#I physically cannot get away from the light thats hurting me

[montysoup]

I BLOODY HATE HEADAHCES AHSGDHDGEGSHHEGFREFFFT5YF.

The pressure of keyboard smashing hurt my head so I will retry

I hate headahces ahhhhhghsjrifhflairhfhdvriqbrit5yf

[vypridae]

9!!! 10!!! 11!! 12!! 13!!! or pick and choose <3

IDK WHICH FANDOMS U MEAN BUT IM GONNA DO EACH ONE AND ILL JUST PUT MY HAZBIN/HELLUVA ANSWERS UNDER A CUT SO U DONT HAVE TO SEE THEM

9. worst part of canon

ok the worst part of dgrp canon has to be the way they handle characterization, like especially with trauma. specifically in mind i have korekiyo rn, like they mega rushed his entire Thing and wrote it in a way that paints HIM in a terrible awful light when it very likely (or definitely) wasnt that at all, but the way it was written just fucks up so, so much. also the Danganronpa Repitition TM (flashbacks to

bsd uuuh oh my god i have to think about this one cuz i love bsd with a passion BAHAHA its hard to find flaws with that one (in part i havent consumed the media in forever), ik it might be just bc the series is still being written but its irritating that some things from like the first seasons are just not touched upon again? and maybe its because ihavent read the manga but like. did atsushi join the ada and suddenly the bounty on his head is just Gone? am i misremembering if they went back to that or not its been like a year since ive watched bsd i need to rewatch it but thats about all i can think of. im not even mad about the not killing any characters because fyodor is alive still

10. worst part of fanon

dgrp has a TERRIBLEEEE shipping fandom. i hated oumasai for the longest fucking time because i encountered this one rper way back when that like was a mega red flag SBGJKFDHGKA i hated them for a while after that (then they grew on me). you get shit on for liking, like, the more toxic ships in the fandom no matter your reasonings or whatever, and i feel like its just a really negative place to be a shipper that likes to explore bad dynamics (such as i)

i think the worst part of bsd fanon is similar. shipping sides of fandoms are ALWAYS bad i feel like, and there are a lot of people that will be like "skk is real fuck you for shipping anything else" or like "if u ship nikolai with anyone but fyodor i dont trust u" or something like??? its a fucking ship chill out its fictional it doesnt hurt anyone irl CALM DOWN

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

for bsd uh . only two surprisingly, and its two ships that i cannot physically make myself like?? thats all apparently

for dgrp i have uuh two and its literally also only two ships that i dont like BHASFKAHSK

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

for bsd am i allowed to say fyodor? idk if he necessarily counts as "unpopular" but i see way more hate of him than i see people liking him, but god fucking dammit i love him with my whole heart. hes so evil and those kinds of characters litearlly just make me gravitate towards them, hes so smart and cunning and you can do so much with his character, especially learning his ability oh my god? jhes so complex and i love him

for dgrp, i feel like every character is "unpopular" BAHSAJKAHk but for this i think i wanna go with chiaki. people hate chiaki because shes "boring" or at least they Did back when i first got into the series but shes so different in the game compared to the anime because the game shes based on her classmates' memories of her! shes only this "perfect" individual because thats how her entire class saw her, like she was made the class rep for a reason

13. worst blorboficiation

ok this one im trying to figure out what the fuck the definition is BAHAJSHFAJK from what im SEEING its like, the character that doesnt deserve to be liked as much as they are. (i dont think i answered this one correctly but shh its fine)

for bsd thats really hard for me to think of because i like literally every character but uuh if i had to say one ig i'd say uuh . maybe dazai? i feel like this is in part because people typically take away from dazai's entire complex everything because he's too complex for a lot of people (including me) to truly understand, like im not saying i understand him but i feel like a lot of people will take the wrong parts of him/exclude anything they dont like about him and go with that? if that counts but idk i still like dazai so i cant say that too much

for dgrp its the exact same situation with kokichi. they take his character, of which is incredibly complex, and dumb it down into the typical fandom woobification of "uwu baby who cant do anything wrong" LIKE!!! STOP!!! NO HE IS NOT!!! HE IS SO COMPLEX AND YOU'RE LIKING HIS CHARACTER FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS!!! people that dont understand the complexity behind certain characters and are incapable of taking that as their blorbo and instead creating this silly incorrect version in their mind and making THAT their blorbo i just. thats not ur blorbo atp thats ur oc my guy

hazbin/helluva answers

9. worst part of canon

both of these shows are kinda not the best when it comes to being serious???? like there are some topics that shouldnt be joked about i feel like, and there are points in the shows that joke in relation to these topics. also theres not enough voxval but thats a criticism for another time

10. worst part of fanon

not even just the ships tbh, its liking any character thats either painted in a negative light or is just generally unpopular. the ships too but i could get to that another time. for EXAMPLE, me, i like valentino. a lot. he's one of my favorite characters. i feel like i cannot express the fact i love val because i will get called an ACTUAL rapist for saying it because "if you like val you condone his actions and thus are a rapist/terrible person/etc" when thats absolutely not at all how it works. i acknowledge that val is terrible, i understand that its bad, but i can still enjoy him as a character otherwise. his actions are what i dont like, ive never liked him (i actually hated him at first because of it but then i saw him being more silly in the series with vox and he grew on me), but you will actively get told to kys if you say that you even REMOTELY enjoy vals character

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

i have none for helluva but for hazbin i have four. three of which are for the sAME SHIP and one is another ship i dont like

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

MIMZYYYY dude she gets so much unnecessary hate. like, everyone sees her as annoying and terrible and i GUESS i can see where they're coming from but a. theyre in hell, everyone's terrible, b. people just see her as annoying because she interrupted hells greatest dad and they dont like that because they want their radioapple song or wtvr. i love her and no one can convince me otherwise

13. worst blorboficiation

ok THIS one i might actually be able to answer with the correct definition of blorboification. i feel like alastor gets way too much unnecessary love, and maybe thats just because i think hes too popular for being what he is but hes just not all that to me. like, hes a good character, yes, but some people like him to an extent that i feel like doesnt do him justice?? its like i said with uuuuuh the dgrp side of this question, they dumb down his character a lot and are just generally bad at making him ACCURATE to the point its irritating. (hey so yk how i said i could answer with the right definition of this i lied)

[scentedchildnacho]

I am alright....i tried to pick a sleeping spot as homeless recommended it....there are over populations of males here and women have to learn immigration about split personality like a lot of light to be allowed color and appearance changes or male homosexual problems stalk everything single women do

Many single women have to learn police about protective custody or male homosexual neo Nazi problems stalk everything I do

Calling it split personality is maybe kind of overly moral but what is many languages for a single person someone that never learned slowly to trully connect with and love their origin

So I woke up at like three in the morning having to go to the bathroom really bad but I only drank around 32 ounces of water yesterday but I felt like I had been dosed with a diuretic

So I found out it's a place people pick up homosexual males for sex services apparently and if your around them they try to force public exposure

If your in that area weirdos call them so they will make you pee on someone that tries to mate at you

Compass stations claimed they were mentals but this tattoo intake chick had a sarcoma on her jaw till I almost yelled at her for being so stupid with body product

Stop putting the tattoo lotion care on your body you look like an aids tumor

Dugas.....you people never stop begging whites for money and turning financialism into an eve ill get away from me or white people will kill you

I dont know i have to love what my mother gave me and believe fixed astrological signs can like model types and not do things for myself but you all can mutilate your skin and get aids?

My lotion from compass station of course has paraffin....

So I won't be able to stay in escondido because if you won't have babies and get married they stalk women with men also....and if I ever again have to have gender theory so pro male affluance i would have to kill a single occupant vehicle

I had to have severe stomach cramps then sit in an adult diaper till if I have to see any worthless reefer thief that truly has no purpose for being around but trying to get a handicap I would have to do what they expect of young male homosexuals which is kill it

These old felons reefers are promised revenge housing and if I can't have family housing taxation I would have to finally help kill one instead of dump it into my hatred to see if it can survive it

All those families in India will they will be a royal democracy and have little millionaire lives

Anyway this Irish little lady in Alaska told me her man with her was a nomad so she here cannot have over a twelve inch waist

Run away from Escondido or no Irish will put ya in a Sylvia plath ward

They hate Irish people here

Its a male pick up spot and you have to endure pre emptive jail conditions or areas in any way naturally pleasant for men and Tarzan will club Jane and drag her away

Thats me about men they go through superiority testing compared to women and still stalk into schools when they aren't targeted as a race minority

Al jazeera and Arab news said Biden gave money to Israel so it appears to be Israelis......that feel they have a metanoia pharmaceutical market here

I don't understand any of it it appears a time warp to me I don't know any woman physically capable of five children that many births is a very rude expectation and one has to look at people like their a dictator advocate for expecting endurance

Margaret Mead and the great dust bowl...each generation smaller and fairer so michael ondaatje anje was a big boned woman and people almost thought she was a transexual.....

Vermin...it can be health food but if people can use financialism to horde things till their unsanitary they do so who is the surveyor

Nina carnell is a German artist that will play fair evil she enjoys experimenting on invertebrates and collecting erosion so trust me health food can really hurt you

I am okay people prayed more that I had more decent women acquaintances so I would prefer having slept better and moving on but people pray for more open protest of buy it now

The women mostly apologize to me that they feel like they steal from me they do have advanced physical needs and special cultures and shouldn't have to be here

It's been my experience that the physical handicaps are still owned by people who created their handicap so I would have to suggest places that the owners are like people who did it to them

My owner will keep moving me around until I'm also physically handicapped....I just view it as at least now I don't have to be a surgical...and do what I can before

I liked watching al jazeera people use to stalk me with hope that life would be normal again and now I don't ever have to believe that things will get better

Sure I would join the world food company though netanyahu will kill it....there is a high chance of unintentional casualty everywhere you go.....they believe that quitting addiction is a pain that truly enlightens them so it's by the minute some type of suicide bomb comes around

Its California and everyone has been hit by a drunk driver

I assured her I would be leaving....the shelters keep stalking me with coed policy and if staff in there is trained for a maximum security male jail I would rather smell bad then endure mens capability

They file you a male in Holocaust documents and will treat you like a piece of meat and I'm 43 I'm too old and weak to forgive systems for male only thinking

If even one man is around it will reek of feced viral conditions and they will vaccine is all health care is and steal all your gear

Its truly wrong to vaccine women women truly do sacrifice their income and military pension so children survive

[kirozai]

Hey I don’t know if the requests are open but if they are could you please write something about how would the archons act if in the villain au we needed physical therapy to be able to move after they almost killed us

Ps English isn’t my first language so I apologize for any mistakes

a finished product and a cup of tea 💧anon, ;)

_____________________________________________

oh archons…

SFW, angst with comfort, mentions of blood, happy ending , genshin cult, if you want a painful ending tell me

zhongli

you know that horrible feeling in your stomach when you know you messed up? like really fucking bad? like to the point that it twist and turn and you feel like you cant breath? but when your trying to get help you to yourself your unworthy, and well, your right, to yourself at least. thats how zhongli thinks. how he thinks what grave mistake he had done. you are his god and forever will be. he knows you’ll heal fine, but deep down he doesn’t believe himself. he’s in a loop, no matter how many times you accept his apologies for making you feel this way for making you be in pain, he will never. ever ever accept himself. as a god and an adepti. he will do anything for you to forgive him. even though you have. he will beat himself up mentally and physically. he did everything he promised not to do. you’re here getting physical therapy and it’s all because of him. he is nothing. but with darkness comes light. although you should never forget the darkness, open yourself to light. that is how you shall heal. and thats what he did. after all of the begging and tears. the seeing of the bloody, gruesome act he did. no no, he cannot erase the past, but he can change the future. your past does not define you. but it does take you on a path. that same path zhongli walked. you are his god and you forgave him. so he will do anything and everything to make sure you heal and are happy. yes he did hurt you, but you forgave him. and thats all that matters.

venti

you were the god who made him feel… free. yet he took your freedom. the freedom of running. it pains him to see you. he’s aware of what he did. unlike zhongli, the first thing he does is not if he is worthy enough. its that if you’d be able to heal well. after all, forget venti, worry about you. he knows that you might never be able to forgive him but as long as you can walk and be free, watching from afar is good enough for him. he wants your forgiveness truly.. but when you actually give it to him, he doesn’t know how to react… he’s thankful at the least… but. why would you forgive him? if he was an all powerful god who got hurt and couldn’t even walk without physical therapy he would never ever speak to the people who did it. but why have you forgiven him? what is the reason? you are truly more then he thought you were. if you do let him back in your cult the he will do anything and everything. water? sure, food? sure, throw someone off a roof? sure!

baal

isolation. isolation from the world. isolation from her friends, if she has any. she’d run away like every other problem she had. yet. she continues to watch you from afar. she doesn’t know what to so. how to deal with all the pain. she never did. just like her sister when she fell. your fragile body. pure and hopeful. she should’ve known it was you. how can the others forgive themselves so easily!?! why does she have to be the one stuck in the plane? its her fault isn’t it? she should’ve been smarter, and maybe then you wouldn’t have to get physical therapy. but for now. she will watch. 5 she will wait. one day for you to come into her and find the eternity with you that she was waiting for.

