now, you know that. And poor Ben seems to still be trying to compute the news you’ve just dumped on him.

“Y/N, can we just rewind for a second?”

Your mouth slams shut, eyes wide as you nod at Ben. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you another way. Ben, I’m pregnant. I found out I think maybe, three days after you left.”

“Holy fuck. I mean, holy shit! No, I can’t swear in front of the baby. Oh my god? Is that okay? Or am I not allowed to blaspheme around the baby either?”

At this, you can’t help but laugh, stepping forwards and throwing your arms around Ben’s neck. “I’m only six weeks along. I don’t think you have to worry about thing’s like swearing yet.”

Ben freezes, locking eyes with you as he holds both hands around your waist, pulling you closer against him. “So you’re telling me. You’re pregnant, and the number one take away you have from that, is whether you should keep working or not?”  There’s humour in his voice, and his eyes are sparkling with joy.

“Yep. I guess so.” You shrug, allowing your laughter to flow freely now, uncaring if anyone else heard you.

Ben shakes his head, grinning like a mad man. “Fuck, I love you.” He whispers, leaning in towards you. Your lips lock together, melding into one like the perfect match they are. Teeth knock against teeth for a few moments as you work to find a comfortable pace and position, though your lips never part once. His hands cling to your waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh, as if he were your anchor to reality, while your hands tangle in his hair, fingers curling and tugging at his blonde curls. Slowly, Ben pulls away, his eyes opening just barely so he could look down at you. “I’ll need to stop smoking. I promise I will.” He whispers.

You smile softly, tilting your head up so your nose bumps against his. “Now that, we can agree on.”

If you enjoy my writing, feel free to check out my MASTERLIST. I write for a somewhat varied number of fandoms. My askbox is ALWAYS open, and I love taking requests! It just may take me some time to write up your request, but I will always get to it!

[robertmitchum]

Sorry if you’ve told this before, but what are your stories of meeting James McAvoy? :)

No problem! It’s been a minute!

The first time was at AOL build, he was so charming I’ll never forget it. The gifs of it still exist in my bio to this day, also that day he gave me the biggest hug and talked to me 15 minutes after the interview. He was so charming.

Second time was at stage door for Colbert, again a total angel, and he remembered me of course. And of course I got another hug! The best egg truly.

Third and Fourth times were both on the same day, once at Good Morning America, once at Colbert stage door, he asked me for my instagram handle (bitch never followed)

Fifth time was at Colbert again, and he was of course so shocked when he saw me he said “aw fuck it’s you love” and I nearly died on the spot.

Sixth time was in London at Cyrano De Bergerac, I got to introduce him to my fiancé, he asked me how life was going and thanks from flying all the way from New York! He remembered me again 🥺🥺🥺🥺

So yeah, I have a lot of history with him, and from time to time he likes my instagram posts and he even commented “thanks luv” once on one of them...im putting it out in the universe that we should be friends. And that’s my corny story!

[imtrynnawriteshit]

Jacob Frye x Female!Reader (2! Looks like I’m actually going through with this! Hooray!)

Oh wow it’s been uh a while

This is v conversation heavy? Is that how you describe things??

Well, it is now hehehe

Something I forgot to mention the last time: the slang that I’m using is not entirely period appropriate? I mean, it somewhat is, but I’m also mixing up years and classes of people who used them (because I cannot be arsed to sit and sort everything out class and period wise)

If it seems like I only stick to a couple of letters worth of slang, that’s because I’ve only just gotten to ones that start with D. It’s a whole process and I’m lazy

Also, I know absolutely nothing about business and I like to think I can be clever, so if the whole thing just sounds way too dramatic, I’m srry, I cannot business at all

But I tried and that’s what counts, right? :D

Hope u enjoy luv u

Words: 1608

Warnings: One (1) damn, not properly edited (maybe I’ll do it l8r though), might get v pretentious (I’m trying to channel my inner Victorian) :((

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed (Syndicate)

Characters: Jacob Frye, Reader

Relationships: Jacob Frye x Reader but like, still business-y (as if I know what that means)

Fortunately, you'd managed to avoid Mr. Starrick finding out about your unexpected little detour. Rather unfortunately, though, your driver seemed to have left town - you'd seen neither hide nor hair of him for the past week or so.

