#i watched thomas and that was only one i knew about until like three years ago

[noobitynub]

I feel like people don't talk about hank from Theodore enough, he's my second favorite character-

[megalony]

I Need Help

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine I've had finished for a while now and really need to post. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: During the night when one of their kids isn't well, Eddie gets up to look after her.

Enjoy.

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

Eddie kicked off his shoes in the hall and tossed his keys in the dish, raking his fingers through his hair as he headed down the hall. He was about to head into the kitchen until something caught his eye in the living room and he changed direction, steering towards the right instead.

The tiredness washed away like the tide going out when he took a look around. The tv was playing a Thomas the Tank Engine cartoon, the curtains were drawn and a few candles were lit around the living room, something that was a regular sight almost every evening when the sun went down.

But it was the sofa that drew Eddie's attention.

All three of his boys, huddled together on the verge of falling asleep. Chris was tucked up in the left corner with a blanket draped over his lap. He had Nate next to him in the middle with his head on Chris's shoulder, and beside him was Joey who could barely keep his eyes open.

"What are you lot doing up?" His eyes drifted to Chris who knew he was still allowed to be up since he was the eldest.

He advanced over to them and perched down on the end of the sofa beside Joey, watching him liven up almost immediately when his dad sat down next to him.

A cheeky grin spread across Joey's lips and he scrambled to climb onto Eddie's lap and huddle up against his chest, whining quietly until Eddie wrapped his arms around him in a hug. Eddie leaned his head down and kissed the top of his boy's head and he grinned, tightening his arms around Joey and gently swaying him from side to side.

And of course, feeling left out, Nate wriggled around until he could worm his way under Eddie's right arm and tuck into his chest too. He curled his arms around Eddie's neck and kissed his cheek.

Both four year olds looked like they were ready for bed which made Eddie wonder why they were still awake. He had been expecting only Chris to be awake when he came home.

"Hi daddy."

"Hi buddy, why aren't you two in bed?" He slouched back into the sofa until his knees bumped into the coffee table and he was almost getting lost in the sofa cushions. The boys both wriggled around until they were planted down on his chest with Nate's head on his shoulder and Joey curled up on his chest, both hands clutching his shirt.

He began smoothing his hands up and down their backs while he tilted his head back and strained his ears to try and listen to the sounds in the rest of the house. He couldn't hear the girls. If the boys were awake then chances were that Grace was up too and since Eddie couldn't see his third triplet anywhere, he figured she had to be somewhere with (Y/n).

"Where's Gracie?" He murmured softly against the top of Nate's head, but neither of them seemed to be in a talking mood. They were tired, they probably wanted to head to bed and go to sleep.

He tilted his head to look over at Chris who also looked tired, but was doing his best to stay awake to finish the cartoon he was watching.

"She was sick, mum took her for a wash."

Eddie's lips formed into a thin line and he nodded. Out of all the kids, Grace was the one who got sick the most. When the triplets had been born, she had been the smallest, weighing less than four pounds. Whenever there was a cold or an infection going round, Grace always managed to catch it and she had a hard time getting rid of them, having a weakened immune system. The triplets had been born premature, but both boys had faired a lot better and got back to health faster than Grace.

"Let's get you two in bed, hm?" With a deep breath, Eddie pushed forward from his heels to his toes and got to his feet, one of the boys in each arm.

Nate tightened his arms around Eddie's neck and pulled his knees up into his stomach to be smaller and easier to carry. Whereas Joe stayed wrapped up against Eddie's chest, half asleep already with his eyes closed.

Eddie juggled them both in his arms, more than used to carrying them all around. The triplets loved for Eddie to carry them all at the same time, even now that they were getting big since they were now four. And he strived to keep up and continue carrying them whenever they asked. It didn't matter how old they got, he still thought of them as his little babies.

He leaned down so he could kiss the top of Chris's head who grinned, burrowing his head back into the cushion behind him.

"Can I watch tv in your room?" Chris asked quietly, to which Eddie nodded and let him go ahead down the corridor first.

Turning to the side, Eddie nudged the triplets' door with his hip and headed in. The covers on their respective beds were askew, the curtains were closed and the night light was on. They must have either gone to bed or had been in the process when Grace was sick.

"Okay," He murmured quietly, easing Joey down first because he was practically asleep.

Once Nate was on his bed, Eddie tucked Joey in and moved a few of the teddies and toys from the bed. Joey liked to try and sleep with every toy he owned until there was no room for him in the bed. Numerous times Eddie had found him with bruises from lying on his toy trucks that he snook into bed with him.

With a kiss to his head, he moved to Nate who reached up and latched his hands around Eddie's arm when Eddie leaned to kiss his head.

"You stay, 'til we sleep?"

"Sure, buddy." Eddie kissed his temple again and brushed his thumb across Nate's cheek who snuggled down into the covers, but he didn't close his eyes. He kept a watchful eye on Eddie, making sure his dad wasn't about to leave the room and leave them alone.

He watched with intrigue as Eddie moved over to Grace's bed, but once he realised what Eddie was doing, Nate allowed himself to close his eyes. Knowing he could still hear Eddie pottering around the room.

Grace had clearly thrown up on the covers because (Y/n) had stripped the bed before she vacated the boys to sit with Chris while she sorted Grace out. So Eddie busied himself remaking the bed and changing the duvet cover. While the boys liked to have matching bedding, Grace was happier with Disney bedding with bright colours.

Just as he finished switching the pillow cases around, Eddie looked to the right when he heard soft footsteps.

A tender smile flooded (Y/n)'s face when she realised Eddie had already gotten the boys into bed. She leaned her cheek on top of Grace's head as her daughter snuggled down against her chest, her whimpers now ceased to quiet murmurs.

"Hi babygirl, you feeling better?" Eddie held his hands out when Grace seemed to become animated and she wriggled around immediately to try and get to Eddie.

Her arms looped around his neck and her face tucked down against the collar of his shirt so that Eddie could feel her damp hair clinging to his cheek and her lips kissing his neck. He smoothed his hand up and down her back and kissed her wet hair before he carefully sat down on the bed and tried to lay her down.

"Been sick." She muttered somewhat defeatedly while her arms stayed deadlocked around Eddie's neck. She didn't seem to want to let go until (Y/n) held out her teddy bear to her as an exchange.

"I can tell," Eddie responded quietly before he kissed her temple when her arms finally unravelled from his neck. "Try and get some sleep, I'll come back in to check on you soon, okay?"

Once she was curled up in a ball with her teddy pinned tightly to her chest, Eddie got up and followed (Y/n) out the room. He left the door ajar slightly just in case any of them needed anything or Grace cried out that she was going to be sick again.

A grin worked its way onto (Y/n)'s face when she felt Eddie's arms swoop in around her waist, reeling her into his chest like a fish on a hook. His lips attached to the side of her neck and he swayed them from side to side. He felt (Y/n)'s hands move down to hold his wrists and she leaned her head back on his shoulder, allowing her to pepper a few soft kisses against his temple.

"Did you have a good day?"

"Interesting, to say the least, and I don't think it's over yet." He had a funny feeling that Grace was going to keep them up throughout the night, no that he could blame her in the slightest. If she wasn't well, Eddie was going to be checking on her during the night and probably getting up to settle her down when she woke up.

But he was hoping she got a few hours sleep for now, it would make her feel better and it would let Eddie have a bit of time with (Y/n) and Chris before the night was conscripted to running in and out of the triplets' room.

***

A groan tumbled past Eddie's lips when he heard the bedroom door close for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. His had felt heavy when he lifted it from the pillow and looked towards the doorway, although he couldn't see properly now the light of the hallway had been shut out.

His eyes followed (Y/n) through the darkness as she slowly trudged towards the bed that looked like heaven to her weary bones.

Her legs felt like jelly and her head was swimming so deep that the room was spinning on its axis around her. She didn't know what time it was, it had to be some time past midnight but before four because she could see the blackened sky through the gap in the curtains.

This was the third time tonight that Grace had woken up crying and although she had originally been whimpering out for Eddie, he had been asleep and (Y/n) didn't want to wake him. He had settled her to bed and been back to calm her down around midnight, it wouldn't be fair for (Y/n) to wake him up and make him calm their daughter down, again.

The moment her hands reached out for the bed, (Y/n)'s eyes fell closed and she crawled into bed, feeling half asleep already.

The moment she was beside him, Eddie flopped his arm forward and looped it around her waist. He gently pulled (Y/n) back towards him until her back hit his bare chest and he was able to tuck his face into the crook of her neck and smother his lips against her warm skin.

"How is she?" Eddie's deep, rumbling voice was laced with sleep and showed he was barely awake, the same as (Y/n). He continued tiredly peppering kisses along her neck and jaw while his hand splayed out on her chest and this thumb stroked up and down her skin over her top.

"She was sick again, but she's gone back to sleep now."

"If she wakes again I'll go stay with her."

A few weeks ago when Joey had been sick during the night, (Y/n) had woken up in the morning to an empty bed. She went in search of Eddie and found him in the triplets' room, cramped into Joey's small bed with Joey laid out on his chest, fast asleep. She had been surprised that the other two hadn't climbed on top of him in a dog pile, but they must not have noticed that Eddie had spent the majority of the night in their room.

(Y/n) knew if Grace started crying out for Eddie, he would go see her and he would end up staying with her for the night to make sure she was okay.

Each of the four kids had the amazing ability to wrap Eddie around their little fingers in their own way but when they were ill, they all wanted hugs and cuddles.

Tonight was going to be no different.

(Y/n) could feel herself drifting in and out of sleep, but she found it hard to properly switch off. Part of her mind was on alert, waiting for Grace to cry out or be sick again or scuttle into their bed and say she couldn't sleep. And she was also expecting Nate and Joey to therefore wake up too and find it hard to settle again. The boys had been waking up every time Grace threw up and then (Y/n) and Eddie had to settle all three of them back to sleep.

She nuzzled her face into the pillow and willed herself back to sleep, unsure how long she had been dozing off for.

She could hear Eddie's soft breathing behind her and she could feel his lips merging with the back of her head. He had edged even closer to her since she climbed back into bed and now had his lips and nose pressed down against her hair.

Eddie's arm had stayed secured around her waist and his chest was glued to her back like they were merging into one.

She felt Eddie hum in content in his sleep when she wriggled back against him and burrowed down into his embrace. Her hand reached down to grip his arm that was deadlocked around her waist and she clung to him, hoping their closeness would send her back to sleep.

"Daddy…"

(Y/n)'s eyes began to flutter and her head started to spin again as she tried to wake herself up but it was hard when every inch of her was desperate to stay asleep, curled up into her husband. But if she didn't get up now, then Eddie would have to wake up. One of them had to move.

A yawn escaped her lips and she moved her head around on the pillow, slowly opening her eyes to try and see where her little girl was. Her voice sounded distant and quiet, maybe she was in the doorway. Grace had a thing of lurking in doorways, afraid of walking into the room late at night when she knew she was supposed to be asleep.

It didn't matter that (Y/n) and Eddie always told her that it didn't matter when she wasn't well. If she needed them, she could wake them up or come out of her room and find them around the house for whatever she needed and she wouldn't be in trouble. She still got worried and hung back in doorways.

"Baby, what's the matter?" She willed herself not to fall back asleep and tried to look around for her little girl.

Maybe Grace couldn't sleep for feeling sick and she wanted to climb into their bed. It wouldn't be the first time and neither her nor Eddie would object to Grace spending the rest of the night with them. It would save them having to keep getting up to go into her room to settle her.

She opened her eyes and looked ahead of her at the side of the bed just as Grace's meek, delicate voice caught her attention again.

"I need help."

Eddie's eyes shot open and his body jolted against the bed when (Y/n)'s scream pelted through his ears and sent shockwaves through his body.

He jerked forward, tightening his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist while simultaneously pulling her back against his chest to keep her safe and close. Their legs were tangled together and Eddie couldn't quite loosen his leg from between her thighs, despite not knowing the threat or realising what was going on.

His chest was heaving and his head snapped to look around the room and find the intruder. There was a baseball bat tucked under Eddie's side of the bed which his mind was intently trying to focus on in case he had to take a dive to grab it and defend them.

They hadn't had a break in before. They had never had a scare like that and Eddie couldn't remember the last time he had woken up to his wife screaming.

"Amor-" He briefly looked down at (Y/n) who was pushing back into his chest, but when he looked in front of her, his chest tightened until he wasn't able to breathe properly. The air fizzled out of his lungs and his jaw loosened and hung down in silent shock.

He hastily uncurled his arm from (Y/n)'s waist and leaned his chest down into her back so he could reach out for her nightstand. He switched on the bedside lamp, illuminating the dark grey room with a golden orange aura. Tears welled behind his eyes and every muscle in his body tensed until it felt like he was going to snap in two when his eyes set on his baby girl.

"Oh God!"

Grace was stood at the side of their bed, tears falling from her eyes that were a mixture of tired and petrified, but it was her face that sent her parents reeling. Blood was everywhere. Blood was painted over her nose, mouth and chin and smeared onto her cheeks from where she had tried to wipe it away. It was all down her neck and splattered on her pyjamas like she had tucked into a bowl of strawberries before bed.

Eddie practically climbed over (Y/n) to jump off the bed and scramble onto unsteady legs in front of his four-year-old. His hands cupped her bloodied face and tilted her head from side to side to try and see where she was hurt.

"Babygirl, what happened, were you sick again?"

His eyes briefly scanned the room as if to make sure there was no one lurking in the doorway or hanging around a corner ready to pounce and attack them but the room was empty and safe. He looked back at Grace and tilted her head up before he gently moved his thumb to her lower lip and opened her mouth to check she hadn't thrown up the blood. It was smeared all across her face and down her lips.

If she had thrown up blood then Eddie would have to take her down to the emergency room right now.

"Daddy, my nose… I'm sorry." Grace gently touched her button nose that resembled her mother before she held her hands out towards her dad who looked down to see them covered in blood.

She had never had a nosebleed before. She woke up thinking she was going to be sick but when she looked down, her nose had unleashed a river of blood that splattered down her face, onto her clothes and her bed and she didn't know what to do or how to stop it. Just as Grace reached her parent's room, the bleeding stopped but she was still covered in blood.

She had managed to quietly scramble out of bed so she didn't alert her brothers and wake them up. She didn't know what her brothers would say if they saw all the blood. She hadn't been sure what her parents would say or do when they saw it and she feared she might get in trouble for making such a mess.

"Oh baby. It's okay, let's get you cleaned up."

Eddie gently scooped her up in his arms and sat her on his hip as he stood up to his full height. His erratic heart was starting to calm down now he knew he wouldn't have to call 911 and say one of his kids was coughing up blood. The thought of Grace coughing up blood sent Eddie's mind reeling, he couldn't be dealing with that sort of panic because he knew the kind of illnesses and problems which would cause that in a toddler, and none of them were good.

Leaning over the bed, Eddie pressed his free hand to the back of (Y/n)'s head and kissed her temple, feeling her hands reaching out to hold his hips for a few seconds.

The sight of their daughter stood at the side of the bed drenched in blood had almost made (Y/n) faint. She couldn't help but scream when it looked like Grace had been attacked or was dying, asking for help in such a feeble, terrified voice like that. She wasn't going to get that image out of her head.

Grace tucked her face into Eddie's neck and coiled her arms around his neck as he headed out into the hall.

After a quick thought, Eddie nudged her bedroom door open and took a peek inside just to make sure the boys were alright. Both Nate and Joey were fast asleep in their beds and he rolled his eyes to see that Joey had clambered out at some point and now harboured more toys in his bed with him.

But it was the sight of Grace's bed that made Eddie take in a sharp breath and the four year old whimpered into his neck, afraid she was going to get told off for the mess.

The pale lilac covers Eddie had only just changed a few hours ago were now splattered with crimson and had a large patch of blood drying in the middle. Half of the pillow was soiled with blood that no doubt had seeped into the pillow itself and the bed sheet was dotted with smears of blood matching the little droplets on the carpet and the bedside table.

"Okay," Eddie rubbed his temple at the sight of all the mess from one little nosebleed. It was going to take a lot of cleaning. "You can sleep with me and mummy tonight and we'll sort this in the morning."

There was no way Eddie was cleaning this up now, not when Grace needed comfort and they all needed sleep, and he couldn't risk waking the boys. As much as Eddie knew leaving the blood was going to make it harder to clean the stain in the morning, he couldn't be bothered tonight.

It could wait until morning when Eddie would no doubt have to bin the pillow and most likely the sheets as well. He quietly pulled the bed sheet off and wrapped it around the duvet sheet so when the boys woke up in the morning, they wouldn't be frightened by the sight of bloodied sheets and their sister no where to be seen.

He then grabbed some fresh pyjamas from the drawer and quietly left the room. On his way to the bathroom, he peeked in Chris's room just to make sure the eldest was still asleep and hadn't woken up at any point from the charades tonight.

He flicked on the bathroom light before he gently sat Grace down on the side of the sink. "Let's clean you up baby."

Once the sink was filled with warm water, Eddie threw her bloodied pyjamas in a corner.

"Come here, look. I'm not washing your hair tonight, we can wash it tomorrow." Eddie carefully gathered Grace's hair in his hands and found a bobble to tie it up at the back of her head. There was no way he was giving her another bath, not after she had had two tonight from being sick. It was too late and they were both too tired for that.

He could see a few strands clumped together with sticky blood, but her hair wasn't matted and he would wash it as soon as they got up in the morning. right now, he just needed to get them both cleaned up and back to bed to see if they could get a few hours of sleep.

He was glad he wasn't back at work in the morning.

He began to hum softly as he grabbed a sponge and started to clean the blood that was caked onto her skin like drying cement. He took his time getting the blood from beneath her short fingernails and scrubbed her hands, arms, shoulders and around her neck before he dared move towards her face.

She had smeared the blood everywhere in her panic. Her lips, down her chin, across her cheeks and even beneath her eyes, and it was all dried around her nose too.

Her eyes closed and she scrunched up her nose and lips as Eddie carefully held her chin in his left hand and switched the sponge for a flannel that would be easier and better on her skin. His tongue poked between his teeth and he bent down to be level with her so he could make sure he got it all off.

He then cleaned the little specks of blood from his neck and hands that she had inadvertently transferred onto him by mistake.

"That's better, babygirl."

The sink looked like a crime scene when Eddie was finally finished cleaning the blood off them both. And when he looked at his little girl sitting on the side of the sink, his heart swelled and cracked at the same time. She was rubbing her eyes, trying her best to stay awake but she was wobbling and flagging, in desperate need of sleep.

He set her down to her feet and helped her into a clean set of pyjamas, and once Grace held her arms back out towards him, Eddie could do nothing but oblige. He lifted her up to settle back against his chest and he slowly made his way out the bathroom and back to his bedroom.

He took a moment to look at (Y/n) once he was back in their room. She was laid down again, but her eyes were open and she looked wide awake. Grace had given her a fright and a boat load of adrenaline that was taking a while to wear off.

Eddie ventured closer to the bed but he stopped when Grace quietly whimpered into his neck.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"I feel sick."

Eddie reasoned with himself that he wasn't tired anymore. Grace had given him such a fright that he was now wide awake with the image of her covered in blood engraved onto his mind. So he turned off the bedside lamp so the room was back to a hazy dark blue colour with only a few glimpses of light peeking through.

He shuffled Grace down in his arms until she was curled up on his bare chest and stomach, her legs coiled up to her stomach and her head on his collarbone so his chin could perch on top of her head.

He walked towards the window and began to pace up and down the carpet. His feet were slowly shuffling along the carpet and he rocked his arms up and down so Grace was swaying up and down on his chest just like he used to do when she was little.

It was something he had done with all the kids. He struggled to get a connection with Chris when he came back from the army, but he found that when Chris couldn't sleep, rocking him against his chest and pacing the room like this settled him to sleep.

It worked wonders with Nate too. The triplets had been kept in hospital for quite a few weeks after they were born and the boys were released before Grace. Nate had colic and was always unsettled so Eddie took to pacing the bedroom and rocking his boy up and down to help his tummy and get him to fall asleep. And it worked for all the triplets when they weren't feeling well or something was wrong and they were unsettled like this. It was a habit none of them had grown out of yet.

(Y/n) turned over in bed to face the window and a tender look fluttered across her face. She watched Eddie pad barefoot across the carpet in small lines in front of the window and it was almost as if (Y/n) had been transported back four years to see Eddie calming one of their newborns.

He had Grace in his arms who was finally fast asleep, curled up into his chest like she was a little baby curling back into the fetal position. Clearly Eddie wasn't ready to go to sleep just yet, he was too content humming to his daughter and holding her while she slept to think about going back to bed.

***

Opening her eyes, (Y/n) adjusted to the brightness seeping into the room and glanced around before a soft smile formed on her lips. She was laid on her side, facing Eddie.

He was sprawled out on his back, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed and his hair was stuck up in all directions. Grace was laid out on his chest, her head buried in the crook of his neck and his arm was looped safely around her back. Even in his sleep, he was holding her secure against him, trying to keep her safe and sound in his arms.

