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annoyinglyjovialbird · 4 years

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Voltron: Next Generation

Wavering Objectives: III

Word Count: 2990

Kova padded into her attached ensuite bathroom, sighing and rubbing the back of her neck. The makeshift arm sling was starting to make a rash and the bandages were much too tight. As carefully as she could, Kova removed the bandages and rolled them into tight balls of cotton. The water ran cold, then warmed. Steam came from the top of the shower, filling the room.

Emerging from the shower, Kova wrapped her hair in a fluffy white towel and dressed in her purple pajamas. Her eyes were closed the entire time, enjoying the quiet, steam-filled room. The mirror was completely fogged up. Kova reached up to wipe it away with one hand, using the other to unwrap her hair from her towel turban. Slowly, she pats her hair dry starting from the roots to the ends and back again.

She opened her eyes, seeing green on the once-white towel. Confused, she looked up.

"CALEB!" Kova screamed. Caleb, on the other side of the door, covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. It failed.

The door opened to a furious Kova with neon green hair, clashing with her dark eyebrows, bright amber eyes, and dark purple pajamas. Caleb couldn't stop himself from choking on his own spit from laughing so hard. Kova's anger stewed while Caleb attempted to catch his breath, wiping away tears.

"What's wrong?" He managed to say, taking deep breaths. "Thought this would be the highlight of your day." Caleb's body released an unholy wheeze at his own joke. Kova, ever the lovable hothead, glared at Caleb even more than before. Her hands balled into fists at her side, shaking with anger.

"Caleb." She said, grinding her teeth. Caleb looked up, covering his mouth to restrain his laughter. "I. Am. Going. To. KILL. YOU." Kova shouted the last two words of her threat, lunging forward to grab Caleb's scrawny neck. Caleb stumbled to a stand, then ran down the halls of the Coeus. Kova ran behind him, screaming in frustration as she ran into walls, clipping her shoulder on a corner. The pair chased each other, the distance between them growing.

The other teens ignored the screams, continuing their meals. Allie stood from the lunch table to stop them when Cake placed a hand on her shoulder, sitting her back down. He shook his head, and she looked on. Eventually, she turned around, doing her best to ignore the screams.

Kova ran until the air in her lungs evaporated and the only sounds coming from her were raspy gasps for breath. Caleb stopped at the entrance to the next hallway when he realized Kova was now leaning on a support beam.

"Kova?" He asked. She gave no response. Her wheezing became more evident as the seconds passed. Caleb was going to help her when Shiro pushed past him to get to Kova.

He heard the screams and watched from the camera footage to see if they would exhaust themselves or actually kill each other. Glad it wasn't the latter, or Shiro would never hear the end of it from Curtis.

"Caleb, you know better than to prank your sister," Shiro scolded. He was holding Kova like a princess, shushing her as he strode to the med bay. Caleb ran to stay behind them but didn't say a word.

This happened before, but way more serious. Like, Kova ending up in the hospital for weeks on a ventilator serious. She had to have an oxygen tank for months afterward. No one expected it, but it happened. When she returned, the teachers started failing her without proving it. The looks on their faces when Aunt Veronica confronted them was priceless, according to Kova.

Shiro sat Kova on the edge of the bed, letting her try to catch her own breath while he grabbed the oxygen tank. It could only be assumed Kenny replaced the original oxygen tank and all its attachments, but again, it's only an assumption. The green strap was around Kova's head, clashing with her new hair color. The clear mask fogged up as Kova continued wheezing. Shiro turned it on, letting it run until Kova's breathing normalized. She reached out to turn it off when Keith barged into the room. All three Shiroganes stared at the confused Kogane, who stared right back.

Keith had his own individual observation room with shatter-proof windows, a bolted-down bed, and a door that can be opened from the outside. Kova was sitting on a small cot in the open space of the med bay only several feet away from the window to his observation room. He wondered why Kova deserved a cot while Keith had a cell.

Kova didn't pass out and wake up with murderous tendencies. No one tell him. I don't want to be thrown out.

"What happened?" Keith finally asked, shaking his head, approaching a kneeling Shiro.

"Nothing major." Shiro turned forward to turn off the oxygen tank. "Just a disagreement between siblings."

"She's wearing an oxygen mask."

"Disagreement between siblings."

"She said she'd kill him." Keith pointed at Caleb over his shoulder.

"Disagreement."

"Her hair's green."

"Are you done stating obvious facts?" Kova snapped, pulling the strap over her head to fully remove the mask. "I want to sleep now."

"Of course." Shiro stood up, holding a hand out for Kova to hold. She took it, trying not to focus too much on the swaying room. He led her to the outermost wall of the hallway, letting her hold onto the wall. The men watched her stumble towards her room until the neon green left their eyes. They returned to the bridge, busying themselves with potential plans. Caleb unofficially grounded himself, sulking in his room.

Allie and Cake approached the entrance to the bridge, where Liz was peeking into the room, completely entranced by something inside. Cake quietly approached her and blew on her ear. With a jerk of her knee, Liz rammed her knee into the metal wall.

"Quiznak!"

"Sorry!" Cake reached out to grab her before she could fall onto the metal grate floor. He didn't. Liz fell onto the metal grate floor, causing more curses to fall from her mouth. "I'm so sorry!"

Allie approached the door, peeking her head inside the doorframe. Caleb and Kova were at Caleb's chair. Kova was leaning on his desk, and Caleb was using the back of his chair for support. The most noticeable difference was Kova's bright green hair. It was hard to miss. Kova's hair was loosely braided down her back.

"Hey, look." Caleb's eyes met Allie's, and he stood to full height. "They're here."

"C'mon in, team." Kova walked up the few steps to her console. "In positions."

Liz limped inside, Cake creeping behind her, pushing Allie into the bridge much more forcefully than intended. The teens sat at their respective chairs, waiting for the adults to join them. They sat for a few minutes in silence, hoping someone would ask.

"Uh, why is your hair green?" Liz turned her chair to ask.

"It was the first box I saw on the shelf," Caleb answered casually. Kova scoffed.

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"You don't need to believe it." Caleb turned his chair, propping his chin on his fist. "You just have to accept it."

"You could've gotten firetruck red, or poopy brown, or even lilac purple!" Kova slammed her hands on the console. "But neon green and highlighter jokes were your go-to?" Caleb shrugged.

"Oh, please." Caleb waved off her concerns. "It's not /that/ bad."

"My hair is bright, neon green, Caleb." Kova aggressively pointed at her hair. "How is it not that bad?"

"Uh, Cap," Liz said. "Stop talking."

"Why?"

"Next time we go to the space mall," Kova began, studying her nails. "Maybe I should grab some platinum blonde. Ooh, no. How about some rusty copper?" Caleb physically shrank into his chair as Kova thought aloud. "Hm, Nah. How about highlighter yellow?" She smiled, staring at Caleb's retreating head.

"Try that, and you'll never see Peaches again."

"You don't like Peaches!"

The others sat confused about peaches, assuming they're Kova's favorite fruit or something when the saviors finally walked in. Kenny had foregone his cadet jacket, leaving him in a green t-shirt and black slacks and ugly brown sneakers. Keith looked more cleaned up, wearing a sleeveless gray vest with a hood, a black t-shirt, and gray pants lined with red ribbon and black combat boots. The Colonel wore his officer jacket rather than the white t-shirt he always wore around the ship. The three adults descended the staircase. As they passed, the teens sat straighter in their chairs. Shiro stood in the middle of the floor as Kenny and Keith took a space on the walls closest to Cake and Allie respectively. Allie scooted her chair closer to Caleb's line of sight and the staircase.

Guess she's still afraid of Keith.

"Alright, team." Shiro began. "We've been out here for a while, and with the latest development," He met Kova's eyes. "It's time to review, or at least, make a plan."

"A plan?" Kenny asked. Oh. I guess the other adults didn't know what the meeting was about either.

"The Lions have selected their respective pilots. The paladins have successfully formed Voltron. It's time to make a decision." Shiro met the eyes of each individual team member. "Do you want to continue fighting here or do you want to return to Earth?"

The teens sat in stunned silence. They have a choice to make. They're being allowed to make a choice?

"Caleb?" Shiro called, and all eyes landed on the Red Paladin.

"Return to Earth." He said immediately. No gasps, no pomp. Just a fact. "We're not ready for this. This is a war waiting to happen. We can't do this alone." Shiro nodded, ready to say another name, but Liz beat him to it.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm on your team and I'm supposed to agree with you, but I don't." She was looking at Caleb, turning her attention to Shiro. "If we return to the Garrison, we'll be shut out. We're dumb, undertrained kids who control Voltron. The council will put us on the frontlines without a plan."

"What she said." Cake agreed with her, pointing his finger up at Liz.

"We have the firepower. We can do more than just sit still and wait to be given orders."

"We're also undertrained," Caleb argued when Shiro held his hands up to silence the two.

"Allie," Shiro said. "What do you think?"

"I agree with Caleb," She said. "We can't fight in a war. We would be better off with help than without. I only spent a night in my dorm before all this. I can't do this again."

"Keith, Ken, I'm guessing you both agree with your respective sides." Kenny approached Cake's console, arms crossed. Keith stayed in place, hands on his hips.

"We fought in a ten-thousand-year-old war with Allura and Coran, the only surviving members of Altea. We had advanced alien technology. Our goal was to return to Earth and the Garrison." Keith stated matter-of-factly. He gestured widely to the teens in their chairs. "They're kids. They don't have what we did."

"Liz is right," Kenny spoke up. "The council won't touch them. They'll put Voltron on the frontlines without a plan, hoping that will be enough to scare off the enemies."

"They're undertrained!" Keith turned his attention from Kenny to Shiro.

"They're resourceful!" Kenny argued, getting Keith's attention.

"Alright, you two." Shiro stepped in between them to break their intense staring contest. "Kova."

"Yes, sir."

"You were the one kidnapped by the Fire. You met with their leaders in person. You're also a top student at the Garrison." He didn't have to say it. This was all on her.

"What about you?" Kova asked, gripping the railing around her console. "What are you leaning towards."

"I'm siding with the most reasonable plan." Keith scoffed, interrupting Shiro. "It's not my team anymore. It's yours." Slowly, Kova released her hands from their tight grip on the railing and let them fall at her sides and closed her eyes.

"She'll totally agree with me." Caleb had turned his chair.

"Uh, she's her own person." Liz crossed her arms. Caleb scoffed in response.

"We've been attached at the hip since we were kids. She's taking my side."

"How about you let her talk first?"

"Why don't you shove that opinion up—"

"Enough!" Kova said, rubbing her temple with a hand. "You're both annoying. And right." Kova looked up at Shiro, who raised an eyebrow. She raised her arm to her right. "We are severely undertrained. Not as a team, but individually. If we have the same goal in mind, we work well together. There's going to be a point where Voltron can't be formed and we're going to have to fight as individual Lions." Putting it down, she raised her arm to her left. "If we return to the Garrison, the council won't touch us. We're liabilities. None of us joined the LDP. It was our choice."

"The what?" Keith interrupted.

"You would've called it the Vehicle Defender Unit," Kenny answered. "It was the defense program Pi- er, Mom, helped start."

"And now it's—"

"The Legendary Defender Program. I'll catch you up later." Kenny turned to Kova and nodded his head for her to continue.

"Our curriculum was updated to include battle strategies. As pilots, we learn how to gauge our enemies' strengths and weaknesses, multiple defensive, offensive, and evasive maneuvers, and different wind speeds. As engineers, we're taught the inner workings of warships, raw materials and how to use them. As programmers, we can disable entire structures by taking out large chunks of code."

"The point?" Keith asked annoyed.

"The point," Kova glared at the man. "Is we're prepared for a war, but we haven't used those skills. Besides, even if the council includes us in their plans, they'll give me the plan to execute. I'm the head, I'm the leader, and I'm the top student. If the plan fails, it'll be on me."

"Kova, that's not—"

"If we return to Earth, we won't be given a second glance, by the council or anyone else in the universe." Kova gripped the railing again, her tirade coming to an end. "We should stay, fight and learn as much as we can before we return to Earth and deal with the council." Caleb's eyes widened, and Liz looked surprised. Did Kova really choose left?

"Alright team," Shiro said, climbing the stairs. "Get ready to travel through a wormhole." Kenny climbed the stairs after Shiro and walked out of the bridge to head down to the engine room below. Keith stared at Shiro's retreating back. Keith chased after Shiro, maybe to argue his point. The teens didn't care. They followed their orders.

