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sabxism · 3 years

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But I’m Here In Your Doorway

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Based on these lines from this is me trying:

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway

Word count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of and encounter with possible suicide, injuries (blood, bruises, etc), mention of (previous) deaths

Summary: reader loses everything. after she nearly makes an irreversible decision, she goes to Poe for help.

GIF not mine

The screams of your squadron members bounce around in your head. It was your fault, you knew that. You shouldn’t have set off without checking your ship. Without checking for any trackers. So it wasn’t a surprise when, out of nowhere, a group of TIEs burst out of hyperspace, straight into your fleet like pins being knocked over by 30 flying bowling balls. You had watched, helplessly, as your friends - your family - were picked off one-by-one. As they went up into terrifyingly bright balls of gas and flame and smoke. It was your fault. All your fault.

Part of you was trying to cling onto the notion that you couldn’t have known, how could you have known? But the majority of your mind beat back those thoughts, letting the sickening guilt take over and push you into a dark corner. Debriefing had been a nightmare. General Organa had, of course, told you that it wasn’t your fault, that it was nobody’s fault but the spy she hadn’t discovered in time. She could sense the weight on your shoulders, sense you falling into a pit inside of yourself.

After the meeting, she had pulled you aside.

“Y/N. I need you to look at me,” she said, turning your head gently but firmly with her right hand. “It isn’t your fault. You did everything you could. Sometimes, things are just out of our control.”

“I know,” you lied, just wanting this conversation to be over. Leia could sense your apprehension, and sighed.

“Look, I know that nothing I say is going to change how you feel, because I’ve been there, and I know what you’re thinking. I know it’s hard. Trust me.” you look down at the floor, scuffing the tip of your boot across the dusty ground. “It will get better. I promise you.”

“Thanks, general.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leia?” she asks lightly as you turn to walk away.

“A few more, apparently,” you respond, the ghost of a false smile resting over your face. With that, you turn on your heel and head to your quarters.

You step through the door as it slides open and sit down on your bed. You reach for your datapad, wanting to distract yourself with something.

You click the screen on, and your heart drops. Staring back at you are the smiling faces of your squadron. You’re all clustered around Mari’s new droid, with hands on its shiny purple head. She had been so happy to get that little guy.

Now they were both nothing more than dust drifting through the empty expanse of space.

You hurl the tablet at the wall, watching as the screen shatters and falls to the floor.

You place your head in your hands, silent sobs racking your body. You clench your hair in your hands, knuckles turning white. You stand up, body shaking, and walk out of your quarters.

You pass Finn in the hallway. He smiles at you, but you can’t bring yourself to do the same. You feel awful as he looks back at you as you pass him, but at this point there’s no use trying to fix it. You trudge outside and up to your x-wing sitting on the tarmac, the edges of the wings blackened from smoke. You glance around, checking the coast is clear, then scurry up the ladder and into the cockpit. You check the time.

1800.

Sighing, you boot up your craft and quickly take off. You cruise over the base a few times, watching everyone go about their day. Like nothing happened. Like 10 of the most beautiful, vibrant souls hadn’t just been snuffed like a match. You swallow the knot in your throat and head for the atmosphere. You need to get away from here.

“General Organa!” Leia turns, to see a frenzied runway tech sprinting towards her. “Y/N took off on an unauthorized flight.”

Leia swallows thickly, her heart dropping. “How long ago?”

“We noticed she was left just now - but it looks like she’s been gone about an hour.”

“Then there’s nothing we can do but hope she comes back safely.”

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You land on a nearby forest planet, after searching for about ten minutes for a place to touch down. You pick a plateau on the Western side, lowering your land gear as you begin to descend. You hop down from your ship onto the grassy earth, and look around.

It’s quiet up here. There’s a soft wind blowing, and it weaves delicate fingers through your hair and across your face as you take off your helmet. You let it fall to the ground, and decide to walk around for a bit. You make your way to the edge of the plateau, and look out across the forest beyond. It stretches on for miles, a swath of dark green. The last rays of the sun blaze across the sky, painting the clouds with a pink-orange hue.

You glance down, and your heart drops to your toes. It’s a long way to the ground below. You begin to back up, but for some reason you find yourself stopping. You get closer to the edge, still looking down. It would be so easy to just take another step. Just one more. All of this would be over. You wouldn’t have to feel this guilt anymore.

Your knee lifts up slowly.

Realizing what you’re about to do, you scramble back, falling to the dirt. You brace your hands on the ground, digging your fingers into the earth to anchor yourself. Your chest heaves, and your vision spins. The ground seems to buckle, to toss you around. The sky bends and arches above you as you struggle to breathe. You roll over onto your stomach and wrap your arms around your knees.

You don’t know how long you lie there, but by the time you have the courage to stand up and walk again, the moon is floating in the sky above you, and the stars glimmer against a black backdrop.

You climb back into your x-wing and sit there, staring at your dashboard. Your eyes meet one of the few pictures leaned against the fuel gague. You and Poe lean against his x-wing a few months ago. You have your arms wrapped around each other. He’s kissing your cheek, and you’re laughing, open-mouthed, your nose scrunched up and your eyes shut tight.

You take a shuddering breath. Poe. You couldn’t believe what you’d almost done - what you still might do, if you don’t get out of here. You couldn’t leave him like that. You rapidly go through your flight checklist and then take off, headed back to base.

You land on the tarmac around 0200, exhausted and beaten down by your own thoughts. You hop out of your ship, landing on the ground with a thud.

You start walking, not really knowing where your legs are taking you, but you end up at Poe’s quarters. You can hear movement inside the room. You raise a trembling hand and knock once.

He opens the door, and his eyes widen. His mouth moves silently, searching for words.

You swallow thickly, a nervous knot tying in your stomach.

He takes a step toward you, not quite believing what he’s seeing. Leia had told him that you’d left suddenly after their meeting, and he had grown worried that you were hurt, or worse. But here you are, standing in front of him. Your form is limp and you’re drawn into yourself. Your face and neck are caked with blood and dirt, and your eyes are clouded and empty.

“Hi,” you say weakly. He quickly closes the gap between the both of you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your arms hang limp beside you.

“Stardust,” he breathes, holding you tightly. “I was so worried.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, falling down your face and onto Poe’s shoulder. He pulls back, concerned. Cradling your face in his hands, his eyebrows crease with worry.

He looks down at you, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. There’s a silent question written across his features. You shake your head tearfully. You don’t know what to say.

“Baby…” he whispers, pulling you close to his chest again. You clutch at the back of his shirt with shaking hands.“I’m here now - you’re safe. You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.” He repeats those two words over and over like a mantra, equally to himself as to you. “Let’s get you inside, ok?” he says, and you nod. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he guides you into his quarters.

“I’ll grab some clothes for you,” he says as you sit down on the edge of the bed. He rustles through his drawers, eventually coming up with a long-sleeved olive green shirt and a pair of grey boxer shorts. He sets them on the bed next to you. “Are you good to take a shower?” You think about it for a minute, and slowly shake your head. The idea of being pounded with thousands of tiny droplets makes you want to hide under a blanket.

“Too much,” you murmur, and he nods in understanding.

“Ok, love, that’s fine. We do need to clean you off and deal with these cuts, though.” he gestures to the lacerations across your skin. You nod weakly. You hear him pad over to the refresher unit and grab a medkit and some washcloths, which he wets under some running water from the sink.