Rocking her to sleep had done the trick for the rest of the night and Grace clearly hadn't been sick again or had another tremendous nosebleed, which was a great relief.

But what made (Y/n)'s grin broaden was the fact that when she looked down, she realised they weren't the only ones in bed. Both Nate and Joey had somehow found their way into the bed at some point in the early morning. They were both curled up in the middle of the bed, Joey tucking himself into (Y/n)'s chest while Nate was as close to Eddie as he could get without also laying on his dad and crushing him in his sleep.

Shuffling closer, (Y/n) kept her left arm tucked beneath Joey and reached her right arm across to rest on Eddie's abdomen.

A hum passed through Eddie's lips and his hand moved to squeeze (Y/n)'s arm before he rubbed at his eyes to wake himself up. He was tired, he was beyond tired but he didn't want to sleep anymore. His chest was aching from having Grace sprawled out on top of him like this, it made it a lot harder to breathe deeply when she was pushing down on him but it didn't really matter. His little girl was comfy and finally asleep, Eddie would stay crushed and out of breath forever if it gave Grace some comfort.

When he opened his eyes, Eddie tried to look around without disturbing Grace who nuzzled her face closer into his neck and tickled his skin with each soft breath she took.

A smile sprawled across his face when he realised the boys had wormed their way into bed with them too. They must have woken up and realised Grace wasn't in their room anymore and quietly slithered out to find her.

He started to run his hand up and down Grace's back while he wormed his right hand around to reach for the boys, and then for (Y/n). It felt like his wife was laid an ocean's distance away from him rather than just a few feet with the boys laid between them.

He brushed the back of his hand against (Y/n)'s cheek and stretched out as much as he could with Grace wriggling around on his chest. And he could feel his smile growing wider when he heard Chris's bedroom door slam shut and his plodding footsteps growing closer and closer in the hall. He was coming to find them and see if they were all awake yet.

"Mornin' troop."

[russellsppttemplates]

Herve, Amelie and Thomas all pitching in together with their allowance to get Charles the latest watch he's been looking at for his birthday!

"Do you have any idea for papa's birthday present?", you asked the kids, genuinely wanting their opinion on the matter. Charles had the possibility to buy himself something he liked, often he was gifted things he liked from the sponsors and brand s he worked with, and while having known him since you were kids was great because you knew his taste better than anyone, it was also meant that you had gifted him every possible type of present known to mankind.

"We saw him looking at a watch the other day", Hervé pointed out, making you think about it for a second. You gifted him a watch for his twenty-first birthday, so it seemed okay to gift him another one since a few years had passed by.

"I think I know which one it is if I look at it", Amélie offered, browsing the website on her iPad until she found the right one, "we also saw it in a shop by grand-mère's house, the one where I got my ears pierced", she informed, scrolling until she found the accessory. "It's this one, yes", Thomas confirmed, pointing at the screen.

"Good job, guys, thanks!", you cheered, "I'll see when I can go to the shop and buy it, maybe tomorrow", you smiled, kissing each kid's head sweetly.

Because Charles would only get home later that night just in time for dinner, you saved some time of your morning to go to the shop, telling the kids as much so they knew where you were headed, "before you go, mama, we have something to help you", Hervé said, getting up and heading to his room before he came back, "myself, Thomas and Amélie what to pitch in for papa's present, here's our contribution", he said, handing you and envelope with some money inside, "we really want to do it, mama", he defended himself and his siblings.

When Thomas gave Charles his present, he immediately blushed and gasped in awe, "how did you guys know I wanted this one? Thank you, mes amours", he smiled, pulling all three children into his embrace, or as much as he could since that now that they had grown up, it was harder to get them all in one place.

When you all retired to your bedrooms, you couldn't help but gush in pride of your kids, "you know, they all pitched in with their pocket money", you said as Charles placed the new watch on his bedside table, "really? Wow", he said, remembering the time Amélie followed Thomas around the house for the whole afternoon until he gave her the change of the ice cream she had lent him money for.

"They insisted they wanted to help and they were so happy with that", you said, patting the spot next to you on the bed so he could lay down and then you could lay on top of his chest, "we did good with them, didn't we?", he mused, "We did, amour", you smiled, kissing his chest.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[kinardsevan]

as we all know, i haven't really been doing @bucktommypositivityweek because I've been busy working on other stuff. but I still wanted to contribute, and I was feeling inspired reading people's additions for 'outsider perspective'. this was also a character study for one of my OCs.

so have this: -

colors

Wilder Gray was born to be an artist. Color was quite literally in his name. He was also gay fresh out of the womb, and god bless the fact that his parents had accepted that from day one, because otherwise he never would’ve stood a chance. 

Life had been easy for him, mostly. He came from enough money that his parents sent him to semi-private school for he better part of his upbringing. When they’d discovered his ability to draw and paint towards the end of elementary school, he’d been promptly enrolled in the Los Angeles Academy of Arts and Enterprise for intermediate school. Growing up in that kind of environment had fed his need to create as well as be surrounded by other creatives. It also fostered a very accepting community where he never felt out of place or like he couldn’t be exactly who he was. By the time he was in his twenties, enrolled in UCLA, he’d had several serious relationships. 

He met one Thomas Kinard at the age of twenty-five, fresh out of his graduate program with an MFA in interdisciplinary arts. Tommy was just about to turn thirty-three and had looked extremely uncomfortable in his skin as he sat down at a gay bar in WeHo. It would be weeks before Tommy would admit to him that he was freshly out of the closet, and that up until a few months before, the most he’d ever engaged with the community was through one night stands and the boy he had shared a secret relationship with during his five and a half years in the military. 

To be clear, Tommy had rocked Wilder’s universe on its axis. When they first met, Wilder wanted nothing to do with a relationship with him. he knew Tommy was still figuring out his footing with his sexuality now that he was out, and as much as Wilder was willing to be a friend through that process, he didn’t want to play the part of the boyfriend who helped Tommy experiment and get educated. 

Which isn’t to say it panned out the greatest for him. He watched Tommy engage in multiple relationships over the next three years, and he was jealous as fuck every single time. He hated Mike, the forty-five-year-old man that Tommy met a few weeks after Wilder had met him. That relationship lasted four months. Mike was a domineering dick who did a damn good job at pretending to be sunshine. Wilder wondered if Tommy realized he didn’t have to date twice-divorced men in order to figure out what he liked, but it also wasn’t his place to speak. At least, until he and Tommy met up on a random Tuesday, three and a half months into the relationship, and Tommy tried to lie to him about bruises on his wrists. Wilder was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He’d told Tommy that night that he was capable of doing so much better, that he deserved better. When Tommy had questioned him—over half a dozen beers—Wilder had kissed him about it. 

Granted, that didn’t lead anywhere, other than far enough for Tommy to be confident enough to end the relationship with Mike. They were both single for a few months after that, but whatever Tommy was waiting on, Wilder wasn’t sure. He was still firm on his position about not wanting to be the person to help Tommy gain experience. 

After Mike came Leo. Leo came with a million and a half red flags. Leo came with love bombs and grand gestures, with one thing on his mind. As soon as he got Tommy into bed, he was gone. Tommy never really talked about how everything with Leo panned out, but Wilder suspected that it wouldn’t have gone much further anyway. Another night over too many beers, all Tommy would say about Leo was that he was ‘rough. Way too rough.’ 

Either way, he bounced back. Ezra came along only a few weeks after Leo, and Ezra was so, so sweet. And so naïve. He was younger than Wilder, and clearly still trying to figure things out about himself. However, Ezra also seemed to have stars in his eyes about how things were going to work out, while Tommy had lost most of his rosy view on his sexuality. It wasn’t to say that they didn’t have fun together. But Wilder could tell that Ezra thought Tommy would settle down with him, while Tommy just wanted to work out the kinks he’d gone through in recent months and figure himself out more. 

Ezra lasted two months. 

Charlie showed up in the middle of October, almost as though he’d been swept through along with the Santa Ana winds. He put a smile on Tommy’s face that Wilder was positive he’d never seen on his friend. Charlie was the boy from Iraq. He was also Tommy’s first real love. Wilder liked Charlie. 

Wilder didn’t love Charlie. 

It wasn’t that Charlie was a bad guy. Charlie clearly cared about Tommy a fair amount, although it was questionable whether he actually liked Tommy as much as Tommy loved him. The deeper problem was that Tommy looked at Charlie the way Ezra had looked at Tommy. Except, Charlie had done the  ‘make my parents happy’ way. He had been married, was now divorced, and still half-living in the closet. Wilder had warned Tommy against doing that with him, warned him that it would only lead to him getting hurt, but Tommy swore to him that Charlie had promised. Promised one day soon they would be out together. Promised they’d get to tell people the truth. Promised the kids would know him as more than just Charlie’s army buddy. 

Those promises went on for a year before Tommy smashed what was left of his rose-colored glasses. Wilder was there with the alcohol and the metaphorical stitches to piece Tommy back together. 

The thing was, by that time, he’d promised himself that he and Tommy were better as friends. That they’d built something strong enough to withstand the passing glances and the hugs that lasted a minute too long, the pauses when they pullled away where he could feel Tommy’s breath on his lips and it stirred something inside him that he hadn’t felt since he was sixteen and dating Danny Coston, sneaking kisses behind the fieldhouse while they were skipping out on PE. 

He’d loved Tommy too much by then. As his friend. 

As more than his friend. 

And then one night, over beers and a pizza, Tommy was telling him this story about a rescue that Wilder still thinks was absolutely fucking stupid, rocking a helicopter between cliffsides to rescue a group of teenagers who thought rock climbing without gear in Griffith Park sounded like a fun idea. By some miracle, everyone had been saved, Tommy hadn’t crashed the helicopter, and it had made the news. What’s more, Wilder had been the first person Tommy had wanted to tell him about his suicidal save. 

Wilder had to kiss him about it, of course. That shattered whatever falsehoods Wilder was letting himself live in at that point in relation to their relationship. Tommy wasn’t experimenting anymore, and he didn’t need an education. He was out, he wasn’t interested in keeping secrets, and he wanted something real.

. . . 

The first year was amazing. Granted, WIlder never fell in love with the danger of Tommy’s job, but that was fine. He was in love with everything else about Tommy. He loved his personality, his face, his body, his hopes, his dreams, his willingness to be Wilder’s model on any occasion…he just loved Tommy. 

Year two wasn’t as easy. They were settled, talking about living together but not quite pulling the trigger. Wilder’s career was doing really well. He’d taken part in four exhibitions in less than a calendar year and there was a lot of attention coming his way. There were offers coming out of Chicago and New York for residencies and some teaching opportunities. 

There was a bad fire at a compound. Tommy got second-degree burns and had pretty bad smoke inhalation. Wilder hoped that after that, maybe he’d rethink his career. 

Things got worse. 

Still, somehow they found their way through. As they came upon their second anniversary, it felt like they were reaching the other side. There were still offers on the table for Wilder, and he had floated a few of them to Tommy. In return, Tommy had fully supported the suggestion for a three-month residency in Chicago. He would remain in L.A. during Wilder’s time away, but it was good for Wilder, and as Tommy had said to him at the time, ‘what’s good for you is good for us’. 

Except, the offers didn’t stop at Chicago. He was weeks away from finishing his residency when he was offered the opportunity to take part in an exhibition in Texas. What was supposed to be a two week trip there turned into four months, and their anniversary came and went with little more than phone calls and the occasional flight out for a twenty-four or forty-eight hours together. 

After Texas was Savannah, Georgia. Then Charlotte, North Carolina. Then a month-long trip to Florida with a few guest lectures at FSU. Eight months into what should’ve been the third year of their relationship, Wilder hadn’t seen Tommy more than fifteen days total. And the thing was, the love was still there.

But they weren’t in love anymore, and he knew they both felt it. Tommy loved his job just as much as Wilder loved his. Neither of them were going to give up their careers, and they weren’t going to ask the other to, either. 

It ended on a facetime call, just a few weeks before their anniversary. There were tears shed, although it was more a sadness at the loss of what they’d hoped they could be than it was at the actual relationship. There were ‘I love you’s. And then there was silence. 

. . .

The first time Wilder meets Evan Buckley, he’s barely been back in Los Angeles for a week. He’s set to start a residency for the summer and then take on a teaching position at UCLA in the fall. He’s supposed to be meeting some friends for dinner when the blonde man bumps into him at the bar, stammering out an apology with full hands as they turn to face each other. 

Evan looks at him with a weird expression that Wilder doesn’t fully understand at the time. He dismisses the bump as equally his own fault and then turns his attention back toward the bar. 

“Hi, baby. Sorry, I’m late.” 

That voice feels like someone just poured a shot of Jack Tennessee Honey down Wilder’s throat. All the heat with none of the burn. As he turns back around, he spots a familiar head of brown curls just as the blonde tilts up toward him, and then Tommy is kissing the other man. Wilder inhales a sharp breath. 

The thing is, it’s been more than a year. It’s been even longer since he and Tommy were something real. But something about seeing him kiss another man still stirs something in Wilder’s chest. 

Still, he decides it’s not his place. Not here, and not tonight. He steps away from the bar and moves down some ten feet, around the corner of it and in between a few people. 

. . . 

“So were you going to call me?” 

It’s been three days. WIlder is standing in the middle of an aisle at Blick, trying to decide between Golden and WIndsor Newton acrylics when he looks up. Tommy has a basket in his hand, half-full with small canvases and a fair amount of Liquitex. 

“Hey, T,” he greets cordially. Tommy smiles at him and then steps forward, offering him a side hug. Wilder accepts it, tucking his chin over Tommy’s shoulder. “Good to see you.” 

“I had to call your mom,” Tommy states when they part. 

“I was gonna call at some point,” WIlder states a bit sheepishly. 

“You always go with Windsor,” Tommy comments, as though he can hear the argument in Wilder’s head. “Forget Golden.” 

Wilder chuckles. “Sure.” He’s quiet for a moment, reaches out for a tube of Windsor Newton. As he stares at the unbleached titanium shade in his hand, he contemplates. He tilts his head after a moment, glances over at Tommy. “So. The new guy.” 

There’s a glint of something in Tommy’s eye that Wilder hasn’t seen in at least five years. Something he saw once, after their first drunken kiss. 

“His name is Evan,” Tommy replies. He lets out a soft sgh. “He thought I was introducing you two. Had a hell of a time explaining to him that I didn’t even know you were back.” 

Wilder nods. That familiar twinge of jealousy throbs in his chest, under his heart. 

“You sticking around,” Tommy asks him after another minute of silence. Wilder glances back up at him. 

“Got a residency downtown,” he replies. “And then UCLA in the fall. So I’ll be here, yeah.” 

Tommy nods. “We should get dinner. Evan wants to meet you properly.” 

“Sure,” Wilder says again. What else is he supposed to say? They’re not together anymore. 

“Give me call when you’re more settled. We’ll plan something,” Tommy says with a pat to Wilder’s shoulder. He’s walking backwards then, heading back down the aisle. He shakes a finger in Wilder’s direction. “Good to see you, Wy.” 

. . . 

The second time Wilder meets Evan Buckley, they’re in another bar. He’s been in the studio almost exclusively for the better part of a week and had been dragged out by a friend with the promise of carbs—his fridge might’ve been mostly empty, other than juice boxes and pepperoni slices—but carbs is apparently at a bar that doubles as a pizzeria. 

He’s not following them, he swears. But he’s been waiting for ten minutes on his pizza while his friend is on the phone with his girlfriend when Tommy strolls up to the bar with his boyfriend—Evan? Tommy has his arm wrapped around the younger man’s hip, head tilted in and listening as Evan prattles on with very animated expressions. Wilder isn’t even sure what he’s on about, but regardless, Tommy is nodding along, clearly invested. 

When they make it up to the bar, some five feet away, Tommy’s arm wraps around Evan, boxing him in. There’s a grin on his face and Wilder notices as Evan leans back into Tommy’s body, turns his head and says something into his ear. Tommy laughs, loud enough that the tinkling sound of it carries in Wilder’s direction. 

“Four for Buckley,” one of the barbacks calls out. Evan raises his hand and the man steps over with boxes of pizza. At the same time, someone from the kitchen yells out, “Veggie with mushrooms, light alfredo up.” 

Tommy lifts his head at that, leans back from Evan just enough to look around the bar before his eyes eventually fall on Wilder. He smiles at him. A few seconds later, he’s up next to Evan’s ear, and then Evan glances over in Wilder’s direction. There’s a half-second pause where Evan seems to be taking him in before he smiles affiliatively at Wilder. Evan picks up the pizzas and Tommy switches the arm he has around Evan’s waist as they stride over. As they reach him, another person is settling Wilder’s pizza in front of him. 

“So do you just hang out at all the best bars in LA,” Evan asks when they reach him. 

“Honestly, I’m usually locked up in the studio,” Wilder replies. He glances in Tommy’s direction, but Tommy is still looking at Evan. Still that look in his eyes. Evan moves a hand from under the pizzas and extends it. 

“Evan Buckley. Most people call me Buck though,” he states. Wilder extends a hand to him, shaking it. 

“Wilder Gray.” 

Evan nods. “I know.” There’s an expression on his face that’s caught somewhere between a multitude of emotions. A look that falls somewhere between curiosity, understanding, and skepticism. Wilder looks him over, spots the emblem on his t-shirt. 

“You’re a firefighter,” he muses. 

“And you’re a multidisciplinary artist,” Evan replies. 

Wilder nods. It’s interesting. It’s like they’re meeting for the most cordial duel of all time, but neither of them have brought guns; just clipboards and pens. 

A phone rings, and Tommy glances away from them. A moment later, he looks back up. 

“Hey baby that’s Eddie and Chris wondering why we haven’t brought dinner back,” he states, giving Evan’s hip a light squeeze. Evan nods, although his gaze lingers on Wilder for a few seconds longer. He turns then, leans into Tommy. Wilder watches as whatever tension is left in Tommy’s body seeps away. 

God damn. He really wanted to not be able to like Evan Buckley. 

“See you around,” Evan states after a moment, glancing in Wilder’s direction again. Wilder nods at him. As Evan and Tommy walk away, Tommy’s hand still on Evan’s hip, his friend strides back across the room 

“Hey, what’d I miss?” 

. . .

A few weeks go by without any run-ins. Maybe it’s because Evan and Tommy find other places to hang out. Maybe it’s because Wilder basically lives in his studio (it’s definitely not that). Maybe it’s because of wildfire season (it might be that). Either way,  Wilder doesn’t see much social interaction beyond his friends occasionally dropping by the studio and his parents stopping in to drag him into the sunlight. Once or twice he opens grindr, but nothing promising pans out. 

It’s mid August when Wilder spots them out together again. Another bar, another set of drinks. He’s been flirting with a guy who introduced himself three minutes after Wilder walked through the door when he spots Evan on the other side of the room. He almost thinks about going over to say something, but there’s a look in his expression. 

Something that looks curiously like defeat. Tommy is standing next to him—Wilder could place that mop of hair anywhere—talking into his ear much like he was that first night all those weeks back. He tries to look away enough to not make Evan look in his direction, realize he’s being stared at. But he sees the way Tommy’s talking calms Evan, the way he leans into him. The way their communication wipes out the defeat in Evan’s expression and replaces it with a small smile. And then a laugh. And then before long, Tommy has Evan half tipped on the barstool, their noses and foreheads pressed together as Evan straight-up giggles. Tommy is laughing with him, and fuck. 

Wilder really wanted to not like Evan Buckley. 

But Evan Buckley isn’t Mike, holding Tommy hard enough to hurt him (although the way he fists Tommy’s t-shirt before he kisses him makes a different kind of jealousy stir in Wilder, like these two probably throw each other around a bedroom with ease, and he wants to see that). Evan Buckley clearly isn’t Leo, just looking to fuck Tommy hard into a mattress and leave him behind. 

Evan Buckley might be a little like Ezra, and Wilder isn’t sure how he clocks that. Except, there’s an ease about him that Ezra never had. Evan Buckley clearly wasn’t looking for an education. The love in his eyes was obvious to the entire damn bar, whether they wanted to know or not. 

Evan Buckley definitely was not Charlie. He was openly making out with Tommy in public, hands all over the man’s body in a way that Wilder could tell was at least partially to tell the world ‘this is mine, and only mine’. 

. . .

It’s an early morning in September when they run into each other. Wilder is definitely not prepared for an eight AM class, and he’s questioning why he agreed to take this particular one on, but there’s no option to back out now. 

He stands inside the café wearily, waiting on his order, when the door chimes with ringing bells and he glances up. Evan Buckley. 

The blonde is in a hoodie Wilder recognizes as Tommy’s. The Harbor Station seal is on the back of it with his last name printed across the bottom. Evan yawns as he walks up to the counter and grabs two coffees. Knowing the kind of schedules they work, it seems Evan is heading home while Wilder is just starting his day. 