As the wormhole opened before them, a heavy blast rocked the Coeus. The ship's inner alarm system went off as the teens tried desperately to right the Coeus. It had gone off its directed course, heading for mere feet away from the wormhole that had opened up.

Down below in the engine room, Kenny was trying to override the alarms. It was refusing to shut off, citing critical damage on the left side of the ship. Kenny tried to turn on the particle barrier around the ship, receiving an error message instead. Kova's face appeared on the huge screen on the engine room console.

"Kenny!" She shouted to be heard over the blasts. "Where's the particle barrier?"

"There isn't enough energy in the reserve to power it!" Kenny yelled back, being shaken like a ragdoll.

Up on the bridge, Kova stared at the small fleet of ships firing incessetnaly on the Coeus. There was no way the Coeus would survive if they didn't activate the particle barrier. A million thoughts raced through Kova's head, then she took over.

"Shirogane, Griffin, Smythe," Kova barked, earning their attention. "Report to your Lions. Garrett, report to the engine room." The teens didn't say a word, doing what they were told without a second word. Allie went along with them, sparing Kova a second glance. "Holt, transfer all remaining, unused power to the particle barrier."

"But that will shut off the lights!"

"Afraid of the dark?" Kenny groaned in annoyance, doing what he was told. The firing stopped as the Coeus went dark, becoming an empty shell. Up on the bridge, Kova steered the Coeus toward the wormhole, still open in the sky. It was hard. It demanded much from Kova's body. But it got the job done.

Red, Blue, and Green fired on the fleet of ships, hitting many in wings and thrusters. Blue fired several blasts, encasing ships in ice. Green flew around them, getting fired on while Red cut through them like butter with their blade.

"Everyone through the wormhole!" Kenny shouted over the earpieces. Red, Green, and Blue stopped their attacks and flew towards the closing wormhole. They weren't going to make it. Pushing their Lions even faster than they have ever pushed them, the trio raced each other to the wormhole.

They cut it close by a tail, but they made it through. The teens cheered, thanking Allura they made it through. One by one, they reentered the bridge to celebrate. They stopped at the entrance.

Kova was kneeling on the ground, holding her arm. In front of her, Keith was redirecting the console, traveling to Earth. That was in the opposite direction they were heading. Caleb, furious at seeing Kova hurt and on the ground, held his bayard up to point the barrel of his weapon at Keith. Keith turned, face-to-face with it.

The map on the screen was beeping, finding the nearest geolocation.

As Keith and Caleb faced off, the beeping grew louder.

"What is that?" Keith all but shouted. Kova looked up at the screen, still holding her arm.

"We found Pidge."

#pidge #keith #kidge #shiro #kova shirogane #caleb shirogane #liz griffin #cake garrett #allie smythe #allura #Voltron: Legendary Defender #Voltron: Next generation #voltron lions #voltron #galra #galaxy garrison

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panels-of-interest · 5 years

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Daredevil vs. Mysterio.

[from Daredevil (1964) #358]

#Defenders #Daredevil #Matt Murdock #Sinister Six #Mysterio #Quentin Beck #Foggy Nelson #Liz Allan #Garrison Peabody #Rosalind Sharpe #Onslaught #Heroes for Hire #Daughters of the Dragon #Misty Knight

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runnning-outof-time · 3 years

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What’s Happened Here? | Arthur Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @marvelxmendes

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) seeks comfort at a friend's in order to help her forget her problems. But she goes a bit overboard, and her problems end up helping her.

Warnings: language, drinking, vomiting

Word Count: 2373

A/N: I think we all need a caring Arthur Shelby in our lives. Enjoy! :)

Requests are CLOSED!

———

The door to the house she shared with her boyfriend shut just as the clock struck midnight. (Y/N) sighed as she dropped the book she was reading onto the empty side of the bed before she flung the covers off of her body and exited the bedroom.

She descended the stairs, coming face to face with Arthur, who was just about to start climbing them. He looked surprised when his eyes fell on her. "(Y/N). You're still up," he voiced his surprise then.

"Yeah. And you're just coming home now," she pointed out, "what is this, Arthur? Where were you?" she dropped her hands to her hips as she looked at him expectantly.

"Tommy had a job for me to complete," he answered, looking guiltily to the floor.

"A job? What kind of job?"

"Had me runnin' errands over at the Garrison," he told her, but with one look into his eyes, she could tell that he was lying.

"The Garrison, huh? If you were at the Garrison, why do you smell like ash and smoke?" she questioned after she'd stepped forward slightly to smell his suit jacket. "You were at the yard, weren't you?" she raised her eyebrows as she hoped he'd come clean.

"I was," he nodded.

"And what were you doing at Charlie's yard?"

"I was...er, helping him with...disposal," he was hesitant to answer. (Y/N) almost let off of him because she saw how guilty he looked, but she knew she couldn't. They'd agreed that he'd go straight from this type of work. That it was dragging him down mentally and that it was no longer good for him to keep up. But here he was again, standing in front of her like a child that had just been called down to the headmaster's.

"Disposal, eh? And I can only imagine what type of things you were disposing of," she nodded her head, sarcasm seeping into her words. "You know, you make me sick, Arthur," she told him then, a look of disapproval on her face before she spun around to walk back up the steps.

"Well what the fuck am I supposed to say to me own brother then? I can't just tell him that he can't count on me to do any of that work anymore," Arthur countered as he also ascended the steps, following her right into their bedroom.

"Yes, you can! You can and you said you were going to!" (Y/N) exclaimed in response, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "You know how doing these kinds of things makes you, Arthur. That's why you said you'd step away from it."

"(Y/N)..." he trailed off with a sigh, watching as she scrambled around the room to get some normal clothes on once more. "Come on, (Y/N), what are you doing?"

"I'm getting out of here," she answered as she grabbed her purse from the vanity it was sitting on. "I can't stand to be around you when you've done such things," she hissed as she tried to step past him. He stayed in the middle of the doorway.

"Come on, (Y/N)...love, we can work this out," he tried, reaching out to take hold of her, but she just flinched away from him.

"No. Don't touch me. Don't touch me with those...devilish hands and tell me we can work this out," she snapped at him, "the only way this will work out is if you get out of that life completely, Arthur Shelby!" she exclaimed, finally pushing past him to exit the house.

She had one place in mind as she took off down the street. One place where she knew she'd be able to go, whose occupants she knew would be up at a time as late as this.

—

"(Y/N)!" Darcy cheered as she opened the door. "(Y/N), come in!" she almost immediately stepped aside so that the woman standing at the front porch could enter the house. "Liz! Come see who's here!" she then called to her sister before leading (Y/N) into the kitchen.

"(Y/N)!" Elizabeth, Darcy's sister, greeted (Y/N) in the same manner as she threw her arms around her in a hug almost immediately. (Y/N) accepted it with a soft smile.

She knew she could count on Darcy and Elizabeth, regardless of the time of day. They were the two, crazy sisters who lived down the street from her and Arthur's house, and she had befriended them quite quickly after they'd moved to where they were currently living. Surprisingly enough, they didn't know of the Shelby name or the things it was tied to. So when (Y/N) went to them to vent about what was happening with Arthur, she was able to do so freely.

"Having troubles again, deary?" Darcy questioned as she noticed the darker circles around the other woman's eyes.

"Is it that obvious?" (Y/N) laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head slightly before she answered the question, "yeah. And I bet you can guess with what," she sighed.

"Oh I know already," Darcy nodded her head before she stepped over to her pantry, "and you know how to help with those problems, right?" she stated with a grin before she produced an unopened bottle of wine.

"Oh, Darc...I'm not sure if I should be drinking any of that tonight," (Y/N) was hesitant on the idea.

"Nonsense," Elizabeth was the one to wave her off, already coming over to the table with three glasses in her hands. She set them on the table, and as Darcy began pouring the wine between them, (Y/N) thought: why not?

—

Three hours and a bottle of wine later, (Y/N) was in a much better mood. She, Darcy, and Elizabeth were laughing up a storm about whatever nonsense came into their minds. Half of the topics weren't even relevant at this point.

"So you still haven't told us about your man problems yet, (Y/N)," Elizabeth was the one to point out once their laughter had died down.

"Didn't have enough wine in me yet," (Y/N) responded, tipping her glass to them before she took another sip.

"So you'll tell us now?" Darcy looked on eagerly, curling her legs up next to her on the couch.

(Y/N) sighed, deciding that it might make her feel better if she got it off of her chest. "It's Arthur..." she trailed off, trying to think of the right words before she continued, "he's went and has again done the thing he swore he wouldn't."

"The thing that screws him up...in the head?" Elizabeth checked before she said any more.

"Yes," (Y/N) nodded, another sigh escaping her lips.

"And why does he do it?" Darcy was the one asking now.

"Because of his family. It has a lot to do with the company his family runs, and the types of business they're involved in," (Y/N) tried to explain it more without giving many details away.

"If it's work then why can't he just leave it?" Darcy asked as if it was a no-brainer.

"See that's what I think, but it's the loyalty to his brother that he can't get past. That's what keeps him going back."

"Then to hell with him!" Elizabeth cheered out of nowhere, bubbly giggles escaping her lips afterwards because she'd just realized what she'd said. The other two ladies burst into giggles as well, and the topic of Arthur was dropped for a riveting discussion on when the best time to plant perennials is.

—

"Ok, ladies. I think I'm about ready to go home," (Y/N) stated as she stood from the couch she'd been perched on for who knows how long. Trusting her legs too much, she immediately buckled under her weight. Luckily she managed to catch herself on the arm of the sofa. And of course, this was funny. So the three spent about another minute giggling about it. "Ok. Now I'm really ready to go home," she stated once her laughter had subsided.

"Be safe on the walk home!" Darcy chirped as she led (Y/N) to the door.

"Yeah! Don't get jumped by a rabbit!" Elizabeth called from where she was still sitting in the living room, giggling to herself.

"I hope your problems with Arthur get sorted out," Darcy told her as they stopped at the door. For once that evening, Darcy's laughter had been completely put aside. She was all seriousness now.

"Thanks, Darc. I hope it does too," (Y/N) pouted slightly as she responded to her friend. She really hoped that Arthur wouldn't be mad at her and that he'd still be at the house when she returned. "Also thanks for opening your home to me...again," she smiled as she leaned in for a hug.

"It's always open," the other woman assured her, "especially when men are being pains," now the giggles were back. (Y/N) didn't let herself get sucked into them, because if she did, she'd be there for at least another hour. She knew she needed to get home.

"I'll be going now," she stated, turning the knob on the door so that she could exit the house. After saying her final goodbyes to the two ladies that were currently screaming them back at her, she started her walk down the street to where she and Arthur lived.

It wasn't until she stepped through the front door of her house that she felt her stomach turn. Guessing it was just the change from the cold of the outside to the warmth of the inside, she stepped further into the house and shut the door. Then, she felt everything she'd eaten and drank that night start to rise. Covering her mouth with her hand, she made a dash to the washroom, thankful that they had one downstairs. She just made it to the toilet when she started to throw up, hating the burning feeling it left in her throat.

Arthur was upstairs sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there. The drink didn't help, the snow didn't help, and smoking never did. He knew what the only thing that could make him feel better was...and she was currently out of the house. So he stayed seated, rubbing his temples in attempts to calm himself down.

Then he heard the front door shut. Knowing that was (Y/N) returning from wherever she'd been, he lifted his head to listen for her footsteps to ascend the stairs. Scenarios immediately started running through his mind as he thought of ways to make it up to her. But he never got to act on any of them because shortly after the door shut, he heard the sound of someone retching. That had to be her.

So he rushed down the steps and into the washroom to find her curled over the toilet, throwing up the contents of her stomach. "Oh, love..." he spoke softly so as not to scare her with his sudden presence. She looked over at him as she heard him speak and immediately felt self conscious. She didn't want him to see her like this. "What's happened here?" he asked as he moved to her side.

"I guess I drank too much," (Y/N) admitted with a sigh, wiping the tears that escaped her eyes with the back of her hand as she looked over at him bashfully. "Wine never mixes with an empty stomach...excuse me!" she rushed the end of her sentence as she started to vomit again. Arthur was quick to grab the sides of her hair that had fallen with her head, making sure that they wouldn't get puked on. He rested his hand on the middle of her back and began to rub it softly, hoping that it would soothe her. "I hate that you have to see me like this," she sighed, wiping her mouth as she finished once again.

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at her words. "You've seen me at my worst, (Y/N). Which is...much worse than this," he reminded her.