He kneels in front of you, and motions for you to take off your flight suit. You slip it halfway off, letting it rest around your waist. Poe sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the bruises blooming across your torso and arms. You’d gotten tossed around pretty bad, getting knocked through space by several of the TIEs. You’d slammed your sternum right into the dashboard at one point, and small fragments of something had slashed open nearly every bit of exposed skin and even some under your suit.

“Y/N…” he says quietly, tearing up. You bite the inside of your cheek, hating to see him so upset.

He gets to work cleaning your cuts. He’s as gentle as he can be, but you still hiss as the cold water on the washcloth cleans out your cuts, and tears start to fall as he bandages up a particularly bad cut on your stomach. He holds your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need to, never even flinching as your vice grip tightens around his fingers.

“Ok, baby, let me check your legs and then you’re all set,” he says, and you turn away, face flushing with nervousness. He’s confused for a second, then has a moment of understanding. He’s never seen you naked - you weren’t ready to get intimate yet, so you guys had been taking it slow, and now really wasn’t the best time to breach that barrier. “You can change into the shorts first,” he says quietly, and you look back at him gratefully.

You make your way to the refresher unit, shutting the door behind you. You peel off your flight suit the rest of the way, followed by your undergarments, crusted with blood from the cuts on your stomach. You pile the discarded clothes in a pile by the shower, and slip on the shirt and shorts Poe had leant you. You take the opportunity to glance into the mirror above the sink, and grimace at the reflection that gazes back at you. Hair messy and tangled, face bruised and covered with small cuts, you were not a pretty sight to behold. Sighing, you head back into the main room.

Sitting back down on the bed, you lean against the wall and stretch your legs out in front of you. Poe sits down on the mattress next to you, surveying your exposed limbs. They aren’t as bad as the upper half of your body, but they definitely aren’t good. He dabs at the cuts gently, taking your hand again. He mutters sweet nothings as you clench your teeth and shut your eyes tightly for the next few minutes as he finishes up.

“All done,” he eventually says, and you relinquish your grip on his hand, wiping the tears from your eyes. He looks up at you, and you almost melt at the love in his eyes. You realize in that moment how lucky you are - that no matter what, he’ll always take care of you. Always.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he smiles softly, opening his arms. You crawl over to where he’s leaned against the headboard and collapse into his embrace, breathing beginning to even out.

“You need sleep, baby,” he says, and you nod. “You can stay here, if you want.” You nod again, and he presses a kiss to your hair. “I’ll grab some extra blankets from the closet.” He gets up and goes to retrieve them. You get under his comforter and lay your head down on one of the pillows. Your eyes drift closed.

Poe pads back over to the bed and pauses, looking down at you. He swallows thickly, tearing up. He makes a promise to himself then and there that he’d never lose you like that. Never again.

He lays another blanket over you, then switches off the lights. He quickly changes into some sleep clothes and then gets under the covers, laying down facing you.

“Poe?” you mumble, searching for his face in the dark.

“Right here, honey,” he says softly, and you inch closer to him, a bit nervous to get too close. He senses your unease and smiles softly. “Cmere,” he says, draping a hand over your waist and pulling you close to him. You tuck your head against his chest, a warm feeling creeping into your very core. Being this close to him is grounding. You take a deep breath in. The scent of the lavender soap he uses clings to his skin, and it washes over you. You listen to his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“I love you,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize what you just said. The two of you haven’t exactly said it before. You feel Poe freeze beside you, and your heart drops. You mentally kick yourself. How could you say that right now?

“I love you too,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. You blush furiously as he tilts your head up with his thumb and forefinger. “To the edge of the universe and back.” He presses his lips to yours, feather soft.

“I love you,” you say again, just because you can. He smiles softly.

“I’m proud of you, I want you to know that,” he says after a while. “For...getting through all this. I know it hurts, and it’ll stay that way for a bit, but…” he pauses, taking your hand in his. “But I’ll always be here if you need me. To talk, or just listen. You can lean on me, ok?”

“Ok,” you say quietly, looking up into his eyes.

“Ok,” he whispers.

“Ok.” You smile, and his heart flips at the beauty of it. He pulls you into his chest once more, and you’re out like a light almost instantly. He presses his lips to your forehead before drifting off, holding you tightly in his arms.

#poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron/reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron angst #star wars #star wars fic #star wars fluff #star wars angst #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #fluff #angst #fluff and angst

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shygirl-00 · 4 years

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Winter Song Chapter 1: Haunting memories

Song: Control by Halsey; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzoNRAX_SOw

Warnings: Nightmares, mentions of torture, human experimenting, mind-wiping, mentions of murder, blood, some soft fluff, akward conversations.

Disclaimer: I don't own the song or the pictures/GIFs. Credits to the original owners.

They send me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, the shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

The girl hugged her knees as she stared at the grey wall across the room. She didn't feel the cold of the floor anymore.

How long had she been sitting here in her dark cell? After the numerous times she was thrown in here, she didn't bother anymore to count the endless hours she had spent in isolation. Just as she didn't bother to try to get comfy on the thin mattress she had to get some sleep on. She was lucky one of the rusty springs of the bedframe hadn't yet poked into her skin during her few hours of sleep.

I sat alone, in bed till the morning I'm crying, "They're coming for me" And I tried to hold these secrets inside me My mind's like a deadly disease

Crazy as it sounded, these hours in her cell were the only moments of peace that she knew in this hell hole. In here she could at least try to forget all the torture of needles, shocks and burns she had received on a day.

Here she could be alone with her thoughts for a moment before that door would be slammed open and those Hydra soldiers would drag her out again for another round of torture and experimenting.

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

Hydra... The organisation that had destroyed her life. They had killed her parents and taken her, had dragged her single-handedly into a world of pain and misery. And every time she thought it couldn't get any worse, the next time Hydra would top it. And that over, and over, and over again.

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Even when she was allowed to have a moment of rest, she could barely close her eyes or the nightmares would already start. The things they made her do, the killing, the spilling of innocent blood...every night she could hear the screams of her victims and when she would wake up, she could still see the blood on her hands, she would smell the smoke of guns. After that she would always taste familiar sourness in her mouth before she would throw up.

I paced around for hours on empty I jumped at the slightest of sounds And I couldn't stand the person inside me I turned all the mirrors around

She had dreamed of escaping. Had even tried it a couple of times, but that only resulted in being captured and being more tortured and experimented on. So it stayed with dreaming. She had heard of the soldier with the metal arm. The man who managed to finally escape Hydra after years. The Winter Soldier...best friend of Captain America...James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes...

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

(Y/n)… Her own name. (Y/n) (L/n)… Hydra had even tried to take that away from her. Her future was already stolen from her, her memories were scrambled, but for some miraculous reason she had been able to cling onto her name. Every time they put her in that torture chair, they had hoped that she would finally permanently forget it and every single time she would disappoint them.

After a while she would remember her name again. Her name was (Y/n) (L/n), no matter how many times thy would fry her brain in that chair, her name. was. (Y/n) (L/n).

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

(Y/n) jumped when the door was suddenly slammed open and a group of five Hydra soldiers barged in, lead by Brock Rumlow. Since the death of Alexander Pierce, by the hands of SHIELD, he sort of became in charge of Hydra on the matter of physical missions and attacks, while Helmut Zemo became in charge of the tests and experiments. Both monsters, not afraid to tear people apart, mentally and physically, to get what they wanted. (Y/n)'s tormentors...