Except, Evan stops in his tracks when their eyes meet. 

“Evan,” he comments softly, acknowledging the other man. “Or, Buck. If you prefer.” 

Evan shrugs. “Evan is fine.” A pause. “Wilder. Its…convenient? To see you.” 

Wilder lets out a small chuckle. He nods. 

Evan walks forward a few steps, as though he’s not going to say anything further, and he makes it about a half-step past Wilder before he stops, leans back slightly, contemplating. He looks up at him. 

“He still talks about you,” he states. There’s no jealousy in his tone, no anger. Almost like he’s just putting the information out into the universe. Wilder nods again. He stares at Evan for a moment and then tilts his head slightly, almost like he’s letting him in on a secret. 

“And he’s in love with you.” 

Evan stares at him for a moment, and Wilder isn’t sure if Evan has realized that or not. His expression doesn’t let on one way or the other. 

Wilder takes a deep breath and the corner of his mouth pulls up a little into a small smirk. 

“Tommy never once looked at me the way he does you,” he states. “Not even during the best of it all. And me? I couldn’t ever fully accept the job.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating whether he needs to say more. Even if he doesn’t, he continues anyway. “I found him when he needed a friend. You founded him when he needed a partner.” 

A smile pulls at Evan’s face. If he has anything else to say, he doesn’t get the chance. His phone starts to buzz in the pocket of the hoodie, and he stacks the coffees together before pulling it out, answering the call, shooting only half a glance in Wilder’s direction before he speaks. 

“Hi, babe. No, I already got it. I’ll be there in like five.” 

. . . 

It’s the first week of December. Wilder is exhausted, maybe even a little burnt out, but riding high. His residency has panned out into an exhibition, and it’s the opening night. He’s been bouncing all over the gallery, trying to greet everyone and talk to them, see what they do and don’t like about the work presented. 

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he finally finds a few seconds to get a bottle of water, and he spins. Tommy. 

“Hey, T,” he greets cheerfully, if not a little weary. “Thanks for coming.” 

Tommy nods, and they share a quick hug. 

“How’d you hear,” he asks. Tommy gestures off towards one of the walls and Wilder glances over. 

“Evan saw the listing,” he states. “Told all of our friends we needed to come support. He’s really obsessed with that picture of your nephews.” 

WIlder glances over at the picture. It’s a large portrait, of two children facing away from the camera. One, old enough and tall enough that he isn’t even in the image aside from his torso and legs, with his hand resting on the younger one’s head. The younger child is a toddler, leaning into his sibling’s leg with his arm wrapped around it. 

“I’ve been tasked with getting your price list,” Tommy adds. 

Wilder lets out a soft huff as a smile tugs across his lips. 

He wanted to hate Evan Buckley. He wanted Evan Buckley to be like Mike. Or Leo. Or Ezra. Or Charlie. 

He wanted Evan Buckley to not be like him, not love and respect Tommy the way he did. But then…

Evan Buckley isn’t like Wilder. Evan Buckley supports the people his boyfriend cares about. Evan Buckley doesn’t care that Tommy is a firefighter or a pilot. Evan Buckley clearly likes art. Wilder barely knows him, and yet he already knows Evan Buckley is caring and selfless. 

He takes a breath and sighs, glancing back at Tommy, watching the way he watches Evan. 

“You’re gonna marry him.” It’s not a question. 

Tommy shifts his gaze back to Wilder. It’s the slightest movement, entirely imperceptible to someone who wouldn’t know otherwise. The twitch of the corner of his mouth, of his eyebrow. 

“Forever doesn’t seem nearly long enough,” Tommy says softly. 

Wilder can only shake his head at him as he smiles at his ex-boyfriend. 

“Well, when you start interviewing wedding photographers, I’d like to at least be consulted,” he states, extending a hand to Tommy. Tommy laughs at him but shakes his hand anyway. 

“Sure, Wy. But you should know, Evan’s seen your paintings and he wants one commissioned.” 

“I’ll take that payday,” Wilder says with a laugh. When Tommy lets go of his hand, he pats Wilder’s shoulder, and then he’s off again, heading back over to Evan and the friends they brought with them. Wilder stands in his spot a moment longer, both hands on the waterbottle he still hasn’t had a drink from. He watches as Tommy’s arm loops around Evan’s waist, and as Evan leans into him. The way Evan points at a portrait and talks to Tommy earnestly about whatever it is he sees. The way Tommy is completely enraptured by Evan’s words, nodding and smiling at him with interest. 

The way Evan puts his hand on the back of Tommy’s head as he leans into him, whispers into his ear. How, when Tommy turns into him to answer, Evan looks at him like he’s the only person in the room. 

The way jealousy still lives inside Wilder, but not the way it was that first night. No, this jealousy is from the way they look at each other, the way Wilder only hopes someone will hopefully look at him one day. He finally looks away when the two men kiss, cracking open his water bottle. He manages to get a sip off of it before someone else is walking up to him.

“You’re the artist, right?” 

[cosmic-crybaby]

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 3

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returned from France, he came back a completely different man.

Warnings: Angst, mutual pining, betrayal, emotional manipulation, emotional whiplash.

It was 1919. Over a year since she left Thomas and the betting shop behind. [Name] was stuck in solitude for days, and each day her mother comforted her, easing her daughters cries until she slept. The first person to reach out to her since she had left, was Ada.

"Please talk to me [Name]," She had asked her friend, sitting across from her at the small dining table.

"There is nothing to say, Ada...I can't go back, not now," She picked at her nails anxiously, the deep burgundy lacquer slowly chipping away.

"Believe it or not, it hasn't gone completely to shit, but Aunt Pol is having a hard time finding reliable people to do your job-"

"That's not my job anymore," [Name] reminded her. "Listen I'm sorry...I really am,"

"Where will you go now?" Ada asked. The girl opposite to her thought for a moment, she could be a barmaid but the chances of running into the Peaky boys were high. Jobs for women were scarce now that the men are back. So she just opted to respond with a shrug.

"No idea, Ada..."

Over a year later and she managed to get a job at the local library. It was quiet, of course, but at the very least she was able to put some of her knowledge to good use. It paid well enough for her to live comfortably and it kept her hidden away from running into the Shelby Family. She was just glad she didn't have to resort to becoming a prostitute. Her mother would have a heart attack is that was the case. With the exception of Ada and Polly, who would often drop in to have tea with her and her mother or bring treats and gifts. Sometimes [Name] felt they only offered these gifts as peace offerings, of behalf of what Thomas had done. It was as if they still couldn't forgive him, and they would understand if she couldn't either.

Because in the last year, she had changed.

Physically and mentally. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, the stress of illegal betting and horseracing, the stress of Thomas Shelby had left her life, which in turn rewarded her to grow even more. In only a year, she begun to finally get noticed by the other young bachelors of Birmingham. Little did she know, she had them turning their heads all this time, she was busy with her eyes on someone else.

It was one afternoon when she met her current suitor. His name was Daniel and he was the sweetest man she had ever met. Considering she had only surrounded herself with the three Shelby men and the Peaky boys, that was a big change. While she was working at the front desk of the Library, he requested some aid in retrieving a couple of maps of the world. She didn't pay any mind to Daniel at first until the third and fourth week he had come in, still asking for her help.

"I remember you, I would assume you knew where the maps were by now," She quietly cut him off. This caught him off guard, making him flustered as he tried to search for his words. [Name] only smiled as she watched the dark auburn haired man blush more and more.

"I-I am sorry miss...I just," He cleared his throat. She arched her brow at him for a moment. He was at a loss for words as he admired her beauty. That day he had asked if she'd like to accompany him to some dinner in London, to get to know each other more.

It had been a very peaceful and cherishing month with Daniel, she found that he was a traveling business man and was looking to expand his company in America. But, like all good things it came to an end when Thomas Shelby came into the picture once again. While in London with Daniel, he took her to the shops to buy a new dress to meet his family one night. She had broken away from him as he spoke to the salesman about the dress he was about to purchase. Stepping outside to look at the lightly clouded sky, examining the different shops on the street.

"[Name]?" The voice sent shivers down her spine. She quickly turns at the mention of her name towards the deep voice.

"Thomas?" She asked, surprised to see him.

Seeing the man that broke her heart and betrayed her trust right in front of her eyes was like a whirlwind of emotions. She didn't know if she should stay, run, or beat him until he was blue and on his knees begging for her forgiveness.

But, she was better than that. She was with a man who actually loved her.

"It's nice to see you again," Thomas told her, stepping closer. She subtly takes a step back, clearing her throat as her eyes dart to the shop entrance, praying to God that Daniel will emerge soon so the two can leave the awkward interaction and never turn back.

"Yeah, sure, Thomas..." She nods slightly. Thomas Shelby didn't forget what happened between them over a year ago, but he was perplexed that she would still treat him like a stranger, even after all these years of being as close as they once were. Within that year of missing her by his side, he refrained from showing up at her home to see her, refraining from asking Ada and Polly to tell him what they had discussed when they visited her. Part of him hoped that her and her mother still took those evening walks in Uncle Charlies' yard after dinner. Thomas often found himself at Charlies' yard nearly every night, hoping he would run into her.

But that's exactly what she had avoided. [Name] did everything in her power to avoid every little place and thing Tommy knew about her. IT seemed to work, until this very moment.

"What brings you here?" She asked curiously. Hoping she didn't have to put her favorite dress shop in London on a list of places to avoid Thomas Shelby.

"Just...doing some business in London as it seems...until I saw you leaving the dress shop...thought I would come and say hello," He shrugged. [Name] looked down at her gloved hands, pondering her next words.

"I see...well, goodbye Thomas," She nods once, still avoided his eyes, afraid that once she sees his eyes again, it will start all over again. The warmth he gave her, the butterflies in her stomach, the cure to all of her hardships. She makes hasty steps past him, but his hand reaches out to grab her arm...it was gentle but firm as to not hurt her. He always knew how to be gentle with her.

"[Name], please..." He said quietly. She felt the tears brim her eyes as she slowly turned to him again. Slowly lifting her gaze to his eyes. Once he saw her tears, it was like everything around them had stopped. It was just them two together and no one else.

"What Thomas? What could you possibly want from me now?...After all this time, when I am finally happy you come into my life again, why?" She asked, sniffling as the small tears rolled down her high cheekbones and onto her chin. Her skin blushed, and her eyes were red with salty tears. He was at a loss for words at first.

He gently spoke her name again, reaching down to pick up her hand in his, testing the waters to see just how much she will accept from him. Her hand twitched and nearly jerked away as he slipped her glove off. Feeling the warmth of his skin made her comply. His hands were rough now, from the years of digging tunnels and fighting. She had no doubt that his hands and mind were both distressed.

"I...I'm sorry for how things ended between us...frankly I can't stop thinking about you," He told her regretfully. Her eyes were shining in the dim light of the London sun, the tears glistening as they roll. Each one looking like diamonds.

"You're sorry...After a year you're finally sorry," She almost laughed. Thomas only sighed.

"Yes of course! and...and I regret everything I said, I can't live my life without you, [name],"

"You should have thought about that before you asked me to marry you!" Her voice raised just a bit, before realizing that she was still in public, as to not bring attention to herself. For once, Tommy didn't know what to say next. His eyes darted across her face. Her cheeks were red, her brows were furrowed in frustration, and her lips... Oh those lips he had always wanted to kiss deeper each night upon his return, they were downcast in a frown. He released a sigh when he realized her eyes had not left his this entire time. He knew she still loved him deep down. She just couldn't bear it. His thumb ran over the top of her hand gently.

"I hurt you, I know that now and...There is nothing else I can say other than I am immensely sorry, give me another chance [name], I can prove it to you that I am a new man, as friends or more I need you in my life,"

His words made her lips tremble as she closed her eyes to think and steady her breath. She opened her eyes first before she opened her mouth to speak.

"[Name]?" A voice called, and suddenly the bubble bursts. It was like the busy street surrounding them suddenly became clear again. It wasn't just the two of them in the world anymore. She turned her head from Thomas to Daniel. The man she adored more than anything, as he searched for her. Thomas also managed to sneak a glance at the stranger, and his cold heart sunk a little deeper into the pit, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and a clenched jaw. She looked back at Thomas.

"Think about it," He whispered before walking off.

[Name] stood in her place in stillness as she tried to process what just happened to her. Daniel approached her, smiling widely as he informed her that he purchased the dress and reassuring her that it will look lovely on her for the dinner party with his family. She gave him a small smile before it quickly faded when he looked away from her.

The days leading up to the dinner party, she had thought of Thomas. It was like he himself had infected her mind as she had no more room to think clearly of anything else besides him and the words he spoke to her. But could she really trust him again?

Should she trust him again?

Every day and every night she had spent with Daniel, she tried her best to reciprocate the love he had for her, but somehow something was wrong. She didn't love him the way she loved Thomas. The night of the dinner party, she waited for Daniel to pick her up. Wearing the dress he had bought her, the jewelry she borrowed from her mother, and the hair and makeup she spent hours perfecting just to impress his family.

"What's wring, dear? Your hands are shaking," Her mother pointed out as she helped her daughter prepare.

"I...I don't think I can do this," She swallowed thickly. But before her mother could even ask, there was a ring at the door. [Name's] stomach was in knots and her blood ran cold. Her mothers words of encouragement were drowned out by her own raging heartbeat. When she opened the door, her mouth was agape. Expecting to see Daniel, instead Thomas stood at the front door.

Out of breath and panting. No words were exchanged as they stared at each other. She nearly leaps into his arms as she engulfs him in a tight embrace. It felt right, being in his arms again. Like they were kids again.

The following days, she kept her distance from Daniel, much to her mothers dismay. She had written him a letter.

To my Darling Daniel, I am sorry things had to happen this way. You had shown me the love no man has ever shown me before. But I am afraid I do not deserve it. Our time together was more than I could ask for, but I simply cannot keep loving you the way you want me to. I will forever cherish our memories together in my heart, as you were the only man to treat me a way a woman should be treated. I hope you find love again, and the next woman you find love in will be a very lucky to have you. I will always have you in my heart. [Name].

With the letter, she returned the dress he had bought her, she thought it would be ill-mannered to keep it. She hadn't heard from him after that. Not even a letter back, but she knew why. She would never hold that against him.

The following week, [Name] had began showing her face around the betting shop again. Here and there popping in to talk to Ada and Polly, slipping away into Tommy's office to speak with him when he wasn't busy. It was a but of a shock to the Shelby women when they saw her. They thought she was crazy for showing up again, but she had reassured them that everything was fine.

For months on end, [Name] and Thomas would spend their time together. Hand in hand as they drunkenly walked along the streets after visiting a pub on the weekends. Dancing to records in her home, holding each other close as they slow danced in the fire-place lit room. One night they went to the old hill, the same hill they used to go to when they were kids. Laying beside each other, drinking a bottle of cheap wine as they star-gazed. It was the only place where the sky wasn't absolutely covered by the smoke and smog of the city.

"I forgot how beautiful the sky was at night," She spoke softly as she sat up, eyes scanning the sky.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He asked, leaning his shoulder against hers. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly with a nod, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Thomas?" She asked. He hums.

"I missed you,"

"I missed you too, [Name]," He spoke truthfully. That night, they shared a kiss.

A week later, she approached him in his office.

"Pol said you were going to the derby..."

"We are...It's an important matter of business, [Name],"

The girl sighs. "I know that...I also told you I would go with you if you needed me to,"

"No..."

"Uh- no?" She asked, perplexed.

"Absolutely not, Kimber is a dangerous man, you're not coming with us," He argued. She aggressively rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air before putting them on her hips.

"I was hoping to come talk to you without being interrupted-" She mumbled.

"And I was hoping you would know better than to ask to join on this mission-"

"Then who are you taking?" She interrupted him, crossing her arms. Thomas sighs, shaking his head in disbelief at her childish attitude.

"The barmaid,"

"The barmaid? Why the fuck would you take the barmaid?" She asked. He widened his eyes at her for a moment. She bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for his response.

"It's all a part of the plan, please trust me," He stood as he slowly walked to her, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her mind. She pursed her lips, a solemn look on her face.

"I don't care who goes with you to the derby, I just can't sit here and hope you'll come out alive one of these days...I-" She pauses. "I adore you too much, Thomas,"

He pulls her into a tight hug, his hand caressing her hair as he kissed her forehead. "Everything will be okay," He reminded her. Lifting her chin to slowly look at him. Her eyes, as alluring as they were. His lips attack hers in a rough kiss. Pushing [Name] against the wall as her fingers pull at the fabric of his white shirt, his body pressing against hers. She could practically feel his heart beating against her chest. His hands slipping down her body, her waist to her hips to the roundness of her ass. His strong hands gripping every curve of her as he started pulling at her dress with his hands. Pulling away to catch their breath, but before she would dive in for another kiss Finn had burst through the door, inquiring that their Aunt Polly needed to speak to Thomas at once.

Begrudgingly letting him handle his business, she was left alone in his office, blushing and fanning herself with her hands as the heat began to rise, biting her lip in bafflement.

She wanted to see him again and ask about the kisses they had started. What they meant, what would have happened if they weren't interrupted. But Thomas too involved with conspiring against Billy Kimber. Fucking Billy Kimber. Hearing his name made her clench her jaw. He had been the talk of every family meeting since he found his way into Birmingham just weeks ago. But Thomas was just too busy. Too busy to talk to her. Eventually, too busy to even see her as frequently.

She recognized the pattern. It was what happened to her before he left for France. If only she could just read his mind, find out exactly what was going on in that head of his. From seeing him and his eyes, his smile every day, to seeing him at least once a week. This time he would still act the same with her. Kind, gentle, caring, but somehow she knew it was different. He wouldn't touch her, or kiss her like he used to. [Name] thought that maybe, just maybe, if she told him how she felt everything will go back to normal. Perfect even.

She just had to wait for the right moment.

When Thomas had come to her home for an evening tea with her and her mother, she decided that she would tell him then. The tea was nice, the conversations went well. [Name] was eager to finish, to get it all over with, waiting for their moment alone. Later that night, after her mother excused herself to bed, the two sat on the couch, sharing a whiskey as they talked. She sat her glass down when he called her name to get her attention.

"I need to tell you something,"

Her ears and cheeks grew warm as she looked at him, eyes brighter than ever.

"I actually need to tell you something too...but please go first," She smiled. Thomas turned his body slightly towards her, seemingly less enthusiastic as her. Thomas clears his throat before he spoke.

"I want to start off by apologizing for not seeing you as much these past few months, but I promise everything is going to work out for the better in the end, not just for my family, but for yours as well..." He paused, holding one of her hands in his.

"Thomas," She glances at their interlocked hands before looking up at him again. His blue eyes didn't look as bright in the dim lighting of the room.

"You have been with my family since the beginning, and you helped us out when we needed you the most, when everything takes off, I want you by my side through it all, promise me that you will do that for me [Name]," He requested. The young woman stares into his eyes once more and nods silently.

"I can't imagine leaving your side...ever," She stated quietly. Thomas looked down again, smiling slightly. As far as she knew he rarely smiled now...the only time she saw him smile was when he was with her.

"There was another thing I wanted to talk about," He started. She nods, urging him to continue. "There's a woman,"

His voice dropped low, the way he said 'woman' rumbled as her cheeks flushed. At the drop of a pin, her lively face slowly dropped at his words.

"A woman?"

She sank into the sofa as he spoke, but his words fell upon deaf ears. Her mind went numb, buzzing as she blankly stared off into the shadows of the room. He loved her, convinced her to leave Daniel, kissed her, treated her like she was the only woman for him...almost married her. All those years together, meant nothing to him. Once again. She should have known better than to get attached to a man like him.

A man only out for his own good.

"[Name]...You're crying," He pointed out, stopping mid-explanation to wipe the tear. She wanted to tell him. Tell him she loved him, that she wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of their lives. She looks at him and smiles.

[Name] shook her head and sniffled, chuckling and looking away to wipe the tear.

"I'm just...really happy for you Thomas...She seems like a nice woman," She didn't hear a word he said about her. The mystery woman that had stolen his heart.

'If only you knew what I felt'

After Thomas had left that night, she went to her room, sobbing in her bed. The heaviness in her chest weighted her down as she was held into place by rocks. The agony she felt, not only for herself but for hurting the only man that loved her. All for nothing. It was too late to go back now.

---

[Tag List]

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @milljane @cyphah @diosa-ahre-blog @badlandsbrunette @adaydreamaway08 @namelessghoul0 @deltamoon666 @cherryslyce @calmingmelody96

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Tommy x wife reader: Charlie and Ruby are theirs (no grace or lizzie) and they have a few other children, in order of their ages: Charles (Charlie) James (Jamie) Edward (Teddie) Ruby (Ru)

And just after Ruby dies and Tommy finds out he’s dying, his wife finds out she is pregnant again and she is just traumatised by it as she’s lost her only daughter and her aunt-in-law and about to lose her husband too

But Tommy doesn’t die and they have a baby girl, who they name Rose Elizabeth, because Ruby loved roses and after Polly and they nickname her Posy as a portmanteau of Rosy and Polly

Hey Love,

Sorry it took forever. This one is pretty sad and I really enjoyed writing it. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Peaky Themes, Childbirth, Child death, grieving.