She laughed slightly, "you're right," she agreed with him. They'd been through some tough times throughout their three year long relationship.

"So this is the least that I can do for you," he told her, kissing the side of her head. His lips only stayed for a quarter of a second because (Y/N) was pushing him far away from her as she started vomiting again. Again, Arthur started rubbing circles into her back.

"Ugh, I'm never drinking again," she groaned as she stopped throwing up. Her eyes were feeling heavy as she looked over to Arthur. "Which means you've gotta give up the things that drive me to this," she told him, the alcohol still present in her system giving her no filter.

"I'll try, love," he gave her the best response that he could. He knew he couldn't promise her that he'd give it up completely. He had to remain loyal to his brother and to his family's business. "You think you're about done?" he asked after she hadn't thrown up in a few minutes.

"I think maybe," she nodded her head, sighing as she stood up slowly with his help. She then moved over to the sink and took in a couple mouthfuls of water so that she could rinse the disgusting taste out of her mouth. "I wanna go to bed now," she said then, and Arthur nodded, helping her up the stairs to their room.

(Y/N) got changed out of her clothing and back into her nightgown before she moved to her side of the bed. Slipping under the covers, she smiled as Arthur turned off the light and joined her on his side of the bed. She closed her eyes as he draped his arm over her stomach and pulled her into him. She didn't last long laying there though, because in a matter of minutes, she was up and dashing to the washroom to vomit again. It was certainly going to be a long night.

———

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @look-at-the-soul

Masterlist

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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randalsgrave · 2 years

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Sweetness and Light: Part Three

HOLY FUCKING WOW THIS TOOK LONG ENOUGH

Remember last time when I said "wow this was a lot longer than I thought it was going to be"? Yeah, I absolutely ate that with this third part. Shit totaled out at 18 pages. EIGHTEEN. Part three might as well be a damn book (and probably won't be the only one from now on, heh).

Anyway. I'm so sorry for the long wait on this; y'all have been so patient and I'm so excited to share this with you.

It's day one at TOPGUN, and things get off to an *interesting* start.

BobxFemale!OC. F/C: Kacey Rohl

Word count: 6.8K (holy shit you guys)

Warnings: Colorful language; not beta-read (we die like men); minor editing

Recommended soundtrack: Witch in the Cut - Milo Korbenski; 6'1" - Liz Phair

***

Whether it’s due to nerves or having gotten a lot of sleep the evening before, Katie is out of bed and moving at 0500 the next morning. There’s an hour left before her first alarm is due to go off, and a good three before she’s expected to be butts-in-seats in the schoolhouse, but her brain’s far too wired to settle down for more rest. No matter, she thinks. It’s time she wouldn’t normally have to herself.

So, Katie makes the most of it. She throws on a playlist loaded with Drop Nineteens, Lush, and Milo Korbenski, and relishes in the extra time: she steps in for a shower longer than the 10 minutes she usually allocates, does a full skincare routine, braids and twists her chestnut hair into a tight, neat bun. Hell, she even has time to sit down with a cup of coffee and watch the sky transform on the horizon.

And all before she’s even in uniform.

That in itself is another slow ritual for Katie. It’s probably her favorite one, if she’s being honest - the boot socks and black undershirt, followed by her patch-bedecked flight suit and her spit-shined flight boots… she feels like a superhero transforming for action, a real-deal, hot-shot, high-flying Wonder Woman. She knows she’s hot shit - but in her uniform? The feeling is ten times stronger.

It’s closing in on 0615 by the time she’s all suited up. By this point, breakfast down in the lobby is in full swing, which works perfectly for Katie, who’s already feeling the effects of her metabolism kicking in. She digs out her tan garrison cap from one of her suitcases, grabs her wallet, car keys, and sunglasses off the kitchen counter, and heads downstairs to grab a bite to eat. Who knows? There may very well be other candidates there that she can meet and interact with.

Almost laughably, she’s wrong. It’s dead downstairs in the lobby and at the breakfast bar. It’s strange, Katie thinks; for being a Navy Lodge on one of the busiest naval bases - if not the busiest naval base - on the west coast, it’s a damn ghost town. Granted, it is only 6 in the morning, but it’s the start of the work week, and surely there are bound to be people here who start their day much earlier than others, right?

Apparently not.

Oh well. At least she won’t have to fight people for food from the breakfast bar.

After sticking her garrison cap in one of her leg pockets, Katie grabs a plate, loads it up with home fries, a couple pieces of bacon, and a made-to-order omelet filled with cheese, tomato, and spinach, then takes a seat at one of the many empty tables in the dining area. She positions herself so she’s directly facing the entryway, able to see the comings and goings of the morning, to people-watch. She finds that people are at their most interesting during the wee hours of the morning, when they’re awake but not quite, waiting for their brains and filters to come fully online. She’s seen some pretty interesting behavior during past moments of observation, and she doesn’t doubt that this morning will be no different.

Or so she hopes.

It’s still a good half hour before Katie starts seeing other signs of life in the lodge. Most of what she sees isn’t out of the ordinary - people in their PTUs and NWUs, marching out of the building and off to wherever their duty takes them without so much as a breath spent. Hardly the stuff of curiosity.

Where it starts getting interesting is when people trickle into the dining area to grab breakfast - and at 0700, Fanboy and Halfpint are among the stream.

Katie holds a hand up. “Mornin’ kids,” she greets around a mouthful of omelet.

While Halfpint responds with a grunt before shuffling off to the coffee bar, Fanboy nods in reply and takes the seat opposite Katie. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Surprisingly well-rested.”

“Why ‘surprisingly’?”

“Uh, because I was up at five.”

“Jesus, why?”

Katie makes a face, shrugs. “I dunno, overabundance of sleep? Nerves?”

“Pfft, what are you nervous about?” Fanboy asks, brows furrowed equally in amusement and confusion. “You’re one of the best pilots in the Navy. Why do you think you’re here?”

Halfpint, returning from the coffee bar with a full-to-the-brim cup of dark roast in one hand and a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in the other, scoffs as he sets his things down and takes the seat to Fanboy’s left. “Says my fuckin’ backseater,” he grumbles. “All you do is point and shoot.”

“Yeah, but I do it real good.”

Halfpint shrugs one shoulder, nods, the closest thing to a concession he’s willing to give at this hour. “That you do, my Floridian friend, that you do.”

“You love me, you really do.”

“Aaaaaand you ruined it.”

“Well damn, Kozer, just say we aren’t cool anymore and I’ll go hang out with my other friend. At least she’ll be nice to me.”

Although Katie’s chuckling at the bickering between the pilot and his WSO, inwardly she’s beaming. It’s nice to have someone openly admit that she’s their friend, no matter if it’s being said in jest to someone else. Considering how little friendship she had coming into TOPGUN, she needs more of it in her life. Hell, she might even consider calling Halfpint a friend, too. (That one’s debatable, though.)

They scarf down their breakfasts around conversation and the occasional jab at one another, finishing around 0730 - a nice, leisurely-paced half-hour, a rare privilege for people in their line of work. It may well be the only time that they get to take their sweet time on a Monday morning; after today, who the hell knows when they’re going to get another time like this?

Katie’s the first standing, positioning her garrison cap just so on her head and slipping on her sunglasses, calm and cool and collected. “Ready whenever you guys are.”

“I’m ready, but gimme a sec. Gotta take a picture real quick.” Fanboy takes his phone out from his left pocket and pulls up his camera, much to the annoyance of Halfpint.

“Dude, a picture? Are you fucking serious?”

“Oh shut up, it’s not for me; it’s for my mom. This is like the Navy’s equivalent of the first day of school. She’d kill me if I didn’t send her a picture.”

Halfpint, though he rolls his eyes hard enough for his pupils to practically disappear into his head, relents and takes position behind Fanboy (though not without putting on a pair of black Pit Vipers and sporting the most unenthused look). Katie, meanwhile, shrugs, sticks her tongue out, and flashes a peace sign with her right hand. It’s good-enough posing for Fanboy, who snaps the picture with a grin, then sends it off in a text to his mom, the caption “First day of school vibes” below it.

“Can you send me that?” Katie asks as they pass through the hotel entryway. “I wanna send it to my sister.”

“Yeah, no prob. Here.” Fanboy fires off another text, and three seconds later it dings through on Katie’s phone. “If you put it on Insta or whatever lemme know, ‘cause I’m gonna wanna tag myself.”

“Mexican, my ass,” Halfpint mutters as he places his garrison cap on his head and lines the point up with the bridge of his nose. “You’re the biggest white girl walking, I swear.”

“Hey Kozer, anybody ever tell you what an abrasive douche you are?” Katie’s question sounds sweet enough and her smile doubly looks it, but there’s no missing the barb behind them. She’s getting just the tiniest bit tired of this guy’s shitty witticisms.

Whether or not the words faze him, Halfpint shrugs as they make their way through the parking lot. “I am what I am.”

“You wanna know why his callsign’s ‘Halfpint’?” Fanboy chimes in, lips quirked in a smirk.

“You mean there’s an explanation besides ‘he’s short’?”

“Hey, fuck you!”

“Well yeah, obviously that, but like, that whole ‘abrasive douche’ thing you brought up earlier? That’s why.”

Katie’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not following.”

At that, Fanboy heaves a sigh. “Halfpint: Hardheaded Angry Little Fucker Possibly In Need of Therapy. Following now?”

“Yeah…” Katie first looks at Fanboy, then Halfpint, then at Fanboy again, and Halfpint again - and snickers. “Boy, y’all hit the nail on the head with that one.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’m an angry little shit, hee-hoo funny. Who’s driving?”

Katie gives her car keys a jangle. “I am - and I don’t wanna hear shit from you about my driving, or your small ass is getting booted.”

Though he rolls his eyes, Halfpint doesn’t give much else of a response beyond a curt nod. It’s a good-enough response for Katie, who bobs her head in satisfaction before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the 4Runner up. Liz Phair’s 6’1” immediately beats forth from the speakers, something that brings a small smile to Katie’s lips. Talk about a song to set the tone for the day.

She sings to herself as she backs out of the space and crawls down the aisle, turns and weaves through the sea of cars and motorcycles. For having been awake as long as she has, and for having put up with some fairly questionable shit from Halfpint, Katie’s in a good mood. She’s had her coffee, had a good breakfast, and now she’s on her way to 13 weeks of elite training with some good people, singing along with Liz Phair about standing tall and kicking ass. Hell, it seems like nothing can go wrong, like nothing’s going to bring her down.

And then everything goes to shit before she’s even out of the parking lot.

There’s a car sitting perpendicular to the exit, a black Nissan Altima with pink diamante license plate frames, and that’s all it’s doing - sitting. The driver inside seems to be looking everywhere but at the road in front of her - waiting on someone, maybe? Katie’s not sure. Either way, she’s not moving, she’s not paying attention, and Katie isn’t interested in sitting around and wasting time.

So, Katie turns.

Turns out it’s the wrong decision.

No sooner does she complete the turn than the girl behind her lays on her horn. She doesn’t tap it, doesn’t push it - no, she lays on it, blasts a long, shrill screech into the otherwise calm atmosphere. Then, as if that isn’t enough to underscore how upset she is, she pulls out from behind Katie and races up beside her, passenger window down so she can shout profanities and filth at her, mostly in Spanish. Katie’s no expert, but she’s pretty sure she gets called ‘a piece of shit’ and ‘bitch’, among other things. She’s still shouting when she rolls up her window and takes off, a pink, girly-scripted sticker reading “If you’re gonna ride my ass then at least pull my hair” the last thing anyone sees as she peels down the road and vanishes.

For a moment, all Katie can do is park the car and sit in stunned silence. There’s at least five seconds of confused blinking as the three try to process what exactly just happened. Was… Was that actually real?

Katie’s the first to speak, though she stutters just the tiniest bit. “...What the fuck was that?”

Fanboy’s bottom lip curls and he shakes his head. Like he’s got any clue.

“She sounded like a peach,” Halfpint mutters.

“First time anyone’s ever called me pendeja,” Katie mumbles. “What on earth…”

In any case, she’s hoping that it’s a one-time occurrence.

Sighing, Katie puts the 4Runner in drive, and steers them in the direction of the hangars and aviation buildings. They’ve got shit to do; there’s no time to dwell on the poor behavior of people around them.

It’s a 10-minute drive from the lodge to where they’re supposed to be. By the time Katie pulls them into the parking lot and shuts the car off, it’s closing in on quarter to 08. It’s still not quite the start of the day, but it’s getting close. As such, there’s no time for them to sit in her car and relax. It’s go time.