“Good morning Asset.” Rumlow sneered as he stared down at her. Asset...that's all she was to them. A puppet, and Hydra was her puppet master. (Y/n) didn't answer him and looked away.

“I said…”, Rumlow pulled her up by her hair, “good morning. Have you never heard of manners?!” He spat in her face as he threw her back onto the floor in front of the feet of the soldiers who manhandled her to her feet again and held onto her.

People would raise an eyebrow at the sight that five soldiers were holding a girl, but thanks to the experiments, (Y/n)'s strength had majorly increased. The last time she was escorted by only two guards, they eventually had to tranquilize her because she almost escaped them and even now sometimes five guards struggled to hold her down.

Rumlow nods at the guards. “You know where to.” Immediately, (Y/n) was dragged out of her cell into the hallway. She already braced herself for what was to come. Most likely more experimenting and serums being injected into her...

I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead

But...they went another way. And she knew which way this was...one she dreaded more than any other room in this whole facility... She tried to control her breathing that caught in her throat as she was dragged through the halls.

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

As they entered that dreaded room, (Y/n) was met by the familliar sight of several scientists and assistants walking around the room, working on who knows what kind of projects. But the thing that she was most afraid of stood in the middle of the room: that godforsaken chair that ripped the memories from everyone who was forced into that thing.

And next to that horror device stood her other tormentor, Helmut Zemo.

"Why hello there, malyshka. I hope you slept well.” Zemo cooed as he petted (Y/n)’s cheek. She jerked her head away as she scowled at him. "Tsk tsk, as hostile as ever, are we?” Zemo tutted as he grabbed her chin so she was forced to look at him. He shook his head.

“Well, malyshka, if today is a success, we don't have to deal with that attitude anymore.” He grinned at her as he walked away to retrieve something from the table next to the chair.

“Wh-what do you mean by that?” (Y/n) spoke as she tried to not let her voice tremble too much. She felt her blood turn into ice as Zemo turned, seeing what he had retrieved from the table; a black book with a red star stamped on it. Her 'programming book’ as some liked to call it. Whenever that book came out, she prepared for the worst.

Zemo chuckled when he saw (Y/n)'s scared face. “Oh do not worry, malyshka. I thought these out very carefully.” He held an amused grin as he watched confusion mixed with fear etched onto the girl's face. “And it will not be that difficult. They're just...ten...simple...words…”

All colour disappeared from (Y/n)'s face. Ten words...ten...words...they were...they were going to… Her train of thought was cut short by a short scentence that left Zemo's lips that left her freaked out.

“Prep her.”

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Never before, in her whole life, did (Y/n) struggle more than at that moment. She screamed, kicked, thrashed, she tried everything she could as the guards hauled her into the chair and began strapping her down. Several scientists began starting up the machine that would soon enough rip her memories from her.

(Y/n) clamped her mouth shut as they approached with the mouth guard. But one firm slam of Rumlow's fist in her stomach left her coughing and gasping for breath, which was used to shove the mouth guard into her mouth. Last but not least, they strapped her head down.

(Y/n)'s breathing came out ragged as her chest heaved up and down. Her eyes flashed from one side to another as she watched the people surrounding her. Then an all too familiar whirring sound filled her ears. Zemo looked down at her.

"Just relax, malyshka. All you need to do is listen...” He purred as the cold metal clamped around her head. The whirring sound became louder and louder. She saw Zemo's mouth move as he read from the book. She knew her brain would process the words as anything else was ripped from her. They would continue this until worked.

But the only thing she heard, a sound that filled the whole room and echoed through the hallways, was her own screaming...

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Gasping for air, (Y/n) shot up in bed. Sweat was beading her forehead as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get her breathing under control. She took shaky breaths as she rubbed her face. Giving herself a moment to calm down, she laid back down on her bed.

The day they implanted her triggerwords...that was the most recurring nightmare that had been haunting her night and night again. Even now, six months after The Avengers had saved her from that hell hole, it felt like yesterday that they put those damn words into her brain.

(Y/n) looked at the time that was being projected on the wall. 04:00 am. With a sigh (Y/n) kicked the sheets off of her and sat up, sliding her feet into her slippers. She knew that, even if she tried, she would not be able to fall asleep again. She wrapped her blanket around herself and quietly shuffled out of her room, on her way to the living room in The Avengers tower.

Ever since they rescued her, (Y/n) had been living with The Avengers at their compound. When they found out that, after they rescued her, she didn't have any family she could turn to, they took her in and they practically became her family. And she couldn't be more grateful for them.

Steve Rogers, the Captain himself, had been acting like a father or a big brother to her. He was usually the person that held her when she was having a panic or anxiety attack, she could cry on his shoulder when the nightmares became too much. He would be one of the first people to notice if something was wrong.

Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, together with Bruce Banner, were like the “nerd-uncles” you didn't know you needed. While Tony loved to tease her sometimes, he had a huge soft spot for the girl and he would be there for her whenever she needed him. Pepper Pots, his girlfriend, would scold him often if he teased (Y/n) too much to her liking. She was like the sweetest aunt ever. Bruce regularly checked on her physical but mostly her mental health and treated her wounds if need be.

If (Y/n) needed a hug, she could always count on Thor. Being the God of Thunder or not, he loved nothing more than picking her up and giving her a good hug, mostly one in which she could shield herself from the world for a moment.

Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, two women who you didn’t want to get angry, became like big sisters for (Y/n). They and Pepper would chase the boys out of the living room so that they could have a girl's night every once in a while. They would just chat and laugh together every once in a while, but they also trained her in order to get her powers under control.

Pietro Maximoff and Clint Barton, those two were like the chaos cousins whose goal it was to cheer (Y/n) up. Pietro loved to carry her around and then run all over the place until both of them were out of breath, him from running, she because her breath was taken away by the speed. Clint was more serious than Pietro, but he was often in for a prank or two.

Then Sam, the uncle who was sometimes teasing her even more than Tony would, but he would never let anything happen to her. Eventhough him and Tony would not always see eye to eye, they would once in a while tease (Y/n) together about her feelings towards a certain super soldier with a metal arm...

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes... even after six months, (Y/n) still didn't know what Bucky was to her. They were friends, that was for sure, but she would be lying to herself if she hadn't wished that they could be more than that, more than once. But she would be rather damned than to admit that.

Not only would Sam and Tony not let her hear the end of it, but she would never forgive herself if she destroyed Bucky's friendship with her by admitting what she really felt for him. After all, Bucky had had enough on his plate with his own history with Hydra; he didn't need her damaged life also on his shoulders.

Little did she know, that a certain, metal-armed, super soldier had the same thoughts about himself, and had the same feelings for her...

Damaged. That's what (Y/n) called herself. Improved, that's what Hydra had called her. Well, for their sick games perhaps. Now, (Y/n) was scared of herself. She had seen the file that The Avengers managed to take with them. It stood there, everything Hydra had put in her and what she was now:

(Y/n) (L/n), Asset 107. Enhanced strength, speed, durability and flexibility. Powers of remnants of Mind Stone present. Trained fighter with guns, knives and hand to hand combat.

And there they were, those cursed triggerwords. Steve had quickly taken the file out of her hands. Her nightmares were already enough torment. And he had a point.