Not a single dull day had passed in Arrow House. It was always loud as the children ran around causing chaos. Today was so silent you could drop a tack in the kitchen and hear it in the attic. 

You lay on the floor of your youngest daughter's room. Your little girl. The grief clenched in your chest and you felt your heart miss a beat as your body twisted in on itself. You’d never felt such a loss in your life. 

Now you have a baby in your stomach, your husband is going to die leaving you with three boys. You knew you should be with him, enjoy his presence while you have him here amongst the living.

How could you worry about anything after watching your daughter slip from the world just a day ago? You remember holding her hand and singing to her. Thomas holding it together just until her eyes fluttered closed before falling apart in a way you didn't think him capable of. 

You sat there silently. Something deep inside you felt at peace. She was safe where she was. Polly was with her. Knowing something deep in your soul had never taken away from the way your brain and body worked. 

Your body hadn’t stopped shaking since it happened. Your limbs vibrating as you lay on her pink carpet. You felt discarded like all the stuffies and dolls that lay on the floor around you. Without her to come and breathe life into you, you would stay on the carpet like a doll. 

Teddie was the first person to find you. His small body came and curled up against your side. The warmth of him seeped into your icy body. 

A mother could only stop being a mother once she had no children left. And you had three. This moment of sadness and grief couldn't go on for the eternity you felt it needed. You had boys to wrangle. Little Ruby adored her brothers and you knew she wouldn't ever forgive you if you let them down. 

With the strength of a British Mum, you brushed the tears off your cheeks with the side of your hand. You sat up even though every selfish part of you screamed to lay back down on that carpet. To rot away to a place where you could hold her again. 

“Hey, Teddie.” You whispered running a hand down the small boy’s back. 

“Mum I’m hungry.” He mumbled.

“Teddie! Dad said we have to leave her alone.” Charlie was in the doorway, with his arms crossed. His tone was angry and you could swear he looked years older than the last time you saw him. 

“Darling, never leave me alone.” You said giving him a serious look. His face faltered slightly as he took in your words. “I’m still a mum. And mum’s make dinner, let’s go. Into the kitchen.” 

Teddie was happy and you picked him up even though he was far too big for that now. Walking down the hallway, Charlie surprised you when he opened Jamie’s door. 

You sat Teddie on his favorite spot on the counter and started getting out various pots and pans. 

“She’s up.” He said and your middle boy came into the hallway. Silently the four of you made it into the kitchen. Grief was creeping in all the shadows of the room as Charlie made a fire. 

“Ruby isn't coming home is she?” Teddie asked. Charlie let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in the way only the eldest child could. 

“No, she’s with Aunt Polly now. They live in the sky.” Jamie answered softly. You gripped the edges of the pot tightly as you pushed down the intense feelings threatening to overflow again. 

The window opened and you could hear her voice on the wind that whipped around your face. 

Keep Going.  

That’s what you did. Death be dammed you’d made a deal with God to sacrifice and survive for these boys and that’s what you would do. 

With a cracking heart you closed the window and looked around the kitchen at the boy's stunned faces. 

“Please tell me you heard that as well right?” Charlie said with wide eyes. 

______________________________________________________________

One dinner down a lifetime left to go. 

The weeks turned into a month and the pain did not relent. You had no moments of peace only the love felt by shared grieving. Esme was always around now. All the kids lumped together in Arrow House like the days of the Changretta feud. She made sure your hair got brushed and your outfits matched. 

Arthur came around every day. He kept Tommy together while they worked out all this conflict. He feels a war is coming and you couldn't imagine it could be anything worse than the one raging in your mind. Alfie stops by and tells you things that confirm it will be much worse. 

Three boys, and a war. 

You put your make-up on so you have a reason not to cry during the day. 

You spend every evening with Tommy. You know what he is doing is important. It could change the outcome for the rest of the families on the planet. So you sacrifice your time with him and survive on the couch reading. When really you just stare into the fire wishing everything would burn up to be reborn as something new. 

Three boys and one more undetermined in your stomach. Your hand rested there often. You expected to lose the baby so you didn't really think about it. If they did come into this world you prayed it would be before Tommy passed. Grieving with a baby in your stomach would be easier than grieving with a newborn. But you wanted them to meet their father, even if it was for a fleeting moment. You would suffer and survive. 

Tommy finally got over himself and got a second opinion. He hated doctors and you expected him to be in a foul mood when he got back from a series of appointments in London. Alfie accompanied him back and you placed a plate of biscuits and cups of tea on the kitchen table. The kitchen was for family, but Alfie somehow managed to get an invitation out of Tommy. You were always happy to see him, but were wary of the news he often brought these days. You took a seat and he grabbed your hand and held it.  Your mind flashed back to the good old days when something so small would have sent Tommy after him in a rage. 

Alfie knew better than to ask how you were keeping. Tommy finally sat down at the head of the table, he looked pale. Too pale to drive, which explains why Alfie had come back with him. 

“I’m not sick.” His eyes closed and he leaned back against the chair. 

“What?” You whispered. 

“The f-uck-ing doctor was working for that stupid mustache piece of shit,” Alfie said his voice was venomous but his smile was unshakeable. 

“You're not going to die.” Your eyes moved to Tommy and he shook his head.  

“Going to have to wait a while longer to steal you away, love.” Alfie's voice was all humor now, but he knew it was time to let go of your hand when Tommy flashed him a look. The look of the old Tommy. 

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out. 

“Looks like I dodged a bullet. Last thing I wanted to be raising up another little Shelby brat.” Alfie was laughing and Tommy smiled. A genuine smile. 

You were happy, and then the brutal deafening sadness crashed down on you. The sheer panic of having a child hits again and the nausea has you throwing your head back in the sink. Tommy is there pulling your hair up. 

“Like she would ever go for you,” Tommy said easily taking a sip of tea.

“Shit,” Alfie says from the counter near you. He gets a glass for Tommy to fill with water. 

____________________________________________________________

You told Esme and you both held on to each other as you cried. 

“I never thought I would say this but thank God Tommy will be alright.” She shook her head as the words strangled her. “You’ll never have to know what it’s like to raise em up with out their father.” 

You both cried on the kitchen floor for a long while. 

_________________________________________

The time came and you had high blood pressure meaning you had to do things in the hospital. Something that made everything a thousand times more painful. But that was your baby, and you would sacrifice and they would survive. 

They kept trying to medicate you and Esme kept throwing nurses out of the room screaming at them in Romani when English wasn't scary enough. In the thick of it you kept crying out for Polly. 

You didn't want these strangers to help you. They didn't care about you or your baby. They weren't family. Arthur came and spoke to Esme in the doorway for a moment. You expected news that Tommy wouldn't make it in time or that something worse had happened. 

Instead, Esme handed you one of Polly’s rosaries to hold. You gripped the cold crystal beads and felt yourself split apart over all the reasons you were crying. 

Tommy showed up and commanded the room with Esme. The window blew open letting cold air around the room and you could feel her love for you. 

You gave birth to a little girl. 

There were no pictures taken as you bawled. You got her latched on to your breast and cried and cried. The nurses kept pushing for sedation but Esme started at them and Tommy pointed towards the door. Arthur came in and read a passage from his bible for you. You're not sure why exactly but it helped. It felt like a blessing that this baby would be alright. 

_______________________________________________

You brought her home the same night, itching to get out of the hospital. You carried her in and watched all your boys get excited. You handed her off to Charlie first. 

“I love it when they look like grumpy old men,” Jamie said with a smile, Teddie let out a loud laugh. 

“She does look like an old man.” 

“What did you name her?” Charlie asked his finger tracing down the slope of her nose. 

“Rose Elizabeth,” Tommy said sitting next to him placing his arm around his eldest son. 

“Posy then,” Charlie said with a sense of finality. 

Charlie, Jamie, Teddie, and Posy. Your heart was happy and sad at the same time. 

Jamie came round and put his arm around you. 

“Love you mum.” He whispered and you wondered when he got old enough to kiss the top of your head. The boys were strong like their father, and you had no doubts they were strong enough to carry you and Posy.

_______________________________________________________________

This chunk of time was easier than it was with the other four kids. Tommy took time off. Churchill had other moves he wanted to play and for now, Tommy wasn’t involved. 

He’d sit while you breastfed in the night, he’d change nappies, and read stories. You watched him be a girl dad again and the pain was harsh and beautiful at the same time. 

Esme helped you take down Ruby’s room. The idea of moving one of the boys to a different floor or wing of the house made your skin itch. Ruby’s room needed to be emptied. 

You aired the room out and you knew that she would be happy about giving it to her sister. Esme assured you at every turn that she wouldn't be angry at you. 

_______________________

Eventually Arrow House moved on. Posy was very attached to the idea she had both an Aunt and a sister in the sky watching over her. 

The war came and what was left of the family did what they had to do. Thankfully Posy was there with you so you were never alone.

Thankfully when it was all over all your boys came home to you.

[corpsekiller]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲) — 𝐭.𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. thomas shelby x fem!reader (maid!reader)

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. angst, jealousy, seemingly unrequited love that isn’t actually unrequited, mutual pining

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. thomas thought he knew desire before he met you, but you proved him wrong. since the day you started working for him as a maid, he has been watching you from afar, trying to contain his hunger for you and it was only a matter of time until he finally breaks.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. this is the second part to wanting you (is all i’ve ever known). i got many comments asking for another part and since i already planned to turn this into a small series with three parts, i felt more motivated to continue writing this, so thank you for your reblogs and sweet comments on the first part! and @luv-gin thank you for your support, you're the best <33

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.696 words

MASTERLIST     PART 1

Despite knowing better, Tommy finds himself thinking of you.

Often, he wonders what you’re doing when you aren’t serving him drinks or cleaning his study, sweeping over the cracked spines of his books to clear away the dust that has settled on the pages over the years due to the lack of use and polishing the deep mahogany of his desk until his reflection stares back at him, punishing him with a deadly stare for the secrets he keeps buried in the back of his head. Still, his mirror knows. No matter how many cigarettes he smokes, how many glasses of whiskey he downs, he finds his thoughts inevitably returning to you.

Memories of you flood his mind at times when he’s trying to focus on business, the scent of your perfume and the warmth of your hand grazing his, the spark of desire glinting in your eyes whenever his gaze met yours, wondering, hoping, praying that one day, he’d reciprocate your feelings. For the longest time, he had tried to ignore his longing for you because he didn’t want to ruin you — you’re young and sweet, so gentle that his heart threatens to burst at the seams whenever you offer him a timid smile and brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear and he’s—

Well, he carries the scars of death on his body as a constant reminder of what he truly is. A monster, no matter how beloved.

But even when you aren’t in the room, your presence still seems to linger around him, and sometimes he feels as if he could stretch his scarred hands out into the empty space and find you reaching back for him. It’s a blessing and a curse at the same time, to yearn for someone he can’t have and it has begun to form into something akin to anger, growing like a tumor in his chest and draining him of all sanity.

And see, a part of him is tempted to get rid of it in the most violent way possible, find a valve and let the rage seep out of his body as if it were blood spilling from an open wound before he finally loses his fuckin’ mind. Because it hurts more than it should, to love someone as he loves you, it pulls his skin too tight around his joints and makes his bones feel more like explosives hidden beneath his flesh, ready to blow at any given moment and-

Ah, but only in your absence.

That’s the other side speaking, the side he didn’t know still existed — his mother’s son, the boy he once was before he went to France and faced the horrors of war, who cared about others in a way that always left him broken, Perhaps, that boy died back then, down in the tunnels but his ghost has followed him back and haunts him in moments of utter silence. Tommy usually ignores his cries and whimpers, but sometimes, he listens. Don’t let her see you, he whispers, frail hands tugging on the sleeve of his jacket, don’t let her see your anger.

Tommy makes a silent promise to the boy who has fallen hopelessly in love with you.

He breaks it soon after.

Of course, it’s not your fault. No, you’re as sweet as the sugar cubes he fed his horse this morning, dutifully serving his brothers their drinks and fulfilling every request he directs at you without an ounce of hesitation, yet he somehow finds you to be a nuisance on this evening.

Perhaps it’s your voice, he thinks, soft and smooth as you mumble ‘As you wish, Mr. Shelby’ and lean over his broad shoulder to pour him his second drink and suddenly, he’s dangerously aware of the heat your body radiates, the close proximity between him and you. Maybe it’s your hand ghosting over the length of his arm as you set another plate loaded with delicious food on the dinner table that keeps distracting him, that keeps setting his skin on fire.

Even your dress seems to be shorter today and puts your legs on full display when you walk, skirts swishing around your plush thighs with every step you take. The palms of his hands itch with the urge to touch you and his eyes roam endlessly over your figure, can’t seem to let you out of sight for even a moment. Fuck, he curses himself for the desire that burns through his veins like the alcohol he tastes on the back of his throat and devours him whole.

Still, he perseveres.

Until his brothers begin to flirt with you. Of course, Tommy knew they would take a liking in you and, just as he expected, you had them wrapped around your finger in a blink of an eye - it only took a sweet smile and a curtsy, the very same smile that follows him into his dreams every night.

But even though he’s clever enough to predict what’s going to happen in any situation he finds himself in (roughly, he’s been wrong many times) and cunning enough to beat his enemies at their own games (barely, he’s danced with death too often to count), he didn’t expect you to fall for any of their advances.

They’re idiotic brutes, especially when it comes to girls they’re trying to fuck and Thomas never cared much for their half-assed attempts at getting into a woman’s knickers. Still, as he watches you from across the room, he feels his anger resurfacing — a black hound baring his teeth and scratching at the inside of his chest like he just caught the coppery scent of fresh blood.

And it’s not your fault, he tells himself bitterly, but the lighthearted laughter escaping you at one of John’s jokes and the blush covering your cheeks after every compliment he tells you makes it harder to contain this uncontrollable violence he holds against no one but himself. Even the little twirl you do so innocently when Arthur whistles unashamedly seems to drive him to the very edge of his sanity and the whispers of the boy begging him to hide it, to restrain it seems to drown out in the sound of his blind rage tearing through the chains of his self-control.

No, you’re supposed to smile only at him and no one else in this god-forsaken room, even if it’s his own family occupying each seat at the table.

In his peripheral vision he can see you walk past Finn, can see Linda tensing up beside Arthur, can smell her disgust as she throws you a dirty look and Tommy opens his mouth to tell her to fuck off, but thinks better of it when his youngest brother suddenly wraps his hand around your wrist. With a grin, he pulls you closer and brushes a loose curl behind your ear, then mutters something that causes you to giggle quietly before you lean down to plant a kiss on his freckled cheek.

And despite all his efforts, Tommy feels something inside him snap.

His cutlery clatters against his plate. It’s loud enough to gather the attention of everyone present — his brothers whip around and you gasp quietly, immediately straightening your back to loom at him seated at the head of the dining table.

His gaze is unwavering, his expression cold and unreadable to his entire family except for Polly who seems to be quite entertained by his theatrics, though so far she hasn’t spoken up to call him out. Perhaps she’s curious about his intentions, but judging by the way her eyes wander to you standing there on the other side like a deer caught in headlights he figures she already knows more than she lets on.

He couldn’t care less. When you finally dare to meet his eyes, after a moment of palpable tension, he’s certain to catch a flicker of bold amusement in your gaze before you rush to his side.

Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Blindly, he reaches out for you and in an instant, his palm finds the curve of your spine. His fingers trace along your back and dig into the fabric of your dress, pulling you an inch closer and keeping you there like a helpless kitten grasped by the neck.

It’s enough to make you curse under your breath, a string of foul words he never heard of you before and Tommy finds that he can sense the stuttering beat of your heart behind your shoulder blades — it gives him a strange satisfaction, the knowledge that he has so much power over you and although he never dared to taste it to the fullest on the tip of his tongue, he silently thanks his brothers for giving him the final push to claim what should have belonged to him since the beginning.

“I believe I left my cigarettes in my study. Will you be a good girl and get them for me, love?” It’s not a casual question. No, the syllables are drenched with a sort of sharpness only his enemies get to hear right before he puts the six feet under the cold earth, a subtle threat wrapped in false courtesy that causes you to tremble with fear and anticipation in his tight grasp.

“Go on.” When he finally nudges you towards the door and watches you sway out of the room, tender hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt and nearly stumbling over your feet, he can’t help but chuckle under his breath.

There’s a hunger inside him, a ravenous craving to take what is his, to make you squirm beneath his body and hear you cry out for mercy. His anger has taken over in a way he never experienced before, but he can feel it scorching hot in the pit of his stomach, can feel it settle at his feet in the form of the bloodhound that he has tried to lock away in his ribcage for his entire life — he runs his fingers through the raven fur and whispers the name of his next prey into his ears.

Your name.

[cryoculus]

— guard dog 01 ⟢

pairing: thoma x assassin!reader

summary: you’re a skilled mercenary who takes odd jobs all around inazuma to make ends meet. so when the shogunate hires you to assassinate the lady of the kamisato clan, you don’t think much of it. that’s until you grossly miscalculate how good of a guard dog her chief retainer actually is.

word count: 5.5k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka

tags: found family, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, eventual smut

warnings: drugging attempts, assassination attempts

notes: i'll be posting chapters one to thirteen everyday at double intervals! this is one of the fics i'm immensely proud of writing, so i hope you like it hehe :')

header art cr: n0yunn on twt

masterlist

You’ve always wondered what the Kamisatos of old had been thinking when they decided to build a mansion by the cliffs of Mount Yougou. 

First, you’d either have to make the trek up the mountain or navigate your way through Chinju Forest. The locals of Narukami Island already regarded that place warily—with all the talk about bake-danuki kidnapping lost children in the cover of night, never to be seen again.

And then there was the sudden drop all the way to the rocky shores of the coastline below. One wrong move, and you might just find yourself dead on the beach if you carelessly traipse around the edges of the property. 

But you knew, more than most, that the natural terrain wasn’t what made the Kamisato Estate so difficult to breach. 

The guards of the Yashiro Commission were stationed uniformly across the area—looking intimidating enough to send any amateur thief packing. One could tell from a glance that these guys had years of training under their belts.

After all, they were guarding one of the three noble households in Inazuma. But it’s not like anyone who knew about Kamisato clan and its retainers was stupid enough to cross them like that. 

Unless, of course, they were you.  

A flock of birds flew overhead from your vantage point, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. It was nearing sundown again, and the princess should be tending to the sand gardens right about—

“Now,” you whispered, biting down on a lavender melon as you watched the scene unfold. 

Normally, scouting your targets from a perch so high up was impossible. But your employers were generous enough to supply you with a pair of binoculars for the job. You were never one to tinker with any Fontainian contraption imported into the country, but if it works, it works.

Now here you were, hidden away in one of the slated slopes of the mountain as Kamisato Ayaka stepped out into the foyer to admire the scenic view. 

She strode gracefully into the garden, rake in hand before gazing out into the open sea. The waning sunlight glittered across the surface in warm tones, and you would have been mesmerized too, if the circumstances had been any different.

Still, this was a sight Ayaka saw everyday, and the princess spared no time soaking up the scenery longer than she had to. 

This was your seventh day of lying in wait—familiarizing yourself with each person who went in and out of the estate at all hours of the day. Where they went, what they did, who they spoke to.

Well, not really. Even a dedicated mercenary like you had to take some breaks in-between. But one week was enough for you to memorize the daily habits of the Yashiro Commission. 

A greenhorn would never have noticed the way they loosened security in the first hour of twilight. Only five guards out of the original ten stationed outside would remain, and the others would be invited to eat dinner inside the pavilion.

After twenty or-so minutes, they would switch with the guards that stayed behind—rinse and repeat. 

During this momentary give in their defenses, though, Ayaka would trace circles into the sand garden in quiet meditation.

Vulnerable. Exposed.

If you decided to take her out with a bow and arrow, gravity would favor you in more ways than one. But you were a shit archer at best, and there was…something else that threw a wrench in your plans. A wildcard in your weeklong observation period that you just couldn’t pin down no matter how many alternatives you tried to come up with. 

The lavender melon turned bitter in your mouth once you caught sight of him.

Thoma was someone that’s very hard to miss. You’ve seen him a couple of times around Ritou—all golden hair and swindling smiles—but you never once dared to make his acquaintance. Fixers were crafty people by nature, and you’d rather not get outfoxed by someone like him by any means.

In fact, your constant avoidance was finally bearing fruit now that you’ve been entrusted with the assassination of Kamisato Ayaka. 

But while everyone else in the Yashiro Commission stuck with their day-to-day routines faithfully, Thoma seemed like he always just acted on a whim. That man had no concept of routine at all.

Unlike Ayaka who committed herself to her own schedule without fail, Thoma was someone who did something different everyday. 