______________________________________________

woah

kirozai out?

edited:no

[solletichi]

I saw that headcanons were open and I was wondering if you had any for the Hunter x Hunter gang? Gon, Killua, Kurapika, and Leorio. Hope you’re having a good day so far and remember to hydrate💖

DUDE YOU ARE LITERALLY ENABLING ME BC THEY ARE EXACTLY WHO I WANTED TO DO HEADCANONS FOR AHDHJDJSNS THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

gon

okay so first things first !!! as a lee, gon is absolutely ADORABLE i mean hes always adorable but still!!

aunt mito used to tickle him all the time to cheer him up and he honestly doesnt even mind it because it does make him feel better!!

although he is pretty ticklish and the experience can get uncomfortable at times, he overall enjoys it because both parties are smiling and laughing and its just fun for everyone!!

but as a ler… man he can actually be pretty evil!!

he starts out very gentle and playful but if his lee is being stubborn then he kicks it up a notch and gets DEVIOUS

this especially happens a lot with killua, since this boy is in mega denial over being ticklish

he enjoys making people smile and teasing them but always backs off before his lee is too overwhelmed, he doesnt want anyone to have a bad experience!!

killua

OH BOY

so as a lee…….!,!?$,8::9/&;&;&;

HES JUST SO TICKLISH PLEASE SAVE HIM

and the thing was he never even knew this until, of course, gon tried tickling him!

growing up as an assassin he had never experienced anything as joyful and silly as tickling before… at least not until he met gon

the only thing prevented him from begging for mercy right away is his pride and how stubborn he is

but thats fine since gon is super stubborn too

hes just not used to the sensation of being tickled and gets overwhelmed just a tad quickly

but once he gets used to it hes totally down for tickle fights!!

he loves to dish it out but boy he cannot take it

once he gets revenge on gon for tickling him he realizes how satisfying it is to be on the other end of the tickles

needless to say, these two dorks tickle each other a lot…

…but eventually they want to drag the other two into their chaos, which brings me to… *dramatic pause*

kurapika

so kurapika is pretty ticklish and pretty much intended on keeping this a secret for the rest of his life lol

but of course, two kids + one big doofus just couldnt let that happen

hes pretty ticklish all over but moreso in unconventional spots like his knees and back/shoulders and such

he dislikes how being tickled makes him lose his composure and how out of control he is, but when hes around gon, killua and leorio he cant bring himself to be mad at them

so one day leorio accidentally found out kurapika was ticklish and said something along the lines of “wow kurapika, who knew you of all people would be ticklish” and unfortunately for kurapika, gon and killua overheard this

then it got pretty chaotic lol

but kurapika got his payback eventually of course

as a ler he is devastatingly gentle, 10/10 guaranteed to destroy any lee

he isnt used to physical touch, especially touching or tickling others, so he takes care to not hurt them which just makes it so much worse for his lee

hes the type to casually remark out loud how ticklish his lee is, unintentionally teasing them and making it so much worse

when he gets more comfortable around certain people he gets more playful and mischievous, initiating tickles more often, though this will take a while for him

leorio

TICKLE MONSTER ALERT

leorio prides himself on being the king of tickle fights due to not being ticklish at all, but its only so long until the truth comes to light

while it is true that he isnt super ticklish in all the typical spots, you can really get him if you for his back/shoulders and also his ribs but only if youre SUPER gentle

other than that, good luck trying to tickle him lol

especially since he will 100% get revenge on you

or maybe it isnt even revenge, maybe its out of boredom since he tends to be very affectionate and tickle people often

gon and killua made the fatal mistake of trying to drag leorio into a tickle fight when leorio promptly wrecked both of them

kurapika just watched from a distance since he unsuccessfully tried to tickle leorio many times himself (excuse my leopika bias)

however after being patient enough kurapika eventually did find leorio’s ticklish spots and passed the information along to gon and killua

leorio is also a very goofy ler who laughs along with his lee!! he just finds it so entertaining and stuff

basically they are all one big happy family the end

[harrysweasleys]

a day in the life // f.w

request: Hi Alexaaaa So someone brought up this idea on my blog and i wanna request it id thats alright with you. So like imagine Fred having an auror wife and stuff and him being v protective and not wanting her to go on this dangerous mission but she goes anyway but gets really badly injured and poor freddie is worried sick. I love comfort fics i cannot lie and i hope u like this request thank you

warnings: mentions of explosions, injury, blood, and food

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hey guys! i hope you all had a wonderful week and that everyone is safe! the new year is right around the corner, can you believe it? where did the time go?? anyways, this was such a fun request and i loved writing it so much, so i hope you all enjoy! xx

“For the last bloody time, Freddie, it’s going to be fine,” you groaned, your head tossing backwards as you repeated the words to your husband for what felt like the thousandth time.

He crossed his arms, “I know you can handle yourself, but please. Please, for me, be careful. Don’t let anyone get the jump on you.”

A small smile made its way onto your lips and you placed your hands on his shoulders, “I always return, don’t I?”

“Yes,” he grumbled. You knew he hated it when you went off on dangerous missions — how couldn’t he? You were his wife. It was practically an oath of his to protect you. A vow. There was no way he’d let you run into the jaws of death without giving you a rough time beforehand. He always had something to say about it.

And he often did just that. He’d go on and on about how you could get hurt, how something could go terribly wrong and he could be left by himself. How you needed to see things from his point of view. You’d then spend the morning comforting him and convincing him you’d be fine, but at the end of the day, he’d always give you a bone crushing hug, muttering “glad you’re home safe” as he did so.

“I’ll be home in time for dinner, yeah?” you asked, standing up on your tip toes and pressing a light kiss on his nose. He scrunched up his face as you did so. You could tell he was trying to act upset at your leaving, but he couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when, in his thinking, it could be the last time he sees you.

“Fine,” his lips stuck out in a small pout, one of his hands reaching up to run through your hair, “Stay safe, love.”

You brought your hand to his, lifting it to your lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “Love you. See you soon. I’ll be fine.”

He then tossed your hand to the side — gently, of course — and brought your lips to his. His hand was cupped under your chin, fingers causing a slight ticklish feeling as they delicately moved against your skin. But the feeling went practically unnoticed as you lost yourself in his kiss. His kiss that often rendered you breathless and weak in the knees.

You could feel his love and protectiveness in the gesture and it almost made you want to call in sick so you could stay curled up in bed with him, ignoring the world’s problems and acting as you two were the only people on the planet.

But, sadly, that couldn’t happen.

So you gingerly pulled away, already missing his warm lips against yours, and muttered a quiet “I’ll be fine,” once again before beginning to button your jacket.

It was going to be a long day.

Hours later and you were, in fact, not fine.

The mission had gone horribly wrong, leaving you with a heavily bandaged left arm, a throbbing head, and a group of St Mungo’s best Healers giving you countless antidotes and potions to prevent bleeding and further damage. You had only really been in for about an hour, but the swelling in the left side of your body had gone down heavily.

The pain was still rather horrendous, but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Especially not with the current levels of exhaustion floating through your body. You felt as if any second now, you could completely pass out and stay asleep for the next seven years. And you wouldn’t even complain.

Pain really did take a toll on one’s body.

What was even more draining, though, was the fact that your Healer told you you’d have to stay the night. You trusted the staff at St Mungo’s with your life — it wasn’t exactly the first time you’ve been treated here, to be honest — but the room you were staying in was incredibly chilly and the food here was never as good as at home.

Plus, here, you didn’t have Fred’s body curled up next to you.

Fred.

He had gotten the message an hour ago that you were here and he said he’d close up shop early to come see you. They said he sounded rather when they sent someone to deliver the message, but you knew he’d barge in through those doors with wide eyes and panic written across every inch of his face. He was never one to really hide away from his worry, but you had seen him silent on a few occasions. Usually when he was in shock.

You felt awful. Both physically and emotionally. Fred had every right to be paranoid about you leaving the house; this wasn’t your first injury. And yet, you spent every morning persuading him to let you go. Fast forward to today, where you were currently bandaged in an uncomfortable bed at St Mungo’s. Not an ideal ending to your day, to be honest. And not an ideal piece of news for Fred to receive.

“Your husband is here, should we let him in?” one of the healers came to your side, checking under the bandage on your hand before nudging her head in the direction of the hallway.

A small groan left your throat, “Of course.”

She walked towards the door to the room and opened it, Fred’s frantic face finding its way to your bedside as quickly as possible. You could see the paleness of his skin, making his usually fiery hair stand out even more. His sweater was badly buttoned, and you were pretty sure the scarf he was wearing was on backwards.

If the situation was any different to the way it was right now, you’d probably have a good chuckle.

His hands immediately found yours, giving small, gentle squeezes as if he would break you if he put any more pressure, “Love, are you okay? What happened? Are you badly hurt?”

You let out a sigh with a small smile, “Freddie, I’m fine. It’s just some minor bumps and bruises. I got caught in the middle of an explosive curse, it’s fine.”

He pulled his hands away from yours and sat on the small metal chair next to the bed, pulling it as close to you as he could, his eyes scanning every inch of you as if he were doing his own evaluation, “It’s fine?! I was worried out of my bloody mind, woman. Can you imagine the panic when some bloke comes to tell me my wife’s at Mungo’s? Bloody thought you were dying.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you joked, rolling your eyes playfully before reaching your hand out to grab his, toying with the wedding band on his left hand, “I just have to stay here for the night. I’ll be home first thing tomorrow.”

“You have to stay?” his bottom lip stuck out, the childish pout on his face adding to the guilt fluttering in your chest.

You sat up slightly, trying to limit the weight on your bad arm, “I’m sorry, love. It’s for precaution. I don’t want to leave and make things worse. But, I promise, as soon as I’m discharged, we are heading home and doing nothing all day, yeah?”

“Well, I’ll stay here with you tonight ,” he puffed out his chest slightly as if he was a superhero, causing a bubble of laughter to erupt from your chest. Maybe it was just the exhaustion from your day, bud Fred’s sense of humour really never failed to get to you. Even at the worst of times.

Your eyes began to droop, but you gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know that even though you were fading, you were still listening and conscious. The last thing you wanted, now that he was here, was to leave him alone in the cold room. Cold, both in temperature and in atmosphere.

“You look tired, love,” his voice was soft, gentle. Loving. All the things you wanted to hear right now. If you were honest, you were worried he was going to be furious. Not at you, per say, but at what happened. So the fact that he was being caring and sweet meant more to you than you could begin to express.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed soothing circles on the back of your hand, “Tired? Me? Never.”

His laugh was quiet but you could hear it loud and clear, “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you get up.”

You didn’t want to sleep, to be honest. You wanted to sit up and talk to him. To let him know you were sorry and just what went wrong today. You knew he’d listen, and would most likely panic a bit more when you told him the details — but he’d be comforting. And that was kind of what you needed right now.

But, alas, your body had other ideas, and before you knew it, you were sound asleep.

“I can handle it myself,” you groaned, both hands gripped tightly on the jar of jelly, twisting with all of your might and still, somehow, not getting the lid to pop off.

Fred stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips, “Alright, I’ll just watch from here.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, turning back to the jar and focusing all of your strength into opening it. Which wasn’t saying much, to be fair. You hardly had your strength back, and your body was still as sore as ever. You should probably give the jar to Fred, but your inner stubbornness told you to do it yourself. You couldn’t improve if everyone did everything for you.