Quietly, (Y/n) opened the door to the living room and slid inside. She quickly popped into the kitchen to get a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water. She took some sips to at least get the adrenaline, that her nightmares always gave her, down. She sighed. Would she ever be able to get rid of those horrific nightmares…? She turned to go sit on the couch.

“Can't sleep either?” A voice called out. (Y/n) jumped and shrieked, letting go of the glass in the process. A quick, silver hand swooped the glass out of the air, catching it before it would break on the ground. "Careful there, we don't want any accidents.” (Y/n) looked up to meet a pair of ocean blue eyes looking into her (e/c) ones.

"You okay?” Bucky Barnes put the glass back on the counter and raised an eyebrow when the girl in front of him stayed quiet. "Hello, Earth to (Y/n)?” He waved with his flesh hand in front of her face.

(Y/n) blinked. “Uh...yeah, fine! I mean...ahum...yeah I'm okay.” She quickly took her glass and went to the living room with it. This was what she always feared. Making herself look like a complete fool in front of Bucky. And now she had just done that...great.

With a soft sigh, she flopped onto the couch, tugging her blanket closer around herself, sipping on her water. She eyed Bucky as he came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. When he saw her looking, he gave her a soft smile. (Y/n)'s cheeks coloured bright red. She quickly hid her face behind her glass of water, hoping Bucky hadn’t seen it.

But of course Bucky had seen it. With his enhanced abilities and his training as a spy, he could pick up the smallest details.

He had only one issue; he was never taught how to work with feelings for another person. Sure he knew about friendship and such, his long lasting friendship with Steve never seemed to falter, but no, they never told him how to approach a person when the idea of more than friendship came up. Yes, in his old days, he had flirted with some dames, but that was all it was, flirting, not, Bucky gulped at the tought, love.

“Bucky…?” He was awakened from his thoughts when a soft voice called his name.

He looked up and saw that (Y/n) was looking at him again. "W-what? You said something?” She smiled softly. “I asked why you couldn't sleep. Since you said can't sleep either.”

Bucky let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, taking a sip of his coffee. “Oh, ehm...nightmares doll...same old I know-” Bucky cut himself short when he saw (Y/n)'s face fall. Then he realised he had called her doll. Shit, did she not like that? It just slipped out...

“Well I'm at least not the only one…” she mumbled as she sipped from her water. Wait...she wasn't talking about the word doll, was she?

Bucky could almost hit himself when he realised. She had nightmares, just like him. Logical, she had been in Hydra's hands, just like him. And she had also been damaged...just like him… Bucky clenched his flesh hand around his coffee cup while his metal one squeezed a pillow.

Damaged like him...Bucky immediately pushed his personal feelings away and focused on her. “You have them too, huh?” She nodded. "One recurs more than others though. The one in which they…they implant...” her voice faltered.

"Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…” Bucky said as he looked at her. Heck, he knew the feeling all too well, when people wanted to know exactly what was going inside his head, wanted him to repeat his nightmares over and over again. Man, how many times he had wanted to bash someones nose in for that...

"How do you do it?” (Y/n) suddenly asked. Bucky looked up. “Hm? Do what d-?” he quickly swallowed the last word.

“Cope with them...the nightmares.” (Y/n) looked at him over the edge of her glass. Bucky sighed.

“I don't know. I just...do it. I do stuff and try to get as much sleep as I can. Steve often helps me by waking me up if he hears me screaming.”

(Y/n) smiled softly. Steve had often done that with her as well. He would hold her as she sobbed into his pyjama-shirt, until she had calmed down enough to talk.

“Yeah...yeah I know...he does that for me as well. Poor guy must have had some rough nights with us heh…” she smiled a small smile that got a bit bigger when she heard Bucky chuckle. His chuckle was like music to her ears...God she had it bad for him...

“Well yeah, he has always been a momma's boy, but I think he missed the memo that that doesn't mean you need to act like a mom.” Bucky commented dryly, receiving a giggle from the girl across from him on the couch. Her smile made him involuntarily blush...man was he head over heels for her.

"Maybe his head is still stuck in the 40's?” (Y/n) chuckled, making Bucky laugh out loud. “Maybe you have a point there, (Y/n).” He still refrained himself from calling her doll.

And that's how the rest of the team found them hours later when they came down to get some breakfast, Bucky and (Y/n) talking on the couch and laughing at each other's remarks.

“Hey Buckaroo, having a conversation with the girlfriend?” Sam commented as he gave Bucky a pat on his shoulder. Bucky swatted him away. “Shut up, Birdbrain!”

Steve focused on (Y/n). “Nightmare again?” he asked. She nodded, sad. “Same one again.” Steve sighed.

“Why didn't you come to me? I told you, you could always wake me up when you need me.” (Y/n) looked down at her lap. “I don't want to be a bother, Steve...”

Before Steve could answer, Sam commented: “She had the perfect talking partner right here!” Immediately after that he had to duck because Bucky had thrown his coffee cup at him.

“You know, just because I can afford it, doesn't mean you have to destroy it, Tin Man!” Tony remarked from the kitchen as the breaking of ceramics could be heard.

"Come on you two, get dressed otherwise no breakfast for you.” Natasha remarked as she ushered Bucky and (Y/n) out of the room. Steve followed Bucky while she followed (Y/n).

“Sam did have a point though, you two talking is a nice sight.” Natasha remarked, sitting on (Y/n)'s bed as the latter was changing behind the doors of her huge closet (thanks Tony).

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Nat.” (Y/n) commented as she threw her pyjamas on her bed and put on jeans and a blouse.

“Just saying, you two would make a cute couple.” Natasha remarked. She received a pair of socks against her head as an answer.

“Come on punk, just drop it allright?” Bucky huffed as he stuck his head through the opening of his maroon coloured sweater. Steve leaned against the doorpost.

"Buck, why are you so hesitant about it? You like each other's company, that's a good start.” "Shut it Steve, don't pretend you're now all-knowing about relationships!” Bucky commented as he folded his pyjamas and put them under his pillow.

“Then tell me what the issue is, Buck!” Steve sighed, eyeing his childhood best friend. The brunette sighed and sat down on the bed.

"Listen up punk...”

"Nat, I know you mean well, but even if there is a truth behind your remarks...”

“...even if you somehow miraculously have found the answer to helping others with relationships…”

“...why would (s)he want a damaged person like me?”

Holy macaroni, first chapter finally done! I'm nervous as all heck because I love Bucky/Sebastian Stan so much I want to do him justice. Plus I hope that you liked it as well. If anyone wants to be tagged, just let me know. Thanks for reading, lots of love! ❤️

Translation: Malyshka = little girl

Taglist: @jtargaryen18, @sherlocked-bitch, @on-your-left-birdie, @tcc-gizmachine

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #winter song

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dramaticskeleton · 4 years

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Chapter 2: Sisters

A/N: Here's chapter two! I hope you enjoy. I'd love if you left a review! :)

~~~~~ "Turn your head to me. No, not that far, just a bit. Yeah, perfect." I take four photos, each one at a slightly different angle. Riley had asked for a photoshoot to advertise her new designs and Ollie had offered to model. He's currently wearing black pants and a vermilion button down with a white pattern on it. "You look good." He winks at me. "You think so?" "You'd look better if you took it off though," I reply with a smirk. "Oh, get a room, you two," Riley says, exasperated from where she stands by the window. I laugh. "Ollie, let's get one more of you standing and then you can change into the next one."