At least, that’s what runs through her head before she sees a black Altima two parking aisles ahead of her - the same one from earlier, with the sarcastic window decal and diamante license plate frames and everything. Katie groans. Suddenly she’d much rather sit in her car and disappear from sight - anything to not have to deal with her.

“The hell are you groaning for?” Halfpint frowns.

“Remember our lovely lady friend from earlier?” Katie points to the Altima. “Guess she’s one of our classmates.”

“Or an instructor.”

“Oh god, don’t say that.”

“Well, whatever she is, she’s definitely gonna be out for your ass.”

Apparently, the girl in question can sense when people are talking about her, because no sooner do the words leave Halfpint’s mouth than she’s getting out of her car and making long, fast strides towards the 4Runner - and if looks could kill? Oh boy.

Her name is Melendez, callsign Famine, according to the name patch on her flight suit - and she looks ready to rip the damn door off.

She scowls, slams the side of her fist into Katie’s window. “You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, pendeja, cuttin’ me off like that,” she all but yells, Bronx accent coming in thick and aggressive. “I ‘oughta beat your fuckin’ ass for that.”

Oh great. Just what Katie needs - an angry latina from New York.

This is so not what she wants to be dealing with at quarter to 8.

Katie closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t cut you off. You were sitting in the middle of the road looking at your phone or whatever. Don’t know what to tell you.”

“Bitch, I was waiting for people to cross the road!”

Oh, for the love of Christ - “There was no one there when I turned. Not my fault you weren’t paying attention.”

“I don’t fuckin’ care! You shoulda’ waited for me to go first! Or do you not know how to fuckin’ drive? Probably not - little blanquitas like you don’t really know shit.”

Katie was already tired of the conversation before it even started - but now, after this shit, after being called ‘whitey’? She’s doubly fed up with it.

She opens her eyes, musters up as bored and unimpressed of an expression as she can. “I’m gonna go inside now,” she states. “If you wanna keep screaming out here then you go right ahead.”

Then, she throws open her door (she takes a tiny amount of pleasure in seeing Melendez jump back and well out of her way), hops out of the 4Runner, and walks off towards the schoolhouse without another word. If this girl wants to have issues with her, then that’s her problem, but god knows Katie isn’t going to sit around and tolerate getting yelled at by her.

She soon finds herself flanked by Fanboy and Halfpint as she’s crossing through the doorway and into the building. Fanboy can’t seem to stop shaking his head, and Halfpint… Well…

“Jesus Christ Garcia, anybody ever tell you your women are fucking terrifying?”

“Don’t need to tell me, bro; I’m just as freaked out as you. Fucking yikes.” Fanboy practically shudders at the thought of the last few minutes.

“She’s one spicy mamacita, I’ll tell you that.”

“Halfpint,” Katie says in a clipped voice, “I literally never wanna hear those words come outta your mouth again.” Does it come off a bit more harsh and blunt than she’d intended it to? Maybe a little bit. At this point, though, Katie doesn’t really care. This girl’s put her in a bad mood and she’s pissed about it. It’s certainly not the mood she wants to be in on her first day at TOPGUN.

She stops, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She needs to calm down. She can feel her blood pressure rising and that’s about the last thing she needs happening in a place like this. She especially doesn’t need Fanboy putting a hand on her shoulder and asking her if she’s okay. She has to get her shit together, she has to. She can’t have him - or anyone, for that matter - thinking any less of her.

No one likes a drama queen, Katherine Mae, NO ONE.

Katie’s jaw tenses. Carrie and her bullshit again, haunting her. Fuck that - and fuck her. She’s not letting her in her head, not now.

She takes another breath. “I’m gonna go sit down and… chill out. Y’all can do whatever. I just… don’t wanna be out here when that psycho shows up again.”

Then, she peels off from Fanboy and Halfpint, and makes her way down the hall to their designated classroom. With any luck, it should still be empty when she gets there. She needs peace and quiet, someplace to calm down and gather her thoughts - and, ideally, it needs to be someplace free from people she knows.

Fortunately, it is.

Almost.

There’s only one other person sitting in the classroom when Katie walks in. He’s got his back to the doorway, and he’s settled forward in his seat, weight on his forearms, right hand drumming an idle tattoo with a black ballpoint pen. His head is up, gaze straight forward and fixed on the whiteboard at the front of the room. He is, in every way, the picture of quiet focus, readiness.

Or anxiety.

Either way, he doesn’t seem too likely to bother her or be an asshole to her while she recalibrates. He seems… quiet. Pleasant. Certainly more pleasant than other people in the vicinity.

She says nothing as she takes a seat at the table across the aisle from him. For a moment, she simply observes. So deep in his trance is the stranger that he doesn’t even notice he has company; his gaze remains forward, and the pen in his hand continues to tap, tap, tap, on and on into the quiet of the empty room. It’s very methodical, very laser-focused - very on point for a WSO, which is what she’s guessing he is.

Katie can’t help but curl her lips in a half-smile as she watches him. “You seem eager,” she states. Christ, she hopes the statement comes across as kind and not taunting.

The stranger, jolted out of his trance, looks over at her, ocean-blue eyes blinking behind the large wire frame glasses on his face. He seems to almost study her for a moment before replying.

“Sort of? It’s nerves more than anything. Just… Trying to channel it into something else. Like positive nervousness.” He smiles tightly at her, but by no means is it unfriendly. It’s the smile of someone who’s not really used to socializing with people. Interestingly, Katie finds it endearing.

“Positive nervousness… I like it.” She pauses, one second, two seconds - then stretches across the aisle and holds a hand out. “I’m Sand Trap.”

He takes her hand in his, gives it a single shake. “Bob.”

“Leading with your first name, huh?”

“Oh no, it’s my callsign.”

“…Your callsign is your name?”

“It’s… kind of a long story,” he explains, almost with a wince.

“Huh.” It’s the first time Katie’s ever heard of something like that. Then again, there’s a first time for everything.

Guess it’s a good thing they’ve got the next 13 weeks together; she’s gonna want to hear that story at some point.

Before she has a chance to open her mouth and reply, Fanboy and Halfpint waltz in, accompanied by others none of them have seen before, all of whom swagger to their seats with all the bravado and overbearing confidence she’s come to expect from most pilots. She gets the sense that most of these guys haven’t been humbled in their careers before. They walk too tall, smirk too hard. Katie’s no expert by any means, but she’s smart enough to know that she’s here to learn, not show off. Looking at Fanboy and Halfpint, she can only hope that they realize this, too.

“You ready for this?” Fanboy whispers to Katie excitedly as he passes by her.

Katie snorts in reply. “Dunno. I’ll let you know when my brain starts processing again.”

“Yeah, you better get it processing again fast,” Halfpint chimes in as he takes his seat beside Fanboy. “You in the jungle now, baby. And you gonna die.”

Ignoring the fact that Fanboy’s pilot literally just quoted Guns n’ Roses at her, Katie shakes her head and gives a hard roll of her eyes. “Cocky ass,” she mutters. God, if there’s anyone who’s in for a rude awakening over the next 13 weeks, it’s definitely him.

And speaking of people who are in desperate need of an ego check… She’s in the classroom now, strolling - no, sauntering - up the aisle to the front, large iced coffee in one manicured hand, lips fixed in a smirk. When she walks by her, noisily swirling the contents of her coffee tumbler, Katie can’t help but think of a rattlesnake flicking its tail. She knows she’s in the shit with her already, but this? This just underscores it.

Stay calm, Katie tells herself. Just stay calm. You’re not here to deal with her; you’re here to learn. Just stay focused… Just stay calm…

It’s another 10 minutes of waiting around, of twiddling thumbs and scrolling through social media for the 10th time. It’s a lot of time to sit and think, to overthink. Katie doesn’t know which is worse - waiting for the catapult to launch her, or this.

Then, at exactly 0800, hell and destiny appear in the form of a bleach-headed Lieutenant Commander in a fresh green flight suit. Though he says nothing, everyone jumps to attention as he brusquely strides to front and center. He doesn’t need to say anything. Everyone knows who he is.

The instructor.

“Seats” is all he says before turning his back to the room and scribbling things across the whiteboard. When he turns around again, he’s standing beside his name, rank, and his callsign: Lieutenant Commander Cole Everhardt, otherwise known as ‘Rubberneck’.

“Some of you may know who I am, others may not,” he begins. “Those of you who don’t know, you’re much better off. The ones who’ve heard of me know what kind of gauntlet you’re all in for these next thirteen weeks.”

Katie can’t help the way her eyebrow shoots up at the statement. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Bob is making a similar expression. Clearly, neither of them were expecting their instructor to start on that kind of note.

God, they’re gonna get their asses kicked here.

“You all know why you’re here. You” - Everhardt sweeps his arms out wide, gesturing to the pilots and WSO’s sitting before him - “are Big Navy’s best and brightest - or, at least, you will be at the end of your time here. You have a lot to learn in the next thirteen weeks. Hopefully, you’ll be able to keep up.”

They’re not even through Everhardt’s introduction when Melendez lets out a loud snicker and oh for Chrissake. Katie supposes it was only a matter of time before she piped up, but she sure wasn’t expecting her to jump on being problematic within the first 10 minutes of class.

She’s swizzling the straw in her iced coffee, flicking and clinking the ice against the wall of the cup, and it’s all Katie can do not to walk over and snatch the damn thing out of her hand. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose, like she’s trying to get under her skin (and succeeding at it, damn her).

Luckily, Everhardt (sort of) beats Katie to it. His hands are on his hips as he turns and faces Melendez with an exasperated glare on his face. “You wanna cut that out, or do I have to play bad teacher and take your shit away?”

Melendez flashes him a grin. “Nah, I’m cool,” she drawls. “I got something I wanna say though.”

“And what would that be?”

Goddamn if the grin on Melendez’s face doesn’t turn smug as soon as Everhardt asks. She’s about to start shit, Katie knows it.

“Yeah, I ain’t the one you need to be tellin’ all this to. Tell it to these bitches” - she nods her head back at the rest of the class - “‘cause they’re the ones playin’ catch-up with me.” At this, she turns full in her seat, makes eye contact with Katie. “Hope you fly better than you drive, pendeja, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

Katie’s jaw clenches and her blood boils. Jesus fucking Christ, what is this girl’s problem?

If she didn’t have a reason to do well in this course before, she’s certainly got one now.

Everhardt, meanwhile, is having none of Melendez’s bullshit. His face may be smooth and his demeanor calm and even, but it’s clear to everyone watching that he’s anything but. He’s pissed - annoyed, at the very least. And who can blame him?

“Let’s get something straight,” he starts, voice cool and words measured. “You’re a damn good pilot; there’s no mistaking that. Big Navy wouldn’t have sent you here otherwise.”

“Damn right, I am-”

“However, we are not in the business of ‘good enough,’ understand? You might’ve been good coming in, Melendez, but you can always be better. And that ‘better than everyone’ attitude you got? Get rid of that now. Cockiness and arrogance will do you no favors here at TOPGUN. You’re here to learn, just like the rest of your classmates - and as far as I’m concerned, you’re as much at the bottom of the totem pole as they are. Until you prove otherwise, any skills you have in the cockpit don’t mean shit to me. Am I clear?”

“But-”

“Am I clear, Lieutenant Melendez?”

Melendez looks so mad she could spit - but she relents, gritting out a “yes sir” before taking a loud, sharp sip on her iced coffee. Silenced - and rather embarrassingly, at that. Thank god. Katie’s certain she hears the whole room exhale a collective breath of relief.

Everhardt continues on as if the interruption never happened, launching into a rundown of class format and what they all can expect in the weeks ahead. From the sound of it, he’s going to wipe the floor with them inside the cockpit and outside it. It’s not a comforting realization, but they at least take solace in the fact that they’ll be challenged, stimulated.

Someone out there thinks you’re hot shit. It may not be Everhardt, but fuck him, Katie tells herself as she listens in, makes herself into as blank of a canvas as possible. Someone else out there thinks you’ve got what it takes to ace this. So ace this. Show them what you’re capable of.

It won’t be easy, not in the slightest - but Katie’s not one to back down from a challenge. Everhardt wants a top-notch pilot? He’s gonna get one.

Hell or high water, Katie will make sure of that.

***

Three hours later, it’s 1100, and the class is splintering off into various groups for lunch. Halfpint heads off on his own to the food court a couple blocks down, muttering something about solitude, peace, and a bowl of broccoli beef. When asked about it by Katie, Fanboy merely shrugs.