“You’re sure?” his voice was laced with amusement as he held back a laugh, watching as your cheeks turned red from the amount of force you put into opening this jelly jar. You were surprised it hadn’t broken, but then again, were you even applying that much force?

“I’m fine!” you grumbled, using your sleeve to prevent the skin on your hand from getting irritated, your palm already bright pink from excessive use.

But it seemed to be no use. Your toast will have gone cold by now, and your breakfast just wouldn’t taste the same.

“Fine, here,” you mumbled, sticking your arm out and pushing the small jar into Fred’s chest, your bottom lick stuck out in a pout that could rival your husbands, “I hate feeling useless.”

He popped the lid of the jar as if it were nothing before handing it back to you, “I know, love. But you’re not useless. Your body just needs time to recuperate, yeah? Can’t go pushing your limits or you’ll just end up back in St Mungo’s, and I reckon you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that,” you replied, beginning to spread the contents of the jar onto your now-cold toast, “I’m just bored. I miss work. I stay home alone all the time.”

His arms slithered around your waist, giving you a light squeeze as he rested his head atop yours, “Georgie’s taking over the shop today so I can stay here with you. We can do whatever you want.” His warmth spread through your body.

You had to admit, that did lift your spirits a little bit. The whole day at home with your husband? That sounded like quite the treat.

“Really?” you turned to face him, his arms still wrapped around your waist, but he took a step back so you could actually look up at him, “The whole day?”

“Course,” he grinned, pressing his lips to your forehead, “Gotta take care of my girl.”

The day hadn’t been overly eventful; a few cuddles on the couch, a few cuddles in the bed, listening to music, sitting next to Fred and watching telly as he organized paperwork for the shop. Just a few small things. But being with him for the whole day, it really did make you feel a million times better than you had all week.

Maybe that was his plan. To use his very presence as a way to cheer you up. Whether he did it knowingly or not, it did the trick. And now, the aches and pains in your body seemed to dissolve as he ran his hands up and down your arms, the two of you curled up in bed and ready for another night’s sleep.

“Thanks for spending the day with me,” your shot him a smile, but highly doubted that he’d see it in the dark, “I already feel loads better.”

“Of course you do,” his voice sounded cocky even though you couldn’t quite make out his face, “I make anyone feel better. I’m a real treat.”

You scoffed, “Yeah, I adore your humbleness. That’s why I married you.”

One of his hands slid around your waist and pulled you closer to him, body flushed against his. He was still gentle as if not to hurt you, “Not the only reason you married me, love.”

“Right, I also married you for George. I don’t know what I’d do without that chap in my life,” you teased, one of your hands finding it’s way into Fred’s hair, twirling at the strands that were starting to get long. Not as long as when you were in school together, but long enough that it covered his ears and often made you tuck a few strands behind his ear.

“You wound me,” he tried to pull away, but you held onto him enough that he couldn’t. Your strength was starting to come back, which was a massive improvement.

“I’m actually the wounded one,” you rebutted, your face finding it’s usual spot in the crook of his neck, his warmth encasing you like one of his hugs.

His arms wrapped around you, “You can’t be wounded anymore! I gave you so much love. That should have healed you.”

You giggled, placing a light kiss as the nape between his neck and shoulder, “Silly me. Your love has healed me, that’s very true.”

Fred might have had a certain reputation while the two of you were in school. But now, with your marriage only getting better by the day, you couldn’t help but see him as just one thing. As Fred. Your husband, your lover, and the man who would throw himself into a fire if it meant saving your life.

You lucked out more than you can even begin to express, and you would continue to be so for the remainder of your days.

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[kanesthirstblog]

NSFW ALPHABET: ABE HARUAKI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Requires lots of aftercare but also wants to take care of you. Very clingly, like, will latch onto you and cuddle you for the rest of the night clingy. You should probably give him some reassurance or comfort, he seems like the type to stress about whether or not he was any good to you once the fun is over.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Hmmm... Totally the sappy kinda guy who tells you he loves all of your body and thinks it's beautiful and 100% means every praise he sings you about it. He loves everything about you from your soft hair to the tips of your toes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

God. Just imagining him sprawled out on any surface with an exhausted yet dopey look in his eyes, covered in his own cum (and/or yours of course!) after a few rounds of sex really makes me feel satisfied. Really can't explain this one

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Secretly a bit of a masochist but also scared of being hurt so he never asks even if he really wants to.

Also secretly owns a couple erotic novels he used as "research" when you first brought up wanting a sexual relationship. Since you are his first, he would want to see how he's supposed to act in that scenenrio so he could please you properly. (But damn was he shocked when you wanted to be the dominant one. That wasn't in his books.) Haruaki learns the importance of communication that day.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dudes a canon virgin y'all. This also excites me.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Secretly loves it when he's on his back so he can see your face as you ride him or peg him. He just thinks you're the prettiest person he's evermet and loves watching you even as you tease or toy with him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's a sappy guy. Would probably look at you like a puppy who sees someone they really love. Besides that he's have that dopey look like he's never been happier than he is in that moment, smiling up at you.

Once you've had sex a couple times he might start opening up more, cracking jokes and asking shy requests from you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yup. Makes sure he's nice and clean especially

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He really tries hard to be romantic but he has 0 experience in this area and often fumbles his way through it by trying to be sweet and make you feel good. Very bad at saying romantic things and would probably give up after a bit before he dies from embarassment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Tbh I actually think he'd barely masturbate if he did at all. This is partly because I actually have an asexual headcanon for him and partly cause in canon he seems really put off by sexual things if not being outright afraid of them.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Contrary to some of the fandom headcanons, I don't really imagine the sailor uniform thing as a kink. It just seems like a typical fixation or something that gets played up for laughs to a strange degree. But maybe thats my ADHD dumbass brain projecting my ADHD onto a fave. (Off topic but him knowing everything about sailor uniforms, from design to creation, being able to make them himself, getting happy any time he sees one, ect. Are headcanons I have because his weird fixation with them reminds me of my fixation on rocks, mushrooms, and jewelry.)

HOWEVER

Praise kink. Body worship. He'd love to be pet gently while you tell him how pretty he is. How you love his soft hair or his long legs or slender form as you lightly trail you fingertips down his body or card fingers through his hair. And he would do the same for you too.

Might at least try pegging, and then realizes he actually likes it when you hold him down and pound his ass.

Would be too embarrassed and a bit scared to bring this up but actually likes the idea being treated roughly. If you could pull at his hair and bite him even a little bit he'd practically melt in your hands.

Might try bondage if it's light. Soft hand cuffs or silk ropes are the way to go.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

At home. Anywhere is fine as long as its at home

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The fastest way is probably being physical with him or just stripping for him. He gets embarassed and tries to hide but you know he's aroused, you can feel it when you sit on his lap.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He'd probably not be okay with having more than one partner. You might frighten him if he starts feeling like you guys are ganging up on him.

Public/semi-public sex is a no go. Especially since he is a teacher, he wouldn't risk his job on the off chance you both get caught.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think he actually might no be very into oral at first. But will give or recieve though you may have to hear some complaint about it being kind of unsanitary or something. He's also kinda bad a giving oral but what did you expect? He's a virgin.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Personally prefers the slow and sensual kinda sex but you set the pace regardless so ultimately it's up to you. He won't be turned into a stuttering mess right away if you guys take it slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Alright with it as long as it stays private. You'll be the only one asking for these but try to get him in the morning before he leaves for work so you can corner him against a counter. Its best when his back is turned so you can grab his hair and lick along his throat, nipping here and there. He'd shiver in your arms as you trail a hand down to undo his pants

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it isn't a risk to him (would probably be too scared to try knifeplay) or job (no public/semi-public sex) you could probably talk him into it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hmmm... Depends I guess. I feel like he might only be active for a round or maybe 2 before he starts slowing down. You could still pound the guy into the mattress but he'll have those half lidded doe eyes cloudy with exhaustion. He'd wrap his arms around you loosely as if you'll help ground him to the waking world and try to hold you closer to him.

At that point you should definitely ask a few times before you start another round to make sure he's okay and reassure him that it's alright to stop now. Strikes me as someone who could easily fall into a place where he'd hide his desire to stop just so you can use him for your own fun since it makes you happy. That could be kinda bad for his mental health.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You'd be the one with all the toys tbh. But you can sure as hell use them on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not much of a tease but if he's feeling playful, he might play up the innocent look of his. He really is a pretty innocent guy actually, but he knows you love that sweet look he's got to him and he will use it on you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So damn loud. This guy would moan and beg loudly, scream your name and plead for mercy, for relief as you all but eat him alive. Might even cry and whine and beg. Oh, but he tries to be quiet so he doesn't risk disturbing anyone. He'd purse his lips and turn away from you while you play with his body in an attempt to stay quiet but he always gives in quickly. It's easy to turn this guy into a whimpering, begging mess no matter how many times you do this.

You'll know when he's tired because he will be unable to make much noise besides low pants and gasps. Probably best to wrap things up at that point before ya fuck him unconcious.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I have a few actually.

-Has a hard time saying no to you. He's a bit cowardly and overthinks and he would be afraid to lose a first relationship. This is potentially hazardous to his mental health because he might say "yes" to something he doesn't want for fear of losing you. Consent is important though so even if it's difficult at first, keep checking to make sure he's alright.

-I actually headcanon him as a sex indifferent asexual. He can 100% live with sex or without it. Doesn't matter to him, though he's terrified of trying it for the first time.

-The first time you tried to get him in bed, you pinned him to a wall and he was terrified because he thought you were trying to shake him down or harass him. (Well, the latter part was true but not the way he expected.) And then you kissed him and he straight up broke, wrapped himself in blankets and hid under the futon for the rest of the day. Disappointing? Sure, but damn was it cute.

-I'm actually caught up on how he would take to dirty talk tbh since a lot of it I've seen or heard involves some form or another of calling your partner a slut or whatever. Seems to be popular. On one hand if he's secretly a masochist, he might be into it. But on the other, he also seems like he might take anything you say to him to heart and beat himself up over it and would ultimately not like it. Also probably would not be comfortable if he did the dirty talking and assuming he manages to make it through the night without apologizing to you for everything he says, then you'll hear it when you finish.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Mandragora patterned briefs. You cannot change my mind on this one.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not very, so he's pretty chill about it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how much you exhausted him but it usually doesn't take that long.

Bonus:

Some more cute Haruaki.

[orionwhispers]

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!) 

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart. 

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

[lostonehero]

Maxie did not enjoy dwelling on his past, no not the recent past with Gyrdon and team magma, more of his childhood. Archie kept inviting him over for family events and it kept reminding him of his own family in Sinnoh. Nobody really asked they all assumed Maxie was from Honen even if he dressed weird, but that wasn't true. He never did want to go home too many bad memories.

Maxie thought back to his parents they were scientist, he had older siblings but he was never allowd to meet them, you see he was a accident he wasn't suppose to be born. His parent decided that it was great to have an extra child, Maxie didn't even get out of the womb before experimentation started. He shudders at the thoughts of the years of needles his body changing. Then he ran away at 16, he was a angry teen. Years of experiments and abuse woukd do that to him, camomile his soon to be camerupt was another pokemon he managed to escape with. He tried the gym challenge but it didn't truly appeal to him.

That's when he started to figure himself out, he liked men and that wasn't allowd so he started a protest which lead to creating a band. That was the best until the raid, he lost his arm that day and a few inches due to his spine being shattered. He lost his voice and had to wear glasses after pepper spray directly in his eyes and mouth.

He was arrested after a year of physical therapy he only arrived in Honen when he turned 23 after two years in prison. He was still angry so he started to research, maybe that is why he started team magma. He doesn't regret meeting his team and his admins they were like another family to him like his band once was.

Granted that is all over and he now sits next to Archie's father and mother they keep nudging him to ask Archie out. Maxie always refused, but he did have feelings for Archie but he was also 30 years his senior, and he didn't want Archie to bury him. He knows the only reason he survived that raid is what his parents done, and he also knows that his body is in terrible shape so he wouldn't want to put Archie in that position. Granted Archie loved his metal arm.

......

Maxie was zoning out as the conversation turned to background noise until Archie's father gave a slap to his back bringing him back to reality. "Uh yes?"