In hindsight, it was expected. He was an undercover fixer—of course his daily to-do list wasn’t patterned the same way as everyone else’s. 

The other day, Thoma left the estate at the crack of dawn only to come back a few hours after midnight.

Yesterday, he leveled the hedges as he watched Ayaka practice her swordsmanship in the courtyard.

And now, after bidding a few words in farewell to his charge, he was walking out of the estate with a carefree hint to his strides. If you drew any closer, you might even hear him whistling. 

Case in point: this wasn’t the first time you were hired to kill a noble. It was, however, the first time you’ve had to deal with a variable that’s as unpredictable as Thoma.

You watched him take the path that led to Chinju Forest through your binoculars—tossing the stem of your lavender melon to the side. He was probably headed to Inazuma City from the looks of it.

Patiently, you waited until Thoma’s form disappeared into the mist before heaving a long sigh in relief.

Now that he was out of the way, you could afford some room to think.

Admittedly, you weren’t sure why the shogunate even contacted someone like you to carry this out. You were nothing but a lone swordswoman who took on odd jobs to make ends meet. Killing other people for money wasn’t exactly above your moral compass, but could your feats be impressive enough for the Tenryou Commission to seek you out personally? 

“Kill the girl and make it seem as if the Sangonomiya rebels were behind it,” said Kujou Masahito, the night he and his men found you. “We’ve been in a stalemate long enough.” 

It was a tall order, now that you thought about it. What person in their right mind would accept a mission to: one, infiltrate the Kamisato estate; two, murder the lady of the house; and three, frame the resistance for the act? Sure, the Tenryou Commission practically offered you millions of mora in exchange, but was all that really worth risking your neck for?

However, asking questions wasn’t something you did with your clients. Whoever they were, whatever their motives, so long as they came to you, offering the right price, you would see the job done.

Your discretion has always made you quite the favorite in the Inazuman underworld, and you’d prefer if things stayed that way.

Rising from your aching haunches, you shoved the binoculars into a knapsack. You then cast the estate below a sidelong glance. The sun had long set, and a slew of yellow lanterns lit up the courtyard.

You could see Ayaka being escorted back inside the house by one of her attendants, possibly to join her brother for dinner as well. You paid it no mind. 

You’ll allow her some last moments of serenity before putting an end to her life.

About two hours before midnight, you descended from your perch—ducking behind trees while skilfully evading the guards’ line of sight. You quietened your footsteps as you approached the building in which the estate’s denizens resided. 

There was no need for you to draw this close, as you’ve already gleaned most of what you needed to know from a distance, but… 

It was about time for the princess’ nightly routine. An elegant dance performed beneath the moonlight—with her signature fan scattering white snowflakes in the height of summer.

You’ve heard about the Shirasagi Himegimi’s mesmerizing performances in passing. How she was always the star of every cultural festival in Amakame Island.

You were only human, so you were naturally inclined to be curious. And it’s not as if seeing her dance in the moonlit foyer will derail your plans. 

But you’d been a few minutes too late, it seemed. Because now, Ayaka was seated by the edge of the pavilion, gazing silently at the clear sky above. In her hands was a teacup patterned with herons in flight—one of her favorite pieces. 

To a normal onlooker (A.K.A., anyone who didn’t spend seven days deliberately stalking her), Ayaka didn’t seem the type to drink tea all by herself. She had an entire Commission’s worth of company, and she could always ask one of her retainers to sit down and nurse a few drinks with her.

But you’ve come to realize that the princess was someone who didn’t like disturbing others—regardless of how minimal the disturbance might be. 

Kamisato Ayato took charge of the political dabblings of the Yashiro Commission. Kamisato Ayaka was the face of the clan; the heart of the people; adored by each and every person who knew her by name.

But…why did she look so lonely?

“Milady, you shouldn’t be staying up so late.”

The sound of Thoma’s voice made you seize up like a cat tossed into a basin of water—making you reflexively duck behind the rigid walls on the side of the house. There were no lanterns on this side of the estate, so the darkness should be able to conceal you well enough.

“I was waiting for you to return,” Ayaka admitted aloud, the sound of her sandals scraping against the stone-littered path ringing in your ears. “I…I would have had a hard time falling asleep either way—knowing not everyone is safely back in the mansion at this hour.”

You arched an eyebrow but continued listening in.

“Oh?” There’s a hint of amusement in Thoma’s tone. “Even if I specifically informed you earlier that I might not be back until tomorrow noon, you still waited? Milady, you honor me, but I can’t continue imposing such—”

“You’re not imposing,” Ayaka sighed, and it’s the first time you've heard her sound so…exasperated. But then again, Ayaka was only ever this animated in the company of her chief retainer. “As one of the leaders of the Yashiro Commission, it’s my responsibility to ensure the well-being of my retainers.”

“Isn’t it the other way around, though?” Thoma laughed, and you got the impression that you were intruding on something you weren’t supposed to. (A little too late to have those sentiments now, but you still had some integrity, at least.) “Well, I know there’s no changing your mind when it is already set, milady. How about we pair your evening tea with some sakura mochi I brought from the Teahouse?” 

A pause. “You’re going to tell me what you were doing in Inazuma City, yes?”

“It would be a disservice not to.”

Knowing you’d already lingered for too long, you fled the scene—silently backing away until you heard a loud crunch echoing into the evening air. You jolted, cursing under your breath when you realized you’d stepped on a damn twig—!

“Thoma? What’s wrong?”

Then, footsteps—accompanied by the sound of the chief retainer’s accessories jingling on his person. You ducked behind an unsuspecting aralia tree, but right in front of you was a sheer drop into the ocean. Archons damn it. You hadn’t realized how close you were to the edge of the cliff. 

Instinctively, you pressed your back further against the tree bark, wondering what the hell Thoma was even doing here when he supposedly had business to attend to in the city. 

“It’s nothing, milady,” he sighed, and you felt your shoulders sag with relief as you heard his voice draw further away. “Just thought I’d heard something.”

“You must be tired if you’re starting to hear things.”

Not waiting for Thoma to come up with a response, you made your timely escape. 

Somewhere down the deeper corners of Chinju Forest was an abandoned shrine. It was on the smaller side—the ornamental roof layered with thick moss, and the talismans having faded with age. You hadn’t the slightest clue which deity it was dedicated to, but it was for that reason that you declared it your designated territory of sorts. 

There, you took out a shovel from your knapsack before digging a hole into the ground. It was safer to leave what little belongings you had where no people could even begin to look. And you’d rather not be carrying all your possessions when you’re about to infiltrate a mansion.

Once you’re satisfied with the depth, you began to rummage through the bag. You only took what was strictly needed—a pouch of powdered crystal marrow and a lone dark feather.

Mora and weapons wouldn’t be necessary if you did the job properly, which you will. But before you could turn around to shovel the unearthed soil back in place, you twisted the feather in your fingers. 

This was the item that secured your agreement to the Tenryou Commission’s outlandish request. Kujou Sara was known to be a fierce warrior on the battlefield, so if Masahito managed to procure one of her feathers and give it to you, it was the real deal.

The shogunate really was out to tip the scales and launch the country into a civil war. 

However, the feather was also a contingency plan of sorts.

“If you foresee yourself being unable to complete the mission, burn it and we’ll send someone to come to your aid,” Masahito informed, and while you were grateful for the possible fallback, you wondered if burning it rendered your reward money null and void. You didn’t ask, nor did he elaborate.

It was normal to have your reservations about this. After all, you could very much go down in the history books as the match that ignited the bloodiest war in Inazuma. But you never really cared much for appearances. Not now, not ever.

Once you accept a job, you’ll see it through until the end. 

“H-Help, please… Help.”

The guards were quick to act once you emerged from the forest the following day—bloody and beaten and quivering in your boots. One of them managed to catch you before you could fully collapse to the ground, and he immediately barked orders to prepare a room and call a healer. 

Faking your identity to mislead victims was a trick you picked up from an old acquaintance. The acting that went into the entire charade was as troublesome as it sounded, but you weren’t exactly given many cards to play here.

Hell, even the method you’d decided to assassinate Ayaka with was far from your usual. But you didn’t build a reputation for yourself by cutting corners and half-assing your jobs, that’s for sure. 

Of all the members of the Tri-Commission, the Yashiro Commission was the most impartial. They had the hearts of the people of Inazuma, and the Kamisato clan collectively cared for them in return.

Whether you’re a rebel or a shogunate officer, if you turned up half-dead on their doorstep, it was ingrained in their principles to take you in. That kindness, however, was a double-edged sword.

They’d just invited a murderer into the heart of their stronghold. 

However, their retainers weren’t complete idiots. Before rushing you into a room to get your injuries tended to, a due interrogation was conducted. (Who are you? Where did you come from? What happened?)

All their questions, you answered with a somewhat convincing act—you’re woozy from the “blood loss”, unable to respond coherently, drifting in and out of consciousness. But they could glean from your tattered maroon disguise uniform that you were part of the resistance. 

“She probably tried to infiltrate the Kujou Encampment,” suggested one of the female attendants. “Both sides are growing more and more desperate each day… Should we inform Lady Ayaka and Lord Ayato?”

The proposal was met with a grunt from a man you recognized as Madarame Hyakubei. “Lord Ayato requested for us not to disturb him today, and Lady Ayaka is resting for the afternoon. Granted, Master Thoma didn’t say when he’ll return either so I suggest we keep this under wraps for now.”

Keep this under wraps. Yeah, that definitely worked in your favor.

With a silent, unanimous agreement, the rest of the guards left you in the hands of their resident healer—a meek woman who introduced herself as Hina.

You knew better than to respond to any of her inquiries, so you continued masquerading your own deliriousness as she patched up your self-inflicted wounds. Hina didn’t linger longer than she had to, and once you stopped fake-moaning in pain, she eventually got up and resumed whatever task your arrival had rudely interrupted.

There were still some curious attendants sneaking glances into the room they’d put you in, though—whispering amongst themselves in hushed tones. Thankfully, those gossiping girls went about their own business sometime later, and you’re left completely alone. 

You couldn’t really do much in your current state. The people around the mansion were led to believe that you’ve been gravely injured. It would definitely raise suspicions if anyone saw you tiptoeing around the house, so you bide your time.

You’ve waited an entire week to put your plans into motion, what’s a few hours more?

When night fell, you expected one of the attendants to bring you dinner—if the Yashiro Commission’s extensive hospitality was anything to go by.

The anticipation might have also been fueled by the fact that it’s been days since you’ve eaten a proper meal. Whenever the guards outside ate altogether in the pavilion, the food prepared for them looked so appetizing. You couldn’t really blame yourself for pondering what they’ll serve you.

But the person who emerged into the room a few minutes later was the last one you’d expected to come.

“L-Lady Kamisato,” you stammered, sitting upright to bow your head. “It’s an honor. Please don’t trouble yourself with this…” 

Ayaka flashed you a gentle smile, kneeling on the tatami to set the tray of food on your bedside. “It’s only proper that I see our guest with a warm welcome. You must be feeling better now that you can speak to me. My retainers said you were practically unintelligible earlier.”

Fuck. You broke character.

Swallowing thickly, you managed a dry laugh. “Your healer was amazing, miss. I didn’t think I would make it through the day, actually…” 

She nodded in understanding, a grim look suddenly crossing her pristine features. “I see. You’re one of the Sangonomiya rebels, aren’t you? May I ask what you’re doing all the way here on Narukami Island?” 

You purposely let your shoulders sag in a false show of emotion. “I…was sent for an espionage mission, but I got hunted down by the shogun’s lap dogs. Thanks to you, though, I’m still in one piece.”

“I had no part in your recovery. It’s all the work of my retainers,” Ayaka clarified with that same, unwavering smile. She gestured for you to take the food she’d brought. “Go on. I’m sure you’re hungry, so you better eat something.”

You were gladly about to indulge in her offer before—

“Milaaaady,” drawled an obnoxiously loud voice coming from the halls. And when a head of golden hair poked itself into the room, you felt your appetite vanishing in a puff of smoke. “Why’d you leave me in the kitchen? I can’t look after you if you’re going around without me, you know?”

There he was—the wild card that constantly threw your plans into disarray. 

“Thoma, don’t be too loud. She’s still resting,” Ayaka chided as he knelt beside her on your bedside. “This is Thoma, the chief retainer of the Kamisato clan. He normally isn’t this noisy, so I hope you forgive him.”

No introduction needed, thank you very much, you wanted to say, but kept your mouth rightfully shut. Instead, you met Thoma’s green-eyed gaze as you tilted your head in a curt bow. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” he chuckled before folding his arms together. “I believe I haven’t caught your name yet…” 

A name. Right. You had to give them a name—not your real name, of course. You weren’t that overconfident. 

“Kira,” you spoke softly. “My name is Kira.” 

“I see. So, Miss Kira…you’re from the resistance, huh? What’s the status over there in Watatsumi Island?” 

Again, you assumed your role as a fugitive rebel with sigh. “Not too good. They’ve pushed us back so far that we had to resort to underhanded tactics.”

Thoma raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” 

Immediately remembering the suggestion of one of the attendants earlier, you decided to use that as a reference. “Infiltrating the Kujou Encampment to gain some intel. Though, I hardly got that done at all since…” Then, a wordless gesture towards the bandages wrapped around your body. 

Ayaka flashed you a pitiful expression while Thoma hummed to himself. Did you really sound that convincing? Nonetheless, the chief retainer spoke again. “A wise man once told me that the best way out of a predicament is through. Why don’t you guys just march straight into Inazuma City and take it up to the Raiden Shogun herself?”

“Why don’t we step out and allow our guest to have some peace tonight?” Ayaka intervened, rising to her feet while tugging on Thoma’s sleeve in the process as she turned to you. “He asks too many questions sometimes. Again, please forgive him.” 

You shook your head. “I’m already taking up much of your time as is. The one seeking penance should be me, milady.” 

The princess shook her head once more as they made their way out of the room. “We hope for nothing but utmost health for you, Miss Kira. Please don’t hesitate to call for us if you need anything. We can discuss your situation further in the morning.” 

When the door slid shut behind them, you could still vaguely make out some fragments of conversation. Ayaka was saying something along the lines of, “You should really be more polite to our guests,” and Thoma only responded with a peal of laughter. 

Then, your eyes flickered towards your dinner—braised salted fish with pickled seaweed on the side.

“All these formalities for a complete stranger?” you muttered, pulling apart the chopsticks they’d provided as you shook your head. “Bunch of fools...” 

Once you’ve had your fill, you tossed the blankets aside and stretched your limbs. Acting bedridden could easily make you feel the part, and you had to keep your blood pumping for what you were about to do. 

For some reason, Hina and the guards didn’t bother inspecting you or your clothes, which proved to be quite the advantage.

Walking over to where they’d set down your boots, you turned the left boot upside down—shaking it rigidly until a satin pouch and a dark feather fell to the floor. 

The pouch that contained the poison you were to use weighed almost nothing in your palm, and it was for that reason you chose it.

Powdered crystal marrow was so easy to conceal that slipping it into the princess’ evening tea was mere child’s play. You then shoved Kujou Sara’s feather in one of your pockets, praying you didn’t have to use it at all. 

When the door to the room slid open again, you were completely prepared. This time, it wasn’t Kamisato Ayaka nor Thoma who went in to collect the tray.

It was one of the attendants that had been gossiping outside while the healer was tending to your injuries. 

She paused by the entrance when she noticed you weren’t in your futon, and it was at that moment that you pounced—muffling her nose with a cloth laced with poison. Not enough to kill her, but certainly enough to knock her out.

Knowing that you’re quickly running out of time, you disrobed the attendant and replaced your disguise with her clothes swiftly.

The sleeves billowed just right around your arms, and the obi wasn’t too difficult to tie. And since you felt slightly bad for having to drag her into this, you covered the attendant’s bare body with the thin blanket of your futon. 

With the tray that Ayaka had dropped off in hand, you closed the door to your room—eyes darting around for anyone who could have gotten wind of what just happened. 

Fortunately, there weren’t many people milling inside the mansion. Just a couple of attendants dusting furniture and scrubbing the tatami.

None of them spared you so much as a backwards glance. But, knowing you couldn’t exactly disguise your face, you made yourself scarce—heading to a hall that you had a hunch led to the kitchen. 

Based on the brief glimpses you’d seen prior to your relocation to the room, your guess should be right, and the attendant you’d just taken out was about to bring Ayaka her evening tea. You didn’t perform a weeklong stake-out for your calculations to be incorrect. 

With each step you took across the hall, your heart pounded dreadfully. This was it. You were almost there. If you managed to pull this off, your mantle as Inazuma’s most cunning assassin would be set in stone. Your services would be sought after, and you’d be raking in millions from each job. 

(And then Inazuma would be plunged into chaos. The fall of the Kamisato clan’s eldest daughter undoubtedly offsetting the peace that the people of Narukami tried so hard to maintain. The Electro Archon would no longer have any reason to hold back. But would the Raiden Shogun lash out on the very people whom she promised a never-ending eternity? 

Would someone like you even be spared from her wrath?)

Your predictions have been correct. You were headed the right way. The kitchen was at the far end of this hall, and none of the other attendants were present. 

Instead, the one that greeted you was the chief retainer in all his smug glory—instantly ripping you away from your musings of the future, and back to the dreadful present. 

Thoma stood in front of the counter, a fresh tea set patterned with Ayaka’s favorite herons painted elegantly on each ceramic piece. Behind him, a kettle sat on top of the stove—the low flame illuminating the room just a tad brighter.

He didn’t seem surprised to see you, nor did he have any outward reaction to the fact that you’re wearing an attendant’s uniform. Instead, he leaned across the wooden surface, sighing. 

“Well that’s just disappointing,” he lamented. “I really rooted for you, you know. Hope you’d give it up and leave once you’ve gotten a taste of milady’s kindness.” 

You kept your lips sealed, straightening yourself as you sauntered over to the sink. Your movements were quiet as you set down the bowl and chopsticks they’d given, and Thoma watched your every move.

You had absolutely no clue how he’d managed to sniff you out as quickly as he did, but if he wasn’t pinning you to the floor and tying you up yet, then you still had some leeway for escape. 

“I’ve already expected your arrival, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Thoma supplied. “You’re good at not leaving any tracks, but you aren’t exactly keen on concealing your presence. It’s almost like you wanted me to know what you were up to.”

Despite his friendly tone, you kept your silence—gaze roving around the kitchen for any clean-cut exits, only to realize there were none. 

You half-contemplated using the rest of your powdered crystal marrow to incapacitate him and make your escape. Though you’re yet to witness it firsthand, Thoma would definitely be worth something in a fight if he was the Kamisatos’ chief retainer.

The injuries you’d sustained from throwing it down with a bunch of mitachurls to look convincingly mangled weren’t all fake. If you were backed into a corner now, you’ll definitely lose.

But you reminded yourself that every dose you got your hands on was few and far in between. You didn’t want to risk your future kills for a momentary lapse in judgement. 

So, like any cornered animal, you did what was logical at that moment. 

You ran for your life.

.

.

. 

Or, at least tried to. 

Before you could even step out of the kitchen, Thoma was already on you—seizing both of your wrists and twisting them behind your back. Your jaw throbbed as he slammed your face against the wall, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t break free from his grip.

“Get your hands off me, guard dog,” you hissed, desperately trying to kick him in the groin as a last resort. 

Thoma let out another stupidly carefree laugh as he evaded your attempts at his family jewels. “Guard dog? That’s a new one. And you say it like it’s an insult.” 

“Fuck you!”

“Now, now. That’s not a very kind thing to say.” He pouted. “And milady was so insistent for me to be polite. Not so deserving now, are you?” 

Irritated, you considered spitting in his face, but remembered you had more tact than that. “So? Just kill me then. You already predicted I’d try to kill her, didn’t you?”

The moment you’d articulated the words, it struck you that Thoma was acting awfully calm about your blatant revelation. If it had been one of the other retainers, they’d probably be fuming at the knowledge.

Maybe they would’ve called the police by now. Worse, they’d have you executed on the spot. 

But this man didn’t look like a fiercely loyal retainer who prioritized the well-being of his charge above all else. As you struggled to get a look at him from the impossible position he’d pinned you with, Thoma flashed you a conspiratorial grin that gave you the creeps. 

“Killing you would be too easy, don’t you think?” the chief retainer sighed. “And besides, milady seems to have taken a liking to you. She’s never met a member of the resistance before. She even wondered over dinner if you two could be friends.” 

You clicked your tongue. “I thought you already knew that I wasn’t—”

“Yes, yes. I knew you were a fraud the moment you answered my questions earlier,” Thoma interjected with a chuckle. “No bona fide member of the resistance would give away sensitive information like that so freely. They’d rather kill themselves first before revealing the strategies of Her Excellency, Sangonomiya.”

Oh. So that’s how he figured out.

“Okay, so my acting could be a bit better,” you began snarkily. “But what does it matter now? You caught me. The Almighty chief retainer of the Kamisato household has caught another mouse in the trap. Now could you please just get to the part where you lead me down to the gallows to commit seppuku?” 