“Dude, I’ve been flying with him for years and I still don’t know what he’s talking about sometimes,” he says. “You kinda’ learn to just roll with it.”

“Fair enough. You wanna just hit up that Mexican place we went to last night? I could go for some more tacos, or a burrito or whatever.”

“I’m down. Let’s do it.”

“Sweet.”

They grab their things, walk side-by-side out of the classroom and down the hallway, covers placed just so on their heads and sunglasses perched on the bridges of their noses, casually in sync. It’s a nice feeling, this easygoingness, Katie muses.

They’re about to cross through the entryway and head outside when Katie glances to her left and catches sight of Bob, standing alone in front of a row of vending machines, mulling over his lunch options.

“Hey, wait-” She stops Fanboy with her hand on his shoulder, nods down the hall at him. Maybe it’s the look on his face, the tired, downcast one that says he’s done this a thousand times and he’s resigned to doing it a thousand more. Maybe it’s the distinct lack of people around him. Maybe it’s the vending machines, chock full of half-busted ramen packs, bags of Skittles, and semi-crushed honey buns. Whatever it is, something about the sight gnaws at Katie, makes her stomach sink.

It’s too depressing. She can’t leave him here. No way.

“Hey Bob!”

Bob jumps, snaps his head in the direction his name came from. “...Yeah?”

“C’mon, we’re going into Gaslamp.”

Had it been anyone else Katie would’ve politely asked them to come along, but with Bob, it’s an order. She gets the sense that if she’d asked, he would’ve tried to graciously decline and insist that he was fine on his own.

Too bad she’s not giving him that option.

“You got your stuff on you?” she asks.

“Uh, no, um-” His face colors, just the tiniest bit. “I didn’t think I was going anywhere, so I left it in the classroom-”

“Well, grab it and meet us outside. Not leaving without you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to drag me-”

“Yes, Bob, I’m sure.” Katie smiles at him, somewhere between reassuring, friendly, and inviting. “C’mon. Mine’s the black 4Runner out front.”

Bob gives Katie a single nod before he takes off down the hall and off to the classroom, leaving Katie behind with Fanboy - who happens to be quirking a rather sharp eyebrow at her.

“You’re inviting owl glasses along?”

Katie’s brows knit together. Where the hell did that come from?

“Yeah,” she replies, voice lilting like the answer is obvious. “He’s nice and seems like he’d be good company. Why wouldn’t I invite him?”

“Fair enough.”

Katie only sighs as she steps out into the late-morning sun and walks towards her car. It has to be because he’s backseater to Halfpint, has to be because that short, pissy little fucker’s rubbed off on him. That’s the only reason she can think of that explains why Fanboy would be coming off as judgmental or rude. IS he being rude, though? Katie wonders. Is he being rude or am I seeing things that aren’t there?

She heaves another sigh as she climbs into the driver’s seat. Whatever. She can think about it later. Right now, she’d rather enjoy her lunch.

Bob joins them in the car moments later, hopping into the backseat and taking the middle spot. Katie can tell that he doesn’t do this often; he’s sitting up straight as a board and has his hands clasped over his knees - postured, polite. It’s not relaxed in the slightest. Bless.

“So… Where are we going?”

“This taqueria we found last night,” Fanboy answers from the passenger seat. “Shit’s fire.”

“Oh. Nice.”

“Yeah, it was really good.” Katie glances in the rearview mirror at Bob, tries to make eye contact with him. “You get out into town yet Bob, check it out a little bit?”

Bob shakes his head. “Not yet. I got in pretty late yesterday.”

“Oh. Where’d you come from?”

“Oh, not far. I came from Lemoore.”

“Isn’t Lemoore, like, four hours from here?” Fanboy asks quizzically.

“Five, actually,” Bob replies with a sheepish chuckle. “It’s not far, but it doesn’t help that my work day ran later than usual.”

Katie chuckles. Yep, he’s a WSO, all right.

“Oof. Yeah, that’s no fun.”

“Eh, it is what it is. Needs of the Navy, you know?”

“The number of times I’ve heard that fucking phrase-”

“Girl, the number of times we’ve all heard that fucking phrase,” Fanboy cuts in with a snort. “I’m pretty sure that’s the only explanation for why Melendez is here.”

Katie’s face immediately goes sour at the mention of Melendez. Christ, even though it’s only been a day (fuck, a morning), she could go an eternity without ever hearing her name again and it would still be too soon.

“If the needs of the Navy require sending her to TOPGUN, then this branch is fucked,” she mutters. “I dunno whose idea that was, but it was a bad one.”

“Yeah, she’s, uh… She’s something else.” Bob’s glancing off to the side as he’s speaking, scratching the back of his head, wincing. It’s an admittedly tamer reaction than Katie’s; hell, she might as well have hissed at the mention of her. Still, his reaction makes it clear that he’s not a big fan of hers, either.

“Just… So long as she leaves me alone, then there’s no problem. At least, there shouldn’t be. I dunno.”

Fanboy lets out a loud snicker. “Leave you alone, after this morning? Nah. Guarantee you she’s gonna go out of her way to make your life hell.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” He’s not wrong - but that doesn’t mean that Katie necessarily agrees with it or wants to hear it.

It’s a short drive from base to the Gaslamp district, a series of left and right turns that bring the three to a stop in front of the taqueria from last night. Unlike last night, though, the taqueria is packed today - packed with service members in uniform, no less. It seems that Katie isn’t the only one who’s a fan of this place.

The three make their way inside to order their food, then shuffle through the throng of patrons to a booth in the far back corner. It’s cramped, but it’s of little concern to them. If anything, it adds to the ambiance of the place.

“Damn,” Fanboy whistles as he unwraps the foil encasing his chicken-stuffed Cali burrito. “I don’t remember it being this packed last night.”

Katie’s already swan diving into a steaming carnitas mulita when he makes the comment. She chuckles as she tears a large bite out. “Lunch rush, peanut. Guess we weren’t the only ones craving Mexican food.”

“I can see that.” He rips a chunk out of his burrito, ponders as he chews. “Reminds me of this Cuban place I used to go to in Miami. It’d be swamped with locals and tourists and you’d be lucky to get counter space, much less a booth in the back corner. Holy shit, though, that food was something else. Worth the insanity and then some.”

"Florida, huh? You from the area?”

“Sure am. Born in St. Pete, raised in Pensacola.”

“Nice.”

“Not really. I have to go to Miami for any decent ‘brown people’ food. It’s all Krystal and Waffle House where my family is.”

“Hey, don’t you disrespect Wa-Ho now,” Katie tuts jokingly.

“I’m a born and raised Florida man; I’ll do whatever I damn-well please.”

“Smartass.”

They spend the lunch hour swapping stories and jokes, spend it discussing life, the navy, and everything in between.

At least, Katie and Fanboy do. Bob, on the other hand, is quiet, keeps to himself and his food, speaks only when he’s asked a question - which isn’t often, Katie notices. She’s not sure why, but it bothers her. She knows he’s not being standoffish; he doesn’t strike her as that kind of person.

So why is he not engaging with them?

“You okay, Bob?”

“Wha- yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking, is all.” He’s sitting the same way he was in the classroom and in the back of the 4Runner, all stiff and proper-like. His enchilada plate sits to his left, half-eaten and picked at, the byproduct of a fast-working, anxious-vibing WSO. To hell with just 'thinking'; Bob looks like he's trying to survive his lunch hour.

Katie nods to the side entrance. “You wanna go think outside where it’s a little less crazy?”

“Oh no, it’s fine; we’re gonna have to go soon anyway so what’s the point?”

“Actually, we should probably go now,” Fanboy cuts in, looking down at the watch fastened around his wrist. “Something tells me it’s gonna be a bitch getting back on base.”

“Fair. I’d rather not have Everhardt crawling up my ass about being late. Let’s go.”

“Y’all go ahead and start the car up. I gotta use the head.”

Then, Fanboy vanishes into the lunch crowd without another word, leaving Katie alone with Bob, who’s pursing his lips and twiddling his thumbs like a teenager on his first date.

Katie can’t help herself; she giggles at the sight of him. “You can relax, you know; I don’t bite.”

“I know; I’m sorry.” He reaches one hand up and back, rubs the back of his dark blonde head sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to ruin you guys’ lunch. Social situations aren’t exactly my strong suit.”

“Dude, I don’t think they’re anyone’s strong suit, especially if it’s their first time meeting someone. You’re totally fine.”

“Well,” Bob sighs, “I’m glad someone thinks so. I’m still skeptical myself.”

He’s so self-deprecating it’s almost a little heartbreaking. Katie wonders what he’s gone through to make him like this.

“You shouldn’t be. At least, I don’t think you should be,” she replies. “You’re good company and I liked having you along with us.”

His gaze is trailing towards the floor, down towards his boots. “Thanks.”

The gnawing in her stomach is back, and it’s worse. Katie may not know Bob super well, but that doesn’t mean she’s open to him being detached and hard on himself. Bob’s a nice guy; he doesn’t deserve that.

She holds an open hand out, palm side up. “Here, lemme see your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

Bob says nothing as he takes his phone out of his flight suit pocket, but it doesn’t matter. Katie can see the question in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

Oh, Bob.

Katie gives him a soft smile as she takes his phone and keys her number into his contacts. “I’m trying this new thing where I make friends with the people I fly with.” She then taps the number to call her phone, and ends the call after two rings. “And you seem like a decent-enough guy, so… Here we are.”

He’s studying her again, Bob, trying to figure her out. If Katie didn’t know any better, she’d say he’s looking at her like he’s trying to figure out if she’s lying. There’s definitely a story behind that one, a reason.

After what feels like ages of him studying her, Bob finally takes the phone from Katie’s outstretched hand and slips it back into his pocket. “Lemme know how that works out for you,” he says, quietly. “The whole ‘making friends’ thing. Can’t really say I’ve had much luck with it.” He smiles at her, but it’s tinged with sadness, disappointment - and god, if it doesn’t kill Katie a little bit.

She shrugs, speaks. Her response is just as quiet. “Hasn’t really worked out for me, either, but I’m not letting it stop me.” She pauses, looks at him directly, tries to convey as much sincerity in a single glance as she can. “I’ll be your friend if you’ll be mine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Though it’s not immediate, when Bob smiles this time around, there’s more brightness to it. It’s a nice sight that eases the twisting in Katie’s stomach.

She could get used to seeing him smile more.

Before she can open her mouth to speak more sweet words of encouragement, Fanboy re-emerges from the crowd of lunchgoers, yelling over the din of mariachi music and passionate conversation filling the taqueria. “Thought y’all were getting the car ready!”

Katie shrugs. “I dunno, we were waiting for you, I guess.”

“Wha- no! Ay-ya, come on, we gotta bounce before everyone starts rushing the main gate and we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Katie all but groans. She looks back at Bob, fixes her eyes on his. “You all set to go?”

“Yeah, I’m all set.”

“Good.” Katie pulls her keys out of her pocket, drops her garrison cap on her head. “C’mon then, let’s go.”

Bob nods, tails behind Katie and Fanboy. “Hopefully the rest of the day won’t be too bad.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Katie honestly doubts it, but she can’t bring herself to care too much. She’s more focused on the dialogue she now has with another member of her class - a nice, soft-spoken member. It’ll be interesting to see where this goes, she muses - and then smiles to herself.

With Bob around? Maybe these next 13 weeks won’t be so bad.

Maybe.

@thestagsheadsblog @everything-i-love-in-life @luckyladycreator2 @docdetective

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob top gun #robert bob floyd x female oc #female oc #lewis pullman #bob my beloved #movies #film #fanfiction #top gun #top gun: maverick

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hitchell-mope · 2 years

Text

Yeah. It’s a real coinkydink ain’t it?

#jfk #liz garrison

0 notes

getoutofthisplace · 5 months

Text

Dear Gus & Magnus,

Mom and I went to breakfast this morning at The Bagel Shop, then drove across the river to pick you two up. We ended up hanging out all day. Yiayia said everyone had a good night.

We took Big Yiayia and Magnus to Home Depot so we could get a pressure washer and some other things. I put a dent in a couple of the crosswords that Yiayia's been saving for me. Gus earned a quarter per baby oak tree that he pulled from the yard. Magnus played restaurant and helped cook dinner. We all took a family walk to the end of the street and back. A good day. But it is worth noting that Magnus won't stop saying "poo-poo" and "pee-pee" in response to everything.