~~~~~

The days blur together. My schedule involves waking up at twelve in the afternoon, working for ten hours and then going out the until two or three in the morning. I still find a new girl in the clubs every few nights, but I don't take any of them back to my place. Fancy's making biweekly trips up to London and I find that I actually look forward to seeing her. She pulls a new trick on me every time and it's enough to make me curious about what else she's got up her sleeve. Eventually, I stop going out altogether, just filling my time with work between her visits.

We're sharing a smoke after another night together, sitting in bed with the sheets covering our bodies. She's got her leg flung over me, and her chest presses into my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her, holding her close. I resist the urge to kiss the side of her head. I've already crossed a line by becoming exclusive with her.

She holds the cigarette up to me, her fingers lightly brushing my lips. I inhale, letting the smoke fill my lungs before letting it out. I blow it gently in her face, watching as she crinkles her nose. It's cute. Not for the first time, I'm struck by her beauty. I wonder if she'll let me take photos of her. I haven't touched my camera in months, but I want to capture the expression on her face and the way the lamp light strikes her hair, turning it metallic. Before I know what I'm saying, I ask her if she'll model for me.

She puffs on the fag, contemplating. "I didn't know you were a photographer."

I shrug. "It's just a hobby."

"Are you a professional?”

"I make money off it, if that's what you're asking."

"I'll pay you in something better than money," she says, a naughty gleam in her eye. She moves to sit on top of me, grinding her hips suggestively. I pull the cig from her lips, stroking her face.

"I only accept cash."

She leans into the touch, turning her head to kiss my arm. I realize the exact moment when she notes the scars. Before I can pull away, she grabs my wrist.

"Are you ready to talk about this now?" she demands, tracing the marks with a finger. I shiver at the touch.

"No." She doesn't fight me when I retract my arm. I drape it off the edge of the bed, turning my palm down so the scars are hidden again.

"If you've got a problem, you should talk to somebody."

I shoot her a sharp glance. "And that somebody is you, I guess?"

"I mean, I'm here." She rolls off to the side, resting her head on my shoulder. A few quiet moments pass before she says softly, "I've been there, you know. I never did anything, but I thought about it."

I try to think about her, this flirtatious, lively, devilish woman, as I had been. I can't imagine her holding a knife to herself, crying in the dark. "You love life."

"I love distraction," she corrects me. She turns her head up and I can feel her breath on the bottom of my chin. I don't move as she admits, "I've got an ex-boyfriend I'm trying to forget."

Me too. I don't say the words out loud. It's not true, I'm not trying to forget him. I'm just trying to forget his sorrowful eyes as I left him in that villa. I'm trying to drown out the sound of his pleading voice, begging me to stay, saying we can get through the shit together. I often wish I had just listened to him; had turned around and let him hold me in his arms, murmur that he loved me, and continued on. My life would have been different. Better. Instead, I had been scared and walked away.

Fancy reaches a hand up, brushing away the tears I don't realize have slipped down my face. Her hands feel warm to the touch. She sits up and watches me for a moment, her eyes searching for something. Whatever she finds, it makes her cup her hands on my jaw, leaning toward me. This kiss is gentle, none of the rough passion we usually share. Her lips are soft against mine, feather light and tender. It feels more intimate.

She lays back down, resting her head on me again. She traces circles on my skin.

"He was abusive," she says randomly. It takes me a moment to realize she's gone back to the topic from before. "So I left him. And now I fuck around to try and remove the feeling of his hands on me. I thought once what it would be like to be rid of him permanently, but I wasn't brave enough."

"There's nothing brave about it," I say. My words are bland, toneless. I stare at the ceiling. "It's a cowardly move."

"You can't help what you feel."

I close my eyes. I've never spoken about almost killing myself to anyone. Nobody has been with me long enough to notice my attempt. I'm not sure if it's annoyance or relief I feel that Fancy wants to talk about it. On the one hand, someone would know. On the other… someone would know. The thought of placing my secret in another person's hands is terrifying to me. But there's a part of me craves the trust that would come with it, and the intimacy. I take a deep breath and Fancy goes motionless.

"I ran away from someone I shouldn't have," I start shakily. "I made a lot of mistakes after that. I almost got married but I left her too. I had my own business but it wasn't as satisfying as I thought it would be. It just got to be too much. So I decided it would be better if I just ended it. I came really close too."

"What was it like?" The curiosity in her voice makes my eyes fly open.

"What?"

She sits up and stares at me, a peculiar light in her eyes. "In that moment. What was it like?"

I think about the night five months ago when all my festering emotions came to a head. I can still feel the sharp metal on my arm. The pain had been almost unbearable as I dragged the knife along the taut skin. The blood had been warm as it dribbled out. I remember lying down, the sheets rough against my back, holding my phone to my face for a while, watching a video of my love's face, listening to him say my name over and over again. The thought that he would be the last thing I saw, the last person I'd hear had been like a balm on the fear that welled up in my chest as I felt consciousness leave me.

"I was petrified at first," I admit after a while. "Then my mind went blank and I was more at peace. I was ready to die."

"But you didn't."

My mouth twitches. "No, I didn't. I woke up an hour later." I don't mention the text that I saw when my eyes opened. The message from the one person I never thought I would hear from again, as if he knew what I had done. It had been a simple hello, and I had responded in kind, intending to leave it at that, but he kept sending texts, keeping me from drifting off into oblivion again. I don't tell her that I called him, just to hear him talk to me. He couldn't have known he was talking to me after an attempt at my own life, but I could tell he knew something was wrong. His voice had been kind and soothing as he spoke.

Fancy touches my face, bringing me back to the present. "I'm glad," she whispers. She gives me that gentle kiss again. But as she moves down my chest, I realize it's not her I'm seeing but him. I imagine it's him trailing down my body, rubbing me in the right places. When she looks up at me, it's his eyes I see, warm and loving. I blink and he's gone and I feel a pang of sadness course through me. I stop Fancy before she can go any lower.

"Later," I say, pulling her back up. She nestles against me. Before long, she's asleep, her breathing slow and steady. I continue to stare blankly into the air, one arm around her body. My mind is a whirlwind of memories and thoughts. After all this time, after all the women I've slept with, even after almost a year with one of them, he's still the only one I can think about at the end of the day. His laugh echoes around my head. I can see his half smirk as if he were standing right in front of me. I wonder what he would say if he were here.

Fuck, Freddy, you look awful.

I smile a little at the thought. Those are exactly the words that would leave his mouth. Then he would proceed to fix me up, making fun of my methods of drowning him out. He wouldn't hate me for what I did to him, he would just try to pick up where we left off. He would kiss me, and say everything would get better, now that we were together again.