Not that you had the time to look for him, of course. You'd been entirely focused on building the company up again, regaining all the profits you'd lost after Pearl's death, so much so that you'd even forgotten Mr. Frye was due for a visit.

Until he showed up in a manner suited to one of his particular disposition.

You'd visited one of your friends that afternoon for a cup of tea, briefly putting aside the contracts and accounts you were constantly pouring over. Your departure soon after found you feeling lighter, the tension not weighing down your shoulders for once.

Though you did your best to counter it, of course. God forbid it ruin your posture.

Mind immediately wandering to the paperwork you had left, you approached your carriage (which, despite having been discreetly sent off to get fixed up, still bore a few scratches from your misadventure). The new driver already held the door open, arm extended to help you in. It was only when you glanced at him, nodding your gratitude, hand firmly in his grasp, that you realized it wasn’t, in fact, your recent employ.

It was Mr. Frye.

You let out a rather un-ladylike groan as you sat down.

"Please tell me you didn’t scare this one off too. I can't exactly afford the habit of interviewing for drivers."

His eyes widened in mock-innocence before he shut the door, getting on to the bench and taking the reins, all the while running his mouth about how he'd "never" and he was "appalled" you thought so little of him.

Good heavens.

"Yes, alright, but will he be back?"

"He'll meet you at Trafalgar Square in an hour," he sighed, urging the horse into a steady trot.

You frowned, "But that's only five minutes away."

"Which gives us fifty-five to talk, doesn't it?" he said, sounding rather exasperated. You chose to ignore that, instead peaking out the window, trying to figure out where you were headed.

"Mr. Frye, where exactly are we going?"

"Why, to the cosiest alley the district has to offer, of course!" he said, turning into one just within reach of the Square, hopping into the carriage almost as soon as he brought it to a halt.

"Well, this certainly won't rouse suspicion," you remark, peering through the window, eyebrows raised, before drawing the curtains and turning to look at him again. "Now, I presume you have something for me".

"Yes and no."

You narrowed your eyes, "That's not how it works, Mr. Frye. You either have an offer or you don't. Which is it?"

"There is something I can give you, but I'll need time to deliver on it."

"And that something is?"

Frankly, you didn’t expect much. There was barely anything he could offer that you couldn’t acquire (if you didn’t already have it) anyway.

"Complete ownership of Attaway Transport, without the added burden of Starrick's overbearing and ever-looming presence."

Or so you thought.

He managed to shock you into silent for a moment, before you shook yourself out of it and huffed out a small laugh.

"I have to say: I didn’t quite think you'd manage it, but you've captured my interest. Tell me, then; how exactly would you go about that? Mr. Starrick isn't one to just give up power."

"Luckily enough, we're looking to provide a more permanent solution to the problem of - well, him."

"Are you now?" your eyebrows shot up again, this time in intrigue, and you could feel the anticipation and excitement brewing within you at the thought of the possibilities his death could bring. If the way Mr. Frye's brow twitched in return was any indication, you weren't doing a very good job hiding it. "That certainly changes things. Though I suppose I should've known, you haven't been all that...subtle about your intentions, the way you've been running around London wreaking havoc."

"There you have it, then," he grinned, throwing an arm up over the back of the seat. "What do you say?"

You took a moment to deliberate, Mr. Frye letting you take the time you needed to come to a decision once you shot him a look when he started getting antsy, stopping him before he could get much further than "I don't mean to badger you but-". You could see the eagerness in the way he'd leaned ever so slightly towards you, in how his eyes remained trained on you, analyzing every shift in your features, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on in your head, of the decision you'd come to.

Well, there was certainly no doubt about what your answer was going to be. It was, however, quite endearing, the way he impatiently awaited your response.

Probably best you put him out of his misery, though, and so you offered him your hand.

"It appears," you smiled, "you have yourself a deal, Mr. Frye. I do hope you can hold up your end, and as shall I to the best of my abilities."

His face relaxed, and he took your hand, shaking it firmly. Though you expected it, the warmth of his grip, even through both his and your own glove, still left you pleasantly surprised.

"I must admit, however," you withdrew your hand, "I am curious: why trust me? After everything that's happened? Some might think you all the more barmy for it."