Dad.

North Little Rock, Arkansas. 4.21.2024 - 10.30am.

#liz choate #elaine garrison #athena coleman #magnus choate #family #four generations

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peakywitch · 4 years

Text

Fuck Men - John Shelby

“Hello i hope you’re still accepting requests! Can i ask for one with John Shelby. Y/N goes out with her friends and gets roofied (someone put drugs in her drink) and they call john and it’s all messy and full of angst. John comes in with Arthur and Tom and they try to make her vomit it up and he’s crying and fluff at the end. Hope you’re still raking requests I really love your writing! Xx”

Warnings: drugs intoxication, alcohol, this one is little disgusting sorry

words: 1580

masterlist

I ain't got time for you baby, either you're mine or you're not

Make up your mind sweet baby, right here, right now's all we got

Although The Garrison was one of the best pubs in town, the one run by the Germans, Die Rotte, a few blocks from it was best for having an actual good time. That's where you could find Y/N and her girlfriends every other Friday night. They weren’t exactly women exclusive, but only the best men could get inside.

It was quite a delightful place, to be honest. White walls, art deco everywhere, good alcohol, an amazing band who played the best Charleston in town. The night was one of the best nights. It was a chilly summer night, so dresses were being shown off.

“Y/N, try this!” screamed Lizzie with ecstasy, handing her a glass.

“What is it?” she asked from the table, seeing her friend coming from the bar.

“It’s called Fallen Angel! It tastes like lemon and...just try it!” Lizzie had a beautiful smile on her face, maybe it was snow or the facts that she had gotten a proper job.

A little party never killed nobody, so we gon' dance until we drop

A little party never killed nobody, right here, right now's all we got

“Ok, I’m in. Get me one!” she smiled, after swallowing the exotic greeny drink.

Lizzie started her way once again to the bar and after Y/N held a small conversation with Ada, who was almost as drunk as Lizzie, she came back.

“Here is to us, ladies.” she started to distribute the questionable amount of alcohol between the six women on the table “Fuck being a fuckin’-” she interrupted herself “Fuck men!”

“Fuck men!” the other women chorused, but Y/N could only smile.

She was the only one who got a decent love story. But a decent love story won’t stop anyone from drinking a whole glass in just ten seconds, does it? No, it doesn't.

Time passed by and the night was getting better and better, almost like a movie. The dance floor was filled with sweaty couples dancing non-stop to some loud charleston that rumbled in their hearts, threatening to leave their bodies.

Her legs started to feel weaker, but she knew that was alcohol because it’s the first sign: fragile legs. She knew the others were feeling the same, because they had taken the same amount, or even more.

“I need air!” screamed Y/N, trying to make Ada understand her over the music.

“You need her?” asked her sister in law in return, the music had her going.

“I need…!” she began again, the room started to spin faster and faster, the trumpets were making her head weight and her ears buzz. “John, Ada…”

“Y/N!” voices began to scream her name, but the noise was clouding her mind, and her eyes were not responding anymore, being covered by her heavy eyelids.

But just as she tried to reach out for Ada’s arms, she fell.

“Liz!” screamed Ada, panicking “Lizzie!”

She appeared by her side in a split second, and saw her on the floor, holding her unconscious sister-in-law.

“Oh Lord, Y/N!” she screamed and knelt by Ada’s side.

She tapped her face abruptly, trying to wake her up.

“She’s not waking up!” they both stated in fear and got her out of the dancefloor screaming to the other dancers.

They sat her on their table, and wet her face with the ice cube that her glass had. While Lizzie was focused on her friend and bathing her neck with the cold water, Ada had her eyes on Y/N’s Glass.

“Ada, another one! Come on, it’s not-” she turned her face and saw Ada’s eyes stuck on her glass “Did…?” she whispered, forgetting about everything.

“There’s something white, Lizzie…” Ada began to tear up, thinking about her friend being harmed.

Lizzie left the bar as rapidly as she could, and ran three blocks down to the Garrison. Her chest was getting cold, and her ankles started to hurt: high heels were not meant for running on a messy street at three am, drunk and scared.

She began to scream John’s name even before she reached the entrance to the Garrison.

“John! Shelby! John! John!” she entered the Garrison, not forgetting to scream Shelby's name. He wasn’t in the big room, he had to be in the booth.

His name burned her throat, she said it so many times she started to forget what to say.

“John!” she burst into the private booth, and everybody stopped laughing.

“Lizzie?” asked John confused, she was supposed to be with Y/N.

He knew something was up, he saw it on her face.

“It’s Y/N!”

He got up as quickly as he could, even faster. Lizzie didn’t have to say another word, for he was running down the street, fearing the worst.

A soft and cold wind was drying his lungs, but it would take more than just wintery weather to prevent him from running towards her. Not even war could stop him from whispering her name in his prayers. If he prayed, it was for her. For her to be safe during the disgusting Spanish flu, for her to be happy during those birthdays he was away, not knowing if his “Happy Birthday” letter would make its way before he took his last breath.

“Y/N!” his voice echoed in the pub, and his throat almost ripped.

“John!” cried Ada, not knowing why her friend wasn’t responding.

And in a few confusing seconds, her body was over John’s shoulder, he was trying to get her out of there.

“Please stay with me, I need you.” he kept on reciting as if he was trying to memorize those exact words. “Please, I need you. Stay with me.”

The walk from the bar all the way to the house in Watery Lane was infernal and everlasting. He couldn't pronounce the words correctly, he was mumbling desperate thoughts, which made no sense on his lips.

Polly, who was spending a cosy night in, opened the door, as an answer to the shouts from her nephews. And as John entered the house in a rush, he placed the girl on the couch, trying to make her wake up.

“What the hell are we even supposed to do!” Ada cried, not knowing why she wasn’t waking up.

“What did she have, Ada?” he asked, taking his blue vest off.

“We don’t know! Her glass had something white at the very bottom, we don’t know what happened, John.” She was about to pull her hair off her head, she was sure it was a nightmare.

“White?” he screamed “She got her drink fucked over and you tell me now?” he was roaring, scaring Ada even more.

“Why don’t you take the girl to the doctor, instead of screaming to your sister?” Polly confronted him “Fighting Ada won’t stop time, it’s making you lose it!”

“John!” his oldest brother entered the house, nervous and curious about what was happening. Tommy was walking right behind Arthur.

“Y/N is under some fucking drug, and I don’t have any idea of what to do…!” he was about to cry, his eyes were stinging.

“What was in her glass?” asked Tommy, taking his jacket off.

“She was drinking a Fallen Angel and there was something white and dusty at the very bottom…” remembered Ada, cleaning her constant tears.

“So it was at the bottom, good to know it didn’t dissolve,” Tommy answered, and walked up to John.

“Brother, listen to me.” he said, taking John’s face in his hands “You take her to the bathroom, and we know you hate puke, but you have to make her vomit.”

He began to instruct quickly on how to help her, and John was suffering by the simple thought of hurting her.

“You won’t hurt her, you just…” Tommy was being careful with his words for the first time in ages, and John was thankful “You just touch everything in there, and it will result. Trust me, she’ll be alright.”

John walked into the bathroom with her, dead weight.

“I’m so sorry, please wake up…”

Some say you float, some say it’s like a dream. Some say you feel everything around you, some say you don’t even realize. But it was fucking disgusting for Y/N, she was dancing a popular Charleston and, when she opened her eyes, she had his husband fingers all the way up to her throat, making a nightmare out of a party.

“What the fuck!” she screamed, feeling how even her soul could leave her body in that same minute.

Both of her hands gripped onto John’s shirt, as she was still not seeing a thing.

“I can’t fucking see!” she screamed, scared to death.

“Don’t worry, Y/N.” said a voice from behind her, she was scared “It will come back to you in a few seconds, don’t worry.”

John hugged her, tightly against his chest.

“John.” she relaxed her body, while susurrating his name.

“Don’t you ever scare me like this again, because next time I might not survive the fear.”

“I’m sorry I scared you, I love you.” she apologized, while her fingers danced in his neck.

“I need you by my side until I die, please don’t leave before me.” he was being truthful, it was never hard for him when she was by his side.

“I’ll try not to, love. I’ll try not to.”

@deepdonutkid @a-golden-sunflower-vol-6 @stydia-4-ever @natural-hearts @lovemissyhoneybee @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @peakyrogers @writeroutoftime @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @pinkeijin @lukeymybabe @eternallyvenus

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murderousginger · 4 years

Text

Wear You Like A Halo

Peaky blinders

Cops & Robbers Part 4

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Steamy kisses. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 6.5k

Tagging: @imagine-that-100 @blinder-secrets @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me @theshelbyclan @peakascum

In true Tommy fashion, the kiss was never spoken about once it happened. It had been a short, soft kiss. One that could have meant anything, and the possibilities left you more conflicted than the goodbye kiss to John ever could have.

In the weeks after that night, everything had stayed relatively the same. The Shelby's still came in and conducted business or drank. You still helped Harry keep the bar in order. And you and the Shelby men still were on good terms. John had been distant for a time after that night; he had slowly started coming back around and you both were trying to find the new line that the friendship needed to be built around.

One day when you had come into The Garrison early, you were taking care of the few day customers while Harry worked on paperwork when Finn came running in.

"(Y/N)," he said, bounding up to the bar, "I was hoping you were here."

"'lo Finny," you said with a smile. "I came in a bit early so Harry could catch up. Why were you looking for me?"

"Tommy asked me to get you and Lizzie," he said, looking nervously at the patrons at the bar. "He said 'go get (Y/N) and Lizzie Stark, it's her off day from being secretary, and take them both to my office' and that's what I'm after."

"Oh did he?" You ask with a raised brow. "I suppose what King Tommy wants, King Tommy gets. Let me go talk to Harry and we'll be on the way."

Finn nods excitedly and you walk to the back.

"Harry?" You called as you walked to the back office. "You got a moment?"

"Sure, sure," the man waved you in. "What do you want? I was almost done. One of the regulars driving you mad?"

"No, not that," you said as you leaned in the doorway of the small office and rubbed your arm. "Tommy has Finn at the bar, said he's here to fetch me to bring to the office for something."

Harry's eyes shot up from the paperwork and his brows knitted together. He licked his lips, dropping the pen and taking a deep breath before speaking.

"(Y/N)," he started kindly. "I know you've known the Shelby's since you were children. I know," he paused, looking for words, "I know you care for them. And them for you, as far as I've seen. But be careful."

You tried to give him a confident smile, but it mostly felt forced.

"I'm careful, Harry," you said. "I've done plenty you wouldn't approve of before working here. I'll do plenty you don't approve of now."

"I have no doubt, little bird," he chuckled. "But you can only play with fire so long before something burns."

You nodded.

"I know," you said quietly. Harry gave you a long look before smiling and nodding toward the hallway.

"Off with you," he said gruffly. "Tell the regulars I'll be out in a moment. Tell them not to help themselves in the meantime."

You smiled and nodded again, walking back to the bar.

"I'll be back," you called behind you.

When you got back to the room, you told the regulars to wait on Harry in the back, and you gathered your coat from behind the bar.

"Let's go, Finny," you said, and smiled as he raised his arm for you to take.

You let him lead you to the vehicle and open the door for you. You crawled in as he rounded the car and got in the driver's seat. Finn turned the ignition over and off to Lizzie's apartment down the road you went.

Finn left you in the car to fetch Lizzie. You decided to scoot to the middle of the bench and straddle the stick shift to allow her the passenger seat so no one was forced to sit alone in the back. A few moments later you saw Finn escorted Lizzie out of the building and to the car.

"(Y/N)," Lizzie said stiffly. "Do you know why Tommy wants us on my day off?"

"No clue, Lizzie," you said as Finn got in on the other side of you. "But I'm sure it's not regular business."

Finn stiffened beside you and hesitated, but you weren't sure why. He started the vehicle and apprehensively shifted into first gear.

"Well obviously he didn't want me for regular work if he's sending Finn," Lizzie said. "But why is he asking for us both?"

Finn drove slower than usual down the road, and you weren't sure how long it would take to get to the office at the current speed.

"I wasn't told nothin'," Finn said, still putting slowly down the road. "I already said so."

"Yes, Finn," Lizzie said sharply. "We know your brother doesn't tell you anything. I was asking if (Y/N) knows."

You shrug, both shoulders touching the other two.

"I didn't know I was asked for until Finny interrupted my work at The Garrison," you said, still noticing the Ford hadn't picked up speed since you left Lizzie's apartment.

