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noladyme · 3 years

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La Cuervo - Epilogue

We’ve come to the end of the story of Angel and Nina. Thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged and liked. Every one of you inspired me to keep writing. Thank you for reading.

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambiguous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

Epilogue.

It was an especially cloudy day for a bike-ride. He looked up at the sky, and prayed to his mother it wouldn’t rain. It was already too cold for short sleeves, and he regretted not having listened when he’d been told to put on a hoodie under his cut that morning. The precious cargo behind him shifted in her seat. The bump pressed against his back was restless as well, he felt; from the tiny kicks he was receiving to his kidneys. “You alright?”, Angel called over his shoulder. “Yeah… she’s just antsy…”, Nina replied. “We’re almost there”, he smiled. “Good. I gotta pee”. “Shit. Again?”. “Blame your daughter”, she chuckled. “Be nice to your mama, chiquita!”, Angel chuckled, addressing the cantaloupe-sized treasure in his amor’s belly.

Charming was a nice place. He could understand why Nina loved it there, but the stares their caravan was getting made him uncomfortable. The people in the small town looked at him and his brother’s as if they were gods – which in and of itself he didn’t mind – but it was a lot different than what he was used to from Santo Padre, where the Mayans were accepted and even feared; but not looked to as saviors and protectors, as the Sons of Anarchy were in Charming. His discomfort came from realizing that he’d like to be viewed as the Sons were here, back home. Becoming a Mayan had originally been about the pussy and the bikes; but lately, he felt the need to make a difference to the people in his community. Help the people who needed it; like the undocumented immigrants and the people trying to cross the border for a better life. Nina was doing what she could for those the club had gotten over so far, but it was still something they needed to keep quiet about – especially if he wanted to avoid seeing his daughter grow up from behind a plexiglass window.

They drove up to what looked like a warehouse-building; but he knew was the home of CaraCara. Pulling up next to EZ’s bike, he smiled as his brother gave Nina a hand to get off his own. “Centre of gravity seems a bit off, hermanita”, EZ chuckled. “Screw you… And move! I gotta pee…”, she sneered, and sprang for the nearest door of the warehouse. The brand-new Mayan patch moved up and down on EZ’s back, as he laughed; watching her run. Angel smiled at the sight, before patting his brother’s shoulder. “My kids got some kick”, he said. “Reina del baile, huh?”, EZ smiled. “You’re gonna have to keep an eye on her when she’s older”. “She ain’t going out dancing until she’s as old as pap’”, Angel declared. “Yo! Are you two gonna keep staring at the pregnant lady run; or are you gonna come inside?”, Bishop called after them. The two of them grinned, and followed their patch-brothers inside the large building.

They were greeted by Chibs, Happy and Tig; the latter having to tear himself away from a strikingly tall woman, to come welcome them. The woman stayed by the bar in the large room, talking quietly with a pretty blonde woman behind it. Once the initial back and forth between the presidents were over, Chibs turned to Angel, and pulled him in for a friendly half-hug. “Did you forget someone in San Pad?”, the SAMCRO president asked. “Nah, man. She’s going to the bathroom every 45 minutes”, Angel chuckled. “Filip!”, Nina called out from behind them, and Angel turned around to watch her make a waddling run over to her Charming brothers. Once they’d all embraced, Happy looked down at Nina’s belly. “You did this?”, he asked Angel. “So she tells me”, Angel grinned. Nina punched his shoulder, making him have to take a few steps back. Getting knocked up had oddly enough made her even stronger than usual. “You knew I was pregnant”, she said. “Yeah, but…”. Chibs blew out a deep breath. “You’re huge, luv’!”. “I’m not that big…”, Nina whimpered. Angel walked up behind her, and kissed her temple. “You’re beautiful, mami”, he smiled, before looking to the Sons. “You told me to get her to quit smoking”, he grinned, and rubbed his hand protectively over Nina’s bump. “Yeah, but it seems like you took an alternative approach to that, man”, Tig chuckled.

Nina was shifting on her feet. “You gotta pee again?”, Angel asked. “No… Just gotta sit down. My feet are killing me”. He led her over to sit on the couch that looked the least like it had been used as a prop, in one of the movies produced by CaraCara. The tall woman and the blonde came over to greet Nina, and the three of them hugged each other tightly; with both of the other women stroking Nina’s belly, and cooing at it. “I’m Venus”, the tall woman said, and reached out her hand to him. “And I’m guessing you’re Angel… That’s a lovely name”. “Stop flirting with my old man”, Nina grinned. “You got your own!”. “I sure do!”, Venus said, and held out her hand; proudly displaying an engagement ring. “Oh my god!”, Nina exclaimed. “Congrats!”. She hugged Venus tightly again. “I’m Lyla”, the blonde said, and smiled at Angel. “Nice to meet you”, he replied.

Angel let the three women catch up, and walked over to talk to the other men. “The estrogen-level is through the roof in here!”, Creeper grinned. “That’s just the smell of cheap perfume and artificial sperm”, Chibs said. “Artificial?”, Gilly said. “You’d be surprised how many porn-actors find it hard to produce actual cum, after 13 takes; no matter how hot the actress”, Happy laughed. “I don’t think I’d find it that hard”, Coco smirked. The door opened, and a sea of beautiful women entered the warehouse. “Feel free to give it a shot”, Tig said to the wide-eyed Mayan.

“I thought this was supposed to be a business-meeting. Not a party”, Taza said. “Who says we can’t mix the two?”, Chibs said. “But you’re right. We should get to it”. Tig turned towards the three women on the couch. “Muffin, it’s time!”, he called out. Nina frowned, but let herself be pulled to her feet by the two others. Angel sprang over to take her arm. “Are you ok, cuervo?”, he muttered. “Yeah. Let’s just get this over with”, Nina sighed.

---

“Thanks for coming all the way up here”, Chibs said from the head of the table, in the smaller room, connected to the studio. “Thank you for agreeing not to do it at your clubhouse”, Bishop said. “This one’s getting too heavy to get up the stairs behind the ice-cream shop”. He nodded towards Nina. “Go fuck yourself, Bish’”, she grunted from next to Angel. Bishop sent her a warm smile, before meeting Angel’s eyes. They both knew he wasn’t wrong. Nina had trouble even getting out of bed at this point; which Angel didn’t mind. Pregnancy sex had been even hotter than he’d imagined. “Nina’s twelve months are over. We think it’s time to discuss what happens from here on out”, Chibs said. Angel shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat. “I think it’s obvious what’s gonna happen”, he said. “She’s staying in San Pad”. He put his hand on Nina’s bump, and stroked it. “Charming is her home”, Happy said. “She’s still SAMCRO family”. “She’s Mayan family too… And she’s got my family growing in her”, Angel growled. “We need niña down south”, Coco said. “She’s the only one of the girls back home who knows how to make a proper whiskey-sour”, Riz shrugged. “What about her life here? Her friends, her job at the shop?”, Tig said.

“What about we ask Nina what she wants?”, Nina exclaimed with a huff. “I’m not property…”. Chibs and Bishop looked solemnly at each other for a long moment, before both of them broke into large grins. “We’re just fucking with you, mija!”, Bishop said. All the Mayans and Sons broke out in laughter, and Angel had to chew his lips to stop. “We didn’t come up here to talk about you coming back, ma’”, he said. Nina scowled deeply at him; giving him that cute look that made him both cringe from the promise of being chewed out later on, and simultaneously made him want to rip off her clothes, and screw her brains out. Nina was hot when she was angry. “Then, why?”, she growled.

Angel turned in his seat, and helped Nina turn in hers; with a firm hold of her hips. “I can’t marry you, without permission from your brothers… All of them”, he said. Nina’s eyes widened. “You… what?”. “You got my kid in there. And I love you”, Angel said, and laid a hand on her belly. “I wanna marry you… If you’re good with that”. Nina seemed – for once – speechless. His heart jumped up into his throat. “Nina? Mami, talk to me…”. “I’m… yeah. Uh huh… We can do that”, she squeaked. Angel let out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck… You had me worried”, he smiled. He saw a tear at the corner of Nina’s eye, and wiped it away quickly.

He put his hand to the back of her head, and pulled her in for a kiss; when someone cleared their throat. “We haven’t agreed yet”, Tig said. “He needs all of our go-aheads”, Hank said. “All of your brothers; remember?”. “We gotta vote on this shit”, EZ smirked. For a short moment, Angel considered smacking his brother across the head, but he decided against it. He needed a unanimous yes, and EZ was actually one of the few patches he was concerned about voting against him. “Then let’s do it”, he said. Chibs raised a brow at him. “You; get out”, he said. “What?”. “Salir de la habitación, amigo”, the SAMCRO president reiterated. Nina shot him a death-glare, and squeezed Angel’s hand. “You said your peace; now let the rest of us decide if we’re gonna agree to this unholy union”. Angel got to his feet and was about to help Nina up. “Not you, sweetheart”, Taza said. “We need your take on this as well”. Angel swallowed thickly, and looked at Nina. She gave him a warm smile, which didn’t reach her eyes, and he had to force his feet to move, to leave the room.

Once outside, Angel closed the door behind him. The large studio space had filled up with hangarounds – male and female – and pornstars he recognized from movies he’d watched in the past. The one’s he’d enjoy these days weren’t CaraCara productions, because Nina didn’t like watching people she knew as friends having sex. Instead, they’d watch the mini-productions they made themselves. Lyla came over to him with a cold beer, and patted his shoulder. “The party’s gonna be pretty PG for now. Wendy’s coming in with the boys for a few hours”, she said. “After that, I can’t promise there won’t be full frontal nudity”. Angel chuckled. “I didn’t know her nephews were coming”, he said. “It was a surprise. They haven’t been back in Charming since…”. Lyla cut herself off, and seemed to be suppressing a bad memory. “Nina’s brother… Jackson. He was a good guy, huh?”. “The best… And he loved her”, Lyla said. “If it wasn’t for the fact that they didn’t look alike, you’d never guess they weren’t blood-related”. “They were alike?”. “Uh huh”, Lyla nodded fervently. “Like two peas in a pod. And she was as protective of him as he was of her”.

A dirty-blonde woman came in to the warehouse, with two boys in tow. The youngest had dark hair, while his brother was blonde. The blonde boy – in his pre-teens – ran over to Venus, and sprang into her arms; clearly enjoying resting his head against her ample breasts. The brown-haired boy – about 7 or 8 years old – clung to who Angel figured was Wendy. She shot Venus a smile, and walked over to Lyla. “This him, then?”, Wendy asked, and gave Angel a once over. “Yup”, Lyla said. “Angel, this is Wendy; and the cutie-pie down here…”. She crouched down, and ruffled the boy’s hair. “This is Thomas. Jackson’s youngest”. “Casanova over there is Abel”, Wendy grinned. Abel stood as wide-eyed as Coco had, at the sight of the beautiful women surrounding him. “And I’m Wendy”. “Good to meet you”, Angel said. He stuck out his hand to Thomas. “Hey, man. I’m Angel”. “Are you the one who knocked up my aunt Nina?”, Thomas asked. Angel was taken aback at the kid’s bluntness. “I… Yeah”, he said. Thomas narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you gonna marry her? My dad married my other mom after I was born. You’re supposed to marry someone if you get them pregnant”. “I’m planning to”, Angel said. “If you’ll let me”. “I’ll think about it”, Thomas said.

Both Wendy and Lyla laughed, and then gave each other a warm hug. “If you wanna surprise her, you should probably go into my office”, Lyla said. “She’ll be out in a few”. Abel looked at the people in the room. “I wanna stay out here”, he declared; as fascinated as his brother was at all the women. “You’re just like your dad”, Wendy sighed. “Go on, Tommy. I got movies in there for you”, Lyla said, before looking at Wendy. “Disney”, she added. Wendy smiled, and dragged Thomas away. She nabbed Abel out of the lap of a scantily clad brunette; and the three of them went into a back office, in the corner of the building.

Angel looked at the door to where the meeting regarding the future of his family was being held behind, and felt his nerves starting to get to him. They’d taken too long already; the vote shouldn’t be that difficult. He took out his pack of smokes, and was about to light up, when Lyla put a hand on his lower arm. “Please go outside for that. I’m trying to keep the studio smoke-free”. “Yeah, sure… Sorry”, Angel muttered, and hurried towards the exit.

Once outside he began pacing back and forth. One cigarette turned in to two, which then turned in to three; and still no one had come to tell him what the decision of the clubs was. He was about to say fuck it, and stomped out his smoke, to walk back inside, and demand an answer; when Nina came outside. She walked over to him with a solemn expression on her face; and in that moment, Angel’s heart broke. “I’m sorry…”, she said. Angel felt rage building in him. Here was his endgame – the one woman he would ever be able to fully give himself to, and the mother of his child – and he couldn’t have her, because of a bunch of fucking bikers. He grabbed Nina’s hand, and tried pulling her towards his bike. “Fuck this shit. We’re out of here. We’ll go north… Like Canada, or something. I’ll marry you there… I ain’t letting them…”. Nina stayed in place, unmoving. “No, Angel… I’m sorry… I know your pap’ would expect me to; but I can’t wear white… It wouldn’t feel right”.

Angel’s jaw dropped, and he looked at Nina with wide eyes. “They said yes?”, he croaked. “Yes…”, Nina said below her breath. “I mean, Happy wanted our first-born as payment; but I told him to shove it”. Angel cupped her face, and stared deep into her eyes, looking for any sign of deceit; finding none. “We’re gonna get married?”, he said. Nina nodded. “We’re gonna get married, mami!”. he threw his arms around her waist, and lifted her up, spinning her around. “Careful!”, Nina giggled. He set her back on the ground, and pulled her in for a deep kiss; feeling like life itself came from the taste of her mouth. “I love you, cuervo”. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Te amo, so… fucking… much!”, he said, leaving kisses on Nina’s lips between each word. “I love you too”, she smiled.

Angel remembered something, and grabbed for the item in his pocket, he’d been keeping there, since his pap’ had given it to him a few days earlier. “Here”, he said, and held out the ring. “This was my mam’s”. Nina took the ring from him, and smiled. “Thank you…”, she said. She held it to her finger, before looking up at him. “Wait, did you wanna…? Or should I just…?”. Angel took her hand in his, and together, they put the ring on her left ring-finger. He pressed another deep kiss to her lips, and then got on his knees; putting his hands on either side of her belly. “I love you, chiquita. You’re the best thing to happen to me since your mama”. He kissed Nina’s tummy, just above her navel, and turned his ear against it, listening to the other love of his life moving around in there.

“Are you two finished?”, Chibs called from the doorway. “Someone’s come to see you, little sister”. Nina frowned in confusion, and Angel smiled brightly; getting to his feet again. He led her in front of her, with his hands on her hips. “Try not to give birth right this moment, mama”, he whispered in her ear, when Lyla opened the door to the office, and Abel and Thomas came out. “Oh… Oh, my god!”, Nina cried out, and ran as fast as she could over to her two nephews. She kissed both of their foreheads, and each boy wiped off the kisses in childish disgust, while she hugged them. “You’re so big!”, Nina croaked, before turning to Wendy, and hugging her. Angel looked on with a full heart, as both of the boys took turns touching her belly.

EZ came up next to him, and patted his back. “Congratulations, Angel”, he said. Angel turned, and gave his brother a warm hug. “Thanks, man…”, he said.

---

A little while later, Angel was seated next to his fiancée on the couch. Someone had produced a box of old photographs of club-parties through the ages. Nina was groaning in embarrassment, as Chibs held out a picture of herself and him, where the Son was holding up his fingers in a cross at Nina, who was sporting a large pimple on her forehead. “The Creature of the Black Lagoon!”, Chibs laughed. “Funny…”, Nina smiled sarcastically, and ripped the photo out of his hands. Angel snatched it from her, and put it in his cut pocket. “I’m keeping this, cuervo”. “Why?”, she frowned. “Blackmail… Maybe you’ll stop trying to cook for me”. “Kiss my ass”, she retorted. “Gladly”, Angel said, and kissed her temple.

Nina picked up an envelope full of pictures, and pulled them out, to look through them. “What’s this?”, she said. Angel grabbed the pile of photographs. A grin spread on his face. The telltale patch of the Mayan mask sprang into his eyes, on the back of a biker; who’d turned his face towards the camera. It was Bishop; who was sporting a shorter beard, but a no less intimidating mustache. “Wow, this was years ago…”, he chuckled. “San Bernardino, right?”, he asked Chibs. “Yeah”, the president nodded. Nina studied the pictures, as Angel flipped them. “What’re the Mayans doing there? Weren’t you rivals?”. Looking at the date in the bottom corner of the picture, Angel shook his head. “Nah. This was just after we became allies. I think this was one of my first parties as a prospect. It was like a club-mixer thing, with a couple of charters from each side, meeting up, and getting wasted in the name of peace…”

He flicked through some more pictures, before reaching one with a tall bearded man in a beanie; a goofy looking biker with a mohawk; and a chubby man, with unruly, curly hair. Angel noticed Nina’s face light up in something resembling recognition. “SAMCRO?”, Angel asked. Nina nodded. “Opie, Juice and Bobby”, she said, smiling softly. “You said you were there?”. “Yeah… I think so”. Angel flicked through some more photographs, and pulled a picture out from near the bottom of the pile. He laughed out loud. “Shit, yeah… Look at that dumbass prospect staring at the camera. He don’t know shit yet…”.

A younger version of himself – though not by many years – was pictured with a tray of shots in hand, looking drunk and smiling goofily, while getting ready to serve a group of Mayans and Sons, who were seated at a table, in the middle of a poker-game. Angel looked happy just to be there, and the prospect flash on his chest looked brand new. “Fuck, man… Look at that hair…!”, he chuckled. He looked at Nina again, expecting her to laugh along with him; but saw that her eyes were full of tears. She was staring at a blonde man; who was seated by the table, shooting the camera a relaxed grin, and reaching for one of the glasses on Angel’s tray. “What’s wrong? My hair don’t look that stupid", Angel said, letting Nina take the photograph from his hands. “Mami? Do you know this guy?”. Angel looked down at the picture with wide eyes. “I remember him… Some big deal in SOA, right…?”. “Jax…”, Nina breathed. “This is him…”. “That’s your brother?”, Angel almost gasped. “I can’t believe I actually met the guy". “Do you remember him?”, Nina asked hopefully.

Angel dug through his memories, wanting nothing but to please her with a heartwarming story. “I was pretty wasted…”, he admitted. “But I remember he was talking about his kids…”. Nina nodded solemnly, seemingly sad, that she couldn’t get anything else out of him. He put his arm around her, and kissed her forehead. Chibs reached across the table, and took the picture. He looked down at it and chuckled. “Of course you don’t remember…”, he said. “But I can’t believe I fucking forgot!”. “What?”, Angel asked. “You were driving that piece of shit Suzuki, and thought you’d get away with sitting on Jackson’s Super Glide, for a picture”. The memory began dawning on Angel, and he instantly cringed. “He caught you, and knocked your fucking lights out! Peace was almost off because of that shit…”. Taza, who’d been chatting with Tig, took the picture from Chibs, and smiled down at it; before handing it back to Angel. “Don’t you remember Angel? We put another three months on your year as prospect for that”.

A clear laughter broke through the sound of the music, and the talking crowd. Angel turned and looked at Nina, whose face was contorted in glee. “Jax told me about that! How some no-name prospect rubbed up on his bike”, she said. “I had to put him in his place… I got him a beer when no one was watching, though”. “Yeah…”, Angel said, letting the corners of his lips rise in a slight smile. "I remember now. He seemed like a good guy”. “He was…”, Nina said. Her brows furrowed for a moment, before she met his eyes. “Do you…? I want to go see him”. Angel had to think for a moment, before he realized what she was saying. “Yeah… Of course”, he said. “You wanna go now?”. Nina nodded fervently, but seemingly nervous that he’d say no.

Angel put the picture in his cut pocket, to keep safe; then got to his feet, and pulled Nina up to stand. “Let’s go”, he said. He looked at the others around the table, and gave them a half smile. “I still need one more person’s blessing”.

---

The sun was about to go down, when they made it to the cemetery. Nina was holding on so hard to Angel’s hand, as they walked down the rows of grave-stones, that he was sure she’d leave marks; but he didn’t say anything – strangely nervous at the situation, and needing her support as much as she needed his. Nina smiled at a few grave-stones they passed, with names like Winston, Knowles and Munson. Angel noticed another stone, with the name John Teller engraved on it. He felt the urge to nod respectfully at it, as Nina stopped for a few seconds, to brush some dead leaves from it.

“It’s up here”, she said in a whisper, and pulled him with her, to a large stone with the Sons of Anarchy A, over the name Jackson Nathaniel Teller. Nina kneeled down in front of it, and held her brother’s helmet in her lap. Giving up on the fight on whether she should use it or not long ago, Angel had added some extra padding to it for her; so that it would at least be safer, than it had been before. “Hi, Jax…”, Nina said. “It’s been a while… I’m sorry about that, but I’ve been kinda busy”. She rubbed her belly protectively. “This is Angel”, she said, and looked up at him, with a warm smile. Angel cleared his throat, unsure what to do. “Hi…”, he muttered. “Yeah, I know… But he’s got a cool bike”, Nina chuckled. Angel frowned in confusion, but decided against commenting on her words. “I kept my promise after all. I’m happy. And everyone is safe… At least, as safe as they can be, as outlaw bikers…”.

She sat quietly for a long moment, and Angel kneeled down next to her; putting an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her check, and tasted the salty taste of her tears on his lips. “You ok?”, he whispered. Nina looked at him, and nodded; a smile on her lips. “Happy tears”, she said, and looked back at the stone. “I went back to school. I’m taking classes to become a paralegal… I wanna try to help the undocumented people the Mayans are moving through the tunnels”. “And she is”, Angel cut in. “She’s doing good work with what she knows, already”. Nina smiled embarrassedly for a moment, before continuing. “I’ve had to take a little break though, ‘cuz of the baby… It’s kind of hard to keep up with online classes, when you gotta pee every 45 minutes. But once she’s here, I‘ll be able to go back part time… I think I’ve found my path, and I have someone holding my hand while I walk it. And we’ve got have a large family – ourlarge family – to support us, whatever might get in our way”.

They were quiet for a moment longer; while Nina brushed her fingertips over the helmet in her lap. “I’ll be ok now, Jax. I promise…”. She lifted the helmet, and pressed a kiss to it, before placing it on the ground in front of the gravestone. She looked at Angel, and wiped her eyes. “Let’s go”.

Angel got to his feet, and went behind Nina, to lift her up to stand. Hand in hand, they began walking back towards the parking lot. “Wait a sec…”, Angel said, and halted. “What?”, Nina said. He pressed a short kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back”.

He walked back to Jackson’s grave. “Thanks, man… For everything”, he said. He kissed his fingers, and pressed them to the stone; before turning around, and walking back towards to his woman, his daughter, and their future together.

The End.

---

tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #ez reyes #coco cruz #sons of anarchy

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msmarvelwrites · 4 years

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Season Of The Witch - Part 3

Summary: Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Swearing, Anxious reader, implied smut but still 18+ pleasee!

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Hey you guys! Hope everyone is having a good week so far! It’s been a long couple few days here, but I’m feeling productive today so here we are. Happy reading! Please like and reblog if youve read, your support means so much to me!

Thank you forever to @cutie1365 for all her help and advice on this fic. She’s killing it and you should definitely go check out her work!

You sat, defeated and mentally drained in the wreckage that was your bedroom floor. After you ripped almost everything out of your closet it was decided, you simply could not go tonight. All you wanted to do was sink into the floor and let the miss-matched fabric swallow you whole without surrender. It could be the idea of spending the night surrounded by screaming thoughts… It could also be the frigid rejection you had received earlier from Bucky, but either way your fate was sealed. It was better if you just bailed. Peter would be disappointed he wouldn't have someone to escape the ‘adult-ier adults’ with him, but he would understand. Wanda, however, would not be so forgiving.

The knock on your bedroom door sufitialtly pulled you from your own daydreams.

“Miss Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff is here to see you. Shall I let her in?” The A.I. spoke. You rolled your eyes, a groan slipping from your lips as you hawled yourself off the floor and onto the bed. “Yes, thank you, Friday.” You mumbled.

Seconds later, Wanda was skipping into your room with a shy grin smoothed over her pink lips. You knew that look all too well, and to this day, it worried you.

“Hello there friend.” She chimed, swinging the fabric bag she carried onto the bed and taking a seat beside you. “I can see I’ve interrupted your existential crisis.” She chuckled, gesturing to the mess you had made.

“I’m not going, Wan.” You stated, watching her carefully as she rolled her eyes.

“Like hell you're not going. What’s Bucky going to do without you to shadow?” He chided, eyeing you carefully. She was watching for a reaction, anything to confirm her suspicions. She had probed you for information this time last week. You couldn't hide from her, she knew you too well. Not only in her gifts, but also in spirit. She was one of the first people you really opened up to, and she often used that against you. Especially when trying to discover why you andBucky seemed to be in a much better mood lately. ‘Antidepressants’ was your final answer.

“I actually don't care what Bucky does. Maybe he’ll get lucky with Steve tonight.” You joked. God you hoped you were joking.

“Shut up, Y/n. I know somethings going on with you two.”

“Who two?” Peter inclined striding into your room and flopping onto the bed, his head sitting between you and Wanda as he looked up at her.

“Y/n and Bucky are doing it.” She indulged him as his face fell. He crawled around so he could look at you dead on, his face contorting into that of disgust.

“You and- and… Mr. Barnes? No…” He grimaced, shaking his head like he had tasted something sour.

“No! There is nothing going on between Bucky and I.” you insisted, glaring at Wanda.

“Don’t listen to her, Peter. She’s a filthy liar. And she’s totally banging Barnes.” Wanda giggled as you shoved her into the pillows.

“Banging? Oh god no- I’m picturing it… Make it stop!” Peter gagged sarcastically, toppling over onto Wanda as they both fell into a fit of laughter.

“I don't know why I tolerate you two.” You chuckled, watching your friends writhe on the bed. In a moment of distraction, Peter grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you down on top of him.

“You know you need us. What would you do, huh? hangout with Steve the ninety year old virgin? And I know you avoid Natasha like the plague because everytime you see her she drags you to the gym… No, no you need us.” Peter smiled, tucking one of his arms under his neck as he shifted onto his back. You laid there on the bed between him and Wanda as you all contemplated that.

“If I tell you, you have to promise it stays between us. I’m looking at you, Parker. Stark canNOT know about it.” You signed, glaring at him until he nodded. “So… Maybe it's possible Bucky and I might be… I don’t know what you’d even call it… I guess we're trying to…”

“Is bump nasty’s still a term?” Wanda asked, false innocence in her eyes as she looked at you. Both you and Peter threw your heads back laughing and he elbowed her.

“That’s awful.” Peter giggled, pointing his finger in his mouth and gagging.

You spent the next hour explaining what was really going on between you and Bucky. How you were definitely not ‘bumping nasties’ and that it was just pure and new and so, so incredibly hot.

“You have to go tonight.” Wanda sighed, holding up a little black dress infront of the floor length mirror.

“And do what?” You huffed, falling back on the bed and worrying on your bottom lip. “Bucky basically ran out of the room the moment I brought up the idea of-”

“Bumping Nasties?” Peter piped up, to which Wanda rocketed a pillow at his face, the crimson current sizzling around it.

“Yeah, that.” You chuckled, letting your face drop in your hands. This was just embarrassing. You’d never been so hung up on a guy before. But then again, Bucky wasn't just some guy.

“If only you could know what he was thinking…” Wanda smirked, turning on her heel and silently asking Peters approval of the dress. He shrugged in response, gaining a frustrated eye roll from the redhead.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t mean to listen in… It’s an invasion of privacy.”

“That's never stopped you before.” Peter argued, a goofy smile plastered on his lips.

“Listen, read his mind- don't read his mind. It doesn't matter. The guy is obviously crazy about you. He’s always so dark and gloomy but lately the guy actually smiles. I heard him laugh the other day,” Wanda smirked, sitting beside you on the bed. “At one of Sam’s jokes.” She finished.

“Yeah, Y/n. You gotta go. Do it for us. Also because you're the only one who will sneak me booze under the table.” Peter chuckled, his bottom lip wobbling as he pleaded with you.

“Fine. But only because drunk Peter is the better Peter.”

Wanda nodded her head in agreeance, grabbing the fabric bag off the bed and throwing it in your lap. “Perfect. Wear this, I picked it out specially for you…”

The thumping sound of music vibrated through the hallway as you tangled yourself in the orange and black tassels hanging from the door. You always liked Halloween as a rule, but Tony’s parties were starting to put a damper on your fun.

You had thought that Bucky would have met you at your room to escort you to the event. He knew how badly you dreaded going, but he never showed. Maybe you had read him all wrong, you thought. Maybe this was all in your head, piecing together his thoughts into something you wanted to hear rather than the truth. Maybe the dress that Wanda had picked out for you was starting to cut off the circulation to your brain because it was getting harder and harder to think straight… Or was that just the music drowning out your mindless babble.

“Good evening, beautiful.” Peter hummed from beside you. His presence startled you as you hadn't heard him coming. He held out his arm offering it for you to hold. “Are you going in?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before you finally nodded your head, swallowing hard and taking his arm. It was moments like this that you were thankful for Peter. Truthfully you knew if he wasn't standing right there you might have ran for your life, bunkering down in your room in a blanket fort.

“Such a gentleman.” You cooed, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you into the party.

“Nah, just a friendly neighborhood spider man. It’s good for my street cred, nothing more.” You brushed you off, pulling you into the buzzing room.

Voices filled your head, swirling around you as you tried to concentrate on just one. There had to be at least a hundred people here tonight. They crashed over you, swarming in your mind like bees in a hive. It had been forever since you had been in a crowd like this and the anxiety was starting to coarse through your veins.

“Hey. You're alright.” Peter assured you, pulling you across the room and over to the bar where Sam and Nat sat, laughing at something Tony had said.

“Well if it isn't the wicked witch of NewYork.” Sam called, pulling you into his chest. “Your shadow is around her somewhere. Probably off staring longingly at Steve.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your bottom lip as you scanned the room. Lo and behold, Bucky stood in the corner of the room with Steve, his eyebrows fused into a knot as his friend spoke something you couldn't make out over the booming music.

“He’s looking more pissy than usual.” Nat snorted, watching you as you gawked at the man. You didn't notice the small smirk that had appeared on her lips as she pieced together your frustration.

“Nah, that's just his resting face.” Tony quipped, pouring a tall glass of liquor and sliding it across the bar to you. You picked it up, lifting it to your lips and downing it seconds later as you clanked it back on the counter.

“Keep em’ coming. You guys are loud tonight.” You mumbled, your brain already beginning buzz as you forced your friends on ‘mute’. It was like a constant sit-up, you liked to describe. Eventually your body would cave and their thoughts would rush in, but the alcohol helped numb the ache and kept them at bay.

With another double in hand, you decided the liquid courage was exactly what you needed to confront the ‘gentleman’ he so eloquently had put.

As you closed in you noticed Steve elbowing Bucky, altering him of your presence. At the sight of you, his face fell, his eyes darting to the floor.

“Evening geriatrics.” You chuckled, downing your drink as mustering every fiber in your body to make eye contact with the ethereal man before you. To your dismay, he was staring back, his eyes a violent thunderstorm you were on the verge of losing yourself in. You swallowed hard, clearing your throat and attempting to calm your nerves as you scanned him over.

“Bucky. You look… Nice.” You choked out. His navy blue dress shirt was tucked neatly into his dark washed jeans, his hair perfectly placed in a way you knew had taken him forever before he was content to leave his room. The idea made you smile, but only for a moment as the sinking feeling crept back into the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll leave you two, to… Talk.” Steve waved his goodbyes, pulling you into a side hug and whispering in a hushed tone, “Take it easy on him.”

With that, Steve was gone, leaving you alone and vulnerable.

“You look incredible.” Bucky hummed, his eyes falling down your form, but his face remained unreadable.

Don’t just stand there, do something… Apologize… Kiss her… God, just stop staring and-

“I should apologize- for earlier. I shouldn't have run out on you like that. It won't happen again.” Bucky mumbled, his hands, vibranium and flesh stuffed in his jean pockets. You were caught off guard to say the least. You were ready, guns drawn to defend yourself, but there stood the infamous Winter Soldier, cowering before you like a lost puppy. Your eyes softened as a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

“Why did you leave?” You finally spoke, “I didn't mean to push you… Bucky, rushing is the last thing I wanted to do. If you want to-”

“No!” He blurted.

“No?”

“You're not rushing me. Damn, doll. I’m trying my best here, but you're walking around in that dress, with those lips and all I want to do is…” He trailed off, his eyes falling on your best as he worried on his bottom lip.

“So its my fault?” You gawked.