"Crotchetty as I may seem," he shot back, "I'll admit, I'm not exactly spoiled for choice when it comes to allies who can provide me better insight into Templar plans. You don't seem to care for the Order either, which is reassuring. To an extent. Naturally you'll have to earn my trust before I let Evie know about this little arrangement-"

"You haven't told your sister?"

"'Course not," he scoffed, "she'd never agree to it. Not after your mother. Besides, what my dear sister doesn't understand, is that sometimes you need to take a chance. Like I did, with the Rooks. And now with you."

You supposed that made sense.

"Besides," he continued, "it doesn't hurt to have powerful friends close to your nemesis-"

"As I've already mentioned," you injected, stifling a chuckle at how affronted he looked at being so unceremoniously interrupted, "I'm neither powerful nor am I close to Mr. Starrick. He doesn't trust me. Which means, more often than not, he'll ensure he bears witness to every move I make."

You shifted towards him.

"It's not just my business that's on the line here, Mr. Frye. It's my life. If he ever suspects me of consorting with you, I'd lose everything. My agreement is me trusting you to kill him and deliver on your end of the bargain."

At that, his eyes softened, and when he spoke next, sincerity was carefully woven into every word. "You needn't worry, Miss Attaway, you have my word. I will do whatever it takes to rid you of Starrick and his control."

Nodding softly in lieu of thanks, you cleared your throat, embarrassment burning in your chest at having let yourself be so vulnerable (for lack of a better word) with someone.

And a man you barely knew, at that.

"I apologise, you must think me utterly mercurial, and-"

"On the contrary, I think you're rather bricky," he said, and his damned gaze was still so gentle as it rest upon you, his tone somewhat similar to the one often adopted by strangers when they learned of how you came to live with Pearl. The thought of being pitied by him for having gotten into this situation, even though it was mostly his fault, left you feeling angry and humiliated.

You didn't need nor ask for his commiseration.

Choosing not to dignify that with a response (you knew anything you'd say would be in bad form), you immediately carried on like nothing had happened. "Right, I'll need a few weeks or so to get everything up and running again. In the meantime, you encourage any competitors that are not affiliated to Mr. Starrick. With a rival around, I could try and-"

"-blame your lack of profits onto them?" at your affirmation, he let out a low whistle. "Clever. That might just work."

The admiration in his voice didn't go unnoticed. You shrugged, "I know, and I'm counting on it. Of course, if it doesn't alleviate suspicion, we might have to resort to drastic measures, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, this is all we need to focus on."

Your sentence was punctuated by the chiming of Big Ben, indicating that your hour was up. With a "by your leave, Miss Attaway", Mr. Frye leapt into action, getting back onto the bench and driving the carriage to where your actual employee was to meet you. In an attempt to look a bit more inconspicuous, you drew open the curtains. Nothing like the hidden interior of a carriage to get people gossiping.

Dismounting, Mr. Frye glanced around, making sure you hadn't attracted any unwarranted attention, before tipping his cap to you and stalking off. Thankfully, it was crowded enough that no one paid a briefly unattended carriage any mind, and it gave him the opportunity to blend in with the locals, seemingly vanishing from sight.

You watched him go, and thinking your decision over for the rest of your journey, could only hope you'd made the right choice.

Slang used:

Crotchetty - eccentric, unexpected

Bricky - brave, fearless, adroit after the manner of a brick

Other:

Glove etiquette - whenever a gentleman had to shake someone’s hand, he would take off his glove (that he always wore when outside) before doing so. If he had to leave it on, he’d apologise while shaking the other person’s hand. Women, however, had to keep their gloves on at all times when they were out and about, except when at the dinner table during a party, because it was considered bad form to wear gloves while eating (mainly because the gloves were delicate, especially those made of kid, and wearing dirty gloves was “tacky”). However, when giving his hand to a woman whose own hands were gloved, a man wasn’t supposed to take off his. It was necessary to do so if hers were off too, though.

(Tumblr's an ass, so I'll reblog this post in a bit to link the articles I used as a reference because they're much, much better at providing a comprehensive explanation to how glove etiquette worked)

[susieskinner93]

Affair...or is it?

my fic for day4 of robron week 2020

“This brings back some memories.” - he heard Robert chuckle from behind him.

“They haven't followed you right?” - asked Aaron turning around as he saw Robert entering the barn.