You were stalling. No one with a survival instinct as desperate as yours would easily resign themselves to a soundless execution.

In reality, you were wiggling an arm out of his grasp in an attempt to reach for the feather tucked in the folds of your stolen obi. Thoma held you conveniently close to the stove, and if you could just toss it into the low flame—

“Hm? But what if it isn’t my intention to have you killed at all?”

That made you pause.

As if to prove a point, Thoma unhanded you and put his palms up in faux-surrender. You scoffed as you rubbed your face. 

“Look, I knew you’ve been scouting the area for days now, and you basically just admitted to your own intentions on milady’s life,” he elaborated. “I also knew that this place is too tightly guarded for you to execute your plans as smoothly as you liked. So you had to carry out your mission in the most roundabout way possible.” 

“Yes, yes. Of course, of course,” you spat sarcastically. “If you’re so smart and all-knowing, just cut to the damn chase.” 

Thoma let out another laugh, and you were so close to sacrificing your last stash of powdered crystal marrow just to see him drop dead.

“The point is, even if I know all these things…milady doesn’t.” 

“...I don’t follow.”

Sighing, Thoma leaned against the counter with another disdainful sigh. “I’m offering you an alternative, Miss Kira. Heh. Even the name you picked was a dead giveaway. Seriously? A name that means kill?” 

You clicked your tongue. “What alternative are we speaking of again?” 

This time, the chief retainer flashed you a look that made you feel like he was mocking you. 

“I’ll forget all the information you just revealed to me tonight. I’ll pretend as if our…altercation never happened.” He listed each condition on his fingers before pointing at your stolen garbs. “And I’ll even deal with the poor attendant whose clothes you nabbed. I’m sure I can bribe her into keeping her silence.”

Not liking how good the odds were for you if Thoma simply feigned ignorance like that, you asked, “What do you want in return?” 

What came out of his mouth in the next moment, however, was probably the most ridiculous job you’d ever been saddled with in your life. It put Kujou Masanori’s orders to utter, absolute shame.

“Well, it’s very simple, actually.” Thoma grinned. “I want you to be…milady’s friend.”

next ->

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms.

[romione-trope-fest]

Do You Like Chocolate?

Fic Title: Do You Like Chocolate?

Author Name: Mertronus

Selected Trope: Muggle AU

Brief Summary: Ron’s senior year begins with an unexpected surprise

Word Count: 2,040 (Chapter 1 only)

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: None

—

Chapter 1

Ron walked through the doors of Central High and took a deep breath. Senior year. This was it…his final year of high school. There was so much to be excited about this year. He was at the top of the totem pole, so to speak. An upperclassman. All of the other classes would look up to him—and not only because he was one of the tallest in the school.

He was also one of the starting wide receivers for the Central High School Chiefs football team—for the third year.

He had homecoming and prom to look forward to, as well as the senior trip.

But there was also so much he was dreading. Ron tried not to dwell on those things as he located his new locker near his homeroom. He sighed and swiveled the dial to enter his code—then tried again when his locker refused to open. On the fourth try, it finally unlocked. Typical.

Central High wasn’t rundown or anything…but it definitely wasn’t new. Everyone knew that the lockers rarely opened on the first try.

“Weasley,” came a voice from beside him.

“Potter.” Ron leaned against his now-closed locker and watched his best friend fiddle with his own, just three lockers away. “So, you can drive to my house, eat my mom’s breakfast, pick up my baby sister, and just ignore the fact that your best friend was sleeping right upstairs?”

Harry laughed as he shoved his gym bag into the locker. It had only taken Harry two attempts to open it, Ron noticed with annoyance.

“Your baby sister is a junior now and would put you in your place if she heard you call her that.”

“She could try,” Ron chuckled. “Now back to why you didn’t wake me up.”

“Well, when your mom told me that you were still asleep, I didn’t see the point in trying to wake you.” He closed his locker and faced Ron. “We all know you wouldn’t wake up until you were ready. I’m honestly surprised you made it on time.”

“I’ve perfected my morning routine and got it down to three minutes flat. And I ate breakfast on my way.”

“You did not eat oatmeal while you drove!” Harry stared at him wide-eyed.

“The trick is,” Ron threw his arm around Harry as they headed to their homeroom, “you put a bit more milk in it, throw it into a mason jar, and then you can drink it like a shake. No spoon needed.” Ron grinned at Harry, clearly proud of himself.

Harry sighed and shook his head. “I can’t figure out if you’re ingenious or ridiculous.”

“Bit of both I would say,” came a sharp voice from behind them. Ms. McGonagall had just entered the room behind them. “More ridiculous, but most of the smartest people are.” She smiled at Ron and Harry. “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter. Enjoyed your summers?”

“Morning Ms. McGonagall,” they both said as they sat near the front.

“We did, thanks,” Ron continued. “Did you?”

“Well,” McGonagall placed her bag on her desk as more students filed into the room, “summer school was quite boring without you two. But I was glad for your absences nonetheless.”

Dean Thomas, who’d just taken the seat on the other side of Harry, snorted. Ron side-eyed him briefly, then grinned at McGonagall. “We missed you, Ms. M. But not summer school.”

Ron and Harry had spent the previous two summers in summer school with McGonagall catching up. But, with some extra help the previous year as well as many threats of being benched in their senior year by Coach Moody, they had both been able to finish their junior years strong. Neither one of them had any plans to be benched senior year. For one, outside of seeing Harry every day, football was the only daily thing Ron looked forward to in school. During the winter and spring they trained and ran track to keep active, but football was always their main event.

On top of that, scouts for the colleges they’d both applied to would be watching, and full scholarships were on the line. Ron was a fantastic wide receiver, and Harry was one of the fastest running backs in the state. They knew that several schools had their eyes on them, including Western University, where they both hoped to go.

The bell rang and McGonagall started to close the door just as Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini slipped through. Both sat and smiled at McGonagall innocently.

“Don’t be cute,” McGonagall scowled. Then she turned to begin attendance as the morning announcements started over the intercom.

The bell rang again ten minutes later and Harry ran off to his first class. Ron stayed in his seat since he had English with McGonagall first period. A few others stayed put too—both of the Patil twins, Blaise, Dean, and Lisa Turpin.

A flash of blonde hair entered the room and Ron cringed. Damnit. Of course.

Lavender Brown smiled coyly at Ron and took the seat in front of him, next to Padma Patil. “Morning Ron,” she cooed.

“Hey,” Ron said simply, praying that she would turn towards the twins for gossip or some kind of cheerleaders mini convention rather than try and hold a conversation with him. They’d dated sophomore year for a couple of months, and ever since then she’d continued to try and get him back. Apparently, the fact that Ron hadn’t dated anyone since her, though there was no shortage of options at Central, told her that Ron was still interested.

Ron was not interested.

The truth was, none of the girls at Central had ever caught Ron’s eye. They all seemed to be the same. And any who showed interest in Ron, likely only did so because of his football fame. None ever seemed to want to get to know him. Even Lavender only wanted Ron in order to portray the perfect All-American high school power couple—cheerleading captain and football champ. They’d be shoe-ins for homecoming king and queen. Maybe even prom king and queen. Ron knew this was the case even though they were no longer together, which put a damper on two events he was otherwise looking forward to. He knew Lavender would be expecting a Homecoming ‘proposal’ or some such nonsense.

It would never come.

Ron sighed in relief when Lavender turned to her two best friends.

“The new girl was in my homeroom,” Lavender whispered. Ron’s ears perked up.

Damn, starting at a new school senior year must suck, he thought.

“Oohh, I heard something about a new girl…what’s she like?”

Lavender shrugged. “Super quiet. And spacey. She didn’t even answer Flitwick when he called her name! He had to tap on her shoulder. I seriously can’t tell if she’s a nerd or a ditz. And her hair! She really could do with a straightener.”

Ron rolled his eyes. Lavender, Padma, and Parvarti were all cut from the same cloth. They believed that hair should be pin straight and makeup should be flawless at all times. And they weren’t the only ones. Ron felt as if there were very few real girls at their school. They were mostly stuck on status and beauty. Superficial things.

Ron wanted real.

His sister Ginny was one of the realest girls in their school. He loved that she never fell into those obsessions like hair and makeup and such. Ron figured that was partly due to being a female athlete. Her best friend Luna, however, wasn’t an athlete and yet was just as real—though a bit odd. Ron thought she was good value though. She was always fun to have around.

As McGonagall welcomed everyone to Senior English, Ron pulled out his notebook and pushed himself to focus. At least he knew Harry would be in his next couple of classes.

“Hey, Ron!”

“Sup Weasley!”

“Hey! Weasley!”

“Ron! What’s up!”

Ron smiled and waved to anyone who greeted him as he made his way down the hall after lunch. Being a starter for three years running gave him a level of popularity he never expected. He was invited to all of the parties, sat at the big table at lunch, and was widely known throughout the school.

And yet he’d never felt so lonely.

Aside from Harry, he hung out with Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, and Neville Longbottom, all members of the team, but not to the same extent as with his best friend. And now that Harry was splitting his time with Ginny…

Ron got it, even if it did take him a bit to warm up to the idea. If he had a girl, he’d want to spend time with her too. But Harry had always been Ron’s person. Not that Ron felt he needed a new person…but it would be nice to have someone like Harry had Ginny.

But there was no one at Central who—

A small body bumped into him as it sprinted passed and Ron just caught a whiff of vanilla and berries. It was soft and inviting, so unlike the overwhelming perfumes so many of the other girls wore.

Ron looked up and watched as long brown curls floated down the hallway. She was looking at the door numbers as she passed them and seemed lost.

As she ran, a small book fell out of her half-closed bag. Ron ran forward to grab it.

“Hey!” He called as she continued on. “Hey, wait! You dropped your book!”

She finally stopped in front of Snape’s science classroom, which happened to be where Ron was headed himself. She stood in front of a woman Ron had never seen before—a substitute? he thought hopefully—and held up one hand while she seemed to catch her breath. The woman simply smiled.

“Hey,” Ron said catching up to them. “You dropped this.” He held out the book to the girl’s heaving back but she didn’t turn. “Excuse me?”

Ron caught the woman’s eyes curiously and she tapped on the girl’s shoulder and pointed over it. She finally turned around and Ron’s breath caught.

She was beautiful, in a very normal way. She wore no makeup but didn’t need it. Her eyes were the perfect shade of brown, like melted chocolate. There was the perfect amount of freckles splattered across her slightly upturned little nose, so unlike the freckles that covered just about every inch of Ron’s body. Her hair was long and curly, with some frizz around the edges. Ron could imagine pulling on the tendrils and watching them spring back into place.

She looked up at him expectantly, and he remembered his mission.

“You dropped your book,” he said lamely.

Her eyes watched his lips as he spoke and he felt a shiver run through him. He’d noticed her lips too. Was she thinking the same as he was? Was she wondering how her lips would feel against his or…?

Her eyes dropped to the book and widened. She took it from him and gave him a brilliant smile and a nod before ducking into the classroom.

“Thanks for that,” the woman said with a smile, before following the girl into the classroom.

Ron made his way into the room a bit confused. Even more so when he noticed that his greasy-haired science teacher was, in fact, present. So who was that woman? She was young, but definitely not young enough to be a student. And she was dressed professionally, like a teacher or a staff member or…something.

As he took a seat closer to the back, and further away from Snape, his eyes darted to the girl. She sat near the front but off to the side. The woman sat on a low stool in front of her.

And as Snape began to talk, the woman’s hands began to move in rapid sign language.

Deaf…the new girl was Deaf.

**Look out for more chapters on AO3!**

[hackerqueen]

Lost without you

a/n: yes im on my period, and yes im crying rn. JakexMC as always

A life went on. It was not the same.

But it went on.

Who would have believed two years ago that we would be where we are at this moment? In the beautifully decorated church where, less than twenty-four months ago, the funeral of one of our friends was held.

The decorative flowers, however, did not overshadow the beauty of the gorgeous bride, who was just walking down the aisle to join her soul there with the man of her life. The organist was playing a wedding tune on the piano, which was now ringing in my ears. I watched, listened and felt their love as they looked deeply into each other's eyes, put on rings or swore fidelity to each other until the end of their days. If someone were to ask me about a couple that went through so many storms and hurricanes together that didn't wipe them off the planet but only made them stronger I wouldn't have to think long.

Hannah and Thomas.

They were perfect. They had survived a nightmare from which they were nevertheless able to wake up, and the life that lay ahead seemed like a long-desired dream.

The wedding was also wonderful. But as I stood in the middle of the crowd, boisterously chanting the names of the new newlyweds a wave of loneliness and alienation hit me like hail on the first days of spring.

Life flashed on, even though it only took one look at each of them for me to know the loss they had experienced. Dan and Cleo stood under the bar and sipped whiskey, drinking up the fact that Richy was not here with them. Jessy sat distant, and although a small smile wandered on her lips, her eyes remained blank.

Similar to mine.

Where had he gone? What had happened to him? Was he still in hiding, or was he now being brutally interrogated by the FBI? He had to be alive. I didn't believe anything else.

Why did he leave me with only the memory of oceanic eyes and the bitter aftertaste of the last three words he wrote to me? I didn't know what feelings accompanied me. Anger, grief, sadness?

All that was certain was that I damn missed him.

What if I never forget him?

What if, all my life when I meet someone new I can never fall for them because they aren't him?

And just like that I started to cry.

I thought we'd have more time. If I had known how our story would turn out I would never have allowed it to end this way. Was it even possible to call it a story? What were we?

A failed potential. A faded picture. A memory.

We were memories that blurred each new morning when I had to wake up and get on with my life.

And even though my heart screamed that this chapter was not yet over, I knew deeply the painful truth. Sensitivity and longing believed that Jake would one day return. Perhaps he will write and explain that this was the only way he could keep us safe. Perhaps he will stand on my doorstep one day and beg for forgiveness. And perhaps he will sit in the last pew at my wedding, when I will finally give my heart to someone else, and I will never know of his presence.

But one thing hasn't changed and never will. I felt a warmth in my heart that told me that the hacker who turned my whole world upside down was alive. In the same city or on the other side of the globe. It didn't matter as long as he was safe.

Despite my gaze blurred by tears, I smiled. We were under the same sky at least.

My gaze then fell on Thomas. The man I had comforted as much as I could two years ago and convinced him to fight on. That his beloved one was alive and together we would find her.

But when he regained the love of his life, I lost mine.

[alj4890]

Repeat Performance

(Thomas Hunt x OC) in a Choices Red Carpet Diaries drabble.

With the quote: "Thank god I have no idea what you're talking about." He took a sip of his wine. "When you start making sense I am going to panic."

@hopelessromantic1352 came across this quote a while back and we both thought it screamed our favorite director. Sorry this request took so long to answer my sweet friend 🤗

Masterlist

**************

Golden Globes After-party...

"What can I get for you?" A bartender asked.

Thomas eyed the selection of bottles behind the woman. Not seeing his favorite brand of scotch available, he decided to have a glass of wine.

"Cabernet Sauvignon." He responded.

With glass in hand, he turned around to observe the crowd of the rich and famous, mingling around the pool at the Beverly Hilton. He saw many of the usual faces he'd come to know through his years as director. He saw all the usual actions of flirting, rivalry, friendship, and those finagling to secure the next award winning hit.

Normally, he'd make an appearance at one of these events, then discreetly slip away for a quiet evening at home. This night's event though had something that made him want to stay, or more specifically, someone.

That specific someone was one he had not set eyes on, at least in person, in over a year.

Thomas had nearly faltered when he stepped on stage to present the award for best director and saw her in the audience. Since he'd won the award the year before for The Last Duchess, he was unable to get out of coming to this year's event. After his film swept the award's circuit, Thomas had lost all inspiration for another project.

He'd also become somewhat of a recluse once he left the country he'd filmed in.

Cordonia was a great many things. It had a vast array of landscapes that could be beautifully captured on film, along with a wealth of mansions and castles perfect for period pieces. The permits and such were a studio's dream in how easy and cheaply they were to obtain. The people were welcoming and eager to cultivate the relationship between Hollywood and their country.

It also was the home of the woman he'd had a three month fling.

Had it been a fling?

Thomas grimaced as he thought back. The moment he met Lady Amanda, Duchess of St Orella, he'd been instantly smitten. He decided not only to begin a relationship with her within minutes of meeting, but to also tell her from the beginning that it would only last until he finished filming in Cordonia.

After all, it was nearly impossible to maintain a long distance relationship, much less one spanning different continents. He was usually so busy in both filming and teaching and with her diplomatic schedule, court duties, and maintaining her various estates; finding time for each other would be nearly impossible.

And being a long term bachelor set in his ways, Thomas didn't believe that he would want to put forth the effort to have something lasting.

Or so he'd originally believed...

Amanda's agreement and understanding made it perfect. Neither expected anything other than what they were given in those moments. Nothing was planned beyond what they might like for dinner or which movie to watch. No expectations. No worries. No heartfelt discussions.

Nothing.

Nothing at all for Thomas to concern himself.

And yet...

He fell in love.

It was ridiculous. Here he was, a man who knew his own mind, how his bachelor life should go...and he fell in love with a young woman who was completely wrong for him.

No. Not wrong. Inconvenient.

She fit him perfectly. She listened to his concerns with his film, gave intelligent suggestions, and lavished him with the affection he craved from her. Her quiet disposition meshed with his own.

She was somehow the woman he'd been searching for his entire life.

But...

He kept such thoughts to himself. After all, he'd been the one to set the parameters of their relationship from the beginning. He couldn't very well turn around and demand that she remain his. He was leaving her country. She was leaving shortly thereafter for a tour of Cordonia's allies that would possibly take months to complete.

A real relationship was impossible.

So, he left her. No promises given to keep in touch. Nothing more than a friendly goodbye and a final kiss was exchanged.

He tried to keep busy. He succeeded for a while with editing his film. He traveled with friends. He even sat down to begin work once more, only to find that all inspiration had mysteriously disappeared.

For the first time, Thomas didn't have a plan. He wasn't certain if he would ever make another film. He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

He also realized that he was lonely.

He found himself doing searches of Amanda to see what she was doing, where she was, whom she might be seeing. His depression grew to see various men escorting her to dinners and events. Her warm smile directed on one of her many escorts cut to the quick. Thomas knew he could have easily been the one receiving such attention.

If only he'd said something...

It didn't matter. What was done was done.

He forced himself to stop thinking about her. He quit conducting the many late night searches. He even avoided international news stories just in case her name was said or her image appeared. In short, he tried to move on.

He was absolutely miserable.

To be dragged away from his home for the award's ceremony took something he couldn't ignore. Many of his friends had taken part in the movies that were nominated for best picture and best actor or actress. He couldn't let them down by refusing to attend. Plus, he would take great pleasure in seeing their hard work be recognized for the great films and acting that were presented.

He should have remembered that The Royal Romance would most likely have its author, Lord Maxwell Beaumont attending. Ryan Summers was up for best actor and Tommy Phelps was nominated for best director. Their table was nearly overflowing with the talent that took part in bringing King Liam's love story to life.

If Maxwell was there, then he would bring the one woman Thomas both wanted to see again and dreaded to at the same time.

Seeing Amanda sitting there beside Maxwell almost made Thomas trip during his walk across the stage. It took all the willpower he had to focus on reading the names of those nominated. His attention darted towards her when Tommy's name was announced as the winner.

Amanda's delight over the win brought a reluctant smile to Thomas's face. He watched her laugh as Maxwell jumped out of his seat to engulf Tommy in a hug. The rest of the table beamed at yet another win for their film.

And then, Thomas stood aside while the director gave his thank you speech. Standing in the shadows, he was able to study the young woman who still had the ability to make his heart race. As if feeling his attention upon her, her eyes flickered over to him. Her happy smile turned tender as she met his steady gaze.

He returned it, wishing he could bridge the gulf between them. He'd give anything, to find a way to speak to her alone.

The music starting pulled him away from such thoughts. He followed the winner off the stage and faced the horde of the press along with other famous people stopping him here and there for a conversation. He wasn't given a moment to try and steal his duchess away.

What would he say to her? He couldn't go to her and hope she'd forgotten the year or so they'd been apart. Could he ask her for another chance?

Shouldn't he try, at least for his own sanity?

It didn't matter. By the time he made it back into the main room, people were already leaving. He saw that Maxwell and Amanda had already left along with Ryan. The others were gathering their things together.

Seth and Jessica were lingering behind with Chris Winters and his wife Shannon.

"There you are!" Jessica exclaimed. "Ryan insisted we make certain you come to the after-party."

Given what he knew about Maxwell Beaumont, he didn't doubt for a second that the fun loving noble would make certain to be there and that he would force Amanda to attend as well.

"Where is it being held?" Thomas asked.

"The Beverly Hilton." Chris responded. "Worked out great for Maxwell. He's staying there."