"Oh for fucks sake, Finny," you said exasperated. "Push the clutch in, will you."

You grabbed the shift between your legs and shoved it into second gear.

"Yes ma'am," Finn gulped as he did what he was told and the Ford picked up speed.

Lizzie chuckled.

"Looks like you have a virgin Shelby after you as well," she said.

"Shut up, Liz," You said angrily. "He's a boy. Not everyone is ready to look for your services."

Lizzie quieted and held a scowl.

"Now can you be a man and shift or do we need to pull over and I drive?" You growled at Finn.

"I'll drive," he said, edge in his voice. "Tommy told me to pick you up. He won't take kindly to you driving me back."

"I highly doubt Tommy would scold you if I took over the car," you said. "But I won't sit in first gear the entire trip. So grow up."

"Yes ma'am," Finn murmured, hesitantly grabbing the shift between your legs and moving into third gear.

The rest of the drive took much less time.

When you arrived, Finn opened the passenger door and helped you both out of the car before leading you up to Tommy's office. He knocked on the closed door twice before Tommy called out "come in" in a rough voice. Finn opened the door for you both and let you walk to the chairs in front of Tommy's desk before closing the door behind you.

"Sit down, ladies," Tommy said, head buried in paperwork and glasses on his face. "Let me look this one paper over and then I'll be right with you."

You both apprehensively took the two chairs and sat stiffly, eyeing Tommy. As you waited in the silence, you couldn't help but look Tommy over.

Tommy's brow were tightly knotted as he read whatever paper was in front of him. His glasses barely hung on his nose, and his right hand held a cigarette that had been burning without his breath for quite some time. When he finally looked up, he looked at you first. His face relaxed as he noticed the intensity of your stare, but all emotion was soon hidden behind a blank face.

"What do you want, Tommy?" You said, breaking the silence. "Why are we here?"

"Right," Tommy said, clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair and looked between you both. "We have business, and we need" he paused, looking for the word, "decorations, with us. Distractions."

"You need women so they don't look so hard at you," Lizzie said blankly. Tommy nodded.

"Exactly," he said. "But we want women we can trust. They know Polly and Ada are family, and this isn't a family event. We need you two to come along and give them something to look at."

"I'm not a whore, Tommy," you said angrily. "I'll not be traded."

"No trading," Tommy said, arms open as he tried placating your fears. "And no whoring. We just need you to pretend to be our girls while we talk."

"You need us to pretend to be your whores," Lizzie said with agitation. "So they'll be looking at us and you won't be asked to be with theirs."

Tommy nodded. Lizzie pursed her lips and gave a short nod. You squinted at Tommy.

"Can't you just bring whores for that?" You said.

"I don't trust whores," he said agitated. "I trust you. Now will you do it or do you need to keep fighting me?"

"It's not like you're really asking us," you snap back.

"You're right," he said. "I'm not. We'll get you a nice set of dresses and pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. I'll tell Harry you're off, (Y/N)."

"Fine," you both mutter. Tommy's blue eyes looked sharply between you both before he nodded more to himself than to you.

"Dress not so low on my back, please," you say softly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

"Right," he said, jaw clenching. "Be off with you. We'll see you tomorrow. Someone will deliver the dresses before then."

You both stood up and numbly walked out of the office. Once out of the building, you both paused, seeing Finn had already left with the car. Lizzie lit a cigarette.

"I see how he watches you," she said through her exhale of smoke. "But I'm the one he visits at night when his head is too loud."

"He still pays you, though, doesn't he?" You said quietly. "He pays you because it keeps you distant. It writes you off. He might go to you, but it's a transaction."

Lizzie froze, anger bubbled just beneath the surface. She dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and stormed off toward her apartment.

----

You were nervous through the night and into the next day. You didn't know exactly what you would be doing that night other than being pretty and quiet.

Isaiah delivered the dress and matching heels around lunch. You tried to offer him tea or a snack but he waved you off.

"Nah," he said. "I've got more running to do," he walked backwards to the road. "But have a good time at the party. I peeked at the dress."

He sent a wink that left your mouth agape as he ran down the road to finish doing whatever errands were given to him. You hugged the box to you and disappeared back into your home.

You looked closely at the blue box before you finally had the courage to open it. You unwrapped the paper within and gasped at the sleek silky slip dress below. It was the same blue as the cotton one you had bought that was now your favorite. It had beading along the shoulders and heels dyed and beaded to match. You ran your hands over it lovingly, knowing the price they must have paid was far higher than you could ever afford.

You got ready over the next few hours, curling your hair, putting it up off of your shoulders, putting on lipstick and getting dressed. You had found a small matching clutch in the box that you decided to place your lipstick and a few dollars in as you waited. You hesitated, looking at your small knife before slipping it into the bag as well.

Shortly after seven you heard a car park outside. You decided not to wait for them to come and get you, and instead stepped out of your home and locked the door behind you.

"We were coming to get you, like a lady, (Y/N)," Arthur called from the street waving his hands in the air as he walked to you.

"John and Tommy have never treated me like a lady in my life," you said, "no reason to start today."

"That's why I was comin' for ya," Arthur said as he gave you a side hug. "You look perfect. Lizzie's already in the back seat. In you go."

He opened the door and ushered you in. You slid in, seeing Lizzie against the other door looking out the window and John in the middle seat giving you a wicked grin. Tommy was sitting in the passenger seat in front of you. Arthur shut your door as you settled in and he moved around the vehicle to the driver's seat.

"Hello hello," you said, nudging John and looking between everyone. "Nice night for criminal activity, eh?"

"Don't worry about the business part," Tommy said. "Just enjoy the party and look pretty."

"And keep my mouth shut?" You said, leaning back.

"And keep your mouth shut," Tommy answered.

"And what's to happen if I don't?" You challenged.

"Do you ever shut up?" Lizzie said as she looked at you. You looked over John and glared at Lizzie.

"We all don't have history of being paid to be discrete, Liz," you shot back. "Can't help your price is so low."

"Enough," Tommy said loudly. "We're all going to this party and you both will be quiet. We'll do our dealings and be out without a problem. I chose you because you're loyal and can handle business. Don't make me regret it."

The car was silent. After a few moments, Arthur cleared his throat and asked Tommy a question, breaking the hold on the car.

John looked to you, nudging your shoulder.

"You look good in that color," he said in a quiet voice as the conversation continued in the front seat. You smiled.

"I see you're still trying your charms," you said.

"No harm in it," he said, pulling a pick from his pocket and placing it in his mouth. "We've been both called to business."

"Why didn't you have your wife come?" You asked. "She's got to be more trustworthy than --"

You nodded to Lizzie, who was looking out the window. John's eyes softened.

"Can't be having both my favorite girls in danger at once," he said. "And someone's got to look after the children when I'm gone."

You wanted to melt, to feel the bloom of warmth that wanted to expand in your chest, but all you felt was cold.

"You'll never be gone, John," you said, nudging his shoulder with a sad smile. "Shelby's are too stubborn to die. You'll be a dirty old man making all the girls uncomfortable with your wink."

John gave a brief smile and rolled the pick in his mouth from one end of his smile to the other with his tongue.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "Until then, I'm here. With you. Might as well enjoy it."

You smiled and squeezed his arm before resting your head on his shoulder. You looked out the window to see Tommy's eyes meet yours in the side mirror. His face was perfectly blank but his eyes held a storm that you weren't sure of the cause.

----

The car arrived at a gorgeous large home surrounded by land just as dusk darkened the sky.

"A party?" Lizzie said. "We're dressed for London and going to a party."

"It's a good cover for business," Arthur said. "Little fun, little business, and dirt on those that stay the night."

"Oh," she said. "That sort of party."

You felt Lizzie shift uncomfortably in her seat and immediately felt on edge. You looked over and finally noticed her dress was very similar to yours, only a mustard color with brown beading. She picked at the beading near the bottom of her dress.

"We'll take care of ye," Arthur rumbled. "Stick close and smile and it'll be over before you know it."

"Who's to be matched with who?" You asked and fidgeted with your clutch. The car stopped in front of the house and a boy came to take the keys from Arthur.

Your question was ignored and the doors opened for you and Lizzie. You stepped out in your heels, feeling the gravel crunch below your feet. The game was on.

John exited the car on Lizzie's side and took her arm to escort her in. You nervously looked back to the house and felt a touch on your shoulder.

Tommy had lit a cigarette and was taking a long inhale of the smoke as his hand was outreached for yours. He nodded as the smoke rose from his mouth to his nose, disappearing back into his lungs. You smiled and took his arm, stilling yourself for a moment in preparation.

You and Tommy led the pack through the doors, shortly followed by John and Lizzie, and Arthur trailing behind. The house was massive and bright. Men talked in groups and women similarly dressed to you were peppered in. Dark corners held couples kissing and drugs. You watched people closely as Tommy led you to a side den and what you could guess was the host.

"Ah yes!" Tommy exclaimed, mentioning the man's name, but you were so nervous you immediately forgot it. "Beautiful home. Thank you for having us."

"Tommy Shelby," the man said cooly, leaning against a fireplace. "Thank you. I see you brought your brothers."

The man looked to be middle aged with a mustache. His brown suit was nice and he held a glass of liquor on ice. He looked intently at you and Lizzie, up and down like he was looking over a horse at the market.

"And who are these beauties?" He said as he clicked his tongue. You did your best not to drop your smile. "I told you I would provide the entertainment tonight."

"You did," Tommy said, "but we Shelby's prefer a bit of Birmingham with us wherever we go."

"I see why," the man said, holding his hand out to take yours. You let him.

"(Y/N), Pleasure. And this," you said, deflecting his eyes off of you, "is Lizzie."

Lizzie murmured her pleasantries and smiled and Tommy cleared his throat, bringing the man's attention back to him.

"Right," he said. "So shall we have a drink and talk business, or talk business and have a drink?"

"Tommy," the man jested. "Always to the point. I have a few other matters to attend to, so best you men get these ladies a drink before. Enjoy the party. I'll be back shortly."

The man walked away and your group was left to wander the party. Tommy touched the small of your back and led you out of the den. Your stomach was butterflies when you walked into a larger living area with multiple large ornate couches. He motioned for you to sit on the couch and John ushered Lizzie beside you.

"We'll find you two drinks," John said as he looked around the crowded room. "Stay here."

"You need three men to get five drinks?" Lizzie said dryly. "Sounds like a Shelby."

Tommy rolled his eyes before looking down at you both perched on the couch.

"We'll be back shortly," he said. "Just stay here and you'll get your drink."

"Gin," Lizzie sounded.

"Whiskey," you said after.

"Always whiskey," John said with a wink before the brothers left to find the alcohol.

"They're scoping out the layout," you said as you watched the crowd, "It's as much the alcohol and girl watching as it is the job."

Lizzie opened her mouth and then clamped it shut as she saw a man sit on the arm of the couch next to you. She smiled and touched your hand.

"I think I'm going to find my own drink," she said, looking from your eyes to behind you with a tight smile. You watched her leave the same direction the boys did and jumped when you realized a man was sitting on the arm of your seat, looking down at you like a predator.

"May I help you?" You said, leaning away from the man to look up at him.

"You shouldn't have been left alone," he said as he fingered the dark beading of your dress on your shoulder. "I can get you a drink. Are you a gin or vodka girl?"

"No thank you," you said, scooting into the middle of the couch to get away from his reach. "I have a drink on its way."

"Oh now," he said as he slipped onto the seat where you had sat. "No need not to be friendly."

His hand slid onto your thigh and played with the dress at your knee. Your teeth grinded together as you looked up at his smirk.

"I said no," you said. "Do you need to hear it again?"

The man's smirk slowly turned into a look of confusion as he looked down at your hand holding a small knife against his crotch. No one around you seemed to have noticed your interaction.

"(Y/N) I've got your whiskey--" John said as he barreled toward the couch holding drinks in both hands. He stopped directly in front of you when he noticed the man. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at your hand holding the knife before he gave you a careful look.

"Thank you, John," you said as you slid your knife back into your bag and reached for your drink. "I was just telling this man--"

"Roy," the man supplied in a daze. His eyes moved between you and John, who smirked down at you as he handed you your drink. Roy's hand slowly moved off of your leg and onto his own lap.

"Roy," you said, "that I already had someone to get me a drink."

Tommy and Arthur walked up behind John before Arthur passed him to sit beside you and Tommy looked at Roy over John's shoulder.