“Nice to see you too.” - smiled Robert before he pulled Aaron in for a quick kiss.

“Yeah yeah, I'm glad you're here. So?” - he asked again. Robert laughed at him before he saw how serious Aaron was.

“No. They haven't. Vic tried to get me to go over though. Have a chat.”

“She's not suspicious is she?”

“Because she simply couldn't ask about how I've been getting on right?” - asked Robert joking.

“Sorry... it's just....” - started Aaron biting his lips as he stroked Robert's arms.

“No I get it.” - he sighed before they went quiet. -”Tell you who was definitely suspicious though. Your mum.”

“What?”

“Yesterday I had lunch with Vic in the pub, and Chas made it obvious how she feels about me being out.” - he frowned.

“Did she say something?”

“She told Paddy you must have met a bloke because you're actually smiling more, and you seem happy and how fantastic it is after the shit I put you through.”

“She said that? You know it's not true right? You're not to blame.”

“But I am.” - said Robert - “I pushed you away, wanted you to move on...”

“And I couldn't. What does that tell you?”- asked Aaron stepping closer.

“That you're an idiot.” -smiled Robert before he kissed him. - “I think Vic is onto something.” - said Robert stopping the kiss.

“She said something?”

“Not exactly... just kept mentioning you, ever since I’m back really. She said I couldn’t just give up.... then she asked me how would I feel if you’d start dating a bloke right in front of me.” 

“What did you say?”

“The truth.” - he shrugged - “That it would destroy me.”

“Robert...”

“No, it’s true.” - he sighed - ���But... hopefully that won’t happen.” - he smiled. 

“Like I’d ever do that.” - scoffed Aaron before he started smirking and took a step back from Robert. - “I've got something for ya.” -he said biting his lip.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Come on Aaron just tell me!”

“No, close your eyes first.” - he said not moving a muscle until Robert did as he was told. Aaron didn't wait a second before he pulled out the ring from his pocket, slipping it on Robert's finger. He felt Robert tense before he saw him staring at the ring.

“You...”

“We talked about it.” -shrugged Aaron. That was true. Robert was out of prison for the last 5 months and despite Aaron slamming the door in his face at first, they made up fairly quick, and ever since, they kept their relationship a secret. It wasn’t easy. They avoided each other in public. The whole village thought the reunion didn't quite succeed. They knew people were talking about it. Still after 5 months when they occasionally were in the pub at the same time, they would hear the whispers. People were wondering what happened, why they didn’t get back on. Little did they know... But it was necessary. Chas tried her best to keep Aaron out of Robert's way, and she was delighted when she overheard Robert telling Victoria how Aaron didn't want anything to do with him. It was all an act though. They needed space...from others, from the family, from the gossip, and that's how they started seeing each other in secret. It was better than keeping their distance. They couldn't have managed it anyway.

“You know if I'm gonna wear this our secret is over, right?” - said Robert looking at Aaron.

“I know. But...I can't expect me husband to act like we're strangers, can I.” - he said smirking.

“Wha...what did you just say?” - asked Robert gobsmacked. They haven't talked about formalities yet, so this came as a surprise for him.

“What are you doing this Friday?” - he asked and Robert's eyes widened.

“Are...are you sure?” - he asked shocked but he still couldn't stop smiling.

“Yeah. Booked it today. Usually there’s a waiting list but someone cancelled just before I got there and when I asked about their earliest appointment they told me Friday’s available. They were joking obviously.. when I said I take it... they thought I’m pulling their legs.” - he laughed - “So....this is kinda our last time to meet in secret.”

“What about tomorrow? It's only Wednesday.”

“You said me mum's suspicious. I sort it. And work. Because after we get married I want you all to myself for a whole week at least.”

*flashback*

“Hello luv, a pint was it?” - asked Chas as she saw Aaron entering the pub.

“Yeah, go on then, but I can’t stay long.” - he said checking his phone. 

“Is it a bloke by any chance?” - asked Chas trying to get to know more. She knew something was up with Aaron. Lately he seemed... lighter. It was really refreshing to see it, especially now that Robert was back in the village and Chas was up half the night worrying about Aaron getting sucked into Robert’s lies again. Her words exactly. 

“No. None of your business anyway.” - scoffed Aaron before his phone beeped. A message. He opened it quickly, and started smiling instantly. 