"I see." Thomas became even more hopeful for a chance encounter.

***************

The Beverly Hilton...

Music drifted through the night air. The crowded ballroom of The Beverly Hilton opened out to the pool area, allowing those who didn't wish to dance a chance to mingle in the cool night air. Intimate seating arrangements were set here and there both around the pool and across the hard, clear pool cover. Fire pits were lit for the ladies wearing gowns that did little to keep them warm. Three fully stocked bars were also set up outside along with buffets of various appetizers.

Thomas escaped outside the moment he encountered the crush of people inside. The loud base from the deejay's music choices mingled with shouts of various conversations from those celebrating. He didn't bother to search the dark room with its flashing lights for the woman he hoped to bump into. It was foolish of him to think he would be able to find her in such a madhouse.

With a glass in hand, he turned his attention to those few who had also escaped.

"Found what you're looking for?" Ryan asked from behind him.

Thomas nearly choked on his sip of wine.

"What?" He asked.

"You look like a man who is desperately searching for a lost treasure." Ryan teased.

A slight smirk formed on his handsome face.

"Shall I help you find said treasure?"

"Thank god I have no idea what you're talking about." Thomas took a sip of his wine. "When you start making sense, I am going to panic."

Ryan chuckled. "Fine, but you do look like you're looking for something."

"I assure you I'm not." Thomas grumbled. "I was merely taking in the party." He patted Ryan on the back. "Congratulations, by the way. Your performance in The Royal Romance deserved to be recognized."

"Thank you." Ryan clinked his glass against Thomas's.

The two fell into a companionable silence.

Thomas coughed. "So...is everyone here celebrating all the wins for The Royal Romance?"

"I think so." Ryan gestured with his glass. "Phelps is over there talking to Rami and Nolan. They're both too polite to walk away while he's gushing about his directorial talents."

He then motioned towards the ballroom. "Seth, Chris, Jess, and Shannon were doing some kind of dance off with Maxwell earlier." He nudged Thomas with a grin. "Probably passed out from exhaustion. That man can dance for hours without breaking a sweat."

Thomas nodded. He was hearing about everyone except the only one he truly cared about.

"And as for your lost treasure," Ryan turned a shocked Thomas towards the right, "she came outside about ten minutes ago."

Thomas could only stare at Amanda. She was sitting off by herself near an abandoned fire pit. The flames lit up her face revealing an expression of deep thought. Her attention was directed on the fire as she sat with her head propped up on her hand.

"How did you know?"

Ryan patted his back in commiseration. "I think after all our years of friendship I deserve some credit for knowing you."

Thomas grimaced. "True."

"Go talk to her. Perhaps she has the ability to pull you out of this slump." Ryan gave him a friendly shove forward. "It can't hurt."

"It most definitely can hurt." Thomas argued. "I'm the one who denied us a future from the beginning." He took a deep breath and slowly released it. "Amanda has every right to treat me with disinterest and disdain."

"She's never appeared to be the type of person to hold a grudge." Ryan argued. "In fact, she complimented you whenever your name came up in conversation."

Thomas whirled around, sloshing half his wine in the process. "What did she say?"

"Just what a talented director you are. Your vision for stories is unparalleled." Ryan ticked off on his fingers. "How you see past things and get to the heart of the matter. How your passion in life is reflected in every scene you shoot."

He shrugged. "The typical compliments someone gives when they're a fan."

Thomas felt his face flush. It wasn't like he hadn't heard similar compliments before. Hearing them come from Amanda though meant more, so much more, than anyone else's.

"If you don't go talk to her, I will." Ryan told him. "After all, I have played the man who is best friends with her. It is my duty to make certain she isn't left alone to fend for herself amongst these wolves of Holly-"

Thomas handed him his glass and quickly walked towards Amanda.

*************

Where is he?

Amanda searched in vain for Thomas the moment she entered the party. She knew he wouldn't be out on the dance floor, yet couldn't easily escape Maxwell. She adored her best friend, but good heavens he could be tenacious at the worst possible times.

She knew there were no feelings or anything Thomas might feel for her, which was why she desperately needed to see him. She needed to see, in person, just how foolish she was to love a man who harboured nothing but a simple fondness for their fling.

She'd spent months longing for him. She picked up the phone, preparing to call and confess her feelings, only to throw it across the room so temptation wouldn't get the better of her. Foolish didn't even begin to scratch the surface of how she felt about herself. How had she fallen so deeply in love with a man who wanted no part of her heart?

She tried to move on. The various men she went to formal court events and such were pleasant, kind, some even highly interesting. Yet, they couldn't possibly begin to touch a heart that recognized another as its owner. The kisses she endured did nothing to stir her desire. The fleeting brush of their hands left her cold.

No one had any effect, but the mere thought of Thomas could make her feel everything.

Seeing him step out on stage tonight had made all her senses light up with recognition. It was as if she was coming back to life after a year of being dormant. Hearing his deep voice once more while her gaze greedily took in his handsome form set her heart racing. Her imagination began to think of what might happen if she could get him alone.

And then, he returned her smile. It was sheer heaven to have his attention solely upon her even if it was for a few seconds. A warm flush infused her body.

I have to speak to him, she thought in that moment. Maybe we could have dinner one night before I leave. Maybe make it a date. Maybe end up back at my hotel and we...

When he left the stage, she dropped her head in her hands.

Maybe I'm a masochist who forgot why she came on this trip!

Amanda sighed as she slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet under her skirt. Having finally found a quiet nook at this after party, she was debating on whether or not to leave it.

Thomas hated parties and told her he usually made an appearance and left before getting dragged into too many conversations.

Why stay here when he's probably already come and gone?

"Mind if I sit down?"

Amanda whipped around so fast towards the voice that she adored that she half slid off her chair.

Thomas reached out to steady her.

Once she was back sitting upright, he sat down beside her.

Amanda hoped he thought her face was red because of the flames and not over her embarrassing herself with her clumsiness once again.

They sat there completely at a loss for words.

"May I get you a drink?" Thomas asked.

He cursed himself for not thinking of any other way to break the ice.

"Yes, please." Amanda grasped on that mundane question like a lifeline. "Anything will do."

Thomas waved a waiter down and gave their order. He then searched for a topic of conversation that could lead towards admitting his feelings.

"Hello." She said.

Her smile was once again tender as she looked at him.

"Forgive me for not greeting you properly when you first came over."

Thomas found himself relaxing. "Hello again."

He allowed his attention to take her in. The low cut of her off the shoulder gown teased his senses. She was still just as lovely if not more so as she was when they were together.

"It's good to see you again." She said.

"It's been too long." He added.

She inwardly grimaced. Amanda wished she could just blurt out what she needed to say to him. Her fear of his rejection made her continue in this pointless small talk.

Thomas clasped his hands and leaned forward. He believed it was now or never to finally tell her all the things he wished he had when he had the chance.

"Amanda, I should tell you that I--"

A small group of party goers came over to sit in the empty chairs near them.

Their laughter and talking left little chance to have a private heartfelt conversation.

He narrowed his eyes on the group when they recognized him. They began to pitch a few ideas they had for his next picture. His irritation grew that they were interrupting his first chance to speak to the woman beside him.

Amanda felt her heart drop. She should have known that she wouldn't be able to easily talk to him. Her hesitation alone would make this difficult. Now that this was literally a party meant to encourage the next year's crop of award winning films, talking to Thomas would be impossible.

She quietly slipped her shoes on to leave. She didn't think she could remain here and listen to scripts being bandied about while her broken heart yearned for his attention.

Standing, she smiled at the group before whispering goodbye to Thomas.

He caught her wrist to halt her leaving.

"Where are you going?" He asked, completely turning his back upon the others around them.

"To my room." She explained. "I think I've had enough excitement for one evening."

Thomas held onto her while he stood up.

"May I escort you?" He asked.

Amanda blinked in surprise. "Of course, but you don't have to." She nodded to those behind him. "I know there are others needing to talk to you."

He couldn't care less about anyone else at this party, much less what people wanted from him. All he wanted was right in front of him.

Tucking her hand within the bend of his arm, he led her out of the crush without another word to anyone.

Amanda kept her mouth shut. Normally, she would insist on not needing an escort. This was the one rare instance where she was actually holding the arm of the one man she wanted.

Neither attempted to have any conversation as they navigated their way to the lobby. Once they reached the elevators, they both relaxed now that they were free of raucous party goers.

"I haven't been to an event that crowded in years." Amanda told him as they waited for the elevator.

Thomas frowned somewhat. He glanced over his shoulder at where the party was being held. He couldn't imagine any sane person being comfortable in that environment for hours on end.

"It's awful." He grumbled, following her into the elevator. "One of the few aspects of Hollywood I despise."

Amanda leaned back against the wall to study him. Thomas was leaning on the opposite wall, hands in his pockets, and his lips in a firm, unforgiving line.

"Then why did you come?" She asked.

He looked up at her. Frown easing, he took a few steps towards her and placed his arm above her head. His eyes darted down briefly to her mouth before meeting her startled gaze.

"I came because I thought you might be here." He answered.

"You did?" She breathed.

He nodded, leaning closer towards her.

The elevator dinged with doors opening to her floor.

Stepping back, Thomas allowed her to lead the way to her room.

Hands slightly trembling, she unlocked her door and opened it. She took a deep breath and asked if he'd like to come in.

"We could finish that drink we started downstairs." Amanda added, a little unnerved having his attention solely upon her once again.

"I'd like that." Thomas followed her inside.

He was finally where he'd hoped to be when he saw her at the awards show. Alone. In her room. No distractions.

He could now test the waters before revealing what had been in his heart for so long.

Amanda waved over towards the sidebar.

"Please, help yourself. If you don't see anything you like, I can call room service."

She excused herself then disappeared into the suite's bedroom.

Locking herself in the bathroom, she took some deep breaths to get her nerves under control.

You can do this, she reminded herself. He's just a man you happen to know every inch of. Breathe and get back out there and enjoy having him near once more.

Perhaps for the last time.

When she returned, she felt a deep sense of panic set in to find the room empty.

Her heart sank over the thought that he'd decided not to stay.

"Join me." He called out from her balcony.

She jumped, twirling to see the balcony door cracked open. Twisting her hands in the skirt of her dress, she forced herself to walk at a normal pace.

Thomas leaned against the railing. He sipped his scotch as he considered seeing just what Amanda would accept flirting and touching wise.

He handed her a drink.

She smiled her thanks, eyes lowering from his.

He settled closer beside her, elbow brushing against hers as they turned their attention to the Los Angeles skyline.

"It's beautiful out here." Amanda murmured.

"Yes, it is." Thomas said, sliding a step closer.

She looked up at him and noticed he was only looking at her.

Blushing, she turned back to the city.

"How have you been?" She managed to ask.

"Awful." He replied, setting his drink down.

Startled by that answer, she looked up at him.

"Why?" Her breath caught when he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

"Did," her voice trembled, "did something happen?"

"Yes." He lowered his head and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Her eyes closed as he kissed along her jawline.

"What, um what happened?" She managed to ask.

"I left you." He whispered, lips brushing against her ear. "And I didn't tell you I was in love with you."

Her eyes flew open. Her heart raced with not only his touch but hearing the very words she'd once dreamed of hearing from him.

Gripping the lapels of his jacket, she struggled to get her thoughts in order.

"You were in love?" Her breath hitched. "With me?"

He lifted his head. His dark eyes held her shocked hazel. Lips quirking some, he shook his head, no.

Before she had a chance to panic, he quickly reiterated his confession.

"What I meant to say was that I fell in love with you and am still in love." He said softly. "You have been all I've thought about from the moment we said goodbye."

"Thomas, I love you too." She tugged him down and kissed him.

He groaned the moment her tongue brushed against his. Clutching her tight, he showed her just how much he missed her.

They somehow got through the balcony doors and ended up in her bedroom. The only light illuminating the darkness was from the city lights creeping through the sheer panels.

Lips barely left the other's skin as they struggled to remove the clothes hindering their attempts to kiss each part of the one they loved.

Once free of all barriers, the two fell upon the bed. Murmurs of love were gasped as they relearned all the different parts of each other. Thomas paused in the midst, smoothing Amanda's hair out of her face.

"Say it again." He pleaded, breathless from holding himself back.

"I love you." She wrapped her legs around his waist. "I fell in love with you from the moment I met you, Thomas."

His mouth crashed against hers. The moment he heard her moan, he broke away only long enough to tell her all that she meant to him, the life he dreamed of having with her, and the future he yearned for.

He then asked the question he knew would only give him all that and more.

With tears in her eyes, she gave him the answer he hoped to hear from her.

"That's all I want." She kissed him tenderly. "Yes, I'll marry you."

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Love and War

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.

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

Alabama, 1947

“Eugene? Honey, come on we’re going to be late.” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the house as she hurriedly tried to fit everything into her bag. Her youngest son, Thomas, cradled to her chest as he babbled, grabbing fistfuls of her neatly curled hair. From down the corridor she heard a cacophony of laughter as Bob emerged with Eugene tucked under his arm as he tickled his son.

“There’s my boys. Come on, we've got to go, we've got a drive ahead of us.”

Bob nodded, placing little Eugene to the floor. He scrambled away running to his mother. The boy was the spitting image of his father, blonde hair slicked down, mischievous blue eyes, the same cheeky smile. (Y/n) handed Tommy over to Bob as she picked Eugene up, hurrying the little family out of the door and to the car.

The drive wasn’t too long, only three hours from Louisiana to Alabama but with a small baby and a three year old it wasn’t going to be boring.

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

Pulling up the familiar drive, (Y/n) watched as Bob’s face turned into an immediate grin upon seeing Albert, with a similar smile on his face, appearing on the porch. Bob pulled the car to a halt, jumping out nearly before it had stopped. Albert hurried down the steps throwing his arms around Bob’s shoulder.

“I miss you,” Bob mumbled into Albert’s neck.

“I missed you too.”

Both men pulled away, clapping each other on the back before Bob turned to (Y/n), he stepped forward, taking Tommy from her arms so she could help Eugene out of his seat. When they both looked up Mary was hurrying down the steps, a small bundle nestled in her arms and Bonnie hot on her heels.

“It’s good to see you Mary.” Both women gave each other a small hug and a smile.

“Who’s this little guy?” Albert asked, peeking down at little Tommy who was wriggling in his blankets in Bob’s arms.

“This is Thomas,” Bob said quietly, gazing down at his son in adoration. Albert looked up quickly, a sharp intake of breath could be heard.

“After Jackson?” He asked, his voice slightly squeaky.

“Yeah, after Jackson.” Both men shared a knowing look, a look that could only be shared by two people who had been through absolute hell together. Everyone was quiet for a moment until Eugene started crying that Bonnie wouldn’t share her toys, causing all four parents to hurry the children inside in a desperate attempt to distract them. It worked and soon both children were playing happily while both baby Tommy and Mary and Albert’s son, Ronald, slept peacefully side by side.

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

The morning quickly moved into the afternoon and then evening. The sun began to dip in the sky, casting a golden glow through the stained glass window in the kitchen.

Both women were occupied with the children so Bob and Albert took a moment's peace, sitting quietly on the porch swing. They sat in silence for a long while, a comfortable silence much like the ones they had shared on many nights through the war. They knew exactly what the other was thinking without even saying it, a silent conversation between their eyes.

Bob let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his blonde locks. They were getting a little long, hanging into his eyes sometimes, much longer than the army would ever have let him have it.

“I think of him, you know…Jackson. I think about him every day, every damn day,” Albert sighed, he inhaled his cigarette smoke deeply.

“He was a good kid.” Bob replied. He could feel his eyes becoming heavy, filling with unshed tears that caused them to glisten in the setting sun. Albert looked over at him, his own tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks.

“We did it, Bob,” Albert grinned tearfully. “We made it home.”

“Yeah…” Bob sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “Yeah we did.”

“We survived for him. We made it back just like we promised. We survived Bob.” Albert sobbed. Despite two years having passed since they had finally returned home to the States, they were never the same. The agony that they both felt at the thought of their fallen comrade, just a boy really. It was an agony that many felt, having created such a bond that could never be broken, having formed such friendships that would last a lifetime. A brotherhood.

Sitting on that porch in Alabama next to his friend Bob knew that he’d done good by his promise to Jackson. He’d made it and he was living his life to the fullest. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as his wife cradled baby Thomas close to her, her lips moving quietly as she sang to him. He loved her more than anything else in this world and he vowed to tell her that every single day for the rest of their lives.

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

Taglist: @bradshawseresinbabe @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @green-socks @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @cassiemitchell @genius2050 @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e

[morphofan]

Hyper-Fixation and The Bad Batch

Or, "WTF Is Going On With Morph, Lately?"

Me and The Bad Batch

SO, I first started watching The Bad Batch during the hiatus between S1 and S2. I was big into Boba Fett (thanks to The Mandalorian) and so I found The Bad Batch because Boba was mentioned in one episode. But I didn’t sit down to watch it until my friend, Cyn, told me I HAD to watch it.

So I watched the whole first season, and then had to go back and watch The Bad Batch arc in Season 7 of The Clone Wars. I was hooked. I couldn’t wait for Season 2. I was writing again, inspired again, hyper-fixated.

My sweet cat, my baby, Thomas, died at age 5 in November of 2022. It emotionally destroyed me.

Then my desktop computer had a total hard drive failure. Up until then, I was backing stuff up in a separate folder on my computer, which did f*ckall because the entire hard drive went bad. This was before I learned about backing stuff up on a cloud or OneDrive or whatever.

I lost all my fics, including a half-dozen Bad Batch fics in various states of completion. It was some of the best work I’ve ever written, and it was gone. Poof.

So, there was that sense of lost, and I almost left the fandom from sheer depression. I tried to rewrite the fics, but it wasn’t going to work because I knew I could never replicate what I had written.

Then came “Plan 99.”

I didn’t eat for a week. Not a bite, not a calorie. For seven days. I dropped 16 pounds. At the time of this writing, it’s been nearly 10 months since the finale of S2. The Bad Batch has occupied my mind this entire time. I couldn’t tell you what I did over the last ten months, because it was all just a long blur. I neglected my family, my duties, all the things that a grown ass woman is supposed to focus on.

I still tried to contribute to the fandom, with “Travels With Tech,” fic and video edits, but most of it has been more or less ignored.

A week or so ago, the friend that originally told me about TBB died, very suddenly, of a heart attack at age 45, leaving three kids.

We still haven’t been publicly shown the S3 Bad Batch teaser that was revealed at Star Wars Celebration back in May 2023. There’s been no word of a release date, aside from 2024. It feels now like the creators are mocking us by dropping little comments on TwiX about S3, but not actually giving us anything.

And I’ve realized now, that I’ve built up S3 in my head so much, and imagined so many scenarios I want to see, that I am destined to be disappointed when it does finally air. No matter how amazing S3 is, it cannot live up to the standards I’ve assigned it in my mind.

I did the same thing with S3 of The Mandalorian. I kept thinking, if I could just hold on until S3 of Mando, everything would be good again. But when it came, I was disappointed. And I know the same thing is going to happen with The Bad Batch.

Hyper-fixations always follow the same pattern. I get obsessed with something, and then, quite suddenly, it passes over and I become ambivalent to it. It’s happened with every fandom I’ve been with. Something that, for a time, I thought I could not live without becomes ho-hum. I don’t ever want it to happen, but it always does.

And now I have the guilt of wasting the last two years of my life on yet another hyper-fixation, only to lose interest in it just as suddenly as it started.

S3 of TBB is NOT going to make everything right again. It might provide some happiness for a few months, but then it will end and that will be it.

So anyway… sorry.

END

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

Chapter 14

(Also the result of the build-a-fic game, thanks for playing)

"He looks miserable, poor soul."

Gif by @themarcspector-a

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @wandawiccan60 @call-sign-shark

Luca is not the same man as before.

He is colder, cruel and craving blood, Shelby blood to be specific.

He loves her still, but he is rougher and less tolerant of her games and the way her visions disagree with him and his plans.

Audrey is an unwelcome guest in their house ---making it feel too small despite having rooms for everyone--- where she begins to make Luca heed her every word.

The witch fights her for Luca’s attention, and she just knows she’s going to kill that fucking woman one of these days.

But then, out of the blue he surprises her with a romantic getaway for two to Paris while Audrey takes care of the children.

Rosalba is nearly a year old now and Leonardo nearly five, as much as Eva cried about leaving them, she can’t let her marriage with Luca slip from her fingers.

And it is a good decision, he is different away from that wretched woman’s desire for vengeance.

Vengeance Eva knows will be the death of him and every man that goes with them.

But Luca is as if nothing had changed in Paris.

Apologizes for neglecting her as of late and lets her do as she pleases. They are somehow like before, when he agreed to her strange whims because he knew it be fucking fantastic.

Luca has been very indulgent as of late.

He is hiding something, and she knows what it is.

The witch knows he is preparing for the vendetta even if he lies to her face about it.