“No!” He almost shouted, lowering his voice when he caught a few unwarranted eyes at his tone. “It’s my fault. Y/n, I’m trying so hard to be respectful. I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m completely out of my depth here. This used to be so easy and now… The rules have changed and I can’t keep up and all I know if I want to throw you over my shoulder right now and haul you back to my room and make you mine. I just… It’s just that I’ve never…”

You gaped at him, caught off guard by his confession as you waited for his next words, but his thoughts broke through the air before he could speak.

Never used my arm as anything but a means to an end… You’re going to kill her with it… How can she see you as anything but a monster…? Doesn't she know how easy it would be to lose control…? It would take minutes… Seconds…

“Bucky…” You hummed, your hand resting on his metallic arm as you pulled him from his self destructive thoughts. His eyes pleaded with you, boring into your soul. “Dance with me.”

He stared at you, opening and shutting his mouth, trying to speak. It wasn't a question, but he nodded anyways, allowing you to pull him into the crowd of people swaying back and forth to the lulling music.

You took the lead, lifting his metal hand and placing it on your hip. You intertwined your fingers with his flesh hand, stumbling forward as he pulled you in, his strength startling you a little.

Oh, god…. Be gentle… Don’t break her, you ass.

You chuckled, resting your head against his chest as you relaxed into his form. His heart beat drawing out the incoherent thoughts around you. You swayed back and forth like that, until Bucky’s breathing returned to normal again. Your hand trailed down from his shoulder to his cool metal fingers. They tightened around your waist at your touch as he stiffened, holding in a breath.

“I’m not afraid of you…” You hummed against his chest. “That’s what you said to me… ‘I’m not afraid of you.’” You recanted the conversation you had had those weeks ago outside your room.

“I’m pretty afraid right now.” He admitted, resting his chin on top of your head as he breathed you in.

“You won’t hurt me, Bucky.” You assured, running your fingers up and down his arm, listing to it whirl as he moved. “See? We’re dancing. You're holding me, and I’m not broken. I’m right here.”

Gently, you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, meeting his eyes. He swallowed hard, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back at you. You would have given anything to kiss him right there, to melt into him and ease his mind like only he did for you.

“I don't remember how to dance.” He signed, pain dripping from his words.

“I can teach you.” You smiled into him, the smell of his cologne enveloping your senses.

“And can you teach me what you like?” He asked, his voice a low gruff in your ear. “Where you crave to be touched, and kissed and moved.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing as his lips trailed down the shell of your ear. His words sent a heat straight to your core as his breath fanned across your cheek causing a blush to creep up your chest.

“You have to sneak me out of this party first.” You chuckled, trying (and failing) to steady your rapid heart.

“Baby, you're hanging with a strained assassin now. Let me teach you a thing or two...” He bragged, his pink lips pulling at the corner of his mouth into a smirk.

________________________________________________________________

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missmermaidwitch · 4 years

Text

Brazilian Mythical Creatures

The Ofcial Guide

Most of the witchcraft pratice usualy runs around nordic and wicca culture, wich is not a problem. But as a latina witch, my pratice involves very diffrent beliefs. So I decided to share a little bit of my country's culture along with my pratice.

So here you are about to know the magical creatures of the brazillian forests. Most of them have African culture involved due to our contry cultural mixing.

1. Curupira

The Curupira is a young indian boy who has fire like hair and feets turned to the backside of his body. He is a very ancient protector spirit of the forest yet he looks like a boy. He runs trough the forest in silence, making fake trails with his footprints to confuse the hunters and colonizers and protect the indian tribes. As only the native people used to know him, the eroupean explorers didn't knew he had his feet turned to back, so they alway followed his footsteps to the wrong side and end up lost in the dangerous wild forests.

2. Cuca

Here is one of the most famous Brazilian witches, and yes! She is an alligator. Not a crocodile, these are from other places, much like Africa and central/north-america. In Brazil we only have aligators, thank godess! (And no, they are not the same animal!). On the oposite of us, very lovely witches, Lady Cuca is a very, very mean sorceress. She has a monstruous voice and is in one of our most popular lullabies. Her purpouse is to kidnap mean children when they don't sleep at night and eat'em. She has a big cauldron through which she can see anything.

The song says "sleep, little baby! Or Cuca is gonna get you! Your mother is at the farm and your daddy is gonne to work". As you may notice, the song is supose to be sang by Lady Cuca herself. Very scary for a baby, right?

Obs: The cuca is only represented as an alligator by Monteiro Lobato in his tales, O Sítio do Pica-Pau Amarelo.

3. Boitatá

Boitatá is the name of another ancient forest spirit. Its a giantic fire snake. It protects the woods from those who plans to destroy it, specialy if trying to burn it. It surely seems to be a very lovely creature, but anyone who looks at it gets immediately insane and blind. It has the power to turn into a burning trunk to fall on the harmers and kill them. (I guess probably because this way it can avoid getting possible inocent witness blind and crazy). Sometimes it might almost look like a perfect normal snake, but it's eyes are always on fire.

There is a big chance it's a she. A female snake.

4. A Mula Sem Cabeça (The Headless Mule)

Poor thing! Attention here, girls! Any virgin girl who acept to marry a priest might end up like that. Once a virgin lady says yes to a man from the church and acept his engagement ring, she becames a headless mule. The ring turns into a collar arond the animal's neck. And she can only turn back into a human if someone takes it of. Too bad there's always a huge flame coming out of it, so hot that no one is able to get close. In other versions, if a lady has sex with a priest she becames a headless mule.

5. Saci Pererê

No one is sure if there is one or more of those. But at least one we all have met. This guy is a very fun fella. He has one less leg and jumps arond in his red clothes and his magic red hat, "carapuça" in portuguese (it's a special kind of hat and he can take anithing out if it). He can also travel trough whirlwinds, small ones usualy. The thing is that he takes a lot of dirty and leafs whit him, that's for sure. His hobbies are changing sugar and salt's places so everyone in the house have sweet beans and salty coffee. And stealing things from people, specially pipes, he loves pipes! Enough said, he is a trickster (or they are). He enjoys making a mess, but he also can bring lots of help if you make frinds with him, but, to be honest, he would trick you anyways. In moonless nights, far away from the city, you can hear him whistle and laugh!

6. Lobisomem (Werewolf)

As in other cultures people turn into werewolves from another werewolves bites and other contagious metods, in Brazil we believe that a werewolf borns when a couple after having seven daughters has the first son. Seven older sisters might get anyone angry but in this case its a little more complicated. Every full moon, the werewolf gotta run troght seven cemiteries, seven crossroads and seven church's yards. In his human days he feels always very sick and dizzy, tends to get drunk all the time because off the pain and confusion. Even in our culture the only way to kill him is a silver bullet, but we have a special secret: the way to cure him. Covering a bullet in a church's altar candle's wax and shoting (in a non-fatal spot, obviouly)! If trying, I wouldn't recomend a silver bullet anyways.

7. Iara Mãe D'água (Iara, mother of the waters)

We do have lots of mermaids in Brazil, but not all of them are royalty. Iara is a very beautiful mermaid princess, all tough we have countless beautiful beaches, she lives in the contry's rivers. She used to be a very powerful warrior indian, till the day her brothers decided to kill her because they were envy of her abilities. But as a great warrior she defeated them, killing each one. When her Dad found out what she did, he trown her into the river in a full moon night. The fishes, who admired her beauti, decided to save the girl turning her into a mermaid. Since then she reings in a underwater realm and spend her days singing to atract men and take them there. Or maybe she just kill'em, thats also a possibility.

8. Boto Cor-de-rosa (Pink river dolphin)

The Amazonas river has a very special kind of sweet water dolphin that in portuguese we call "boto". But beyond the already amazing normal "botos" there is a even more special one. The pink dolphin. It is a very wise enchanted dolphin who in full moon nights can turn into a human. Trough this night he goes to parties and date the most beautiful ladies, almost always getting them pregnant. He dresses white clothes and is a very charming man, but in the next day he will desapear and never show up again. But that's just normal male behavior, no magic involved.

Yes, the pink river dolphins is a real brazillian animal and this is a real picture of it.

August 22

Is national folklore day in Brazil.

I hope you guys enjoyed the reading. Let me know if you want to learn more about brazillian culture.

💕If you liked the post, please Reblog it!💕

#witch community #spellwork #spells #magick #witches of tumblr #nature #crystals #sea witch #witch blog #witchblr #mythical creature #brazil #folklore #mermaid witch

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monsoonblooms12 · 4 years

Text

Christmas with the Waverleys ❄️: Part II

Summary: How do things turn out when Alex and Pooja are teleported to the 19th century for a Victorian Christmas🎄?

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? Firstly, wishing a very happy Christmas Eve to everyone🎄! TBH I still cannot believe this year is about to end. Anywho, I wish everyone’s life is filled with joy, wonder and happiness and the new year brings you loads of new possibilities and new memories. Love you all!💛

If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕

Thank you so very much @caseyvalentineramsey for prereading and @jamespotterthefirst for prereading and helping me up with the editing. You guys are life-savers and I love you💛💛

Characters: For this part, the characters are my OH f!MC(Dr. Pooja Sharma) and OH F!OC (Dr. Alexandra Walton), Eleanor Waverley, Thomas Waverley, Clarissa Waverley, Simon Waverley, Rose Waverley and William Waverley

Word Count: around 3.2K

Rating: General

Prompts :-

CFWC(@choicesficwriterscreations ) Winter Season Prompt #6: Character A doesn’t like the holidays. B loves it. Will B try to find out why or convince A to celebrate it?

@choicesmonthlychallenge ~Sibling Appreciation: The Waverley Siblings

@choicesdecemberchallenge Day 24: Eve

December 24th (contd.)

Suddenly it felt as if the world was spinning very, very rapidly around them. They felt dizzy, nauseous. Just when bearing everything was becoming too much, a chilly air went past them.

They slowly opened their eyes. And the sight in front of them had them holding their breath without their knowledge.

A huge medieval mansion, covered in snow, appeared before them. It was majestic, beautiful and warm.

They looked around. As far as the eye could see, No other house was visible.

Is this the place they were supposed to reach? Or did something go wrong?

Pooja and Alex looked around in utter awe. Both due to the mansion and the wonder if they had been teleported to 19th century London.

"There you are!" A deep, humble, feminine voice called out.

Turning around they saw a young girl either approaching 20 or in her very early 20s coming out from the mansion towards them. She wore a medieval red gown, the upper half of which was covered by a shawl, and only the lower half with minute patterns of red silk was visible.

Not knowing what else to do, Pooja and Alex, too started walking through the snow towards her.

After a few minutes, they stood face to face. The girl had a small, faint smile, but her eyes expressed the happiness she felt on meeting her visitors.

She bowed slightly.

"I am Eleanor Waverley."

"You both must be Pooja and Alexandra!"

Confused, both of them bowed similarly as Eleanor had. Confirming her words, Pooja spoke, "Yes! I am Pooja, and she" She pointed towards Alex, " is Alexandra."

"Great! Oh! I haven't even invited you in. Please follow me."

"This is our house, The Braidwood Manor."

Eleanor added as she opened the brown panelled glass door and led them in.

The interiors of the Manor gave a majestic vibe. A huge golden chandelier with 7 ornate lamps hung down from the high ceiling. The floor had decorated tiles of various shades of orange and brown.

On entering, Pooja and Alex were mesmerized with the beautiful inside. It also provided them with the warmth which they were craving since the time they teleported to the Victorian Era of Britain.

When the two were taking in all the details, Eleanor's voice jolted them out of their thoughts.

"From the time Mrs Ainsworth informed us that some guests were going to join us for Christmas, we were excited. Especially my sister and my little brother." A smile lightened up her face as Eleanor gazed gratefully at her guests.

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart for joining us this year. I promise you will not regret anything about all this. We rarely have visitors on Christmas. Your presence is like a light in our dark, solitary winter nights. Thank you, thank you very much!"

A little tear slipped down her eye as the smile remained still on her face, signifying her happiness.

Pooja stepped forward.

"Eleanor, It is not you but us who should be thankful. Thank you for letting us celebrate this Christmas with you. Maybe, finally, my best friend—" She pointed towards Alex "—will warm up to the idea of holidays. We are very excited for the celebrations"

She finished with a smile as Alex joined her. Alex's face, too, bore a smile, but it didn't quite crinkle the corners of her eye. It was a pleasantry.

"We are excited too! Let me introduce you to my famil- Oh!" Eleanor abruptly stopped. "I nearly forgot! Let me first show you your rooms. And-"

She seemed awkward, as if searching for words. She looked down at their dresses.

And Alex, understanding what she was trying to signify, relieved her from her awkwardness.

"Eleanor, I guess it has something to do with our dresses, right?"

Not knowing what to say, She nodded her head slightly.

Pooja said, "Ohh Yes! Eleanor, please help us with them?"

Eleanor was relieved for not having to say it herself. She was pleased with their intuition and understanding nature.

"Please follow me. I will provide you with everything."

She led the two of them up the Grand stairs to their rooms. As the two slowly took in their surroundings, Eleanor came and provided them both with a beautiful Victorian gown. Pooja's was teal and white, while Alex's was hunter green and Congo red.

Once ready and all decked up, Eleanor took them for introductions.

The three of them entered the dining area of the Manor, and slowly the big family of three young children and their parents came into view, seated on the dining table, behind which, the wall bore an intricately decorated mural and a magnificent fireplace along with some painting of the family.

The sound of the footsteps caused five heads to turn their way, each accompanied by a gentle smile and warmth in their eyes. Each, except one. The boy's face did turn towards them, but it remained hostile and indifferent.

"Seems like he doesn't prefer our company"

"Mmm-hmm. It's okay, We are just here for a day"

Pooja and Alex went up to the friendly members who had now got up from their chairs and stood to welcome them.

Eleanor, went to the elder lady, and spoke to her, "Mum, they are our guests for Christmas." She went up to Pooja. "This is Pooja" and then to Alex "and this is Alexandra"

Her mother stepped forward and the two girls bowed like they had seen Eleanor do when she met them. She was pleased and warmly welcomed them.

"Ahh! So happy to have two golden girls joining us. I am Rose Waverley." She kindly gestured them to get seated at the table along with everyone else.

Once everyone settled down, Eleanor finished up the rest of the introductions. Her father William Waverley, her sister Clarissa Waverley and her two brothers, Thomas and Simon.

After chatting a bit more, they finally delved into the Celebration plans.

"My dears, we haven't started putting the decorations yet, because I very strongly believe that decorations are a very essential part of igniting the holiday spirit." Mrs. Waverley informed.

Alex nearly scoffed at the 'Holiday Spirit' but realizing the circumstances they were in, she stopped herself.

Holiday spirit, ugh! Why Poo Why?

But Pooja was genuinely excited. She always wanted to visit a Victorian house and celebrate Holidays the Victorian way.

And all this? It felt like a dream come true.

She excitedly said, "Very True, Mrs. Waverley! And please don't worry! We will help in every way we can."

"Great then! We can start working then. Ellie, and our guests can put up the decorations, while Clarissa helps me in the kitchen. Thomas can put up everyone's stockings, and two more for our guests, at the fireplace, while Simon and Dad finish the book they were reading."

Everyone happily nodded and went on to carry out their assigned jobs.

Pooja, Alex and Eleanor, headed towards the Parlour. It was grand.

Two huge bay windows brought in the faint light of the exteriors. By one of the window, an elegant piano sat peacefully and on the other side was a large, comfortable couch, perfect for family seating.

And just beside the couch, was a beautiful, delicately manicured, fir tree stood as the symbolism of the Festivals.

Pooja and Alex were so immersed in viewing everything that they didn't notice that Eleanor was not there with them. They realized the same when she came with a huge box in her hand.

"Here are the decorations that are to be placed"

She set down the box that she was carrying. It was filled to the rim with glass ornaments, crackers, lights, red paper strips and various other decors of tin and leather.

"But I am really confused about which pieces to put up and which to skip out?"

Eleanor sighed, staring at the plethora of ornaments.

Pooja nudged Alex, "Don't worry! When Alexandra Walton is here, nothing can go wrong!"

What in the world? Poo has lost her mind. Oh, No!! Now what?

"Uh... Huh. Ya, I mean, sure. I will help."

"Help, Lex? Nah. You will lead, we will follow."

Eleanor let out a gentle chortle as Pooja continued to tease Alex. She was in awe of both of their friendships.

Suddenly she remembered that soon, very soon, they will take their leave.

She sighed as she thought. Even though they had come in her life for an hour or so at most, it felt like they knew each other since forever.

"Eleanor?" She was brought back to the Braidwood Manor by the sublimely worried voice of Pooja. She looked at them to see both the girls looking at her with a concerned look.

"Eleanor? Is everything alright? If there is any trouble troubling you, you can share it. We will help any way we can!" Pooja and Alex assured.

"No! No worries, as such. Just..." A pause. "I have never had anyone like both of you in my life. Although my family is loving, and I will forever be grateful for them, but... I have, never had friends like you both are."

"Oh, Ellie!" Pooja calling her by her nickname caught her off guard for a moment, but she soon got her grip and smiled at her. "You are our friend. Good friend,"

"Great friend" Alex inserted.

"No matter, we are here tomorrow or not, you will always be our friend,"

"Always?" Eleanor sought for a confirmation.

"Always." The two assured while placing a hand on Ellie's shoulder. Their hearts were full of the feelings of a freshly sprouted planting of friendship.

"Oh-kay! So let's start creating a masterpiece out of this tree, shall we?" Pooja shot an excited look towards her friends.

"Yaa, Happy Holidays." Alex groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Alexandra, you won't regret it! Let's get going!"

"If you say so." Alex gave her a tiny smile. She was not the one to turn down a good friend.

"And, it's Alex" she added as the three went up to look through the ornament.

Time passed, like a gushing stream flowing down a rocky hill, as the three meticulously put each glass ornament, each cracker and the fairy lights, one by one, with extreme care and perfection.

Pooja was hyped, Eleanor excited, and Alex, very strangely, was Happy.

Was it because of the company, or had she finally begun to enjoy holidays? That will forever remain a mystery.

But will it be so bad to see Alexandra Walton opening up to the idea of festivals? Not a mince!

An unknown number of hours later, they were finally done. They stepped back to admire their handiwork.

And didn't it reflect their hard work!

Each delicately placed ornament, each strand of fairy light, each funfilled cracker made the tree look heavenly.

Their placements complemented each other and their collaboration was splendid.

If they weren't friends made for each other, who were?

As Pooja, Alex and Ellie stood admiring the bejewelled fir, a soft aroma filled the room. It was then they realized, how hungry they had been! As soon as the thoughts crossed their mind, Clarissa came into the parlour. The power of telepathy!

"The food had been served! Mom invited you all to the dining room." She almost left when her eyes fell on the tree.

"Woooow! This is so pretty! Mom and Dad will be so happy."

She went to where Pooja and Alex stood.

"Thank you soo much for this. I have never seen our tree looking soo beautiful! You two are angels."

The little girl's happiness reflected in her eyes.

Alex lightly placed her hand on her shoulder. "We enjoyed decorating it too! But you should thank your sister first. Without her, this wouldn't have been able to do it so perfectly."

Clarissa went to her sister and gave her a big hug. "You know you're the best Eleanor. You're the best big sister."

Eleanor shed a tear as she hugged her little sister back. "You are precious too, Clarissa! You, Thomas, Simon, you all are!"

After staying in the hug for a bit longer, Clarissa escorted them to the dining room. As soon as they entered, the delicious aroma of several lavish and extravagant delicacies overpowered their senses. Their mouths watered.

At the table, they say a perfectly roasted stuffed turkey sat at the centre. Mashed potatoes, gravy and vegetables were placed in sparkly silver. There was cranberry sauce. Oysters, Yorkshire Pudding and tender Chicken looked delightful.

"Please take a seat my dears" Mrs Waverley urged as she placed two decorative plates in front of them along with all the additional pieces of cutlery.

"This is a traditional English Christmas Feast. Enjoy yourselves!" She said as she whole-heartedly served her guests.

After they finished the huge servings of the main course, dessert was served. A beautifully made Christmas pudding and a piece of fruitcake.

If not before, Alex had definitely melted by now. As she finished the last crumb of the delicacies served, she thought to herself, "Maybe Holidays aren't so bad. Food, Friends, Happiness. I don't think I could ask for more."

What a growth!

After the dinner, as Pooja went to see the Christmas tree one last time, she heard a soft melody touching her ears, which came from the Parlour. As Pooja went in, she saw the silhouette of a boy playing the Grand Piano. As she went in, she realized that it was Thomas.

Without disturbing him, she stood a little closer. Thomas must have realized that someone was there. He abruptly turned back.

"What are you doing here?"

"I remembered a tune that I learnt some while ago. Is it okay if I play?" Pooja enquired.

"Fine. Go On."

Thomas remained Stoic, but he was definitely intrigued.

Pooja slowly took a seat at the piano. She played the gentle notes of a Parlour music tune she had picked up from Alekhya. Thomas closed his head as he lightly swayed his head with the soft tune.

Once finished, He looked up to Pooja at awe.

"Where did he you learn that from? That was melodious!"

Not answering his question, Pooja offered, "Do want to learn it?"

Thomas let out an excited Yes. And the duo spent the rest of the evening teaching each other tunes and talking a bit here & there.

All this while Alex went to Simon. The little boy was so excited to see her. Mr Waverley left him with her as he went to have a stroll.

Simon sat on her lap and Alex, told him colourful stories, of fairies, of dragons and even of the future. Her storytelling won his heart and his demands for One More! never diminished.

At last, as he fell in a sweet slumber, the long evening of stories ended.

A little while later, Pooja came searching her. She told her about her evening with Thomas and Alex softly told about how she spent her evening with Little Simon.

As they chatted, they did not take notice of Mr Waverley coming back in the room. When he slowly called for Simon, that's when they got aware of his presence.

As Alex handed Simon back to him and the two took their leave, Mr Waverley stopped them. They turned to see the man having a smile of gratitude on his lightly wrinkled face.

"I can not thank the both of you enough for coming here today. Our Christmas, Holidays have always been just the family. My kids always wanted to have someone over for the occasion, but living in a solitary area like this didn't make it easy for people to come over. Having you here, I can undoubtedly say that this was the Best Christmas Eve we have ever had!"

At his words, both Pooja and Alex had tiny droplets at the corner of their eyes. They thanked him and chatted with him for a little while before finally retiring for the night.

December 25th

The Christmas morning began when Eleanor came waking the two sleepyheads and asking them to come and see the gifts they had received.

They got dressed and as they entered the Parlour, were greeted with excited squeals and heartfelt laughter, that rubbed away any reminiscences of sleep that remained.

They saw the family opening their gifts and the floor all covered with handkerchiefs, pieces of jewellery, board games books, mufflers, embroidered suspenders and even larger articles like a theatrophone and a dishwasher.

Pooja and Alex too got sweets, nuts, little handmade trinkets, jewellery, reading books, watch case and scarves.

The unique article that Pooja got was a vintage board game while for Alex it was an Indian work humidor.

Both of them also received a box of home-made cookies each. Everything was too precious for them, the bonding that they had formed with this happy family was all they needed for a great time.

A lot of talks, food and smiles later, all of them dressed up for the Church.

However, Pooja and Alex realized they didn't have much time left. They asked Eleanor about the time.

It was still early. Perhaps they would be able to listen to the carols before they had to take their leave.

"Ellie, I don't think we will be able to stay for longer. We will get to hear the carols but, we don't much time left."

"Can't you stay here with us?" Eleanor said as sadness spread over her features.

"We are sorry Eleanor, but there are some circumstances not in our hand. When time comes, one has to bid Adieu! But the feeling is definitely mutual." Alex softly replied.

Their heart broke at the thought that they would never be able to see each other again. But what is the use of denying the inevitable.

Eleanor was one determined girl. She wouldn't let them miss the carols!

"You came this time, you will come again. You know the right person who can bring you back. Promise me, Promise me you will come back!" Eleanor requested.

Then it dawned upon them. If the lady brought them here once, she could bring them back again!

Happily, they promised, "Promise."

And with that, the three hurried down to join the family on their way to the Church.

Carol singers and musicians played and sang the five melodious and popular carols of the era. Beginning their performance with O Come all ye Faithful, and the symphony continued with Once in Royal David’s City, moving on to See Amid the Winters Snow, O Little Town of Bethlehem.

At last came the majestic music of Away in a Manger.

Each of the performance was a musical gem, and if they could, they would have recorded each of the pieces and take them with them.

But just as the ending notes of the Carol began playing, Pooja and Alex, started feeling slightly light-headed.

Their time, here, was coming to an end.

Quietly whispering their hurried goodbyes, they picked the bag of their gifts.

As they went last notes of the Carols faded, they faded from the 19th century with the pieces of love they had garnered from the Era of Victoria.

Only one thought crossed their mind as their senses finally gave out.

This was a Christmas well spent.

PS: Lots of hearty thank yous to you for reading💖! I hope you have a great day ahead💖, and wishing you a Very Merry Christmas is Advance🎄!

Fic Tags (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!) : @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @arcticriver @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406 @neotericthemis @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @zoehanji

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.05

A Consummate Marriage

10/06/2019

Pairing: Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,878

Warnings: language, dub-con, semi-graphic, teeny bit of violence, angst

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written a scene like the one I write towards the end. Please be kind as it is important for the story and it’s not meant to be sexy at all, at least not after a certain point. If you do not like dub-con, please consider not reading this chapter. Or if you do, please remember you were warned. I’m super nervous about this chapter but also excited to share it because it is SO important for the future of the relationship in this story. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Your world is a flurry of planning. Measuring. Nervous questions muttered into Nat's ear as she shakes her head to the woman measuring you to alter your wedding dress.

“Isn’t tomorrow too soon?” You worry, watching the gray-haired seamstress as she stoops down low to pin the lower hem of your dress.

She’s sweating, her white cap—really just a glorified headband—slipping sideways to expose her flushed cheeks.

“Steve wants it tomorrow.” Mother says, moving to hold your sleeves back while she also points at your side. “Bring it in here as well.”

“Yes, but everyone’s having to rush.” You fret.

“My sweet girl, this is not rushing. It’s excitement. Right?” She asks, checking on the women moving around you and pinning your dress, fussing with fixing your bath which Nat suddenly notices.

She rushes towards them and takes the basket of soaps and oils away to look through.

The large copper tub—similar to the one you’d had back at Stark castle but longer—is placed before the large dark stone fireplace. The walls of the room are lined with dark, golden wallpaper that almost seem to glow with the warm light of the fire and candles lit around the space.

The high ceiling is made of similar dark chocolate wood as the hallways in the rest of the castle. The bed, four post with soft pink curtains and beige lace, is made of the same. Soft black sheets and golden pillows fill the plush bed. You’re so exhausted it takes all of your willpower to keep from jumping in.

Frowning at the selection of scents in the basket, Natasha hands it back and then chases the maids off.

“Yes, your Majesty.” The seamstress grunts, sighing in exhaustion.

She doesn’t seem excited.

Your heart aches with fear as she suddenly smiles up at you and you do see the sparkle of join at a wedding. A royal wedding. A reason to celebrate.

But not for you…

“Mother…” You say breathlessly, terror in your eyes.

When her blue eyes meet yours, her smile vanishes.

“Leave us.” She suddenly orders and the women who had been preparing your bath hurry to leave. “Are you done, Moira?”

“Yes, your Majesty. I will go prepare my station.” The seamstress says.

“Thank you. I’ll have Natasha bring you the dress shortly.” Mother tells her, dismissing her too.

The woman leaves and with a nod to Natasha, Natasha moves to make sure that the door is closed, no one around to listen.

“Are we alone, Nat?” She asks, and Natasha nods.

“Yes.”

“Come.” She pulls you towards the large pale blue armchair by the fire behind your tub, sitting you down first before she sits beside you in the other. “What’s the matter? Have you changed your mind?”

She probably doesn’t mean to sound disappointed, you know that. But she does. And you can’t blame her. If you jilt King Rogers, you’ll possibly tarnish relations between the two kingdoms permanently.

“No.” You shake your head, “No. Of course not. I just…”

“Did something happen when you met with Steve earlier?” Nat asks suspiciously.

Steve? Why do they all use first names? They don’t seem to regard titles at all.

Turning shocked eyes on her, she frowns.

“I told you, Pepper. I told you that his rushing meant something was off.” Nat places her hands on her hips, fuming she moves to your bath and begins to prepare it, grumbling underneath her breath.

Mother sighs. “I had hoped that maybe he was just eager to come back to us. That it meant that he’s ready to move on.”

“No one gets stuck in the past like Steve.” Nat gripes.

“What happened?” Mother asks, reaching out to take your hand in her own.

“Nothing.” You smile at her, but it’s forced, and she sees that.

“Y/N, please. If you can’t do this, tell me. The King and I will not force you to do this.” She promises.

You do believe her. Even though you know that she’d rather do this to you than to Morgana, you know that she at least cares.

“I can do this. I know I can. I just wasn’t expecting him to be so-” You take a deep breath and then smile at her. “He told me that I could never make him happy. But there was also something in his eyes…I want to try. Even if he says that I can’t. However, I’m so scared that he’s right and that I will never be able to make him happy. I don’t know if I could live with that type of disappointment. Knowing that I failed as his wife?”

“He actually told you that you could never make him happy?” Nat asks, sounding upset again. Scoffing.

You can only look down at your hands, wondering if maybe seeing you in person is what prompted him to know you won’t make him happy. Maybe he thought he’d like you from your portrait but now that he’s seen you in person, he knows that you won’t?

“There’s something I think you need to understand, darling.” Pepper begins, scooting to the edge of her seat, making her royal red gown to rustle. She takes a firmer hold on your hand, caressing it with comfort as her blue eyes bore into yours. “Steven Rogers was a very happy man. There is a large portion of his life that you will have to discover on your own because no one can tell Steve’s story like he can. It’s his to tell. But the last bit. The bit that’s stuck with him the strongest, is the one that matters right now.

“Steve married the love of his life.”

Strange how that hurts to hear.

“He met her when his Kingdom had just gone to war and their love was very passionate. It was one of those loves that embeds itself into your bones and changes you forever. Margaret was strong. She knew herself and she had firm opinions that Steve admired. She was happy. She laughed and laughed the most with him. Together they were two halves of one whole and when he asked her to marry him, the Kingdom rejoiced. The War was won, and they got married and I’d never seen him so happy.

“His life was everything that he’d hoped it would be and then she died. He lost everything. Not just Margaret but his love of life. Any hope for his future. Any sort of happiness. She took it with her, and Steve hasn’t been the same since.

“We were all very close at one time and the treaty didn’t help but when Margaret died, he completely cut us off. Tony has been reaching out since and Steve only just responded.”

“Why?” You ask, feeling sick to your stomach.

You’re marrying a man who has already had his happy ending. He was as happy as life could possibly make him and then it was taken from him. You can never make him that happy again.

“We think that maybe he was receiving some pressure from his council members. He’s young and he should have a wife. He also needs an heir to the throne.” Nat provides, standing up after spreading more wine-colored peonies over top the water steaming from your tub.

“So, it’s out of a sense of duty that he’s marrying me?” You’d thought that might be a possibility, but you’d begun to hope with the quick way he’d responded to your portrait that maybe he actually likes you.

“Love can grow from duty.” Mother offers. “We’ve said this over and over, but you need to know that this will be hard. For a while, you will probably have more bad days than good.”

“And things might also never get better, right?” You sigh.

“Yes.” Mother nods. “They might not. You don’t have to do this, Y/N.”

You smile at her weakly, then get up and move to Nat. She moves around you and begins to unlace the back of your dress and carefully slides it off your form.

“Yes, I do.” You tell mother, “I will serve my father. And my Kingdom. I’ll marry him and make the best of it. I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit.” Nat praises before offering her hand so that you can step into the tub.

Naked, you settle into the hot water, gasping lightly at the burn.

“Darling,” Mother says, getting up and moving around to squat down beside the tub in front of your fire. “If things don’t get better. You always have a home with us. Just say the word and Tony and I will come and get you. He meant it when he said that you’re family.”

Her words make you happy, but there is no question of you ever leaving. You will make this work or die trying. You will serve your kingdom and even if he think you can’t, you will find a way to make Steve happy.

The bells of the city ring continuously as you and Steve ride through the city. The procession is large, with carriages in front carrying your family, Bucky and another Knight you’d met just before the ceremony named Samuel—or Sam, as he insisted—ride on horses on either side of your carriage.

The rabble cheer. Rose petals of every color rain down on you and Steve from the windows of tall buildings where the citizens of Steve’s capital city celebrate.

You can’t help but smile as his people celebrate their new Queen. Your dress is beautiful, off the shoulder with sheer white voile sleeves that hang off your arms with golden hems and intricately embroidered white roses that run along the entirety of the gown.

Your hair had been picked up, carefully piled atop your head in messy waves that somehow still look majestically disheveled. The large golden crown atop your head, perfectly round with an even bottom and a tapered top, several silver stars adorning the center all the way around definitely helps with the regality of your outfit.