“As long as he makes you happy luv, that’s all that matters.” - smiled Chas putting the glass in front of him. - “It can only be better than Robert.” - she added half whispering. Aaron heard it but tried to ignore it. He couldn’t deal with his mother’s mithering, when he just confirmed another date with Robert. Well... if you can call a secret meeting a date.

“I have to go to London for a scrap run. It’s a 3 day job. So... I can’t babysit Eve.” - he told his mother. He knew they wanted to ask him, but he couldn’t turn down an opportunity to be with Robert. Not even for his little sister. 

“Ah, don’t worry luv, we sort it. Just have fun.” - she smirked... and did she wink at him? 

“It’s work mum.” - he said again trying to sound convincing. 

“Sure it is.” - she smiled. Aaron gave up. At least she didn’t think it was Robert. He couldn’t deal with the drama, not right now. Right now, seeing Robert was all that mattered. 

*end of flashback*

“Chas is gonna hate this.” -said Robert worrying. - “Everybody will.”

“Not everybody.”

“My sister doesn’t count.” - he said.

“Robert, my mum’s been trying to get a name out of me ever since we... you know. She knows I’m happy.” 

“Are you? Are you really? I mean... we can only meet in barns... and hotels... outside of the village. It’s like...” 

“Like old times?” - asked Aaron with a little laugh.

“You can’t be happy with that.”

“But I am.” - he said confirming it. - “Because Robert, those years without ya? It wasn’t something I’d call life. And no, please don’t say I’m overreacting. I told you how it was. You know.” 

“I know.” - he nodded. - “I just want you to be sure.”

“It was never a question.” - he said as he kissed him again. 

“So, from now on this ‘affair’ is over?” - asked Robert smiling. 

“Looks like it.” - answered Aaron - “But I still have...” - he said checking his phone - “..about 45 minutes before me mum’s gonna call to ask me to stop by for tea.”

“And to ask you who’s your mystery bloke is.”

“That too.” - he grinned. - “So? Do you wanna talk... or you’d rather get on with it?” - he asked impatiently making Robert smile before he lunged forward to take the lead. He waited for years to have this again, to be with Robert again. He didn’t want to waste any more minutes. 

[melodious-madrigals]

london calling (yes, i was there, too)

For Day 1 of Wondertrev Loveweek! 

Fandom: Wonder Woman Pairing: Diana/Steve Prompt: London  Word Count: 2154 Rating: T (for ~innuendo~ probably)  Summary: A view of London, past and present, from Diana's point of view. 

Read it here on [AO3] or below the cut.   

***

present

*

London has become a glittering, sprawling city in the years since Diana first arrived at its docks. Some would go so far as to call it the greatest city in the world.

Diana still dislikes it.

She never warmed to London. She loves Lisbon, adores Amman, visits Xi'an every chance she gets, calls Paris home for now. But London remains something of a frustration for her, a necessary evil for business trips from time to time.

There are things she doesn't mind, she supposes.

The red telephone boxes, for one. They're a bit cliché, but iconic. (She remembers when those were first put in.) They're less common now, but every time she passes one, she snaps a photo and texts it to Clark, with the caption thinking of you, because one time in a pinch, he used one to change into his Superman suit but in his haste accidentally broke one of the panes of glass, and she's never going to let him forget it.

Then there's Hampstead Heath. It's a bit outside the bustle of the city proper, sure, but it's a breath of fresh air (literally), and it has lovely views of the city. She's enjoyed her walks there, even fondly recalls a picnic or two on the grassy hill as she gazes at the skyline, stuck in the city between one meeting and the next.  

Indeed, the city itself has largely been cleaned up. There are still stately aging buildings and parks, but less of the pervasive grime. Still, there's something about London that she can't quite put her finger on that makes her feel unsettled.

It's totally irrational.

*

1918

*

"It's hideous."

"Yeah, it's not for everyone."

*

Diana hates it here. The air is bleak and grey and thick. It's like the air on Themyscira on the winter solstice, when it's choked by smoke from their celebratory bonfires, only worse, because this isn't fragrant, woody smoke. It's a thick miasma of coal and smog, utterly pungent, with an acrid odor layering it that Diana will soon find out is what the aftermath of bombings smell like.