He snickers. "Archie tells me you're volunteering to help out research for us old me."

Maxie sighs "yeah it will help with my community service, I'm not expecting much its just me heading into a tube while machines buzz." He shrugs. "They didn't really explain things to me, but I don't mind because no needles."

"I see well if it works my son is still pining for you."

Maxie's face goes slightly red "its not that type of device."

Archie's father burst into laughter "ah you are easy to trase no wonder why my boy loves you."

Maxie sighs still conflicted with his feelings for Archie, that man knows barely anything about him and he is so young he doesn't deserve someone on there way out like Maxie. He frowns getting up. "Thank you for tonight but I fear I have an early morning tell everyone I left I dont want them blowing up my phone in worry for me."

He sighs and nods "Maxie im serious just give it a chance."

Maxie says nothing as he leaves

.......

Maxie enters the human sized test tube is what he is calling this. He just sighed Steven was watching excited to see the outcome. He didn't really want to think about this he wasn't really listening when they were explaining what was going to happen. Archie was also watching Maxie of course was red face since he is just in boxers.

Archie gave him a wink as the machine whirled to life. Maxie shivered feeling movement under his skin he always wanted to blame this on what happened during the raid, but he knew it was from his parents. He always hid or took care of whatever mutations he had. Call it self harm but after the raid it stopped probably due to the stress on his body. A pink and gray smoke vapor surrounds Maxie as he looses himself in his own thoughts. Until a burning hot pain enters in his lungs and he starts to cough, his vision blurs and he passes out.

.....

"...just look at him Shelly...... is this how he looked when he was younger...... I can see his muscles...... no I am not drooling."

That was Archie's voice, Maxie focused on that he remembered being in the tube then pain and then nothing. He took a deep breath and gives a heavy sigh no pain with that. Wait no pain? Maxie shot up sitting up straight. "What happened? " he studies his body something clicking in his head. "Why... no what uh where are my clothes."

"Maxie you're awake." Archie was like bouncing off the wall like an excited poochenya puppy. "So the experiment went sideways but you're ok and like 30 years younger."

Maxie was stunned he didn't know what else to say. He still had his metal arm, and he felt fine without pain, but he shivered feeling things move under his skin. "I- I uh I." His mind short circuits trying to process this.

Archie frowns. "Are you ok hot head?"

Maxie sighs smiling at that nickname. "Just let me get used to this."

.....

Its been a few weeks, and Archie cannot handle how good twenty something year old Maxie looks. He loved the older man before and now he can't stop drooling over how good he looks. Granted that hasn't stopped his concerned seeing weird things under Maxie's skin and he swore he felt horns when he messed up his hair the other day. It wasn't as if they were hurting Maxie it just looked uncomfortable.

Archie realized he knew very little about Maxie and how he grew up. He knew Maxie was from sinnoh and he used to dabble in music but thats about it. He sighs to himself he wanted to know more about his hot headed rival turned companion, but he didn't know how to start.

Maybe thats how he ended up bringing a drunk Maxie back to his place to stop him from traveling drunk this late. "Max you really need to limit yourself."

"Pshh Archie I can handle my liquor just fine." He says before puking in the bushes. "Mmh I still have no tolerance." He giggles to himself.

"Maxie I told you to limit yourself." Archie sighs this isn't the first time he has taken home a drunk Maxie. He just noticed Maxie drink more when family was brought up. He just asked if he had any siblings.

"Never met my siblings." Maxie mutters catching Archie off guard. "I was a mistake, I was never suppose to happen." He says cheerfully as of he was sharing good news. "So so so uh...." he giggles "I forgot what I was talking about."

Archie had a sinking feeling in his chest like he wasn't suppose to hear this. "Ok Max thats enough drinking for now." He knew drunk Maxie could not lie, and he also knew drunk Maxie loved to talk.

"But Archie I love you" Maxie giggles clinging onto Archie practically hanging on.

"Maxie when you're sober."

"But Archie."

"No "

Maxie pouts which looks pretty cute to Archie.

.......

Maxie woke up with a pounding headache in a familiar guest room and groans. He really needed to quit drinking. He sighs getting up heading to the bathroom and groans. Two yellow horns poked through his red hair like warning lights. He groans again holding his head knowing what this is. "Only took less then a week of being young again for the mutations to rear there ugly head." He hated what his parents made him. The only good part is that he can talk and understand his pokemon.

Archie was knocking on his door probably with clean clothes.

Maxie internally curses and grabs a towel to wrap around his head and rushes to answer the door. "Hey Archie thanks " he grabs the clothes and slams the door in Archie's face.

"Maxie why do you have horns?"

Maxie looks up and realizes in his rush the towel fell off and he sighs opening the door and pulling Archie inside forgetting how strong he is.

Archie gives a oof as he falls to the floor as the door closes.

"You can't tell anyone Archie, you just can't I haven't had time to file these down. Its only been a week in a younger body and woopdedoo my mutations are back again." He was pacing trying to calm himself.

"Maxie?"

"Im nothing but a freak thanks to them and I can't even do anything about it at least with my broken body older form my body was under so much stress no mutations had a chance to actually occur because they were so focused on keeping me alive."

"Maxie"

"And now you know and I can't just take it back. I wanted to tell you so badly because I loved you but now this and I can't stop it. I always had time to cut them off or saw off the extra stuff sure it was bloody but it worked."

"MAXIE"

Maxie stops and nearly stumbled onto himself "yes?"

"Are you ok?"

"I mean I'm not in pain if thats what you're asking."

"Maxie.... what uh er pokemon are thoes horns from? I don't recognize it?"

This question stopped Maxie he never really thought about that before. What pokemon was the mutations based on more then one? He didn't know. "I don't know?"

"Oh ok do they hurt?"

"No its like uh hair but thicker."

"Why yellow and not red to match your hair hot head?" He smirks

Maxie scowls trying to hide a smile. "I don't know Archie why do you ask stupid questions you water logged baffoon"

Archie stiffled a laugh knowing he succeeded in calming down Maxie. "Come on I'll make you breakfast, you're probably hungover."

Maxie sighs knowing he is right

[eleven-times-lively]

I Thought You Hated Me-Part 1

Part 1/3 Can I request a really angsty Remus fic where he's best friends with the reader and is in love with her and he tells her and she's just like "We can't be together" and hes all confused and hurt because he thinks that its cause hes an werewolf so then he gets mad and is like "I thought you werent like that". And she starts crying because thats not why and hse gets so upset that shes just like "Im gay, god damnit"

Summary: Remus loves you, but doesn’t realize you like girls, so what follows is an emotional roller-coaster on both sides. Word Count: 719 Note: I physically cannot describe how much I love this request and concept!! This will have a happy ending, I promise!💕

Part 2 Part 3

“Hey, y/n, over here!” you heard your best friend Sirius call out from across the great hall. You made your way over to your best friends--which also included James and Remus--and took a seat at the large wooden table. “How are ya, dear? Barely saw ya last night after you disappeared in the library.” “Sorry, mates. This potions exam has me off the plot this week.” Your notion was met with knowing nods from the group. “I know you’ll do great,” Remus began, “you’re so smart and potions is your best subject, love.” He smiled at you, a light blush crossing his cheeks. He scooted closer to you on the bench, but you thought nothing of it. He was your best friend, after all. “Thanks, Moons. That means a lot.” You returned the smile and went back to your breakfast before you.

***

Later that day in charms, you started to notice Remus acting differently. “Hey y/n,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “your hand motions are bloody perfect, dear.” “Oh...uh… thanks, Moony.” Of course you were used to compliments and him touching you, but the sheer amount today seemed excessive. You had also caught Sirius and James staring at the two of you more than a few times throughout the day. “Are you alright today?” “Pardon?” he responded. “More than alright, y/n.” “It’s just that you’ve been acting a little… different.” “What, so now it’s raising questions to compliment my best friend? How else will you know how amazing you are?” You just chuckled and shook your head, brushing off any wayward concerns that were lingering. “Glad that I have three very supportive best friends.” “Well sure, but me more than them, right?” “What?” “Excuse me, Mr. Lupin and Miss y/l/n,” Professor cut in, “am I interrupting something?” Looks like you wouldn’t get your chance to question his statement… at least for now.

***

“Y/n!” You heard James shout as he bounded into the common room with Remus and Sirius. “Hey guys!” you said back to them, standing from the couch to meet them just inside the doorway. “You know, it’s getting late,” Sirius piped up, “we should be heading to bed.” “But it’s only eig-” you began, but as if choreographed everyone cleared out of the common room within seconds, leaving just you and Remus standing there together. “Why don’t we head to the couch,” Remus suggested, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” You were absolutely confused, but sat down on the couch with him anyway. “So this isn’t easy to say, by any means,” he began, sitting facing you, “I’ve felt this way for a long, long time y/n. I can’t believed I’d just sat idly by all these years when-” “Remus, wait,” you said, realisation setting in as to where this conversation was going. “Y/n, no, just let me finish, please,” he searched your face, but it remained blank. “I love you, y/n. Since second year. For four years now I have loved you with all my heart, but I could never say anything. I don’t know if  I was scared of a relationship, or rejection, or.. I don’t even know, but I do know that I want to be with you so bad, y/n.” You just stared at him, blinking back tears and unable to have a coherent thought. “Y/n, please, say something.” “Remus, I-... We-... I’m so sorry, we can’t be together.” “What the hell, y/n!?” “Pardon?” “You’re my best friend, and have been for six years! You’ve always been so supportive of me being a… a werewolf, and you’ve always assured me that you’d always be there for me and you don’t care. So what happened? I thought you weren’t like that?” He was clearly angry, his words growing more tense and sharp with each sentence. That was until he heard you sniffling and looked up from the carpet. He was met with your bright red face, tears streaming down your face. “Y/n?” “You absolute prat! I’m gay, damnit!” You ran away, practically sobbing, and crashed face-first into James’ chest. Great, you thought, they’d been listening. “Y/n, wait,” Sirius tried to grab you but you were already up the girls’ stairs, leaving the dumbfounded trio behind.

[tumblebee-the-smol-bean]

What about another classification universe but everyone is a cg. Everyone but Logan. Logan's on the baby side of regressing and once he found out (he's younger then the rest) he hid. The others had already subconsciously been babying him. He breaks down one day when him and Roman get into another playful fight and everything comes to light. Maybe he has an accident and tries so hard to prove he's big but the others aren't having it and baby him to no end.

.””okie dokie! this took sooooo long to get out. apologies but motivation to write is hard, I appreciate the ask. (:

Logan sat in his living room staring blankly at the TV as it played a nature documentary he’d seen a thousand times. He’d gotten his letter today. Everyone else had gotten theirs a year ago since they were all older than him. Thats just what happens when you’re in highschool and have a summer birthday.

He’d known what he was going to get of course, in terms of class. He’d picked up on his own tendencies and the questions were fairly obvious, at least to him. No Logan wasn’t shaken up because he got classified as a regressor, he’d known that would be the result for quite some time. What freaked him out was how young his age range was estimated to be.

0-18 months. That didn’t even reach the two year mark. It was ridiculous, he was clearly intelligent, he had aced all of his classes thus far, being a baby just didn’t make any sense. He sighed to himself, perhaps a mistake was made, that happened sometimes, he would go back and get retested as soon as possible, perhaps swing the questionnaire just to make sure.

While he was thinking about it his phone pinged and he glanced over at it reflexively, a message from patton.

Hey kiddo! Congrats on getting your classification today! I’m so so so excited for you!!! Why don’t you come over and we can talk about it? Ro and Dee are here too.  :D 

Logan shook his head, of course. He should have expected a message such as this. Patton was a caregiver as was everyone in the group it seemed, everyone except him...As such they tended to all baby him without really thinking about it even though for all they knew he could have been a caregiver himself. 

Roman would always try and defend his honor, whatever that meant, Virgil tended to be overprotective of Logan and very cautious around him and for him, Janus would always be the one to convince him to take a break from his much overdone essay and take a nap, Remus didn’t threaten to disembowel him at the drop of a hat, and Patton while he acted as everyone’s father figure to an extent was always much more so with Logan.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to go over and “discuss” seeing as he didn’t know how he felt about it himself, he knew it was unlikely Patton would drop it seeing as they seemed to have these discussions every time someone in the group got classified, something Patton’s psych major brother Emile had recommended. Logan had always been behind it, it made logical sense, but just not with himself. Sorry. I cannot as I am busy, my apologies.