Nervous beyond reason, you turn your bashful smile on your new husband. Steve is a vision in white silks, silver and golden embroidery along his top, his trousers are black, a line of golden vine along the sides.

His own crows sits atop his own head.

He’s beautiful and kingly, and he’d taken your breath away when you’d walked into the large church to get married.

His own gaze has remained the same. Save for a small uncertainty when you’d first met his eyes across the church, he’s looked just as stoic as he does now. The only difference is that in the church he’d had his jaw clenched the entire time.

Now, there’s a defeat in his expression that makes your smile fade.

“Your Majesty?” You check, reaching over to take his left hand but just as your fingertips touch his hand, he lifts it and waves at his people.

“Wave at our people, your Majesty.” He orders and avoids looking at you.

You do as he asks, chewing on your lower lip as you remind yourself that you signed up for this. You could have told father—King Tony—no when he’d first asked you to do this. You could have gone back to your sewing hut and gone on starving and being free to come and go as you please, but you accepted this path.

Patience. You urge yourself. Knowing that getting through to Steve will not be easy. It’ll be a long time probably before he’ll even feel comfortable enough to speak around you without that hint of animosity in his tone.

You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you wish he could have his Margaret back, but you think if you said that, he’d probably hate you more. Plus, you really want him to tell you about his pain in his own time.

“Your Majesty…” You begin again, not looking at him as you wave and force a smile. “…Steve.”

Your heart stops and you wait for him to get angry, but there’s only silence from your right.

“Please, call me by my name when we’re together. I-I’m your wife now. I want to know you.” And those last words are heavy. You mean that in every sense.

“You must do as you wish, your Majesty.” He says pointedly.

With a pit in your stomach, you try not to let your shoulders slump but you’re realizing that this is going to be harder to deal with than you thought.

“Never mind, your Majesty. I will follow your lead.” You continue to wave as Steve sighs heavily beside you.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve,” Bucky begins as he dismounts and watches as Steve steps off the carriage then turns to offer you his hand.

“Not now.” Steve tells him, not a care in the world that you’re standing there with him while he clearly argues with Bucky.

“Yes. Now.” Bucky stops beside him, scowling at him as you step down.

“I won’t have this discussion again.” Steve insists.

Once he’s sure that you’re safe on the ground he turns and walks away with Bucky trailing behind him.

By the time you lift your dress a bit to follow, his long legs have already taken him away from you a bit.

Bucky looks back at you, shooting you an apologetic look before he turns back to Steve with a frown. “Steve, you need to think about what sort of precedent you’re setting. It’s your wedding days. The servants are watching you and the new Queen. How do you think they’ll treat her if you don’t-”

He must have seen the two of you talking on the way back to the castle.

“Your Majesty?” Nat says, and you turn to look at her as Steve and Bucky fall out of earshot.

This time you force yourself to look happy. To look fine even though you feel like there’s an anvil in your chest, weighing you down.

“Nat…” You begin as she curtsies deep. “Stop that.”

“I can’t.” She chuckles. “You are Queen now and you are the highest women in the Kingdom. You deserve respect and admiration and I am more than happy to give it.”

If only Steve felt the same way.

“Thank you.” You keep your smile, intent on making sure that no one sees what Bucky did in the carriage. “Let’s go catch up with the King.”

You can see Steve and Bucky bickering by the large pale doors settled against the dark wooden wall. Beyond it you know there’ll be a wedding feast with more food than you’ve seen in your entire life. There’ll be music and merry making and dancing and everything that doubles and triples joy when there is a wedding to be celebrated.

They stop as you get closer and Steve turns towards the doorway and holds out his left arm for you.

“Shall we…” Steve looks at Bucky then clears his throat. “…my darling?”

Hearing Steve’s deep tone say those words, call you by something so sweet, nearly makes you faint. But the excitement is momentary as you realize that Bucky’s scolding is what’s prompted him to say it. He’s doing it for show and stupid girl that you are, you want it to be real.

You nod.

Steve leads you through and the cheers that greet you are deafening, quickly followed by lively music.

~~~~~~~~~~

The timbrel is too loud. The clack, clack, clack, of the jingles keeps pulling your eyes to the band on the second floor of the large ballroom. It’s not obscenely large. Enough for the gentry, all of Steve’s council, and friends.

But it’s full and the dancing has been going on for a while. The lute plays its melodies and the harp makes you happy. The recorder sounds pretty, and you enjoy the slow dances as well as the fast ones.

It’s when the fast ones play that you edge to your seat and clap along. You look to your side and Steve sits still, elbows on the arms of his chair. Storm blue eyes intent on the crowd, endless in their daze.

He’s no here. You can see that.

He’s somewhere else and you wonder what heartbreak he must have endured to withdraw from his friends. How lonely must he have been these past two years? How much must he have loved Queen Margaret to still be this sad?

Not that you expect he’ll ever think of her without feeling sad. Losing someone, you know there’s no forgetting them.

Your parents are always with you and you miss them and sometimes it kills you to think of them because you can never have them again. But it’s always a few moments taken to feel it and then you move on, because that’s all you can do.

Steve must be struggling with that. How can you help him?

You follow his gaze and this time notice that he’s watching Nat and Bucky. They’re twirling around each other, laughing as the music picks up in beat.

Slowly, Steve’s expression softens, and his lips curve up slightly on the corners. It’s subtle but so beautiful and your heart pounds in your chest at the sight.

“They make a beautiful couple.” You lean over slightly to say to him.

There’s no need to whisper as no one is paying attention to you or Steve. Everyone is celebrating. Occasionally someone will look towards the two of you and raise their sparkling crystal goblets and both you and Steve will nod slowly, but they go back to their fun and leave the two of you to sit at the head of the table, observing the party with piles of more food than you can eat in front of you.

“Yes.” Steve agrees, still smiling.

Then, like he’s just realized that it’s you speaking, his smile vanishes and he looks at you with a small scowl that furrows his brow.

He’s like sculpted marble, hard and gorgeous, blonde hair looking soft enough to run your fingers through.

You want to do it, but you know that he’d hate it.

You’re in too deep, Y/N. You chastise yourself, recognizing the affection you have for him already even though he’s been cold towards you.

“Why aren’t they married yet? From what I saw of them together, it seems like Bucky would like very much to-”

“Bucky?” Steve suddenly asks, voice tight with tension as he eyes you, his scowl deeper. “Bucky?”

You realize your mistake a little too late. Referring to him so casually… “I mean, Sir James. I-When I saw him last, he asked me to call him-”

“If he asked you to then do as you wish.” Steve settles and looks away from you, angling his body towards the opposite side from where you’re sitting.

Internally you cringe. Hating yourself for letting Bucky’s name slip. He’s already apprehensive of your being here, and you call his closest friend by his first name? He must think you’ve gotten too comfortable too quickly.

Three more dances pass, another quick and two slow. As the fourth begins, more upbeat, you angle yourself towards Steve again and this time reach out for his hand.

It settles hesitantly over his, fingers light as feathers as you bask in the surprisingly rough texture. Not abhorrently rough. Rough like yours. Like he’s had to work with his hands.

He has been to war. That makes sense. He must also have scars.

“Your Majesty?” You check, speaking slowly. It’s like you’re afraid to startle him. As if he were a deer listening for the twang of a bow.

He stares at your hand, eyes intent as he observes it?

“We haven’t danced yet.” You tell him, as if he doesn’t already know. “Isn’t it customary for a King and his Queen to-”

Suddenly he rises, his chair crying out as it scrapes against the stone floor beneath your feet. He turns his hand over and takes yours, pulling you up to stand.

Everyone stops what they are doing, turning to face you and Steve, waiting with bated breath while your heart flips and your stomach tumbles.

Finally, a dance!

“We will retire to the marriage bed.” He says, and your heart falls.

However, you have no time to look disappointed because he’s pulling you around the chairs as everyone bows and curtsies. You search for your adoptive parents, yearning to see Tony’s and Pepper’s faces before your life changes forever, but they are nowhere in sight. You catch Nat’s eye and she’s frowning, staring at you as you plead with her silently for help.

This moment you hadn’t thought at all about. The one thing that would make this marriage irreversible. Another duty. One that you would have been eager to perform if you weren’t completely sure that Steve hates you.

You see Nat jab Bucky’s side and together they move around the crowd and take a back door as Steve leads you down hallway after hallway in silence towards your room.

Every echoing step takes you closer to uncharted territory. You’ve never been with a man. Of course, that’s what people expect.

You’re a princess after all. One from an esteemed house and a virgin is what a King deserves.

Steve finally stops before your door, drops your hand and looks you straight in the eyes.

“I’ll return in ten minutes.” He promises, then turns and moves down to the end of the hall where he disappears through another door.

A second later, Nat turns the far corner of the hallway and she hastens her steps, Bucky behind her.

“Come along, your Majesty.” Nat says and she scoops you into the circle of her arms to nudge you into your room.

Bucky walks past you two and heads to the end of the hallway where Steve had disappeared.

The room is stifling.

“It’s hot.” You tell Nat and she hurries to douse the fire with a pitcher of water. It sizzles and weakens but doesn’t die completely.

She throws the windows open but then she’s on you, peeling your dress away. Carefully she pulls your arms from their lace sleeves.

“Nat, what am I supposed to do?” You wonder, fear slowly taking hold.

“Do?” She laughs. “Nothing. He’ll do most of the work. I think that’s usually best for nights like this. When you two know each other better then maybe you can explore your strengths but for now, just lay back and try-”

“Will it hurt?” You ask her, and she stops unlacing your back to turn you around.

“Are you really a virgin?” She wonders, searching your face for a lie.

You nod.

“I thought that maybe-” She begins.

“That maybe because I was born a peasant that I’d lain with someone already? Just because I’m poor, that doesn’t make me-”

“No!” Nat gasps, shocked by your train of thought. “No. Sweet Y/N. That’s not what I mean. I just thought that—rather I hoped that maybe you’d been in love before. That this wouldn’t be the first time you felt something for someone and that maybe you wouldn’t be unprepared for tonight.”

You understand her hope and her worry.

“And you’re not poor anymore.” She gives your arms a squeeze then turns you around again to finish undressing you. She removes your under garments and you stand there, naked until she sets your wedding dress aside and helps pull over your head a sheer white lace chemise. It runs all the way down to the floor, flowing outwards like a lily but loose and clings only to your bust and the first bit of your torso. She ties it at your neck, a loose bow then pulls over that a second sheer robe that does little more to hide your body than the nightgown itself.

It feels divine against your skin though, and you grab a bit of the robe to examine the lace pattern.

“Peonies?” You ask her and she smiles.

“You remind me of a peony.” She admits. “Shy and honorable. I also hope that you have a happy marriage and I may have suggested to Pepper that if we got you a nightdress with them laced in, that maybe it would bring you luck.”

You smile at her softly, touched by her forethought. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let’s just get your hair down, and you’re ready.” She reaches up to unpin your hair and it falls down across your shoulders in those carefully ironed waves.

She moves it, adjusting it until it’s just right when the door behind her opens.

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach and all previous worries vanish as Steve walks in wearing the exact same trousers he’d been wearing for the wedding, but his regal white jacket is gone, replaced by a plain white shirt, untucked. The neck open exposing the hard edges of his chest muscles, a soft patch of dusty blonde hair peeking out.

He’s watching you, eyes trained on you with a relentless stoicism that you can’t decipher. Is he as excited as you are? As nervous?

Your hands feel weak. Like the fuzz when a limb falls asleep. Detached, like they might float away. Legs too. Your entire body is floating and clearly, no longer yours.

It’s his.

Nat backs away from you, moving to the door before she gives a deep curtsy and with one last encouraging smile, she backs out and shuts the door.

Your mouth is parched from nerves and no words can form in such a desert. So, you simply look up at Steve’s face then back down to his hands as they hang limply at his sides. Then back up to his face, at his staring storm blue eyes, then back down.

He steps closer and you guide your gaze back up, searching his face for a hint of what he might be thinking.

Those storm blues are taking you in, running down along your legs to your feet then back up slowly along your hips, waist, stomach, chest, shoulders, and finally your face.

Is he disappointed?

You open your mouth as if to ask him, but nothing comes out but a soft rush of anxious air. The anticipation is unbearable.

As he moves towards you slowly, causing you to back up until your legs hit the end of your bed, he reaches back behind his neck to pull at his shirt. He takes it off, then throws it onto your pale blue armchair.

The sculpt of his body is stunning. Just as you’d imagined, he’s chiseled with the labor of his training and…more than that. He’s without flaw. Like he was made to be so. Carved from clay and cooked until he’d hardened into solid mass.

Maybe he’s part God? Maybe his father was Asgardian or his mother? How can he be so ethereally beautiful and not be?

He reaches for the drawstring at the front of his pants and your eyes follow the movement.

You swallow hard, terrified to be a disappointment for him but when he drops his pants, you can see that you are not. At least in this way, you’ve pleased him.

You sigh, relieved, eager, scared.

He stands erect, long and sufficiently thick peach cock, soft pink swollen head, throbbing visibly in a patch of more blonde hair, and you wonder if it hurts him to be so stiff.

You want to touch it. Having never touched one…but more importantly, you want to touch Steve. Your mouth is very nearly back to normal as it begins to water with surprising desire.

When he steps out of his pants, your attention is drawn back to his face and away from the array of fantasies that have overtaken your mind.

He’s only a foot away from you now and you can’t back away anymore so when his hands find your hips—a scorching touch that burns through your thin nightdress—you nearly fall back against your mattress but reach up to take hold on his shoulders.

For one long moment he stares into your eyes and you stare into his. His arms wrap themselves around you, tracing the curves of your woman’s body. The way they linger and caress, it feels like he’s been needing this type of touch.

The skin of his shoulders is so soft, you trace the shape up to the nape of his neck where your fingers tickle the small hairs for only a moment before a strange hiss from his lips draws your eyes to them.

You want to kiss him, those pink lips, but then his hands are hard on your waist. Too tight.

He lifts you and pushes you back onto the bed, moving a bit more quickly now and his previously intense expression is altered, pained. As if something is hurting him.

“Steve?” You wonder as you lay on your back and he begins to crawl over you.

He frowns.

Gripping the bottom of your nightdress he yanks it up. The sound of a tear startles you.

“Steve, wait.” You whisper, breathless as his weight pushes you down into the mattress.

“Stop saying my name.” He grumbles.

He forces your nightgown up until it’s wrapped around your waist and he nudges your legs apart with his knee.

You try to resist for only a second, but his strength is too much and you remember that it must happen. In one split second, you remember that this is your duty.

Trying to relax you put your hands on his shoulders again, but this makes him move faster and he’s up, kneeling between your legs as he takes firm grip of your thighs and spreads them wider.

Your neck and ears burn in embarrassment as he opens and exposes you for him to see. Your hands fumble down to cover yourself but Steve shoves them away as he settles between your legs again and without warning he nudges at your entrance.

You gasp, shocked by the stretch of just his tip. “Oh…” You cry, suddenly terrified by the large girth and length you’d seen earlier.

He stops for a moment, staring down at you as you meet his gaze and you see confusion flash across his face.

“Ste-?” You begin but then his confusion is gone, and he pushes into you in one hard thrust.

You make to scream, to cry out in agony as he pierces you and rips you apart inside. All that comes out is a high-pitched wheeze.

The feeling of something being where it doesn’t belong, uncomfortable. The burn of his stretch, painful.

Your body stiffens and you fist the black sheets of your bed as he stills for only a second then he’s pulling back and you shake your head.

“Please…” You beg, wishing he’d go slower. Wishing he’d stop for just a moment so that you can wrap your body and your mind around this new sensation.

It’s too painful and you need time to adjust. If he’d just go slow…

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t stop. He thrusts into you again. And again. And again, and again and again.

He burns you and scars you as he pushes himself up off of your torso to gain more traction and pump himself into you faster. Harder. The sound of his skin slapping against yours is loud and you shake your head some more protesting the lurid sound.

A trail of tears stain your cheeks and drip into your hair as your legs bounce and your body is jerked upwards with every thrust. With a sudden bloom of heat from between your legs, you quickly look down and shudder at the sight of blood.

“Wait…” You plead. “Please...I beg you…”

But Steve doesn’t stop. He moves faster, huffing with the effort of thrusting into you. His hands wrap around underneath you, to hook up into your shoulders.

“Please…” You cry, a sob. “Steve…”

He growls, frustrated. “Stop saying my name!”

He reaches down to hold your hip down into the bed with one hand while he pistons into your bleeding and torn cunt.

“Steve…” You plead, one final time as he groans and buries himself deep within you, a splash of heat warming you from the inside again, but this time you know it isn’t blood.

He thrusts two more times, emptying himself into you as it is his duty to do so and you wait while he does, as you’re supposed to.

Your duty. Produce an heir. This is your job.

But you’re crying, and your body is trembling. There’s fear in your eyes and sorrow in your heart.

He pulls away from you. As he slips out of you, the discomfort renews and you cry out, tears rushing down your cheeks.

Steve stops.

He stares at you, storm blue eyes narrowed in disbelief as you sob.

You turn away from him, trying to hide the shame of the red between your legs. You pull your nightdress down, legs pulled up as you curl in and try to relax your body from the savage consummation of your marriage.

Steve slides to the end of your bed and he sits at the edge for what feels like an age. Hands at his sides, gripping tightly to the bed as he stares at the floor of your room while you continue to sob quietly.

At last, without a word, he rises. He pulls on his pants and his shirt and without another look back at you, he leaves you alone in your room to fall apart in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nat turns towards the doorway as she hears the inner doors open. She wasn’t expecting it to be over so quickly. It hasn’t even been half an hour.

The second set of doors open and Steve marches out looking sweaty and pale.

He stops, staring at Natasha for a moment before he looks at Bucky.

For two minutes he merely stands there. Mute. Thinking. When they can no longer take the silence, Bucky opens his mouth first.

“You’re not staying with her?” Bucky asks, startled it seems by Steve’s reappearance. “I thought-?”

But Steve doesn’t wait. He moves between them and heads back to his own room.

Nat meets Bucky’s equally concerned gaze.

“I’ll go see what happened.” Bucky tells her.

“I’ll do the same.” She nods.

Bucky moves past her and hastens after his King. When he’s out of sight, Nat turns towards the doors to your room and heads inside.

She’s not sure what she was expecting to find. From the way Steve stormed out, she was thinking that maybe he hadn’t been able to do it.

It’s been so long since he’d been with anyone that she could see him being nervous or anxious about sleeping with you. She also knows how much he misses Margaret and she would have understood if he hadn’t been able to sleep with you because of that reason but the room wreaks of sex and what she finds is not what she expects.

“What are you doing?” She asks you, watching you stoop down to lay your black sheets in the basket she’d designated for your dirty laundry.

You stand up, smiling at her sweetly before shrugging and fixing your new nightdress, the plain white one with the small bow at the neck that you’ve been wearing since you moved in with Tony.

“I bled.” You admit to her and Nat narrows her eyes.

“Where’s your other nightgown? Are you alright?” She asks you, suspicious by your calm demeanor.

“Yes. A little sore.” You turn away from her as she gets closer and move to your remade bed. “But I’m okay. I’m tired.”

She can clearly see you avoiding the first of her questions but watches you sit on the edge, and the careful way that you settle onto it.

You’re more than just sore…why are you lying?

“Consummation was a success.” You declare and turn to smile at her. “But, really, Nat. I’m very tired. I’d like to just go to bed, if that’s alright?”

“Of course, it is.” How can you still not understand that what you say goes? She’ll drill that into you until you accept it. “Sleep well, your Majesty.”

And the fact that you lay down and don’t fight her on the title gives her worry. Certain that something has gone wrong, she turns on her heel and follows Bucky to investigate herself.

~~~~~~~~~~

The small table hits the wall and shatters into pieces. Legs and knobs fly around the room. Bucky ducks to avoid one.

Steve moves to the large desk in his office and he slams his hands against the sturdy oak, making it creak under the strength of his weight.

“Are you going to trash your office now? Oh, yeah. That’s an excellent plan your Majesty, by all means, break everything in sight.” Bucky snarks annoyed with him more than anything.

Steve knows that he’s being unreasonable, but he needs to relieve this stress somehow and it’s too late to go hunting.

Shoulders heaving, he hears the door open and the quiet step of his other best friend.

“What happened?” Nat asks, disapproval in her voice probably for the mess that Steve’s made of his office.

He looks up behind his desk, staring at the source of his woes.

Margaret—her portrait—sitting there in her bright red dress, red lips, carefully curled brown hair, that twinkle skillfully painted into her eyes just as she’d had in real life…she’s watching him. Smirking at the way he’s struggling.

“Steve’s throwing a fit.” Bucky sighs.

“No. What happened?” She asks pointedly and Steve’s heart drops.

“Oh.” Bucky breathes in deeply, then releases the breath slowly. “He didn’t exactly make the best first impression on her in bed.”

“That tells me nothing, James. Did you or did you not sleep with her?” Nat asks, glaring at Steve’s back.

“I slept with her.” Steve relents. “I…”

He looks down at his hands again and it all flashes back like a bad dream. His hands gripping her flesh too hard, fingers buried in against her skin as she struggles—he’s sure she didn’t even realize she was struggling as much as she was—and the sobs that tear through her throat.

And all he could do was push into her.

“I hurt her.” Steve grieves, looking up at Margaret again.

“Did she ask you to stop?” Nat asks through clenched teeth.

Steve shakes his head. “No. But she asked me to slow down. She asked me to…I should have been gentler. I just…”

“You just let your stupid ideas about Margaret get in the way.” Bucky supplies. “She’s dead Steve.”

“I know that.” Steve says sternly.

“You are allowed to be married again. You are allowed to sleep with your wife.” Bucky insists.

Steve says nothing, but his back tenses and Bucky pounces.

“Yes, Steve. You heard me. Wife. She is your wife now, Steve. You married her today. You had a week to change your mind. You saw her picture. You chose her. You accepted her. So, you’re going to have to put her first from now on. Margaret is no longer your wife.”

“It doesn’t feel like that to me!” Steve shouts, turning to look at Bucky with raging blue eyes. “Maggie still feels like my Queen. She is my queen. My wife. I married her. I chose her. I…I wasn’t ready for...for Y/N.”

Both of his friends stare at him with disapproving scowls and he knows that he’s wrong, but he can only be honest. If not with them, then with who?

“I’m not ready for her.” He admits.

Nat sighs, shutting her eyes as she covers her mouth with her hand. Steve can see her regretting her part in this marriage even if she holds no guilt for what he just did or for what he’s still doing.

Bucky moves towards him, shaking his head.

“You had a choice in this, Steve. The council gave you a year to find someone to marry before they would begin proceedings to move your cousin onto the throne. You decided to reach out to Tony. You had the chance to reject her when he sent her portrait. You have set your course and now you can’t undo it.

“Whether you’re ready for her or not, you have a wife and she’s your responsibility now. She doesn’t deserve what you did to her tonight.”

“I know.” Steve laments. “I know…I just…she wouldn’t stop saying my name and all I could hear was Margaret and I-”

“It felt like infidelity?” Nat offers.

“Yes!” Steve nods, grateful for the understanding. “Yes, I felt as if…like I was being unfaithful to Maggie.”

“You’re an idiot.” She counters. “However, you are my king now. And I will serve you and your Queen until the day I die. I will do so with unwavering loyalty. But you will fix this, Steve. I don’t know how, but you better make this up to her.”

Steve knows that she’s right but as he turns to look at Margaret’s portrait, he feels his heart waver, wishing that she’d come back to him and make this all go away.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fic #king!steve x reader fanfic #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x you #king!steve x y/n #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x reader fic #king!steve rogers x reader fanfic #king!steve rogers x reader fanfiction #king!steve rogers x you #king!steve rogers x y/n #avengers x reader #medieval au #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #medieval fantasy au #pseudo princess pt05 #pseudo princess

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doing-all-write · 5 years

Text

i’m open

The one in which reader goes to Ben’s soccer game. Fluff and romance ABOUNDS.

Warning: mentions of sex and swearing. And major fluff. Like, so much fluff this thing is made of cotton candy and unicorn wishes.

It’s been so beautiful here and I was watching soccer on tv and really wishing for a soccer playing boyfriend and this is what happened. Hope you enjoy!

Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

"I'M OPEN!"

Ben's eyes briefly flicked away from the ball as he heard his teammate, Tim, yell. He brought his foot back and kicked the ball as hard as he could toward him.

Tim kept running, keeping the ball caged within his feet the whole time. Keeping an eye on him, Ben, the rest of the players on the field and the whole audience, watched, with bated breath as Tim kicked it toward the goal.

The goalie's thighs tensed and uncoiled as they pushed themselves toward the right, hands splayed trying to prevent the ball from getting into the net.

Time seemed to slow down as the ball sailed over the goalies hands, he could feel the ball brush past his fingertips as it slipped over them and landed against the netting of the goal as he collapsed on the ground, head hung, as cheers erupted.

"YEAH!" Ben threw his arms into the air as he raced over to join the giant dog pile that was getting dangerously close to crushing Tim beneath their excitement.

The bleachers shook under her feet as she jumped up and down, clapping and yelling. She laughed as she watched Ben fling his body on top of the dog pile. She tilted her head up and was greeted by October sunshine that seemed especially brilliant against the cloudless blue sky and the celebration happening around her.

The sun had done nothing to warm her though, the wind buffeting around her and the other spectators doing everything it could to whisk away any bit of warmth the sun might offer. But after moving around she felt herself warming up and judging by the players on the field un-sticking jerseys from bodies, they had worked up a sweat despite the cooler temperature.

She blew on her fingertips, exposed to the chill in the air because of her finger-less gloves, which she knew Ben would give her endless shit for when he saw them. ("Wouldn't it make more sense to buy gloves that actually covered your whole hand, love?" "It's not about staying warm, it's about the aesthetic" "Well quit trying to warm up your aesthetically pleasing fingers on my sides")

Biting back a smile, she accepted praise from the other significant others and family members that lined the side of the pitch every weekend to watch the team play. As she hugged Tim's boyfriend, she saw out of the corner of her eye Ben's team finally disentangling themselves from each other to shake hands with the defeated team.

She loved the community the sidelines had built. When she first showed up, she was worried it would be difficult to get to know the others, but everyone was incredibly welcoming and the atmosphere was always cheerful, even when the team was losing. A couple times, she had brought pom-poms to pass out to willing individuals and they shook them and came up with silly cheers to keep spirits high.

Her eyes tracked Ben as he made his way down the line of players. Even from a distance, she could tell that Ben was feeling immensely proud of himself. He was doing his best to be gracious but from the swagger of his step she could tell he was in the same mood as when they emerged from a bar bathroom after hooking up; cocky and failing to hide it.

As Tim's boyfriend (Kyle she remembered a second too late was his name) talked ad nauseum about how Tim had turned leg day into leg week just in case this exact situation were to happen, she just nodded and made noises of agreement in all the right places but was mainly focused on looking at Ben.

As Kyle gave her one final hug and bounded down the bleachers to go congratulate his boyfriend, she saw Ben, talking to another player who was wildly gesticulating as they recounted a particularly epic shot they had. She saw his blue eyes darting around every now and again. He was nodding and to any other individual it would seem he was listening intently. But she knew better. She knew he was looking for her.

She raised her hand and waved to grab his attention. His eyes locked onto the movement and a smile broke across his face, like the sun appearing from behind clouds.

Without any explanation to the teammate he was talking to, he slapped them on the shoulder and jogged over to where she was, leaving them dumbfounded that someone could leave in the middle of such a great story.

Her smile grew bigger as she carefully stepped down from her spot on the bleachers to meet him. She landed on the last metallic step before the ground and looked up to find herself eye level with Ben's gaze.

"Hello, beautiful." He smiled even wider as her pink cheeks grew even pinker at the compliment.

"Hi, yourself." She muttered back as she found herself smiling wider at the flushed boy before her.

"So? What did you think?" He asked as he held out his hands, palms up to her. She glanced down and laid her own hands on top of his as she giggled,

"It was the best soccer game I've ever been to."

Ben rolled his eyes, "It's football. Honestly. You'd think you'd have learned that by now."

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, "Hey! I am trying my best here! You're lucky I even showed up at all!"

Ben chuckled as he cupped her cheek with his palm, "You're right. I'm a lucky bastard to have my beautiful girlfriend come support me on the football pitch." He placed extra emphasis on the last two words, his eyes dancing with mirth as she bit a laugh back.

"I'll forgive you this once for being a dick-sorry a prick- because you told me I'm beautiful."

"Oh so you can't remember the correct term for football but the correct term for dick you've got that one down cold, huh?" He reached a hand down to tickle her side as she laughed and tried to squirm away from him.

"I have way more reason to use prick than I do football! Stop tickling me!" She whined as she tried to get away from Ben's fingers.

Ben just chuckled and grabbed onto her waist firmly, "That's no way to speak to someone who just scored a game winning goal."

She widened her eyes innocently, "Well, technically you didn't score the game winning goal, Tim did."

Ben arched an eyebrow at her, "I'm going to start tickling you again if you don't take that back right this second."

She pouted, "Why are you so mean?"

Ben reached a finger up and tapped her bottom lip, "You know when you do that I just want to kiss you more, is that why you do it?"

Her face flushed crimson as she pulled her chin down and gazed at her feet, encased in the combat boots she had been wearing for the past three winters. Ben always made fun of her when she wore them because he could hear her coming from a mile away. They were heavy and made a satisfying stomping noise with each step. She had primly replied that she wore them so people would know not to mess with her because she was so tough.

(At which point Ben had looked her up and down and pointed out that a woman wearing a shirt with Smokey the Bear on it probably wouldn't intimidate anyone but forest fires. She had walked away with her middle finger held high.)

"Maybe" she muttered as she peeked up at Ben through her eyelashes. His eyes sparkled as he gently tipped her chin up and laid a gentle kiss on her lips.

As he pulled away, they were both beaming at each other, enjoying the late autumn sun and each other's presence when a piercing voice cut through the moment,

"OI! Get a room you two lovesick idiots!" Tim cracked as he gave Ben's shoulder a shove as he jogged past, holding Kyle's hand.

She clapped her hands over her face as her shoulders shook with laughter and Ben cheerfully flipped Tim off and yelled, "Fuck you too, you insufferable bugger!"

Tim laughed and waved at both of them as he and Kyle jogged to their car.

She peeked at Ben through her fingers, "Why are your friends so embarrassing?"

Ben laughed and threaded his arms around her waist, "Not sure, love. But at least they always keep us on our toes, right?" He kissed the tip of her nose as she put her hands on his chest,

"Ugh, keep your distance Jonesy. You're a sweaty boy." She wrinkled her nose at him as he smirked at her.

"You really shouldn't have said anything" he said as he pulled her flush against his body as she shrieked with laughter, "BEN! Put me DOWN!"

He laughed as he lifted her up and spun her around as she flung her head back and laughed. He gently set her back down on the ground as he squeezed his arms tighter around her waist, "Alright, I put you down. But I'm still going to get as much sweat as possible on you."

She squirmed against him as she tried her best to disentangle herself from his embrace, "This sucks Ben, how dare you be so strong and muscular?" She wheezed as she pushed against the brick wall that was his chest.

She finally huffed out a breath and went limp as Ben did everything possible to rub as much of his sweat off on her, "Usually your muscles are a huge turn on but right now I kind of hate them?"

Ben stilled and stared down at her incredulously, "You can't possibly mean that?"

She rolled her eyes, "Of course not. I just wanted to distract you." She pushed away from Ben and took a few steps away from him, shaking herself off in a futile attempt to try to rid herself of the smell of sweaty man.

"How can you be so hot but smell so terrible?"

Ben pointed a menacing finger at her, "Think very carefully before insulting me again. I'll rub your face in my armpit."

She gasped, "You wouldn't."

Ben shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't but do you really want to take that chance?"

She crossed her arms and mumbled, "I guess not." She looked up into Ben's eyes and couldn't help the smile taking over her face. She looked around and noticed the whole team had cleared out. It was only her, Ben and a few families taking their kids to the playground for one final play session outside before snow and ice covered everything.

Ben studied her. Her silhouette illuminated by the autumn sun shining down, the leaves falling around her, he was struck with the same realization he had whenever he got a chance to look at her; he was incredibly in love with her.

Her eyes slid over to meet Ben's and saw him studying her, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was intense and caused heat to build in her core as she glanced down and saw the soccer ball next to her boot. She rested her foot on it and glanced at Ben, "Teach me how to play?"

He shook himself from his thoughts, "What? Teach you how to play football?"

She nodded as she looked at him shyly. His face lit up, "Alrigh', yeah. Of course, love." He walked closer to her as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face,

"Well, I figure who better to learn soccer from than the professional who just scored." She teased and he stopped in front of her, holding up one finger,

"FIRST LESSON. It's called football. NOT soccer."