The streets, too, are filthy, full of trash and grey with coal dust, and she's never seen anything so utterly uncivilized in her whole life.

And it's loud, an ugly cacophony of sounds like she's never encountered: people shouting—a language that she understands, to be sure, but one that is just a little dissonant all the same because it isn't hers —and bells chiming and the creaks and groans of the bridge as it raises, and hissing of the engines in the automobiles.

Truly, she doesn't know why anyone would live here, but it's all right, because soon they'll be headed off to the War. Battlefields are not good, but she is sure they are something that she at least understands.

*

Her first day in London has been a whirlwind: the clothing shop, the fight in the alley, Parliament and the horribly rude generals, and finally, assembling the team at the pub. She's not ashamed to admit that she's looking forward to a bit of rest before she goes to confront Ares.

After leaving the pub, Steve leads her to a quiet side street, and directs her up three flights of stairs into a cramped set of rooms.

"It's not much, but when I'm in London, it's home."

The apartment is largely impersonal—it's clear that Steve doesn't spend much time here, away on missions more often than not—but it still feels warm. To that end, Steve ushers her into the little kitchen and hands her a cup of tea.

It's pleasantly warm despite being bitter, and she manages to finish it as Steve gets up and starts rearranging the cushions on the sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"Um. Making up the couch?" It sounds like more of a question than her own, honestly.

"Yes, I have eyes," she says impatiently. "Why are you making up the couch?"

"I...don't have an answer you'll approve of."

She huffs. "I do not understand your society in the slightest. Did we not sleep together on the boat, just last night, and all the ones before it?"

"Er. Yeah."

"And tonight is different how?"

"Um," says Steve, clearly looking uncomfortable. "There's a bed?"

Diana levels him with a very unimpressed look. "You sat alone at the kitchen table with me while we drank tea."

"Well, I—huh? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, what on earth do they teach you about the pleasures of the flesh that makes you think a bed or even a horizontal position is a requirement?"

Steve chokes on air and starts coughing. "Diana—"

"I'm just saying you get very flustered about very peculiar things. The bed, for example, but not the kitchen table, which looks very sturdy, by the way—"

"Okay, okay! You've made your point! I'll sleep with you."

"Finally," she huffs.

"It's—"

"—not polite to assume, yes, you have said, but it is hardly an assumption on your part if I have clearly stated my feelings."

"Right, well, we'll just. Um. Go to bed, then."

Steve, anticipating Diana's lack of concern over modesty, offers her an oversized flannel shirt to sleep in.

"If it will make you feel better," she says, and puts it on over her undergarments.

"Goodnight," she says, once he's extinguished the light.

"Night."

She's not awake long enough to see him fall asleep, falling into a slumber almost as soon as her head hits the pillow.  

*

Diana wakes up to warmth, an intangible yet visceral feeling of safety, and a comfortable weight around her waist. It's clearly morning, weak light dappling the side of the room, the view out the window in front of her proving it's a cloudy day. She shifts slightly and realizes that in the night, Steve has rolled her way and thrown his arm around her.

They're meant to get an early start, but Diana is used to waking up so early for training every morning that it can't possibly be time to get up yet. She's willing to lay in bed just a few moments longer, but her shifting appears to have woken up Steve, who tugs her a little closer and then seems to realize where he is.

He lets go of her like her skin is aflame and jerks backward so hard that he nearly falls off the edge of the bed.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

She catches his hand in the middle of a wild gesticulation. "If I thought you were being disrespectful, you would no longer have the arm in question."

"Right. Neat. I'll just, uh, go make some tea."

Sameer and Charlie knock on the door not long after, and then they're out of London, off to the War.  

*

London, upon return, is even worse than London before. Even amidst the celebrations, it seems so much bleaker, so much colder.  

Etta, dear lovely Etta, helps with all the arrangements to make it appear as though she existed before last week. Documents, a day job—and a place to stay.

"I've arranged it all so that it's yours. Young ladies, they usually have to stay in boarding rooms, but I think this is what he would've wanted."

Etta makes time to take her to the apartment, under the guise of ensuring that it has everything she needs.

It's a grey day, the kind that doesn't really let much light make its way indoors. The small apartment is dim, and it feels so desolate, so empty.