Then he locked his phone, he didn’t feel like getting in a texting war with Patton asking about his feelings. He suddenly felt very very drained. It was time for a nap.

oOo

Logan woke up to 20 missed messages and a knocking at the door. He groaned, whoever it was could- “Lo? It’s Patton. are you in there?”

of course Patton had come to check on him. No doubt Virgil convinced him something terrible had happened but he really wasn’t in the mood right now. He swung open the door to tell him he was fine and to go away and let him sleep but before he could Roman, who apparently had come with him as well as Janus pushed his way past him into his house.

“Roman! what are you doing?!”

He snorted “Well I’m coming in and making myself comfortable for the chat obviously. Shame on you for scaring Patton like that.”

Logan purses his lips. Of course Roman was doing this. He always did. It wasn’t fair! He felt like stomping his foot for a moment before realizing how ludicrous and unhelpful it would be. “Roman, kindly get out of my home. I have no intention of discussion, my class is my business” well at least it was out in the open now. “Lo...” Patton had shuffled in behind Roman and looked torn between apologizing for the dramatic one’s behavior and having a ‘talk’ with Logan. Janus puts a hand on his shoulder to stop this. “Hold on a second dear Patton, their banter always is fun to watch.” Patton looks very disapproving at him for that but its too late, the playfight has already started. “Ohoho! So the nerd wants to be all secretive huh?” Roman smirked “Roman, I am not in the mood” Logan glared “Go home and take Patton and Janus with you” he turned around to go back to his room. “goodbye”

“Awww, but that’s no fun!” he smiled and it looked as mischievous as one of Remus’s which Logan decided was definitely worrying and not at all comforting “Buuuuut I bet you hide all your stuff in a boring place...under your bed maybe? If you won’t tell me maybe I’ll just have a little look-see” he dashes off in that direction before Logan can do anything. Patton dashes after him. “ROMAN NO!”

A cold feeling seized in Logan’s chest. This didn’t feel playful anymore, at least not to him. Normally he would stop Roman himself and proceed to yell at him and berate him for a half hour but now...He broke down sobbing and fell to the floor. someone is saying something. His ears told him. Someone is saying your name, someone is crying, oh wait...that’s you. “Logan?” Janus tried. The boy had just collapsed and started wailing, he knew things were getting heated but he never expected this reaction from him unless....of course.  “Logan darling, its okay,” he put on his caregiver voice and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder to try a bit of physical contact “Shhhhh, shhh, love it’s okay, you’re alright.” 

“N-no! gonna, f-fin me out!”

“oh sweetheart” Jan sighed “I think we already have” He began to cry harder upon hearing that and Janus was quick to move to the couch with him as Patton finally emerged from Logan’s bedroom with a very guilty looking Roman after stopping him from snooping.  “Oh poor thing!” he cooed and rushed over “Aww, I’m so sorry baby, Ro didn’t mean to make you sad. He shouldn’t have done that” he shot a pointed glance at Roman “But he didn’t mean to hurt you little star, how old are you baby?”

Logan raised his head from where he had burried it in Janus’s shirt and blinked owlishly at Patton.

“mmm” “well that wasn’t exactly an answer” Roman mumbled only to yell “OW! Hey!” when Janus swatted him atop the head “Do try not to be stupid right now Roman, we need all the braincells you have to take care of this one, and that was an answer, since he didn’t respond with actual words he’s obviously a baby. Patton will you go get a few of the supplies I keep in my car?” Patton nodded and went to go do as requested while Logan frowned. He wasn’t a baby, he couldn’t be a baby. He was supposed to be smart. He was Logan Berry. He was not a baby. So he pushed himself as far as he could out of that warm soft space. Turns out he couldn’t push very far since he ended up in the mindset of a toddler. “Not a baby!” he insisted to Janus, with what said side personally thought was an adorable pout. “Oh no?” he raised an eyebrow, two seconds ago Logan wasn’t even forming words and now he was in an arguing mood it seemed. “Well color me surprised, are you by chance repressing your headspace Logan”

Crap Janus was onto him and his friend was scarily good at detecting lies. Still, he had to try, 

“Noooo”

Janus tutted, “Thats what I thought, why are you doing that to yourself little one? You know we don’t mind you being extra small.  But that was just it wasn’t it? Logan started to tear up again. Why couldn’t he have just been an older regressor? Preferably nine or ten. That would be so much easier and he wouldn’t feel so helpless and stupid. However when he tried to articulate that all that came out was, “Don wanna be extra small!” Janus to his credit didn’t even seem remotely phased. “And why is that?”

“Cuz m’ Logan! supposed to work hard nd be smart”

Janus nods along for a moment before he turned his gaze back to Logan and without missing a beat asked,  “And have you ever considered the fact that you work so hard is why you regress so young?”

He blinked, he hadn’t but...it did make sense. “And therefore you regressing so young is a good thing and very clever of your subconscious”

Logan could have a thousand arguments to that, could debate his way out if he really wanted to and insist he didn’t need it but...now that someone had shown him affection and assured him they didn’t mind...he didn’t want to. He just wanted to return to that soft happy place and let all his worries melt away, let someone else worry for him for a change. So he nodded and let go, let himself slip back and just relax and bask in the care.

“There you are baby” Janus cooed with a smile as Patton returned with the gear. He waved at Logan and smiled, taking him from Janus. “Hey there baby boy! you wanna get in some comfier clothes?” Logan whined, suddenly realizing his tie was very uncomfy around his neck and pawed at it causing Patton to giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes. Don’t worry kiddo, lets go raid your closet yeah?”

Logan nodded and Patton made sure to keep a tight hold of him as he carried the boy to the bedroom where he shyly picked out a pastel blue sweatshirt with floppy sleeves and mathematical patterned pajama pants to wear. Patton cooed over him the entire time and about how cute he was in the ensemble. “Such a cute lil math baby!”

by the time they returned to the living room Janus had everything set up. There was a big soft blanket spread out with multiple baby toys like keys, soft toys, building blocks etc. Logan was immediately reaching for the blanket, but then he was whining as Roman pulled his hand away from his mouth. huh, when had that gotten there?  “Fingers are yucky little prince, try this instead” A pacifier was gently pushed into his mouth as a substitute and he sucked on it experimentally. Luckily he deems it acceptable and flops twoards the blanket again where Patton sets him down. He immediately heads for the shape puzzles.

The three watch him for as long as he needs. He’s played with, cooed over, and snuggled within an inch of his life. When the day comes to a close and he’s still regressed Janus holds him in his lap and feeds him a bottle before Roman tells him a bedtime story and Patton tucks him in. Logan loves them all so much, and he knows they love him too. 

[themeed]

damn allowed myself to want things for a day and all i want is a van to live in, knowledge, freedom, weight loss, and a bass guitar.

im. happy with that i think. im proud of me, no jokes. im proud of being able to want things and care about them and vibrate towards them with longing. im... pleased with that. its fulfilling in a way Not Wanting For Anything isnt, because thats... kinda hollow. empty. in a vacant, lonely, yearning and grieving and SAD way. maybe because i Couldnt Want then. i Couldnt Desire or it would be used against me or taken away. that sucks. that sucked.

and now. im free to want again. and comparatively???? i think im very much never going to aim for buddhism or that weird Not Desiring Not Attached Nirvana mindset. like good for u but been there out of trauma and its not fun theres no reason to truly Live. u just float endlessly and experience and it aches so badly!!!! it hurts to want to want and not be able to. and i guess that is different from not wanting at all but... its not different enough for me to justify ever going back to that. or going forward to that. i just got this back and screw enlightenment if it means i have to give up on my passions i dont think life is worth living without it.

and anybody who looks down on that from a spiritual tower has yet to examine their own pride and how empty they feel without it.

anybody who looks down and smiles and wishes me luck on my journey? good for them. im glad theyre living their best life, on their journey as they see fit.

and i feel the need to protect myself because ive been hurt by the pride- the arrogance of others before. a lot of my hurts and traumas stem from my mother being too prideful to recognize that she can be wrong and someone under her power could be correct over her. and it was an uncomfortable truth. so she denied it was one at all and hurt me. i know the reason could be elaborated on. she didnt want to confront her own internal logic. or trauma. or even doublethink. that doesnt excuse her hurting a child for the sake of her sense of pride, of comfort, of self-worth. a child under her power, that she claimed to be parent of. teacher of.

not owing anyone anything is not the same as not hurting anyone. i havent reconciled that yet. oppressors should be held accountable for their mistakes, and give reparations if the harm is physical at LEAST. and i think that applies to politics, yes. privately though? if i beat up a nazi, i dont want to pay for his hospital bills. my personal philosophy struggles between equating people and ideas as a worth measurement, and realizing that that line of thinking is... similar to oppressors. but. its based on something people can change. the question is, do i think "if given the opportunity" is a good enough reason to stop and question a racist that runs their mouth? and do i think pre-emptive violence is okay? if say, a nazi walks into a bar and doesnt say anything but is wearing all the red flags and bells and whistles. i dont think that justifies a beatdown. being asked to leave, sure, but the beatdown doesnt start til the first remark flies.

once the intent is given OR the action is taken, the line is drawn. doesnt matter if they Havent Had The Chance. if theyre starting shit outside of debate spaces like that, and not, say, asking questions, theyre not looking for new perspectives, and it is NOT my job to educate people. its not my job to Show People The Light. a quick fucking google search could tell them why theyre wrong. if they havent put even the most basic energy into questioning their beliefs, thats on them.

it sounds like im trying to absolve myself of blame here. largely because. i think i should go out and help educate people because theyre inherently complacent if theyre, yknow, in a position of power. aka white folk and men and rich folk and cis folk and on and on and on. these people dont live my reality. they dont live the reality of a gay black man in the south, or a genderqueer lesbian in the west, or an indigenous woman whose nation is being targeted, or a muslim woman who cannot wear her headcoverings in the face of danger of death, or an asian immigrant who cant get a job because of COVD age discrimination resurging. we will never live each others realities, but we can become aware of them.

they wont come into awareness without someone asking or telling, and then doing something to change them.

we shouldnt need to go running to people in power for them to be aware of problems in the populace, govt is supposed to help and solve issues like this. like. actively. thats the whole point, make life better for the countrys citizens. and individuals in a position of social power...

are individuals who didnt take on a responsibility to protect and serve or otherwise care for the populace of a nation. i personally think they SHOULD care, but they are not obligated to. i cant make them care about others.

and honestly, on some of them, it would be a waste of time. there are people who want to change or question things and yknow what? they seek out answers. in people or places or online usually. stats and stories.

so like. i dont think someones Potential as a person matters when theres a throwdown about to happen. it really isnt my responsibility to save people from themselves or try to change their sides against their will. if they want to chat about it they can ask questions first.

not throw insults or punches or hatred.

what people have been taught is worth analyzing and trying to correct IN SOCIETY but i cant fix every broken white boy that comes to me. PSAs, fliers, outreach, online videos, debate spaces. those are things i already have access to and can be a part of if i really want to go around changing minds. or yknow. get involved in legislation and be myself around others to change their perceptions of whats socially acceptable or normal. maybe protest, maybe call congressfolk, etc.

but not every comment has to be analyzed or a learning opportunity. im allowed to shut it down, and people can respect that or stop talking to me. this isnt my parents house where i had to justify everything that i said or did when scrutinized, and doubly justify any criticism i had of mother, or any joke i frowned at instead of smiling.

these people dont have that power over me. they arent my mother. they arent my boss, and if they are i can fuck off and get a new job if necessary. they dont have financial control over my living space and food and schooling and physical control of where i can go and with who and for how long. I CONTROL THAT. I do.