She giggled as she held up three fingers, "Yes, sir."

Ben's eyes flashed as he bent down to whisper in her ear, "Save that for later." He pulled back to see her eyes wide with shock as he winked at her and kicked the ball out from underneath her boot.

He considered himself to be a good boyfriend for only laughing a little bit when she stumbled and had to catch herself before falling into the grass.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You prick."

"SECOND RULE. Never trust your opponent. Especially when they're as talented as I am." He called over his shoulder as he easily dribbled the ball down the pitch toward the goal as she gawked at him in disbelief.

"HEY!" She yelled in indignation as she took off after him, cursing her clunky boots and shedding the scarf that kept blowing into her face.

Ben laughed as he quickly kicked the ball into the net and turned to face her, cheering all the while as she ran straight into him. Her hair getting tangled and flying into Ben's face, her beanie having flown off in her mad dash to get him, as he made an "OOF" sound and stumbled back a few steps.

"Not fair!" She wailed as she tried to get around Ben and get the ball out of the net as Ben chuckled and grabbed her hand,

"All's fair in love and football, love." And spun her around so he could plant a loud kiss on her forehead as she yanked her arm away from him.

She scurried around him, grabbed the ball with her hands and, carrying it like a football player carrying a ball to the end zone, sprinted towards the goal on the other side of the field.

It took Ben's brain a good three seconds to comprehend what she had done and then for mock outrage to kick in as he heard her giggles getting quieter as she got farther away from him.

His months of practice and training kicked in and he took off like a shot after her.

She was so far ahead, and rather pleased with herself for what she had accomplished. She had tricked Ben, gotten a kiss and now she would score against him as well.

That was when she realized Ben had been unusually quiet.

She risked a glance behind her and saw all five feet ten inches of pure muscle. competitive, high on adrenaline, boyfriend coming straight at her like a freight train.

If Ben hadn't been so focused on getting the ball from her he would have been on the ground, dying with laughter over how quickly her face dropped when she saw him closing in behind her.

A quick calculation and she put on a burst of fresh speed to get to the goal before her boyfriend tackled her. The one other time he had tackled her was when they had been playing touch football with some of their friends one time and they both had gotten a bit too competitive.

After having him apply ice pouches all over her body and give her full body massages (which always led to sex) for a full month, she had just now started to forgive him. She hated to see that streak ruined but, as Ben had just put it, all's fair in love and football.

"You're mine." The growl that came from Ben's mouth had her stomach clenching in a delightful way and she finally understood the meaning of being scared and horny.

She could hear his breath coming out in sharp pants as he put on a final burst of speed to clear the gap between them. She gripped the ball tighter and urged her boot clad feet to move even faster.

The jangling of the metal bits got more frantic as she pushed her body even harder, gasping as she tried to fill her lungs with more air so she could get to the net before Ben could grab her.

She felt the ghost of Ben's fingertips graze her sides as she launched herself into the net headfirst, deciding on a whim that getting the ball into the net was way more important than her physical well-being.

Ben's eyes widened as he felt, rather than saw, her body move farther away from him as she launched herself, and the ball, into the net. Securing a goal for herself as Ben tried to stop before he landed on her.

The ball made impact with her chest and her first thought was, sorry boobs, knowing that they would be sore tomorrow as she hit the ground, bits of grass flying up as she laid there. Catching her breath, she rolled over onto her back to gloat at Ben.

Only to be greeted by Ben's massive form getting ready to land on her since he tried to stop too quickly, had tripped over his own feet and was trying to catch himself.

She squeaked, rolling onto her side, rounding her body around the ball in her arms to try to protect herself and her prize. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for Ben's form to fall on top of her.

When a couple seconds had passed and she hadn't been crushed by her boyfriend's muscles, she cracked one eye open carefully.

Ben laughed as he saw her eye opening up, roving around, trying to figure out where he had gone.

He shifted his hands so they would be further apart on either side of her body and lowered down into a push up to place a kiss on her cheek before pushing himself back up as she smiled and opened her eye wider.

Ben had managed to catch himself before he squashed her by placing his hands on either side of her body, his own body hovering atop hers as she rolled onto her back, smiling,

"That's a goal, I believe Mr. Jones." Ben couldn't help the smile that spread across his face whenever she called him by his "old" last name as he had begun to think of it.

She smiled back and playfully wagged the ball in his face. He scoffed and hit the ball out of her hands as he pushed himself up to standing.

"Hey! That's the game winning ball!" She protested as she scrambled up to grab it as Ben brushed his palms off on his shorts. As she bent down to pick it up, Ben took the opportunity to yell, "Nice ass" to which she promptly wiggled her butt at him as she performed an exaggerated bend and snap move.

"You do realize that even though you were joking around, that was still incredibly sexy, right?" Ben asked as he moved to stand in front of her, tucking her hair behind her ear. She blushed and shuffled her feet back and forth, avoiding Ben's gaze as she became overwhelmed by his direct stare.

Bending down, Ben met her gaze, "Hey, don't be embarrassed, it's a good thing. I meant every word."

A small smile ghosted across her lips as she nodded and shuffled closer to him so she could wrap her arms around his waist. Ben smiled, "Thought that I was too sweaty to be this close to you?"

"Shut up" came the muffled reply as she snuggled deeper into his arms as a particularly chilly breeze cut through their clothes.

The crisp blue sky unfurled before them as the leaves rattled from the autumn wind dancing around them. Ben shivered as her eyes tracked the movement of the leaves as they rained down around them. Covering them in yellow and red confetti as the smell of dirt and decay filled their nostrils as they both took a deep breath in.

"Hey"

Ben smiled, "Hello"

"Want to go home? You smell."

"Oh I smell huh? I think you smell worse than me at this point."

She reeled her head back in shock, "Me? That's only because you rubbed your boy stink on me!"

Ben's nose wrinkled, "Can you please never call it boy stink ever again? That's so distressing."

She sighed, "You have so many rules about what words I can and can't use it's really harshing my groove."

Ben chuckled, "I'm sorry my love. You're dating a picky man, what can I tell you? Words mean things."

"I know but first soccer and now boy stink, I mean, you've left me with nothing. I'm a shell of a woman." She sighed as she pretended to swoon into his arms.

Ben quickly caught her and pulled her closer to his frame, "You have to stop pretending to faint. I've already dropped you, like, three times in the past month alone."

"I know. And each time wounded me more."

"Love, I can't always catch you when you decide to fall-"

She gasped, "Each of those are trust falls and each one you miss my trust in you lessens-" Her sentence was cut off as Ben grasped her shoulders, his face the most serious it had ever looked;

"Please, never joke about that. I know you were just joking but even the thought of you not trusting me-I don't even want to think about it." She looked into his eyes and saw they were shining with tears. She cupped his face with both of her hands and nodded emphatically, "Of course sweetheart. I trust you with my life, Benjamin. You know that. And there's nothing you can do to break that trust."

Ben nodded and pulled her back into his arms for a hug. "Well, that's enough emotional shit for one day." he said brusquely, clearing his throat. She nodded as she tried to say something back but her voice was muffled by Ben's jersey.

"What was that, love?"

She pulled her face away, "Can we go home? I can't feel my fingertips."

"If you bought gloves that ACTUALLY covered your whole hand this wouldn't be an issue!"

"And how many times do I need to remind you Benjamin that I have an aesthetic to keep up!"

Ben scoffed, "It'll be hard to keep up your aesthetic when you have no fingers left."

"And harder to give hand jobs"

"WHAT."

She blinked up at him innocently, "Nothing! Let's go home. I'll make you hot chocolate." She beamed at him and fluttered her eyelashes in what she hoped was a becoming manner.

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, "Alright. You've distracted me enough with the promise of hot chocolate. Let's go home."

She laughed and threaded her fingers through his, pulling him toward her car so they could go home together when Ben yelped pulling her to a stop,

"Jesus, love! Your fingertips really are freezing!"

She rolled her eyes, "Did you think I was lying?"

"Well, you are prone to great exaggeration-"

"Fuck you and the hot chocolate I was going to make you then."

"Just kidding baby. I love you so much, have I told you how pretty you are?"

She laughed as she pressed her fingers onto Ben's cheeks as he hissed and screwed up his face, "You're lucky you're so cute."

"And I'm lucky you love me so much." He replied softly.

She gently kissed him and they found themselves back in the same position they had been in when the game had ended. Standing on an empty pitch, not even noticing they were alone.

Because how could they be alone when they had the whole world right in front of them?

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy one shots #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy imagine #ben jones fluff #ben jones oneshot #ben jones fanfic #soccer #soccer!ben hardy #soft!ben hardy #i just want soft athletic ben to be my bf is that too much to ask #ben hardy x reader #ben jones x reader #im open

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ardentmuse · 5 years

Text

Hello, my little love bugs!

2k followers is fast approaching and I am not willing to wait for it! So we’re having a celebration now.

As many of you know, toddle started daycare, which means I have 4 hours every morning just to myself. So for the next week, I am devoting all of that time to writing. And with The Good Place coming back so soon, why not do some prompts based on the wittiest, silliest, most gut-wrenchingly romantic dialogue on television? AND why not add two new fandoms while we’re at it, just to get some good stuff goin’!

The Rules:

Must be following me (@ardentmuse)

Must submit me an ask with a number of a prompt and a character

Must like this post

Should reblog, but obviously live your own life, run with your blog aesthetic and just be happy

Only one submission per person, please!

Block “#ardentmuse almost 2k celebration” if you don’t want to see these for whatever reason (though I promise they will be good. My story with the most notes ever - over 1.5k now - was from one of these challenges)

Each ask will become a reader-insert imagine. Aiming for ~1k words for each of these, but we’ll see where the spirits take me.

Note that as I am going to be devoting all my writing time for the next week to this, I am not setting a hard cut off regarding number of submissions, but do know that I won’t be addressing these forever. Once the new Good Place season starts, I’m going to be washing my hands of whatever requests still sit in my inbox.

Character list and prompt list below the cut.

Hugs, Lia

Characters:

Note: all responses will be reader inserts (no x ships). Also, this list is off the top of my head so if I missed anyone that you really want to see, let me know.

Kingsman:

Harry Hart

Merlin (Hamish Mycroft)

Eggsy Unwin

Tequila

Whiskey (Jack Daniels)

James Spenser (Lancelot)

Roxy Morton

Harry Potter:

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Percy Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ron Weasley

Harry Potter

Neville Longbottom

Draco Malfoy

Sirius Black

James Potter

Remus Lupin

HPHM:

Bill Weasley

Charlie Weasley

Talbott Winger

Barnaby Lee

Felix Rosier

Marvel:

Bruce Banner

Tony Stark

Peter Parker

Thor Odinson

Steve Rogers

Scott Lang

T’Challa

Game of Thrones:

Jon Snow

Robb Stark

Ned Stark

Tyrion Lannister

Jaime Lannister

Sansa Stark

Margaery Tyrell

Theon Greyjoy

Gendry (Waters)

Podrick Payne

Sandor Clegane

Petyr Baelish

Good Omens:

Aziraphale

Crowley

The Prompts from The Good Place:

https://ardentmuse.tumblr.com/post/187504106261/collectiveyou-hi-guys-im-broken-ya

Hi, guys! I’m broken.

Ya basic.

I was dropped into a cave and you were my flashlight.

Humans only live 80 years and they spend so much of it just waiting for things to be over.

I promise I’m worth it.

Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.

I gotta stay jacked. It’s who I am.

You know, sometimes a flaw can make something even more beautiful.

This is a real low point. Yeah, this one hurts.

I never thought I’d be the one to say it, but this is getting out of hand. I think we gotta go to the cops.

Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.

Well, I’m sure you’re busy, you probably wouldn’t want to talk to me. I get it, I wouldn’t either. I’m as dull as a rock. Ugh, even that analogy was boring. I’m sorry, I’m so dull, and I’m ugly. I’m like a rock. Ugh, stupid! Stop talking about rocks!

She’s so pretty, like Nala from The Lion King. And she talks so smart, like, um, Nala, from The Lion King.

It’s devastating. You’re devastated right now.

Okay, bud, whatever’s going on right now, just shove your feelings way down deep, plaster on a fake smile, and pretend like you’re having fun. Okay?

Ugh, of course your hugs are amazing.

Long story short, it was all a dream.

Right now I’m just a girl, towering over a boy, asking him to admit he loves me.

Pay it forward.

Now I’m living my truth and creating my bliss.

I am attractive, yes.

I don’t think this can be solved with a book.

Searching for meaning is philosophical suicide.

Now I’m bored. Walking is dumb.

You’re awesome! Be nicer to yourself.

I would say I outdid myself, but I’m always this good. So I simply did myself.

Lies are always more convincing when they’re closer to the truth.

Why do bad things always happen to mediocre people who are lying about their identities?

Rule number one– I get to do whatever I want, and you all just have to deal with it.

Principles aren’t principles when you pick and choose when you’re gonna follow them.

It’s a rare occurrence, like a double rainbow.

We are not in this alone.

Pobody’s nerfect.

Yep, shouldn’t have said that. Regretted it immediately.

You’re kind of, you know, turtling.

You and I are very different.

I’d say it’s like 50 million simultaneous orgasms, but better.

… I can work with that.

But then I remembered that I’m a naughty bitch.

Oh come on! You and I both know I’ll never read those.

What’s the secret? Is the secret more books? How many more books do I need?

Cool stance. Counterpoint: Get over yourself.

I’m outtie. See you in hell.

That broke me. I’m – I’m done.

I am your hottest friend!

You’re barfing Wikipedia over everyone to avoid talking about your feelings.

No matter what he does, we will find each other. And we will help each other. Because we’re soulmates.

I’m going to hug you because I love you. And because you feel just as alone as I do.

That’s insane. But it’s also like the eleventh most insane thing to happen today so who cares.

A: That’s not a question. B: So you agree, it’s a fact.

#harry potter imagines #kingsman imagines #marvel imagines #game of thrones imagines #good omens imagines #mcu imagines #harry potter x reader #kingsman x reader #marvel x reader #game of thrones x reader #good omens x reader #ardentmuse almost 2k celebration #reader insert #x reader

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littleangel4996 · 5 years

Text

My Fate Pt 5

Summary: After Michael and (y/n) were knocked out by their attackers, they were both tied up at the moment.

Warning: Meeting Ben Harmon, Interrogation? Kinda and I don't want to spoil more but there is a mention of switching houses.

Michael's P.O.V

My throat felt so dry that I was coughing up the weird taste in my mouth.What did those people knocked us out with? Last night, all I could remember is what (y/n) said about my grandma. Did she really took her own life because of me? No I have to find out why. Looked at my surroundings, seeing where I'm at and this looks like the Masters bedroom. The walls were painted white with a nice comfy chair and a vanity kinda like (y/n). Oh my God, (Y/N). She's not in the room with me. I tried to call her name out but to no avail.

"(Y/n) please say something. You bastards hurt her I swear I'll make you regret it!!!"

"Do not worry, we have no attention of hurting her or you". A calm smooth male voice said. I looked to see a man in his early 40s sitting on the chair. But I don't understand, he wasn't there. How the hell he came to the room without me noticing.

Unless…"Are you a ghost?" I asked.

"Yes, yes I am Michael" he chuckled.

"How do you know my name. Did Constance tell you about me. My grandma where is she I must talk to her" he put his hand up to stop me from speaking any further.

"The spirits is in this house can't be seen unless they want to be seen".

"You mean she doesn't want to see me?"

"I'm sorry Michael" he frowns. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want (y/n) to see me if I ever hurt her. I hold back the tears that threaten to come out

"Who are you?" I question as he stands up and says "Someone who wants to be seen ,someone who wants to help. If you want to change I can show you". Then I let the tears break free.

"I'm a monster, why would you want to help me?" I cried. He walks up to me as he unties my hands. "Because I can't help to think of you as my son" he stands back giving me space to get up and I rub both of my wrists. "Even though you're not really". I stand up from the bed to face him. "Since you know my name, I don't know yours".

"I'm Ben Harmon, a psychiatrist. Well used to. And (y/n) is in my daughter's old room, come on" he gestures as I follow him out of the room straight down the other room as he opens the door to reveal (y/n) laying down sleeping like an angel. But I ran to her side making sure she was okay. Ever since she's awoken me from the dead, I can't help but feel this urge to protect her and care for her. Yes she's been the one that's been caring and protecting me but maybe it's my turn I do the caring and protecting for once.I shook her lightly whispering her name.

(Y/n) P.O.V

"(Y/n), wake up." whispered a soft voice that sounded familiar. When I wake, a beautiful blond blue eyed boy hovers over me with worry in his eyes. Michael.

"Michael!" I got up so fast wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He had this nice welcoming scent on him, like a baby's scent. I don't care I was glad to see Michael ok. I was the first to pull away.

"I was so worried" I cried.

"Are you kidding, I thought badass witches don't get worried" he said squeezing my shoulders. I looked at the corner of my eye to see a man dressed in a navy blue collar and black slacks matching his dress shoes with his brown hair and brown eyes. In protective mode, I got up pulling Michael behind me as I put my hand up having an invisible force pinning him to the wall.

Third person P.O.V

Michael stood up putting his hand on (y/n) arm but she refused to let her guard down. "(Y/n) listen to me, he means us no harm" he pleaded, trying to put her arm down.

"Are you crazy" she snapped. "Him and someone else took us hostage and you want me to stand down? Give me one good fucking reason Mikey!".

"BECAUSE HE CAN HELP ME!!!" (Y/n) turned her attention towards him dropping her arm hearing Ben fall to the floor with a thud.

"Just please, hear him out." She looks towards the doctor then at Michael. "He better have a good reason" she gritted.

-Time skip- living room

"So let me get this straight" (y/n) said, standing up from the couch next to Michael and Ben Harmon sitting on his chair.

"You can help Michael with his problems and the only fucking way to do that is for us to move in this murderous house full of ghosts?"

The therapist doctor nodded his head. (Y/n) rolled her eyes not believing a word he's saying but she knows he's telling the truth. But she really cannot be angry at the ghost too much because he hasn't killed her or Michael. She knows Michael might need help but she could have called Cordelia but decided against it because (y/n) does not want her sisters to worry.

"(Y/n)" Michael broke her out of her thoughts.

"It's okay if you do not want to move into this house, we can find other ways to help me" (y/n) rose her hand placing it on his shoulder and said " No, that would be selfish of me. You need to talk to someone that's a professional" she points to Ben then turns her attention to him.

"Can you really help him" she asked.

"Yes, it's possible. But I can promise you two no one will harm you here and if they try to do anything ,then tell them to go away"

The two living beings looked at each other, looking for any doubts in their eyes. She may regret it she may not but the witch cares for the young man even if she has to move in this house.

Back at the house of constance

"Yes I understand I just bought the place but I just really like the house next door...

(Y/n) P.O.V

Yeah I'm well aware that people have died there... GOD YES I KNOW ABOUT THE FUCKING PLACE NOW CAN YOU OR CANNOT MOVE ME THERE...You can?...Okay good when can we move?...2 days oh perfect thank you have a nice day" I hung up tossing my phone to the couch as I sat down next to Michael who had this look like damn girl.

"How are you today" I asked in a sarcastic way and both started laughing. My God how can my life get more crazier than this.

"Okay so in 2 days we will be able to move into that house".

"Well yeah I heard you when you were hollering at the salesman. I bet you even made his ears bleed" he joked. Then the phone rang on my side as I answered it.

"Hello"

" Hello is this Ms.(Y/n) (Y/l/n)?"

"Yes this is she."

"Oh good this Ms Solomon from the Palmer elementary and I looked over your resume and I must say I am impressed. Would you like to start next week."

"Yes perfect thank you"

"Wonderful I'll see you next week on Monday."

I turned my attention towards Michael with beam.

"I got the job!" (Y/n) exclaimed

Michael's P.O.V

"Oh God that's great!" We wrapped our arms around each other like we did back in murder house. But this time I don't think I want to let go of her embrace. I don't know why but I never felt cared for like my grandma. I honestly don't care about her anymore if she doesn't want to see me that's fine. It may hurt me to say this but it's for the best. I'm going to be starting a new chapter with (y/n) and I'm glad to see where this journey is heading.

-meanwhile back at murder house

"Look I understand you three are angry but-"

"Are you out of your goddamn mind Ben" Vivian, Tate, and Constance were livid that Ben would talk the girl and the boy to move in a house full of ghosts.

"But nothing, that boy I raised was an abomination and one day he will hurt that girl" constance said after lighting her cigarette.

"Well she's a witch" Ben added. Now everyone wasn't happy except maybe his daughter violet and Moira the maid.Tate was so furious that he had to walk away along with Vivian and Constance but not before she said "I hope to God I know what you're doing" and disappeared.

A/n: Sorry it took me forever I hope you all enjoyed pt 5 and once again I'm sorry.If you liked it pls give it a heart, comment or reblogs😘😘😘😘

@barbie-solecism

@sodanova

@wvntersldr

@kylolangdon

@theghostoflangdon

@miskwaadesiwag

@whysosadmcfly

@creativedreamdesigns

@kaccatus

@goddess-of-inferno

@captainskyline

@gracethegeek9902

@castiel-saved-me-from-myself

@amortentiaxo

@langdonsdemon

@poisedphantom

@emmyrosee

@dyns33

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fluff #ahs murder house #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #fallenangel4996 #Myfate pt5 #myfate Fanfic #fallenangel4996 masterlist

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royallyprincesslilly · 6 years

Text

Late (20.3)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Plot, Blood

Word Count: 3640K

Note: Wheeew, I know, I know, I know. This took FOREVER. I’m sorry, truly. I told you guys I wanted to make this perfect especially because we are at the end and I don’t want to put out half-assed work and I wanted to make the necessary connections. I hope you guys enjoy this. I also have been going through a writing drought and haven’t felt the want to write. I know my issues and not yours, I’m sorry. Without further a due, ta-da!

***Loosely edited/proofread

******Interactive Chapter(KINDA, PICTURES COUNT :) )***

Thank you guys for reading. I appreciate it. If you enjoyed this, please LIKE and REBLOG. ❤️ ❤️ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wakanda was abuzz with the latest gossip of Ma’Uchi, Nakia, Tandra and W’Kabi and the attempted coup. No one could believe the lengths Nakia went to and no one could believe the fate the group shared and how T’Challa had went from one side of the spectrum to dropping the full weight of Wakanda’s rule upon them.

Everyone was now wondering when the king would finally give into his love for Y/N. In truth Wakanda was ready for the dawn of the era the king had promised.

You sat in the garden watching the sun set behind the Jabari mountains and smiled. You now had more of a fondness for the Jabari and their leader Lord M’Baku and you were excited about the potential for not only Wakanda’s growth but also the Jabari. You’d decided to finally unite all the tribes for a stronger Wakanada, all that was left was to reason with the king and help him see the logic of your words. You didn’t think it would be a hard task especially after he knew of the details of today.

You took a deep breath in and slowly released it. As you did you felt the stress and anxiety from the last few months dissipating. As you took another deep inhale you felt a sort of freedom you hadn’t felt in months. You closed your eyes hoping to relish the feeling for as long as you could. You didn’t know how long you sat there but by the time you opened your eyes you saw the queen mother sitting next to you. You jumped in shock before she placed a soothing hand upon your knee.

“It is just me,” Ramonda calmly voiced.

You smiled and nodded, relaxing yourself. The sun had disappeared behind the mountains and the sky was filled with hundreds of stars. The same stars that always made you think of T’Challa. You smiled to yourself.

“By yourself?” Ramonda asked.

“Yes.”

“Hm, interesting. I did not expect you to be by yourself. In fact i expected you and my son to be deep in conversation at this time,” she continued.

“The king is a busy man. After the debacle of today i am sure he had a lot to see to,” you reasoned.

“I am sure he did, but I didn’t expect anything to be more important than you.”

You sighed and looked to Ramonda’s face. She had a sly smile on her lips as she stared up into the star speckled night sky. After a few moments she looked to you and smiled wider.

“Unless it is you who is hiding,” she finished.

She’d guessed it, hit the nail right on the head, stolen the cookie from the cookie jar, pieced it together. You doubted it was a hard puzzle to put together. You looked down to your hands and entangled your fingers together before untangling them only to do the action again and again.

“Why are you hiding?” Ramonda asked when minutes passed of silence and her careful observation of your face.

You didn’t know the right words to speak, you didn’t even know what to say.

“Y/N?” Ramonda urged.

“A lot has happened. The last forty-eight hours have sped by like a tornado and in it’s wake everything has changed but quite possibly nothing. All that is certain is there is so much uncertainty,” you rushed out in one breath.

“You are right, a lot has happened. A lot has changed because of what has happened, but the only way to shed light on the unknown is by addressing it,” Ramonda counseled.

You knew what she was saying was true, still when the chance came you ran away.

“Wakanda owes you a debt Y/N. I owe you a debt.”

“You owe me nothing. I did this for Wakanda, for you. You all deserved to know the truth, you deserved some form of peace. I only hope that by dredging up the painful past I have not disrupted T’Chaka in the ancestral plane and I have not broken your heart all over again,” you confessed.

Ramonda took your hands within hers and firmly squeezed them as she turned to face you.

“Y/N, T’Chaka blesses you. I have been consulting with the ancestors and they are forever indebted to you for your actions. For rooting out the evil within Wakanda. What you have done is no small feat, but it’s benefits will spread across the land. As for my pain, it will never go away, never but you have lessened it by shining light on the truth. A grave injustice was done to our family, an injustice that broke us down, but you are the piece that will mend us and build us up, starting with the king,” Ramonda spoke.

You allowed her words to seep into your brain.

“How can I mend anything. I am not Wakandan.”

“Like hell you are not. Do you think you are Wakandan just by being born here, by being born with the blood in your veins? If that were the case all of the world is greatly mistaken of their heritage. You are not merely Wakandan because of blood, or birth but because of your heart, your soul. You were Wakandan when you put the happiness and prosperity if its people before your own happiness and prosperity. You are Wakandan when you embody the ways of our practices and teachings, you are Wakandan being true not only to the spirit of Bast herself but by being true to the land. All of which you have done since the day you got here and every day you continue to do so. You are Wakandan because even when your heart broke you chose the ways and people over your own wants, your own love. My child you are Wakanda,” Ramonda finished.

You smiled to yourself and looked up to the sky.

“But, you must stop running. You must forge ahead.”

You nodded and sighed again.

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Ramonda teased. You snorted and let out a laugh. A laugh you didn’t recognize. It had been so long since you last laughed—too long.

“Now, I am going to tell my son to stop pacing a hole in the floor of his office and to follow his heart and senses to you and you are going to sit here looking as beautiful as ever and forge ahead,” she ordered. You smiled and nervously nodded.

Ramonda stood and gently touched your forehead before she walked away back inside the palace leaving you alone again in the garden. You took another deep breath realizing your heart was not pounding at a maddening pace.

“Relax Y/N, relax,” you calmly recited.

You sat there running through the endless possibilities in your head at break neck speed. You went through tens of scenarios all ending differently, but all evoked the same feelings in you. You felt as if you were going to pass out from the anticipation and the unknown. You wondered if he still felt the same way, wondered if any part of him still wanted you. You wondered if everything had changed for him. You worried about so many of his feelings or lack there of that after ten minutes you began pacing the stone walkway in the garden obsessing over it all.

“Y/N.”

You quickly spun around with a distressed look on your face to see Okoye standing there.

“Okoye.”

“Was I interrupting?”

“No, no. Well yes but I'm grateful. I was going down an endless rabbit hole of what ifs and it had to stop, so thank you,” you said as she approached you.

“Are you all right?” You nodded only lying partially.

“Okoye, i wanted to thank you for today, thank you for all you have done in this crazy scheme of mine,” you began.

Okoye smiled a rare smile that paused you.

“I was happy to help Y/N. I should be thanking you for saving me from a fate worse than death if I had married W’Kabi,” she said with a look of disgust on her face.

“I still can’t believe his part in all this,” you added.

“Neither can I, I never suspected and I feel like such a fool,” she continued. You took her hand gently.

“Okoye, you are not a fool. He was simply good at covering his tracks, they all were. So if you are a fool so is the rest of Wakanda, the king included,” you teased.

Okoye smiled again.

“Well I have always been convinced the king was a fool, and was further proved right watching him these last years,” Okoye laughed, a laugh you joined in on.

“Speaking of the king, I have something for you,” she said holding out an envelope with the Wakandan king’s seal.

You took the envelope and stared at it.

“The staff have prepared your old bedroom for you,” Okoye informed. You nodded and watched her turn and begin to walk back inside the palace. Before she walked inside she stooped and looked back to you.

“Y/N,” Okoye began. You looked to her.

“He is lucky to have you.” Okoye said then the corner inside the palace.

You stood there for a few more minutes before you decided against opening it. Instead you walked back inside the palace toward your bedroom contemplating what he’d written in the envelope.

Once you were safely behind your familiar doors you looked around and took in your surroundings. Everything looked the same as if nothing had been touched. The walls were still the way you’d requested, as was the decor. You leaned your back against the door and pressed the envelope to your chest willing your heart to slow.

After a few moments, you walked further into the room toward the window at the moon shining in. You stood there and unsealed the envelope to open the king’s stationary.

“Wakanda owes you a debt.”

Short and simple, short and mysterious in meaning. You looked at the back of the card bu there was nothing else written. Confusion began to rise as you realized he was most likely not going to meet you tonight.

You put the card down on your desk and looked around the room again. You walked to your bed and softly traced your hand along the patterned duvet to one of the posts. You walked around the room taking in everything. You didn’t know how much you missed this until just now. You’d missed it greatly. you walked into the bathroom and began filling the copper claw-foot tub. You’d missed this tub. While it was old fashioned it was decked out with modern luxuries. At the touch of a button it could be transformed into a luxurious whirlpool, jetted spa escape filled with over fifteen massage patterns. This bad boy was the reason you’d been changed to a bath lover again after nearly a lifetime of preferring showers. Now you spent hours upon hours sitting in this tub.

You began undressing out of the Dora uniform and filled the tub with the luxuries you loved, essential oils, flower petals, bath salts, a special blended soap that produced the most exhilarating bubbles that some how worked to easily melt away any stress leaving you and your body in the most amazing state of relaxation. You couldn’t wait.

As you walked around the bathroom preparing things for your bath you did your best to not think about anything or anyone. If you thought anymore your head would burst. Once you’d freed yourself and only had your bra and underwear on you swirled your hand in the water to test the temperature was right. Smiling you began to rise but was struck back down by a kick to the back of your calf. You dropped back to the hard floor. Before you could turn to see who or what it was the mystery intruder grabbed your head and pushed it into the tub submerging your head under the water. You screamed in the water which produced no sound. It only brought water into your nose and lungs. You flailed your arms around behind you trying to grab the person. Every time your hand made connection to a garment of clothes they pulled away and sunk your head even further under the water.

After a minute of struggle your actions slowed, your head became heavy, your vision became speckled with bright lights. Your logic told you that you were running out of time. You tried your best to think about your immediate surroundings. You stopped trying to grab the intruder and began to reach for the retractable shower head that was attached to the tub your plan clear in your head. It was difficult to maneuver as your actions slowed more and you felt yourself begin to involuntarily convulse. In the recesses of your mind you knew you only had seconds. Your hands grasped the shower head but it was stuck. You yanked as hard as you could freeing the retractable cord. Gripping it you swung it back behind you and heard an enraged grunt. The action gave you a few seconds of reprieve. You pulled your head out the water and gasped for the precious commodity you desperately needed.

Again you felt the intruder trying to overtake you. You swung your head back connecting with their head. In an instant you felt dizziness ring through your head. Now you were righting two battles, lack of oxygen and dizziness, the odds were definitely stacked against you. You tried to get up but slipped on the flooded floor and dropped back down. You slid and spun around seeing Nakia standing there.

“Nakia?” you spoke in complete shock and confusion.

She dove to you but you ducked instead grabbing her calves and hoisted her up and over your head. You heard a loud crash and a scream. You spun around and saw Nakia splayed on the floor atop the broken the shards of the glass shower door. She groaned as she slowly rose to her hands and knees. She looked to you, blood dripping from several cuts on her face. She looked like pure rage.

“How did you get free?”

“I’ve lived in this place longer than you. I know every hidden tunnel and path. I’ve always known how to get in here. I could have killed you any time I wanted but a Queen doesn’t dirty her hands. She watches as other do her bidding, but now you have pissed me off and if you want something done right you have to do it yourself,” Nakia spat before she dove for you. She landed on top of you tackling you to the wet floor. She drew back her hand and landed a blow to your face. You struggled with her trying to overpower her. You rolled on top of her and punched her three times before she rolled to reclaim the upper hand. She managed to get her hands around you neck and began to squeeze.

“You thought I would just let you win? Did you really think I would just give up and go to the island? You are even dumber than I thought. You will never have him, you will never have Wakanda.”