"Where's Liz off to?" Arthur said, his arm slung over your shoulder as he took a drink.

"She told me she was getting her own drink," you said evenly, meeting Tommy's hard eyes as he soaked in the situation.

"Right," Roy said, seemingly snapped out of his daze. "It looks like you have proper company. Nice to meet you."

"John," Tommy said, eyeing Roy's departure, "Go find Lizzie."

"Right," John said with a grin. "Let's hope she's not threatening to cut off a man's balls, too."

Arthur laughed. Tommy stiffly took the seat beside you, both hands holding drinks. You sipped yours and returned to watching the crowd, all too aware of how close you were next to Tommy.

Tommy quickly downed the first drink before putting the empty glass near the foot of the couch. You looked over at him curiously.

"How were you to cut off balls without a knife, (Y/N)?" He rumbled, drinking from his second glass slower.

"Who says I didn't have a knife, Tommy?" You said with a raised brow.

He hummed, running the glass across his lip before taking another drink. Arthur finished his drink and stood up to get another.

You had gotten used to an arm around you and shifted in your seat, growing anxious without the weight to ground you. You shook as you looked around, untethered while the rest of the party buzzed around you. A couple took the other side of the couch and it only unnerved you more.

You looked over at Tommy, who watched you silently, taking in your every movement with his cool blue eyes. You watched him claim a cigarette and matches from his pocket with his empty hand and give you his matches. He looked at you expectantly but didn't say anything.

You wrapped your fingers around a match and pressed it against the box, sparking a flame and letting it lazily caress the cigarette between his lips until it caught fire.

Tommy leaned into the corner of the couch with his drink in hand and his other arm on your shoulder, pulling you into his chest until you were draped over him. He reached around you, pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and blew the smoke above you both.

"You're shaking," he whispered into your ear. "Relax. And for fucks sake behave from now on."

You found yourself melting into his side, grateful for the touch. You people watched with him in comfortable silence until John returned with Lizzie on his arm and Arthur and the host in tow.

"Tommy!" The man said cheerfully, his cheeks much redder than before. "I found your entourage, but it looks like you snuck away for a moment's silence. I'm ready to talk business in my office if you are."

"I'm always ready for business," Tommy said, giving you a small squeeze before ushering you both to your feet.

"Great!" The man said. "Follow me."

The man turned to lead and Tommy rested his hand on your hip, pulling you beside him to follow. Lizzie scowled and burrowed into John's side as you passed. You slowed a step but Tommy's hand pressed into your hip to urge you forward at his side.

The man led your group to a study before and sat behind a large wooden desk. He pulled a decanter of alcohol from a cabinet, pulling out four glasses with it. He waved to the three seats in front of him.

Your boys took the three wing-back seats and Lizzie sat upon the arm of Tommy's seat in the middle. You decided to look at the library of books along the wall.

You heard them all talk, but you mostly paid attention to tone rather than words. You ran your fingers along the books and noticed most of them sounded scientific or mathematical in nature. A lot had to do with statistics. You froze as the tone shifted in the room. You looked over your shoulder with your hand still on the bookcase when you heard John call your name.

"Come sit over here, little bird," John said, using Harry's nickname for you, and patted his knee with a smirk. "You're making our friend nervous."

You smiled shyly and walked over to John before pausing above him. He patted a knee of his splayed legs again. You gritted your teeth before sitting on his right knee, your legs in between his and your hip against the arm of the chair. His hand wrapped around your waist and rested on your thigh as the conversation started again.

You tried to focus on the conversation about horses in front of you, but you felt John's hand loosen it's hold on your leg and move to play with the beading at your left shoulder. You turned slightly and shot him a look to stop but his eyes were intent on your skin.

John's brows furrowed and he tried moving the beading off your shoulder. You shrugged him off and whispered a hiss at him. He stopped for a moment and nodded for you to look ahead. You paused before doing so, feeling him lean forward behind you.

You froze in place when John slid his hand under the strap and it fell down your shoulder. You eyed Arthur and Tommy as John nuzzled your bare shoulder and pressed his lips to it. Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth in his closed mouth as he watched John. Lizzie perched on Tommy's chair smirking at you.

Tommy's jaw ticked but he didn't look over to you two once in his conversation. You slowly pressed your heel into John's instep until he hissed against your skin and moved the strap back onto your shoulder.

You closed your eyes, knowing full well what he discovered. Your tattoo. Even when you had gone swimming with him in the dead of night, clothes thrown to the edge of the pond, you had always been careful not to show him your shoulder. You hadn't worn low back dresses in years. You were sure people thought it was for modesty, but in truth you didn't want to show the world that you had a tattoo. You loved it, but it was for you and you knew how society treated tattooed men. You didn't want to be seen as a freak for your own.

You sat still as stone for the rest of the meeting, and John returned his hand to your lap. You could feel his cocky grin behind you and you fumed at the blatant disrespect of boundaries.

When the business wrapped up, the men all shook hands and said their pleasantries and you all were ushered back into the party. When the host drifted off, you twisted in John's arms and smacked this chest.

"Don't you ever touch me like that again," you growled, trying to keep your voice down. Tommy and Arthur moved between you two and glared at you both.

"What was that?" Arthur said and glared at John.

"Our (Y/N)'s marked," John said, licking his lips as he eyed you. "And it's not fresh. How many more surprises are you hiding under there?"

"Marked?" Arthur said, looking at you in confusion. "Like a tattoo? How'd you find someone to give you that?"

"You can find them," you said shortly. "This isn't about my tattoos, this is about you" you jabbed your finger at John's chest, "not respecting me. You have a wife."

"More than one, eh? The only way to get a good look at your shoulder was to play into what I'm seen as, innit?" John said and laughed. "No one asks when ol' John boy gets frisky. They continue on with business, and now I know your secret."

John's eyes sparkled as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Tommy watched you two closely for a moment before he stepped directly in between you.

"Right," he said, causing you both to step back to give him the space between. "We've done what we came here for. I would have said let's enjoy the party but no one can fucking behave long enough. We're done here, let's go home."

Lizzie laughed and Tommy raised a finger at her.

"You're not innocent, Liz," Tommy said, glaring at her. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

You all followed Tommy out of the house like scolded children. A boy brought the car around and you all went back to the seats you had before.

The car was quiet. John was all too happy with himself beside you; Arthur looked bothered but confused as he drove and Tommy watched you too closely through the side window as you looked out into the dark.

"(Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence as the car turned into the road from the long driveway, "what is your tattoo of?"

"It's not a branding or an allegiance, Tommy," you said combatively, hugging yourself. "I wanted it. Thought it was pretty. It's only meant for me."

"And what is it?" Tommy pressed, growing agitated. You glared at him through the side mirror.

"That's between me and whoever falls in my bed, innit?" You shot back.

"And me," John said teasingly. "Do I get to fall in your bed tonight, (Y/N), or are we still worried about Esme?"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he doubled as he clutched his side.

"And here I thought you were a good girl with bad company," Arthur said. "Turns out you have some secrets, don't you little bird?"

"A knife and a tattoo all in one night," Tommy mused. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Not my fault you got more than you bargained for," you said. "Isn't King Tommy supposed to have us all figured out, like? With his big brain?"

You stared defiantly at Tommy and he regarded you back. The ride was a quiet standoff between you and him the rest of the way. Lizzie scowled out the window the entire ride. When Arthur dropped her off she left the car without a word and went into her apartment without looking back.

You touched the door handle and opened your mouth to tell them you'd walk home from there when Tommy interrupted.

"Get out, I'll take (Y/N) home myself," Tommy said.

Arthur and John both started to protest. Tommy raised a hand, quieting them.

"I need a talk with our little bird," he said.

You let go of the handle as if it burned you and shrunk next to John in the back seat. He instinctively wrapped his arm over your shoulder.

"Tommy," Arthur protested.

"Out," Tommy said again before he opened his door and then yours.

"Night, John boy," you said softly as you unwrapped yourself from him to get out of the car.

"You haven't called me that in weeks," he murmured surprised. "Night, (Y/N). You'll be fine. Tommy's just being Tommy."

John eyes softened and he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. You got out of the car and moved around Tommy to sit in the passenger seat. Tommy closed both doors.

John and Arthur reluctantly got out and moved aside as Tommy sat in the driver's seat. You could see John worrying his lip as they both watched as Tommy turned the ignition and drove you both down the road.

He drove until the brothers were out of sight, and then took a turn that was opposite of your home.

"I have a hard time placing you, (Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence. "There are times you're strong and about men's business. And in the next moment you're young. Too young."

"Why can't I be both?" You ask.

Tommy didn't answer, instead he looked off into the distance and nodded.

"Why do you lock us all out of that head of yours?" You asked, knowing you wouldn't get a true answer. You passed a bridge and he slowed and moved to the side of the road and parked.

"I let someone clear out that which needs clearing out," he said stiffly, looking through his pockets for a cigarette.

"I'm not talking about Lizzie," you said gently. He stilled for a moment before continuing his search for a match. You pulled the matchbox from earlier out of your clutch and lit one and held it out for him.

"Why do you two hate each other?" He asked as he leaned over to light the cigarette and returned his gaze to you as he inhaled the smoke.

"We don't," you said quickly. "Or at least I don't hate her. I think in a way," you said as you blew out the match and fidgeted, "we both know there's only so many spaces for women in the Blinders, and we're not Shelby, so we've only so many places to fit."

"Insightful," Tommy said more to himself than you, "but young."

"I'm not that much younger," you grumble as he opened his door. "John and Ada's age."

"Young enough," he said and stepped out of the car. "Let's sit by the water and talk."

You got out and numbly followed him to the waterside, feeling the cool night air on your skin. Tommy laid his coat down on the bank and motioned for you to sit. You both looked at the water in front of you.

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight," he said finally.

"You told us nothin' of what we was doing and I was leaning on my friend to help me," you retorted. "You also saw me put him in place when I thought he was crossing the line--"

"When did you stop trusting me, (Y/N)," Tommy interrupted crossly. "Because most of this night taught me you don't. The knife."

He scoffed.

"Was used for its purpose when I was left behind," you retorted, turning to him in anger.

"Could have ruined us," he hissed.

"Don't dangle me like a prize and I won't have to defend myself," you hissed back. "Maybe I stopped trusting you when King Tommy decided no one was smart enough to know his plans."

"Drop the king bit," he snapped.

"Or what, Tommy?" You sneered. "You'll teach me my place? What is my place, Tommy, or do you not know yourself?"

"You are the most aggravating girl in bloody Birmingham," he said under his breath.

"Says the biggest git--"

Tommy's hand swung around and grabbed your jaw forcefully and his whiskey-heavy lips crashed into yours before you could process. His kiss took every bit of air out of your lungs and you fought your head as you kissed him back hungrily. Your tongues fought each other for dominance as his grip on your jaw tightened and pushed you away.

"What's your tattoo, (Y/N)?" He said testily as he looked you in the eye.

"What's this, Tommy?" You snapped back defiantly.

Tommy growled and let go of your chin with a jerk of his hand.

"So fucking young," he growled.

He stood up and dusted his pants off.

"Let's get you home," he said finally.

You glared up at him, watching him put his blank face on like armor. The window closed for seeing into Tommy Shelby's mind.

"Sure, Tommy," you scowled. "Let's just pretend this never happened, too, eh? Like you haven't tasted my lips."

You stood up and stomped off to the car, slamming the door closed as you collapsed onto the passenger seat. You crossed your arms and looked over, gathering a terrible idea.

You slid over and placed the shift between your knees like you had sat when Finn drove the day before.

Tommy slowly made his way up the waterbank, new cigarette in his mouth as he opened the door and got in. He looked at you with a raised brow when your shoulder bumped with his, but quickly rolled his eyes and started the car. You looked forward out of the window, arms crossed, trying not to look at him as he grabbed the shift and slammed it to first gear. His hand stayed on the shift stick the entire painfully quiet ride to your home. Neither of you would fold. You could feel his eyes on you at times but you refused to look at him.

Tommy parked the car in front of your home and turned it off. You moved to get out of the car but Tommy's warm hand dropped from the shift to your thigh as he blew out a breath in frustration.

"I didn't like it," he growled as you froze. You refused to respond or turn to him.

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight and I didn't like it," he growled with a clenched jaw.

You looked down at your lap as he let go of your leg and you nodded tightly. You slowly leaned to the door and opened it, letting yourself out into the night and into your warm apartment. You didn't breathe until you locked the door behind you.

#peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #fanfic #storytime with murderousginger

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