Huh. maybe thats why i want a van so bad. i mean... when this lease ends if nobody is gonna end up living with me...

i could just... live in my car and shower at truck stops. get a storage unit for my stuff. save by driving jobs. like 40 to 60 a day. tear out my cars back, insulate it, and install my mattress pad there. water on the floor, cooler next to it, wooden cutting coard, knife, single camping plateware set, and another little shelf for spices. maybe a hot plate i can hook up to the car battery? get a long enough usb and it might be doable. i could go camping and open the trunk to just... vibe.

because yeah, honestly? i dont plan on having a solid apartment for a bit. like a long bit. and i still have like 70000 miles on my car before itll want to go. and by that point, even at like 100 miles a day, thats like 2 years, less if i go cross country in that vehicle. i could save up SO MUCH for a better vehicle, or like. college. live on campus, get some credit, continue working after i figure out want i want to do.

i think thats a solid plan, even if i dont get another apartment and put everything in storage. work as i need to instead of all the time for rent, really only paying for gas, car repairs, car ins, food, and phone data/hotspot internet... that would bring my monthly expenses down to like 500 a month max instead of like 1400. id only need to make some 1000 a month doing contract stuff to save for taxes and stuff. anything extra would be just that: extra for savings and things. holy shit.

depending on how this next month goes for my friends, holy s h i t.

i. i might do this. legitimately.

i. dont think i can yet. i need proof of address to get my license im pretty sure? but hey, thatll be my 21st this year, so. once i have that i wont need a new address for a While. i dont know if ill want one, really.

i could always just ask a friend or family member if i could use theirs for mail that cant go to a PO box.

anyway. yeah. wow.

[whorphydice]

When the Bones are Good

So.. I wrote this over the span of a few days and I want to give proper warning. He’s physically counting the bones on her ribcage and if thats in any way triggering/upsetting I just wanted to put that warning on this now. 

Also special acknowledgement to @waitformereprise who had to help me come up with scenarios and to @bloomsinthebittersnow who has been dealing with me talking about this and reading it for days. 

I. 

She is sleeping on her side, the bare skin of her back pressed flush with that of his chest, head resting on his upper arm as her own pillow. She has both hands entwined around the his, even in her sleep she anchors herself to earth with his arms.  He cannot sleep, he cannot pull his eyes away from her. He watches her nose scrunch, her lips part slightly as she dreams. His other arm is around her waist, holding her as tightly as he can. 

I’ll never let you go again. He repeats over and over in his head, bringing his hand to brush her hair out of her eyes. Orpheus leans down to kiss her temple, his hand trailing up her ribcage. 

One. two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

His fingers dip into the deep valleys between her bones, each of the twelve pairs such prominent ridges under his thumbs. His heart nearly stopped when he helped her unwrap the cotton bandage from around her chest, helped her step out of the leather overalls and pile them at their feet. She was beautiful, flawless, always would

Twelve sets of ribs. Twelve hours since she came home. 

The immediate move had been to pull her into his arms, and promise to never fail her again. He brought her inside and helped her into the bath, made her as much of a meal as he could with the things on hand. He made note, to get to the market before she woke, if he could drag himself away from her. 

He watched as she held their daughter, and though she did not have the strength yet to lift her, he couldn’t look away as she held their daughter in her arms.  He watched her feed her, helped her bathe her,  and as they laid her in her bed, only a room away suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hold his family and never let go. 

There was the bliss of learning each other’s bodies once again, despite his fear of hurting her. His Eurydice. Somehow the strongest woman in the world but he was scared of breaking her. Fragile. Eurydice was not fragile, no matter how she looked, which she reminded him of as she dug her nails into his shoulder. 

And now she slept. Exhaustion from the journey home, hard labor, and emotional stress claimed her into a deep sleep. Their daughter would likely not want to be apart from her all night, the little girl already fighting her as she laid her in a separate bed. There was time, later, to bring her between them, Eurydice insisted. She wanted some time to reclaim her husband.

She slept with their skin together, every sharp edge of her body exposed. His fingers traced from her ribs to her hips, sharper than they had ever been before. Eurydice was anything but fragile, yet how she was able to have Ophelia was lost on him. The year of physical labor and starvation left its mark on her. She had no need to eat, and that all came crashing down as life breathed into her on a train ride out of Hadestown. 

His Eurydice. 

Orpheus kisses her shoulder again as he tucks their thin sheet around them, wrapping his nearly weightless girl in his arms. He’s humming a song, one he hadn’t found the will to sing in ages, as he follows her into sleep. 

He is up the next morning, gathering groceries at the market, and home before she even wakes. 

II.

His hands flit over her sides, grasping at her through the thin fabric of her white dress. Gifted by Persephone, it had fit her like a glove, tailor made satin that clung to her tiny frame.

There is noise around them. The band from the bar playing some impromptu tune, Persephone’s joyous laugh as she entertains the people of the town. A tired whining that he can place as their daughter, who was fighting sleep in the arms of Hermes. 

His attention, though, is only on Eurydice. His wife. The late summer wedding had been a gift from Persephone, who insisted that they let her and those around them celebrate the young couple properly. A chance to celebrate them, the love they have for each other, and the way they changed the world. 

They would have had each other in Hermes’ bar if he had let them, insisting a party was too lavish for them. There were better uses of money. 

When he had seen her that afternoon, this ivory slip dress falling down her body like a water fall, red flowers of his own creation clutched in her hands and top her head, he was so glad they lost that fight. 

She had her head against his chest, all he can see being the flower crown of red carnations atop her dark curls. Her arms are around his shoulders, as he holds her against him with his hands on her lower back. She is humming along to the music,eyes shut as she soaked in the pure bliss of the evening. 

He can feel her fingers drumming in rhythm with the music, feather light against the thin cotton of his shirt. He had felt underdressed upon seeing her, his nicest trousers held up by worn leather suspenders didn’t compare to her. Looking at her was like looking at the sun. Radiant. Beautiful. LIghting up the world. Holding her was what he could only imagine harnessing sunlight would be like. 

They are just swaying. Not quite dancing so much as holding each other as the world spins around them. He is content to just look down at her, watching as her face twists from where it was pressed into his shirt, to face the side. He follows her gaze to their daughter, finally settling, this time in the arms of Persephone. There is never a moment when Eurydice is not keenly aware of the location of their daughter, always ready to take her and run if danger struck. 

He is watching her watch Ophelia when her voice breaks through to him, pulling him from the trance like state. 

“Orpheus?” Her voice is soft, dreamy even as she looks up at him with doe like eyes. 

“Hmm?” Orpheus responds, one hand leaving her back to cradle her face. He pushes a bit of hair behind her left ear, before his palm holds her cheek. 

She smiles, her eyes crinkling with the joy that she exudes. “I love you.”

He only smiles back at her, leaning in to kiss his wife. He keeps his head pressed to hers as he sighs in contentment. “I love you too, Eurydice.”

His left hand is still on her side, thumb noting each rivulet as his hand grazes over her ribcage. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Seven. Less than Twelve. That’s progress Orpheus. She’s healing.  He links his hand down under her knees, holding her bridal style across his arms, intent to carry her to their home.  

She lets out a giggle as he scoops her up, which are silenced when he captures her lips with his own. 

His hand flattens on her back as he pulls her closer, kissing her deeper despite the audience around them. 

III. 

The next time he takes note of her protruding ribs is mid winter, a good eight months since her return. 

She’s stripping her wet clothes, from being caught in a particularly heavy snowstorm on the way home from work, ready to step into a warm bath to ease the frost from her skin. 

He catches her from the corner of his eye, as he is working on warming some towels near the fire. Ophelia is napping, in their bed albeit, warmed and unaffected by the winter storm raging beyond their walls. He takes solace in knowing their daughter has never known a winter like they did. 

Orpheus lays the towels at her side, wrapping his arms around her before she can step into the warming water. 

His fingers strum over her sides, fingertips dipping into the valleys between her bones. 

One . two. Three. Four.

Four. Three less sets than last time. He notices the difference around her hips. Where despite a rough winter, she’s less sickly, less fragile. 

Healing. Eurydice is healing. 

Orpheus buries his face into her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone. “I love you, my Eurydice.”

She hums constantly, holding his arms with her own. She leans her head against his, letting out a breathless sigh as he peppers her collarbone with kisses. “Mmm..I love you too.” She practically purrs,  brushing her thumb over his forearm lightly. 

“Join me?” Eurydice asks, turning in his arms to press her chest to his, wide, dark eyes looking up at him. “We could save on water...:” 

Her hands slide into the back pocket of his pants, lips claiming his, before he can even agree. 

IV. 

“Ophelia, gentle, baby” Eurydice instructed, gently placing her hands over Ophelia’s ontop of her ever so gently curved belly, her palms keeping the toddlers flat there. “You can’t knock of her, she won’t answer.” Her voice is gentle, teasing as she kisses Ophelia’s head. “Be gentle, sunshine. Gentle.” 

Orpheus watches as their toddler smiles at her mother, laying her head down ontop of her midsection. She is rambling in something that is not quite coherent, though words about mama and baby and dada come through clear as day. 

“You’re such a nice girl, what a great sister you’re gonna be.” Eurydice praises, cupping her daughter’s face in her hand. Ophelia grins, laying her head against Eurydice’s palm briefly, before leaning down to kiss her tiny belly. Sweet Ophelia, who had been fascinated with the idea of a baby since they told her not even a week prior. 

“Night night baby.” Ophelia cooes, before crawling up Eurydice’s body to lay her head against her chest. She yawns, and buries her face against her collarbones. “Night night mama, luff you.” 

Eurydice wraps an arm around her, kissing the top of her hair as she does so. “Goodnight baby, I love you too.” Her fingers trace through her hair in calming circles, watching closely as she brings fist to her mouth to soothe herself to sleep. She’s kissing her, over and over in gentle kisses to her hair, relishing in the scent of clean, fresh baby hair. 

Orpheus is watching from his side, watching the way she holds their daughter so naturally to her.  His eyes trail from her hips to her middle, where just the slightest bit of a bump shows evidence of their little twelve week old secret that they kept between the two of them and  now their toddler.  Even on her little frame, it’s a secret they kept well. 

His eyes follow up, a smile gracing his face as Ophelia’s little feet on either side of her chest block his view of Eurydice’s torso under her shirt. 

He strains his eyes to count, to examine for changes in her health. 

One? No thats a shadow. 

Is that one? No, just a bit of dirt from the garden. 

None, Orpheus. There’s none. 

Eurydice doesn’t realize he is watching until she hears a soft cry escape him, jumping at the feeling of a single feeling against her side. “Orpheus?”

“You’re okay. Eurydice, you’re getting better, You’re okay.” He gets out through a choked sob, his index finger intently running over her side, over the thin fabric of her night shirt that had been pushed up so Ophelia could talk to her future sibling. When he feels nothing, no valleys or ridges indicating palpable bone, his hand comes to splay out on the skin of her stomach, thumb strumming softly.  His whole body moves closer, so his head can lay beside the place where his hand resides. He can feel her fingers come down to stroke his cheek, easily one of the most soothing motions to him. “You’re going to be okay.”

[crossovereddie]

Thoughts on S10xE12: THE WEDDING

Okay so y’all know how this is gonna go. A lot of tears. A lot of screaming via caps lock. And of course it wouldn’t be complete without a lot of “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH” and pet names for Mickey. Enjoy. 

Let’s get non related gallavich things out of the way because I don’t wanna finish this on a downer

I actually love Liam/Frank scenes

Debbie finally getting what she deserves? Good

Tami is a fucking bitch

Entitled little brat

You won’t change my mind about this

Don’t even try defending her

You NEVER use someone’s child against them.

Don’t threaten to take Fred away then be shocked that Lip ruined his sobriety

I just kept repeating “please no” when he paused before taking that first sip

It fucking hurt so much

Lip deserves BETTER

Tami is toxic. End of. Period.

Now let’s bring up the mood!!

Liam looking at the tuxes was so cute

He’s so confused

Mickey actually chose a white tux for himself :((((((

My snow angel🥺

Everyone checking on Ian is so sweet

Carl’s toe nail clippings “you picking those up” 😂😂😂

Ian really hates that shit doesn't he

I'm so proud of him for taking his meds

GIVE ME THOSE PHOTOS

"Savings" lmao

Baby got fancy for his wedding

HIS FACE I CANT😂😂😂

They shower together :((((

“Those are nice right?”

Fashionista Mickey making another comeback

Unpopular opinion but I love seeing his Ian tattoo on his chest ON THEIR WEDDING DAY

chin touch :(

So soft. So sweet.