You gagged and pushed your hands between hers and pushed them apart forcing her to release your neck. A move T’Challa showed you in one of your many sparring matches. You wasted no time grabbing her wrists and twisting them. She screamed loudly and you kicked her off of you over your head into the wooden panel along the wall. You rolled to your knees quickly watching her every move. It was past reasoning with her. There was no reasoning with her. No granting her mercy, nothing would work. Nakia stood up wiping the blood from her mouth. You stood and stared at her, expecting the worst, preparing for it.

Nakia took up a crystal candle holder and charged to you attempting to strike you. You evaded every attempt recognizing she was no longer strategizing, she was attacking on pure rage. She was at her weakest. You took the opportunity to punch her, but she pushed you on the wall and returned the hit. You sunk down and slid through her opened legs. You turned in time to see her coming for you, you kicked out the vanity stool to her forcing her to trip over it. You hurried to the door but saw it was locked from the outside. Nakia wrapped her arm around your neck placing you in a choke-hold.

“No escape, only through death.”

You elbowed her feeling your anger rise to the dangerous level. You turned and kicked her in her gut. She staggered backwards and tried to unsuccessfully evade your onslaught of hits. Each of your hits landed with precision. You felt stronger than you had in a long time. You took a deep breath in and charged Nakia. She landed on the hard floor with a loud thud. You wrapped your hands around her neck and squeezed with all your strength. She gagged and tried to pry your hands free. The fear in her eyes rose and it filled you with even more strength, it was intoxicating. You heard your Kimoyo beads ring from across the room. In the commotion they must have fallen off. In your distracted stare Nakia managed to grab a sliver of the broken glass and slash your collar. You drew back from the pain, she took the opportunity to roll on top of you and inch the glass closer to your jugular.

Every second she inched closer and closer, you struggled back and forth with her strength. When she gained an inch you pushed her back an inch only for the cycle to continue back and forth. You groaned as you saw the glass mere centimeters from your skin. Nakia smiled sinisterly as she kept her eye on the prize, your neck. You felt the sharp edge of the glass puncture your neck, pain rang through you and alarm filled you. You fought against the urge to panic, instead you released one hand to reach for the large shard you saw to the side. The action gave Nakia more leeway to sink her shard further into your neck. You gagged tasting your blood in your throat. You quickly lunged to the shard allowing the glass to sink a few more centimeters into your skin. It was the only way. You grabbed the shard and quickly slammed Nakia to her back and rammed the glass into her chest. Nakia gasped out in shock, but her actions into stop. She reached for a smaller piece of the glass and stabbed it into your abdomen. You gasped and convulsed taking in the impact and the pain of the object.

“You—will not—have—him,” Nakia stuttered out.

You raised your mouth into a vindictive snarl.

“Neither will you!” You shouted and pulled the glass from her chest to ram it into her chest again. You repeated the action two more times, on the final stab you sunk it into her heart. Nakia gurgled her blood oozing from her mouth as she stared at you, all her actions seized. You heard her cough and release her last terrorizing breath.

You sat atop her waiting for her to spring back up like the horror show she was, but after almost thirty seconds of no movement you let go of the shard of glass still sticking from her chest. Your bloodied hands violently shook and weakness overtook you. You toppled of her to the blood covered floor and began gasping for air. You reached your hand to your neck and felt the glass still protruding from your throat. You heard pounding at the door but it was too far for you to make it there. You’d never make it. Your hand slowly traveled to the second piece of glass sticking out from your abdomen and felt tears sting your eyes as reality crept in. Reality was you were dying, reality was Nakia had finally gotten what she wanted, reality was you’d now killed two people. Reality was that these were your last moments. You stared into the ceiling at a replica of the Wakandan night sky and saw a bright light creep in from the corners of your eyes. You heard a loud snap and shrieks of horror before scuffling footsteps. You heard your name as if it was someone far away and it was then T’Challa dropped to your side with a haunted look on his face.

Everything moved in slow motion and you heard nothing but muffled voices. T’Challa hesitated touching you as he examined your body. When his eyes landed on the glass protruding from your neck the look on his face spoke of fear. Your reality had finally registered with him. T’Challa looked away from you and shouted. You felt the trickles of his tears drip on your cheek and a deep sorrow filled you. You slowly lifted your hand to his face. You traced your bleeding hand along his cheek, down to his jaw. There was so much to say but no time, you opened your mouth to speak but no sound came out.

Fresh tears streamed down your face as you realized this was your last moment with him. T’Challa clasped his hand over yours and nuzzled his face into your palm, but you didn’t feel it. You’d read somewhere that when you were dying your senses would slowly fade. You could not smell him, you could not hear him, nor could you taste the blood you knew filled your throat and mouth. You saw his lips move but the light that was at the corners of your eyes now took over and with that, your sight went.

To Be Continued...

Tag List:

@kumkaniudaku @brianabreeze @sarahboseman @texasbama @heyauntieeee @airis-paris14 @thiccdaddy-mbaku @wakandas-vibranium @wakanda-inspired @theunsweetenedtruth @ashanti-notthesinger @reignsxjackson @halfrican-heat @ambthegamer @simplyyamberr @dramaqueenamby @muse-of-mbaku @sisterwifeudaku @mejustme06 @stressedgyal @ilcb7 @leahnicole1219 @destinio1 @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @blowmymbackout @purplehairgawdess @thehuntoyobun @wakandamama @wakandawinning @profilia @zxddy-panther @h-challa @babygirlofwakanda @misswakanda2018 @challaxkillmonger @ororowrites @hutchj @myfavemarvelfanfics @lavitabella87 @afraiddreamingandloving @autumn242 @purple-apricots @skysynclair19 @hersheyskissesss-blog @blue-ishx @blublubleu @90sinspiredgirl @tchallaswife @tchallamakesmeh0lla @turn-thy-paige @blackchickfics @blackpantherismyish @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @naturally-bri @flawlesslybeautiful14 @qweentbh @lunaerly @theoutereffect @twilight-sapphire-lover @pupyluv247 @stark-red19 @cockyboysandsugarism @maverickabull @madbadsiren @aykanna @myaw731 @ruruly20 @mixedmelanin @brittyevans @bezzywazhere @laketaj24 @taint3dvirgin @soulsparker @theresnomoregoodones @syreanne @loveandcigarillos @heybriheyyy @wakanda-bcth @uhlxis @yaachtynoboat711 @geeksareunique @bultalongthewayside @ajspencer1892 @captiansaveasmut @imaginewhoever @terrablaze514 @starsshines-blog @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @darkandlovely94 @sithlordslut @wavyyc @naturalistamisslyn @nigarachi15 @madamslayyy @blackandfair @kreolemami @mylastnameisthe-fish @kaykay0829 @chaneajoyyy @tequilajay27 @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @slimmiyagi @im5ftbutmythroat66 @jaeee-http @madhatterhelsing @sunflowerpsalms @wakanda-shit-is-that @deliciousstreetkidcroissant @jecourt @vebner37 @disneysdarlingdiva @melaninmarvel @alanastormborn @dolphinpink310 @wonderbell @ohleucothea @queentearra @bitchbetterhavemydinner @fentybabyy @kaykay4454fan @priya212 @kitkit1690 @chrismarcs @beautycomesindifferentformsworld @blackpantherimagines @ovohanna24 @sweetpeachjones @kslo000 @nubian-queen18 @omgsuperstarg @prettyprincessushio @treeondrea @ursapharoh05 @blackpinup22 @kaytauru @big3gocandykahn @kissingpineapples @ilcb7 @wildaboutchrisevans @fitfineandstayingalive @misspooh @michele-onel @gorjiss @blacklotus-of-the-black-kingdom @muva-milaje @limbo-limbo-limbo @awkwardlyabstract @blxck-brxndie @meeky-imagines @inlovewith3 @metalarmlover @mellowjellow6 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @sweettea-and-honeybutter @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @marvelheaux @romanceoftheeveryday-blog @mufasathatniggatho @cltex84 @sweetbearcolorgarden @msincognito67 @blackpantherimagines @mosagram @mar-ta-3 @ljstraightnochaser @lewatigress @akimi-youngblood @bekahdean87 @teechallas-blog @jasmindaughteroftheworld @cocooned-butterfly @emoniclark22 @chereedrop619 @theblulife @niggarachi15 @msincognito67 @missdeerstalker15 @wakandamama @great-neckpectations @avenger-marvel-fan @arieljamiyla @avenger-marvel-fan @vibranium-soul @apileofmiscsomethings @niecey4cocaine @missumuch1918 @chillavesss @madamslayyy @heynessss @shamelessqueenobservation @cetouna @cosmicmelaninflower @tntnv @dopegalkk @babyblowomg @somansystars-and-westillstarve

Author’s AFTER-NOTE: Are y'all OK?

#late fic #king t'challa #t'challa x reader #t'challa x you #the black panther #black panther fanfiction #slow burn #angst fic #Wakanda forever #t'challa fic #t'challa smut

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prettieparker86 · 6 years

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In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 13

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 & Part 12

Announcement Please See Note Below...

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Adult situations, flashbacks, mentions trauma, talk of abortion, Violence

Gif Credit: @thomasshelbyltd @cillianmurphydaily @peakyblindersdaily @sikanapanele Thank you for letting me use your beautiful gifs!

Tag: @lainey-lane, @pindlemouse, @ thelastemzy, @helloandreabeth, @fandoms-broke-my-life, @shelbysbushblog, @accio-witty-username, @iamtheonewhocares, @infinitelycharmed23, @kingsmanstories, @shelby-gin-limited, @taylxr0, @sympathyfortheblinderdevil, @neversleeping4am, @icebluegriffin @johhnshelby, @ subhamamu @ unicorn-glitter-princess @thatsamegirl, @mafaldaz, @cafe-sabor-a-chocolate, @collegecatlady, @20th-centu-fairy-girl, @xlightning-disasterx @niiight-dreamerrrr @i-shouldbepainting @dermittts @stylesbooze

Authors Note: I really don’t like this chapter, but I give up. I’m washing my hands of it. It’s given me nothing but grief. I had high hopes for it and frankly, I think it’s cabbage. So Sorry ahead of time.

Also, when Polly mentions things being in their blood because they’re gypsies, and having some deep insight/foresight/psychic intuition. I am going purely off the character established in season four. This is in no way a reflection of actual romani cultures. And I mean absolutely no disrespect in anyway.

Announcement:

So, I wasn’t going to say anything. I was just to switch it out and call it a day, but then I worried it might be confusing if people noticed. So I’m just gonna own it... I hated the Tommy and Fiona scene, so I changed it. I didn’t want to leave up something I didn’t love. So what that means is there will be two versions of this chapter floating around, because it’s already been reblogged (Thank you for that! You guys are the best!). So just be aware of that. If you happen to notice it, you’re not crazy, I’m owning what I did. You can decide which version of the chapter you like best. Thank you!

You can’t sleep. Your demons won’t let you rest. The threat of your impossible future haunts you into all hours of the night. Long after everyone else has succumb to sleep. You toss and turn, staring up at the ceiling, an itchy nagging feeling just under your skin until you finally give up and get out of bed. You’re running yourself a glass of water, trying not to wake the rest of the house, when you hear a noise come up from behind you in the kitchen – a creak of a board, a shuffle of movement.

Spinning around quick, you hadn’t expected company in the dead of night like this, but you can’t say you’re surprised to find it’s Polly standing there, candle steady in her hand. Looking gorgeous as ever in her short curls and flowing nightdress against the dancing flame of the candle. You smile at her, the sight a pleasant surprise. A comforting one against the anxiousness the grips you tight tonight.

“Can’t sleep?” She asks, like a mother would to a child. Caring for you and after you in a way you haven’t experienced since you lived with your aunt Brona right after the birth of Finn.

You shake your head no, in response, placing your glass down on the counter, a forgotten thought before you’ve barely had a sip.

But Polly doesn’t mince words or opportunities as she places down the candle on the butcher’s block beside the stove and moves toward you as if she can see the anxiousness churning inside you.

“A’right then, so you’re up the duff?” She inquires without hesitation, without judgment, and the lack of reprisal on her breath and in her eyes settles some of the shame you’ve been flogging yourself with for days now.

“I believe so.” You answer quietly, eyes scanning around to ensure no one is in ear shot, but the house is quiet as a church, not even a board squeaks.

“When was your last flow?” She inquiries bluntly, getting straight to the point. Her big dark eyes holding you in the shadows that surround you both. She speaks with ease, but still her words threaten to swallow you alive with the magnitude of the answer as you muster the courage to speak.

“I don’t know.” You whisper as your face falls from hers, feeling foolish.

You know it’s the sort of thing you should know without doubt, especially since you crawled into Tommy’s bed and never came out. A line you swore you’d never cross again after all the heartache and struggles you’ve endured to bring Finn into this world and then keep him alive.

Even with the factory laborer, you had been careful, diligent, to do everything in your power to ensure you didn’t become pregnant. But with Tommy everything seemed so different. You were feeling things you never thought you would feel again. You thought with the tea… You see now you thought wrong.

“With John, an’ the Italians, there’s been so much... One, maybe two months. I can’t- I can’t be certain.” You admit on a shaken whisper, running a frustrated hand down your face, angry with yourself as you try to retrace it in your mind. Ever since coming to Small Heath the days have blended. Living under constant fear of death and grief, and then after Al… it’s been hard to get a good sense of time. But you know full well this is something you should have been diligently monitoring, you feel like a complete failure.

How could you have been so foolish! One child out of wedlock is an unforgivable sin, but two and by different fathers, you feel a panic coming on just trying to imagine the kind of shame that would accompany that fate. What kind of woman that makes your morally. What kind of mother that makes you, to put Finn’s already fragile joy into jeopardy.

“Could it be iron. Have you tried tablets?” She asks, you see her running down the list of possibilities in her mind before jumping to any conclusions.

You shake your head sadly. “But it’s not just my flow… I’ve been sick lately, light headed sometimes, an’ my breasts are tender... I know what this is Pol.” You tell her, the words starting to choke you up as your throat tightens with an all too familiar fear.

Heart pounding in your chest as you finally say the words aloud. Making them real and utterly terrifying in a way that plaguing your mind never could. You swore to yourself you’d never experience this again, never find yourself here, and yet, here you are.

“The tea didn’ work. I jus-“ Tears edge at your eyes as your voice wavers. You such in a sharp breath and pull yourself together, holding your belly tight as you force yourself to breath slowly.

“I was hopin’ you might know a woman who can help me.” Those words break your heart. You hate to say them. It’s never something you wanted. Never something you imagined doing. But you can’t do this to Finn. Destroy his world with your carelessness. And you can’t have that monster’s baby and you have no way knowing who the father is. A fact that makes your heart feel sick and leaves you shuttering harder with shame.

“The tea works. Did you forget to take?” Polly is certain, there’s no doubt in her eyes, but there is a peculiar intrigue that seems to light up in her gaze. You wish you could hold on to that same kind of certainty, but this is your body and you can feel what’s happening to it. It’s changing. There’s something inside it and no amount of debate about tea will change that.

Polly steps close to you, her hands unceremoniously reaching for your belly, pushing and palming against your stomach as your secret barely takes shape in her hand.

“No, never.” You finally answer her with a shake of your head, letting her carry out her inspection without a fuss. You swear it, you never forgot. Not once. Not something that important. Your attempts to monitor the situation may have been halfhearted at best, but your attempts to prevent it were steadfast.

Polly suddenly grabs at your breast, brief and quick as you jump a little, startled under her unexpected touch. You watch her eyes narrow with understanding as a quick huff leaves her chest before she quickly steps back.

Polly nods slowly looking you square in the eye to acknowledge the seriousness of your request. “I know a woman, but I warn you this one won’t go easy.” She smiles weakly at you.

You stare into her eyes, fear and confusion coiling and stirring about in your gut as your chest tightens with apprehension. “Why do you say that?” Almost afraid to ask.

She cups your cheeks gently in her weathered hands as she looks you square in the eye.

“Because this baby held on through that bloody match you had with the Italian and Shelby’s never go without a fight.”

Her words hit you like a shockwave, like the floor being ripped out from under you. Tears spring to your eyes with the implication. Your chest suffocating as it pulls in around your heart. “How do you know that? How can you be certain?”

Polly looks you square in the eye, the light of the candle’s flame dancing in her deep whiskey orbs.

“In that noose I died and now it’s as if a window has opened up and things reveal themselves to me... I feel the gypsy blood running through that baby’s veins and I’d guess you’re nearly three months gone.” She tells you without an ounce of doubt of her breath.

Her revelation leaves a rattled breath ripping your lips as tears of relief roll heavy down your cheeks, unable to hold them inside you any longer. You’re taken aback by her words. You don’t know if you believe in spirits and windows, but you can’t deny the unwavering certainty in Polly eyes, and you trust her. You know she would never deceive you over something like this. Never hurt you in such a way.

Her thumb wipes tenderly at your tears. “You thought it was the Italian’s.” Polly states, already seeing the answer in your eyes.

“I was scared. I didn’t know.” You admit on a shaken breath.

“That’s a Shelby growing inside there. And unless you’ve been with Arthur or Finn, it’s Tommy’s.” She tells you, cracking a smile at her joke. Knowing the relief that news must bring to you, but then a seriousness takes hold in her eyes. Polly cups your cheeks more firmly with it, looking you dead in the eye as she speaks.

“This family’s cursed, Tommy most of all. You should know that before you make your decision. Life would never be easy with him, but it’s a girl and she’s strong like her mum.”

Polly’s words send tears spilling from your eyes all over again. A little girl. Tommy’s girl. Your chest rattles as you suck a deep breath in. Your hand settling low on your stomach as you run your thumb gently over the spot, letting yourself feel connected to this baby for the first time. Instead of solely fearing the weight of it.

You know Tommy is more tortured than most. Some days half alive, but mostly dead. But you love him, and you love the little family you’ve built together with the boys. And you know there’s no guarantee Tommy will even want this baby. With so many enemy clawing at his back. After losing Grace. You don’t have the luxury of living in dreams, but knowing the baby is Tommy’s changes everything.

Releasing your face, Polly covers your hand with her own over your belly in a show support. “I’ll give you an address for a midwife tomorrow. She can confirm how gone you are without Tommy finding out… Think it over. You know where to find me if you still need my help.” She whispers softly, before placing a tender kiss upon your forehead. Slipping from you side, she leaves you alone with your thoughts as another round of tears rolls slowly off your eyes.

As you climb back into bed with Tommy, your mind is still a flurry of energy. Counting the days, retracing the steps of how you got here - as Charlie’s nanny, then Tommy’s friend before you became his bed fellow, and now… Now you love him. Deeply. Madly. And though he’s never said it, you’re quite certain he loves you too. And now his baby is growing inside you, or at least Polly seems quite certain of it. The thought washes over you with uncertainty and excitement as you feel Tommy roll onto his side, reaching for you, wrapping his hand around your waist as he drags you against him in the bed.

“Where’d ya go?” You hear him quietly grumble against the back of your neck. His breath warm and thick with gravel from sleep.

“I was thirsty.” You explain as you feel Tommy pull you deep into the curve of his body, warm, solid, and safe. You focus on the feel of his breath moving evenly against the back of your neck as his arm winds around your waist, resting just above where his baby grows inside you, as he presses against you. You wrap your arm around his at your waist as your heart aches from the distance that still lingers between you.

You miss him like a hole in your heart nothing else can fill. You haven’t attempted any real intimacy since the night neither of your dare speak of. It’s been over a month, and the reasons for that are just. You were healing, you weren’t ready to be intimate with someone yet and Tommy respected that. But lying here, having just heard Polly’s belief the baby inside you is Tommy’s, you realize you can’t go on like this. You need him. You miss him. You’re ready.

You rock gently against him, listening as Tommy groans quietly against your hair, but nothing more comes of it. It’s been so long and you know him so well, surely, he just assumes you’re readjusting in bed… Until you keep at it. Quietly relieved when you feel him come to life against. Taking solace in knowing some part of him still wants you. Even if it’s just the raw undiluted part of his manhood that can’t be quieted any more than it can be tamed.

“Fiona,” Tommy whispers to you. A hint of uncertainty as his breath flutters the hair tucked behind your ear. His voice so deep and gritty it makes your belly tighten with need and your hips press a little harder against him with the sound of it.

“Tommy,” You whisper back as a hunger you haven’t felt properly in far too long begins to reignite inside you. Your skin craves the feel of his touch, and knowing Tommy’s going to need a little assurance this is what you want - that you’re ready - you reach for his hand at your waist and slip it underneath your nightdress. Feeling shivers ripple under your skin as his palm drags slowly up your thigh to the curve of your hip. Inviting him to touch you.

Your breath quickens off your lips as Tommy slowly wraps his callused hand around the curve of your hip. Molding your flesh in his palm as he pulls you tighter against him.

“Is this a’right?” Tommy asks, bathed in a darkness that fills the room with an electric energy that makes anything possible. Making no assumptions. He needs to hear you say it. Tommy always takes the lead, he needs to feel in control, but after what happened to you, he also needs to know what you’re comfortable with. What you need, because if it was up to him, you’d already be naked and withering beneath him.

He’s missed you so fucking badly. You’re the anchor in the chaos of his life. You hold him steady when everything else rips apart. But Tommy’s lips struggle to say those words. After the war he’s forgotten what they sound like coming off his breath. He can’t say it, but he can show it. Taking pride in his ability to take you higher than anyone else can, leave you begging for more, but he’s been holding all that back. Not wanting to press you for something you weren’t ready for yet.

“Yes.” Shaken by need, your thighs clench as you ache inside for him. Missing him from the deepest hollows of your heart, you reach for his hand and drag it down between the ache of your thighs.

“Touch me, Tommy.” You beg him, your voice as needy as you feel.

He reacts instantly, his breath hot on your flesh, as he groans against the back of your neck. The sound of it vibrates against you, stirring up memories of that last night before your met with Al. When the room could barely contain you both and all Tommy wanted was you trapped in the cage of his arms and the breath of his lips. Tommy peppers you with kisses as his fingers begin to slowly stroke you, your hips flexing against his touch, desperate for more.

You wither against his touch as his Tommy’s fingers roam and rediscover every place that makes you tick. Back and forth, circling against you until he has your knickers soaked against his deft fingertips. You exhale hard, a little in disappointment when his hand suddenly pulls back, unsure if he’s teasing you or stopping completely, but then you feel Tommy’s slip inside the seam of your knickers, his palm pressing against your belly, before he halts.

You can feel it racing in your heart from the unsteady twitch of his hand. Tommy needs your permission to proceed. The days of bold moves and blanked assumptions feel so far away after the brutality of what happened to you.

“Don’t stop.” Urgent and needy, you push his hand further down between your legs, giving you both what you want.

Tommy’s breath deepens sharply against your skin before it suddenly dies in his throat when his fingers meet your flesh. He groans deeply against your neck like a man on the edge of collapse, you shutter as the sound of it vibrates off your skin. He slips into your wetness and you cry out in relief, so desperate for his touch. Desperate to feel connected to him once again from the most intimate places upon you.

Slowly Tommy explores you like it’s the first time all over again. Making you feel desirable even after what’s been done. His fingers run teasingly along your entrance, sliding back up to rub his slick fingertips against you. As you lean into him, the feel of him sending shockwave rolling through your body with every curl of his finger.

“Tommy…Please…” You whimper and beg losing sense of yourself in his grip as the pressure buried deep between your thighs builds. You bury your face against the pillow to quiet the noise carrying from your lips, trying not to wake the children or anyone else in the thin walls of this home. The coil of your belly and the pang of your heart, tells you you need to feel him inside you again. Feel those rough luscious fingers that pull away at cigarette’s all day long, curl and bury deep within you the way they use to.

But what you don’t know is Tommy needs this just as bad as you do. He’s been patient, never pushing, but the nights have been long and torturous with your warm curves snuggles against him. It’s been killing him to have you beside him, and yet completely untouchable after the damage Al did.

“This what you need, love?” Tommy asks, his breath dangerously low as he sucks on the back of your neck, slipping two fingers within you, and curling them deep.

A gasps rips from your chest, your back arching against his chest as your hips jerk involuntarily into his hand. Your mind goes blank with the feel of the man you love inside you once again, moving within you as if you aren’t damaged, as if he still wants you, always will.

You rock faster against his fingers, hungry with need. It’s been so long, your body is already building and pushing toward release as Tommy reminds you no one can touch you the way he does. Palm flat, rubbing against your sensitive bud, Tommy’s fingers dip within you, keeping perfect rhythm with the frantic rock of your hips. Your body feels hypersensitive after being deprived of him for so long. You feel like you can’t take it, like you can’t catch your breath or the racing of your heart. Quickly your hand reaches behind you to dig and claw in his hair, needing to touch him, needing him to anchor you as you begin to unravel.

The feel of having Tommy hard against you, his desire pressing at your back as his fingers push deep within you and suddenly your whole body starts to shake with pleasure. Your muscles tense, your breath catching in your throat as ecstasy rushes through your veins and you come hard around his fingers. Waves of rapture drowning you in a sea of bliss that steals the breath from your lips. Trembling and whimpering his name as Tommy holds you against his chest, never slowing down the unrelenting pace of his hand until you stop trembling and pulsing around his digits.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath as you come back down. Exhausted and spent from an explosive release that’s been building inside you for too long, but as Tommy’s hand pulls free, the empty feeling that takes his place tells you you still need him, and the feel of Tommy pressed hard against your back tells you he still needs you too.

His hand is barely free of your knickers before you’re rolling onto your back to face him and dragging the silk down your legs. You glance over at Tommy in earnest, watching as his fingers slip into his mouth, licking the taste of you clean from his digits. If you thought his eyes looked dangerous and drunk a moment ago, now they’re down right ravenous and deadly as he pulls his fingers free, humming with the taste of you on his tongue.

You reach for Tommy, the need palpable in your veins as you pull him into a desperate kiss. And Tommy’s just as hungry to taste your mouth as he was your arousal, as his tongue slips past the seam of your lips to stroke your own. Yanking his boxers down his legs, Tommy moves as if they can’t come off him fast enough. Tugging at the strong muscles that line his broad shoulders, you pull Tommy toward you in a frenzy, heart pounding hard for him in your chest.

Your mouths meld and taste as Tommy slips between your thighs, tugging your nightdress high up on your waist, and out his way. Drowning in the need to taste of each other, Tommy’s tongue strokes you as he settles his weight down in the cradle of your thighs. The feel of his warm body settling across, skin brushing sensitive skin, sends a moan humming off your lips and disappearing into his waiting mouth.

Tommy pulls back for a moment of sanity, cradling your cheek as he stares down into your eyes. The look in his enchanting icy blues suddenly so soft and gentle as he gazes down on you.

“You want to stop, just say the word and it stops, ey?” Tommy promises, stroking his thumb tenderly along your cheek. Needing you to know you’re in control of this and he’d never do anything to you that you didn’t want him to.

For a man so rarely soft with others, his gentleness toward you and the sight of him like this melts your heart and makes you all the more desperate to have him.

“I want you,” You say, words dripping with need as you dig your fingers into his hair, dragging him back down to your lips, rocking your hips against him with impatience.

Tommy breathes hard against your mouth, nearly fucking unraveling at the need on your breath alone. He kisses you hard, the hold of his mouth echoing the words on your lips. Stealing your breath before he plants a trail of pecks and nips along the line of your jaw. Reaching that sensitive spot, just below your ear, Tommy makes you shiver as he runs his teeth over it as he thrusts inside your warm wet depths.

You cry out with the feel of him, full and completely yours once again as your arms clutch wildly around his neck, your legs locking around his hips. Holding him as close as possible, savoring this moment and the way it makes you feel whole and not alone all at the same time.

Tommy stops moving too, steady within you, flooded by the sensation of having you all his once again. Wrapped and clenched tightly around him, the feeling sends a string of curses both romani and English spilling from his lips against your neck as Tommy tries to maintain some semblance of self-control.

Tommy’s slow, deliberate, and careful as he starts to rock within you. You’d think he were trying to make love, but you know that’s not what this is, he’s unsure. Tommy’s unsure what you want, what you can handle, but after being deprived of the man you love for so long, careful isn’t what you want. You want him to love you with the same fire and passion he used to, as you dig your heels into arse, pushing him deeper with every thrust as you rock hips to meet his. Tommy knows you so well by now, he understands your unspoken words, as his forehead comes to rest against yours, his eyes barreling desperately down upon you.

“Faster?” He asks, his ragged breath trembling against your lips as his face holds tight, trying so hard to hold himself back for your sake.

“Faster,” You nod, kissing him hard as Tommy moans against your mouth in relief, letting his hips snap deep within you. It’s been so fucking long that you almost feel like a reckless youth, lost in the throes of passion as your hips roll to meet his every thrust as if you can’t get enough of him. You devour his mouth, hungry for the taste of him on your tongue, needing you as badly as you needs him.

The energy is frantic, desperation rushing through your veins as you cling to each other, the small metal bedframe squeaking for mercy as it knocks into the wall. Tommy gives you everything he’s been holding inside. His fingers digging into the back of your thigh, gripping your leg higher against his hip as all his insatiable longing and unfulfilled desire for you savagely spills free.

His mouth leaves your own, trailing roughly down your neck as he ravages you, kissing and sucking away at your sensitive flesh as if he’s doesn’t give a damn what kind of marks he leaves in the morning. As if he wants the whole fucking world to know you’re his. Lost in the heat of passion, he bites down hard on the base of your neck like he has so many times before, growling against your skin as you wither beneath him, but this time something unexpected happens.

This time a flash fills your mind. A memory – you’re down on the bed as Al sinks his teeth into your flesh pushing you to break and cry out. And suddenly, you’re shoving Tommy back from you as hard as you can before you even know what you’re doing. Your hands moving on instinct alone as your whole body goes rigid and your heart starts to race with fear instead of passion.

Tommy stops instantly, breath panting as he hovers over you and he quickly pulls out. Staring down at you, his endless oceans of blue blinding with concern as they rain down on you. His hand dares to cautiously touch the side of your cheek as he braces his weight on his other arm, trying to keep off you, give you room to breathe.

“It’s ok, Fee. You a’right?” Tommy asks, his eyes desperately searching your own, trying to understand what happened.

“Can you- can you not do that this time? …Please.” You voice sounds so rattled you hardly recognize it as your heart races tightly in your chest. Staring back into the depths of his blue eyes – blue, not brown – you hold onto the safety of knowing it’s Tommy. You’re with Tommy, but you still feel anxious. Still feel unsure of what happened. One moment your body was on fire and the next you’re trembling with a fear you hardly understand.

“Course,” Tommy nods, worry consuming his deep-set eyes as he runs his thumb tenderly along your cheek, before he rolls off you and onto his back against the mattress, to lay beside you. Chest rising and falling heavily, Tommy’s stares up at the ceiling, trying to cool off his body as anger and guilt rush through his veins.

Guilt pummels his heart that he did something to remind you of that prick. Anger over all of it. That Al did things to you that left an imprint in your mind the way the shovels did for him. It all comes rushing back at Tommy. What that bastard did to you. Did to you because of him. And maybe if you were still just Charlie’s nanny and not the woman he loves maybe you wouldn’t have been seen as leverage.

Tommy still can’t hardly think about it. Mostly, he tries to push it out of his mind until the time is right. But there’s still moments like this when it finds its way to the surface and fills him with so much blinding rage he can hardly contain it. It takes everything inside him to stay focused on the problem in front of him. He has to deal with Changretta and get the fuck out of the cage he’s been backed into in Small Heath and then Al’s his first priority. Tommy hasn’t said a word of this to Fiona, but he is determined to make that bastard pay for what he did. Now more than ever

The absence of Tommy leaves a hollow feeling reopening inside you. The proof that your scars still remain rattles you and leaves you unsure of yourself or who you are now. But you refuse to let that night steal all your happiness away. You’ve healed enough to decide you won’t let it take Tommy from you either. You refuse. Rolling onto your side, you snuggle against him and to your relief, he welcomes you into arms.

Tommy doesn’t reject you like you worried he might, but the longing inside you still feels unquenched and you know it does for Tommy too though he won’t act on it now. Taking a bold step, you slip your hand beneath the blanket, and to your relief his body responds to the stroke of your hand almost instantly, reassuring you he still wants you. But you barely get a chance to touch him before Tommy is snatching your hand and dragging it back up to his chest, leaving your heart more confused than ever.

“It’s a’right, love. You don’ have to do that.” Tommy tells you, feeling guilty. He won’t treat you like that bastard. He won’t have you push your body to do things you aren’t ready for just to meet his needs. Especially not if you think it’s your duty after he took take of yours.

“Tommy, I want-“ You start, but he cuts you off before you can finish. Finding it hard to believe you actually want this after the fear he saw in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I frightened you.” Tommy says flatly, changing the subject. You’d think it was insincere, if you couldn’t see his eyes. His breath so low and steady, it sounds like a death order handed down from a Sargent Major to his subordinate infantry, but you can see in the depth of vulnerable blue eyes as they stare up at the ceiling… It kills him to think he scared you. And now he’s pulling away and shutting down, managing that feeling the only way Thomas Shelby knows how.