I close my eyes, his face swimming in my mind as I drift off to sleep.

~~~~~ The next morning, Fancy wakes me up by poking me in the side.

"Hmm?" I mumble.

"I've just gotten a text from my sister."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I just haven't gone to see her in a while. She's asking me to come visit."

"Alright, go ahead then," I say, starting to roll over, but she catches my shoulder. She asks shyly,

"Will you come with me?"

I open my eyes slowly to look at her, surprised. Increased intimacy, yeah sure. Exclusivity, fine. But meeting family? I hadn't realized we'd reached developed a relationship that meant enough to warrant that. "I don't… I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I mean, we're not really anything, are we?"

"Come on, it's been months. I haven't been with anyone else. Unless there's someone on the side for you?" She hovers over me, lips pursed together in a cute little pout. I give her a reassuring kiss.

"There's not."

"I've already told them I'm seeing you, so they want to meet you."

I raise a brow. "You told them about me?"

"I had to explain why I wasn't visiting anymore. So, will you come?"

I hesitate. There is a line in the sand that I'm not sure I want to cross. She is asking for something more from me and did I really want to start going down this path? All three of my last relationships ended terribly and I hadn't been with anyone seriously in two years. But Fancy had pulled me out of a downward spiral. I'm not losing myself in alcohol and smoke every night. Instead, I am almost sane again, and I look forward to seeing her texts every day. She makes me want to live again. The least I could do would be to do this for her.

"Yeah, alright," I say, sitting up.

"Well come on then, get up. We've got to go! " She yanks the blanket off with a happy shriek.

"What, right now?"

"They want us there for lunch." She rummages in my closet while I take a shower, pulling out a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans. It doesn't do anything for my pale features, but I don't complain. Nothing could make me look better. Next to me, she looks like a bright flower, in a little red dress and a yellow scarf wrapped around her neck.

Within an hour, we're standing outside a white building with balconies jutting out above the street. The townhouse looks pristine with its window boxes and autumn wreath on the door. Fancy clasps my hand and squeezes tight.

"Ready?" I give her a slight nod and we walk up to the door. She taps rapidly on it, then takes my hand again. She seems nervous. A minute later, the door opens to reveal a woman who could be Fancy's twin. She's got the same burnished auburn hair, though hers is cut short to her shoulders. They share the bright brown eyes that reflect the warmth of the sunlight. The woman turns those eyes to me, running them down my body before letting them rest on my face for an uncomfortable amount of time. She smiles tightly.

"This is him?" she asks. Even their voices sound similar.

Fancy leans into me. I suspect it's more to support herself than to comfort me. "This is Freddy."

"Is he sick, or does he always look like this?"

"Mercy!" Fancy chides, pushing her way inside.

"Well, come in then. Grace has just arrived so we can start."

We follow her sister into the house. The inside is just as perfect as the outside. Everything looks professionally cleaned and the couches look like they haven't been sat on for years. She leads us to the kitchen off to the side, to the table in the middle of the room, where another woman sits in front of a bag of Maccies. Her blonde hair hides her face, but when she hears us walk in, she lifts her head, flinging her hair behind her.

"Oh, thank god," she says, tearing into the bag. "I'm starving."

"Grace, don't be rude. Say hello before you stuff your face." Grace already has chips in her mouth. She mumbles a hello around the food, giving me a little wave. The red-haired woman rolls her eyes and turns to me. "That is Grace."

I can't help the bark of laughter that comes out. "Sorry," I say as all three of them give me weird looks. "It's just your names. And you're eating fast food. It doesn't seem like it fits."

Mercy smiles winningly. "It's a guilty pleasure. Come on, sit down. We weren't sure what you wanted so we just got you a burger and some chips."

"That's fine," I tell her, taking my place next to Fancy. She rests her hand on my knee with a little squeeze. She lets her sisters grill me on where I'm from, my family, my job. I learn that Mercy is a psychiatrist and Grace is a doctor at the local hospital. They each have husbands who are notably missing. When I ask, Mercy just says,

"We didn't want you to be intimidated."

They tell me stories about growing up together and I admit to feeling a little jealous. As an only child, I never had interactions like that. When they run out of childhood stories, they go back to asking me questions. When the food is gone, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. On my way back, the sisters' voices float to me and I stop short.

"Is he sick?"

"No.”

"I can see the entire bone structure of his face. Is he a druggie?"

"No!" Fancy shrieks. "He's got his own business. Now, stop it, both of you. He's just had a rough time of it. He's a good person. He makes me feel… happy again."

"It's good to see you smiling," Mercy sounds soft, caring. "You look like less of a wreck too."

"Thanks."

"Honestly," Grace says, "I never thought you'd find anyone else after— ow! What?"

"Don't say his name, not in this house.”

"Sorry."

"Listen, Fancy," Mercy's voice takes on a cautious tone. "Mam asked after you yesterday. Asked if you'd like to come to Christmas dinner this year."

There are few moments of uneasy silence pass by. I can't walk in there now, not when there's clearly a moment going on, so I stay in the hallway, listening.

"Why?" Fancy finally demands. Her words come out clip and chilly.

"She said she regrets what happened between you two. She'd have called you herself, but she doesn't have your number."

"It's been seven years."

"She wants to make amends, Fancy," Grace says.

"Why?" Fancy asks again.

"She's been thinking about family. She wants us all together this year. Start over."

"She's the one that kicked me out."

"Yeah, and she made a mistake. Give her a chance."

"Why should I, when she never gave me one."

"Be the bigger person, Fancy."

"What about Da? Is he going to let me come back?"

"Da will do whatever Mam wants."

Fancy is quiet and then I hear her push her chair back. I push away from the wall I'm leaning against and make it look like I'm just on my way back. I walk into the kitchen at the same time she walks out and we bump into each other. I steady her with a hand.

"Are you alright?" I whisper to her.

"Fine." She looks to her sisters over her shoulder. "I'll consider about it."

Mercy nods. "That's why I told you now, so you'd have time to think on it."

Fancy smiles wryly. "Thanks. We're leaving now."

She grabs my arm and drags me down the hallway. I give a quick wave goodbye before we're out the door. The car ride back is silent and tense. I let her brood until we're at my place again. She goes to the bedroom while I set about making a pot of tea for us. When I bring the steaming mug to her, I find her lying in the bed with the covers over her head. I sit on the edge, putting the cup on the ground. I rub her through the blanket.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She groans. I climb over her and settle in the bed on her other side. When she lifts her head, I see that her eyes are red and puffy, streaks of makeup running down her cheeks. I pull her toward me, tucking her head under my chin. We lay like that for an hour, her sobbing into my chest, me holding her tight. When her weeping turns into soft whimpers, I ask again,

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Instead of answering me, she tilts her head up and starts kissing me. She shifts on top of me, the need for distraction evident in her touch. I oblige her. She moves with a fierceness that hasn't been present since the beginning of our relationship. It's like she's trying to forget the world again. So I kiss her lips, her cheeks, the space between her neck and shoulders. She moans and grinds herself against me in fervor. I flip her over and start dragging her dress up her legs. She paws at my chest, bunching my shirt in her hands. I pull it off, letting her fingers roam my chest. But this is not the moment for slow and passionate moves. Our coupling is rough and quick. When we're done, I roll off her, letting her shift to her side, her back to me. I tuck her in close and breath in her scent. Right as I'm about to drift off, she stirs. She turns over. I can feel her watching me, so I crack an eye.