THE WAY IAN GRABS HIM YES BITCH

THE GRUNT 🤤🤤🤤

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE FUCK

MICKEY IS T I N Y!!!!

TOWEL

NECK KISS

FUCK

I fucking hate terry

I need him dead because my baby isn’t safe until he is

His little “what?” 😩

HE DESERVES SO MUCH BETTER

GET HIM BABY

But like don’t because I need you free

Can sandy poison terry or something?

Sandy 😂😂

This scene was sad because my poor baby but so early shameless I love it

Carl and the beer trilogy 😂😂😂

“I don’t wanna get married where my shoes stick to the floor”

GIVE THE PRINCE HIS ROYAL WEDDING

The spinal cord line 😂😂😂

Mickey’s a Gallagher I don’t care what their last name is

HERE COME THE TEARS AGAIN

“Why is Mickey handcuffed?”

“Terry fucking wins again” NO BABY

MY FUCKING HEART

ILL GIVE YOU ALL THE HALLOWEEN CANDY TO FILL YOUR LITTLE TUMMY BABY BOY

I WANNA BUY YOU ALL THE CHRISTMAS GIFTS YOU WANT

LET ME ADOPT YOU

IM SO FUCKING SAD FOR HIM

HE DESERVES SO MUCH BETTER

“I love you. I love you” 😭😭😭😭😭

“This son of a bitch is never gonna let me be happy” IM SOBBING ALL OVER AGAIN

In so little words Lip really said “Mickey Milkovich deserves the wedding of his dreams and we’re gonna make it happen if it’s the last thing I do”

Did anyone else start singing Carrie Underwood when Ian said “Louisville slugger”

The Gallagher’s love Mickey so much

I LOVE MICKEY SO MUCH

IAN FUCKING LOVES MICKEY SO MUCH

“Mickey might have to marry Debbie instead of Ian”

“Nice polish boy named Michael” LMAO

I love Lip

OKAY THIS SCENE KILLED ME

The way Mickey is looking at Ian melts my heart

Again their height difference murdered me

YOU WANT KIDS?

K I D S

IAN WANTS KIDS WITH MICKEY BUT WE ALREADY KNEW THAT

FUCK HIS DREAM FROM THE ICONIC DELETED SCENE IS COMING TRUE

IF THEY DONT HAVE KIDS NEXT SEASON IM RIOTING

I like when they make fun of each other because they are literally best friends forever

THEIR SMILES

MILKOVICH

GALLAGHER

BUT WHICH ONE IS IT NOW

Ian is obsessed with holding mickey’s neck

THUMB

MY BOYS LOOK SO HANDSOME IN THEIR TUXEDOS

Mickey trying to be nice to this lady 😂😂

I LOVE HIS VOICE

They have mutual friends and I’m fond

I told y’all it’s the little things that get me

“Chiavari chairs look nice” “I like how the gold catches the light” DONE

The cake topper I NEED IT

I HATE TERRY I HATE TERRY I HATE TERRY

The lip and Ian scene made me cry again

THE SONG

IAN YOU SAP

HE LOVES MICKEY SO MUCH

As soon as I heard the first cords of the song I IMMEDIATELY bursted into sobs

IM CRYING AGAIN

MY LONELY DAYS ARE OVER 😭😭😭

Once again I’m beyond jealous of sandy

I wanna walk my baby down the aisle 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

HES SO CUTE FUCK

IM HONESTLY NOT OKAY

THE NIGHT I LOOKED AT YOU

I DIDNT KNOW THIS SONG WAS GONNA HURT SO MUCH

HEIGHT DIFFERENCE AGAIN IM SO BLESSED

It’s like even more noticeable this episode right?????

TINY AND TALL

BLACK HAIR AND RED HAIR

BLUE EYES AND GREEN EYES

WHITE TUX AND BLACK TUX

TOUGH AND SOFT

THEY COMPLIMENT EACH OTHER IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE

Kev was so funny finally

GET HIS HOMOPHOBIC ASS GAY JESUS SQUAD

When they kept singing even after he pulled his gun I cried so hard

I’m crying again wtf

THE VOWS FUCK

TO BE MY HUSBAND

IM FULL ON UGLY CRYING I CANT EVEN SEE THE SCREEN

I IAN TAKE YOU MICKEY TO BE MY HUSBAND

FUCK THIS HURTS SO MUCH

AFTER ALL THE SHIT THEYVE BEEN THROUGH THEYRE GIVING THEMSELVES TO EACH OTHER IN THE PUREST WAY POSSIBLE

“Now?” “Yes now” HE WAS SO EAGER AND SHOCKED THAT THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE SINCE HE WAS A KID IS NOW HIS HUSBAND

We got to see the smitten lovesick Ian Gallagher from s1 again

HES NEVER STOPPED BEING SMITTEN AND LOVESICK BY MICKEY

Honestly same

Not gonna lie, seeing frank emotional made me even more emotional

MICKEYS SMILE COULD LIGHT THE WORLD

MY SON IS ACUALLY MY SUN

THE HAND HOLDING IS SO CUTE

THEYRE ACTUALLY MARRIED

HUSBANDS!!!!!

IAN SO PROUD HAVING HIS BABY ON HIS ARM

YES MICKEY IS IANS BABY FIGHT ME

IM SO FUCKING HAPPY

MICKEY DANCING IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE

“I miss mom” that hurt a lot more than I thought it ever would

I’m glad they mentioned Monica. Ian loved her so much

YOURE REALLY GONNA PLAY PERFECT RIGHT NOW FUCK YOU

“I should probably go dance with my husband” THATS YOUR HUSBAND CAN YOU BELIEVE IT

The head neck tuck 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

THE WAY THEYRE HOLDING EACH OTHER LIKE THEY NEVER WANNA LET GO

“We were just kids when we fell in love not knowing what it was I will not give you up this time” FUCK WHOEVER PICKED THIS SONG YOU WIN

I actually hate this song with a passion but suddenly I love it

LIKE THEYRE ACTUALLY SLOW DANCING

SLOW DANCING AT THEIR OWN WEDDING

IAN REALLY HAD TO DO THE NECK GRAB WITH THE THUMB RUB COMBO JUST TO KILL ME DIDNT HE

THEYRE SO IN LOVE IVE NEVER SEEN A LOVE THIS DEEP BEFORE (and I’m fucking married to the love of my life/high school sweetheart lmao)

Liam getting the car for them was the sweetest thing

He opens the car for Ian :((((

HE HOPS INTO THE CAR MY LITTLE BUNNY

Frank is genuinely happy for them and that fucks me up so much

THEY REALLY HAD TO USE RED SHEETS HUH

THEY KNEW IT WOULD FUCK US ALL UP EVEN MORE THAN WE ALREADY ARE

The soft touches are always my favorite

They make my heart flutter

“Morning Mr. Gallavich” OKAY SAY WHAT YOU WANT BUT THAT WAS ACTUALLY REALLY FUCKING CUTE

“Morning Mr......Millogher?” THE CUTENESS WONT STOP

Mickey physically cannot stop caressing Ian

THE THUMBS ALWAYS GET ME

Like I actually look for them knowing they’re gonna be doing the thumb rub

Fucking terry

BUT THEY LOOK SO CUTE COVERED IN FEATHERS

There Mickey goes again with the Ian caressing

in case you forgot: THEYRE MARRIED

HUSBANDS

I can’t believe this actually happened. They’re actually MARRIED. After everything they/we have been through....wow. I’m still in shock. I’m still crying my eyes out. Now I’m gonna go cuddle up with my husband and make him watch the episode with me since he finally has time. I’m over emotional. It’s not fair that they wait until I’m pregnant to let Mickey be happy. It’s like they enjoy my uncontrollable sobs. Leave me your thoughts! I wanna talk about this episode forever.

[bruthbanner]

tattered and torn pt. 1

a bruce banner x oc fic i’ve been working on for the past three hours. found it fit to post online for no other reason but self indulgence. 

WARNING! this fic can and WILL contain the following triggering topics. if they are unsuitable for your consumption, DO NOT READ IT. it’s bruce banner. he’s fucked up. you try writing a kid friendly fic about a guy who tried to shoot himself dead. 

topics include: 

-self harm

-depression

-suicide

-descriptions and discussions of abuse

-brief mentions and discussions about DID 

-discussion of anger issues 

-discussion of body modification

-swearing/strong language

-in depth descriptions of violence/gore 

i’m writing this in the hopes that some people will feel less alone in their battles against the same demons bruce may have. this is mainly a therapeutic fic, for myself and others.

uwu thats all. stay safe. if you relate to anything characterized in this fic, seek help. if you cannot, don’t hesitate to speak to me. i’m always here for you. 

Inpatient Name: Banner, Robert Bruce          -          Date: August 24th, 2005

Acute Inpatient Psychiatry Unit (AIPU), S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, [redacted location]

First clinical session with patient. 13:05. 

Patient Information: 

Male, age 34. 138 lbs, 5’9”. 

Vital Statistics:

BP 128/62. HR in normal range. Temp 36.4. 

Preexisting Physical Conditions: 

Myopia. None other reported.

Preexisting Psychological Conditions:

Suspected IED. Some signs of OCD. TBD.

Notes:

Patient dislikes referral to “alter-ego”. Becomes visibly stressed when prompted about Culver University incident (April 16, 2005). 

Initial Response 

Patient is visibly stressed. Patient began to pace before psych’s arrival. Patient is in “safe room” due to suspected harm to others, possibly himself. Patient does not require restraining. 

Question period began. Patient sat on the edge of the bed. Looked into his hands, then onto the floor. Patient glanced up at camera, then back to face the psych. 

Transcription: 

Psych (P): Hello Bruce. My name is Dr. Melendes. I hear that’s how you prefer to be referred as, is that correct? [she folds her hands over her laptop’s keys.]

Patient (B): Yes. 

P: Do you know why you’re here? 

B: Yes. [patient appears anxious, fidgety]

P: Would you care to tell me, Bruce?

B: Not really, no. 

P: I suppose we’ll move on then. [she types something on her laptop. Inscription reads: Patient avoids answering question. Signs of stress evident.]

P: How are you feeling, right now?

B: A little uneasy. It’s too bright in here. Too cold. Just uncomfortable. 

P: I understand. Give me a moment. [she turns to the technicians and motions for them to turn down the lights.] 

P: I’m afraid that’s all I have liberty to do at the moment. Is that a tad better? 

B: Yeah. Thanks. 

P: Do you know where you are? 

B: No. They took me here when I was unconscious.

P: You’re at one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s headquarters. You’ve been admitted to the AIPU. You’re aware of what that is?

B: Yeah. Been in one of these before.

P: Your stay here isn’t going to differ much from any other AIPU’s you might’ve been to. Our focus is to keep you relaxed, safe, and eventually get you back into the world without harming yourself and others. Sound like a plan? 

B: Okay. 

P: So, Bruce, do you have any family or close relatives that we may need to contact? 

B: No. Parents passed away, wife left a few months back. 

P: That must be a difficult situation. 

B: I guess. Hasn’t really hit me yet. 

P: [types something into her notes. Inscription reads: Compartmentalization? Possible emotional trauma.] Do you have any friends, Bruce?

B: If I did, that’d be news to me. 

P: Somewhat of a loner, I’m guessing? 

B: More or less. 

P: I know you’re uncomfortable with the topic, but can we discuss the elephant in the room? 

B: You’re talking about him, aren’t you? [patient emphasizes the word “him”, wringing his hands.]

P: So you see him as a separate entity, correct? 

B: I don’t know. I know I’m in there somewhere when he comes out. It’s just cluttered in my head right now. 

P: Can you tell me what it’s like when he- [she gestures to patient] 

B:-Hulk. That’s his name. I think.

P: Alright. Can you describe the experience when Hulk takes the reins? How, and if, you see, hear, feel, etcetera?

B: It’s kind of fuzzy. Everything hurts for a second when I’m- [patient inhales deeply. he runs a hand through his hair.] 

B: When I’m transforming. But then it stops, and I’m just so mad. Just angry. Scared, too. Terrified, even. But it’s not me. It can’t be. I hardly see what’s going on outside. It’s like looking through a fogged up window. Sometimes I can’t see at all. But I can always hear, though. Have you ever done that thing where you stand in a doorway and press against the walls, and then your arms raise up without you moving them? 