The look in Tommy’s eyes melt your heart as you lean up on your elbow and place tender kisses upon his shoulder, moving slowly down along the muscle of his chest. Letting your lips linger around his tattoo.

“You didn’t scare me.” You whisper against his skin, over the spot that covers his heart. Your hands roam over the muscles that contour and line his chest and taut stomach, the ridge of his pecks, the flex of his abs. There’s still traces of unease vibrating through your nerves, you can’t deny that, but they aren’t directed at Tommy. If anything, you feel safer by his side, in his arms. And you see now you’re both struggling from your own scars from that night. Tommy still feels guilty he didn’t prevent it, didn’t protect you. He doesn’t want to push you, but you need him to know this is still what you want.

Your knees dig into the bedding as you turn to him, your hands bracing against the solid warmth of his chest as move across him to straddle his hips.

“Fee-“ Tommy starts to protest before your eyes lock as you settle against him and he can see the passion reaching for him in your eyes.

“Tommy, you could never scare me.” You promise him. Staring down into those deep fucking eyes that pierce right through you like daggers, gnawing down deep in your belly. You don’t know what that was. It’s never happened to you before, but you’re sure of one thing… It had nothing to do with the way you feel about this man and had everything to do with what’s still lingering in you.

“I don’ entirely know what’s happened, Tommy, but I do know I still want you and I still want you to touch me… And I still want to touch you.” You confess, trying to explain it as best you can. Leaning down to place slow tender kisses along taut stomach for emphasis, leading a trail up his chest. Your blood pumping harder as you feel his muscles tighten slightly under your lips, responding to your touch.

You know your gut was right as you feel Tommy’s hands splay against your hips. You lean back on him, staring down deep into his eyes, lost in anticipation of what’s to come, before slowly leaning down against his body to recapture the hunger of his mouth once again. With the demand of his kiss, the grip of hands roam the curves of your body, there’s no denying Tommy wants you. And there’s no denying you want him too as your hand slips between the press of your bodies, gripping and stroking him tightly as you draw him to your warmth, before you sink back down on him.

Tommy curses against your swollen lips as he breaks the kiss. Echoing the sharp intake of your breath. Your hands trail down his chest as you lean back on him, nails dragging against his flesh and along the muscles that contour his chest and taut stomach. Staring down into the madness of Tommy Shelby’s eyes, as penetrating as they are blue, you gather up your nightdress and pull it over your head, revealing yourself completely to him. The fabric barely slips over your head before your feel Tommy’s hands glide over your hips, his palms racing along your back. Sending shivers down your spine as he sits up on the bed, pulling you desperately close to steal your breath in a demanding kiss.

Your arms wrap around Tommy, feeling his muscles flex and tighten beneath your palms, his chest rise and fall flush against your own, so close his breathes could practically be yours. Tommy’s heart pounds as he moves you against him, wrapping his arms around your body, holding you close. He lightly rests his head against yours, his hand roaming and caressing all the places he knows will makes you shiver and sigh.

You run your hands up the back of his head just to feel his shorn hair pick against your palms, your back arching against him as your head falls back. Your mind lost in a haze of delirium, his hot skin flush with your own as the bow of your back sends Tommy pushing deeper within you, your bodies move perfectly in sync. You’re fighting for breath as your belly coils, pushing closer to the edge. And you know you’re not the only one dancing with fire as Tommy’s drag you more feverishly against him.

You breathe him in, this man you love. Staring deep into his eyes that mirror back your image as your noses brush and lips meet, as Tommy moves you both as if you were always made to joined like this. You love him, and he loves you, you can feel it in that moment as surely as you can feel his hands grip and mold at your flesh, as surely as you can feel his heavy breath upon your lips.

And in that moment, everything else falls away. All the pain, all the guilt, the room and its bloody walls, until it’s only you and him, lost madly in each other. In the fever of what you can create between your bodies. Your thighs clench as your hands grip him tighter, feeling your body charge closer and closer to your mounting release. The pressure and hunger for it blinding back at you in the captive hold of his pupil.

You’re delirious and drunk off this moment, you’d stay here forever if you could, as the need for release builds rapidly inside you. You whimper his name chasing the high his body gives you, his love amplifies.

“That’s it, love. Let me feel you come.” Tommy encourages, his breath as ragged as the cry of his name off your lips.

“With me,” You beg him, pressing your lips frantically to his in your request as your pull Tommy impossibly closer against you. You need this to be with him. After everything. You need to find each other, burn alive together.

Gripping your hair tightly against the back of your head, Tommy nods against your mouth as you fight to hold back your release. Your body aching as he drags you faster against the length of him, filling you completely with every thrust, as his hands grow heavy and insistent against your sweat beaded skin. Your thighs tremble trying to hold off, you’re right on the edge of climaxing. Your mind unraveling under the pressure as you try to hold on, and then he says it.

“Now,” Tommy urges desperately against your lips in a rush of breath and suddenly, you let go, breathe gasping against his parted lips in frantic relief.

Clinging desperately to Tommy as your head presses deeply against his. You stare lost and delirious into his icy eyes as cries of ecstasy fall from your lips and mirror his own. Your bodies tremble as you hold onto one another, ecstasy racing like an inferno through your veins, the same euphoric fire dancing in the pupils of his dilated eyes as you climax together.

Your forehead rests against Tommy as your body nearly collapses against him, slick with mingled sweat, your panting breathes meet as a quiet hum still vibrates through you. You hold Tommy close as he holds you flush against him. You look deep into Tommy’s eyes, staring into the endless abyss of them, feeling as if there isn’t an ounce of space between you left in this world. Savoring the feel of seeing him completely, of feeling as if he can see you completely too. Connected in every way and completely unafraid.

As the moment passes your head comes to rest against his shoulder completely exhausted as you snuggle in his arms and feel Tommy’s face settle against your shoulder. Wrapped in each other, all warm flesh, tangled up tightly, your baby hidden between you. Running your hands along the back of his shorn hair, you finally speak.

“After Tony, I never thought I’d feel this way again… Never thought I wanted to.” You whisper to Tommy as you reflect upon your words, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say. That you love him. That you’ll always love him. And you see now there’s no hand grenade this world can throw at you that’s going to change that.

Tommy runs his hand gently up the length of your back, his fingers tangling in your wild hair as he leans in to place a soft kiss against your shoulder.

“…After Grace, I didn’t either.” His words settle under your skin and shiver down your spine as tears well up in your eyes. Maybe it’s the hormones. Maybe it’s just relief. But for the first time since you walked into that hotel lounge and faced Al over a month ago, you have hope you and Tommy will survive this.

For the first time in a long time you think things might finally be turning a corner. Things might finally be looking up. The war with mafia seems to be shifting tides. Finally, back in each other’s arms where you belong, Tommy keeps you updated on the plans at hand. He knows the truth is important to you, so he gives it. Whispering to you in the dark about a deal he’s made with an American gangster named Al Capone. The connection your Al made for him, though he never says his name to you, not once. He tells you, now that Capone has his first shipments of gin he’s making arrangements for men to aid in ending this war with Changretta. The news fill your heart with hope. You know putting an end to this won’t be easy, but finally things are starting to go right.

Tommy’s busy. He’s always busy. You’ve grown so accustom to it you’re not sure what you’d do if he ever had time for leisure. In that way, he reminds you of your father. Never enough time. Not enough hours in the day to quench the kind of ambition that rumbles and wages war inside Tommy, calling out for blood before the day is thru.

The upcoming fight consumes his mind most readily these days, as surely as the gin he keeps insisting everyone try. He’s going fucking mad. Like a horse kept cooped up in the stall too long. The vendetta has him back in a corner for the time being. Back to his roots, where he came from as if to remind Tommy he can never really escape it. And perhaps that’s what gets to Tommy the most, but you can’t be certain.

So when Tommy insists you accompany him and the rest of the family to a boxing match he’s holding, you can’t turn down the chance to spend a night out on the arm of your sweetheart. And the fact that he finally wants to show the world you’re his, gives you added hope things might actually work out.

You haven’t told Tommy about the baby, there hasn’t been a chance, and if you’re honest, you’re still a little afraid. Unsure of how he’ll take the news or how he’ll want to proceed. But you saw the midwife Pol sent you to and she estimated you were nearly three months gone, effectively removing Al’s as a contender… you at least had that.

You don’t know what to expect on your night out. You’re never been to a fight before. Never been to a show of any kind really. Not since you were a girl. After Finn, money was too scarce to spend on entertainment of any kind. So when you arrive with Tommy and the rest of the family at a grand old theatre it nearly takes your breath away. Balconies and showboxes three floors high, but you get a front row seat like you’re a real Shelby.

Tommy looks dapper in a black suit and white undershirt. Sporting his fine wirer glasses that make you gnaw at your bottom lip just to stop yourself from biting his. You tell yourself he has no idea how handsome he is, what the sight of him does to you, but not even you are that fool hearty. Everyone is dressed in their finest attire, specialty dresses purchased just for tonight, and you worry you’ll have nothing suitable to wear. But Tommy’s taken care of that too. Thinking of everything, always one step ahead.

He surprises you with a new dress. Black to match his suit, long and slinky, with sparkles like diamonds that glisten off the theatre lights, straps that hang thinly on your shoulders, with a back cut dangerously low. You feel beautiful. More beautiful than you can remember feeling in a very long time, but the way Tommy looks at you in the dress, his eyes fixated and unwavering before a sexy smirk slowly covers his face… You feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. You only hope you might be able to steal a few moments alone with him somewhere tonight.

You sit with the other Shelby women and Lizzie at the edge of ring. Across from the men, but still in the heart of it all. Watching as the fight unfolds between an unfair match in your opinion, one big, the other small. And as the fight begins, your eyes reach across the ring in search of him, but Tommy’s nowhere to be found and that’s when it starts… the uneasy feeling that begins to stir and come to life in your belly.

At first you caulk it up to the pregnancy. You haven’t felt like yourself since you put the pieces together, but then it doesn’t leave you, even after Tommy finally returns. Your eyes focus on Tommy across the ring from you. Losing sight of the fight as your gaze zeros in on him. You’re filled with an unshakable sense of unease even as Tommy catches your gaze across the ropes and smiles over at your reassuringly.

You watch Arthur beside him. He’s agitated, fidgeting about, mouth going on about things you can’t make out, but clearly leave him unsettled. His movements only heighten the tension inside you. Validating its presence as he turns to his brother, muttering words you can’t hear him say. But you feel it deep in your bones the way you felt it the night your brother died… Somethings not right. You try to distract yourself with the fight. Get lost in the thirst for the blood the crowd is hungrily chanting for. Getting wrapped up in the rhythm of swinging fists and boxers dancing around the ring, light on their feet.

You even follow the ladies into the women’s lavatories as they pass around gin to swig, only you don’t swig just pass and only Polly knows why. You try to let yourself get lost in their banter about men crying for blood, but you can’t shake the tension building steadily inside you. As you all return to your seats for the fight, you force yourself to watch as the Romani boy, Bonnie gets the beating of a lifetime.

You force yourself to enjoy the moment you were looking forward to so dearly earlier that day, but when Arthur storms off from his seat your eyes don’t miss it. You find yourself steadily moving to the edge of your seat as the fight disappears around you. And when Tommy stands abruptly, his eyes fixated on something you can’t pinpoint, before taking off after it, your heart jumps in your throat like a lump of coal to choke you with.

You don’t miss a beat as you rise numbly from your seat, heart hammering in your chest. Polly grabs at your arm in concern, but you only force a smile as you glance down at her.

“Lavartory.” You explain, not wanting to rile her up too if there’s nothing to report. You need to be certain before you make any claims. So as her arms releases you, you move steadily in the direction you saw Tommy disappear to, pushing through rowdy men as your heels stick to the spit and booze littering the floor.

Every instinct inside you screams something is wrong, it rattles in the hollows of your chest, tying your belly in knots with every step as the hairs on the back of your neck rise on end. You follow down a darken tile hallway, your heels clipping as your move. Until you enter a hall gleaming in blue lighting, bouncing and shining off the white tile walls until the whole areas glows like standing at the bottom of the sea. It leaves you with such unease, like standing at the bottom of the ocean and you can’t catch your breath.

Your heart hammers in your chest as your feet move slowly along the tile. Apprehension building in your heart with every step as you try to listen for Tommy. You find yourself second guessing turning down this way. Unsure you chose the right path. Your hand slowly finds its way across your belly, protectively clutching the tiny swell the way you would Finn if he were standing beside you.

You find it hard to catch your breath as anxiety and tension build all around and deep within your bones. Then you hear it! A gun shot, the noise ringing off the tile walls, echoing around you. Moments later you hear Tommy’s voice hollering out for Arthur and you swear your heart stops beating all together inside your chest.

It only takes you a second, a second for sheer terror on your heart. And in the next, you’re clutching at the bottom of your dress as you race as fast as you call down that ominous corridor, you voice echoing around you as you go. Terrified you’re going to lose the man you love all over again.

“Tommy!” You scream.

You have no weapon, there’s no thought or reason to your actions, just desperation and the desire to protect what’s precious to you. You turn abruptly at a corner, a wall of thick foggy steam surrounds you, envelopes you. Your heels freeze in their spot unable to see much of anything, it takes you a moment to adjust before you realize there’s a dead man lying sprawled at your feet.

You jump back in fright, your back slamming against the tile wall before you register Tommy calling your name and look up to find him crouched in the corner of the room, Arthur lying bloody in his hands.

“Get a fuckin towel- rag- somethin!” Tommy yells at you. He never yells at you, but the fear in his eyes is unmistakable as your frantically scan the room for anything usable. Snatching up the first piece of cloth you can find you rush over to him, trying not to slip on the slick tile.

Tommy grabs for your wrist, yanking you down to him as your knees slam hard against the unforgiving tile below, but you barely feel it as his eyes engulf you – his pupils dilated, a terrifying madness palpable in his gaze.

Tommy shoves your hands with the rag down against Arthur’s neck and the force of it sends your gaze following suit. You stare down at Arthur, blood soaked through the collar of his shirt, seeping out onto the white tiles around you as Tommy shoves your hands harder against his wound. You can feel yourself trembling, your mind scrambling to form any short of coherent thought when you feel Tommy’s hand cup your jaw and pull your face back up to his.

“I need ya to keep pressure on it, Fee. Gotta slow the bleeding. I have to go get some men and get Arthur outta here. But I need you to stay here and keep pressure on it, ey?” Tommy instructs you, his voice a low deadly whisper as he drags his blood smeared thumb across your cheek, trying to calm the panic racing off your breath.

You give him a shaky nod and that’s all Tommy needs as he rises to his feet. You hear a clank at your side moments later, and glance over to see Tommy’s placed a gun on the tile beside you.

“Keep this with you.” He orders, before the clip of his shoes against the tile can be heard quickly storming out of the room, leaving you completely alone with his brother’s life in your hands.

You glance back at down Arthur, his eyes wide and full of fear as your press firmly down on his neck, watching the rag your found darken with his blood. You notice the second pool of blood at your side and realize a few of his fingers have been nearly cut clean from the bone at the tips. You’re stomach churns as your push down the sudden urge to gag.

Drawing your eyes back to Arthur, you focus on only that. On reassuring him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Arthur. You’re gonna be a’right. Just stay with me. I’ll get Linda for you as soon as I can.” You promise, whispering to him softly as your words rattle with fear off your lips, heart pounding.

You feel his undamaged hand reach for you. Watch as it settles over the top of yours, before you turn one of your palms over and grip his hand tightly with reassurance. In that moment he reminds you so much of your brother the night you found lying beaten and dying in an alleyway outside the flat you shared. That fear a man gets in his eyes when he thinks this is the end. The fear you get in your own when you’re not sure if you’ll be the last thing they see. When you feel so small and helpless to change the rising tides.

But this won’t be that moment. Arthur won’t end up like your brother. You swear it as you clutch his hand tightly and hold back the tears shining in your eyes. “You’re gonna be a’right Arthur. I promise.” You repeat, forcing a smile for him, your chest so tight you can hardly breathe.

#Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction

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gryffindormischief · 6 years

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epoch - part 3

A/N: IT’S FINALLY DONE! I really hope you enjoy this after the long wait! Definitely need to read part 1 & part 2 first. Thank you everyone who helped me & @petals-to-fish for being beautiful and encouraging and helping me not write completely nonsensical sentences.

I’ll reblog in a moment with the FF and Ao3 links!

Reinforcements arrive quickly, maintaining as much stealth as possible while emptying out the cave for any evidence available. Lily’s got her third crate packed and has swallowed down half her supply of polyjuice over the course of the evening when James reappears from directing traffic toward the apparition point just down the beach and makes a beeline toward where she’s working.

“Alright, Ben?”

Lily nods, summoning a bit more packing fluff with her wand to cushion the top before tucking it around a few mostly empty and unlabeled jars. The next one she grabs at random is similarly unmarked, but the sharp green leaves of Belladonna aren’t one she’s likely to forget. Living as she has for most of her existence, Lily made a habit of memorizing characteristics of things and people apt to kill or maim. Benjy called her morbid more than once, but it had paid off on more than one occasion, and definitely was already beginning to do the same here. So far, the ingredients she’d identified just in passing made her more than certain there was an explosive element to whatever plot the Death Eater’s were preparing.

When she tells James as much, he doesn’t seem particularly surprised, but of course, is less than pleased. “How big are we talking, scale wise?”

Lily tilts her head toward a packed crate marked with broad, eye catching letters F R A G I L E. “There are three hollowed out Erumpent horns in that one – this one’s equal parts Belladonna and Dittany.”

James’ brows pinch together as he glances around for eavesdroppers, before he squats next to Lily and begins absently packing ingredients alongside her. He pitches his voice low, “So they’re planning to blow us up – and then heal us?”

Humming softly to herself, Lily doesn’t answer right away, still turning the issue over in her head. “Depending on the preparation and how proficient the brewer is in potions and charms, there can be multiple effects for one concoction that happen in a preordained succession.”

He forces a light chuckle as a few Order members shuffle by, still in fairly good spirits in the wake of their success this evening. Once they’ve passed, he murmurs, “Which, in theory, is a fairly banal concept, yeah? I’m guessing it’s not here though.”

“I can’t be sure until we catalog all this and examine it in the whole,” Lily begins, taking a swig from the flask tucked under her coat, just as a precaution, “I can’t be sure. But so far we’ve got bobotuber pus, which in general brings up open wounds.”

“And gets rid of spots,” James says, dry.

“Know from experience, Potter?”

He grins, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Mummy have lots of pictures of ickle Jamesie?”

“As if I’d introduce you to Mum Potter already – I’m not that easy,” James scoffs, studiously tucking in a few more vials away, likely hoping Lily won’t notice the flush burning the tips of his ears.

He needn’t have wasted the attempt, since Lily’s somehow got to the point of complete and utter attunement to James Potter. A state of being which is awful for her sanity, particularly since his flush isn’t for her. Not really.

So in her own best interest, Lily offers a short smile before changing the subject by resuming her explanation. “Belladonna, which causes hallucinations and convulsions, among other things. And the Erumpment fluid – ”

“Dad definitely drilled the whole ‘this will blow up the entire house’ concept into my head,” James interjects, “But the dittany?”

Lily grimaces, “Imagine opening wounds, getting a hallucinogenic in the bloodstream, along with an explosive,” she pauses and runs a shaking hand through the carefully coiffed hair she’s still unused to, “And then sealing it all inside.”

Lily stays at Order headquarters late into the night after they’ve retrieved every last vial, crate, jar, and scrap of paper within the cave. She categorizes about a third of it before her vision blurs and she begins worrying that utter exhaustion will loosen her tongue. She’s already almost forgotten her dose of polyjuice once, absorbed as she was in a particularly useful potions tome James had ‘borrowed’ from his dad.

Through it all, James was at her side with helpful comments, fresh cups of tea, and a particularly beautiful moment when he supplied a brand new packet of Madame Rosmerta’s butterbeer biscuits. Lily’s currently attempting to muster up enough energy to actually floo home when a thought occurs to her. “How’d you get them?”

James blinks at her, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses in an endearingly childish manner, “Er- Benjy. Do you not remember how we got the Death Eaters?”

Lily lets out a groan and rolls her eyes, just to be sure she exuded the appropriate level of dramatic frustration as she drops her head back to rest on the chair. “I mean the biscuits. Rosmerta only sells them at Christmas.”

“Sirius did a particular – and top secret – favor for her back in the day.”

She flops her head so she’s facing him, slumped down in her seat. “So you tell me about your secret society but not about secret biscuits.”

Stacking papers filled with Lily’s cramped writing into some semblance of order, James slants a smile her way, “There are some things you have to earn trust for.”

That startles a laugh out of Lily and she uses the momentum to bring herself to her feet. “I should be off.”

James flicks his wand and the crumb filled plates and cups sipped to the dregs float off to the already sudsy sink. “You can always stay,” the blush again, and he ruffles his curls, “I mean there are plenty of beds. I’m staying so – not that we would be in the same – ”

And for a lot of Lily’s life, she assumed her death would be at the hands of some death eater or perhaps the result of a poorly executed prank against Benjy, depending on her levels of jollity during the day in question, but she’s rapidly becoming certain James Potter’s adorably inept flirtations will do her in before the week is out. The worst is, she can’t really enjoy it, not with the half full polyjuice flask weighing against her ribcage.

“Take a breath, eh? I’ve got terrible lumbago – got a special mattress and everything.”

His answering smile is almost enough to have her damn the consequences and snog him within an inch of his life. But Lily’s not deficient in the self-control department; so she lets her lips quirk in response and manages to get herself home in one piece without tearing off James’ clothes and having her way with him.

The following morning – or more accurately, afternoon – Lily treats herself to an extravagant breakfast and lingers over it lazily, muscles still tense and eyes still bleary and overworked from the previous night’s antics.

She’s dragging her last bit of toast through the remains of the yolk on her plate when the front door slips open and shut. “Lily, wake up sleepy face.”

Lily groans and slumps back in her chair, propping her socked feet on the other. “Shut it, I’m right here.”

“Miracles do happen,” Benjy booms, not even pretending to drop his tone.

“God, my scalp hurts,” Lily mutters, “Are scalps supposed to hurt? Does your scalp hurt?”

Benjy drops the grocery bags on the counter, thoughtful. “I mean, it’s skin, so. And no, polyjuice doesn’t work that way - what is wrong with you?”

“I wonder if anyone’s studied the prolonged effects of polyjuice on scalps,” Lily muses, then points at Benjy, “Not that I was wrong - this was still our best option. And nothing is wrong with me. Except I’m hearing knocking.”

“No, I hear that too, Lil,” Benjy laughs, flicking the latch on the window open and letting a rather stately looking owl inside.

It flaps about the room in a wide arc and then perches on the seat back above Lily’s feet, clicks its beak, and then offers its leg importantly. Lily quirks a brow and Benjy snorts while the owl blinks at Lily, expectant.

When it becomes clear the bird is not going to pity Lily and her aching body and come closer, she leans forward with a wince and slips the parchment from its proffered foot. It chirrups happily and then levels a meaningful glance at the jar of owl treats on the countertop.

While Benjy complies with the silent demand, Lily flicks open the wax seal and frowns at the blocky letters. “So I’ve been summoned.”

“You, or me.”

“Me-you.”

“Why?”

Lily scans the missive once more, “I’d wager it’s related to the haul last night. But they’d hardly detail anything like that in a letter - Sirius mostly just babbles on with some nonsensical coded mush of sentences.”

“Annoyed?”

Lily shrugs, “Endeared.”

“How long ‘til you’ve got to go?”

“A few hours yet.”

“Telly?”

“Telly.”

Time passes quickly when watching back-to-back episodes of your favorite science fiction adventures and before long, Lily’s a foot taller and combing back her hair with a slick of Sleekeazy's. “Ben? I’ve got to be off.”

He tosses aside the wrinkled copy of Which Broomstick? and scrunches his nose, “That’s still weird.”

“What? Me wearing you better than you do?”

Benjy throws a cushion at her head, “Off with you.”

“No good luck or ominous warnings?”

“I’m tired of your face.”

“You mean your face.”

“Get out.”

After sticking out her tongue in the most grown-up way possible, Lily disappears into the study and soon finds herself reappearing at Order headquarters in a swirl of green smoke and ash.

The room’s empty again, which leads Lily to believe that arrival times on invitations are likely staggered to avoid notice from the outside. Or the Ministry, which is no doubt monitoring magical travel activity.

More at ease since her first trip, Lily offers a wave to the portraits - most are dozing save a stately man who simply sniffs and wipes his monocle - and makes her way into the hall.

At first, she’s unsure where to go in the darkened halls, with no sign or direction to point her toward the meeting, but after a large cracking sound and a resulting tremor that nearly sends a porcelain vase tumbling to the creaky wood floors, Lily turns definitively toward the west end of the house.

Before long, she’s outside a room with a wide wooden doorway where rumbling and good-natured jibes sound from within and she knocks twice - a likely futile gesture - and pushes the door open.

It’s a lot to take in, this many grown men and women firing spells with expert precision. Given her upbringing, most of her training has been in groups no larger than she can count on one hand. Here, there are dozens of witches and wizards fighting as if they’re really in battle, the rules of duelling set aside in the name of preparation.

She’s certainly seen her fair share of spats with Death Eaters during her time with the underground, but given the covert nature of their operations, numbers remain small and all parties involved prefer to keep things low-key.

These people - they’re all flash and substance. Beautifully executed, non-verbal spells that slash with expert precision, only to be blocked with equal proficiency.

Lily’s still marvelling at a particularly lovely Bombarda followed by a tuck-and-roll when a ‘whoop’ catches her attention on the other side of the training space.

Remus claps his hands appreciatively while Sirius takes a bow with a flourish. This earns him an eye roll from James, who is. He’s sweaty, ok? Like ‘look at those glistening muscles’ sweaty.

And just as she thinks the one grace afforded to her is the t-shirt that at least partially disguises James’ delicious physique, he tucks his wand into a damn thigh holster and whips his t-shirt clean off.

It’s a beautiful sort of torture, worse than anything a Death Eater could imagine, being trapped inside Benjy’s body as a sort of spy while a disgustingly attractive bloke you definitely fancy trots about shirtless.

Luckily, she’s apparently gone unnoticed so far, a state of affairs that holds true as she gapes like the lonely cow she is. After a handful of moments, Lily drags herself from the indulgence that is ogling James Potter and strides across the room to join him and the others - they are her contacts after all.

“Alright, Potter?”

James twists around, laughter still on his face from whatever teasing banter he’d had going with Sirius, and his eyes widen. “Ben! Glad you’re here.”

And though he keeps his bravado, Lily’s half certain a flush rises on James’ cheeks. Which is gratifying but also not because she’s bloody Benjy and this whole damn situation is going to drive her to madness.

Regardless, James doesn’t seem too eager to re-shirt himself, tossing the damp top over his shoulder and slipping his hands into his pockets. He begins sauntering away and Lily’s luckily got some level of immunity from her pre-announcing herself gawking because James Potter looks just as good going as he does coming. Oh god.

She’s so lost, she grabs to toy with the end of a braid that’s not there, desperately craving the little nervous tic like an addiction.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Sirius claps her on the shoulder and guides her in James’ wake toward the surprisingly well-stocked refreshment table. “Benny - Benny and the Jets, my boy, my man, how are you, the hero of the hour?”

James takes a gulp of water and swipes at his mouth in that messy way that has Lily salivating. Still, she’s not totally useless. “Benny and the Jets, never heard that one before.” Benjy has grown to hate that particular association game with his name. Lily made sure of it by the end of 1973.

Smiling, James punches her shoulder lightly. “You really did get the two of us massive points with that whole reverse engineering bit,” James says, “I’d hug you but I’m pretty rank at the mo’.”

As Lily’s mustering up a sarcastic ‘thanks’, Sirius ruffles James’ hair and drawls, “What’s a little sweat between friends.”

And because someone up there has an amazing love-hate relationship with Lily Evans and loves screwing with her as a result, James winks at her. “Raincheck - Ben’ll like me better after a shower.”

James doesn’t have to deal with the ramifications of whatever that was, mainly Remus’ raised brows and Sirius’ knowing look. Which is loads more unbearable when they’re teasing her because James is flirting with Benjy-Lily instead of Lily-Lily.

Honestly, if she didn’t hate Voldemort already…

Still, her romantic frustrations are relatively low on the list of priority, so Lily brushes those thoughts to the side and turns toward Remus as he munches a biscuit, “So, we reverse engineered - what’s the plan? Have we got one yet?”

Sirius finishes preparing his tea and leads the way back out into the hall and toward a small drawing room Lily's not explored quite yet.

It’s a cozy nook, the fire flaring under a flick of Lily’s wand, and they soon claim seats on the golden tufted furniture that fills most of the room.

“James is, I will admit,” Sirius begins around the rim of a surprisingly delicate china cup, “The mastermind for this sort of thing.”

“He is surprisingly good at strategic planning.”

Lily strokes her chin, finally getting used to the feel of a scruffy jawline. “Well - not really. Wasn’t he quidditch captain?”

A scoff sounds from the doorway. “At least someone remembers I’m not just a pretty face.”

“It’s a good thing,” Sirius says with a smirk that quickly turns into a scowl as James aims a stinging hex for his shoulder.

James slumps into the only empty armchair, casting his chiseled face golden in the glow of the fire. He’s dressed in a surprisingly modern manner - another t-shirt with a muggle band emblazoned across the front and distressed trousers Lily’s certain he didn’t just buy to look like he supports muggles.

Still damp, James’ hair sticks up in random bits when he ruffles it thoughtfully. “Anyway, the plan is twofold - we’ve changed the main focus of training to either aim toward keeping the opponent from using the potion or to mitigate the effects if it’s unavoidable.”

Lily nods, thoughtful, and James continues, “The secondary goal is to create our own counter potions. Definitely to protect ourselves from the effects. But more importantly, and perhaps more difficult as well, we need something to protect the muggles the fire bombs are certainly intended for.”

A lump forms in Lily’s throat at the thought muggles left defenseless and she can’t really find much to respond with.

Remus kicks a leg up on the table and drops his head back with sigh. “Yes, because we can be certain they aren’t prioritizing attacking anyone who can actually fight back.”

“Bunch of damn - bloody - ”

James produces a flask from...somewhere, and takes a swig before offering it around the circle. “You’ll have to excuse Sirius, rage does wonders on his articulability.”

Accepting the proffered flask, Sirius adds a healthy serving to his tea. “That is not even a word.”

“I think it’d be articulacy,” Remus muses.

And somehow, the squeezing at Lily’s chest lightens at their banter. It’s not that they don’t feel the weight of, of everything. But they draw strength in the moments of shared ease, that familiarity reminding them exactly what they fight for - for themselves and others.

The rest of the evening is filled with meetings, planning sessions that involve more people, more egos, but luckily no less illicit beverages, until Lily leaves in a cloud of green smoke. James’ lingering glance and shy wave the last thing she sees.

Shite.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on Lily’s mood, Dorcas happens upon her not a quarter of an hour after she returns home. And it’s genuine curiosity and not entirely diversion motivated questioning that has Lily’s brow furrowing. “What brings you to Fenwick Manor at this late hour, Miss Meadows?”

Dorcas rolls her eyes and drops back onto the couch cushions with a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, nothing so scandalous as you’re insinuating.”

“Aw, Benny giving you a hard time?”

“I’ve got closer to shagging you as Benjy than Benjy-Benjy.”

“We do have some raw, animal tension, Dorky.”

Lily unbuttons her collar scratches at her scalp, that tell-tale itch of de-polyjuicing rising all over her skin.

Plopping her bare feet into Lily’s lap, Dorcas shoves another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “I can’t deny that, my dear. But I have a feeling your affections lie elsewhere. With a certain dark haired rake?”

“Doesn’t matter one way or another,” Lily groans, “The whole situation is a giant steaming pile of dung where no matter how you slice it Lily Evans doesn’t get any.”

Dorcas’ face softens, sympathetic. Lily’s best defenses against feelings are generally sarcasm, innuendo, and references to shite. “It’ll work out somehow, love.”

“Well James was flirting with my personality in Benjy’s body, Benjy’s got his head up his arse, you’re in love with him, Remus just makes knowing faces at me, and the Death Eaters have bloody fire bombs - ” Lily cuts off, voice quieting from it’s steadily ratcheting pitch, “So if you’ve got an answer to how any of that can work out, I’m all ears.”

Shuffling closer, Dorcas tucks her head onto Lily’s shoulder, now dwarfed within the borrowed robes. “Well there’s no need to be snippy, Miss.”

Lily runs her fingers through Dorcas’ curls. “I’m sorry, Dorky.”

Dorcas snorts, “For calling me Dorky? Yeah, you will be.”

“I really am.”

“I know, me too.”