Diana turns in a circle as Etta rummages through the drawers, making a list of the few things she finds to be lacking. She was just here a few days ago; how can a place feel so intrinsically different?

"Well, luv, it appears to be mostly in order. If you don't mind, I'll come 'round tomorrow with a new spatula and a bit of sugar, and you'll be all set."

"Yes, of course," Diana says distantly, and then Etta's gone, out the door.

An apartment so small and cluttered shouldn't be so capable of feeling empty, but it does.

Diana, who's always run hot, feels vaguely cold.

*

She tries, she really does. She does her job and goes on missions and tries to make friends, invites people over for dinner or tea, does her best to make London home.

She makes it a whole month before it drives her mad, being in that little apartment. London itself doesn't hold Steve's ghost, but this apartment does.

After a month, she can no longer stand it, even though she's hardly ever there anyways. In a fit of impulsiveness, she turns the keys over the Etta, and moves to Paris, a place she's been several times already, on missions with Sameer, and once, Napi.

She moves frequently, after that, from place to place, city to city, country to country, but doesn't call London home again.

*

present

*

So it's irrational, but every time Diana thinks of London, all she can think of are the grey skies and the colorless light in that apartment, like the world was slowly being sapped of color. Each time she thinks of London, she can't help but associate it with sorrow. With each emotion she felt in the aftermath of Steve's death, all of the complicated ways her victory felt like anything but.

No, she never takes to London, even as the years pass and the city changes. She arrives only as absolutely necessary, and leaves as soon as whatever work is done.

Today, for example, she's here for a conference on artifact preservation. She knows the man from the British Museum who's presenting the seminar—and frankly he has no business giving this talk—and as soon as it's over she'll be on the Eurostar back to Paris.

*

Her next meeting in London is with the director of the British Museum itself. She and a small team from the Louvre are meeting with a team from the British Museum to hammer out a loans agreement for a couple of highly-coveted pieces. It's the most important meeting outside of the Justice League that she'll have all year, and she's the lead negotiator.

The day before she's expected to leave for the week-long trip, Steve shows up, alive again after a century and change.

She already wasn't looking forward to the trip—this just makes it worse. She's in emotional crisis, and has no desire to leave Steve for any period of time, but this is literally the one meeting of the year that she cannot miss. (After all, if there's one attitude regarding museums and artifact "ownership" that she hates more than France's, it's Britain's. She's not going to miss this meeting and let them get away with anything.)

"I could...come with?" asks Steve, uncertainly. They're both still trying to figure things out.

"Would you?"

"It's hardly the worst place I've ever followed you," he says weakly, trying for a joke, and it's met with a wet laugh. "Look, I know London. Knew London, anyways. I could walk around somewhere familiar while you were in meetings and then after…" he trails off.

"And then after, there is no one I would rather spend time with," Diana declares.

"Neat, so—I'm coming."

Diana wastes no time booking the second ticket.

*

"It's hideous," says Steve when he sees the ultra-modern skyline for the first time.

"Well, London isn't for everyone," replies Diana with a smirk.  

"It's just—strange. London was sort of home for so long, and now I don't even recognize it."

"You get used to it, after a while," she says softly, and Steve has the distinct impression that she's not just talking about London.

They've arrived the evening before the meetings are set to start, so they wander around a little before getting dinner and checking into the hotel. (Diana has accumulated properties in plenty of places, but London was never one of them; instead, they're staying downtown, near several excellent take-away spots that Diana was already planning on taking advantage of.)

"How many shades of red would you turn if I offered to take the couch right now?" Steve jokes, surveying the hotel room upon arrival.  

"Objectively? Fewer than if you joined me in the bed."

Steve flushes almost as many shades as he had in mind, still a little startled by her bluntness.

"Oh? And now who's assuming?" he says as evenly as he can.

"I don't know what you mean," she says, far too innocently, "I run hot when I sleep."

"Right."

She can't help but laugh at that. She feels so—content, for the first time in so long. It's coloring her view of everything: the business trip suddenly doesn't feel so unmanageable, London doesn't feel so soul-less, even the sterile hotel room feels cheerful.

It's true that Diana never warmed up to London, but it has a fighting chance now.

***  

Final Note:  Please pardon any negative depictions of London; it's not my favorite city but it mostly comes from Diana's emotional relationship with the place.

***