P: I have.

B: It feels like that. I can feel it happening. I know it’s happening. But it’s not me in control. 

P: What about when you are in control? Do you think this entity- Hulk- thinks the same? 

B: I don’t know much about what he thinks. Only what he feels. So far, he’s kinda non-verbal. Only makes sounds in my head. Nothing more than that. 

P: Alright. [she writes this down, along with the words: IED? some signs of DID. Separate entity/alter. Classification unknown, due to entity/alter having technical physical presence outside host body.]

P: What can we do to help you?

B: I just want to go home. 

P: I know. And if I had my way, you would, granted you receive some sort of outpatient therapy. Unfortunately, I don’t make the big decisions around here. I’ll put in a word with the director, though. You seem quite stable, from what I see. So far, I’ll be prescribing you with a mild anti-anxiety medications to lower your unease and discomfort here. 

B: Alright. 

P: Is there anything you’d like to speak with me about, while I’m here? Concerns, stuff of that sort?

B: I don’t think so. Sorry to be taking your time, doctor. 

P: It’s alright, it’s what I do. [she gives him a small smile, and motions for the technicians to cut the recording.]

The tape goes dark.

[seblore]

everyday i wake up and you still havent posted your evermore rant </3

there u go boo 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

GDBDNSKDJHHDDNDS GIRL................ ok so i very cleverly avoided ranking folklore because every song REALLY HIT and the whole album was just SO.. SO.. yeah. i can however rank miss evermore. i dont want to compare the two album i do not get the point in that. both give off really different vibes. now what i will say is with folklore, AS AN ALBUM, it is just a master masterpiece. The songs flowed amazingly with each other and really held you close the entire first listen. at least thats what I felt like <3 with evermore however, the individual songs are OMG!!! THERE IS LITERALLY NO SONG I DONT LIKE FROM ANY OF THE TWO ALBUMS. but as an album on the first listen i did feel a bit disconnected from evermore which didnt happen to me with folklore. why i think that might’ve happened is BECAUSE taylor is just so brilliant m8.... the MASSIVE contrasting emotions between the songs was too much for my little brain to handle.

Ok so now that’s out of the way dhsjsk time for rankings :) i have no idea where im going to put each song im just going to make it up as we go <3 ill ALSO give you my fave lyrics from each if I remember it <333 (oh and also you’ll notice marjorie isnt here. im sorry but i never listened to it after the first listen because it hits a little too close to home and i dont want to unpack all of that now im sorry! it is a beautiful song)

14. Closure: she popped off <3 she really said dont treat me like a situation that needs to be handled 💃🤙💯 a beautiful song with beautiful lyrics HOWEVER its the first song i couldnt connect with thus it’s down here BUT I STILL WOULD LISTEN TO IT ON REPEAT THO... the last in my ranking but still fucks 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ thats taylor swift 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

13. long story short: i have never been in a relationship ever BUT GODDAMN ‘pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips’ hdjsksksjjddjnBbdns jddd ubebs!:!?:?:$3&39383$hzjs WOAH.... and this bitch really summarized the full 2016 drama with long story short it was a bad time. HILARITY. yeah not much to say here tho this is just the ‘at least one mandatory song to shake your tits to on each ts album’ song of evermore <3 and always remember that if the shoe fits walk in it TILL YOUR HIGH HEELS BREAK WOOH ANDIFELLDOWNTHEPEDESTALRIGHTDOWNTHERA—

12: dorothea: making a lark of misery :D RENt free. i had to listen to ‘if youre tired of being known for who you know you know youll always know me’ 113 times to finally understand it tho 😐 some of us are stupid and illiterate have you ever thought about that miss swift???? anyways TINGTINGTINGINGINGING THE STARS IN YOUR EYES SHINED BRIGHTER IN TUPELO <33333 such an innocent feel good song I LOVE!!!!!

11. ivy: the goddamn here and the hush of mirrorball ARE THE REASON IM STILL ALIVE 😽 another lyrical masterclass <3 ‘id live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time’ IS2G!!!!!!!!!!! anyways what if you cheated on your husband with me and i cheated on my husband with you and my pain fit in the palm of your freezing hands 😳 JK JK 😅 unless...... 🤪😏 hdjsks yeah this song is magnificently cursed and i am in love with it 🧎‍♀️

10. tis the damn season: this song is august but the other side of the coin. august but four months later. AUGUST SLIPPED AWAY LIKE A BOTTLE OF WINE- THE HOLIDAYS LINGER LIKE A BAD PERFUMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE... she sounds so pretty goshhh! ‘time flies messy as the mud on your truck tires NOW IM MISSING YOUR SMILE hear me out we could just ride around and the road not taken looks real good now’ is on repeat in my mind. and as always the bridge ::::::::::::::.............:::::::::::::: how does she do this everytime. ‘and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles im faking’ 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ after every ts song i listen my expectations about true love grows exponentially and my chances of finding true love falls exponentially simultaneously ADIEU.

9. willow: she really took the invisible string quartet and put it in huh..................... FUCKED IN THE HEADDDDDDDDDDDDDD. what can i say <3 its just such a pretty song <3 hashtag gorgeous hashtag i cant say anything to its face. WRECK MY PLANS!!!!!! WRECK IT BITCH!!! ‘wait for the signal and ill meet you after dark’ LOVE STORY WHIPLASH. also mate i cant even focus on the song she looks SO GOOD in the music video i—

8. happiness: !!!! what can i say.... one of the best songs of the album hands down. lyrical masterpiece AND musically rich. she really logged into tumblr dot com and typed out ‘THERE’LL BE HAPPINESS AFTER YOU’ AND ‘THERE WAS HAPPINESS BECAUSE OF YOU’ ARE IDEAS THAT CAN COEXIST and logged off...... h8 her and her insanity. the one word i have to describe this song is: picturesque. tis a picturesque song <3 oh and dfbhhffcbhDDVHHTRSDVJK when i heard ‘i hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you’ i audibly GASPED and then she says ‘no i didnt mean that sorry i cant see facts through all of my fury’................. i fell out of my chair. IT FELT LIKE AS IF SHE HEARD MY GASP AND TOLD ME SPECIFICALLY THAT NO SHE DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT... anyways yeah. ill write an article one day named THE SWIFT DECEPTION OF TAYLOR about how she keeps writing songs with deceptive titles and this will be the opening case 😈🤙 also the fact that this is one of my faves and i put it in number 8 says a lot......

7. evermore: i havent recovered from ‘motion capture. put me in a bad light’. i mean come on the whole goddamn song is a lyrical masterpiece. ‘writing letters addressed to the fire’. IS SHE OK!????????????? i think tf not. beautiful song beautiful arrangement. iver sounded really good too. and lol lol rofl WOOFWOOFbarkbark ‘HEY DECEMBER GUESS IM FEELING UNMOORED’ unmoored definition from google dot com: no longer attached. she doesn’t go back to december anymore. about2 faint oml. long story short: i did not survive. THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE........ what i felt with this song is that she took the quarantine sadness we all felt at least once this year and made it into a masterpiece of a song. couldve been easily the top song on any album except this. no i will not elaborate <3

6. no body no crime: i cannot believe. she teased us with a musical number. this woman teased us with. a musical number. I THINK SHE IS WRITING A MUSICAL BUT I JUST CANT PROVE IT! when she wins that tony 16 years later call me prophetic xoxo. anyways yeah she literally wrote this to flex her storytelling abilities. send tweet 🐥

5. cowboy like me: YEEEHAWWW I’LL BE HONEST WITH YOU I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FULL SONG SOUNDS LIKE I JUST HAVE THE BRIDGE ON REPEAT!!!! OMFG!!! the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. AAAA!! ??? STFU. IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THE LYRICS MATE THE WAY ITS SUNG!!!!!!! GUT WRENCHING! the best bridge she has ever written musically. i cant stop listening to it. REALLYYY DID BELIEEEVE I WAS THE ONEEE. STORIESSS ABOUT WHEEEN YOU PASSSEDDD THROUGHH TOWN. y e l l. and then she hits me with ‘now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon.’ L ???? M !!!!! A $$$$$ O “”””” i had to pause it and sit there for 10 minutes to take in what i had just heard. case closed critical hit sustained yeedhawd.

4. tolerate it: i cried. the only reason it’s not 1 is because it hurt me too much. WHAT THE FUCK YOU MF YOU ASSUME IM FINE BUT WYD IF I BREAK FREE AND LEAVE US IN THE RUINS???? TOOK THIS DAGGER IN ME AND REMOV— m8 this physically hurts me everytime. if its all in my head TELL ME RN. aghhh aRghhhhhhh. pain. and lol she broke down sleep to its bare essentials ‘breathing with your eyes closed’.

3. ??? coney island: i know it’s a bit of a controversial top three but WHO CARES 🕴this is solely here for ‘AND IM SITTING ON A BENCH IN CONEY ISLAND wondering where did my BABYy GO’ im shaking. my bed is shaking. my body is shaking. my pupils are shaking. THE WAY SHE SINGS IT OH MY GOODNESS ME i have to lie down gimme a sec. ‘and if this is the long haul howd we get here so soon 😟’ SCREAM. and when i was hearing it for the first time and she said ‘sorry for not making you my centerfold’ i was like yeah and?? so what?? and then she hits me with ‘over and over’...... so she didnt make him/her/them her centerfold over and over !!!!!!! she is sorry she didnt do it over and over!!!!!! mannn.... the chorus.. i shall not speak. i am held at gunpoint i CANNOT SPEAK. the bridge tho dhdnsksksjsb I CAN SPEAK AND I SHALL SPEAK. BITCH WENT OFFFFFFFF. <3 this is the apology she deserved from her exes which she never got so she wrote it herself. podium. grey skies. birthday cake. ACCIDENT. im laughingggggggggggg <///3 and yeah so overall it is a really yummy song with yummy vocals and yummy arrangement 9/10 would recommend. also!! life lessons kids life lessons. disappointments? SIMPLY CLOSE YOUR EYES AND PRETEND YOU DO NOT SEE IT YAAAAAAAAAS

2. gold rush: ETHEREAL!!!!!! The last time i felt like this™️ whilst listening to a song was with mirrorball <3 the production of this song omg omg omg LOVE 💃 but what propelled it to number two status was the ‘i dont like slow motion double vision in ROSE BLUSH/ i dont like that falling feels like flying till the BONE CRUSH’ imagine how fucked in the head a person needs to be to rhyme rose blush with bone crush. yeah i have nothing more to say really this song is extremely gorgeous and ‘eyes like sinking ships on water so inviting i almost jumped in’ / ‘walk past quick brush’ ?:!:!&:8483 F A V E <33333 and the transition transmission transfusion from ‘... gray old tea cuz itll never be ᵍˡᵉᵃᵃᵃᵃᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʷⁱⁿᵏˡⁱⁿᵍᵍᵍᵍ’ MADAME

1. champagne problems: are we surprised? ARE WE REALLY SURPRISED? when listening to new albums i normally listen to it at one go in order. i stick to that rule. HOWEVER after many years of my solid album listening self made rule tm i finally broke and immediately replayed this mf song after listening to it once. ‘you had a speech, youre speechless/ love slipped beyond your reaches’???? stfu???? VILE. PUNISHABLE. DEROGATORY. and welp the entire bridge ...... .... ........... what can i say. And the parallels to miss all too well??? WHAT WAS THE REASON???? your SISTER splashed out on the bottle- left my scarf there at your SISTER’s house 😐 she’ll patch up your tapestry that i SHRED- maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you TORE it all up 😐 your MOM’s ring in your pocket- your MOTHER’s telling stories bout you on the tee ball team 😐 November flush and your FLANNEL cure- PLAID shirt days and nights when you made me your own 😐 wHAT A SHAME SHE IS FUCKED IN THE HEAD IS2G........... and also why would she not rhyme POCKET with LOCKET?????? why with wallet???????????? slant rhyme why????????????? AND THE NOTE THIS MF SONG ENDS ON..... FUCKED IN THE HEAD

THATS IT. i really sat here and did this for the past 2 hours huh...... hhdjsms anyways LONG STORY SHORT: I HATE ONE INSANE WOMAN AND HER NAME IS TAYLOR ALISON SWIFT. GODSPEEED 🏃‍♀️