The fire crackles comfortingly, Lily’s toes warmed by the steady glow, and everything cozy and quiet so each thinks the other has drifted off.

Until Lily clears her throat. “So. I saw James Potter without a shirt.”

Lily’s plans for a rushed and slightly hungover breakfast the following morning come to a screeching halt when she stumbles into the kitchen and finds Benjy shirtless stirring something at the stove.

“Want some oatmeal Dor - ”

He’s halfway turned to face Lily when he realizes his mistake, cheeks immediately flushing, “Lily! We - I thought - ”

��You better have berries - Lily!”

Any remaining composure Lily had immediately vanishes at the sight of Dorcas’ tanned skin barely hidden beneath Benjy’s Portree jersey. And where Benjy’s a whole mess of flushing and stutters, Dorcas simply shrugs, “After our chat last night, I tucked you into bed and then - well. You just got me thinking, yeah?”

Benjy sets two steaming bowls on the table and returns to the stove, “Ew, please don’t say we shagged because of my sister.”

Lily rolls her eyes, “At least some good is coming from my misery.”

The grin falls from Benjy’s face as he flicks his wand so his bowl and another full of fruit settle on the table. “Lily, if you want out we don’t have to - ”

“No - I - it’s just,” Lily grips the roots of her hair, then takes a breath and grabs for the brown sugar, “I am fine. More than, now that you two pulled your heads out of your arses.”

Benjy links his foot around the leg of Dorcas’ chair and tugs her close enough that he can press a kiss to her hairline. “Yeah, me too.”

Gag-reflex aside, Lily’s really genuinely happy for the two of them. Two of her all time favorites are happy, together, and safe. For the time being.

Lily scoops a couple of spoonfuls into her mouth and crunches a slice of toast between her teeth. “Really though - I need to go slip into something more manly and then slip into something else manly.”

“We both know what you’re talking about, Lily, why are you using terrible codes?”

“My life has few diversions and distinctions,” Lily shouts over her shoulder, “Don’t begrudge me my terrible attempts at humor.”

Soon enough, Lily’s in some muggle sweats and heading off for headquarters, a foot taller and with alternative...baggage. It’s a relief, not being all stuffed up into the prim robes expected for a wizard of Benjy’s ‘standing.’

Plus, she’s got a lot of pent up - whatever - and a few hours of sparring should take the edge off.

When she arrives, it’s still barely half past nine and the house is quieter, less full than the previous evening.

Her status within the wizarding world means she’s never been able to enter the workforce in any traditional sense. She’s done some work from home, had a few muggle jobs, and the finally with the escalation of...everything, decided to go full time with the Underground.

Which means she’s one of the few Order Members with relatively full time availability. So her arrival is fairly exciting for her portrait friends, Gert being the most outspoken, as usual.

“Lovely seeing you again, Benjy,” she says from the corner in a low whisper, her gaze darting to a few of her still slumbering companions, “Dear James has been in a tizzy since just past sun up this morning.”

The meaningful glance that accompanied that statement would be much more fun if Lily wasn’t in such a bloody mess with this whole James business. Still - he’ll probably understand, given time, if she’s ever able to come clean. It’s not as if there was much choice. And he doesn’t trust her with all their secrets yet. Would be a lousy spy if he did.

Given her train of thought, the smile she offers Gert is a bit forced, which only earns her another knowing smile. Damn portraits with too much time on their hands…

Lily’s saved the trouble of any further response by the bell tolling half past - her proscribed meeting time with James and the others - and excuses herself into the hall.

Before she can venture far, James appears from somewhere toward the front of the house, similarly attired to last night. Sadly with shirt. Though it means Lily’s sanity stands a far better chance.

“Ready to get down to business, Benjy?”

“Always, Potter.”

Like last night, there are mats spread throughout the training room, likely a former ballroom given the size and relative posh feeling of the room, and Sirius is lounging in a settee tucked off in the corner. “My favorites are here at last.”

Lily elbows James, “Does it hurt that I’m a favorite after investing less than a month and you’ve got what, fifteen years?”

“He’s such a dog.” James snickers, apparently enjoying some joke Lily’s not a party to, but he sobers, “Really, I’m always glad to see we haven’t screwed him up. Plus he’s a fairly good judge of character. Unless it’s about roadside carts.”

“That fruit was fine, swanky boy.”

James grimaces, “I threw up for a week.”

“It was purging you of toxins,” Sirius shrugs, “That’s what fruit is for.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s not, Black,” Lily says with a smirk, “Sorry.”

And then James links an arm around Lily’s neck and presses a kiss to her cheek, nearly stopping her heart in the process. “You’re the best, Fenwick.”

If the kiss stopped her heart, ‘Fenwick’ turned it to a brick.

For the first hour, Lily and Sirius volley spells back and forth, criss crossing over the empty space like a pair of dancers while James calls out critiques, tips, and occasional jeers. Sirius’ energy begins to flag, strokes remaining effective but sloppy and James’ expression has turned less than jovial.

“Sirius, you’re not helping anyone with your half-arsed duelling.”

Rolling his eyes, Sirius fires a few stinging hexes Lily easily blocks and scowls at James, “It’s been over an hour, one of us would be dead by now.”

James’ expression darkens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Don’t bloody say things like that.”

“It’s true - god James, it doesn’t matter what happens in here - you saw what happened to Gideon and Fabian - ”

Sirius never finishes his sentence, letting his arm drop and storming from the room. The thick wooden door falls shut with a thud so Lily and James are alone in the silent room, morning light spilling in past the glamored window panes.

Lily tucks her wand away and takes a swig from her flask before slipping it back into her pocket. James is slumped against the windowpane, eyes studying the floorboards when he mutters, “They’re not dead - Gideon and Fabian. Not yet, that is. God - at some point I was an optimist.”

After a moment, Lily closes the distance between them, reaching a tentative hand for James’ shoulder. His gaze darts toward her grip, then toward her face, before he softens further, like the fight’s gone out of him, “Does it really matter if I’m still here if I’m not me?”

She cups his jaw and lifts his eyes to hers, “You’re still you - we might not be the same people. But after ten years, who can expect to be the same?”

“Getting all philosophical on me Ben?” James asks, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

Lily’s half caught up in the golden light of his eyes beneath the sunbeams that warm her face, enough so that she somehow steps closer. “You started it, Potter.”

James’ hand rises to her waist, palm warm and broad against her pack, silver rims of his eyeglasses glinting and nose just brushing hers.

It’s all so perfect, so blissful, until Lily tilts her head back and reaches to knit her fingers through James’ hair and realizes the reach is not so far as expected, as far as it should be. Because she’s not her - they’re not -

Abruptly, she clears her throat and steps away, “I uh- we- so do you have a potions room?”

Stepping back rapidly, James stumbles into the window again and rubs at his neck. “Yes we - yes.”

When she’s ensconced in her domain, surrounded by bundles of dried plants, jars of various bits of creatures - magical and non - and whatever else a potioneer could dream of. Because it really is a dream, that is. A bright spot and a place of respite in the midst of lies and deceit and death and fear that surround on a daily basis.

So that’s how the remainder of the day passes, in a blur of ink stained fingers, hastily scrawled notes across yellowed parchment, and more than a few botched attempts at creating the (for lack of a better term) antidote to their problem.

At some point, James appeared at what she presumes was lunch time and with a platter of sandwiches, a sheepish smile, and a quick disappearance.

As if another messy feature needed to be added to Lily’s life - knowing she’s got some mutual unresolved sexual tension happening with the fittest bloke she’s ever seen and her, in her brother’s body...it would be really nice for something to be off her plate.

Which seems to be a vain hope until she swaps out the powdered erumpent horn for armadillo bile and adds a diced bat spleen, a bit of ground up asphodel, and a dash of powdered lionfish spine.

The potion swirling in the broad cauldron darkens to near blackness, red spots like bits of shimmering ruby run in circuits under the careful twists of Lily’s wand. There’s a tickling at her scalp and she scratches, ruffling up her carefully coiffed hair, too lost in potioneering until she recalls - itching.

With quick, shaky hands, Lily unscrews her flask and takes a long swig. “I need a bloody nap.”

A squeak sounds as the dark wooden doors on the dungeon swing open, James entering with a much calmed Sirius in his wake. “How’s things Benjy?”

Lily rolls her neck, just now realizing the tightness that’s settled in, and leans back in her rickety chair. “Ready for some testing?”

James tucks his fists into his pockets, “As I’ll ever be, eh?”

Sirius flicks his wand and a blockade of sorts surrounds a test dummy tucked in the farthest corner.

They duck behind the upended crates and transfigured sandbags before Lily counts to three and tosses the recreation of the incendiary potion with accuracy born of too many hours spent holed up with only Benjy and a quaffle for entertainment. The dummy immediately goes up in flames, heat filling the room with muggy thickness.

“On the ready, just in case?” Lily asks, grip tight on her hopefully antidote.

As Lily blows out a breath, her companions nod in unison and she sends the second vial arcing through the air.

And somehow, by some miracle, it runs over the canvas dummy and slowly quenches the rising magical flames, leaving behind a slick of sparking black and red liquid like a volcanic eruption.

Sirius grins and claps Lily on the shoulder. “You’re all right, Benny.”

After Lily carefully records her exact recipe and makes multiple copies to be carefully guarded by trusted Order Members (and keeps one for herself, with James’ quiet approval) she heads back home to soak the tiredness from her bones with a warm bath filled to the brim.

By the time she’s home, swallowed down a hastily prepared sandwich, and gotten her bath to the ideal temperature, she’s fully back in her own body and half ready to fall asleep.

The warm water leeches the pain from her muscles and the heady scent of lavender calms her racing blood until Lily’s dozing against the white porcelain, long red waves cascading over the side like a crimson waterfall.

Continuing the treat of an evening, Lily eventually drags herself from the tub as the temperature cools to tepid and her fingers grow pruny and wraps herself in a thick, wool-lined dressing gown and slippers to match.

Poirot is about to reveal the unexpected culprit when the floo flares and real Benjy stumbles from the flames.

Immediately snapped back to reality, Lily drops her book and rises, arm banding around Benjy’s waist. “What happened? Is everyone alright?”

His usually carefully coiffed hair is a mess of blond tendrils falling around his face, drawing attention to the already purpling ring around his eye. “Guess the safe house wasn’t quite as secure as we hoped.”

“Did - ”

Benjy nods, anticipating her question. “We all got out, nothing beyond a few cuts and bruises - Mary splinched herself getting a couple kids out but we had that dittany on hand.”

“Oh god, Ben I should’ve been there,” Lily groans, shepherding him toward the couch, “I spent the damn evening soaking in the bath and - ”

“What could you have done that we didn’t? You can’t be everywhere and everything to everyone - though if anyone could I’d bet on you,” he droops back against the cushions, “The dittany - that was you. Hell, we knew about the likelihood of new and fiery tactics because of your sleuthing.”

Lily chuckles wetly, settling her emergency kit on the table and unzipping the worn leather. “Sleuthing?”

“I said what I said.”

He winces when she dabs the salve on his bruising face, though the tension relaxes from his body with every passing tick of the clock. “I do - I do think that maybe we should. That maybe it’s time to cut things off with the Order. If they’ve got a leak, if we’ve got a leak. It’s doubling the danger and if they realize you’re you and pretending to be a pureblood.”

Benjy doesn’t continue, likely already anticipating Lily’s flat refusal. Which, isn’t for a lack of self preservation instincts or respect for his judgment. She just, can’t. Can’t sit back and wait for someone to tell her they decided she gets to be what she is already, always has been, and can’t really un-be.

And she knows, after all this time, Benjy is more than aware of her stance on the matter. But it’s that sad last shred of hopefulness anyone who loves someone understands. That last ditch effort to try keeping them from harm, even when you’re more than aware that it’s a lost cause.

“You already know my answer, Ben.”

“I do.”

“But I love you for caring. About me, about people like me, about a world that sometimes doesn’t seem to care much for anyone.”

A tear tracks through the dark smudges over his cheeks and he hauls Lily in against his chest and tucks his nose into her hair. “Aw, you’re fresh and clean and I’ve gone and got you all nasty.”

“I love you anyway.”

Nodding tiredly, soot falling from his lank hair, Benjy sniffs and hugs her closer. “Love you too, Little Bit.”

It’s easy when things feel so big to forget the smaller moving parts that build up to the overall state of affairs. Most are guilty of forgetting at some point or another, and Lily’s no exception. And funnily enough, it’s Sirius Black that reminds her. They’re staking out a muggle neighborhood they got word was on the hit list for Death Eater activity, which seems to have been rained out, when Sirius takes a sip from his thermos and readjusts his squat. “From one black sheep to another,” Sirius begins, “You’ve really got to keep an eye on your public image.”

Lily ruffles her hood up further over her face. “Come again?”

“You’ve not been seen out and about much lately - that draws more attention than trying to draw attention,” Sirius shrugs, “Take out that bird you brought to that little soiree. It’ll make James right jealous.”

Flushing, Lily swallows a healthy gulp of polyjuice and licks her lips. “Not sure why he would be - or why I’d want him to be.”

“Sure.”

“But point taken - Dorcas and me, that’s how we ended up at that party, and at Diagon a couple of weeks earlier.”

“And if it bothers James a bit in the meantime, I get some entertainment.”

The rest of the stake out passes without much interest, rain apparently delaying plans. Which is a short term positive, but long term, indicates that the Death Eaters really are hinging their plans on incendiary potions, spells, and whatever other hellish devices they’ve managed to cook up.

A slow night does give Lily time to turn over what Sirius said, begin plotting another little date with Dorcas. Benjy’ll be a pit put out that Lily’s going on a second date with his girlfriend before he’s got a chance to do it once.

She’s planning to send Dorcas an owl when she gets home, but the minute she steps from the fireplace she’s confronted with a lot more of Benjy than she prefers to see - things she’s managed to avoid over the past months with studious attention.

“Oh shite.”

Dorcas yelps and sends herself and Benjy rolling onto the rug, wedged awkwardly between the sofa and the table. Benjy groans. “Thought you’d have a debrief and such.”

“Short, nothing much to report.”

Dorcas raises her hand like she’s in a classroom.

“Yes Dorky?” “Can we reconvene this meeting for long enough for me to put on some trousers and there to be one fewer Benjy?”

Lily nods, eyes still covered. “Sounds good. I expect fresh biscuits to be waiting.”

The next quarter of an hour or so is spent de-Benjying herself, taking a scalding shower, and snuggling into an oversized jumper and soft cotton joggers. She stumbles down the stairs, tugging on wooly socks, and makes her way into the kitchen where her companions are luckily much more clothed than previously. And bearing chocolate biscuits.

Once they’re all gathered around the table, mugs brimming with tea and fingers full of crumbles, Lily tosses her damp hair and props her foot on the seat of her chair. “So I had a chat with Sirius Black.”

“Was it about his hair products? That man has disgustingly gorgeous hair,” Dorcas drawls, “I hate him for it.”

“I’ll see if I can get you some intel,” Lily chuckles around a bite of biscuit, “But no. We were talking about Benjy - me - and how he needs to be more visible.”

“Ironic we forgot,” Benjy says.

Lily hums. “So I as you need to steal your - girlfriend?”

“Lover,” Dorcas snorts.

Wincing, Lily tosses a serviette at Benjy’s head when he teases, “Paramour.”

“I was going to apologize, but never mind.”

After much teasing, ribbing, and the like, they manage like they always do and have a semblance of a plan hammered out by the time Lily’s yawns punctuate every sentence. Benjy orders her off to bed and Lily demands massive amounts of silencing charms as she stomps up to her room.

She’s asleep before her head hits the pillow.

Two days later, their plan is set into motion - another Diagon visit - but with much more obvious displays of affection. Mostly hand holding and the like. Even considering any of the bases is too much for all parties involved.

Lily and Dorcas are just stepping out from Flourish and Blotts and into the sunny afternoon when they get a face full of broad man chest.

Catching Dorcas around the waist, Lily manages to keep them both upright while a strong hand grips her elbow.

“Ben!”

Lily blinks against the sun’s rays and finds herself face to face with none other than James Potter. She was going to bloody murder Sirius Black.

“James! This is my - this is Dorcas.”

Ever polite, Dorcas offers her hand and makes easy small talk. But James’ answers remain short and perfunctory.

Until he shakes his head and squints at Lily. “Why are you here?”

Lily glances down at the bags in her hands and blinks at James. “I’d say it seems fairly obvious. Why are you here?”

“Errands.”

Her eyes narrow and Dorcas seems obnoxiously content to watch this trainwreck unfold.

James’ lips quirk into a grin as he lets his gaze travel up and down Lily’s - Benjy’s - body in two quick circuits. “You clean up alright, Fenwick.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

“Well that’s just rotten. See if I save you a seat next bingo night.”

Dorcas’ eyes follow the conversation like a tennis match and Lily feels her face heat. She coughs. “So, you’ll ah - let me know when the next game is?”

James glances at Dorcas and his face shutters. “Sure thing. You’ve probably got plans - should let you go.”

Before he can get away, Lily grabs James’ arm and frowns. “Is everything alright? You’re not one for outings.”

He scowls back and murmurs. “Order business.”

“Dorcas and I - we’re about finished. I could help.”

“Nah, it’s all under control.”

“That’s barely an answer, Potter.”

James bites his lip. “If we really do have a leak - ” he trails off.

“It’s not me - hells James I’m not the bloody enemy.”

“I know. But you’re new and they know that - they’ll see you as a potential weakness to exploit.”

“So I’m just a damn liability? Nothing I’ve done matters, just that I’m not part of your little asinine club. You know I’m getting tired of wizards and witches edging people out because they’ve not got the right background.”

James’ face darkens. “That’s not the same thing and you bloody well know it.”

Dorcas grabs Lily’s sleeve, “Ben - we’ve drawn some attention,” Lily glances around to see Dorcas’ warning is far from an exaggeration.

Smoothing down her robes, Lily nods to James before disappearing into the crowd.

It takes three days for Lily’s anger to cool to a low inferno, though any mention of secrets, leaks, James Potter, or anything that even remotely related to or rhymes with any of those things and Lily’s fists clench with repressed rage. She’s pacing at the foot of her bed when Benjy knocks at her door. “I guess you could do worse things than pace a hole in the floor while wearing my face.”

“I hadn’t thought of that - I could murder James and frame you.”

Chuckling, Benjy saunters over to her bed and settles on the mattress with a creak. “You know.”

“Don’t make excuses for him.”

Benjy watches Lily resume her circuits, “I’m not making excuses. Maybe try and put yourself in his position though, eh?”

Grunting, Lily storms from the room and tramps downstairs, before she’s late.

Glumly, Lily sits through the general meeting, holding her tongue and scaring off anyone who tries to claim a seat next to her. Until Remus Lupin lopes over and meets her glare with a quirked brow. “So James has been in just as foul a mood the last few days.”

“I’m not.”

“You nearly made Pete cry.”

“So where is he, then?”

“Pete? Drowning his sorrows in half a rhubarb pie.”

Lily snorts, face wrinkling into the first semblance of a smile since she arrived. “I meant Potter.”

“He left this morning, top secret something or other - ”

Before Remus can continue, a clatter arises in the drawing room and someone shouts for a healer.

Without hesitating, Lily rises. “I’ve unofficially trained in healing since I was thirteen.”

Remus nods, “Makes sense, given your affinity for potioneering.”

Humming, Lily’s mind is already half on whatever she’ll face in the drawing room turned hospital wing, dreading the very likely reality that the Death Eaters have already debuted their fire weapons.

She’s shocked back to reality by a riot of black hair and Remus’ pained gasp. “James.”

Even from a distance, Lily can see where the flames licked up James’ hands, arms, even up to his jaw. In three strides, Lily’s at James’ bedside, barking orders and shooing away anyone who gets in her way. “Remus, please, tell them.”

“Benjy’s been studying these potions and spells since the raid - he’s James’ best shot.”

Lily’s operating entirely on instinct, Remus operating as her assistant of sorts, grabbing or summoning whatever she asks for as she spreads salves, tinctures, and spells over James’ burns.

Once the initial excitement has worn off, their audience disappears and Remus goes to get a debrief from the rest of James’ team. Lily’s worked about halfway up his right arm when James wakes with a pained groan. “Where’s - ”

A strand of hair falls into Lily’s eyes and she blows it away absently, brushing her fingertips along James’ unmarred skin in a show of comfort. “Everyone’s alright - you’re the only injury,” she snorts, “I’d bet on showy heroics for that explanation.”

James blinks tiredly, breaths calming before his eyes widen. “Who’re you?”

“I - ” Lily glances down at her hands and her stomach drops. In a feat of quick thinking, Lily sends a mild stunner James’ way and takes a swig from her flask.

Once the telltale tingle runs through her, Lily rouses James and grins, “Having a nice dream there?”

James furrows his brow, wincing when his raw skin pulls with the motion. “You- I- can’t really remember much. Just a woman. Shite she was gorgeous.”

Lily darts her eyes away while James shifts uncomfortably and his cheeks turn rosy. “I mean. Thanks for. I know we aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Water under the bridge,” Lily says easily, tugging her robes back over her shoulders against the late night chill, “I’ve done what I can for now, you’ll have to take it easy for a few days. Which will be a greater feat than the Order potluck surviving Peter.”

That earns Lily a chuckle, quickly followed by James’ wince as he re-settles against the scratchy bedsheets. “So now I owe you an apology and a life debt.”

The room is silent around them, save the crackle of the fireplace and Lily’s movements as she closes up the jars she’s used to treat James. “We can hardly hold each other to life debts, James,” Lily says softly, “Though I will accept the apology. If I can add one of my own,” Lily fiddles with her sleeve, “I’m still supremely unhappy, but I do understand your position,” James grins and Lily answers with a smile of her own, “It’s the wrong position, but understandable.”

Slowly, James reaches for Lily’s hand, “Thank you.”

“I just patched you up.”

“No, I mean. Without your sleuthing, we’d have died. All of us out there tonight.”

Weary with subterfuge and tiredness, Lily allows herself one indulgence, fingers brushing through James’ singed hair, thumb lingering at his temple, eyes drifting shut so she can pretend, just for this moment, that her life isn’t an utter fiasco.

Lily’s laid up with a head cold, which means Benjy ordered her not to leave the house, so she’s holed away in the family library with a favorite book just to pass the time. She’s dozing against the back of her chair when she’s jolted awake by a clatter. Sighing, Lily marks her place and sets the book aside, shuffling into the hallway. Sometimes living with Benjy is like having an elephant for a roommate. “Alright, Ben?”

After finishing setting the umbrella stand upright, Benjy straightens and grins sheepishly. “I - uh. Who really is alright, what does that mean, in the grand scheme?”

“See, that’s just lazy. You want to tell me whatever happened but you’re too chicken to just blurt it like a normal person. So you make a mess and then force me to drag it out of you,” LIly sniffs, “It’s rude. Especially when I’m so ill.”

“Don’t whine, it’s unbecoming.”

“Stuff it and spill.”

Benjy tosses his cloak onto a hook and leads the way into the sitting room. He takes a seat, rubbing at his knees nervously before he rises and leans against the mantle. “How about some tea - would you like some tea? Honey would help - ”

“Can’t be all that bad, Ben.”

“How bad would it be if, hypothetically, I ran into Potter?” Lily blinks and Benjy continues, “And he saw me?” Lily takes a deep breath, so Benjy plows ahead, “And we had a chat - it really wasn’t so terrible.”

“So you’re clearly an unreliable narrator - did anyone else witness this? I need to know what my damage control plan should look like. Where’s Dorky?”

As if on cue, the floo flares and Dorcas emerges looking cozy and warm in an oversized jumper she nicked from Benjy. “So crazy over there made a right mess for you, Lils.”

Groaning, Lily droops on the couch and throws an arm over her face. “I’m too sick for this.”

“That’s it!” Dorcas shouts.

Or perhaps says at a relatively normal volume, but Lily’s got a head cold so...

“You just stick with the truth.”

Benjy frowns. “‘Sorry, James. I’ve been polyjuicing myself to be my brother and yesterday you actually met him instead of me.’ That’ll go over great Dorcas.”

Dorcas tosses a cushion at his head with minimal success and focuses on Lily. “By ‘truth’, I meant tell him you were sick when you saw him and that’s why you behaved like someone who had never interacted with humans before.”

Snickering, Lily props her feet on Dorcas’ lap and feels the tension in her shoulders relax. “You’re brilliant Dorky. I’ll never know why you’re with my lunk of a brother.”

“My animal magnetism,” Benjy calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the hall, likely in search of libations.

Dorcas smirks, “More like his - ”

“Do not finish that sentence. I’ve not sicked up for at least two hours and I’d like to keep it so.”

It’s just luck that James shows up at the house when Benjy’s out running strangely banal errands for the afternoon and furthermore that Dorcas is there to receive him.

She makes enough noise, practically shouting ‘Hello Mr. James Potter, in Fenwick Manor for the first time’ that Lily is able to apparate up to her room, take a sip from her emergency polyjuice, and scrabble on some wrinkled sweats she swiped from Benjy ages ago.

Lovely, amazing, wonderful woman that she is, Dorcas has plied James with tea and damn sandwiches. It’s no mystery why Benjy fell in love - and if Lily wasn’t disgustingly and complicatedly infatuated with James Potter she’d probably throw her metaphorical hat in the ring.

And she’d win too.

Shaking out her shoulders, Lily strides into the library with a welcoming smile. “Potter. Nice to see you again,” Dorcas clears her throat and Lily adds, “So soon. Everything okay?”

James nods, “I was just telling Ms. Meadows - ”

“Dorcas is fine.”

“ - Dorcas that you seemed a bit off in Diagon and I wanted to be sure it wasn’t a cry for help.”

Lily pours herself some tea and parks herself on the edge of the settee. “Nah, I’m a bit under the weather, Dorcas ordered me off to bed just after we arrived home.”

At that, James’ gaze darts between them and Lily’s already got a clarification on her tongue. Until she realizes that would be a lie. She’s Benjy, Benjy is with Dorcas, really isn’t available.

So she fiddles with her cup in her saucer until Dorcas takes pity and changes the subject.

It’s not long before James rises, excusing himself with some vague explanation. Dorcas makes herself scarce and Lily escorts James toward the floo. “Is everything alright with you?”

James startles at her hand on his arm and looks as though he hasn’t followed her train of thought. He blinks twice and seems to catch up, turning to face her. “Oh - er. Yeah. Sorry to barge in here like an angry murtlap.”

Smiling softly, Lily pats his shoulder and tries quite hard not to let her touch linger too horribly long. But she’s feverish and woozy so it’s anyone’s guess. “You’re fine, James. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

James flounders a bit before grasping Lily’s hand in both of his, thumb rubbing across the back of her hand. “S’alright. Just,” he squeezes and releases his grip, “Feel better, yeah?”

“And you uh - ,” Lily runs her fingers through her hair, finally not caught off guard when the strands end an arm’s length too soon, “You stay safe. I’ll not be around to take care of you if you get yourself beat up tonight.”

“Later, then, Ben?”

“Later.”

It would be nice, Lily thinks, if life scheduled itself in a more kind and convenient manner. After sleepless nights, week-long illnesses, post-exercise soreness, what have you, the world would just be a little more easy going. Wade you back into existing.

Instead it seems like the universe is intent on making Lily want to absolutely hurl with tiredness, post-fever malaise, and overall discomfort by allowing the larged Death Eater activity in the last year and a half occur while she’s not even washed the stink of her cold off.

She’s sudsing up in the shower not a handful of minutes after Remus’ patronus arrived when the loo door slams open. “Lily you can’t possibly intend to go out in this.”

“If I stayed in every time it rained I’d never leave the house, Ben. We live in England,” Lily calls out, swiping shampoo bubbles from her eyes.

“Don’t be cute.”

Ripping back the curtain so she can peer out, Lily grins. “Aw, Benny, you think I’m cute?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

From within the now turned off shower, Lily summons her towel from the rack and dries herself off hastily before grabbing her dressing gown and slipping it over her still damp shoulders. “Ben,” Lily starts, throwing back the curtain and stepping onto the plush mat, “Everything’s dangerous. Just by virtue of my existence - who I am - I’m constantly in danger. I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I want to have kids someday who can go to Hogwarts when they’re supposed to. Not fifteen years later, under spell damage, and confined to the Hospital Wing.”

Benjy’s expression softens and he reaches for her shoulder. Sighing, Lily gives him a short embrace and pulls away. “I’m not saying all that to be a martyr. I just - this is so much more personal when you’re someone like me. You’re fighting to make your world a better place. I’m fighting to be a part of it.”

Swiping under his eyes, Benjy nods and makes to leave. Lily squeezes his arm. “Be safe Ben.”

Less than a half hour after Remus’ message, Lily’s greeted Gert and followed the sound of heavy footfalls and shouted instructions, ending up in the training room turned command center.

Voices bounce off the walls as small groups of wizards and witches gather in small klatches, others mill about nervously, seeming - for the first time since Lily’s been a pseudo member of the Order - like a rudderless boat set adrift.

And if it seemed like something was missing, or perhaps someone the answer to Lily’s unasked question is answered when a dramatic flare from the oversized stone fireplace gives way to reveal a tall wizard in the place of flames.

Distracted as she was, Lily didn’t notice James’ arrival at her side until he murmurs in her ear. “Dumbledore’s never been one for low key entrances.”

Lily’s about to question him further on the subject, when she recalls Benjy would be well aware of the Headmaster’s habits and propensities. So she nods and does her best impression of one of Benjy’s commiserating grins, though it would be a lie to say there wasn’t a bit of flirty Lily slipped in there.

It’s with mixed emotions that Lily notes the interest that flashes in James’ eyes. Though it does pass quickly as their attention is called back to the front of the room.

Dumbledore’s every bit as odd and brilliant as Benjy’s said, his long silvery beard tucked into a broad belt that wraps around the blue and purple brocade robes. His half moon glasses glint in the firelight as he listens to a few hurried reports. It’s only a few moments before he’s addressing the whole group, kindness in his eyes as he greets them all - though his lingering gaze on Lily unsettles her a bit, like he’s working out a puzzle.

Which would be odd, even under the most normal of circumstances, but given the fact that there is a bit of a puzzle to put together, Lily’s ill at ease.

She doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, and thankfully neither does Dumbledore, as he quickly moves on to bigger issues that pertain to the group at large. And in the grand scheme, it seems whatever questions he has for a Benjy Fenwick that doesn’t seem all that comfortable in his own skin, Dumbledore deems it a discussion for later.

The tip was apparently dire enough for this ‘all hands on deck’ meeting and to require the large majority to be sent out into the field.

Gravely, Dumbledore wishes them all luck and Remus takes over at the front, grouping them all into teams and James sends her a grim smile. “Ready to go, partner?”

In hardly any time at all, they’re sent off to the trio of locations where sources tipped the Order off to heavy Death Eater activity. It’s been traced to a water treatment center outside of Sheffield, a series of caves not unlike their original raid point, and a power plant in bloody Cokeworth.

So of course, Lily’s life is a series of terribly unpredictable and yet totally predictable coincidences, and she and James are among those assigned to the latter.

They’re broken into groups of three and four as Emma Vance passes off portkeys with instructions regarding Muggle interactions and what’s to be done with any gathered evidence - or prisoners.

That jittery feeling that precedes exams, public speaking, and even more so, a raid where armed and deadly witches and wizards are ready to wipe out everyone and anyone that stands in the way.

It’s muddy and smells of that odd mix of fresh grass and coal that’s so characteristic of Cokeworth Lily feels as if she’s transported back in time rather than across England. There’s a lull before things get started, that uncomfortable waiting period where you half hate yourself for wishing things would just get started.

James gestures toward a hill - one of the few with more than just saplings in the area surrounding the plant - and says, “Shall we head up there? It’s a good enough vantage point.”

Nodding, Lily follows, gaze carefully avoiding the view just a bit to the east where she knows she’ll see that quiet little neighborhood, the neat rows of small but well loved houses, that one in particular…

“Not the best way to get back into the swing after a bout of the flu, eh?”

Lily laughs. “Is there ever a good way to get back into the swing of this shite?”

“S’pose not.”

It’s a boring haze after that, counting the minutes between doses of polyjuice essentially Lily’s only excitement. Aside from James’ witty chatter that Lily enjoys way too much.

He’s about to close a whispered tale involving Sirius, a flying motorbike, and muggle police that Lily’s about eighty-nine percent sure is actually true when sparks go up from one of the groups a little closer and they immediately tense.

“Ready Ben?”

“After you, James.”

And as easily as Lily thought it was too quiet, the entire world seems to go to chaos.

An explosion rocks the northwest corner of the powerplant, sending up a ball of flame into the night sky. Luckily appearing to be non-magical. Though it certainly won’t remain so for long.

Lily brushes her fingers over her coat, rough leather familiar under her palms as she reassures herself that each vial, powder, and potion is still in place.