"Do you love your parents?" I just nod my head. "I don't. Does that make me a bad person?"

I prop myself up on an elbow, looking down at her. Running a finger along her exposed shoulder, I say, "I got lucky with my parents. They've been there for me through everything. But if yours weren't good to you, you aren't obligated to love them."

"My mam wants me to come home for Christmas."

"Do you want to go?"

"I don't know." Fancy buries her head in the pillow again. "I haven't seen them in seven years. It would be nice, but I don't know if it will turn out like she thinks it will."

"That bad?"

"They kicked me out because I wouldn't go to medical school and I haven't been back since. What would you do?"

I haven't seen my parents in six years, haven't been back to their home in ten. I'd jump at the chance to spend the holidays with them, but they've loved me from day one, so it's hard for me to answer her. I settle for,

"Can you forgive them?"

Fancy glares at me. "Are you my shrink?"

I shrug. "It's important. If you can't find it in yourself to forgive them, then you shouldn't go back. Not until you can put the past behind you."

"You're incredibly attractive when you're talking sagely. Come here," she stretches her hands out to me.

I give her a smirk. "Again?"

"Just hold me, idiot."

I pull her close to my body. She falls asleep with her head against my chest.

#romance #story time #love #opening up #freddy #writblr #writing #writer

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opheliasbrokenmind · 5 years

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jealous boy - thomas shelby

word count: 2,9K

a/n: hii! i just updated a headcanon yesterday i know but i’m working on this one for a while and wanted to share it with you quickly. i wrote this in my mother language months ago so i thought i can try to translate it. i ended up changing the end but i think this is a good one. i’ll work on the requests for a while from now. let me know what you think, i love y’all.

'Ada, no. There's no way I'm wearing this piece of shit, it's fucking too short.' You looked at the dress on you with a disgusted face. It revealed your body and you weren't going to wear it for a first date. 'Don't talk like you're a priestess or something, will ya? Just wear it and fuck off.' Ada frowned and when her door opened, she became angrier, if that was even possible. 'Have you heard what is knocking in your life??' John didn't answer to her sister, he just smirked and entered into the room while throwing his cigarette. He scowled when he saw you, 'Jesus! Fuck Alfie Solomons, take off that fucking dress.'

You grinned, finally, someone agreed with you. Ada screamed and threw you a black dress, 'What's next, ay? You're gonna join the church choir or something?' You rolled your eyes and went to the bathroom to try the dress. 'She'll look like going to a funeral John.' You heard Ada and opened the door, the dress was simple yet elegant. It looked classy. 'Fuck, the only funeral she's going to will be Alfie fucking Solomons'.' John winked and you reddened a little. 'Eh, not so bad. Come'ere, you need some makeup.' You followed her commands and after ten minutes, you were ready with your cherry red lips.

The reflection on the mirror pleased you, you wore your black high heels and turned to John, 'How do I look?' His smile widened, 'Hot as fuck. He won't be able to keep his dick in his pants.' You blushed, 'Ew, I won't fuck him.' With your words John's face became serious, and that wasn't a normal thing when he was around you, 'y/n, I'm gonna ask you a question and I want you to be honest. What do you really think about Alfie?' He looked at you with expectation. You couldn't help but wonder why was he asking that, you answered anyway.

'Well, he seems like a nice man. But you know what? I don't see him as a date, he is just a friend to me. The only reason I'm keeping my word is that Tommy told me to do him a favour. Why did you ask by the way?' He saw the curiosity in your bright eyes, 'Nothing special, just wondered. Now, go and fuck him.' You laughed, he always knew how to make you smile. Ada hummed about you could be a lot sexier but you didn't mind her and went downstairs. Polly scoped you out but didn't say anything. You felt odd because she was the one who always makes good comments about your outfit.

Arthur's reaction was more different... 'For fuck's sake, does that fucking Solomons have something we don't?' You smiled, 'Definitely not, Arthur.' When you blew him a kiss he smiled and continued to drink his whiskey. Thomas was also there and you were sure that he knew you came. He didn't say anything and he didn't even bother to look at you, what was wrong with him? Usual Tommy, you thought. Pretending like I'm not here, stone-hearted arrogant.

That was impossible that he was acting like that because you were going on a date, he was the one who accepted when Alfie asked him to take you on a date. When the doorbell rang, Arthur answered it. You looked at John immediately, 'Should I remove the lipstick?' He shook his head, 'Nope, I'm pretty sure that there will be no lipstick at the end of the night.' You sighed and turned around.

Alife was talking with Arthur, then he saw you and gaped. 'God, you're so beautiful.' You blushed uncontrollably and hummed a quiet thanks. Ada pushed you a little and you found yourself walking to him. 'Hello to you, too, Alfie.' You froze with Tommy's cold voice, but Alfie didn't give a damn about him. 'Hello, Tommy, my friend!' They shared a quick conversation and Alfie nodded to John.

'Now leave and take your hot chick with you, Solomons.' Arthur joked and you slightly blushed again. Alfie offered you an arm, 'Shall we, love?' You nodded and took his arm. You felt a pair of eyes on your back until leaving the house, they felt like knives and you knew that they could belong to just one person, Thomas Shelby. He didn't even say goodbye to you and now what was that? Alfie's voice interrupted your thoughts. 'We have a quiet one'ere, don't we?'

'No, I was just thinking. Sorry.' He smiled, ''s okay, love.' You continued to walk and arrived at an expensive and lux restaurant, he said that he made a reservation. You sipped red wine while waiting for your orders. 'So, you are here, in Birmingham for just a few months and already earned Shelby family's trust?' You answered simply, 'Yes, it's no big deal.' He continued to talk, 'What about Tommy? How did he accept you easily?' You sighed, was he questioning you? 'I don't know, maybe you should ask himself.'

You felt uncomfortable and he noticed, 'Okay, relax.' He kept trying, 'I'm sure that everybody noticed you with your beautiful face, don't you have someone with you?' You sighed, 'Maybe I'm not that sympathetic, you know?' You sent him a threatening look, hoping that he won't piss you off more. 'I don't agree, you are cute.' You forced a smile and you two continued to talk. He could be a good friend, you thought.

When your meals finished he suggested to go to Garrison, you accepted willingly. He was trying to flirt with you for minutes and you knew that Shelbys will be there to save you. The cheque came and you said that you can pay for your food but he refused and laughed. You stormed off and waited for him outside, liting a cigarette. You were a businesswoman and you hated getting into bad situations like this.

You couldn't help but compare him with Thomas. You remembered the time you went to dinner with Tommy. One of your friends went on a date with Michael and she asked you to look after her. You accepted and you knew that it would be suspicious if you go alone so you asked Thomas to go with you. He accepted and you brought work that evening. However, you two opened as time passed by and you never wanted it to end. That evening you spent time with a whole different Thomas, the one he chooses to hide and you loved that man. You knew that you could do anything to talk again with that chatty, kind Tommy again.

He let you pay for your meal and you saw the respect in his mesmerizing eyes that night. He was impressed by a powerful woman who was able to handle herself, he admired you. Alfie came to you and you pushed your thoughts, started to walk with him. He made some jokes and you laughed, talked a little. When you finally arrived at Garrison, you walked to the table where the family members were. You sat next to John, started to chat with him. Alfie was watching you.

'Let me look at ya,' John whispered and you turned your face to him. He looked at your lips and frowned, 'Lipstick is still'ere, what a pity.' You rolled your eyes playfully, 'Of course, it is. I don't look him that way, John. By the way, where's Tommy?' His smile disappeared and you felt nervous. 'Oh, don't ask me, please. He is there, snogging with that sticky barmaid.' You couldn't believe what you heard and looked at the direction he showed to you.