The Changrettas in New York, the Battaglia from his mother’s side, some Terranova cousins he has been chummy with recently and even Matteo’s in-laws were getting involved in his vendetta.

“There is no fucking way you go to England without me, mi vida.” She said holding his ticket for a first-class cabin on a different ocean linear.

“I can risk the children losing both of us, Evuccia.” He tries to take the ticket back only for her to gracefully move out of his way the moment he bends slightly to distract her with his lips.

She could taste the Averna in his breath even after moving away from him.

“But you want me to be okay with losing you.” He goes high, she goes low.

“Eva.” He begins and cannot even make a better argument about it. “I have to do this; they came for my family and they will pay for it.”

They were kept under lock and key now, always armed, men keeping watch and moving with every step they took.

Even Spinietta could feel the dark shadow looming over them.

A vendetta was to the death of the last man or until some accord was had.

But Luca needed more than Thomas, Arthur and John dead.

Audrey wants them to make the Shelbys wish they had never crawled out of the hole they came from.

To kill the children and the women and anyone carrying Shelby blood.

“Take me with you. You always do better with me in your corner.”

Luca knew Eva was not one to fuck with, and yet every time she joins the game, she leaves him shocked.

“Yes, Mrs. Macmillan, I have heard so many things about Mr. Shelby. He is not a good man; I would not wish any child to grow up with the man who killed his real father.” Eva smirks as she plays the concerned mother to a woman unaware her only grandson had not a single drop of her blood.

Grace Shelby was something.

She wanted to break the rules for Shelby and yet left boots cleaner than any shoe shiner Luca knew.

She wanted Shelby and she had gotten him only for less than three months.

The man had waited for a standard two year mourning period for a husband she or he killed, the boy was given the dead man’s name to save face even if everyone and their dog knew the man shot blanks and now, would lose the boy because of his dead wife’s desperation to be accepted by her own people.

He had lost his family, Luca had mentioned to Eva and told her this was the best time to attack.

He still has one person he would do anything for, the witch had smirked as she drank from his liquor as they plotted.

Charles Thomas Macmillian would be spared from the vendetta only because in the eyes of the law, he is not Thomas’ son.

“He will be weaker by the time we arrive, mi amor. Nothing worse than knowing your own child will never be yours again.” Eva was good, he could admit that.

But she was the mother of his children, his wife, his woman.

If they killed her like they claim they killed the late Mrs. Shelby---

No, just the thought of that was enough to make him truly afraid.

She should be safe in New York, with the children and waiting for him to clear the way for their triumph.

Instead, she is here making a phone call before they leave Paris tomorrow, proving how much he needs her on his side.

“They will come after you, vita mia, I cannot lose you.” He continued to persuade her against joining him.

“They can try all they want, but even death is afraid of me, Luca.” She argued before leaving her red lips on the rim of his glass.

Next time they drink it, it will taste like Shelby blood.

They will make Thomas Shelby and his family a footnote in their history.

The next morning, they depart together for Liverpool.

“He looks miserable, poor soul.” Eva hides her blood-red smile after Mrs. Macmillan thanks her for giving her the courage to fight for her only grandchild.

“Poor he is not, and I doubt it he has any soul. Killed my Clive and then stole his boy.” The Irish American woman spat the mention of Thomas Shelby.

Won’t recover from that, publicly. Not him nor his dead wife ---whom Eva had the displeasure of meeting and humiliating in New York three years ago--- would ever be known as anything else as the man who killed Clive Macmillan and the woman who helped him cover it up.

A very fucking dumb mistake to let everyone believe sweet Charles was Clive’s offspring.

But very fortunate for her, the witch who wants to prevent unnecessary murders in this vendetta.

“I am so sorry, what was your name, dear?” the woman asks as they part ways.

Shelby will not know what hit him.

“Eva, Eva Changretta. My husband is the one you should thank, his late brother was a victim of Mr. Shelby, you see, my late brother-in-law wanted to marry his secretary only to find out she is his mistress. Poor Grace must have been so afraid of him.” The witch lies and the woman eats it all up.

[ailendolin]

Whump Wednesday - 46 - BBC Ghosts

Title: The News [AO3]

Characters: Robin, Julian & Rachel

Prompt: Something focused on Julian and Rachel - Prompt sent in by a lovely anon.

A/N: The idea of Rachel getting a beagle because it reminds her of Julian was something I discussed with @magicaltear once. Tony's name was obviously inspired by your sweet dog, dear, but I hope you don't mind me honouring him in this way.

Prompts are open, so if you want me to write a story for you as well just send me an ask with the fandom, characters and your prompt. I’m writing for Ghosts, Yonderland, Horrible Histories and Bill at the moment.

Six Idiots Whump Wednesday / Fluff Friday masterlist is here.

————

The News

“News is boring.”

“No, Robin, the evening news broadcast is not boring,” the Captain said and turned to him with a stern look on his face. “Without it, we would have no clue what’s going on in the world beyond our borders.”

Robin shrugged. “Is always the same: war, sickness, catastrophes, tragedy … I suppose that why they sometimes show cute animals. Would be too depressing otherwise. Of course, they don’t know what it like to watch your mother get face bitten off by one of them …”

The Captain gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t think you can compare modern dogs to wolves, Robin. Let alone little puppies.”

“All the same,” Robin insisted. “I howl, they come. Have for thousands of years.”

He saw the Captain shudder at the reminder of his long existence. Robin was very much aware that it tended to make the others feel uncomfortable – the possibility that they could be stuck here quite literally forever. He supposed it would make him uncomfortable too if he were a child like them, dead for barely a few decades or centuries. But he wasn’t, and it didn’t. It made him feel small, though, especially on nights when Moonah was hiding behind the clouds and the world felt just a little darker and lonelier without it. The weight of all the years he’d seen pass and friends he’d watched move on settled so heavily on his shoulders in those moments it often felt like he might buckle under it.

Then somebody would laugh or smile and point at something in wonder, and he felt a little of that sadness within him ease as he remembered that he was not alone. He had a family, at least for now, and he would cherish every minute with them, however many there were left.

Even if that meant watching boring news with them.

Pulling his legs up to his chest, Robin rested his chin on his knees as the pretty lady on the screen started talking about the latest politics – something about local elections. He was only listening with half an ear until one name made him sit up abruptly.

“Is that –?” he said, leaping out of his seat to press his face closer to the television.

“Good lord, I think so.” The Captain sounded just as stunned as he felt. “Should we go get –?”

Robin nodded. “Yes. He would want to see.”

He hurried past the Captain and took the stairs three at a time to make his way to the common room where he knew Julian was currently busy playing some sort of game on the computer as fast as he could. Everyone turned to him when he burst through the wall but Robin paid them no mind. Wordlessly, he reached for Julian’s arm and forcefully pulled him away from the device.

“Hey! I was playing that!” Julian protested with a frown.

“Can play later. Must come watch news now,” Robin insisted and dragged him towards the door.

“Now, hold on just a moment, Ape,” Julian said, wrenching his arm free.

Robin simply grabbed his other one. “No hold on. Must come now. Rachel is on TV.”

At once, Julian stopped struggling. Behind them, Kitty gasped in surprise and turned to Pat. Thomas let out a quiet, “Oh.”

Robin tugged at Julian’s arm again. “Come. We must hurry.”

Julian stared at him for a moment, as if in a daze, before he finally nodded and allowed himself to be pulled out of the room and up the stairs. When they all but stumbled through the door of the television room, the Captain turned to look at them over his shoulder but Robin could tell that his presence barely registered with Julian. His eyes were fixed onto the TV and his face became slack with wonder as he gazed at his daughter. She was smiling at the cameras, talking about some local community issue Robin didn’t understand and didn’t really care about, and from the shape of her face and smile it was obvious she came more after her mother than her father. But there was a mischievous cheekiness glinting in her eyes, too – one that was so undeniably Julian that Robin felt his heart constrict when she smiled.

“Tony, of course, is always by my side,” Rachel was saying in response to a reporter’s question about her personal life. She reached down to pat the beagle dutifully sitting on the ground next to her feet. “With him, the long days never feel so bad.” 

“Miss Fawcett, one follow-up question: there’s this picture of your father, Julian Fawcett, with a dog – a beagle, just like Tony. Did you get Tony because of him? Is he a way for you to remember your late father?”

Rachel’s smile softened a little as she glanced down at her dog. “I suppose you could say that. Ever since I saw that picture you’re referring to I wanted to have a beagle of my own.” The screen briefly changed to said picture of Julian holding a beagle on a leash before it went back to Rachel. “When my mother finally got me Tony for Christmas, I was the happiest girl on Earth. It was a dream come true and we two have been a team ever since, haven’t we, Tony?”

The dog wagged his tail and barked once as if to agree.

Rachel laughed. “Good boy. I like to think Dad would have liked him.”

Julian’s breathing hitched and Robin looked at him, worried that this was too much, that he’d reopened old wounds that should have been left in peace. But then he saw the wistful smile tugging at Julian’s lips and the pride brimming in his eyes, and he knew he hadn’t made a mistake at all. Julian wasn’t sad or hurt – he was happy.

“Is okay,” Robin whispered so neither the Captain nor the others who had followed them upstairs could hear him. He stepped closer to Julian until their shoulders touched. Julian pressed back.

Together, they watched the final part of the news segment. Rachel continued to charm the reporters with her plans for the country’s future while Tony charmed the viewers by gently nudging her hand in a silent demand for a treat. When the news at last shifted to the weather forecast Julian blinked as if waking from a dream. Robin could feel the others holding their breaths, waiting for Julian to say something, to acknowledge what had just happened but Julian didn’t. Instead, he sucked in a shuddering breath, ducked his head and without looking at any of them, pushed past them to leave the room with a murmured, “Excuse me.”

Robin hurried after him.

“I’m fine, Robin,” Julian said when Robin finally caught up with him in the library. He sounded anything but. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Not babysitter,” Robin said and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “Friend.”

That one word seemed to shatter Julian’s resolve. He sank down onto the sofa and held his head in his hands, the very picture of misery even though the words he said next were the complete opposite of it. “Did you see her, Robin? She’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she? A sight to behold. Got that from her mum.”

“Not just her mum,” Robin said. He sat down next to Julian and gently tugged at his hands so he could look at his face. “From you too. She has your charm. And your dog.”

Julian laughed and hastily wiped a stray tear away. “That dog in the picture you saw? Yeah, it wasn’t mine. We hired it for the photoshoot. I think its name was Bella. Yeah, Bloody Bella. That beast tried to bite me. Twice.”

He shook his head, for a moment lost in memories.

“I wonder why Margot never told her that that picture was a lie. Or perhaps she did and Rachel wanted a beagle just to spite me.”

“No,” Robin said softly and allowed his thumb to brush over the back of Julian’s hand once and then a second time. “She clearly love that dog. Just like she love you.”

Julian shook his head. “She never knew me, Robin. She spent more years of her life with that dog than she did with me. How could she possibly–?”

He broke off and glanced away. The look of defeat on his face tore at Robin’s heart.

“She called you dad, didn’t she?” he reminded Julian softly. “And she meant it. I can tell. Her eyes did not lie. She might not remember you apart from fancy pictures but she is not angry with you. Maybe was, once, but not anymore.”

There was a moment of heavy silence. Then Julian’s shoulders started to shake as decades of pain, regret and guilt finally welled over. Robin let go of his wrist to wrap his arm around him and hold him close, to become his cave in the storm of emotions that had been boiling beneath the surface of his skin for far too long.

“I just wish I could tell her how sorry I am,” Julian at last choked out. His fingers dug almost painfully into Robin’s furs. “Ask her if she’s all right, if she’s happy.”

“Maybe one day you will,” Robin said. “She could come visit Button House.”

Julian pulled back a little and sniffed. “The place her old man died at during a sex scandal? Yeah, I don’t think so.”

His eyes were still shimmering wetly in the light of the setting sun as he sniffed but they seemed lighter somehow, no longer burdened so greatly by the past.

“Stranger things have happened,” Robin said as he remembered a time, ages ago, when two friends had fought to the death near the lake that had still been grassland back then. The victor had hastily buried the other and then, decades later, returned to dig up his friend and give him a proper burial. His friend had moved on by then but Robin had stood witness to it all, just as he did for Julian now. “Feel better?”

Julian shrugged, his cheeks slightly reddened by a mix of tears and embarrassment. “A little.”

“Good cry always help,” Robin said knowingly. “Want to go play chess? Or want to talk more?”

He wasn’t surprised when Julian picked the latter. “I’d like to tell you about her if that’s all right.”

Robin smiled and pulled one leg under him to get comfortable. “Of course.”

“First of all: she was right – I would have liked that dog of hers,” Julian began fondly.

Sadness was still lingering in his eyes and voice but there was love and affection there too as he talked about a baby girl he never got to see grow up and a young woman he’d most likely never get to meet. He would watch her grow old from afar just like Robin had watched his own children grow old a long, long time ago. It wouldn’t be easy for him – the regret and guilt of leaving a child behind never faded, not completely, but Julian would make his peace with it one day just like Robin had. And until then, Robin would stay by his side and offer him a shoulder to cry on as they watched Rachel Fawcett walk through life with her head held high and her hopes and ideals shining through in her smile. She would make the world a better place, Robin had no doubt about that, and one day she would become Julian’s legacy. Not the scandal, not his political career or personal achievements – no, it would be her; her life, the changes she would set in motion and the differences she would make in the years to come.

She would become the best thing Julian Fawcett had ever done in his life, and Robin couldn’t wait for the whole world to see it.

[katielovably]

his alarm being the three year plopping his boney butt on Tord's back listening to the men at base talk over it at full volume pretty much.

Oof. Tord complained glaring up at the toddler.

TJ, get off. Tord said.

No. TJ said.

Your such a... bacon? Tord said after smell bacon.

Wiggling out from under TJ (and the blanket) and crept to the kitchen to find Edd cooking bacon for himself before looking over to Tord.

Oi, make your own. Edd said getting a plate and putting the bacon on the plate.

I'm getting déjà vu. Tord said to TJ who paddled up.

About what? The three year old said looking up.

Never mind, what do you want to eat? Tord said walking into the the kitchen with TJ paddling at his side. Tord looked for bacon (of course, only the package remained)

Not that. TJ said peeking over the counter to where there what a loaf of moldy bread.

Morning, Tord. Mini Tord. Matt said.

Morning, Matt. Tord said find pillsbury cinnamon rolls and start baking them.

There's moldy bread. Dispose of it. TJ said (English).

TJ. Tord said ruffling the three year old's hair TJ swatting at his hand away.

Eh, looks fine too me. Matt said cutting off the moldy parts and making toast.

Nope. TJ paddled to the window pushing the chair under it and hopped on it, looking out before gasping and lowering himself in a way where he could see but can't be seen.

Tord, he's outside. Shot him! TJ said before checking if the back door was locked before going back to the chair.

You shot clones one time. Tord sighed.

I never forget. TJ hissed Tord rolled his eyes sitting with the radio listening to the men talk.

It's like hearing someone from another planet... not to insult. Matt said.

We're insulted, Matt. TJ said (English).

Awe. Matt said.

It's alright, Matt. It's like hearing English after hearing only Norwegian.Tord said.

TORD! I FOUND WHAT TJ DID! Tom called from his room.

Oh-oh. I'm not here. TJ said disappearing under the table to Tord's feet as Tom appeared.

My underwear drawer Is full of chilly powder! Tom said placing the almost empty bottle of chilly powder before Tord who glanced at it then him.

You knew, Thomas. It's alright to fight me but it's another story to make up stories to fight a three year old. Tord said as he stood after the alarm for breakfast. TJ walking with him before disappearing to the living room.

I saw that. Tom said.

No you didn't. TJ said.

Tom, have a cinnamon rolls. Tord said holding out a plate as if to say eat or we'll fight like we did in the past. TJ peeked around his leg. Before getting a cinnamon rolls himself.

They begin to eat, TJ sitting beside Tord with the radio (which Tord turned down because he was goingto lose it otherwise... also manners not militarymen talking Norwegian isn't everyone's cup of tea).

So what's the plan for today? Matt said.

I have to go to the office today. Mandatory meeting that everyone has to come in for. Tom said with a sigh.

Tord? Matt said.

We're going to be watching helicopters taking a down plane to base... TJ said before getting shushed by Tord making him glare at him.

Let me talk! Don't shush me! TJ snapped before giving a sniffle like he might cry before hearing "the children" theme song making him dash into the living room.

Why did you shush him, Tord? Matt said.

You never know what is private information in this line of work, Matt. So it's better to treat all information private until he get the ok to share information. Tord said.

Like a secret. Matt said.

Yes, Matt like a secret. Tord said.

Have anyone seen Corporal Larson? We're about to heas to London and I heard he will be with us. Private Trond Aker said.

Did you check the gun range?

He might be doing his morning run.

He might be in London eating breakfast listening to you clowns wait to get information on what's going on.Tord said in to the radio.

He talks so fast. Matt said TJ peeking at him from the door of the kitchen to Tom.

Oh, shit I'm going to be late. Tom said dashing out.

How come it's when I leave to watch my show is when they give the information. He grumbled hoping into the chair.

Awe, you're so cute, mini Tord. Matt said getting glared.

I'm not mini Tord. I only go by TJ because it's confusing otherwise. TJ said as Edd came in.

What are guys doing? Edd said.

Thank you, private Aker. See you soon. Tord said getting TJ's attention.

What? TJ said.

We need to make space for the helicopters so their bringing machinery to get rid of the trees around the air plane we found yesterday. We'll need to meet them to lead the way. Tord said (in Norwegian) to TJ.

Ok. TJ said sitting on his knees for more hight and to be closer to Tord to listen.

It's so cute hearing you talk in Norwegian. Matt said getting glared at.

You too, Corporal Larson. Is there any landmarks we can use to notify you to come meet us and a location to meet? Private Aker said (sounding like he got into a vehicle).

Hum, landmarks outside of London. Edd, you grew up in London, do you know any markers or differences outside of London. Tord said (pointing in the direction they will be coming) as Edd was about to take a bite from the cinnamon roll.

Hum, well there is a statue of a fox at the end someone's driveway. Edd said.

That could work... as long as they're only one... why am I drawing a blank on locations of gas stations? Tord said thinking.

It is. Edd said

There's a gas station on Vauxhall Street and Whitechapel road. The one on Vauxhall will be closer. TJ said.

Sometimes I wonder how all that information is contained in that little head. Tord said before passing on the information.

Did you write that all down, Private Aker? Tord said (who private.

I did, Corporal Larson. Private Aker said.

Make sure! Private Hermansen (the driver with Private Aker) was heard saying when Private Aker was talking.

Read it out, private Aker. The low gruff Norwegian voice of Corporal John Aunan said.

Whoa. Edd and Matt said.

Yeah, Corporal Aunan always gets that impression. Tord said.

Tord, we should probably also figure how to get me back to normal. That is half the reason I'm here also help my friends... and watch you shot zombies and bad guys. TJ said.

Nice save. We'll try to help you, TJ. Just let's figure this out first. Tord said.

We'll figure this out? I hope that's referring to your soldier buddies. Edd said.

Tord gave him side eye.

Really, it's an adventure. Besides look at that face. Tord said, TJ looking cute before going back to his usual gloomy look.

Besides you would basically be saving the three year old version of yourselves whose cute and kind... mince Tom who's a dick and will probably fight me or Tord would have to hold me back from not kicking his butt. TJ said folding his arms.

Why, TJ? Edd said.

He's a jerk to Edd and Matt who are my friend .... Tom came with them. TJ said.

I know you're talking about my clone but I take offense. Now I'm going i'll be back around 2 or 3. Tom said slipping on sunglasses wear a dress shirt, checker pattern tie, black pants.

You dress up nice. Tord said TJ gaged.

You ok? Tord said.

Yeah, I'm fine. TJ said walking off to watch the telly.

They made me miss the show! TJ said.

It'll be in at 6. Tord said stretching, doing the dishes before changing into the camouflage cargo pants , white undershirt under his red hoodie which in away he missed because it's nice and he fits back with the group again... yes, it's unprofessional but Tord was professional for three years.

TJ also changed into red t-shirt, back corduroy overalls pants and a black windbreaker before paddling out (white sock).

Awe! You're even cuter! Matt said as TJ walked by pausing to glare at him before sitting.

Tord leaned against the couch.

There's our Tord. Edd said making Tord smile. After last night Tord (a tired version of himself who had to put up with TJ) behavior, he needed to shape up a bit.

Tord cleaned up TJ's mess with complaints along with kicks and hits coming from TJ himself. Tord was able to catch most of the toddler's feet and hands ending in TJ being wrapped up in a blue blanket, TJ wasn't a happy burrito but Tord could finish with only hearing TJ screams of anguish and trying to free himself (Edd of course had see what the yelling was about and if TJ was ok).

TJ was put into time out. Tord had silence. Except for whimpers and TJ asking if he could get out of time out after an hour, which Tord did take him out. Just as Tord got the code word (convenient).

(4 of ???)