Like a well-oiled machine, James and Lily dive into the fray, following the sound of spellfire through dark, dank corridors and into a large metallic room. Shouts and clashes echo off the walls, kicking up dust and gouging out crevasses in the cement floor.

The death dance unfolds, masked Death Eaters sending slashes of green at every turn while their partners work, presumably setting the charges for their firebombs.

A spell slashes across Lily’s cheek, a second quickly following and sending a searing pain to her ribs as she stumbles backward.

James is locked in a heated duel with a witch, her wild curls seeming to crackle with energy, so he misses the hits Lily takes, falls behind one of the broad machines.

Her attacker follows, his spindly fingers wrapped around his wand with comfortable ease that speak of training not just in magic, but dark and twisted torture and pain. His lank hair is dark, shining in the orangey light that illuminates the plant.

Disadvantaged though she is, Lily fires off three spells in rapid succession in the hopes that her opponent will at least be delayed long enough that she can regain her footing.

She never gets to learn whether her plan would’ve worked as another joins their battle, sending the Death Eater sprawling and offering Lily a hand up.

“Thank - bloody hell.”

Benjy grimaces. “What are the odds?”

“About the same that we got called to Cokeworth,” Lily says with a smirk, before her expression turns serious, “How - I can’t leave they’ll think something happened to me, to you.”

“And I - ”

Spellfire continues in flashes and crashes while Lily tries to ensure no one has noticed Benjy suddenly has a twin by casting a few haphazard wards around them.

Before the last phrase leaves her lips, a figure stumbles around the pipes and blinks at her, then glances at Benjy, eyes going wide.

“Why the bloody buggering hell are there two of you?”

And somehow, in all Lily’s nightmares, all her daydreams about revealing herself and riding into the sunset with James, she never really thought about how that revelation would happen. But whatever scenario she might’ve cooked up, it definitely didn’t look anything like this total trainwreck staged in Lily’s hometown.

Lily’s jaw works as she searches for something, anything to say that might make this okay, when Benjy sends her a sympathetic grimace and dives back out into the fray. It’s a strange turn of events that somehow battling blood thirsty dark wizards feels like the less painful choice.

But there really isn’t one, a choice that is, not when James’ stare pins her in place and the wards she’d erected finally settle into place like a barely shimmering bubble around them.

“James - I - ”

An angry flush rises on James’ neck and he takes a step closer, “I can’t - you - why would someone pretend to be Benjy?”

A spell lands against Lily’s ward, the dull thud shuddering through the pearlescent surface as tiny fissures appear. Lily glances at them nervously but James barely spares them a passing glance. “He knew - he recognized you.”

Lily quirks a brow. “Well obviously he recognizes his own face.”

James narrows his eyes. “You bloody well know what I mean Ben - who are you?”

The tiny cracks spread, glowing gold and dangerous, mere moments from splitting their temporary haven into shards and Lily growls, “James, can we please do this later?”

“No,” James grunts, sending a rather impressive and effective stunner at their attacker, “Not until you explain why you’ve been lying.”

“Right now?”

With the speed of a man who’s spent most of his life either training for quidditch or battle, James sizes up their surroundings, eyes lighting on a closed door to god knows where, and grabs Lily’s arm.

Before she knows it, he’s thrown up every locking and shield charm she’s ever heard of, and a few she hasn’t, and then his full attention pins her. “Talk.”

“James, people could be dying.”

“And you could be a Death Eater.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Lily kicks at a crate in the corner and drops down onto it. “About twenty years ago, the Fenwicks found a little orphaned muggleborn waiting to be processed at the Ministry and greased the proverbial wheels of bureaucracy with some cash.”

James’ mouth ticks into an almost smile. “As the wealthy are wont to do.”

“So this scrawny red-haired nobody is all alone in the world and suddenly she’s part of the legendary Fenwick dynasty - but no one can know.”

“Which is why you weren’t at Hogwarts,” James supplies, pausing his circuit of the small room.

“Part of the pay off at the Ministry was to keep awareness of my survival to a minimum,” Lily adds, fiddling with the burnished buttons on her coat.

“So this whole charade - ”

James’ sentence is cut off by an explosion that rocks the room and nearly sends them both sprawling.

Instantly, their eyes find each other and Lily knows she’s got to say something that gets them out of here before she ends up locked in a broom closet while the world goes to hell. “I - I thought it was justified. Ben was drawing attention because he wasn’t drawing attention and the underground was on the verge of being compromised - ”

His mouth twists, brow furrowed thoughtfully while some inner battle rages. Clearly, her shortened tale hasn’t fully convinced James - not that she can blame him too much.

But he’s not totally against her, considering he continues his mini interrogation, “So why not send Benjy out into the world?

“I didn’t want to take him away from the underground.”

James’ brow rises.

Not entirely convinced herself, Lily continues, “And I was tired of being hidden away - it gets old. I know I am lucky to have been kept safe but.”

For a minute, James stares at her, expression unreadable. “I’m curious about the logistics of,” he gestures vaguely, “all this, but I’ll buy into it for the time being.”

It’s the stiff, closed off set of James’ jaw that has Lily’s heart plummeting, her mind for the first time off the battle a door away. “I’m sorry. James, you weren’t - this wasn’t to plan.”

He ruffles his hair, head ducked as he murmurs, “I’m sorry too.”

And then without so much as a backward glance, the wards drop and James dives back into the thick of things with Lily at his side. There’s some comfort in that, the fact that he doesn’t totally shunt her to the side. That whatever is between them, or is no longer between them, he must not hate her entirely.

Besides, it’s for the best that he isn’t going out of his way to avoid her since he’s completely off his game, for every spell he dodges, two half hit their mark. And each third that he fires goes astray. Which is why Lily’s nerves are thrumming like they never have and she’s poised to dive in front of him when a dark, fiery hex dashes across the room and seems intent on finding its mark on James’ chest.

Desperate and short on time, Lily barely thinks before diving in front of him. Wild, untamable flames lick past the edges of her dragon skin coat and dance over her skin. She sees James’ expression shift from shock to fear to rage just as glass breaks behind her and the impact sends her flying. Just before everything goes black, James’ panicked face appears above her own, smoke and ash heavy in the air as he gasps out, “It’s you.’

The sun’s a pale yellow glow breaking over the horizon when Lily wakes in a strange room. Ancient stone walls are split by broad windows that look over a lush green landscape, rolling hills slowly warming with the first brush of morning.

There’s a dull ache at the back of Lily’s head, a persistent itching that covers most of her exposed skin, but less burning than one would expect after being practically charbroiled alive. Or at least she assumes that’s what happened - the explosion made a lot of things pretty unclear. And while she’s sure that snog by a moonlit pond with James Potter, unlimited whipped cream, and a cozy little blanket nest wasn’t real other things are a little more difficult to discern.

Groaning, she fights to lift her eyes open to more than just slits and finds Benjy slumped in an uncomfortable looking chair at her bedside, dead to the world in sleep like only a Fenwick can achieve.

A quick glance at her bedside table reveals little in the way of projectile weapons, so Lily settles for a quick jab to Benjy’s knee with her bare toes - probably the only place on her body that isn’t unbelievably stiff.

With a jolt, Benjy wakes, righting himself in his chair and pushing his rumpled hair away from his face. “Shite, Lily.”

Her grin turns to a grimace as her split lip reopens, but Lily still manages to grind out a dry answer, “I guess we won?”

Benjy huffs out a laugh, “As much as anyone can win, yeah. We destroyed their supply and got the traffickers. And the muggleborns.”

Lily waves Benjy away as she lifts herself into a sitting position with somewhat of a struggle. “Well good, because the Order’s not going to work with me anymore.”

Leaning forward, Benjy swipes a roll from what Lily assumes is her breakfast and bites into it messily. “Actually, some bloke called Mad Eye was pretty keen on keeping ‘that sneaky little potions mistress’ around…”

Arms heavy with overexertion, Lily manages to lift the cup from her bedside table and crunches on the ice chips inside as frigid water slips down her raw throat. “I’ll do whatever I can - but. From the outside - James is more important, what he does, what he is. He won’t want me around.”

Broad doors on the far end of the wing fall open and closed while a cloaked figure enters and drawls, “What exactly makes you think I don’t want you around?”

Abruptly, Lily sits up, dizzy enough that she nearly tips over the bedside. Benjy jumps to prop her up, grip on her arms gentle but firm as he helps her settle against the re-fluffed pillows, before awkwardly excusing himself.

Her new visitor lingers a few paces away while Benjy presses a kiss to LIly’s forehead and disappears through those same large doors.

It’s quiet, save for the ticking of an antique-looking clock that clicks steadily like a mechanical heartbeat, until Lily clears her throat. “So. Where am I exactly?”

The stranger steps forward, face still shadowed - though Lily has little doubt who’s beneath the hood. His voice is scratchy, tired, but so familiar it awakens an ache in her chest. “Hogwarts - Hospital Wing.”

Lily hums. “Well at least I finally get to see some of it.”

Nimble fingers rising to grip at the edges of his hood, the visitor lets it pool around his neck and steps closer. “We can do a tour before you leave. I’m a bit of an expert.”

“Potter. James - Don’t you hate me?”

His lips twist in the grin that sends her pulse thrumming. “No. It’s like a wise man - woman I suppose - once said, I don’t like it, but I understand why you did what you did.”

Lily nods, biting her lip. “This is going to sound so shallow, and it’s really not the best time. But I don’t even know what time we have anymore. We’re hardly in a world where any kind of certainty is possible - ”

James clears his throat and Lily takes a deep breath. “Right. Sorry, I think I got a good knock to the head. My question - I - do you like girls?”

Flushing, James ruffles his hair and fills the seat Benjy abandoned. “I uh - yes. One in particular. She really messed with my brain though. I thought she was her brother and had a whole reevaluation of my sexuality,” he laughs to himself, “And I also don’t know her name.”

It’s only the memory of the split in her lip that keeps Lily from grinning ear to ear. “I’m Lily Evans. Fenwick is fine too, I suppose.”

“Well Lily Evans-maybe-Fenwick, I definitely had a thing for false Benjy - didn’t know I could be into Benjy - it wasn’t really him, but still. It’s a bit of a mess, generally. But no, not going to make a play for Benjy.”

“Well that’s good because Dorcas would fillet you.”

They fall silent, catching each other’s gazes accidentally as every revelation from the last twenty-four hours, from the last ten minutes, settles in the air around them.

After a time, Lily murmurs, “In case it wasn’t clear, I uh, like you as me...that wasn’t fake.”

“You stopped the kiss,” James cuts in abruptly.

“Because I was Benjy.”

“Well I thought I was doing it wrong, or that I had. I dunno. Misread?”

Lily licks her lips. “Too soon to ask for a second go?

James’ smirk is torturously teasing, his voice low and warm as it rumbles through his chest. “We’ve not even been on a first date.”

“What about that lovely evening spent on the seaside?”

“Where you were your brother and we were staking out a Death Eater hideout?”

“Moonlit stroll.”

“Order raid.”

The shrug is habit, but Lily instantly regrets the pull on her still tender skin. She powers through and fires back, “Bonding over mutual interest - isn’t that a big date thing?”

James pauses, “I do love a good night of ‘fighting the man.’ Particularly the tyrannical, hegemonic man.”

Lily’s brows rise, leaning forward to brush her fingers along his hand where it rests on the mattress. “Using big words to woo me?”

He leans in closer, voice low, “Maybe.”

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” Lily asks breathily.

Sirius’ stage whisper echoes through the room, “I can’t believe this is working.”

Dorcas’ hiss to be quiet cuts him off.

With a laugh, James lets his head drop to Lily’s shoulder and her fingers knit through his hair as he mumbles, “Should I still try?”

“Are we ever going to get a better shot?” Lily chuckles.

James sits back and smiles, “Probably not.”

“Well then, lay one on me Potter.”

“Alright, Evans.”

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pancakesfor2 · 6 years

Text

One Week With - Tuesday (Part 1)

Word Count: 1482

Summary: A lazy morning before a nighttime show

Warnings: None

A/N: Hey everybody! I’m so sorry that it took me this long to finish this. As you may have noticed, this chapter is split into two parts because I felt like it would be way too long otherwise. Feedback and reblog are always appreciated! Enjoy ♥️

OWW MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

You woke up to the 7 am alarm you had set last night, ready to start the second official day of the Sebastian Stan One Week With project. Dinner had gone extremely well; he had taken you to his one of his favorite restaurants where the food was delicious. You spent the night out getting to know each other better and had even made plans to go out to breakfast together this morning since you didn’t have any events to go to until tonight. You were actually really excited to see the show Sebastian was making an appearance at. It was an adaptation of one of your favorite books and you had been meaning to get tickets anyway. Climbing out of bed, you made your way to the bathroom attached to your room to brush your teeth before getting dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt.

Picking up your phone and purse, you walked out of your room while reading an email from your boss, letting you know that at some point you would need to have Sebastian do a live question and answer session through the Vogue official Instagram account. Unfortunately, you were so caught up in the email that you hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaving his room at the same time, so you ended up walking right into him. Luckily, his arms reached out to steady your body before you could fall to the ground and make yourself look like even more of an idiot. “I am so sorry; I was reading an email from my boss and didn’t see you until it was too late,” you explained, reluctantly letting him let go of you.

“It’s cool, remind me to tell you about the time I walked into a freezer because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going,” he laughed. “So I thought we could go down to this place across the street grab breakfast, and maybe go through some of those questions you showed me yesterday,” suggested Sebastian while grabbing his jacket off of the couch.

“Sounds like a plan—” you looked down at the weather app on your phone that told you it was going to be a cold day “—but first I need to go grab a sweatshirt from my room really quickly.”

“Sure, I’ll be here when you’re done.”

To your dismay, you had somehow forgotten to pack a single sweatshirt or even a jacket that didn’t make you look like you were about to step out onto a red carpet. The jacket would work for later tonight, but it definitely wasn’t appropriate for breakfast. You thought about just going out the way you were but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle the cold for too long; even when you were young you could be found in a sweater in the middle of July because the air conditioning was too cold for you.

“Sebastian?” You called into the other room. “Could you come here a second?”

“Coming,” he replied making his way towards your room. He leaned against the doorway and asked you what you needed help with. You told him about your sweatshirt problem, asking whether you could borrow something of his until someone could bring something over from your apartment. “Sure, of course. I’ll go get you something from my closet,” he said, motioning for you to follow him to his room.

Sebastian gave you a black velvet bomber jacket that was only slightly too big and when you put it on you were overwhelmed by his scent. “Ready to go?” You asked him.

“Let’s get out of here.”

———————————————————————————————————

The cafe Sebastian had brought you to was owned by an old woman who, when you walked in together, greeted him like an old friend. “Sebastian!” She exclaimed walking out from behind the counter, “I haven’t seen you in forever, I was starting to think you got too good for an old lady like me.” She said while wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“I could never get too busy for you Gloria,” he flirted, returning the hug. “This is y/n.”

Gloria then turned to look at you, “Sebastian! When were you going to tell me you had a girlfriend?”

At this you felt the need to interject “Oh no, I’m not his girlfriend— I’m doing an article on him so we’re living together for the week,” you explained.

“Oh what a shame,” she said shaking her head. “I was hoping Sebastian would find someone to settle down with.”

“Gloriaaa,” whined Sebastian in exasperation.

“Come on honey you know I’m just messing with you. What can I get you?”

The two of you placed your orders and then took a seat at the two-person table in the back of the cafe. “So I was thinking we could take today to go over some of the more basic interview questions before the show tonight.”

“Okay, but I have one condition—”

You looked at him, puzzled as to what he’d say next.

“—please don’t ask me what it’s like to be ‘part of something like Marvel.’ It’s really great you know, but everyone always asks the same question and I don’t know if I can find a new way to answer it.”

“But the repetitive questions are the best ones!” You joked. “Next thing your going to tell me is that you want me to scrap the three pages of lube questions.”

“Oh god, you don’t actually have those do you?”

“Nah I was just kidding. It’s four pages.” You desperately tried to keep a straight face but before you long both you and Sebastian had burst into uncontrollable laughter.

———————————————————————————————————

Sebastian was having the time of his life. He was at his favorite restaurant, sitting across from a girl he was falling harder for every minute. He wondered if he’d see you again once the week was over and could stand considering the thought that you wouldn’t be. The dress you had worn to dinner last night been beautiful on you, but he didn’t think you could look better than you did wearing his jacket. Maybe it was because you made it look so effortless, or maybe it was just because it was his, either way, he couldn’t get his mind off of you. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t realized that you had taken out the question sheets and had your phone out, ready to record his responses.

Most of the questions were easy to answer, but when you asked him whether he had a girlfriend, he saw a hint of something different in your eyes. He decided that instead of avoiding the question like he’d done so many times before, that he would just answer truthfully, telling you that he was very much a single man. At this, your eyes lit up but only for a second before you moved onto the next question and left him trying to figure out whether he had just imagined it.

———————————————————————————————————

He hadn’t imagined it. The relationship question was a standard issue, you asked it to everyone, but for some reason this time it felt different. If he said no then you’d end up hoping for something that would never happen, but if he said yes it would be worse; you would have to take any feelings or attraction and lock them somewhere far away in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help the joy that masked your features when hearing that he was single but the professional in you hid it well and swiftly moved onto the question. The rest passed as uneventfully as the ones before the dating question, and before you knew it it was time to go back to his apartment.

You were about to part ways in the hallway outside your rooms when Sebastian stopped and turned to you, “Would you maybe like to watch a movie with me? I don’t really have anything else to do today and I was gonna see what was new on Netflix.”

You thought about the work you had to do and briefly considered saying no, but then you remembered you only had a week with this man and you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. So you left your work behind and agreed to watch the movie with him.

———————————————————————————————————

Halfway through the movie, you found yourself pressed up against Sebastian’s side. You started on opposite ends of the same couch but had gradually drifted closer and closer together until you were snuggled together. Both of you were very of this but had chosen not to acknowledge it for fear of making things awkward. All you knew was that at some point you would have to get up and get ready for the play, but for now, you would relish the feeling of Sebastian’s arms wrapped around you for as long as you possibly could.

Taglist (Open)

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minaminokyoko · 6 years

Text

Venom: A Spoilertastic Review (that is mostly just a rant)

When the end credits to the Venom movie started, just as Eminem began his embarrassingly uninspired rapping, I turned my head to one of my two friends and asked her, "What the hell did I just put into my eyeballs?"

To be frank, Venom is one of the most peculiar, bizarre, baffling films I've seen in years.

I want to preface this review by saying I was against this idea when it was announced. I thought it was beyond idiotic to make a film about a supervillain whose entire creation hinges on a certain Webhead, and since Sony lent him out to Marvel Studios (the only smart fucking decision they've made in probably over a decade, imo), they went off half-cocked with the hair-brained idea that they could create an anti-hero solo flick for Venom instead. To some degree, sure, they were warranted because the general audience these days has low fucking standards and if you put the words "comic book movie" in front of them, they're usually going to lap it up no matter how terrible it is. After all, fandom doesn't care about things being accurate anymore, by this point, if you dangle fresh meat like Tom Hardy riding a motorcycle in front of them. As long as there's an attractive person at the helm, fandom will just adopt it as canon and ignore any red flags, as they have already done. That being said, I still think this is one of the most blatantly stupid things done for money and for notoriety from any studio toting around a popular comic book character.

Is Venom as bad as legendary awful comic book movies like Catwoman, The Spirit, Batman & Robin, Daredevil, Green Lantern, or Spawn?

Well, no.

And that's almost the only positive thing I can report about it, personally.

In short, Venom is inept. That's the word I'd choose, aside from bizarre. It has no fucking clue what it's doing at any given time, from start to finish. It's too wacky to be serious, too serious to be a parody or satire, too mature for kids, too childish for adults, too mainstream for nerds, and too nerdy for mainstream. It's just a piping hot fucking mess.

So let's dive into why. Spoiler alert.

Overall Rating: D

Pros:

-Note: I am being very fucking generous by giving this movie points for anything at all, just so y'all know.

-It's not boring. Other comic book movies that have failed, whether it's the really bad kind or just the mediocre kind, have failed worse than this movie simply because at least there aren't any dead periods. Venom doesn't have awful pacing, even with its sloppy, uneven story. It moves along at a steady rate and you can never accuse it of being a borefest like Superman Returns or something. Even though most of it is incomprehensible from a story standpoint, it keeps your attention throughout.

-The doctor boyfriend surprisingly averted the usual stereotype/archetype for this kind of story. For example, in the first Ant Man, the cop boyfriend who is with Scott's baby mama is a smug, overprotective dickhead who later gets better. Most of the time when a main couple breaks up, the girl picks some douchebag who is either so much better than her former lover that it just feels insulting or it's just a one-dimensional asshole for us to hate so we want the two of them to get back together. Hell, doctor boyfriend was actually TOO nice and understanding and helpful. There is no way in hell I'd have stuck it out after seeing Eddie bite the head off a goddamn lobster. I'd have sent his ass to a mental hospital immediately, fuck the regular hospital. That being said, I like the movie averting the trope. It was a welcome change and was awfully refreshing too.

-Even though this is one of his strangest fucking performances to date, Tom Hardy is doing what he always does and gives 110% to a film that really doesn't even deserve him. I've already been hearing rumors that he's not pleased with the final product and that doesn't surprise me, but he does what he can with that awful script and I appreciate the effort. In fact, the only reason I sat through this turd is for Tom Hardy. He is a dedicated, talented actor and even when he's in tripe, he's still busting his beautiful ass to make the best of it anyway. I like him a lot and I'd go to bat for him any day, which is the only reason I coughed up the money for Venom when I knew damn well it'd be a trainwreck.

-The effects are at least decent. Not always. But Venom and the symbiotes actually feel as if they're really there and it's not just the actors staring at a ball on a stick. I appreciate it, since Sony goes in and out of quality regarding CGI.

-Despite the fucking travesty of a fake clown wig on his head, Woody Harrelson is an excellent choice for Cletus Kasady. Everyone knows that. I just hope they get him a better hairpiece next time, sheesh.

Cons:

-Jesus fucking Christ, where do I fucking start?

-Plotholes. This movie doesn't have plotholes--it has plot canyons. It's plothole Inception, for God's sake, with holes inside of fucking holes. It's so clear that the movie doesn't give a rat's ass about anything because there are some of the most ridiculous moments you're expected to swallow with the power of Willing Suspension of Disbelief. It's why it took me a whole two days to try and write a review/analysis of the film. There is so much wrong with it that I frankly wasn't sure where to start and how to process it all. The best I can try to do considering the overwhelming number of holes in the story is go chronologically. First off, Eddie stealing Blondie's confidential documents (Note: Michelle Williams' character was so bland and unimportant I can't remember her name and I don't care to look it up because we all know she doesn't matter, so she is now Blondie) but then not doing his actual job as a journalist when making wild accusations is the first monumentally dumb thing in the film. Why the hell did he go through the trouble of breaching her personal security and trust if all he was going to do was rant about it to the Bad Guy without proof? What did he think it would accomplish? Why would you just confront the guy instead of looking for more proof? Plus, you stole that information, which means it's inadmissable in court since it was obtained illegally, so you still wouldn't have a case anyhow. Any writer with half a brain cell would simply have it so that Eddie read the document, became curious, and started snooping around Life Foundation himself looking for hard evidence that would stand up in court to get justice for the victims. The way they did it in the film makes no sense, but it's because they wanted to bust up the couple and make Eddie a "loser" to kickstart the rest of the film. Then, the girl who tattled on the Life Foundation 100% did not need Eddie Brock to do that. She had full access to the lab and the trust of her superior. All she had to do was document everything herself, send it to Eddie to pass along to his boss, and then skip town with her fucking kids to avoid being murdered. Hell, she could have given it to the authorities anonymously. Third, why after everything went tits up in the lab did she fucking return to the lab as if they wouldn't immediately know it was her? She was seen outside the lab seconds before Eddie set off the alarms and her palm print is recorded having opened the door to the lab. Why the fuck did she go back after she let Eddie in there with no way to cover her tracks? And then she actually told on herself and Eddie, which led to her death. I can't comprehend that level of stupidity at all. It's staggering. Because I'm trying not to turn this into a seven-page single spaced review, I'm just going to stop here and not try to point out all the other plotholes in detail, like the fact that the cops only get involved one time and are never seen again despite the fact that they'd be all over the explosions and missing people associated with the Life Foundation or Eddie's phone working perfectly after he swam under the fucking bridge or Eddie leaving his phone for his boss instead of just sending him the goddamn pictures or the symbiote magically knowing where Eddie was after they took him from the hospital. We'll be here all day if I keep going. I'll just reblog CinemaSins' eventual video of this movie and feel satisfied that way.

-The movie makes zero attempts at explaining anything about the symbiotes except for "they're vulnerable to fire and sound frequencies, need a host to survive, and eat brains." What is even stranger about the lack of explanation is that this isn't a long film. They could have easily added about ten minutes into the story to give us an overview of where they came from, what their world was like, how they found human contact, and why they were on that comet. All we can do is infer things, which pisses me off because this is YOUR story and YOUR new continuity that you just fucking made up on the fly, so I don't know the rules here and it's shitty of you to just gloss over it all. Why is it called Venom? Is that a translation from whatever the hell the symbiote was called on its own planet? Did it hear that somewhere and decide it liked the word? Why? Why does it get touchy if you call it a parasite when that is literally what it is? Is it like Ratigan from The Great Mouse Detective and it's just in denial? We have to guess that it knows whatever Eddie knows, but why does it have any conceptual knowledge of romance and relationships when it attempts to get Eddie to apologize to Blondie or when it says it "likes" her? Or that Eddie "changed its mind" at the end? And how can a symbiote even be a loser? That concept is almost universally human and it's a giant sentient piece of fucking tar? How can it possibly be a loser on its own planet? There is just no damn context for majority of the shit surrounding the symbiotes in the movie and it's all the more frustrating since we spend a great deal of time in the lab with them during the movie and yet we learn almost nothing.

-Eddie and the symbiote don't actually form a proper bond or partnership. This is one of the things that's irritating me about people who seem to have taken to the movie. I was told multiple times by people that the movie is stupid, but the repartee between Eddie and Venom is enjoyable. Not really, no. Are there quips? Yes, there are quips. But quips do not inherently create a bond. Anyone can bounce dialogue off each other. If said dialogue does not change the characters, then it's just lip service. Sadly, though, a lot of people don't notice that absolutely nothing between Eddie and Venom lines up. Venom helps Eddie survive the attacks, but is killing him in the process. It's self-interest alone. The truly confounding part is when they get Venom off of Eddie and find out Venom has basically been consuming Eddie's organs to stay alive inside him, Eddie acts betrayed and storms off, but then when Venom returns wearing Blondie as his guise, he just accepts it and they go off to the badly filmed climax. What the hell changed in between those scenes? Nothing. Eddie still runs the risk of dying being piloted by the symbiote, and while Eddie has motivation to stop Bad Guy (again, another character that is so thin I can't be bothered to learn his name) from bringing the symbiotes to earth, Venom is given zero reason to want that at all. As mentioned above, there's no backstory. Is Venom concerned his race will consume the earth? If so, who cares? There's seven billion people and Venom has already found Eddie, who is a suitable match for him to survive, so why does he care at all? Eddie would survive an invasion anyhow. It makes no damn sense. Films that have dealt with symbiotic relationships always establish a common ground at some point but Venom doesn't for some inexplicable reason. I'm incredibly frustrated that everyone's just going "tee hee, look, they're best friends now, it's cute" when in fact Eddie is just running around committing murder randomly without ever really contemplating how serious it is, even though he claims to only be eating bad people.

-Nitpick: Fridging two different female characters, the homeless lady and the Life Foundation tattletale, rubbed me entirely the wrong way. Both of them were in Eddie's vicinity, both die, and both are never brought up again or shown to have impacted Eddie's motivation or life. They are simply used and discarded, which is another thing that makes this movie feel so hollow.

-The tone is all over the fucking place. It can be argued that Venom never went full serious and is always sort of tongue-in-cheek, but there's just this ridiculous whiplash feeling when you watch it spike from an action scene to "wacky" Brock antics to Venom quips. Eddie's personality even before the symbiote is just confusing as hell. It's like stuffing a bunch of random character traits into one man and all of them are fighting to get out at once like the characters from Split. The most consistent thing is he's sarcastic, but even then his moods range far too widely to get a bead on him. He can be dry one minute and then frantic and excitable the next, and that's before the symbiote. After the symbiote, it's like they gave Tom Hardy cocaine and steroids. The man's acting is simply all over the damn place. He accepts near-impossible things sometimes with a shrug and other times he freaks out. The movie just doesn't know what the hell it's attempting to accomplish, and that's why mood and tone are important to set from the get-go with a film. It just slingshots between a faux-horror film and a snippy action flick over and over again until your head feels pulverized.

-The final action sequences is one of the dumbest, messiest things since Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. It's an ugly, dark, jumbled up mess. It's so indistinguishable that Godzilla (2014) can take potshots at it. Why in perfect blue hell did they choose two symbiotes with such similar appearances to showdown with each other on top of a rocket at night? It's so hard to see what the two of them are doing, who is winning or losing, or what kind of movement is happening at all. We also are never given the full range of their abilities, so the only real stake is when they pull off their hosts and their bodies are vulnerable, but even then it appears that Venom can raise Eddie from the dead seconds later anyhow. I'm stunned the movie couldn't even do a fake out death properly, which is so fucking easy that even Disney can do it. Eddie dies and is revived in less than fifteen goddamn seconds. The camera doesn't even linger on his body to sell the emotion (not that we'd ever have one, he is just barely a character anyway) before it just takes it right the hell back. That's filmmaking 101, for God's sake, and the movie blows it too.

-The last scene in the movie. In its entirety. I haven't been that exasperated since I stupidly forced myself to watch Pacific Rim: Uprising. There are so many things wrong with it that it's hard to know how to tackle it. I don't care that Eddie stopped that guy from extorting the shop owner--he openly turned into a 10 foot tall alien and ate a guy in front of her, and the movie just laughs and shrugs like it's just totally fine, like that woman isn't about to lose her shit, call the cops, or fuck, the NSA/FBI/CIA/Avengers on Eddie for making her a witness to murder, and endangering pretty much anyone around them. To say nothing of the fact that there is no reason a 10 foot tall alien with a million sharp teeth needs to say a single word to threaten someone. You are the threat, buddy. Your existence is the threat. Why did you need to insist on threatening to bite things off? You're terrifying and nothing you say is going to somehow make you scarier, especially when you just ate the guy anyway. It's like they just made that scene for the final trailer, much like that "I thought she was with you" comment all the way back in Batman v. Superman despite in-canon it made no sense. It's so unnecessary. And don't get me started on the fact that the crook actually asked the giant alien who it is. Fuck you. That was a lazy, transparent attempt to spoonfeed the wretched cliche that Michael Keaton's Batman made famous. (Consequently, all movies ever, please stop doing this cliche. Stop it. Just find another way to announce yourself. It's really tired, y'all, let it go already.) No human would ever look at that thing and ask it who the fuck it is. He'd piss himself and die of fright. Period. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Piss. Die. Period.

-Nitpick: Why was there that weird Godzilla (2014) trailer noise every time Venom attacked someone? Did they just steal it from public domain? They used it almost like the Inception horn cliche that Hollywood was obsessed with for a while and it took me right out of the scene every damn time.

-Nitpick: They really thought we're so stupid that we needed Kasady to actually say his character's name out loud. Look, you fuckers, you know goddamn well that end credits scenes are extras and that people can go home and Google things instead of you literally spelling it out for us. Hell, you know that not that many Average Joes and mainstream people went to this movie anyway since Venom is a second-stringer villain and your main demographic is die-hard Eddie Brock fans anyway. So having Kasady say the damn name “Carnage” in the post credits scene really was the final fart in my general direction. Give us some fucking credit, man. Venom has barely five plotlines to his whole character anyway. Of course we knew you were going to drop Carnage for the Sequel Hook, you condescending twat of a film.

Look, I get it. I'm hypercritical because I write fiction for a living. There are plenty of movies where turning your brain off is required in order to enjoy it, but I think this movie is asking me to get an entire lobotomy to be able to swallow the big-ass pill it's offering. It's just so sloppy and uncaring and yet it's holding its grubby little hands out for your money and your love and I think it's undeserving of it on every last level. It has zero comprehension of what it's trying to accomplish since it's a money grab, and its artistic choices are nothing short of bonkers. It's so strange that it even veers outside of the So Bad It's Good category for me. I can't in good confidence recommend it to anyone even though it's almost like a study in what not to do in both comic book movies and movies in general. It's weird in a distasteful way rather than in a charming way for me, honestly. I know people have rallied around it for being different and out there, but I don't think different and good are the same thing in Venom's case.

#Venom #Venom 2018 #Eddie Brock #film review #movie review #film rant #rant #movie rant #spoilers #spoiler alert #don't @ me #i don't care #anti Venom

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