Thomas was there, the barmaid was trying to kiss him hard but he was still the dominant one. You noticed that he was definitely drunk, that wasn't a thing that happened often. Polly once said that he rarely gets drunk and when he did, it was because he couldn't control his thoughts. What he couldn't control? you thought. Then you saw that the barmaid was playing with his hair and this sent a shiver down your spine. You knew how much he hated when someone touched his hair, but he was there and saying nothing.

You couldn't help but feel awful, you knew that you were never more than a friend to him but you felt awful anyway. 'Disgusting.' You murmured and John nodded, 'Go get us some whiskey.' You stood up and went to Harry to ask for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He handed you the things and you came back to the table. John immediately poured two glasses and you drank it quickly. You had no idea about Thomas was watching you.

John hugged you with one arm, it meant nothing more than a friendly hug but Alfie frowned. 'Jesus, what a whore.' You looked at the other table with John's voice and saw that the barmaid was now sitting on Tommy's lap. He leaned back his head and her lips were going down on his neck. You felt sick and averted your gaze, didn't want to see the scene. 'I can't watch it anymore.' Arthur nodded and continued to smoke.

You noticed that Polly was looking at you, so you turned to her. She shook her head and didn't say anything. 'Stop watching, John. People said that he wasn't with any girls for years and now look at him, letting a sneaky barmaid touch him. Why do you think he is acting like that?' You asked and his eyes looked directly at you. 'Are you really asking that? Oh, y/n... I don't think that you'll be happy when I tell you the truth.' You didn't understand him, what was he talking about?

You smiled, 'Spill the tea, Johnny boy. Nothing can surprise me more now.' Oh, you were wrong. 'We all thought you knew this but it seems like you have no idea. Just wondering, are you blind?' You gestured him to continue and he sighed, 'Tommy loves you.' You couldn't breathe and gasped for air, 'Excuse me, what? Stop kidding.' You coughed again and a small smile played on his lips. 'That's the truth. He was mad when he came home and told us Alfie will take you on a date. Then he forced himself to hate you and didn't even look at your face today.'

'But when you left with Alfie... We struggled at stopping him, he was too angry for his own good. He is with that evil since we came here. There's no doubt that he is dead drunk now. He tries to forget you or make you jealous, maybe both. We... didn't know what to do, y/n. He's too stubborn to tell you the truth.' You closed your eyes, you had no idea about what you were going to do. The man you liked for months had feelings for you but... Could you trust him after what he had done? Was it his fault? Definitely not, you knew this at least. You should have refused Alfie's offer at first, and tell him that you'd prefer a date with him. You sighed, opened your eyes and took a long sip from your drink.

'Bored, are we?' Alfie smiled across the table and you didn't smile back. 'We can leave, y'know? I know a good place nearby and would like to take you there, ay.' You glared at him, 'Did I get that right, Alfie? You think I'm gonna sleep with you?' He laughed, ''course it is. What did ya think, doll?' His careless words made you angrier, 'You think I'm a whore?' He threw a look to you, 'You tell me. Tommy said that I'm free to do everything with you. Isn't it make you one?'

'Fuck off.' You raised your voice, 'I'm not a whore. You're looking at the wrong place, I'm sure that you can find one in Thomas Shelby's lap!' Everyone was watching you, including Tommy and Grace. Questioning eyes turned to them and Thomas told her to leave, gaining a slap from Grace. She left the pub and Alfie followed behind her. John grinned, 'Can't believe you did this.' You responded sarcastically, 'Did I do something wrong?' Ada smiled warmly, 'I'm glad that blonde bitch left 'ere.'

Thomas came to your table and you ignored his eyes. The family got up and you left with them. You all walked quietly, the cold wind blew to your small frame. John took off his thick coat and placed it to your bare shoulders. You murmured a simple thanks to him. 'I'll go to my place, good night.' Ada stopped you, 'There's no way I'm leaving you alone this night, sweetheart. If you don't come with us, I'll make you come anyway.' You didn't try to refuse again, you knew she was as stubborn as his brother.

Arthur took a sip from the whiskey bottle he carried, 'What were you doing with that girl, Tommy? Are you insane?' He laughed. 'I wanted to have fun.' You turned your eyes to the ground and avoided his gaze, knowing that he was mad at you. Polly took another drag from her cigarette, she made an unhappy sound. 'You don't look like you're having fun, do ya?' John asked, knowing exactly his brother was everything but happy. 'Actually, I could enjoy my night if someone didn't make her angry.' You felt a shiver down your spine and your stomach ached but you didn't even look at him.

Then you finally arrived at the home and you immediately climbed upstairs to go to the room Polly gave to you since you started visiting the house. You took off your high heels and tried to open your zipper. However, you couldn't do it and sighed. Your door opened and you thought it was Ada, 'Can you help me, please?' You said and the person closed the distance, a hand pushed your hair to your neck and revealed your back. Then the fingers touched your warm skin and they found their way to the zipper. You noticed that it wasn't Ada, the hands opened the zipper slowly and the long fingers traced your skin. 'Don't you fucking dare to touch me again.' You hissed, turning back to face with him.

He was in front of you now, Tommy. His drunk eyes and sad face hurt you in a way you couldn't explain. He took a step closer to you and you stepped back, 'Please, don't touch me. I don't want to see you.' The dress loosening around your curves and showing your skin, his eyes lingered on your body for a second. 'y/n, what's the problem?' He asked slowly, his face softened. His pure voice making you swallow, you answered. 'You tell me, Tommy. Do you think I won't notice? You're not talking to me since Alfie asked me out, you didn't even look at my face. What's it?' He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed. You gestured him to speak.

'You think I don't look at you? Jesus, are you joking? Your face is the only one I want to see all day, every day. But, I'm not going to confess my feelings now. I'm not spilling my secrets to you, I won't give you the chance to learn my pathetic intentions. The big Tommy Shelby, ay! Falling for a girl he knows for months and desperate for her love. It hurts, y/n. It really hurts. You don't even like me.' You listened to him open-mouthed, trying to choose what to say for a response.

'You're stupid, Tommy. You believe that I don't even like you? Do you have an idea about why did I go out with that fucker? Because you fucking wanted me to do, because I care about what you want! I care about you. I tried to tolerate him for hours just for you and what happened? I found you with a girl on your lap!' Now, it was his turn to be shocked, was he imagining things or were you really standing there? He shut his eyes and opened, just to see you again. 'I... I'm sorry.'

'I wish you had talked to me first, y'know. I'd prefer learning what you feel from you, not from your brother. If I need to be optimistic, at least we spoke. Now go to your room and rest, you'll have a hell hangover. We're gonna discuss these later, alright?' You looked at his beautiful face, he seemed like a Greek god to you with his sharp cheekbones. 'Promise?' He asked like he wanted to be sure. 'Promise, Tommy.' You gave him a sincere smile. 'Okay, I'm leaving but first..' He paused, not sure about what he was going to say. You felt nervous.

'Where's my goodnight kiss, ay?' You couldn't help but chuckle, you weren't waiting for this. 'C'mere.' You said and he closed the distance again, smiling lightly. He closed his piercing eyes, you enjoyed the view of his long eyelashes. You had to stand up to reach his height, you left a small kiss to his right cheek. His smooth skin warm under your lips, you cherished every second. Then you took a step back and looked at him for the last time that night, 'Goodnight, Tommy.'

He walked to the door and talked quietly before leaving your room, 'Goodnight, love.'

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